![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Monthly Word Count - June
TOTAL: 18 756 words. ... Wow, not bad at all.
It's all Homestuck, though. mea culpa.
POSTED:
-Battlefield Terra sidefic, Bro & Mom & DirkDave babies (3 063 words)
-"danger, danger, get on the floor" -- JohnKat, danger kink (706 words)
Also Posted:
Earthian Dating, Alternian-Style: Episode Three, The Matesprit/Kismesis Double-Double-Reacharound (which was completed the previous month but posted the 1st.)
Teamwork: old sidefic from an OC POV, not quite complete but it's stuck like a mofo.
WIP:
-Battlefield Terra chapter 5 (7 194 words)
-Karkat<>Gamzee & Dad, culture clashes/hurt-comfort (6 805 words)
-DaveKarkatTerezi recuperacoon porn that I might never complete (or alternately it might slot into Garden at some faraway point who knows) (988 words, all setup and pretty infodumpy one at that :-/)
--
Battlefield Terra chapter 5 (short but i couldn't choose and everything else was even more spoilery about stuff that happens beforehand in the chapter aargh. oh um i might have started posting the beginning on the kink meme, if you guys want to look. It's the posts, uh, 57 onwards. .__.;; This chunk's from later on.)
--
Noir seemed ready to spit nails. Mr. Strider stuck his hands in his pockets as he turned to him -- ooh, insulting, John thought, and could feel Karkat thinking it right alongside him, all 'eh, I could take you just with my feet', echoing so close John could only pick up which was whose from the undertones, John's from knowing the man and Karkat's just because it was apparently this blatant, what do you mean most people wouldn't read it that way.
Assuming you're right and your people are all stupid and blind and trustingsoft then Noir must know him well if he can read him too, Karkat commented, trying to distract himself from the nearly palpable crackle of tension at his back between the two men. John started to turn to look at him, and then a priority message took up his whole left lens.
BR: Egbert, stop chatting up the alien. Half the guys now think you have imaginary friends.
BR: The other, smarter half have probably figured out the glasses thing, it's not that new as technologies go, but honestly. If someone is observant enough to notice that, it's a fair bet they might also notice that it's not Rose you're chatting with. Guy's body language is as controlled and opaque as yours, for fuck's sake, he telegraphs like he's in a western.
Whoops. Um.
"There, there," Mr. Strider was drawling in real time, multitasking telling John off and pissing off Noir like a pro, "nothing to worry about. But Medical just doesn't cut it for a romantic walk, you know? B plus for effort, though."
"I am going to stab you in the kidneys, Strider," Noir hissed really quietly (but Karkat's ears were really good and even if he didn't understand the sounds John did so hey.) "And then I'm going to step on your face and stab you again."
"Aw, hon, that's so sweet," Mr. Strider drawled, at normal volume. A couple of guards choked quietly. "Exit's that way."
--
Karkat<>Gamzee & Dad
This one I have started to post at the Kink Meme so i'm not going to cheat by reposting it as a teaser. So go to the link to read the first scene, and then read this.
Warnings for potential non-con/ephebophilia and fucked-up cultural expectations.
--
John hasn't been coming in his bedroom at night since he was five year old, but instinct and habit are stubborn things. "Son?" he mumbles. He's still more asleep than not, head fuzzy with cobwebs and dissipating dreams. "Everything alright?"
No response, but he's aware that he heard the door opening, it's what woke him. He pushes himself up on one elbow, squints. He can guess at a dark, looming shape by the foot of his bed. "Son?"
A rustle of cloth, and then the bed dips. Someone -- not John, he can't see but he can tell anyway, they don't move like John (they don't feel like John) -- someone shuffles closer, on hands and knees, makes themselves small and low to the ground like they're playing pretend at being a stalking cat. The boy -- simple logic, neither of their alien guests is a young lady -- hunkers down by his side. Paul thinks he sees the short, rounded edge of a pale horn-tip, and beside the other boy, Gamzee, he'd take up more space, nice width to his shoulders, just needs to fill up some...
"Karkat, my boy," he asks, mind slow and voice rough from sleep. "What in the world are you doing here?"
He pats his head, so Karkat won't think he's angry for being disturbed, barely misses his target at all. He feels the curve of a bone-hard horn, and then thick, coarse hair, and ruffles it. It feels remarkably like John's, only even more full of cowlicks somehow.
The shouty little alien boy is so silent. He takes in a shuddery breath -- Paul is on alert immediately -- and burrows against his flank, making himself even smaller than he really is, though one of his hands comes shyly to hug him around the waist. Bemused, too sleepy to startle, he allows it. Paul hasn't observed that aliens were especially ... no, actually he has observed that Gamzee was quite physically affectionate and not body-shy in the least, but Karkat usually has a rather healthier personal space. For him to seek contact he must feel positively wrecked.
Paul keeps petting his hair, running his fingers through stubborn locks that won't stay combed into place, waiting. The shadow by the foot of the bed resolves into his second alien guest, long twisting horns and angular frame. He steps around the foot of the bed and cautiously lowers himself to the mattress.
Paul blinks, and waits.
Karkat presses his face into Paul's side, tightens his hold -- so cautious, like he's afraid of crossing boundaries. Paul keeps petting. And waits some more. Steadiness, calm -- it works. There is no need to panic. When they're ready to talk, they will, the answer will come; in the meantime he will not be adding to their stress by pressing. It never gives good results.
"I wanted," Karkat whispers, and inches a little higher, and a little higher still, "-- we wanted -- to thank you. For waiting."
Paul is baffled, and starting to suspect that he would be baffled even were he feeling more awake. But the poor lad seems to be looking for a hug, and in dire need of one; his usually assured voice gutters out in his throat, and he's tense, a ball of stiff muscles, Paul can tell right through his pajamas and the sheet.
It's mostly instinct by this point. He wraps an arm around the boy's shoulders, even as he reaches out to the indistinct form of Gamzee, which seems to be looming closer, doing its same slow, hesitant creeping-up. So tall and yet still just a kid. "Shh, it's alright, whatever it is."
Karkat goes loose all over, slumps on him, but Paul doesn't make the mistake of calling it relaxed. He can still feel faint tremors in the boy's fingers, fisted in the sheets on both sides of his hips.
He's not feeling a shirt.
He's not feeling a shirt.
Jesus-Mary-Joseph he is not feeling a shirt.
He absolutely refuses to make sure of his sudden, horrible realization. Because he knows, there's no need to make sure -- he knows. He's not going to feel any pants either. Or underpants.
Karkat feels him go tense and flinches in his arms, doesn't pull away, only burrows deeper, except he starts shivering again. Gamzee curls up like a cat against his hip, rests a hand, oh dear Lord, rests a hand on his knee and there are full-length pajama pants and cotton sheets in the way but it still feels like, it still, there are two naked teenagers in his bed.
He wants to throw Karkat off him and scream like a lady might seeing a mouse, jump from the bed, run away in his sleeping clothes. Run away to the police, tell them, I have touched naked boys they are the same age as my son they were in my bed I have touched them and let them touch me. He wants--
'We wanted to thank you for waiting.'
They're terrified.
--
DaveKarkatTerezi recuperacoon porn infodumpy thing.
--
It's a troll inn; it's a miracle already they didn't tell Dame Pyrope to leave him in the stable.
It's a troll inn in the middle of troll country. They could have suggested she leave him in the ditch, preferably a little corpsy.
As it is, all he has to deal with is the floor -- wooden, splintery -- and the Nordic-cold draft that runs through the rental respiteblock. Could be worse.
Instead he just has to find a corner to curl up and think nice happy warm thoughts about his girlfriend sharing a slime cocoon with "Goodman Vantas," her pseudo-rustblood "attendant" that everyone from the giggly kitchen boy to the ancient counter woman to the innkeeper with the moose horns ineptly pretend not to "know" she is totally fucking and that's why a Tealblood wouldn't pitch an ungodly fit at being told they only had a single left.
Except Karkat isn't the one Terezi is fucking, godfuckingdamnit.
Dave could have insisted they take a room with piles instead -- it'd have been cheaper, too, only the only reason Teez and Karkat ever dragged themselves that far was the promise of their first sopored sleep in, oh, four years now. He tried to pretend he couldn't see the wistful look on Terezi's face all of three seconds before he "accidentally" kicked her in the back of the knee.
Karkat comes back from the bath at the end of the hall all wrapped up in a robe, tie knotted, and hands holding on, like if he could he'd wrap himself two, three times around. He pads inside the room and comes to a stop in the middle of the floor, frowns at Dave, sitting on the floor with the baggage. Dave imitates a bark. Woof. Yup, still guarding your property.
Karkat rolls his eyes for a second, but his 'what the fuck, human' look is entirely perfunctory, and then he's frowning again but in that worried, unsatisfying way. "Listen -- are you sure...?"
Dave considers comebacks. He could mention Karkat's inevitable Olympic triathlon of tossing, turning and bitching that would rob Dave of the small amount of rest he might yet still get, but slipping in something about icicles up his nook or rusty nails in his ass or the unmetaphorical and well-deserved pain in his neck would only make the guy give him that split-second "I am guilting myself to death for evading that fate when you won't" look that makes the following enraged counter-snark so much less satisfying somehow.
Karkat's hair is wet, sticking to his neck in vaguely curly black tongues. It won't matter long, because soon enough he'll be slipping in nice warm sopor. Dave declined because it's a fair bet he would have to air-dry.
"Dude, yes. I am made of sure, nothing but pure crystallized certainty from the tip of my gorgeously styled hair to the toes of my horrendously stylish boots. Go frolic in the radioactive green snot, glide against each other like it's the world's greenest mud-wrestling match, have a party of 'whoops my hand skidded seductively across your slick, chiseled biceps' all up in that cozy little two-places cocoon. What's that bukkake splatter on your face Karkles? Oh, just dried bed slime, yeah it always turns a bit bluish the morning after, nothing to worry about."
... Uh. Shit. That... got away from him a bit there.
Karkat was already persuaded that Dave thought he and Terezi wouldn't be able to keep it in their pants if they were naked in the same slime, which is why he insisted he ruin his underwear keeping them on in the 'coon (he's gonna have fun when they have to start walking again tomorrow, going commando.) Dave's been doing his best to be all "nope, cool with it"; he trusts Terezi, of course, but he also trusts Karkat. No matter how much of a torch he still carries for Pyrope he wouldn't try that sort of underhanded bullshit. (He'd rather just pine in secret like an emo kid.)
Only now he's snarking about Terezi jizzing on Karkat's face, so of course the secret message isn't 'you're stupid and so is your face', it's 'yes, actually, I am pissed off, tyvm. I wish my words were urine so that I could mark her leg. Yup, this hot bitch is mine, no touchies. Oh, you don't even want to anymore? Well then it's working.'
"I'll just sleep on the floor," Karkat tries to growl, only he looks a little sick (a little heartbroken), and that just pisses Dave off.
He's up in a flash (his muscles bitch at him, already sore and stiff from sitting a half-hour on the floor, what will it be tomorrow) and then all up in Karkat's face. Karkat is startled enough to take a step back, but no, that way's the door, wrong direction. He grabs him by those rough, old terrycloth lapels and whirls him around.
"--What the fuck?! Dave, you --"
"Shh," Dave says, leaning in nose to nose to whisper way too loud, "the neighbors will hear you." He keeps herding him back, almost more with the threat of facial collision than with his hold. Karkat's hands are tight on the bathrobe, trying to keep it closed against Dave's pull, so he can't really fight back, and there's also how Dave's still wearing his big nice thick-soled leather boots and Karkat's feet are bare; his toes leave faint dots on the wood. "And then they'll be like oh no that poor troll, spousal abuse, what'd that mean old Teal did to him, when what they should wonder is why the fuck the human shoved you face first in your gross slime pool."
He backs Karkat up against the rounded, disturbingly organic side of the recuperacoon.
"Yes, you big stupid melodrama lord, I am honestly truly really fine with you sharing with Terezi. Now get in."
(the trick is that terezi was already inside and listening in ohoho. but upon reread man does this need editing. :/ also i've lost the pornwrity mood. nrgh.)
It's all Homestuck, though. mea culpa.
POSTED:
-Battlefield Terra sidefic, Bro & Mom & DirkDave babies (3 063 words)
-"danger, danger, get on the floor" -- JohnKat, danger kink (706 words)
Also Posted:
Earthian Dating, Alternian-Style: Episode Three, The Matesprit/Kismesis Double-Double-Reacharound (which was completed the previous month but posted the 1st.)
Teamwork: old sidefic from an OC POV, not quite complete but it's stuck like a mofo.
WIP:
-Battlefield Terra chapter 5 (7 194 words)
-Karkat<>Gamzee & Dad, culture clashes/hurt-comfort (6 805 words)
-DaveKarkatTerezi recuperacoon porn that I might never complete (or alternately it might slot into Garden at some faraway point who knows) (988 words, all setup and pretty infodumpy one at that :-/)
--
Battlefield Terra chapter 5 (short but i couldn't choose and everything else was even more spoilery about stuff that happens beforehand in the chapter aargh. oh um i might have started posting the beginning on the kink meme, if you guys want to look. It's the posts, uh, 57 onwards. .__.;; This chunk's from later on.)
--
Noir seemed ready to spit nails. Mr. Strider stuck his hands in his pockets as he turned to him -- ooh, insulting, John thought, and could feel Karkat thinking it right alongside him, all 'eh, I could take you just with my feet', echoing so close John could only pick up which was whose from the undertones, John's from knowing the man and Karkat's just because it was apparently this blatant, what do you mean most people wouldn't read it that way.
Assuming you're right and your people are all stupid and blind and trustingsoft then Noir must know him well if he can read him too, Karkat commented, trying to distract himself from the nearly palpable crackle of tension at his back between the two men. John started to turn to look at him, and then a priority message took up his whole left lens.
BR: Egbert, stop chatting up the alien. Half the guys now think you have imaginary friends.
BR: The other, smarter half have probably figured out the glasses thing, it's not that new as technologies go, but honestly. If someone is observant enough to notice that, it's a fair bet they might also notice that it's not Rose you're chatting with. Guy's body language is as controlled and opaque as yours, for fuck's sake, he telegraphs like he's in a western.
Whoops. Um.
"There, there," Mr. Strider was drawling in real time, multitasking telling John off and pissing off Noir like a pro, "nothing to worry about. But Medical just doesn't cut it for a romantic walk, you know? B plus for effort, though."
"I am going to stab you in the kidneys, Strider," Noir hissed really quietly (but Karkat's ears were really good and even if he didn't understand the sounds John did so hey.) "And then I'm going to step on your face and stab you again."
"Aw, hon, that's so sweet," Mr. Strider drawled, at normal volume. A couple of guards choked quietly. "Exit's that way."
--
Karkat<>Gamzee & Dad
This one I have started to post at the Kink Meme so i'm not going to cheat by reposting it as a teaser. So go to the link to read the first scene, and then read this.
Warnings for potential non-con/ephebophilia and fucked-up cultural expectations.
--
John hasn't been coming in his bedroom at night since he was five year old, but instinct and habit are stubborn things. "Son?" he mumbles. He's still more asleep than not, head fuzzy with cobwebs and dissipating dreams. "Everything alright?"
No response, but he's aware that he heard the door opening, it's what woke him. He pushes himself up on one elbow, squints. He can guess at a dark, looming shape by the foot of his bed. "Son?"
A rustle of cloth, and then the bed dips. Someone -- not John, he can't see but he can tell anyway, they don't move like John (they don't feel like John) -- someone shuffles closer, on hands and knees, makes themselves small and low to the ground like they're playing pretend at being a stalking cat. The boy -- simple logic, neither of their alien guests is a young lady -- hunkers down by his side. Paul thinks he sees the short, rounded edge of a pale horn-tip, and beside the other boy, Gamzee, he'd take up more space, nice width to his shoulders, just needs to fill up some...
"Karkat, my boy," he asks, mind slow and voice rough from sleep. "What in the world are you doing here?"
He pats his head, so Karkat won't think he's angry for being disturbed, barely misses his target at all. He feels the curve of a bone-hard horn, and then thick, coarse hair, and ruffles it. It feels remarkably like John's, only even more full of cowlicks somehow.
The shouty little alien boy is so silent. He takes in a shuddery breath -- Paul is on alert immediately -- and burrows against his flank, making himself even smaller than he really is, though one of his hands comes shyly to hug him around the waist. Bemused, too sleepy to startle, he allows it. Paul hasn't observed that aliens were especially ... no, actually he has observed that Gamzee was quite physically affectionate and not body-shy in the least, but Karkat usually has a rather healthier personal space. For him to seek contact he must feel positively wrecked.
Paul keeps petting his hair, running his fingers through stubborn locks that won't stay combed into place, waiting. The shadow by the foot of the bed resolves into his second alien guest, long twisting horns and angular frame. He steps around the foot of the bed and cautiously lowers himself to the mattress.
Paul blinks, and waits.
Karkat presses his face into Paul's side, tightens his hold -- so cautious, like he's afraid of crossing boundaries. Paul keeps petting. And waits some more. Steadiness, calm -- it works. There is no need to panic. When they're ready to talk, they will, the answer will come; in the meantime he will not be adding to their stress by pressing. It never gives good results.
"I wanted," Karkat whispers, and inches a little higher, and a little higher still, "-- we wanted -- to thank you. For waiting."
Paul is baffled, and starting to suspect that he would be baffled even were he feeling more awake. But the poor lad seems to be looking for a hug, and in dire need of one; his usually assured voice gutters out in his throat, and he's tense, a ball of stiff muscles, Paul can tell right through his pajamas and the sheet.
It's mostly instinct by this point. He wraps an arm around the boy's shoulders, even as he reaches out to the indistinct form of Gamzee, which seems to be looming closer, doing its same slow, hesitant creeping-up. So tall and yet still just a kid. "Shh, it's alright, whatever it is."
Karkat goes loose all over, slumps on him, but Paul doesn't make the mistake of calling it relaxed. He can still feel faint tremors in the boy's fingers, fisted in the sheets on both sides of his hips.
He's not feeling a shirt.
He's not feeling a shirt.
Jesus-Mary-Joseph he is not feeling a shirt.
He absolutely refuses to make sure of his sudden, horrible realization. Because he knows, there's no need to make sure -- he knows. He's not going to feel any pants either. Or underpants.
Karkat feels him go tense and flinches in his arms, doesn't pull away, only burrows deeper, except he starts shivering again. Gamzee curls up like a cat against his hip, rests a hand, oh dear Lord, rests a hand on his knee and there are full-length pajama pants and cotton sheets in the way but it still feels like, it still, there are two naked teenagers in his bed.
He wants to throw Karkat off him and scream like a lady might seeing a mouse, jump from the bed, run away in his sleeping clothes. Run away to the police, tell them, I have touched naked boys they are the same age as my son they were in my bed I have touched them and let them touch me. He wants--
'We wanted to thank you for waiting.'
They're terrified.
--
DaveKarkatTerezi recuperacoon porn infodumpy thing.
--
It's a troll inn; it's a miracle already they didn't tell Dame Pyrope to leave him in the stable.
It's a troll inn in the middle of troll country. They could have suggested she leave him in the ditch, preferably a little corpsy.
As it is, all he has to deal with is the floor -- wooden, splintery -- and the Nordic-cold draft that runs through the rental respiteblock. Could be worse.
Instead he just has to find a corner to curl up and think nice happy warm thoughts about his girlfriend sharing a slime cocoon with "Goodman Vantas," her pseudo-rustblood "attendant" that everyone from the giggly kitchen boy to the ancient counter woman to the innkeeper with the moose horns ineptly pretend not to "know" she is totally fucking and that's why a Tealblood wouldn't pitch an ungodly fit at being told they only had a single left.
Except Karkat isn't the one Terezi is fucking, godfuckingdamnit.
Dave could have insisted they take a room with piles instead -- it'd have been cheaper, too, only the only reason Teez and Karkat ever dragged themselves that far was the promise of their first sopored sleep in, oh, four years now. He tried to pretend he couldn't see the wistful look on Terezi's face all of three seconds before he "accidentally" kicked her in the back of the knee.
Karkat comes back from the bath at the end of the hall all wrapped up in a robe, tie knotted, and hands holding on, like if he could he'd wrap himself two, three times around. He pads inside the room and comes to a stop in the middle of the floor, frowns at Dave, sitting on the floor with the baggage. Dave imitates a bark. Woof. Yup, still guarding your property.
Karkat rolls his eyes for a second, but his 'what the fuck, human' look is entirely perfunctory, and then he's frowning again but in that worried, unsatisfying way. "Listen -- are you sure...?"
Dave considers comebacks. He could mention Karkat's inevitable Olympic triathlon of tossing, turning and bitching that would rob Dave of the small amount of rest he might yet still get, but slipping in something about icicles up his nook or rusty nails in his ass or the unmetaphorical and well-deserved pain in his neck would only make the guy give him that split-second "I am guilting myself to death for evading that fate when you won't" look that makes the following enraged counter-snark so much less satisfying somehow.
Karkat's hair is wet, sticking to his neck in vaguely curly black tongues. It won't matter long, because soon enough he'll be slipping in nice warm sopor. Dave declined because it's a fair bet he would have to air-dry.
"Dude, yes. I am made of sure, nothing but pure crystallized certainty from the tip of my gorgeously styled hair to the toes of my horrendously stylish boots. Go frolic in the radioactive green snot, glide against each other like it's the world's greenest mud-wrestling match, have a party of 'whoops my hand skidded seductively across your slick, chiseled biceps' all up in that cozy little two-places cocoon. What's that bukkake splatter on your face Karkles? Oh, just dried bed slime, yeah it always turns a bit bluish the morning after, nothing to worry about."
... Uh. Shit. That... got away from him a bit there.
Karkat was already persuaded that Dave thought he and Terezi wouldn't be able to keep it in their pants if they were naked in the same slime, which is why he insisted he ruin his underwear keeping them on in the 'coon (he's gonna have fun when they have to start walking again tomorrow, going commando.) Dave's been doing his best to be all "nope, cool with it"; he trusts Terezi, of course, but he also trusts Karkat. No matter how much of a torch he still carries for Pyrope he wouldn't try that sort of underhanded bullshit. (He'd rather just pine in secret like an emo kid.)
Only now he's snarking about Terezi jizzing on Karkat's face, so of course the secret message isn't 'you're stupid and so is your face', it's 'yes, actually, I am pissed off, tyvm. I wish my words were urine so that I could mark her leg. Yup, this hot bitch is mine, no touchies. Oh, you don't even want to anymore? Well then it's working.'
"I'll just sleep on the floor," Karkat tries to growl, only he looks a little sick (a little heartbroken), and that just pisses Dave off.
He's up in a flash (his muscles bitch at him, already sore and stiff from sitting a half-hour on the floor, what will it be tomorrow) and then all up in Karkat's face. Karkat is startled enough to take a step back, but no, that way's the door, wrong direction. He grabs him by those rough, old terrycloth lapels and whirls him around.
"--What the fuck?! Dave, you --"
"Shh," Dave says, leaning in nose to nose to whisper way too loud, "the neighbors will hear you." He keeps herding him back, almost more with the threat of facial collision than with his hold. Karkat's hands are tight on the bathrobe, trying to keep it closed against Dave's pull, so he can't really fight back, and there's also how Dave's still wearing his big nice thick-soled leather boots and Karkat's feet are bare; his toes leave faint dots on the wood. "And then they'll be like oh no that poor troll, spousal abuse, what'd that mean old Teal did to him, when what they should wonder is why the fuck the human shoved you face first in your gross slime pool."
He backs Karkat up against the rounded, disturbingly organic side of the recuperacoon.
"Yes, you big stupid melodrama lord, I am honestly truly really fine with you sharing with Terezi. Now get in."
(the trick is that terezi was already inside and listening in ohoho. but upon reread man does this need editing. :/ also i've lost the pornwrity mood. nrgh.)
no subject
no subject
no subject
;__________;
Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Asuka, whyyyyyyy. You take my feels and squish them into pulp. All of my feels, they are pulp now.
Moreplz
(I want to read more of what you wrote, but it's uber late and I have to get up early, so, eventually! -_-;)
no subject
Sleep well! ^^
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Also, I enjoy your Dad voice! It sound vary parental and manly.
no subject
I don't expect his name to actually appear in the fic at all, mind, I just like to think too much about random background stuff.
I'm glad you're enjoying the Dad!voice! thank you.
no subject
Current wild theories range from Gamzee going BWAHAHA I HAVE KIDNAPPED JANE and Bro/Karkat. Also, Karkat's first Earth molt, because I read a few fics where trolls molt and it sounds hilarous and scary at the same time and I plotted the whole thing. Though in my version it leads to Dirk/Jake. Also-also, waaaaaaay too much thought put into the actual day-to-day mechanics of Gamzee being on Earth. And Karkat, in exchange for Gamzee's life, selling his soul to the devils (Romy and Jade's Gramp, who is totally alive and he and Karkat ping each other as military men and clash in the most formal, awkward, interesting ways.)
I am going to find the actual BT fic and tell you everything that's built up in my head since the last time I exploded on your page.
Also, about five minutes after I posted this I found your tumblr, so more stalking and reading and aaaaaaa more art! And also cringing because I am one of the people who asked about updates. >///> :<
And then I found devil!Karkat and read your comment about back mechanics and plot happened. And because I suck at tumblr I will tell you here: Devil!Karkat was exposed as a mutant on Derse (maybe they thought he was a forbidden devil/human crossbreed,)they ripped his wings off for the giggles as a lead-up to his execution but he got away. They're all "Haha run you'll bleed out anyway" and forgot him. Through sheer bloddy-mindedness makes it to the outskirts of Prospit, where he hides and slowly heals.
His back's destroyed though, and it's crippling him as the muscles knit and his skin re-grows in bad ways. He manages to find a healer that takes pity on him and is willing to work on him in secret in their spare time. Catch is, he has to make it to their house every day for a session, and their house is actually deeper in Prospit than he thought he could go. He sneaks there every day even if half the time he gets turned away, and then sneaks back to his tiny hole afterwards.
Cut to John and Jade! John noticed the little sneaky person, and it's really his duty to find out why there is sneaking on Prospit, and also it would be funny as heck to surprise them. Commence stalking, either before or after he notices that the person's limping and clearly bad off and dresse in rags. Awww, pity. Tries to figure out who they are and what they're doing, butin the process spooks the healer, who denies knowledge and thereafter reuses to help Karkat for fear of repercussions. Karkat is barely making it as is and is still edging towards crippled, forcing him to be bolder in making a living, probably through stealing. John's looking for him double time after figuring out the healer was hiding something, and eventually find him.
Cue OMG ANGEL OMG DEMON, but Karkat's too weak to fight back, so he just surrenders. There are maybe tears, though that's just because John freaking chased him and he had to run for his life and he can't afford that with his back all messed up and it hurts too much to not cry you idiot, it's not like I'm sad or emotional or anything just put me out of my misery already. DO IT!
And John doesn't. :B And he sneaks him to Jade and there's another little freakout and they debate over letting him stay and healing him and whether or not they should tell anyone. Between them they can wrangle enough magic/holy arts/favors from friends to secretly fix him. After that it's just a matter of "I'm not your pet" and "What if you get caught harboring me" "We don't care 8B" "Alright fine sexytimes."
no subject
PLEASE TELL ME MOAR ABOUT ALL YOUR THEORIES they sound like so much fun. Soooo much fun. Bro/Karkat, oh god, once you read the chapter it'll have graduated to Bro/Karkat/Jack Noir. I sure did have AU ideas about that. Mmm kismesis sandwich with karkat fillings. XDDDD
My trolls don't molt but it sure would be fun as hell if it happened. Though in my head it would happen once at 11-12 and once toward when they leave Alternia for the fleet, so idk if Karkat wouldn't have passed that point already. ... Dirk/Jake, huh? do tell. XD
Jade and Jake's gramps IS actually alive in BT! He's the General Harley John was thinking about in the first chapter. He hasn't been around because busy time to be a General in, and also because alien on site = possibility of being mind-invaded, while minimal, is still too high for members of high command. I really want to hear moar about your thopughts on his interactions with Karkat, that sounds shiny. Mine aren't too defined yet.
It's okay when you ask about updates because if the way you did it pinged me like "why aren't you writing what i want to write and not doing anythng else" i'd have snapped at you already. It's fine to ask if the chapter is progressing, because sometimes it is and sometimes it's not and I don't mind telling people about the creative proces thing unless it's been asked three times on the same page and they'd have known that if they could only read back argh i hate repeating myself!! DX but apart from that, asking is fine. It's when it starts getting undertones of not honest curiosity but nagging/guilt tripping that it's not.
... your devil-karkat plot is SHINY. I never managed to get that far, i just knew he was sneaking around in John and Jade's city and I didn't know why at all. @_@ ... you should totally write it bwahahahaha >:D
Anyway BT ponderings plz!
Molt babbling PT. 1
As far as molting, I'm thinking a couple months down the road the girls go on a trip for a few weeks (your everyone-is-planetside-right-now has tainted everything. Pretend the aliens pulled back for some reason and everyone's nervous because WHY but Romy's totally taking advantage of it to do political schmoozing trips around the world with the girls.) The guys are totally flopping all over the place and being disgustingly manly men and sleeping on hammocks on the roof and it takes them a while to realize Karkat has disappeared. Not a huge red flag, he's got more freedom and they figure he's just hiding in a closet wanking and know better than to go looking for him this time. (My theories interlock.) Another day goes by and they realize no, he's missing. The noises from under John's bed are very obvious though, and they find him curled up in a pool of blood and his skin is cracked and peeling and it's starting to reek. He's half-conscious and cries randomly and it's the least funny thing ever.
Jon tried to mind-meld but all he gets before he has to give up is PAIN PAIN PAIN and I WANT MY LUSUS. He lashes out at everyone that tries to get him out and they're freaking out that he's dying a slow horrible death, Jake and John totally agree that it's a War of the Worlds cold-virus killing him! Dave and Dirk are just silently disturbed and kind of unwillingly pitying.
After another day or so it ends. He crawls out from under the bed (most likely past sleeping John) and makes it to the shower in a haze. Jake's there, Karkat doesn't go near him, but he comes over to help Karkat peel the dead fleshy bits off.
Fun biology/sociology time! Trolls are taught to cull weaknesses, but since this is such a significant part of their lives, they evolved to compensate for that. Trolls in molt are very vulnerable and pretty doped up, if not on sopor then their own bodies' natural drugs. When a troll comes out of molt their body is already pumping out hormones, especially at this age when breeding season is so near. When a troll comes in physical contact with another person the hormone/pheromone production is ramped up to stop the culling instincts in their tracks. During a normal molt, a troll's moirail or trusted pity-friend (or matesprit, if they've got no one else) will guard them and prepare for when they emerge, usually by hunting down tons of food. Afterwards, they take care of the molted troll, clean them up, feed them. There's lots of physical contact, most of it naked, though it rarely devolves into sex because the molted troll is just not in the mood for something that strenuous and invasive. Makeouts and naked cuddling are totally commonplace though, which is why you want your moirail there to hold you, and not your matesprit because it'd be cruel to tease.
It's widely known that you don't touch a strange molting troll because the pheromones will get you, especially with skin contact. It's also a widely accepted social nicety (one of the few ones they observe) that you do not pail just-molted trolls. They will not be happy and if their moirail/friend/matesprit doesn't hunt you down and kill you, they most certainly will when they come down from the drug high. It's a universally accepted reason for murder, applicable across all blood castes, and won't get you executed, similar to telling the court that the person you culled was a mutant. Get-out-of-jail-free card, because nobody wants to get pailed after they molted even if their hormones/pheromones were going crazy.
And then Jake comes along and starts rubbing his hands all over Karkat's naked body.
Molt babbling PT. 2
Sloppy makeouts ensue, Dirk comes in, tries to intervene, gets sucked into it but doesn't get hit as hard because Jake had a few minutes of Karkat's saliva in his mouth to get good and stoned off it, whereas Dirk's more about getting his tongue in Jake's mouth than in Karkat's. When they get grind-y Karkat shoves his way out of the sandwich and goes to a different shower while Dirk and Jake keep making out. After a long while, sobered up halfway by the cold water and focusing on getting all the dead bits off, he takes pity on them and turns their shower back on cold.
He's still out of it, working on instinct. He goes to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and eats everything. Leftovers? Gone. Block of cheese? Gone. Ten-pound slab of raw roast they were thawing for Sunday dinner? It was delicious. Spends a couple hours just inhaling anything they put next to him while Dirk and Jake look on in awe. Then he goes crawling back to the room and crashes out for another day, sleeping off the food.
When he wakes up he's alert again, but still working on instinct. Heads to the gym, sets up camp. Running, lifting weights, sit-ups, weird alien workouts that involves punching and kicking things a lot. Days of this, just working non-stop, eating a pile of food, and crashing. During this period he becomes gym buddies with Mr. Strider and he finally gets to start kick-boxing, though they claim they're making a hybrid style of dance-fighting. Comballet. (Which is totally a thing I stole, the object is to NOT hit the other person in a brutal, beautiful fight.) Builds up a solid layer of muscle by the end of the week, you can almost see them growing under his skin while he works.
When the girls come back and ask from the landing strip what's new, John answers.
"Well, we're all sleeping in the main room until we figure out how much bleach we need to get rid of the bloodstains and smell of rotting flesh in our room. Karkat, Dirk, and Jake came within fifteen sconds of having a kinky threesome in the showers, and apparently now Jake and Dirk are a thing. Mr. Strider and Karkat and bestest testosterone budies and will not stop punching at each other, Mr. Strider says they're re-inventing dance fighting and are gonna take it to Broadway and challenge the West Side Story cast to a battle royale. We have no more meat in the entire complex. And Karkat is four inches taller and thirty pounds of solid muscle heavier than he was last month. An inch of that is his horns, but still. Oh, and do be sure to mention how big his horns look, it's kind of tragically obvious thet aren't as big as he was hoping. XB "
And then he and Karkat get debriefed on the troll molting cycle and eveyone gets an earful about how yes, this is normal, except for the mind-bending agony part, he'd normally spend that portion in a bathtub full of drugs thanks SO much for offering, and his boyfriend would give him cuddles afterwards, and stop frikkin pitying me Egbert I did not cry for my daddy stop telling people that.
And at some point they have a joke-spat and Karkat winds up holding John at arm's length with a hand on his forehead, just cracking up about how he can do that now.
Also at some point Karkat angsts about breaking up John/Dirk/Jake and worries about backlash, but the couple seems cool with it, if a bit tentative, and John's only a little odd about it, so no major revenge plots suspected. He still apologizes to John, who is clueless as to why.
Re: Molt babbling PT. 2
Sleeping on the roof in hammocks! Molding ouchies! All that sociocultural stuff around the biological bits eeeee worldbuilding! *__* Mmmm shower shenanigans, dirkjake making out. AWESOME bro/karkat interaction ngh. ♥ And John's summary at the end is so LMAO, especially the bits about Broadway, I could see Bro saying that in just those words too. XD XD XD
Joke-spat & apologies = d'aww. XD
YOUR PLOT HAS EVERYTHING. *_*
I demand fanfic. Chop chop. (just kidding. XD summary's fun enough. Though if you suddenly feel like it... XDDDD)