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Your name is GAMZEE MAKARA and you don’t know what to do when Karkat gets like this.
You don’t know what to do when he gets more violent than usual, not simply growling or blushing when someone says something not to his taste, but actually making a move to strike them, fingers itching for his sickles. When his eloquence disappears and his plethora of language and metaphors is replaced with curses, hissing and snarling, venom and spite in each word. When his usual padding foot falls are replaced with stomping steps and his breath comes in heavy, deliberate puffs, as if he takes personal offence in the need to expel the air from his lungs.
You don’t know what to do when it gets this bad.
You try to be a good moirail, hell you try so hard. You owe it to the guy for saving your ass when you got so chock full of dark mirth that you couldn’t see straight, and then saving you again from the scathing damage of Sopor slime. You want to be the best motherfucking moirail there is to be, but it gets hard like this, when your palemate is teetering on the edge of a knife, and one faulty step could push him either way off. It’s hard and you wish someone would understand.
There’s two ways he could fall off this blade. He might simply let go and lash out, do things you know he’ll seriously regret, hurt people and say things, humiliate himself and lose friends and respect. You nearly think about letting him get it out like that and warning everyone not to freak out, but you know he’ll only feel embarrassed and regret it when he’s done. You think maybe Karkat knows that too, maybe that’s why he does it. You’ll never understand his weird self-punishment thing.
Whether he means to or not, he would get it out. He’d get it out, but he seemed pretty bad this time and then it would be another obstacle for the group to get over and stay together, and you sure as hell didn’t need more divides, even though the game’s over and everyone’s relatively safe in the new miracle planet, tensions were still high. An explosion from Karkat could still be disruptive.
However you know you’d prefer that to the alternative, where he is liable to push whatever is addling him to the back of his think-pan where the miracles don’t shine, forcing it into those dark crevices and corners writhing with his insecurities, fears and problems. Pushing it back there and leaving it until he’s alone and it all comes flooding back and he does something so fucking stupid and you never want to find him like that again, cowering in a corner, whimpering with his fists clutched in front of him, covered in crimson blossoming bite marks and the soft area around his eyes riddled with scratches and gashes from where he’d been trying to claw the tears away.
You needed to get your moirailing on.
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You glance over at Karkat as he stomps away from a distraught looking Terezi and slams himself down by his computer, sending his chair skidding back a few inches. You look back to see Terezi standing up herself, nearly fuming, and walking over to her chalking wall. You’re about to go and apologize on behalf of Karkat and see what the damage is, or if she has any idea what’s bothering him, but just as you clear your head enough to stand from your cushion pile, the Dave kid appears next to Terezi and sits down next to her, hand on her shoulder. As much as you really fucking hate the guy, you admit that she seems pretty stressed and probably needs some time with her moirail, so you leave them be.
You drag your eyes back to your own moirail and decide you should probably do something soon because John is strolling over to him with a goofy grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes and this sure as hell can’t be a good idea.
You lift yourself from your pile and shake off the lethargic numbness in your legs as you wander over to intersect John, placing yourself squarely in his path. He stops abruptly and looks up from your torso, blinking a few times.
“Oh hey, Gamzee! What’s up?” He asks smiling
You smile back. You like John, he’s not so bad.
“Nothing at all, my brother, just feeling the motherfucking beauty. Not much to rattle your horns in this place, now is there?”
John smiles again and shakes his head, finally stepping back a bit more and looking up expectantly at you.
“So... uhh. Did you need to talk to me?”
It’s your turn to blink. Your brows furrow. Why did you need to talk to John? Oh yeah, Karkat.
“Right brother, it’s just I couldn’t help but noticing you’re stride was all up and directed at our nubby horned little Vantas just now.”
He perks up.
“Oh yeah! I was just gonna show him this awes-“
“No can do, bro.”
Blink blink.
“I- what?”
“No can do. Sorry man, I got wicked moirail shit I gotta do.”
“Oh, right! Sure! Moirail... That’s the diamond, right?”
“Yeah, man, you getting your motherfucking learn on?”
You can’t help but grin. John is so motherfucking culturally sensitive.
“Yeah Vriska says I need to if I want to survive. She’s kinda funny about that stuff, actually. So Karkat’s your diamond? I think I remember him saying something about you being best friends..."
Your stomach fills with an unexpected warmth.
"Do you have any other of the...uhh... quarters?”
You huff out a chuckle.
“Quadrants.”
“Yeah! Quadrants! Do you have any others filled?”
Your eyes flick dangerously over to Dave’s blaspheming back, but you make yourself pull away and your mind turns to your brief flushed affair with Tav as your eyes linger over his four wheel device in the corner, but you dismiss that thought quickly too. You wonder for a moment if one troll could fill two quadrants, how hazy the line between matesprit and moirail had to become before the shades of red would blend. You ponder this briefly before you realise John is still standing in front of you, watching you curiously behind his glasses.
You finally bring your gaze back to him and give him a lopsided grin, showing a few teeth.
“Not motherfucking really.”
He looks puzzled for a second, then gives a tiny shrug and tilts his head.
“Well, I’ll let you get to your diamond duties then. Trolls sure are complicated! You haven’t seen Vriska around here have you?”
“Can’t say I motherfucking have. Sorry, bro.”
“Oh, well thanks anyway! See ya, Gamzee!”
The kid was not so motherfucking bad.
You smile to yourself and nearly get distracted by Terezi’s colourful, frantic chalking before you mentally reel yourself in and look languidly over your shoulder. Karkat is smashing angrily at his keyboard, and you squint to see forest green on his screen, so you glance over at Nepeta, cushioned on a pile of what looks like furs and curled around her husktop, next to where Rose is attempting teaching Kanaya and Eridan some human game involving a black and white checkered board with lots of black and white little pieces. Personally, you think the game looks a bit dull, and would be a better game if it didn’t limit the colour code to just those two. Sollux had told you once black and white weren’t even colours, which also explained how you’ve never seen a troll with black or white blood.
You are pulled from your pondering when Nepeta suddenly jolts back from the screen, sitting up a tad. She stares at it with an expression half way between shock and panic, and you know you’ve got to do something when your fierce little kitty warrior sister is currently getting the brunt of Karkat’s terrible mood. Shit ain’t right.
You sigh as you wander over the short distance left between you and the explosive little ball of rage. He was kinda stealing your thing there, but you guess you’ll have to let it slide.
You still haven’t quite decided or, rather figured out, how to go about this. Staggering over, you are unsure if you should call out first, so as not to shock him and have him lash out at you, but then you realise he’ll be more prepared to lash out if you alert him at all. You settle on the element of surprise and happily discover he is too distracted with his offensive metaphors on his screen to notice you anyway. You stand behind his chair and become unsure, yet again, of how to proceed.
You think for a second you can trick him into relaxing, so you reach forward and circle a hornbed with a lazy finger, placing your other hand gently on his shoulder, so as to have a grip on him if he gets unmanageable too quickly.
Which he does.
He snaps his hand up to his head and bats your fingers away, swivelling on his chair and knocking off your other hand in the process. He glares up at you.
“Don’t fucking try it, Gamzee.”
You smile down at him, maybe you should just ask directly and nicely.
“Hey best friend, wanna find a motherfucking pile?”
“No Gamzee, fuck off, I don’t need your shit right now.”
He’s snarling through his sentences.
“I ain’t got no shit actually bro... I was thinking maybe you need to get your calm on a bit?”
You’re not sure if you went too direct there, over stepped one of the many invisible boundaries Karkat places everyfuckingwhere when he’s feeling touchy.
Apparently you had.
He leans forward and head butts you, his horns catching you squarely in the gut as he swears at you, punctuating each word with another lightning quick ram.
“Like. You. Would. Know. Now. FUCK. OFF.”
You stagger back, wincing and bring one hand to your offended stomach. So that’s how he was playing his motherfucking cards, hm?
He makes a move to kick at your shin, but you swerve away and pull his chair out, spinning him to face away from you, he yelps then growls then curses a whole lot. This was going too far and getting pretty ridiculous. You decide he has embarrassed himself enough already that it won’t matter if he gets just a smidgen more humiliated. It’s his own goddamned fault anyway.
Just as he makes a move to spin and snatch at you, you lean over him and yank him up from under his armpits, thanking the messiahs he’s a tiny, skinny runt, then quickly flip him round and over your shoulder.
He does not react well.
He kicks and screeches and bites at your back and shoulders, claws down your sides and fills the air with any and every goddamned colourful profanity he can shape with his tongue. The rest of the room has gone silent and all eyes are on you and your scathing bundle of violent noise. Terezi somehow catches your eyes and mouths a ‘thank you’ and Kanaya looks up from the black and white game to give a sigh of relief as she nods her own gratefulness at you, you smile back and shift Karkat on your shoulder, who growls dangerously and digs his claws into you back in return.
“It’s pile time, motherfucker.”
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Karkat doesn’t stop abusing each and every inch of your body he can reach until you finally reach your respite block. You shift him again on your shoulder to lean down and open the door, and he yelps in response to your accidently bumping one of his horns on the doorway as you sweep in.
You are about to place him gently on the floor, when you think that, no, fuck if you’re gonna be gentle after 2 solid minutes of scratching, screeching and swearing. You dump him unceremoniously on a pile of clothes, cushions and horns that you had been having a nap on earlier. You would have slept in your recuperacoon, but you’ve been limited to only one sleep or nap in there every week, it was partially meant to help with your withdrawal, slowly cleaning your system, but it was also partially Terezi’s idea, as a part of your ‘repayment’ or ‘punishment’ for what happened in the game. You can’t really blame her; you know the chick gets all kinds of uncomfortable when she doesn’t get her justice on. Plus you want to get off Sopor these days. Karkat wants you to as well.
Karkat sits dazed for a second, his small form reeling slightly from impact, before his eyebrows furrow and he looks up at you, standing slowly.
“The absolute fuck, Gamzee?”
Now that the two of you are alone he seems to have calmed down a bit, he looks too worn out to be violent.
He walks towards the door and slams his foot into your shin on the way.
Or maybe he hasn’t quite got it all out of his system yet.
You recover and catch him by the wrist to drag him back just as he reaches the door, he snarls at you and tries to twist your wrist around by swerving his arm, but you tighten your grip. He winces then glares up at you.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Diamond time.”
He snarls and snatches his hand back, then looks up at you with a cruel look of faked pity on his face. He speaks as if he was addressing a wriggler.
“What is it this time, you fucking clown? Fucking Sopor? Did you eat a teensy bit and now you come running to me to fucking bitch and whine about how you’re fucking frightened you’re not fucking strong enough or some shit? Thinking it might be better for us all if you were just fucking culled after all?”
There is venom in his words, the sarcastic sing-song voice drained out of the sentence. His voice is escalating, getting faster and louder, his hands are clenching and unclenching by his sides. You have the urge to do so yourself, he was aiming really fucking low here. Your eyes darken a tad and any smile you had on your face has completely disappeared. He doesn’t seem to notice.
“Or is it the fucking bloodlust? Scared that’s gonna fucking emerge again? Or maybe it already fucking has, maybe that’s why you dragged me here you pathetic piece of shit, to paint your fucking walls. Had to be triggered e-fucking-ventually, you know, it’s probably hanging around Nepeta too much, reminds you how fucking sick she would look with her FUCKING FACE CAVED IN.”
Your eyes narrow dangerously, and Karkat just stands there panting before his eyes focus on the small spots of indigo staining your lips from where your fangs have pierced through. You manage to catch a glimpse of his expression changing from arrogant anger to fear before you shove him backwards onto the pile and pin him down, his wrists held above his head in one of your hands. You pull the other hand back, fist ready, but see the way he winces in anticipation and the defiant fear in his eyes before he clamps them shut and you remember this is not what moirailing is about.
You lower you hand, no longer fisted, and steady your breathing, but he has his eyes squeezed tight, so doesn’t see and so continues to wait in rigid expectation.
You know you pity him so motherfucking hard.
Keeping a hold of his wrists, you lean down and kiss his head. He opens his eyes in shock and confusion and he stutters, you don’t move, staying in place to mumble into his hair.
“Karkat,”
You make a point of using his name, and it does seem to have a positive effect, as he stops squirming so much.
“If I let go of your wrists, are you going to stay chill?”
You try to keep your own voice as calm and pacifying as possible, moving your face to nuzzle a horn bed with your nose.
Karkat doesn’t say anything, but he nods, so you slowly release his wrists and he brings them down to rub them gingerly. You hadn’t realise you had been holding them so firmly. You pull back to look at him.
His brows are still furrowed and he looks miffed still, but his eyes aren’t as sharp and his mouth is turned in a soft frown rather than a scowl or snarl. His words are hanging heavy in the air and you try not to think about what he said, you know it acted as some sort of release for him. Better you than anyone else. He clears his throat.
“Sorry.”
It’s mumbled and quiet, but you can hear the sincerity. That’s all he says and you know it’s all he is going to say for now. It’s all he needs to say. You nod your understanding, noting the guilt creeping into his eyes.
Looking at him now you realise how tired he really looks, the bags under his eyes a shade darker than usual and a tad heavier. You brush your thumb across his left cheek and bring it to rest under his eye. He watches your face carefully.
“When was the last time you got your snooze on, bro?”
“Like that fucking matters, can we make this quick? I’ve got shit to do, unlike your lazy ass.”
“Matters to me, man. You look twelve kinds of tired...”
He huffs a sigh and deadpans at you. You grin back.
“When are you going to get the fuck off me, Gamzee?”
“Oh, damn. That would be now, brother.”
You roll to fall besides him, leaving one arm draped across his abdomen, just in case. Not that you don’t trust him, but just that you don’t trust his current temperament. You lean over and nip his ear, he jumps, but quickly settles again, not batting you away anymore. You both lie still for a few minutes or so, the silence sitting somewhere between comfortable and heavy. He doesn’t fight you at all anymore and you can tell he knows he needs moiraillegence right now.
Eventually you tighten the grip you hold around his waist and pull closer beside you, sliding up the pile a bit so as not to scrape him with your horns. He adjusts himself in your arms, turning to face you and slides his own arms towards you, one hand resting on your chest and the other on your side, his fingers pressing lightly into the faint grooves of your ribs. You wait another minute for the affection to sink in properly and calm him as much as possible, gently papping him and running your fingers through his hair, peppering his forehead with kisses every now and then. He sighs deeply, so you figure you can advance now.
“So. You gonna tell me what’s all up and bothering you now?”
He inhales deeply, and you peer down to see him worrying his lip gently. You jostle him a bit and he finally exhales, then looks up at you.
“It’s really fucking stupid, really.”
He fidgets with his own hand and avoids your gaze, so you replace you face back in his hair and you feel the fidgeting stop once you’re not scrutinizing him under your gaze.
“Won’t sound stupid to me, palebro.”
He huffs and it’s clear he’s still not entirely comfortable or at ease, so you bring a hand up to the back of his neck and stroke the warm skin there, twirling the dark strands of hair gently around your fingers. You love Karkat as your moirail because he’s romantic enough to just let you shoosh and pap and touch and stroke and sooth and pet him when he’s calmed down. You feel like it’s a little bonus prize for moirailing right in some way. Even better is when he purrs. It’s like some ultimate trust between the two of you.
You stop twirling his hair and go back to simply stroking his neck and down his spine, your other hand resting in the small of his back, tracing light diamonds with a claw. He is purring softly in less than a minute.
You wait. You don’t pry anymore than you already have because you know you can’t push him into this. Moirallegiance is all about the balance of trust and he’s the one that taught you that, so you wait. It isn’t long before he mumbles something incomprehensible, but you hear the weight in his tone makes your heart clench and you feel terrible for not understanding what he said. You lift your face from his hair and ask him gently what he said. He mumbles again, this time the tone wobbles unsteadily and you still don’t quite catch the whole sentence, but you do hear one word and that word is enough. Dreams.
“Oh shit Karkat, this why you’re not sleeping? I’m sorry man, I should’ve seen or something.”
He pushes you back a tad to look at your face, his face is slightly flushed.
“No, don’t apologise for my crazy ass paranoid, insecure, fucking twisted think pan. Just don’t, Gamzee. It’s not you in the slightest.”
“It’s me that’s gotta be looking after you, brother. Meant to have your back all the motherfucking time. Seems I’ve been slacking without even meaning to.”
“I don’t need you to look after me Gamzee. I just get... I don’t fucking know. It’s hard. It’s hard and-”
“I understand, bro.”
You unhook a leg from around him and use your bare feet to tug off Karkat’s shoes. He laughs a little and tangles your legs together and squirms a little closer. That makes you smile, you release a short, high purr to show appreciation and he chuckles again, a fleeting little giggle in the back of his throat. He can act like such a wriggler when he calms down. You love that.
You wish you could just lie here with him, not having to focus on any problems, and for a second you consider it. He’s calmed down almost completely and you are at your most content when you’re snuggling with Karkat, but you know his current demeanour is only temporary, and unless you sort out his think pan another episode like earlier is not too far round the corner.
You still your hands and sigh deeply. Moirailing is tricky. Karkat lies purring in your arms, momentarily worriless and at ease and it breaks your blood pusher to have to mess that up.
“Karkat?”
He stops purring.
“Do I have to?”
“Only if you think it will help.”
There is a stiff moment of silence, until suddenly it’s as if a dam has broken down, and frantic words come rushing from his mouth.
“They’d been so fucking good for a week or something. Just normal fucking dreams, like one where me and Eri went to Jade’s Earth hive, and this other one when we climbed trees and shit. Normal mundane damned dreams. Then I don’t even know what happened, it was so clear it was almost lucid, only I sure as fuck couldn’t do anything about it. There was all this fucking blood on the walls,”
You feel your stomach twist involuntarily in guilt.
“and Terezi had somehow hanged herself on her own rope, but she wasn’t fucking dead, she was staring at me with those fucking red eyes in that fucking way she does and it was so fucking real,”
You start rubbing his back again, his increase in narrow swearing showing how away in his mind he is.
“and she kept telling me everyfuckingone was dead or dying or some other twisted shit and she didn’t even have to say it was my fault, because I fucking knew and then she was going on about culling everyone as well. Culling them for their crimes and I just fucking knew who that meant too.”
Another clench in your gut.
“Next thing I know it’s gone all dark but then there are streaks of colour and they turn to hands and they’re all grabbing me and dragging me with them and it’s fucking suffocating me so I try to get away, but there are so fucking many of them and my sickles won’t cut them, they just cry when I try and I feel guilty for no reason and all their disembodied voices are screaming at me and it’s swirling and I don’t want to fucking sleep ever again anymore...”
You angle his face up towards you and kiss his forehead. His eyes are brimming with pink, so you use a thumb pad to brush away the salty tears. He draws a shuddering breath.
“Then I didn’t sleep. That was 5 nights ago.”
You draw back to look at him.
“Shit, man, you haven’t slept for 5 nights? No, that shit ain’t proper.”
He looks a little guilty.
“I know. I really do. I keep snapping at people and hurting them without thinking about it. I am sorry about before. I didn’t mean any of that shit. God, I’m a terrible moirail.”
The last statement is mumbled towards both of your feet.
“Bro, no you’re not. You’re the wicked best moirail. All the other trolls best be jealous of the motherfucking diamond we got to cherish here.”
You ruffle his hair and brush a horn.
“You wanna talk about it? I mean it sounds as if you let the stress all up and trap you in a chokehold, maybe you just need some chill time.”
“Yeah, no, I think I just needed to calm down and get it off my chest. Probably. You might have to deal with this shit again if I start dreaming again.”
You nod.
“S’what I’m here for, any fucking time you can come, palebro. But it’s like, alright, you see next time you have a dream like that, you come right a-fucking-way, cool? Now, let’s get you some motherfucking rest. We can both get out motherfucking nap on.”
You grin down at him, you body already feeling lethargic at the mention of sleep. He looks strangely awkward.
“Err, Gamzee? I can only sleep in Sopor... The dreams...um.”
“S’okay, palebro, I’ll use my ration now.”
“You sure? You really don’t have to. I can just go back to my block.”
“You ain’t gon be getting any sleeping on your own now are you, Karkles?”
You slowly pick yourself up, then offer him a hand, he takes it and pulls himself up, as soon as he regains his balance he shoves you back onto the pile.
“Don’t call me Karkles.”
You feign injury, laughing then get back up, slinking an arm around his shoulder.
“Sleep?”
“...Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“Ain’t no thing, Brother.”
You saunter over to the recuperacoon, dragging him with you, then pull off your own shirt and trousers, leaving you in your polka dot boxers. You would take them off too, but Karkat shouted at you last time. This time, he averts his eyes for a second, slipping off his own jeans and jumper, but leaving his black t-shit on. He turns his eyes back to you and nods. You turn and are about to climb into the sweet slime when he latches on your back.
You peer over your shoulder in surprise.
“Karbro?”
“Gamzee, your back is fucking covered with scratches and bruises...”
“Oh yeah. I think that might have been you, man. Sorry. You were not in a happy place.”
He thumps you and you chirp out a yelp.
“I know it was me you idiot. I was trying to apologise.”
You furrow your brows.
“By hitting me some more?”
“Shut up.”
“Whatever, bro. You can’t make sense all the motherfucking time, I suppose. But it’s all good now, no need for apologies.”
He opens his mouth to speak.
“Shoosh. Nothing but miracles and pity now.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever. I’m still sorry though. Appreciate that, you nooksucker, it’s the only apology your sorry ass is getting out of me for a while. Oh but I’m sorry as well for saying shit and being a dick earlier. There. Apologies over. Now get in the fucking coon.”
You wiggle your eyebrows seductively and smirk.
“Nooksucker? Fucking coon? You could just ask, motherfucker.”
Sober you is so motherfucking witty.
“Oh screw you, Gamzee.”
“Please darling, stop. You’ll make me blush.”
SO WITTY.
“Ugh, don’t say darling. You sound like Kanaya. Do you want to sleep or not, dimwit?”
You suppose you do want to sleep in Sopor. It’s been a while since your last submergence anyway.
You nod at him and dip into the Sopor. You try to suppress the tremor it sends through you. You can feel it soaking into your skin and some sort of need rushes to your head. Withdrawal is hard. Karkat puts a hand on your shoulder and holds it there for a few seconds and you release a breath you didn’t realise had been stuck in your lungs. You slide over so that he can fit in too, but your heart’s already beating a little faster and your skin feels itchy. Sopor is meant to calm you, not make you fucking hyperactive with anticipation. He slides easily in and scoots over next to you. He looks to you and arches a brow.
“You okay?”
You nod, suddenly not trusting your voice. You’re usually alone when you use you Sopor ration for the week. It can be quite a shaky affair sometimes.
“Good. Ready?”
You nod again. A part of you wants to give up Sopor completely, because your rations just make you mostly uncomfortable and unstable until you fall asleep, but when you do fall asleep, it’s the best rest you get all week, and it speeds up the healing of any of the scratches or bumps you gain in the time in between. It also makes everything seem twelve times more miraculous and colourful when you wake up.
“...Sure?”
You offer a wan smile and nod. Kanaya said that she wasn’t sure if a troll could survive without it completely for long periods of time, or that they might suffer some kind of mental breakdown, similar to what you had in the veil, only yours came quicker due to your reliance on the substance. She reckons you need a mix of Sopor and self-control to stay in check, just like every other troll. You just need to cleanse your system a bit then start again normally. Without eating it. It all made sense in a totally fucked up ridiculous way.
“Gamzee, you’re pulling a face like you’re chewing fucking razors. You’re not okay, and you’re not ready. Do you want to get out?”
You want to laugh, but your throat doesn’t quite agree.
“Just give me a minute motherfucker.”
Your voice is quite quiet and breathy. Karkat watches you and a few minutes pass by. You close your eyes and focus on calming down, ignoring your pulse and allowing the Sopor to melt into good feelings. Karkat’s hand rests just above your knee. Another minute or so later, you feel calm enough to submerge. You look up and Karkat is sitting there with a worried, anxious expression on his face. You grin.
“All good now, man. Sorry, sorta turned this shoosh pap session around.”
You smile, but feel a bit guilty. Karkat smiles back, pity etched into his face and it’s enough to bury the last of the shakes.
“Okay man, let’s do this.”
You both dip down into the recuperacoon and are immersed in the green, thick slime. It’s quite big, but you still sort of cling to each other. Being completely surrounded by the substance is a bit overwhelming, and the urge to just open your mouth and swallow comes back to the front of your mind, but Karkat notices your twitching and feels his way up to your head, brings his hand to the back and pulls you down, so your face is resting in the crook of his neck, your lips pressed against the skin there, and you suddenly don’t have any urges anymore. You nuzzle him a bit and squeeze him to show appreciation, he just strokes the back of your neck with light fingers.
You both fall asleep soon.
You actually sleep for the first time this week, not simply drifting in and out of a tired haze on a pile and when you wake it is without urges or sickness, and Karkat tells you later he dreamt that you all went to see the Earth planet and he didn’t like their food much, but he says he dreamt their sky is nice.
You both agree to make this a regular thing, joint nap time, whenever you can spare a ration. It calms Karkat and refreshes you.
It makes you feel like a wriggler, needing some giant stuffed-lusus toy or something. Even Terezi doesn’t sleep with her scalemates.
But then again.
Sleeping’s so much nicer with a nubby horned motherfucker dreaming with you.