have you triied turniing iit off and on agaiin? @2hiitpo2ter - Tumblr Blog

”Yeah. My alt said somethin’ about it bein’ in a courtyard near a big castle…” And sure enough, the largest castle of all the ones they’d passed in their journey stood before them. The angels had thinned out a bit, less like wasps and more like annoying flies. They buzzed, but there was no more aggression left.

He shook the nervousness off and pressed on. Sure enough, around the back of the castle a wrought iron fence squared around a marble-framed courtyard. Smack in the middle was his quest cocoon, a large stone structure that projected his aspect’s symbol projected into the dark sky. It was the first light he’d seen there that hadn’t just reflected off the buildings from some nameless source on the horizon.

”I’d say we’re in the right place.” Even though it was brighter here, it still had a foreboding feel. He climbed in and sat down on the cool yellow rock below. “You ready? Right through the bloodpusher, okay? I ain’t bleedin’ out this time.” He shivered at the memory and slowly laid down. Fuck. He couldn’t stop shaking. He almost wanted to ask for a hand to hold, but he didn’t want to seem weak.

2hiitpo2ter

"Lookth like the plathe." He squinted, surveying their surroundings and humming to himself. Yeah, this was definitely where they were supposed to be. He followed silently once again, nervously watching the angels and constantly checking around them. He almost felt followed. It was nerve-wracking.

Eridan seemed to settle himself right away, and Sollux took a breath in, held it for a moment - and sighed. This was happening, huh. Snapped out of his own little world at the words, he looked up at Eridan.

"Yeah. Right. I'm ready." He wasn't, but. He needed to be. Swallowing, he took out the knife he brought for the job and took another deep breath. "It'll be okay." His murmured words were mostly for himself, but he guessed if they gave Eridan some comfort too, that was good.

Standing over him, his motion was swift - the knife came down straight into his torso, and out again. The yellowblood held his breath; trying to keep himself calm. He was shaking, too. Eugh. This was ridiculous.

#fishhamlet #((this is bad and i am sorry lmao))

fishhamlet-blog

“Naw, you don’t gotta come lookin’ for me. I’ll shoot you a message on Trollian or somethin- I’m conciliatedAntiquity.” The angels’ effect on his mental state was slowly stabilizing. It was easier to be around them as they trudged on through the intricate cities of gothic architecture.

“It’s okay. I woulda left all this shit in the past, too, if I didn’t have somethin’ to prove.” Thankfully that thing was only to himself, so if they failed he’d be the only one who was let down; and he was no stranger to disappointment. “No promises about the sass thin’, though. You’re too fun to rib on.”

He tried his best at a good-natured smile and wrapped his arms around himself. It was chilly on his land, akin to the sea breezes that shook his ship hive during the long Alternian nights. Many facets of his personality, who he was and where he’d come from had been shoehorned into this place. Maybe that was why it was so horrific.

2hiitpo2ter

Oh right, Trollian. Something he hadn't really used in a while. "Mine'th tandemAeolithtic." In actuality - tandemAeolistic. "Feel free to make a note of it, then." And that was pretty much one of the last things he said for a while, instead following silently and keeping an eye on things as he directed - but let Eridan keep the lead. No sense putting himself in danger.

"Gee. Thankth. I'd get on your cathe more too if I thought it wath worth the effort." He was actually getting more and more doubtful and nervous as they went on; hard to make good insults when you were far too aware of your surroundings.

"I think we're getting clothe," he mumbled after another long stint of silence, stopping and getting a good look at where they were. "Doesthn't thith plathe look like a big deal to you?" Truly, the things they were approaching looked far more intricate and important than much of the other buildings. "Like thomewhere a quetht coon would be?"

#fishhamlet

filmcollectsdust

I totally have a fascination with “fictional” bands. Obviously there’s real people behind the music but the artists are presented to the public as machines, animals, or holograms. The anonymity adds an interesting layer of mystery to the music.

venatorphile

#also what’s great about fictional bands is that it’s more about the work they produce than the celebrities behind them

#ye2.#good.

achluophile liked your post: “current 2tatu2: 2leepy and mad about iit.”

ii don't need your 2ympathiie2.

#achluophile #though they are accepted.#thank2.

current 2tatu2:

2leepy and mad about iit.

#liike can thii2 not be a thiing plea2e.

ii am defiiniitely here.

#holy terriible connectiion ii22ue2.#jfc.#((drags myself here i started this mess i need to finish it))

fishhamlet-blog

Eridan dropped the uppity, teasing tone of voice he's taken up and tried to keep all the questions straight in his mind. These were all things he'd thought about going into this, though- they were all he'd been thinking about, in fact. All the 'what if's.'

"I'm already dead. If you kill me again an' I don't go god tier it'll likely just send me off to the bubble I woke up in the first time." At least, he hoped. The dent in that plan was double-death. From what he'd gathered from Gamzee's ramblings, only his 'Messiah' could double-kill somebody, but it was hard to tell. He could be wrong.

"Don't forget that this is a bubble. You'll get out the same way you got in. Just keep your confidence in your navigation skills an' you should be just fine. An' no, I ain't gonna fight you or chicken out. I asked for this."

He didn't mind answering the questions. At least these he had an answer for.

2hiitpo2ter

Nodding slowly, he started to put everything together in his somewhat jumbled pan. It was understandable to be a little confused and hell, a little worried - because he'd done this already, but for himself and in his own land. And during the game. This was so long after (as far as he knew) and for someone else. Ground on his nerves.

"Okay. That maketh thenthe." Yeah, it did. "What then? If it doethn't work. Do you...want me to come find you, or thomething?" That was uh. What people recruited for this type of job did, right? "Unleth I'm not required for extraction or whatever."

Hm. That was also true. "Okay. Thorry. I'm not uthed to thith. It'th been a long time thince I've done anything with the bubbleth and thtuff." He sighed a little, pausing for a bit of a break. "In fact I've done all I could to forget about them, honethtly." Though he nodded and adjusted his glasses, trying to be confident in his skills and what he was doing. "I'm fine. We'll get to where we need to go. Jutht no thath from you and I think we'll be fine. I won't lead uth into a pit or anything."

#fishhamlet #((this is bad and i feel bad i'm sorry i'm so fucking tired))

fishhamlet-blog

“All you gotta do is kill me, it ain’t like I’m askin’ you to perform some fantastical feat. I’m takin’ you had problems with your Eridan, so take this as a stress reliever or whatever. Maybe I’m the one doin’ you a favor.” His fists balled and unballed systematically, eyes scanning for the best route to where he assumed his quest coon would be. His nerves were on edge, now, and he was ready to fight tooth and claw to get through this if need be.

”An’ just for the record, I got heaps a people that woulda helped if they coulda. I ain’t bringin’ no humans into this bee ess, though,” he hesitated for a moment, straightened up his back, squared his shoulders. “C’mon, I think it’s this way.”

The angels left them alone for the most part, but having so many of them so close to him at all times didn’t do anything to assuage his nerves. He’d joked once or twice about having something the humans called ‘post-traumatic stress disorder,’ (on Alternia they would’ve called it A Good Way To Get Culled) but he was beginning to feel like he might actually have developed it. Seeing this place in his nightmares all the time just reinforced his fear. Somehow, he felt that made coming back and facing it all the better.

If he came back out, that is.

2hiitpo2ter

He shrugged again with a little scoff, folding his arms and waiting for the show to be on the road. "Tho what if I did." It was harder to find someone that didn't. "And tho what if you are." Well. If he had so many people that would help, and he wasn't impatient, how come Sollux was here right now with him?

"Thure. I'm not gonna call your bluff or anything. It'th not important." He was already there, why try and argue the point. He followed him though, closely, doing his best not to be so jumpy whenever the angels got too close or threatened to attack. His life post-game had been so easy up until now; being so jumpy was exhausting.

"Tho what is your mathter plan onthe we get there? You want me to pop a cap in your ath and you're gonna hope it workth? What if it doethn't? What if I'm thtuck here?" Really, Sollux. Worrying about that now. "Are you going to put up a fight? You're not gonna chicken out, are you?" So he had a million questions, big deal. This wasn't something he'd anticipated doing ever again, so at least his concerns were a little understandable.

#fishhamlet

fishhamlet-blog

As familiar as LOWAA had become to him during the game, stepping back into it after two sweeps of being stagnant was foreign to Eridan. It was a warzone, and he’d become a civilian rather than the solider that was in his blood- docile, practically a house pet.

The angels to him had always seemed like a swarm of locusts, but much more volatile. More like floods of giant wasps that whirled past him every few seconds. It was hard to keep himself calm, but he managed to back himself up against one of the large cathedrals to wait for Sollux. His hand itched for the gun that was not there. Out here, the possibility that he could double-die and not come back seemed all the more real.

He wished he’d said a little more to Michael before he left.

”There you are. I was startin’ to think you weren’t goin’ to show.” Eridan shuffled forward to greet the yellowblood with as much enthusiasm as he could muster; which, in this situation, was not a lot. “Some navigatin’ blood you got, huh?”

2hiitpo2ter

While it did take him a little to gather his wits about him and really psyche himself up to revisit a storyline he'd long have considered ended, he did eventually gloss over a few navigational instruments, and set off on what he expected to be nothing less than an interesting journey.

It was practically Hell on Earth, though the earth he'd gotten used to was far from even imagining this sort of chaos. His land had been a frolic through a land of kittens by comparison. It had its frustrations, but all in all wasn't /that/ bad. And navigation wasn't as difficult as he had planned, though being buffeted by the hostiles was sure an experience he'd wish on no one in particular. (Maybe a few higher ups, but such was the life of an office job.)

Oh. There he was. Corner of his lip curled in a little grin and he shrugged a bit lazily. "If I had thought leaving you here wath going to be at all benefithial, I would have at leatht thet up thome thort of camera thythtem to watch." Though, the navigation comment did leave him with a bit of a huffy reply. No more intimidating than a puppy with a cold, mostly due to that lisp of his. He rarely spoke at work, so why try to fix it. "It took no longer than I expected; you thould be thankful I volunteered at all, you know. Not everyone ith jumping out of their theats to athitht thomeone like you, I'm thure." So maybe he had a little leftover bitterness. He'd come out to help at least, right?

#fishhamlet