january word count

TOTAL: 26 159
acceptable!

POSTED:
-John/Karkat trollstuck: If You Like My Name, You Should Hear My Number (10 300 words)

WIP:
-demon patrol chaper 26 (847 words)
-miles vorkosigan wolf verse fic for lupercalia (654 words)
-Girl Genius: jaegertroth chapter 3 (2 417 words)
-Crash Standing chapter ... idk latest (8 532 words)
-Latula/Mituna/Kankri beach fic (3 408 words)

the machine seems to be slooooowly starting again, esp. on longass WIP, but my writing block/inspiration flop is still lurking. this is annoying. >:/

on the upside: totally unexpected, complete, 10k long porn fic. it's been so long. ;^;

Homestuck - If You Like My Name, You Should Hear My Number - John/Karkat, NC-17, complete.

In Which A Secret Mutantblood Unknowingly Picks Up A Member Of The Nobility In A Bar Of Ill-Repute, After Which They Proceed To Have Sex, Fall Asleep, Then Have Sex Again While The Mutant Desperately Tries To Hide His Blood Color And Not Laugh At The Blueblood's Deplorable Jokes. Contains References To Ashen Pornography, A Somewhat Pitiable Inability To Handle The Gloriousness Of War, And Mentions Of Conciliatory Perversions Unsuitable For Trolls Aged Eight Or Under.

((btw I’m going with indigo-Equius, purple-Gamzee, violet-Eridan.))

--

"Dude," someone mutters against his neck. "Dude, your communicator is beeping."

Karkat blinks away the afterimage of his dreams -- some boring cliché horsebeastshit about wading through a mess of alien larvae during a mission. It's dark in the recuperacoon, but a faint greenish glow comes from outside.

The slime isn't great, but better than they get in the barracks; it would be easy to sink back into its embrace...

He doesn't care about the dream (terrified pupae, gore squelching under the tread of his combat boots) and he does vaguely want to find out if the other troll pressed against his side would let him sink into his arms again (maybe his nook, even, shit, that part of yesterday was good.) Hey, the guy didn't steal Karkat's wallet or cull him during the day, Karkat likes his odds.

"Dude," the man mumbles, eyes entirely closed, and disappears under the surface with a quiet glop. His horns emerge from the orange up, two windswept, rolling curves that Karkat is almost (vaguely, entirely) sure he had his hands on at some point...

Karkat grabs the edge with both hands and fits his feet in the holds and executes a smooth-as-hell roll through the round opening.

(He lands on his heels and stumbles back, but the wall of the recuperacoon breaks his fall before he can get very far.)

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