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Kismessitude Does Not Raise Your Prankster's Gambit

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John is the worst fucking kismesis in the two known universes.  Three.  Four, maybe, but who’s counting?  Certainly not you.

Technically you’re not supposed to remember the first two universes.  That you do is already freakish to insane levels that you are not willing to contemplate.  Vriska says it has to do with your ancestor, because you believe exactly jack shit of what all comes out of her protein chute.  In any case, those universes are officially expired and it’s your goddamn fault so you try to not think about them too much.

Anyway.  John.

Currently you are sitting in the doorway of your room with an upended pail on your head, soaked from head to toe with something blue.  It feels like water.  It smells like water.  It doesn’t look like water.

More importantly, you have a pail on your head.

You have not instantly removed the pail because it is currently the only thing hiding your incredibly red face from John and, you suspect, Vriska.  You know John is there because he is laughing so hard he is actually choking on air.  How stupid does anyone have to be to choke on breathable air!?  Vriska you are less certain about because even though she probably would goad John to this level of asshole, she is also a bit of a prude and is probably blushing just as hard as you.

You are livid.  And you are only made more livid that you could be just pouring your lividity into pure, caliginous hatred for John, but you can’t even tell if he knows what he’s done.  As if you haven’t explained buckets five hundred thousand times - but with his feeble thinkpan, god only knows.

Fuck Vriska’s probable presence - as if she ever gave a fuck about blood color!  You rip the pail off your head and open your mouth to yell.

John takes one look at you and doubles over laughing again.  “Karkat, your
face—!”

Despite your assumptions Vriska is not there.  You can think of ten awful insults off the top of your head, but none which will not send John into further paroxysms of giggles.  He is the worst kismesis.

You jerk to your feet.  Blue maybe-water dribbles down the back of your shirt.  You growl deep in your throat and John gasps for air.

You kick him in the shin.

“Ow!” John grimaces and hiccups.  “Karkat—!”

He is breathless and still grinning and that just makes you angrier so you aim another kick, which he is helpless to avoid, paralyzed by his own amusement.  “Goddammit, John, this is not kismessitude—!” you hiss.  “Ow!”

John kicks you back.  “I dunno, you seem pretty angry!” he pants between hiccups and giggles.

What do you have to do to wipe that smile off his face?  This is serious!  Besides, you have made anger into an art form, one which his pathetic race cannot possibly comprehend.  You kick him again and score a glancing blow.  “This is not about raising your prankster’s gambit, this is about romance!”

John actually starts laughing again at that, clutching his middle.  “Oh my god you are so serious!” He kicks back but misses.  Clear tears are running down his cheeks from amusement.  You cannot believe you are that much of a joke to him.  “Ow, ow, ow, my ribs …”

“Kismeses hate each other, fuckass!” You snap, and keep right on kicking.  Now John is trying to kick you back but not doing a very good job as he’s still fighting a snickering fit.  “They do not - whatever you’re doing!”  You don’t know why you expect John to get it.  Humans could never hope to get it.  Why you are trying to fill your caliginous quadrant with a human, you’ll never know.  Obviously because past you who proposed this was an idiot, and you just hate yourself that much.

John grabs onto your shirt to support himself as he keeps going on your shins.  You grab his shoulder and kick back, shoe meeting shoe as often as whacking one another’s shins.  His laughter is finally drying up; his chest spasms with hiccups only now, and he pants for breath.  “I thought that prank was pretty mean, though!  With the pail and everything?”

Oh god, he does care.

“And I totally dyed you blue.  You are going to be blue for days!”

Your blood pusher melts a little in your chest and you find a fresh wave of hatred within yourself.  You stomp on John’s kicking foot with your heel and the human yelps - then you shift your grip to his rounded little ears, drag his head up, and kiss him.

He’s not good at hate-kissing, but you’re not good at it either.  Judging from the movies it involves more teeth, but John’s teeth are blunt and he can’t eat if you chew his lips off on accident.  He hiccups into your mouth.  You decide you’ll let that pass.

When you pull back John grins.  “So I did it right?” he asks.  His lips are blue.  You guess that’s your fault, although technically his fault.

You kick his shin extra-hard and watch him wince.

“For a human.  I guess,” you allow.

“Oh my god,” Vriska drawls from down the hall, startling you rigid.  “Get a room!”

John goes red.  You snarl and flip her off.  She sticks out her tongue,
winks
at you, and saunters down the stairs.  There’s an awkward pause where neither you nor John look at each other.

“Told you I can do this.”  John pokes you in the ribs.  You poke him back.

“Fuck you.  You’re still the worst kismesis.”

“Haha, you love it!  Hate it.  You know!”  He pokes you again.

You poke each other all the way down to breakfast.

Tomorrow your face and hands and neck will be a mottled blue-gray.  Your shins and ribs will be a wild flowerbloom of mutant red bruises, and you just might smile at them in the ablution block mirror.

extra

— carcinoGeneticist [CG] started trolling turntechGodhead [tG] —

CG: STRIDER YOU KNOW I LOATHE YOUR PASTY WHITE ASS
CG: COMPLETELY PLATONICLY
CG: BUT, AND I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM SAYING THIS, I NEED YOUR HELP.
tG: fuck did you say the world is ending
tG: wait weve been there and done that
tG: whats got your panties in a twist this time vantas
tG: better be good i got shit to do
CG: SHUT UP FOR TWO SECONDS, WOULD YOU?  I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT SICK SEX IMPLEMENTS YOUR DEPRAVED CULTURE WOULD FIND INSULTING TO HAVE DROPPED ON THE HEAD.
tG: woah
tG: im not comfortable with this line of questioning
tG: help i need an adult
CG: OH GO STUFF IT UP YOUR NOOK.
tG: look no way im getting in the middle of your epic hatelove with egderp
CG: FINE, I’LL ASK YOUR PARADOX SISTER.  I’M SURE SHE’LL BE MEDICALLY OVERINFORMATIVE AS USUAL BUT WHEN I RETCH, I’LL BE SURE TO THROW UP ALL OVER YOUR HUSKTOP.
tG: okay okay
tG: guess i cant say no to outpranking the prankster
tG: but youre gonna have to go the extra step vantas john is simply the best there is
tG: he wont fall for the average prank
tG: you gotta dig deep
tG: and be the vilest you can be
tG: you taking notes
CG: GET TO THE POINT
CG: TROLL JEGUS, WHATEVER THAT IS, I THOUGHT I COULD GO ON A TEXT VOMIT BENDER, BUT YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY BE WORSE THAN ME.  FUCK.
CG: I JUST NEED ONE WORD FROM YOU AND THE REST I CAN GET OFF THE INTERNET.  THEN I CAN STOP TRYING TO STRANGLE MYSELF WITH THE MOUSE CORD JUST TO ESCAPE YOUR BULLSHIT.
tG: its not one word you need its two
tG: betty crocker
tG: most kinky fucking thing on the planet
tG: youd better thank me ive never been so sincere in my life
tG: a god of irony telling the truth
CG: THANK YOU.
CG: MAY WE NEVER SPEAK AGAIN.

— carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [tG] —