âWho are you and why are you in my ap-apartment?â
 Stanley told himself his voice did not tremble at the end. He sounded as firm and fearless as anyone would sound if theyâd found a mysterious tall figure in their dark kitchen at three am. The other turned around slowly and faced the scared brunette with an unimpressed expression and-
 Holy shit, his eyes were glowing.
Stanley nearly dropped the letter opener her was using as a weapon. There was a long pause, neither moved. Then the stranger scowled and the blue glow of his eyes flared up to something stronger.
 âGood question.â He said, his voice low, smooth, accented- Stanley felt his knees weaken. What a lovely voi- no Stanley! Focus! He could be dangerous!
 âWho are you and what am I doing in your apartment? What do you want?â
 âWait, what do I want?â
 The other sneered. âYes what do you want? Why did you summon me?â
 âI-â Stanley shook his head. What?? âSummon? I didn´t call you if thatâs what you m-mean. I don´t know who- hey!â
 In a blink of an eye, the stranger had moved from the kitchen to its doorway and grabbed Stanley´s arm, dragging him through his own house as the man sputtered and protested. They ended up in Stanley´s bedroom, littered with clothes, an empty pizza box and multiple bottles of alcohol. The TV was on and a couple made out noisily.
 The brunette began to explain that he hadn´t expected any guests â this was why it was so messy and he had gotten drunk because he was celebrating his birthday, but something caught his eyes and stopped him.
 On the other side of the room, in the corner on that brown mini table he had bought off a neighbor last year was a full set of candles, red paint and a thawed raw chicken along with a few kitchen knives.
 He frowned. âWhat the hell?â
 âExactly!â The other exclaimed. âWhat the hell where you doing summoning demons at midnight whilst drunk?â
 âI-I..er must´ve thoughtâŚâ
 âWhat, that it would be funny? You just had to see? Well, guess what kid! I! Cant! Leave! You messed something up horribly and literally chained me to this shithole of an apartment.â
 âH-hey! Compared to hell, my apartment´s nice!â
 Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. The other grabbed Stanley by the shirt and pulled him close until their noses were almost touching.
 âHow would you know?â The demon spat hatefully. âYou´ve never been to hell.â
 âYes, we-well no but I can imagineâŚâ Stanley trailed off in fear of getting the other madder and possibly being killed. Or tortured.
 He swallowed hard, trying to think of an apology and not how the demon smelled of bricks and wood and cinnamon.
 Fortunately he was placed back on the ground and released.
 âOh what will I do now? I can´t go back to hell, I can´t search for a new place, even if I could leave, the Holy Ones will find me for sure. I´m a bird without a perch, a fox without a hole, a alligator without a s-â
 âWhy don´t you just live with me?â Stanley asked innocently. Truth be told, he felt sorry for the glow eyed demon. BesidesâŚit does get rather lonely here. He doesnât have contact with his neighbors, his coworkers disregard him completely. He was a sad, boring man with a less-than-average life.
 But he had hospitality and a wide array of cacti and a double be-
 His face flared up instantly. No.
 âOh, I can think of a couple reasons,â the taller man interrupted Stanley´s thoughts. â1, you´re a human. 2, you´re a human. 3, you´re a human. 4, you´re a-â
 âOkay!! Okay, I get it.â
 âButâŚI have no other choice.â The demon sighed.
 âI´ll be a good housemate.â Stanley promised, trying to repress his unexplainable giddiness.
 âWonderful,â The other kicked a beer can.  âYou´re going to bed and tomorrow I want you to clean your room. How can you live in this chaos? Ugh. I need coffee.â He marched out, still muttering angrily under his breath.
 Stanley watched him, unable to stop the grin from spreading. âGoodnight, mom~!â He called out teasingly before giggling. His amusement was cut short at a sudden voice next to his ear.
 âCall me that again and I´ll cook you for tomorrow´s dinner, you cheeky shit.â
 Stanley turned wide eyed, but there was no one there. âOkay, sorry!â he said, pulling the blanket up to his nose to hide the ever present smile.
 âGoodnightâŚsir?â
 A sigh came from the darkness. ââŚcall me Jonathan.â
 Silence.
 The brunette collapsed into another set of giggles while the demon just cursed.
yesss hello i am still alive and i will write something for you tomorrow. Or correction: i have already written things i will edit and post them tomorrow
Skipper considers himself a good man. He had served in the military for years, always does his part to protect civilians for years, pays his rent on time and saves the world with his team without expecting so much as a thank you.
Then why, why did Fate decide to neighbor him with loud mouthed, arrogant, royal pain in the ass King Julian??
No one deserved to be kept awake till 4 am by countless Jason Derulo remixes accompanied by loud banging. And the fact that they were on floor above them did nothing to muffle the sound.
Tonight was such a night again, except that it was Pitbull screaming from the speakers. Skipper sat at his desk, pen gripped in hand as he glared down at the document before him, without seeing it. He wanted nothing more but to march up there and shake some manners into the party monkeys.
But he couldn´t. He was already in the red zone with Alice the landlady after the first time he tried that. She hated them for some reason, so she ignored their complaints and only took action when ´King´ Julian had something to whine about.
Seriously, they couldn´t be the only tenants who were bothered by the loud music! What about Roy or Burt, or even Marlene? Unless they´re unaffected due to ideal rooming or something of the sort and the ´Penguins´, as they´re so lovingly nicknamed, got the worst possible place of the whole apartment, sound wise!
Skipper was glad that at least Private, Rico and Kowalski were getting rest. The reason why he didn´t put on his pair of noise cancelling headphones and join them in dreamland was because he still had to file a mission report and mail it back to the headquarters.
The leader sighed heavily, and then proceeded to get even more pissed off when he realized he could barely hear himself sigh. Was this even legal??
Rubbing his temples furiously and therefore worsening his headache, Skipper stood up to risk waking up his men to the headphones.
This was torture.
His hand reached for the door knob when suddenly, loud knocking from upstairs interrupted. He paused and so did the music. Which was weird. Julian never paused his music for anything, leaving usual visitors to yell until Maurice or Mort came, kick the door down or give up and leave.
He must´ve been expecting someone. Skipper listened intently, barely making out a frantic conversation in a foreign language. Though he couldn´t understand words, his neighbor was clearly scared of something. The stranger responding to his whines sounded bored, with only false comfort leaking into his tone.
Skipper pondered about coming up to see if His Royal Obnoxiousness needed help, but decided against it.
He craved sleep and if Julian needed support, he had Maurice. Otherwise, he knew where to find them.
The commanding officer slipped into the shared bedroom, the last thing he heard was a door slamming. Then absolute silence commandeered the night.
It was Cry´s attitude that got him curious. Lately, the gamer had been less focused and more giddy. Everyone noticed it and when questioned, the brunette just answered, âI´m in love.â
He refused to say anything more and of course a few weeks later deviantART, tumblr and Fanfiction.net was filled...
âI´m telling you, soldier. Leave before it´s too late.â Buck said. He was completely soaked in mud and blood, some of it his own, some of it not.
He held the branches of a nearby bush back, revealing a hardly used dirt path.
Skippers fingers tightened on his gun.
âi´m not leaving you, sir.â
âSoldier.â
âYou can´t make me.â The younger officer stood his ground, holding Buck´s glare confidently.
âLike hell I can´t.â Buck growled, but didn´t move.
âI can help you, Buck. Let me fight with you.â
âYou´re gonna die, kid.â
âI don´t want to return to camp without you.â Skipper said, his honesty taking Rockgut back- The general studied him hard. He wanted to be stern, to send that damn boy home right now, turn away, you still have a future.
Instead he let go of the branches and dropped to the ground, hissing, âmake yourself useful and take cover, cupcake.â
Skipper did as he was told and crouched behind him, but not before Buck caught sight of a smile.
âTell me again,â Nigel said through gritted teeth. âJust how exactly did you lose my four year old nephew?â
Skipper shifted uncomfortably. âWe lost sight of him for a moment-â
âAnd he suddenly disappears into thin air?â The British agent looked like he was going to say more, but then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
âAlright, alright. Where exactly were you? Let´s go back and search for him again.â
A few miles away, completely unaware of the trouble he´s caused, Private busied himself with a swivel chair, upper half sprawled over the surface while tiny feet kicked at the ground, spinning him in endless circles.
He laughed and babbled happily as a few feet away, the Red Squirrel fought with himself in his own thoughts.
On one hand, this was his enemy´s little nephew, he could force Nigel to his knees with this child. But on the other, he couldn´t possibly hurt the bright eyed, red cheeked wonder, currently letting himself get carried by the momentum of the chair. He should really get Private off of there, before something happens.
Red stood up and stopped the boy, picking him up as Private clung to his shirt for balance, asking excitedly, âdid you see me? Did you see me??â
The villain tried not to smile, failed anyway and ruffled the boy´s hair. âYeah, I saw you. Did you have fun?â
âYes!â
âThat´s good. But, uh, I don´t want you to get sick. Let´s do something else. Do you like drawing?â
âYes!â Private shouted again, bouncing in Red´s arms.
The Russian supposed keeping him for another few hours wouldn´t hurt anyone. He´ll just leave the boy in a public place later on, but for now he was going to draw robots and ponies with him.
Kitka met him over a group of friends one night at a casual restaurant.
He was dressed in military attire same as the little dark haired boy in his lap. They were reading a picture book while they waited for their order. She could hear him changing pitch when he read the words aloud from over where she sat.
Gloria, her lifelong friend caught her staring and nudged her suggestively. âSee something you like?â
Kitka nudged her back. âStop it, Glory. Look, I´m sure he´s married, he´s got a child with him.â
âThat´s not his son. And he´s not married.â
Marty butted in.
âHow do you know that?â Kitka said.
âBecause that´s Skipper. We go way back, namely high school. Also, I doubt anyone´s crazy enough to settle down with that nut job.â Alex said.
âI think he´s sweet.â Kitka said.
Her friends looked at each other knowingly.
âWhat?â
Melman stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth.
âHey, Skipper!â
âNo, shh, what are you doing?â
Skipped looked up and studied them for a second before he lifted the boy off his lab and took him over to their table.
âLook who found me again. The hippie bunch from high school,â He then seemed to notice Kitka and raised his eyebrows. âNew recruit?â
She gave him a little predatory smile. âBelieve me, I´m anything but a flower girl.â
He smirked right back at her. âI´m glad to hear that. You strike me more as a huntress of perhaps warrior.â
Alex just rolled his eyes at Gloria, who refocused her attention on the little boy next to Skipper.
âHey Private.â
Private let go of Skipper´s hand to hug her.
âHello Aunt Gloria!â
âKitka, you don´t have to stay here with us, if you´d rather accompany Skipper, you´re more than welcomed to.â Alex said winking.
âThat´s an excellent idea, tree hugger.â Skipper said, turning to the ginger while Alex made a face at him, causing Marty to snicker into his drink.
âPrivate´s uncle will be here shortly for dinner. I´ll leave the kid here and show you someplace better, if you´d let me.â
âI´ll delighted to.â Kitka said.
âAweso- err, great. Gloria, will you watch Private till Nigel appears?â
âSure thing. Give the boys a hug from me.â She responded.
They said their goodbyes and Skipper escorted Kitka out to a traditional African restaurant, one that was dimly lit and had exotic, dishes for brave.
Something Private and Rico enjoyed to do was taking baths together. They´d pile up with soap and towels and rubber ducks, spending hours in the warm water to give each other bubble beards and was their hair. Despite it being just for fun, it was hard to deny that it didn´t bring them closer over the time.
Every bloody bone in your body aches. It hurts to open your eyes so you keep them shut.
You can taste the blood on your tongue; the pinpricks of pain from what you hope were only cracked teeth, not a broken jaw.Warm darkness swirls around you, but it´s not enough to dull the mind numbing aches. You wish you could just pass out on this cold, wooden stage floor, what´s the point of this slow agonizing.
Cracking your eyes open, you can make out a blurred blue with blond hair.
Roxy.
You struggle to focus on her. Her mask was ripped off, godtier outfit torn, she´s coughing up blood. You hope it´s just blood.
Every movement shoots nauseating pain through your bones, but you need to lift your head, to see if the others are okay.
Jane´s nowhere in sight. Adrenaline floods you, no no no no, she can´t beâŚ
This couldn´t beâŚShe´s fine right?
She could be fine.
If she were reallyâŚdead, there´d be a lot more blood, right??
Y-yeah.
Sure.
You´ll just have to hold on to that hope for now.
Janey´s tough.
If you´re alive and Roxy is too, surely she´s as well.
Right.
You search for Dirk from your bloodied place on the ground. Nothing, same as Jane. Â
Sounds coming from behind you catch your attention, but before you can manage to turn around, a small gasp stops you.
Roxy has lifted her head and was staring over your shoulder, her eyes brimming with tears. She mouths something.
You know this can´t be good, but you move, slowly, gritting your teeth to see whatever horror is taking place behind your back.
Everything around you freezes except for the two figures, blurry and twitching in your vision. Dirk is on the floor. His deep pink outfit (the one you never got the chance to tease him about) is ripped and stained. His sword lays a ways away from him; his once perfectly-styled-but-seemingly-messy hair hanging in his eyes does nothing to hide his agony.
Caliborn is kicking him around like an unwanted toy, laughing in his shrill grating voice as he taunts your prince.
Kick
âWhat´s wrong, human strider boy? Where´s your awesome anime sword now? Haha. Hahahahahaha!â
The cherub stomps on Dirk´s chest and a helpless, choked noise barely makes it past the blonde´s lips. It has a pathetic, pitiful aftertaste and you realize that he´s begging, though the blood dripping down his chin, for Caliborn to stop.
Something falls into place. The pained thoughts flee from your mind like scared rabbits. You struggle to your feet.
No one, absolutely no one is allowed to hurt Dirk Strider.
The place glows brighter, you feel lightheaded, but you can´t tell nor care if it´s all just in your head or not.
No one has your permission to touch Dirk in even the slightest wrong way.
Caliborn has stopped stomping around on Dirk and is now looking up at you, wide eyed.
You realize you´re screaming.
Seeing the cherubs fear fuels you and the shitty stage disappears in golden light. You don´t give a shit. You don´t care what´s going around you, you are going to annihilate Caliborn.
You manipulate the glowing hot anger at him and he disappears under a wave of hope. You lose track of time and when you finally feel the ground beneath your feet again, you´re still screaming bloody murder.
No one touches Dirk Strider without your consent. No one.
Your name is Dave Strider and great GOD you´re starving.
Whatever aliens ran this lab, they didn´t do a very good job on stocking up with snacks. Like, what if a devilishly handsome half god gets stuck on this meteor?
What if he starves to death because of their thoughtless actions?
Maybe their souls rest in troll hell.
You´re sure Rose and Kanaya prepared breakfast. The girls often arrange something in the ´morning´ â aka whenever the most people wake up from their resting periods â to upkeep a sense of family, or something akin.
Then they go do whatever creepy lesbian girls do when they´re alone. It irks you at times that they´d lock themselves up in some room and spend hours and hours together.
You´re happy for them, of course, that is no question. You´d give them your blessings in marriage and babysit their gothy vampire human/troll hybrid babies.
But still.
With Terezi no longer around and your sister and her girlfriend away, things tend to get lonely and quiet. The Mayor often accompanies you, cuz he´s an awesome little dude, but then he leaves to make sure everything in Can Town is running smoothly.
And VantasâŚ
He´s around, you guess. He´s always sitting in his room, arguing with someone online. When he´s not doing that, he´s wandering the hallways, going into rooms and touching desks, like he´s remembering something dear to him that he lost and can no longer find.
You get that. How many times have you changed into your old clothes and made music, pretending you were back home in the stuffy Texan apartment with your Bro and Cal lurking nearby while creepy sex puppets watch you from unwanted corners?
Too many.
You wish you could get into Karkat´s head, learn how to understand his thoughts. This last year you´ve been paying more attention to him and he became a lonely kid that likes to help people by aggressively pointing out what they´re doing wrong and a weird fascination with romance instead of a frothing dipshit with a hate crush on John.
And as you studied him, you realized slowly although surely, a one-sided infatuation had developed and you decided to distant yourself from him.
You suppose that is why it surprised you when you heard of what he has become.
âHello, Dave.â Your sister greets you as you enter the main room. She´s sitting at the table, with a small plate (that is basically just a piece of a clean metal sheet) of alchemized food bits and a journal.
She smiles at you. You give her a nod and sit down opposite of her.
âI´m starving. You tell her as you stand to pile some of the food on your own makeshift plate.
âWell thankfully haven´t run out of supplies yet. Heaven forbid us having another dead Dave on our hands.â
âYes, that would indeed be quite the tragedy.â Kanaya adds in. She´s sitting next to her matesprit, their fingers intertwined in each other.
You´re too busy eating to notice. They start discussing something and occasionally you add a comment of your own. The Major joins and soon it becomes a lively conversation.
Kanaya was in the middle of telling everyone about a rather curious dream bubble incident, when Karkat walks in.
Everyone except you falls into a deadly silence.
You raise your hand in greeting. âHeeey, Vantas. Nice for you to finally come and join the living.â
âGo screw yourself, Strider.â Comes the response.
He drags himself over to a tap and fills a glass with water. His hair is messy, more than usual and underneath his drooping eyes were dark purplish red bags. His clothes hung off his shoulders like old rags.
Karkat starts drinking and only then you notice the quiet. Except for Kanaya, no one´s watching him, but he´s in their attention. The Virgo portrays mixed emotions and you can´t detect any good ones.
What the hell even happened?
The Cancer places his glass back and leaves without a word. You call after him to get something to eat, but he ignores you.
âWhat the actual hell was that?!â You ask.
âKarkat hasn´t been feeling like himself lately.â Kanaya says. She distantly stares at the open doorway.
You look to Rose for clarification.
âHe´sâŚreally not doing well.â
âWhat, is he sick?â
âNot exactly?â
âThen what?â You were getting irritated at their tiptoeing around the subject.
Then the Mayor spoke up.
âMr Vantas has been battling with personal issues concerning his position in the universe. Miss Maryam tried to help him, but was rewarded with rather harsh words and threats. We´re all very worried for him.â
You stare at the Dersite with no belief for his words. âYou´re kidding me.â
âI honestly wish I were.â
âOkay, okay, but how bad is it exactly?â
Rose sighs quietly. âHe´s been talking about dark things lately, when he does decide to socialize. He keeps blaming himself for the past murders of his teammates. Karkat´s thinking of suicide and so far, none of us have managed to get through to force him to stop.â
What.
You stand up. Your fists are clenched.
âDave?â
âI´m going to have a talk with Karkat, don´t worry your pretty heads over him.â You say and walk out of the room. As soon as you´re sure they can´t hear you anymore, you run. You run down the creepy, dark hallways leading to Karkat´s block.
  He chose a big storage room far from the other inhabited ´respite blocks´. It never seemed to be a problem until now. The sharp slap of the doorknob banging against the wall echoes when you slam it open, startling the troll from his computer.
âWhat the fuck?â
You walk up to him and he places his husktop in the pile he´s been sitting in, standing up as well.
As soon as you´re close, you grab the front of his sweater and pull him close. Your noses are almost touching. You´re both glowering at each other.
âWhat is wrong with you?â You ask, shaking him a little.
âWhat´s wrong with you, you ass borne shit stain? You can´t just burst in my private block!â
âI can when a friend of mine is on the verge of self annihilation.â
Karkat laughs, the sound hoarse and hysterical.
âAre you saying we´re friends? Are you actually trying to imply you´re concerned for my wellbeing? You, Strider out of all people?â
âYes.â
He pushes you and you let go of him. Karkat steps away and starts pacing the room. You turn to keep your eyes on him and only now do you notice the broken clutter on the floor.
Ripped scalemates, broken horns of the clown´s pile, a few empty faygo bottles, ripped books and sharp shards that have a dark crust at the various edges.
You don´t think. You march up to the candy blood and grab his sweater. He tries to fight you, but you´re stronger. You haven´t been neglecting yourself for the past week.You rip it away and hundreds of tiny scratches and cuts litter his body. Some are grouped together, the longer ones isolated.
The word DIE is etched above his heart. The scabs are just beginning to peel off, which meant it was created only a few days ago.
Karkat brings his arms over his chest and tries to hide the marks. He turns away.
âGet out.â
A few wounds decorate his back. You don´t even want to think about how he managed that.
âKarkat.â
âDave! Get out!â He yells and starts to push you away. You easily catch his wrists and hold them in one hand. He starts struggling, screaming obscenities at you.
You cover his mouth. When he tries biting you, you only press harder.
Of course, you feel like a complete asshole for baring him like this, but you know it´s necessary. Sometimes you have to cut through the skin to get to the tumor inside.
He finally stops. He glares at you, but the hate is lost in bottomless despair. Red tears start pooling at his eyes and the word ´pitiful´ pops up in your mind.
You push it back.
âKarkat, listen to me,â you try. âYou´re not alone, I understand-â
He´s struggling again and this time you let him go.
âWHAT DO YOU KNOW?!â he screams. âYou aren´t me! You´ve never been in my shoes!â
When you don´t answer, he continues.
âYou think you can just come right the fuck in here and dig into things that are none of your goddamn business? You´re insufferable! I hate you, all of you! Leave me alone!â
âTo die.â
âYes! To die, bulgebrain! If I want to die then fucking let me! It´s my choice if I decide there´s nothing left in my life to live for! I don´t want to live any longer, PERIOD. Stop being so selfish and try to force me to continue suffering just so you won´t have to!â
Karkat curls into himself and openly weeps, each sob reflecting his misery and detestation. You know he´s lying, about hating you. You´re sure he´s not even completely pissed at anyone other than himself.
âI think you´re great. If you say we aren´t friends, then I´d love to be now.â
âWill you stop spewing absurdities from your gross gallsphincter and leave me alone?â He stands up, brows creased in anger.
âI pity you.â
A sliver of unrecognizable emotions flicker across his face until he gives you a menacing look.
âI will fucking cull you if you don´t leave my respite block in five seconds.â
You know he´s serious.
âI love the way you call things in your weird ass troll slang. Cull, respite block, husktop, it´s adorable.â
He takes out his sickle.
You draw your ½ sword from your strife specibus, an honest smile on your lips.
âAnyone, troll or human would be lucky to have you in their quadrant. You´re an important part of the team.â
He charges with an enraged yell. You deflect his blow. As the two of you strifed, you keep telling him how gorgeous he is. You describe his body to him while he fights to slit your throat.
He nicks your arm and you tell him you could listen to his rants all day long.
You let him tire himself out a bit in trying to kill you, which doesn´t take long. He must´ve not eaten anything in a few days.
You dodge a blow and push him over. He drops his sickle and curls into a small ball once again.
You stand over him.
âI love you, I love you even more, you´re so beautiful.â
âI´m hideous.â
âNo you´re not.â
âYes, I am. I fail at everything. I fuck up always.â
âYou have a heart of gold. You care so much about people.â
âI end up hurting everyone.â
âThe universe is screwed up. You can´t blame yourself.â
âI´m so alone.â He starts crying again.
âI´m here for you.â
You kneel and take his face between your hands. He refuses to look at you, the anger gone. What´s left is shame and despair.
You kiss his wet cheek softly. He doesn´t respond other than staring into his lap. You leave over again and this time you lock lips.
He´s unresponsive, but you don´t mind. You peck his chapped, torn lips over and over, cooing words of comfort.
âI love you Karkat, I´m here, you can get through this, you´re so strong, I pity you, you´re perfect, you´re perfect with all your mistakes and bruises, youâre the only one I want.â
At last he starts to kiss back, capturing you in longer kisses, until your red mumblings were lost between sweet flesh.
You help him up and walk him backward to the pile.
He begins to ask what you were doing, but you only silence him with kisses. Once you settled him into the pile, you sit in his lap, either legs at his side and start tracing his self inflicted wounds.
âTell me about them.â You say.
He shakes his head.
âNothing to tell.â
âYes there is. Tell me why you decided to pick up something sharp and make this.â You run your finger down a curved scratch. It wasn´t deep and it has almost healed, regardless it was terrible.
âI-â He fidgets. âI needed a distraction.â
âFrom what?â
âFrom the pink ugly slime beast in my room, what do you think? Me of course!â
You laugh a little.
He manages a miniscule smile back.
âWhat about this?â
You tap an x formed mark.
âWas just depressed.â He shrugs.
You nod, not liking the way he tries to dismiss it.
âAnd ´die´?â
Karkat looks incredibly guilty. You kiss his forehead.
âThat was after Kanaya tried to talk to me about th-this and IâŚI got mad at her and yelled and probably hurt her so much. Fuck what is wrong with me? Of all people, she´s the last one who deserves that!â
He covers his face in his hands.
âHey, I know she knows you didn´t really mean it. And if you´re this guilty, that´s proves it even more. She´ll forgive you.â
âI won´t.â
You sigh and remove his hands.
âKaykay. Look at me. You´re worth it.â
âNo I´m not.â
âYes. Say it. ´I´m worth it.´ C´mon Vantas, I believe in you.â You smirk as he narrows his eyes.
âYou´re so incredibly stupid sometimes, Strider.â
âI´m stupidly in love with you.â
âIsn´t that true.â
You smack him lightly. âSay it.â
âNo.â
â´You´re worth it´.â
âNo, leave me alone.â
âKaaaarkaaat. I´ll make you say it.â
âI´d like to see you try, Strider, you can´t even get your head out of your nook long enough to-â
His sentence gets lost when you kiss him, deeply. Your hands travel down to his side, tracing light patterns on rough skin. He reaches up and curls his hands in your hair, purring in delight. You break into a smile at the soft vibrations underneath your hands. You run your thumbs over his grub scars. They feel foreign, smooth, almost snakelike skin stretching across his ribs.
Karkat combs his fingers through your hair and you take it as an encouragement. When you tickle the marks gently and he gasps, you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth. You´re smirking and he tugs on your hair for the trouble.
Though you totally didn´t break off the kiss when he did that and gasp. Karkat tugs again, harder. His gray eyes are hooded, but you can detect triumph. You retaliate by running your nails over his grub scars again.
It spirals back into heavy kissing as you both roam each other´s bodies. You find a spot he especially likes, he begins to purr and trill and you swear your heart jumps.
You could lay here and do this for hours, but something in your gut pulls you to continue. You move on, from caressing the dark skin to playing with the waistband of his black sweatpants. Karkat´s hands trail off your shoulder and he moves to watch you, cheeks hinting a touch of red.
âCan I?â You say.
âNow you´ve finally decided to be so chivalrous to ask for permission?â The Cancer snaps back without any real spite behind his words.
You smirk and land a kiss on his nose. He grimaces.
After untying the white strings, you start pulling off his pants. You lift yourself up and he kicks them away.
âDon´t laugh.â Karkat mutters and before you could ask him what he means, you spy brightly colored boxers with little rainbows and hearts on it.
You laugh.
âWhat the hell are those?â
âIt was a gift from Gamzee, alright? Shut up!â
âThey´re cute.â
âI thought I just told to shut your festering flap.â
You snicker again. While he´s still busy being butt hurt about your comment, you trail your fingers down the front of his boxers.
He reacts wonderfully, arching his back as he interrupts himself with a small gasp. You kiss his chest, between where his nipples would be, if he had any (you´re kinda disappointed). The troll rocks his hips impatiently, trying to drag your attention back down, but you stay a little while, trailing kiss up his neck and to his dark lips. When you raise your head, he´s scowling at you for stalling.
A grin playing on your lips, you reach down to touch him again when something in his pants reaches up to greet you. You recoil and try not to scream.
âKarkat!!â
âWhat?â
âWhy is- Is your dick moving?!â
He looks at you like you´re brain dead.
âWhy wouldn´t it?â
âDude, it´s not supposed to move!â
ââŚwhat kind of monster do you have in your pants, Strider?â
You´re both horrified.
Finally Karkat motions you to get off him. You shift to the side and watch him strip of the remainder of his clothes.
Your eyes widen when you see that between his legs is an honest to God tentacle.
Hentai is real.
Holy fucking shit.
 âThis is a bulge, Dave.â Karkat says, tone patronizing. His bulge is watery red, smooth and glistening in the fluorescent lights of his block. And it´s moving, coiling, uncoiling, like a hooked worm wiggling to get free.
You can´t stop staring at it.
âWhat about yours? What´s so different about a human bulge that made mine such a horrid discovery?â Karkat says.
Oh yeah, he´s still here. You´re about to fuck the hottest boy in the universe and all you´re doing is staring. Take off your clothes, Dave Strider.
You start undressing, stripping yourself of your cape and godtier outfit.
Karkat draws in a sharp breath.
âWhat is that?â He asks.
âI dunno, most people just call it a penis.â
âQuit the sarcasm, fuckass. Why is it soâŚweird and stiff?â
âWhy do you have the Kraken in your pants?â You retort, climbing back on top of him. âWe will never know.â
âIt´s not a kraken, you re- ahhh!â
You decide you like bulges. They feel nice and are fun to play with. You run a light finger over the appendage and watch it squirm wildly.
Karkat is purring, his head thrown back.
âDamn it, Dave, stop teasing me!â
âOnly if you do what I said to do.â
âWh-which is?â
âPraise yourself.â
The troll doesn´t respond. You wait patiently for a decision while you graze his inner thighs with your nails, dodging his bulge.
Karkat lets out a frustrated growl.
âWhat should I even say?â
âMaybeâŚâ you think, but honestly, you´re just putting him on edge some more, because no matter how much you pity him, pissing him off will always be on your favorite to do list. âI deserve happiness.â
âI-I deserve happiness.â He repeats.
You smile. âYes you do.â
Reaching out, you let the appendage find your fingers and wrap itself around them. Delicious moans spill from the boy´s lips when you carefully curl them. Karkat is tense, you can feel it as he tries as an instinct to coil into himself in protection to his vulnerability. Tiny, helpless gasps escape him when you move your fingers and it´s all you can do not to stop fucking him right there and cuddle him instead.
âAnd?â You encourage him to go on.
âI-I´m not awful.â
âYou´re amazing.â The hand holding his bulge squeezes and Karkat lets out a pleasure filled cry, body shivering beneath you. You moan, your own lust overwhelming you as you reach down to grip yourself. The Cancer props himself up on his elbows, watching you. You stroke slowly, relishing in his eyes. Karkat bites his lip and you feel a shiver run down your spine.
âVantasâŚfuck. You have no idea what you´re doing to me. You´re so fucking sexy.â
âHmâŚyeah.â That didn´t sound believing or enthusiastic at all. You wouldn´t care if you weren´t trying to prove a point.
You stop and remove your hand from his bulge. âKarkat, I think I detectâŚa wrong answer!â
âC´mon Dave, seriously. This is stupid, let´s just pail!â
You sit back. âI´m trying to show you something.â
âLike what an incredibly nookbiter you are in pailing.â
You blink and look at his legs. Karkat doesn´t notice, instead he´s refusing to make eye contact with you. It completely slipped your mind trolls are all take-one-get-two kind of deal. You lean back in and hover over him.
âTell me how beautiful you are, Vantas. I want to show you how good it feels to appreciate yourself.â
He groans loudly. âWhy? Why waste your time anyway?â
âBecause I love you. I hate to see you beat yourself up like that.â
âI have reasons.â
âAlso reasons not to.â
The candy blood fidgets uncomfortably. You know his mind isn´t in the conversation, but you´re determined to finish what you´ve started.
âDaveâŚâ he whines.
ââWhat~?â
âFuck you then.â Karkat makes a move to his bulge, but you´re faster. You grab his wrists and pin them over his head.
He growls in frustration and you laugh. Leaning down, you start peppering kisses over his face to annoy him.
Karkat hisses.
âYou´re beautiful.â You say.
âIâŚâ
âBeautiful. That´s what you are.â
âI´mâŚbeautiful.â He gives you an i-told-you-its-stupid-and-doesnât-make-me-feel-better look.
You line your dick up to his nook, relishing at the change of expression.
âBeautiful,â You praise, pushing in.
âAhh-hhâŚ!â he moans. His hands clench and you kiss his cheek.
âI´m beautiful.â He says again and you reward him by rocking your hips. He growls instinctively, but it dies into a whimper.
âYou´re perfect.â
âI-I am-â He furrows his brow in pleasure as you move. â-perfect.â
âYes!â You say happily. You pick up a rhythm and releasing one hand, you take up his bulge again.
âYou deserve pity. Say it.â
âI de-deserve pity.â
You remove your remaining hand from his wrist and intertwine your fingers together.
âYou are loved.â You draw out, then slam back into him, stealing his breath away with kisses, swallowing his cries.
He tries to repeat the last line, but interrupts himself with purrs and moans and chirps. It´s alright. You just want to let him know you love him.
âI pity you so hard, Vantas.â You breathe into his ear. Your voice is laced with moans. He kisses you hungrily, the eager noises fueling.
It´s messy and sloppy and spit is on both of your chins, but you couldn´t care less, you feel ready to burst and not only from the ecstasy setting your veins on fire. You´re head over heels for a blood mutated alien with nubby horns and a horrible overbite, he´s holding on to your hand so tightly and chanting your name, you don´t need to go to heaven cause you found it in this shitty pile of miscellaneous things. Fuck winning, you have everything you need right here in your arms.
âI love you, I love you, I pity you you are loved my Karkat my precious, precious Karkat, I´m always here for you, you deserve the world, I love you, god you are gorgeousâ
âD-Dave,âŚfuckk!â The troll squeezes your hand tightly, the other clenched around your lower arm. Karkat sobs and you feel warm liquid splash onto your thigh. His voice breaks with pleasure and the sweaty, wrecked sight is enough for you.
You squeeze his hand back and thrust in once more before you come, the grey room fading into a white space with his name dripping off your lips.
The swirling nothingness soon disappears and Karkat´s back in your view, his bangs sticky. He licks some salvia from the corner of his mouth and smiles tiredly at you.
You hunch over, panting, before you pull out and drop into the pile next to him. The candy blood immediately curls into your side. You wrap your arm around him, pulling him closer. He murmurs something into your shoulder, but the translation is lost to exhaustion. You know what he means anyway and kissing his damp forehead, you tell him that
Disclaimer: The song belongs to Flipsyde and Piper and the characters to DreamWorks.
Key:
Song lyrics
Flash Backs
Present
-8-
Happy Birthday⌠so make a wish.
Among the crying children, worried parents and little kids sat a man in casual jeans, white shirt and black jacket. His messy black hair made him look frazzled, but his deep blue eyes were alert, fixed on the toddlers playing with their toys. Parents noticed and watched him carefully. Â
But Skipper didn´t notice the threatening and worried looks he received from the adults. His mind was far, far away.
Please accept my apologies, wonder what would have been,
A few years ago, he had a child of his own. He was eighteen then and had a beautiful girlfriend.
They were happy together, more mature than most couples their ages, even though they got into mischief every once in a while. They didn´t go clubbing often, but when they did, it was all night, full power, no control. The last party they went on was a blast and they enjoyed the alcohol and each other a lot.
But the following month, his girl, Marlene called him into their apartment living room, her normally sparkling brown eyes dull and scared.
She was pregnant.
Would youâve been a little angel or an angel of sin?
Tom-boy running around, hanging with all the guys,
Or a little tough boy with beautiful brown eyes?
The decision was made quick and more out of panic than thought. Their parents couldn´t know and they couldn´t possibly be parents now! Skipper was going to military school and Marlene wanted to study.
The doctors told them exactly what they wanted to hear. âIt´s your life, you´re too young to become parents. You are too smart to stay at home. This is the right choice.â
I paid for the murder before they determined the sex,
Choosing our life over your life meant your death.
And you never got a chance to even open your eyesâŚ
It was quick and silent. They went into the hospital, arranged the appointment, paid and went home.
As they walked home, holding hands in silence, Marlene suddenly looked up at her boyfriend with tears in her eyes. âIt never even got to see our faces.â
Skipper put his arm around her shoulders. âDon´t worry, sweetheart. It´s all over now. We did the right thing. We can just go home and forget about today and go on with our lives.â
Sometimes I wonder, as a fetus if you fought for your life?
Would you have been a little genius, in love with math?
Would you have played in your school clothes and made me mad?
Would you have been a little rapper like your papa the Piper?
Would you have made me quit smoking by finding one of my lighters?
I wonder about your skin tone, the shape of your nose,
And the way you would have laughed and talked, fast or slow.
He couldn´t help but wonder about his baby. Had it been a girl or boy?
Would it have Marlene´s brown eyes or his blue ones? Maybe a mix of both?
Maybe he/she would beat everyone at school in math and grow up to be a genius. Maybe he/she would pick fights and become a world champion wrestler.
Would he spend time in the kitchen, helping his mother cook or would she be a little soldier, keeping watch at home with a baseball bat?
Think about it every year, so I picked up a pen.
Happy Birthday. Love you, whoever you would have been.
Happy Birthday.
Time passed. Marlene had been depressed those first five months after the abortion, but she pulled herself together and indulged in her studies as to not raise suspicions. But Skipper knew she wasn´t over the death of her child. He had found a note once, shoved deep in her dresser. The drawn picture of a girl holding a child with the words, âI´m so sorryâ scribbled over it.
What I thought was a dream (Make a wish)
Was as real as it seemed (Happy Birthday)
What I thought was a dream (Make a wish)
Was as real as it seemed.
I made a mistake!
âWhat have I done, Skipper? I killed our child! OUR CHILD!â Marlene screamed, clutching her pillow close to her chest. âI´m a MONSTER!â
âMarleneâŚâ He knelt next to her and tried to comfort her.
âI would give anything to turn time backâŚjust hold my little baby in my armsâŚâ She started crying and Skipper pulled her in for a hug.
Iâve got a million excuses to why you died,
And other people got their own reasons for homicide.
Whoâs to say it would have worked, and whoâs to say it wouldnât have?
Skipper and his team have battled against a mad scientist a couple of times. His name was Francis Blowhole. The lunatic had tried many times to fire his crazy weapons at some innocent civilians. So far he hadn´t really killed anyone, but he came close.
Skipper hated Francis. Not because he liked mocking Kowalski about the boy´s intelligence or because he wanted everyone dead. No, he hated him because every time they thwarted the villain, every time he failed, Skipper had to think about his success.
How he successfully killed his kid. No hero came in and stopped the doctors. No one knocked the needle out of his hand. The leader himself only stood by Marlene´s bed, holding her hand as they watched the syringe poke into her stomach.
She gasped in pain, he squeezed her hand and its heart stopped beating.
I was young and struggling, but old enough to be your dad.
The fear of being my father has never disappeared,
I ponder it frequently while Iâm sipping on my beer.
My vision of a family was artificial and fake,
So when it came time to create I made a mistake.
Family. Skipper had two visions of that word. One, where he and Marlene would be bound to their home, having to deal with screaming babies and stress all day. They would be left with a rebellious kid and no dreams.
Two, a child who would be robbed of its childhood, drilled to be obedient and smart. Skipper had been afraid of being a father, too soft and spoil his child or too harsh and ruin it.
Marlene had been only seventeen, young and radiant. She had thought the worries and duties of being a mother would tie her down. Permanently.
Now youâve got a little brother. Maybe heâs really you,
Maybe you really forgave us knowing we was confused,
Maybe every time that he smiles itâs you proudly knowing
That your fatherâs doing the right thing now.
That´s why he was in the hospital. Marlene was pregnant again. Long time guilt gave way to excitement and the young couple promised they´ll be the best parents ever. It was like the Universe forgave them, gave them a second chance, saying: âMaybe this time you´ll accept the little miracle we´re giving you.â
I never tell a woman what to do with her body,
But if she donât love children then we canât party.
Think about it every year, so I picked up a pen.
Happy Birthday. Love you, whoever you would have been.
Happy Birthday.
They lay on the bed, tired but excited, blanket over their bare bodies just like three years ago.
âSkipper?â Marlene asked as her boyfriend stroked her brown hair.
âHm?â
She hesitated, then scooted closer to his warm body. âWhat if I get pregnant again?â
His response came quickly and loudly, she felt the vibrations of his voice against his chest.
The determination and love that came with those words made her smile.
âWe keep it.â
What I thought was a dream (make a wish)
Was as real as it seemed, (Happy Birthday)
What I thought was a dream (yeah, make a wish)
Was as real as it seemedâŚ
I made a mistake.
It was coming. She could feel it.
Marlene squeezed her eyes shut, her body shaking. The nurses rushed about her, soothing her with words and assisting her through every labor pain.
They guided her to a bed and helped her get in. The pain was great and Marlene could feel the baby pushing its way out.
From the heavens to the womb to the heavens again,
From the endinâ to the endinâ, never got to begin.
Maybe one day we could meet face to face,
In a place without time and space.
Happy Birthday.
A door slammed open and rushed footsteps hurried over to her side. She felt a warm hand slip into hers and her lover´s voice beside her. âMarleneâŚMarleneâŚI´m hereâŚâ Obviously the tough commanding officer was struggling not to panic.
Skipper was terrified, all the loud talking, his wife´s pain and the rushed procedure to get the human being out of Marlene´s stomach. But he tried to calm himself and held her hand, kissing hers when she clutched his tighter, telling her to relax.
What I thought was a dream (make a wish)
Was as real as it seemed, (Happy Birthday)
What I thought was a dream (make a wish)
Was as real as it seemedâŚ
I made a mistake.
And then the head showed up. The rest of the baby slid out and a nurse asked him if he wanted to cut the cord. The officer obliged and slit the flesh carefully, but neither his wife nor his child felt pain.
The baby started wailing and the doctor washed it in warm water and wrapped it in a blanket.
He handed the little bundle to Skipper.
The leader stared down at the newborn. Its hair was dark and its skin wrinkly and pure red, but it was one of the most precious and fragile being Skipper had ever seen. He sat down next to Marlene who was crying. She took the baby and hugged it tenderly before starting to feed it.
The doctor put a hand on his shoulder and congratulated them, but the young couple barely registered his words. They sat together on the hospital bed, holding their child, watching it sleep peacefully in the arms of its mother. Both stayed silent for the longest time, but that hour was filled with overwhelming fear and love for the tiny creature that had just came into the world, demanding their attention and admiration.
Skipper slipped his hand into Marlene´s and she smiled at him. âWhat should we name him?â
