doomsaying: (is just a rec0rd they perf0rmed)
ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀɴᴅᴍᴀɪᴅ. ([personal profile] doomsaying) wrote in [community profile] antionette2012-09-13 07:09 pm

HOMESTUCK ᴥ i'm not your fucking babysitter

There were not enough stars in any universe for the Handmaid to count how many miserable tasks she had been assigned, but there were none more infuriating than the tasks in which she had to play the part of an ‘excellent host’.

Her master would chide that she was following in his footsteps, ohohoho, wasn’t that cute?

It was about as cute as it would be to manage to break away from him long enough to grab his broom and stick it up his puppet ass. Now, there was a dream worth holding onto. It was far more likely to be realized than any of her others -- freedom, death, a bedroom that wasn’t strictly a nauseating green.

Dreams aside, today was like any other day. She had a job to do, one that unsurprisingly involved traveling through time and space. Par for the course, really, save for her end location.

God damnit, and she wasn’t HOSTING anything. She was a guest, an excellent guest, really, if one considered kicking over a chair immediately upon her arrival as ‘excellent guest’ behavior.

“HEY!”

She shouted the greeting, despite being in a tiny room.

She was like 7 sweeps now, plus or minus several thousand sweeps of time travel. That was way too old for fucking playdates.
chronodiastatos: (calliope)

[personal profile] chronodiastatos 2012-09-15 07:49 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah," he says, rolling his eyes. Twisting the piece he places. "Let's see you. Fucking try. What's that?? You can't? Fucking duh you can't. Dumbass. Do you seriously think. You can take on your master like that. And win? Your only hope. Of ever 'putting me out'. Is by beating me at a game. And always remember. For all your dislike. For all your goddamned distaste. My 'sis' is a thousand times worse. Than I will ever be."
fightybroad: (AND I'M C0NTEMPLATING)

[personal profile] fightybroad 2012-09-17 02:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Taking her turn, she stared at the piece she moved silently for a moment, as if thinking it through. She wasn’t. She didn’t give a damn about this game, didn’t give a single fuck if she won. Caliborn could say whatever he wanted -- that it would “put him in his place”, so to speak -- but the Handmaid knew that even a victory had still given the aggravating waste of space what he wanted.

Someone to play along.

“Hey,” she looked up, grinning. “I’ve got a new rule, fucker. You wanna play a game?”

She stood up then and flipped over the chessboard, letting the pieces tumble to the floor. “You gotta play 16 pawn pick up first.”