Posts tagged karkat vantas
Posts tagged karkat vantas
Well John’s fuzzy head is a good warm place to sleep
Posting this even though it means cats on my blog, because this is totally my headcanon except with
because it is really funny to me if trolls never entirely *get* human sleeping beds. So sometimes if John is unconscious and Karkat isn’t *quite* tired enough to dump himself in sopor slime and he doesn’t feel like being alone, he’ll climb atop the blanket summit of the John pile, and sort of settle in up there, lounging and texting or reading or whatever.
And usually John is really amused about this because aliens, unless Karkat wakes him up when he is not in the mood to be awake, or if the added compression sets off bizarre dreams. Like when he had a nightmare that he was popping a zit, and the zit was him, and it was truly upsetting.
But Karkat refused to apologize until John explained why he was cranky, and have *you* ever tried to explain dream logic while angry about it? (I have not, but I imagine the result is ridiculous.)
On Kanaya’s return, Karkat has extricated himself from the pile, save for the edge of cloak tangled around an ankle. He’s lying on the floor, limbs brought up to thorax, and the stink of him is sweat and alien strangeness and not quite *food*, thank the mothergrub, hunger does not urge her to rip open his brave chest and fist his vital fluid into her gaping hole of mouth. But still close for that, close enough that the wrongness of him lodges in her throat like spoiled protein.
He’s insensate to all appearances, but she drops down at his back and Karkat stretches a hand to her cheek. His fingers come away wet. Is she crying? No, it’s only that she forgot to wash her face. Her tongue, touching the side of her lips, finds blood. His fingertips are streaked with cerulean.
Kanaya snaps out and catches his thieving arm, wrist bones grinding under her thumb. Karkat watches her with glass-eyed, blasphemous patience, and Kanaya centers herself. She wraps her other hand around his palm, gentle as if it this had been her full and only motive. The trace blue droplets smear to inedibility between their fingers.
"How are you feeling?" she asks him.
"What, you mean besides my absorption loops being replaced with broiled rock juice?" He pauses, mouth open in pant, sincerely pondering the question. "Hunnn. I think actually. Okay. It’s like, I know that I should be flipping my shit right now, but I’m just banging on the wall like an asshole who doesn’t realize toggle knob is a foot to the left. For shit flipping? Hunh. That didn’t work." He laughs, rough and choking, but Kanaya doesn’t recognize any edge of panic. She forces her face into an answering smile.
"I’m glad to hear that," she says. "Because I’m not dealing very well at all." She leans over until her head rests on his shoulder. He’s so warm. Or she’s so impossibly cold. “One of us should act as emotional grounding.”
“Heh, I don’t know.” When his fingertips find the base of her horn, a knot inside her chest begins, very subtly, to unravel. “We’ve got each other this far.”
… I can’t even try to pretend that I am the victim here, huh?
Okay so Kanaya has pretty much zero business competing in a dressage event. She’s a highly acclaimed rider; but she’s a high acclaimed rider in the *Western style*, and has only once before even sat atop an English saddle.
But there was this *smirk* in Rose Lalonde’s voice when she’d invited Kanaya
Late december is a beautiful season because the entire city is done up in Karkat<>Kanaya shipping colours.
And lots of people even go out with red and jade-ish green shipping banners wrapped around their necks, and if you offer a smile and a knowing nod they will return it gladly, and it is nice how easily strangers passing on the street understand each other re: correct Homestuck relationship opinions.
Sometimes the shipping scarves are accented in gold. I am not sure who decided it was acceptable to extend the festivities to Sollux threesomes, but you know what, I am in such a holiday mood, I don’t even make it an issue.
(The trope is still supposed to be On The Run, but so far there has been zero running anywhere.)
Let’s come back to Karkat, suspended in sleep. No true dreams, but even sopor will not block out every disjointed pan spark. Brightness, falling, sleep paralysis: he glues them together on waking and false-remembers himself stapled to the previous night’s rocky terrain. A growing stench, stabbing sharp up the wires linking nasals to brain, and there must be zombies swarming over his personal horizon. They are too suddenly around him. One reaches into his mouth and wraps decaying, infecting fingers around his tongue and *pulls*
if you ever thought this was going to get less self indulgent…
nah. what fun would that be?
I kinda left off on a cliffhanger yesterday, such as it could be when none of us were at all surprised by what Karkat found. Like, I wasn’t, for the obvious reasons. And I’m not sure what more I could have done to ensure *you* weren’t, save perhaps decorating the post with flashing gifs: “THIS IS THE PART WHERE JOHN EGBERT ARRIVES VIA SHUTTLE CRASH, WHICH IS PROBABLY AN ELIGIBLE HARLEQUIN TROPE ON ITS OWN, THEY ARE THE WORST AT PREVENTING THOSE THINGS FROM CRASHING INTO RANDOM PLANETS EVERY EPISODE IMAGINE THE SAFETY COMMISSION PAPERWORK SOMEONE HAS TO FILL OUT EVERY WEEK.”
And even *Karkat* wasn’t surprised, because hey, crashed alien spaceship! *Probably* going to be crashed alien corpses inside? It’s just that he was all heroically steeled to discover something weird and gross, like tentacles or exploded ectoplasmic torsos or bodiless thinkpans spilled from cuttlefish bowls.
I love snakes
Okay. I’m going to post this in chunks because I think it will be more fun that way, and also I am sad about never posting anything ever.
trope is On The Run, or: See if you can spot my self indulgent crossover (it will be exceedingly easy).
Let’s open with Karkat staring bleakly out the window: close enough to the inciting incident for anything but in media res, and nothing wrong with a bit of atmosphere. It’s barely sunset, and the last glare of day is stringing spots in front of his vision like a festive line of skewered glowbeasts, but at least they’re a different genus of spots than the ones he’s earned by staring at the computer screen for three nights straight through day.
Back when I was doing the Harlequin meme, krait asked for the the torrid melodramatic love story of Dave/Terezi/Karkat. I finally managed. Something? This?
All right. The over the top trope I’m gonna variate on here is…. PREGNANT OR ELSE!
And now, to draw the triangle.
Let’s try this in stages: Start with a line segment.
At about 5 sweeps is where things get interesting.
The trials are long over, and so the slow wave of settlement. There are enough resources to go around; bloodlust is falling out of fashion with the inexorable change of brain hormones. Suddenly, everyone is interested in figuring out the *rules*.
roachpatrol said: imagine karkat coming down to breakfast and john is just artfully posed there, holding a beautiful slice of toast up to pillow-karkat’s smoochy lips
now you don’t have to imagine it