#itstrashbill

He recognized the black gunk. It was the same gunk Lucifer had explicitly told him Do Not Touch. But Lucifer wasn’t here, was he? Just what Raph needed, a curious old extra universal being watching him eat cake in a vulnerable state. Trash didn’t answer immediately, and instead kicked out his feet to collapse on his ample rear across from Raph and the cake and the gunk.

“Just a fan of exquisite cake and turmoil,” he replied with charming smile, extending a finger to swipe a bit of icing off the far side of the cake and give it a cautious sniff.

He sure did look extra... something or another. Definitely “extra” at the very least. And that smile sure was something too. If Raph had been in a more right state of mind he might have been a little on edge at this point. Stranger, coming out of nowhere, looks like he’d just jumped off the bus for a Broadway musical called “My Mother Is A Hellbeast”... 

But unfortunately he was a bit distracted. Still swallowed his bite and wiped the back of his mouth though, remembering his manner enough to extend a hand. (It was a dirty hand, but he wasn’t paying that much attention either.)

“Well, the name’s Raphael. And I think you might have gotten the wrong picture cuz I’m not in any turmoil. Not right now. I mean-- not anymore.” His eyes are kind of red, like he’d been crying, and his voice had the particular high pitch of someone who hadn’t slept in about 26 hours but he was still smiling.

[He should be focused on the cakes. Raph spent all morning on them. Plus they’re immaculately iced. They seem to have a bit of black gunk hanging off them here and there, but OTHER THAN THAT-- they’re great. 

He’s actually busy eating one right now. Not just a slice. The whole cake. On a plate in front of him. While he sits on the kitchen floor. 

Looking up at this freaking guy with a mouthful of sugary goodness and almost chokes because WHO IS THIS? After a lot of coughing (and more black tar stuff coming out in his hand) he finally gets out a greeting.] 

HEY who are you??? 

o yeah! i havnt dropped flour in som1′s face in ages

Ricky wasn’t sure if this was the best time, but she needed (or maybe just wanted) to get this over with. She had questions only he would have answers to... If he had answers at all. She stares at the swirling portal she’s produced for a moment, her hand going absently to her lower stomach as she mentally gathers herself. The bump there had grown a little... It wouldn’t be long before it was noticeable under her shirt.

character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with:  Whoever fully appreciates and can wholeheartedly take care of this gorgeous Void God; He deserves the best. 

This one is weird. To start, you pretty much pick your own poison; whatever position or-or act that really appeals to you... And then, just when the magic is about to happen, you up and leave. The trick is to disappear just long enough that they think you’re not coming back - then you tackle them a-and finish the job. 

He tended to save the knives for special occasions and he made a very strict rule about not using the knife made from Stan’s tooth. It’s a liability. But he figured, in his ichor addled mind, that eighteen stabs into the belly with it would make for death and not another Stan infected being.

Lucifer was right. Plucking the knife back out the final time to pushed the body away from himself. Breathing in exerted huffs. Dead, not infected.

Thumbed at the black blood dripping from his nose before it got very far. Some of the static roar in his head calmed down. Gave him some thinking space. Two birds, one stone.

Out came the handkerchief to wipe his face, then the curved blade clean.