Be Karkat Vantas (post-SGRUB)
It had started with me and had all been my fault. A seriously shitty way to begin a bit of literature but it was the truth. No matter how much I didn't want to acknowledge it or begin to even accept the new found fact, it was the truth. It had all been my fault. I had been the one to fight and quarrel over being the leader as well as consistently making sure that that new duty as the upstanding leader was carried out the most extreme responsibility and moral consideration for my followers. I was supposed to be the one calling the shots. You'd never believe it, a mutant making all the decisions.
That's why it wasn't on the account of my old friends no matter how vehemently I attempted to blame them and it certainly wasn't by the fault of those stupid humans. Nope. It was only me. Karkat Vantas; mutant and cherry-blooded, romcom infatuated, hemospectrum despising, quadrant following, sickle sporting, Alternian cancer. A cancer that infected all around me and even polluted the less than subtle air of important for all the other nooksuckers that attempted to make some bit of logical sense of my massive allegorical, shit wrecked personality that seemed to be dominated by an untamable rage.
It was by the fault of no one but my own that the great undoing as they call it or the mass genocide as I had previously deemed it had occurred; that an endless reign of terror, murder, and bloodshed were to be wrought upon multiple galaxies and dimensions in equally as extended torrents of furiousity or lack of mercy. So I suppose by the end of this; by the closing of my journal and destruction of your blatant respect for reality, you'll forgive me.
Because this is what that was. My fucking apology. My sincere and honest apology for all the awful shit I caused to happened and screw up the timelines even further than I suppose they had been when I arrived. So there you have it. I'm sorry. My admission to the guilt and plead for amnesty all wrapped into two seemingly insignificant words that spelled out more than I honestly believe I could ever come to convey.
Maybe you'll need to turn back to the first page and reread my underhanded and heartfelt confession after you have been subjected to my grotesque epic but never the less, it will still be here. Beating and bloody as it pumps all my smothering regrets throughout the almost imperceptible amount of space it does in fact require on the page. However even then when you race back to the cover, your fingertips scarcely skimming over the already read pages that now come across as disconcerting and exceptionally appalling, just know that even then it is was earnest as the moment you first read it thinking I was a horrid loon without a judgment why.
So I suppose I'm nearly finished confusing the hell out of you for what it's worth and now it's time for you to actually behold the glorious wonderment that was the colossal screw up of my life as well as others and the events that shall unfold as well as follow the deadly intrepid date of destruction. Before everyone entered the medium, before I laid eyes on that adorable fuckass John, before most of my friends were murdered and multiple times at that, and most importantly, before I decided to write this shitty excuse for an act of contrition.
Harmless it seemed. In truth that could be the day you read the above only to continue but I'm sure that isn't the object of matter at this moment. Time hasn't really been the huge issue since that lightly deceptive day when I first flicked in that stupid game and thus began to unravel a greater meaning than I would have even known; than I would have ever wanted to have known. You see that something I figured out rather quickly while playing SGRUB; that time is a folly illusion and that the multiple perplexing timelines in this game don't even begin to explain or cover the rest of them.
Like how I didn't even see the fact that others could fall victim to this game to and thus rendering another timeline, so to speak, incapable of repairing itself. I don't really think any of us expected the Beta or Alpha humans and what trailed in their wake; or the Patron Cherubs or the Miles or the Ancestors or becoming these prevailing god tiers and the abilities that ensued with them. But worst of all was Jack. For fucks sake he was supposed to be our ally originally but there's another example of how the timelines can royally, pun intended, fuck shit up where ever and whenever if intends to slither.
So now that I've gotten off track and given you quite a few headaches inducing riddles to decipher while blowing this supposed shit all out of conjectural proportion. Oh well. I think I really should began now, least we start to get too technical with it and I toss you into spiraling time warp of some sorts that leaves your incapable mind positively riveting from what you've yet to fully grasp. So there. Take this shit and make if fucking happen, as that fuckass Strider would probably say.
Be Karkat Vantas (pre-SGRUB)
APPEARIFY!
You had innocently stumbled upon this diminutive gem of lunacy while gazing around your respite block for anything to occupy your time and sufficiently arrest your boredom. Well as innocently as anyone could manage when trying to not freak out as a short eruption of red light that brought with it a pathetic piece of parchment that slowly fluttered to the grey floor of your block. Of course you examined the abnormal and unexplained anomaly! You were deathly curious over this new arrival.
Of course that was before you had read the bright cherry red letters that seemed to be scratched into the paper with inconsistent lineage. Like some moronic hoof beast just happens to spew its repulsive nostril secretions all over a perfectly ghastly shred of revolting dissertation. Not that you cared for the technicalities of the document. What interested you were the frantic scribbles the words presented and that was when it hit you! The author! Why it had to be none other than you but of course from the future. You had absolutely no mother fucking idea what this poor bastard was jabbering about but the realization that he/you probably wrote this in his/your blood was remarkably fanatical.
You wondered what in gog's name you were going to be suspected to in the very near or fortunately distance future that would cause you to so inconveniently flip your shit like some kind of nooksucking wriggler. Maybe it was some random provoking by that John kid or that Strider you mentioned in the letter; whoever they were. So what and why would you do something so bash and destructive to yourself? No to mention that it was in your blood and therefore uncovered the mystery of the color your name was even written in on that sad note. You never gave clues to the color! It was the secret! It wa-
Karkat: get distracted by a sudden pester
Fuck whatever this uninspiring piece of psychosis induced lunacy even is! You have much more productive things to accomplish. You swiftly turn around, your inquisitive quipped eyes falling immediately upon your indigo computer sitting atop its own grey desk. WHO THE HELL…? You initially presumed before you realized who was currently pestering you. You were so intrigued by the new turn of events, however, that you didn't even register the almost unnoticeable light paper falling from your lengthily digits as it fluttered forgotten to the floor only to be swept under the bottom of your dresser.
You would never see the unnecessarily mystifying note ever again. And way was that? Because your life was just about to be brutally changed forever.
Your footsteps lead you to your computer only feet away and as you approach it your cheeks suddenly blush with the recognition of who was presently pestering you. OH GOG, IT'S SOLLUX. The name sprung to mind while you aimlessly positioned your lean frame into the computer seat with a groan and indolent smirk. You typed a reply to his message that read something along the lines of "ii've got thii2 new game, KK. You gotta play iit to, but we are all iin team2. 2o you gotta pick fiir2t."