#cancercest

[69-candyredshippers-69]

happy holidays from mods candy and red!! :>

#homestuck #kankri #karkat #kankri vantas #karkat vantas #karkat x kankri #homestuck fanart #vantascest #vantasshipping #cancercest #fanart #vantas #holiday #mod red #kankri x karkat

[quietmillennial]

Our Suffering

The ancient troll stared at his counterpart, full of pity, and dare he admit it, lust, which blossomed within the deepest, most animalistic fraction of him. The sweater shrouded troll with the same empty eyes and mutant red blood, which matched said sweater, leaned against him in fatigue and relief. After all their differences, the kind hearted Alternian, rather than scold and attack the Beforan for his beliefs, discussed and intelligently countered him, and accepted vice versa. Finally, after a long winded several hours, agreed to disagree.

Now they were here. This moment of silence. And the Signless could feel Kankri's weakness in the moments of silence. Where his defense mechanism was useless. It puzzled him, really. He had made it quite clear that Kankri had nothing to defend or be afraid of. He felt the young apparition's breath quicken in anxiety. He felt the long, pale fingers upon his thigh begin to shake and quiver. His chin sheltered the dancestor's forehead. Despite the curls of his wild mane, he could catch glimpses of his furrowed brow, threatening to leak a cherry translucent sweat from his pores.

It ripped at the martyr's heart. He saw himself in the face of his darkest, loneliest hours. The nights when he dreamt of peace and equality, only to wake to war and agonized travails. And no one could understand. No one could help him. He colored the walls of his own personal asylum, slowly losing the will to wake up from these beautifully composed, torturous hymns of another world. One that he was damned from entering. And the echoes of their chorus ripped from his raw throat all hours of the day, vainly trying to reshape solid steel with his bare hands.

The ancestor gently ran his calloused, long fingers across the fabric of a warm sweater, a symbol of a love that had survived the scratch. The only ideal that seemed to do so. He hummed softly. Kankri froze as he felt the vibration in his mind.

He pulled away slowly.

"Why are you frightened of me, Kankri?"

For once, Kankri was speechless. He exhaled quietly.

"I am not frightened of you," he whispered indignantly, "I'm ashamed of myself. Don't you see? I am nothing but a shadow, and I cannot even achieve that accurately. I can't even follow your path without...without fucking it up. I truly am all hot air. Just attempting to fight what I was destined to be."

The Signless pondered for a moment.

"I think you're mistaken. You came before me, Kankri. If anything, I am your shadow. If it were possible, that is. Honestly, I myself find comparing yourself to others to be quite triggering..."

With the word he leaned closer to the other deceased and wound his arms around him .

"I...why are you doing this? Y...you don't have to comfort me..."

The martyr sighed gently.

"I pity you, Kankri."

With that, the Signless sealed their lips in a kiss. Kankri almost shoved him away. But then he realized.

No one had ever pitied him like this. Porrim was completely platonic with her affection. Never had a red suggestion ever been thrown Kankri's way. And the celibate realized he loved it.

"Signless," he whispered against the rough cheek.

"Akrabbi," he revealed softly. "My name is Akrabbi."

Kankri looked up at him and pondered it. The name somehow suited the revolutionary.

"Akrabbi," he spoke seriously, "Red or pale?"

Akrabbi's eyebrows shot up in realization. He hadn't expected to get this far. But he knew that Kankri was not comfortable with explicit action.

"Your decision, Kankri..."

Inexperienced lips slammed back against his in need. Eyes widened, Akrabbi hummed against the desperate need. He pulled back slowly, and stilled the face that attempted to follow.

"But I thought..."

Akrabbi chuckled.

"You might want to slow down, young one. I've far more experience in the craft of pailing than you do. Just relax and and trust me, alright?"

Kankri pondered the thought. Trust someone with something that he had hidden from even himself? Charming thought in theory, perhaps. Still though...

"I...I don't know..."

"It's all up to you, Kankri. You don't have to do anything. I won't force myself on you."

Kankri looked up Akrabbi nervously. It was like looking a mirror that revealed everything you might have been. But he also saw transparency and honesty. He really wasn't going to take his will. This all really was up to Kankri. His heart was trying to rip itself apart in anxiety and want. Want to be loved and have his wants and needs found important.

He traced his fingers against Akrabbi's cheek. His tongue danced gleefully behind his teeth. His blush slowly and dust rose upon his nose and cheeks.

The elder smiled and leaned back down and pressed his lips against the ghost like youth. Kankri hummed and began to move his lips clumsily. Akrabbi refined his approach with talent of many sweeps of practice. Which reminded Kankri:

"What about the Disciple?!" he almost shrieked.

Akrabbi looked honestly surprised by the outburst and was taken aback.

After a few moments, he chuckled.

"I do not follow the rules of quadrants and neither do my partners."

Kankri looked disturbed. "Partners..."

Akrabbi kissed him softly. "Don't worry about it..."

And Kankri agreed wisely. The pair began to kiss again, Akrabbi leading with poise and grace until he felt a young, nervous tongue brush against his lips. Instead of pulling back again, he left his mouth slightly ajar and pressed his lips against Kankri's tongue and encouraged him to enter.

This was all dizzying and confusing to the new lover, but exciting and safe as well. Akrabbi was here to guide and teach him patiently. Kankri didn't know why. Akrabbi had a, well, apparently, multiple lovers. So why was he focused on an awkward, pious mutant like himself. But he kept silent for now and tentatively slipped his tongue into Akrabbi's mouth.

Their twin, wet muscles met and lovingly wrestled, alternating between the other's pleasantly warm mouths. Akrabbi normally tried to dominate his partner when it came to kissing, enjoying the feel plundering their waiting mouths and the moans that came from their surrender. But Kankri was a different case. He was new and scared. The shining example of a blushing virgin. He needed loved and taught, which was why Akrabbi wouldn't take anything from this endeavor. At least not this one. The truth was, Kankri had a long eternity ahead of him. A life among the dream bubbles never ending. The Beforan mutant had refused himself pleasure all his life and a lot of his afterlife. But all apparitions came to the place where they realized that there life had no power over them anymore, and that they were free of labels and responsibilities. And Kankri was slowly realizing:

He was free...

The vows and demands for perfection he had used as a noose, as a deprivation of vital feeling and impulses, sealing the throat of his humanity and sympathy toward the broken he so longed to reach, gasping and choking from a twelve foot tree, hanging off his holy noose, were worth nothing in a world of memories and regrets.

He became more passionate in his pursuit of his counterpart. Clinging to the fabric of the Signless' cloak, he began to groan in the back of his throat as a heat began to pool in his stomach. Kankri began to shiver, and even whimper, as the alien feelings and nature began to speed his heart, like cocaine in his bloodstream.

Akrabbi pulled back, concerned.

"What's wrong, darling," whispered the elder, against Kankri's forehead.

And just like that, the cocaine became morphine, and the world stopped as the deep, caring words rippled through the atmosphere of the dream bubble. Kankri craned his neck to look into the same empty orbs that were coerced within his own sockets. And he genuinely smiled. Speaking no words, he slipped beneath the chin of the revolutionary and sighed happily as strong arms surrounded him.

"Nothing," he whispered in reply, "I've just not the stamina to continue for much longer..."

He trailed off in nervousness. The moment he opened his own mouth, the high of his partner passed him by. But Akrabbi's chuckle was like shot of pure heroine.

"Would you like me to, uh," he hesitated for the first time as he spoke, "help you finish?"

Kankri was actually taken aback by the question.

"I, well, don't think I can handle your-"

"Oh, no! Kankri, I wouldn't dream of being as selfish as to take you like that right now. You-you're a virgin. I don't want to hurt you."

"O-oh," Kankri paled," then how are you-"

"I need you to trust me," Akrabbi dead panned.

"I...alright. I trust you."

"Are you certain of that?" offered Akrabbi," I don't want to force you into anything."

"...will it hurt?" Kankri winced.

"No."

Kankri kissed the Signless one more time.

"I trust you."

Akrabbi laughed and hugged the soon to be former celibate close.

"Lie down on the grass, Kankri. And relax."

Kankri nodded and sighed away his anxiety as he laid down on the soft grass beneath him. Akrabbi laid upon his belly between Kankri's legs.

He gently tugged the fabric of the leggings in pursuit of permission.

Closing his eyes, Kankri nodded. Akrabbi pulled the leggings down to reveal the young apparition's sexual need. His bulge writhed in the cool air of the dream bubble as his nook leaked a cherry nectar from his core. Breathing hard, Kankri bucked his hips, searching for some kind of stimulus. But the elder locked his eager hips with steady hands and smirked.

He ran his tongue from the base of Kankri's struggling bulge to the tip.

Kankri almost choked.

"Ahhnn- oooh, gog...Si-Akrabbi!"

Akrabbi smiled cockily and asked, "How did that feel?"

"Amazing," wheezed Kankri, "but it's not enough...please, don't tease me..."

Akrabbi's pride gently simmered out as he ran a calloused hand across Kankri's soft cheek.

"Alright, love."

He pushed his legs apart and marveled at the virgin, dripping nook. It wept for attention. For adoration.

And both it would receive.

Akrabbi immediately ran his tongue along the taut opening, and Kankri bellowed in awe and shock. His tongue circled the sensitive hollow of the nook, and he groaned at the taste.

It was like fresh wine, spilling from the chalice of the Condescension herself.

He wanted more. Akrabbi lapped and bit and kissed, drawing every noise possible from his current partner. The highest of squeals, the deepest of groans. The young troll's body shook in need of release. He tugged at Akrabbi's hair. The revolutionary looked up, still breathing heavy with his own desire.

"Please, I...I think I'm close. I want to finish. Please let me...come."

Akrabbi's heart twisted almost painfully at the pleas from his counterpart. As if he was just going to leave him here, without satisfaction.

"Shh," said Akrabbi softly, "I'm going to take care of you."

Kankri didn't know why he was moved by that statement. His entire life was used as a selfish ploy, used by those around him, especially a certain fuchsia blooded bitch. And now, his interests were important to another person. And he was truly touched. Tears began to spill from his eyes as shallow breath picked up gradually.

Akrabbi pulled Kankri close and began to move his hand to the youth's nook. He rested butterfly kisses on the ashen marble column of his neck.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered, "You're amazing. Perfect, stunning, decadent..."

With that last word, he plunged his fingers into the warm orifice of his nook. Kankri moaned and wept as the overwhelming senses began to drown him. He began to bounce on the steady digits inside him in absolute desperation and ecstasy.

"I'm close," he groaned. "Please, please...finish it!"

The Signless pulled the fellow mutant's mouth down to his and kissed him as he curled his fingers to hit his absolute center.

"Ahnn...aaahhhhhhh...ahhh...mmm..."

Kankri sank into Akrabbi's lap and panted as Akrabbi captured him in his arms.

Akrabbi rocked him gently as he continued to gasp and sob.

Kankri had never felt so much before. He couldn't explain it. It wasn't a specific sensation. The stimulation was erratic and unnamed and so, so fleeting. Even as he he groaned in shock and awe of the possession of all his sanity, he lost the memory of that terrifying glory. That's what it was, like for a moment, he understood what it was like to be a god. An immortal leviathan, feeling nothing but pure power without description. The only description he could muster was terrifying. And that wasn't fair. Because it was also beautiful.

For a moment he'd thought he was dying again. The world had gone light and all voices and motion were out of his control.

Not death, no. But a holy, monstrous possession.

For lack of a better word, Kankri was shaken.

When he plugged himself back into reality, he heard the Signless' croons and praises, and felt his gentle arms protecting him from all harm.

No.

Oh, Gog, no. Please...

Kankri realized that he was about to crash. That this was over. All the beauty and glory of this moment was soon to end. The man would leave, return to his angelic party, and forsake his needful counterpart. Akrabbi was going to leave, and Kankri had to accept it, as not to force him to stay. To say he loved him like another partner. To do this to him again. To wreck and teach him again. He couldn't force the ancestor to stay.

Kankri would go back to his own party, those sinners and cruel monsters. The people he'd ruined, and who'd ruined him. They'd cut his tongue out if they could, to keep him from talking. He was annoying and useless. He spoke of indecent decency and he was ridiculed for it. He never, never stopped talking. He wasted his breath on cruel faces and impatient sighs. Even the one person who cared for him would no longer allow him speak. He was their regret, their baggage. He was not a family member, rather, an annoying dog everyone kicked around because they were tired of hearing. And, yes, Kankri had a part to play, but he didn't deserve this. He didn't know how much he could possibly take.

As this hurricane of worry and anxiety whirled around in the dead youth's head, Akrabbi made sure he hadn't left a mark on him, besides one pale, blush hickey forming on his neck. But soon, he noticed Kankri's anxiety and pressed in to his new lover.

"What's wrong, Kankri?" he asked quietly. "Did I do anything wrong?"

Normally, Kankri would hold back every emotion of hurt and dilemma in his soul and lie. But this time, it was just too much.

The tears fell faster from his soulless eyes as Kankri began to choke on his emotions.

This shook Akrabbi to his core.

The Signless had never felt so much pity in his life or afterlife. Flushed loved, yes. And greater. But never had pity so much cut his brain from his heart. The moment Kankri had begun to quake, he lost grasp of all his control. He launched himself at the chance that he could save this youth, that he could keep him close. Watching his suffering, well, it was worse than Akrabbi's own.

"What's wrong? Tell me," the ancestor pressed.

Finally, the Beforan broke. He began to weep and sob as he clung to the cape of the Alternian. He almost screamed out his pain, and as he did so, Akrabbi paled to an almost white.

"No," he whispered, "Everything we did was consensual, wasn't it?! I-I thought...you knew what we were...Kankri, I didn't, did I?"

Kankri sat up and stared into the milky orbs of Akrabbi's eyes.

"You didn't what?" asked Kankri, confusion overshadowing grief.

"..." Akrabbi took a breath, "Did I...rape you...?"

Realization hit the youth like a sucker punch. He gasped in guilt as he took the the elder's face between his palms.

"No," Kankri whispered, "I just don't want to lose you." The tears began to surface again along with panic. "Please, Akrabbi don't go. I don't know what I'll do if I have to go back alone."

Akrabbi stared at him. Then he smiled in relief.

"Kankri, I don't want to lose you, either. I wouldn't leave you behind."

Kankri was dumbstruck. His eyes poured out more tears, but his breathing slowly began to still.

And, with insane disbelief, he laughed.

"Believe me, you do not want to stay here. It's not worth anything in universe."

"No, I admit that was not my intent. Still though, maybe..." Akrabbi drifted off in thought.

"What?" asked Kankri, desperate for a solution to the toxic dilemma.

"You could come with me. Back with some of the other ancestors, my partners in particular."

"But, we're disgraces. They don't want to know us. We were the that fucked up worse than they did. Why would they want me around."

Akrabbi stroked his cheek lovingly. "Kankri, no matter what the rest may or may not be, you've proven yourself different. You wrote my path, littered with you mistakes. I followed that path and laid my own mistakes and missed some of yours. At the end of the day, neither of us are better or wiser. We are different individuals with the same enigma. And you, if only you, are my equal. I adore you, pity you, and want you with me."

"What about you partners?"

"I cannot leave any of them. I hope you understand. I love them all, and pity them too. You don't have to associate romantically with them, but I must. I love you all. Can you understand that?"

Kankri looked at him and smiled. "Yes. Will they understand?"

"Easily," Akrabbi chuckled.

Kankri fixed his lovingly messed clothing, stood up steadily, and held his hand out to his partner in abomination.

"Shall we go, then?" he asked, choking back tears.

Akrabbi took his hand, tears caressing his cheek for the first time in a long time.

#homestuck #kankri #the signless #the sufferer #Vantasces #vantascest #cancercest #homesmut

[69-candyredshippers-69]

they are just chilling… ♡

#vantasshipping #homestuck #vantascest #cancercest #karkat x kankri #kankri #karkat #kankri vantas #karkat vantas #kankri x karkat #fanart #homestuck fanart #mod red

[quietmillennial]

Our Suffering

The ancient troll stared at his counterpart, full of pity, and dare he admit it, lust, which blossomed within the deepest, most animalistic fraction of him. The sweater shrouded troll with the same empty eyes and mutant red blood, which matched said sweater, leaned against him in fatigue and relief. After all their differences, the kind hearted Alternian, rather than scold and attack the Beforan for his beliefs, discussed and intelligently countered him, and accepted vice versa. Finally, after a long winded several hours, agreed to disagree.

Now they were here. This moment of silence. And the Signless could feel Kankri's weakness in the moments of silence. Where his defense mechanism was useless. It puzzled him, really. He had made it quite clear that Kankri had nothing to defend or be afraid of. He felt the young apparition's breath quicken in anxiety. He felt the long, pale fingers upon his thigh begin to shake and quiver. His chin sheltered the dancestor's forehead. Despite the curls of his wild mane, he could catch glimpses of his furrowed brow, threatening to leak a cherry translucent sweat from his pores.

It ripped at the martyr's heart. He saw himself in the face of his darkest, loneliest hours. The nights when he dreamt of peace and equality, only to wake to war and agonized travails. And no one could understand. No one could help him. He colored the walls of his own personal asylum, slowly losing the will to wake up from these beautifully composed, torturous hymns of another world. One that he was damned from entering. And the echoes of their chorus ripped from his raw throat all hours of the day, vainly trying to reshape solid steel with his bare hands.

The ancestor gently ran his calloused, long fingers across the fabric of a warm sweater, a symbol of a love that had survived the scratch. The only ideal that seemed to do so. He hummed softly. Kankri froze as he felt the vibration in his mind.

He pulled away slowly.

"Why are you frightened of me, Kankri?"

For once, Kankri was speechless. He exhaled quietly.

"I am not frightened of you," he whispered indignantly, "I'm ashamed of myself. Don't you see? I am nothing but a shadow, and I cannot even achieve that accurately. I can't even follow your path without...without fucking it up. I truly am all hot air. Just attempting to fight what I was destined to be."

The Signless pondered for a moment.

"I think you're mistaken. You came before me, Kankri. If anything, I am your shadow. If it were possible, that is. Honestly, I myself find comparing yourself to others to be quite triggering..."

With the word he leaned closer to the other deceased and wound his arms around him .

"I...why are you doing this? Y...you don't have to comfort me..."

The martyr sighed gently.

"I pity you, Kankri."

With that, the Signless sealed their lips in a kiss. Kankri almost shoved him away. But then he realized.

No one had ever pitied him like this. Porrim was completely platonic with her affection. Never had a red suggestion ever been thrown Kankri's way. And the celibate realized he loved it.

"Signless," he whispered against the rough cheek.

"Akrabbi," he revealed softly. "My name is Akrabbi."

Kankri looked up at him and pondered it. The name somehow suited the revolutionary.

"Akrabbi," he spoke seriously, "Red or pale?"

Akrabbi's eyebrows shot up in realization. He hadn't expected to get this far. But he knew that Kankri was not comfortable with explicit action.

"Your decision, Kankri..."

Inexperienced lips slammed back against his in need. Eyes widened, Akrabbi hummed against the desperate need. He pulled back slowly, and stilled the face that attempted to follow.

"But I thought..."

Akrabbi chuckled.

"You might want to slow down, young one. I've far more experience in the craft of pailing than you do. Just relax and and trust me, alright?"

Kankri pondered the thought. Trust someone with something that he had hidden from even himself? Charming thought in theory, perhaps. Still though...

"I...I don't know..."

"It's all up to you, Kankri. You don't have to do anything. I won't force myself on you."

Kankri looked up Akrabbi nervously. It was like looking a mirror that revealed everything you might have been. But he also saw transparency and honesty. He really wasn't going to take his will. This all really was up to Kankri. His heart was trying to rip itself apart in anxiety and want. Want to be loved and have his wants and needs found important.

He traced his fingers against Akrabbi's cheek. His tongue danced gleefully behind his teeth. His blush slowly and dust rose upon his nose and cheeks.

The elder smiled and leaned back down and pressed his lips against the ghost like youth. Kankri hummed and began to move his lips clumsily. Akrabbi refined his approach with talent of many sweeps of practice. Which reminded Kankri:

"What about the Disciple?!" he almost shrieked.

Akrabbi looked honestly surprised by the outburst and was taken aback.

After a few moments, he chuckled.

"I do not follow the rules of quadrants and neither do my partners."

Kankri looked disturbed. "Partners..."

Akrabbi kissed him softly. "Don't worry about it..."

And Kankri agreed wisely. The pair began to kiss again, Akrabbi leading with poise and grace until he felt a young, nervous tongue brush against his lips. Instead of pulling back again, he left his mouth slightly ajar and pressed his lips against Kankri's tongue and encouraged him to enter.

This was all dizzying and confusing to the new lover, but exciting and safe as well. Akrabbi was here to guide and teach him patiently. Kankri didn't know why. Akrabbi had a, well, apparently, multiple lovers. So why was he focused on an awkward, pious mutant like himself. But he kept silent for now and tentatively slipped his tongue into Akrabbi's mouth.

Their twin, wet muscles met and lovingly wrestled, alternating between the other's pleasantly warm mouths. Akrabbi normally tried to dominate his partner when it came to kissing, enjoying the feel plundering their waiting mouths and the moans that came from their surrender. But Kankri was a different case. He was new and scared. The shining example of a blushing virgin. He needed loved and taught, which was why Akrabbi wouldn't take anything from this endeavor. At least not this one. The truth was, Kankri had a long eternity ahead of him. A life among the dream bubbles never ending. The Beforan mutant had refused himself pleasure all his life and a lot of his afterlife. But all apparitions came to the place where they realized that there life had no power over them anymore, and that they were free of labels and responsibilities. And Kankri was slowly realizing:

He was free...

The vows and demands for perfection he had used as a noose, as a deprivation of vital feeling and impulses, sealing the throat of his humanity and sympathy toward the broken he so longed to reach, gasping and choking from a twelve foot tree, hanging off his holy noose, were worth nothing in a world of memories and regrets.

He became more passionate in his pursuit of his counterpart. Clinging to the fabric of the Signless' cloak, he began to groan in the back of his throat as a heat began to pool in his stomach. Kankri to shiver, and even whimper, as the alien feelings and nature began to speed his heart, like cocaine in his bloodstream.

Akrabbi pulled back, concerned.

"What's wrong, darling," whispered the elder, against Kankri's forehead.

And just like that, the cocaine became morphine, and the world stopped as the deep, caring words rippled through the atmosphere of the dream bubble. Kankri craned his to look into the same empty orbs that were coerced within his own sockets. And he genuinely smiled. Speaking no words, he slipped beneath the chin of the revolutionary and sighed happily as strong arms surrounded him.

"Nothing," he whispered in reply, "I've just not the stamina to continue for much longer..."

He trailed off in nervousness. The moment he opened his own mouth, the high of his partner passed him by. But Akrabbi's chuckle was like shot of pure heroine.

"Would you like me to, uh," he hesitated for the first time as he spoke, "help you finish?"

Kankri was actually taken aback by the question.

"I, well, don't think I can handle your-"

"Oh, no! Kankri, I wouldn't dream of being as selfish as to take you like that right now. You-you're a virgin. I don't want to hurt you."

"O-oh," Kankri paled," then how are you-"

"I need you to trust me," Akrabbi dead panned.

"I...alright. I trust you."

"Are you certain of that?" offered Akrabbi," I don't want to force you into anything."

"...will it hurt?" Kankri winced.

"No."

Kankri kissed the Signless one more time.

"I trust you."

Akrabbi laughed and hugged the soon to be former celibate close.

"Lie down on the grass, Kankri. And relax."

Kankri nodded and sighed away his anxiety as he laid down on the soft grass beneath him. Akrabbi laid upon his belly between Kankri's legs.

He gently tugged the fabric of the leggings in pursuit of permission.

Closing his eyes, Kankri nodded. Akrabbi pulled the leggings down to reveal the young apparition's sexual need. His bulge writhed in the cool air of the dream bubble as his nook leaked a cherry nectar from his core. Breathing hard, Kankri bucked his hips, searching for some kind of stimulus. But the elder locked his eager hips with steady hands and smirked.

He ran his tongue from the base of Kankri's struggling bulge to the tip.

Kankri almost choked.

"Ahhnn- oooh, gog...Si-Akrabbi!"

Akrabbi smiled cockily and asked, "How did that feel?"

"Amazing," wheezed Kankri, "but it's not enough...please, don't tease me..."

Akrabbi's pride gently simmered out as he ran a calloused hand across Kankri's soft cheek.

"Alright, love."

He pushed his legs apart and marveled at the virgin, dripping nook. It wept for attention. For adoration.

And both it would receive.

Akrabbi immediately ran his tongue along the taut opening, and Kankri bellowed in awe and shock. His tongue circled the sensitive hollow of the nook, and he groaned at the taste.

It was like fresh wine, spilling from the chalice of the Condescension herself.

He wanted more. Akrabbi lapped and bit and kissed, drawing every noise possible from his current partner. The highest of squeals, the deepest of groans. The young troll's body shook in need of release. He tugged at Akrabbi's hair. The revolutionary looked up, still breathing heavy with his own desire.

"Please, I...I think I'm close. I want to finish. Please let me...come."

Akrabbi's heart twisted almost painfully at the pleas from his counterpart. As if he was just going to leave him here, without satisfaction.

"Shh," said Akrabbi softly, "I'm going to take care of you."

Kankri didn't know why he was moved by that statement. His entire life was used as a selfish ploy, used by those around him, especially a certain fuchsia blooded bitch. And now, his interests were important to another person. And he was truly touched. Tears began to spill from his eyes as shallow breath picked up gradually.

Akrabbi pulled Kankri close and began to move his hand to the youth's nook. He rested butterfly kisses on the ashen marble column of his neck.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered, "You're amazing. Perfect, stunning, decadent..."

With that last word, he plunged his fingers into the warm orifice of his nook. Kankri moaned and wept as the overwhelming senses began to drown him. He began to bounce on the steady digits inside him in absolute desperation and ecstasy.

"I'm close," he groaned. "Please, please...finish it!"

The Signless pulled the fellow mutant's mouth down to his and kissed him as he curled his fingers to hit his absolute center.

"Ahnn...aaahhhhhhh....ahhh...mmm..."

Kankri sank into Akrabbi's lap and panted as Akrabbi captured him in his arms.

Akrabbi rocked him gently as he continued to gasp and sob.

Kankri had never felt so much before. He couldn't explain it. It wasn't a specific sensation. The stimulation was erratic and unnamed and so, so fleeting. Even as he he groaned in shock and awe of the possession of all his sanity, he lost the memory of that terrifying glory. That's what it was, like for a moment, he understood what it was like to be a god. An immortal leviathan, feeling nothing but pure power without description. The only description he could muster was terrifying. And that wasn't fair. Because it was also beautiful.

For a moment he'd thought he was dying again. The world had gone light and all voices and motion were out of his control.

Not death, no. But a holy, monstrous possession.

For lack of a better word, Kankri was shaken.

When he plugged himself back into reality, he heard the Signless' croons and praises, and felt his gentle arms protecting him from all harm.

No.

Oh, Gog, no. Please...

Kankri realized that he was about to crash. That this was over. All the beauty and glory of this moment was soon to end. The man would leave, return to his angelic party, and forsake his needful counterpart. Akrabbi was going to leave, and Kankri had to accept it, as not to force him to stay. To say he loved him like another partner. To do this to him again. To wreck and teach him again. He couldn't force the ancestor to stay.

Kankri would go back to his own party, those sinners and cruel monsters. The people he'd ruined, and who'd ruined him. They'd cut his tongue out if they could, to keep him from talking. He was annoying and useless. He spoke of indecent decency and he was ridiculed for it. He never, never stopped talking. He wasted his breath on cruel faces and impatient sighs. Even the one person who cared for him would no longer allow him speak. He was their regret, their baggage. He was not a family member, rather, an annoying dog everyone kicked around because they were tired of hearing. And, yes, Kankri had a part to play, but he didn't deserve this. He didn't know how much he could possibly take.

As this hurricane of worry and anxiety whirled around in the dead youth's head, Akrabbi made sure he hadn't  left a mark on him, besides one pale, blush hickey forming on his neck. But soon, he noticed Kankri's anxiety and pressed in to his new lover.

"What's wrong, Kankri?" he asked quietly. "Did I do anything wrong?"

Normally, Kankri would hold back every emotion of hurt and dilemma in his soul and lie. But this time, it was just too much.

The tears fell faster from his soulless eyes as Kankri began to choke on his emotions.

This shook Akrabbi to his core.

The Signless had never felt so much pity in his life or afterlife. Flushed loved, yes. And greater. But never had pity so much cut his brain from his heart. The moment Kankri had begun to quake, he lost grasp of all his control. He launched himself at the chance that he could save this youth, that he could keep him close. Watching his suffering, well, it was worse than Akrabbi's own.

"What's wrong? Tell me," the ancestor pressed.

Finally, the Beforan broke. He began to weep and sob as he clung to the cape of the Alternian. He almost screamed out his pain, and as he did so, Akrabbi paled to an almost white.

"No," he whispered, "Everything we did was consensual, wasn't it?! I-I thought...you knew what we were...Kankri, I didn't, did I?"

Kankri sat up and stared into the milky orbs of Akrabbi's eyes.

"You didn't what?" asked Kankri, confusion overshadowing grief.

"..." Akrabbi took a breath, "Did I...rape you...?"

Realization hit the youth like a sucker punch. He gasped in guilt as he took the the elder's face between his palms.

"No," Kankri whispered, "I just don't want to lose you." The tears began to surface again along with panic. "Please, Akrabbi don't go. I don't know what I'll do if I have to go back alone."

Akrabbi stared at him. Then he smiled in relief.

"Kankri, I don't want to lose you, either. I wouldn't leave you behind."

Kankri was dumbstruck. His eyes poured out more tears, but his breathing slowly began to still.

And, with insane disbelief, he laughed.

"Believe me, you do not want to stay here. It's not worth anything in universe."

"No, I admit that was not my intent. Still though, maybe..." Akrabbi drifted off in thought.

"What?" asked Kankri, desperate for a solution to the toxic dilemma.

"You could come with me. Back with some of the other ancestors, my partners in particular."

"But, we're disgraces. They don't want to know us. We were the that fucked up worse than they did. Why would they want me around."

Akrabbi stroked his cheek lovingly. "Kankri, no matter what the rest may or may not be, you've proven yourself different. You wrote my path, littered with you mistakes. I followed that path and laid my own mistakes and missed some of yours. At the end of the day, neither of us are better or wiser. We are different individuals with the same enigma. And you, if only you, are my equal. I adore you, pity you, and want you with me."

"What about you partners?"

"I cannot leave any of them. I hope you understand. I love them all, and pity them, too. You don't have to associate romantically with them, but I must. I love you all. Can you understand that?"

Kankri looked at him and smiled. "Yes. Will they understand?"

"Easily," Akrabbi chuckled.

Kankri fixed his lovingly messed clothing, stood up steadily, and held his hand out to his partner in abomination.

"Shall we go, then," he asked, choking back tears.

Akrabbi took his hand, tears caressing his cheek for the first time in a long time.

#signlesss #kankri #homestuck #smut #vantascest #cancercest #angst #red #signkri

[sunflorza]

More homestuck headcannon

Karkat (in a feudal atempt to piss him off) memorized kankri's sermons and sermoned them along with kankri. Though this realy just started the base of there positive relationship

#kankri vantas #karkat vantas #vantacest #cancercest #karkri

[temporalmystusions]

A lil extra from that bloodswap Vantas I drew a few weeks ago.

#Homestuck #Bloodswap #Karkri #Vantascest #Cancercest #Tyrian!Karkat #Tyrian!Kankri #Karkat #Karkat Vantas #Kankri #Kankri Vantas #Mysticdraws

[snarp]

Teaser - The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Conquerors, Chapter 8

After following a thoroughly unnecessary series of sugary puzzles in the heart of a dead world without ever encountering any sign of the person or people who was/were remembering them, they opened a door right back into fucking LOPAH. Karkat looked gloomily out across a familiar river of his blood.

Dave was saying to Kanaya, "So they like all had cake-based worlds, seriously? Because Meenah, because Betty Crocker."

Kanaya said, "Not all, I do not think, but I understand that cake did play a large role in their session. It may have somehow been intended to foreshadow their Incipisphere's doomed nature, according to Kankri."

"- what?" said Karkat. "When did he say that?"

"Different one, dude," said Dave. “Welp, we’re back in your guys’ fucked-up subconscious again, that was productive. What’s the big hole.”

The big hole in the ground was distinguished from Meulin’s world’s many trap pits by its unhidden nature, and by the sign in front of it. The sign said, in tidy green handwriting, “Nice’s Fo+rtress.” A bit smaller beneath that: “Nice is yo+ur denizen. Do+n’t yo+u dare go+ in here witho+ut telling so+meo+ne what yo+u’re do+ing!”

“Nice. Nice,” said Dave. “Did you notice the difference in my intonation the second time I said that guys. The second time it was an adjective. Used ironically.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s fucking pronounced, but before you ask it’s not like I sat down and had a goddamn conversation with her. I just killed her.”

Climbing down seemed unavoidable. There was a narrow, slippery obsidian stairway twisting around the sides of the pit. They walked down one-by-one. It stank of the world’s blood, which trickled down the walls in places, staining their hands and clothes.

Dave gave up and started floating. “Where the fuck does all this blood even come from, anyway,” he said, wiping his hands on his cape.

“Go fuck yourself,” said Karkat, about the cape thing. Kanaya was licking her left hand clean, her expression abstracted and faintly disapproving.

It was a dream, and awful things always took too long in Karkat’s dreams; the stairs went down further than he thought they were supposed to. The cold deepened as they climbed, and gradually the trickles of blood froze to the walls and floor. Kanaya and Karkat removed coats and boots from their sylladexes, and Kanaya a bag of rock salt, which she sprinkled ahead of her.

Dave did not return to the stairs; he began entertaining himself by drifting upward, letting himself fall, and then stopping himself. This stopped when he slammed into something hard.

“What the fuck!” The stairs continued on far below where had struck the invisible ground.

Kanaya laid her hand on it for a moment, then held it up to show Dave the water dripping from it. Her melted handprint was the only imperfection in the smooth surface of the clear, airless ice.

“It goes down very deep. All of this world’s clean water has been collected here, in its frozen center.”

Dave said, “Uh. So I get why Karkat didn’t warn me about that, it’s because he’s a stupid piece of shit. But why didn’t you -”

“You were annoying me a little bit,” she said. “This way.” She gave a spot in the wall a sudden hard kick, and the stone door cracked as it swung open.

“Kanaya?” said Karkat, uncertainly. “There’s a bullshit fucking puzzle lock for the thing, remember, we could have just done the bullshit fucking puzzle lock.”

She said evenly, “I have never liked this place.”

The corridor beyond was of shining obsidian, cleaner and smoother than the stairwell. It was also, however, lined with thick clear pipes full of hot red blood. “Jegus fucking fuck,” Dave observed.

Nice sat in a perfectly round black glass chamber, at the bottom of a bowl, fast asleep. Thousands of small tubes hooked into her coiled sides, drawing her blood endlessly out and upwards.

“Jegus fucking fuck, Karkat!”

“How the hell is this my fault, I did not have creative control over this bullshit! If you wish to make a complaint, have a talk with whatever cosmic forces which are so intent upon my torment that they continually inflict increasingly-heavy-handed blood-related imagery upon me in order to maintain my psyche in a permanent state of stress! - there you fucking are you asshole, how dare you fall the fuck asleep on me I hate you so much!”

Kanaya said, “Hello, Kankri.”

He had been sitting next to Nice’s sleeping face, reading a human paperback book: A Limited Guide to the Countries Beyond Death, by Tess Theramin. Karkat reached a hand down to help him up - Kankri took it uncertainly, scrutinizing Karkat’s face anxiously. Why the fuck did he have to be such an insecure dumbass? And there was a new little bruise around his eye, and a bandage on his left hand. “Who did you fight with, you’re fighting with people not the clown now, too?!”

“Just myself,” he wrote, looking annoyed at the memory. “I can be such a jerk, I d9n’t kn9w what’s wr9ng with me…”

“Yeah, I know, right?”

“Shut up.” Then he looked back at Nice. “I never g9t t9 ask her what she thinks 9f this. Did y9u?”

“Oh my god why do people keep asking me about talking to the Denizen! I did not talk to the Denizen!”

Dave said, “No, someone needs to actually explain this crap to me. So she’s just - she’s asleep, and someone’s draining her blood out up there? Just, what the hell.”

Kanaya said, “The newts had angered Nice - through some sort of I guess, inappropriate newt behavior? I cannot even imagine what that would entail, I wish I had asked - and to punish them, she stole away all the water for herself, and then fell asleep on the ice. They went to the White Queen for help, and the Queen went to Furor, the Denizen of the Land of Tents and Mirth -”

Kankri wrote, “Festival and Grief.”

“- excuse me, Kurloz’s world’s name was different. And Furor… did this somehow? Before entering her own sleep. There presumably existed a way to return the water to the surface, but we did not exactly prioritize that.”

Karkat said, “We’re not having the fucking Karkat-didn’t-talk-to-the-Denizen discussion again, that subject is long dead and eaten, okay! Personal growth opportunity passed up, I killed the Denizen and spilled its red blood on the clean water forever polluting it, it was symbolic of all my failures, can we drop it and let it rot already.”

Kankri looked depressed. More depressed than usual. “I have never f9und any iterati9n 9f either 9f us wh9 talked t9 her and was a6le t9 remem6er and c9nvey t9 me what she said. She never awakened in my sessi9n; I never even saw her, actually, while I was alive.”

“So how the hell are you here?!”

“I asked an9ther 9f me t9 sh9w the place t9 me. He was n9t very helpful 9therwise. I st9le his sweater.”

“Why?!”

“It’s chilly,” he wrote defensively.

#the ones who walk away from omelas conquerors #homestuck #karkri #vantascest #cancercest #homestuck fanfic

[politenuclearbomb]

SO ME ONEROLEPL AY SIGNKAT/SUFFKAT WITH MEPLE AS EI CAN DO KARKAT SUPER WELL BUT IF U WANNA I CAN DO SUFFErer plEASE FOR THE LVOE OF GOD

#suffkat #signkat #vantascest #vantacest #cancercest

[gayavianprince]

what no i dont ship vantascest that’s wier-[trips and pictures of vantascest spill from my pockets] wait shit this isnt-[attempts to gather the pictures] i can explain-[they are everywhere] these arent mine I swear-[pictures fall from my arms] im holding these for a friend-[i am smothered death by pictures]

#vantascest #karkri #katkri #cancercest #sweatercest #i wish there were that many photos #mine #50+ #it close enough shut

[69-candyredshippers-69]

They are the sweetest

#karkat vantas #kankri vantas #karkat #kankri #vantas #homestuck #karkat x kankri #kankri x karkat #vantasshipping #vantass #vantascest #homestuck memes #meme #homestuck fanart #fanart #homosuck #cancercest #mod candy

[corvoyunused]

please come get me, and... uh, karkri! (please!)

Here you go, friend! 

Pairing(s): Karkat Vantas Kankri Vantas 

Warning(s): N/A

"… I don't want to be alone anymore."

———————————————————-

Since the game began, sleep was not a friend to the young enervated troll who rarely rested. Typically, Karkat Vantas stayed awake until the point of passing out-- nerves keeping him fully alert at all times. His misery kept him utterly exhausted, while his apprehensive nature caused his mind to wander into the darkest of places. Fighting against sleep, the troll gripped his horns aggressively-- praying that the pain would keep him from dosing. 

His fighting proved useless to the boughs of sleep that succumbed to him-- because within moments he was out like a light. Karkat wasn't quite sure why he was exactly surprised, after all; he'd been awake for roughly three days in a row. His dreams were typical at first-- childhood memories of he and Terezi playing with sticks, putting up with Gamzee's foolishness, and things of the like. However, he began drifting soon-- traveling into different dreams. The divergent always frightened him, because he was never quite sure where he was going to go as a result. 

Karkat awoke in a vast area, surrounded in complete white. In fact, there was no beginning and no end. The region wasn't particularly bland, however-- the whiteness of the surroundings held a chrome appearance. There was no items in the room aside a long staircase-- concealed in a plush red carpet. 

"Hello?" The troll called, gripping the edges of his sleeves. He was curious as to where he was-- recognizing that there was some sort of familiarity to the plain room. "Is anyone here?" 

At the top of the stairs, a figure stood-- with high, supercilious manner and arms crossed. His nose was stuck up snobbishly, and his stature was amazingly straight. It was as if he had a ruler stuck between his shoulder blades. At first, Karkat didn't recognize the ridiculous appearance of the silhouette-- but it suddenly struck him. With grotesque amusement, Karkat rolled his eyes. Of all dreams to intrude on, he got stuck here. 

"I have not seen you in quite a while, Karkat. Are my lessons really that boring to you?" Kankri asked with condescending tone-- the prude. Karkat was about to reply but of course, Kankri couldn't just ask one question. "I am quite surprised. Of course, I never believed that I could change your manner completely, however, I expected to see some improvement. In fact, I am currently seeing less improvement and more slobbish behavior than I ever imagined. Do you want to embarrass me, Karkat? Was that your goal? Because you are certainly doing that right now, and--" 

Karkat eventually stopped listening to the abrasive voice of his elder and pretended to listen. That was honestly the only way to get him to shut up. Despite Kankri's haughtiness, his intelligence and historical knowledge was convenient.   Take the verbal slander, and wait it out until he gives you some relatively useful information. That was how you dealt with him. 

"Yeah. I totally get you." Karkat replied caustically, biting his nails as he spoke. This was honestly wearing his patience thin. 

Kankri narrowed his eyes briefly. "Very well." He finally walked down the stairs-- facing the younger Vantas. Karkat never realized how tall the elder was in comparison. He bent down, getting uncomfortably close to Karkat's face, before stating: "You've been depressed." He leaned up, recrossing his arms and closing his eyes with some sense of superiority. "Self-care is important for any good leader, Karkat." 

"You think I don't know that, shit face?" Karkat sneered. Kankri had hit a nerve, and he knew it, too. 

"Triggered. Please watch your language, Karkat." 

What a moralist, Karkat thought to himself before shrugging slightly. "Sorry." He scoffed. For some reason, he never particularly enjoyed Kankri's disapproval. 

"So," Kankri began, "Are you going to talk? Or do I have to, as always, do the talking in our session?" Karkat felt like he was seeing some sort of therapist, or as Rose explained, 'human psychiatrist.' It was downright annoying. 

"… I don't want to be alone anymore." Karkat remarked earnestly. He'd never really told anyone that. 

For once, Kankri dropped his superior demeanor and looked at him with genuine remorse. "The Vantas' have always been better off alone, it seems." He claimed, reflecting on his own life that once had so much meaning. 

Having been silenced for moment, Karkat finally asked: "… How long have you been alone?" He'd never really considered that Kankri had been companionless. 

"Time does not exist here, Karkat. Have you not gathered that yet?" Kankri's curtness returned briefly, but then he sighed. "Long enough to lose track of any time known to your respected life forms." 

For once, Karkat didn't really want to wake up. Kankri was annoying, but he understood. He looked up-- seeing the whiteness of his surroundings corroding. "Please," He begged, reaching out to him and clinging to the stiff figure. "Please don't leave me alone." 

"I am sorry." Kankri's words drifted off in a dream-like state and when Karkat looked up-- he was surrounded by blackness. In a fit of panic, he woke up-- resting on his human bed back on the solemn meteor. 

"Please come get me," He sobbed into his hands, begging for his elder to answer him-- contact him in some way. "I'm sorry--" He whispered, listening out only to hear the responsiveness of his own despondency. 

#homestuck #karkri #vantascest #cancercest #tori writes #royalquetzalcoatl #answered

[trashfireradiowaves]

Triggers Be Damned- Kankri==> Engage in Comforting Physical Contact With Your Dancestor

so this is my attempt to make kankri more in character (i failed, if you wanted to know)

-----------

If there is one thing you can say, in the safety of your own mind, it is that the dream bubbles are… not the most entertaining of locales. In fact, if it would not be triggering to anyone, you would say that they could be downright boring on occasion. 

There is only a finite amount of things one can remember, after all, and you’ve re-read everything your admittedly impeccable memory has to offer. The last visitor had not brought anything worthwhile with them, for you, at least; Cronus had been rather taken with some strange books lately, but you are trying not to pry into his business as often as you have been wont to do, as of late, and in doing so you have removed the only source of mental stimulation more taxing than just laying on the grass and staring at the clouds. 

  They’re lazy clouds. Almost as lazy as you, laying about with nothing to do but run through a list of triggers connected to the topic of your latest essay and try to find strange shapes in the puffs of white water vapour. 

  So, with that said, and the general insipidity of the dream bubbles expounded on, you were quite surprised when your little cloud-watching expedition was rather violently interrupted. 

  You are aware that visitors to your particular bubble tend to have some issues in the ‘landing on the ground’ department, not that you’re shaming them for their lack of coordination and/or ground locating abilities- nevertheless, you are aware of that fact, but you were still not expecting a rather heavy body to fall right on top of you. Again, not that you were trying to weight shame, but when an object falls from quite a height, the speed collected makes impact that much more felt, and laws of physics also tend to apply to people. 

  “Karkat?”

For indeed, the person who had relocated from the sky to your stomach was, in fact, your dancestor. 

  “Karkat, while I am quite pleased with your eagerness to rejoin me for another lectu- lesson in various tags and triggers, I do wish you would consider-“

  You are quite taken aback when you are shoved, roughly, back to the ground, Karkat gripping two handfuls of your sweater tightly, with trembling fingers. 

  “Kankri.”

  His voice is harsh, cracked and pained, and for a moment you are actually shocked into silence. 

  “Kankri for the love of the Sufferer please shut your bromidic, trite, repetitious fucking mouth. I am not, in any way, in the mood to deal with the banal shit you spew from every orifice like some sort of goddamn social justice fire hydrant.”

  You open your bromidic, trite, repetitious, fucking offended mouth to spew some trigger warnings in your ancestor’s direction, but there’s a soft noise, like a choked off sob, something harsh and primal and painful. Something that makes your stomach twist and your heart ache, something that makes you freeze, hands hovering awkwardly over your dancestor, because you are not in any way prepared to deal with this. 

  Karkat’s shoulders shudder, and a small, translucent drop of red lands on your sweater. Then another, and another, until you can no longer convince yourself he is not crying, because it is so blatantly obvious that even your skill in denying the glaringly evident has met its match. It has met its match in the undeniable event of Karkat Vantas crying egregiously red tears into your egregiously red sweater. 

  “Oh,” you say, the soft sound slipping from your lips before you can hold it back. When you sit up, he slides to your lap, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him despite his triggers regarding contact and the breech of personal space. He goes willingly when you pull him to your chest, though, and when you squeeze in what you hope is a decent facsimile of a hug he responds by clutching you even closer, so you think your contravention of etiquette can be forgiven, at least this once. 

  “Dear, whatever is the matter?” you ask, careful to keep your tone calm and soft. You speak to him like you would a wounded animal, or perhaps one triggered by loud noises, and you ghost one hand ever so lightly through his hair. You think you remember Porrim doing such things to comfort you, once upon a time, but it had been so long that even your stellar memories had faded, leaving you with nothing but the vaguest idea of what to do when confronted with a distraught individual. Due to your blood, you were never really considered the assertive partner on the rare occasion you allowed yourself to dabble in conciliatory matters; you were always the pacified, never the one doing the pacifying, so you are afraid to admit you are completely out of your comfort zone, you are completely, horrifically lost-

  And then he looks up. 

  He looks up, looks at you, and oh, his eyes! His beautiful eyes, once flecked with red, are now as white as your own and you feel like you’ve been hit in the stomach. 

  “Oh no…"

  He doesn’t say anything, just buries his face in your chest and cries, cries like he never has before, and maybe he hasn’t. You aren’t trying to be obtuse or shameful in any manner, but Alternia was a much harsher, much more violent place than Beforus, and such societies came with their own set of rules and customs. 

  Maybe no one has ever held young Karkat like this. Maybe he’s never been given a safe place to vent his fears and sorrows. It saddens you that such an opportunity has only graced him in death. 

  “Oh, dear, shh, shh,” you sigh, running your fingers a bit more firmly through his hair, “It will be alright, cry as you need, I shall be here when you wish to talk. I’m sure you did your best, Karkat-“

  “If I’d done my best I wouldn’t fucking be here!” he snarls, but his voice is distorted by both the material he’s hiding in and his thick, watery sounds of anguish. 

  “Not so. There are many who do their best, only to perish. The circumstances cannot always be changed, Karkat. I am positive you have done the best you could possibly hope to achieve, and I am just as positive that your timeline is better for it.”

  Much better than yours had been, assuredly. 

  Curled in your arms as he is, you are reminded how shockingly young Karkat actually is. His head fits neatly under your chin, and his body folds easily into your lap. He’s so small, so young, still a child! Children playing war games, children dealing with horrors and fear that even adults would be hard pressed to process, children being in charge of the fate of universes, and it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to Karkat, it isn’t fair to his friends, it isn't fair to anyone, that they have to cope with such horrible things. 

  You and your team had been older, more experienced in the ways of the world, if not with fighting or violence. You’d been more mentally prepared to deal with the things you’d faced- and in no way were you shaming your dancestor and his team for their youth and inexperience; it wasn’t something they could help, it still isn’t. Experience is gained only through living, and those children had not been given a chance to do so. 

  “You did what you could with the situation you were presented with, and you did the best you could have done, that I am sure of.”

  He clutches your sweater in his hands and just shakes his head and cries, soft and broken and so very devastated, inconsolable, and all you can do is hold him close and bite your lip because the last thing he needs is you rambling. 

  Contrary to popular belief, you are, in fact, self aware. You know what the people around you think of you and your sermons, and you know, in particular, how much Karkat hates the things. It’s slightly offensive, that they think so little of the things that you truly care about, but that is neither here nor there at the moment. 

  The only think that matters is the little child sobbing his heart out in your arms, the child that is in desperate need of comfort and not of lecturing. 

  You croon low in your throat, a wordless, instinctive sound, and brush your hand down the tight, tense curve of his spine. You can’t do anything else for him. You can’t make him calm, can’t make him less sad or hurt, you can only try to sooth him the best you can and hope that it’s enough. 

  You don’t know how long you sit, the only sounds being your humming and his muted crying. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours or days- time runs strangely in your bubble, sometimes moving slow or fast- but he eventually stops, his tears giving way to subdued, hitching breath and little sniffles. He relaxes in your hold, his strained, taunt muscles loosening, his grip on your shirt going from white knuckled clinging to a gentler embrace. 

  Triggers and tags are the last thing on your mind when you bend and press a soft kiss to one of his horns, just as he and his comfort is the first thing on your mind when you say, quietly, “I am proud of you, Karkat.”

  “What?”

  “I am proud of you,” you repeat, burying your face in his hair, “So very, very proud of you and the way you’ve handled yourself and led your team. You have done such a wonderful job.”

  “I killed people,” he says, bleak and sad, numb, “I let people die, I killed people because I wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t good enough-“

  You shush him gently, and he goes quiet, shaking his head. 

  “You saved lives. Many more would have died, if not for you and your efforts. I don’t expect you to understand, or even believe me, but I will continue to say so until you stop blaming yourself for things that no one could have prevented.”

  You stroke hand down his back, and you can feel the heat of him through his thin shirt, the jagged protrusions of his spine and the rough ridges of scars and you marvel, again, at how much he’s survived, being a mutant on a planet where such a thing was punishable by execution. 

  Just a child, and already so marked by the hatred and discrimination of another time, another society. 

  Just a child. 

  “Kankri,” he says, and he sounds like a child, everything is just pounding that knowledge further and further into your brain, “Kankri-“

  And you know what he needs even if he doesn’t know how to ask for it, so you cradle him close to your chest and croon, and he chirps back, the sound small and pained, and allows you to comfort him. 

  “I am proud of you, Karkat, and, though my opinion might not mean much to you, I believe you did the very best anyone in your situation could have done.”

  He sighs, and leans against you, and doesn’t refute your statements. 

  “Let yourself rest, dear, you’ve been through much too much,” you say, and he closes his eyes obediently, tucking his head up under your chin and chirring quietly as you smooth your hands over the muscles of his spine, and you hum in response, soft, repetitive tunes you hope will lure him to sleep. 

  Because he is a child, ever so young, he drifts off with the ease of a youngling put to bed after a day of rough play, little breaths shooting against your neck where he leans against you. There are no recuperacoons in the lands of the dead, but you pick him up and hold him close, making your way to your own hive, where a bed will be waiting for the both of you. 

  You know that you have not even begun to patch the holes he holds in his heart, but you hope you can, at least, help him repair some of his shattered self esteem and make him see that he is not a failure, no matter what he may think. 

#karkri #cancercest #vantascest #vantacest #karkat #kankri #i tried #it might not be obvious #but i did try #i think i failed but w/e #sfw #radiowriter

[snarp]

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Conquerors, Spattered With The Viscera Of Its Weak And Decadent People, Chapter 7:

By Karkat's count, 99% percent of their interactions started with Dave making some dumb tactless remark that put his ignorance on display like a prize-winning dirt-apple, and Karkat throwing something.

This time he just straight-up asked, "So did you do the nasty with your evil twin." But in the way he did where it sounded like there was no question mark at the end? Karkat threw his pen at him, then got upset because Dave’d made him throw his pen and he needed that pen.

Twenty minutes later, after the subject of why he needed a pen anyway, because he didn't even have any paper, like what was he doing with it, I just need some real basic background for this tantrum before we proceed man come on, had been thoroughly hashed out, Karkat answered the original question, which Dave had basically forgotten due to the execrably short nature of his attention span.

“…sorry, I guess? So uh. What are you going to do. About that."

#karkri #vantascest #cancercest #homestuck fanfic #fanfic #fiction #the ones who walk away from omelas conquerors #karkat vantas #dave strider #kankri vantas

[0-memento-mori-0]

The headcanon of Kankri having his ears pierced is actually more popular than I originally thought when I came up with it a while back. I liked seeing I wasn't the only one with that headcanon. Now i've got a one-shot idea of Karkat not having his done, and when he notices Kankri does, he gets curious and more than a bit interested in them, and when Kankri notices, he offers to pierce Karkat's for him.

Needless to say Karkat squirms and sweats and whines about it the whole time, but once it's over he's embarrassed for acting like a wriggler about it.

It's a stupid fluffy-fic idea that won't leave me, and I feel like if someone else doesn't write it I will....

#and i really dont think i should lmao #vantascest #karkri #cancercest #pierced kankri #???

[f-imaginings]

So I am going to tell you about a dream I had last night and I am going to put it under a cut because it contains illness, hospitals and life threatening diseases but it was also from Kankri’s perspective, human Kankri and he was visiting his brother Karkat and they were very close.

So with my dream last night it started as me going to see my little sister who was really sick in hospital and it morphed midway through the dream into human Kankri going to see his little brother Karkat who was sick at the hospital. And by “sick” that meant mutation-related-one-of-a-kind-rare-and-mostly-medically-undocumented-severe-disease. Karkat initially had his own room in the local hospital as it was the best care that the family could afford and Kankri visited his brother every day while attending high school at the same time pressing for high grades because he was attempting to get into law.

Anyway on the day of the dream Karkat had been transferred to the up market high funding incredibly posh religious hospital uptown by means of an anonymous backer. Karkat is so ill that his parents accept whatever help they can get if it means Karkat gets better, even if it means being in debt to Crockercorp who moved Karkat to the posh hospital unbeknownst to Kankri and Karkat. Their parents know who sent the money and what the cost would be but they haven’t told Kankri yet because they know he wouldn’t agree with Crockercorp having such leverage over them. Which is why Kankri was not to know, Karkat’s health is worth being blackmailed.

The hospital was a bit like catholic hospitals except the religion was a sort of warped reverence/following of the Signless. Anywho so Kankri visited Karkat at this new hospital in the morning before class and was enraged to discover a bunch of religious clergymen almost sycophantically worshipping Karkat for this disease/mutation as apparently the Signless had the same. Kankri sees them all loitering outside of Karkats room, watching him and ogling at him like a monkey in the zoo while Karkat was throwing up and carting his iv with him to the bathroom and fighting his fever and Kankri fucking blows a gasket. He flips his goddamn lid. He is a protective older brother who is very close to Karkat and flips his shit completely at this bullshit. So while Karkat is sleeping through the morning visit Kankri rages at the sycophants yelling, unbelievably angry, basically telling the assembled group off something hardcore and getting real damn angry in the process. So he sends all the idiots running and takes several deep breaths, straightens his school uniform and goes in to see Karkat, to put a loaf of the special bread Karkat needs to eat on his bedside table, and the game cartridges for Pokemon Y he left at home, and Karkat is still asleep so he squeezes Karkats hand and then leaves to go to school.

After school Kankri comes back to visit Karkat like he does everyday and he plans to tell Karkat his story about completely losing it at the staff, he would make it a sort of joke to make Karkat laugh in a “You, swearing at nuns? Hahah!” kind of way. He gets there though and all the crazy staff are cleared away and Karkat is awake and sitting up so Kankri goes in with a smile intending to have a cheerful chat with his brother but Karkat looks up at him with this nearly crumpling expression and Kankri knows that Karkat had heard what the staff had done and how they glorified his illness to be like their savior figure who was destined to die because of it anyway and his face just crumples and Kankri wings his way across the room to hug him and they don’t need words he just holds Karkat tightly while he cries and feels like shit and by the end of it Kankri has soothed Karkat and is kneeling on the floor by the chair Karkat sits on and holds both his hands and Karkat has stopped crying and Kankri is telling Karkat his story in a very soft voice about how he nearly punched a nun today and Karkat is smiling so Kankri stays at the hospital with him until Karkat falls asleep in the evening and when he leaves to go home he stays up til 3am finishing the class work and home work he puts aside to see Karkat every day then he goes to sleep and wakes up at 5.30am to go see Karkat and go to school the next day.

That was my dream last night and it was a very interesting dream to be completely from Kankri’s perspective as if I were Kankri but the content was also very strange but interesting and I wonder what prompted it.

#karkri #vantascest #cancercest #tw #hospitals #severe illness #dream #religious themes