Both heads have an identical brain. However, it is believed that on occasion they may possess different brains. It is also theorized that the two heads communicate with some form of telepathy for coordination. Even when sleeping or nourishing itself with food and water, one head is usually awake and alert and keeps a keen eye out for enemies. The two heads switch turns every hour or so, with both only sleeping at the same time when they feel completely safe. Both heads have the same genes and battle together in perfect sync.
Due to its almost non-existent wings, it cannot fly very well. However, it has developed legs that make it a powerful runner. Reaching speeds of 60 mph (100 km/h), it energetically strides across the plains leaving large 4-inch (10-centimeter) deep footprints behind it. It can better maintain balance while running by raising and lowering its two heads. Doduo lives in wide open plains, grasslands, and savannahs.
Dugtrio is a set of Diglett triplets sharing a single body, although no one knows what its body looks like since it's perpetually buried underground. Dugtrio's three heads think the same thoughts and act cooperatively, though on rare occasions may fight over which head gets to eat first. In order to make burrowing easier, each head will bob up and down to loosen the soil. Dugtrio can tunnel under the earth at 60 mph (100 km/h) to a depth of 60 miles (100 kilometers), triggering tremors and earthquakes. It is capable of burrowing endlessly. Dugtrio lives in tunnels and caves under the earth. Dugtrio is considered important for agriculture as its digging aerates the soil and makes it suitable for farming. As shown in the Pikachu shortPikachu's Rescue Adventure, Dugtrio sometimes lives in hollow trees in forests. It maintains the soil and plants trees to revitalize wooded areas. As mentioned in Pokémon Sleep, the three triplets of Dugtrio is known to sleep together, never separating from each other. The trio's teamwork remains strong even when sleeping.
Characters: eventually Lucifer/reader, not in this though
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: ~1.8k
Warnings: mentions of Lucifer killing people, probably more but I don’t know how to describe it
Part: 1/5?
Request/Summary: You have to be kinda connected to your vessel so it’s not just a temporary thing like Nick!Lucifers was. Lucifer feels that connection with the reader and somehow gets her to say yes. She regrets it and wants him out because she of course sees all the bad things he does to the world through her hands. But she also knows that if she wants him out he’ll probably harass Sam. So she’s super passive aggressive and tries to fight Lucifer on every little decision. All the while does he try to get her to cast him out, because for him the initial connection developed into real feelings and even though she’s better than any other vessel she will still eventually die from ‘hosting’ the devil. She’s not Sam, his true vessel, after all.
“What are you doing now?” You’d gotten used to hearing your own voice just inside your head. True, when Lucifer used it out loud to speak it sounded like you too, but you refused to call that your voice anymore. You watched him kill angels, demons and innocent humans using what used to be your hands. You watched, wishing him something worse than hell, and deep down you knew one day he would get what he deserved.
“Right now?” Inside your head you could hear Lucifer speak with something that must be close to his real voice. It was deep and dark, just like you’d expect from a ruthless fallen angel. However it could also be sweet with just a hint of an underlying carefree humour, probably a glimpse at that split tongue serpent thing the bible mentioned.
You were again facing his persuasive, false sweet side now. You hated that most about you shared time, because whenever he was like that a very tiny spark in the back of your mind – or what was even still your part of your mind? – tried to convince you there was more to him than the devil.
“Right now I’m trying to understand why my baby brother thinks TV in general and channel surfing specifically is such a great thing. So far I’m not convinced.”
Lucifer directed your shared eyes at the TV. Some guy in a white lab coat was running down a corridor with flickering lights. You would have almost called it suspenseful if you hadn’t recognised the show. You groaned. This must be what hell really looked like, being forced to watch the re-run of the re-run of a terrible Doctor Sexy episode with no chance of looking away. God, you hated Lucifer.
“I can hear your thoughts” Lucifer’s voice told you, your eyes still glued to the TV screen “Don’t be rude, there is no need on calling on Dad. It’s not his fault I’m your personal pain in the ass.”
“So you admit to being a pain in the ass?”
“Aww you know I’d do almost anything for you, sweetie pie” You could feel your lips tug up slightly. Lucifer found odd pleasure in teasing you with sweet nicknames and pretending to care one bit about what you wanted.
You paused a moment to rearrange your thoughts, before a deep sigh left your mental voice. Apparently he wasn’t just using your lips to smirk at you. “Did you seriously just use my own eyes to wink at me?”
“It’s not like I have a spare pair lying around. Although…”
“Can we not murder someone just yet? It’s Monday morning, let’s start this week on our best behaviour.”
“I love it when you try to order me around. Gives me goose bumps all over.”
“You want an order?” You huffed “No murder on Monday.”
“Come on, sweetie pie” He teased, his voice still sweet but also getting a bit deeper “As if I’d interrupt our lazy TV date. You think I have no manners?”
“Remember how you stabbed that demon two weeks ago and then went out for burgers? You didn’t even wash your hands! That’s all I’m saying about manners! That was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.” You argued, mentally crossing your arms. Really, it was kind of hard sometimes to express yourself seeing that you were unable to gesture or even pull faces. Additionally the need to every once in a while simply slap the devil nice and hard was a great downside of your current ‘living arrangements’.
“He was about to stab me” Lucifer sounded offended “What would you have me do? Stand there and take it? He wasn’t even a very high up demon! And an idiot! Did you noticed how his shirt was buttoned the wrong way? Bothered me ever since he walked in.”
“That is what bothered you?”
“For your information, yes!”
“I can’t believe you” You sighed again, positively sure that if you were still in charge of your own head that this conversation would be giving you a massive headache. Maybe there were some up sides to this after all.
“Can’t handle the devil, sweetie?” There was a warm tease in his tone, but you also felt something underlying to it. For the millionth time you wished you could actually see Lucifer’s face when talking to him. He was the devil, hiding behind snarl and the sweet talk of his split tongue, but even someone like him must have some of his feelings reflect on his face. You never realised how hard it could be to talk to someone and never see them react. It was like only ever speaking over the phone. Long distance didn’t even come to describe it, because he was right there and yet so far away sometimes.
Igh when did this banter fight become so deep? You scowled – or tried since you couldn’t really without a face.
“Sometimes I think I just can’t handle you, Lucifer” You admitted at last, taking your time to let the words bounce around your part of your mind “The devil seems like a so much easier, more one dimensional creature than you ever could be.”
“So you’re saying I have layers?” For a moment you heard surprise ring through with his words.
“I’m saying you’re the most complex asshole I ever shared a mind with!”
“I’m gonna go with you like my layers” You heard the grin in his voice, especially when he added “sweetie pie.”
You had settled in for the night. Lucifer didn’t really need sleep, but you refused to let that ruin your inner clock.
It was weird settling back inside your own mind, letting someone else take full control. At first you had been scared about not being able to come back once Lucifer got hold of every part of your body and mind, but after months of your shared living arrangements it felt like second nature. There wasn’t even any struggle left in the morning. Sometimes you felt as if Lucifer was glad to have you back, as if he didn’t like being alone in your mind.
On some level that theory even made sense to you. He had been inside a cage, alone, for so long. Was living in someone else’s mind and body not just like that? Another lonely prison he didn’t choose?
“Hey, (y/n)”
“Mhm?” You replied sleepily.
“Don’t you want your body back?” His voice was quiet and strained in a way that you hadn’t heard before. Fighting back the sleep you returned a little further to your shared mind space.
“Sure, I would”
“Then why not cast me out?”
“Because…” You took a deep breath as you felt unprepared to have this kind of conversation all of a sudden “Because I can’t let you go after Sam Winchester. He’s your true vessel. But he deserves better.”
“You know this will kill you eventually?”
“You mean my skin is gonna peel off and I will be a real-life zombie till my body finally can’t take it anymore?” Your voice didn’t even waver, a fact you felt oddly proud of “I know.”
“Then why not make me leave?”
“I made it this far” You joked lightly, ignoring the sudden dread that the thought of the inevitable caused “Who says I can’t hold you just as good as Sam?”
“You’re being stupid” There was a hint of anger in his tone. It came so suddenly you couldn’t really place it. Why was he angry you kept being his vessel?
“I’m practical” You argued “Don’t complain about me letting you stay when I’m about to go to sleep. At least wait till the morning for your daily bitching session.”
“I’m serious”
“Me too.”
“I don’t want you to die.”
The words hung in the air between you, thick and tying both of your tongues. It was the kind of confession you had never expected. Mostly because you didn’t think Lucifer had any sort of opinion about you other than the handiness of the free ride he got. You had never thought about the possibility that he cared.
And now you didn’t even doubt it. You shared a mind after all. There was not much lying to each other there. Sure you still had that tiny corner that you claimed as yours, but other than that you didn’t think there was a Lucifer-only corner.
Where was this coming from then?
“You just never listened” He said, answering the question you hadn’t properly voiced yet apparently thought loud enough. “You’re just so idly oblivious to the things right in front of you.”
“I’m not naïve”
“No” There was a softness to his voice that was nothing like his double tongued sweet talk. This felt more honest, closer to the real Lucifer than anything he had ever said to you before. “Just oblivious. You’re right there, fighting me on every little thing I do that you don’t approve of, but never fighting my presence. It’s almost as if you’re content with having me around. I know you’re only doing it to protect the Winchesters baby giant, but… it’s weird being not wanted, yet having someone stick around anyway.”
“Then why don’t you leave?” You asked quietly “You know why I let you stick around. What’s your excuse for staying in this mess then? Is it the easy vessel, you too lazy to find someone else?”
“I don’t want anyone else”
There was a sudden pause. Everything seemed to freeze for that one moment. Your limited mind, occupied and cramped by two people at the same time, needed a moment to process all the things going on inside. It felt like the eye of a storm. The centre of a turmoil filled with very different emotions. There was surprise, confusion, hate, a hint of sadness, but at the very centre so close to that quiet eye of the storm there was a circle of care and a small spark of love.
It wasn’t the romantic kind of love, not necessarily, not yet, but the kind of love someone feels when they lived close to someone for a very long time. When you see someone, really see them for the first time, and you quietly notice that what you see is not what you expected and for some reason you aren’t disappointed. You are glad that the person you see is the one you secretly hoped, but never actually believed, was somewhere in there.
“I’m sorry, that sounded sappy”
You still weren’t sure what to say. Sure Lucifer sounded like he was just joking again, but you could also hear the edge in his voice. He hadn’t meant to admit what he said. It just came like the natural thing to say and now it was out there with neither of you knowing what to do.
therunawayscamp replied to your post ““Your mind is not your own.” [Ethysil]”
'Almsivi's, naturally. Weird shite is their specialty.'
"Why in Oblivion would the trio wanna share their mind with me, though?” The Imperial asked, furrowing his brows. “I’m a lyin’, drug-abusin’, self-obsessed, fornicator with a filthy mouth... actually, never mind I answered me own question there.”
I addressed the mirror as myself. Or as himself. It was nearly impossible to tell who acted this time, I knew it was one of us. There had to be more then just me in here. I had once again been addressed with some accusation that I know in the right mind-set never would have happened. But as I sunk against the wall of the bathroom, the door inching closed behind me, I knew there must have been more then one. I blinked, and he appeared again, before me in the mirror, a demented version of myself, his eyes hollow, his skin a pale even the brightest of suns couldn't brighten, a figment I grew so familiar with. The eyes were like the ones that appeared in my dreams I'd had of him so often as of late, dark around the edges, a baby blue pupil, with blood-shot white, tracing lines of red right to the center.
I was probably finished, to be honest. I'd been cutting it close, consistently, these last months with my curt tone and clustered behavior. I guess it just finally caught up with me. Someone had caught scent, metaphorical or literally I wasn't sure, of the weed I placed in Alexander's locker, except when I say scent, I mean saw me. And when I say saw me, I mean the camera's in the corners recorded it that I had been framed for putting in Aaron's locker. I don't even really remember it, to be honest. Allegedly, I even broke into the school.
So here I was now, wiping frustration off my face, continuously looking back up, it's red shade covering my face with apparent guilt of some crime I have no recollection of committing. I looked back up at the mirror, before me still stood the figure, and for the first time I noticed a complete lack of mimic in the reflection, I wiped my hand across my face, and he, it just stood there. Or existed there, in the mirror.
I've never bought into the whole idea of some parallel dimension, it was complete bull-shit to me. Neither had I thought Narnia, or something of that sort to be real, but damn if I was ever close to a believer this was now.
Then I blinked.
I jumped back as it blinked where my eyes had set wide open. This had to be some sort of panic induced illusion, but to prove myself otherwise I crept back towards the mirror, a single hand reached-out. I swore I saw a smirk as my hand was centimeters away, causing me to pause, but I shook my head and pressed my hand towards the mirror. I pressed my entire palm against the mirror, the figure finally moving in sync with me, his hand pressed on mine.
"Boo," and I laughed. He must have fallen all the way to the back wall. The horror etched in his face was almost comical, but god if I had a camera, I would have captured his face, my face, stone in shock. In the sense that, he sat there, mouth completely agape, his eyes wide as could be, hazel, eyebrows just below his hairline.
But I blinked again, and he was gone. Whatever had just happened couldn't have been real because I'm not crazy. I washed my hands again, swallowing the fear and deciding against wasting anymore time here. I looked up and in the mirror stood my twisted resemblance once more. I splashed the water from my hands on the mirror, and he just laughed. I splashed once more, even reaching forth to smear the water, an attempt to wash my twisted reflection, and he just laughed, and cackled. The sound of it was enraging, infuriating even. I held back the urge to scream, my hands against the mirror balling into a fist, while the other dug around in my pocket. I pulled forth a pencil and slammed it against. Immediately I felt stupid. Almost as fast as the pencil broke into splinters, did I curse at myself, Why on earth did you think a pencil would break a mirror?
A coy grin then coated my face, as I recalled upon the fact that for the police officer to even enter my locker, he would have to remove my lock.
I felt threw my coat pocket for the lock, and it found my hand faster then I could grab it. I pulled it forth and instantly slammed it into the mirror. It didn't shatter, but neither did it remain pristine. A giant glaring cut had forced its way across the front of the mirror, jagged pieces of glass falling piece by piece to the ground around the sink. My hand was pulsing fervently, and I looked down to a red gash, blood seeping constantly. No matter, I continued forth, knocking off bigger and bigger chunks of glass, their shattering sound ringing in my ears.
It could have been seconds or minutes, but by the time I was done, my breathing was ragged and sleeve coated in red, and the mirror was mere pieces that would refuse to fall. It was a rigorous task, but whatever stood there before was gone now. I dropped the lock, calling for another cacophony of glass shattering, with my virile hand I reached for the sink's faucet and turned the knob, water shot out at a startling rate. In my rage I must have busted a leak, or hit a pipe as the water wouldn't stop. I ignored the high-pitch whistle that came from the faucet, washing the blood from my hand, almost smirking at my completed task. I accepted that I was pretty much fucked, in the sense that vandalizing the campus now, has put me in no worse a condition, legally.
I ripped forth paper towels from the towelette dispenser, cleaning my hands before I addressed the task of opening the door, but before he could even make, it to the door, we fell. Him physically, my only viewing glass was in pieces across the floor, but I felt them puncture, and rip into his clothing, his skin, as he fell unconscious on the floor.
It was minutes before two men in uniforms, badges on their chest busted into the room, overly zealous, their violent entry slammed the door into the boys back, most likely digging glass farther into his back. I'm not sure if it was the scene, or the cringe-worthy sound of glass digging farther into him, but the two uniformed-men left the room almost immediately. Minutes later more adults poured into the room, wearing white, and picked us up, Zach up. They placed him on a stretcher and we haven't woken up since.
