#erase those memories yippee

[rice-x2]

there was a fourth girl

#kingdom hearts #kh #namine #kingdom hearts namine #wooo go girl go #erase those memories yippee

[saltygilmores]

Dance Marathon Episode-Part 9-The Bloody Finale. RIP Shane.

Now I know my readers have lost untold hours of sleep pondering the origin of all this Shane is Dead nonsense. Fret no more, my 4-6 regular readers. Fret no more. After her public dumping for the ages, Rory retreats to Money Laundering Bridge, where the soon to be homocidal maniac follows close behind (Shane's current whereabouts are unclear, but he won't let her get too far). A brief, gloomy conversation between Jess and Rory ensues, where it is established that Jess and Rory Like-Like each other and are comitting to not knowing a moment of peace or sexual intercourse for the next 6-8 months. Yippee. So, we are to believe that the thing that needs "taking care of" is presumably, ending his "relationship" with Shane. But a normal, not-murderer person could have said something like "I have to go talk to Shane." Or he would have not said anything to Rory because Shane was not even his girlfriend anyway, so who gives a crap? If we have just established that Rory and Jess have decided to make a go of this thing, it's a given that Shane is history. She's off like a prom dress. So why did he have to say it like that? What, exactly, has to be "taken care of"? You know what kind of people say things like that? People who are in the mob, before they erase someone. (but instead of "sleeping with the fishes", Shane will be sleeping with the swans.) On top of that, why are you using that absolutely bone-chilling tone of voice? And such a creepy Okuh, too. That's an okuh that will make your blood run cold. Also, that creepy way he's staring at Rory, like he's contemplating evil. You can see it in his eyes that the evil gears are turning in his evil brain. How convenient that after he says this Ms. Campbell is never seen or heard from again. RUN SHANE! RUN! Run as fast as your slutty little legs can carry you!

Shane Campbell B. 198? D. 2002 Shane Campbell was born sometime in the mid 80s to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, who were those really cool kinda parents who let their daughter have boys in her bedroom and said things like "drinking is okay as long as you do it in the house". Until her untimely death, Ms. Campbell was employed by Stars Hollow Beauty Supply. She prided herself on being gainfully employed and sex-positive and being the creator of new words such as "bloaty". She was educated in the Stars Hollow school system, causing some of her detractors to believe that Ms Campbell did not know how ice was made. She had plans to attend cosmetology school and looked forward to a career in the beauty industry where she would have made more money and met way cooler people and had a lot more sex than other people who went to Yale instead. We will miss her spicy customer service, off the shoulder tops, low rise jeans, and love of tonsil hockey. RIP. I will remember you, will you remember me, don't your let your life pass you by...weep not for the memories... Jess departs the lake to locate his victim and comitt certain felonies and busy himself with cleaning up bodily remains. As she posed no real threat to his relationship with Rory, his motive for Taking Care of Shane remains unclear. He is just a blood thirsty maniac. God forbid a boy finds a hobby, right? He has a long night ahead of him. Rory and Lorelai return to the dance a few moments apart, where Rory's absence has disqualifed them and Kirk wins. Rory cries into Lorelai's arms over the loss of Butthead and the gaining of Jess The Mess. As Kirk circles the gym with his trophy, the Rocky theme song plays, which drowns out Shane's screams of terror from behind the school. With the same superpower that he utilized to abscond with 500 baseballs, Jess manages to drag Shane's lifeless body from the school and back to the lake and feeds her to the swans. The end.

#RIP Shane #we'll miss you queen #until you come back as a Swan and give your killer a rightful beaking #such a go getter #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #they shoot gilmores dont they #tsgdt #jess mariano #jess the killer #in the arms of the angel #may you find some comfort there #shane's obit has to be one of the silliest things ive ever written #at least I crack myself up

[ecliip]

SLUGCAT REDESIGNS YIPPEE

hello rain world community please click for higher quality (downpour spoilers btw)

also lots of design rambling underneath the cut. warning its very long and all over the place

-OKAYOKAY so you may notice that Survivor, Monk, and Gourmand all have similar markings- darker back patch, light tummy, tipped ears/stalks- this is because Gourmand is their grandpa in my interpretation!! they share traits because famly..

-neither Survivor nor Monk are fully grown, though Survivor is almost an adult. theyre the slugcat equivalent of teenagers. thats why theyre a little shorter than everyone else. however Enot and Rivulet are fully grown, Rivulet is just built for a different environment and Enots a fucked up inversion of Survivor

-Hunter, of course, gots the rots. i dont know why nobody utilizes Hunters scarred eye in HLL designs tbh- because the scar and the closed eye together make an X shape. and you know what else has an X shape? rot cyst. food for your thoughts :)

-the feds don't want you to know this but you can make any slugcat of your choice as fat and round as you want and nobody can stop you because they are your slugcat designs. anyways chubby arti :) and chubby nightcat :) and plump monk :)

-Nightcat has little silver splotches because I SAID SO. the silver bits by their eyes were actually inspired by Moonwatcher from Wings of Fire with those silver teardrop scales by her eyes, i always thought that was cool. my WoF phase haunts me to this day,,, also Nightcats ears point sideways because its cute

-okay you're probably wondering what the FUCK is up with Enot. the answer: who knows??? i made them La Creatura. theyre a little freak of nature who shouldnt exist but they glitched into existence or something and they have four ears and four hands and six eyes as a result

-Gourm... im love Gourm... theyre the second tallest slugcat, Spearmaster takes first place as resident stickbug

-okay so! if you may notice, pre-canon event Arti and current Arti have some differences. previous Arti has some little scars, and a darker end to their tail. current Arti has burns that cover those. thats intentional! i like to think that when the incident happened, the anger and grief took them over, erasing all personhood in the eyes of both the scavs and theirself in favor of carnage and fury and destruction. the burns represent that. the signs of a life well lived, that little dot of personhood? gone, replaced only by rage and hurting and memories of a tragic incident. (dont worry Arti fans in my little au they arent sad and enraged forever, they do heal. eventually.)

-more design notes about Arti but their right leg is burnt and hurts to put too much pressure on, so they prefer exploding if they have a long distance to cover or somewhere to reach. also, i gave Arti a tailtip that resembles a wick that was a result of the burn scars, thank you @pansear-doodles for bein cool about people takin inspiration from your amazing designs!!

-Spearmaster is comically tall and i love that. they also have Suns's logo on the back of their head. its like a watermark! Hunter doesn't have a watermark because in my interpretation, the rot stuff was intentional, added by NSH as a ticking time bomb as a sort of motivation for Hunter, so like why bother claiming a slugcat thats gonna either ascend or experience a fate worse than death

-also the pearl experience left a permanent scar for Spears because why not

-Rivulet.. the funny fishie.... i made almost zero changes to my orevious design of them because it is perfect. just added like some extra gills. theye very short and have little ears because little ears probably help with swimming and stuff to be like aerodynamic. they also have those little flaps on their side like nudibranches!! lil reference to sea slugs :)

-Saint takes inspiration from lynxes (ears) and sea bunnies (the spots!!). Saint is also the oldest slugcat here. i made their forehead dots eyes because that is COOL !!!! i love extra eyes. also chest floof :)

-Survivor and Monks parents had to take care of THREE pups ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT A COLONY TO SUPPORT THEM and they have zero special abilities to their name unlike Arti or Gourmand. theyre gonna be a little scuffed up

-Arti's pups are a mix between a carnivorous slugcat (Arti) and a regular slugcat (whoever Arti had kids with). the blue pup has a diet like Gourmands, where it can eat meat but it wont get as much out of it as a carnivorous slugcat. the green pup has the typical Slugcat diet.

i'll update this if i think of anything else to add!!!

#rain world #rain world downpour #downpour spoilers #survivor rain world #rain world survivor #monk rain world #rain world monk #rain world hunter #hunter rain world #nightcat #nightcat rain world #gourmand #rain world gourmand #artificer #rain world artificer #spearmaster #rain world spearmaster #rain world rivulet #rivulet #saint rain world #rain world saint #hunter long legs #ecliip art #ecliip rambles

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Dismantled Chapter 4

AO3

yippee the Slipping stage begins :D

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of malnourishment, dehydration, and suicidal ideation. Self-deprecation, infantilization, and mentions of violence/gore/injuries. Overall creepy whumper.

2352 words

It had been a few days. He didn’t know how many, exactly, but — but it must have been somewhere between five or six. With no window, ergo, no natural light, he had nothing to go off of other than the meals he was provided with. 

Despite the somehow persistent emptiness of his stomach, he dreaded meal-time. Exposure did not make it easier to be spoon-fed like a… like an old person on their deathbed, he pointedly decided. 

He sighed, shifting slightly in his ever-present prison. His captor had told him this… morning? That if he “continued to be good”, he would be allowed release from it when he returned. Donnie had just stared numbly at the ceiling, wondering if he did so long enough if he would wake up from this living nightmare. He hadn’t answered. It hadn’t been a question.

His body ached from its forced inactivity.

The last thing he could remember before all of this was working at Todd’s place, surrounded by literal puppies and rainbows… and the most delicious ice-cold lemonade he’d ever tasted. What had happened in those missing hours that had landed him here? 

God, he missed that lemonade.

Every so often, in between the bouts of silence that made him want to scream (he’d tried, once or twice. It had only resulted in his throat becoming sore), he would hear something, little tricks being played on his ears — likely the house settling, or worse, his mind simply beginning to break — and he’d brace himself for his immediate rescue.

The rescue still hadn’t come. Were they even coming at all? For all he knew, his death could have been faked, or his family’s memory of him could have been magically erased or some shit, or… with mystic mumbo jumbo, the possibilities were literally limitless. If he hadn’t wasted all his tears crying for his father in what he told himself was the dead of night, maybe that fact would have elicited more.

He needed to face the facts. He needed to get through the front door by himself.

If the yokai kept his word (which Donnie found highly unlikely, but it was worth a shot), he’d be totally home free. Then he could lug ass home, probably get VIP treatment for a couple weeks if he milked it, and potentially develop some form of bio-tech he could implant in his brain to ensure he was never violated like this again. 

All in a day’s work.

That same light knock that could have been pounds directly against his skull rang on his door. The yokai entered (ever the respect for an answer, this guy), no food to accompany him this time.  Donnie was almost a little grateful. If he was spoon-fed one more time, he was going to smite a bitch.

“Alright, let’s get you up, sunshine.” the yokai announced, and holy shit he’d actually be able to move again. “You’re going to be good, right? You know I don’t enjoy punishing you.”

Donnie was pretty sure this guy lived to quote unquote punish him. But, well, bringing that up would be quote unquote backtalk, now wouldn’t it?

“Sure,” he said through gritted teeth.

Miraculously, that seemed to be enough for the guy. Ha, any actual parent would see through that bullshit in half a second flat. 

Pops could always tell when he was just saying shit. When they… actually talked, that is. And when the shit he was spouting involved Splinter himself. 

Okay, it wasn’t like his father was the best parent in the universe, but he was trying. Plus it didn’t hurt that he, you know, didn’t kidnap his children. For fuck’s sake, God must have had a vendetta against this fucking family. 

The yokai, far from the first time, was invading his personal bubble, hands working at the mess of blankets that had ensnared Donnie since he’d first woken up here. He held his breath, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He could barely stand his own brothers to be too close to him if he wasn’t vibing with it. But he could stand this if he meant he could move again. He just needed to hurry the fuck up.

And then, finally, the bundle came away, and there was a blissful absolutely nothing pressing down on every inch of his body. He wiggled his fingers, giddy to feel them moving through pure, open air instead of that hellish mound of fluff.

The door to his room was open.

He sprang up from the bed, which turned out not to be his wisest decision of the day. His vision blurred, and his legs, out of use, buckled, and he crashed to the carpeted floor. His head spun viciously. How malnourished, how dehydrated was he? That he just lay sprawled across the ground, unable to pick himself up?

Frustration clawed at him, and if he were more in tune with his emotions, he may have started crying. He wasn’t going to, though. Not in front of him. Despite how helpless he felt right now. Despite the fact that he was just a kid, despite him just wanting to go home, to be wrapped in the arms of his family, of his actual father.

Why wouldn’t his legs work? Why couldn’t he stand? If he couldn’t do so much as get through a door by himself, maybe this dude had a point in treating him like an incapable little—

There were hands lifting him, righting his body. He just let it happen, numb to the sensation. Breathing didn’t taste right. Fuck. 

His legs were made of pins and needles, and he could do nothing but sit there, waiting for the pain to die. He kind of wanted to die. It should have occurred to him that of course he couldn’t use his legs after such a period of complete and utter inactivity. He should have waited. He should have used his only actual attribute, his goddam brain, and thought about this before he ruined his only chance of escape and—

“—ple? Are you alright?”

He hadn’t even heard the man over the ringing in his ears.

“What?” He asked numbly, unseeing eyes burning with his sudden inability to blink. 

“Are you hurt?” 

He was dying. “I’m fine.”

His captor sighed. “You nearly hurt yourself. You can’t go over-exerting yourself like that. It’s my fault, really. I should have helped you up.”

They sat in silence for a long time. It was Donnie’s turn to say something, but there was a lump in his throat, blocking the path from his vocal chords to his mouth. He couldn’t find it in him to say another word to this man, whether he wanted to or not. What would be the point? He would just belittle him, maybe give a vague, half-baked answer that told him nothing. Donnie couldn’t find a single ounce of energy in his body that wanted to devote itself to speaking, and so he stayed silent, unsure what exactly his watery eyes were a result of.

In a ridiculous and illogical moment of doubt, he wondered if Splinter had even yet noticed he was gone. 

Of course he had. Of course he knew one of his sons was missing. Of course he was putting everything he had into finding him. Of course he was. 

Donnie wasn’t thinking about the nine months Splinter had once gone without speaking to him at all. Fuck, that was enough time to have a kid, nevermind bond with the one you were already neglecting.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Not thinking about it.

Pops was so much better than he used to be. He talked to them, he was around, he — he didn’t just — stop thinking about it.

He needed something to distract himself before he spiraled. Ordinarily this was when he would throw himself into his work, or, if he was feeling up to it, initiate some “bro-time” with one of his brothers. 

In this case, neither were an option. 

“Do you know why I’m taking care of you?” His captor asked unpromptedly, and were Donnie in the talking mood, he would have taken his pick between a plethora of rude, sarcastic responses. It was probably a good thing he wasn’t in the talking mood.

Taking his silence as a prompt to continue, the man settled on the floor next to him, like… like… ugh.

Donnie shifted subtly away from him, allowing himself to lean against the wooden frame of the bed. It pushed against his shell, and he couldn’t help the instinctive hiss that escaped his throat. He’d nearly forgotten about the nearly-healed wounds, gouged deep into his shell by the Shredder.

The reaction didn’t go unnoticed. 

“How did you get those wounds?” he asked, “a fight? Something your brothers walked away from without so much as a scratch?”

His brothers had gotten scratches. Shredder had been brutal, a vessel of absolute violence. If Leo hadn’t somehow managed that agreement with Big Mama… he didn’t even want to think about it. 

He hadn’t been the only one physically affected by the fight. They just… hadn’t gotten the sort of injuries Donnie had. But it wasn’t because he was weaker than they were. They all had different strengths. He knew that.

“I want you to be safe. Your soft shell makes you fundamentally more of a target than your brothers. They have built in armor on their bodies. And I know, I know, you’re a smart boy — brilliant, really — you built yourself a battle shell,” he said it with an awe that Donnie suspected was somewhat mocking. “But clearly… it doesn’t always work so well. It’s too easy for bad guys to just… slice. Right. Through. Your. Flesh,” he emphasized, demonstratively dragging his claws down Donnie’s arm.

He grit his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. He didn’t like being touched. He didn’t want to be touched. He wanted to go home and shower in scalding hot water and scrub until every last skin cell on his body hadn’t been present for this nightmare of an experience.

Why me? He wanted to ask, the words never managing to make it past the growing lump lodged in his esophagus.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, little one.”

He wanted to fucking scream. He wasn’t little. He wasn’t little.

He wouldn’t understand, not fucking ever. He didn’t want to. What did it take to make someone think it was okay to just — just illegally adopt a guy? Weren’t most cases of that sort involving women and infants, anyway? It didn’t make sense. 

Up until this, the fight with Shredder may well have been the most scared he’d ever felt. It had all seemed hopeless enough when it was only Draxum wielding the armor, practically untouchable and nearly crushing Donnie — and his brothers — on more than one occasion. 

And then they’d freed the literal monster within. 

The worst fight of their collective lives, undoubtedly. But they’d made it out, gone home, and holed up in front of the TV for the next five to seven business days. Despite his own injuries, Papa had taken care of them for those few days, to the best of his ability at least, and had apologized again and again for everything under the sun.

Splinter was a good dad. This asshole couldn’t take that away, no matter what he did. 

Now, if he’d gotten hold of Donnie a mere few months ago… when he had been in a slightly more vulnerable place… when Splinter still didn’t talk to him. When he had to scream for any bit of attention from his father. When he was so, so tired of being shut down by his papa all the time. Maybe, had he been snatched up then, Donnie could have potentially fallen under this guy’s spell. But that was in the past. It’s not like it affected him anymore. It’s not like he mourned that his first real positive parental reinforcement had come from someone that was just using him.

It’s not like he mourned how the first time in his life that Splinter had told him he was proud of him had been so recently. How he had never gotten the relationship he so desperately craved with his dad, even now. 

Nearly 15 years old and most of them spent longing for a father that knew his goddamn name.

In a moment of terrifying resentment, Donnie almost wanted to acknowledge this man as his father solely to spite his real one. 

The thought immediately made him ill. Why had he thought that? Why had he even considered that? What was wrong with him? 

And — and why was this guy still here? Any normal parent would just leave a kid alone when they were clearly exhibiting — whatever it was that was making Donnie want to rip his nonexistent hair out. 

He wanted to be alone. He wanted to go home. He wanted a dad that gave him the time of fucking day. He wanted to be alone. But the thought of this room being empty, dead silent save for his own inconsistent, shaky breathing, only served to bring further dread to him.

He dug his fingers into the carpet, desperately trying to ground himself.

He was spiraling. He knew he was spiraling. But god fucking dammit, he couldn’t find a way to stop. 

His brothers were coming for him. They were. Eventually. He would psychoanaluze his daddy issues when he was back home and not at the mercy of some guy who treated him like a mutt he’d saved from off the street. Who seemed to genuinely want him. Safe.

Jesus Christ, this was why he was the science guy. Emotions were stupid and conflicting and complicated, and they were going to fuck—screw—him over if he focused on them.

He needed to bury his — eugh — emotions deep down, somewhere he could dig them up later, when he could afford to. He wished he could bury himself down in his shell, like his brothers could. But he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t quite like them.

He dug his fingers further into the carpet.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #kat writes #fanfiction #fic #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fic #rottmnt angst #rottmnt whump #whump #angst #whumpblr #kidnapping #hurt/comfort #rise fanfic #malnourishment #dehydration #suicidal ideation #self deprecation #infantilization #violence #gore #injuries #creepy whumper #parental whumper

[jinbugs]

Hey, person unfamiliar with TMA but horrifically intrigued by the submas au you've made for it. And I'm not sure how to phrase this question, but like.. help?

I do NOT know what is happening, but you've got me hook line and sinker, scrounging for what little understanding I can get from the comics. So, if you're comfortable with just rambling or smth, please go off

i've been waiting for an ask like this. bro you're gonna regret those words- i LOVE forcing people to listen to my barely coherent ramblings

// the magnus archives spoilers (all 5 seasons to be safe) ahead, as well as like. whatever i decide to indulge you all with for this au, i'm typing before thinking. this is going to be very long:

Context: In The Magnus Archives universe, there exists, perhaps at the dawn of humanity, perhaps before, Fear. And at first it might have been that, a primal emotion, but when humanity evolved, it Became. And aspects of Its splintered being torments the living beings that tread upon the Earth.

This is what we like to call "The Entities"! People categorize them to make it easier, and it was believed there was 14 facets of them in modern society. They manifest as monsters and things and places that trap and kill any living thing. People can be victims of the Fears, or they can feed it themselves. These people are avatars, and they tend to fall into it unknowingly. Some sorta tilt on the grey scale, others toss themselves into that evil shit. If you're either too obsessive or too fearful of something, you're toast.

The main facet that takes place so far is The Stranger, the fear of the almost human, the uncanny, the "I Do Not Know You." The NotThem is a part of that. They lure their victims in by replacing their loved ones, erasing all mental and recorded memory of the original (excluding analog evidence like tape recorders/vintage photos). Then they murder them, taking their skin and flesh to reuse for their next victims. They do this to feed themselves and their "god".

Actual AU Stuff: So you're like wuhoh, does that mean Ingo's dead? Ingo isn't (because I don't want him to)!!! Ironically Volo's clown time-space tearing shenanigans saved Ingo's ass from being skinned alive so like. Yippee!! NotIngo is the reason why all of Ingo's memories are gone, though. He'll be fine. The NotThem dropped Ingo like pizza, cheese face down on the filthy carpet floor. No one's gonna eat him after that.

Skyla remembers him, because the NotThem always has a few choice people (or one person) that don't have their memories replaced. This is another way to feed off of a bystander's fear. NotIngo enjoys fanning the flames of her paranoia. It's delicious.

There are a few ways, canonically to the TMA universe, you could stop or kill the NotThem. You could bury them under rubble or wet concrete. You could explode them. You could dissolve them into nothing by using relentless gaze of the Beholding, the antithesis of its core existence.

Or like, y'know. Sic a couple powerful pokemon at it.

I genuinely don't think the Entities would do too well in the pokemon universe, since there are actually deities of good (or relatively neutral). A pig can be on fire and like, live with it? The Fears have nothing on general pokemon lore, honestly. Doubt many people would bat an eye.

The Entities hasn't sunken its roots in yet, it's a relatively new force in this universe. Give or take a couple centuries and things could change. This NotThem was bold choosing its particular high-profile target. Ingo and Emmet are verrrry unlucky. (I just really like drama. I live for it. I love doppelgangers too, so this is a two-for-one bonus.)

It's not gonna be too bleak though. They'll all be okay. But like. Losing a bit of humanity never hurt anybody. Just a smidge. Pinky promise.

#long post #ask #submas #tma au

[warnadudenexttime]

Vine References

Prompt: @v-doodles​ said: Writing prompts? "and they were roommates" "ah, yeah, I sure hope we are" with any pairing you want.

A/N: I may have written this wrong but I had this idea while playing Splatoon and this was just enough to be a good warm up.

Paring: Slight royality

Warnings: None I believe? I mean Virgil throws something at Roman but nothing hard enough to hurt him.

Word count: 458

Summary: Roman and Patton are having a vine reference battle.

“Round six, are you ready Puffy?” Roman adds the number six to the whiteboard as he erases the previous number.

“Darn tootin I am!” Patton sequels with excitement, he is bent on winning… to some level of success.

Virgil’s footsteps roar through the mind palace living room as he walks down the stairs, laughing. “Ok Patton is the only one allowed to say ‘darn tootin’ in this house. That word is just… banned from use.” He sits on the kitchen table looking at the score.  “So what exactly are you guys doing… and why at 2 am?”

Roman spins around next to the anxious trait with a smile, “I’m glad you asked, Virgilisnotonfire!”

“Is Dan even like still associated with emo culture-“

“Anyway! Marshmallow and I here are battling it out! With… vine references- that sounded a lot more intense in my head I swear.” Roman shakes his head in displeasure. “No more delays! Patton continue this phrase!”

Patton’s face washes over with determination, and gives a “Mhmm!” In return.

“And they were roommates!”

“Ah, Yeah, I sure hope we are!” Patton grins with hope.

“Y’know…” Roman drops his hand on his hip. “You’d think someone holding most of Thomas’ memories and who helped me with a lot of ol’ Tommy sardines’ vines would remember these.”

Virgil snorts, “He’s trying his best, Dude.”

Patton tilts his head to the side and his smile drops, “Oh no… did I get it wrong again?”

“Uhh…” Roman adds a point to the empty side where Patton’s points should be. “That’s totally correct buddy… congrats!” The prince awkwardly applauds.

“Yippee!” Patton giggles and hugs the creative side, “That was so fun Roman! Let’s do it again sometimes, yeah?!”

“Oh uhh… of course Pat!” Roman blushes, from the guiltiness of giving Patton a fake point? No no that couldn’t be it-

Roman thoughts stop before he continues as Virgil throws the nearest object, which was luckily a plastic cup at Princey’s head.

“Just get a room already you nerds, the faster you leave the less likely you’ll wake up Logan. Do we want a repeat of what happened to my coffee the last time Lo got no sleep?”

“No-“ Both the prince and the dad say in unison, letting go of each other.

Virgil steps back over to where he originally came in, lifting his arm to his mouth as he beams just enough to try and hide it. “Pshh.” He scoffs, “What absolute dorks.”

Roman fake gasps in surprise, “Wow! He does actually actually care about someone-“ His sentence ends with another cup being thrown at his face by Virge. “How many of those you got, Darkrai?!”

“As many as the amount of sass you got… so I have an endless supply.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #royality #my writing #I feel like Patton or Virgil is ooc in this #oh well too late now lmao

[youraveragemage]

@havokisamust here have a thing :P

This is going to hurt like a bitch. And it’s going to hurt worse when you have a restart. What you felt through the bond? It’s only going to be thousand times worse, but this is the only way I know how to save you. And Gods help if this doesn’t work, cause I swear I will go to them and make them pay!

Those were the only words she knew from her past life. Said to someone precious. Hmm...precious. Was that important? Probably. She couldn’t really remember. The only thing that made sense was her going between Hell’s. She was passed between Hades and Lucifer like she was their personal play thing. It made things even more fun when they knew she didn’t recall whatever it was she’d done to deserve such horrid treatment. Of course it would entertain those bastards. But then again, the only reason she was here and a demon in the first place was because she’d done a deed so horrible that not even redemption was possible. And she’d also saved someone’s life. How did that equal this punishment? If she had done something so horrible, shouldn’t she be suffering more instead of less? It made no sense.

“You saved someone’s life. And now it’s time for you to go out there and find that person.” Hades remarked with a smile. How long had she been passed from one sadistic bastard to the next? One couldn’t keep count down here. How much had the world above changed? 

“You need a name.” Lucifer remarked leaning against his part of Hell. There were different hells for different religions. According to the Devil, she’d been born in a place of time of Catholics. So she’d been placed in his realm by default. Yippee [heavy sarcasm here]. So she was now a demon. “Names are ridiculously important up above.”

“Dorchadas.” She replied right away. Was that her voice? She hasn’t spoken much during however long she had been down here. She hadn’t thought she sounded like that. What was the name? It was important too. But memories were almost immediately erased in death. 

“Oh? How curious.” Lucifer purred and she almost punched him. Like she had. A hundred or so times before, when he pushed her way too far. He’d even allowed her to sit on his throne at the beginning with a mocking bow.

“Go fuck yourself with your pitchfork.” She growled.

“Now your talkative.” Hades teases. She wanted to get away from these assholes right now.

~~~~~~~~

Vegas. Why was it Vegas? She touches a building. Sin city. She could blend in here, with any other supernatural creature. She had a paper with a referral. 

“You also need a job. Go to this address. He will give you one. You may have to lay with some people.” She had punched Hades hard after that comment. She wasn’t someone to just do that. She may not know much, but she wouldn’t just fuck around, no matter what the fuck she was. 

“Son of a cunt fucking whore.” She swore like a sailor as she continued down the street, the address and how to get to this store on a separate piece of paper, even if she didn’t study it. She was instead looking at the stores and Earth. It was so nice up here. But the moment she came, the blue shade of the sky made her cry. She hasn’t cried ever. Not even in those Hell’s.

She gave the referral to the man at the bar staring at him. In the windows she had seen that her eyes were almost black as pitch. Well, it wasn’t that big of a surprise being down for so long. Years had passed, that’s all she’d figured since she died. Probably hundreds of them. But there was just enough blue to give her hope. He might recognize me with just blue enough. She hoped. But who was he?!

“Your hired. Welcome Dorchadas.”

“You can call me Dorcha. And I do have a bad mouth. I’ve been ordered to warn you.” She said in dry as the desert tone. “And a temper. I’ve been known to punch my superiors.” She growled hating having to say ‘superiors’ when referring to those two damned ass holes. 

“You actually punched BOTH Lucifer and Hades...and you’re still around?!” He asked in surprise.

“Apparently I had been quite the celebrity before I died. If they misused me they had been warned that their punishment would be eight times worse.” Which was why she hadn’t been touched in THAT way with those two, when they wouldn’t have even thought twice about any other person with her black past. She had to be so grateful to whoever had given that warning. 

She was drawing in the dressing room. Again. She’d been doing it every day since she arrived. Those eyes kept haunting her. She’d repeatedly drew the eyes, and the face. Who. Was. HE?!

“He’s a dragon. And a normal here.” She heard another Succumbus say. She snarled and went after her. Just the thought of her touching him? She saw black, for real. She has no idea what she would have done to that other thing, had she not been bound and confined to a room in chains to calm down. But that sparked the fear of never being free and she screamed in fear. “PLEASE, LET ME GO! I DIDN’T MEAN TO ALMOST SCRATCH HER EYES OUT...WELL I DID BUT PLEASE! I DON’T WANT TO BE BOUND!” She’d pleaded. And she’d sounded so sad and scared they had to take her out and warn her should anything like that happen again, she’d be thrown out. She’d been a bit contrite. But damn. She hadn’t felt such anger. Not even with Lucifer or Hades and damn if they hadn’t tried.

~~~~~~~~

She sat in the chair looking at the man with the fire truck red hair. Was there....something familiar about him? Being without memory of her last life, well it sucked. 

“I don’t want anything from you.” He said with a cheeky grin, even as they sat in her room. 

“You...don’t?” She’d asked so confused. Then why ask for her then? And why in the world did she recognize him?

“Nope.” He answered popping the p. And that too was familiar. And it was bothering her. You might think you’d get used to the just out of reach memory. But it was damn annoying. “You remind me of my mother.” Remind?

“She’s dead?” She asked sympathetically. Hey she’d died. Who had she left behind? Was there anyone who mourned her? The thought that there wasn’t sent her panicking. What if he didn’t show? Her heart -did demons have hearts?- broke a little and she felt tears at the back of her eyes. This would be the second time she’s cried in who knew how long.

“Yeah. But do you mind if I talk to you, as I might have her?” He asked. 

“Sure. Please.” She wanted someone to count on her. Even if it was fake.

~~~~~~~~~~~

And the days passed after the dyed red head’s visit, and there was no sign that he was coming. She was quickly becoming panicked that he never would -then again, who could say how long she would have to wait?-  when she saw a figure at the bar. She’d drawn his figure so many times, she could practically do it in her sleep -probably had a time or two- and she swallowed. Was this him? There was only one way to know. “I have a request.” She said impulsively. This would be the quickest find ever in the history of succumbus. If...she could prove it.

“What is it Dorchadas?” Was that recognition in his icy blue eyes? What exactly did her name mean? 

“Can you sing please?” She asked the man. The familiar stranger. “It can be anything you like. Or I can pick.” She quickly added to her request. She was pretty good at reading people even with so little time spent here. He looked miserable. Maybe he’d refuse.

“I know what I’ll sing.” Oooohhh. That voice. She almost shivers at the sound of it. He stood up and went to the sound guy to request music to be played. She smiled wide. Oh please! Let this be him! Then it fell when the music started. It was a movie from a long time ago.  “I was the one who had it all/I was the master of my fate.” Tears instantly prickled behind her eyes. She’d been right in a way. But so wrong. He wasn’t miserable. He was depressed. He’d lost someone important. And it might not be her. Oh Gods, no!  “I never needed anybody in my life/I learned the truth too late/I’ll never shake away the pain. I close my eyes but she’s still there/I let her steal into my melancholy heart/It’s more than I can bear.“ She’d heard this voice in her dreams a time or two. This was him. There was love and loss in his voice. The tears rolled down her face as he watched her. “Now I know she’ll never leave me/Even as she runs away/She will still torment me.” She watched him looking at her and then look at the other girls. Was he...trying to see who else would be reacting? She hoped she was the only one. She couldn’t tear her eyes from him. “ Calm me, hurt me/Move me, come what may/Wasting in my lonely tower. Waiting by an open door/I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in/And be with me for evermore.” He stepped off the stage and right to her. The loss and love were there in his voice. Yet...the depressed nature made way for...hope? Her heart -she still doubted she had one- leaped in anticipation. She hoped as well, hoped that he was hers. For she knew she was his. “I rage against the trials of love/I curse the fading of the light. Though she’s already flown so far beyond my reach/She’s never out of sight.” He was in front of her now. Looking at her as he sang. As she was caught in the eyes she’d fallen for even in drawings. She couldn’t help but touch him with his being so close. She places her heart over his chest. The heart beat was a bit quicker in his chest. His hand covered hers, grasping it as a drowning man would his life line. “Now I know she’ll never leave me. Even as she fades from view/She will still inspire me. Be a part of everything I do/Wasting in my lonely tower/Waiting by an open door.” He took her hand and placed it at the crook of his neck. Was that an invite? Well, she wasn’t going to pass it up. “ I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in/And as the long, long nights begin/I’ll think of all that might have been/Waiting here for evermore.” He kissed her hand. She didn’t waste any more time. With a smile, she sank her teeth into his neck after bringing him down to her. Ooohhhhhhh. The taste. So alien and yet so familiar. She could have wept that a mark appeared where she’d bitten him. Oh, thank you!

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Alaric stated shaking his head as he noted the mark. “ Looks like your wait is finally over my friend. Now, take her home.”

#havokisamust #drabble #long drabble #sheesh