#listening to a friend suffer

[clickerflight]

Whump Week: Stay still

@week-of-whump

Master list

Part 4

This one is probably the weakest of all the ones I've written. NGL, Anisha is kind of hard to whump because of how tough she is.

Content: Betrayal, restrained, listening to a friend suffer, head slam

..................................................

"Anisha! Welcome!" Anya said. The shopkeeper was more enthusiastic about seeing Anisha than she normally was, but Anisha wasn't about to complain. 

"Good morning, Anya," Anisha said, picking up a basket to grab the potion ingredients Matsu sent her to get. He usually got his ingredients from another shop where his friend worked, but there were some shortages on certain ingredients so he had everyone searching shops farther out through the city to get what he needed. This was one of the stores Anisha had on her routes when there were shortages. "You seem pretty happy today."

"Oh, yes," Anya said, flushing a little. "I just got a shipment of Goran berry jelly in."

"Ooh! That's actually one of the things I was here for! That's sure to make you a nice profit with the shortages going around."

Anya nodded. "Absolutely. I haven't unpacked it yet. Would you like to come into the back with me and we'll get you set up?"

"Sure," Anisha said, following behind Anya, her tail flicking back and forth happily. 

Anya pointed to a box and said, "Help yourself. I need to go make a call real quick. I'll be up front when you're ready to make your purchase."

"Thanks," Anisha said. She dug through the box, humming happily to herself. There was plenty of jelly in here, more than enough. She loaded up what Matsu said he would need, not wanting to over-buy and make stock even more limited for other potion makers and ritual casters. She hesitated, ear twitching as she sensed something odd nearby. A portal? Who was making a portal in this part of the city. 

She reached out through the bonds to make sure it wasn't one of her teammates, but they were still invested in their hunt through the shops. 

She stood up and turned in time to hear someone running down the hall and into the room. She caught a glimpse of weapons, and she dropped her basket, flaring her wings and screeching. She dodged the first attacker, but more were piling into the room and they were swinging around weapons that looked to be some form of taser. So, they were looking to capture her, not kill her. 

She slammed her wing into someone's gut, sweeping away another attacker as she tried to get to the door. They wouldn't be able to catch her if she made it to open air. 

She pushed a sense of urgency and danger through the bond with her team, trying to warn the others that something was wrong and get them to come help. 

Something caught her in the leg and she flinched away as power jolted through her. It didn't really hurt, but it made her muscles unreliable. 

She tried to get away, but someone else jabbed her, and another, and another until it was all she could do to keep on her feet. 

"Tough one, aren't ya!" someone called, and another one slammed into the back of her neck, putting her on the ground. It still didn't hurt since dragons have always had to be somewhat lightning proof, but her muscles wouldn't respond to her anymore as they were overloaded with signals. 

She whined, trying to get free. Someone pinned her to the ground, rubber gloved hands binding her hands and ankles, tying up her wings and putting an anti magic collar around her throat. 

They backed off, as did all of the weapons keeping her there, and she thrashed, using her legs and tail to send three of her assailants crashing to the ground. 

"Someone control her!" one of the fallen growled.

A gruff man, dressed just differently enough from the others to mark him as the leader, pulled out his phone and speed dialed someone. 

“Mech team, do you have the package?” he asked loudly as Anisha rolled again, snapping at the legs of the people around her. 

The phone was on speaker as the man on the other side said, “Package is secured, sir.”

“Oi, scaleon,” the leader said. “Stay still, or your friend’s gonna get it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anisha growled. 

“Mech 1.”

“Yessir.”

Through the phone’s small speakers, crackling with the range of it, came a scream that Anisha recognized. She fell very still, listening to Kira’s screams as they petered off, heavy breathing just barely reaching her ears. She glared at the captain of this team.”Not very sportsmanlike of you.”

“I don’t have to be. Mech team. Meet us at the rendezvous.”

Someone grabbed Anisha by the hair, slamming her head hard into the ground. She wasn’t badly hurt, despite the hit, but she was still quite stunned as her brain settled again, making it easy for the men to carry her out of the shop, Anya looking a little guilty, though a whole lot richer. 

@whumpsday

Part 6

[surreal-duck]

get out get out get out of my head

[thepartyponies]

Understandable idea, but God made an exception.

Made this on my phone in 5 minutes don’t criticize the quality

[bread-wizards]

Love Laudna wanting Orym to be the one to cut her down if need be because she feels he can make hard choices, and Travis like "uh hello? What about Chetney? You want to put Orym through that anguish? I am right here" like damn, he right tho

[sergle]

There's something about like. A certain genre of posts / Online Opinions about insecurity/depression/misery/complaints that are so unhelpful that they wrap right around to being straight up hilarious. and it's the ones that are more or less written to the tone of "Feeling bad? That's gross!" Like, just so you know, don't voice your insecurities/ have low self esteem, because that's offputting! You're gross and weird. Don't be insecure about that, though. That would be stupid if you felt insecure about people disliking you for being insecure. Not attractive. You should be thinking about being as attractive as possible. You shouldn't make comments about suicide, even if you're suicidal! Keep those thoughts entirely to yourself. Make sure nobody around you knows you're thinking about this. It would Make Them Uncomfortable. It's better to keep these thoughts in your head where they can fester. Don't post OR talk to friends with complaints about you feeling miserable or depressed. Tbh people who are sad/upset a lot? Kinda a red flag! You are probably miserable because you're a bad person and you've brought this on yourself. If you don't have friends, it's because you're awful to be around. Easy! Solved the problem for you. And no, there is no nuance to this, got it? So, make sure to feel bad about feeling bad, but don't feel bad about it, because, well, that's just gross. And annoying! You might've wanted your brain rotted thoughts to be Peer Reviewed, you might have just needed to vent- you might've been hoping for some comfort, to get things off your chest. Well, don't! Don't talk about thoughts or feelings that are negative with your friends, you'd be burdening them and that's only meant for THERAPY. #SponsoredbyBetterHelp #MentalHealth like, DAMN. that's so helpful. you're so good at helping. I um really liked the part where these are all hard and fast rules that encourage keeping feelings bottled up and keeping your friends at arm's length. That's really funny of you.

[theangrycomet-art]

The Almanac is a very... interesting read

I have... opinions on some of the behind the scenes world building and what they had planned with S4 (it makes me a little glad the show ended where it did... writers it's bad enough you offed Prowl when you could have had restoring the Allspark be the Key's purpose instead of upgrading Sari- but then to further split up the team whyyyyy)

Anyway, here's Blitzwing and my take on him before the Triple-Changer experiment was done to him against his will and his former partner the cold hearted bitch who did it to him, also pre-op.

COMMISSIONS OPEN

Ramblings (no really- RAMBLINGS) below: I wanted to make this a comic but the Art wasn't Arting

TLDR: Lancer and Blitzwing were taken as prisoners of war by the autobots and Lancer made a lot of bad decisions to try and save his life within they circumstances which directly led to him becoming the first triple changer.

It's a little more complicated than this but basically Blitzwing (then known as Kaltwing) was hurt REALLY bad when he and Lancer were trying to retrieve the Allspark-about partway through the war. Like- missing his legs- wings ripped off- half his face blasted off bad.

So Lancer, or Himmel Lancer as she was then called, tried to put him back together with what she had on hand because she was not about to let her best friend go OFFLINE. This resulted in her basically frankenstein-ing him parts from a fallen tank decepticon's corpse as well as her own parts to try and keep him online.Most notably her own T-cog, as his was damaged and forcing him to attempt to transform at random. Because they were the same Frame type it was compatible enough to stabilize it when she fused the two ports.

Unfortunately, this still left him in extreme agony as Lancer was a RESEARCHER, not a Medic by any streatch of the word. It was one of those times he was pleading with her to offline him that they were caught by Autobots. With Blitzwing barley able to move and Lancer unable to transform, they were fish in a barrel.

The Autobots, after surgically stripping Lancer of ALL her weapons and installing a "contingency clause" protocol, allowed her to continue Blitzwing's "treatment" as well as forcing her to continue such experiments on other captured ‘cons. Many were curious to see where this "project" would go, even if most wouldn't openly agree to it themselves.

This went on for years with Blitzwing being their geniua pig until they reached the final straw for both of the former seekers.

Through a string of luck and incompetence, Lancer managed to achieve the two's original goal and stole the All-Spark right from under Ultra Magnus' nose. She was hoping it would reverse the damage she's done to him, and possibly restore herself in the process, but she was interrupted when the gaurds caught up with her and the contingency clause protocols activated and began frying her from the inside out.

While she was able to stabilize Blitzwing before all this and relieve him of the physical pain he'd been under, it came at cost. Between his fritzing original T-cog and the trauma of having endless, painful operations at the hands of his friend and subsequent the poor treatment from Autobots, his mind broke under the Allsparks "upgrades"z

During the chaos, he manages to break free and slaughters everyone in the facility including Lancer (at least he thought so). He was trying to grant her the clean death she refused him.

(Ironically enough, this damaged her enough for the protocols to think she'd offlined, and thus deactivate on their own).

He escapes back to the decepticons empty-handed and scary the shit out of everyone while Lancer is left to deal with the remaining wrath of the autobots.

[edwinisms]

banging my head against the wall every time I see someone reblogging a post of mine with tags mentioning the ‘unrequited confession’. we have been OVER this it is NOT a case of unrequited romantic love it is completely canonically up in the air as a possibility. listen to jayden revri himself and be enlightened i am begging you

[moregraceful]

my east coast friends, when they came to visit me in california, would always be like oh my god, kas you live like this? when i drove them on our freeways. kas you know there's a better way to create a highway that isn't needlessly dangerous right?? six lanes wildly unsafe merges for three different highways?? OKAY??? AND??? I JUST PAID OHIO $21.25 TO DRIVE ACROSS THE STATE. TWENTY-ONE AMERICAN DOLLARS. I DROVE FROM CALIFORNIA TO IOWA PAYING ZERO DOLLARS AND NOW ILLINOIS, INDIANA, OHIO, AND PENNSYLVANIA WANT ME TO PAY FOR THE PRIVILEGE OF DRIVING ON AN INTERSTATE? THAT'S A PUBLIC HIGHWAY. FUCK OFF. i think i paid over $40 in tolls across four states and for WHAT. my tempestuous assignation with the capricious i-80 comes to a catastrophic end. i yearn for the stress of a wyoming lightning storm. like bro what is that $21 even paying for?? the nicer rest stops sorry "service plazas"? what?? i don't WANT a clean bathroom and a dunkins, i want a suspect bathroom in a building that looks like it was made by laura ingalls wilder's dad, a beautiful scenic view, and a trucker looking at me appraisingly from across the median!! i want americana and human connection, i don't want a latte made by a teenager that will make my stomach hurt!! "ohhh kas bay area highways are a nightmare there is no reason for it to be this bad" WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO PAY FOR A PUBLIC HIGHWAY. NONE OF US HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS. THE PROBLEM IS USAMERICAN INFRASTRUCTURE!!

[aceredshirt13]

extremely funny to me seeing people say that Bertie has a heart of gold when his immediate solution to getting Freddie back together with his fiancée was to kidnap a child

[minne-cerbinna]

I think quite often of the optional little dialogue tree that one can get about Yaevinn in TW2 with an imported save if one sides with Iorveth, and particularly of just how Iorveth describes Yaevinn

The dialogue prompt "I once knew another Scoia'tael - Yaevinn." will lead to the following exchange:

GERALT: I once met another Scoia'tael leader.

IORVETH: Yaevinn. I knew him. He had beautiful dreams and desperately wanted me to share them. Asked the same of you, I heard.

GERALT: You know a lot about me.

IORVETH: I try to know as much as I can - about everyone.

They'll elaborate a little further in this dialogue about how they both agree with Yaevinn's reasons and the fact that Yaevinn "saw combat and killing as poetry" which Iorveth deems unrealistic because "war is prose, with no place for beauty" (how poetic).

But the interesting part to me is the statement that Yaevinn had "beautiful dreams" and how he was this grand idealist, because this seems to be in contradiction with Yaevinn's characterisation. In his novel appearance, he argues against Toruviel's idealism as he proposes shooting the unarmed messenger. In TW1, Geralt refers to him in his journal as being "disillusioned", as well as being "a cynic and a pragmatist", neither of which seem to hold with Iorveth's account. While this can be credited to the fact that it's possible that Iorveth's past-tense statement of "I knew him" means that he hasn't seen Yaevinn in some time rather than, or at least in addition to, the implied death. He has perhaps not seen him since the Second Northern War, where they were both in the Vrihedd brigade, and Yaevinn could have grown more cynical since the Scoia'tael were betrayed by Dol Blathanna, his earliest characterisation is that of the novel canon, and he does not present a particular idealism that would reflect the notion that he is a dreamer.

It can be taken as a choice of characterisation, because for all that Yaevinn is disillusioned, he does have his hopes and desires for the future and his plans at Vizima, just as Iorveth has his hopes for Saskia and Vergen. He has these dreams, even if he tenders them close to his chest and puts the practical aspects first before he allows himself to have this hope. And I think that is a really interesting interpretation, to have this juxtaposition, that he can be both disillusioned and a dreamer, and that he chose a scant few, Iorveth, and then Geralt, to share in those precious dreams.

The notion of Yaevinn having these "beautiful dreams" is also very pertinent to his TW1 characterisation, I think, because there are optional dialogues in which Yaevinn tells the accounts of how he once lived among humans and believed in assimilation, that the humans would accept the elves if given enough time, only to be persecuted and harassed at length until he finally accepted that there was no place for him there, that there could be no assimilation, only annihilation. And even though he knows it is a hopeless fight, he still proceeds onward. He knows his people are dying, and he knows that if they do not act quickly, they will be well and truly doomed to extinction, but he is still trying to fight. That is, in and of itself, an expression of a dream for a better future, even if he thinks it hopeless, or, as Iorveth criticises, unrealistic.

Serious character analysis aside, I think that the absolute funniest interpretation of this dialogue is that it is not to be taken literally about Yaevinn's idealism or lack thereof, but rather as a euphemism -- taking "beautiful dreams" as a euphemism for queer romantic interest; hence "he had beautiful dreams and desperately wanted me to share them" is something like "he likes men and asked me to be his lover", "I hear he asked the same of you" thenceforth meaning something like "were you also his lover/do you also like men" (and the response "you know a lot about me" therefore indicating that he is correct in his judgement). There's like a whole rebellion going on but Iorveth is just checking out his options, y'know.

[risingmoonyue]

Okay yall so I'm listening to Arsene Lupin vs Sherlock Holmes and--

Just listened to the funniest moment so far

I'm dead

Arsene: I love living on the edge!! The danger, the constant control I must keep under--

Narrator Friend: but Arsene aren't you worried about Sherlock Holmes???

Arsene: nah, I've got the advantage!! He's attacking, and all I've gotta do is defend. He doesn't even know how I work-- [starts choking on food]

Friend: bro you okay?????

Arsene: WHY IS HE HERE

Sherlock Holmes, having just entered the restaurant and is sitting down for a nice lunch:

Arsene: OH MY GOD

Arsene:

Arsene: Imma talk to him

Friend: NO

[greylight32]

I just realized how did Ron know that Terry was in hell? I mean I don’t think you get alerted whenever your family member dies and doesn’t go to wherever you are.  but then I thought about it a little bit more, and it’s established in S2 ep23 that Jodie keeps track of everybody who goes into hell to some extent. So what if my man was just reading through the paperwork of who got into hell, and then sees Terry. and knows how emotionally devastating that will be for Ron, so he goes down to mega hell and tells Glenn. Glenn knows that there’s no avoiding this and that he’ll have to tell Ron so he calls him and they have a conversation. Ron thinking that Terry will come through the gates of heaven soon and Glenn having to tell him that he’s already came through the gates, but just not of Heaven. And Ron, insisting that he has to be wrong, because Terry’s a good boy. And Glenn saying that he knows Terry is a good boy, but he did some things that even Terry would agree weren’t good things. So then Ron goes like “okay i’ll be down, but heres this to give to him” and then accidentally group messages, everyone the letter, and that’s how we got the letter at the end of the episode.

I might write a one shot on that later 

[bearbearhl]

What about how when we hear Penelope in keep your friends close odysseus is repeating the words "I'm the same" and now we hear her in suffering its immediately followed by different beast?

What about him begging Penelope to believe he's the same only in no longer you to be told it won't be "him" who gets home and deciding to make sure he's different enough to be the man who gets to her?

What about my mental health, huh?

[blazeismyname]

Normal bleeding boyfriend texts.

WHILE I WAS WRITING THE TAG SHE RESPONDED HELP

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.