towerofanimus | [OPEN] you waste your time with hate and regret

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[OPEN] you waste your time with hate and regret

Characters: Jade!Eridan Ampora('s half dead carcass) and YOU.
Setting: Floor 12.
Format: Action, but I'll match you.
Summary: Nobody told Eridan sleeping in this cold is a bad, bad idea. What did you expect from him? He knows how to survive extreme heat, not extreme cold.
Warnings: Jadeblood popcicles. Jadeblood popcicles for everyone. Also Eridan sliding down the slippery slope of murderously batshit crazy, yay.

[Watching the universes ending and stars imploding and the whole thing... it's rather soothing. Sort of. Eridan was in dire need of soothing things, to put his mind back together. He'd intended to maybe sit there for a couple hours, watching the stars dying, and trying to calm himself down from an abrupt, nonsensical rage that even he could tell was irrational. He'd been pushing down a bubble of hysteria for the better part of four days now, mostly because hysteria meant bad, bad things for all involved, but maybe if he went at it slowly, it wouldn't be so bad. Because meltdowns totally work that way, obviously. Though even he had to admit that he couldn't keep on pretending everything was right and peachy. Putting on a smile and going through the motions was getting almost physically painful, but he didn't want anyone to get hurt. (And of course, being a responsible troll and asking Jade for a feelings jam was not an idea that occurred to him, either, because what is doing the right thing, haha, you must have confused him for someone else, Eridan Ampora never does the right thing unless Paradox Space has him at metaphorical gun point about it.)

Eridan watched the cycles of destruction repeat over and over again, while he tried to put order to the mess that is his head, but it wasn't long before he started feeling sleepy instead. Not really knowing any better, and given the alternative was thinking more about Rei and such, he started nodding off, fueled by the cold.

Which is why you'll find him tucked away in a corner of the room, face buried into his knees, arms around his ankles and limbs already stiff. The sleeves of that jacket have been brutalized already, but hey. At least there isn't a single bloodstain on this floor.

Yet.]

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Hahahahahahaha!

[He doesn't quite know why he's laughing, exactly - but do you ever really need a reason? It's somehow hilarious that someone else actually gets it. It's such a God damn relief that he can't do anything but sit there and fucking laugh.]

Fuck, man. I ain't bein' all telepathetically served fuckin' no burny shit. Bro's gettin' himself a little mother fucking jealous over here.

[See now, Gamzee is the only person Eridan can talk about this without getting anxious. Mostly because Gamzee gets it. Eridan wouldn't have nearly as many hangups about being a murderous asshole if everyone around him didn't act so fucking disappointed every time someone dies. Like, what the fuck does it matter, around here? Everyone just comes back. Sometimes you're doing them a goddamn fucking favor, saving them the inconvenience of whatever the fuck the Tower's cooked up this month. But nooooo, murder is wrong, they say. And then they cry and get angry or hurt or fuck...

It's all about fitting in, but it's nice when he doesn't have to argue with himself about things, when he knows where he's standing, with people. He knows where he stands with Gamzee: free-for-all snark and murder if the mood strikes them, and no one gets mad about it, in the grand scheme of things, because isn't it some kind of stupid joke in the end? Yeah.]

It wasn't even fun, just a goddamn fucking gross human mess. Too many fucking eyes and tongues and spikes and shit. Nearly lost my fucking lunch.

[He starts chuckling again.]

Not that there's a big lot of nothing to have for lunch.

[What does it matter anywhere, really? Murder in this magical Tower, murder anywhere else - if someone really wanted to keep their life, they wouldn't let themselves get killed. It was a favor, really. Lives get out of control, lives reproduce and reproduce and it's up to the servants of the bitchin' omnipotents to thin the riotous herd, so to speak.]

[This is more relaxed than he's been in a while - fever or no. It gets so hard, trying to stuff all of these urges away - pretend he's someone he's not? Which way is the right way to live? What's so bad about doing what comes natural? Why do people have to try and change what they don't think is right!?]

What all you're being to describe sounds motherfuckin' much tastier than any fucking delectables I be gettin' my see on of lately, to be fuckin' fair.

[He rolls his shoulders.]

So, you up and brought your fuckin' ass here all 'cause you wasn't feelin' like holdin' them bilesack juices up in yourself no more?

More like... more like trying to make up my mind.

[Eridan clicked his claws a little, eyes unfocusing somewhat, before he snapped back to reality. For some values of reality.]

Fucking choices. Always. With the grubfucking. Choices.

[He wasn't really in the giving mood, but...]

Choices be makin' things so much motherfuckin' more fun, bro.

The fuck choices got you curled on your fuckin' self like a bulgeless bitchgrub!?

They'd be fun they stuck. But they always fade away and you're left with the shitty after taste.

[Eridan leaned back against the wall, slowly unfolding, shifting from a tight ball of limbs to a graceless sprawl as the tips of his horns scratched the wall.]

You know how it is, you get a taste once and then it's hard to stop.

[That's better. Gamzee was getting kind of sick of the lumpy boulder look. He chose now to make the extra effort and put his ass firmly on the ground in front of where Eridan had sprawled himself. He didn't take such a lax position, however, simply throwing his arms over his bent knees.]

Some motherfuckers might all to be saying it be most motherfuckin'... insatiable.

[He grinned halfheartedly. Still...]

Don't yet explain all this sad ass attempt at motherfuckin' imploding you got all fuckin' up and going, though.

Because I'm going to regret it in the end.

[He always regrets it in the end. He snorts, staring at his hands. He took a deep breath that burned all the way in, trying to calm himself.]

Feels like I'm about to tear myself or the world to shreds. But then I'm going to regret it.

[Gamzee laughed unexpectedly. What a joke.]

How do you even fuckin' get up at knowing on what the fuck's gonna happen after all you be doing any motherfuckin' thing!? Just fuckin' do what all comes natural in your fuckin' pan.

Fuckin' be regrettin' most everything else anyway, don't you, brother? What's another motherfuckin' thing.

Well, maybe at some point I'd like to stop regretting every fucking thing?

[Don't mind the snarling, you know how he gets.]

[It doesn't faze him anymore, honestly.]

The shit you regret always be the most motherfuckin' rewarding while you're all fuckin' doin' it. Only motherfucking choice I be seeing is to regret not givin' your fuckin' self all the satisfaction of motherfucking being to act up on them thirsties, or to fuckin' give yourself that wicked bliss and lament them fuckin' transgressions later.

Latter always seems all more motherfuckin' rewarding to me.

Those choices suck.

[Yeah, he's being utterly fucking mature here. He is the most mature of all murderous psychos here.]

There should be a third choice.

[Like oh, stop fucking up everything, grow a spine, acknowledge your issues and consciously work to get past them?]

Like, getting to enjoy the carnage without getting this fucking guilt chewing at my fucking gut all the time.

[...Eridan, you're a hopeless fucking idiot and you deserve everything you get.]

[Gamzee will give you a run for your money for that title, Eridan. Watch out.]

You meaning about the motherfuckin' option that'll turn you into my motherfucking ass?

[Another grin. As much as he tried (and there were some times that he actually did try) to feel remorse for the things he did, he could never summon the feeling. All apathy, all the time.]

[Eridan cracks up a nasty laugh, slightly off pitch and a little too loud.]

Hahaha, maybe. Still not sure I dig the facepaint shtick, though.

[If there was ever a more incredulous look, it would be a sin.]

Don't fuckin' knock at this shit til all you be motherfucking getting your tries on at it, motherfucker.

Devoutees-only gig, usually. But I think I can be warping the motherfuckin' dogma a little to paint you up somethin' bitchin'.

Because last time you got me to try something new, it worked out so well.

[Puke, puke everywhere. Have some more of that broken up laughter.]

Can't fuckin' seem to recall.

[Hey, look, he's getting a little better at the deadpan? Not as good as the true master, though.]

You raggin' on my motherfuckin' believings, motherfucker? 'Cause that all be a motherfucking cull-worthy offense.

I thought breathing was a cull-worthy offense?

[But he shrugs, snorting.]

If I'm going to rag on you for something, it ain't gonna be what you believe in.

[There's a pause.]

Specially since I don't even know what the fuck you believe in anyway.

[A smirk.]

You think bitches need a motherfuckin' understanding to get their rip on of something?

Bitches? I don't care.

[He smiles humorlessly.]

Me? Yeah. I'm not very heavy in irrational lashing out, remember?

[Scoffing.]

Coulda fuckin' fooled the shit out of me.

Just because I'm fucking good at it doesn't mean I like being good at it.

Edited 2013-01-15 22:16 (UTC)

Gets you all the bitches, though.

[He smirked. It was obviously not the moment for poorly-executed lewd humor, but there was never not a moment for humor as far as Gamzee was concerned.]

Ain't nothing in this fuckin' world a little faith ain't goin' to set right. I'll set your ass up with an express conversion.

[Gamzee is being ridiculous enough that it's taking Eridan effort to keep up with him. And that helps distract him somewhat, from the current screeching in the back of his head.]

...how does that even work?

[He smirks thoughtfully, rolling his eyes up in concentration.]

Involves somethin' which with what I ain't motherfuckin' dabbled in too fucking long. Consider this brother your motherfucking pastor and tutor, schoolfeeding you a harsh cram sesh all up right before the pious examinations.

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