Chapter 1
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you’re a goddamn embarrassment to your kind. You’re supposed to be a strong Alternian troll, evolved from poisonous wasps and raised in the harshest environment in the universe. And yet you’re nearly pissing yourself to tears because of some stupid reoccurring nightmare. Even your past self wasn’t enough of a dumbass to make that mistake. Nope, this is all current you. You stupid fucking idiot.
Your fingers tremble as you poke at the keys of your husktop, and another wave of self-loathing rage washes over you. You have to take a breath and calm yourself (something your wonderful moirail taught you to do when you got too overwhelmed), and then think out what you say while you type.
CG: USUALLY I CAN TELL RIGHT FROM THE START THAT ITS A DREAM
CG: BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON, AND EVERYTHING IS STUPID
CG: AND SO I TRY TO TELL MYSELF TO WAKE UP BEFORE SHIT GETS BAD
CG: BECAUSE
CG: IT ALWAYS FUCKING GETS BAD.
TT: And what usually happens when you attempt to wake yourself?
CG: …
CG: IT DOESN’T FUCKING WORK.
…
…..
…
The air is thick and hazy, weighing down your lungs as you push yourself up from the ground. The black stone beneath your hands is vibrating with the pulse of the universe, beating in time with your own. It smells like iron and ash and copper and death. You know before you even open your eyes that you are on LOPAH, your own personal planet bestowed upon you by The Game through what you assume is some huge cosmic fucking joke.
Yes, your entire existence is a joke. Your blood is the punchline.
Ha fucking ha.
As you stand, gravity shifts your body in an unnatural way, leaving your heels an inch off the ground. You had already guessed you were dreaming, but at least that gave you proof.
A sickening hiss and scraping of stone against stone distracts you, and your thoughts momentarily come to a hault.
…
…..
…
TT: I see. So you end up trapped, yet self-aware, while you are dreaming.
TT: And even so, you remain unable to control the situations you dream up?
CG: YEAH.
CG: LIKE I KNOW IT ISN’T REAL AND MY DREAM SELF IS DEAD SO NOTHING THAT HAPPENS IN THE DREAM CAN ACTUALLY HARM ME BUT
CG: FUCK.
CG: GOD IT JUST. FUCK.
TT: Are you alright, Karkat? Should I send Dave to check on you?
TT: I could return from the mainland within a few minutes to comfort you if you’d like.
CG: IT’S FINE, I’M FUCKING FINE.
CG: AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT FUCKING TELL HIM ABOUT THIS CONVERSATION.
CG: IT’S JUST.
CG: EMOTIONALLY, IT FEELS TOO REAL.
CG: IT FEELS LIKE SOMEONE IS REPLAYING MEMORIES I DON’T HAVE.
CG: EXCEPT I STILL GET STUCK WITH ALL THE GODDAMN EMOTIONAL TURMOIL.
…
…..
…
Sickles materialize into your hands, and you clutch fists around the cool metal. It’s relaxing, the dark silver glinting beyond the haze of bloody rivers. It’s a nice distraction from the inevitable. Aradia’s words ring in your ears, though you weren’t the one she spoke them to- about failure and necessary doom- she had spoken them to Sollux, of all people. And look who ended up playing host to that duality-loving freak at the corpse party.
There’s an all-my-friends-are-dead joke in there somewhere.
The familiar buzz of a far off swarm of drones rings in your ears, and fear prickles up the hair on the back of your neck. Your hands are sweaty and clammy, little clumps of fuzz are pulling off the fabric of your sweater and sticking to your skin, irritating your grubscars, and holy fuck your knees are suddenly killing you. Did you fall that hard on your way down here?
Wait. You didn’t fall down here.
“This isn’t real,” you remember, speaking out oud in a hushed tone. “You’re asleep. You’re asleep…”
The ground shifts beneath you again, a mocking reminder that you had forgotten you were unconscious.
“You stupid fuck!” You release your fists, letting the muffled sound of your sickles clattering against the stone ring in your ears. “Wake up!”
The stench of blood clogs your throat, and you choke. You scream through it. You scream and cry and plea, your throat raw and throbbing. You double over, a sharp pain in your stomach forcing you to gag as your knees slam against the hard ground. You recall that your knees were hurting a few minutes earlier.
Your vision is clouded with translucent pink tears, but you don’t doubt the speckles of bright crimson blood mixed in with the bile you coughed up. It glows, and so do the rivers of blood surrounding you. Fuck. Fuck. The stone beneath you is hot again, your knees are aching, your throat is bleeding but you can’t stop screaming-- !
Wake up… Wake up!
WAKE UP!
…
…..
…
CG: WAKE UP.
TT: Hm?
CG: THAT’S ALL I CAN SAY.
CG: WHEN I’M TRYING TO PULL MYSELF OUT OF IT, THAT’S ALL I KEEP SAYING.
CG: I KEEP SCREAMING AT MYSELF TO FUCKING WAKE UP ALREADY.
CG: AND IT NEVER WORKS.
TT: May I ask why you do not want Dave to know about these dreams? I’m sure he would take pity on you and offer comfort.
CG: I DO NOT NEED YOUR FUCKING MATESPRIT RELATIONSHIP ADVICE RIGHT NOW LALONDE, I NEED YOU TO DO YOUR FUCKING DUTY AS MY PALEMATE AND HELP ME.
TT: I understand, though I don’t think you do. Have you thought that perhaps my help is presented in the form of that suggestion?
TT: I will state it simply: Talk to Dave about your nightmares. Trust me, he’ll be able to help.
TT: Now, unless you need anything else, I would like to get back to my own matesprit. She’s hungry and I do not want to keep her waiting too long.
CG: JESUS FUCK, ROSE I DID NOT NEED THAT PIECE OF INFORMATION.
CG: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT STILL REMAINS HOLY IN THIS GODFORSAKEN UNIVERSE, GO AND DO NOT GIVE ME ANY DETAILS ABOUT YOUR EVENING WHEN I SEE YOU FOR COFFEE TOMORROW.
TT: It’s entirely too easy to manifest paleness towards you, did you know that? My diamond is swooning each time you speak.
CG: SHUT UP. FUCK OFF.
CG: …
CG:♢
TT: Such a romantic.
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP.
TT: ♢
You slap your husktop closed, more frustrated with yourself than with Rose. Even though she was being overdramatic, she wasn’t wrong, and you’re just as fucking pale for her too. Goddamnit, now you have to go find Dave.
It’s been a week since the Game ended, and you’re still baffled at the way things turned out. Due to the cosmic forces of every universe loving to continuously fuck you over, John’s double-reach-around retcon bullshit and Vriska’s leadership skills are what saved your timeline and everyone in it. Apparently the final battle was something amazing, not that you would fucking know, since you spent the entire time unconscious and nursing a concussion thanks to Kanaya knocking you the fuck out. That was the first time you had the dream that is currently haunting you.
Which, once again, brings you back to the present. You need to go fucking talk to Dave. Not that you mind of course, it’s just that he (along with the other godtiered flying idiots) have been impossible to track down since forming the new universe. With everyone doing so much important shit, you feel sort of like a double failure. Then again, if you’re not involved in things, it’s impossible for you to screw things up. So, you figure it’s a win-lose situation.
Your shoes scuff against the ground where grass gradually disappears into the sand of the beach. It’s already pretty late in the day, so most of the others are in their respective hiveblocks for the night. The exceptions, of course, are Dave and Dirk, who are sitting almost silently on one of the large rocks by the pier overlooking the ocean. As you approach the trail of uneven rocks, the salty air tickles your nose and makes you sniffle. It attracts Dave’s attention, and when he turns to glance at you, there’s the smallest of smiles across his lips. Your heart melts, and you absolutely hate it.
“Sorry to interrupt the ‘douche bags with shades’ meeting,” you say, sounding pathetic.
“It’s cool,” Dave says as he rises to his feet. “This was just a review for next week’s meeting. We’ve got a lot of shit to cover, it ain’t easy being the only two members of the ‘douche bags with shades’ club. ‘Course if you’re interested, we might start accepting applications for new members.”
“You fucking wish,” you scowl, crossing your arms out of habit. You can feel Dirk staring at you, and you see his poker face in your peripherals, but you don’t dare acknowledge it.
Dave turns to his ecto-biological littermate and gives a sharp nod, which Dirk returns. The gestures remind you of one of your schoolfeeding lessons which covered nonverbal communication among beasts.
The atmosphere around you is quiet as you walk back across the sand. Dave’s hand finds yours, and your fingers intertwine together like a fucking jigsaw puzzle. You give his hand a squeeze.
“So what’s up?” he finally asks.
What is up?
You really don’t want to start off this conversation by telling him about your nightmares. Even though Rose was the one who suggested it, Dave isn’t your moirail, so unloading your personal issues on him right away would be a million different kinds of inappropriate. You take a moment to breathe deeply a few times before answering.
“Let’s go to the park,” you say as you begin to lead him down the correct path.
“Ain’t it a little late for bird watching? Or do you wanna like, do the nasty in a tree or something?” Dave is smirking, you know before you even look at him. He just laughs at your response of disgust, and continues walking with you.
For an entire five minutes, it’s quiet and peaceful, and there’s nothing on your mind. The sun is setting, and one of the moons is already high in the sky, shining violet and bright. It reminds you vaguely of Alternia. Your native language clicks in your throat as you voice out the name of your dead planet, and it feels like sandpaper on your tongue. Dave stops walking, his grip on your hand tightening and forcing you to face him.
“Okay, what’s going on?” His voice is low and serious, and he’s close to frowning in concern.
“What?” You glare in defense.
He sighs and slides off his shades, tucking them into the collar of his shirt. His eyes are violently red, goddamn it, and it catches you off guard even after spending a sweep and a half glancing at them. You can feel your expression soften as you stare.
“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Kar,” he sighs. “The only time you ever do the alien clicky thing is when you’re depressed about something.”
Fuck, you hate that he’s so goddamn observant. You don’t deserve such a kind matesprit. You wince as you taste copper after biting your lip, and Dave’s thumb brushes across the wound and carries off a bead of blood. The hue matches his eyes exactly.
“What’s wrong?” he asks again. His voice is soft, laced with worry and understand. Fuck you for being so fucking flushed for this human. You sigh, clicks of annoyance resonating in the back of your throat as you rest your forehead against his chest.
“Rose said I should talk to you, about some shit that’s been going on,” you say. “Apparently human moirails are loose with their quadrant boundaries, since any decent troll would consider this cheating. At the very least, blatant quadrant blurring.”
“Hah,” Dave huffs out a laugh, and you feel it reverberate through his chest. His arms wrap around you, and you feel safe. “As if you and I don’t flip from red to black every other day.”
“Fuck you,” you say weakly, your voice muffled against his shirt. You’re not in the mood for that discussion right now. It had come up a few times within the past couple days, and your idiot self refuses to come to terms with the way you've been flipping quadrants so easily.
“See?” The bastard laughs again, and you sink further into his embrace.
“I hate all humans,” you groan, and finally push away from him. “You’re all awful and I hope you die in the most painful fucking way possible. Let the new universe be ruled by trolls, the clear superior race.”
Dave is sputtering a laugh at your weak insults as he grabs your hand and pulls you to the ground. The grass is soft beneath your legs, and you take it upon yourself to curl up and rest your head on your matesprit’s lap. His hands immediately go to your hair, circling around your horns in a way that makes you shiver and sigh and push into his touch like the pathetic, attention starved piece of shit you are.
“So, what did Rose want you to talk to me about?” he asks after a minute of silence.
“Nightmares,” you answer in a purr. You let your eyes close and focus on the way his fingers comb through your hair.
“You been having nightmares again?”
“Mmhm.”
His hands stop moving, and you absolutely do not whine at the loss of his touch.
“Karkat,” Dave says as he pulls back, his tone serious. “Please tell me you’re not having prophetic dreams about how you’re going to be the troll Jesus of the new world.”
“No you asshole-”
“Cuz I’m gonna be real here, I don’t think I can handle being your whore turned holy secret wife dude, like I love you and all but I still got my limits,” he rambles. You raise your hand up to cover his mouth before he has the chance to say something worse.
“Dave, shut the fuck up,” you say, cautiously removing your hand. “It’s just like, the same shit that I would dream about on the meteor, except I can’t escape it.”
“Oh,” he says, expression dropping. “Well I mean, the meteor was different cuz we had dream bubbles there. Ya think that’s why it’s worse here?”
You shrug and nuzzle into his lap again. “Rose said I should talk to you about it because you would understand better.”
Dave stiffens beneath you, and you sit up by reflex. His gaze is far off, but only for a few seconds, until he blinks and catches your gaze. His expression goes from neutral to defensive. “Fuck Rose, she doesn’t know shit,” he says. “Sounds like she’s just slacking on her moirail duties.”
“I’m not a fucking moron, I know you’ve dealt with horrorterrors on the meteor,” you say with a frown. “And in case you forgot, we share the same respiteblock, and I can tell when you’re not sleeping.”
“Drop it already man, I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Dave, just fucking-”
“No, Karkat, I’m not doing this shit,” Dave suddenly says, pushing himself up off the ground. “I told you before, if you wanna get all up close and personal with your shitty past memories and all that bullshit, leave me the fuck out of it. That’s why you’ve got Rose, isn’t it?”
“Rose sent me to you!” you yell back. Fuck volume control, now you’re pissed off.
“And I told you, Rose doesn’t know shit!” He’s huffing, chest heaving, and his hands are curled dangerously into fists. “Last I checked I’m not in a clover with you two, so fuck off.”
“You make it so fucking hard not to flip on you, you know that?” you call after him. He pauses to glance back at you, and you instantly recognize the tears welled up in his eyes. You’re not sure if that makes you feel smug and satisfied, or if you should pity him even more. You almost choke at your own conflicting emotions (and stupid, stupid tendency to blur your quadrants so quickly).
“You wanna flip on me, Karkat? Go ahead, make my fucking day, please,” he holds his arms out to emphasize his defenseless stance. “C'mon man, I’m waiting, beat the shit out of me when I least expect it. My life ain’t complete without some asshole taking advantage of my weaknesses.”
Now Dave is laughing, but you don’t think it’s genuine because there are also tears streaming down his cheeks. It scares you a little, and you feel like an asshole for standing there without a clue of what to do. You’re no better than an expired sack of cull bait. You’re the worst fucking matesprit in all of paradox space.
But you also can’t ignore the tiny black flame burning in your chest. It's almost sickening how tempting it is to embrace, flickering while your mind flirts with the idea of engaging in something black with this human who has been giving you conflicting feelings since the day you met him on the meteor. You want to reach out for it, you want to indulge in this sickening quadrant-flipping. The more you consider it, the thirstier you get for it, and the harder it is to resist. Fuck it.
“Oh, screw you, Strider,” you bite back. “If anyone is taking advantage of weaknesses, it’s you.”
“Hah, dude, what?” Dave is beyond pissed off now, his hands clenched and arms trembling with how tightly his muscles are tensed.
“You know exactly what!” You stomp forward as you speak and give his shoulder a shove. “Here, I’ll make you a fucking list since you’re too much of an incompetent wriggler to understand it! First of all, your constant fucking flirting with every single girl, regardless of littermate relation or not.” You shove him again. “Your blatant disregard for my fucking feelings.” Shove. “Your constant emotional unavailability!”
You bring your hand back to shove his chest again, but you’re suddenly stunned as a throbbing pain pulses from your left cheek bone. Dave is glaring at you, huffing and shaking, and he pulls his hand back to land another punch to your face. This time you counter though, digging your claws into his flailing arm and not letting go until you feel blood. He’s groaning in pain, but still has enough sense to headbutt you directly on the bridge of your nose, forcing you to release your grip.
You barely have time to register the warm sensation of blood trickling from your nose before Dave’s mouth is on yours. You can taste the iron and hate, and it briefly reminds you of your nightmares. It makes you shiver, but you push against his mouth even harder, not bothering to hold back as your fangs dig into his lower lip. When he pulls away, he’s a bloody mess too, and his crimson eyes are radiating with hate.
“Fuck you, Karkat.” He spits a grotesque mixture of blood and saliva at your face.
“Fuck you! You’re the one who started this!” You’re still yelling, your body is still tense like a coil and you’re just waiting to pounce.
“Hah, you wanna do this man? Get all up in my spades?” Dave is grinning, and his knuckles crack as he clenches his fists. “I’m damn near begging you to say yes just so I don’t have to hold back.”
“It’s a fucking insult you would hold back in the first place,” you snarl at him. You finally let yourself spring forward and launch at him, but he’s ready for you. The two of you wrestle each other to the ground, and at some point, you are face down in the dirt, wrists pinned against a tree as your ex-matesprit-new-kismesis tears your clothes off. The burning inside of you is as intense as ever, but unlike before, you’re pretty sure you absolutely fucking love it.