Chapter Text
The Grand Highblood rose up from his painted throne to greet Gamzee. “My righteous invertebrother, you bring with you the will of the mirthful messiahs,” he incanted, bowing his heads.
“Stop that motherfuckin’ noise and tell me why all you called me.”
A smile twitched on the Highblood’s lips. “The drone mother fuckers will soon come to collect the buckets containing your holy seed. Your black pails have been filled, but what of your red one?”
Gamzee stiffened. “What business is that to you, mother fucker?”
The Highblood smirked. “There is no blasphemous mother fucker what would dare to deny your born mother fuckin’ place next to the capricious minstrels in their wicked tent at the dark carnival to come. You speak with the tongue of the messiahs, you think with their mind, and no mother fucker knows the mysteries of the harshwhimsies better than you. It is so that you as the prophesized ninja of the holy ruckus shall prepare the way for the minstrels what will bring up the Vast Honk among us,” he said, looking down at Gamzee. “It is my mother fuckin’ job, therefore, as the humble servant of the mirthful messiahs, to ensure that you do not get your holy ass culled. I will ask again: what of your red pail?”
Gamzee didn’t answer.
“So you have none,” the Highblood said. “So it shall be that you, the holy ninja of prophecy, shall filleth your mother fuckin’ bucket with the one for whom the good mother fuckin’ messiahs have made you all aflushéd, ay mother fucking men.”
“And what if I mother fucking refuse that offer?”
“It is not an offer, my descendent, but a mother fuckin’ fact. No culling drones will be having your holy head for the sake of the lowblooded whore. If it is true that you will take no other mother fucker, then the lowblood shall serve the purpose he exists to serve. His mother fuckin’ destiny is to fill your pails.”
Gamzee bristled. “You’re the sick mother fucker what made him a mother fucking pail slave,” he snapped. “There’s no destiny up in that mother fucking shit.”
“I did it for you,” the Highblood replied, his smirk widening. “It is in his mother fuckin’ ancestry to transcend his base class, as could only been willed by the mirthful messiahs in their wisdom for the pleasure of your holy bulge.”
“I won’t mother fucking shit on my bro like what you do.”
“Must I help you form your much-desired bond with the rustblood?” he asked, a wicked glint entering his eyes. “If it so please you, I will instruct you to the proper end of this blasphemous mother fuckin’ relationship you cling to.”
Gamzee glared at him, expressing his displeasure through the pressure of his chucklevoodoos, which thickened the air until the room pulsed with a nightmarish fever. The Highblood’s attendants shivered and sank back, but the Highblood himself remained unfazed, looking down at him with a smirk still sitting on his lips. Someday, he knew Gamzee would become more powerful than him, but as it was he had lived hundreds of sweeps longer and had perfected abilities Gamzee was only discovering he had. He looked forward to the day when Gamzee took his rightful place ringleading their righteous bloodcircus, surpassing him and unleashing upon the universe horrors the like of which it had never known. Until then, he would have to push and prod him into accepting his unique role in their religion.
“What is your decision, my wicked ninja? Shall I tutor you on how to treat what mother fuckin’ belongs to you?” he asked. “Or maybe you don’t want the mother fucker anymore, and I should give him to fill his lowly pail with a more mother fuckin’ appropriate pailbitch?”
Gamzee continued to glare at him, but the Highblood knew he had won.