MultipleAnecdotes: Hello lovelies~ I have supernatural/homestuck crossover for you all

RetroGamer: A crossover? Really, honestly, pick one or the other

MultipleAnecdotes: Shut your cakehole Retro, I do not own either Supernatural nor Homestuck

Prologue

Karkat downed another shot and checked the time, pfft, only 10 P.M., he could get drunker. He threw another shot and pushed it off to his side; his stomach began to flip over itself and burn. Maybe enough drinks, then. His mind swirled and the edge of his vision got blurry, euphoria was quick to take up the place where rage and bitterness once lay.

God he was pathetic.

Everyone was able to actually do something with their lives and here he was hunting things that people didn't even believe in. How many years ago was it when all of his friends started to go out of touch? When he was 13, 4 years ago. No, that wasn't quite right, he ran away from his home when he was 14 and cut off contact with his friends for their safety. Was that it?

He couldn't remember. All he knew was that he was 17 and he was human. Curly red hair, dark green eyes and that he was put on this Earth for a purpose he didn't know. He had a big sister, Nepeta and two cousins, Muelin and Kankri. He had an army of friends. He had not has. He has nobody now. Tears began to drip down his face, icy cold reminders of everything he didn't have.

He slammed his shot down and got up, intending to walk away. He stumbled and rocked towards the door, practically slamming it open. His vision blurred, everything becoming a mess of colors and noise. How late was it now? How long had he been drinking? All of this he didn't know, he even forget his dearest sister and friends. It was why he drank, to forget all that he did not want.

As he walked along the sidewalk, hand pressed against the brick walls for support, the noise and movement steadily became less and less until he was the only one walking and every so often a car would whiz by. This was a less crowded area, not a good place to be in for a drunken kid. He was no stranger to drinking, started when he was 12, getting by on fake ID's now that he was older.

His legs buckled beneath him and he groaned, but managed to pull himself up again. He needed to get home even though he didn't know where home was. At least, not until he finds the nearest motel. He felt someone grab his shoulder and yank him forward so his back was pressed against the wall. His blurry eyes looked up to a young woman with long, fiery red hair in front of him.

"Who da fuck a'you?" He mumbled, he was too drunk to deal with anybody at the moment. She merely smiled, a serene and peaceful smile to anyone who wasn't suspicious to everything. Unfortunately, for her, Karkat was. He woke himself up quickly, shooting his eyes open and doing his best to straighten himself out.

"Calm down," her voice was soothing and made Karkat want to just slump over and lay over to wait for life to fuck him sideways. But he didn't, he wouldn't let life win, life is a dick and dicks don't deserve to win. He looked up into her eyes.

"Oh fffucking shit," he whispered when his eyes met with her solid black ones. "Demon whore."

She tsk'ed, "It isn't nice to call people names," she scolded, her sharp teeth nearing Karkat's neck.

"Its alsho not nische to shank people," he mumbled and thrust his silver dagger, blessed by the priests of his childhood church and soaked in holy water, into her neck. She hiss-screamed and backed up. Then her head exploded into an array of bloody pieces. Well that's new. Oh wait, that was a bullet. Still, something new. Someone picked him up, muttering something about kids these days. He pressed his dagger against his throat and hissed. He dropped him quickly and Karkat began to slowly back away, dagger held wobbly in front of him. Then he passed out.