NO DAVE IT IS NOT FUCKING FINE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE WART HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU A POKÉMON?? GOD NO DON'T EVEN ANSWER I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYMORE I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF THIS PLACE, DAVE. IT WAS FINE FOR A WHILE BUT ALL THE BULLSHIT THIS PAST MONTH HAS BEEN TOO MUCH I MEAN IT'S NOT AS BAD AS THE GAME WAS BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WOULD BE, BUT I'M FUCKING FED UP OF ALL THESE GODDAMN FAIRY MAGIC SWITCHUP CHANGEROOS DEVISED BY A TEAM OF DRUG-SNORTING MONKEYS USING EVERY PRONG, NUB, AND PREHENSILE TAIL TO FONDLE THEIR MUTATED AND FESTERING SORE-RIDDEN BODIES I JUST WANT SHIT TO BE NORMAL. I WANT YOU TO BE NORMAL AND I WANT TO BE A TROLL AGAIN AND I WANT DIRK TO GO FUCK HIMSELF WITH A CULLING FORK, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?
[Except he's—relieved, already calmer (how does Dave do that) even as guilt claws at his insides, shame that he can't fucking deal with this himself. He needs Dave, so which fucking one of them is the more unstable half, anyway? How can he claim total mastery over all things romance and not know this?]
FUCK WAIT YOU'RE FUCKING SCANNING MY BRAIN RIGHT NOW AREN'T YOU?? CUT THAT SHIT OUT.
[He has nothing to hide from his moriail, really he doesn't, except for maybe the whole LALALALALALA GET OUT STRIDER OH MY GOD DO YOU NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF PRIVACY.]
if you start thinking about gross fuckbucket porn to throw me off the scent im leaving im leaving this entire galaxy i will vaporize from this very plane of existence i swear to fuck
OKAY HE WASN'T GOING TO BEFORE DAVE BROUGHT IT UP BUT??? IT'S LIKE TELLING SOMEONE NOT TO THINK OF A PINK MUSCLEBEAST, IT JUST DOESN'T WORK oh god oh fuck oh god think about something else literally anything else, uh, how about, his hive??? Holy shit he hasn't seen his hive since—since the last dream bubble they were in that contained some segment of it, actually, which wasn't that long ago, but still. His DVD collections, uhhhh, game grubs, recuperacoon—]
CAN WE JUST MAKE A MUTUAL AGREEMENT TO NOT MENTION ANYTHING RELATED TO PAILS IN THE FUTURE AT ALL EVER. AND PRETEND THIS PART OF THE CONVERSATION NEVER HAPPENED. I SWEAR I'LL STAY WHERE I AM AND WAIT FOR YOU IF WE CAN DO THIS, PLEASE.
[Especially since it's sort of impossible to bring up pails without dwelling entirely too long on his empty flushed and caliginous quadrants and HAHAHAHA HIS POSTERS??? HE HAD POSTERS. POSTERS OF MOVIES. God Troll Will Smith is hot??? Wait, no, shit, think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts.]
ok your thoughts just went all like gray?? dark gray is that what your house uh feels like? i dunno if its distance or not but im just sort of getting sensory impressions which is actually kind of cool can you keep doing that
WHAT? NO, WHAT THE FUCK DAVE. THE INTERIOR WAS GRAY. AND THE EXTERIOR. HOW THE FUCK WOULD SOMETHING FEEL GRAY THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE.
[Is Dave Terezi noh fuck, don't think about Terezi. (Even if she's the Seer of Mind? And that's kind of what Dave is doing right now?? Wow, no.) Think about... what would be a nice thing for Dave to read off of him? Sensory impressions? Like...
Experimentally, he thinks of the night sky over Alternia, the green and pink moons and how each would wax and wane in tandem as the seasons progressed. He hasn't seen them since that last dream bubble, either, and frankly, this pale white pseudo-Earth moon is a load of hoofbeastshit in comparison.
... He's actually starting to feel a little homesick, what the fuck. Maybe this was a bad idea.]
not far i think that was a lot clearer maybe because you were concentrating on it though
[In return--and maybe in response, because it's tinged with a similar, if complicated longing for the familiar--Karkat receives what's at first merely a faint sense of sound, which eventually resolves into distant city noise, the honking of horns and the occasional siren what seems like a whole world below and away. It's difficult to see many stars with the light pollution even as evening slides away, but night is when the city smells cleanest, when solitude feels natural and not like a waiting threat.
Also, being awake at night was a lot better than dreaming of Derse hahaha.]
[Karkat's only familiar with those sounds from a mere handful of the human movies he's seen, and the novelty distracts him just enough from his own mental picture to make the latter fade. He thinks he can identify a few of the things he's hearing, but others completely mystify him. Is that what Dave's home really sounded like?
He doesn't get the chance to ask. Instead... fuck. Fuck, Dave must be close if he's asking that, and momentarily forgetting the stupid fingerless gloves covering his/not-his palms and the (coarser than Dave's, not as feather-soft) blond hair on his/not-his head, Karkat smacks both together with enough force to hopefull leave Dirk brain damaged, then musses for all he's worth. Sweet Troll Jegus, why is he the one panicking when it's Dave who's going to be the one worse off for seeing him? He's so fucking selfish, stupid, pathetic—]
YEAH, I I MEAN NO BUT I CAN BE IN A SECOND. DO YOU WANT ME TO WAIT THERE FOR YOU OR SHOULD I STAY WHERE I AM AND YOU MESSAGE ME WHEN YOU'RE READY?
[Dave stumbles to a stop at the rising panic. Hey, hey, no, shoooooosh, he thinks, or maybe says? He's not sure, all he's thinking of are soft warm hands, of burying his nose in Karkat's (real, trollish) hair, of how nice it feels to rub his hand over Karkat's back. Wonder and deep, almost aching care, softness that brings him to hush.]
shhhhhhhhhh shh im not gonna do that again ok? ok its ok and im ok and the two of us were gonna be ok here in the okest state of being which happens to be called oklahoma
[But even as he tries to soothe Karkat, his own doubt and nerves rise, and he shifts his weight, uncomfortable. He can't really promise that, can he. But, maybe, if they can just make it so it can't happen...]
ok karkat i have sort of a suggestion so bear with me here its kinda kinky?? wait holy shit is palekink a thing please tell me it is jesus christ i HAVE to know anyway it requires you letting me trust you is that cool with you bro
[Whatever it is, he's a little nervous about it--a little embarrassed?--and about how Karkat will take it.]
[... Oh. Oh, fuck, wow, okay, he's feeling calmer. Still distinctly on edge, but the ghost of Dave's hands, his voice, the memory of holding him and being held... He thinks, just maybe, that he won't flip his shit everywhere anymore. Probably. God, he's just happy he'd gotten over the all-encompassing horror/disgust/panic about being human in his first month here (or, uh, mostly gotten over it). At least it was practice at suddenly being in a body that isn't his, and hey, now there's no way he'll ever have to deal with that clusterfuck and this one at the same time. Hahaha. Ha.
Fuck.]
YES, PALEKINK IS A THING. WAIT, THAT FUCK I DIDN'T MEAN TO ADMIT THAT. OK YOU KNOW WHAT? FINE. I NEVER WANTED TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION BUT SURE, WHY NOT! IT'S NOT SEXUAL. I MEAN, THAT'S KIND OF IT'S OWN ISSUE, WE'RE NOT GOING THERE. YOU'RE PROBABLY CLOSE TO THE MARK ANYWAY, WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE THINKING OF. YOU REALIZE I'M STILL IN THE GODDAMN WOODS? SOMEONE COULD WALK BY ANY MOMENT AND YOU'RE ASKING ME TO DO SOMETHING KINKY. WHAT THE FUCK, DAVE.
[... He's. Kind of okay with it, actually. Dave can probably sense if there's someone near and warn him, right?]
[Wow, wait, trolls have psychics all over the darn place, is psychic palekink a thing. Dave can totally see it being a thing, shit, how could it not, it'd work so fuckin'...YEAH ANYWAY]
hahahaha oh my god well hey whatever if anyone accidentally catches us being exhibitionistically conciliatory out here theyre at worst going to assume dirks just bonding with his pokemon the perfect crime so anyway um so you know how warts always wearing this bandanna
[Dave sets the PokéGear down as they speak so he can un-knot it, fold it into a red bar wide enough to cover Wart's admittedly humongous anime eyes.]
ARE YOU FUCKING GOING TO ASK ME TO PAP YOU AS WART I MEAN THERE'S PETTING POKÉMON BUT FUCK. I MEAN, I CAN DO IT IF YOU NEED ME TOO, YOU'RE STILL YOU, BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO PAP ME, DAVE. IT'S OK, REALLY. FUCK I AM DELETING THIS CONVERSATION OFF OF DIRK'S POKÉGEAR ASAP, THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I'M NOT GIVING THAT GAPING SEED FLAP ANY AMMUNITION AGAINST EITHER OF US. HOW CAN ANYONE BE THAT INSUFFERABLE ANYWAY, IT DEFIES ALL REASON. I WOULD BREAK HIS SHADES JUST TO MAKE THE ASSHOLE SUFFER, BUT ANNE HATHAWAY HAS THEM.
[Fucking clowns. Anne is nothing like the ones Gamzee used to decorate his respiteblock with, but the association is still enough to sow dread in the pit of his/Dirk's stomach. Fuck clowns, seriously, those honking assholes.]
hahaha no dude its fine i really mean it i am surprisingly chill i guess if i had to meet dirk in person in a weird double halfways fashion this early in the season im glad it was while i was a level 100 psychic beast that can probably lift a car just by thinking at it also hes not as terrifying in person as expected hes kind of an awkward doofus
i am gonna ask you to hold my hand though
[Shhhh, dude, no thinking about clowns, clowns are bad and also lame. He nudges Karkat's thoughts towards, ehhh, what's something safe and calming, wait okay how about Jade? Green and growing things, the smell of fresh earth and the sparkling of stars, laughter without self-consciousness. Jade could beat up anything, Jade will protect them both.
In the meantime, Dave just goes ahead, removes his shades, and blindfolds himself with Wart's bandanna, because this is the cool and rational thought process of a sane dude wearing a Pokémon's skin. Sweet. Darkness.]
...Okay, in hindsight, I should've done this after I pinpointed your coords. Come find me? I got a sense where you are but I can't feel, like. Trees. Or ledges. Fuckin' ledges.
Edited (Sorry needed a word change) 2016-05-27 17:37 (UTC)
[... Level 100 psychic beast. Try and gush a little more about your Pokéchild, Dave, he doesn't think you've induced vomiting in all the local wildlife yet.
(It's cute, Dave is so cute, god he loves this idiot.)
As for the assessment of Dirk... yeah, no. As far as Karkat's concerned, his only redeeming trait is his resemblance to DaAAUGGHH STOP LISTENING, STRIDER.
He's about to type back something to this effect (only less flattering) when he hears Dave's mental voice from oh right there's zero directionality with psychic everything. What even is Wart's range? Fuck.
He heaves an aggravated sigh, runs his PokéGear-free hand through his hair again, then stows the device with the rest of his Dirk's shit. As much as he wishes he could, there's probably no real way he can justify leaving all of it here. Dirk hadn't personally wronged anyone in their group, he'd probably wind up traveling with their group eventually despite Karkat's best efforts because of either John or Jade's unrelenting friendliness or both, and Karkat himself just. Wasn't the sort of troll to fucking do that to people, strand them in hostile territory with nothing to call their own. What kind of bastard would?
Now, if it were Bro...
Snarling wordlessly, he hoists his backpack onto his shoulder and stalks toward the road. The additional height is still giving him trouble (why is the ground so far away, thought someone other than Karkat because he is not a fucking wiggler), but he is damn well going to make the walking thing happen out of spite, so help him.This body will not defeat him.]
Am I at least heading in the right fucking direction?
[He says it aloud without really thinking about it, but the difference between his voice and Dirk's is just jarring enough to make him stumble and reawaken some of his earlier panic because what if it's familiar to Dave for all the wrong reasons, should he not talk at all? Wait, that. That's fucking stupid. Maybe it does sound different enough? Ugh.]
Haha. Follooowwwww the souuuuund of my voiiiiiice.
[But, actually, that's not a bad idea? Dave thinks about it, then cups his hands around his mouth to make a megaphone and says in a voice that's trying to be loud but still isn't really, "Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade..."]
Anyway, I took a leaf out of Terezi's dead tree codex, I guess. Wart's bandanna makes an okay blindfold if you fold it a couple times, and this way neither of us has to worry about me accidentally catching sight of a miniature Bro out the corner of my eye and jackknifing off the handle into the upper stratosphere.
[His delivery is calm enough, but the faint, metallic taste of shame underlies it. He still feels bad about that, yo. Not cool at all.]
It's just in case. I mean, I just got taken by surprise before, it's not like anybody's accidental resemblance to a hella dead dude can get the jump on me again, it's not like I freak out at MY reflection. [Except sometimes, when he's not awake enough.] But if it'll help...
[He trails off. He just wants Karkat to be comfortable, he doesn't want him to go away.]
Anyway. I bet this'll be kind of fun? For real though, if you steer me into a puddle there will be words.
Karkat has to stop for a second and shut his eyes against the memory of the last time he'd seen her, his bloodpusher starting to race again. Dave doesn't need that mental image (her face streaked with tears, mouth open in a scream, teal and purple blood spattered everywhere), much less the knowledge of exactly what it feels like to be impaled by canekind and dropped in fucking lava. Hahahaha. Hahaha fucking—
He slaps both hands over his face then, after rethinking the matter, just fucking slaps himself a few times. Great fucking job not think about that pink musclebeast, Past Karkat!]
Y-yeah, that—that's a great plan. Perfect!
[Another slap. Fucking useless piece of garbage, stop, stop, stop, stop sooner than that, stop being so worthless, disgusting, pathetic—]
No puddles, haha, you got me, we are totally fucking squared on the puddle situation. Has it even been raining? Where am I supposed to find a puddle? Shall I piss one into existence and go dump myself in it? That would sure show me for hypothetically presuming to steer my moirail into a shallow, liquid-filled depression. Hang on, let me get right on that, I've just spotted the perfect place for it!
[He isn't moving, but only because he's too busy trying really fucking hard not to cry. Please let Dave have not seen that, please...]
[Yeah, sorry, dude, with no other sensory input coming in, asking Dave not to see that is kind of like asking someone with eyes not to see what's roughly one foot in front of them.
The thing about death by canekind is it feels a hell of a lot like death by bladekind, and Karkat's memory smashes right into Dave's like two icebergs, or maybe the better comparison is two Titanics, opening long scrapes in each other's hulls and letting the icy Atlantic in. Dave actually gasps in Wart's body and yanks his brain away for a second, shocked numb, and clutches that weird red thing sticking out of Wart's chest.
There's one in the back, too, just to, you know. Make it look more like he's been bisected by triangle.
It only lasts a second, though, and maybe that's because it only lasted a second, from what Dave remembers. There was an instant of blinding, world-ending pain and then he woke up in a bed with a mom who wasn't his, and...
And eventually, his friends showed up, and it wasn't so bad, being dead and over forever, if he couldn't change anything about it.
Dave breathes, and the wave of regret and grief that emanates out from him is cool, soft, like a ripple in a freshwater pool. He finds Karkat again, presses ghost-hands to his temples to steady him, reminds him of the smell of the woods, of the road.]
Hey. Hey, listen.
[It starts out simply enough, just a quiet, repetitive plinking of guitar strings, but slowly, it shifts into something like this. He invites Karkat along with him as he loses himself in the feel of fingers on vinyl, as he lets every snare beat fall where he wants it, as he remembers heart-stilling chiming sounds into existence.
It's okay. It's okay, Karkat, let it go. Dave won't leave him, not through any of it.]
[Hands on his face. Gentle scents. Music. Karkat covers his mouth with a gloved hand (why the fuck hasn't he taken those off), forces his eyes open just to remind himself that no, Gamzee is not here to jeer at him, then closes them again, listening with desperate focus. Dave's here. He's fine. Everything's fine. Sure he's inhabiting the body of the biggest douchebag to FUCKING EVER unironically assume he'd ever be welcome in their group, but Dave's here and Karkat is totally fucking fine.
... He's trying to be fine. He will be. Really. Just. Just give him a minute.
He listens—"listens" and tries to imagine he's, fuck, what, on a pile? Yes, sitting on a pile with Dave, their foreheads resting together, Dave's hands on his face, don't think about kissing him, don't think about kissing him, don't think about goddammit shit fuck, SITTING ON A PILE IN A TOTALLY INNOCENT, PALE WAY AND NOT INITIATING ANY SLOPPY INTERSPECIES MAKEOUTS OF ANY SORT.
Karkat slaps himself again.]
Dave, say "Gallade" again before I fucking lose it.
[Seriously. He's going to lose it. Any second now.]
[Wait, what was that? Shit, he was concentrating too hard, he missed it. Okay, well, whatever.]
Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade. Gallade, lade, lalaaade.
[No matter what he tries to say, only the syllables of his species come out. He sighs. This, actually, is the only downside of being Wart. That and being a lot shorter.
He's calm again, but that stabbing pain (haha) sure lowered his mood a lot. He tries to hold onto the memory of the music, and night trickles through to Karkat, nights he was eleven years old pressing padded headphones against his ears with nothing but this song in them, telling himself it'd be okay, someone loved him (would love him, someday, if he made it) like that, like he was worth something just for existing.]
Man, this Pokétalk thing is really crimping my style.
[—He didn't notice? He didn't notice, thank god, thank god, moirallegiance saved. Hahahahahahahaa fuck Karkat wishes he had an actual pile to collapse into. With Dave. For cuddles only.]
At least it'll be easier to rap? You rhyme automatically.
[Yeah, he's slightly hysterical from relief, what of it. His mouth is doing some twitchy, spasmodic pseudo-smile thing, too, which is probably a bad sign, and he thinks he'd probably like to puke somewhere, but it's fine. Everything's fine.
... Dave feeling like that isn't fine, though, and Karkat's "smile" drops immediately as he resumes stalking toward that voice. It isn't far, he thinks, and sure enough, once he turns the corner...
There. Finally.
Crushing the impulse to run up to the Pokémon and hug him, Karkat instead approaches very sedately and, okay yeah no, he's closing that gap as quickly as his poor control over Dirk's stupidly long legs allows and embracing the fuck out of Dave/Wart. He has a feeling there are certain things he shouldn't say with Dirk's voice, just because, but he is absolutely thinking as loudly and as clearly as he can, Pale for you. Shoosh.
[Dave picks up on Karkat's closeness just in time to start to turn and then, whup, hug. He can't help it, he can't see but he knows it's Dirk and his first instinct is to compare, to brace himself for a second just in case it feels like big-powerful-steel-faced Bro without an inch of give to him, but it doesn't. It's fine. It's not the same as hugging Karkat except it is, because it is Karkat, and he's hugging back and snuggling in like he belongs even if it's a little bit new.]
Hey.
[This is a lot better. He's sorry about the stupid chest triangle poking Karkat in Dirk's ribs, and he has to be careful with his head so he doesn't smack anybody in the snout with his crest thing, but this is better. Stuff is weird without Karkat around.]
I bet you could pick me up now. Have you tried lifting anything yet?
[Definitely weird. Just. So fucking weird. A universe without Dave just isn't worth contemplating. Oh god, he heard that, didn't he? Time to change the subject, a task made far simpler by the fact that Dave said what.]
Are you fucking implying that Dirk is stronger than I am? Fuck you. Fuck you and also no, I have not. I mean, I lifted his backpack, but that doesn't count.
[Shut up, it so doesn't. He does passingly consider pulling back from Dave just enough to recheck Wart's dimensions, but since that means, well, pulling back, he doesn't. He really could not give fewer shits about poking himself with chest triangles right now, don't even fuss.]
Besides, I gave you enough hoofbeast rides when you were a wiggler. Are you trying to squeeze more out of me? Because it's not going to fucking happen.
[Little psychic shiver of amusement. It's kind of like Dave's regular sotto voce laughter anyway, a thing more sensed than heard.]
But Katkat...!
[Just drapes blindly over this asshole in another asshole's body. Come on, come on, carry him, he's like made out of fairy wishes and spun sugar, he can't weigh that much. (He weighs 114 pounds.)]
Katkat, I'm scared of the dark. Pleeeeeeease?
[He's still snickering mentally, which sort of ruins the effect, but, meh.]
[He's trying to sound angry, he is, but there's no disguising his sheer delight at this shift in Dave's mood. It's one thing to see when he's cheerful or amused, something else entirely to actually feel it. Karkat's resolve may be melting just a little, even if Dave probably doesn't mean it.]
It's morning, you shit. And don't call me Katkat. One-sweep-old you was cute enough for it, but, all respect to Wart, a Gallade isn't. Why would you want me to carry you, anyway?
[They aren't that far from town, are they? ... Wait, shit, are they?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU A POKÉMON?? GOD NO DON'T EVEN ANSWER I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYMORE
I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF THIS PLACE, DAVE. IT WAS FINE FOR A WHILE BUT ALL THE BULLSHIT THIS PAST MONTH HAS BEEN TOO MUCH
I MEAN IT'S NOT AS BAD AS THE GAME WAS BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WOULD BE, BUT I'M FUCKING FED UP OF ALL THESE GODDAMN FAIRY MAGIC SWITCHUP CHANGEROOS DEVISED BY A TEAM OF DRUG-SNORTING MONKEYS USING EVERY PRONG, NUB, AND PREHENSILE TAIL TO FONDLE THEIR MUTATED AND FESTERING SORE-RIDDEN BODIES
I JUST WANT SHIT TO BE NORMAL. I WANT YOU TO BE NORMAL AND I WANT TO BE A TROLL AGAIN AND I WANT DIRK TO GO FUCK HIMSELF WITH A CULLING FORK, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?
no subject
yes awesome
keep thinking loud angry thoughts those are much easier to make out against everybodys background shit
im coming karkat
no subject
DAVE I FUCKING TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT.
[Except he's—relieved, already calmer (how does Dave do that) even as guilt claws at his insides, shame that he can't fucking deal with this himself. He needs Dave, so which fucking one of them is the more unstable half, anyway? How can he claim total mastery over all things romance and not know this?]
FUCK WAIT YOU'RE FUCKING SCANNING MY BRAIN RIGHT NOW AREN'T YOU?? CUT THAT SHIT OUT.
[He has nothing to hide from his moriail, really he doesn't, except for maybe the whole LALALALALALA GET OUT STRIDER OH MY GOD DO YOU NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF PRIVACY.]
no subject
im leaving this entire galaxy
i will vaporize from this very plane of existence i swear to fuck
no subject
OKAY HE WASN'T GOING TO BEFORE DAVE BROUGHT IT UP BUT??? IT'S LIKE TELLING SOMEONE NOT TO THINK OF A PINK MUSCLEBEAST, IT JUST DOESN'T WORK oh god oh fuck oh god think about something else literally anything else, uh, how about, his hive??? Holy shit he hasn't seen his hive since—since the last dream bubble they were in that contained some segment of it, actually, which wasn't that long ago, but still. His DVD collections, uhhhh, game grubs, recuperacoon—]
CAN WE JUST
MAKE A MUTUAL AGREEMENT TO NOT MENTION ANYTHING RELATED TO PAILS IN THE FUTURE AT ALL EVER.
AND PRETEND THIS PART OF THE CONVERSATION NEVER HAPPENED.
I SWEAR I'LL STAY WHERE I AM AND WAIT FOR YOU IF WE CAN DO THIS, PLEASE.
[Especially since it's sort of impossible to bring up pails without dwelling entirely too long on his empty flushed and caliginous quadrants and HAHAHAHA HIS POSTERS??? HE HAD POSTERS. POSTERS OF MOVIES. God Troll Will Smith is hot??? Wait, no, shit, think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts.]
no subject
gray??
dark gray
is that what your house uh
feels like?
i dunno if its distance or not but im just sort of getting sensory impressions which is actually kind of cool can you keep doing that
no subject
THE INTERIOR WAS GRAY. AND THE EXTERIOR.
HOW THE FUCK WOULD SOMETHING FEEL GRAY THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE.
[Is Dave Terezi noh fuck, don't think about Terezi. (Even if she's the Seer of Mind? And that's kind of what Dave is doing right now?? Wow, no.) Think about... what would be a nice thing for Dave to read off of him? Sensory impressions? Like...
Experimentally, he thinks of the night sky over Alternia, the green and pink moons and how each would wax and wane in tandem as the seasons progressed. He hasn't seen them since that last dream bubble, either, and frankly, this pale white pseudo-Earth moon is a load of hoofbeastshit in comparison.
... He's actually starting to feel a little homesick, what the fuck. Maybe this was a bad idea.]
HOW FAR AWAY ARE YOU.
no subject
that was a lot clearer
maybe because you were concentrating on it though
[In return--and maybe in response, because it's tinged with a similar, if complicated longing for the familiar--Karkat receives what's at first merely a faint sense of sound, which eventually resolves into distant city noise, the honking of horns and the occasional siren what seems like a whole world below and away. It's difficult to see many stars with the light pollution even as evening slides away, but night is when the city smells cleanest, when solitude feels natural and not like a waiting threat.
Also, being awake at night was a lot better than dreaming of Derse hahaha.]
are you anywhere near the road?
text + pseudo-actionish???
He doesn't get the chance to ask. Instead... fuck. Fuck, Dave must be close if he's asking that, and momentarily forgetting the stupid fingerless gloves covering his/not-his palms and the (coarser than Dave's, not as feather-soft) blond hair on his/not-his head, Karkat smacks both together with enough force to hopefull leave Dirk brain damaged, then musses for all he's worth. Sweet Troll Jegus, why is he the one panicking when it's Dave who's going to be the one worse off for seeing him? He's so fucking selfish, stupid, pathetic—]
YEAH, I
I MEAN NO BUT I CAN BE IN A SECOND.
DO YOU WANT ME TO WAIT THERE FOR YOU OR SHOULD I STAY WHERE I AM AND YOU MESSAGE ME WHEN YOU'RE READY?
text + idek man
shhhhhhhhhh
shh
im not gonna do that again ok? ok
its ok and im ok and the two of us were gonna be ok here in the okest state of being which happens to be called oklahoma
[But even as he tries to soothe Karkat, his own doubt and nerves rise, and he shifts his weight, uncomfortable. He can't really promise that, can he. But, maybe, if they can just make it so it can't happen...]
ok karkat i have sort of a suggestion so bear with me here
its
kinda kinky??
wait holy shit is palekink a thing please tell me it is jesus christ i HAVE to know
anyway it requires you letting me trust you is that cool with you bro
[Whatever it is, he's a little nervous about it--a little embarrassed?--and about how Karkat will take it.]
text + psychic input/output shenanigans
Fuck.]
YES, PALEKINK IS A THING.
WAIT, THAT
FUCK I DIDN'T MEAN TO ADMIT THAT. OK YOU KNOW WHAT? FINE. I NEVER WANTED TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION BUT SURE, WHY NOT!
IT'S NOT SEXUAL. I MEAN, THAT'S
KIND OF IT'S OWN ISSUE, WE'RE NOT GOING THERE. YOU'RE PROBABLY CLOSE TO THE MARK ANYWAY, WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE THINKING OF.
YOU REALIZE I'M STILL IN THE GODDAMN WOODS? SOMEONE COULD WALK BY ANY MOMENT AND YOU'RE ASKING ME TO DO SOMETHING KINKY. WHAT THE FUCK, DAVE.
[... He's. Kind of okay with it, actually. Dave can probably sense if there's someone near and warn him, right?]
text + psychic input/output shenanigans, yes
hahahaha oh my god
well hey whatever if anyone accidentally catches us being exhibitionistically conciliatory out here theyre at worst going to assume dirks just bonding with his pokemon
the perfect crime
so anyway um
so you know how warts always wearing this bandanna
[Dave sets the PokéGear down as they speak so he can un-knot it, fold it into a red bar wide enough to cover Wart's admittedly humongous anime eyes.]
text + psychic input/output shenans for short
ARE YOU FUCKING GOING TO ASK ME TO PAP YOU AS WART
I MEAN THERE'S PETTING POKÉMON BUT
FUCK. I MEAN, I CAN DO IT IF YOU NEED ME TOO, YOU'RE STILL YOU, BUT
YOU DON'T NEED TO PAP ME, DAVE. IT'S OK, REALLY.
FUCK I AM DELETING THIS CONVERSATION OFF OF DIRK'S POKÉGEAR ASAP, THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I'M NOT GIVING THAT GAPING SEED FLAP ANY AMMUNITION AGAINST EITHER OF US.
HOW CAN ANYONE BE THAT INSUFFERABLE ANYWAY, IT DEFIES ALL REASON. I WOULD BREAK HIS SHADES JUST TO MAKE THE ASSHOLE SUFFER, BUT ANNE HATHAWAY HAS THEM.
[Fucking clowns. Anne is nothing like the ones Gamzee used to decorate his respiteblock with, but the association is still enough to sow dread in the pit of his/Dirk's stomach. Fuck clowns, seriously, those honking assholes.]
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i really mean it i am surprisingly chill
i guess if i had to meet dirk in person in a weird double halfways fashion this early in the season im glad it was while i was a level 100 psychic beast that can probably lift a car just by thinking at it
also hes not as terrifying in person as expected
hes kind of an awkward doofus
i am gonna ask you to hold my hand though
[Shhhh, dude, no thinking about clowns, clowns are bad and also lame. He nudges Karkat's thoughts towards, ehhh, what's something safe and calming, wait okay how about Jade? Green and growing things, the smell of fresh earth and the sparkling of stars, laughter without self-consciousness. Jade could beat up anything, Jade will protect them both.
In the meantime, Dave just goes ahead, removes his shades, and blindfolds himself with Wart's bandanna, because this is the cool and rational thought process of a sane dude wearing a Pokémon's skin. Sweet. Darkness.]
...Okay, in hindsight, I should've done this after I pinpointed your coords. Come find me? I got a sense where you are but I can't feel, like. Trees. Or ledges. Fuckin' ledges.
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(It's cute, Dave is so cute, god he loves this idiot.)
As for the assessment of Dirk... yeah, no. As far as Karkat's concerned, his only redeeming trait is his resemblance to DaAAUGGHH STOP LISTENING, STRIDER.
He's about to type back something to this effect (only less flattering) when he hears Dave's mental voice from oh right there's zero directionality with psychic everything. What even is Wart's range? Fuck.
He heaves an aggravated sigh, runs his PokéGear-free hand through his hair again, then stows the device with the rest of his Dirk's shit. As much as he wishes he could, there's probably no real way he can justify leaving all of it here. Dirk hadn't personally wronged anyone in their group, he'd probably wind up traveling with their group eventually despite Karkat's best efforts because of either John or Jade's unrelenting friendliness or both, and Karkat himself just. Wasn't the sort of troll to fucking do that to people, strand them in hostile territory with nothing to call their own. What kind of bastard would?
Now, if it were Bro...
Snarling wordlessly, he hoists his backpack onto his shoulder and stalks toward the road. The additional height is still giving him trouble (why is the ground so far away, thought someone other than Karkat because he is not a fucking wiggler), but he is damn well going to make the walking thing happen out of spite, so help him.This body will not defeat him.]
Am I at least heading in the right fucking direction?
[He says it aloud without really thinking about it, but the difference between his voice and Dirk's is just jarring enough to make him stumble and reawaken some of his earlier panic because what if it's familiar to Dave for all the wrong reasons, should he not talk at all? Wait, that. That's fucking stupid. Maybe it does sound different enough? Ugh.]
What did you do?
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[But, actually, that's not a bad idea? Dave thinks about it, then cups his hands around his mouth to make a megaphone and says in a voice that's trying to be loud but still isn't really, "Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade..."]
Anyway, I took a leaf out of Terezi's dead tree codex, I guess. Wart's bandanna makes an okay blindfold if you fold it a couple times, and this way neither of us has to worry about me accidentally catching sight of a miniature Bro out the corner of my eye and jackknifing off the handle into the upper stratosphere.
[His delivery is calm enough, but the faint, metallic taste of shame underlies it. He still feels bad about that, yo. Not cool at all.]
It's just in case. I mean, I just got taken by surprise before, it's not like anybody's accidental resemblance to a hella dead dude can get the jump on me again, it's not like I freak out at MY reflection. [Except sometimes, when he's not awake enough.] But if it'll help...
[He trails off. He just wants Karkat to be comfortable, he doesn't want him to go away.]
Anyway. I bet this'll be kind of fun? For real though, if you steer me into a puddle there will be words.
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Karkat has to stop for a second and shut his eyes against the memory of the last time he'd seen her, his bloodpusher starting to race again. Dave doesn't need that mental image (her face streaked with tears, mouth open in a scream, teal and purple blood spattered everywhere), much less the knowledge of exactly what it feels like to be impaled by canekind and dropped in fucking lava. Hahahaha. Hahaha fucking—
He slaps both hands over his face then, after rethinking the matter, just fucking slaps himself a few times. Great fucking job not think about that pink musclebeast, Past Karkat!]
Y-yeah, that—that's a great plan. Perfect!
[Another slap. Fucking useless piece of garbage, stop, stop, stop, stop sooner than that, stop being so worthless, disgusting, pathetic—]
No puddles, haha, you got me, we are totally fucking squared on the puddle situation. Has it even been raining? Where am I supposed to find a puddle? Shall I piss one into existence and go dump myself in it? That would sure show me for hypothetically presuming to steer my moirail into a shallow, liquid-filled depression. Hang on, let me get right on that, I've just spotted the perfect place for it!
[He isn't moving, but only because he's too busy trying really fucking hard not to cry. Please let Dave have not seen that, please...]
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The thing about death by canekind is it feels a hell of a lot like death by bladekind, and Karkat's memory smashes right into Dave's like two icebergs, or maybe the better comparison is two Titanics, opening long scrapes in each other's hulls and letting the icy Atlantic in. Dave actually gasps in Wart's body and yanks his brain away for a second, shocked numb, and clutches that weird red thing sticking out of Wart's chest.
There's one in the back, too, just to, you know. Make it look more like he's been bisected by triangle.
It only lasts a second, though, and maybe that's because it only lasted a second, from what Dave remembers. There was an instant of blinding, world-ending pain and then he woke up in a bed with a mom who wasn't his, and...
And eventually, his friends showed up, and it wasn't so bad, being dead and over forever, if he couldn't change anything about it.
Dave breathes, and the wave of regret and grief that emanates out from him is cool, soft, like a ripple in a freshwater pool. He finds Karkat again, presses ghost-hands to his temples to steady him, reminds him of the smell of the woods, of the road.]
Hey. Hey, listen.
[It starts out simply enough, just a quiet, repetitive plinking of guitar strings, but slowly, it shifts into something like this. He invites Karkat along with him as he loses himself in the feel of fingers on vinyl, as he lets every snare beat fall where he wants it, as he remembers heart-stilling chiming sounds into existence.
It's okay. It's okay, Karkat, let it go. Dave won't leave him, not through any of it.]
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... He's trying to be fine. He will be. Really. Just. Just give him a minute.
He listens—"listens" and tries to imagine he's, fuck, what, on a pile? Yes, sitting on a pile with Dave, their foreheads resting together, Dave's hands on his face, don't think about kissing him, don't think about kissing him, don't think about goddammit shit fuck, SITTING ON A PILE IN A TOTALLY INNOCENT, PALE WAY AND NOT INITIATING ANY SLOPPY INTERSPECIES MAKEOUTS OF ANY SORT.
Karkat slaps himself again.]
Dave, say "Gallade" again before I fucking lose it.
[Seriously. He's going to lose it. Any second now.]
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Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade. Gallade, lade, lalaaade.
[No matter what he tries to say, only the syllables of his species come out. He sighs. This, actually, is the only downside of being Wart. That and being a lot shorter.
He's calm again, but that stabbing pain (haha) sure lowered his mood a lot. He tries to hold onto the memory of the music, and night trickles through to Karkat, nights he was eleven years old pressing padded headphones against his ears with nothing but this song in them, telling himself it'd be okay, someone loved him (would love him, someday, if he made it) like that, like he was worth something just for existing.]
Man, this Pokétalk thing is really crimping my style.
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At least it'll be easier to rap? You rhyme automatically.
[Yeah, he's slightly hysterical from relief, what of it. His mouth is doing some twitchy, spasmodic pseudo-smile thing, too, which is probably a bad sign, and he thinks he'd probably like to puke somewhere, but it's fine. Everything's fine.
... Dave feeling like that isn't fine, though, and Karkat's "smile" drops immediately as he resumes stalking toward that voice. It isn't far, he thinks, and sure enough, once he turns the corner...
There. Finally.
Crushing the impulse to run up to the Pokémon and hug him, Karkat instead approaches very sedately and, okay yeah no, he's closing that gap as quickly as his poor control over Dirk's stupidly long legs allows and embracing the fuck out of Dave/Wart. He has a feeling there are certain things he shouldn't say with Dirk's voice, just because, but he is absolutely thinking as loudly and as clearly as he can, Pale for you. Shoosh.
Out loud, it's something very different.]
... Sorry.
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Hey.
[This is a lot better. He's sorry about the stupid chest triangle poking Karkat in Dirk's ribs, and he has to be careful with his head so he doesn't smack anybody in the snout with his crest thing, but this is better. Stuff is weird without Karkat around.]
I bet you could pick me up now. Have you tried lifting anything yet?
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Are you fucking implying that Dirk is stronger than I am? Fuck you. Fuck you and also no, I have not. I mean, I lifted his backpack, but that doesn't count.
[Shut up, it so doesn't. He does passingly consider pulling back from Dave just enough to recheck Wart's dimensions, but since that means, well, pulling back, he doesn't. He really could not give fewer shits about poking himself with chest triangles right now, don't even fuss.]
Besides, I gave you enough hoofbeast rides when you were a wiggler. Are you trying to squeeze more out of me? Because it's not going to fucking happen.
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But Katkat...!
[Just drapes blindly over this asshole in another asshole's body. Come on, come on, carry him, he's like made out of fairy wishes and spun sugar, he can't weigh that much. (He weighs 114 pounds.)]
Katkat, I'm scared of the dark. Pleeeeeeease?
[He's still snickering mentally, which sort of ruins the effect, but, meh.]
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[He's trying to sound angry, he is, but there's no disguising his sheer delight at this shift in Dave's mood. It's one thing to see when he's cheerful or amused, something else entirely to actually feel it. Karkat's resolve may be melting just a little, even if Dave probably doesn't mean it.]
It's morning, you shit. And don't call me Katkat. One-sweep-old you was cute enough for it, but, all respect to Wart, a Gallade isn't. Why would you want me to carry you, anyway?
[They aren't that far from town, are they? ... Wait, shit, are they?]
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