#GHBcon

[splickedylit]

hectic holiday season totally forgot to post these terrible old people for @quadrants-zines Love At First Spite. Portrait of a kismesissitude whose functionality directly translates to the death of millions :o)

[bookwormally]

Um, okay, prompt. Maybe girl's night out with condy and GHB? Or, hair brushing shenanigans. (That would be a lot of hair.) Or if you're looking for a sentence starter type prompt "I'm pretty sure (Shore) that is not the right way to do that." I've got others if non a these suit u. :3

whoops. this sat here for a while.

He always knows just when she needs a break from dealing with every prawn that comes to annoy her. He comes in and scares them all away and then takes her hand and leads her out as they both laugh. He’s just wonderful that way.

She decides what they get up to during her break whether it’s going some place and eating everything or scaring a bunch of guppies out of their shells or even causing some carnage to some trolls that annoy her. She appreciates the finer things in her life like polishing the blood from a new bit of gold.

For tonight though she had chosen a nice long soak in her delightfully large tub that they could both fit in. The smell from his hair was beginning to bother her and she always liked a good soak. She washes his hair first because then she will be able to relax and enjoy having hers tended to.

For the Grand Highblood’s mass of hair only the strongest of cleaners will do. She gets out the extra strength shampoo and dumps it over his head in a large amount before she even starts scrubbing. He gives a gravely broken sounding purr as she works. It makes her roll her eyes and kick his back lightly. “Don’t be acting like you’re enjoying this. You always bitch and moan once we’re done about how it don’t sit right without all this gunk in it.”

“Doesn’t stop your hand from feeling good all around the bases of my horns and shit, sister.” He purrs a bit louder to annoy her. She grumbles and tugs on his hair as she gets it clean but it doesn’t stop him.

Eventually the smell at least is gone so she steps back as he goes under to rinse. His hair could be reel nice if he ever actually took care of it. She huffs and wets her hair again before sitting in front of him without even a please. “My turn.”

He always makes sure his claws are clean before starting on her hair. Doesn’t mean he’s nice about rubbing in the shampoo or not tugging, but at least his claws are clean. She growls at him at the tugs, but overall it’s a good fucking eeling to get her hair cleaned and her horn bases rubbed. There’s no one asking her question or huffy violets to keep in line here. Just a nice fucking hair wash and her favorite basshole.

She sighs and leans back into his chest. “Next time we go get you some new paint.”

He chuckles. “Best idea, my motherfucking sister.”

[spockandawe]

What time is it? It’s time for me to again sing the praises of Birchbow’s Price Of Forgiveness!! Have you ever been emotionally devastated that somebody tried to kill the Grand Highblood? No? Then go read this story and join the rest of us. God, I could wax poetic about what a great story this is, but more art is coming where that wordsplosion will fit better. But here, let it be said that I’ve never seen a story humanize the GHB like this ever before, and the way Birch balances heavy-duty emotions and plot against sexy funtimes is absolutely divine. I’ve picked up a passel of followers since the last time I drew for this fic, and guys, check this story out, it will not disappoint.

[homestuckroleplaydirectory]

Name/Nickname: Chesh, Tonks, Mufasa, pretty much whatever you wanna call me

URL: thecheshiresmiles

Contact info: thecheshiresmiles, skype: xfortunexcookiex

Characters you play: Aradia, Condesce, Jade, but I wouldn't have a problem trying out Vriska, Roxy, or Kanaya.

Ships you ship/do not ship: I freaking love EquiusxAradia, and SolluxXAradia, HighbloodXCondesce, DualscarXCondesce, DirkRoxy, RoseKanaya

Headcanon biology: literally havent thought much about it.

Other: I like multiple paragraphs, one paragraph, half a paragraph, script. With CondescexDualscar, I mostly see her just fucking with his head. I really enjoy human AUs with like Equius and Aradia, as well as Aradia and Sollux. That's about it~! I prefer to RP on Skype~

[splickedylit]

Today’s Tally II: Excerpt Edition

1SaviorsOfTheWorld.docx

“Yes,” says Kankri, and points.  The girl with the big green eyes and oversized coat lowers her hand.  

“You said some of you left.”  She fidgets. “Is that…the ones who were after us?”

Kankri takes a deep breath.  You can feel it, you’re so attuned to him by now—the twinge of hurt and fear that comes with thinking about the deserters.  

“Yes,” he says, heavy. “There’s one whose allegiance we can’t confirm, but…the other three have nothing but their own interests and gain at heart.  I know a few others here had close calls with our enemies’ powers before they were recovered—I’m afraid that…in a world where there are real superheroes, there are always going to be real supervillains.”  He smiles, painful and crooked.  “As stereotypical as it sounds, uh…we think their goal is to instate themselves as the new world order.  World domination.”

There are murmurs from the children.  Another hand, young Ms. Peixes this time.  Unlike most of the others, the nervousness in her face is heavily tempered with excitement and determination.  Kankri smiles at her.  “Yes?”

“Is that why the imp attacks have been increasing?”  She asks keenly.  “It’s true then?  Somebody’s using them, setting them on civilians!”

“And the ogres,” says the new Nitram, speaking up for the first time.  “There weren’t ogres, um…not until recently, I mean, they probably existed, but they were really very rare…”

“That’s not a very good evil plan, Serket cuts in, loud and piercing, determined to make her opinion known.  “What are they hoping for, that one of you will just accidentally fall into an ogre’s mouth or some shit?  I mean…” she scoffs.  “It’s obnoxious, don’t get me wrong, it’s a pain in the ass! But I don’t see how setting a bunch of dumb animals loose in random cities leads to, oh, world domination.”

------------

Innocence.docx (bluejayjeans thought you should know this is happening)

“Brother,” says little you, and looks up at you just as worried.  “You okay?  I don’t mind what you call me, okay?”

“I—” makes your voice crack. You clear it—again.  Another time.  “—y-yeah.  How about…well hell, ‘s a good name, why not…Gamzee?”

He laughs, and it’s a little sweet sound, bright and light.  He’s missing that tooth and the place you’re missing a different one aches. You remember losing that tooth. You remember crying for what felt like forever because it hurt and there was blood—da told you you shouldn’t be cryin’ about shit like that and picked you up and swung you around until you forgot about the hurting.  

“How’d we know which one we were talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks.  

“Easy,” Karkat says, and points at you.  “Gamzee.” Points to the other.  “…little Gamzee.”

“Won’t make it hard for nobody?”

“We’ll be fine,” says Karkat, and you love him for how he talks, all clear and sharp and straight to the point.  How he’s rough but he cares, and you remember being swung up on big shoulders and wonder if he reminds you of your da from Before.  Before the yelling.  Before the hurting.  Before your powers started bubbling on up out of your nightmares…

“Gamzee!”

“That’s you,” says little Gamzee, all helpful, and pats at your arm.

------------

Egbertdad.docx

“You look like you have a good appetite,” he says, and you blink to yourself and realize all sudden-like you were staring up at him like you found god, all dumb wriggler gaping and wide ganderbulbs.  “Would you like to come inside?  I’m baking some of this tonight.”

“Baking?”  You lean down and look for the first time in the bad you were carrying—it boxes, and the front has got pieces of motherfuckin’ cake on them!  Holy shit, you had miracle cake boxes in your arms the whole time and you didn’t even know it, holy shit.  “Motherfucker!”

He sighs, and you hunch up again at the sound, all sad like you let him down.  “Sorry,” you say, and it sounds like pleading, how it comes out.  “…’m sorry, Mr. Egbertdad, I got—I just—not good at talkin’ like good people, sorry—”

------------

AgeBeforeBeauty.docx

“Ah,” says the man behind the desk, and his eyes flick from you to Gamzee and back again.  He looks uncomfortable.  The back of your neck prickles.  You bite your tongue to keep from growling.  “Well, we’re, uh…always willing to accommodate customers who are seeking a, um…human-inspired structure…”

You stare at him for a full five seconds, uncomprehending, and then he glances at Gamzee again and you understand, and your face floods hot with humiliation.  He thinks you fucking—adopted him.  He thinks you’re his goddamn trolldad.

“He’s my moirail,” you say, and your face is burning and scarlet. Gamzee shivers just a little at the word and you feel his hand slide, cool and fragile, into yours.  “We’re not—he’s not—”

“Oh!”  There’s a note of incredulity to the man’s voice; his eyes flick from you to Gamzee, but he doesn’t question it.  “I…apologize for misjudging the situation.”

“Yeah, you did,” you snap, and turn away, starting toward the door.  “—Gamzee, let’s go.”

“Hold up,” Gamzee interjects, and plants his feet.  You jerk to a halt as his hand tightens on yours, pulling you back.  “Best friend, hold on up now.  This ain’t a cause to walk out.  You’re all goin’ and putting your pump biscuit in front of your thinkpan again. You came out to here for a reason of good rooms for good money.  Get your chill on, babe.”

----------

confess.docx (@spockandawe that’s for you)

“Mm.”  You set down next to her, on the ground by her platform.  Makes you feel all too young again.  “…tried to shoosh me once, y’know.  Before the end.”  You look at the patterns of her floor, the black and fuschia.  “…Told you that, right?”

She looks at you sharp.  “You never atolld me any such glubbin’ fin.”

She sounds like there’s a question there, but she doesn’t ask it in words so you ignore it.  Keep looking down and ahead.  Sit there silent.  

She breaks the silence again.

“…did it work?”

You think about his eyes so burning hot and bright and blasphemous, his mouth as shouted heretic untruths shaping soft soothing toward you.  You had a mind to tear his jawbones out his thinkpan.  You wanted to kill him fast.  You threw yourself against it, fought and struggled at it and had him strung up in irons instead to burn and die.  Watched and wanted to kill him every second of his suffering.  Crush his pretty head in and end it.  

He looked at you once, before it was over.  He looked at you and those eyes he looked on even you with so softly were icy red, cold like the first burn of metal heated too hot to touch, and you’d have sworn in that second you didn’t have a single gasp of air in your whole cold corpse but they tell you that’s when you told the executioner to end it.

“…yeah,” you say, and crack a skull in half from your sylladex to pull out a bottle of elixir.  She’s watching you.  You don’t look up at her.  “…figure it motherfuckin’ did.”

------------

InColdBlood.docx

You stagger and get onto your feet, ears ringing—the air is choked with dust, rough with rubble from the shattered hole where the blast doors used to be.  The lights beyond the hole flicker and go out, leaving the room lit only by the flash and crackle of broken wires, and in the flashing lights…

A towering figure looms out of the dusty dark, stepping over the rubble and sloping toward you down the hall, back-lit harshly by the blazing wires in the blasted-open door. You can’t make out a face, but sometimes in a bright flash you think you see a gleam of wide eyes and white teeth, dark curls of hair and a build like a skeleton.

(Serial killer The Missionary kills 7)

It can’t be a coincidence, and in a flash of light as the Missionary turns, you see a bare, bloody shoulder with the snarling skull of Cold Blood tattooed on it.  You pull your gun and aim for a leg, squeeze the trigger—

You barely catch the flicker of movement and then your bullet is cracking into the floor where the intruder used to be and there’s a cold hand wrestling the gun out of your fingers, your vision is a blur of black, matted curls and wide, mad eyes.  You lash out, panicking and off-balance—you hit a bony chest, but you might as well be hitting a wall.  Somebody yells your name—shots.  The person holding you grunts and drops you, something icy and wet splatters your face.  

“My god, as you command!” a voice is shouting as you hit the ground and roll, somebody is screaming the words over the sounds of your blood roaring in your ears and your friends yelling “—

MY GOD, AS YOU FUCKING COMMAND!!”  

------------

Halore.docx

He was seven and a half, then, missing his hive and goatdad, everything he owned in his sylladex except his marked up book of scriptures he copied out himself off the church homenet.  The purplebloods were thrown together and then pulled apart, the only caste split and sorted—facepaint in one line, bare-faced shoved without dignity into the other.  One elder of the church, old and heavy-horned, sat up high and watched—the work got left to adults much younger, towering over the others in line with dark skin and powerful build.

------------

Whoisthebetrayer.docx

The hands go away from you and you slump down the wall on legs made of water, huddle up as small as you'll go and just shake.  You want to cry.  You want to spring up and slaughter them.  You want to die.

Someone is talking, saying words that burn like cold iron, ancestor, Grand Highblood, murderer, murderer--

"Everyone in this room is under imperial arrest," says the voice that saved your life, and it's so cold, it's so angry and you can't recognize.  Can't contemplate.  "...for attempted murder and blood-based hate crimes. Empty your strife specibi and get down on your knees with your hands on your head."

[spockandawe]

Hello friends, I would like to call your attention to splickedylit‘s most excellent idea, that what if the Condesce has been alive for such an incredibly long time that evolution just... bypassed her? Sure, that’s an awfully long time, but the implications of actual functional immortality are fascinating and terrifying to me, and this does so much to bring home what it would mean to have an undying empress. And who’s to say at when the Condesce was hatched while trolls were getting to the point where they are today? I love this idea and I love this version of the Condesce.

Here’s Splickedy’s latest reblog of the post, which includes some awesome art by dropkickedmurphys, whose design I shamelessly riffed on for this piece. Seriously, go check their picture out, it’s super cool. My main contribution is what if the GHB saw this terrifying, primordial sea creature, and was like ‘...motherfucking HOT.’ Though I would also like to call your attention to the idea of grubs shedding their extra legs being a relatively recent development, because I love how creepy they look just chilling at her sides like that.