HOMESTUCK FIC: The Fuckamorphosis, 2,500 words, Karkat gen
Hello, yes, I'm not dead, I just broke my laptop, but I have a new one so I stayed up all night reading Homestuck/writing this stupid fic for Homestuck, you're welcome.
The Fuckamorphosis (god what a stupid title)
Fandom: Homestuck
Wordcount: 2,500
Characters: Karkat, Kanaya, Rose
Pairing: Karkat♦Gamzee
Prompt: Here. Karkat's mutant blood means he has a shorter lifespan than the rest of the trolls.
Summary: You've determined that you're going to die on this hornpile, because why the fuck not? Every time one of these fuckasses you call friends comes in to tell you, "Oh, Karkat, don't be so dramatic, you're not going to die," it makes you just a little more determined to do so, just to spite those doubting motherfuckers.
>Be the blind girl
"Dude, I cannot believe you're being so melodramatic about this," says Dave. You agree.
"I can't believe I'm being so un-melodramatic about telling you to shut the fuck up, Strider," says Karkat in an oddly toneless voice, and it's the lack of enthusiasm in telling Dave to stuff it that really makes you take a good, long sniff in Karkat's direction and decide for yourself how much of his typical doom and gloom shit is for real.
At first, of course, you all thought he was being over-dramatic about it, because he's Karkat and over-dramatizes getting stomach cramps in the shittily-alchemized swimming pool or a less-than satisfactory haircut from Kanaya. Karkat says that he has two sweeps to live, tops, but Karkat's probably been saying that since he was two sweeps old at least. He's been predicting his own death of natural causes for the past three months you've been rocketing through the Furthest Ring on this asteroid. Eventually, however, everyone realizes the truth, but not before you yourself are able to smell what's at the bottom of it.
Your name is Terezi Pyrope and your best friend is going to die before you even see the new session. That's really all there is to say on the matter.
>Be the doomed one
"I mean, there's always a dream bubble," Terezi points out to you. "We'll still see you again in those, anyway."
"Fuck yes. An eternity with the horrorterrors and all the people my moirail killed. Sounds like a fucking heaven. Thank you, deceased fish princess and Aradia for setting all that up," you say.
"Hey brother," says Gamzee. "Ain't no point in getting all uptight about this right now."
"Yeah, you're right. My imminent demise is nothing to get worked up about. Fucking thanks, best buddy."
"You're welcome, brother," says Gamzee, and starts to give you a backrub. There are, at times, benefits to having a moirail who can willfully ignore sarcasm when he puts his mind to it.
Kanaya will try to reason you out of it. "Look, you don't know that your blood will...I mean, you've never met anyone else with your blood color--"
"That's the entire point of being a fucking mutant blood, yeah."
"Look, just because lower bloods on the hemospectrum live a little less long than the rest doesn't mean that you're going to die before you even fully mature."
Rose is there but doesn't add much to the conversation until this point. It is at this point, surprisingly, that she disagrees with Kanaya. "I hate to say it, but Karkat's histrionics may not be completely unfounded. When you look at the history of his ancestor, how he sacrificed himself so early in his life suggests that he intentionally martyred himself. Perhaps Karkat's ancestor did so because he knew that he would not live long otherwise, and...what?" You, Kanaya, and Dave (just what the fuck is he doing here anyway?) are staring at her. "You surely all know the history of your ancestors by now," Rose says slowly.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Lalonde?" you snarl.
"What do ancestors have to do with this?" Kanaya asks her skeptically. "That seems unrelated to the point at hand. Obsession over one's forebears is typically a highblood pastime anyway."
"Never mind," says Lalonde, looking much less namby-pamby and Miss Know-it-all-y than usual. "I may have been a bit too forward."
"Ha, way to fuck up, Rose," says Dave. "Maybe you should stick to Seer of Light-ing and leave the timeline shit to me."
Seriously, what the hell is Strider doing here? Why is every human on this godforsaken rock intent on visiting your sick room?
You were not the original inhabitant of the sick room. The original inhabitant was Mr. Mayor, who is now fully recovered. Really it should be called the sick respite block, but since Dave unexpectedly took to looking after Mr. Mayor because he sucked so hard at his Knight of Time-ing skills, Strider's original name for it has stuck. And even though Mr. Mayor has made almost a full recovery, the sick room has another occupant now. You've determined that you're going to die in it, because why the fuck not? Every time one of these fuckasses you call friends comes in to tell you, "Oh, Karkat, don't be so dramatic, you're not going to die," it makes you just a little more determined to do so, just to spite those doubting motherfuckers.
>Be the luminescent one
Of course, after Rose lets it slip, you don't rest until you find out all you can about Karkat's mysteriously martyred ancestor, and yours.
"But how do you know all this?" you ask her.
"Seer of Light," says Rose. "Remember?" She's never much more forthcoming after her initial slip; she's seems even a little bitter about it.
"I admit," you tell her, "I never thought ancestors were that important. I thought it was one of those silly blue-blood obsessions more than anything else. I never imagined their lives having an effect on someone like Karkat, or me."
"You were meant to find out in a more natural sequence of events, I think," says Rose, almost sheepishly. "I hope I haven't created a problem by revealing their identities to you. I know we've all gotten blase about creating these paradoxes in spacetime, but still."
"I wouldn't worry about it. I don't see any harm in sharing the truth with Karkat, at any rate, since finding out about his ancestor can only further explain his own abbreviated lifespan."
Even Rose can't argue with that.
When you do tell Karkat about the Sufferer, he's less than impressed.
"I've been telling you fuckasses I'm going to die for ages now," he says. "You really need your weird human girlfriend to tell you about my ancestor's pointless death to convince you?"
"I would hardly call his death pointless, would you?"
This enrages Karkat. "Kanaya, who the fuck cares. Sure, he died for his beliefs, and a fat fucking lot of good they ever did him, or anyone else. Jegus fuck." There's red spots of wet on his cheeks now, and what else is there to say? You embrace him before leaving the sick room.
"He died so you could have a lusus," you tell him. "He died so you wouldn't be an outcast like he was."
"Yeah, well." He doesn't even bother to extricate himself from the hug. After playing up all this early death melodrama, he has no right to wriggle out of these over-blown displays of emotion, you figure. "Valiant fucking effort, anyway."
==>
You are now the troll kid who's about to die. All your friends have come to say their last words to you. Your moirail is playing innkeeper at the shitty hornpile again, only this time the hornpile is also your deathbed. He's talking to you during your more lucid moments, and fucking around with the popamatic bubble technology in a poorly-alchemized game of Trouble during the increasingly frequent times when you just kind of zone out, like some old fart in a respite-home.
While zoning out, you reflect on the good-byes you've taken part of. You had a suitably cool farewell with Dave; you're certainly going to miss hating on that that guy's smug piece of shit face. Terezi was suitably grim but oddly cheerful as she wished you well on your journey to the Great Beyond, and Rose treated you with a distant formality. She apologized for not informing you herself of your ancestor's past.
"Perhaps if I had been more forthcoming...your death could have been averted," she had said, watching Gamzee pop the popamatic bubble, which he does mindlessly at this point, out of boredom.
"Un-fucking-likely," you said. "But thanks."
"That's the problem with this quasi-omniscience," she went on to say. "It's difficult to know how much is enough, and how much is too much."
"Yeah. Sure," you had said absently. Suddenly you were tired again, and you just wanted to lean back on the stupid fucking hornpile and listen to Gamzee pop that stupid fucking bubble some more, and wait for your stupid fucking inevitable death.
So that's what you did. That's what you're doing, when suddenly the door opens again and you muster up the energy to be angry again, to be incandescent with white-hot rage at your moirail for being too intent on a tiny plastic to bubble to turn people away properly.
"Goddamn it," you yell when you hear what sounds like two people enter the room. "Do we really have to drag this out? I'm dead already, all right? Boo fucking hoo."
"Karkat?" asks a mystified voice. It's a voice you haven't heard in ages, a voice maybe you never have heard before. You sit up on the hornpile and gape at John and Jade, standing there staring at you in disbelief.
"Nice ears," you tell her. You had been preparing for months all the spiteful last words to all your goddamn doubters of friends for months, but you haven't put any thought at all in how to deal with John and Jade, so you settle on the stupidest that comes into your mind first..
Thankfully, she doesn't mind. She giggles. "I knew you were going to make fun of me for them. But I like them. I've spent the last three years getting used to them."
"Like you should talk, Karkat," says John. "What's all this I hear about you being on your death bed?"
You close your eyes. "Technically it's a death hornpile. And I don't want to talk about it. Not here. I'm--"
"But Karkat," says Jade, smiling. "You're not going to die."
"You're not the boss of me," you snap, and of course that sets both of them off laughing. "Egbert, I can't believe that in three years you managed to be even more annoying than you were the last time I talked to you."
"I can't believe you're still such a huge drama queen," says John.
"Well, suck on it," you say. "I still am. I'm dying, and there's nothing you can do about it."
John and Jade, the cheery fucking chipper twins that they are, finally look a little more serious. They exchange glances. "There's nothing we can do about it. But there's still dream bubbles, remember? This won't be good-bye for good."
"Not if I can help it," you mutter. The two of them exchange knowing god-tier grins again. You're definitely not going to miss that, all their stupid quasi-omniscient god-pajama bullshit, even as you'll miss probably every other thing about them, and about your moirail, and your friends, and even about this fucking hornpile. It's killing you, looking at them, even more than your shitty mutant blood is killing you.
You lie back. "Well, this is good-bye then." The end is coming. You can feel it. Soon. Soon, but not soon enough.
Jade grabs your hand. John grabs your other one. "It is good-bye..." she says.
"Don't say it," you warn them.
"...For now," they say together, and you lie back on the hornpile again, letting out several disgusted honks in your wake.
==>
All through your confinement to the sick room, you never visited a dream bubble. That was just fucking fine with you; the Horrorterrors of the Furthest Rings could cram their tentacles up one of their many undulating mephitic assholes for all you cared, and you found the company of dead people completely unbearable now that you were soon to be one of them.
You spent no time at all in dream bubbles. You didn't awake on Prospit until the party was over and everyone was all already dead. So it figures that it wasn't until the day you died, just as all your friends were about to arrive at the new session, that you awoke from troubled dreams to find yourself transformed into a fully realized Knight of Blood.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT," you shout at the most convenient person, who just happens to be Aradia.
"I told you so," she says, smiling knowingly.
"Fuck that," you say. "Don't pull that quasi-omniscient god-tier bullshit on me, Megido. I got it from Lalonde and even fucking Strider, and Egbert and Harley just barging in on my fucking deathbed at the last minute, but fuck that if I ever got it from you. You told me what? Not a fucking thing, that's what."
"I told you that you and all the others were going a fabulous journey," said Aradia. "Didn't I? It definitely isn't a journey that ends with your untimely death."
"Hey, KK," because of course Sollux couldn't be far away, even in the black nightmare hellscape of the Furthest Ring. "Nice wings. You look pretty cool with your godhood pixie trail and shit."
"Oh, fuck you," you say. "Why aren't I dead? I'm supposed to be dead."
"You are dead, dude," says Sollux. "Part of you is, anyway. Welcome to the club."
"I don't want to be a part of your lame club. I just want to be left alone, OK?"
"Karkat," says Aradia. "You're the Knight of Blood. Doesn't it follow that what was your greatest weakness would eventually become your greatest strength? Would resurrect you, even from the ashes of your quest bed on Prospit?"
"Sure, it fucking follows."
"Goddammit, KK," says Sollux. "You got your second chance. Heck, this probably counts as a third or fourth chance, so quit bitching and get the fuck back to the rest of them. Unless you want me or AA to escort you back or something, like a wriggler on their first day of being schoolfed."
"Hell no," you say. "If I'm a fully realized knight of shit or whatever, I'm going back on my own. Aren't I?"
"You are," Aradia assures you. "Karkat, your ancestor died to give you this chance."
"God, don't remind me," you say. "This ancestor sounds a lot like past me, except like a thousand times more obnoxious."
Aradia only smiles wider. "Good luck."
"Yeah. You'll need it," says Sollux. "Say hi to Kanaya and Terezi and all them for me."
"Fuck you!" you call back to him before taking off, starting on a long trek back through the Furthest Ring to the new session to help your friends as a fully realized Knight of Blood. Whatever the fuck that means.
comments at Dreamwidth.
The Fuckamorphosis (god what a stupid title)
Fandom: Homestuck
Wordcount: 2,500
Characters: Karkat, Kanaya, Rose
Pairing: Karkat♦Gamzee
Prompt: Here. Karkat's mutant blood means he has a shorter lifespan than the rest of the trolls.
Summary: You've determined that you're going to die on this hornpile, because why the fuck not? Every time one of these fuckasses you call friends comes in to tell you, "Oh, Karkat, don't be so dramatic, you're not going to die," it makes you just a little more determined to do so, just to spite those doubting motherfuckers.
>Be the blind girl
"Dude, I cannot believe you're being so melodramatic about this," says Dave. You agree.
"I can't believe I'm being so un-melodramatic about telling you to shut the fuck up, Strider," says Karkat in an oddly toneless voice, and it's the lack of enthusiasm in telling Dave to stuff it that really makes you take a good, long sniff in Karkat's direction and decide for yourself how much of his typical doom and gloom shit is for real.
At first, of course, you all thought he was being over-dramatic about it, because he's Karkat and over-dramatizes getting stomach cramps in the shittily-alchemized swimming pool or a less-than satisfactory haircut from Kanaya. Karkat says that he has two sweeps to live, tops, but Karkat's probably been saying that since he was two sweeps old at least. He's been predicting his own death of natural causes for the past three months you've been rocketing through the Furthest Ring on this asteroid. Eventually, however, everyone realizes the truth, but not before you yourself are able to smell what's at the bottom of it.
Your name is Terezi Pyrope and your best friend is going to die before you even see the new session. That's really all there is to say on the matter.
>Be the doomed one
"I mean, there's always a dream bubble," Terezi points out to you. "We'll still see you again in those, anyway."
"Fuck yes. An eternity with the horrorterrors and all the people my moirail killed. Sounds like a fucking heaven. Thank you, deceased fish princess and Aradia for setting all that up," you say.
"Hey brother," says Gamzee. "Ain't no point in getting all uptight about this right now."
"Yeah, you're right. My imminent demise is nothing to get worked up about. Fucking thanks, best buddy."
"You're welcome, brother," says Gamzee, and starts to give you a backrub. There are, at times, benefits to having a moirail who can willfully ignore sarcasm when he puts his mind to it.
Kanaya will try to reason you out of it. "Look, you don't know that your blood will...I mean, you've never met anyone else with your blood color--"
"That's the entire point of being a fucking mutant blood, yeah."
"Look, just because lower bloods on the hemospectrum live a little less long than the rest doesn't mean that you're going to die before you even fully mature."
Rose is there but doesn't add much to the conversation until this point. It is at this point, surprisingly, that she disagrees with Kanaya. "I hate to say it, but Karkat's histrionics may not be completely unfounded. When you look at the history of his ancestor, how he sacrificed himself so early in his life suggests that he intentionally martyred himself. Perhaps Karkat's ancestor did so because he knew that he would not live long otherwise, and...what?" You, Kanaya, and Dave (just what the fuck is he doing here anyway?) are staring at her. "You surely all know the history of your ancestors by now," Rose says slowly.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Lalonde?" you snarl.
"What do ancestors have to do with this?" Kanaya asks her skeptically. "That seems unrelated to the point at hand. Obsession over one's forebears is typically a highblood pastime anyway."
"Never mind," says Lalonde, looking much less namby-pamby and Miss Know-it-all-y than usual. "I may have been a bit too forward."
"Ha, way to fuck up, Rose," says Dave. "Maybe you should stick to Seer of Light-ing and leave the timeline shit to me."
Seriously, what the hell is Strider doing here? Why is every human on this godforsaken rock intent on visiting your sick room?
You were not the original inhabitant of the sick room. The original inhabitant was Mr. Mayor, who is now fully recovered. Really it should be called the sick respite block, but since Dave unexpectedly took to looking after Mr. Mayor because he sucked so hard at his Knight of Time-ing skills, Strider's original name for it has stuck. And even though Mr. Mayor has made almost a full recovery, the sick room has another occupant now. You've determined that you're going to die in it, because why the fuck not? Every time one of these fuckasses you call friends comes in to tell you, "Oh, Karkat, don't be so dramatic, you're not going to die," it makes you just a little more determined to do so, just to spite those doubting motherfuckers.
>Be the luminescent one
Of course, after Rose lets it slip, you don't rest until you find out all you can about Karkat's mysteriously martyred ancestor, and yours.
"But how do you know all this?" you ask her.
"Seer of Light," says Rose. "Remember?" She's never much more forthcoming after her initial slip; she's seems even a little bitter about it.
"I admit," you tell her, "I never thought ancestors were that important. I thought it was one of those silly blue-blood obsessions more than anything else. I never imagined their lives having an effect on someone like Karkat, or me."
"You were meant to find out in a more natural sequence of events, I think," says Rose, almost sheepishly. "I hope I haven't created a problem by revealing their identities to you. I know we've all gotten blase about creating these paradoxes in spacetime, but still."
"I wouldn't worry about it. I don't see any harm in sharing the truth with Karkat, at any rate, since finding out about his ancestor can only further explain his own abbreviated lifespan."
Even Rose can't argue with that.
When you do tell Karkat about the Sufferer, he's less than impressed.
"I've been telling you fuckasses I'm going to die for ages now," he says. "You really need your weird human girlfriend to tell you about my ancestor's pointless death to convince you?"
"I would hardly call his death pointless, would you?"
This enrages Karkat. "Kanaya, who the fuck cares. Sure, he died for his beliefs, and a fat fucking lot of good they ever did him, or anyone else. Jegus fuck." There's red spots of wet on his cheeks now, and what else is there to say? You embrace him before leaving the sick room.
"He died so you could have a lusus," you tell him. "He died so you wouldn't be an outcast like he was."
"Yeah, well." He doesn't even bother to extricate himself from the hug. After playing up all this early death melodrama, he has no right to wriggle out of these over-blown displays of emotion, you figure. "Valiant fucking effort, anyway."
==>
You are now the troll kid who's about to die. All your friends have come to say their last words to you. Your moirail is playing innkeeper at the shitty hornpile again, only this time the hornpile is also your deathbed. He's talking to you during your more lucid moments, and fucking around with the popamatic bubble technology in a poorly-alchemized game of Trouble during the increasingly frequent times when you just kind of zone out, like some old fart in a respite-home.
While zoning out, you reflect on the good-byes you've taken part of. You had a suitably cool farewell with Dave; you're certainly going to miss hating on that that guy's smug piece of shit face. Terezi was suitably grim but oddly cheerful as she wished you well on your journey to the Great Beyond, and Rose treated you with a distant formality. She apologized for not informing you herself of your ancestor's past.
"Perhaps if I had been more forthcoming...your death could have been averted," she had said, watching Gamzee pop the popamatic bubble, which he does mindlessly at this point, out of boredom.
"Un-fucking-likely," you said. "But thanks."
"That's the problem with this quasi-omniscience," she went on to say. "It's difficult to know how much is enough, and how much is too much."
"Yeah. Sure," you had said absently. Suddenly you were tired again, and you just wanted to lean back on the stupid fucking hornpile and listen to Gamzee pop that stupid fucking bubble some more, and wait for your stupid fucking inevitable death.
So that's what you did. That's what you're doing, when suddenly the door opens again and you muster up the energy to be angry again, to be incandescent with white-hot rage at your moirail for being too intent on a tiny plastic to bubble to turn people away properly.
"Goddamn it," you yell when you hear what sounds like two people enter the room. "Do we really have to drag this out? I'm dead already, all right? Boo fucking hoo."
"Karkat?" asks a mystified voice. It's a voice you haven't heard in ages, a voice maybe you never have heard before. You sit up on the hornpile and gape at John and Jade, standing there staring at you in disbelief.
"Nice ears," you tell her. You had been preparing for months all the spiteful last words to all your goddamn doubters of friends for months, but you haven't put any thought at all in how to deal with John and Jade, so you settle on the stupidest that comes into your mind first..
Thankfully, she doesn't mind. She giggles. "I knew you were going to make fun of me for them. But I like them. I've spent the last three years getting used to them."
"Like you should talk, Karkat," says John. "What's all this I hear about you being on your death bed?"
You close your eyes. "Technically it's a death hornpile. And I don't want to talk about it. Not here. I'm--"
"But Karkat," says Jade, smiling. "You're not going to die."
"You're not the boss of me," you snap, and of course that sets both of them off laughing. "Egbert, I can't believe that in three years you managed to be even more annoying than you were the last time I talked to you."
"I can't believe you're still such a huge drama queen," says John.
"Well, suck on it," you say. "I still am. I'm dying, and there's nothing you can do about it."
John and Jade, the cheery fucking chipper twins that they are, finally look a little more serious. They exchange glances. "There's nothing we can do about it. But there's still dream bubbles, remember? This won't be good-bye for good."
"Not if I can help it," you mutter. The two of them exchange knowing god-tier grins again. You're definitely not going to miss that, all their stupid quasi-omniscient god-pajama bullshit, even as you'll miss probably every other thing about them, and about your moirail, and your friends, and even about this fucking hornpile. It's killing you, looking at them, even more than your shitty mutant blood is killing you.
You lie back. "Well, this is good-bye then." The end is coming. You can feel it. Soon. Soon, but not soon enough.
Jade grabs your hand. John grabs your other one. "It is good-bye..." she says.
"Don't say it," you warn them.
"...For now," they say together, and you lie back on the hornpile again, letting out several disgusted honks in your wake.
==>
All through your confinement to the sick room, you never visited a dream bubble. That was just fucking fine with you; the Horrorterrors of the Furthest Rings could cram their tentacles up one of their many undulating mephitic assholes for all you cared, and you found the company of dead people completely unbearable now that you were soon to be one of them.
You spent no time at all in dream bubbles. You didn't awake on Prospit until the party was over and everyone was all already dead. So it figures that it wasn't until the day you died, just as all your friends were about to arrive at the new session, that you awoke from troubled dreams to find yourself transformed into a fully realized Knight of Blood.
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT," you shout at the most convenient person, who just happens to be Aradia.
"I told you so," she says, smiling knowingly.
"Fuck that," you say. "Don't pull that quasi-omniscient god-tier bullshit on me, Megido. I got it from Lalonde and even fucking Strider, and Egbert and Harley just barging in on my fucking deathbed at the last minute, but fuck that if I ever got it from you. You told me what? Not a fucking thing, that's what."
"I told you that you and all the others were going a fabulous journey," said Aradia. "Didn't I? It definitely isn't a journey that ends with your untimely death."
"Hey, KK," because of course Sollux couldn't be far away, even in the black nightmare hellscape of the Furthest Ring. "Nice wings. You look pretty cool with your godhood pixie trail and shit."
"Oh, fuck you," you say. "Why aren't I dead? I'm supposed to be dead."
"You are dead, dude," says Sollux. "Part of you is, anyway. Welcome to the club."
"I don't want to be a part of your lame club. I just want to be left alone, OK?"
"Karkat," says Aradia. "You're the Knight of Blood. Doesn't it follow that what was your greatest weakness would eventually become your greatest strength? Would resurrect you, even from the ashes of your quest bed on Prospit?"
"Sure, it fucking follows."
"Goddammit, KK," says Sollux. "You got your second chance. Heck, this probably counts as a third or fourth chance, so quit bitching and get the fuck back to the rest of them. Unless you want me or AA to escort you back or something, like a wriggler on their first day of being schoolfed."
"Hell no," you say. "If I'm a fully realized knight of shit or whatever, I'm going back on my own. Aren't I?"
"You are," Aradia assures you. "Karkat, your ancestor died to give you this chance."
"God, don't remind me," you say. "This ancestor sounds a lot like past me, except like a thousand times more obnoxious."
Aradia only smiles wider. "Good luck."
"Yeah. You'll need it," says Sollux. "Say hi to Kanaya and Terezi and all them for me."
"Fuck you!" you call back to him before taking off, starting on a long trek back through the Furthest Ring to the new session to help your friends as a fully realized Knight of Blood. Whatever the fuck that means.
comments at Dreamwidth.