Making a dick joke was a strategic error. You put the subject on the metaphorical table. You're now thinking about troll dick.

Prompt: Let's have a thing where going God Tier has made the humans' genetic material and other bodily fluids sparkly and rainbow colored. Then let's take that thing and make it into another thing where we see the reactions of all the trolls to this. GOGOGO!

"The first watch keeps the correct time. Always. Terezi tried starting out of sync the third time they played this game, but without that one thread of the right beat to cling to, the grating wrongness of the other watches knocked Dave out of the mood long before he could hit trance state." Terezi/Dave, idiosycratic forms of bondage.

The thing about Karkat Vantas is, he might be a pompous, noisy windbag with an inflated opinion of his own importance, and if he was suddenly struck down by some kind of vicious troll laryngitis the universe's total amount of chill and quiet would suddenly go up three levels... But turns out he's also a great fuck.

After three years out of contact, John and Karkat can finally talk again. The conversation doesn't go quite the way they were expecting. Now the three weeks it will take the golden ship to match velocities with the asteroid seem like three million. Why are the laws of physics so unkind to desperate teenaged boys? [an antidote to sadstuck! if this is not the fluffiest, most sentimental xenoporn ever written, i will eat my writekind specibus.]

Dave nods. "Most of the inhabitants of this sorry rock," he confides, "cry themselves to sleep at night at the knowledge that you beat them to the incomparable prize of Dave Strider's undivided affections." There's not enough irony left in this poor depleted universe to sustain statements like that very often, so he kisses Tavros again before he can talk himself into actual sincere confession time.

In which a mutant too famous to cull is dropped like a grenade into the midst of the peace process, a foolish monarch proves himself secretly shrewd, the power of friendship functions as a force multiplier, and it is discovered that in the Great Game of espionage, the dealer does not always win.

John is one of eight mech pilots heroically protecting Earth from an alien invasion. Pretty easy on the moral choices. See evil monster from space, kill evil monster from space. Only then he actually meets one of them face to face.

In which all sixteen kids live reasonably happily ever after in the Veil. Alternately: that one AU where trolls have sex by barfing blood into buckets.

"Gosh, Karkat! That's not what I was expecting at all!" Fanart drawn for Porn Battle XII.

Dirk laughs, presses his lips to the sweat-drenched nape of your neck, lets his teeth scrape the skin. "Don't worry, babe, I'm not going to leave you hanging. I've got something special for you. Get up."

"At first you'd thought Terezi felt a little left out of this clusterfuck of a relationship, always watching you and Karkat at each others' throats and goading each other on, but you've come to realize that she doesn't mind being a little on the sidelines. Correction: she gets off on it."

Karkat has gone really still. He opens his mouth. Closes his mouth. Opens his mouth-- "No. On second thought, no. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking when I said I would do this. I have never had even the slightest desire to do this." "Uh," John says. "Okay?"

Little gray aliens aren't people, no matter how well they fake it. They can be domesticated, though. Might as well keep them around, right?

Man, Dave thought getting through adolescence was a pain in the ass for HUMANS. He had no idea how good they have it, until he saw what trolls got to go through.

Everything is more fun when there's something at stake, right? Swinging ought to be the same.

"You've got no fucking clue which end is up about this kind of thing, do you?" Karkat asks, almost gently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone off on you. You're such a huge bitch it's easy to forget you weren't hatched like this."

"They just watch," John says, kicking the mop bucket into the broom closet after a hard day's asteroid-cleaning. "I guess chores are like a spectator sport for trolls? It's pretty weird! But... that's trolls for you!"

Dave can't talk dirty without making a fool of himself; to no one's surprise, Karkat is a screamer; and in summary, Dave and Karkat are terrible people to room next to.

The Game is over. You've won. But it was a long, hard, painful victory, and the rewards have a catch, and you're all a little broken. But you'll stick together anyway because that's just what you do. You help each other cope and somehow in the end you'll make it through. ((Humanstuck AU: Mainly Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas. Dave second-person POV. Post-Sburb.))

When Gamzee takes it up a notch in his attempts to court Dave into being his kismesis, Dave decides he can't just ignore it any more. Cue lengthy Karkat Vantas rants and awkward teenage boy fumblings. Slightly aged up AU where everyone is one big, dysfunctional family on the meteor while they wait out their three years.

When you open yourself up completely to someone else, you also make yourself completely vulnerable.

Karkat is all for cultural exchanges and trying to see each others point of view, but there is such a thing as going too damned far.

There are some things you have to do as a friendleader, and some you have to do as a friend. Sometimes, it's the same thing.

When all they have left to hold onto is each other, how can they ever let go?

Dave realizes he has a most unfortunate crush on his best friend. This is obviously a great foundation for a black relationship with Karkat. Competitive flirting is a thing that exists, the kids try out various bits of troll culture, Dave makes consistently excellent decisions and generally has his priorities in order (no he doesn't), and there's a whole lot of talking.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. Dave joins you at the window. There are no stars left in the sky. Nothing but blackness and a faint soap bubble sheen. “Is that a dream bubble?” Dave says. And then it swallows you.

Dave doesn't always understand the nature of troll romance, but most of the time he doesn't need to.

Karkat Vantas is a 6 sweeps old troll with a secret so big it could shake the very foundations of the Alternian Empire. But now the purrbeast is out of the bag, and the heretics who follow the teachings of his Ancestor rush to send their Messiah to the safety of a planet so distant, it knows nothing of Alternia. Meanwhile, Karkat hates his life and these stupid old squatters and his ancestor and pretty much everything there ever was in the world of forever. Platonically.

It just figures that when Karkat finally finds that special someone he hates more than he hates himself, that person turns out to be the guy who's essentially his clone, but fifty million times more annoying.

Karkat thought he knew what he was getting into, when he agreed to help Kanaya and Jade resurrect the troll race. He didn't count on the resurrected troll race including a handful of bright red grubs.

*wife *actnion *actino *action Roxy and Tavros roleplay as husband and wife. It goes about as well as you'd expect. Written for the kink meme!

He could gag himself with how deep in this he is. In which Dave and Terezi share in sweet interspecies lovemaking and realize that being born universes apart lends itself to some discrepancy in the biological department.

Having an alien boyfriend is a little like an adventure and a little like a science experiment. Fortunately for you (and for your alien boyfriend), those are both things you really like.

eridan is so tolerable when he can't talk

They've been looking for a cure.

It's not a glamorous job, but you can set your own hours, the pay rate is good now that you know what you're doing, and it leaves you with enough free time to enjoy your hobbies. You like to think you're doing pretty well for yourself.

You start hanging around troll 4chan for the Mediaconflagration links. You, uh, stay for the porn.

"I kind of... accidentally fantasized about Karkat while we were doing it. Which I do sometimes, not when we're messing around, just like-- uh, fuck, look, I'm--" Terezi puts a finger over your lips and you stammer to a stop. She nestles closer and sighs happily. "You too, huh?" You stare at the ceiling in bewilderment. Whatever response you were expecting, that was not it.

He just knows that Nepeta has been growing like a midblood, fast and hard, and either he's growing slow like a highblood (hah) or he's done already. And this should piss him off, and it vaguely does, even now, but they were having such a nice time reminiscing and then he tripped in the dark and she caught him, sure and effortless, and it was like every romcom ever only he was the heroine. The ensuing makeouts he blames on the alcohol. Not to say that when she lifted him off the ground by the waist to pin him to a tree and bring to more comfortable kissing height, his nook didn't flood like someone had dynamited a giant fucking dam.

You spend the hours after you wake up pacing your hive, your stomach threatening to upturn and your bulge threatening to unsheathe. You're excited to the point that you're dripping with more than just sweat, yes, but you're also beyond nervous. Besides what you assume are the usual worries -- what if he doesn't show up, what if he takes one look at your butlerbot and is so unimpressed -- there's also the tiny little fact that you've never done any of this before. At all.

Terezi is the best at sexting.

Sollux has two wriggling gifts for Karkat. The first is a traditional Wriggling Day present, complete with wrapping and bow. The second one wriggles in an entirely different manner.

You sit down in your computer chair and try not to squirm or shiver too much when she brushes your hair back from your earflap. You've never had anything pierced, and you think it probably can't be worse than getting injured during the game, but it's hard to relax all the same. You weren't just sitting and waiting to get hurt then. "Aight," Meenah says. "Let's get this shoal on the road." "Do it," you say. You close your eyes.

Karkat takes his time; this trick he has learned from several drill sergeants and then from being a drill sergeant, and learned well. When you're not sure what the fuck to do with a subordinate, take your time thinking it out. There is almost no way they will notice you're completely lost at sea: they'll be too busy freaking out. It's a technique he could have used more of when he was a kid. He really has no idea what to do with the guy. -- Sequel to Uniform Kink, a pesterlog/cybersex fic in which Karkat accidentally gets Equius hot under the collar with mentions of the uniform that comes with his promotion, and then decides to run with it. -- Now with Equius POV epilogue! 2000% more fluff.

You're a late bloomer at nine sweeps, and you don't yet have a concupiscent quadrant filled. This leaves you alone and self-pailing for the duration of your mating cycle—at least, that was the idea. When Karkat bursts in on you, it sort of throws off your plans for the week.

“You have tits? When did that happen??” He facepalms; “Last molt,” he grumbles from behind his palms. “When you disappeared for a while? That’s what that was?” “Yes Dave, when trolls reach that special molting phase, they grow rumblespheres. Mammals.” He spits the last word as a curse and you’re pretty sure you’re offended.

A cohort: bonded co-workers who share a common purpose, siblings, family, lovers, friends. What happens when Autobot sparks decide, for better or worse, that short-lived human beings are part of their cohort?

Homo sapiens domesticus Humans (Homo sapiens domesticus) are short-lived primates of the family Hominidae, and the only existant species of the genus Homo. They originated in Africa, and spread to other continents of planet Earth within a megavorn. While fractious and warlike in their wild state, they are easily trained to a useful function.

You try to dress nice. How do you dress nice for a sex club? You have no fucking idea. But you've got the greaser cool guy look down pretty good, and you think it works for you. You wear your tightest t-shirt. You spend like fifteen minutes in front of the bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of jeans is the most flattering for your glutes. This is your chance.