[ ooc ] application for ANIMUS
YE OLD APPLICATION.
Character Name: The Grand Highblood (Canon name not given)
Character Series: Homestuck
Character Age: Lots of sweeps old (Canon age not given, but it's safe to assume he's Quite Old)
Character Gender: Male
Alternate Universe
Canon Point: Some time after Dualscar provided the whereabouts of Mindfang.
Background Link: very short entry
AU Background:
[ note: his background has a lot of headcanon ]
The highblood was raised by a mostly-absent lusus, but unlike Gamzee, he did not turn to mIrAcLeS or Sopor slime pie for comfort. Instead, he joined a cult or club where the members were Indigo-blooded Only, where he learned of the hemospectrum and how the caste system supposedly "worked", which was basically: All lowbloods are sad sad creatures and lots of them deserve culling. Sea-dwellers included, aside from the Condesce. This cult is similar to the one that his descendent, Gamzee, was a part of in the sense that they worshiped a Messiah and all believed in the coming of the Vast Honk. The highblood always had a strange way of thinking and talking, but joining this cult changed him drastically and he became one of the strongest and most faithful followers. In a nutshell, it was sort of a gathering for aspiring Subjugglators and believers of this strange religion that prophesied the Vast Honk. Think of it as a more old-fashioned, hardcore cult in comparison to Gamzee's more mirthful one.
Once he reached adulthood, he was clearly the strongest of the pack and quickly became the Grand Highblood, the highest of them all, the leader of the Subjugglators. He loves this title so much, he will not respond to anything else, not even his own name. He culls what needs to be culled and if something that's brought to his attention is not really worth his time then he'll commission somebody else (like the Legislacterators) to handle it. Simple as that. He's a man that works depending on his emotions and what feels right all up in his twisted little heart.
Also It is mentioned in Mindfang's journal that the Grand Highblood killed Orphaner Dualscar, but that is yet to be confirmed. It is highly likely, but not 100% guaranteed. Not like it mattered anyway since all of the trolls (minus the Handmaid and the Condesce) were eventually killed by the Vast Glub.
Personality:
The Grand Highblood is a cunning, capricious troll. It's practically encoded into his blood to be calm one minute and then viciously violent the next, laughing and honking throughout it all. It is normal for most highblooded trolls to be violent, but the Grand Highblood is the leader of the Subjugglators, and instills fear into even the most dangerous of trolls due to his unpredictable nature and awesome strength (a bit of psychic ability doesn't hurt, either). The fact that it's his job to cull other trolls makes it all the more awful since he's got the go ahead from the Condesce herself. Most know him to be a mischievous being, a lover of mindfuckery and creepy jokes.
He speaks in hoarse whispers and deafening shouts, alternating between the two at whim, and carries himself in a barbaric sort of manner, doing what he wants when he wants and however the fuck he wants to. He curses like he's got Tourette’s and refers to almost everybody as a "motherfucker", so don't take it too personally. Nobody taught him proper etiquette or anything that's befitting of a troll of his stature, after all, and certainly nobody is willing to change him.
There is little known about the Grand Highblood and what he is truly like. Most trolls know that he paints his walls with the blood of his victims, enjoys company with a good sense of humor, and of course, subjugglating subjugating. A lot of his past remains hidden from others, though it's not because he tries to keep it a secret or anything. It just never really comes up in conversation, and it's not like he wants pity or anything from the peasantblood riffraff anyway. His arrogance was cultivated to the extreme after he joined the cult in his youth, to the point where he developed a scathing disdain for anyone with blood lower on the hemospectrum than himself. This also includes sea-dwellers as well, but that has little to do with blood and more of the land VS water deal.
Outside of work, he’s even more confusing. At least when he’s just “doing his job”, he’s got a clear objective, but when he’s not subjugating trolls, he just likes making interesting conversations with people. They can be scumblood or highbloods or whatever, as long as they’re amusing. He likes spreading the message of the Vast Honk, and becomes consumed with talking about this religion, willing to pour his heart out to anyone who’ll listen. He’s not a very private troll, and he doesn’t give a shit how TMI he gets about himself. What could the other person possibly do with the information he gives them about himself? Everyone already knows anyway!! Even if it was something new, how could it possibly threaten him? The only thing he cares about is his title as the Grand Highblood, and his creepy religion about honks. Any embarrassing or pitiful moments is no big deal, and will probably welcome some sympathy. He hardly gets any of that anyway. The confusing part is that once his energy’s spent, or he becomes bored, he’ll go back to being creepy as fuck and might consider killing his conversation partner, just to see some motherfucking colors. Then he’ll go back and forth with himself (usually in his head, which means he’ll be intently staring at his partner in dead silence), wondering if killing his new friend is worth it. Keeping them alive might prove to be a good idea because they can have more conversations, but what if that next conversation isn’t as motherfucking awesome as their first? That would be a big fat waste of time! Decisions, decisions... Fortunately, he usually doesn’t kill his amusing friends. He has, however, killed many not amusing like Dualscar friends.
While on the subject of relationships: Yes, he has filled some quadrants, believe it or not! Kismesissitude probably came the easiest for him, but he has had some rather perverse relationships of the redder kind. Needless to say, it did not end very well for his partner, which still saddens the Grand Highblood. He has plenty of room in his heart for pity, but lots of trolls have a hard time pitying him unless they get to know him a little better, which is a difficult feat in itself. His pity is a little condescending and insulting most of the time since it’s usually reserved for lowbloods and how pitifully weak and disgusting they are. Though one troll confused him, and that was the Signless. This troll enraged him and made him curious all at the same time, and he couldn’t decide whether he was a lowblood or something completely different. He was certainly closer to the color of rustbloods, but there was some tantalizing and beautiful about that particular shade of red that made him both angry and amused all at the same time. Once he was executed, he felt a twang of regret, but he didn’t hesitate. Not like Darkleer, that traitorous filthy peasantblood, who threw away the Grand Highblood’s respect and kindness for a stinking green blooded criminal. The Grand Highblood does not take to treason very well, even if he really did like Darkleer, but now he hates him -- hates him for defying his orders and running away like a coward. He cannot understand how anyone can be so faithless and disloyal while he is so devoted to everything he holds dear, it just baffles him (though it’s hard for others to differentiate between “loyalty” and “selfishness” when trying to describe him).
Being a subjugglator is hard work, but he holds the position with pride. It was his dream job as wriggler, and the desire to become one never faded even as he grew. In fact, it had grown stronger. He’ll never let go of this position for as long as he lives, and the thought of somebody else having his job after he eventually dies sort of saddens him. He’ll never kill a fellow indigo-blood, only because he believes that a subjugglator should be of the highest land-dwelling blood, and reducing the candidates for such prestigious positions is a big no-no in his bloody little book. As for becoming the Grand Highblood...well, he’s very strict when it comes to that. If even an indigo-blood decided to take away his power from him while he was still alive to do anything about it, then with no hesitation will he murder that overconfident motherfucking little sack of shit. Fortunately, it has never come to that...yet.
Abilities:
Extreme subjugglating!!!!!!! OK for serious, he is extremely adept at murdering any motherfucker he's interested in murdering, has some Subjugglator-related psychic ability to implant fear or something into one's dreams (it's only been mentioned briefly and not really clarified) and singin' the almighty motherfucking praises of the great messiahs! Fuck yeah! So, almost 2/3 of the things I mentioned here were completely irrelevant to abilities.
Sample Entry:
What was a Subjugglator to do when there were no trolls to subjugate? This question ran laps in the Grand Highblood’s mind, beating its previous record of How Fucking Long It Took To Figure Boring Shit Out by a motherfucking landslide. He gives himself a mental pat on the back. Every problem always had an easy answer, at least for him, and this streak of good fortune wasn’t going to end anytime soon. He grinned a little to himself when he realized what he had to do next.
It was so motherfucking simple! It was now officially his duty to take control of this land, whatever the fuck it was motherfucking called, and subjugglate those that he felt were deserving of culling. Rule and cull, cull and subjugglate, subjugglate and motherfucking rule! Better to be culled than live out their pathetic excuse of a lifespan wallowing in their pitiful shades of peasantry. Honestly, he was doing them a motherfucking favor. How could these scum-spewing lowlifes live with themselves, knowing such offensive filth ran through their motherfucking veins? The misery! The misery he obviously couldn’t relate to, and laughed and joked about. Oh, right, but back to the whole point of this inner monologue: Then he would go about appointing some bad motherfuckers to some fitting roles to help along the process a little better when he was swamped with work......
Whoa, wait.
Hold the motherfuck up, motherfuckers. He just had another thought. A thought that made him grumble and mumble under his breath, making like a haggard, delirious barbarian who just lost sight of its prey, its focus, its entire train of thought.
“Work,” he rolled that one word around on his tongue. It settled inside his mouth in an unpleasant way, and lolled his head back as if it was giving him a sponge pounding migraine just thinking about it.
“That shit just sounds so...” He was muttering to no one in particular, gesturing vaguely into the air with a ridiculously large hand. “So, so...SO MOTHERFUCKING BORING.”
The Grand Highblood slumped in his makeshift thrown of mattress and pillow, built up in an odd shape. Fuck this lumpy panel of cloth and squishy foam. It was flat, useless, and he so did not like it. Not one motherfucking bit. He had no patience for useless pieces of shit.
Character Name: The Grand Highblood (Canon name not given)
Character Series: Homestuck
Character Age: Lots of sweeps old (Canon age not given, but it's safe to assume he's Quite Old)
Character Gender: Male
Alternate Universe
Canon Point: Some time after Dualscar provided the whereabouts of Mindfang.
Background Link: very short entry
AU Background:
[ note: his background has a lot of headcanon ]
The highblood was raised by a mostly-absent lusus, but unlike Gamzee, he did not turn to mIrAcLeS or Sopor slime pie for comfort. Instead, he joined a cult or club where the members were Indigo-blooded Only, where he learned of the hemospectrum and how the caste system supposedly "worked", which was basically: All lowbloods are sad sad creatures and lots of them deserve culling. Sea-dwellers included, aside from the Condesce. This cult is similar to the one that his descendent, Gamzee, was a part of in the sense that they worshiped a Messiah and all believed in the coming of the Vast Honk. The highblood always had a strange way of thinking and talking, but joining this cult changed him drastically and he became one of the strongest and most faithful followers. In a nutshell, it was sort of a gathering for aspiring Subjugglators and believers of this strange religion that prophesied the Vast Honk. Think of it as a more old-fashioned, hardcore cult in comparison to Gamzee's more mirthful one.
Once he reached adulthood, he was clearly the strongest of the pack and quickly became the Grand Highblood, the highest of them all, the leader of the Subjugglators. He loves this title so much, he will not respond to anything else, not even his own name. He culls what needs to be culled and if something that's brought to his attention is not really worth his time then he'll commission somebody else (like the Legislacterators) to handle it. Simple as that. He's a man that works depending on his emotions and what feels right all up in his twisted little heart.
Also It is mentioned in Mindfang's journal that the Grand Highblood killed Orphaner Dualscar, but that is yet to be confirmed. It is highly likely, but not 100% guaranteed. Not like it mattered anyway since all of the trolls (minus the Handmaid and the Condesce) were eventually killed by the Vast Glub.
Personality:
The Grand Highblood is a cunning, capricious troll. It's practically encoded into his blood to be calm one minute and then viciously violent the next, laughing and honking throughout it all. It is normal for most highblooded trolls to be violent, but the Grand Highblood is the leader of the Subjugglators, and instills fear into even the most dangerous of trolls due to his unpredictable nature and awesome strength (a bit of psychic ability doesn't hurt, either). The fact that it's his job to cull other trolls makes it all the more awful since he's got the go ahead from the Condesce herself. Most know him to be a mischievous being, a lover of mindfuckery and creepy jokes.
He speaks in hoarse whispers and deafening shouts, alternating between the two at whim, and carries himself in a barbaric sort of manner, doing what he wants when he wants and however the fuck he wants to. He curses like he's got Tourette’s and refers to almost everybody as a "motherfucker", so don't take it too personally. Nobody taught him proper etiquette or anything that's befitting of a troll of his stature, after all, and certainly nobody is willing to change him.
There is little known about the Grand Highblood and what he is truly like. Most trolls know that he paints his walls with the blood of his victims, enjoys company with a good sense of humor, and of course, subjugglating subjugating. A lot of his past remains hidden from others, though it's not because he tries to keep it a secret or anything. It just never really comes up in conversation, and it's not like he wants pity or anything from the peasantblood riffraff anyway. His arrogance was cultivated to the extreme after he joined the cult in his youth, to the point where he developed a scathing disdain for anyone with blood lower on the hemospectrum than himself. This also includes sea-dwellers as well, but that has little to do with blood and more of the land VS water deal.
Outside of work, he’s even more confusing. At least when he’s just “doing his job”, he’s got a clear objective, but when he’s not subjugating trolls, he just likes making interesting conversations with people. They can be scumblood or highbloods or whatever, as long as they’re amusing. He likes spreading the message of the Vast Honk, and becomes consumed with talking about this religion, willing to pour his heart out to anyone who’ll listen. He’s not a very private troll, and he doesn’t give a shit how TMI he gets about himself. What could the other person possibly do with the information he gives them about himself? Everyone already knows anyway!! Even if it was something new, how could it possibly threaten him? The only thing he cares about is his title as the Grand Highblood, and his creepy religion about honks. Any embarrassing or pitiful moments is no big deal, and will probably welcome some sympathy. He hardly gets any of that anyway. The confusing part is that once his energy’s spent, or he becomes bored, he’ll go back to being creepy as fuck and might consider killing his conversation partner, just to see some motherfucking colors. Then he’ll go back and forth with himself (usually in his head, which means he’ll be intently staring at his partner in dead silence), wondering if killing his new friend is worth it. Keeping them alive might prove to be a good idea because they can have more conversations, but what if that next conversation isn’t as motherfucking awesome as their first? That would be a big fat waste of time! Decisions, decisions... Fortunately, he usually doesn’t kill his amusing friends. He has, however, killed many not amusing like Dualscar friends.
While on the subject of relationships: Yes, he has filled some quadrants, believe it or not! Kismesissitude probably came the easiest for him, but he has had some rather perverse relationships of the redder kind. Needless to say, it did not end very well for his partner, which still saddens the Grand Highblood. He has plenty of room in his heart for pity, but lots of trolls have a hard time pitying him unless they get to know him a little better, which is a difficult feat in itself. His pity is a little condescending and insulting most of the time since it’s usually reserved for lowbloods and how pitifully weak and disgusting they are. Though one troll confused him, and that was the Signless. This troll enraged him and made him curious all at the same time, and he couldn’t decide whether he was a lowblood or something completely different. He was certainly closer to the color of rustbloods, but there was some tantalizing and beautiful about that particular shade of red that made him both angry and amused all at the same time. Once he was executed, he felt a twang of regret, but he didn’t hesitate. Not like Darkleer, that traitorous filthy peasantblood, who threw away the Grand Highblood’s respect and kindness for a stinking green blooded criminal. The Grand Highblood does not take to treason very well, even if he really did like Darkleer, but now he hates him -- hates him for defying his orders and running away like a coward. He cannot understand how anyone can be so faithless and disloyal while he is so devoted to everything he holds dear, it just baffles him (though it’s hard for others to differentiate between “loyalty” and “selfishness” when trying to describe him).
Being a subjugglator is hard work, but he holds the position with pride. It was his dream job as wriggler, and the desire to become one never faded even as he grew. In fact, it had grown stronger. He’ll never let go of this position for as long as he lives, and the thought of somebody else having his job after he eventually dies sort of saddens him. He’ll never kill a fellow indigo-blood, only because he believes that a subjugglator should be of the highest land-dwelling blood, and reducing the candidates for such prestigious positions is a big no-no in his bloody little book. As for becoming the Grand Highblood...well, he’s very strict when it comes to that. If even an indigo-blood decided to take away his power from him while he was still alive to do anything about it, then with no hesitation will he murder that overconfident motherfucking little sack of shit. Fortunately, it has never come to that...yet.
Abilities:
Extreme subjugglating!!!!!!! OK for serious, he is extremely adept at murdering any motherfucker he's interested in murdering, has some Subjugglator-related psychic ability to implant fear or something into one's dreams (it's only been mentioned briefly and not really clarified) and singin' the almighty motherfucking praises of the great messiahs! Fuck yeah! So, almost 2/3 of the things I mentioned here were completely irrelevant to abilities.
Sample Entry:
What was a Subjugglator to do when there were no trolls to subjugate? This question ran laps in the Grand Highblood’s mind, beating its previous record of How Fucking Long It Took To Figure Boring Shit Out by a motherfucking landslide. He gives himself a mental pat on the back. Every problem always had an easy answer, at least for him, and this streak of good fortune wasn’t going to end anytime soon. He grinned a little to himself when he realized what he had to do next.
It was so motherfucking simple! It was now officially his duty to take control of this land, whatever the fuck it was motherfucking called, and subjugglate those that he felt were deserving of culling. Rule and cull, cull and subjugglate, subjugglate and motherfucking rule! Better to be culled than live out their pathetic excuse of a lifespan wallowing in their pitiful shades of peasantry. Honestly, he was doing them a motherfucking favor. How could these scum-spewing lowlifes live with themselves, knowing such offensive filth ran through their motherfucking veins? The misery! The misery he obviously couldn’t relate to, and laughed and joked about. Oh, right, but back to the whole point of this inner monologue: Then he would go about appointing some bad motherfuckers to some fitting roles to help along the process a little better when he was swamped with work......
Whoa, wait.
Hold the motherfuck up, motherfuckers. He just had another thought. A thought that made him grumble and mumble under his breath, making like a haggard, delirious barbarian who just lost sight of its prey, its focus, its entire train of thought.
“Work,” he rolled that one word around on his tongue. It settled inside his mouth in an unpleasant way, and lolled his head back as if it was giving him a sponge pounding migraine just thinking about it.
“That shit just sounds so...” He was muttering to no one in particular, gesturing vaguely into the air with a ridiculously large hand. “So, so...SO MOTHERFUCKING BORING.”
The Grand Highblood slumped in his makeshift thrown of mattress and pillow, built up in an odd shape. Fuck this lumpy panel of cloth and squishy foam. It was flat, useless, and he so did not like it. Not one motherfucking bit. He had no patience for useless pieces of shit.