#i get that one would die permanently and one would regenerate but STILL. holy fuck

[sentientsky]

i will not let clara die // it was him or you // look how far i went for fear of losing you // i was going to make them bring you back // i had a duty of care

[msookyspooky]

STOP EVERYTHING.

CONCEPT; vampire hunter s.o with SEVEREN

CAN I GET A FUCK YEAHHHHH

FUCK YEAH!!! 😲😍

I've thought of this before like other than sunlight and explosions; we have no idea about other weaknesses!!

*I'm ranting bc ur speaking a language that scratches my hyperfixating brain. *

We know they can eat food and most likely like the Lost Boys; garlic doesn't hurt them.

(As badass as they are it would be lame as FUCK. Can you imagine throwing garlic cloves at them and them screaming in pain vs a hail of bullets not effecting them? Nah. Besides, Severen mentioned Pizza in comparison to Sarah. They've probably ate pizza and pizza usually has garlic and they lived. I refuse to think garlic hurts them.)

We know silver doesn't affect them bc Severen wears silver rings. Even if they're just silver plated, it's still silver.

I highly doubt a stake to the heart would take them out. I mean, they play Russian Roulette for fun. They get shot even in the chest and don't seem to give a shit. Severen got hit by a speeding semi and did not care. If a strike to the heart could take you out...Wouldn't you be more cautious?

Jesse got shot in the sternum. It could have hit a lung but that's pretty damn close to the heart by the looks of it. Actually, it looks like a clean shot to the heart...And he's still standing.

It wouldn't shock me if they can regenerate limbs even. I mean, Jesse hacked up a bullet because his body expelled it and healed almost instantly. So who knows what limits they have!

So who's to say they can't regrow an arm or leg? And I think as long as their heart isnt completely destroyed (Like ripped out and crushed or something) then they'd be fine and a stake wouldn't work.

UPDATE!! @turquoisebolotie pointed at while staying at the godspeed motel Jesse has a fucking cross on his gun!! DB uses it but I think it's Jesse's since she seems to favor knives. Either way, crosses don't affect them so holy water or any other religious object most likely wouldn't either.

So basically fire and explosions aka their body being obliterated beyond repair, sunlight and maybe decapitation?

I can picture it now; the vampire hunter hunted down Severen. They played a cat and mouse game everynight and Severen probably didn't kill them bc he was having too much fun. Sexual tension galore!!! Eventually, the hunter calls a truce and Severen and them team up bc they want to hunt down a particular vampire that killed someone close to them. Severen agreed not only to be near them more cause he's crushing hard but won't admit it but he's curious as to see what they can do. The hunter agrees bc it's an edge to learn how to kill a vampire from a vampire but they're also majorly confused seeing the Hooker clan be like a family. Eventually they'll fall in love and either the hunter will become a vampire hunting down certain ones like Blade, die a human with just a fling with Sev or reject humanity and join the Hooker Clan permanently.

[ethospathoslogan]

“Are you fucking insane?!” (For the ask thing lmao I don’t think you’re crazy)

catch me being uhhh terrible and responding to this incredibly late

it’s been a couple weeks since i saw this but i appreciate you specifying that you don’t think i’m batshit bc omg when i first saw this, i just saw “are you fuckiing insane?” and immediately thought “oh god what did i do”

i also haven’t written sanders sides in……….. a really long time, so go easy on me

–

pairing: logince

tw(s): injuries, blood, some angst/hurt-comfort, happy end

–

Sometimes things got… rough in Roman’s realm. Which was expected. Roman’s realm was the realm of Creativity, something that was obviously Roman’s specialty and, with that, Roman had control over it.

And, well, with how… theatrical Roman could be, sometimes he lost control over his own control. Which was an odd thing to think. He was Creativity, after all, so he should be able to maintain his hold on how he commanded his specialty.

God, he sounded like Logan, so analytical and nerdy and thinking.

Well, perhaps it was because Roman had a deep slash down his arm that was bleeding profusely, and he was trying to channel Logan’s sciency mind to see what he could do to, possibly, stop the bleeding.

But, still, if he wasn’t in enough pain to be fearing that his arm might be permanately severed, he would laugh at how deeply he was thinking about his place in the Mindscape.

Sides couldn’t die. They weren’t actual people. No matter how real they all seemed, physically or mentally manifested, they didn’t have beating hearts. Logan made that clear to all of them. Something inside of them, perhaps their very being, pulsed, and, yes, they bled, and they did perhaps live, but they weren’t human. They couldn’t bleed out and die. They could bleed out and weaken, perhaps actually proving Logan’s theory that they were just made of power, but they couldn’t die. Logan’s theory as to whether they could be lost to the Mindscape was still debatable. Sides could “duck out,” but could they be forgotten? 

If Roman fell in his realm, could he be found? Or would he just be lost among the grass and the flowers and the Witch’s Tower that loomed behind him?

He caught himself again. So much thinking, pondering, guesstimating, if you will. He really wanted to laugh at himself. Obviously, he spent too much time with his boyfriend if he was thinking this existentially. Logan with his theories that made Roman think too much and his expertise in science even though Thomas hadn’t been in science classes in years and his stupid face that Roman couldn’t stop thinking about and-

… He really wanted to see Logan. Not even just because Logan would know what to do, but because it was… Logan.

His arm pulsed with pain, and blood seeped further into his white jacket, and he swallowed thickly and gritted his teeth.

Logan would know what to do.

The castle which he came from was now in his line of sight. If he squinted, he could see the rift that parted his realm from the Mindscape. He just had to get a little further, and then shout his lungs out for Logan. Partially to be dramatic, partially because Roman would be bullshitting if he said he wasn’t at least sort of terrified.

He’d been injured before. That came with being a dashing, knightly prince, of course!

But… not like this before. He had had some bad run-ins before, what with some bruises and even a broken arm once or twice, but- yep, he was definitely losing feeling in his right arm and- yeah, his ribs felt like they were stabbing him when he breathed too deeply. And maybe it was the blood or the exhaustion but his head felt like it was swimming.

So, perhaps, Roman was a bit fucked.

When he finally stumbled through the rift -yes, he was pathetically stumbling now- he came out into his room. It was a shame his carpet was white. The blood would stain. If only the red velvet curtains replaced the carpet, because then-

As if his exhaustion was tired of hearing about the curtains and the carpet, his knees buckled beneath him, and he fell to them. Despite being cushioned, the force still wracked a sudden burst of pain throughout his entire body, and now Roman was thinking that perhaps something was wrong with him besides his arm and his ribs and his head. Maybe this was his power seeping from him.

Maybe Sides really could die. No, no they couldn’t. Fuck that. Roman wasn’t about that.

He hadn’t even realized he let out a cry of pain when he fell until Roman’s door flew open, gracelessly smacking into his wall, and Logan stood, wide-eyed, in the door.

Roman, tiredly and trying to muster up as much charisma as possible, smiled up at him. “Perfect timing, Specs.”

Logan gaped at him, his eyes blown wide behind his glasses. Roman noted that he, just for a moment, looked lost for what to do. Like the sight of Roman in front of him was something unknown to him.

Maybe it was. Logan hadn’t ever seen Roman like this.

And then the moment broke and Logan was rushing over to him. Logan actually slid on his carpet over to him.

“Roman, you have to tell me what happened.” Logan’s voice was tight, like he was trying to keep the panic out of it. “What happened? Tell me, okay? You need to tell me what happened, okay? You need-”

“To tell you what happened, yeah,” Roman interrupted, smirking through his pain. “Broken record, much?”

Logan stared at him and whatever sarcasm or snark that Roman expected wasn’t there.

Shit, Logan was actually concerned, and it probably looked like Roman was going to keel over, and here Roman was, being an asshole.

Roman’s smile dropped. “Please help,” he whispered, giving himself over to the vulnerability and pain that he felt.

“What hurts, Roman?” Logan asked, his voice just as quiet. “I don’t know what I can or can’t do that won’t hurt you.”

Roman’s body felt like it was on fire. His arm was heavy and numb. His head hurt. His ribs and chest ached. He was exhausted.

His eyes burned. “Everything,” he said with a watery laugh. “Fucking everything hurts. My ribs, my head, my arm might fucking fall off, and-”

At that, it was like Logan was seeing Roman’s arm for the first time, or perhaps the shock of the situation was finally settling and Logan could finally face what was infront of him again.

Before Logan could rush out a string of questions, Roman said, forcing his tone to be light, “Did you know that the Dragon Witch got a new dragon? Crazy, right? A new familiar. Puts up one hell of a fight.”

Logan, who had been moving his hands to start unbuttoning Roman’s jacket, froze. His eyes flitted back up to Roman’s. “Are you fucking insane?” he asked, his voice barely filling the room. “Why would you- Roman, you’re one person- oh my- holy shit, I need to look at your arm and your- your everything and- and stay here! Don’t move, Roman, don’t move, or I’ll-I’ll-”

“You’ll finish me off?” Roman asked with a smirk.

Logan was already rushing out of his room. “Don’t tempt me,” he was shouting back.

Sides couldn’t die but, alone, it sure felt like it.

When Logan came back in, a giant med-kit clutched in his arms, Roman had finally managed to take off his jacket and was now holding it against the gash in his arm. It was ruined anyway, might as well put it to good use.

Logan was already tearing out disinfectants and bandages from the kit. “So stupid, so reckless,” he was muttering, shaking his head. No heat was in his voice and, instead, it was full of concern. “Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean that you actually need to go out and fight a dragon! What if you couldn’t get back here? What then, Roman?”

During his rant, Logan had taken away Roman’s jacket and, to puncuate his final question, he quickly wiped over the wound, and Roman hissed at the sudden increase of burning.

“Sorry,” Logan muttered.

It wasn’t until Logan started bandaging his arm that Roman spoke again. “You know,” he said, “I expected a grander reaction from you for seeing your boyfriend on his knees in front of you. Not even in a cool sexual way. In a very uncool, painful way.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Logan said with an eyeroll. “You can’t die. You would- regenerate, or just come back to us. You can’t die. These wounds will heal within the day. I’m not losing you.” And, then, he looked back up to Roman, and held his gaze. “I’m not losing you, Roman.”

Roman swallowed thickly and nodded. “You’re not,” he agreed.

When Logan finished bandaging Roman’s arm (and he had been right; just with the bandages, Roman’s arm had already stopped pouring out blood), he cut Roman’s shirt off to examine his chest. Roman looked down, too, and winced at the ugly green bruising that had already begun.

“Trees hurt when you’re thrown against them,” Roman expained.

Logan glared at him. “It’s good that you can’t die” he said, “Because I would kill you just for that comment.”

Roman noted that Logan kept specifying that Roman couldn’t die. Like it was more than just a fact they all knew; like it was a comfort blanket.

Roman smiled. “How else am I supposed to stop our Mindscape from being terrorized by dragons?”

“By not thinking of them,” Logan said, turning back to the med-kit.

He took out an icepack and, cracking it, handed it to Roman. “Sit back,” he ordered, and Roman did. He carefully shifted so that his legs were crossed, failing to hide the wincing, but broken ribs would probably do that. Hurt. With his uninjured arm, Roman held the icepack to the worst of the brusing. “I should probably go get more, so-”

“Wait,” Roman said and Logan, about to get up, stilled. “Stay.” Logan arched an eyebrow and Roman took a deep breath. “You said it yourself: I can’t die, and these wounds will be healed by tomorrow. It hurts, yes, but… stay. One icepack is fine. Stay.” He worried his bottom lip. “Please?”

Logan nodded slowly and sat back down, crossing his own legs. “You’re a very stressful boyfriend,” he said. “Going out and fighting all the time is reckless, no matter the actual severity of your wounds.”

“Well, then it’s good that I have you,” Roman said with a smile. “With your nerd skills and all, I practically have a doctor.”

Logan glared at Roman and Roman’s smile turned to a grin. “Please try to be more careful,” Logan said. “I… I know I can’t, but even the thought of losing you is… rather distressing.”

“Aw, you love me.”

Logan’s glare hardered and Roman’s smile softened. “I’m not going anywhere, Specs,” he said. “You couldn’t even get rid of me if you tried. I’ll always be your Prince Charming, your knight in shining armor, your-”

“Reckless idiot sitting shirtless on a bloodstained carpet?” Logan interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

Roman sighed and let out a slight laugh before wincing again. “That too,” he said once the pain subsided.

Logan ran his eyes over Roman. “You’re going to be okay, Roman,” he said. It sounded like an assurance for both of them.

“Oh, definitely,” Roman agreed. It was a promise to the both of them.

He was Creativity, after all. If he could think of dragons and witches and dragon witches, he could think of ways to be okay.

“And I do,” Logan said, averting his eyes for a moment before looking back to Roman. “Love you, that is.”

Roman smiled. “Such a romantic,” he said. “I love you, too, you beautiful nerd.”

[kevinbaconsleftfoot-blog]

i thought this was a good idea Chapter 2

You wait in the lobby, weapons equipped, for a good thirty minutes, but none of the newly resurrected god tiers think to leave the floors they're on. There's a caucophony of voices in the atrium, and a bit of shouting. "Should we go up and meet with our, y'know, families?" John asks. "Hearing all of those joyous reunions and happy meetings is kind of bumming me out." "That's a good idea," Jade says. "I'd love to meet my alpha self." "Aren't we supposed to be managing things and mediating conflict?" Dirk asks, eyebrow raised. "If there's any fighting," Jake says. "Don't you'll suppose we'll hear it? This building echoes like nothing I've ever seen before." "Fine," Karkat says. "Go, if you want to. I'm staying down here." You, Aradia, Terezi, Vriska, Jane, John, Rose, Roxy, Dave, Dirk, Jade, and Jake all forsake your responsibilites for meeting your ancestors, guardians, and alpha selves. Kanaya joins you a minute later, as Rose and Roxy cheerfully reunite with their guardians, leaving Karkat in the lobby by himself. You've almost made it to your floor when he himself forsakes his post, abandoning the lobby for his guardians. You make it to the sixteenth floor and hop over the railing closest to your door. It's closed, but the doors marked with 1 and 3 are open. 2 is closed as well, but you can hear movement from inside, so you knock on the door. There's a series of heavy footsteps, then it flies open. "Sollux!" Mituna yells. He yanks you inside of (presumably) his block, babbling excitedly about ancestors and dream bubbles. "So, yeah," he finishes. "I got my brains and my psionics back, and some bitchin' new god tier powers, and two ancestors, and a descendant. It's totally radical!" "Yeah," you say, wondering where, exactly, your ancestors are. "C'mon," he says. "I've gotta introduce you to Psii and Sol. They'll be so psyched to meet you." You follow him into his leisureblock, where two adults are standing awkwardly. The shorter of the two gives you a slight wave. "Guys, this is Sollux," Mituna says. "He's my descendant." "Hang on," the adult that waved to you says. "If you're my decsendant, and he's your descendant, then who's the Psiioniic's descendant?" "Technically," Mituna says. "He's the Psiioniic's descendant. But since Psii's technically me, I thought we could share him." "That's not how it works," Mituna's ancestor says. "If you shared him as your descendant with the Psiioniic, then he could share you as his descendant with me, because we're technically the same person." "Aw, fine," Mituna says. "He's Psii's descendant, not mine. There, happy?" "Yes," Mituna's ancestor says. "Now, Sollux, I'm Soleil, or the Techniic if you'd like to be fancy. I'm Mituna's ancestor and your pre-scratch self. It's nice to meet you." "Uh, it's nice to meet you too," you say. Manners most definitely aren't your strong suit. Soleil turns to your ancestor. "Now, would you like to introduce yourself?" "Sure," your ancestor lisps. "I'm both the Psiioniic and the Helmsman, but you're welcome to call me Psii." You nod, unsure of how to respond. "I'm Sollux, or twinArmageddons if you have Trollian." "Nice," Mituna says. "Now how's about we play some vidya games?" "Power's out," you say. "Sorry." "Oh, yeah," Mituna says. "That was dumb." "Or, we could just talk to each other," Soleil says. "That only works if we've got something to talk about," Mituna says. "Otherwise, it's just small talk, and small talk sucks ass."

-

You spend about an hour an a half getting to know your 'family'. Psii was an anti-Empire rebel before the rebellion failed and he was installed as the helmsman for the Battleship Condescension, where he served for the rest of his artifically elongated life. Soleil became the Empress' chief software technician and a computer science pioneer after inventing a revolutionary programming language. Mituna played the game just like you did, but spent three sweeps in his session, and sacrificed his brains and his psionics at the very end to protect his friends against the Black King. As you're finishing up the story of how you spent three sweeps wandering the afterlife with your moirail, there's an ominous rumble from deep inside the building, then the power comes back on. "Sweet," Mituna says, glancing at the lights. "Now we can finally play vidya games." Good things, of course, don’t last, so as Mituna works on staring up his console, the lights flicker, dim considerably, then go back out. “Fuck,” Mituna says. “I have a feeling that I need to go back downstairs,” you say. “If the power’s flickering like that, something’s probably going on.” “There’s a downstairs?” Soleil asks. “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’re on the sixteenth floor. Did no one think to look over the railing?” “Holy shit,” Mituna says. “We can’t be the only trolls here.” “We aren’t,” you say. “The latest head count is 78.” “How the hell do you know this?” Psii asks. “I woke up about four hours before everyone else did,” you say. “The people who were alive at the end of the game woke up another four hours before I did.” “Wait,” Mituna says. “There are twelve of us, and we have twelve ancestors. That makes forty-eight. Where’d the other thirty come from?” “Our session brought another universe into existence,” you explain. “There were sixteen humans that were involved, and their session brought ten separate sprites into existence through retcon shenanigans. A third session linked up with ours, which added four cherubs.” “Humans? Cherubs?” Soleil asks. “Aliens, basically. Cherubs are a lot like snakes, and humans look a lot like we do now,” you say. “We were reincarnated as half-human, half-troll, and maybe a miniscule part cherub.” “I was wondering about that,” Mituna says. “I mean, I thought we were entirely human, but it’s not that much of a difference.” "Any other important information you neglected to tell us?" Psii asks. "Yeah," you say. "But I don't think you want to hear it." "Why not?" Soleil asks. "Well, think about it this way," you say. "Alternia was a violent place, and a lot of the violence was perpetrated by adults and highbloods. Guess who are currently inhabiting the bottom floors? Adult highbloods." "Shit," Psii says. "Anyone high profile?" "Orphaner Dualscar, the Grand Highblood, Mindfang, the Dolorosa, and Her Imperious motherfucking Condescension," you say. "Thank fuck we're god tier." "God tier?" Soleil asks. "It's where you get a bunch of fancy powers and wings and shit," Mituna says. "Check it." He ceases rocking back and forth on his heels to grab an apple from the fruit bowl and shrivel it up using Doom powers. Psii looks at the remnants of an apple like it's the coolest thing he's ever seen, and Soleil looks disgusted. "The powers are cool, yes," you concede. "But the best part is the conditional immortality." "Conditional immortality?" Psii and Soleil ask at the same time. "Conditional immortality," you confirm. "We can only die permanently under two circumstances; Just or Heroic. Just means that you've done so much evil that you actually deserve to die. Heroic means that you sacrificed yourself to keep someone else from dying." "What happens if we're mortally wounded but it isn't Just or Heroic?" Psii asks. "We die, but only temporarily," you say. "It takes about thirty seconds for us to either die permanently or ressurect." "So Her Imperious Fishbitch can kill us as many times as she wants, but we won't stay dead?" Psii asks. "Exactly," you say. "And because we're on a completely different planet with very little Alternian technology, it will take her sweeps of effort to elsalve us as helmsmen." "Got it," Psii says. "What happens when we get to the ends of our natural lifespans?" "God tiers stop aging at about 9 sweeps," you say. Psii nods. "I wondered how old I was." "Wait," Mituna says. "They're nine sweeps, and they're adults. I'm almost nine, am I an adult too?" "Almost," Psii says. "Cool," Mituna says. "How old is Sollux?" "Seven and a half," you say. "Half of the players from my session are, and the other half are six, because that's when they died." Mituna switches from flailing his hands excitedly to tapping on the counter. Since you started talking, he's been moving almost constantly, tapping or flailing or figeting or rocking on his heels. You wonder where he gets so much energy. Soleil seems to notice, too. "Mituna- He's cut off by the door to Mituna's block slamming open. "Sollux!" Karkat yells. "What?" you yell back, surprise evident in your voice. "What happened?" A feminine scream wrenches its way through your mind, followed by wailing. You freeze, and the wailing gets less intense, but doesn't stop. Fuck. Karkat shakes you by the shoulder. "Feminine voice, definitely older, won't regenerate, all others will," you gasp. "Fuck," he says. "The Condesce is having a regular old murder party down there, and, shit, are you sure it was only one?" You barely hear him. The wailing is loud, even after the first few seconds. The soon-to-be deceased must be very old and very powerful, psychically. "Yeah," you gasp. "Just one. Very old, very powerful, psionic, maybe telepath." "Shit, fuck, are you- can you help us keep her from killing more?" Karkat asks, an air of desperation in his voice. "I'll help," Psii says, with all the force of a command. "I'll- me too," you say. - The three of you leave Mituna's block at a full on sprint. Karkat leaps over the railing, then Psii does, then you do, then a new voice joins the caucophony, and you stutter, and your foot catches the railing, and you fall. The new voice is much weaker, but still strong, and much more masculine. Instead of screaming or wailing, it's yelling and swearing at you. You know on principle that this one's going to stay dead too. You haven't stopped falling, you realize. You go to catch yourself, but before you can, you flop bonelessly into someone's arms. Fuck. Dirk flashsteps over to the side, drops you, then rejoins the battle. You stand up, equip your shuriken, and throw yourself in with him. The Condesce has millenia of practice and training on you, so even with about fourteen of you fighting her, she's holding her own. The bodies on the floor are beginning to revive, and she can't keep them dead, meaning that the noise in your head is getting quieter and quieter, and you're able to focus. You throw shuriken after shuriken after psionic blast at her, and she dodges, but she's clearly getting tired. Roxy, Dirk, Kanaya, Rose, and Dave all attack her at the same time, and she can't block all of them at once. It's Dirk's sword that gets through, and cleaves her head off her shoulders. Everyone stops. Her Imperious Condescension's corpse falls to the floor as her voice continues wailing in your head. Threre's a beat, and it stops. Everything goes silent, except for the masculine voice that's stil yelling. "She's gone," you say. "She's not going to revive." A breath of relief echoes throughout the room. There are a few cheers and some clapping. Everyone relaxes. Someone who looks like an oldr version of Dirk steps forward from the back of the room. Dave sees him, and siffens. "Hey, Bro," he says. "Dave," Bro says. The room's gone quiet upon recognizing his presence. You heard stories of how shitty Bro was to Dave in the bubbles, and you don't doubt that everyone else has as well. "Dave," he repeats. "That was fight was fucking awful. Did you even try?"