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fantroll-purgatory · 5 years

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Hey, as someone who’s still going through the slow process of conceptualizing a bunch of Pride trolls, I can vibe with this guy! I’m going to put a big ol’ trigger warning up top here since I openly discuss issues of homophobia and transphobia in the review below. Please stay safe!

(tw: mentions of homophobia and transphobia)

Universe:Beforus

Hmmmm. If he’s Beforan, I might even say that his outfit is too conservative! While a sample size of 12 isn’t that big, what we’ve seen of Beforus is that trolls will take the aesthetic of a subculture and hit it HARD.

Name:Gaeiiy Ryggtz

Hah. Okay so this is obviously a fun name. If you wanna go a little bit more subtle, I would suggest Getran (gay/trans) Ynemak (backward surname of Frank Kameny, who was one of the first folks to file a claim against orientational discrimination in a U.S. court)

Age: 6.5 Sweeps

Theme: Colors and everything related to it,like rainbows or prisms

Got it! As I said before, Beforan trolls tend to have a specific subculture around which they’re based rather than a more nebulous theme, and based on the original name you gave him it’s pretty clear what that would be. That said, since the rainbow is for the entire LGBT community, I would consider possibly making your troll trans/nonbinary!

Goal and story: He is a mutant who likes being a mutant and would fight against the hemospectrum hierarchy and make every caste to be equal in power,for this, he must spread the love to make Beforus a beautiful place.

Quick note: the goal is for what you want us to do in our review! Since you haven’t specified, I am assuming that this is a general review of everything you’ve submitted.

Before I dig into the meat of the rest of your bio, I want to address this part, because based on what we’ve seen of Beforus, it does not broadcast its oppression as clearly as Alternia does. Where Alternia is an out-and-out fascist dictatorship, Beforus’s Condesce (if she is indeed called that) is an adult Feferi Peixes, whose views on the hemospectrum have more to do with coddling those who sit below you on the hemospectrum. How might your troll fight against that system?

If we want an example of how such a society might look in regards to gay and trans rights, let’s look at common criticisms of liberal politics with regards to the LGBT community, which includes support for trans people if(f) they “pass” completely as the “opposite” gender to their assigned one (a standard which is much stricter than for cis people), and support for same-gender attraction so long as it’s tucked away and isolated from straight society (a standard which can be further evidenced in biphobia towards multi-gender attracted people for “muddying” what should be clear-cut waters). All of this tied up with a biiiiig heaping of disdain for gender non-conforming people.

So how might we translate these norms to Beforus? Perhaps trans people are, once again, only accepted if they “pass” completely as the “opposite” gender to their assigned one, such that nonbinary people and trans people with a more complex understanding of their presentation are pushes either to stop identifying as trans/nb or to allow a better-versed highblood to “help” them fit into such gender norms.

Sexuality tends to be trickier since it’s stated (though not implied 🙄) that trolls are largely bisexual and preference for only one gender (though lbr it’s mostly for one’s own gender) is considered odd. I will get to that a little bit later in this review!

Strife Specibus: Flag Specibus,he uses a flag to fight.

Love it. 🏳️‍🌈

Fetch modus: Help, I have no ideas.

If he’s rainbow themed, how about a Colorblock Modus that captchalogues based on predominant color? Only problem is that whenever he wants to retrieve something the modus ejects *everything* of that color. I can also see it being weaponized in a fun way!

Blood Color: Rainbow =D

I still don’t really know how to *do* rainbow, since I feel like it would show up as sludge in his veins? What would it mean in terms of psychic abilities or resistances or strength or even his place in society? We assume that he wouldn’t be killed for being a mutant, but being a rainbowblood stretches the bounds of Beforan rules that if find difficult to incorporate into this review.

Based on the sign you gave him below, it looks like you wanted him to be a mutant limeblood, basically. Which works, but I also feel that that is a common choice when people want to justify their mutantbloods to us, if only because Karkat and Kankri are our obvious examples.

So here’s where I wanted to get back to the same-gender attraction thing, because I think it plays well into how to make this choice.

You say you want a mutant, you say you want someone who works toward justice, and you say you want a gay man.

We can do all of that if you’d allow me to make him a jade/teal cuspblood.

Teals are very strongly about justice, and it fits well for his theme as someone who is working to make Beforus a more inclusive place across the spectrum.

Jades are also a good pick since they’re associated with rainbowdrinkers, which gets you a stone’s throw from this blood color. THey are also heavily heavily coded as gay-equivalent, especially when we consider the Friendsim info that jadebloods are forbidden from pailing by tradition on Alternia, which is pretty obviously a direct parallel to gay marriage. Given that we’re on Beforus, it’s likely that such pailing is accepted, but even in today’s society we can see that the right to marry is often brandished as a sign that we’ve “won” and no longer need to fight for our rights.

As a cuspblood, where does that leave your troll? Where does he fit within the codified hierarchy of Beforus?

Symbol and meaning: Canpio, sign of the effervescent.

…This is a first, but I’m not sure I agree with any of the three things you combined to get your sign! Firstly, I did change his blood color, so that’s on me. Secondly, as someone who’s trying to change the hemospectral hierarchy, he’d be a Dersite for sure. Finally, I don’t know that he’s a Light player? I think I see where you’re coming from since his theme was rainbows and prisms, but you haven’t built a character particularly hellbent on collecting information.

That said, I don’t particularly want him to be a Blood player, lest he become dangerously Karkaty. So how about we invert the difference and see how he fits as a Breath player? Someone who pursues his own individual freedom, but incidentally gives others the strength to move forward as a consequence?

If we go with that, he’d fall somewhere between Libun, Sign of the Escapist, and Virun, Sign of the Eager. Vlibrun, Sign of the Eagcapier no wait that doesn’t sound great.

Trolltag: chromaticJusticer

Tips the hand a little too readily, in my personal onion. May I suggest prismBreak [PB], like prison break, both in terms of destroying the hemospectrum and it terms of freedom from the unjust?

Quirk: wr1te2 1n ^ll 12 c^2te2 ^nd u2e2 pr12m2, ^l2o nub2 (=B.

That is a lot! But then again TEREZ1 PYROPE SUR3 4S H3LL EXISTS so who am I to judge. That said I’m finding the quirk a little bit hard to read, so if I may suggest it be A Lot in a different way:

WR1TE2 1N △LL C△P2 △ND U2E2 PR12M2 TO CONVEY HI2 MULT1CHROM△TIC 2PLENDOR

The introduction of caps and the change of the carat to a triangle makes it harder for the eye to skip over the quirk when it appears.

Special Abilities: I was thinking of him having the abilities of all castes while still looking like a canon mutant (Karkat or Kankri) but I don’t know if this would be a lot.

I think it would indeed be a lot, and you would have to figure out how such a being would change things in Beforus! Beforus is still based on a fairly rigid caste system, and they wouldn’t see a rainbowblood and think “oh shit let’s just let this dude be in charge of everything!” He would be coddled by his “superiors!” How do you think your supposedly peaceful troll would get out from under that thumb while maintaining his pacifist leanings?

Lusus: I don’t know what kind of Lusus would fit him,but it’s also rare for mutants to get chosen by one,so I can stick with him being Lususless.

Sure! I will say that if he’s a jadeblood cusp he could possibly just like. Grow up in the caverns with some lusii that haven’t picked grubs.

Interests: Gaeiiy likes to experiment with lights while he isn’t fighting highbloods,he collects prisms and has a big collection of LEDs,lasers, flashlights and other things that emit lights.

Personality: He is the center of the universe and others find him interesting and kind,he is full of joy and cheerfulness,he is also peaceful and it’s hard to make him cry or make him mad.

So why, then, is he fighting for anything? His soul is not at unrest. Perhaps this speaks to a personal failing, but I find it deeply difficult to fight for things that don’t upset me on some level. I also don’t quite understand the “center of the universe” thing – are other trolls content to let him do as he please? Again, why is he fighting if he faces no opposition?

If you wanted to swing this in one direction, it could be that he’s so unplugged from the real-world oppressions thrust upon other jadebloods (thanks in part to his tealblood status) that he is complacent. This would definitely make him likable! He’s like, a jade, but not one of those jade jades. He’s actually cool about it and stuff. And while such an attitude may cost him the friendship of fellow jadebloods, who needs ‘em? Look at all the friends he has! He’s colorblind, he doesn’t see blood, he doesn’t understand why people want to rock the boat. (Note: if you take this tack then you may need to change a whole lot more about the character because this is no longer someone who is interested in fighting the status quo! That version of your troll would be a Prospitan for sure.)

On the other hand, how can we take someone joyful and likable and give them reason to fight highbloods? Well, they could be someone who joyfully fights highbloods when they try to stomp them down! There are some revolutionaries who might like that very, very much! And while it’s true that he’d need to feel very strongly about the cause to fight someone, it doesn’t have to be the driving force behind his actions! He can fight highbloods because he loves having his own independence, away from coddling bluebloods who think they know what’s best for him! And this makes him likable because people are inspired by his gumption and his brazenness in flaunting the rules!

Lunar Sway: Prospit.

Like I said above, I have reasons to believe he’s Derse unless you think he’s okay with the current system.

Title: ??????? Of Light?,but I also get some heart vibes from him.

And as above, I think he’s actually a Breath player! If I had to guess, he might be a Knight of Breath, fi you want to write an arc for him where he initially *doesn’t* want to rock the boat to take his freedom, but eventually grows into it.

Land: Land of LEDs and Storms.

A land full of Christmas like decorations and full of clouds that are telling you to give up on your quest,but Gaeiiy knows that even being stroke by a ray won’t stop him from ascending.

This one doesn’t need to change the name even if your Aspect does, since Storms can absolutely be a Breath thing. I do wonder what his quest would be, though…maybe he needs to part the clouds just enough that Skaia can reflect a rainbow against the torrent? It doesn’t necessarily mean your troll needs to *do* the quest; it just needs to be there.

Let’s get to this young man’s redesign. As always, we’re going top to bottom!

The most important design note I went into this redesign with was “LGBT solidarity,” which meant trying to hit that very fun “plausible deniability” look where strangers can ascertain that you’re *some* type of LGBT but have no real way of telling exactly which of those letters apply?

Horns - I edited these from Equius’s robot horns because there are some headcanons that these represent the “ideal” troll horns. I added a hook at the end of the rear horn for that signature jadeblood flavor! Also I added a piercing to the right horn similar to how gay men in the 90s/00s had one in the right ear to signify their gayness. (Which was fun because I was googling “which ear is the gay ear” like I was in 7th grade again lol).

Baseball cap - This one is adapted from @emspritesblog, which is unfortunately kind of dead now. I liked the fact that you had a rainbow on his shirt and I wanted to pay tribute to it somehow, so I added it to the back of the baseball cap using the blood colors closest to those of the original Pride flag!

Hair - I used a template from @fantrollartroom and made it curlier, because the asymmetrical undercut is like *the* look as far as I know.

Eyes - I wanted to nod back to the fact that you wanted a Karkat-adjacent design, so I edited his eyes for your troll.

Mouth - …and the mouth. But I added some fangs for that jadebloodyness

Binder/tank and symbol - I took the jade and teal symbols I suggested and tried to smoosh ‘em together a little bit!

Flannel - ahhhh the flannel of plausible deniability. I made is a jade/teal gradient to emphasize the cuspiness. It’s Vriska’s jacket but with all the colors swapped out.

Overall outfit - I use @fan-troll sprites quite liberally to make coherent outfits, and cannot recommend the sprite sheet enough! Since the clothing doesn’t *quite* fit a standard sprite it kind of forces you to learn some spriting as you go, which is a pretty good way to get incrementally better over time.

That concludes my review of young Gay Rights [sic]! I hope my suggestions were helpful, and thank you very much for sharing him!

-TR

#t3o-ya1r-th4-noble #gaiiey ryggtz #gaaiey #ryggtz #mutantblood #review #redesign #tr review #submission #getran ynemak #getran #ynemak #cuspblood #tealblood #jadeblood

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corvid-knight · 6 years

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Demon Eyes - chapter 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31831680

Karkat stays asleep until about twenty minutes from the point where you were going to wake him up anyway. He's not nearly as deep as he was yesterday, though; you keep catching half-formed thoughts from him, and when you absently put your hand down on the center console and find his hand already there, he laces his fingers through yours as soon as you brush against him.

Which is fine. You can drive with one hand. You can definitely do that.

When his hand tightens on yours you have to glance over, so you get to see the expression of mingled exasperation and affection on his face. Then he mutters, "Kankri, you can't just—" and opens his eyes, and it's replaced by mild confusion. "Uh."

"You have a nice dream, Karkat?" You squeeze his hand as you ask that, and have to bite your lip to keep from grinning like an idiot when he automatically returns the pressure. "Dreaming about an old boyfriend?"

"Oh fuck no." Karkat snorts out a laugh, tipping his head back and swiping at his hair. "Just my brother—and he'd spend a couple hours explaining why that comment wasn't funny." The grin he flashes at you has sharp teeth, and you know he's doing that on purpose. "It is funny."

"Can't believe a demon would lecture me on morality."

He shrugs. "Well, you'd call him an angel."

"Huh." What, one of you were adopted?

"No. I mean, I guess we could've been, but the fucking genetics are pretty clear even if he went one way and I went the other."

"But a demon and an angel—"

"Dave, do you want to know a secret?" When you nod and glance at him again Karkat grins. He looks so damn pleased with himself. "There's exactly one difference between angels and demons."

If you try and give me a theology lesson I'll kick your ass, 'kat.

"In your dreams, fucker. Does that mean you're not guessing what it is?"

Of course you know what it is. Bro's only told you a couple hundred times. "Demons are descended from the heretic angels who—"

"Nope."

"What?"

"It's fucking aesthetics." When you just stare at the road and try to figure out what the fuck he's talking about, Karkat elaborates. "Kankri and I are both affiliated with the same element—"

"What element?"

"Blood."

"That's not an element."

"It's a composite element. Water, metal—"

"Metal's not an element either."

He huffs and shakes his head at you, claws pricking your hand just the slightest bit. "Water, metal, which is a fucking subcategory of earth, and spirit. Are you going to argue with me about spirit not being one of the elements too?"

"Everybody I know always called it life, but nah, spirit makes more sense. So you're a blood elemental."

"Elementals can only be affiliated with the pure forms, so...no. Plus they're extinct, except for a couple really fucking old ones. I'm a hybrid of a couple different pure elementals, plus whatever else my ancestors thought it was a good idea to fuck—beings like me are almost as common as you humans."

"And your brother—Kankri?" You wait for his nod before you continue. "Kankri's an angel. Which I don't get."

"The only difference between an angel and a demon is our appearance. My true form—"

You can't help but shiver, not from the memory of him but from the memory of your dying brother in his arms. "I saw it."

Are you okay?

"Fine. I'm fine." Thinking about shit.

"Don't do that. And you didn't see my true form, trust me. It's a hell of a lot more demonic that I was going to let you see when you were already hurt and scared to fucking death."

"Isn't any way you look demonic, technically?"

You grin at Karkat's irritated huff. "Shut the fuck up." But he does...something. You don't get how it works, exactly, but for a second you see a sketchy image superimposed over your vision: a figure whose hair is somehow both blood and flames, eyes dripping red lines down his face, huge batlike wings flexing slowly behind him.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Karkat frees his hand from yours so he can get ahold of the steering wheel right before you would've let the truck drift out of your lane. "Exactly. Couldn't have you having that reaction or worse, could I?"

"...yeah." Maybe when I'm driving wasn't the best choice of times either, asshat.

"We're still alive and in one piece so it seems okay to me." He smiles innocently at you and lets go of the wheel, letting you put both hands on it again. "Anyway. That's what I'd look like, if I let my true form front. But Kankri, he'd look like a fucking angel, not the biblically accurate ones—"

"Do those actually exist?" The question slips out even though you didn't mean to ask it. You don't know whether you want a yes or a no, but whichever one it is you desperately want to know. Let him prove the whole god thing one way or another.

Except he shrugs. Of course he does. "I don't fucking know, Dave; aren't you hunters the ones who do the religion shit?"

"Some of us."

"...ah." He got a lot out of those three words, you realize. And you have to grin, because you know that he did from one understanding sound. "Kankri has wings too, but they're, you know. Feathery. Halo instead of horns, but then again I have a halo too if you look—"

"Wait, seriously?" Fuck but I want to see it. Maybe touch it.

He starts laughing at that, covering his face with his hands. "Holy fuck, Dave, don't say that to anyone other than me, alright?"

"What?"

"It's a euphemism. Asking to play with someone's halo, that's an invitation to fuck."

"...shit." Your face immediately heats up and you don't dare look over at him. Even though you're trying to keep your thoughts to yourself, you know Karkat's probably getting your panic-filled litany of I fucked up I fucked up I fucked upperfectly clearly. "I, uh..."

"You didn't fuck up, calm down." He pats your shoulder, one quick touch that's gone before you can fixate on it. "It's just words. Like, I've slept with you three times, that doesn't mean we did anything else."

Even if it sounds like it, you think, gritting your teeth to keep yourself from cringing at what it does sound like. "Do me a favor? Don't put it like that. Fucks me up, right now."

"Sorry." He thinks a wave of apology at you to go with the word, and holds out his hand to you, waiting for you to take it. It's a moment before you can do that. "...that's your turnoff, by the way."

"Shit!"

Amazingly, you somehow manage to make the turn without causing a collision. It's kind of a near thing, though, and you're pretty sure that there's a couple of drivers who're absolutely pissed at you now. By the time you get over the unpleasant jolt of adrenalin from that, Karkat's pointing out the driveway you need to pull into.

What the hell am I doing? you ask yourself. Which is a stupid question—you knowwhat you're doing, this isn't even anything hard or dangerous, nothing you should worry about, but fuck. You're still finding it a little hard to breathe normally as you fumble with your seatbelt.

"Dave." Karkat leans over and slips his hand down to hit the button, holding the belt down until you look at him. "It's going to be fine, I swear."

"Yeah." You lean forward and let your forehead rest on the steering wheel, drumming your fingers against the dashboard. "Dude, I'm bringing a fucking demon into a hunters' safehouse; what could go wrong?"

"Do you want me to disappear for a while, instead of coming in with you?"

Fuck no. "...Rose promised me Dirk and the others wouldn't fuck with you, I just..." I'm a fucking anxious idiot, is all.

"Shush." Karkat pulls at your shoulder until you raise your head and see that he's frowning at you. "You're not the one who gets to call yourself an idiot."

"What about if it's true?"

"Then I'll call you an idiot. C'mon, let's go see your cousin." Karkat opens his door, but waits for you to reach for yours before he slides out of the truck.

Halfway to the door you feel a telltale tickle in the back of your mind and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop before he can pass through the spot you did. "There's a barrier—"

"I see it." He tilts his head, eyes going lighter red than you're used to seeing them, and puts his hand out tentatively. If anything happens, you're ready to jerk him back and leave, despite how much you do want to see Dirk and the others.

Nothing does happen. Karkat feels around for a second, glances at you, then shrugs and keeps walking.

There's a doorbell. After you just stare at it for a full minute, Karkat rings it, then steps back from the door. He doesn't reach for your hand, and no way are youreaching for his hand, but damn if you don't wish he was touching you right now.

John opens the door. You were a little bit afraid that you wouldn't remember his face even though it's only been—what, three years? No, a little more than three and a half—but that's one thing you didn't have to worry on. He's taller than you now (goddamnit), black frames on his glasses instead of blue like you remember, but otherwise he looks pretty much the same.

He stares at you for a second, then grins brightly—and his smile is exactly the same—turns his head to yell over his shoulder, "Hey, Dave's here!" and takes one step forward to wrap you up in a tight hug.

Oh, shit. Shit. Instead of reciprocating, you just fucking freeze. Your breath catches, your hands fold into fists at your sides, and you try really fucking hard to not think about the fact that four years ago you would've given pretty much anything for a hug from this guy. Back when he called shit gay and you had a fucking crush, before Bro really started training you, before...before...

"Jesus, John, don't squash him to death." Dirk. That's Dirk. He puts a hand on John's shoulder and pulls him back from you, and you barely keep yourself from sighing in relief as you relax a little. John already looks a little bit concerned; you don't need to make that worse.

"Hey, Dirk." You think the grin you give him is steady. You're pretty sure it is. "We made it."

"Yeah." Your cousin's changed a little more than John. Most of it is how much longer his dark gold hair is—enough that he's got it back in a ponytail, nothing like how Bro wore his—and a new set of tangled scars that just barely peek over the neckline of his shirt. He gives you a minute to look, then grins back and opens his arms.

Him, you can hug. He's family. And you do hug him, maybe not as tightly as John did you, but still pretty damn tight. By the time you pull back, you're grateful for your shades—your eyes are stinging like hell.

Karkat nudges questioningly at your mind, and you nod and reach back to put a hand on his shoulder and pull him forward. "This is, uh." Fuck, you're really close to crying right now. "This is Karkat. Dirk, John—where's—"

"Jake's inside; he was in the middle of something," Dirk answers before you can finish asking. He pulls John back out of the doorway, ignoring the whine that provokes. "C'mon in, I know he wants to see both of you."

Karkat has to push you before you can actually get yourself to move. As soon as you step through the door he's next to you again, taking your hand and squeezing it. Are you okay? he asks silently.

Hey, I made it through John jumping on me, I can handle everything, right?

From his soft growl, Karkat's very aware that you're dodging the question. It makes you tense up again, for fear that either John or Dirk is going to take the sound the wrong way.

Dirk doesn't show any sign of having heard at all, although you know he must have. John looks confused for a second, then grins at Karkat. "Dirk said you saved Dave's life?"

You want to wince. Shit, did I tell him that or did Karkat?

Karkat's hand tightens on yours for a second. All I told him was the truth. "I don't know if that's right. I mean, this wasn't an immediate about-to-fucking-die thing—"

"If I know Bro, you saved his life," Dirk cuts in. "...and thank you. For doing that."

Karkat's head tilts again, as he studies Dirk. "I don't think a hunter's ever thanked me for killing one of their own before." Don't say that, man, don't admit it...

But Dirk just shrugs, spreading his hands. "Well. Usually, people like that don't become hunters, they end up dead or in prison. Think of it as an argument against keeping shit like this as a family business." He focuses on you, instead of Karkat, and gives you a reassuring smile. "Dave, seriously. You can relax; I'm not going to avenge that asshole or whatever you're thinking."

"I'd like to see you try," Karkat mumbles, and looks surprised when John laughs.

"C'mon, if you guys fight then I'm gonna have to play peacemaker and calm Dave down, don't make me do that." He rolls his eyes dramatically, stretching up to wrap his arms around Dirk's shoulders. "And I'm not the one who's good at being the go-between."

"Don't let him lie to you, he does just fine." Dirk smiles and pats John's hands, then extricates himself with a deft twist. "Wouldn't be much of a fight, anyway. He'd knock me out, Jake would come and get upset, when I woke up I'd have a headache and get scolded by both of you at once—"

"Again."

"Yes, John, we all already know I only date guys who're willing to tell me exactly how and when I've fucked up—"

"Wait, what?" That can't possibly be right. "You're, uh...dating John? Or Jake?"

Dirk nods, but clarifies, "And."

"...what?"

"Jake and John." He shrugs a bit. "It works."

There are several things you want to say. What comes out is, "John, you asshole. You told me you were straight." Probably not the most relevant point right now.

Karkat makes a strangled choking sound as he tries not to laugh.

John and Dirk don't even try not to.

And after a second you have to grin at yourself too.

#demon eyes

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royalrastafariannaynays · 7 years

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Fiddler Not On The Roof (that short davekat superhero au ficlet i said i would write)

((also for @davekatweek 2017 day 2!))

“Shut your mouth,” you hear, before the first hit comes.

It’s dark, and dank, and the ceiling is gently dripping from the rain outside.

Oh man, if only some savior could come get you. Kidnapped off the street down by the pier after a movie with your friend. Maybe the Ghost will find you. Fucking superhero he is, gone for like three weeks now with no sign. Crime has spiked again lately. But hey. Maybe he’ll come back, just for you. Or maybe even… what’s his brother’s name? Fiddler?

Even in your shock at the whole situation, the thought makes you laugh. It gets you a nice foot to the gut. Thanks.

“A big iron cage? Really? Get some originality,” You find yourself snarking, even as warm blood drips from your nose. You’re punched again in the side of your head and. Ow.

That one hurt.

Ears ringing, you have to give it a second before you can keep talking. “What’s next, one of those hamster drip water feeders or whatever?”

The words come out with flecks that land on your bare knees and feet. They took your shoes when you got in here, and they took your hoodie to search it. Every pocket was ripped out before they gave it back to you, and half of the lining was ruined.

Cell phone smashed, wallet gutted and burned, even your shades were ripped and crushed underfoot to the tune of noiseless laughter amid the whimpering of the other people in captivity.

You’re tossed back into the cage, wrists sparking at the pain of the landing. Your knees are scraped, and your teeth hurt, and when you try, you find it hard to even lift your head.

“Stay quiet, worm,” the ugly head honcho snaps at you. “All the other animals manage somehow.”

The gated door slams shut. It vibrates the floor, shakes your soul, and makes half of the women scream.

They’re so scared. And they should be.

Women have so much to fear from strange men.

It’s a wonder they even like any of you.

It’s all women in here, except you.

From what you saw when you first got here, before they started putting the hurt on you, all young women, with decent figures and longer hair.

Women looking battered, looking scared and hungry and sleepless.

You know by now that this is slavery.

You’re going to be trafficked.

You knew you were a nubile young thing with a pretty face, but. This?

Dirk said you shouldn’t have been out alone tonight, that people were disappearing slowly in the city. Not abnormal by itself, but he has a cop friend. She said it was strange. For whatever reason.

You really wish you hadn’t been out alone tonight.

Just before you pass out from the pain in your skull, you try your best to catalog the area. Look for escape. Something, anything. Dirk always taught you to look for a way out if this happened.

But you fail him. All you manage is the ceiling.

And then you’re gone.

Fear washes up your nose and into your heart just before the lights go out.

~~~~~

-Four Hours Earlier-

“Hey, Dave, what the heck are you doing?” John laughs, pulling up behind you and slinging his arm over your shoulder.

There’s a brief pause before you reply as the Popsicle is knocked out of your mouth and onto the ground. Aw shit. You paid like two dollars for that shit. Ice cream truck special and everything.

“Dude,” you reprimand, as he guffaws and pats your back.

“I’m the one who should be scolding you,” he says, leaning down to pick up the fallen warrior, and toss it in the trash. New bird poop sprinkles and all. “You’re the one eating ice in the middle of January! When it’s raining!”

You shake your head. “That’s the best time, Johnny my boy,” you say, and turn to give him the absolute best noogie you can. He’s just stepped off the bus, backpack over his shoulder, selling attire exactly what he needs to do his job and not get caught. He just doesn’t look shifty enough, somehow.

Christ, you never expected John to be the type to sell pot out of the back of a van. Well, not out of the back of a van, but in his few little haunts. He doesn’t do any of the really bad shit, but with all the rich kids he knows, he tends to make a killing at parties.

“You ready for this movie?” you ask him. He nods, pulling you toward the theater a block down.

“Yeah!” he replies, heading that way. Squeaky new shoes, too. “Thanks for coming to this part of town, I didn’t want to get stopped by any customers while I was out.”

“No prob, John,” you say, waving him off.

He looks at your basketball shorts and snorts as you round the corner and go inside the theater. “Did you roll out of bed or something?”

“Laundry day,” you tell him. And he laughs again.

John is a fucking breath of fresh air.

“Can I help you two?” comes a growly voice from in front of you, and you have to do a double take when you see that it’s come from a short dude with a bush of dark hair on his head and the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Oh sweet Jesus he’s cute.

Buried most of the way in a sweater and a uniform that’s a little too big, with stout fingers and mouth curled in the worst impression of customer service you’ve ever seen. And he looks… familiar, somehow. His eyes are gray, and it’s very clearly the working of some fancy colored contacts, and he has what looks like a scar through his pouty lower lip.

John shoves you, and when you fail to pull your eyes away from the adorable gremlin, he orders the tickets first.

“Yeah! Two for the new Bourne movie!” he says, and you just nod dumbly.

The ticket guy’s name plate says “K” on it, like his name has been scratched out the rest of the way. Maybe people have a hard time pronouncing it?

Man and he’s the perfect height to tuck under your chin. But his arms, when he rolls back a sleeve to retrieve a fallen ticket from the trash, are… Holy Fuck. He’s… he works out. Holy Mary, Mother Of GOD.

It’s the express line to full facial blush town as you enter the movie theater, eyes matching just one more time with the fake-grey ones of uh. “K” before you follow sweet oblivious John.

And you swear the guy smirks at you as you move away.

Anyways, all that said.

You remember the thunderous scowl on his face a little more.

Since it was the last thing you saw as you waited at the bus stop, and a bag went over your head.

And you could have sworn his piercing eyes glowed red from that far of a distance.

Don’t the Ghost’s eyes glow red?

~~~~~

Present

Of course, maybe you just imagined that, since the next thing you remember was waking up being held by your elbows, getting frisked in literally every possible place, and then your shit getting destroyed.

Now, though, you’re opening your eyes to the feeling of long hair tickling your nose.

Three different ladies huddle around you, one of them with your head on her lap, gently forcing open your mouth and checking for. Whatever she’s looking for. Broken teeth? Bitten tongue, maybe. You feel like you’re on your back, and a few blinks confirms it.

The woman who’s cradling your skull speaks to you, softly. It’s Spanish, thank everything, so you know some of it. You think she’s asking if you’re alright, and you nod.

You attempt to say something you remember about your head hurting, and she nods, looking into your eyes. Checking for concussion? The other two women hover, remaining silent. The woman holding you has black hair and a comforting aura. She speaks softly, and looks like she’s been crying. A lot.

You’re able to sit up, however woozy it feels, and you look around. Thankfully the lighting is low, and thankfully the tough guys seem to be out of the room. There are a few different types of girls in here, you see. But that’s not important.

“How long have you been here?” you ask.

“Six days, for the earliest. Four for the latest,” a soft voice answers you.

You rub your head.

“You get food and water, yeah?” you ask, visually inspecting yourself. Your face hurts, your knees are bloodied but the bleeding has stopped, and you touch your eye. Okay, black eye. Cool. And… sprained wrist. Great. Toes and fingers all there? Alright. But a broken ankle, you find, when all you get is excruciating pain trying to twist it. Not so alright.

“Twice a day they give us enough food and water,” the woman who’d had your head in her lap answers.

You look at the gate of the cage. You look at the floors. You see a corner with some kind of bucket, you assume for waste, and a drain. It smells awful, like piss and shit and vomit and stale body odor.

“They come with guns,” the woman adds. “They have shot one who tried to escape already.”

Fuck.

So you’re not getting out of here.

Not without a miracle.

~~~~~

Present, at the hospital downtown

“Karkat, we haven’t worked in weeks,” Kankri sighs. “And I can’t be there to help you.”

Your brother adjusts his intravenous drip next to his chair, looks down, and reopens his mouth.

“I can’t be there to keep you safe.”

You clench your fists on the arms of the chair you’re sat in across from him. His hospital room is cold, and you’ve always hated hospitals. Your father and mother died in a hospital. Your inheritance is paid from the hospital they owned, a piece at a time.

Kankri is withering in this hospital while he waits for a heart transplant.

Nothing good comes from these places for you.

He doesn’t want you to go into this dangerous place by yourself. But. It’s not a question of him being there with you anymore. It’s a question of how soon you’re going to leave. You saw someone get taken. And you have to fix it.

You’ll need to stay alive for Kankri, but also…

“This is the human trafficking ring we thought we lost because they left town,” you tell him. “They’re good, but I’m better.”

Kankri sighs.

It feels like you’ve been arguing this for hours. It may well have been hours. He’s your brother. You need to keep him alive, and to keep him alive, you have to work that awful job at the theater. The inheritance only covers so much, and the theater manager owed the ‘other you’ and let Ghost convince him to hire your sorry ass for twelve dollars an hour.

That’s the ‘other’ you. Ghost.

But you haven’t been out and running the streets for nearly a month.

Kankri has a hole in his heart, the rare kind. And he’s waiting just a little bit longer for a donor for a new one. Bright and shiny and strong.

He was your partner before this. A good partner. He would scope out the buildings with his clairvoyance, always best on the full moon, and then he would let you do the dirty work.

Saving people. It’s what you do.

And you had needed to leave it to others so that you could live a normal life, just for a bit. But people had been disappearing. And then when you saw one disappear, right in front of your eyes?

It was that cute guy from your temporary job. He’d been at the bus stop, and you were going to ask him for his number or tumblr or whatever normal people do. And then…

He was pulled into a van.

You chased the van all the way to the factory district, keeping to shadows and rooftops. And you lost it.

“I was already going to go,” you tell Kankri, snapping and earning an alarmed look from the nurse as she comes in to drop off a tray. She leaves, huffing, and you flip her the bird.

“I just wanted you to help me sense out which building it was in,” you continue.

Kankri looks like he wants to tell you know. His brow furrows, his cheeks puff out, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times.

And then, the unexpected happens.

He sighs, his eyes go red, and you know he’s looking. He comes back to you sooner than you think.

Looking down at his hands, he says, very softly.

“The docks, warehouse 40013. I believe.”

You leap from your chair, wrapping him in a hug. Careful not to pull any wires, you hold him in your arms, and he weakly pats your back.

“Come back alive, Karkat,” he says, in that naggy way he does.

You ruffle his hair as you stand back, and run from the room.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say.

You hear him laugh.

~~~~~

Three hours Later

Sollux managed to score some blueprints for you, coming through again. He lives with you without rent, so he does the chores and helps you on missions. It’s good shit.

Then, of course, this time, he had to do more than usual. Through his VPN and several proxies, he was able to disable the security cameras in the warehouse in question. He also managed to shut down the power in that block, temporarily.

It won’t last too long, but he’s done you a huge favor.

The blueprints creak as you push them into the pocket of your pants. And it, like all of your attire and body, turns to liquid with you.

In solid form, you can’t get through the pipes. But using your abilities? It’s almost too simple.

That’s why they call you “Ghost.”

You disappear into pipes and vents without a trace.

Even though you turn into blood.

The men you encounter at the entrance don’t get the chance to shout about the blood dripping from the ceiling until it’s too late. You land at their feet, black mask pulled over your head and symbol flashing on your chest, and knock them out.

It’s mercy, sure. Even when you drop them into a dumpster, it’s mercy.

There should be eight guards. A portion of a bigger operation, you’re sure. But you can only do so much.

Two down.

By the time you get to the doors of the main room, where the captives should be kept, you’ve removed seven obstacles from your way. You hit their break room, using your training to take care of them without killing. Bullets clink on the ground as they fall from your malleable flesh, having been caught just in time. And under the light of the moon, with your powers activated?

Most physical wounds just run right off.

The doors before you slide open slowly.

And there they are. Nine women, and one man. That guy from the movie theater.

You’re so glad you were right.

He’s badly injured, unable to stand it seems, and you feel yourself fill with anger. He’s only been here less than twelve hours. The anger turns into rage as a hand claps down on the front of the outside of the cage, and the women shrink in fear.

They look terrified.

“So, you found us,” the owner of that hand drawls, and you glare up at him. From the shadow of the door, you must just look like a pair of eyes. The building is dark. The cage sits in a shaft of moonlight, and the man stands in another. Warehouse windows.

How fucking cinematic.

“So you’ve taken out my men. It’s admirable,” he says.

You frown. “Can we skip the evil villain speech?” you ask.

The guy from the theater, in the cage, snorts.

A gunshot rings out.

The man by the cage has a gun out, and the women are screaming, and the guy from the movie theater is crying out, clutching his leg. It’s bleeding clean, fresh blood now, from a hole in the thigh.

Fuck.

“How about you shut up while I kill your hero so I can get my paycheck?” the man sneers, and.

Oh.

Was it a trap for you?

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

You should have listened to Kankri. You should have listened.

Before you can think, you’re shaking uncontrollably.

A taser has been fired at your stomach, judging by the location. And it’s a strong one, too. You can barely move.

SHIT.

If you liquefied right now, you’d get turned to sizzling garbage. And you can barely think to do anything. All you can do is fall forward. You can’t let them paralyze you. God, you can’t.

So you get what might be the worst idea in the world.

You haven’t ever done it before.

But somehow, it works.

You sprout goddamn blades from your chest.

“Holy shit,” the guy in the cage says, apparently the only one that hasn’t been broken, as the taser lines tether and you burst forward in a flash of speed.

The man who tased you is dead before he hits the ground, your arm pierced straight through his chest. It feels awful, feels monstrous. But it’s what had to be done. Better him dead, than all of the people in the cage.

You hear police sirens outside before you have the cage opened.

And before they burst through the doors, you’re through a grate in the floor and gone.

Outside the warehouse, you yank the hook out of the front of your suit. Shit. That’ll need a repair. And you’ve got a few new bullet holes, too. You’re out of practice.

You throw a sweater on over your “super suit”, and pull on the pair of pants you stashed outside, and remove your mask.

The guy from the theater is sitting on the back of an ambulance when you round the building. One of your brother’s friends is there, doing a report on the incident. She’s a detective. She’s on your side. It’s a long story.

She waves as you pass her, going over to the guy you saved, and waving a hand to get his attention past the paramedic.

He’s going to be taken to the hospital whether he likes it or not, judging by the stern look from the woman examining the bandages around his leg. The bullet passed straight through, apparently. And he’s got stitches, by the look of it.

How the fuck is he not already on his way to a doctor?

“Look, lady, I can’t afford the box car, so I’ll hitch a ride with a cop.”

“Sir, you’ve bled entirely too much for–”

“I insist. I’ll walk out of here on my own if I have to.”

She throws her hands up in the air, somehow taking this answer, and he’s looking at you.

“What happened?” you ask him.

“Like you don’t know,” he answers, and it’s.

What?

It’s so difficult to hide your surprise and apprehension that you almost forget to deny what he’s talking about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you echo his thoughts.

He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah okay, ‘K’,” he says. And you.

You forget to be under cover.

“How’d you put it together?” you ask him.

“Lucky guess,” he says. And if he didn’t have a black eye already, you’d give him one. Frustration swells up in you, and you bare your teeth.

“Are you kidding?!” you ask, and he laughs and holds up his hands.

“You show up out of nowhere right after Ghost disappears?” he says, like it answers everything. Yeah, that was a bad move on your part. “And those arms would be hard to forget.”

At this, you balk.

“Excuse me?”

“Do I get to kiss the hero?” he says then, and.

“Are you sure you’re not concussed?!” you demand.

He laughs.

“Yeah I might be. But you’re also cute.”

It’s. God.

“No,” you say, and turn, preparing to leave. He’s clearly fine. You’ll get to his hospital room tonight and convince him not to blab about you. You’re pretty good at that.

“Hey, what?” he asks, and he almost sounds sad.

“Maybe a date first, douchebag,” you say, taking a few steps toward Latula. Her eyebrows are up as she looks between the two of you.

“How will I find you then?!” he calls after you, and you turn to look over your shoulder.

“I’ll find you.”

…………………….

((i didn’t get everything but i did my best! hope you enjoy!))

#i tried to keep it short and failed #im sorry if it seems awkward or rushed im very tired!#i hope you enjoy it #and you have a wonderful day!#davekat fanfiction #homestuck #hs #dk #my short fics that i write #davekat week #superhero au #yeah this is about as much as im contributing to davekat week im sorry guys hahaha #love you all! <3 #violence #human trafficking cw

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paragonrobits · 7 years

Text

Karkat goes into the dream bubbles to learn forgotten knowledge of the past for relevance in their new world, but he gets a little (okay, really sorta) lost along the way. All the while, Neophyte Redglare is trying to look out for him, intrigued by the descendant of the Signless.

Redglare/Karkat one-shot inspired by talks with @botgalhs

also on AO3 and FF.net; please comment there if you go to those sites!

In the years since the game was finished and they made a new world to explore, Karkat had turned his eyes and mind from the waking world in favor of exploring; before the game he had slept in the game world for too long and still he bitterly blamed himself for their failings. If he had awoken then, he would have done better. If he had given himself to the visions and teachers as Terezi had, all his friends might still be alive, or everyone could be happy and better than they were now. He couldn't say for sure.

But he had to know, he told Dave as he hugged him with horns low like you only ever did with moirails. He had to learn, he told Jade with a fumbling bonk to the forehead and suffering her bone-cracking hugs and promises that he better not sleep all the time. And he needed to see for himself, he told Terezi as she kissed him on the way to her own voyage. Terezi understood more than anyone else, he thought.

As Terezi flew into the void in search of everyone and everything they left behind, to piece together the flaws and understand, Karkat closed his eyes in his bed, took hold of the ties of unity between him and everything, the flowing lines of ancestry that made the world, the actions that created them as they were (the blood, it made them what they were and who they were, and the blood remembered)...

And Karkat walked into the memory worlds, the patchwork places of forgotten timelines, roads made where the threads of minds flowed together to make dream lands. In Paradox Space, in tatters after the defeat of Lord English but not destroyed (because death takes so much but it can't take away what has been done, and life still has things to do even when its over), Karkat moved onwards.

He'd seen a thousand Alternias before the sun fell over the eyes of his physical body; he watched the Signless love the ancestors of Nepeta and Sollux and Kanaya, seen the Condesce tear them apart with desirous eyes upon his own ancestor. Saw before that, every moment of his ancestor's bloody revolution against the corruption Lord English had made with Aradia's ancestor as his pawn. His ancestor was always full of rage, but there was no hatred in him, not even platonic. For his enemies, there was a platonic pity, and Karkat felt an echo of what he had when he was fed up with his friend's nonsense.

It made him think of what if Equius had been truly loyal to the Condesce, or Terezi really buy into the corrupt laws like he'd first assumed when he met her. Or if Feferi been as terrible and cruel as the Condesce. So many ways everything could have been worse; he'd walked through those what-ifs, seen every terrible moment, and he wept for them in silence.

And in the dark, in those moments where he saw but stayed apart from the dream, he was not alone.

He wasn't not alone when he saw the Signless die on the flogging jut, rage fully rising in eyes as red as his own, and jaws almost breaking from the strain as he uttered the Vast Expletive. Just for a moment, Alternia shuddered, and the moon paused, and Karkat felt himself being written into being, and he'd wanted to cry, to scream all the while; someone like Kanaya but bigger and tired, snarling and sobbing as the arrow sank into his ancestor's chest. A burly olive-blood, with the same cat things as Nepeta, held down with chains and forced to watch the red drip on the ground. A yellow-blood (oh god, those eyes, red and blue, it's not Sollux, it's NOT) weeping like a wriggler that had been opened up, it will get so much worse for you, you have eons left to suffer, I'm so sorry-

And in the crowd, standing above even the biggest highblood, was the biggest damn troll he had ever seen in his entire life, looking mournful and angry, but also like she didn't quite belong there. her hands shaking on a long cane like she needed to hold it or she'd break herself in half from screaming. Angular horns and a mass of spiky hair that feels so familiar, like blue leaves and forests, enough blue-green on a legislacerator's uniform to suggest tealblood, she was forcing herself to watch and bear witness, claws tightening on a cane but her body was tensed so much she looked like she might explode.

Over her chest was Terezi's symbol.

And in the dream, the actors cannot say a word, can only replay the events that happened here. There were several kinds of dream bubbles; and he was not in the sort he first encountered. This wasn't a world formed by the souls of people inside it and Paradox Space giving it form, but just a memory. It was not, in any sense, real. He kept telling himself it wasn't real, over the stink of burning flesh and blood dripping from blue whips, the executioner's face flashing with brief doubts that looked so much like Equius... Not real. People that looked so much like his friends were not really screaming as their family is torn apart and they all die alone, forgotten and broken. Old pain, old wounds-

(He can't ignore it. He was the Knight of Blood.)

But, as he focused on leaving, trying to force himself out of this nightmare, no one can see him, these memories didn't know he was there, they couldn't touch him or see him or speak to him. Just play out old events.

And yet, for a moment, as her head lifted and turns, teal eyes brimming with fury, her face softens, just for a moment as she looked directly at him.

Only for a moment. The memory continued, in all its horror. Karkat watched his ancestor die.

There are things here he brings back home. Things he tells the others. Facts that are relevant to the leaders of his new world, trolls and humans and carapacians who need to learn things. He will steer them away from the role of old Alternia and its ruthless brutality, he will tell them why the hemospectrum should be left a forgotten relic of a dead world, he will tell them why humanity needs to remember every blood-soaked moment of its ancestors on Old Earth. But; there are things he will not speak of.

He won't tell Kanaya how her ancestor dies broken, forgotten, grateful for the mercy of death. He won't tell Sollux how the Psiionic was made into a, a toy for the Condesce's pleasure. He won't tell Nepeta her ancestor died alone, no other details necessary. He won't tell them a lot of the stuff he sees. They don't need to hear this.

And as he navigated the complex by-ways of Paradox Space, increasingly more panicked as he realized that he was blundering into completely random dream bubbles and had no idea what the hell he was doing or where he was going, he felt faint flashes of an increasingly familiar shape.

Here, as he walked through a prehistoric jungle, he saw angular horns looming behind a tree. Or here, he sat at a campfire and listened to ancient trolls growling in mangrove swamps, and the tealblood with Terezi's symbol sitting on a rock and wave to him. And there, in his house, with his lusus, in his old home-

Well, actually. She didn't go in. She stood outside, at the edge of his lawnring, arms folded behind her and looking so much like Terezi that it ached. She seemed to be watching him; not in the fashion of a killer about to strike, but...

He didn't know. A lusus watching a wiggler. That didn't feel right either. It didn't strike the right tone.

But as he delved deeper into Paradox Space, there she was, silent and watchful and waiting for... something. Karkat decided she was playing a game, and waited for her to make her move before he did anything.

She made her move when Karkat finally wandered into a Beforan bubble. Another actor memory, which was fortunate for him because to really understand Beforus, he didn't want it colored by the attitudes of the actual Beforans he'd met. He needed to understand it's problems to grasp its relevance to his new world.

The Beforan culling, with what benefits it brought... and the terrible abuses it could engender. The loss of self-determination, lowbloods having their rights and their lives stripped from them and becoming little more than helpless wrigglers in the grip of highbloods; no freedom, no hope. No choice.

And that was for the ones who lived good lives with kindly cullers who do not do terrible things; he sees things here that he will not speak of. He just grimly makes notes of this, and considers the dangers of simply mimicking Beforan culling.

The mysterious troll was there, and he found himself wondering if she was thinking the same things as him or not.

She finally made her move at, as ultimately he realized later would be typical of her entire bloodline, at the most embarrassing possible moment for him; when he was mortified to watch an echo of his dancestor fumble his words in front of Terezi's dancestor.

And there she was. The mystery troll, sitting on a fence and watching them with a look on her face like she thought this was supposed to be familiar. She turned her attention to him and Karkat thought he was seeing double. Latula, he thinks her name is. Two of her; the one talking with Kankri, and the mystery troll, a bigger Latula. Yeah. Definitely bigger.

Dream bubbles blending together. Memories flowing together and spoiling the study. He thought a few things more like this before the tealblood stands up, walks through the memory-Beforans like they're made of air and halts half a dozen feet from him, looking right at him.

Maybe he should have fled; maybe that was safer. But he didn't. He wasn't sure why.

Two things became clear to him. First, she looked a lot like Terezi, but not exactly; she was slimmer in places where Terezi wasn't, and thicker in places where Terezi was... well, less so, even if that didn't mean much. The horns were a lot longer, jawline shaped differently.

And the second thing was actual two separate things. First, he'd never been close enough to her to actually get a good look at her. Not only did she look hauntingly familiar but different in so many ways, but she was also so pretty- no. Not pretty. Pretty was a more childish word than she warranted. She was beautiful. And he associated beauty with things like naked blades, blood dripping on meteor floors, Terezi's teeth, Rose smiling grimly behind crossed needles or wands, the look of a meadow before the monsters rolled in, that way Terezi yawned right before her jaws basically dislocated and she ate all the butter without even asking-

Pretty things were scary as hell and boy was she absolutely scary. And he still wasn't running. He wasn't sure why.

As she approached, he felt more certain that he probably ought to. She was big. He'd seen the Condesce, in memories, and there were tons of stories talking about how huge she was, how beautifully fierce and impossibly gigantic she was. Female trolls were bigger than males, and even so the Condesce was a giant among there people. And yet still, he always concluded that Terezi (so big, but so achingly delicate with him, like he was made of crystal sugar and glass) was bigger than that, even bigger than Feferi. This troll, even with that in mind, was even more frighteningly massive than Terezi, like Terezi in a few more years of growth and maybe a secondary pupations. It was like comparing a sapling with a tree in the full bloom of its growth.

She walked right up to him, her shadow pooling around him. He felt disinclined to flee, even if he wasn't sure why; if she wanted to attack him already, she probably would have, and it was painful to imagine malice from anyone that looked so much like Terezi.

She smiled faintly down at him. Teal eyes stared down at him from behind sunglasses the same color as his own heretical blood – glasses, he belatedly realized a few stunned moments too late, that looked so much like Terezi's. They were probably the same pair.

This was Terezi's ancestor. Neophyte Redglare. She rolled her huge shoulders and, yes; he winced at the marks on her neck, faded and the color of dull bruises. She didn't even need to have them now; maybe she liked them. He stared up at her, unbelieving of how irresponsibly massive she was, not so much simply broad as just incredibly bulky at every conceivable angle. Broad shoulders, big bust, big gut, bigger hips. Legs several times as wide around as Karkat's body shifted lazily back as she leaned away, looking down speculatively at him, large digger's claws lightly resting atop a cane held in a jaunty way, the claws grasping the snout of a dragon's-head ornament. The gesture was surprisingly casual. Despite it being more like the girl in the memory, Beforan Latula all but forgotten in the moment, he briefly thought it was a Terezi thing to do.

For a second, he even thought that he was meeting another Terezi; some forgotten timeline where she lived long enough to get old and really, really hot. The thought flipped across his mind before he could get a handle on it and she immediately grinned in a very familiar way. Not exactly like Terezi, not slow like she was doing her best to pretend she knows what smiling is like. This tealblood grinned like she was putting on a show, like she's being graded on points and damn if she won't do her very best to show her stuff.

It also felt a lot like someone who had been planning this moment for a while, waiting for exactly the right time to make her move.

“Hey,” she said playfully, and leaned in. “Glad to finally meet you.” Her lips looked very much like Terezi's. Large lips, and thick too, very round, tinted closer to her blood color without lipstick, and the smile more like a mass of bared knives, little smaller teeth branching off the bigger fangs at frightening angles. That damned cocky smile was almost the same-

Just like, Karkat realized with a kind of resigned shock, how the Signless' surly grimace looked almost exactly like he himself did.

She moved several steps towards him like she was carefully evaluating the effect of every move, seeming all the world like a dragon that had found a most interesting jewel drop right into her hoard and clearly in need of polishing. Her uniform even looked like Terezi's old FLARPing costume; a legislacerator's uniform, the single piece coat over leggings and all tight enough to fit over her frame like a one piece. The heavy fabric was like armor, making her look even bulkier than she already was. Karkat swallowed, a dull blush starting to creep up his neck.

“H-hi,” he mumbled, looking away.

A large hand, gloved in padded fabric the same color as his blood, braced against his jawline and gently took hold of him. His face was inexorably turned towards her, not with any force but with a kind of irresistible sternness. “Speak up,” she said. “Please.”

“Hi?” he said, looking right into her eyes and snout. Her lips looked very soft, but her teeth very sharp.

She chuckled. “Better!” Her voice was deep and rumbling, surprisingly melodious and rasping with unexpected emphasis on certain sounds, with a faint trace of accent he couldn't place. “You look just like him.” She stood up straight, and her shadow fell over him. “Except, heh...” she grinned, teeth sharp and slick. “Bite-sized.”

Karkat froze.

The cane rose, tapping him on each horn. Not enough to hurt or even sting, just enough to give him a bit of a ding. “I'm kidding, kid.”

Karkat tensed, untensed, and was getting unfocused enough that he wasn't even clinging to the memory around him, and with nothing to anchor it...

Well. These dream bubbles needed something to keep them there. Or they weren't bastions of thought in the depths of the Outer Rings. They were sand castles, washed away.

Redglare looked up, as the sky opened up into the vast eye of something that was everything Karkat did not wish to know. “Oh shit,” she mumbled, grumbling something about this not being the best first impression. “It's falling apart!”

Trees disappeared. The ground curled up and broke away, and Beforus faded away for him. Kankri and Latula, their ancient conversation turned to static, vanished. And the world around him was simply... gone.

It was all untangling around him as he lost hold of the thoughts and feelings that had made it, it was starting to drift away, and blackness seep in. Cold, strange, not exactly hostile but that odd sense of alien-ness of minds making a space for more minds to move in and put an imprint in.

Like being out in the cold, standing in a storm. Don't get caught in the dark.

The bigger tealblood, Redglare, moved with the same speed that was startling in a troll so broad, suddenly right behind him, heavy hands on his shoulder. “Don't move,” she said, suddenly all business and deadly seriousness. One arm dove under him, around his legs and knees, and she pulled up, and suddenly Karkat was in the air, his back and legs cradled against the larger troll's heavy arm, thick muscle against his body like the skin of a recuperacoon, and unfortunately pressing him against the softness of her generous bust. In the circumstances not unpleasant, exactly, but it was a bit of intimacy that was pretty damn distracted. He made a squeaking sound.

He expected her to laugh, tease him, do something to make the situation even more embarrassing. Instead she was silent, stern. In the fading light, at his angle, all he could see of her eyes were her glasses. Made her eyes look cherry-red.

He was briefly aware that he was being held in a fashion that was typically more appropriate for a would-be concupiscent character in the arms of the Dashing Hero and he realized 'Shit, I am, aren't I'.

Redglare seemed away of his thoughts, even as the ground cease to have any relevant existence for them. She did something, he wasn't exactly sure what, but he felt a glimpsed of the bit that made her who she was latching on to something immaterial, tugging hard, reeling herself in or pulling herself away to it, and then-

They were gone. No more blackness.

Ironically, for him, he blacked out at that point.

Time passed. Somehow.

There were dreams. Dreaming within a dream; he never had much patience for that kind of meta-textual nonsense and if he'd been awake for it he would have complained, a lot. As it was, he merely grumbled and fussed in his dreams, and was vaguely aware of a comforting presence all around him, smelling of dragons and blue-green.

Claws, sharp but gentle, gingerly touching his cheek like they weren't sure if they were allowed to. Snatching away as he moved, like she was ashamed.

He remembered fumbling for that hand. It was a nice touch. He'd liked it.

At some point after, he opened his eyes, blinking dully.

There was a living room. A sofa. A vast, reptilian creature laying through a window, one massive red eye regarding him solemnly, and Karkat stared numbly at the beast slowly turning its, her, face to him. Long snout, sharp teeth. Eyes glowing so bright he damn well better avert his eyes. Better, light got less bad. He dared to look up and it pointed its head away, exposing horns as long and blade-thin as a Pyrope's. A head the size of a buggy yawned noisily, which for a lusus was a good sign among mixed company.

A dragon. A dragon lusus.

He turned aside at heavy steps; a doorway, bigger than anything he'd ever seen except for Terezi's home, and how appropriate because here that ludicrously pretty and kind of terrifying troll from the dream bubble came right now. She wasn't wearing her uniform now, but the simple attire common to lowbloods from the time periods he had initially glimpsed her in.

A tealblood, in lowblood colors; a highblood in clothes beneath her station. For a moment he thought he'd wandered into another timeline but noticed that the symbol displayed prominently on the top was the same shade as Terezi.

He tried to form the word 'Redglare', and found it weirdly inappropriate to actually speak her title aloud.

She carefully sat down next to him, and he now noticed that he was sitting on some sort of makeshift cot. “Hey,” she said, patting his shoulder, her palm engulfing it entirely. Karkat, despite being small, with still broad and bulky, lean muscle built up over the many time cycles playing the game, but the tealblood was simply so big that he felt almost as tiny as a human compared to her.

He flinched away; she was just so big, looming just by sitting down, that her very presence was alarming. She looked alarmed, hurt flashing across her face, and in a very Terezi gesture she shrugged and sat back, gently placing a cup on the ground.

“Drink it,” she said, scooting away from him a bit and dragging some of the blanket with her. He stared dubiously at her. “Come on, drink it. It's nice, I promise.”

He glanced from cup to her, and took a sip. “Okay, fine, it's not poisoned, probably, but if I spontaneously explode or turn into, shit, I don't know, a quillbeast, I'm gonna call bullshit.”

She gave him a Look. Then she snorted. “Psh, whatever.”

Karkat took another drink, longer; the drink was warm, faintly sweet and made his throat tickle. “Okay, yeah, sure, okay, this doesn't suck horribly. The hell is this?”

“Hell if I know,” the Pyrope said lazily. “I only ever knew what you ordered it as in my time, but I only knew a language that hasn't been used in hundreds of years and spoken in a country that no longer existed before you were even born.”

A long moment of reflection. “Shit, you're old.”

“Bite me, shortie.”

Karkat just stared at her, slowly sipping distrustfully from the cup. It was hard to be too suspicious of her; he was instinctively inclined to follow anyone who looked that much like Terezi. Highblood, at least a highblood with interest in you, meant safe. The lowblood clothes were throwing him off, though, and she kept giving him furtive glances like she was worried he'd snap in half if he moved too fast.

She stuck out a hand. “Neophyte Redglare.”

Karkat extended a hand and cautiously shook three or so digits, which was the closest he could get to properly shaking her hand. “Uh. Karkat Vantas.”

“Psh, I goddamn knew that!” She poked him in his soft chest, right on the symbol of the Holy Irons.

“Ow!”

“Wimp.” She gave him a friendly pat on the back that nearly knocked him over.

He glared up at her, huddling into his sweater. Furtively looking at her, he mumbled something.

“Speak up,” she said. “Can't hear you~!”

“You were following me in the dream bubbles, weren't you?”

“Course I was.” She made a scoffing noise. “Look what almost happened to you.” She grinned fiercely. “A pretty lady walks up to you and your whole world literally falls apart.”

He scooted his knees up. “Hmph,” he mumbled, not really able to come up with a comeback for that because it was blatantly true. “So why?!”

“Because I'm worried about you. Duh.” She grinned again as he looked at her in surprise. “And you're cute. I like you.”

His brain sort of fizzled out. Something else occurred to him, ridiculous though it was in the circumstances, and he knew he had to say it, it was the most obvious thing possible but if he didn't say it he was gonna run out of things quick to say. “You're... you're Terezi's ancestor, aren't you?”

Redglare nodded, evidently pleased. “Yep.” After some thought, she continued. “And you're the descendant of the Sufferer. You're Kankri's descendant.”

She was not asking a question. “Y-yeah,” Karkat said, even so. “...Wait, do you mean the guy from Beforus, or-”

She waved a hand. “Name's the same. We're the same people, but circumstances change. On Beforus, he was pent up and angry and didn't know what to do about it. On Alternia, he just got mad.” She smiled fondly. “You really need to have a talk with him sometime.”

He blinked. “Wait, talk with him-”

“But not like this!” She poked him in the soft belly; not particularly hard, not at all forceful, it almost tickled. He swatted her finger away. “You... you really have no idea how to navigate the dream bubbles, do you?” She snorted. “Even with Blood powers, you're kind of screwing that up.”

“Well, excuse me for being a complete- wait.” He blinked. “Blood powers are good for navigating the dream bubbles!?”

“Sure, probably. Why not?” Redglare cackled; Karkat sputtered in incoherent indignation and she just cackled harder. She became serious, though, and business-like again. “But I will be clear. You're getting into dangerous situations, kid.” Her hand found his shoulder again, and the touch was inviting. Cool, even chill, but not painfully freezing. He did not feel particularly inclined to shake her off, though he felt that if he did, she'd remove her hand like she'd been stung. “I might be slightly concerned.”

“...Oh. Of course.” He lowered his head to the ground, briefly wondering if he should be saying anything, but it might be okay around the ancestor of Terezi and oh hell with it, he just did not give a damn anymore. “Of freaking course I'm screwing that up! Just like I've screwed up everything else-”

“Shush.” A hand found the spot behind his horns, pressing gently, softly, and he almost went completely limp where she papped him. Claws lingered on him skin as she leaned in, close. Closer, her breath flush against his skin, the coolness of her inviting, her strength not so much frightening now as relaxing...

A coolness against the base of one horn, startlingly intimate and familiar. “Let it go,” Redglare said, her voice still soft, lightly tracing little patterns on his skin, the corners of her mouth turning up gently.

He leaned in, not really knowing or understanding why. He nodded meekly.

“I've had a hella long time getting used to understanding how these dream bubbles work,” Redglare said softly, tipping her glasses away from her eyes. They were a bright and brilliant teal, a brightly green around the slits of her irises. Not quite the same shape as Terezi's; wider and not as angular, heavy eyebrows scarred with old sword-cuts that had come dangerously close to her eyes. “In relative terms. What you need is... ah... a teacher.”

“A... teacher?” Karkat repeated.

“Okay, I'm in,” Redglare said, as if privy to an entirely different conversation. She winked at him and he wiggled, blushing again even as he glowered, fully away that she was completely dominating the situation. She cackled. “Let's make it an exchange. I teach you a thing, like say how to actually get back home-”

Karkat blinked, openly horrified. “What, you mean I can't get home now!?”

“Not the way you're in now.” She looked apologetic. “But I do. I can show you the way. I can show you a lot of neat shit.”

“Okay... okay. And, wait. What do you want?”

“What do I want?” She repeated, voice going a bit lower. “Oh, let's call it... services rendered. I do you a favor, you do me a favor. For the record, oh... how about you give me a little kiss, and I help you get back home?”

Karkat blinked. He had not been expecting that. “I. What?”

She stood up straighter, the playful tone leaving her. “Oh, oh damn. Did, did that sound like I was pressuring you. Shit, I promise, that is not what I meant, seriously. I'll help you get back, no problem-”

“It's okay!” Karkat yelled, more passionately than he meant. “I... I mean... I can do that...?”

“You mean what I just said or... the bit before that?”

“Um. The. The, uh. The second one?”

“Ah. Oh.” She chuckled deeply. She delicately leaned in and picked him up, gently depositing him on her lap. Her thighs were very big, extremely strong but also very soft, it was actually nicer than the bed he'd been sitting on. “Then would you mind if I took advance payment?”

“Um...” he leaned in and carefully kissed her hand, still lightly grasping his shoulder. “Not really.”

She looked surprised, and then grinned. “Now you're talking my language, buddy.”

#homestuck #my writing #karkat vantas #neophyte redglare #karglare

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botgalhs · 7 years

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Trophies

Got a request for either some Karkat getting all Stockholm Syndome-y flush after Condy takes him as a trophy; or for some Kankri taken as a trophy by Condy and absolutely DESPISING it because it's like culling only not as dolled up. Well... surprise! You get both. Hope you enjoy, whoever you are. Thank you for giving me reason to write a very lovely scenario (writing-wise, of course).

By all logical accounts, you should be dead. You should be nothing but the washed away stain from the end of a culling fork, body rotting in some corner of the wilderness being torn apart by animals or floating and decomposing until fish come along and do the same job. You're a mutant freak that doesn't belong in this or any universe.

And yet here you sit. And not only are you not dead, you're comfortable. In the fucking lap of the Empress. When you had been dragged in along with your like-blooded mutant, you were certain she was going to destroy you both on sight. However, when her claws were tracing along your face and you sat terrified of her and the idea that she was pondering which of your mutant-colored eyeballs to yank out first, she had smiled. Not even deadly or threatening. Just a bright, pleased grin that spread over her whole face.

“Oh you and me are gonna have some good times, buoy.”

Surprisingly... you actually do?

Not that you aren't absolutely fucking terrified for a good while after, but, she never actually does anything to you? She puts a collar on your neck, but there's no branding, no marks, no anything. The most she does is keep the collar on you and drag you along by a leash, red like your collar. Sometimes she'll actually carry you. Just sweep you up off the floor with one arm and haul you along like you weigh no more than a bouquet of hideously red flowers.

She dresses you up, all in shades of your red and her fuschia. You're given food that you never imagined you would ever get to see or smell, let alone taste. You stay well and truly terrified of her for a good while. But then... you sort of stop? She never stops being dangerous, and you know how easily she could still kill you if she ever changed her mind about refraining from enacting violence upon your person.

You're pretty sure you know well enough there's no chance of escaping from )(er Imperious Condescension even if you wanted to. She has your life on the line, but there are no real threats to you. She's told the guards explicitly, after one unfortunate incident where a blue blood picked you up by the front of your new silky shirt. The screams from him still sometimes echo through your nightmares from her 'punishment' for almost damaging one of her favorite toys.

Maybe you are just a toy to her, because she plays you like a four string instrument bow instrument and you go right along with it.

She brings you along to meetings, you sit quiet and still in her lap no matter how much you want to snap at some of the staring highbloods sometimes. She gives you clothes, you wear them. She tells a joke, you laugh. She shows you off, you stand tall as you can and be something to show off. She wants a flush kiss to the lips, you make it the flushest you can. She says jump, you ask how fucking high.

This is a life of ease and luxury the likes of which you have never known. No danger of culling, of being found out, no more fear of keeping your blood hidden. Perverse as it may be to think, being her prisoner has made you feel more free than you've ever felt in your whole life.

No matter how much you miss your friends, who likely you'll never be seeing again, she's always there, reminding you that she's all you will ever need and that you'd just better get used to it.

You can make yourself not mind, even if it's a bit difficult at first. She's always around, and she treats you well. She doesn't threaten you and you live in luxury thanks to her. It's good to be flushed for her, just as she says. You're so lucky, luckier than you've ever been in your whole miserable life.

At least, you're a hell of a lot happier than the other guy.

–

All things considered, you wish she had just killed you the moment she laid eyes on you.

You've seen all the signs of this before, and you refuse to fall for them hook, line, and sinker. Not like Karkat obviously has. Enamored by nice things and supposed 'safety'. You know what this is.

You've both been culled. Even if that's not what it's called on Alternia, that's what it is and you know it. Everything from the clothes in her color to the food she gives you. As if the fucking collar and leash weren't enough of a clue as to what's really going on.

She's locked you in this great luxurious room but you've refused to use pretty much all of it. You sleep in the corner on the floor with nothing but a a smear of sopor slime on your forehead, rather than the great slimy monstrocity she calls a recuperacoon. You don't even recall having any on Beforus, you don't know why you'd need it. But no reason to risk anything you suppose. There's not a single book anywhere, or writing utensils. All you have is yourself and your stewing thoughts in the soft carpet.

You eat as little as you can get away with, no telling what they'd do to your food, but you don't want to go through the unpleasant experience of being force-fed again So you have to comply and eat sometimes.

To be honest, you find it somewhat better the fact that she doesn't try to dress this up. Not like Beforus, when it was all sugar coated as benevolence and kindness. What you were on Beforus to your culler is what you are to the Alternian empress now. An object. A trophy. A little freak of nature to show off at dinner parties once she's had you properly dressed up and sedated so as not to cause a fuss. At least you have the dignity to do that, not like Karkat, the traitor, accepting all his precious coddling and his fake safety by obeying her. Neither of you are safe, not from her. He's no better than a living doll to her but he just can't see it. You don't even want to think of how many strange highbloods would have been putting their clammy touchstubs all over you while you're too insensible to take any real notice of your surroundings while you're forcefully wound down on whatever it is they gave you to keep you quiet in her lap all day.

At least those bouts are brief. She drugs you up, dresses and jewels you up, takes you out, then puts you back when she's done. That's as far as your forays to the outside go beyond the prison cell that is your room.

It's when she spends time with you in your room that you've come to despise the most.

She never has Karkat with her. It's always just you and her. When she shows you what she really thinks of you.

You do your best to fight back, but you're no match for a fully grown fuschia blood. She picks you up and pins you to walls as she pleases. She takes the fancy clothes and shreds them bit by bit. The only clothes you've really ever been comfortable in, she ruins as well, by making you wear them when she comes. You curse Karkat's ancestor for forever poisoning your leggings for the empress in memory.

You look more like him, she's murmured before as she locks the shackles into place on your wrists. The little shouty 'buoy' is softer, better to keep as a pet. But you are a spitting image of him. Perhaps that's why she get such a sick pleasure when she sets you by the chains on your shackles against the wall. A mockery of the torture that he had once endured.

She claims that she regrets having to do away with him. Had she her way, she would have had him captured by her secret guard, spirited away to her castle to be kept locked away from the world like the precious little gem he was. Such a rare, lovely red. So nicely complementary to her fuschia. He would have made a lovely crown jewel. But he was stupid, and he'd been culled.

But now, now she had the both of you. Karkat to kiss her all flush and pretty in public, and you to tear to pieces in the pitch of your luxurious prison. Shackled and held a mockery of the treasure she had really wanted so long ago. She didn't get her desire, but now she has two that may be just as good to her together.

She's glad that you're like him, she says. She always imagined how much fun it would be to break his hearty, resilient spirit until he was nothing more than a body. You are just stubborn enough that you hate her, rather than fear her. That when she wrenches up your chin and envelops your mouth in a kiss, you try to bite her back. Now she gets that chance. To try to break you down and tear you apart.

You tell her it will never happen.

She just grins, and slips a finger down under the edge of your leggings.

“Give it time.”

#homestuck #her imperious condescension #karkat vantas #kankri vantas #condykat #condykri #condesce #karkat #kankri #fic #sfw #my work #ny buddy my dude my amigo #had a great time writing #not gonna lie

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sam-rps-shit · 7 years

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a new heavily expanded list of prompt ideas

- Once I turn 18 this May, I can finally write the “Dirk is the star of a harem anime where literally every straight girl falls for him and every day is hell because he’s gay” prompt i always wanted to try

- Sherlock au but hear me out here; all four of the StriLondes are super geniuses, so this will actually be four prompts: from least to most smart, you have

Dirk, slowly growing his own company and playing around with artificial intelligence, not quite as skilled in picking up on cues from other people or speaking well as his other siblings but still able to deduce quicker than anything. This would mostly take on a more psychological sci-fi kind of vibe I feel, what with Dirk being so introspective and his working with technology possibly yielding some very interesting results..

Rose, who holds a “minor position” in the American government. Like you wouldn’t expect her to really be into politics, but she’s able to navigate the scenery well and with her own powers of deduction and specialty in memorizing all sorts of information she has her fingers everywhere- slowly improving the healthcare system and shedding light on shady business, and colloborating with the FBI and CIA on international, foreign affairs of great importance. This right here would be a more James Bondish political intrigue sort of vibe, with more opportunities for psychological horror and spies!

Dave, who despite being a supergenius literally is the same as always. Sure, he could probably tell you your entire life story after staring at your hands for a hot second, but that’s kinda rude yo. Like sometimes he says weird things but otherwise you would never guess he’s that smart (especially considering the fact that he’d trip and fall at 3am over the skateboard he was riding indoors to do some sick tricks with). He’d be a jack of all trades, kinda showing up in his siblings jobs and all and sometimes helping them out, sometimes going to the museum to get a gander at the dead shit and do some carbon dating, that kind of thing. This is definitely the most tame of them all, with more of a slice of life type of thing where its just Dave, being Dave, except now he can call you out on 9000% more bullshit by seeing one eyelash out of place

Roxy, who works with the local police department as a hacker and consultant, taking on the most Sherlock role out of the four of them. Not content with holding herself down in a stationary job, holed up in a room all the time, she usually does her hacking quickly and then, once the data is transferred, run out to see the rest of the case through by charming her way to through any lines of red tape (and/or giving Rose a little ring), collecting clues and deducing how everything’s going on. At the same time though, because of her feeling as if some things are too dangerous, she sometimes just goes alone, meaning that she faces enemies head first and can sometimes end up getting herself into big trouble with villains, perhaps even garnering the attention of a few who see just how hyperintelligent she is. This would be most like the show, with a vibe more reminiscent of an action adventure mystery extravaganza!

- Kanaya works as the chainsaw wielding maniac at the local haunted house for halloween, and has to chase people down or deal with them literally trying to fight her as their fight response is triggered.

- Little Shop of Horrors AU where y/c finds petstuck Feferi, a little biologically engineered troll that’ll help Alternia take over the world should your character be talked into doing as she says: feeding her blood to allow her to get bigger (she claims that she needs the blood to survive, but she doesn’t really- that’s just what they made her think). Singing is optional

- Kanaya is a judge on a fashion show a la Project Runway except it’s with first time designers who have little to no idea what they’re doing. Hopefully hilarity ensues

- a legitimately well written and in character bun John hybrid prompt, more likely than not having to do with the dating sim Dandelion: Wishes Brought To You

- Stabdads

- Humanstuck Signless (a first for me!!!) is a single dad who’s also a veteran, just trying to raise Kankri and Karkat with the help of Crawford (Crabdad) and is at a loss. This would take place around the time Karkat’s 12 and Kankri’s 15, and Silas has to figure out how to deal with his kids as Karkat goes deeper into a very worrying “emo” (or scene?) phase and Kankri starts becoming egotistical due to being in all honors/AP and being on debate. It’s the awkward transitionary year where Kankri turns from an otherwise gentle and well meaning, if somewhat self centered, boy into a radical SJW (for lack of better term) and before Karkat makes the full transition from a “problem child” into getting his life turned back around and making more discoveries about himself. Please help this man. He just wants to be a good father

theres probably more but this is enough lmao

#cherubplay #prompt ideas #couldnt stop until i got it all down!#sorry this is so long lmao

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rabidpomeranians · 3 years

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I posted 9,520 times in 2021

9 posts created (0%)

9511 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1056.8 posts.

I added 19 tags in 2021

#homestuck - 6 posts

#theory - 3 posts

#limeblood - 2 posts

#john egbert - 2 posts

#if ubi were a thing i would still do that and clean houses on the side - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#theorists have tried watching the shining forward and backwards superimposed on eachother to see if theres any meaning to pull from it

My Top Posts in 2021

Godtiers that are killed, even in a heroic or just way aren’t fully dead. That would mean john, who was killed by LE’s venom, is more accurately in a “permanent” death like state. Since its only the venom that killed him, does that mean its removal or nullification would revive him?

The most straightforward way would be making antivenom, which first involves getting a sample of venom from the same species.

Easy enough. As a bonus callie’s physically the same individual. And cherubs being equal opposites to each other could mean their venom is naturally the counter to LE’s. The solution could be as easy as “Calliope: bite.”

But what if its a little more complicated and someone has to actually go through the process of whipping up some cherub antivenom? How is antivenom made? You collect venom (easy enough with callie hanging around) and use it to gradually immunize an animal that's large enough to tolerate the doses. Then you collect its blood and refine out the venom antibodies. The animal most commonly used for this? The same one we see scattered throughout the comic.

Mother

See the full post

23 notes • Posted 2021-09-07 00:09:10 GMT

I've been thinking a lot lately about the nondescript power limebloods had that made them so dangerous that the empire had to wipe them out. Here’s a rundown of the possibilities I’ve headcannoned, why the empire would be threatened by them, and my own notes on each.

1. Semi-aquatic Fresh water dwellers with aquatic adaptations including a high lung capacity. I err on the side of them not having gills since karkat is technically a limeblood and he lacks them. It’s not a disadvantage either. In an underwater fight with a seadweller all they’d have to do is get a fistful of sand in their gills or clamp them shut. The seadweller can’t choke them back because they’re not breathing. With limebloods around the playing field evens out and seadwellers lose their safe retreat into the nearest body of water. (being good at stretching out a lungful of air could also explain how karkat/kankri can manage such loud/longwinded rants without getting the spins)

2. Ultra-psionic all the powers attributed to gold bloods (telekenisis, energy blasts, vision 2 fold) cranked up to 11. Losing the potential to harness that power would be a blow to the empire but keeping them around would be a ticking timebomb in any political upheaval (like the rebellions that were constantly forming.) especially since being a caste higher than gold makes them harder to mind control. I’ll also bunch omnipowerfull in with this one. The potential for any power, displayed in other castes or otherwise. It’s as terrifying as it is mary sue.

3. Soporific/Empathic some kind of mind control power that’s effective across the hemospectrum and can instill calm in a subject almost instantly. It’s the one people talk about the most but I don’t see them push it too far beyond ‘that time karkat calmed gamzee down.’ what about other emotions? Can they make someone angry, or scared? Can they push one person’s feelings directly into another? Can they make a whole crowd feel the pain of an injustice perpetrated by the empire and turn the masses? Probably.

4. Born leaders following the most common theory with the rarest. It’s not a physical power at all. It’s political. Limebloods are the top rank of the bottom third of the hemospectrum. Which alone makes a sizable chunk of the population subordinate to them. -But they’re subordinate to every other color too? Yes, but. The order of command drags on lime. Above them: olive blood culture pushes them towards individual mindedness, jades are only seen as reproductive experts, and teals are the lowest of the highbloods and likely worry more about their superiors. The limeblood’s position gives them the most sway of any lowblood, and puts them in the position to take the reins and get shit done. With this they gain genuine allegiance and recognition as authorities. The highbloods/imperial enforcers would see it as undermining, and the empress certainly wouldn’t be a fan of having her loyalty divided. (Also think about how that re-contextualizes the theme of karkat’s desire to be a leader.)

5. Honorable mentions I don’t have much on these or a specific reason why the empire would reject them, but there are elements I like to think about.

Pyrokinesis- the aquatic rulers of the empire smothering their pyrotechnically enhanced narrative foils makes for a good theme. Also they all dressed like guy fieri. If I have to live with that mental image, than so do you.

Siren - a knack for mimicry and voice that carries down a city block, then enhanced psychically until a scream is reclassified as a weapon. It could tie to gl’bgolyb’s psychic powers? or the dream that made kurlos scream so loud that mewlin lost her hearing. (It’s one of my favorite headcannons that karkat has some locked psychic ability that manifests in his voice)

27 notes • Posted 2021-08-23 03:37:27 GMT

A reverse paranormal investigation show where the ghost is being interviewed and it shows dramatic recreations of paranormal researchers’ dicking around in their home.

35 notes • Posted 2021-08-19 06:12:41 GMT

[image text: If angered, she could simply express her grievance through communion with her ancient lusus of the deep, and turn its psychic devastation on her multitudes. The class hierarchy played into her hands politically in this respect. Killing off a haphazard swathe of the population, or an entire class, was suitable as a measure of last resort, but mass extermination does not lend itself well to practical governance. Its looming threat however is quite effective, especially while her empire was partitioned neatly into blood castes. end text]

Gl'bgolyb can selectively wipe out a caste? I always thought a glub would start at burgundy and work its way up as it got louder, or was that just popular fannon?

That must be what happened to limebloods then. Why else bring up such a specific example if its not ripped directly from history. Equally, why would the masses believe it if it never happened.

This also gives a practical explanation to why she wanted to develop blood castes in humans post scratch. The clean segregation is what her political power relied on.

38 notes • Posted 2021-10-10 19:12:45 GMT

Heinoustuck sprite redraws, finished just in time for spooky season. It’s my favorite fan adventure, and I’m actually surprised I haven't seen anyone take their own shot at this in the time it took me to finish -.-’

(dave and jade are under the cut)

See the full post

40 notes • Posted 2021-10-20 17:23:19 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #i didn't realize how wordy my posts are until i sw them all strung together #so the rest of my top 5 are shoved under the readmore

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twinaudacity · 8 years

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==> Private message

twinaudacity hey he2 not liike. threateniing you two make you act friiendly iin publiic and keep quiiet or anythiing ii2 he?

ii'll kiick hii2 a22 twinaudacity ii dont care iif he ii2 a giiant 2ea dweller

palteringcecutiency ...are you still worried about this? Goodness, I'm flattered.

palteringcecutiency I am free of his shackles, I assure you.

palteringcecutiency When he reclaimed me, after... my brother's death, I was manacled, shackled, collared, and locked in a small room below deck, /after/ he bargained for his life and the lives of his crew and ship.

He knows how dangerous I can be, when free. And I am very free. twinaudacity that 2ound2 horriible??

palteringcecutiency Forgive me, at the time it was hilarious.

twinaudacity oh

palteringcecutiency ...I was very angry then, and the thought of him not being able to sleep because I was in his hold, chained and bound and still potentially fatal, was

twinaudacity why are you 2o niice two hiim?

palteringcecutiency ...comforting.

twinaudacity they dont talk a lot about how powerful a p2iion my ance2tor wa2, mo2tly they talk about hii2 briiliiance

palteringcecutiency You and I are the most powerful ever hatched.

And the other Psiioniics and Solluxes are for their timelines as well, for the most part. twinaudacity and the really crazy one2 try two get me two betray my friiend2 becau2e of 'who he wa2 wiink wiink'

that2 crazy ..ii am u2iing that word two much why are we the 2tronge2t palteringcecutiency Then they know nothing of him, if they speak of betrayal.

There's theories, mostly relating to the game. twinaudacity ii thiink they thiink ii'm goiing two 2uddenly thiink ff and gz are eviil becau2e they're hiighblood2

palteringcecutiency The twelve lines tend to be important, and excel in general.

twinaudacity they already thiink kk ha2 been corrupted 2omehow

yeah? palteringcecutiency Ha. Then they know less than I thought they did. Not that I am surprised, the loud ones never do.

Yes. We're accomplished trolls, for good or for bad. Highly skilled, highly motivated. Destined for greatness, as they say. twinaudacity oh geeze no pre22ure or anythiing

palteringcecutiency Hardly. You're a Captor, we're not known for our idleness. You would get there if I told you your destination or not.

twinaudacity they all expect thiing2 out of me becau2e /he/ wa2 2o great or 2omethiing

cae ju2t fuckiing gave me thii2 entiire company and 2et me loo2e on iit palteringcecutiency ...this will sound confusing, but I know exactly how that feels.

twinaudacity how do you know?

palteringcecutiency My first life, the one before Alternia, where I played the game myself. Sollux was hatched first and started a technological revolution, jumping the Empire forward by leaps and bounds. Always seen in court, he was the Radiance's moirail, and died a legend, ages before me.

And then I hatched, and the Radiance found out nigh immediately. She tucked me under her wing, and tried to coax me into my potential, the same as her moirail had achieved. I was two, I believe. twinaudacity 2hiit at lea2t II wa2 liike. fiive? 2iix?

palteringcecutiency ...she would be Feferi's alternate, I believe, if that helps you understand her personality.

twinaudacity !! oh

..oh fuck ii would hate two be one of ff'2 project2, ii mean 2he2 great but 2hiit palteringcecutiency Things were a little bit different there, unrelated complications lead Radiance to adopt me like Mother did, so she got hold of me very early.

twinaudacity ..waiit Ro2a adopted you?

palteringcecutiency Yes. Or more rather Kankri gave her that hopeful look of his and convinced her to let the strange wanted psionic child stay with them for a bit.

She warmed up to me eventually. c: twinaudacity okay 2o ii dont know exactly what happened duriing that periiod becau2e that iinformatiion ii2 2tiill con2iidered iillegal and the le22 ii know the le22 ii can accedently u2e two make trouble

but Ro2a and the P2iioniic were mate2priit2 palteringcecutiency They what.

twinaudacity liike, famou2ly

palteringcecutiency /What./

twinaudacity all the male jade2 are theiir genetiic off2priing

palteringcecutiency Oh my fucking god.

I ./How/. /She was my fucking lusus, /how//. twinaudacity ii mean maybe he wa2 iintow that

palteringcecutiency /I assure you this half of we is not./

twinaudacity do you want me two me22age ro2a and a2k how they met

palteringcecutiency I'm not entirely sure I want to know, jesus fuck.

palteringcecutiency ...god, it's going to haunt me, if you could please.

palteringcecutiency I'll prep the bleach in the meantime.

twinaudacity okay

twinaudacity 2hiit help now 2he want2 two tell me 2toriie2

palteringcecutiency You deserve this.

twinaudacity ii've been good!

twinaudacity 2he 2ay2 that kk'2 ance2tor kept a bloodbath from happeniing when he caught 2ome hiighblood2 decendiing on hiim iin a town they were goiing through, and he became fa2t friiend2 wiith kankri and wa2 apparently 2miitten wiith her and her chaiin2aw

palteringcecutiency ...she is rather skilled with one, yes.

twinaudacity ..and apparently they 2candaliized kk'2 ance2tor a lot, but that wa2 okay becau2e of thiing2 ii dont need two fuckiing know about god

not a lot of priivacy iin runniing for your liife!! apparently!! ii am goiing two fake dyiing two get away from thii2 conver2atiion 2oon palteringcecutiency Well. I did that on my own, so I can't be surprised.

And no, we were all rather close. Would saying we still are make things worse? c: twinaudacity oh my 2hiit

/why ii2 thii2 happeniing ii'm a good troll ii pay my taxe2/ /2he ii2 over 2hariing 2o much/ palteringcecutiency I stayed with my brother and my sister for half a sweep after revival and I must say, they remain delighted with each other.

All that time had decreased /nothing/. twinaudacity why thii2 /ii dont need two know about karkat and nepeta'2 ance2tor2/

palteringcecutiency Oh come now, you shared about your ancestor and Mother's alt, I would be remiss to not inform you about their /enthusiasm/.

twinaudacity that2 my mate2priit'2 ance2tor youre talkiing about!!

palteringcecutiency Oh I am aware. c:

twinaudacity ii dont talk about u2 paiiliing liike bunniie2 every tiime he ha2 leave tiime do iit?? no! becau2e ii have manner2!

palteringcecutiency Goodness, is that what I'm lacking? I had no idea.

I thought I was just an asshole. c: twinaudacity augh

palteringcecutiency c;

twinaudacity 2hiit fe2teriing fuck okay ii'm goiing ii'm gone ii am offliine now ii dont de2erve thii2 bye

palteringcecutiency Good light! Sleep well. c:

#pesterlog #abuse//#twinaudacity #posted ooc #caepaecaesurae

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amuseofspace · 8 years

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I Was Told to Type Up This AU

so it should be pretty easy to tell when i picked this up from past me but it's still relevent

Um…I don’t normally post stuff about my writing here. Nor my writing, because I don’t really write a lot of fanfiction due to my inability to write dialogue for other people’s characters. However, I was told by a friend that an AU I created was really good, and I should share it, so here goes.

In one sentence, this AU is: “God tier powers without Sburb.“ Pretty self explanatory, but now let’s periphrase that. Not everybody has magic, just like not everybody plays Sburb. The people with powers are called majs (like the “mag” in magic), and without no-majs. Your maj tier is your god tier, and majs tend to work in teams because of the specific powers. And of course, the 34 characters of Homestuck fit into this.

The Dancestors: These guys can be covered in one fell swoop. They lived a long time ago, back when the earth was new, etc. Aranea, but also a lot of the others, made a book as they realized that they all had specific powers (eg, Porrim could create space). Meenah founded a city (which turned into a country) in which a women ruled, however, this came at the price of making it caste based. Everyone else is relatively unimportant.

The Humans

This is medieval times, ish. I’m not a history buff, so take this all with a grain of salt. Rose is just a normal girl, but surprisingly interested in education. John is a higher up noble, but not like a prince or anything. Jade is an outcast who helps her grandfather on his farm. Dave is a knight in training. They’re all friends, probably through Dave.

So Rose is being Rose and hunting through some sort of library and finds a book, i.e., THE BOOK. She grabs her friends like "hey guys guess who has these powers uS", and they get excited. they do things.

jade is a witch. no, she is literally about to be burned for witchcraft except she is a witch, so she busts the hell out of that joint. no salt circle can stop her. she is a god. rose got everyone together, predicting this, so they set off. they have got to find another place.

MEANWHILE IN ALTERNIA

the trolls are doing something similar except they knew they had powers

so not similar at all. what's really happening is that they were all recognized as descendants of the founders and are gathered together "for the glory of alternia" (is there a pun i missed? put it in for me kind laddie) there's lots of shenanigans tho - lot's of vriska telling everyone they need to train and people being like "wait shouldn't feferi be the Heir?" and karkat doing his very best not to get hurt because he's the knight of fucking blood, how messed up would it be if he didn't even have real blood? of course condy knows because before she was the condense, she was meenah peixes and she knew kankri before she killed him.

they all kind of hang out in this manor without a lot of supervision. the condense believes they won't fully manifest if there's too much interference, so they live in this closed off plot of land that is Fakey Fake but also hidden and safe, which is nice, because Lord English is coming. Lord English lives in like. fictional europe? idk. somewhere adequately evil. he is the whole threat here. it's why the trolls are training. but they're also safe from his attacks into alternia.

(humanlandia is safe because alternia is sort of a border, and also LE isn't super interested in the humans)

and then to tie this off (for now)

so as you could probably infer, the kids are running to alternia. alternia is all kinds of dangerous for humans, but rose has a Contact. the contact is kanaya. they've been sending letters back and forth. they're gay. kanaya sneaks them into the area, they get split up into a few houses, and it's good. at first they get split up based on class, and while jade and feferi (might) be gay, and dave and karkat are definitely gay, it doens't work out well amazing for rose and john. john moves in with vriska eventually (or really anyone? he could move in with really anyone. this isn't supposed to be ship heavy, although i feel like some daverezikat, jadefef, rosemary, and johnvris work well. you can really do whatever you want. if you want john and equius to live together, that's chill. in fact, i support it), and rose and kanaya also move in together.

eventually they fight lord english, but if this gets much more developed, i'll have to write a fic to contain my ideas

#homestuck #rose lalonde #john egbert #davekat #terezi pyrope #au #muse writes #i picked random characters btw #things i thought were popular

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tashaleway · 5 years

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Karkat Vantas and a Fucking Cherry-Red Stone: Chapter two: Feelings and Logic Do Not Work Well Together.

“I’m home!” Karkat yelled, when he entered the house, making sure no one was nearby, while the front door was open. If somebody saw the white crab, it would only spread panic in the little town. Better avoid that.

Crabdad answered with his usual shrieking, but before he could greet Karkat properly (in a bone crushing hug), the boy had disappeared to his room. As soon he had closed his door behind him, he tossed himself on the bed, letting out a groan. To be honest, his bruises didn’t even hurt, thanks god for magic, but the self-healing was draining, so he decided that a little nap would do him wonders. He pulled the duvet around him and was soon deep in sleep, every thought about the waiting nightmares, forgotten. “Skreeeeeeeeik!” the sound startled Karkat out of his dreams. For a second, he was still in dreamland, but quickly woke up, by his father’s calling. Not an emergency, just a reminder to wake up. Crabdad was about to leave for work, but Karkat let his mind wander to his dream for a minute. It had been one of the worse, he knew. The nightmare was already fading, but he could still recall the blood-eyed man clearly. He remembered something about the man wanting Karkat to go with him, but when he had refused, the man had aimed his wand at Kankri and Crabdad and then… he woke. Another screech sounded in the house and Karkat grumbled to himself. “Why can’t that fucking crab learn to wake people up, without scaring the shit out of them?” Karkat mumbled to himself, took on a black turtleneck and went downstairs, where his father waited beside Droog, who would babysit him, while Crabdad would go to the Ministry and help them out with whatever work they had for him. Sometimes, Karkat pictured his dad like a normal person, who went to work with a briefcase, a fedora hat and tie around his neck. That thought always made him smile, even just for a second. Crabdad hugged him goodbye, before being put under a disillusion charm, where after he climbed into a big, white ministry van, so he would not be seen by the muggles. Karkat was used to this. It was his every day. He always had to make sure of that nobody saw Crabdad; nobody from the muggle society was allowed to come inside their house. In ways, Karkat was glad that he didn’t have any friends, since he wouldn’t have to lie to them, why they couldn’t visit him. It made everything so much easier. He hoped it could change, when he came to Hogwarts. Meet somebody, who wouldn’t be scared of Crabdad and perhaps even like him. See him for the gentle soul he was. ~naknaknak~ The days went over quickly, as did the day, when they went to Kings Cross to get Kankri. Nothing special happened. Karkat was by now used to the red train and the witches and wizards on Platform 9 ¾. A few days after, they celebrated Karkat’s eleventh birthday, Droog was at their little party too, with his two daughters, Aradia and Damara Megido (they were probably named after their mother). Damara was a year under Kankri and hereby a year older than Karkat and Aradia, who also would start Hogwarts this year. Damara was rather weird; she was wearing make-up even though that she was only twelve and too short clothes that exposed too much, but this wasn’t all. She had actually learned Japanese when she was young after a wish from their Japanese, muggle mother. It was all fine, if she just would stop talking it all the time. Of course she could talk English, but she didn’t seem to care that she kept everybody else than her family outside her conversation. She was even so cheeky as asking Karkat questions on Japanese, so Aradia had to translate, until the younger girl got annoyed at it and asked her to stop. Aradia on the other side was nice. Her hair was brown, but tangled into knots and Karkat even found a leaf in it a few times, her clothes was tattered and the colour was faded, but it all suited her and her weird aura. Karkat didn’t know how to describe it. It just felt weird around her. Cold, even, like if there was something or someone more than just the girl. It all fitted together with her almost none-stop talking about death, which unnerved Karkat, but when you got closer to her, she was quite interesting after all. She told Karkat in all secret that, when they were finally out of Hogwarts, she would travel around the world and be on adventures. Her dream was childish, but Karkat thought it sounded cool, so in replace he told her his big dream about being a great leader and brave like his parents was. He told her that they were killed by Jack Noir, just because they were muggles. Even when Noir had told them to beg for their lives, that maybe, maybe he would kill them fast, they wouldn’t. They stood strong. Even after minutes of different painful curses they wouldn’t beg. Noir killed them after that. Leaving Kankri and Karkat alone. Aradia had frowned at the story. Yes, his parents were brave, but they were rather stupid too, not to ask for mercy, when they were tortured. They had stared at each other for ten minutes after that, both wanting to win the argument, until Karkat admitted that there was something right in it. Aradia cheered him a bit up by saying that he would do great as a leader. He didn’t give up, until he realized that he was wrong. The rest of the evening, Karkat was one big smile and he hoped that Aradia would continue to be his friend. ~naknaknak~ The guests had returned home and Karkat and Kankri sat in front of the fireplace. Karkat had asked about the Dark Lord, who had killed their parents, and hesitantly, Kankri began telling. “Noir was once a noble man. In Hogwarts he was known as a kind boy, even though he was in Slytherin. He was always ready to help others and he was really intelligent. But now, everybody knows that it was all just an act. Jack Noir was just like his older brother, Calious Uranian, who was a heartless man that had almost sacrificed their sister in a ritual, while they were still in school. Noir changed his name somewhere in his life from Spades Slick Uranian to Jack Noir. He became a ruthless man, who stood strong in his believes. According to him, muggles should be slaughtered, like they once slaughtered us. When he got power, he even went as far to attack muggleborns, because of their parents. It was gruesome. There didn’t go a week without an attack on a muggle village or a muggleborn house. Not even the half bloods were out of danger, but finally, almost ten years ago, a man stood up against this darkness. He found Noir’s family; yes he had a wife and even a son. The wife was just as evil as her husband, even joining him at times in his massacre, the son was no different. Still a baby, his magic was filled with darkness and already able to kill. But the man, names James Egbert, found this family. He was so noble that he wouldn’t even kill off these evil people. Instead, he gave Noir a choice; he could choose to stop fighting and get his family back, or continue the war and lose the only love he might ever find.” “What did he chose, then? He stopped the war?” “No. He killed his own wife and son.” “WHAT?!” “Yes. He sent the killing curse at his own wife and son, but that is not even the worst part. After he had fired the curses, he blamed James Egbert, for the killings. Noir murdered James Egbert and his wife, Janelyn. After that, he disappeared. It is known that he somewhat realized that he had killed his own family and presumable killed himself by remorse. In ten years, nobody have seen or heard anything from him. But not everything went good again over the night. The after effect from the war was still to be dealt with. His followers, named The Felt, were locked in Azkaban, while the innocents he had forced to follow his commands were finally free from their bonds. Today we can thank James Egbert for the war’s ending. If he hadn’t found Noir’s family, he would never have killed them off and would never have blamed himself to thereafter kill himself.” Karkat had a lot to think about now. How could anybody be so… so cruel (or insane) to actually murder their own family, just because he didn’t want to lose? Karkat was just happy that it was over. It sounded like a horrible time to live in, and only to add to the fact that Karkat’s own parents were killed by the same madman, which made Karkat ask his next question. “Kankri? Do you… do you remember mom and dad?” he was not entirely sure, if Kankri would answer that question, but he just wanted to know. Get to know them a bit, even if he would never see them again. Truth be told, Karkat didn’t miss them, how could he? He was only a year old, so how could he miss somebody he had never really ever met? Or in fact; couldn’t remember? And they had Crabdad after all, but he just wanted to know. Know as much as possible. That would always be his weakness. At once, Kankri looked unsure and a bit… afraid? Was Karkat not allowed to ask that question? but he truly couldn’t fathom why. Even as a three year old, Kankri should be able to at least remember something. Karkat waited patiently, but his brother didn’t say anything, instead, he just shrugged and left it as that. Knowing, that Kankri most likely wouldn’t (or couldn’t) tell much about it, he instead divided into safer topics, like Kankri’s school year. A Slytherin third year had apparently gone somewhat insane and cursed another third year (a Hufflepuff). The cursed girl and the Slytherin year boy had been friends since their first year, but the boy had one day snapped, and hit the girl with a Dark curse to her head that had the purpose of turning the victim deaf. The Hospital Wing hadn’t been able to reverse the curse and had sent the Hufflepuff to St. Mungo’s. The healers had searched through book in hopes of finding something that could negate it, heck they had even got a warrant to the Slytherin’s house, in hopes to find the book, the boy had found the spell. They found the book and the spell, but there was no cure. The girl would be permanently deaf. The girl’s family had invested almost their whole fortune, in hopes the healers would be able to find a cure, or develop one. They still had to hope. The boy had been found guilty in his trial, because he had every intention of hurting the girl, so far everybody could see, but the council was still concerned about the boy’s mental health. He was expelled from Hogwarts and was to never return to, but had been sent permanently to one of St. Mungo’s mindhealers. The family wanted the girl to be kept out of it and refused to let the press know of their name. Only the boy´s name was known; Kurloz Makara. Kankri was now giving Karkat a lecture about thinking all his actions though before doing anything rash, even if he was angry, because with magic, you could end up, seriously hurting another student. The lecture actually lasted an hour and a half, but Karkat listened through it all. It was after all a good enough advice. Not that he was ever going to tell him that, of course. The lecture led to Kankri’s point, which he had waited to tell about until he was sure that Karkat followed him in his concerned thoughts: the Slytherin boy had a little brother, who was coming to Hogwarts this year and would therefore be Karkat’s year mate. Under no circumstances, should Karkat interact with the boy. In fact, it would be best, if Karkat could keep himself as far away as possible. The soon-to-be Hogwarts student was named Gamzee Makara. Now, he at least know who he should avoid… But the rest of the day, Karkat had a nagging feeling that something was wrong, and he kept caught the weird glances that Kankri threw him. Kankri looked like he was searching for something in Karkat’s features. Something that wasn’t good. Maybe the morning would bring new light to the case, or even better, the looks would cease all together. ~naknaknak~ The morning didn’t bring anything better, as a matter of facts, it all got worse. Karkat tried to get more information about that Noir-guy, but Kankri paled and refused to tell him more and in fact, it would be better if Karkat never asked anyone else about him, or even saying his name. Ever. Better to call him He-Who-Is-Gone. Stupid. So if the bad guy should be called He-Who-Is-Gone, the good people should be called Those-Who-Are-Mindless-Sheep? Or Those-Who-Are-Scared-And-Stupid-Fucking-Sheep? Karkat sighed. Why could nobody think properly? Nothing could happen by saying the name of a person, who was dead, or in hiding, unless they had a finding spell on the name or something like that, but even if that was the name, something should have happened every time somebody uttered that name. For example yesterday, when Kankri told Karkat his name. But no, let us all fear a useless name, without a good reason. Yep. Perfect plan. Good work everybody. Now, I will open the fence and lead you all back to your enclosure. Good sheep. “Dicknuts” Karkat muttered to himself, lucky that nobody was near to hear him speaking to himself. He realized that he had lost himself in his thoughts and hadn’t been aware of that he had missed the last half hour of his romcom “How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days” and the roll credits were now showing on the screen. With another sigh, he turned off the television and without making a noise walked past the kitchen in hopes, Kankri wouldn’t hear him and give him lectures, or pointers of how to behave at Hogwarts and to avoid the Slytherins at all cost, especially the younger Makara. Kankri didn’t hear him at all, but Karkat heard him. “Yes, I know. I have seen how strong his accidental magic is. And if he is that strong, maybe he is also strong enough to actually break the Memory Barrier.” Kankri’s voice wasn’t collected as usual, but so full of fear that if it wasn’t for the words Kankri was sprouting, he would have reveled himself to try and calm down the older. But the words made him pause. Who was under a Memory Barrier? And why? “I am just afraid that he will remember everything and realize the truth about him. Karkat is after all my brother. In some kind of way…” Where they talking about me? The truth about what? And who is “him”? There is a Memory Barrier on me? What was a Memory Barrier even? The thoughts washed through Karkat’s mind with possibilities of what his brother’s conversation could mean, when some other thing, Kankri had said went through his head. Karkat is after all my brother. In some kind of way. In some kind of way? Not knowing what to do, except of getting away, Karkat hurried up the stairs and into his room, where he shakily closed the door after him. He took a calming breath, not noticing his legs giving up under him and tried to remember himself not to panic, and instead thinking everything over. Every possibility. Minutes passed before he was able to calm himself enough to actually think logical. He knew from past experiences that logic helped you the most. Not emotions. They only made things harder. Like tears, when he admitted, he missed his parents. Tears didn’t bring them back. Tears didn’t make it better. They didn’t close the whole he felt in his chest. They only made it bigger. And anger. Anger was most likely the emotion, he felt the most, but that was not helping him either. Logic, instead, told him that they were gone and would never come back. Logic told him, even if he found a miracle, they would most likely not even be the same. And he didn’t even know them. He couldn’t remember them at all. No, it was better to acknowledge that they were gone and if he ever met them, it would be when he died. Until then, he should not dwell on things that couldn’t be and were gone. His parents would have wanted that. Kankri. Karkat had known him as long, he could remember. Known him as his brother. Kankri had said something that could be read as them not being brothers. The feelings made that hurt and logic made him wonder. They didn’t look like each other at all. Karkat had black hair, pale features and red, freakish eyes. Kankri had brown hair, slightly tanned skin and brown eyes. Karkat would always be the shorter one. When Kankri was eleven he had been at least two inches taller than Karkat was now. It would make sense, if they weren’t brothers. The childish part of Karkat made him think, even if they weren’t brothers by blood, they would be by everything else. He didn’t care. That was a lie. He cared. It hurt. Not that they weren’t brothers. Only a bit. It hurt a bit. But the thing that really hurt was the fact that they hadn’t trusted him with that information. Kankri and Crabdad. They didn’t trust him. He could have handled it. It would have bothered him. It would have hurt him, like it did now. He would be angry, but he would calm down. He would see reason. Like now. in a minute. Yes, it wouldn’t hurt so much in a minute. He could handle this. He would. ~naknaknak~ He was right. It didn’t hurt so much now. Not after trying to calm himself down in almost twenty minutes. Twenty! How could it even take so long for him, just to think rational? To make the pain stop? But at last, he could feel the hurt, stabbing in his chest lessen. A bit by bit. Karkat scoffed, he was going to be a big pussy, if he kept this up. Needing a break, just because something doesn’t go after his head? Hmmf! It was bad enough with his addiction to his romcoms. He kept telling himself that he was trying to figure out humans reactions in different situations, but he knew that he was lying. He was enjoying the fluffy and funny romance. But he was getting off topic. So what, if he wasn’t Kankri’s brother? It would of course mean that they had different parents, but also solved his confusion about Kankri’s unwillingness to talk about their supposed parents. If Kankri told him about, what he remembered from his own parents, and Karkat remembered something completely different, there would be a problem. And if he was told about, how Karkat’s parents and how they looked, so the previous situation couldn’t happen then… then what? What could the problem be in that? Why hadn’t his brother told him about how Karkat’s parents was? Was it guilt? It could be… unless he didn’t know anything about them… but a three year old couldn’t come up with a scheme like this. And for what? Have a fake little brother? Unlikely. And Crabdad just didn’t seem like someone, who had the heart for it, no. Yes… everything was beginning to make sense. The government! Of course! The Ministry of Magic had its finger deep into this. Yes, they probably rescued Kankri after his parents was killed (as he knew so far, the story could easily have happened, but you could never be too sure), they must have found Karkat. His parents could perhaps be dead too (not knowing for sure, yet) and knew that these boys would need a home, so they placed both of them with a Lusus. Crabdad obviously knew about this lie, as Kankri was talking about it with him, so the only one they needed to fool was Karkat. Maybe the rest of the world to? Especially the wizarding world. But why? Why wasn’t he allowed to know the truth? What was wrong with him or his parents that made the Ministry of Magic to take such a step? Could it be his magic? The intensity of it? Karkat was sure of one thing; he would find out the truth.

#homestuck #homestuck fanfiction #karkat vantas #kankri vantas #aradia megido #kvaafcrs #chapter two #chapter 2 #feelings and logic do not work well together

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corvid-knight · 6 years

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Demon Eyes - chapter 16

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/32706291

Roxy and Karkat are already at the truck when you come out of the mall; she's trying to ask him questions, figure out what the fuck happened. You can tell that even before you get close enough to hear.

The demon's just standing there, leaning against the side of the side of the truck and wiping his hands clean with an already-stained rag. He isn't really looking at Roxy, just shaking his head at each question; every time he moves, his form shifts, just slightly, back and forth from mostly-human to a little more demon.

Karkat?

If he hears you, he sure as hell doesn't show it. Fuck.

Roxy looks up as you get closer, eyes widening as she sees Hal behind you. The look on her face makes you want to turn around, look at the shikigami, face the fucking consequences of what you've done, but. No. You fucking can't. "Holy fucking shit—Ethan—"

You don't mean to even open your mouth. Stay quiet. Don't say anything, not until you're asked.

You open your mouth anyway, and words spill out.

"I killed him, it's my fuckin' fault, I fuckin'—didn't pay attention, didn't aim, Roxy, I—"

" Dave," Hal says, stepping past you instead of waiting for you to start walking again. He doesn't actually look at Roxy but heads for the back of the truck, lifting the limp body he's carrying up into it. (God, you're so relieved you can't see any of what you know has to be in there from this angle. You see anything else, hybrid corpses in any state of dismemberment, and you don't know what you're gonna do.) "Stop. This isn't on you."

"I fucking shot him!" That comes out as a shout, and Karkat's head snaps up, red eyes fixing on you for a second before he looks away again. You have to force yourself to be calm, quiet, in your next sentence. "I fucked up, I shot him, it's—"

"Stop." Hal steps back around the side of the truck, shaking his head slowly. "One dead. One killed by a fucking banshee—which you killed, Dave, thankfully before it could get around to taking out the rest of us—"

"It wouldn't've done that and you know it." How fucking dare you argue? your bro's ghost whispers in your head. You try not to cringe and keep talking anyway. "You—if I hadn't fucked up—"

"I couldn't have done anything." The shikigami hesitates, hands opening and closing at his sides and eyes going unfocused for a moment. "I...fuck. I need to get back and have Dirk take a look at my hardware and software..."

Roxy frowns in concern, stepping up to Hal and putting a hand on his shoulder, careful not to touch the wet red patch on his shirt. "How bad is it?"

He shrugs, grimacing, then shakes his head. "It could be worse—something about the frequency of that bitch's cry interfered with some of my processes." Then he focuses on you, giving you a small, tight smile that doesn't quite seem forced. Painful, yes; fake, no. "Thankfully the exposure only lasted a few seconds."

There's no blame on Hal's face, and even though you're pretty sure he's capable of hiding emotions and shit more than anyone else you've ever met, you're going to hope he isn't doing that right now. Fuck, I'm not in trouble, you think with a surge of relief, and immediately feel almost sickeningly guilty for that. You killed somebody. You deserve to be in trouble.

Roxy looks from Hal to you, opens her mouth, reconsiders, and directs her question to the shikigami instead. "You think there's still dangerous crap in there?"

He just nods. No hesitation.

"Shit. Uh...give me a second." She sighs, running one hand through her pink hair and biting her lip as she thinks, then heading for the back of the truck.

You glance at Hal—who's swaying a little on his feet, face twisted in what seems like concentration—then take a cautious step to stand next to Karkat. "Hey..."

"No." He won't even look at you. Doesn't even look up at all, just scowls and keeps his eyes fixed on the blood he's trying to get off his hands as his claws (definitely claws now, not fingernails, his form's still shifting but he's not dipping back down into what'll pass for human anymore) catch and tear holes in the rag. "Don't fucking talk to me right now."

"But—" Your voice cracks. Fuck. I need to talk to you, man, please, I'm sorry—Can he even hear you?

Maybe. Probably, because he growls softly and pushes the rag into your hand, waiting for you to take it before he jerks his hands away. "Here. There's blood on your hands."

"Karkat—" But the demon's already yanking the door open, climbing up into the cab of the truck and settling into the seat on the other side, every ounce of his body language screaming don't you fucking touch me.

While you're still struggling to stay calm about all this shit, Roxy comes back around from the back of the truck with Rick in tow. The poor guy looks like he's going to throw up—one more thing you can't help but immediately categorize as your fault. He detours around to the driver's side, while Roxy comes over to you. "Dave?"

"Y-yeah." Don't you fucking dare stutter. "Yeah?"

"Okay, so. Hal told me you were an empath, right?" Before you can follow through on your instinctive response (which is to fucking deny it) she holds her hands up. "And he told me to keep my mouth shut about it, I know, you don't want to talk about it, but I'm gonna do something that might feel kinda fucked up if you got your magic-y eyes on, so like. Be careful. If turning off that extra sense is a thing you can do, do that, okay?" She blinks at you, tilting her head a bit. "It'd reallysuck to have you and Hal both incapacitated over this fucking cleanup."

It already sucks, Rox, since I fucking killed one of your hunters... "Yeah. I'll be careful. Uh, what—"

Roxy pats your arm and shushes you, nodding at the truck. "You can get a play-by-play later, alright? I wanna get Hal back and see how bad he's fucked up right now."

She's right. God, you're a fucking idiot.

Hal shakes off your offer of help getting up into the truck the first time, but doesn't protest when you steady him. He needs it, after all; the act of opening the door almost has him on the ground. He manages to get in with just a hand up from Rick, though, and you shut the door and get in the backseat.

Next to Karkat. Or by Karkat, anyway; you're halfway scared to get close enough to him to have a chance of touching him at all. That's how furious he looks.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Dave, I'm not going to hurt you," he growls as you're fumbling with the seatbelt, sighing at how you flinch at that. "Fuck."

I'm sorry, you think at him, trying to listen for an answer, feel out any hint of what he's thinking or feeling. Any answer, you need a fucking answer, please...

But he just makes a small, miserable noise and shakes his head. "Like you need to be fucking sorry..."

I don't understand. You can't feel him. It's not like before, when all you could feel was absence—you feel something, his presence and other, less concrete presences, like shadows in the dark—but it's still a bad feeling. Karkat's there, but he's cut you off.

Your eyes hurt, enough that you turn your head to look out the window at Roxy instead of running the risk of having Karkat see you start crying like the useless asshole you are.

...okay, what the hell is she doing?

Roxy's stripped off her shirt and dropped it somewhere, standing there maybe ten feet from the truck with her hands up at about shoulder level, facing away from you. There's a complicated black-and-green tattoo across her whole fucking back, lines that seem to twist and change as you watch. It hurts to look at for a moment; then something clicks together and you see what it is—a serpent, woven into a knot that's a rune that's pure power worked into her skin.

Behind you, Karkat hisses, and as Roxy brings her hands down sharply, the demon grabs the back of your shirt and yanks you around. The pressure on your throat is almost enough to make you panic, but as he presses one hand across your face, covering your eyes, you get what he's doing.

Even turned away and with Karkat's hand over your eyes, you feel whatever the fuck Roxy does, see it as a silently blinding explosion behind your eyelids.

Karkat lets you go. A minute later, you hear the door slam shut, and risk opening your eyes for a second.

Amazingly, the building looks completely intact. If you hadn't felt the impact of whatever Rox did, you'd wonder if it'd worked. Holy shit.

The fact that Karkat doesn't have anything to say about that actually hurts. You bite your lip and try not to too obviously press into the corner of the seat and the door, as Rick gets the truck started and pulls out of the parking lot.

Karkat gets the door open before Rick even gets the truck in park, stumbling as he steps down. And yeah, you should wait, make sure Hal doesn't need your help getting down, but. Fuck.

You're not a good person.

You slide out of the truck as soon as it actually stops, which puts you a good five steps behind Karkat. "Karkat, hey—"

The wordless jolt of no that he sends at you is enough to make you close your mouth so fast you catch your tongue between your teeth and taste blood. It's not enough to make you stop following him, though. You don't know if there's anything that'd do that.

The door opens as Karkat reaches for it, and Kankri steps out, grabbing for Karkat's shoulders. "Look at me," the angel says, and is about to say more when Karkat snarls, pulls back and punches him hard enough to send him staggering backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling hard on the grass.

"Shit—" Okay. Yeah. You'll stop for that. Karkat disappears into the house, and you kneel next to Kankri, not sure whether or not it's okay to touch him. "Fuck, man, are you okay?"

The angel groans, pushing himself up and raising a hand to his face. "...I deserved that." He's bleeding from a split lip, bruises already rising around it, but beyond that and the dazed look in his eyes, he doesn't seem to be hurt. Could be worse.

"Don't think you did," you tell him, then wince at the memory of the times you've had this exact exchange with somebody else, except with the roles reversed.

Stop it. Fucking stop it, Karkat's not like Bro, he's not, he—

"Dave, no, that's not at all what I meant!" Kankri reaches out to touch your shoulder, getting your attention away from your own rising panic and onto him. His eyes are blank and white again—he's seeing into you, isn't he?

"Fuck—" You swat at his hand, looking down and covering your eyes with your own hands. It's a position that makes you think of those stupid no-evil monkeys; you must look like a fucking idiot. Bro would have some shit to say about this being the only way you could think of to get somebody out of your head, wouldn't he? "...fuck."

Kankri sighs. "Dave."

"No. Don't fucking use that shit on me, don't—don't get in my head, don't you fucking—"

"I apologize. I'd never go deep without express permission; I wanted to know what's gone wrong with my brother this time and skimming your recent memories seemed like the easiest course." Another frustrated sigh, and a feather-light touch on your wrist, like he's trying to convince you to take your hands down without either asking or physically forcing you to do it. "It was a mistake, I know, a stupidone...I'll understand if you're upset with me, but can we put that off for the moment?"

"...yeah." You lower your hands, blinking in an effort to clear your eyes. It kind of works, but the tradeoff is that you can feel tears running down your face. Fuck.Just tell him what happened, get done with this and go have a meltdown in private. "It, uh...somebody died, I ki—I fucked up a shot, killed a hunter, Karkat's—"

Karkat cut me off. Because I fucked up. Because I'm a fucking killer. Because I'm shit. You'd say it out loud if your throat hadn't just closed up enough that you have to concentrate on being able to breathe, let alone talk. And what if he never lets me back in? What if he leaves? What if—

Kankri winces, pulling his hand away from yours. "David, I can't understand anything you're trying to send me, but I promise you that there's no reason to be as afraid as I think you are."

"I'm not—sending? I don't understand—"

"It might be because you're bonded with my bloodline, or it might simply be because we're both sensitive to the use of the same type of power, empathy and telepathy..." The angel sighs and shakes his head, wiping at his mouth. "...it doesn't matter, anyway—you need to go to my brother."

God, you want to. "He doesn't want me, he—"

"He wants to punish himself for his perceived failing," Kankri interrupts.

"He didn't—" I'm the one who fucked up.

"Someone died, a death my brother thinks he should have prevented. I've seenthis before; you do understand that?" Kankri huffs, hands going up to tangle in his own hair, making more of a mess of it than it already was. "His inability to save absolutely everyone he believes deserves it, heal all the undeserved wounds—that's his worst trigger; he'll half-kill himself before he's satisfied with his penance, and it's stupid. He doesn't deserve this."

Oh.

You hesitate for a second, sorting shit out in your mind, forcing yourself to believe that no, you're not the one Karkat's angry at. Kankri opens his mouth to say something, and you wave your hand in a vague gesture that doesn't really convey shut up but somehow still gets him to do it.

"Do me a favor?" you ask him finally, getting to your feet and offering him a hand up.

"If you're going to speak with Karkat, I think I owe you one."

"Great. Go on and talk to Rox and Dirk, make sure Hal's alright." You pull him to his feet, taking a deep breath and stepping up to the door. "Maybe you can help him out, I don't fucking know..."

"Of course." And Kankri heads for the truck, as you shut the door behind you and hope he's right about what Karkat's thinking.

You knock at the door to your room and get absolutely no answer, but when you go to open it, it's not locked. (Thank god. You don't know what you would've done next if it had been.)

Karkat's sitting on the bed, his legs pulled up underneath him. He's...really fucking other, right now; dark wings folded behind himself, one hand twisting a handful of the blanket up and the other tugging at his fucking halo—and yeah, he told you he had one, but knowing isn't equal to seeing the damn thing, realizing that where you expected an angel's to be white, Karkat's is not black but some color that's deeper than black, shifting through the potential of everything on the spectrum.

His eyes are closed, face drawn up in a pained grimace, but they snap open when you shut the door. You want to flinch back from the bloody fire in his eyes, and you don't allow yourself to.

Instead, you come and sit down on the bed, not-quite-touching him. The stupid fear that you're still feeling won't let you do that, not yet. "Hey."

Karkat just stares at you for a moment, then closes his eyes again, going back to yanking at his halo. It only moves a fraction of an inch in response to his efforts, despite not being tethered to anything, but you can see the way his face changes every time he gets it to move at all. He's hurting himself.

"Man, no, fucking—stop it." His claws scare you so fucking bad—they're bloody red, too long and too obviously razor sharp. You don't want to even think about what they'd do to your skin. "C'mon, please..."

Please don't hurt me, you think, and reach up to wrap your hand over his, trying to keep him from pulling at his halo any more.

Karkat's skin's hot, his claws almost burning, but his halo is...cool. Or not cool, but neutral, no temperature at all, buzzing against your hand at the few tiny places you make contact with it instead of with his hand.

It feels like him. It feels like pure magic. It hurts, a little, because he's hurting, and after only a second you start feeling dizzy enough to almost need to let go.

There's no fucking way you're just letting go and giving up, though. I'm the reason for this whole shitshow—if I hadn't fucked up, pulled the fucking trigger, there'd be no reason for him to feel like this.

Karkat growls, very softly, and shakes his head, trying to pull at his halo again and going still when you resist the movement. "Don't you fucking dare," he mumbles.

"It's true."

"Not it's fucking not." He cracks his eyes open just enough to look at you, reluctantly relaxing his grip on his halo so he can get ahold of your hand instead, claws grazing the back of your hand. He doesn't cut you. You didn't think he would. "You didn't do anything wrong."

I'm the one who killed him, 'kat. Not you.

"Stop it." Another growl, louder this time, and his free hand moves up to the back of your head, slow enough that you have time to keep yourself from flinching at how close his claws are to your carotid artery. When he actually touches you, its not hard to lean into his hand, though, and he sighs at that before gently pulling you close enough that he can lean forward and press his forehead against yours. "You kept everybody else alive."

"Killed a fucking hunter to do it." Shit. You close your eyes, letting the hand that's not holding Karkat's clench into a fist. Karkat—

"Shhh." He sighs, hand tightening around yours, and the barrier he's raised between his thoughts and yours melts away. I could have saved him. Just a couple fucking seconds sooner—

Stop! You are fucking crying. Yeah, you can keep it silent, but you can't make it stop. How the hell can you put this on yourself?

"It's not on you—"

I pulled the fucking trigger. If I'd waited you would've—

Karkat snarls, deep in his throat, and you get an image from him—opening the door, ripping the banshee's head off, and knowing it doesn't fucking matter,because the banshee was the only thing in the room that was still alive. "No.Don't even think that. Don't you fucking dare, don't you dare get killed, don't—"

He's. Crying.

That hurts.

You twist your hand free of Karkat's, hissing as you scrape yourself on his claws, and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Where your hands brush against them, his wings feel like velvet.

It's surprise that makes him freeze for a second. You can feel that. And it only lasts a second before he's got his arms wrapped around you, wings unfolding and resettling to close around you, keep you close and safe and wrapped up in him even as he starts really fucking sobbing against you.

You don't know what to do.

But you don't need to know, because Karkat knows what he wants from you. What he needs. And it's what you need, too—just to stay here, hold him and be held by him, cry and listen to him cry until you both manage to stop a little.

Takes a while, but it happens.

"Karkat?" When he opens his eyes again, you free up a hand to touch his face, wiping some measure of tears away. "You tell me you failed again, I'll fuckin' fight you. Love you too much to let you say that shit."

He nods, just a little, and pulls you in closer. "I love you." You know I might think it.

"You're the one who said stupid shit's gotta be pointed out." You should get up. Find out what's going on with the others. Instead, you lean into Karkat and get both arms around him again.

A minute. You can have a minute with him.

#demon eyes

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