do you ever think about the fact that ever since he was introduced, all he ever wanted was to be a loved, useful and accepted part of a community?
like it’s actually killing me to picture younger karkat when he first fully understood the ramifications of having mutant red blood, him realizing that not only was his blood color a deadly offense, but that when he would die was simply a question of how long it would take for someone to find out he was a freak.
imagine karkat crying his eyes out when it first hits him because he’s just a kid and it’s just so unfair. and then he looks down at his tears and realizes he can’t even fucking cry without risking his life.
imagine how lonely he is. imagine the fear he felt in his throat as he reaches out to chat online with someone for the first time and realizes oh shit, they are typing in their blood color. after many sleepless nights, he creates the world’s biggest defense mechanism, in the form of anonymous grey walls of text, myriad shouting, and hollowly aggressive insults.
imagine the courage it took to go back online. at first when he types, his fingers are shaking. now imagine this: somehow, despite everything, he actually makes a group of friends. when did he start caring about these people? he is suddenly in a community, but not really. he’s not truly accepted because they don’t know the real him. he’s not actively giving them any pieces of himself, just half hearted blustering filler. he constantly feels like he’s watching everyone from just outside a window. he actually watches some of them meet up and start role playing. he dismisses it as stupid wiggler nonsense, but deep down there’s a sting of pain: it’s just another reminder that he’s not really part of the group.
so. karkat vantas. things are better, but they’re still terrible. he’s still going to die. and it’s all because of something that wasn’t even his fault, something he didn’t even choose! he fixates on what from all his research he thinks the ideal alternian troll would be like. he practices with his sickles daily and dreams about becoming a threshecutioner even though he isn’t particularly good at it, and furthermore doesn’t even really like the idea of violence. just another tack to add to his ‘why you completely fail at being a troll’ wall. he even practices coding computers to be more like his best friend sollux. anything to feel normal.
most nights he has trouble sleeping. he finds solace in his favorite media. he becomes obsessed with the thresh prince of bel-air. in troll will smith’s journey he can see his ideal narrative: an outsider who finds himself in a place he doesn’t belong, a place among people who are exclusively ranked above him in society – and yet he is able to prove his value, establish close bonds, and find community, all while not watering down who he truly is.
he watches a ton of romantic comedies. romance is something alternia takes very seriously, and here he finds another place he doesn’t quite fit. only one quadrant per troll at a time? he ignores his questioning feelings and watches even more movies. partly to study the way romance should be, to make up for another one of his shortcomings with a deep understanding of quadrants and vacillation and blood caste dynamics, but also because he loves the feelings the movies give him. he loves watching the magic happen. his favorite parts are always when the leads finally get together, (and in his movies, they always get together) despite all of their differences, and they live happily ever after.
imagine karkat vantas. imagine him internalizing for 13 years this idea that he is broken and weak and wrong, and that he doesn’t belong in troll society, in his own community. he just… slowly resigns himself to the fact that no other troll will ever accept him for who he is and why would they? he’s a disgrace. hidden in plain view, even from the people he considers his closest friends. tormented by the anxiety and fear that any second, he will be exposed and killed without hesitation or consideration. and if he was a proper troll, he’d probably want himself dead too.
an opportunity comes to play a game. a chance to show his friends what he can offer them by being a kickass leader. concealing his blood color turns into a full time job. so does trying the best he can to keep everyone he loves fucking alive.
imagine karkat staying awake for 600 hours, fueled by pure fucking anxiety and adrenaline. he screams himself hoarse. he thinks and plans and orders… and they still lose the game. he decides he is a curse on his friends and their session. he watches his friends die. he is rejected romantically by not one, but three different people. he thinks even the actual game felt sorry for him, and gave him a weak denizen. his blood color might not matter any more, but he’s still a fucking failure.
imagine karkat meeting dave. dave is everything he hates about himself wrapped in a bullshit facade that’s colored red. but they find common ground. dave hates fighting. dave only has one quadrant, just like karkat felt he always wanted. they fit in all the ways karkat never knew he needed. it’s messy and awkward, but it’s also comforting and right.
eventually karkat realizes that in every situation it’s you who gets to define your value. and maybe that to feel accepted, you have to believe that you are. after all, none of his friends had cared what his blood color was in the end. so just how many of his anxieties are just as unfounded?
earth c. they’ve won the game. the community he’s always finally feels real and he is a valued member, a god, even. he’s loved. he’s in love. he belongs. he’s no longer in mortal peril just for fucking breathing. he’s no longer hiding himself away from the people he loves. he steps up to be a leader in this new world in the only way that he knows how, and he’s damn good at it.
just imagine karkat vantas living happily ever after. because i sure fucking can.
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