Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you're tired as shit.

You practically throw yourself into the warm loving embrace of the shitty coffee maker in the common room. Oh how you love the sweet smell of caffeine and broken dreams. You take your personal mug out of your sylladex and fill it to the brim, which is a lot considering you alchemized it to be bigger than your fucking face.

You take a long sip of the liquid garbage, ignoring the taste and the way it burns the roof of your mouth until your headache starts to ease. Kanaya calls that withdrawal symptoms. You call it necessary.

You only down two cups because you managed to get a collective four hours of sleep this time, and you have some restraint left in you.

For now. You might go back for a midday cup of coffee.

You're washing your cup in the sink and debating whether you should eat something now and suffer the consequences when the coffee catches up with you and makes you woozy. You decide against it.

“Whoa hey, he lives” you hear. Oh god. You really don't want to deal with this right now.

“What do you want, Dave?” You haven't had enough coffee for this shit.

“Nothin, probably” Dave shrugs and grabs something out of the hull. You dry your mug and try very hard not to look at his screen as he begins eating some kind of energy bar bullshit and texting someone. You fail not to look at his screen. You spot teal text.

Of course he's texting Terezi. You want to throw up all that coffee now. You can't believe she wants to hang out with Mr. Fucking Coolkid Extraordinaire and not you. Wow. Actually yeah you get it. But you don't have to be happy about it.

Dave's just such a douche and he hates everything you like and he dares to mock you and your interests.

And you miss her.

So there's that.

Dave mercifully decides you're not worth his time and leaves the nutrition block, cape swishing behind him as a painful reminder of yet another one of your failures.

You don't care what anyone says he definitely didn't deserve to go god tier that easily.

You captchalogue your mug again and start shuffling down the hall. You transportalize into your block and grab your husktop and a few fluffy pale romcoms, before heading to the horn pile.

When you get there you sigh, holding your husktop to your chest and throwing yourself down on it to make the loudest fucking noise possible. The metal jabs into your skin but you honestly have gotten past giving a fuck about that when you're already a quarter of a sweep into this journey and you've been bruising your ass on it everyday. Whatever makes him feel comfortable is fine by you.

You see the familiar glint of yellow eyes behind the vent before it's carefully removed and he clambers out. You wouldn't say he likes it in those vents, you think he's just afraid.

Of who, you can't say. Probably Kanaya. Maybe Terezi. Definitely himself.

“Hey Gamzee” you open your husktop on your lap as he lays down carefully next to you, making much less of a noise than you did. You hate how small he makes himself constantly. What happened wasn't even his fault.

“What is up my main man?” He leans on his arm, politely avoiding touching you. You rest your head on his arm encouragingly and he seems to relax.

You get through two romcoms with interjections from Gamzee for you to explain who that was or why they're doing that and to be honest you couldn't answer some of his questions because moirailegence centered romcoms tend to be absolute shit plot wise.

“Hey Karkat?” He says when the credits on the second movie start rolling. You look up at him. “I can all up and tell you anything, right?”

“Of course”

He nods and in the silence that follows you put on another movie.

Chapter Text

You miss sopor. A lot. You just want to be able to sleep through a whole eight hours.

Above all, you hate dreaming. You're gonna need three cups today.

Your crabphone dings.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling

carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: Goodmorning Karkat

CG: HEY KANAYA.

GA: Have You Eaten Anything

CG: NO. WHY?

GA: You Should Really Consider It

GA: Rose And I Have Been Exchanging Information Of Human And Troll Customs and Sciences And She Has Recently Shown Me A Government Issued Diagram Called The Food Pyramid

GA: It Emphasizes The Importance Of Human Food Groups In Every Meal

GA: I Have Compiled My Own Food Pyramid For Troll Diets

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] sent TrollFoodPyramid.jpeg

GA: I Am Aware That There May Be Some Gaps In Representation For I Am Not A Scientist But It Would Be Helpful To You To Look Over That I Think

GA: And Perhaps Give Some Input As To How It Works

CG: SO YOU WANT ME TO BE YOUR TEST SUBJECT.

GA: In A Manner Of Speaking

CG: I'LL START THINKING ABOUT MY NUTRITIONAL HEALTH WHEN SOMEONE FIGURES OUT HOW THE FUCK TO ALCHEMIZE SOPOR.

GA: That Is Another Project I Have Been Working On With Rose’s Help

GA: Although That Is Not Having Nearly As Much Success

CG: WHY DON'T YOU GET TEREZI TO DO YOUR HEALTHY FOOD TEST.

CG: SHE HAS PLENTY OF BAD HABITS.

CG: INCLUDING THE CONSUMPTION OF CHALK.

GA: I Did Attempt To Interest Her

GA: However The Only Response I Received Was That Of My Pyramid Sent Back To Me With A Plethora Of Unintelligible Drawings On It As Well As What I Believe To Be Depictions Of Human Genitalia

GA: I Took It That She Was Uninterested

CG: HM.

GA: So Would You Take One For The Team In Our New Adventures In Xenomedicinal Exchanges

CG: I GUESS I’LL TRY IT OUT.

CG: BUT I’M NOT GIVING UP COFFEE AND I’M NOT GONNA START HAVING BREAKFAST EVERYDAY.

GA: Excellent

GA: !!!

GA: I Will Be Patiently Awaiting Your Results And Itching To Compare Them With Those I Will Have Gotten

CG: YEAH, YEAH.

CG: HAVE FUN WITH YOUR NUTRITION SCIENCE.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

Why did you agree to that? Now you've got one more thing on your already heaping plate of responsibilities.

Or not.

It's not like you really have a lot to do around here anymore.

Speaking of the literal only thing you have to do around here.

You find yourself making an ungodly noise plopping into the horn pile again, which signals Gamzee to crawl out of the vents.

You really don't like that he lives in there. It can't be good for him. Exposure to light and all that. Maybe he smuggled some lights in there? Where would he plug them in?

“Hey best friend”

“Hey”

He still sits down too carefully, but more readily relaxes next to you. You shift so that your head rests on his shoulder and he hides his face in your hair. Ah. It's one of those days.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask.

He shakes his head and breathes shakily into your scalp until he calms down. Despite it all he still doesn't touch you more than you've explicitly initiated yourself.

You quietly place a hand on his cheek and stroke your thumb back and forth. He doesn't cry.

Chapter Text

You can't really ever remember Gamzee crying when you think about it. Even in the aftermath of... all that.

He was really upset though, despite your assurances that you know it wasn't him.

Well it was, but he wasn't really there.

You plop yourself in the horn pile.

He gives you as much space as he can given the small space of the pile. You don't push him. He's always like this the day after a bad day.

You silently watch a movie. He doesn't ask any questions.

Chapter Text

Some days he doesn't show up. It happens from time to time. You usually leave by the time the extra coffee cup you grabbed is finished and your ass is starting to hurt sitting on the hard metal edges of the horns.

It's okay. He needs his space sometimes.

You pull out your phone and stare at it for a long time. Your texts to Gamzee have gone unanswered but that's not surprising. You get up and start walking, still staring intently at your phone.

Okay. You can do this. You take a deep breath and start typing.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

CG: HEY TEREZI. YOU FREE TO HANG OUT?

gallowsCalibrator [GC] is an idle chum!

Yeah you expected as much. You swing near cantown just to make sure and you can hear her cackling. Dave's probably in there.

God you wish you could make her laugh like that again.

You decide to stop being pathetic and go have some lunch following Kanaya’s stupid pyramid thing. It's important to her for some reason so you might as well.

Your plate looks disgustingly well balanced and you even eat the fucking green shit.

She better appreciate the sacrifices you make for her to have something to talk about with her flush crush.

No she hasn't told you, yes it's fucking obvious.

Your phone pings and your bloodpusher soars. Terezi responded. You'd even hang out with Strider if it meant she wanted you there.

Okay maybe that's hyperbolic but whatever you'd deal with him and then regret it later because it'll probably sap the few remaining years of your life away from you in that instant. They will disappear into the gaping hole of his stupidity. It swallows all.

You open your phone and feel like you've been punched in the digestion sac.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TT: Hello, Karkat.

Oh god.

CG: OH GOD.

TT: I take it that was not a thankful cry skyward, but rather a mournful plea?

CG: YOU TAKE IT RIGHT. JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE THE MORE TOLERABLE OF THE HUMANS ON THIS ROCK DOES NOT GIVE YOU A FREE PASS TO SKIP THE ESSENTIAL GRIEVANCE THAT I AM OBLIGATED TO MAKE OBVIOUS AT HAVING BEEN RESPONSIBLE FOR CREATING YOU WRETCHED CREATURES IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE.

TT: Actually, I believe Kanaya was more directly involved with creating us, by nature of her aspect, and she seems to have very little problems where we are concerned.

CG: *YOU ARE

TT: Excuse me?

CG: WHERE YOU ARE CONCERNED.

TT: She does not appear to dislike Dave in any capacity beyond the usual capacities one may be prone to dislike Dave in.

CG: SURE, THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT WHEN I SAID THAT.

CG: WHAT DO YOU WANT LALONDE?

TT: Using my last name? How military oriented of you.

CG: ROSE.

TT: I have heard through the grapevine that you are a self proclaimed romance expert.

CG: IS THE GRAPEVINE NAMED KANAYA?

TT: I must admit that I am quite curious about troll romance, as it is no doubt a very large part of your culture that I am attempting to grasp.

TT: I would be honored if you would impart your well cultivated and painstakingly begotten knowledge upon my humble person.

CG: DON'T PATRONIZE ME.

CG: SURE. ILL HELP YOU TO “GRASP A GREATER UNDERSTANDING OF TROLL CULTURE.”

TT: I am sure I do not know what those quotations could possibly mean.

CG: JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU'RE FREE TO BE LECTURED, ROSE.

TT: Ah, first name usage without being prompted. I am making progress in your good graces.

CG: BYE LALONDE.

TT: Today. I have nothing to do. My schedule is disparagingly barren.

CG: MEET ME IN THE COMMON ROOM.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]

You're just the gift that keeps on giving.

When you get to the common room Lalonde is already there, several books in her lap and a notebook open and ready. It's kind of adorable to be honest. You hope it works out between the two of them.

“I've already translated and read several books on the matter but I'm afraid they do not portray the nuances of each romance, but rather a brief summary as well as a description of their practical usefulness to society.”

“Which books did you read?” You frown, looking at the covers that she shifts in her lap to show you. Oh god. “Those are trash propaganda history books. It's horrendously simplified and everything before the current Empress has been erased.”

She looks down at he books like they have done her a personal offense and shoves them to the side. “I see”

“History on Alternia was never really accurate or important. I did manage to find some romantic legends and myths and the like, but that's about it for romantic history.”

She nods politely, giving you all the expectancy of an actual pupil.

You sigh and grab a chair from your sylladex, despite the surrounding couches, you wanna sit right in front of her when you impart your glorious wisdom. She just smiles at you patiently while you straddle the chair and take out your own notebook and pencil.

“Alright, first things first, you need to know what all of these feelings really mean and what is associated with them”

“I'm on the edge of my seat.”

You draw a heart “flushed romance. It's the closest equivalent to your human romance in the way that it is based upon positive romantic feelings and affection driven by sexual as well as emotional desires.”

You pause, she says nothing “the difference is all of troll romance is based upon protection, and strength. Matesprits accept the weaknesses and flaws in their partner and try their best to protect them from getting hurt because of them. Stronger together. You have each other's backs, and you balance out their flaws, as they balance out yours.”

“So your better half in a sense” Rose interjects.

“No, your equal. They don't complete you and neither person is better than the other, you just so happen to be personally adept to protect them from their vulnerabilities, as they are to yours.”

Her black lips are pressed into a thin line as she nods and begins to write things down. You smile to yourself, satisfied in finally have someone pay attention to you when you give romantic advice. You do know what you're talking about after all.

“Alright” she says, looking back to you ready for more lecturing, and oh boy is she going to get just that.

This is what happens when people encourage you. You draw a diamond “Moirails take a more brutal approach to flaws and weaknesses, attempting to fix or improve one another, making each other stronger by giving each other what they need to thrive. A healthy moirallegiance will have a balance between what each person needs. One person can't give more than the other or the whole thing with trust and complete openness gets fucked over.”

She's writing as you speak, and you wait for her to look up again before drawing a spade and continuing. “Kismesis couples are less direct, rather than helping the other to be stronger together, they use their rivalry to egg each other on into being better than the other. They're in constant competition, filled with hate for the other person. That said, a key part of a healthy kismesis is respect. No one can fuck with your kismesis. If someone tries to they’re so unbelievably screwed.”

“So it's a positive hate, or at least a hatred rooted in a positive goal” she mutters as she scribbles.

“Kind of. It's more like a really fucked up sense of loyalty to an objectively awful and attractive person who makes you so angry because they could be so great if they just did this one thing. Or they're better than you in other respects and it pisses you off.”

You let her write again, allowing yourself to feel very important and intelligent. Hell yeah. Someone finally appreciates your understanding of a topic so nuanced and complex.

“And the final quadrant?”

“Ashen. Auspicious relationships are only formed when a relationship is dysfunctional and is in need of a third party to set it right and ensure nothing goes too horribly fucking wrong. It's kind of a thankless job, considering you have to manage two people who obviously just learned what feelings are and are acting like wrigglers about it.”

“That makes sense considering the prospect of vacillation”

“Exactly. Vacillation is where it gets complicated, but it is possible to have a healthy vacillating relationship. As long as all quadrants involved are open and both partners are always on the same page. Communication, as always, is key”

She hums in affirmation and that's when her phone dings at her. You wait patiently as she take it out, smiling like a dork as she answers the text. She looks up at you apologetically.

“Karkat, would you very much mind if I-”

“Go ahead” you wave her off and she smiles gratefully, collecting her things and then you're alone again.

You pick up your phone and debate trolling Terezi again for all of five seconds.

You're not that desperate.

Yet.

Chapter Text

Gamzee’s back the next day, but eerily quiet. He just wants to sit there with his arm around you and watch movies. That's fine by you honestly, you think it's great that you're close enough to sit in total silence for hours. That's the mark of a true moirallegiance.

After three movies you fall asleep despite the gallon of coffee you downed that morning.

“Karkat” you wake to a series of light taps on your shoulder. You see blonde hair through your bleary eyes. You really wish she hadn't waken you. You never get sleep as it is.

Gamzee’s gone.

“What is it Lalonde?”

“I was passing by and I saw that you were asleep. Kanaya said to wake you when I contacted her because it will be better for you to stick to the sleeping hours we've set for the group. We understand it must be challenging, but everyone else has adjusted very well so far. It might've been easier for you if I had better reinforced the rule.” She frowns.

You roll your eyes and sit up, making a racket with the horns. You really shouldn't fall asleep in the open like that. And without locking the door.

“Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it. Is that all or do you want something?”

“Actually I was hoping we could continue our discussion today. However if you're not feeling up for imparting your priceless knowledge unto me that is also quite alright”

“Well I can yell at you about quadrants some more but you'll have to watch me eat lunch first if you're going to stick around”

“I haven't had lunch either, we can eat together”

“Great” you push yourself off the pile and stretch, popping a few joints and feeling the stiffness of your muscles.

Sleeping on the pile is, all in all, a horrible idea.

You compile another plate Kanaya would be proud of as well as another cup of shitty coffee. Rose gives you a look at the coffee but doesn't say anything because she's the only fucking person on this rock who can mind her own damn business.

You choke down the green shit first, chewing the minimal amount and then chugging the coffee to make sure you swallow and don't gag. Rose appears very amused. Smug asshole.

Wow. She and Dave are related.

“I see you've been forgoing Kanaya’s experiment. How valiant of you”

You narrow your eyes at her “I really don't think you're in a position for making comments like that considering why you're even talking to me”

She says nothing, simply tilting her head and taking a delicate bite of her sandwich. She still fucks up her lipstick.

You drink more coffee, because god knows you're going to need it for this conversation. “So. Vacillation.”

She hums, still chewing on her sandwich.

“It's pretty healthy to vacillate, especially when the situation permits it. Like a shared quadrant. If two people are black for the same person, it may work out between the three of them if the two black interests vacillate between red and black depending. A schedule may be needed if people are going to be grubs with their romance time management skills.” You take a bite of your grubloaf.

“So you're saying in a situation where two parties have similar interest in the same party they can both be satisfied in a vacillating relationship?”

You swallow “congrats, you're capable of hearing and processing words” you take another bite.

“Isn't that situation exactly what is happening with yourself, Dave and Terezi?”

You inhale sharply and start to choke on your grubloaf. You then proceed to make a variety of extremely attractive hacking noises as you down your coffee to fucking swallow.

You put down your cup and look at her incredulously. “What.”

She graciously doesn't give your grotesque failure to perform basic functions like eating any more acknowledgement than a small smirk. “You, my brother, and the resident seer of mind”

“That's not- I mean. It can't possibly.” You pause. “Huh. I've gotta go”

You stand up and start walking.

“Karkat, your food”

“I’ll get it later”

As soon as you're out of Rose’s line of sight you start running.

She's not ignoring you because she doesn't want to talk to you, she just doesn't think Dave can handle the emotional whiplash of vacillation. That's okay. You'll just teach him about quadrants. Rose was willing enough to learn.

You've got the perfect cover art to explain vacillation too. This'll work. It has to work. You'll make it work. You run faster.

You're going to teach Dave Strider about romance if it's the last thing you do.

Chapter Text

Okay so teaching Dave about quadrants didn't work out as well as you thought it would.

And by that you mean, holy shit you want to punch that fucking prick right in his arrogant little smile. Why does he refuse to learn about your culture? What kind of insensitive and close minded fuckwit refuses to learn about another culture?

You know about human culture! They have horrible movies and weird traditions revolving around gender and romance and only one clusterfuck quadrant, which is completely heinous. That's all you need to know. But you know it. He doesn't know shit. How can Terezi even stand him?

You sigh and force yourself to cough to relieve some of the pressure in your chest. Running around the entire meteor in search of Dave was probably not a good idea. After that and the literal wrestling match along with being flipped over onto a table, your breathing is basically shit right now. Eh. It'll clear.

You still really resent the fact that he was even physically capable of flipping you through the fucking air and onto a table. And that shit knocked the wind out of you.

He could've handled that so much better, the entire thing is his fault.

And Rose and Kanaya were there to watch the whole thing. Which was totally great.

You step on the transportalizer to the outside of your block and open the door. The first thing you do is throw yourself down on your couch and open your husktop. You debate whether or not you felt like having another conversation with yourself. You check trollian. Apparently you do in thirty seconds. Fantastic.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] opened memo on board “WHAT IN THE FRESH FUCK DO YOU WANT?”

Current carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo

Future carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 20 MINUTES FROM NOW responded to memo

CCG: WHAT IN THE FRESH FUCK DO YOU WANT?

FCG: AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE WHO WANTS SOMETHING?

FCG: YOU'RE THE ONE WHO OPENED THE MEMO DUNKASS.

CCG: I OPENED THE MEMO BECAUSE I SAW THAT I WAS GOING TO.

CCG: AND SINCE YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S LIVED THROUGH THIS PARTICULAR CONVERSATION BEFORE YOU SHOULD KNOW WHAT IT'S ABOUT.

CCG: SO I'LL SAY IT AGAIN.

CCG: WHAT IN THE FRESH FUCK DO YOU WANT?

FCG: NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU.

CCG: I AM YOU.

FCG: I THINK YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT'S EXACTLY THE POINT.

CCG: IS THERE A POINT TO THIS CONVERSATION?

FCG: MORE THAN THERE USUALLY IS? NO NOT REALLY BECAUSE ALL OF THE CONVERSATIONS WE HAVE WITH OURSELVES ARE OBJECTIVELY POINTLESS SEEING WE HAVE ALREADY COME TO THE CONCLUSIONS WE COME TO AT THE END OF THE FUCKING CONVERSATION, AFTER OF COURSE TALKING OUT OF OUR PROTEIN SHOOTS FOR A NUMBER OF GIANT MEANINGLESS GREY TEXT BLOCKS MADE ENTIRELY OF THE BLITHERING DROOL OF SEVEN THOUSAND MORONS.

FCG: WOULD YOU LIKE TO SKIP TO YOUR REVELATION RIGHT AWAY AND THEN ARGUE ABOUT IT, OR KEEP ARGUING THEN HAVE ME SAY IT AND LOG OFF?

FCG: I ALREADY KNOW WHICH ONE YOU'RE GOING TO CHOOSE ANYWAY LEST YOU RISK DOOMING US ALL SO CHOOSE CAREFULLY.

CCG: JUST. GET. TO. THE. POINT.

FCG: EXCELLENT CHOICE!

FCG: YOU'RE LONELY AS FUCK. STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF AND MAKE FRIENDS WITH ROSE SO YOU CAN HANG OUT WITH HER AND KANAYA. TEREZI DOESN'T WANT YOU AROUND RIGHT NOW BECAUSE DAVE STRIDER HAD TO GO AND BE BETTER THAN YOU IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE.

CCG: DAVE IS *NOT* BETTER THAN ME!

FCG: I'LL WAIT.

CCG: I MEAN SURE TEREZI CHOSE HIM OVER ME.

CCG: AND YEAH WE’RE BOTH KNIGHTS BUT HE REACHED GOD TIER.

CCG: AND HE'S TALLER THAN ME...

CCG: AND AN ADMITTEDLY GOOD FIGHTER.

CCG: AND HE WEARS RED SO SHAMELESSLY.

CCG: AND HE CAN MAKE TEREZI LAUGH...

CCG: AND I CAN'T REALLY ANYMORE.

CCG: AND...

CCG: OH MY GOD.

FCG: YEP.

CCG: HE'S BETTER THAN ME...

FCG: UH HUH.

CCG: NO WONDER TEREZI DOESN'T WANT SHIT TO DO WITH ME!

FCG: NOW WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE.

CCG: ...

CCG: WELL WE ALL KNOW THAT WE'RE BETTER AT ROMANCE THAN HE IS NO MATTER WHAT TEREZI HAS DELUDED HERSELF INTO.

FCG: OBVIOUSLY.

CCG: ALRIGHT WELL. NOW THAT I HATE MYSELF EVEN MORE THAN USUAL.

FCG: BLUUUUUUUUH.

FCG: KILL ME I CAN'T BELIEVE I SAID THAT IT'S SO MELODRAMATIC.

CCG: AND THAT WASN'T?

FCG: HANG OUT WITH ROSE WHEN GAMZEE ISN'T THERE. SHE'S THE ONLY PERSON OTHER THAN KANAYA AND GAMZEE WHO CAN STILL STAND YOU.

CCG: FINE.

Current carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW ceased responding to memo

Future carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 20 MINUTES FROM NOW ceased responding to memo

Well. Time to do it all over again you guess.

Ugh.

Chapter Text

“So I've been all up and motherfucking wondering something” Gamzee starts.

You shift on the pile to look at him, not bothering to pause the movie (it was another shitty pale romcom). “Yeah?”

“How's it happening all around the fucking place?”

“Well... Rose. The human girl. She wanted to know about quadrants so I've been teaching her”

He smiles lazily “Aw man, you get to start up and schoolfeed about the squares and shit?”

“Yeah it's pretty fun actually. Someone finally wants to hear and heed my romantic advice”

He shoves your shoulder, but he's heart achingly gentle “good going Karbro”

“And you know besides that... uh. Dave's still an asshole but he's always been an asshole. Terezi’s still... in that god forsaken pile of trash pretend games city.”

“Pretend games city?”

“It's this place that Dave and Terezi have built with the carapace guy who was almost dead and we had to revive for some reason. It's made entirely out of cans and crafting bullshit and chalk. I'm apparently not allowed in there”

“How come?”

“I dunno.... Well, I’m not officially not allowed in there I just don't really hate myself enough to go in there.”

“What? I thought you had the mother fucking red feels for that sis”

“Well. Yeah. I guess.”

“Then go chat it on up with her”

You sigh “Strider’s been flirting his ass off with her and she seems to heavily prefer it to my company so.”

He frowns at you “Well shit. If she don't want chats with you then I'm sure not in the motherfucking know about what all in that's about”

You offer a soft smile “Thanks Gamzee”

“No problem bro” he shifts a bit closer to you and you feel warmth expand in your chest.

You move closer to him as well and rest your head on his shoulder.

Before long you fall asleep, he's gone again when you wake up.

Chapter Text

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: So?

CG: SO.

GA: How Are You Feeling

CG: WHAT?

GA: The Pyramid Karkat I Trust You've Been Eating Healthier

CG: OH RIGHT. UH.

CG: I'VE BEEN FINE?

CG: I GUESS I'M SLIGHTLY LESS TIRED.

GA: Excellent!

CG: YEAH YEAH GO SHARE YOUR NEWFOUND SCIENTIFIC MIRACLE WITH ROSE.

GA: Oh I Meant To Ask You

GA: Have You Been Passing Time With Rose Lately

CG: YEAH WHAT OF IT?

GA: Has She

GA: Said Anything

GA: About Me

CG: I'M NOT DOING THIS. STOP RIGHT THE FUCK THERE.

GA: Doing What?

CG: DON'T YOU PLAY INNOCENT MARYAM. ALTHOUGH I AM THE ROMANCE GURU AROUND HERE BECAUSE APPARENTLY NONE OF THE REST OF YOU CAN EVEN REMOTELY KEEP YOUR SHIT TOGETHER, I REFUSE TO BE YOUR GO BETWEEN HE SAID SHE SAID GOSSIP MONGREL.

CG: IT'S A GODDAMN SURPRISE.

CG: DON'T GO ASKING SHIT LIKE THAT IT'LL RUIN THE EFFECT.

GA: Oh?

GA: She's Planning A Surprise Is She

CG: FUCK.

CG: NOT... REALLY.

CG: SHE JUST

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT?

CG: NO!

CG: I KNOW YOUR GAME KANAYA.

CG: I'M NOT SAYING ANYTHING ELSE.

GA: What Game?

GA: I Am Sure I Have No Idea What You're Talking About

CG: JESUS YOU SOUND JUST LIKE HER.

CG: I'M GOING TO LEAVE BEFORE YOU CAN PRY ANYMORE SHIT OUT OF ME WITH YOUR RAINBOW DRINKER WILES.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

God. You missed Kanaya but damn. You're glad that's over with. She has ways and you'd rather not fall prey to her trickery.

Oh shitting hell.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TT: Hello, Karkat.

CG: WHAT?

TT: Are you unaware of the meaning of the word hello?

TT: You see, it is a greeting that dates back many many generations of humanity.

CG: STOP.

CG: WHAT DO YOU WANT?

TT: Were you talking to Kanaya a few minutes ago?

CG: MORE LIKE A FEW SECONDS AGO.

TT: Well you see, she was grinning rather broadly at her screen.

CG: I'M NOT TELLING YOU WHAT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT.

TT: Could I inquire as to one aspect of the conversation?

CG: I'M NOT TELLING YOU IF WE WERE TALKING ABOUT YOU.

TT: ...

TT: You are a steel trap, Sir.

CG: I JUST GOT DONE DEALING WITH YOUR FEMME FATALE. YOU THINK I'M GIVING UP ANYMORE SHIT TO THE TWO OF YOU?

TT: So you did tell her something?

CG: NEVER SAID IT WAS ABOUT YOU.

TT: I didn't either.

CG: WAIT.

CG: WHAT?

CG: NO!

CG: YOU DON'T WIN THAT ONE YOU SHIT SLINGING HEATHEN.

CG: THAT WASN'T A WIN.

TT: Wasn't it?

CG: FUCK OFF ROSE.

TT: Till next time, Karkat.

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

You groan and lay back on the pile as you hear the vent being opened.

“Oh man, did something get in your mind space about all in bothering a brother?” Gamzee sits down next to you and you rest your head on his thigh because fuck these uncomfortable ass horns.

“Just Rose and Kanaya being their usual selves”

You feel him stiffen slightly “Kanaya?”

Fuck. “Uh. Yeah. Rose likes her. She likes Rose. Not a big deal just some go between wriggler shit. Anyways. I've got some more movies if you want.”

He just nods, sitting stock still.

You fucked up. You put on a movie and pat his knee comfortingly. He relaxes eventually but doesn't move an inch for the whole film and definitely doesn't talk. When it's over he pats your head and leaves without a word.

You are the worst moirail in the history of all moirails.

Chapter Text

You are the worst moirail in the history of all moirails.

How could you bring up Kanaya so carelessly like that? She tried to kill him! She would've killed him if you had not been there.

That might be the only fucking thing you did right in that goddamn disaster. And now you've fucked up with Gamzee because you mentioned his would be murder in casual conversation like a complete douche.

Your phone dings and you stop your mental beat down to check. It's Kanaya.

...Not now.

You sigh and walk to the room with the pile. You leave your phone. You've gotta make up for your stupid slip up. You walk into the room to find it empty.

You stop in your tracks. There is not a single bicycle horn in the room.

You walk a door down on either side just to make sure you're in the right room and yeah, you definitely are.

You walk cautiously into the room again, heart racing.

Is he finally done with you? Has he decided he can't be around someone who reminds him of the fact that someone is living in the same building as him who at one point tried to kill him.

Is... did he relapse? Is he gonna fly off the handle again?

Bang.

A scream rips its way from your throat before you can stop it, jumping and grabbing your sickle from your sylladex. You spin around. It's just the cover of the vent. It fell. You look up into the vent to see two eyes reflected before Gamzee’s head peaks out. He looks guilty.

You immediately put away your sickle and feel like a complete asshole. He's hiding. He's scared. Because of you. And you just pulled your sickle on him.

You hate yourself so much.

“Hey... What happened to the pile?” You ask gently, walking towards him slowly with your hands in your pockets.

“Moved it. Found a new wicked place for all those little mother fuckers” he holds out a hand to you. Oh god.

He wants you to crawl into the vents.

In the small dark deep vents.

In the vents where he probably took the bodies.

(In the vents where no one would find you, possibly ever.)

He frowns and retracts his hand a little, looking so small and scared and remorseful.

Fuck. You grab his hand and his eyes widen in surprise before he smiles a little and helps you up and into the vents. They're bigger than you thought they'd be.

“Help a brother out and grab the cover?” He asks. You swallow hard and do as you're told, sealing yourself in and blocking out the majority of the light.

You feel like you're going to be sick. You're trapped. It's dark. You can't sit up. Fuck fuck fuck. Why did you leave your phone? You're such a stupid fuck.

He reaches out a hand towards your face. You flinch slightly, but he just paps you.

You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding in and melt into him.

“You all good now bro?”

You bury your face in his chest and nod. He pets through your hair for a minute before letting you go.

You feel like shit for ever doubting him.

Even so, you can't help but get a little antsy as he asks you to follow him and you crawl for you don't know how long. Eventually the vent opens into this block with what looks like an air conditioning unit. It's obviously been pushed from its original position against the wall to completely block the door.

Despite that you're honestly just glad there's no severed heads.

Of course there isn't.

He helps you down and you note that his hair is getting a little greasy. You wonder when the last time he washed it was. You wonder if he was sleeping on the floor before he moved the horns in here. You wonder how the fuck he eats. You wonder why you've never wondered this shit before.

Maybe you can guard a abolution block long enough for him to feel safe enough to shower. And you can bring him food. Maybe even get a sleeping pad in here.

He leads you to the pile and you sit with your back against his chest at an angle. He plays you his music that survived the end of the world. It's nice.

Chapter Text

You've been spending your days in the vents mainly.

It's been five days since Gamzee moved the pile and you know, you actually like it better.

You know more about how he's living now and you can help him out. And he's more relaxed.

Yeah you're still not too keen about the door being blocked or the claustrophobic vents, but you understand their purpose. And what kind of selfish prick would you be if you made him go out into the open with a bunch of people who might kill him over petty shit like that?

You've been smuggling him food. Shit you can shove down your shirt so you can still crawl through the vents to get to him.

You make sure he eats something everyday, like you should've been doing the entire time instead of fucking around and not paying enough attention, which is why shit hit the whirling device and he needed a moirail in the first place.

Today after he ate the thing you brought him and you made him promise to save the rest of the food for lunch and diner, he decided to regale you with some clown bullshit.

Which you guess is good. It always seemed to make him happy before. He just doesn't appear all that jovial this time around.

Hes muttering most of it and he just looks so tired. Not really in the face but in the eyes.

“-which prepares the brothers and sisters for the dark carnival. It'll be a mother fucking miracle on your sight orbs. In a matter of bitching facts-”

You frown as he mumbles on in a monotonous voice, and reach forward to run your hands through his hair. He doesn't miss a beat, still mumbling a mile a minute. It scares you a bit in all honesty, and you can't get visions of purple text welcoming you to the dark carnival out of your head.

You scoot closer to him as you try to untangle his dirty hair with your fingers. You should work on getting him a safe place to shower soon.

He doesn't stop. “Hey Gamzee? Why don't you show me the festering pile of shit you call music? I might be feeling up to losing a few more IQ points”

He stirs and quiets, looking at you blankly for a moment, before shambling over to his husktop and playing some slam poetry for you, sitting back down and pulling you close so that your back is to his chest and his chin rests on top of your head. He continues to mutter shit under his breath, running his fingers over the sleeves of your sweater.

You gently pat his face a few times but he doesn't make any changes in his behavior. You frown and let him feel up your sleeves and mutter religious babble for a long while, on edge the entire time.

---

You startle awake, head shooting up and out of the slime of your coon and knocking against said coon painfully. You curse and rub your forehead.

You don't remember falling asleep. You remember Gamzee muttering nonsense about the vast honk and the subjugglators and then a small honk. Your sleep was eerily dreamless and continuous. That hasn't happened in forever, and you can't shake the feeling that someone reached into your thinkpan and poked around.

It's probably just paranoia though.

It occurs to you that you're not in the horn pile which means that he knows where your block is. You're also in your coon which means you're not wearing any clothes. No one sleeps in slime clothed. It's too much of a hassle to get the slime out of even your boxers.

But you're not currently wearing your boxers, a fact that you're trying not to think too hard about.

You should take a walk.

Chapter Text

You've decided that getting you into your recuperacoon was a very thoughtful gesture on Gamzee’s part. Besides, if you can't trust your own moirail to do that shit for you, who else?

After a hell of a lot of reassuring and preparation and some alchemized caution tape later, you've given Gamzee a place to clean himself. You managed to find a bathroom not too far from what used to be the horn pile block, so therefore not too far from where you and Gamzee hang out now.

He always meets you at the vent in the ex horn pile block anyways. So this time when he met you, you clambered in the vent to explain in hushed tones your plan.

You felt guilty for pushing him to go through with it, but he needs to take care of himself. He's just so scared.

“Are you mother fucking sure you aint gon let no mother fucker all up in here? I don't wanna be surmising some wicked blasphemy against a best shitting bro of mine but-”

“It's fine Gamzee, I'll be right outside the entire time making sure no one gets in. I'm even putting up this shit so people think all the shits broken in here” you hold up the caution tape, neglecting to mention they could probably hear the water running from outside and it would completely defeat the purpose, but the tape was more for Gamzee’s peace of mind.

He doesn't look all that convinced but he grabs the shampoo from the counter and examines it. “Remember what I told you, wash your hair several times to get it super clean okay?”

He grunts in acknowledgment without looking at you and you frown, again not so fond of pushing him like this.

You turn around before your guilt allows him to crawl back into the vents with greasy matted hair.

“I'll be right outside” you say one more time before exiting the ablution block.

You put up the tape like you said you would once the door is closed and take a seat leaning against the door, pulling out your crabphone and checking trollian.

No new messages from Terezi. Of course.

One from Rose though.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TT: Hello, Karkat. I was wondering when a good time would be to take up our lessons again? I quite enjoy them and would still love to pursue a greater knowledge of troll culture. Respond at your leisure.

That was sent yesterday. You briefly think about how long you're spending with Gamzee today and type back a response.

CG: HELLO, ROSE. I AM GOING TO ATTEMPT TO MIRROR THE CORDIAL MANNER IN WHICH YOU SENT ME YOUR CORRESPONDENCE BECAUSE I AM UNREASONABLY ELATED THAT SOMEONE ON THIS GOD FORSAKEN HELL ROCK HAS THE SENSE AND DECENCY TO DO SO. I AM NOT AWARE OF CONCRETE TIMES THAT I WILL BE AVAILABLE TODAY, AND WILL GET BACK TO YOU ON THAT AT MY EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. HOWEVER MY ESTIMATED LESSON TIME WOULD BE FIVE THIRTY? RESPOND AT YOUR LEISURE.

You hit send, feeling just a bit witty and whimsical as a side effect of a conversation with Rose, even a small one.

“ONWARD MY MIGHTY STEED OF JUSTICE!”

You freeze. You've been wanting to hear that voice for a perigee. Terezi. You hear heavy footsteps down the hall.

“I would onward if I hadn't been continuing onwarding for so fucking long that my legs are screaming in protest and threatening to wake up the whole neighborhood.”

Oh. Dave's with her. Of course he is.

“Majestic dragon steeds of justice are SILENT, Dave”

“Not when he's been carrying on his back for the length of half the meteor he's not”

They round the corner and come into view. If there is a merciful God he will strike you down in order to not deal with this social scenario.

Terezi sees you, or rather smells you, and her smile fades for a moment. You wait. Yep. There is no god. At least not one who's on your side.

She hops off of Dave's back and bounds over to you with a grin, but it's all too deliberate and different from her usual manner.

“Hey Karkat.” She says, standing in front of where you sit with her hands on her hips.

“Hey” You respond, like the conversational genius you are. You realize that as much as you've been yearning to talk to her, you haven't the faintest clue what to say.

Her smile disappears once more as her lips press into a thin line. She always did that when she was thinking. God you've missed her.

“What's up with that block?” She gestures to the door.

“What?” You look up at the tape “oh um. Out of order.”

“But the water’s running”

“Busted pipe”

“Oh.”

There's a stretch of silence.

“I'm taking care of it though, It should be alright soon.”

“That’s good”

More silence.

“Hey” Dave speaks up, your gaze snaps to him and the bastard has the audacity to look bored when he's occupying the majority of her time as it is “not to interrupt this super awkward convo, but what's happening here. Am I still steeding about or what?”

Terezi smiles wide for him and it makes your chest ache “Don't think you're off the hook for your steeding duties, Dave!”

She runs up to him, but pauses, looking back at you. “See you around, Karkat?”

You nod, happiness bubbling up inside of you at how hopeful she sounds. You even give her a small smile.

She grins unabashedly and hops on top of Strider’s back. They continue to lumber down the hallway like that.

You are consumed with regret that you didn't say more, what the fuck is wrong with you?

You feel like your chest is folding in on itself and you kinda wish it would for real.

You pull your knees to your chest and try to ignore the sudden feeling of absolute loneliness that crashes over you.

You miss Terezi. You miss Sollux. You miss Kanaya. You miss Nepeta and Tavros and Aradia and Feferi. Fuck maybe you even miss Equius. At least yelling at him gave you something to do.

Eridan pops into your mind for a moment and you almost miss that absolute waste of space too. Then you remember holding Kanaya’s lifeless body and panicking over an unconscious Sollux. He’s one person you really don't miss.

You don't think you can bring yourself to miss Vriska either.

Maybe that makes you a horrible person, but fuck if you can get any worse than you are now you might as well do it.

There’s obviously a reason Terezi won't hang out with you, it's because you're a fucking pathetic piece of-

You squeak as the door gives out and you fall on top of Gamzee’s feet. He looks down at you with concern. “You all chill bro?”

You shake your head at him and let him pull you into the ablution block and close the door.

He stays with you while you vent about your troubles and choke up and make a mess of yourself.

At some point after you've calmed down a little it's too much for him and he has too shakily withdraw into the vents again.

You feel guilty for putting him in danger like that for your bullshit. Now he's scared shitless because of you.

You try to follow but he insists he wants to be alone. You refuse to wear your shattered bloodpusher on your sleeve.

He leaves. You take the tape off the door.

Your phone dings. It's five thirty.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is proper educational material?” Rose asks.

“Lalonde, this is romance education gold. What you are to be witnessing right before your eyes is the most amazing depiction of interactions between troll kind ever recorded in our history. You should feel blessed.”

“I am getting the distinct feeling that romantic comedies are a Karkat specific enthusiasm and not a trollwide occurrence”

“Well yeah there are some stupid fucks who can't appreciate art, but there's always going to be stupid fucks in any species.” You pop in a red rom exclusive movie. “Now shut your hole and learn. You're in for at least four more movies if we can get to them today”

“Joy”

You two make it through your red rom and black rom examples before Rose begins to yawn far too much to ignore. You would've gotten through more of them if not for your discussion breaks. You talked about the impact on troll culture the two quadrants have and she seemed very fascinated by it all.

Honestly it was refreshing to have someone else to talk to, not at, about quadrants.

At first you were still pretty drained from all that happened that day, but Rose seemed to pick you right up. She had this way of distracting you that was absolutely wonderful and gave you some peace. At least until the movie started and you were left to your thoughts. But still, your discussions make you happy, and that was more than you could say for anything else besides Gamzee and Kanaya lately. Although you haven't seen much of her.

“What quadrant are we reviewing next?”

“Rose you've been yawning for the past half hour. You're going to sleep and we can continue another time”

“Um excuse me.” She pauses, leaning forward and scrutinizing you “no that's right, you aren't my mother, thought so”

“Lusus or not I’m not going to be happy when you fall asleep during the next movie. Not only would I have to restart my lesson, but I'd also have to sit there with you all night or incur Kanaya’s wrath. And I'm sure as fuck not carrying you to your block. So get the fuck up I’ll walk you.”

You stand up and cross your arms in front of your chest stubbornly. She seems to think it over for a moment before standing up and looping her hand around your arm, her wrist resting in the crook of your elbow. You startle a little.

“Well, escort me to my chambers, good Sir. If you insist upon treating me like a Madame from the nineteenth century you might as well go all out.” She says sarcastically, looking at you with an amused smile.

You realize what she's doing and most of your anxiety at being touched all of a sudden fades away. Drop the arm she isn't holding and allow her to get a better grip.

Rose Lalonde really is quite something. You can see why Kanaya is so interested in her.

You might be too, only she's not quite your type.

“Right this way, Madame Lalonde. Watch your step milady.” You lead her down the hall with a flourish of your arm that makes her laugh.

You can feel it. That point in a relationship where you actually start becoming friends and all the pretense is bullshit.

You don't mind being friends with Rose. You can tell she's gonna be a pain in the ass later, especially if her efforts are combined with Kanaya’s, but damn does she remind you of Kanaya so much that you can't help yourself. You like her.

Not that you'd ever tell her she's anything more than a nuisance and a burden on your increasingly busy schedule.

“Shall we set another engagement for tomorrow evening?” She asks. She seems to hold herself just the slightest bit higher with this charade.

“We shall see through our correspondence if that is at all possible” you respond, puffing your chest out.

She notices and smirks, humming in agreement.

It isn't long before you reach her block. She moves to let go of you but you hold her hand and sink to one knee, bowing your head and pressing your forehead to the back of her hand. “Until we meet again, Madame Lalonde. It has been a pleasure to be in your company.”

She laughs out loud at this. And you mean loud. You grin up at her as she loses it, not letting go of your hand.

She seems to have quite a bit of trouble composing herself, but after several short giggle fits, she simply smiles at you like a minx and says “Likewise”

Chapter Text

When you get there this time he's not waiting for you, but there's a note hanging out of the vent. You frown and pull it out. It reads in a dark, muddied color that looks like it's been smeared on the paper rather than written “come on in bro :o)”

You feel a chill run through you when you brush your finger over one of the letters and it flakes a little.

It's... probably not blood. He probably found Nepeta’s old paint lying around. That shit was made from grubs anyways so what the fuck is the difference even if he did use blood?

You didn't know those grubs.

You swallow. What else is he supposed to write with anyways? Your fault. You should get him something to write with. You'll bring it with you tomorrow.

You hear a soft honk from inside the vents and grit your teeth.

Suck it up. You remove the vent. It's all your fault he's like this anyways why the fuck are you so scared? You don't even have the right.

You climb into the dark vents, pushing your thoughts to the back of your mind. You can't be scared. That's pathetic. And wrong. Not only does that make you a horrible moirail it makes you a shitty troll.

Your self hatred fuels you to appear on the other side of the crawl in the vents to see your moirail. Well his hair definitely looks better.

“Hey Gamzee” you hop down from the vent and he honks a horn at you in greeting. You take that as a sign that he's not talking today, but he gives you a small smile.

You sit next to him and he quickly pulls you against his chest like normal. You laugh. “Wait a sec I brought you some food”

You move to take the apple out of your pocket for his breakfast but he stops you with a loud honk. You flinch and he frowns before patting your hand. You nod. “Okay so you're not hungry right now. Can I give you your grub so you can put it in your sylladex?”

He stares at you long enough that you start to question if he heard you, then just barely nods.

Or at least you think it's a nod. You're taking it as a nod. You unload your pockets and the grubloaf you shoved down your shirt and hand it to him. The food disappears with a pop. It occurs to you that you have no proof that he eats any of the food you bring other than the shit he eats in front of you. You hope he eats most of it.

As soon as the food is gone from his lap he pulls you into it. You smile up at him and he hides his face in your hair.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask. He honks softly in response. “Right, stupid question”

You sit like that for a while, and he runs his fingernails back and forth along your denim jeans. You think it helps ground him or something. You dunno. You don't question it.

“Well I might read something. Do you want me to read out loud, bro? Two honks for yes, one for no.” You ask.

He squeezes one of the horns to your right once. You deflate a little at the thought of him not doing well at all, but you guess smothering himself in your hair and scratching your jeans is enough for him right now.

You take out a book and start reading where you've left of. You read this book already. Twice. It's not even one of your favorites you just like the cover art.

One of Gamzee's hands moves to fiddle at the bottom of your sweater as you continue to read about the frankly boring main character and the daring black rom interest who he doesn't deserve.

You're about halfway through the quadrant drama when his highblood auspistice, who is really unnecessary to their relationship, buts in for no reason (which you find out later is because he's also waxing black for the main character). Honestly you think they're a better match, and the highblood’s moirail should get with the main kismesis in a red rom regardless because they actually deserve each other but maybe that's just you.

You feel fingers press against your stomach and you stop breathing. Gamzee begins dragging his fingers back and forth gently over your bare skin. You feel yourself moving without your permission, flying out of his arms and onto the dirty concrete ground and making a hell of a lot of noise on your way there.

You're shaking. What the fuck is wrong with you? You still haven't breathed. Whats breathing like again? In. Out. In. Out. Fuck you're going too fast. Everything's going too fast.

Gamzee whimpers and you snap to attention. You hurt your moirail. Shit shit shit. You're awful. You deserve to die.

You crawl on shaking hands and knees towards him and back onto the pile, managing to make only a few honks. Nothing like the blaring noise you made earlier. He's crying. You hate yourself.

“Hey..” you can't keep the tremor out of your voice. “I'm sorry”

He shakes his head.

“I freaked out. I don't know why. I'm sorry”

He shakes his head again.

You grab his wrist and gently place his hand flat against your stomach. That does nothing for your pounding bloodpusher, despite the thick layer of fabric separating his hand from your skin. You ignore it.

“See? It's fine. I'm fine.”

He stares at you, eyes and face wet, before pushing your sweater up slowly.

Your body is screaming at you. You need to run. You need to stop him.

But you can't. It's the least you can do after all the shit you've caused him. He pushes just his thumb to your stomach and you think your pusher might explode so you stop watching his hand and start watching his face.

He pushes his thumb back and forth a few times, before seemingly satisfied with his ability to not scare the shit out of you with non threatening touches. It's just like him scratching your jeans.

You can't help but see visions of candy red blood all over the pile when you blink so you try not to. Gamzee doesn't give a fuck about your blood color anyways. Never has. Never even asked.

You settle back into his arms silently and he doesn't try to touch your stomach again, just playing with the bottom of your sweater until he nudges you off of him and curls up on the pile, indicating it was time for you to leave.

Chapter Text

It's been about a week since The Incident, as you've taken to calling it. You honestly don't know why you freaked out so much before. Okay well you know why. But it's Gamzee. Gamzee would never hurt you. It's really not a big deal.

You've almost gotten used to it anyways.

“Hello, Karkat” you feel the hand touch your shoulder before you register the voice and quickly shrug it off, turning on your heel to face them, stiff as a rail.

Rose frowns at you. You try to recover quickly. “Hey, Rose. What's up?”

She narrows her eyes slightly, and anyone who hangs out with Rose for more than five minutes knows this is the expression she makes when she's going to pry the fuck into your business.

“Jumpy, are we? Did I scare you?”

You're not jumpy. You're just... She surprised you. “You surprised me”

She purses her lips which prompts you to act more naturally. Since when were you acting unnaturally? Why are you treating her like a culling drone?

“You didn't fucking scare me. That just so happens to be a near impossible feat. Few have succeeded in doing so. You have a real long way to go before you can scare the shit out of me, Lalonde. Your therapist shtick really isn't doing it for me”

She’s silent for a few more moments, looking you over. Probably searching for weaknesses or something. You're full of shit. Rose Lalonde is emotionally terrifying.

“Would you like to take some time out of your busy schedule to visit with me and Kanaya?”

That is not what you expected her to say. “What?”

“Would you like to hang out, Karkat?” She says slowly.

“Yeah, sure” you blink “Kanaya’s gonna be there?”

She hums in affirmation and you feel your chest get lighter. You haven't seen Kanaya in a while.

You follow Rose a little bit like a barkbeast grub down the hall. “So what have you been up to recently, what with your ever present busy schedule?”

She's giving you those slightly narrowed eyes again but trying to play it off as casual. “Oh you know, the usual stuff”

“I'm afraid I'm not entirely acquainted with the usual”

You open your mouth to give another vague reply because your spare time is none of her fucking business most especially what you do with the majority of your free time. Gamzee has the right to privacy as much as you do.

Plus you don't want her telling Kanaya. You don't really know why. It's not as if anything you could say about Gamzee’s actions towards you would upset her.

Before you can respond to Rose, Kanaya comes walking briskly down the hall towards you.

“Karkat! There you are” she smiles that big brilliant smile of hers and grips your shoulders gently, getting a good look at you before releasing you.

You smile gratefully at her. You've always loved how she never invaded your personal space but she always gave you some small semblance of contact she knew you'd be comfortable with.

God, you missed her so much.

Rose grabs your arm, beginning to drag you down the hallway, Kanaya following, smiling fondly at the two of you.

“Rose, what the fresh fuck are you doing?” You ask, looking at her grip around your arm with irritation.

“Kidnapping you I believe.”

“And why is that so absolutely necessary?”

“Because we're going to be having a sleepover party, just the three of us, and it would be a shame if you left in the middle of it. So you're simply not allowed to.”

“Excuse you, I am not about to be held against my will to perform some sort of ritual-”

“Karkat, if I didn't know any better, I’d say our fearless leader was scared” Kanaya smirks.

“I am not scared” you are so fucking scared. Are they seriously asking you to be alone with the two of them for hours?

Nope. No. No way. You're not going to let the busybody duo get anything out of you!

...is what you would say if you weren't getting kidnaped. You really have no choice in the matter.

“Well then it's bound to be a spectacular evening” Kanaya smiles kindly at you, while Rose continues to physically drag you away.

You are so fucked.

Chapter Text

“Seriously??” You laugh, loudly as Rose smirks and nods.

“All over his laptop. I had the pleasure of video calling him at the time” she grabs a chip from the bowl you've put in the center of her human sleeping platform.

“Holy shit.” You can’t breathe, you're laughing so hard.

“John certainly seemed to be an interesting person” Kanaya comments.

“Did I ever tell you he hijacked my computer for our first correspondence?” Rose smiles daintily as Kanaya gapes at her.

“I thought you were pulling a human prank on me! You sounded so... forgive me. Utterly moronic.”

You snort “Damn, Kanaya.”

“Well it's the truth. He kept trailing on and on about apparently popular human cinema that made absolutely no sense. I was supremely disappointed ” she huffs, smoothing her red skirt.

“Disappointed? I'm intrigued. What expectations did you have of me, Kanaya?” Rose raises an eyebrow. You lean forward slightly, drinking in the heavy romantic tension. Kanaya’s cheeks flush a light shade of green. Rose smiles. She’s so screwed.

“Well. Based entirely upon your appearance and that of your living space I had assumed that you were a woman of intelligence”

“My appearance?”

“If I were to stand you next to your friend John, who would appear more intelligent?”

“Fair point”

“Will you two just kiss already?” You ask.

They both stare at you as if they had forgotten you were here and then simultaneously flush their respective blood colors.

“Karkat!” Kanaya smacks your knee reproachfully.

“That was extremely bold of you” Rose shifts in her seat.

You just snicker, “what? You're the one who wanted me at your little shindig”

“Moving on then” Rose says, “It’s quite late. I think we all better be going to sleep.”

“I was just thinking the same thing” Kanaya agrees.

You get up “Well, I had fun being kidnaped”

“And where do you think you're going?” Rose asks, getting up and blocking the door, raising an eyebrow “you're still kidnaped, Sir”

“I’m gonna stay up a lot longer than this I don't wanna keep you guys up”

“Karkat it's one in the morning” Rose states, narrowing her eyes.

“I'm not trying to escape I promise” you hold up your hands in surrender “I usually stay up way later than this”

“Karkat you really should maintain a healthy sleep schedule.” Kanaya chides, rising as well.

“Yeah well.” You shrug.

“I'm serious. I don't know what you get up to during all that time, but I'm worried about you. You're always complaining about how tired you are and you've got circles under your eyes that are getting heavier by the night.” She reaches out slowly and thumbs under your eye. “I must insist that you-”

“You're not my moirail, Kanaya” you interrupt her.

She pauses for a moment, eyes wide before she turns a little green, retracting her hand and fussing at her shirt. “Oh. Yes. Of course. I didn't-”

“And ‘What I get up to’ is none of your business. And if you didn't hate him so much maybe you could see that I'm working my ass off to make sure he's safe from everyone else in this fucking place.”

She looks smaller than you've ever seen her at your words and mutters “Yes. You're right. I apologize Karkat”

You hate seeing her like this, but a twist of something very ugly in your gut makes you not take back your words.

“Goodnight then.” You walk out and down the hall.

So she's a little hurt. She was overstepping. How dare she act like you don't have a moirail and touch your face and just pretend Gamzee doesn't exist! Especially when she's a huge reason why he has to hide all the time. She's the reason he's always in the vents now, because you're a fucking idiot and mentioned her.

You're really fucking sick of no one appreciating you for anything you ever do.

No one appreciated you as the leader.

No one appreciated you saving all their shitty relationships.

And most certainly no one fucking appreciates how much you have to do to help Gamzee.

Well.

Except Gamzee.

Chapter Text

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GC: H3Y

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. It's happening. It's finally happening!! Calm down. Play it cool. Casual.

CG: HEY.

GC: SO...

You already fucked up you can't believe this. Casual?? What were you even thinking?

GC: YOU W4NN4 COM3 TO C4NTOWN TOD4Y???

CG: YES!

CG: I MEAN.

CG: YEAH. SURE.

Smooth.

GC: H3H3H3

GC: S33 YOU TH3R3 1N F1V3 >;]

CG: YEAH.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: SEE YOU.

CG: SHIT.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

Okay. Yeah. Don't freak out. It's not a big deal.

Who the fuck are you kidding? It's the biggest fucking deal in the world! She wants to talk to you again!

You rush to your mirror and run your fingers through your hair. It does jack shit of course. Whatever. Your ugly mug can't get you down today.

You want to run all the way to that stupid village of nutrition cylinders but you stop yourself. You already look like a desperate tool from that trollian log. Well, you are a desperate tool, but you don't have to be so obvious about it.

You force yourself to wait the full five minutes before walking way too fast to cylinder city.

“I just don't understand why you want to have a party all up in the happiest, and really fucking fragile, place on the meteor with your ex boyfriend and your... I dunno. What am I? Your occasional make out buddy?”

You freeze. Okay. Yeah. That hurt a little. You forgot that Dave would probably be there. You guess now it's confirmed, though. About them.

Terezi sighs “Dave, he’s not as bad as you think he is”

“I swear to god if he comes in here and starts destroying all our good work, fucking knocking shit over like Godzilla. I'm gonna be pissed. The Mayor’s gonna be pissed. The people of cantown are definitely gonna be pissed. Gonna wanna seek revenge for their broken buildings and lost relatives and-”

“Do you ever fucking shut up?” You walk into the doorway, leaning against it and surveying all their hard work Dave is oh so worried about.

You honestly don't see what the big deal is. It doesn't even span the length of the whole room, just a small cluster in the middle.

“Karkat!” Terezi jumps up from her place on the floor and motions widely at the room “Welcome to cantown!”

“Yeah, and shipping charts are strictly illegal in cantown so keep that in mind or our police are gonna take your ass down.” Dave drawls, not bothering to stand. Terezi gives him a confused look that makes her mouth almost look like a question noodle.

Well at least he didn't tell her about that fucking fiasco. You want to throw some pretty damn vicious barbs his way but you can't. You'll have to deal with him for Terezi’s sake. Although you're admittedly pissed that she thought it would be an excellent idea to invite him to come along.

“I’m quaking in fear. Who's supposed to be the police again?” You ask dryly.

Terezi punches you hard in the shoulder and you glare at her, rubbing your shoulder.

“That would be me, young man. So don't go running your mouth off about the cops or I'll give you something to chew on!” She yells, power posing. You can't help it. You smile at her.

“Oh yeah? You're not so tough.” You pick up a stray piece of chalk and draw a middle finger on the floor and write “FUCK THE POLICE.”

Dave makes and idiotic “ooooooh” noises and says. “You're so gonna get it dude”

You roll your eyes at him and open your mouth to make another smug reply but before you can you're suddenly bruising your ass on the ground with the wind knocked out of you.

“What the fuck Terezi?” You wheeze.

She grins wickedly at you. “You're going to the slammer you for your filthy commentary on the justice system, as well as the vandalism of private property. The slammer is what you call jail when you're extra mad about crimes, by the way.”

“I know what the slammer is, loser. And what private property? You mean the concrete ten feet away from your little playtime village” you watch her, unable to keep the smile off your face even as you lay on the ground, head pounding slightly from the impact.

“Actually. That land was bought up by ambitious investors who intend to spread the beautiful reaches of Cantown which is what it's called by the way, jackass.” Dave speaks up, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

You feel pride swell in your chest. He's jealous. Mr. Perfect godtier is jealous of you. And holy shit do you love life right now.

“Well I guess I'm a dirty criminal, what are you gonna do about it?” You raise an eyebrow in challenge at him.

“Officer Strider!” Terezi points at Dave, who stands at attention.

“Yes sir?”

“The handcuffs”

“Oh fuck no” you say, a little jolt of panic running through you. Yeah, restraints? Metallic fucking restraints? Not your thing. No no no. You are so not being handcuffed in Terezi's kinky role playing game. No fucking way.

You start to try and struggle away when dave hands Terezi some pipe cleaners solemnly.

Oh.

Terezi smirks at you and you growl at her.

You're getting hate butterflies in your digestion sac.

She ties the pipe cleaners loosely around your wrists and you roll your eyes. “Oh no. I guess I'm going away for life! I’ve sure learned my lesson.”

She cackles at you and damn, you've missed that sound. She gets up and offers you a hand up, which you take, if only to not break the “cuffs.”

Dave clears his throat. “Sir, we've been unable to build a jail large enough for ilk of his size”

Terezi puts her fingers to her chin in contemplation, before proclaiming “We will build a jail around him!”

Dave grins and starts floating around to grab armfuls of cans and books from the corner. Show off.

“I'm gonna have to ask you to lay down again, criminal guy” Dave asks you very seriously.

You bite, lying down at their feet. “I guess I don't really have a choice now do I?”

Terezi giggles “Nope!”

You hold still as the two of them line up cans around your torso, then stack another row on top of those. Their “roof” is a bunch of books stacked haphazardly on top of you, and really, you're holding up the structure more than anything else.

Terezi stands up and turns away from you “Oh my. Wouldn't it be a shame if while I was conveniently turned around and surveying the noble city of cantown for those in need of more justice, something were to just... happen”

Dave gives a long suffering sigh “Oh fuck no. Rez, we literally just finished construction on that. It took the people of cantown two years to build!”

“It took you five minutes dipshit” you comment from your place on the ground.

“It took the people of cantown two years to build it” he repeats.

You roll your eyes, as Terezi ignores Dave completely, which admittedly makes something in your chest light up. “Wouldn't it just be awful if the prisoner would escape while my majestically judicial back were turned??”

You smirk and sit up, disturbing the books and sending them sliding into your lap and around your hips. You then stand, making a point to kick over all the cans, just to piss off Dave, who's frowning at you.

“Free at last. It's been a long wait of 25 sweeps” you start.

Dave interrupts you, mimicking your voice “You were in jail for five minutes”

You mimic him right back “A long wait of 25 sweeps” you clear your throat. “But I am free! And off to continue my reign of vandalism” you raise your hands above your head and break the pipe cleaner cuffs.

Terezi gasps. “Oh no, Karkat Vantas, the notorious Vandalism King, has escaped from his lifelong captivity. I can hardly remember when I brought the cretin to justice. It was so long ago!” She punches Dave’s shoulder and cackles. “You won't get away with this!”

“You'll never take me alive!” You throw the pipe cleaner at her.

It's Dave's turn to gasp “Oh shit dude. You just assaulted a cop. That's like. 29 million life sentences. You're under arrest mother fucker.”

You raise an eyebrow and grab a piece of chalk. Walking calmly up to him and making direct eye contact as you smear chalk dust across his cheek.

Terezi starts laughing her ass off as dave looks at you blankly, his stance defensive, like he's ready to fight. Bring it the fuck on, asshole.

Terezi sticks her fucking finger in your ear and you recoil because fuck no! That feels horrible.

“I’m going to be leaving now boys, I have a couple of things to attend to in my block. If you two decide to duke it out just make sure you don't destroy anything.”

She starts to walk away, and Dave calls after her “Yeah “things” in your room. Have fun jerking off to your weird fantasy of us doing alien hatemance fetish. This has been your ploy all along hasn't it?”

Terezi cackles as you gape at Dave in disbelief. He thinks he's even good enough for you to hate? As fucking if.

“Maybe it has been” she laughs, turning the corner and disappearing.

“Sometimes that girl can be pretty fucked up.” Dave muses, shrugging.

“You're the one who brought up blackrom between us, which is by the way, never gonna happen, and I'm not flattered.” You snap.

He makes a small scoffing noise. “Oh no. However will I recover from an offer I didn't make?”

“Just making absolutely sure. What with your constant human habit of quadrant hopping and flirting with practically everyone.”

“You're always talking about your alien squares at me. Chill about the goddamn squares. I dunno what the fuck Terezi is trying to do but honestly if she just wants to hang with you she should let me ollie out.”

“I couldn't agree more”

Dave pauses. “You know that she's...”

You roll your eyes and put a hand up to stop him. Though the fact that he's worried about it yet again makes your fucking day. “Not interested? Don't worry about me butting into your romantic clusterfuck, Strider. I might be an asshole, but I'm not that much of an asshole. She's still my friend though.”

“Huh. Alright. Cool. You do you then I guess.” He makes a vague hand motion, and then shoves his hands in his pockets and leaves.

You think that might be the least condescending thing he's ever said to you.

Chapter Text

“-And then she took my side! Over Dave's!! And I never thought that would happen again. And it was amazing. It felt amazing to take that smug bastard down a peg. And she finally let me in again.” You gush, your feet on either side of Gamzee’s hips so he can fuck with your sweater while you talk.

Gamzee matches your smile with a lazy one of his own. Today was a good day for him so you figured it would be safe to talk his ear off a little. “Aw man, I’m glad you've got yourself some dark interests all and swirling around from a wicked sis”

“What? Oh no. She's not interested. Trust me.” You feel your digestion sac sink a little despite yourself.

“I dunno bro, sounded in my hear ducts that you two had some motherfucking dark magics bouncing forth and backwards like” He suggests, tugging on your sleeve with a dopey smile you haven't seen in ages.

“No. I mean. I still like her. But even if she did feel that way it wouldn't work out.” You shrug.

He frowns, looking deeply confused “Why not, my brother?”

You avoid his gaze and confess to his shoulder “I kinda scared her away with my fucked up shit. I uh. I couldn't pick a god damn quadrant and she got freaked out. Still can't pick one. I dunno. Maybe it's just with her? I hope it's just with her.”

You take a peek at his face and you can't decide what he thinks of you now.

“I thought quadrants were your wicked shit?” He says after a few moments of processing.

“Well. They are. I mean. I don't know. They're supposed to be? No. They’re still my thing. I'm just a fucking desperate fool constantly. At least where Terezi is concerned. Maybe.” You sigh “I don't really have a concrete answer for you”

He frowns at you and pulls you closer so that your face is smushed into his chest.

“It's okay, Karbro. Ima sort this mess all out for you”

You don't really know what that means, but you nod and let him start fucking with your hair instead of your sweater.

“Just don't bother Terezi about my nonsense. She’s never gonna be interested. It's just my fucked up shit that I need to fix, alright?” You remind him.

“Sure mother fucking thing my brother. I'll just all in targeting my focus on my bestest bro”

You smile against his shirt, feeling warm and calm despite having your legs around someone's hips and thick ass arms closing you in. This is the first time in your life that you've been held without feeling trapped. You like that feeling. Trust.

Chapter Text

You messaged Gamzee today, but he hasn’t responded. That’s fine, you’ll just message Terezi.

You sip your coffee idly as you pull up trollian. You have a message notification. You hesitate, staring at the little black circle filled in and blinking near Rose’s handle.

You close trollian, sipping your coffee again. You don’t think you actually even like coffee. Your phone sits on the table, face up and demanding. You flip it over.

You hadn’t really noticed, but Rose and Kanaya have been doing a pretty okay job at making this place seem livable. You’ve started to relax a little. Sometimes you leave your sickle in your block when you go out. Not needing to be constantly on the defensive is a novelty that you’re not sure how to feel about.

The back of your phone is just as demanding as the front. Your hand reaches for it, but you end up just tapping your nails against the back of it. You’ve missed Rose. And Kanaya. It’s hard not to when they’ve made their mark literally everywhere in this place.

You lean back in your chair against the tasteful and admittedly comfortable pillow. It’s black and lacy, so that was probably Rose’s doing. The table in front of you is covered in a red patterned cloth. Kanaya. The rug under your feet is hard to identify as either or, but the texture is nice, especially when you curl your toes into it, trapping the fibers against your skin.

You grab your phone.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TT: Karkat

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is an idle troll!

TT: No kidding.

TT: I think you owe Kanaya an apology.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TT: Karkat, really now.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] blocked tentacleTherapist [TT]

This entire lab is suffocating.

You run away to your block like a coward but the guilt sinking in your gut follows you. You’re antsy. You want to do something. Go somewhere.

You debate messaging Terezi for all of two seconds because you don’t think you could deal with Dave’s shit right now.

Music. Music helps.

You struggle to remember where the fuck you put your ariculiar sound device, making a mess of your block in the process of trying to find where you’d hid them away, a swearing you’d remember where they were because past you never ceases to be a fucking idiot. You can hear the slight high pitched hum of the industrial lights above you and it feels like someone is running a cheese grater over your ears.

You finally find it and your fingers fumble in your haste to get it plugged in and play a song. Any song.

Iiiiiin Olive Sector Alternia, born and raised, on the hunting grounds is where I spent most of my-

You pause it, eyes wide. For a moment you let the silence drag on before you smile, huffing out short laugh. Then all of a sudden a wave of semi-hysterical mirth flows over you and you can’t stop laughing. You play the song again, shoving your phone in your pocket.

You close your eyes and start to move your hips to the beat, dancing in some semblance of a circle and letting everything fade away.

Now if you’d like to take a moment, just sit there sir, I’ll tell you how I became the best of the threshecutioners.

Chapter Text

The churning of thoughts in your head continues to be a problem. Whenever you close your eyes you can feel them pounding against your pan protector and giving you a fucking headache one thwack against bone at a time.

Stealing food for Gamzee has gotten a lot easier since you’ve stopped having to be subtle. You don’t eat as much as you used to, so it’s not nearly as obvious when you take entire meals at a time from the rations. You would be worried, but you figure if you’re exhausted and miserable either way, why waste time making and eating food. You don’t know why spreading grubsauce on a slice of grubloaf seems like such a gargantuan task to you now, but it’s better to just grab some human chips and be done with it. They’re all terrible, you can see why Strider likes them so much.

Once you’ve stocked your sylladex with food you hurry down the hallway. You’re itching to see Gamzee, anything to stop the ache in your chest that feels like your body is collapsing inward. You’re used to feeling like shit, but it hasn’t been like this in a while. Maybe you got too used to having too many friends.

You shoot Gamzee a quick message.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: ARE YOU UP FOR A LITTLE PALE TIME AND MORE FOOD?

CG: I’M FREE ALL NIGHT.

CG: OR DAY I GUESS SINCE, ALTHOUGH THE MINORITY ON THIS ROCK, THE HUMANS HAVE DECIDED WE MUST ACCOMMODATE THEIR SHIT MORE OFTEN THAN NOT.

CG: IT REALLY TUGS MY CHITINOUS APPENDAGE.

You hear a soft honk and nearly drop your phone. You’re not even close to your usual meeting spot. The next honk becomes louder.

CG: WHICH VENT?

Honk. BANG.

You proceed to shit yourself and reel around to see a vent cover at your feet and a hand protruding from the darkness, outstretched. You shake off your unnecessary adrenaline and grab the cover with one hand, Gamzee with the other. Your digestion sac flips unpleasantly witnessing the ease and speed with which Gamzee can pull you up and into the vents. You didn’t even have time to react much to help him out.

You fix the cover back on and reduce the light in the small space to mere slats. You thank whatever higher power is left that the vents are industrial sized or this would be considerably more difficult. Gamzee’s hands are in your hair before you even finish closing you both in. There’s a little flutter in your middle at that.

“Hey... you okay?” You turn to smile encouragingly at Gamzee and are met with his chest as you are immediately enveloped in a hug.

He doesn’t respond, he just holds you close, breathing raggedly. You nudge your head under his chin and let him feel your breath fanning over his skin, hushing him softly. You let him scratch his claws gently back and forth over your sweater as you gain confidence to make your next move. He’s putting himself in your hands. The ache in your chest has shifted to something slightly more positive.

You hold your breath, cup his face gently, and brush your thumb back and forth over his cheek. He leans further into you. You take your chance, tilting your head up and pressing a short kiss to his temple. Gamzee stiffens against you, and you immediately regret everything. You pushed too far too fast. This probably wasn’t even about him. Weren’t you feeling particularly shitty today? God, you’re so selfish, you’re so -

Gamzee’s lips brush your cheek. You immediately flush an ugly shade of red.

You want to pull him back to look at him. Make sure he’s okay. Maybe do a little deescalation before you make him uncomfortable.

But he keeps kissing you. On your cheek, on your jaw, on the bright red tips of your ears. You abruptly forget how to breathe as his chest rumbles with a low clicking noise. You can feel the vibrations all the way through you. His kisses are a little sloppy, random, like he’s not all there. It makes your bloodpusher pound uncomfortably against your chest like it’s trying to abandon ship.

Your hands fly to his hair, jittery, not sure what to do. You realize belatedly that holy shit, this is your first time. This intimacy. You’ve never had this with anyone. You didn’t think you’d ever have this.

A laugh bubbles up and out of you, sounding a bit too nervous, a little ragged. Ragged? Oh shit. The vibrations are coming from you too. He’s got one large hand in your hair and the other curled into a fist in your sweater. He drags his nails across your scalp and your eyes flutter shut. Fuck.

You feel your back hit the cold metal of the vent before you process that he’s pushing you backwards. In order to fit in the confined space he presses his full body weight on you.

That both calms and skyrockets your nerves. You’re pretty sure you’re shaking. God, you’re pathetic.

You think idly someone could hear you if they walk down the hall. You open your mouth to say something about that, but Gamzee chirps soothingly In your ear and you shudder. Holy shit. He continues to press little kisses to the side of your face, a little too wet, imprecise, imperfect. Like him. Like you.

He’s cradling your body against his like a rag doll. You’re suddenly struck with how small you are.

His aim slips and his lips brush the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat. Warmth flares in your middle like fire.

That was...

Shame coils unpleasantly in your throat. He kisses the crease between your eyebrows and you remind yourself to breathe. God, you selfish fuck, this is about him too.

You scritch at his scalp right behind his ear and lean up, kissing his cheek. His face darkens and he pushes your shoulders down easily. Your blood runs cold and you forget to breathe once again. He relaxes when you freeze and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Gamzee, I’m-“ you start but he puts his finger to your lips. You fall silent and he traces the contours of your lips for a moment, before brushing his fingertips over your eyelids to force them closed. You don’t dare open them, your pulse loud in your ears.

When you open your eyes again he’s gone.

Chapter Text

The one thing you absolutely refuse to accept is that after all you’ve been through, and all the people you’ve lost through your own personal fuck ups, is that you’re making the exact same mistake all over again. You hate your brain, you really do. You sigh, your hands pushing through the fake sopor slime, the gelatinous substance getting under your fingernails and trailing over your skin as you break it up with your movements. It’s thicker than it was on alternia. The effect is somewhat suffocating, but you absolutely refuse to switch to human sleeping platforms. Everyone else can abandon their culture if they want to, but you’re keeping your great empire alive in every way you can. The pads of your fingers make contact with your bare thighs. You expel a low breath and close your eyes, trying to will your pan to be scrapped of all thought so you can drift slowly down into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

Alas, the universe continuously seeks to punish you for the fact that you never should’ve existed in the first place. You think you heard Strider refer your sign as “cancer” once. Cancer. That’s your legacy, and earth wasn’t even aware of just how accurate that title was. It’s kind of a sick metaphor for your entire life: a persistent, malignus anomaly. You think a lot about how all of your bad decisions were literally essential to the survival of the timeline. Your take away from that is you’re destined to be useless and blundering. If you were competent and successful at literally anything, everyone would die.

You can’t really decide if that’s comforting or not. Your nails drag up and down your thighs slowly as you think about Gamzee. Obviously, this is another instance of your inadequacy being essential to the timeline. Just like it was with Terezi. Ultimately, your terrible, possessive, confused behavior is what drove her into the arms of Dave Strider and honestly? She seems happy.

You wonder what will finally drive Gamzee away, and where he will go. It scares you.

You feel the ghost of his fingers on your lips and a jolt runs down your spine at the intrusive thought. Your digestion sack flips and you feel like you’re going to be sick. You try anything and everything to distract yourself from this particular train of thought. You refuse to entertain it. It doesn’t deserve recognition. You’re being ridiculous.

Your brain helpfully supplies you with the memory you’ve been not thinking about (read: completely consumed by) for the past week. Gamzee’s lips on the corner of your mouth. Does that count as a first kiss? Your fingers curl against your skin as heat rushes to your face at the thought. Your first kiss can’t be with your moirail. You don’t kiss your moirail. It was an accident. A soft brush of an accident.

You shift forward and force your head under the slime for a few moments before resurfacing, shame curling hot tendrils in your gut. No. This is fucked up. You’re just making shit up and drawing pathetic connections in your head because you’re a sad little wriggler who will remain unkissed for the rest of his life. It makes sense that you’re bitter.

You sigh as the slime starts to dry on your face and lean your head back on your coon. You try again to sleep. Kanaya always said to count backwards from a hundred. It’s worth a shot. 100... 99... 98... 97...

Your mind drifts to half a sweep ago... or more now. You can’t really tell. Time has no relevance in this place anyways. You remember looking out over the sky from Terezi’s treehouse on her planet. You think Terezi’s planet came second to yours in gaudy color schemes. You remember the stark contrast between the bright pink petals hanging down over the window and flashing cerulean sky. It was perfect for her, you thought, fitting. Colorful, abrasive, yet beautiful. It hurt his eyes to look at it too long.

Where were you? 96... 95... 94... 93...

She grinned devilishly at you right before it happened. You were sitting against the wall as she made fun of you relentlessly, scribbling on her floor and making it a mess of chalky lines. You didn’t really think much of it. It wasn’t the first time you were alone with her. You spent a bunch of time on her planet on purpose. You don’t know what it was about her, but somehow she was easier to deal with than your other friends at the time. It was a bit jarring to go from zero in person interaction with anyone to 24/7 interaction with eleven very different people. You tried to introduce yourself to it slowly. You think Terezi knew, but she never said anything about it directly. You’ve always admired that about her.

92... 91... 90... 89...

Terezi threw her chalk after a pause in conversation, a determined glint in her eyes that made you distinctly uncomfortable. You remember making some comment about the mess she lived in, trying to redirect her attention somewhere else.

“The prosecution believes Mr. Vantas is, in legal terms, a cluckbeast!” She declared.

You tried to play it off like you were dismissive of her instead of ridiculously nervous about where this was going. She crawled towards you, spewing some of her roleplay garbage when you didn’t really process if you’re being honest, because you could sort of see down her shirt and you had absolutely zero idea how to respond to that. She brushed your messy bangs out of your face as you desperately tried to remember all that books and movies had taught you about kissing. You were drawing a huge blank, frozen, back straight against the wall. Embarrassment settles inside you even now, thinking back on it. She was always so much more capable than you were. More experienced. More confident.

89... 89... 88... 87...

She didn’t kiss you. She might’ve, if you weren’t such a cluckbeastshit about it. But she did duck her head and bury her nose in your neck, making you jump in surprise. You will always remember the press of her smile against your skin as she whispered in her gravelly voice.

“Do I have to do everything? You could just tell me, you know.”

Your words had died in your throat since the moment she made skin to skin contact with you. You had never done anything even remotely like this before. You had never even hugged someone.

She laughed lowly and reached up into your hair, grabbing a fistful and gently tilting your head back to lick a stripe up your neck, cackling at you. Her tongue was cool against your burning skin but it felt like hot flames licking down your spine and setting a fire at your core. You shiver even as you recall the event. She backed off almost as quickly as she had done it, spouting off about cherries, and having known it the whole time, and how you tasted, god. But you barely processed any of it, your pulse in your ears, half panicked and half aroused.

You think again about Gamzee’s fingers against your lips, and shift to press your thighs together under the slime.

This is not how it’s supposed to be.

You lean over the side of your coon and dry heave until your face turns a splotchy red, and it becomes apparent that nothing will quiet the agonizing buzzing in your chest.

Chapter Text

He hasn’t contacted you in a week and you’re getting antsy. You have to spend all of your time in the less populated areas of the meteor since you really can’t deal with the shitshow you made out of your relationship with Rose and Kanaya.

Ultimately, the unexplored labs and conference rooms and bunkers are disappointing. It’s all very uniform, bereft of individuality. You’ve taken to pulling the bunkers apart to see if anything was left behind. So far: a few wrappers and some spare change. You found one list. You have no idea what any of the words on the list mean, let alone what their relation is to each other, but you keep it in your pocket. You like the unfamiliar handwriting.

Most of the letters are short and spiky, but it seems as though someone else corrected it, because some items are crossed out and replaced with curly, thin letters. You wonder if they were close. Or maybe Curly was a superior and Spiky felt belittled by the constant corrections. You then check your palm husk and pray that someone has decided to deliver you from this absolute boredom. Chiefly Gamzee.

You find your inactive one sided chat with Gamzee in your otherwise barren trollian.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: HEY GAMZEE, YOU AROUND?

terminallyCapricious [TC] is an idle troll!

CG: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO HANG OUT TONIGHT.

terminallyCapricious [TC] is an idle troll!

CG: HEY BRO.

terminallyCapricious [TC] is an idle troll!

CG: ALRIGHT, JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU FEEL UP FOR IT.

terminallyCapricious [TC] is an idle troll!

CG: DUDE, IT’S BEEN A WEEK. ARE YOU OKAY? HONK AT ME SOMETIME?

terminallyCapricious [TC] is an idle troll!

Nothing. Figures.

Ping!

grimAuxiliatrx [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Nope.

You pocket your palm husk again, stubbornly staring at the wall as you tear yourself apart internally. You should just talk to her. You know you overreacted.

No. Actually. Fuck that. Gamzee says you forgive people too easily, and you probably do! She was out of line. Who is she to pale flirt with you when she knows you’re taken? No one appreciates your efforts to keep them all safe. To take care of Gamzee. Least of all Kanaya.

You kick over a tray table and listen to the satisfying metallic clatter as the various instruments bounce across the concrete floor. The satisfaction is short lived. You feel like a wriggler.

You’re about to reach into your pocket to at least see what she has to say to gage how mad you have to be at her when you hear fabric rustling behind you.

“Geez, did I just walk in on a patented Karkat Temper Tantrum?”

You barely stop yourself from instinctually chopping his fucking head off with your sickle. Your fingers twitch for it, but you merely spin around to face him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You spit, more venom than necessary.

“Am I not allowed to go where I damn please. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this place was owned by the great Lord... What the fuck was your last name again? Eh, let’s go with Lord ScreamsALot. How much of the meteor is under your jurisdiction, Milord? Shit, should I have been bowing this whole time? I always assumed when Terezi told me not to mention your shirt color it was cause grey was like... Embarrassing for whatever reason. But maybe I was wrong, is it like Voldemort? You’re not supposed to say you’re a grey blood cause you’re all powerful and scary on your planet. Is it because every fucking thing in here is grey? Do you like own all the grey shit now?” You have a feeling he would keep going forever if no one stopped him, like moving objects in space.

You’re a little pissed that Terezi even mentioned your mutation to him at all, but obviously she didn’t tell him anything else about it.

“Holy shit, your understanding of troll culture is abysmal at best! It was a simple fucking question, I didn’t sign up for your outlandish conclusion jumping. Do you ever breathe, or do you just have to wait for people to interrupt you?” You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a counter.

“Yes. Thank you Karkat, you’re a real lifesaver, I would have suffocated had you not interrupted me.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice that doesn’t quite translate to his face.

“It would’ve been a just death.” You roll your eyes. “And yes, Strider. I am royalty. I own all grey things. Give me your shoes, they’re mine now.”

“No can do, dude. These shoes were given to me by the literal universe. They are cosmically mine. You’ll just have to steal a different grey article of clothing I own to sniff before bed to feed your gay fantasies.” He pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.

Aw well. You were having a pleasant moment of mutual boredom with Dave Strider. It was fun while it lasted. Alas, arrogance once again rears its ugly head.

“Did you come here just to tell me you hope I think about you when I squeeze one out or was there some other purpose to your invasion of my empire?” You could have yelled him into submission, and honestly you’re surprised you didn’t. It just feels like a hell of a lot of effort, and with Gamzee awol, you have no one to talk about it with afterwards anyway.

“Squeeze?” He raises a delicate, pale eyebrow over his shades.

“I will start walking away.” You threaten.

Dave shrugs in this infuriatingly nonchalant way. “Had nothing to do. Happy accident I found you here, subjugating the shit out of pointy metal stick things. Keep those fuckers in line.”

You frown. “Wait. What about Terezi?”

You just barely see him stiffen a little before he relaxes so quickly you question if you saw anything at all. “What about her? I don’t keep tabs on her every movement, not sure how it worked when y’all were macking or whatever. She has a life outside of me dude, it’s called a healthy relationship.”

A flash of rage runs through you. What the fuck has she been telling him? And who does he think he is? You can’t fucking do this right now, you’re going to hit him. Oh, and it would be fantastic. Break his composure, catch him off guard. You’d give anything to see shock cross his face, even if he beat the shit out of you afterwards.

Instead you charge towards the doorway, straight through him.

“Get the fuck out of--” You don’t get to finish your sentence, or even shoulder check him, because before you process what’s happening your ass hits the floor with a smack.

You immediately raise up to your elbows, teeth bared ready to chew him out when you see the sword in your face. The blood drains from your face as panic floods your system, looking up at him and seeing nothing stare back at you.

You panic. Your sickle is in your hand before you have time to process it and you swing blindly at Dave’s sword.

You hear the crashing of metal against metal and your sickle flies across the room in your peripheral vision.

You don’t take your eyes off the sword in your face as your panic begins to rise. You’re going to die. Holy shit, you’re going to die. This is it.

The sad thing is: you don’t even really know if you’re surprised. Your body is definitely reacting in the way it’s supposed to. Your pulse roars in your ears and your legs twitch, ready to high tail out of there as fast as you can. But your mind? You feel... relieved?

At least it’s not the Empress.

Or Jack.

Or Gamzee.

But then you blink and he’s gone. Something heavy settles in your gut, and you refuse to call it disappointment. You don’t want to die. At least not actively.

A dark part of your mind whispers: but if something were to happen, you wouldn’t complain.

You push yourself up shakily from the floor and walk slowly in the direction you think you saw your sickle go.

You’d never go down without a fight, you think as something wet drips from your chin. You find your sickle. Return it to your specibus.

You wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve, sniffling wetly.

Besides, the dream bubbles would be way worse than this shit.

Best to put it off as long as possible.

Chapter Text

You can no longer explore the depths of the meteoric labs. Not since you scared the shit out of yourself when you got horribly and almost irrevocably lost a couple days ago. You got to the far edge of the basement sector of the building. You know this because after a certain point you could no longer walk forwards and were forced to turn down a random hallway. Since you’ve all collectively decided to live somewhere in the middle of this stupidly huge building, it took you forever to meander your way back to your block. And by forever you mean you were legitimately forced to sleep for a few hours in an abandoned barrak to ensure you didn’t just get yourself more lost with your exhausted fumbling.

Hence your new confinement to your block almost exclusively. You’re going to need to emerge for food soon. Your digestion sack has started trying to eat itself and no amount of binge drinking water will convince your body that you don’t need to eat food. It’s times like these you wish you actually made godtier. Unless being a useless shitwad recluse counts as a Just death. You think it just might, knowing your luck.

This is why you find yourself standing in front of your closed door, staring it down, trying to will yourself to open it.

You know you’re being ridiculous, it doesn’t matter if you run into someone in the nutrition block. You can just ignore them. It’ll be fine. You’ve been doing a great job at ignoring Kanaya over trollian. Can’t be that hard.

You fish your palm husk out of your jeans because you’re nothing if not a coward and a procrastinator.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] started trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: CAN YOU JUST LET ME KNOW THAT YOU DON’T NEED ME TO CRAWL THROUGH THE VENTS TO FIND YOU?

TC: :o(

CG: CAN I SEE YOU TODAY?

terminallyCapricious [TC] is an idle troll!

Yeah. Okay.

You take a deep breath in and wrench your door open, squaring your shoulders and walking with purpose towards the nutrition block. You try your level best to walk quietly, even monitoring your breathing, as if someone could sense you should you make the slightest noise. You ignore the pang in your blood pusher as you wander into more populated areas of the meteor, strewn with knitting, rugs, and tapestries.

When you cautiously round the corner to the nutrition block, you find it blissfully empty. You make short work of the cabinets, gathering several captcha cards full of non perishables. You figure if you want to avoid an unpleasant repetition of these events, you may as well get enough food for about two weeks. That’s probably long enough for you to get tired enough of your block to get lost again.

“Hey, when you finish with the cans, can you just slide them on over to the cantown border patrol to become certified citizens. Washing is appreciated but not mandatory.”

Your bloodpusher stops cold and you freeze, nearly dropping the cans you had gathered to captchalogue. You don’t know if it’s better to face Strider head on or not. On Alternia there were only two strategies to get out of a fight: intimidation or pity. Consolation was a rare, and difficult to achieve third option. Of course this only applied if you were a run of the mill gutterblood. For Karkat, the elusive and seldom successful fourth option appeared: ABSCOND.

You cannot abscond, however, because when you turn to do so you find your possible assailant standing in the doorway. You swallow, take in a slow breath, and try to calm your dizzying nerves.

You captchalogue your cans so your hands can appear empty and non threatening as you do in general.

“Yeah. Sure thing. Washed and ready to go.” You assent, keeping your eyes on him, shoulders raised to your ears, voice surprisingly steady.

Dave’s mouth tugs down into a miniscule frown and you struggle to think of what you could’ve done to displease him and how to make it right before he decided to dismember you.

“Appreciated.” He lets the two of you have a bit of a staredown in silence for a moment before stepping out of your way and letting you pass.

You have zero idea what he’s playing at but you jump at the opportunity to escape the situation, walking with quick strides towards the door. He calls after you before you’ve made it back down the hall.

“Hey Karkat.” Your feet stop you even as your mind screams for you to run. You don’t turn back to look at him. “I uh. You should come back to Cantown.”

The pure and utter wave of confusion that overtakes you is simply too much. You’ve not just been thrown for a loop you’ve been thrown for a whole god damned curly q. You spin around to look at him incredulously.

“What?” You ask a little too loudly before you can check yourself.

He shrugs, all feigned nonchalance. “It’s whatever if you don’t, but there’s been way too little for the police to do lately. A return of the notorious criminal Karkat LastName might spice up the narrative a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Okay. Um. Let me reiterate: what?”

He scuffs his shoe against the concrete. “You’re already going to be smuggling cans across the border. Perhaps you were reformed by the rough and tumble ways of the scientifically sterile tundra. The cockles of your deviant heart were thoroughly warmed by a charming little can orphan refugee. You then swore you would get the poor people of the pantry to a better place, even if it ended up sending you to one. You left Cantown as a vagrant and return a hero.”

“You don’t like me.” You almost say it to ground yourself in reality while Dave tries to spin you into wherever the fuck it is his broken pan lives.

“I don’t remember ever saying that out loud.”

“A sword to the face says a thousand words.”

He actually winces as though you’ve hit him at that. It strikes you how awkward it is to be having this conversation half a halls length away from each other. You don’t feel particularly motivated to rectify that yet. “You came at me, man. Not my fault you couldn’t take a tête à tête with a Strider.”

You consider this. In all fairness, you did intend to ram right into him like an asshole on your way out. You take a moment to picture him stomping towards you with angry intentions in his eyes. You might well have done the same as him.

“I’ll think about it.” You finally say before taking off back down the hall.

You don’t breathe again until you’re back in your block. Your palm husk chimes.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: Karkat I Wanted To Inform You Of My Remorse Concerning The Events That Conspired

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is an idle troll!

GA: Please Know That It Was Not My Intention To Belittle Your Relationship With Gamzee

GA: In Fact I Believe That A Moirallegiance is Good For You

GA: A Troll Your Age In General Is In Need Of Positive Companionship

GA: I Just

GA: Well

GA: Talk To Me Again When You Can

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: Karkat Its Been Quite A While

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is an idle troll!

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: Is That It Then

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is an idle troll!

GA: Are You Just Never Speaking To Me Again

GA: I Am Aware I Crossed A Line But I Am Not Sure The Crime Fits The Punishment In This Instance

GA: I Was Merely Attempting To Help Though Obviously Youre Not Susceptible To That At The Moment

GA: Or At Any Moment

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: Is He Putting You Up To This

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is an idle troll!

GA: Well

GA: Regardless I Do Think It Should Be Said

GA: I Dont Think Hes Good For You Karkat

GA: And I Know The Inappropriate Advances I Have Made May Have Severed Our Bond

GA: However I Still

GA: I Cannot Help But

GA: Take Care Of Yourself Karkat

GA: If You Would

GA: I Am Sorry

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Chapter Text

The thing about staying in your block all day is that you have to get creative very quickly. You’ve already memorized the patterns of water damage on your ceiling so well that you could probably recreate it on paper from memory. You can’t stop bouncing your leg. The space is so devoid of personality it’s a wonder anyone actually lives here, let alone has for over half a sweep. You really didn’t even try to call the meteor home, did you?

Currently, your eyes scan a page that you haven’t been reading for a while now. It’s a shame, the sexual tension between the romantic leads is coming to a head. You just can’t do it right now. If you read about one more bulge wriggling impudently or whatever, you’ll lose your shit.

You’re mostly thinking about Kanaya.

Your pan has been circling the idea of talking to her and not talking to her about a million times. You’ve reread her messages, picked apart her actions over this past sweep, tried to tease away your own personal bias which proved impossible.

You’ve typed the following in one degree or another, and then promptly deleted it without sending:

IF YOU’RE GONNA GO AROUND THROWING STONES IN YOUR GLASS HIVE ABOUT KILLING PEOPLE, BE MY GUEST, BUT MAYBE NEXT TIME DON’T DO IT IN YOUR APOLOGY.

WHEN DID IT BECOME YOUR JOB TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT IS AND ISN’T GOOD FOR ME. I’M A GROWN ASS TROLL AND I DON’T NEED YOU POLICING MY QUADRANTS. RETIRE THE DESIGNATED ASHEN COORDINATOR SHTICK, IT’S GETTING STALE.

MAYBE SOME OF YOU WOULD GET A BETTER FEEL OF THE SITUATION IF YOU, I DON’T KNOW, ACTUALLY SPOKE TO GAMZEE LIKE I DO INSTEAD OF MAKING HIM FEEL LIKE HE NEEDS TO HIDE AWAY IN THE VENTS LIKE A FUCKING CONVICT.

I KNOW MY RELATIONSHIP WITH GAMZEE ISN’T PERFECT BUT I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU DIDN’T LET YOUR OBVIOUS FEELINGS FOR ME CLOUD YOUR SERIOUSLY SHITHIVE JUDGEMENT.

I’VE MISSED YOU. IT’S BEEN HARD.

That last one surprised you a bit. Even after all this time, it often feels like another person is typing when you message anyone but Gamzee. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve spent so long trying to shut people out that you have no idea how to let them back in again. Or even what there is to be seen in there, besides the festering mass of regret and self loathing you’ve become as you’ve once again been forced into stagnation.

Sometimes you miss Alternia. Sometimes you don’t.

This isn’t that much of an upgrade, anyhow.

You stop yourself from bothering Gamzee again, obviously he’ll get back to you when he feels up to it. Pushing him isn’t doing you any favors.

You try reading again.

Zefron grasps desperately at Fereno’s back, his claws dragging raised blue lines over the hot expanse of flesh. He had never felt this way, so filled, so whole, so close. High pitched clicks escape him with the abandon of a rustblood given an inordinate sum of money as Fereno’s bulge works him in all the right ways.

All the right ways. What does that even mean? You captchalogue the book, leaning back against your dinky couch that you alchemized and dragged in here oh so long ago. It was lumpy and uncomfortable, kind of like you are.

As much as the idea of letting someone get that close terrifies you, there’s a part of you that wants to know what that feels like. What every dramatic metaphor and liturgic bit of prose is really getting at.

The thought makes your digestion sack twist painfully with the reminder that you will literally never get to know what that’s like and you probably wouldn’t enjoy it regardless of opportunity. The idea of anyone wanting to touch you with reverence is laughable.

You shove it down until you’re not thinking about it anymore. Except now you can’t even read. The helplessness of that thought makes you want to cry like a petulant wriggler.

You don’t.

You start walking to Cantown.

Chapter Text

On the way there you watch your sneakers hit the concrete resolutely, forcefully disconnected from the reality of your actions. You’re willingly going to hang out with Dave Strider. You never thought this day would come but hey, desperate times and all.

The realization that Dave Strider is your only option for company hits you like a comedic cartoon anvil and you want to turn the fuck around and walk back into your block to waste away.

But maybe Terezi will be there. Is that better or worse?

You do legitimately stop in the middle of the hallway to weigh your options like a dumbass. You stare at your shoes as if they could reveal the secrets of the universe. Are you really up to this right now? No, of course not. You’d barely even be up to socializing with Gamzee at this point, and he’s your goddamn moirail for Empress’ sake. But you know the alternative is more of the same, and you feel if you leave this angry, empty hole in your chest alone for much longer you’ll implode into a black hole, swallowing everything in your wake.

Even so, another day alone couldn’t hurt. You’ll hang around the Strider Pyrope combo team another time when you feel better about it.

Ding!

You flinch, reaching into your pocket for your palm husk hesitantly. You know it’s probably Kanaya, and you really don’t want it to be. But it could be Gamzee. Ding!

You turn it over in your hand slowly to reveal the screen, as if handling a dangerous animal ready to strike.

Ding!

Oh.

It’s worse than you thought.

FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 170 HOURS from RIGHT NOW opened memo on board “THE DAVE STRIDER PROBLEM.”

FCG: AS MUCH AS YOU AND I BOTH DESPISE FUTURE INTERVENTION AND THE GENERAL PATRONIZING ASSHATERY THAT ENSUES, I HAVE TO INSIST THAT YOU JUST BUCKLE DOWN AND LISTEN THIS TIME.

FCG: THE LESS YOU RESPOND THE EASIER THIS WILL BE.

FCG: I’M NOT GOING TO EXPLAIN THE CONTEXT BEHIND THIS KARKAT EX MACHINA HAPPENING RIGHT NOW, JUST KNOW THAT IT’S OBVIOUSLY IMPORTANT IF I WOULD SUBJECT MYSELF TO THIS GROSS PARODY OF COHERENT SELF COMMUNICATION WE’VE CREATED.

CURRENT carcinoGeneticist [CCG] from RIGHT NOW responded to memo

FCG: YOU’RE HERE, FANTASTIC. DON’T TYPE.

FCG: GO TO CANTOWN YOU MALNOURISHED SELF DEPRICATING FUCK.

FCG: AND TAKE A SHOWER! I’M GETTING WHIFFS OF YOUR RANK, DECOMPOSITIONAL BODY ODOR THROUGH THE CHANNELS OF SPACE TIME TELECOMMUNICATION!

FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] closed the memo

A little croak of laughter bubbles up and out of your throat. You’re pretty sure you just witnessed your version of being kind to yourself. Incredible.

You do a quick assessment of your body odor situation and yeah, future you is right. You don’t even have the energy to be pained by that, you just about face, heading back to your block not to curl into a ball and continue to sleep in your over three perigee old slime that’s starting to congeal around the edges, but to cleanse yourself.

You avoid looking at the mirror as you undress and step under the spray, only catching glimpses of yourself in your periphery. You run your fingers through your wet hair and you can feel the oils you’ve let build up over time. A curl of disgust in your gut makes you grab the shampoo and squeeze out a larger than necessary globber onto your palm, rubbing it relentlessly into your roots.

You spend longer in the cleansing trap than you intended to. You always do after long periods of greasification. When you step out the mirror is fogged up with steam. You allow yourself to stare at this distorted version of yourself, out of focus and soft around the edges. You can almost see it for a moment, a certain kernel of potential in your silhouette. You reach out and wipe a hole in the fog for your face to peer back at you with your usual hardened scowl falling back into place. You turn away and dry off.

You don’t bother letting your hair air dry. Not like you’re aiming to impress Dave of all people, and you’ve long since given up pretending you can impress Terezi. You do throw on a beanie though, just because.

You resume your walk to cantown, feeling a lot better about it. You’re a little disappointed in yourself for so readily grabbing the carrot of social fulfilment Future You dangled in front of you like a self important asshole, but it’s a backburner disappointment. In a very small pot, at a simmer. At least compared to your all consuming need to talk to someone who isn’t you.

You start to walk faster.

When you finally breach the doorway you are assaulted by an explosion of the original circle you had seen so long ago. There are colors everywhere, the ceiling is covered in shitty chalk clouds and airplanes and flapbeasts. You are admittedly impressed. Dave Strider is currently floating near the ceiling adding some more clouds to a blank corner.

Something tugs on your sweater and you look down, shoulders raised and fingers an inch away from summoning your sickle. Oh. It’s just that carapace guy. He gives you a cheerful wave makes a sweeping gesture with both of his little arms.

Your guard doesn’t drop. Appearances could be deceiving afterall. Nepeta looked like a harmless wriggler, but you saw her take down a giant imp using just her left hand because Sollux told her she couldn’t do it. Sugar cubes and blood everywhere. And so much shale.

You give the guy a curt nod and take a step into the block, dodging the painted welcome sign. You recognize Terezi’s handiwork there, with the wobbly, out of place letters and the fact that it actually says W3LCOM3 TO C4NTOWN.

You feel a little pang of jealousy. Maybe if you had been more proactive you could’ve been around here more with her, like he was. Seems like she’s fucked off for the moment though. You briefly consider running away again, but all chances of escape are dashed when Dave speaks.

“Hey Mayor? We’re running out of blue chalk up here in the NorthEastern Sky sector. You got some down there in your little dragon hoard or are we gonna have to call in reinforcements. And by reinforcements, I mean-” Dave stops dead when he sees you, eyebrows raising over his shades, but only for a moment. “Karkat.”

“Strider.” You acknowledge, feeling a little like you’re intruding on something, which is a steaming pile of hoofbeast excrement because he invited you.

Dave seems pulled out of his temporary astonishment and floats down towards you, his knees bent behind him and above the floor. You already regret coming.

“Been a long time since you’ve been around these parts, we’ve been working on some major expansion.” He informs you.

“Yeah I can see that. These are all empty cans, yeah? You’re not wasting our food on this shit.”

“First of all, I would gladly volunteer my entire ration of food for the duration of the trip to the construction of our good city. Hell, I would volunteer the rations of all the godtiers aboard this vessel and half the rations of the mortals shuffling around here were it necessary. Fortunately for you, I’m not a fucking idiot. We just create duplicates of empty cans at the alchemiter, as the reasonable people we are.” He drops to the ground with a nod to punctuate his point and crosses his arms over his chest.

“When you’ve witnessed the pandemonium that is hatched from people squirreling shit away in random chests and then stealing other people’s shit from other chests, and then coming to you all blotchy faced and crocodile teared like ‘Karkat, where oh where could my super important fiduspawn eggs have gone? I only left them in the one place they were guaranteed to be swiped out from under my snout,” you learn to expect the moronic.” You huff out a breath.

The corner of Dave’s mouth tilts up in amusement and he shrugs, falling back onto the air as if lounging on a sofa. You always forget how much you hate the nonchalance with which he uses his godtier powers, as if his goal was to shove it in the face of all who dare to bask in his conditionally immortal presence. “Yeah that checks out. Bet the Harleyberts would get up to all sorts of dumb shit like that when left to their own devices.”

You realize with a start that this is the first time you’ve talked about Tavros since it all went down. You have no idea how to feel about that.

You’ve been silent for too long apparently, because Dave decides to fill the silence immediately. “So do you want the tour?”

That was a rhetorical question, as it turns out, because the carapace guy perks up and grabs your sleeve to pull you further into the sprawling ocean of nutrition cylinders. You stiffen and stay right the fuck where you are because it has been more than a few solid days since someone has touched you kindly, and it’s been forever since a perfect stranger touched you so casually. The false Mayor seems to recognize this and drops your sleeve, pressing his fingers together and bowing his head shyly.

You throw a glance Davewards to see if you’ve fucked up irrevocably. He’s looking at you with the same expression he usually wears, but you can feel the intensity his gaze carries. You internally curl into the fetal position and remove your conscious from your body.

“Uh, yeah sure. Am I important enough to get one from the Mayor of this impressive city?” You indulge.

This fixes everything. The carapacian waves his arms around excitedly and gives sweeping gestures to various parts of the little model city while Dave narrates from above. All in all it’s not a bad way to kill a half hour.

You’re letting Dave drone on about the crime rate on the outskirts of town and how theft has become a real problem since the city is short staffed on officers of the law. ‘You see Karkat, Cantown expanded too quickly for its own good, so the resources ended up being localized to the oldest areas, and thus the property values of said areas increased, so there is very little organized governmental protection in the places that need it the most, blah blah blah.’

You never really had to think about that kind of stuff on Alternia. You didn’t have “officers of the law” so much as killer robots owned by the powerful. The more you learn about human culture the more confused your stance becomes on your own.

As Dave starts talking about gentrification and some currency called ‘Starbucks’ you let your eyes wander towards some weird grey lines disrupting the uniform outlines of streets between cans. You take a step back to look at the city blocks as a whole and your eyebrows raise of their own accord.

“Hang on,” you interrupt, startling Dave who seems to have forgotten you were still here, “did you seriously not even bother to erase the stupid shit I did last time I was here?”

“What, you mean your salacious graffiti? Fuck the police. Ain’t exactly an original statement, but bold nonetheless. Especially made in a time of a cop dominated Cantown. We had a fuckin’ revolutionary on our hands.” He sinks to your level, and you mean this literally, the caped douchebag.

“But you built over it anyway?” You ask.

“Life carries on, Karkat. That’s just the way it is.” Dave states solemnly. You admit to yourself in a quiet corner of your think pan that he’s very right.

Chapter Text

After you manage to drag yourself out of the slime and into the ablution trap in the morning, you are greeted by a message on your palm husk that doesn’t make you want to immediately tear your bloodpusher out of your thoracic cavity and grind it to a pulp. You have a message from turntechGodhead.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TG: a_thing.png

CG: IS THIS HOW IT’S GOING TO BE NOW?

CG: POORLY CRAFTED COMIC STRIPS IN LIEU OF A HELLO?

CG: I’D LIKE YOU TO TAKE A SECOND AND THINK ABOUT THE SIGNIFICANCE OF YOUR ACTIONS. WE ARE ALL CREATING SOCIETY ANEW, AND THE ONLY IMPRESSIONS OF ART THEY WILL HAVE COME FROM US.

CG: THIS IS JUST IRRESPONSIBLE.

CG: IF ANYTHING YOU SHOULD BE HONING WHAT LITTLE SKILL YOU POSSESS.

CG: ALTHOUGH SINCE YOU HAVE NO SKILL, JUST AN INKY BLACK VOID IN THE CENTER OF YOUR CRANIAL ARMOR, MAYBE LEAVE IT TO SOMEONE MORE SUITED TO THE TASK.

TG: honing my craft is exactly what im doing karkat

TG: just because you dont personally appreciate the inherent influences of the dada movement of the 1920s doesnt mean the bullshit art pricks of the new world wont

TG: theyll be analysing my brush strokes with reckless abandon

TG: writing their dissertation on the number of times i fried an image and the religious symbolism behind the numbers in relation to the message of the piece

TG: wait they wont have religion will they

TG: well i guess theyll have like

TG: consort religion

TG: or carapacian religion

TG: which is basically worshipping us anyways so my point still stands

CG: ARE YOU COGNIZANT OF HOW TERRIBLE IT WAS TO READ ALL THAT RAMBLING HOOFBEAST SHIT IN MY TROLLIAN WINDOW?

CG: WHY ARE YOU INTENT ON TORTURING ME IN ODDLY SPECIFIC AND DEVIOUSLY MORONIC WAYS?

TG: alright then smartass close the window

TG: go and work on your great works of “real art” in the meantime

TG: gotta give those future university trolls something to get their chompers around

TG: the future is in your hands karkat picasso

CG: OH GOD NO.

CG: MY ARTISTIC SKILLSET IS ONLY MARGINALLY BETTER THAN YOURS.

CG: MEANING I HAVE ZERO SKILLS.

TG: so what i have negative skills

CG: YES.

TG: well yknow youre doing something right when youve got people breathing down your neck telling you its shit

TG: thanks for being my first dedicated critic of those actually alive

TG: rose and john dont count theyve referenced my comics before and have since been forced to forfeit any valid complaints

You realize you’re smiling and immediately cut that shit right the fuck out. You gotta get that under control before you see Dave in person again, no way you’ll let him think you find him funny. That might just be the straw that breaks the humpbeast’s back for you.

Ding!

Your digestion sack plummets. You’ve never opened a chat faster in your entire life.

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TC: my fine brother

TC: I THINK WE BE NEEDING TO CHAT

TC: how about you

CG: YEAH MAN ABSOLUTELY. WHERE ARE YOU? I’LL COME TO YOU.

TC: BROTHER YOU KNOW WHERE I AM

TC: where im always seeming to be at

TC: :o)

You jerk in your desk chair when a honk sounds from the vent right above you. You try to calm your frayed nerves and remember everything you’ve ever read about pacifying. You have a feeling you should’ve gone looking for him way before this moment, even though he specifically asked you not to. He hasn’t been this bad in a while, and you remember too well the dreadful consequences of your negligence.

You climb up carefully on your desk and stare into the darkness of the vent; two reflective orbs floating in the void stare back. You press your fingers to the slats.

“Hold on,” you mutter, voice surprisingly calm and steady.

You manage to jimmy the screws loose with your claws and drop the vent onto the desk beside you, fumbling your way up into the vent. Gamzee doesn’t touch you, which is disconcerting. You wait for your eyes to adjust before reaching out slowly, fingers brushing his cheekbone. You notice his hair is back to the greasy, matted state it was in before you permanently closed that one ablution block for him. He looks gaunt, exhausted. You feel a pang of guilt, shuffling closer, concerned when he doesn’t react to your touch. You try not to see the brown at the corners of his mouth. You hope that all it means is he’s feeding himself.

“Hey... I’m here. What did you want to talk to me about?” you prompt gently. His eyes slide over your face, simultaneously sharp, yet distant.

“You been paling round with that blasphemous mother fucker?” he says darkly.

“What?” Is he seriously upset about Dave? You did not expect this to be the battle you were fighting with him today.

“Back up.” Gamzee commands.

“What?” You repeat numbly, confused by the sudden topic change. You retract your hand from his face.

“I said back the fuck up. Get yourself up and out of my own way, my bleached diamond.”

Something in his tone makes you almost fall out of the vent in your haste, scrambling down to your respite block’s floor. He follows, slow, deliberate in his movements, unflinching when he steps directly onto the vent cover. It’s an intimidating image, seeing Gamzee finally standing at his full height in proper lighting. Nocturnal vision only takes you so far, and you had failed to perceive in the darkness of the vent just how ragged he has become.

A shock of terror rolls down your posture pole as he towers over you. You do indeed back the fuck up even futher, until the abrupt feeling of your back hitting your coon shocks you back into your body.

“Hey, Gamzee.” You start, your voice shaking slightly. You swallow and start again. “What is this really about? Talk to me. Let’s sit down, yeah?”

This was a mistake.

“YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS REALLY ABOUT CAUSE I ALL UP AND DONE TOLD YOU ALREADY.” He roars.

You shrink into yourself. “Yeah. No. Course. Sit with me?”

“I’m not wanting to get my sit on.”

You nod, your hands in the air, the universal sign of surrender. You steel yourself, taking a hesitant step towards him. “Yep. It’s about Dave.” Gamzee growls lowly at his name; you’re quick to amend yourself. “--Strider. I get it. Come here, let’s talk about it.”

“I’m not all in sure that you’ve got your understanding, pallid grubling.”

“Help me understand.” You’ve reached him now. You slowly reach forwards, curling your fingers in his shirt and tugging gently at the fabric, trying desperately to ground him. You hush him softly, pleadingly.

Gamzee’s eye twitches, and there’s a noticeable shift in his gaze, a softening around the edges. He crumples like a marionette with cut strings, crashing into you and pulling you to him with his large arms shut around you. You get a facefull of his shirt and breathe in his rancid scent, wrinkling your nose. It sits thick in the back of your throat as you try to subtly breathe through your mouth. It tastes like death.

“I can’t do nothing right, Karkat.” He wheezes. You think he might be crying now, but you’re still shaking from the rush of having Gamzee in your block for the first time in such a state, so you can’t be sure.

You hush him again, tilting your forehead against his chest. “Yes you can...”

“What do you need from me, my sallow darling?”

You’re caught completely off guard by that, “what?”

“I know I’m not occupying your vicinity much these nights, I’ve been reconciling in my own self about the universality of it all. And look here, I’ve up and driven you into the arms of a blasphemer. I’ve allowed you to be in a bad way is the long short of it all.” He squeezes you closer again, forcing another lungful of his fetid smell.

Guilt consumes you, manifesting in a hard lump in your throat. You can’t speak for a moment as you try to process his confession. You think you might cry for a moment, taking in a dizzying breath.

“No.” You manage, swallowing hard. “No. I’m the one who can’t do anything right. I’ve left you on your own when keeping you company is literally the one thing I’m supposed to do around here. I’ve-”

Gamzee lets out a pained chirp and twists a hand into your hair; you fall silent immediately, a spike of adrenaline coursing through your already shot nerves. “My brother you can’t all up and blame yourself. I didn’t save you from impurity. You were tempted away from me, and I didn’t do nothing about it.”

Your brow furrows at that statement. “I wasn’t tempted away from you.”

He doesn’t respond but for another stuttering chirp. You repeat yourself, tugging on his shirt to affirm your sentiment, “Gamzee, I wasn’t. I’m still here.”

“It’s just hard, sugar grub. All these thoughts swirling their mother fucking legs off round my rotted pan, slipping through the holes, when they’re there. It’s always shifting. All up and proselytizing me onto some new shit, but the new shit was really the old mother fucking shit this all long.” He mutters into your hair.

You try to understand him when he gets like this, you really do, but his religious fervor has always gone somewhat over your head. You settle for hushing him and shimmying your arms out from between your chests to wrap around his back, rubbing soothing circles.

Gamzee starts to click against you, sending vibrations through your thoracic cavity. “And then I see you with that motherfucking HERETIC, AND I JUST ALL UP AND... and...” He shudders, his arms tightening around you as he steps forward.

You stumble back, surprised feet trying to keep up with his longer strides. He scoops you up with a sweep of his arm and props you on top of your coon. You scramble to grip the purple rim of the opening so you don’t fall right the fuck into the fake slime. Gamzee sinks to his knees in front of you, still coming up to about chest level and he drops his head into your lap, arms wrapping around your hips as he shakes, chirps rolling out of him like hiccups.

You slowly lift your hands from your coon, both as to not startle the giant purpleblood between your legs and to ensure you can balance from where you’ve been seated. Gamzee’s weight effectively pins you down to the otherwise precarious perch. You push your hands into his greasy hair hesitantly, remembering the range of mixed reactions you’ve gotten to reciprocations. He responds by twisting his neck to press up into your hands, his nose buried in your sweater just barely brushing the waistline of your jeans, surprising a startled chirp out of you.

Gamzee seems to take this as encouragement, because while you’re still recovering from the tremors of shock and waves of pulsating heat wracking your body he tilts his head up and presses kisses to your abdomen through the thick woolen fabric.

Clicks resound loudly from your throat as your eyes widen, hands tightening in his hair. You forget how to breathe, leg twitching without your permission, and feelings curling in your gut that you did not want to be there, that cannot be there in this context. Your hands drop down to Gamzee’s shoulders and you give him a soft shove, dropping from your pedestal down into his arms.

For a single, terrifying, frozen moment, you think Gamzee might be offended. The last thing you want to do is hurt him because of your bullshit. You knew you would manage to ruin even this with your disgusting, needy impulses. You just can’t help yourself can you? Your stomach rolls, threatening to spill over onto Gamzee’s shirt.

But he just adjusts his arms, rubbing your back as you gasp for air, suddenly in control of your respiratory system. He shushes you as you let your shame drain from your pores and you try not to cry as you choke on the death hanging around you.

Chapter Text

You’ve taken to walking long stretches of the meteor again. You alchemized a piece of chalk to leave marks on every corner you turn so you won’t get lost.

You don’t really know what you’re looking for. It’s not quiet, you have had far too much of that in your lifetime. You’re usually plugged into your palm husk, playing the same thirty songs you had ripped from grubtube over and over and over again. It amazes you just how little media you all thought to preserve before your culture was decimated.

Sometimes, in the odd moments of absolute insanity, you miss your hive. The cold concrete of the meteor kind of reminds you of home. Maybe that’s why you never bothered to slap some paint up in your block like the others did. You hardly see the point of making your mark on a place you’re just going to abandon in a sweep. Did you ever make your mark anywhere? You try to sift through your memory and think of a time when you felt like you owned a place. That it was yours entirely, not just a space you were passing through. Not even your own planet, tailor made for you specifically by the game, felt like anything more than a joke. Most of your experience in the game felt like nothing more than a joke.

You didn’t realize you were avoiding Dave until you caught a glimpse of him around the corner when you made your weekly appearance in the common block for another cup of not coffee. You freeze up, holding your breath and for a terrifying moment you think he saw you. Your feet carry you away faster than you can comprehend why.

You lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath and clear your head. Your sweater sticks to your back in a cold sweat and you slide down the wall to sit with your legs curled up to your chest. Making yourself smaller has always made you feel safer.

You pull out your palm husk and hold it close to you, skimming over the messages Dave left you these past few days.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TG: a_thing_two_electric_boogaloo.png

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is an idle troll!

TG: yeah figures

TG: dont worry tho im only exposing you to art that will define a generation

TG: no biggie

TG: gotta say you really inflated my self importance when you pointed out to me the gravity of my sick comics

TG: thats all on you

TG: were like the founding fathers of the new world

TG: the vincent vantas to my

TG: uh

TG: i dunno was there an art guy with like schnyder as a last name

TG: ill have to ask rose

TG: anyways later

TG: wait so youve awakened something in me

TG: im very afraid dude

TG: wtf are we gonna do

TG: roses dense fucking monster books are going to be staple of literature as the new world knows it

TG: and like

TG: fucking everything came from books man

TG: like writing in general

TG: stories

TG: or did everything come from theater

TG: didnt theater come from religious sacrifices and festivals and stuff

TG: like oh shit you know what zebediah

TG: those sick dance moves youre pullin

TG: those delirious mother fucking chants

TG: that dope storyline

TG: we could really make something out of this

TG: then good old zeb was all BURN HERETIC

TG: the point being imagine that

TG: except rose wrote the bible

TG: do trolls have a bible

TG: i know youve got your kind of hilarious clown religion but only the resident vent dweller really practices it

TG: i was just wondering if there really was a troll equivalent to jegus

TG: some big man everyone raves about and tries to decide what the fuck he meant by all the shit he said thousands of years later

TG: oh god is that gonna happen to us

TG: haha imagine someone trying to piece together my blog posts from 2005 as some reality altering gospel

TG: actually you know what im back to being super chill about the whole we define society and culture

TG: imagine me leaning back all smooth and unaffected giving a stoic nod towards the future

TG: the smiling faces of strange human troll hybrid children reflected in my shades

TG: where do these little mother fuckers come from

TG: science dude

TG: science

TG: and also like probably us

TG: who would even have kids out of all of us

TG: maybe john

TG: i could see him doing the dad thing

TG: this is a weird train of thought and im derailing it to save us both our sanity

TG: im in cantown rn

TG: jsyk

You survey the last few days of messages with guilt hanging heavy in your mind, but when you think about responding to him you just feel so tired. The sort of fatigue that makes you want to curl up in your block and lay on the couch, not sleeping but staring into space and letting your thoughts string you along until your tears leak into your hair.

It always gets like this when you stop answering messages. You were never meant to be a completely independent person. You need people, despite how much you resent that fact. The truth of the matter is: you can’t be left in your own company. You never learned how to talk to yourself and keep the conversation light. It always leads down well worn paths that only succeed in making you miserable.

Actually. Fuck this. You’re not going to lay down and take this like the sniveling wriggler you’ve been these past few days. You’ve got shit you could be doing. Your pan doesn’t need your active support in the production of misery, it’s proven to be quite efficient at that all on its own.

You start a chat on trollian.

CG: HEY KANAYA.

--

Okay so of course she doesn’t answer right away. That’s fine. That’s cool. She’s probably hanging out with Rose. She’s a busy woman, she’s always up to something. Also you maybe could have sent more than just “hey” at her, but too much time has passed now and the timestamps will be different and it’ll look like an obvious plea for her forgiveness.

Are you not asking for her forgiveness?

No, you decide. What she did was shitty and overbearing and you don’t need to apologize. You only ignored her for about...

You scroll up to the timestamp of her last message to you.

Three perigees.

Fuck.

--

Why the fuck did you even try contacting her in the first place? All it did was serve to make you twitchy and anxious. What, do you miss her? Fucking pathetic. Obviously she doesn’t give a shit about you now, and rightfully so.

You check for the fourth time tonight that your palm husk isn’t actually on silent. It’s not.

You captchalogue the book that you weren’t reading, but pretending to read so you weren’t just sitting alone in your block waiting for her like a weak fucking wriggler. Yeah, you’re going to call it a night, it’s late. Or at least it feels like it is. You let out a long breath, stripping down to your bare ass, resolving not to think about Kanaya for the rest of the night. You pause before you get in your coon, looking down at yourself, disgust rolling through you at the hum under your skin, the restless need. It’s established that you can’t handle being touched, but your body insists on arguing that point ad nauseum.

You squeeze your eyes shut and rub them hard until you see black spots bloom behind your eyelids and everything is blurry for a moment when you open them. You step into your coon, grimacing at the way the slime sliding against your skin makes you feel. You shove your head under the surface, trying to enjoy the silence.

Unfortunately the silence doesn’t extend to your head.

You don’t know where to put your hands, lest you encourage your body to betray you as it has so many times before. As it has your whole life, pushing your blood through your veins, compelling you to survive despite making that as hard as it possibly could for you.

You think of Gamzee’s nose against your stomach through your sweater and your heart sinks as a shiver runs through you.

No.

You get the fuck up because clearly, sleep isn’t a thing that’s happening for you tonight. You don’t even bother to hop into the trap, just grabbing a used towel from the hamper and wiping yourself off half heartedly in your haste to get your clothes back the fuck on. Images of Gamzee’s lips against your bare skin, against your thighs, head of wild hair between your legs flash through your pan without your permission and your stomach twists. You pull your sweater back over your head and down as far as it’ll go. The scratch of the thick fabric against your damp skin doesn’t bring you as much comfort as you thought it would. You still disgust yourself clothed as much as you do naked.

You wonder if you’re just irrevocably fucked up. That must be it. Your mind can’t help but sabotage you and fill your head with unspeakable perversions. You think about the brown blood at the corners of Gamzee’s mouth. You think about your thighs smeared with the blood of a boy who never learned how to properly keep his head down.

You throw open your door and just start fucking walking. Maybe if you walk fast enough you can escape your thoughts. Your feet hit a transportalizer with no particular destination in mind and there’s that fuzz, that moment of relief from being trapped in your own body, before you’ve manifested and oh. You’re on the roof.

You don’t come up here often for a number of reasons. It’s not like you have a rich plethora of great memories associated with this place. It’s where you and Gamzee became official. You guess.

All that means is it was where you stepped up too little too late. You still remember how Sollux’s limp body looked, mouth gushing mustard. That was before he fucked off and left you in the aftermath. Whatever. It’s not like you were under any delusions that you might’ve meant something to him. What’s a few near death experiences between friends?

Not much apparently.

It still hurts to think about him. He was usually the first person you’d talk to when you managed to pull yourself out of your coon in the evening, and he was definitely the one you’d argue with into the lighter hours of the night. You’d fall asleep thinking of ways to blow up his husktop remotely. And sure maybe the thought occurred once or twice that he had as much reason as you to want to run away.

In the deep, treacherous corners of your pan that knew you’d never be a good enough threshie to escape your fate. That knew happy endings only happened for fictional olive blooded Will Smith characters. That’s where you’d stow away your pathetic escape plans. Just you and him, and maybe (embarrassingly) Terezi in this fantasy world where you convinced her to leave everything behind. Hurtling through space. Onto new horizons.

Well here you are. Hurtling. Past you is such a fucking moron.

It takes you longer than you’d like (you’ve already stepped off the transportalizer and taken several steps onto the roof) to notice that you’re not alone. The sight of those two sharp horns make you freeze mid step. Only a few weeks ago you would’ve given anything to be in this position, but now you get the distinct feeling that you shouldn’t be here. You take a slow step back, hoping against hope that she can’t hear your cowardly retreat, or she spares your pride and pretends that she can’t. In any case, hope does jack shit for you.

“You can come sit next to me.” She says quietly. You stop again, caught between Terezi, beautiful, complicated, larger than life Terezi, and escaping the experience of having yet another one of your failures thrown in your face tonight.

You find yourself parking your ass on the edge of the building with your legs hanging suspended in the air. You figure if Terezi has anything she feels the need to throw in your face she’s completely justified in doing so. Also you missed her.

“Hi.” You look at her sheepishly, trying to come off apologetic. For what you don’t know. Interrupting her? Dating her? Everything?

“What does it look like out there?” She asks without facing you, nose wrinkled and focusing intently on the horizon.

“The bubbles?” You take a glance out into paradox space, at the slowly approaching memories.

“They’re too far away to really smell. It’s just a few blurry patches of color and... void.” Terezi muses, leaning back against her hands to better turn her nose towards the sky.

You recognize the olive branch for what it is and really take a good look at the expansive void in front of you, mustering all the purple prose you’ve ever read in any shitty romance novel.

“Well,” you start, choosing your words carefully. “They really do look like bubbles. Giant ones out in the distance. Everything around it is just... black isn’t the right word. Think black but in it’s darkest and deepest form. It’s almost like it’s drawing you in. And the dream bubbles glow in front of that backdrop in different colors. If you look closely you can almost see the shifting memories, but it hurts your ganderbulbs if you think about it too much. Maybe it’s a time thing?”

“Time doesn’t exist here.”

“Right, yeah.”

You look down at your shoes, no socks, your bare ankles look as odd as your feet feel without that layer of separation. You have the sudden urge to kick them off the side of the building and watch them bounce off the ground.

It’s kind of thrilling sitting this close to the edge. One step removed from destruction. Controlled danger.

You look up at Terezi before you can entertain anymore of that train of thought. She’s staring at you now. Or as near to staring as she can get, which is pretty damn close. She looks... off. This is not how you’re used to seeing her. She holds herself differently now, her shoulders not quite as high as they usually are, her lips not turned up slightly with that ever present amusement. She reminds you a little of a deflated balloon.

Something inside you breaks for her, even though you know she would think that wasn’t your right anymore. It probably isn’t.

You’re just about to give in to your compulsion to talk at her until you fix it. Maybe if you say the right words in the right order she’ll smile again. Whatever’s plaguing her will go away.

Thank god she speaks before you do. “If I ask you to take some jetpacks for a test run with me, are you going to be weird about it?”

“I– weird?” You question, shoulders raised, slipping into your old defensive posture as easy as breathing.

“Don’t tear your sheathe over it, I’m just asking if we can hang out without it being an invitation to further debauchery.”

You stand down, the fight draining out of you as quickly as it came. Yeah, that’s fair. “Oh. No. No, no. We’re good. Only strictly platonic debauchery. Listen... I’m really sor–”

Terezi pushes the heel of her hand against your forehead to get you to shut up, effectively knocking your head back. “Nope! It’s jetpack time, not Karkat’s silly monologue about lame hoofbeasts that have been long beaten to death by our conversational frond nubs time. Get your tiny ass up.”

Terezi jumps up and kicks you sharply in the ribs. You curse and hurry to stand before she can continue to prod you with her feet.

“Call me tiny again and you’ll eat your words, Pyrope.” You call after her as she takes off running towards the center of the roof and starts decaptchaloguing her jetpacks, all of which look dangerous as fuck. You distantly hope you’re not going to break your neck tonight.

“There’s our fearless leader!” She quips back.

Unbeknownst to you, back in the darkness of your block, your palmhusk chimes repeatedly as the messages pour in.

Chapter Text

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

CG: HEY KANAYA.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] is an idle troll!

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: So I Suppose That Is All I Am Getting

GA: Very Well

GA: Hey Karkat

GA: If That Is Indeed Still What You Go By These Days

GA: I Would Of Course Have No Idea

GA: I Trust That You Are Alive And Not Rotting Away In Some Deep Corner Of An Abandoned Lab

GA: Although Who Am I To Say

GA: That Message Could Have Been From Anyone

GA: You Could Still Well Be Rotting Away And Simply Neglected To Give Your Palmhusk A Sufficient Password

carcinoGeneticist [CG] is an idle troll!

GA: Incredible

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

CG: I JUST GOT THESE, SO

CG: THAT TENDS TO BE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU REPLY TWO HOURS LATER.

GA: You Are In No Position To Lecture Me About Tardiness

CG: I KNOW.

GA: Do You

GA: Because I Have Been Watching The Food Rations To Ensure You Were Still Alive

GA: These Are The Lengths I Had To Go To Because You Refused To Engage In What Little Is Left Of Society

CG: CLEARLY YOU WEREN’T THAT OUT OF YOUR MIND IF YOU DIDN’T THINK TO KNOCK ON MY DOOR.

CG: WHY ARE YOU FIXATING ON MY DYING LIKE THAT’S A MAJOR CONCERN RIGHT NOW? I THINK YOU’D KNOW IF SOME DRASTIC EVENT FUCKED US ALL SIDEWAYS AND THREW MY SAFETY INTO QUESTION.

GA: Somehow I Had My Doubts You Would Bother To Answer

GA: I Do Wonder Whatever Could Have Given Me That Impression

GA: Silly Me

CG: AM I NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE A BREAK FROM EVERYONE?

GA: Not Everyone

CG: TEREZI AND I JUST HUNG OUT THE ONE TIME AND THAT WAS ENTIRELY BY ACCIDENT.

GA: I Wasnt Talking About Terezi But Its Nice To Know It Is Specifically Rose Dave and I You Are Avoiding

CG: DAVE SAID SOMETHING TO YOU?

GA: He Mightve Mumbled Something To The Effect Of “disappearing vantas pulling a chris angel and mind freaking all of us”

GA: Chris Angel Is Apparently A Magician And His Stunts Are On A Similar Level Of Fakey Fake Hoofbeast Shit As Your Consistency

CG: I WOULD GO DARK FOR PERIGEES AT A TIME BACK ON ALTERNIA. HOW IS THIS SUDDENLY ANY DIFFERENT?

GA: Because This Is No Longer A Choice You Are Making For Your Survival And Yet The Stakes Against Your Life Are Still Quite High

CG: HOW? WHAT IS THIS AMBIGUOUS THREAT?

GA: You Know What I Mean Karkat

CG: JUST SAY GAMZEE.

GA: Fine

GA: Gamzee Could Become Dangerous Again

CG: ONLY IF I’M A SHIT MOIRAIL SO THANKS FOR THE CONFIDENCE.

GA: Thats Not What Im Saying

CG: NO, YOU’RE SAYING WE SHOULD KILL HIM. FORGIVE ME IF I’M NOT SUPER JAZZED ABOUT THAT IDEA.

CG: HAVE YOU EVER STOPPED TO CONSIDER THE PERSON ACTIVELY TRYING TO KILL PEOPLE ON THIS ROCK IS YOU?

GA: This Is Going Nowhere

CG: NO SHIT.

GA: Perhaps We Should Just Leave It

CG: YEAH, MAYBE.

GA: Well

GA: Alright Then

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

The pixels on your shitty palm husk mock you. It’s too quiet in this block. In this sort of quiet where you half expect the silence to be interrupted by scuttling downstairs. Maybe the droning cries of the undead. Or the whirring of drones, drilling into your skull through your temples, compelling you to run.

You’re empty.

Ding!

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: But For Fucks Sake Come And Go As You Please

GA: Were Far Too Old For This Nonsense

GA: We Promise Not To Engage You Beyond A Curt Nod If You Promise Not To Waste Away In Your Block For Our Benefit

GA: Its Exhausting

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

You need to get out of here.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: WHERE ARE YOU?

TC: the usual corners

CG: SHOULD I COME TO YOU?

TC: :o)

There isn’t a response after that, so you take it as a yes.

You hardly register crawling through the vents as odd or claustrophobic anymore. It’s become a desperate crawl towards salvation more often than not these days. You need him, which of course isn’t fair. He’s dealing with enough already, he doesn’t need to be burdened with your tendency to leech your romantic attachments dry. You just need the humming to stop. The silent vibration in your chest. The lingering fear and discomfort that sits like ashes in your mouth.

You need it to stop.

Pressing your back against Gamzee’s chest helps. You lean your head against his shoulder, ignoring the smell on his breath. Sticky sweet like rotting fruit. He wraps his arms around your waist and you’re okay. You can finally breathe. He’s quiet today. The dead sort of silence that’s come as sort of a relief for you (as guilty as that makes you feel). You know what to do with silence.

You breathe with him as the dingey atmosphere settles into your skin and you can’t smell Gamzee anymore. You close your eyes.

You failed to realize what a flagrant gesture of trust and submission you made until you felt warm breath fanning over your skin, no place to escape now that Gamzee’s buried his nose into the soft part of your neck where it meets your shoulder. Your eyes fly open as you feel his mouth twist into a smile against your skin.

“You’re so warm, sugargrub. It’s some righteous adorable mother fucking blasphemy under your skin.” Gamzee mutters, and you feel the deep vibrations of his voice in your bones.

It’s a wonder you can hear him over your pulse racing in your ears.

You hold perfectly still. Your pan attempts to process how the fuck to respond to that, how do you want to respond to that? Gamzee’s fingertips brush against your bare skin, pushing the boundary your sweater creates aside like it’s nothing and you jump, dropping your head and meeting the resistance of his arms, holding you there, back against his chest. You’re so small.

“Gamzee–” Even your voice is small. The hum under your skin, the blasphemy he speaks of, rattles your insides and leaves you brittle. Hollow. Breakable.

Gamzee pushes your chin up, forcing your head back against his shoulder as he hushes you. You don’t fight it, trying sincerely to let him soothe you.

“Wound up like a mother fucking carosel, my fine brother. Why don’t we up and respirate this bitch?” He coos, sliding a hand under your sweater and against your stomach. He breathes in deep, expelling the air against your jaw now. You drown in his air.

He repeats the motion, nudging at your stomach a little, and it occurs to you that he wants you to breathe with him.

Your head spins but you let him lead, breathing with him, his hand a cold anchor on your burning skin.

“Don’t up and worry your little head, sugargrub. You will be forgiven.”

Chapter Text

You’ve been thinking a lot recently about how you should be dead.

It’s not as bleak and concerning as it seems outright. If you had any remaining friends that it would be remotely appropriate to voice these thoughts to, you know the immediate conclusion drawn would be that you’ve become suicidal. This is false. The fact that you’re still kicking is not only an affront to those you have outlived, it’s also a fucking miracle. You’re not about to waste it.

You are well aware that you could have died a million times over already. You can’t count the times you had to haul ass out of your recuperacoon, still covered in slime, tripping downstairs to hide at the sound of drones overhead. Can’t count the times some twisted abomination with your lusus’s face nearly impaled you on one of its spidery limbs. Can’t fathom the fact that you didn’t do more when your friends murdered each other. Didn’t step in. Didn’t lay your life on the line until it was too late. Didn’t anticipate.

All things considered: you’re not godtier, you’re not a master warrior, and you’ve successfully isolated yourself from over half your remaining peer group. If you’re merely a player in a grander narrative for the creation of a universe, if the survivors of this game are meant to be gods shepherding a new civilization into existence, why the fuck are you still here?

As the date of the meteor landing closes in, the question weighs more and more on your mind.

Gamzee shifts in his sleep, his arms tightening around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest. You’ve been sleeping in the vents with him. Well, less sleeping and more letting him sleep while you spend the night pondering your mortality and other thought patterns that go nowhere.

It’s been a while since you’ve slept, actually. You thought Gamzee’s presence might help but you’re so attuned to his every movement against you that you can’t relax. You’re starting to think something is fundamentally broken about you that you can’t touch your own moirail without your bloodpusher trying to break its way out of your thorax. Maybe it was living in isolation or just a fun new quirk of your mutation yet undiscovered, but you’re unfit for any form of romance. Incapable of being an adequate quadrant partner.

But no one else will have him.

Before the guilt at that thought can begin to manifest it’s replaced by a sudden panic as Gamzee starts to roll in his sleep, forcing you onto your stomach. He’s crushing you. His breath ghosts your ear in soft, slow gusts as your rib cage bends slightly under his weight. You try to slide out from under him but he’s so heavy and you can’t breathe, you can’t think. And then–

Movement against your ass. Distinct, unmistakeable, movement. Gamzee sighs against your neck and presses his hips forwards, removing all doubt that he’s fully unsheathed and poking at you through his clothes. You feel sick. You try again to wiggle out from under him because you have to– need to escape. He makes this deep, low noise that makes you wish you were dead, his arms tightening around you. Is he awake? Has he been awake?

“Gamzee–” You plead, not able to force anything else out. You need him to let you go. He has to.

Gamzee just hums at you, perfectly pleasant, like you can’t still feel him, like you don’t want to crawl out of your skin and burn it, like you’re not terrified of what will happen when he realizes exactly who he’s holding. When he realizes what you are.

“Karkat...” He sighs dreamily, fingers trailing over your sides where they’re pinned under you.

What happens next comes without thought. Your body just reacts, jerking and tossing underneath him until you can swing an elbow at his head. You want it to stop. You feel it collide with his skull. You want it to stop. You hit him again, harder. You want it to STOP.

You’re out of the vents.

The concrete floors are freezing on your bare feet.

You don’t know what just happened.

You stop suddenly, a wave of heat rushing from your stomach to your head. You cover your mouth so you don’t puke in the hallway.

“He lives!”

You spin around so fast it’s a miracle you don’t trip over your own feet. Your sickle falls out of your sylladex with a pop, but you fumble, dropping it to the floor with a loud clatter.

Rose laughs at you. It’s the loudest you’ve ever heard her. Her lipstick is patchy, it’s the first thing you notice.

You could make a run for your block if you go now.

“Karkat you can’t just start... droppin shit. S’not the best impresshun for a leader to make.” Rose proceeds to wag a finger at you.

You have no idea what the fuck is happening. You blink, reflexively checking your surroundings to see if you’ve wandered ass backwards into a bubble. Everything seems normal, well as normal as it can with your body still running about fifty paces ahead of where you stand, frozen by Rose’s gaze.

“...What’s wrong with you?” Maybe not the most tactful way to phrase it, but it’s the first sentence you can force out. Your voice shakes. You don’t sound like yourself either. None of this feels real.

Rose laughs again, and you decide that whatever this is, you don't like it. You’ve never known Rose Lalonde to look this undignified. “What a question! Though lets’not go pointin fingers in our glass houses lest people you know. See you pointing. That’s considered quite rude in certain circles.”

You debate just leaving her here. In fact you take a couple steps down the hall away from her, absolutely not having the energy to have this conversation, but that’s when Rose turns and lurches forwards, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

Your nose wrinkles. Okay. Fine. You shove away unsavory thoughts and focus entirely on the task at hand. You are no longer in your body experiencing life as it happens to you, and that’s just fine.

You manage to get Rose into an ablution block to spit in the sink and splash some water on her face. This makes her makeup run even more. Despite yourself, you start to feel worried, but you mostly just feel exhausted. You have no idea what to do in this situation and what this means for Rose.

You find yourself reaching for your palm husk while Rose shambles to the load gaper to rest her cheek on the rim. She’s coughing–– hacking might be a more apt descriptor–– and it feels like she’s prepping for round two.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

CG: HEY. ROSE IS PUKING HER GUTS OUT.

TG: what

TG: im gonna need a bit more context than that especially considering you drop off the face of this rock for about a month

TG: which whatever man

TG: you have your own shit to be spittin about its cool

TG: god knows i get fuckin tired of the same shit everyday like im bill murray trying to learn to be slightly less of a dick to people who live out in bum fuck nowhere

TG: all learnin piano and contributing to the community and junk

TG: like damn i didnt even get to do the hilarious driving a car off a cliff bit

TG: though i guess there was that dave that ate shit on the rocket board and died so kudos to him

TG: living out egberts wet dream

You remember with a start why you stopped talking to him in the first place, but thinking of Gamzee makes you want to join Rose with your head in the load gaper, so you put the consequences of your actions in a box and file it away under Future Karkat’s problem.

CG: CAN YOU JUST COME HELP HER? I DON’T KNOW ANY HUMAN MEDICINE AND SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE GOT BODY SNATCHED.

TG: shes just shitfaced man

TG: guess you wouldnt be up to date with the latest as far as interpersonal shitshows and teenage coping mechanisms but yeah im omw

CG: WE’RE IN AN ABLUTION BLOCK OFF THE MAIN HALLWAY.

TG: copy

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

Chapter Text

You spend the next five minutes (which feels like forever. You are standing in an ablution block watching Rose’s face grow flushed and blotchy with red and it is lasting for a fucking eternity. You can smell vomit. You can’t feel your feet. You can’t look in the mirror or you’re sure you’re going to scream or worse– cry.) waiting for Dave to show up and secretly wishing he won’t.

He does.

Dave Strider walks into the ablution block, his face unmoveable. Like all the weeks Karkat spent in his company slipping his way behind his walls were erased. Not that he deserves anything at all from him. Not that he ever deserved anything from anyone.

He’s never wished he died on Alternia, but the thought is tempting as Dave brushes past him without so much as a nod. Karkat can’t even tell if Dave looked at him. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. This was the goal, wasn’t it? Does it matter anymore?

Dave squats down next to his sister and his lips twitch into the slightest frown.

“Did you give her water yet?” He asks, not looking at you.

It takes you a moment to realize it was even directed at you. “No, not yet. I didn’t know what to do.”

Your voice sounds pathetic and foreign. Dave must notice because he raises his head to actually look you over. You can feel his eyes on you and it makes you want to tear yourself apart so he has nothing more to look at. You can feel Gamzee’s hands on you. You realize you haven't been breathing when he looks away.

He gives you the grace of letting the moment pass without comment, a novelty for him.

“Alright Rose, you gotta hydrate. If I don’t get some water in you I’m going to be impaled on a chainsaw. I think that might make Dead Dave bingo for me but at what cost, Rose? You gotta think of the logistics. If I die a completely preventable death I might have to take up my win with the Bingo Board of Striders who kicked the non-sexual human bucket.” A water bottle falls into Dave’s hands from his sylladex and he opens it before waving it at Rose obnoxiously.

“The bureaucracy of death bingo is a fucking nightmare, Rose. Don’t put me through that shit. I just want my twenty five dollar gift card to Arby’s without having to jump through all these hoops. Arby’s would not taste half as good knowing I broke a fucking sweat just to acquire shitty diner currency. You’re breaking my heart and breaking my back.”

You blink. You didn’t expect to feel such sinking despair hearing Dave fill the silence like he does. You missed him, you realize. More than you thought you did.

Rose smiles weakly. “Breaking your back. Your phrasing is nothing less than Freudian.”

You can tell from her meager response that she knows he set her up. She takes some careful sips of water.

“Yeah yeah, get your fucking hair out of your face, Lalonde. You’re looking a mess. The neighbors will talk.” Dave settles in to sit on the floor with her.

Rose looks up at you, bleary eyed, smudged mascara, but still managing to make you feel thoroughly judged. “Not to worry, Karkat isn’t likely to spread rumors.”

You deserved that. You also deserve the short laugh from Dave. You need to leave. You’ve done everything you can.

“Make sure to clean up your mess in the hallway.” You say. “I think I’m done here.”

“Karkat.” Rose calls to you as you turn to leave. It’s so unusually vulnerable for her that you have no choice but to stop. “Come see us sometime. We can’t survive with you and Terezi gone. We are in a deficit of loud people.”

You turn, surprised. “Terezi’s gone?”

“Like I said, you missed a lot, man.” Dave chimes in, face still static.

You don’t know how to respond to that without your voice betraying you so you just leave. The door is too heavy and it slams behind you. The sound echoes down the hallway.

You nearly step in Rose’s vomit in your haste to pull your palmhusk out while getting as far away from other people as you can.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

CG: TEREZI?

gallowsCalibrator [GC] is an idle troll!

CG: I WAS JUST TOLD BY LALONDE THAT YOU WERE “GONE.”

CG: WHICH IS TERRIFYINGLY VAGUE PHRASING.

CG: AND DO NOT TAKE THIS AS MY HITTING ON YOU IN ANY WAY, I’M WELL AWARE OF HOW USELESS AND OBNOXIOUS THAT WOULD BE.

CG: I’M JUST

CG: WHERE ARE YOU?

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

Terezi does not answer you that night. You weren’t aware of this at the time, but you’d never get a response to that particular inquiry. At least not from her. Not willingly.

The next several days (week?) pass in a blur. You forget to eat until your stomach pangs are so bad that you’ve started chewing on your sweater. How long have you been wearing this sweater? You don’t know, but the collar is starting to grow stiff with repeated coatings of saliva. You haven’t taken care of your claws. They’re simultaneously overgrown and weak. You chipped one right off yesterday. Or. Two days ago. Maybe.

You don’t remember when, but you do remember the sinking feeling of failure that made you crawl back into your pile and try to forget you exist. You spend a lot of time staring at the vent and thinking about how easy it would be for him to kill you.

He’d have you entirely at his mercy. You’re entirely at everyone’s mercy. Any given person could walk into your block and do what they wished with you. Human, troll, armed, unarmed, doesn’t matter. You’re so small and helpless you wonder sometimes if it’s possible for someone to die of shame. Or lack of utility.

You need food. This is something you can’t force yourself to forget this time.

With a gargantuan effort you lift yourself out of your pile, taking a moment to acclimate to being once again vertical. Your head feels too heavy for your body. You don’t go get food. You clear the crust from the corners of your eyes and you stare at the vent.

Gamzee allows you to live another day.

You will not examine that you feel almost hurt by this. By the fact that you’re not even worth that much effort on his part.

You go get food.

Your memory of the trip from your room to the nutrition block is gone as soon as it’s created. The next moment you feel fully conscious is post grub loaf induced haze. There are crumbs on your sweater and you’re swallowing hard around a piece of loaf you didn’t chew nearly enough in your haste. That’s when you make eye contact with her.

Kanaya stares at you from the doorway. Her expression is too complex for you to parse with a chunk of grub loaf slowly making its way down your nutrition chute and sort of choking you in the most manageable sense of the word.

She takes a step inside and you worry for a moment that she may kill you as an act of mercy. When she looks at you it’s like she can see everything you’ve done. Every little press of Gamzee’s skin against yours that you allowed. Every time you failed to calm him down, to keep him complacent. Every single desperate plea. I’m so lonely, Gamzee. Terezi left me, Gamzee. You’re the only one who understands me.

Maybe a part of you wanted the attention. Maybe a part of you is grateful that anyone bothered to touch you. Maybe you know, deep down, that a sick, twisted desire is the only thing someone as fragile as you can inspire. You’re small. You’re helpless. You wanted the attention.

This is the part of you that Kanaya stares at, laid bare in the middle of the nutrition block.

She crosses to the sink and pours a glass of water. You’re about to leave, or at least, you think you should. Your legs won’t move. You can’t breathe. The grubloaf burns as it claws its way down your throat.

You blink and Kanaya’s standing in front of you, the water held out in offering. You know that look in her eyes. You know it because you’ve done it before. She’s accepting reconciliation without an apology. She’s taking you back in without asking you for anything. She’s forgiving you.

You stare into the glass in your hands because you can’t look at her anymore. She looks so painfully tired.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out. Tears fall from your chin and land on your wrist.

“It’s alright.” Kanaya reassures you, gently.

“No it’s fucking not.” You persist.

“Perhaps, it’s not.” She agrees. “But frankly, Karkat, I need my friend back.”

You think about Rose throwing up in the hallway. You are abruptly reminded that your problems are not the only ones to exist. How much has happened right under your nose? How much have you let slip by yet again? (Last time you did that you recall a body count of half your fucking team. Half your species.) You nod, meeting her eyes again.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

You’re frankly fucking astonished at how quickly you’re taken back into the fold. You don’t even have to muster up another crummy apology. You shower, do some laundry, and all of a sudden you’re sitting in the common block learning how to knit like nothing fucking happened.

The price for your smooth reintroduction into the meteor’s small social circle is that you have no idea what’s going on. For the most part you follow Kanaya around, trailing a step or two behind her every day that you can stand to pull yourself out of your ‘cuperacoon.

The weeks (?) you spent alone in your block become a hazy memory as you dive head first into Kanaya’s myriad of problems. You’re more than a little guilty that you missed so much of your former best friend’s personal drama. You listen with rapt attention as she describes her first date with Rose and subsequent first kiss. You learn the cultural confusions associated with Rose’s indulgence in human soporifics. From what you heard of Rose during the game you can’t help but associate her need for mental oblivion with the rage lying under the surface. It would’ve been typical for someone like her to dull their senses back on Alternia, if only for the safety of their quadrantmates.

Like Gamzee did. Until he didn’t.

You keep the comparison to yourself.

There’s something endearingly nostalgic about dissecting the actions of an intimidating woman Kanaya has feelings for. Especially given the similar struggles Rose and Vriska have (had) with emotional intimacy. You personally believe there is hope yet for Rose to get her shit together, since her altered state implies the ability for remorse, something Vriska could never allow herself. What Rose has to be sorry for, you have no idea, but you and Kanaya both have a habit of gravitating towards people who need a stabilizing influence.

You can see how much the pale overtones of her relationship with Rose has taken a toll on her. The human hasn’t seemed to pick up on it. In the instances where the three of you spend time together (read: Kanaya keeping a watchful eye over her human girlfriend), Rose will brazenly flirt with Kanaya in a way that feels sloppy, but most certainly red in nature. Kanaya will pretend her cheeks aren’t flushed green as she pretends that she isn’t keeping Rose steady and she pretends she doesn’t always have five water bottles in her sylladex. It’s an ongoing pantomime of a matespriteship with all the emotional responsibility of a moirailegence.

You can tell she’s exhausted. You try not to think about how long she’s been facing this completely alone.

Despite being granted new and exciting access to other people, you find yourself feeling more alone than ever in the interim. You compensate for this by filling as many hours as you can looking after Kanaya in a way that parallels the behavior that caused you to stop talking to her. You are both aware of the hypocrisy. You are both refusing to acknowledge any underlying pale tension or feelings. You both have larger things on your plate.

You have an unfinished knitting project ready in your sylladex (it looks like shit, you can’t seem to count the loops accurately nor do you have the patience to start over and over again until you do) and you’re about to burst loudly into her block as you usually do when you throw open the door and find her asleep at her desk.

The first thing that you feel is a profound disappointment that settles in your stomach more like fear than anything else. You had planned to fill the day by her side and now you feel lost.

Which is fucking stupid because what you should really feel (and what comes closely after your initial selfish bullshit) is concern for your friend who fell asleep with her door unlocked. You fiddle with the inside lock on the knob and shut the door again. Not that it matters. Not that he couldn’t happen upon her from the vent above her head. The thing that truly keeps Kanaya safe is the memory of Eridan’s flesh tearing around her chainsaw.

You stand staring at the locked door for long enough to question if it would’ve been better to wake her.

She doesn’t need to worry about you. Isn’t that the whole point of showing up for her? Showing her you’re okay. That she doesn’t waste her time on you.

You may as well make sure Rose is still charmingly tipsy and not disturbingly sloppy. Someone needs to stand near her with a sylladex full of water bottles and human grainloaf. You start with the usual haunts. The common block. No. That one hallway with the big windows where you can see the bubbles collide in the distance. No.

Okay. Ablution blocks.

You’re making your way from hallway to endless hallway, peeking your head into the various ablution blocks and keeping your auricular sponge clots peeled for guttural noises. Instead you hear a lilting laugh that stops you in the doorway to the block that houses the sprawling expanse of Cantown.

Logically, you know the laugh came from Rose, but it feels ridiculous that she could make such a loose noise even after all this time spent in her company with her drawstrings untied. That’s not what stops you though. It’s the steady drone of the accompanying voice. You still haven’t figured out how to talk to Dave again.

It’s not like he ignores you. He’ll engage with you insofar as he has to in social situations, but it’s always with the detached amusement that used to grate so harshly on your nerves when you first met. You can tell (despite the impossibility of eye contact) that he’s noticed you. Rose’s head lolls in your direction and she smiles, beckoning you over.

“The prodigal son! I thought you’d be with Kanaya.” Rose declares. She’s speaking clearly enough that you’ve decided she isn’t in need of any help you could give her.

“Even Maryam’s deep well of patience runs dry eventually.” You say, both knowing Rose would appreciate the phrasing and knowing Kanaya wouldn’t want Rose to know how ragged she’s running herself over her.

“Then by all means, come drain our well. Two wells for the price of one.” She gestures around the room jovially and pats the space next to her, kicking up chalk dust.

You look at Dave. His expression gives nothing away.

“I was just passing through...” You start to mumble excuses, feeling the need to hightail it the fuck out of there before you give Dave anything else to worry about.

“Got something more important to do?” Dave challenges flatly.

You press your lips together into a thin line, trying not to take the bait. “Than play pretend in make-believe-land? Gee, I don’t know.”

“We’re starting the process of cata.. Of logging the position of the can citizens. If we are to rebuild civilization we may as well preserve the blueprint right under our noses.” Rose points out, scrawling a number on the bottom of a repurposed can of corn. She replicates the number on a grid she’s drawn in her book.

You stare at the book, remembering when she and Kanaya would pour over every book in the library and scrawl tireless notes, deciphering the fate of their session and the secrets of the universe. Now it’s a map of cantown. What do you do with the realization that none of you are ready for the call to action placed upon your shoulders? What do you do with the realization that you never have been and never will be enough of a force to spearhead your team to victory?

“Where’s the can Mayor? Shouldn’t he be overseeing this project? No offense, Rose but this doesn’t exactly seem within your jurisdiction.” You gripe just to gripe.

Dave puts Rose’s canned corn back in place. “Excuse you, you’re talking to the Assistant Chief Deputy of City Planning and Preservation. It’s entirely within her jurisdiction. She is all about the allocation of local resources to the continued legacy of the highly esteemed Mayor and, above all, the preservation of democracy. Also. You know. Mayor’s out looking for the Sheriff.”

You feel your weight leave your body. Terezi’s still missing. With everyday that passes without her resurfacing you’re more and more convinced you know where she is. It feels like you’re floating in the worst possible way.

“Karkat?” Rose looks up at you like you might’ve shaken her slightly out of her buzz. You sit next to them because running away would be worse. You grab a can at random.

“What number is this one?”

==>

carcinoGeneticist [CG] opened memo on board “THE ROSE LALONDE TRIANGULATION SYSTEM.”

CG: ALRIGHT.

CG: THIS SHIT HAS GONE ON UNORGANIZED FOR FAR TOO LONG.

turntechGodhead [TG] responded to memo

CG: EVERYTIME I THINK ABOUT THE ENDLESS INDIVIDUAL CHATLOGS THE THREE OF US IN PARTICULAR HAVE DEDICATED TO LOCATING OUR FLIGHT RISK OF A LIGHT PLAYER A LITTLE PIECE OF ME DIES INSIDE. THE PIECE OF ME THAT REVELS IN EFFICIENCY AND COMMON FUCKING SENSE. THE PIECE OF ME THAT DOESN’T COMPLICATE EVERY GOD DAMN THING I TRY TO ACCOMPLISH IN A BACKWARDS ATTEMPT TO PUNISH MYSELF RETROACTIVELY WHEN I INEVITABLY RUN FACE FIRST INTO THE COSMIC BRICK WALL OF FAILURE AS THE POWERS THAT BE HAVE A GOOD FUCKING GAFFAW AT MY EXPENSE.

TG: how small is this part of you

TG: cause considering past behavioral patterns i gotta say its not lookin too good

TG: its like on those medical dramas when they have such a teeny tiny margin of error for like brain surgery or some shit and they try to give us an example of how small it is to provide a sense of scale

TG: but its always like

TG: shit thats real small

TG: like how big is it... oh doc im afraid the piece of karkat is actually the size of a pin

TG: like a push pin or like one of those things grannies and tailors use to poke people

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] responded to memo

TG: the tailor pins doc

TG: OH SHIT

CG: ENOUGH. YOU WILL REFRAIN FROM CLOGGING THIS MEMO WITH YOUR ENDLESS BARRAGE OF NONSENSE FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE. THIS IS LEGITIMATELY HELPFUL AND I WILL NOT HAVE IT DERAILED.

TG: okay yeah

TG: sure

TG: i can admit the digital equivalent of a HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN? bulletin is potentially helpful

TG: but dont pretend it isnt gonna get immediately flooded with nonsense

TG: back me up kanaya

GA: I Believe It Already Has Been As You Say Immediately Flooded With Nonsense

GA: It Seems Whenever We Put Our Collective Heads Towards Any Given Goal The End Result Is Clouded By Layer Upon Layer Of Nonsense

CG: DON’T GIVE IN TO HIS BULLSHIT, KANAYA. WE CAN BE PRODUCTIVE IF ONLY WE COMPLETELY IGNORE DAVE.

GA: I Was Referring To Your Little Introductory Speech

TG: ahahaha yesss

CG: WHATEVER. IT’S BEEN MADE. THERE YOU GO.

GA: Karkat

GA: Thank You

Your fingers poise themselves on your keyboard. You have no idea how to respond to that.

Your eyes slide to your trollslum. Gamzee’s online. You spend about twenty minutes staring at that little green circle under his handle before it finally turns gray.

Chapter Text

carcinoGeneticist [CG] responded to memo on board “THE ROSE LALONDE TRIANGULATION SYSTEM.”

CG: DAVE STRIDER.

CG: I KNOW YOU’RE ONLINE MOTHER FUCKER I CAN SEE THAT LITTLE GREEN CIRCLE.

CG: ANSWER ME.

turntechGodhead [TG] responded to memo

TG: holy shit

TG: give a guy a second

TG: what the fuck even happened is she dead

TG: is it considered just if you choke on your own vomit

TG: i feel like we would need to take up a complaint with the sburb department of death justifications

TG: thats putting a whole lot of judgement on the addict and if we learned anything from basketball diaries its that it takes a lot more than poetry and good ol american sports to overcome the sickness

TG: fuck wait didnt he get arrested at the end

TG: maybe we could do that

TG: shit someone track down terezi and give this chapter of our wacky teen meteor adventures a god damn hollywood ending

TG: but that would require another memo

TG: what the fuck is with the girls on this rock and disappearing acts

TG: actually i take it back thats an unfair assessment of the female gender

TG: weve got dudes disappearing left and right too

TG: honestly whos left that hasnt done their share of fucking off into the night like a velvet caped mother fucker with a skinny white mans complex

TG: couldnt be the class clown so he had to come up with something

TG: like no bro i promise im so interesting

TG: watch this quarter disappear

TG: meanwhile im just standing here like wheres my fucking money dog

TG: and kanaya too i guess

TG: shes stayed put like the stable lady she is

TG: getting her spare change got by some douche in an ugly hat

TG: point is we gotta change the name to the “FLIGHTY BROAD (gender inclusive) TRIANGULATION SYSTEM.”

CG: HOW

CG: HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY.

CG: SOMETIMES I WONDER WHAT IF I NEVER RESPOND? WHAT IF I LET YOU GO ON UNTIL YOU RUN OUT OF STEAM? WILL I BE RECEIVING INANE MESSAGES INTO PERPETUITY? WILL THE NOTIFICATIONS ON MY PALM HUSK BECOME BACKGROUND NOISE TO THE DAILY DRIVEL OF MY LIFE UNTIL I FINALLY HAVE THE DECENCY TO DIE? WILL THE CHIMES FROM YOUR ABHORRENT HABIT OF DOUBLE, TRIPLE AND QUADRUPLE TEXTING FADE CINEMATICALLY INTO THE BEEP OF THE BLOOD PUSHER MONITOR I AM TRAGICALLY ATTACHED TO IN MY FINAL MOMENTS? WILL THEY OVER TAKE THEM WHEN IT ALL STOPS? WILL YOUR MESSAGES OUTLIVE THE RACING OF MY PULSE?

TG: im not even gonna point out the irony because to do so would be an insult to the criminally obvious

TG: whats up with rose

CG: SHE’S FINE.

CG: SHE’S ASLEEP.

CG: I NEED YOU TO TAKE OVER.

TG: what

TG: dude just let her sleep

TG: why are you watching her sleep have you been doing that this whole time

CG: BELIEVE ME I WOULD LOVE TO NEVER BE IN THIS SITUATION AGAIN.

CG: I WOULD JUMP FOR JOY. IT WOULD BE THE MOST GENUINE EXPRESSION OF MIRTH THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN.

CG: JUST

CG: WE’RE IN THE COMMON BLOCK.

You switch off your palm husk and sit as still as possible. It doesn’t help. Rose’s head lulls against your shoulder, her body weight slumped against you. You can feel her hair against your neck. Every single strand that touches your skin moves with her breathing. Inhale, the crown of her skull presses gently against your jaw. Exhale, her breath puffs out and she seems to melt further into you. Like sleep has rendered her viscous and everywhere you touch is going to dry stiff and starched.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, counting her breaths, waiting, waiting, waiting. But then you hear footsteps echoing down the hall and the red eyesore of a human finally turns the corner into your eye line. How long has it been since you’ve been relieved to see Dave Strider?

A smile lifts to Dave’s face when he sees the state you’re in. It’s a mocking smile. You feel three things in equal measure. The first: a pang of nostalgia for when seeing you would make Dave smile. The second: deeply offended that he could think to mock you when you’re the one chaperoning his basketcase of a littermate when you have zero obligation to do so. The third: embarrassed. Embarrassed in the soul crushing way that only comes from sweeps of repeated disappointment in yourself.

There is nothing in the world more isolating than realizing you’re the only one without his shit together. You’re the only one who still cringes away from something as innocuous as an unconscious human. You feel five sweeps old again.

“Aw shit, that’s kind of adorable.” Is the first thing he says to you, his grin only widening at your obvious discontent.

“Just get her off of me.” You feel like if she touches you for another single moment you’re going to scream.

“Sure. After I capture this touching moment between meteor cohorts.” His camera falls into his hands from his sylladex and you see red.

“I will fucking shove her. I will knock her fragile human head against the concrete, Strider, I swear to god.” You brace yourself to wiggle out from under Lalonde’s heavy, pungent breaths.

You blink and he’s crouching right beside her, arms out as if he’s afraid you might actually let her fall. You jump. You hate it when he does that. The only warning you get is a slight disturbance in the air and then he’s right next to you.

Your jostling disturbs the sleeping Lalonde. She curls into you, tucking her face against your bicep. Dave looks on the verge of making another snarky comment but your already frayed nerves are lighting up like fireworks.

“Now. Get her off now. Now, Dave.” You’re already standing up and he doesn’t miss a beat, easing her down by her shoulders so that she slumps, sound asleep, drooling on the couch cushions.

You have taken several fucking steps back from the entire situation and feel like you can breathe a little easier.

“Dude. Why didn’t you just kind of. Gently push her off. That wasn’t exactly rocket science.”

You look down at him, perched on the couch with his usual practiced, pseudo casual body language that feels stiff and posed. Like he’s actively thinking about keeping himself open. Like he’s trying to tell you he doesn’t care enough to be intimidated. That used to piss you off but now it just confuses you.

You’d like to think that he knows you’re past trying to intimidate him. Why continuously embarrass yourself?

You still feel like your brain is functioning ten seconds ahead of real time. Your body doesn’t feel like something that could be classified as “you” or even something you own. Aren’t you supposed to have some modicum of control over the things you own? It feels more like your mind and your body are unlikely bunkmates in a wacky old comedy.

In which a low blood is, through a series of bureaucratic mishaps, assigned to a high blood’s bunk in place of his moirail. The high blood and the low blood differ in multiple significant ways that make cohabitation unbearable including but not limited to: call times, cleanliness, music taste, moral code, and the conception of appropriate behavior surrounding quadrantmates. The proceedings include five shouting matches, three physical altercations, two humorous dressing downs by a superior officer, a separation of the protagonists before the climax, and one major character death (low blooded, justified, hilarious).

Dave is staring at you with an eyebrow raised delicately over his shades. He reminds you of Rose when he does that.

“Would you rather I dealt with it or you did?” You say. He gets the picture.

You turn to leave, your good samaritan act of the day completed when Dave speaks up.

“Have you seen The Cable Guy?”

You pause. Turn. Fix him with your flattest expression. “What?”

“It’s kind of an insane movie. Stiller directed it, which I don’t know is necessarily a good thing as much as it is an objectively hilarious thing. Anyways it’s worth the watch if only as an ironic exercise in how much you can bring yourself to care about a movie where Jim Carrey sort of wants to gay up Matthew Broderick. Or wear his skin. Same difference.”

“You’re asking me to watch a movie with you.”

There’s a silence. Dave presses his lips together in a thin line and then puffs out all the air in his lungs. “Yeah, I guess I am, seeing as I’m stuck here until she wakes up. But whatever man, you can take your freaky alien computer and skitter off to your corner if that’s your prerogative.”

You have the distinct feeling that whatever choice you make here will determine what the rest of your time on this rock will look like. On one hand, there are the many pitfalls and countless opportunities to fuck up the fragile peace you’ve created. On the other, you feel lighter than you have in weeks at the idea.

You release your husktop from your sylladex and it lands with a thud, the legs righting themselves and auto balancing.

You could be completely delusional but you think for a second you see Dave smile.