#it's eating me up inside

[halinski]

.

//rant in tags

[kaisollisto]

[demigod-of-the-agni]

The pishacha are manifestations of evil itself, locked within a cursed amulet. The wearer of the amulet is at the mercy of the demon, known for possessing humans and feeding off their host's chakra energy. However, if symbiosis is achieved, the pishacha can grant its host a myriad of powerful abilities.

I just needed to draw something cool okay. I needed to draw some cool goop and some cool looks okay. okay. if I didn't post this I would have exploded okay

[iphigeniacomplex]

god literally made nicolas cage so david lynch would have a guy for his projects but neither of them seem even vaguely aware of this truth which is why they only worked together the one time. and what can i do about it. i know how the prophetess cassandra felt

[domwitch]

So I've been getting into somno, and now I really want a subby boy to gently fuck me awake every morning 😭😭😭 The idea of a boy who will follow your orders even when you're not conscious enough to give them is kinda hot ngl 🥴

[yukipri]

feelin kinda sad so eating an obscene amount of pasta

[speckaboo]

you know what kills me about the TMA/TMP universe parallels? It's the fact that even with old characters showing up in the new series, we'll probably never hear from Tim or Sasha again. They were both long gone before Celia ever came along. She wouldn't have known about them - hell, most of the cast hadn't known about them by the time they joined. Nobody except Jon and Martin knew them, knew who they were and how their story ended. Their memory died with them both.

And maybe Sasha and Tim do meet again someday, somewhere else. Maybe their story doesn't end in tragedy this time. Maybe they're out there somewhere in this universe, living their own separate lives. Maybe Tim is happy again, without the grief of losing his brother and his best friend to the things that go bump in the night. But we'll never hear about it, so we'll never know.

[predoom]

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

     So y'all know that Vergil only has 2 "earthly" possessions left (Yamato and his poetry book) right?      Well, does anyone else think about the fact that Nero has "owned" both of those items? Nero's Devil Bringer had/has Yamato inside it (or however you want to put that) and now, post 5, has Vergil's poetry book.      At the end of 5, Vergil gives what he can to his son (since he can't return Yamato to Nero). HE IS TRUSTING NERO WITH ONE OF THE TWO THINGS HE OWNS.      . . .      I don't know it just makes me feel sad.      Vergil can't make up for what he's done (and hasn't done) but he can show that he cares about (and, dare I say, loves) Nero.      Not to mention the fact Vergil is replicating what his own Father (Sparda) did. Given we don't know how long the twins had their swords in comparison to when Sparda disappeared/died.

Bonus thought:      Post DMC 4 Nero has always had a piece of his Father with him: Yamato, V (quite literally a piece), now the book. Even though Vergil wasn't there for Nero in a physical sense-      Vergil has been with Nero for as long as Dante has.

[michsmeesh]

hrhhrhrhhh jovier hghrhhh brokeback mountain au hhehjrhjjhgjhkejgdjnhknj its literally 5 am and i just finished these and i hate how they turned out but WHATEVER

i just cant stop thinking about these two and its making me sick!!!!!!!

[skoulsons]

I’ve ranted on the sniper part like three times and yet I want to continue to do so and repeat everything this whole fandom has already discussed. To sit on a cloud in the sky and take a fucking megaphone and just shout about it. How wordless it is. How their communication has already hit that point. HOW HE WAS SO. FUCKING. ZONED IN ON HER. ONLY ON HER. NOTHING ELSE WAS AROUND. IT WAS COMPLETE TUNNEL VISION ON HER AND HER ALONE. How he knows where she’s going and knows every infected to hit to keep her safe and clear her path. How he sits and waits and watches the van for any infected that would dare get close to her. How he started shaking when that clicker got in the van. How he was so full of debilitating fear over her life. His hands sweating, tense shoulders, the hitched and short breaths, and obviously a sky-rocketed heartbeat (and probably blood pressure). How he relaxes when he sees she got out of the van. How he never missed a single shot, despite what he tells her in episode 3- “happens more often than you think.” How he knows she’s going after Henry and Sam and he slightly nods and that’s her sign to move and how Joel takes out every infected in her path on her way there. How his breathing has steadied because he can see her now. He can protect her now. How it’s all just complete dad behavior and he’s still going to try and pull his stunt next episode 🤡 baby you’re in love already, please just accept it

[ruthplaysthesims]

Alonzo's first love...

"The summer I turned 19. A sudden move to the remote outpost of Mt. Komorebi upended my world. Dad's new posting meant leaving behind everything familiar in Selvadorada, but at least I had my family. Within a week, I was immersed in a new culture, new faces, and a strange sense of belonging. Then, she walked into my life.

It was like a bolt of lightning. Our eyes met, and in that instant, the world narrowed to just us. She was offering something, a small box, a mystery, a connection. Before I could decipher the puzzle, she was whisked away. Her name was Sachiko Nagasaki, the general's daughter. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

We shared stolen glances, broken rice cakes, and the silent language of hearts. From hesitant friendship blossomed a love as unexpected as it was profound. Every shared moment was a precious gem, a treasure I hold close. Now, years later, I wonder where life has taken her, if she ever thinks of that summer as vividly as I do."

[anophiles]

🎶mein herr marquis🎶

based on Someone Else's Story by @thedarkivist🖤🧡

happy birthday, Dark!!

[ratsoncats]

I'm worried

Hi, I'm Gabe, I'm 19, and I live in the U.S.

I am a trans man. This is something that has been apparent to me for years now, and something I have suspected (or, in a way, hoped for) for most of my life. I have always felt a joy in aligning myself with the masculine as opposed to the feminine. There are countless personal experiences I could point to in order to show you how I know I'm trans. If you're curious, I could do that. But, for what I aim to say here, I don't think that is necessary. What's important to know is that I like living as a man, being seen as a man, and it burdens me with a deep discomfort and practical disgust to be perceived as anything but.

I've made a sort of peace with my body. My face isn't something I'd consider to be pretty and I keep my hair short. Baggy clothes cover my chest and the rest of my body well. Most days, no one has any idea that I'm trans and simply see me as some boy picking up a gallon of milk. I'm happy that that's the case; I know many others aren't as lucky. I still have my share of reservations about my body, though. I am perfectly fine with being short (to the extent that I even celebrate it), but my chest, my hips, and my thighs bring me dysphoria. (Genitals are a different story that I'd rather not get into on the internet with strangers.) These parts of me are usually easy to ignore, but when I focus on them for too long, sadness overtakes me. I don't want to look like this. I want to be flat, boxy, small. The image of myself in my head doesn't align with what I see in the mirror, and it drags me down.

Another part of me says that cisgender men can have bodies like this, too, and that I shouldn't feel like any less of a man because of it. A third part says that curvy and top-heavy trans men are still men all the same and that stressing over it won't bring any good. As much as it feels good to listen to these voices, I still long for my ideal body. I long because it's a personal desire of mine to look that way, plain and simple. I also long, however, to make day-to-day public life to go smoother. I want people to mistake me for a girl less and call me "sir" and "young man" more; I'd prefer my body to read as a more convenient physical shorthand for manhood.

So, for the sake of my comfort and continued enjoyment of my time on this earth, I'd like to change how my body looks. One way to achieve this would be through the use of testosterone, which, on top of rearranging the stores of fat in my body, would also provide me with the welcome bonus of increased facial and body hair. I am also very interested in receiving top surgery to make my chest more masculine. It lifts my mood just to think of what my body would be like after these treatments, even moreso to know that there is a real possibility that they could be done.

The current climate around trans topics worries me. All I want is to live comfortably, but discussions about criminalizing transness have me fearing the worst. I don't want to force anything onto anyone, to limit or in any way alter anyone's speech, insert myself someplace where I'm endangering others or putting them at a disadvantage, or publicly indulge in a fetish. I'm a simple man with simple desires of a flat chest and he/him pronouns, but there's an army formed against me and people with similar stories.

I'm an American. I believe in freedom. A deep respect for the freedom of speech is something my dad has instilled in me from a young age and that freedom is something I'm thankful for. I believe that if someone wants to say something, they should be able to, and that if someone wants to do something, given that it doesn't bring harm to anyone else (or their property, etc.), they should be able to do it.

There are gray areas that come with that idea, yes, but those are outside the scope of this discussion. What I want to address here are procedures that improve a person's quality of life, procedures like gender-affirming surgery. If this so-called "mutilation" is as bad as some would say, why are so many people happier for having undergone it? Should consenting adults really be kept from personal pursuits like top or bottom surgery? Cis people get cosmetic surgeries all the time, but I don't see the public uproar about those procedures being mutilation. I would also like to ask, what does it matter to you whether someone's genitals could cause or support a pregnancy? The decision to raise a child is a very personal one, and I don't think the general public's ideas need to hold much weight in a potential-parent-to-be's decision making process. If someone is okay with the fact that their body may not work as before and will have visible scars, I think they should be completely within their right to have a surgery or take hormones.

I'd like to revisit the topic of free speech. Someone speaking about their experiences and feelings in their body and about their gender should not be considered pornographic. The average conversation about trans people in no way serves to provide sexual stimulation. Topics regarding genitals and sex should not be confused with explicit content; sex ed is taught in schools, isn't it? Education on these topics is important for many reasons and can prevent unwanted, painful, and dangerous situations. Conversations about transness are simply a dialogue about people's experiences, often with the intention of educating their audience. Given that they aren't intended to get the audience off, they are not porn. People living their lives is not porn. Transness isn't porn.

It deeply concerns me to see people misconstruing what it means to be trans and trying to limits trans healthcare and voices. I have hope for the future, but recent discourse has buried that under a layer of anxieties.

I'm just a boy, sitting at his laptop, worrying about if he's going to have to live with B-cups for the next ten years of his life. Being vocal about issues like this is important. This is how change happens.

The conditions were just so that I decided it was about time I write this. This is my first time posting something like this, but I don't think it'll be my last. Let's keep this conversation going, and let's make this country and this world a place we're happy to call home.

[sluckythewizard]

Keep calm, and drink soda

[CW for blood and gore and vomit] takes place a day or two after emizel was sired. just two boys adjusting to a shift in their daily norms. would YOU drink your homies blood? still not used to writing fanfic so any and all advice IS appreciated. i hope u enjoy.

There were very few things that Soda enjoyed more than well, drinking soda. It was a hobby, an interest, a comfort. And by extension there were very few errands that Soda would look forward to more than the occasional soda run.

The gas station closest to the Demons hideout had stopped selling Faygo entirely about a month or two ago, and it was near impossible to find it anywhere else. The closest place was now this janky little Shell gas station, lovingly titled the Shady Shell, that thankfully sold more flavors than any of the other ones ever did.

It made the hour and a half walk here entirely worth it. Even if this side of town made his skin crawl. Normally he would ask someone to accompany him on this daring little quest, but everyone at the hide out tonight just seemed too tired, too preoccupied, too uninterested.

He knew not everyone really got the soda thing, but they were accepting of it for the most part. Soda is something that, clearly, Soda really loves, but he knew not everyone else was into it.

Which was fine, of course. They didn't need to get it. But, still, sometimes Soda found himself wondering how much of it was a bit, and how much was him.

Emizel gets it perfectly though. He would've been the first person Soda would ask to go on this soda run with him, but, well. He's been preoccupied too, with the whole vampire thing.

It's been a bit more than a day since Soda had last seen his close comrade. For a friend that he saw just about everyday, going without him this long left him feeling a little emptier.

That was fine, though. Emizel had shit he was working out, he had things he needed to do. It's not like he could go out in the day anymore, so of course Soda wouldn't be seeing him at all the usual times.

It was a lot of weird and heavy magical stuff, it made Soda think about those superhero shows. Where the hero needs to keep his identity hidden from everyone. Family especially. He knows how much of a piece of shit Emizels dad is, so he hoped that Emizels home life wasn't stirred up all stupid-like over this.

He hasn't told anyone else, about what happened that night. For the last 2 days, Soda would spend time with close friends and not let them know a thing about what happened to Emizel so, so recently. Why he's so suddenly absent, so distant, so.. off…

'Maybe his dad's just giving him a hard time', he would say, hoping to smother their questions. The less questions they ask, the better. At least until this vampire stuff gets figured out a bit more. Should Emizel wear a disguise when he goes out at night now? Just like a superhero? What kind of hero outfit would Emizel have anyways? Soda figured it would be something really cool.

If anyone could figure out a way to balance all this vampire stuff, and all the leaderly responsibilities that come with being the biggest dog in the Demons, it was Emizel for sure. That guy is so seriously cool.

He was sure this rough patch would even out, and they would weather the next rough patch together no problem. There was really nothing to worry about! All Soda has to do is stay positive, and well, drink soda.

As Soda walks quietly down the crumbling sidewalks of this dreary hive of strip malls and shops, he goes to pull his backpack around to his chest, fumbling with the zipper in the dark. Which was a little annoying, considering the tab of his zipper had fallen off forever ago. He really needed to get around to fixing this damn thing. Maybe another ziptie and a soda tab will do the trick.

Humid air hangs heavy in the night, the sidewalks still somewhat warm after a hotter day. The diesel-soaked air provided enough warmth on its own that Soda had considered taking his jacket off a few times, only for the occasional, annoyingly sharp and chilly breeze to brush by, reminding him to keep the thing on.

Tripping only once and only slightly on an uneven sidewalk, Soda manages to pull a bottle of Faygo from his backpack, a smile glowing on his face. Another short fight with the zipper seals up the bag, and he slings it over his shoulder again.

His flavor of choice tonight was actually the Red Pop, the tried and true, the absolute classic, one of the best Faygo flavors for sure.

But, this kind wasn't actually his favorite. Normally he would stock up on the cotton candy ones, but something about the last few days had him craving the red stuff.

Securing his backpack all the way, he goes to crack open the bottle. Just the clack and the hisssss of the fizzy drink were enough to lift his mood.

Not that his mood needed lifting or anything. Of course. Sure he missed his friend and sure he found himself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and if he's okay. Maybe sometimes he found himself wishing they talked about funeral plans more.

Emizel talked up all sorts of crazy funeral ideas for himself, usually involving the use of his dead body as an inconvenience for others. Outlandish and hilarious ideas, like filling it with explosives and tossing it into a busy road. But what would he want seriously? What would Soda ever do if he just stopped showing up one day?

He had to swallow down all these unnecessary anxieties, so he took a swig of his soda. Sweet, bubbly, comforting. He felt better already! Just stay positive, and drink soda..

It was a lovely night out, and he didn't come all this way planning on letting it go to waste. There was a place he was heading towards, a particular alleyway in this particular place that led off to a particularly tall concrete ledge.

 It was a run-down little space, littered with trash and shitty trees and those bushes with just too many goddamn ants in them. But the view was fairly nice, overlooking a massive deformed intersection. A particularly stupid one, at that; about 3 times a week you could witness a gnarly crash at this spot. Soda always heard people saying that LA folks can't drive, but he was just starting to figure that maybe no one can drive.

That was the place he really wanted to go to enjoy this soda, and he wasn't too far off from it. Just a few more blocks, and he would be there.

Oh wait, didn't he still have a bag of chips in this backpack somewhere? Hell yeah, he couldn't wait to sit down and relax with a good soda, a good snack, and a good view of the night.

Living as a Demon had its fair share of stresses. He felt lucky to have this life, but he knew well that it could be better. That not everyone has to worry about survival the way they do. That not everyone gets injured on the regular and not everyone has to worry about being sick and never getting better.

Living is hard. But it's finding the small moments of joy that make it all worth it. Dying would be scarier anyway. He didn't want to die, and he felt glad to feel so confident in that nowadays.

The sudden   THUNK  of something slamming into the ground just a block away from him, jolts him out of his thoughts, all his gears screeching to a halt as he freezes in place. What the fuck was that?

It looked like a person, laying flat on the ground with only their head and shoulders peeking out of the alleyway ahead. Fuck. He hated this side of town..

Anxiety churns in his stomach as he debates just turning around, but the way the victim reaches an arm out, attempting to crawl away; it made his heart ache aswell. he's no goddamn fighter, but he couldn't just leave someone like th-

The body is suddenly yanked back into the alley, snatched at a startling speed. It didn't feel exactly real, how could something vanish so fast? It reminded Soda of something from a horror movie, or whatever. What the fuck was that??

His foot takes a step forward, before the rest of his body notices its rebellion and locks down again. Was he seriously going to investigate that? He could just walk away and take another alley. But that was the one he was supposed to turn down! All the other alleys are either walled off or gated off and he wasn't about to go climbing over a damn wire gate. His soda would get too shaken up! Fuck!

Another foot goes in for another step forward. He's gotta get the fuck out of here. He could hear more commotion in the alleyway, a scuffle, a skirmish. He could hear someone cursing through a choked breath. A loud and nauseating crack echoes out from the alley, and yet, Soda takes another step forward.

This was stupid, he shouldn't be getting tangled up in someone else's business. What if something happened to all this soda?

Thankfully, it was that thought that actually got him to pause, and take in a deep breath. It wasn't worth it, maybe he should head straight home.

Atleast, that was the thought his heart and mind were about to agree on, until a particularly familiar grroowwwwlll bleeds out from the alley.

Emizel?

All reason immediately evaporates as Soda makes that connection in his head, stepping right up to the corner of the brick walls, and peering around to investigate.

There was a body on the floor, face down in a puddle of red, head split open in a way that reminded Soda of a smashed watermelon.

But standing over that body, was the familiar, blackened coat, and short blonde hair, of Sodas closest comrade, Emizel.

Despite the carnage on the floor, Soda couldn't help the smile that lights up his face. That was Emizel! That was his boy!

But before he could get over just how happy he felt to see his best friend, something else caught his eye. Movement, behind the dumpster closest to the vampire boy. A person, rising out from the shadows with a glinting baseball bat clutched fiercely in their hands.

"Oh fuck, look out!" Soda speaks up, and Emizels gaze immediately clicks over to him, silencing Soda with just that startlingly red stare.

He had forgotten just how uneasy those red eyes made him..

The attacker, silent and professional, rushes up behind Emizel and CRACKS the metal bat downwards onto his blonde head, the sound ringing out like a  gun shot  in that dark little alleyway.

Soda cringes from just the sound of the impact, but was amazed to find that the bat had warped under the force of it!

The attacker hardly had a chance to process his mangled weapon before Emizel whips around to retaliate.

It looked like he had just swung his hand at his opponent, so the way a shower of red spills outward from the slash, catches Soda completely off guard. The monster boy had cleaved an excruciatingly massive gash up from the attackers right hip, to his left shoulder, the slice spewing with scarlet.

 It wasn't until Emizel had pulled back his arm, that Soda could process the way it had darkened with more than just blood, distorted into an odd, spear-like shape.

The victim hardly had a chance to yelp before that blade swoops up into his chest at the speed of a snapping bear trap, plunging through meat and bone with disturbing ease, and forcing blood and viscera to erupt outwards. The red patters down onto the concrete behind, the sound similar to rain...

With another low, inhuman snarl, Emizel brings the twitching, dying body closer, until that signature squish of teeth sinking into fresh meat bleeds outward into the space.

What a disgusting sound, Sodas first instinct was to simply avert his eyes, but as the sound persists, he resolves that he has to do something.

He finally steps out into the alley, and speaks.

"Hey ma-"

He could hardly get two words out before Emizel suddenly rips its teeth away from its victims throat, tearing out a hefty chunk of jellied meat, and slamming the remaining fodder onto the concrete floor.

It immediately whips around to stare down Soda, red eyes glowing with reflected light, and with hardly a chance to process the moment-

-It's immediately right infront of Soda.

A gasp lurches from Soda's lungs as he almost stumbles back in shock. How was Emizel so fucking fast?

Other than that single step back, Soda was frozen in shock, his tongue buzzing with the physical pain of such a startling jolt. 'White boy jumpscare' is something that came to mind, but while usually such a thought would evoke some sort of laugh from Soda, this time it offered no such comfort. Okay maybe it did a little.

Emizels snarling face was only inches away from Sodas. Its eyes were wild and unnatural, teeth menacingly sharp and reddened with so much fucking blood. It was everywhere, coating most of his face, smothering his shirt and his coat, and absolutely choking the air with its thick, metallic stench.

Soda would gag if he felt he was safe to even move. He felt like he was locking eyes with that of a creature, something he would only ever see in his nightmares or in scary movies. But it was real. Those monsters are real. And his best friend is one of those monsters. His bestest friend in the world...

His mind was skewered on that unnatural glare, completely frozen with anxiety. Stalling too hard to come to a proper conclusion, Soda instead falls back onto what Soda does best.

"H-hey man... You want some soda?"

He very gently presses the opened bottle of Faygo into Emizels chest.

The two boys stand there for a moment, locked in a tense, silent pause, before the monster boy finally peels its gaze down to the bottle.

It's quiet, for a few seconds, the gears turning in its head. Until the monster blinks, and its eyes clear, and Emizel processes the sight of the bottle.

"Oh, fuck yeah dude, is that the Candy Apple Faygo? Man, that stuffs my favorite!" Emizel smiles as he goes to accept the bottle, and immediately takes a massive swig.

Soda tries to disregard the way his hands were still shaking. "Uh, n-nah man, its just Red Po-"

The words are bit off as Emizel suddenly retches, a heavy flood of red blood and red Faygo spewing out onto Soda, as the vampire boys body entirely rejects the fizzy drink.

The shock of getting fucking projectile vomited on had snapped Soda out of whatever daze he was just in, and it seemed to snap Emizel out of it too. Soda backs up with a groan, looking down at all the blood and bile and pop on his shirt and coat.

"Ohhh fuck dude, what the hell??" He cringes, not even wanting to try smearing any of it off with his hand.

Emizel was coughing, still holding out the Faygo bottle, but hunched over as his body dared to convulse again.

"Ohhhhhh fuck, ohhooohhh fuuuuucckkk" he grumbles towards the floor "Fuuuck I’m sorry dude, I don't know what fuckin- oohhhgg shit,” He coughs and groans,  offering the bottle back to Soda.

Soda was still staring at his messied coat with a displeased grimace, but looking up to meet Emizels eyes...

There was a guilt on Emizels face that Soda didn't see too often, and it helped wash away that irritation he felt. This sucked, but Emizel was probably going through a lot more. 

“It’s, uhm.. don't, don't worry about it, man..” Soda decides to reassure him, offering a sympathetic smile, and a hand on Emizels shoulder, as his comrade spits out the remaining blood and bile.

"Fuckin hell… I’m uh, I'm sorry about your shirt, man."

"What? Nahh it's okay man, don’t worry about it." Soda shrugs, taking the Faygo bottle back. "I mean, are you okay man? That uh.. looked like a pretty crazy fight."

Emizel was rubbing his eyes, smearing more blood across his face as he seems to be collecting himself. he spares a glance back at the carnage behind him.  

"Ah.. yeah.. I thought I uh.. I thought I saw that one fucker from uh. That one night. Yknow, the one that uh.." He snaps his fingers, as if trying to summon back the memory. "Vampire bitch... Anyway after that I just kind of, uh.."

He seems to space out again as he looks around. It was as if he was just woken up from a deep sleep, like he was certain he had just known what he was doing, but found the dream escaping him. "I guess I just.. went crazy on these guys. I dunno, they're Fangs anyways." he finally shrugs it all off, but Soda still felt unsatisfied by the answer.

"Oh.. huh…” is the only response he manages to scrounge together. Sure they were Fangs, but did they really deserve.. all that? It just seemed a bit brutal, even by Emizels standards.

He found his eyes wandering over to the split-open head. It was mostly red and bloody, but even in the dark, he could still make out some of the finer details of the gray jelly seeping from the gash. A human brain. He wondered if his own brain looked the same on the inside..

“So what are you doing out here, man?” Emizels question helps Soda pull his eyes away from the gore, instead looking over to his bloodied comrade.

Emizel looked messy and even exhausted, but his drowsy gaze was focused on Soda with a worried expression. 

“Oh, uh, yknow, just a soda run. Decided I would stock up on some Faygo from the Shady Shell.” Soda shrugs, his eyes flickering down to the opened Faygo in his hand. The top was covered in regurgitated blood. unnaturally blackened blood…

“Are you.. okay, by the way? Other than the whole..” Soda gestures vaguely at the gruesome crime scene. “Are you hurt?”

The question has Emizel pausing to consider. He straightens his back and stretches his arms, as if trying to detect any pain from any possible injury. Nothing seemed to be bothering him though, and after a second, he decides to shrug.

“Nah, I'm all good.”

“Oh.. That's good, I uh…” Soda found himself looking over Emizel aswell, searching for any wounds the monster boy might be simply disregarding, as he often does.

There was a fairly gnarly gash on his shin..

“Hey uh, I was actually gonna go hang out by the ledge down that way. Yknow, the one with the funny intersection.” Soda says, gesturing off towards where he intended to go. “Wanna come with?”

Emizel looks back that way, before turning back to Soda with a big smile on his face. 

“Oh hell yeah I do! I love the funny intersection!” he starts to walk down the alley, about to step over the body of the broken skull, when Soda speaks up.

“Uh, hey, shouldn't we uh.. Do something about the.. uh..” He waves a hand over towards the bodies, trying not to look directly at them. 

Emizel spares the corpses an inconvenienced glance, and a sigh, but ultimately shrugs them off. “Ehhh I'll just dump 'em in a dumpster again.. That's what I've been doing anyway.”

“And you're not worried about, like, anyone finding them?”

Soda anxiously watches on as Emizel paces around the body with the torn-out throat, licking the blood from his own mouth. Was his tongue always that long and pointed? That's neat, and normally Soda would point it out, but he was a bit.. preoccupied right now 

“Nahh not really. I haven't had anyone bother me at least.. Anyone been bothering you?” Emizels eyes finally flick back over to Soda. 

“Nah, I'd say things are actually more lax than usual. Anything that would end up being trouble’s been pretty much crushe- er, killed- destr- stamped out, by uh, by you.” Sods was cringing with every attempt to find a word that didn’t make his stomach turn, but Emizel didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Emizels eyes were currently a bit more focused on the body laying before him. He had that weird look on his face again… 

“Uhh, yeah, yeah that's good that uh, no troubles coming back to you guys…”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two as Emizel stares at this corpse, and Soda was about to open his mouth to fill the silence, but Emizel speaks up instead.

“Hey uh, why don’t you go ahead of me? I’ll uh, I'll meet you at the place.” He suggests, pointing vaguely off down the alley, but not removing his eyes from the kill. 

Soda certainly hesitates, his eyes narrowing before he even forms a thought. He opens his mouth to object, but then his eyes flicker back towards the body.

“Are you gonna eat this one too?”

The question leaves Sodas mouth as soon as it comes to mind.

Emizel pauses, and considers, before giving a shrug. “I don't see why not. Perfectly good blood.” He reaches down to grab his kill by the shirt, the one with the split open head. As the corpse rises from the concrete, gray matter drips and sloughs from the crack in its skull. Once again, Soda felt the need to look away, and yet his stupid eyes remained fixated on the horrendous sight. Emizel looks over the spilling brain of his meal, licking his lips curiously. “Dude, what do you think would happen if I ate his brain?” Emizel asks, looking back over to Soda with a wild, bloodied smile. Something about that look made Soda shiver, but.. Not really in a bad way… “Uh, I.. Dunno…. Eating a persons brain is how you get like, mad cow disease right? But you might also be immune to disease.. Are you immune to disease?” “Uhhh, I don't know yet actually. I'm still figuring out how much of this is like video games,” Emizel says, rubbing the back of his head as he idly sways the body of his kill around, watching the blood and gore drip and drop from its broken head. “Eh, I'll chance it later.” Without another word or thought, Emizel goes to sink his teeth into the shoulder of his kill, a pleased growl radiating from him as the blood gushes around the bite. More fresh blood upon less fresh blood upon old blood upon older blood. Just so much fucking blood. Soda thought he was used to seeing blood, but this… this was just egregious. Was he really starting to get used to this? It’s just blood after all, and it’s not from his comrades, so it's… fine… He finally manages to pull his eyes away from the gruesome sight of Emizel feeding, but his eyes instead wander down to the blood on his own shirt. Emizels blood was strange, darker than usual, and carrying a different scent. Something about the smell of his blood was more savory, more appealing than the standard metallic miasm. His shirt was smothered in it, his jacket was coated in it, and his opened bottle of Faygo was also splattered with the deep red ichor. Ink swirls within the bottle of red fizzy, spreading out into all sorts of odd patterns. It was a lot of blood. He was certain a lot of it came from however many people Emizels been feeding on. With how much hes been terrorizing the Fangs in just the last few days, and with how nonchalantly he feasts on his kills, who knows how much blood hes actually ingested… Soda swirls the bottle, watching the blood inside thin out into strands, dancing within the bubbly soda as they gradually dissipate, fully assimilating into the drink. A bad idea chews at the back of his head… The sound of ripping flesh once again knocks at Sodas head. He doesn’t look up this time, but he knew Emizel was just playing with his food again..  Did blood taste good to a vampire? Did some blood taste better than others? What did Sodas blood taste like? What did Emizels blood taste like? There's a visceral snap of something among the chewing and ripping, very clearly a bone or a joint snapping out of place. It made Soda shiver a little. When did his heart start pounding? There's an animal standing only 8 feet away from him, feeding on its kill. That animal is a person, and so is its kill. He wanted to know what vampire blood tasted like, but he already knew what human blood tasted like. It hung so densely in the air, he could feel it forming a vile film over his tongue. The blood of a person just like him. Eaten by an animal that eats people.  All this stress was no good. This bile rising to his throat was no good. This creeping anxiety was no good. He's friends with an animal that eats people. Would it eat him? This weird feeling was no good. Maybe it will never eat him. But it needs to eat people. This worry was no good. He needed to wash this awful taste from his mouth, replace it with something sweeter. He needed to keep his head clear enough to be there for Emizel when he needed to be. He needed to hold a light to these shadows. And he needed to stay positive, and drink soda. He takes a swig of the open Faygo bottle.

[lostburgerprince]

you can't "just add a few codexes". you have to write those codexes. you have to write them in the proper voice and style and so it doesn't just fit ONE specific person's worldstate but anyone who also may have made the same decision as them. (you might even have to write multiple variations of the SAME CODEX to account for gender/race/class/romance) you have to edit them. you have to decide where those codexes are going to appear. you have to put them somewhere where people who want to read them will find them. you have to program them showing up. you have to flag it so it only shows up in sPECIFIC versions of the game. (because god forbid it doesn't and breaks someone else's immersion) you have to bug test that. you have to hope it still works when it ships.

and after all that the people complaining might still pick up said codex and close out the window immediately. or run past it entirely and complain that they made a selection in the worldstate that never paid off.

and then you've just spent all that time fleshing out something that's just a small nod to a very small percentage of players. time you could have spent on the current plot or companions. time you could have spent on making *active* decisions matter. these things can easily take up weeks or months like you wouldn't fucking believe.