#cancercest

[69-candyredshippers-69]

they are just chilling… ♡

[sunflorza]

More homestuck headcannon

Karkat (in a feudal atempt to piss him off) memorized kankri's sermons and sermoned them along with kankri. Though this realy just started the base of there positive relationship

[snarp]

Teaser - The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Conquerors, Chapter 8

After following a thoroughly unnecessary series of sugary puzzles in the heart of a dead world without ever encountering any sign of the person or people who was/were remembering them, they opened a door right back into fucking LOPAH. Karkat looked gloomily out across a familiar river of his blood.

Dave was saying to Kanaya, "So they like all had cake-based worlds, seriously? Because Meenah, because Betty Crocker."

Kanaya said, "Not all, I do not think, but I understand that cake did play a large role in their session. It may have somehow been intended to foreshadow their Incipisphere's doomed nature, according to Kankri."

"- what?" said Karkat. "When did he say that?"

"Different one, dude," said Dave. “Welp, we’re back in your guys’ fucked-up subconscious again, that was productive. What’s the big hole.”

The big hole in the ground was distinguished from Meulin’s world’s many trap pits by its unhidden nature, and by the sign in front of it. The sign said, in tidy green handwriting, “Nice’s Fo+rtress.” A bit smaller beneath that: “Nice is yo+ur denizen. Do+n’t yo+u dare go+ in here witho+ut telling so+meo+ne what yo+u’re do+ing!”

“Nice. Nice,” said Dave. “Did you notice the difference in my intonation the second time I said that guys. The second time it was an adjective. Used ironically.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s fucking pronounced, but before you ask it’s not like I sat down and had a goddamn conversation with her. I just killed her.”

Climbing down seemed unavoidable. There was a narrow, slippery obsidian stairway twisting around the sides of the pit. They walked down one-by-one. It stank of the world’s blood, which trickled down the walls in places, staining their hands and clothes.

Dave gave up and started floating. “Where the fuck does all this blood even come from, anyway,” he said, wiping his hands on his cape.

“Go fuck yourself,” said Karkat, about the cape thing. Kanaya was licking her left hand clean, her expression abstracted and faintly disapproving.

It was a dream, and awful things always took too long in Karkat’s dreams; the stairs went down further than he thought they were supposed to. The cold deepened as they climbed, and gradually the trickles of blood froze to the walls and floor. Kanaya and Karkat removed coats and boots from their sylladexes, and Kanaya a bag of rock salt, which she sprinkled ahead of her.

Dave did not return to the stairs; he began entertaining himself by drifting upward, letting himself fall, and then stopping himself. This stopped when he slammed into something hard.

“What the fuck!” The stairs continued on far below where had struck the invisible ground.

Kanaya laid her hand on it for a moment, then held it up to show Dave the water dripping from it. Her melted handprint was the only imperfection in the smooth surface of the clear, airless ice.

“It goes down very deep. All of this world’s clean water has been collected here, in its frozen center.”

Dave said, “Uh. So I get why Karkat didn’t warn me about that, it’s because he’s a stupid piece of shit. But why didn’t you -”

“You were annoying me a little bit,” she said. “This way.” She gave a spot in the wall a sudden hard kick, and the stone door cracked as it swung open.

“Kanaya?” said Karkat, uncertainly. “There’s a bullshit fucking puzzle lock for the thing, remember, we could have just done the bullshit fucking puzzle lock.”

She said evenly, “I have never liked this place.”

The corridor beyond was of shining obsidian, cleaner and smoother than the stairwell. It was also, however, lined with thick clear pipes full of hot red blood. “Jegus fucking fuck,” Dave observed.

Nice sat in a perfectly round black glass chamber, at the bottom of a bowl, fast asleep. Thousands of small tubes hooked into her coiled sides, drawing her blood endlessly out and upwards.

“Jegus fucking fuck, Karkat!”

“How the hell is this my fault, I did not have creative control over this bullshit! If you wish to make a complaint, have a talk with whatever cosmic forces which are so intent upon my torment that they continually inflict increasingly-heavy-handed blood-related imagery upon me in order to maintain my psyche in a permanent state of stress! - there you fucking are you asshole, how dare you fall the fuck asleep on me I hate you so much!”

Kanaya said, “Hello, Kankri.”

He had been sitting next to Nice’s sleeping face, reading a human paperback book: A Limited Guide to the Countries Beyond Death, by Tess Theramin. Karkat reached a hand down to help him up - Kankri took it uncertainly, scrutinizing Karkat’s face anxiously. Why the fuck did he have to be such an insecure dumbass? And there was a new little bruise around his eye, and a bandage on his left hand. “Who did you fight with, you’re fighting with people not the clown now, too?!”

“Just myself,” he wrote, looking annoyed at the memory. “I can be such a jerk, I d9n’t kn9w what’s wr9ng with me…”

“Yeah, I know, right?”

“Shut up.” Then he looked back at Nice. “I never g9t t9 ask her what she thinks 9f this. Did y9u?”

“Oh my god why do people keep asking me about talking to the Denizen! I did not talk to the Denizen!”

Dave said, “No, someone needs to actually explain this crap to me. So she’s just - she’s asleep, and someone’s draining her blood out up there? Just, what the hell.”

Kanaya said, “The newts had angered Nice - through some sort of I guess, inappropriate newt behavior? I cannot even imagine what that would entail, I wish I had asked - and to punish them, she stole away all the water for herself, and then fell asleep on the ice. They went to the White Queen for help, and the Queen went to Furor, the Denizen of the Land of Tents and Mirth -”

Kankri wrote, “Festival and Grief.”

“- excuse me, Kurloz’s world’s name was different. And Furor… did this somehow? Before entering her own sleep. There presumably existed a way to return the water to the surface, but we did not exactly prioritize that.”

Karkat said, “We’re not having the fucking Karkat-didn’t-talk-to-the-Denizen discussion again, that subject is long dead and eaten, okay! Personal growth opportunity passed up, I killed the Denizen and spilled its red blood on the clean water forever polluting it, it was symbolic of all my failures, can we drop it and let it rot already.”

Kankri looked depressed. More depressed than usual. “I have never f9und any iterati9n 9f either 9f us wh9 talked t9 her and was a6le t9 remem6er and c9nvey t9 me what she said. She never awakened in my sessi9n; I never even saw her, actually, while I was alive.”

“So how the hell are you here?!”

“I asked an9ther 9f me t9 sh9w the place t9 me. He was n9t very helpful 9therwise. I st9le his sweater.”

“Why?!”

“It’s chilly,” he wrote defensively.

[69-candyredshippers-69]

happy holidays from mods candy and red!! :>

[politenuclearbomb]

SO ME ONEROLEPL AY SIGNKAT/SUFFKAT WITH MEPLE AS EI CAN DO KARKAT SUPER WELL BUT IF U WANNA I CAN DO SUFFErer plEASE FOR THE LVOE OF GOD

[gayavianprince]

what no i dont ship vantascest that’s wier-[trips and pictures of vantascest spill from my pockets] wait shit this isnt-[attempts to gather the pictures] i can explain-[they are everywhere] these arent mine I swear-[pictures fall from my arms] im holding these for a friend-[i am smothered death by pictures]

[corvoyunused]

please come get me, and... uh, karkri! (please!)

Here you go, friend! 

Pairing(s): Karkat Vantas Kankri Vantas 

Warning(s): N/A

"… I don't want to be alone anymore."

———————————————————-

Since the game began, sleep was not a friend to the young enervated troll who rarely rested. Typically, Karkat Vantas stayed awake until the point of passing out-- nerves keeping him fully alert at all times. His misery kept him utterly exhausted, while his apprehensive nature caused his mind to wander into the darkest of places. Fighting against sleep, the troll gripped his horns aggressively-- praying that the pain would keep him from dosing. 

His fighting proved useless to the boughs of sleep that succumbed to him-- because within moments he was out like a light. Karkat wasn't quite sure why he was exactly surprised, after all; he'd been awake for roughly three days in a row. His dreams were typical at first-- childhood memories of he and Terezi playing with sticks, putting up with Gamzee's foolishness, and things of the like. However, he began drifting soon-- traveling into different dreams. The divergent always frightened him, because he was never quite sure where he was going to go as a result. 

Karkat awoke in a vast area, surrounded in complete white. In fact, there was no beginning and no end. The region wasn't particularly bland, however-- the whiteness of the surroundings held a chrome appearance. There was no items in the room aside a long staircase-- concealed in a plush red carpet. 

"Hello?" The troll called, gripping the edges of his sleeves. He was curious as to where he was-- recognizing that there was some sort of familiarity to the plain room. "Is anyone here?" 

At the top of the stairs, a figure stood-- with high, supercilious manner and arms crossed. His nose was stuck up snobbishly, and his stature was amazingly straight. It was as if he had a ruler stuck between his shoulder blades. At first, Karkat didn't recognize the ridiculous appearance of the silhouette-- but it suddenly struck him. With grotesque amusement, Karkat rolled his eyes. Of all dreams to intrude on, he got stuck here. 

"I have not seen you in quite a while, Karkat. Are my lessons really that boring to you?" Kankri asked with condescending tone-- the prude. Karkat was about to reply but of course, Kankri couldn't just ask one question. "I am quite surprised. Of course, I never believed that I could change your manner completely, however, I expected to see some improvement. In fact, I am currently seeing less improvement and more slobbish behavior than I ever imagined. Do you want to embarrass me, Karkat? Was that your goal? Because you are certainly doing that right now, and--" 

Karkat eventually stopped listening to the abrasive voice of his elder and pretended to listen. That was honestly the only way to get him to shut up. Despite Kankri's haughtiness, his intelligence and historical knowledge was convenient.   Take the verbal slander, and wait it out until he gives you some relatively useful information. That was how you dealt with him. 

"Yeah. I totally get you." Karkat replied caustically, biting his nails as he spoke. This was honestly wearing his patience thin. 

Kankri narrowed his eyes briefly. "Very well." He finally walked down the stairs-- facing the younger Vantas. Karkat never realized how tall the elder was in comparison. He bent down, getting uncomfortably close to Karkat's face, before stating: "You've been depressed." He leaned up, recrossing his arms and closing his eyes with some sense of superiority. "Self-care is important for any good leader, Karkat." 

"You think I don't know that, shit face?" Karkat sneered. Kankri had hit a nerve, and he knew it, too. 

"Triggered. Please watch your language, Karkat." 

What a moralist, Karkat thought to himself before shrugging slightly. "Sorry." He scoffed. For some reason, he never particularly enjoyed Kankri's disapproval. 

"So," Kankri began, "Are you going to talk? Or do I have to, as always, do the talking in our session?" Karkat felt like he was seeing some sort of therapist, or as Rose explained, 'human psychiatrist.' It was downright annoying. 

"… I don't want to be alone anymore." Karkat remarked earnestly. He'd never really told anyone that. 

For once, Kankri dropped his superior demeanor and looked at him with genuine remorse. "The Vantas' have always been better off alone, it seems." He claimed, reflecting on his own life that once had so much meaning. 

Having been silenced for moment, Karkat finally asked: "… How long have you been alone?" He'd never really considered that Kankri had been companionless. 

"Time does not exist here, Karkat. Have you not gathered that yet?" Kankri's curtness returned briefly, but then he sighed. "Long enough to lose track of any time known to your respected life forms." 

For once, Karkat didn't really want to wake up. Kankri was annoying, but he understood. He looked up-- seeing the whiteness of his surroundings corroding. "Please," He begged, reaching out to him and clinging to the stiff figure. "Please don't leave me alone." 

"I am sorry." Kankri's words drifted off in a dream-like state and when Karkat looked up-- he was surrounded by blackness. In a fit of panic, he woke up-- resting on his human bed back on the solemn meteor. 

"Please come get me," He sobbed into his hands, begging for his elder to answer him-- contact him in some way. "I'm sorry--" He whispered, listening out only to hear the responsiveness of his own despondency. 

[snarp]

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Conquerors, Spattered With The Viscera Of Its Weak And Decadent People, Chapter 7:

By Karkat's count, 99% percent of their interactions started with Dave making some dumb tactless remark that put his ignorance on display like a prize-winning dirt-apple, and Karkat throwing something.

This time he just straight-up asked, "So did you do the nasty with your evil twin." But in the way he did where it sounded like there was no question mark at the end? Karkat threw his pen at him, then got upset because Dave’d made him throw his pen and he needed that pen.

Twenty minutes later, after the subject of why he needed a pen anyway, because he didn't even have any paper, like what was he doing with it, I just need some real basic background for this tantrum before we proceed man come on, had been thoroughly hashed out, Karkat answered the original question, which Dave had basically forgotten due to the execrably short nature of his attention span.

“…sorry, I guess? So uh. What are you going to do. About that."

[trashfireradiowaves]

Triggers Be Damned- Kankri==> Engage in Comforting Physical Contact With Your Dancestor

so this is my attempt to make kankri more in character (i failed, if you wanted to know)

-----------

If there is one thing you can say, in the safety of your own mind, it is that the dream bubbles are… not the most entertaining of locales. In fact, if it would not be triggering to anyone, you would say that they could be downright boring on occasion. 

There is only a finite amount of things one can remember, after all, and you’ve re-read everything your admittedly impeccable memory has to offer. The last visitor had not brought anything worthwhile with them, for you, at least; Cronus had been rather taken with some strange books lately, but you are trying not to pry into his business as often as you have been wont to do, as of late, and in doing so you have removed the only source of mental stimulation more taxing than just laying on the grass and staring at the clouds. 

  They’re lazy clouds. Almost as lazy as you, laying about with nothing to do but run through a list of triggers connected to the topic of your latest essay and try to find strange shapes in the puffs of white water vapour. 

  So, with that said, and the general insipidity of the dream bubbles expounded on, you were quite surprised when your little cloud-watching expedition was rather violently interrupted. 

  You are aware that visitors to your particular bubble tend to have some issues in the ‘landing on the ground’ department, not that you’re shaming them for their lack of coordination and/or ground locating abilities- nevertheless, you are aware of that fact, but you were still not expecting a rather heavy body to fall right on top of you. Again, not that you were trying to weight shame, but when an object falls from quite a height, the speed collected makes impact that much more felt, and laws of physics also tend to apply to people. 

  “Karkat?”

For indeed, the person who had relocated from the sky to your stomach was, in fact, your dancestor. 

  “Karkat, while I am quite pleased with your eagerness to rejoin me for another lectu- lesson in various tags and triggers, I do wish you would consider-“

  You are quite taken aback when you are shoved, roughly, back to the ground, Karkat gripping two handfuls of your sweater tightly, with trembling fingers. 

  “Kankri.”

  His voice is harsh, cracked and pained, and for a moment you are actually shocked into silence. 

  “Kankri for the love of the Sufferer please shut your bromidic, trite, repetitious fucking mouth. I am not, in any way, in the mood to deal with the banal shit you spew from every orifice like some sort of goddamn social justice fire hydrant.”

  You open your bromidic, trite, repetitious, fucking offended mouth to spew some trigger warnings in your ancestor’s direction, but there’s a soft noise, like a choked off sob, something harsh and primal and painful. Something that makes your stomach twist and your heart ache, something that makes you freeze, hands hovering awkwardly over your dancestor, because you are not in any way prepared to deal with this. 

  Karkat’s shoulders shudder, and a small, translucent drop of red lands on your sweater. Then another, and another, until you can no longer convince yourself he is not crying, because it is so blatantly obvious that even your skill in denying the glaringly evident has met its match. It has met its match in the undeniable event of Karkat Vantas crying egregiously red tears into your egregiously red sweater. 

  “Oh,” you say, the soft sound slipping from your lips before you can hold it back. When you sit up, he slides to your lap, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him despite his triggers regarding contact and the breech of personal space. He goes willingly when you pull him to your chest, though, and when you squeeze in what you hope is a decent facsimile of a hug he responds by clutching you even closer, so you think your contravention of etiquette can be forgiven, at least this once. 

  “Dear, whatever is the matter?” you ask, careful to keep your tone calm and soft. You speak to him like you would a wounded animal, or perhaps one triggered by loud noises, and you ghost one hand ever so lightly through his hair. You think you remember Porrim doing such things to comfort you, once upon a time, but it had been so long that even your stellar memories had faded, leaving you with nothing but the vaguest idea of what to do when confronted with a distraught individual. Due to your blood, you were never really considered the assertive partner on the rare occasion you allowed yourself to dabble in conciliatory matters; you were always the pacified, never the one doing the pacifying, so you are afraid to admit you are completely out of your comfort zone, you are completely, horrifically lost-

  And then he looks up. 

  He looks up, looks at you, and oh, his eyes! His beautiful eyes, once flecked with red, are now as white as your own and you feel like you’ve been hit in the stomach. 

  “Oh no…"

  He doesn’t say anything, just buries his face in your chest and cries, cries like he never has before, and maybe he hasn’t. You aren’t trying to be obtuse or shameful in any manner, but Alternia was a much harsher, much more violent place than Beforus, and such societies came with their own set of rules and customs. 

  Maybe no one has ever held young Karkat like this. Maybe he’s never been given a safe place to vent his fears and sorrows. It saddens you that such an opportunity has only graced him in death. 

  “Oh, dear, shh, shh,” you sigh, running your fingers a bit more firmly through his hair, “It will be alright, cry as you need, I shall be here when you wish to talk. I’m sure you did your best, Karkat-“

  “If I’d done my best I wouldn’t fucking be here!” he snarls, but his voice is distorted by both the material he’s hiding in and his thick, watery sounds of anguish. 

  “Not so. There are many who do their best, only to perish. The circumstances cannot always be changed, Karkat. I am positive you have done the best you could possibly hope to achieve, and I am just as positive that your timeline is better for it.”

  Much better than yours had been, assuredly. 

  Curled in your arms as he is, you are reminded how shockingly young Karkat actually is. His head fits neatly under your chin, and his body folds easily into your lap. He’s so small, so young, still a child! Children playing war games, children dealing with horrors and fear that even adults would be hard pressed to process, children being in charge of the fate of universes, and it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to Karkat, it isn’t fair to his friends, it isn't fair to anyone, that they have to cope with such horrible things. 

  You and your team had been older, more experienced in the ways of the world, if not with fighting or violence. You’d been more mentally prepared to deal with the things you’d faced- and in no way were you shaming your dancestor and his team for their youth and inexperience; it wasn’t something they could help, it still isn’t. Experience is gained only through living, and those children had not been given a chance to do so. 

  “You did what you could with the situation you were presented with, and you did the best you could have done, that I am sure of.”

  He clutches your sweater in his hands and just shakes his head and cries, soft and broken and so very devastated, inconsolable, and all you can do is hold him close and bite your lip because the last thing he needs is you rambling. 

  Contrary to popular belief, you are, in fact, self aware. You know what the people around you think of you and your sermons, and you know, in particular, how much Karkat hates the things. It’s slightly offensive, that they think so little of the things that you truly care about, but that is neither here nor there at the moment. 

  The only think that matters is the little child sobbing his heart out in your arms, the child that is in desperate need of comfort and not of lecturing. 

  You croon low in your throat, a wordless, instinctive sound, and brush your hand down the tight, tense curve of his spine. You can’t do anything else for him. You can’t make him calm, can’t make him less sad or hurt, you can only try to sooth him the best you can and hope that it’s enough. 

  You don’t know how long you sit, the only sounds being your humming and his muted crying. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours or days- time runs strangely in your bubble, sometimes moving slow or fast- but he eventually stops, his tears giving way to subdued, hitching breath and little sniffles. He relaxes in your hold, his strained, taunt muscles loosening, his grip on your shirt going from white knuckled clinging to a gentler embrace. 

  Triggers and tags are the last thing on your mind when you bend and press a soft kiss to one of his horns, just as he and his comfort is the first thing on your mind when you say, quietly, “I am proud of you, Karkat.”

  “What?”

  “I am proud of you,” you repeat, burying your face in his hair, “So very, very proud of you and the way you’ve handled yourself and led your team. You have done such a wonderful job.”

  “I killed people,” he says, bleak and sad, numb, “I let people die, I killed people because I wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t good enough-“

  You shush him gently, and he goes quiet, shaking his head. 

  “You saved lives. Many more would have died, if not for you and your efforts. I don’t expect you to understand, or even believe me, but I will continue to say so until you stop blaming yourself for things that no one could have prevented.”

  You stroke hand down his back, and you can feel the heat of him through his thin shirt, the jagged protrusions of his spine and the rough ridges of scars and you marvel, again, at how much he’s survived, being a mutant on a planet where such a thing was punishable by execution. 

  Just a child, and already so marked by the hatred and discrimination of another time, another society. 

  Just a child. 

  “Kankri,” he says, and he sounds like a child, everything is just pounding that knowledge further and further into your brain, “Kankri-“

  And you know what he needs even if he doesn’t know how to ask for it, so you cradle him close to your chest and croon, and he chirps back, the sound small and pained, and allows you to comfort him. 

  “I am proud of you, Karkat, and, though my opinion might not mean much to you, I believe you did the very best anyone in your situation could have done.”

  He sighs, and leans against you, and doesn’t refute your statements. 

  “Let yourself rest, dear, you’ve been through much too much,” you say, and he closes his eyes obediently, tucking his head up under your chin and chirring quietly as you smooth your hands over the muscles of his spine, and you hum in response, soft, repetitive tunes you hope will lure him to sleep. 

  Because he is a child, ever so young, he drifts off with the ease of a youngling put to bed after a day of rough play, little breaths shooting against your neck where he leans against you. There are no recuperacoons in the lands of the dead, but you pick him up and hold him close, making your way to your own hive, where a bed will be waiting for the both of you. 

  You know that you have not even begun to patch the holes he holds in his heart, but you hope you can, at least, help him repair some of his shattered self esteem and make him see that he is not a failure, no matter what he may think. 

[69-candyredshippers-69]

They are the sweetest

[0-memento-mori-0]

The headcanon of Kankri having his ears pierced is actually more popular than I originally thought when I came up with it a while back. I liked seeing I wasn't the only one with that headcanon. Now i've got a one-shot idea of Karkat not having his done, and when he notices Kankri does, he gets curious and more than a bit interested in them, and when Kankri notices, he offers to pierce Karkat's for him.

Needless to say Karkat squirms and sweats and whines about it the whole time, but once it's over he's embarrassed for acting like a wriggler about it.

It's a stupid fluffy-fic idea that won't leave me, and I feel like if someone else doesn't write it I will....

[f-imaginings]

So I am going to tell you about a dream I had last night and I am going to put it under a cut because it contains illness, hospitals and life threatening diseases but it was also from Kankri’s perspective, human Kankri and he was visiting his brother Karkat and they were very close.

So with my dream last night it started as me going to see my little sister who was really sick in hospital and it morphed midway through the dream into human Kankri going to see his little brother Karkat who was sick at the hospital. And by “sick” that meant mutation-related-one-of-a-kind-rare-and-mostly-medically-undocumented-severe-disease. Karkat initially had his own room in the local hospital as it was the best care that the family could afford and Kankri visited his brother every day while attending high school at the same time pressing for high grades because he was attempting to get into law.

Anyway on the day of the dream Karkat had been transferred to the up market high funding incredibly posh religious hospital uptown by means of an anonymous backer. Karkat is so ill that his parents accept whatever help they can get if it means Karkat gets better, even if it means being in debt to Crockercorp who moved Karkat to the posh hospital unbeknownst to Kankri and Karkat. Their parents know who sent the money and what the cost would be but they haven’t told Kankri yet because they know he wouldn’t agree with Crockercorp having such leverage over them. Which is why Kankri was not to know, Karkat’s health is worth being blackmailed.

The hospital was a bit like catholic hospitals except the religion was a sort of warped reverence/following of the Signless. Anywho so Kankri visited Karkat at this new hospital in the morning before class and was enraged to discover a bunch of religious clergymen almost sycophantically worshipping Karkat for this disease/mutation as apparently the Signless had the same. Kankri sees them all loitering outside of Karkats room, watching him and ogling at him like a monkey in the zoo while Karkat was throwing up and carting his iv with him to the bathroom and fighting his fever and Kankri fucking blows a gasket. He flips his goddamn lid. He is a protective older brother who is very close to Karkat and flips his shit completely at this bullshit. So while Karkat is sleeping through the morning visit Kankri rages at the sycophants yelling, unbelievably angry, basically telling the assembled group off something hardcore and getting real damn angry in the process. So he sends all the idiots running and takes several deep breaths, straightens his school uniform and goes in to see Karkat, to put a loaf of the special bread Karkat needs to eat on his bedside table, and the game cartridges for Pokemon Y he left at home, and Karkat is still asleep so he squeezes Karkats hand and then leaves to go to school.

After school Kankri comes back to visit Karkat like he does everyday and he plans to tell Karkat his story about completely losing it at the staff, he would make it a sort of joke to make Karkat laugh in a “You, swearing at nuns? Hahah!” kind of way. He gets there though and all the crazy staff are cleared away and Karkat is awake and sitting up so Kankri goes in with a smile intending to have a cheerful chat with his brother but Karkat looks up at him with this nearly crumpling expression and Kankri knows that Karkat had heard what the staff had done and how they glorified his illness to be like their savior figure who was destined to die because of it anyway and his face just crumples and Kankri wings his way across the room to hug him and they don’t need words he just holds Karkat tightly while he cries and feels like shit and by the end of it Kankri has soothed Karkat and is kneeling on the floor by the chair Karkat sits on and holds both his hands and Karkat has stopped crying and Kankri is telling Karkat his story in a very soft voice about how he nearly punched a nun today and Karkat is smiling so Kankri stays at the hospital with him until Karkat falls asleep in the evening and when he leaves to go home he stays up til 3am finishing the class work and home work he puts aside to see Karkat every day then he goes to sleep and wakes up at 5.30am to go see Karkat and go to school the next day.

That was my dream last night and it was a very interesting dream to be completely from Kankri’s perspective as if I were Kankri but the content was also very strange but interesting and I wonder what prompted it.

[snarp]

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Conquerers, Chapter 6 (Homestuck Fanfic)

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Conquerers, Spattered With The Viscera Of Its Weak And Decadent People, Chapter 6:

Gamzee, unsurprisingly, did not make a fucking appearance. Karkat couldn't imagine what he could say to him. He had abandoned him and drawn a funny goddamn picture of him getting hurt. Karkat felt like he was just going to fall the fuck apart from rage and betrayal. Like, he was so mad at Gamzee he literally felt that his limbs might start falling the fuck off, should Gamzee appear physically before him. Gamzee's bullshit purple codpiece shows itself, Karkat's head pops off and rolls down some stairs. This image was the perfect expression of about half of his emotional state.

The other half was a little more adult-rated. Kankri kept digging his fingers into him really hard; there were nubby little nail marks all up and down his left arm now. Karkat wasn't even sure he knew he was doing it, and if so he was probably just making sure he wasn't alone, and if it actually was a blackrom thing then it was probably really for an evil clown who wasn't there, not for him.

But just. Goddamn that little shit.

[trashfireradiowaves]

In Which Kankri Gets Laid (Sort Of); SuffKarKri, NSFW

the porny vantascest i promised here you go

You’re scared. 

All your life, you’ve been told that you are undesirable. 

   You are a mutant. Your genetic material would only taint any slurry donated to the mother grub, increasing the chance of more of your kind being hatched. No one would ever want to risk such a thing, no one would ever want to mate with you, no one would ever want you. 

Your vow of celibacy had been something to hide behind, a thin veneer of control over your circumstances, a reason besides your mutation and your apparent unattractiveness for your lack of concupiscent suitors. 

   All your life, you’d been told that no one would ever want you, but they do. 

   They’re like you, candy-red and hot-blooded. Mutants. Undesirables, but you’d found each other, the lot of you, and maybe you could have this one thing, this one happiness. Maybe you could indulge your desires and your dreams, your deep, painful longing for companionship, if it was with them. Maybe that would be allowed. 

   Because when they look at you, they don’t care about your ugly, knobby horns, or your blunt, dulled teeth. They don’t care about the shadows under your eyes, or the snubbed roundness of your nose. They don’t care that you’re undesirable, unwanted, unattractive. They refuse to hear you say such things about yourself, and they refuse to acknowledge such things as truth. 

  Signless tells you you’re beautiful. 

   He whispers it in your too-large ears while cuddling you close, your back against his chest, his hands petting down your sides, warm even through the thick material of your clothing. He murmurs it against your lips as he kisses you, light and sweet and chaste, mutters it in the dead of night, yells it across the room as you pass by, tells you every day that you are beautiful, attractive, desirable. 

  Karkat tells you you’re wanted. 

  He growls it against the side of your neck as he bites you through your sweater (you’ve never let either of them touch you without it), snarls it at your face when you try to hide, try to deny. He croons it as he plays with your hair, whispers it before he sleeps, that you are his, that you are theirs, that you are wanted. 

  And now you are ready to give them everything. 

  You want to do this, you want to give them all of you, but you are scared, so, so scared, because what if it isn’t enough? What if you mess this up, if this makes them realize how utterly defective, deplorable, deficient you are? What if… 

  What if they leave you after this?

  What if they decide they don’t want you anymore? 

   You shiver and wish, for a moment, that you’d left your sweater on. You’re cold without it, chilled in a way that you know is only in part because of the room’s temperature. 

   It’s too late to back out now. Your clothes are folded neatly on the chair across the room, and they’re kneeling on the bed on either side of you, Signless behind you, Karkat in front. You’re scared, because you know they’ve had so much more experience than you, and you want to be good for them, enough for them, but you don’t know what you’re doing and your lack of knowledge is fully noticeable.

  Karkat tangles his fingers with yours, and Signless turns your head for a kiss, gentle and modest. You lean into the touch, the contact, and wonder if you’ve ever felt so warm, so cared for.

   He kisses you again, and again, swiping his tongue against your lips and the feeling is so unexpected that you gasp in surprise, and he slips between the gap and into your mouth. 

   It feels strange, at first, but he slowly guides you, hands framing your face, and before long you melt into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. Even this small contact feels so good, so shamefully wonderful, and you wonder how you’d lasted so long with only the most platonic of touches.

  Karkat’s hand tightens around yours and serves as a grounding point, keeping you anchored in reality. He’s watching the two of you hungrily, licking his own lips and running his free hand over the bared skin of your arm, your shoulder. 

  He skims your chest and you break away from the kiss with a small gasp, arching into his hands. You don’t think you’ve ever had skin on skin contact with another troll like this before. If you had, you don’t remember it, which means that it was long enough ago not to matter. Karkat’s hands feel good, and Signless soon joins him in the petting, the touching, and you shiver at their hands on your skin, touching you in places you’ve never felt another’s touch before.  

  "Are you doing alright?" 

   You nod, shakily, and dare to reach up, dare to reach out and touch Karkat lightly on the cheek, the neck. He sighs and presses against your fingers, and you feel a momentary thrill of… something, something heavy and hot in the pit of your stomach, and it shocks you, how much you actually want this. 

  You want them. 

  You want everything they have to offer, and you want to give them everything you are, everything you have. You want them to take pleasure in your body, in you. That little kernel of warmth flares bright, and you find yourself panting, squirming, before you’re aware what has happened. 

   "Excited?"

  You feel almost uncomfortably wet between the legs, and you press your thighs together in embarrassment but that just makes the strange heat inside you pulse harder, wrenching a startled chirp from your lips. You are mentally aware that trolls produce an exorbitant amount of genetic material during copulation, but you’ve never actually experienced such a thing before. 

   You’re afraid to look down. You don’t want to see the building red puddle beneath you, staining the sheets of the concupiscent platform and smearing over your bare skin. Words echo in your ears, about how wrong this is, how terribly, terribly wrong it is to want this, to spill your filthy red slurry like you actually deserve to continue your mutant lineage. You’ve been so afraid for so long, that you’d never even dared to touch yourself. All of this, it feels so new, so good, but your stomach turns and you tremble despite yourself. 

  "Kankri, look at yourself."

   Signless tilts your head down, but you close your eyes, shaking. You’re shaking, you’re afraid, this is to much too fast but you want it so, so bad… 

  "Open your eyes," Karkat mutters, swiping a hand down your side, over your grubscars, and it send sparks of pleasure ricocheting down your spine and something gives, slides, and oh god what was that-

   Before you even think, your eyes fly open and your vision is flooded with red. Red pools out from between your legs, dripping from your unsheathed bulge and exposed nook. That was it, then, that feeling, that strange sliding- your bulge releasing from it’s protective housing, for the first time. 

   "There is nothing wrong with this, there is nothing wrong with you," Signless is murmuring into your ear, quietly, calmly, as he pets your sides, light touches ghosting over the sensitive flesh of your ribs and grubscars. You can hardly understand a word he’s saying, too lost in a flood of novel sensation. 

  Karkat detaches your hands from his, and you clutch his shoulders instead, desperate for some sort of grounding presence. You are overwhelmed, but it feels so good. You want to stop and keep going at the same time, you want to reciprocate, you want to… you don’t know what you want, but you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything before. He touches you, traces his hands down the front of your chest, over the concave of your stomach, stopping only when his fingers brush against your hips, and you’re left gasping, voice caught in your throat. 

  "Beautiful."

   They switch places, Signless handing you over to Karkat and taking his place in front of you. Karkat leans back and takes you with him, gently pushing you into place, sprawled across him with your back against his chest and your legs obscenely splayed, Signless kneeling between them, smiling up at you in a way that makes you flush red and look to the side, embarrassed. You’re vulnerable, open, exposed. They can see every inch of you, every last defenseless fragment of your red-spattered form, and they’re cradling you between them like you’re something precious, something to be cherished.  

  "Kankri," one sighs, you don’t know which; you’re confused, overwrought and overstimulated, you can’t think, you can’t think-

  Then Signless touches you, wraps a hand around your bulge and your mind whites out. 

  You come back to yourself seconds later, gasping silently, hands clenched tightly in the meat of Signless’s shoulders, nails biting into flesh. You’ve never felt anything this vividly, you’ve never felt anything this powerful and you’re being swept off your feet. 

   "Kankri, breathe. You need to breathe," Karkat murmurs, and you pull in a strangled breath, letting your head fall back onto Karkat’s strong shoulder. He croons in your ear, nuzzling the side of your face, and the contact lulls you, separates your focus so you aren’t so terrifyingly overwhelmed by the brilliantly hot point of contact between you and Signless. 

  "Give him a minute," Karkat says, running a hand through your hair, and the feelings subside the slightest amount, just enough to let you think, let you brace yourself for further sensation. 

  "How are you doing, little one?" Signless asks, pressing a soft kiss to your chest, hand moving feather light over your bulge. 

   For all of your typical garrulity, it takes you too long to form words. Thinking is like slogging through syrup, and your mind is moving both too slow and too fast. 

   "Kankri?"

   Karkat sounds worried. 

   "Kankri, how are you doing?"

   "I’m… good, I- It’s good, it’s good," you spit out, voice wavering, "I’ve… it’s so new, I’m… I’m sorry…" 

   You’re hushed by both of them, Karkat turning your face to kiss you quiet. 

   "It’s fine, it’s fine," he says, rubbing your cheeks together, "We understand, we just want to make sure you’re… Well, that you still want this."

  You nod and kiss his cheek, nuzzling under his chin, and he purrs for you, chest rumbling against your back. 

   "You wanna keep going?"

  "Y-yes," you stutter, and you choke on your words when Signless strokes you, palming your bulge and squeezing lightly. The contact makes you shudder, and you hide your face in Karkat’s neck, reduced to a shivering, panting mess. 

  The way he’s touching you, it makes your breath catch, your fists clench. It’s knife edged pleasure, teetering on the edge of too much, and he’s so careful with you, so gentle, it keeps you from losing it completely. 

  He kisses down your chest, across your stomach, and laps at your hips, pulling a quiet, breathless cry from you. 

   "I’m going to make you feel good," he croons, laving the skin of your thighs with his tongue, and god, it's so hot, he's so warm, "Relax, little one, I’m going to make you feel so good."

  You’re not sure how it can get any better than this. You’re positive that if it does, you might actually die. 

  Then he wraps his hands around your hips, leans down, and licks a trail of fire up your nook. 

   You were wrong, it could get better, and it just did, and oh god if you do die you will die experiencing pleasure of the highest degree. Your hands fly back, and you tangle your fingers in Karkat’s hair, letting loose the loudest noise you have yet. If it weren’t for Signless holding you still, your uncontrollable writhing might have actually thrown him off.

   "Kankri?"

   "Please," you gasp between strangled trills, voice growing quiet and shaky, "Please, don’t- don’t stop-"

   Signless kisses your inner thigh and licks at your previously untouched nook again, gently cleaning the folds of viscous genetic fluid. Pleasure, pure, unadulterated pleasure, burns through your body like wildfire, and for a moment you forget how to breathe, forget how to think, and all you know is the tight grip on your waist and the hot, wet tongue lapping at your most guarded place. 

  "That feels great, doesn’t it, Kankri?" Karkat murmurs, licking at the column of your throat, dragging out a few almost inaudible whimpers, "See, all of that celibacy bullshit was just that, bullshit. This was the only thing you were keeping yourself from."

  You roll your hips as much as you can as Signless runs his tongue over the oversensitive lips of your nook, tugging on Karkat’s hair as he continues to mutter filthy things into your skin. 

   This is too much, not enough, just right, you can’t think, can’t breathe, how have you gone so long without this, without them, how, how-

  Signless dips his tongue into your nook and everything trembles. Your back arches, and you’re sure you’re pulling too hard on Karkat’s hair, but everything is wavering and your extremities are numb. It’s too much, too good, you can’t take it but you think that if they stop, you’ll die. 

   "You like that?" Karkat snarls, biting your neck, and without the shield of your sweater even the bluntness of his fangs cause pinching pain. You’re reduced to soundless pleading, body almost convulsing around the intrusion and the doubled, conflicting stimulation. 

  Signless pulls away for a scant second, only long enough to snap, “Karkat!” in a warning tone, but it’s enough to set you trilling in upset.

  Karkat gentles his touch, though, licking apologetically along the bite wound, carding a hand through your hair and softening his tone. 

  "It feels good, doesn’t it? See, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s simple fucking pleasure, Kankri. There’s no reason for you to deny yourself this any longer."

   You’re gasping for air, wracked with shivers, eyes half lidded and mouth open, but they’re still looking at you as if you are the light of the moons, as if you’re something to be desired. You aren’t sure how; you can feel a thin string of drool dripping from your mouth, tears streaming from your hooded eyes, and you sincerely doubt anyone could find your strangled noises and shivery convulsions attractive, but they do. 

  They do, if the way Karkat’s hands roam over your skin has anything to say about it, or the way Signless fucks you with his tongue, dragging you to heights of bliss you didn’t even know were possible. 

  Your hands clench, tugging sharply at Karkat’s hair, and he purrs into your ear in response, crooning to you about how attractive you look like this, how much he wants you, how glad he is that you are theirs, that you are wanted. Signless trills his agreement even as he thrusts his tongue into your nook, the noise almost drowned out by the sloppy sounds of your genetic material dripping out of you. 

  "Please don’t stop," you whimper, hips bucking as much as they can under Signless’s strong grip. You feel… something, something building up inside of you and you don’t know what it is but it feels good and you want it, you want this. 

  Your legs tense and wrap around Signless’s shoulders, trying to pull him in closer, and you choke out a quiet, almost inaudible moan. 

  "You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?" Karkat murmurs, mouthing along your neck, your jaw, "Come on, Kankri, I can tell you’re close. Come for us, come on. I want to see your face as you come, I wanna fucking hear you. Come for us."

   He moves up and takes one of your horns in his mouth as Signless laves the flat of his tongue over your nook and you snap. 

   Your vision blanks out and everything stops. You can’t see, you can’t breathe, you can’t hear, all you know are the hot waves of gratification flooding your body. Karkat holds you still as your back bows, and you arch against their hands as you shake your way through climax. You grind against Signless’s face, jerking and twitching as he teases you through the aftershocks with light, kittenish licks, until it’s over, it’s too much, and your voice cracks as you whine, pushing him away. You’re spent, exhausted, limbs weak with exertion, and you realize that you’re limp in Karkat’s arms, trembling. 

  "Kankri?"

   You can’t speak. 

   Signless sits up, kneeling between your legs and you have to hide your face because the bottom half of his is coated in your sinful slurry, your criminal color, and you don’t think you can watch him lick it off, or, to your complete and utter mortification, watch Karkat lick it off for him. The very sight of them sharing your genetic material is enough to make you whine, broken and muted. 

   Karkat tightens his grip on you, holding you upright, and you let your head loll back to rest on his shoulder. You’re so tired and still shaking, quivering with sparks of leftover pleasure. 

  "Kankri…"

  Signless kisses you, and you can still taste yourself on him, a harsh, almost chemical strawberry flavor that sits heavy on your tongue. 

   "You’re beautiful," he says, almost reverently, and he kisses you again, and again, "Absolutely beautiful. Wanted. We love you."

  Karkat runs a hand through your hair, skritching his nails against your horn beds and it’s calming, relaxing after so much unfamiliar tactile input. He falls back onto the platform, cradling you to his chest, and Signless sinks in behind you, surrounding you on all sides with warmth. 

   "What about… what about you?" you ask, exhausted, voice quiet and wavering, "The both of you?"

  "We’re fine," Signless says, wrapping a heavy arm around your chest and pinning you in place, a comforting weight, "You need to rest, little one, I can feel you shaking. I think you’ve had enough for one night."

  Your eyes are already fluttering shut, despite your feelings on the matter. Karkat wipes your face with the corner of a blanket, gently cleaning up the tears and saliva as Signless massages the knotted muscles in your back, soothing the weakness and trembling of your limbs. 

  "I love you," you sigh, allowing yourself to be taken care of, allowing them to show how much they don’t care about your blood, your forbidden slurry, "I love you both so much…" 

   They hold you close as you slowly stop shuddering, easing you down from your high with soft touches and kind words. You cling to them, and the realization hits you; you have what you thought you never would. 

   You have them. 

   They care for you, love you despite your many, many faults, and they want you. they don’t give a single, flying fuck about your proscribed blood. They care about you, not the color of your slurry or the awkward way your body is put together, your rude mannerisms and your uncontrollable garrulity. 

   They want you. They care about you, both of them, and it’s more than you could have ever asked for. 

[69-candyredshippers-69]

First order of business before we get started. We gotta worship the vant-ass.

[0-memento-mori-0]

Got bored, decided to draw some Cute Karkri Vantascest The background was made on Pixlr, but the drawing itself was entirely sketched, outlined, and colored all in Paint, using a trackpad because that is literally all I have at my disposal.

I do not recommend. On the bright side, I like how this came out

CLICK IT FOR A HIGHER RESOLUTION, TUMBLR FUCKING ATE THE GODDAMN CLARITY