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App for HFM
Apr. 1st, 2015 04:18 pmOOC SECTION
Mun name: Beanie
Personal journal: beanie_plant
Age: 25
Contact: Plurk: beanie_plant
Pronouns: He/Him
Other characters: NA
IC SECTION
Name: Karkat
Canon: Homestuck
Canon point: After death
Appearance:
Age: 16 in human years
Gender: Male
Personality: Karkat is an individual who has a tendency to lose his temper. In fact the personification of anger would be a good way to describe him. Those close to him are used to his constant outbursts and take them with a grain of salt. When he is at his best his outbursts consist of random metaphors containing absurd tangents usually made up of make believe insults, which are both clever and random. For example he will spend a few minuets describing just how angry he is in 20 different vivid metaphors.
Karkat doesn’t show regret in the earlier chapters of Homestuck. Later after his three-year journey his personality changes drastically and he becomes more aware of his overall attitude and how it affects others. Throughout most of the comic he comes to ‘fake’ hate his friends. He acts as if he doesn’t care for them, always insulting them and poking at their flaws. However if he pushes to far and manages to do emotional harm, he has the capability to show concern and apologize promptly.
Karkat has an interest in power and obtaining it. This usually results in him ending up with the sharp end of the stick. He believes at an early age that he was born to be a hatched leader. Being a leader is the position he takes during Act 5 of the comic. He is the leader of the red team and eventually the trolls. This changes in Act 6 when he finds himself to be a failure at being a leader, due to the amount of deaths in his team and instead gives up his position. He claims that it is too difficult to be a leader and stupid to continue it when others are more qualified then him. His interest in power still remains in recent canon, however. When he admits to wanting to be a Thresicutioner during a talk with Meenah, he states that they are a high position and one to be feared!
However his excitement is quickly silenced by the clarification that he is a mutant and would probably never get to be a Thresicutioner. Still, Karkat has a drive to make something of himself and to prove he is worth something. While he continues, in recent canon to believe he was a horrible leader. His teammates do not agree. In the long run he pushed them through the game successfully and even managed to bring out the best in his teammates.
Another strength that Karkat has is his excessive knowledge about troll romance. Karkat obtains such knowledge from his large library of romcoms that he organizes alphabetically and watches just as excessively. His skills are shown through the use of his time-span memos. These memos are made at certain points during the timeline and allow for the trolls on his team to respond at any given moment in their timeline. Constantly during the timelines, trolls will respond to these memos and off topic ask Karkat for advice on their romantic issues. Being adamant and a stubborn troll, Karkat is reluctant to move away form the memo topic, but will oblige in order to help out his friends.
It is ironic to be said, that when it comes to his own romance Karkat is clueless. All of his romance has fallen through and when he is directly involved, he is blind to the right choice to make. A good example of this was when Terezi was engaged in a black romance with Gamzee. Karkat continually blames himself for the mess that happened and choosing not to get involved. He claims that it was his fault for not being a better moirail to Gamzee and keeping a better watch on him. His hope is that ,if he had been better at his own romance perhaps he could have prevented bad romance from happening to his friends.
Karkat isn’t without his insecurities. A large insecurity is his blood color. Karkat is a mutant and his blood is the color of candy red, not on the hemospectrum. Throughout the comic he lacks the confidence to tell his teammates the truth about his blood color, even in recent canon he has not yet stated his blood color in public. This is how he describes the issue:
AND LIKE, 1) EVERYBODY KNOWS IT NOW, IT WAS THE WORST KEPT FUCKING SECRET EVER, AND 2) EVEN IF THEY DIDN'T, IT'S JUST US HERE, AND OBVIOUSLY WE'VE BOTH ALREADY KNOWN IT ALL OUR LIVES
This is a quote from Act 6. He still lacks the confidence to tell the others, but realizes that everyone already knows about it. He doesn’t care about who knows and if outsiders were to find out he would continue to hide it until he found them trustworthy enough to tell. Unless they were human, who have the same blood color; he would find no point to hide it from them.
Karkat is not a violent troll. In order to protect himself he is well skilled in the use of a sickle. When danger is present he is not afraid to take a stand and face it in order to defend his friends. During the fight with the black king, the final boss, amongst his twelve friends he made the first strike. Karkat tends to choose the best course of action in regards to his friends and their welfare.
There have been tines when he has condemned himself; this is usually during an extreme situation such as a teammates death or misfortune. On multiple occasions he has blamed himself for the death of his friends and it has led him to abandon his leadership duties. Karkat takes it upon himself to make sure his friends are safe and he wishes to place himself into the business of others, in order to make sure they are well off. However this act usually comes off as being invasive, pushy and annoying.
All in all Karkat is very crabby, using ridiculous metaphors to get his point across. He does a great deal for his friends and cares a lot about them, always wishing for them to be happy even if it is at the expense of his own happiness.
History: http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Karkat_Vantas
Aspirations: Karkat wants to be a threshicutioner and even after his world exploded and he was put onto a desert asteroid, he still held this goal. Of course he understood that because he was a mutant, this would never be the case. Despite that he hoped that if he proved he was a cold blooded killer and threatening enough, the Condesce would see past his blood color. This sole desire also pushed him to be the leader of the red team, however in recent canon he has given up on being a leader.
Fears: Karkat fears failure. He fears the loss of those close to him and people finding out just how pathetic and worthless he is. He hides behind his anger and grey text to hide more then his blood color, but also his true feelings about his friends.
To sum it up, his fears stem from the connections he’s made. He wants to appear worthy in others eyes.
Inventory:
Sickle - if it's okay?
Clothes
Clown 'honk' horns
Crab Communicator
Faygo
Magic: water
Reason: I have to say I battled between water and fire, but water seemed to make the most sense since he is a cancer. Cancer being a crab and thus a water sign. In addition I feel like Karkat has a lot of connections much like a flowing streams connecting to rivers and into the ocean and hey Blood has water in it! With enough practice maybe he can bend blood and truly be a Knight of Blood!
RP samples:
First-person http://dear-player.dreamwidth.org/1485045.html?thread=34148597#cmt34148597
http://dear-player.dreamwidth.org/1513948.html?thread=34792412#cmt34792412
Prose
It was dark and there wasn’t much to think about anymore. Alone he found himself, once again, sitting amongst the empty faygo bottles of yesterday and left a sugary stale air. It was nothing more then a reminder of someone that had been there. The alien found himself staring at the ceiling trying not to look around at his surroundings. It wasn’t just the faygo bottles that disturbed him. Bicycle horns scattered about and led to a pile the two of them had occasionally shared.
No. No. He didn’t need to think; there was no more reasoning behind why he left. Besides…the indigo blood has never really fulfilled their moirailship, but of course he cared right? The answer was as obvious as the blood color that ran through his veins. No. Let’s not think about that either. He was a mutant, but such a fact was something he had come to accept now. After all it had been 6 sweeps and an additional 3 years…so take the 9 and carry the….fuck. He didn’t really know how to convert his known alien time, sweep into an equivalent number to that of the human year. Fuck it all; no matter the time it had just been a winding shit trail of long moments and sorrow drenched fucks!
There he went again cursing to himself, just trying to distract his mind from things he dare not think about. Yet, here he sat amongst lost memories. His moirail, best friend, platonic romance partner, palebro, whatever the term, was no more.
He kept asking himself, why? Why did Gamzee decide that religion was more important then their romance -the quadrant that they shared? By this point tears had been shed and only the questions remained. They bounced against his think pan like stray balls trying to find the safe net. Could it have really been his religion, was Gamzee selfish? Was there some sort of higher purpose, maybe even the reasoning of protection behind his break up? These questions held no purpose and only drove alien troll to a tired headache.
He shifts his back against the wall, moving at a sluggish pace and comes to fall on his side. Arms moved to curl inward coming to wrap around him and his legs sprawled out to their desired length outward. He felt like he could cry, maybe, but there wasn’t much of a point. He was without any of his quadrants now, a sole troll midst a meteor full of love struck assholes who probably didn’t even consider him a friend anymore. The meteor was their home now, at least for the extent of this 3-year journey. His…friends well they had grown apart. Simply put, they found that the humans were more interesting then maintaining relationships of the past, or in Gamzee’s case religion and the focus of a higher power. Though Karkat didn’t find much point in thinking further onto Gamzee’s ‘religion.’
That religion was stupid. The only knowledge he had of it was death, the terrifying echo of a childish honk in the distance and the catch of his breath as he tried to save whom he could. Blood lined the walls of their shelter and bodies cluttered the halls. The memory was of a time so long ago. Back when everything went to shit. Back then he felt that he had saved the older troll, the one who’s blood color determined the homicidal blood lust and rage that he possessed. He had chosen to calm his rage and place their destinies into a quadrant. It had been his duty as a leader and a friend, right?
Then again…quadrant…the idea of 4 different relations was what he was used to and was part of the culture he had been born into. Yet, was there a point anymore? Their world was dead and it seemed all he had hoped for, placed his drive into, the dreams he fought towards were falling apart now. Heck he wasn’t even the leader of this asshole troupe anymore. Here he thought that little quadrant he had shared with the circus animal was sound. Ha! What a laugh. Nothing was really defining anymore.
So, his moirail…ex-moirail was gone. At least he wasn’t killing anyone. They weren’t friends anymore…how could he come to consider him one. Gamzee was never around and it seemed his only intent was to corrupt those around him into some clown worshipper, drunk upon sugary tang. Or run around dressed up in a sweet berry purple costume that resembled the form of clown like bard, shoes, and pointy hat, the whole get up. A gag, something one would find in the dollar bin of a party shop, 50% off with the free gift: the scent of aftershave vomit. With the addition of a squeaky codpiece that has been decorated with the nauseating purple hue. Obnoxious. To each their own…he guessed.
The very image causes a reaction and fills the troll with a burning rage. Though it was different from his normal bilious hate. It was frustration and uncertainty. Again the questions return, though this time he finds himself scratching at the cold pavement that surrounds him. His nails create white markings that come to contrast upon the darkness of the cold tar. In a way the mark mimics the scars that formed on the face of his ex and his memory comes full circle.
Violently he moves from his position. Coming to stand he places his hands against the wall. His back hunches over, shoulders collect around his neck. He shakes. A fist places against the wall repeatedly badgering the surface, unfulfilled. Why!? If he could just talk to him, maybe! Yet, he was never around…he wasn’t there! He needed him and yet he was done with him! Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!
He comes to fall. His knees hit the pavement with a loud clunk and the pain comes. It shoots through his legs and causes his body to internally convulse; yet he ignores it. His arms move to crown his head, fingers snaked through his hair and it starts. First a gasp of breath escapes him, stuttered and shaken, incomplete. Next came the tears. They come to pool beneath him, staining the cloth of his jeans and forever leave a mark of sorrow. He was done with this. He no longer wished to feel this way and it seemed there was no one he could come to.
Notes: None
Mun name: Beanie
Personal journal: beanie_plant
Age: 25
Contact: Plurk: beanie_plant
Pronouns: He/Him
Other characters: NA
IC SECTION
Name: Karkat
Canon: Homestuck
Canon point: After death
Appearance:
Age: 16 in human years
Gender: Male
Personality: Karkat is an individual who has a tendency to lose his temper. In fact the personification of anger would be a good way to describe him. Those close to him are used to his constant outbursts and take them with a grain of salt. When he is at his best his outbursts consist of random metaphors containing absurd tangents usually made up of make believe insults, which are both clever and random. For example he will spend a few minuets describing just how angry he is in 20 different vivid metaphors.
Karkat doesn’t show regret in the earlier chapters of Homestuck. Later after his three-year journey his personality changes drastically and he becomes more aware of his overall attitude and how it affects others. Throughout most of the comic he comes to ‘fake’ hate his friends. He acts as if he doesn’t care for them, always insulting them and poking at their flaws. However if he pushes to far and manages to do emotional harm, he has the capability to show concern and apologize promptly.
Karkat has an interest in power and obtaining it. This usually results in him ending up with the sharp end of the stick. He believes at an early age that he was born to be a hatched leader. Being a leader is the position he takes during Act 5 of the comic. He is the leader of the red team and eventually the trolls. This changes in Act 6 when he finds himself to be a failure at being a leader, due to the amount of deaths in his team and instead gives up his position. He claims that it is too difficult to be a leader and stupid to continue it when others are more qualified then him. His interest in power still remains in recent canon, however. When he admits to wanting to be a Thresicutioner during a talk with Meenah, he states that they are a high position and one to be feared!
However his excitement is quickly silenced by the clarification that he is a mutant and would probably never get to be a Thresicutioner. Still, Karkat has a drive to make something of himself and to prove he is worth something. While he continues, in recent canon to believe he was a horrible leader. His teammates do not agree. In the long run he pushed them through the game successfully and even managed to bring out the best in his teammates.
Another strength that Karkat has is his excessive knowledge about troll romance. Karkat obtains such knowledge from his large library of romcoms that he organizes alphabetically and watches just as excessively. His skills are shown through the use of his time-span memos. These memos are made at certain points during the timeline and allow for the trolls on his team to respond at any given moment in their timeline. Constantly during the timelines, trolls will respond to these memos and off topic ask Karkat for advice on their romantic issues. Being adamant and a stubborn troll, Karkat is reluctant to move away form the memo topic, but will oblige in order to help out his friends.
It is ironic to be said, that when it comes to his own romance Karkat is clueless. All of his romance has fallen through and when he is directly involved, he is blind to the right choice to make. A good example of this was when Terezi was engaged in a black romance with Gamzee. Karkat continually blames himself for the mess that happened and choosing not to get involved. He claims that it was his fault for not being a better moirail to Gamzee and keeping a better watch on him. His hope is that ,if he had been better at his own romance perhaps he could have prevented bad romance from happening to his friends.
Karkat isn’t without his insecurities. A large insecurity is his blood color. Karkat is a mutant and his blood is the color of candy red, not on the hemospectrum. Throughout the comic he lacks the confidence to tell his teammates the truth about his blood color, even in recent canon he has not yet stated his blood color in public. This is how he describes the issue:
AND LIKE, 1) EVERYBODY KNOWS IT NOW, IT WAS THE WORST KEPT FUCKING SECRET EVER, AND 2) EVEN IF THEY DIDN'T, IT'S JUST US HERE, AND OBVIOUSLY WE'VE BOTH ALREADY KNOWN IT ALL OUR LIVES
This is a quote from Act 6. He still lacks the confidence to tell the others, but realizes that everyone already knows about it. He doesn’t care about who knows and if outsiders were to find out he would continue to hide it until he found them trustworthy enough to tell. Unless they were human, who have the same blood color; he would find no point to hide it from them.
Karkat is not a violent troll. In order to protect himself he is well skilled in the use of a sickle. When danger is present he is not afraid to take a stand and face it in order to defend his friends. During the fight with the black king, the final boss, amongst his twelve friends he made the first strike. Karkat tends to choose the best course of action in regards to his friends and their welfare.
There have been tines when he has condemned himself; this is usually during an extreme situation such as a teammates death or misfortune. On multiple occasions he has blamed himself for the death of his friends and it has led him to abandon his leadership duties. Karkat takes it upon himself to make sure his friends are safe and he wishes to place himself into the business of others, in order to make sure they are well off. However this act usually comes off as being invasive, pushy and annoying.
All in all Karkat is very crabby, using ridiculous metaphors to get his point across. He does a great deal for his friends and cares a lot about them, always wishing for them to be happy even if it is at the expense of his own happiness.
History: http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Karkat_Vantas
Aspirations: Karkat wants to be a threshicutioner and even after his world exploded and he was put onto a desert asteroid, he still held this goal. Of course he understood that because he was a mutant, this would never be the case. Despite that he hoped that if he proved he was a cold blooded killer and threatening enough, the Condesce would see past his blood color. This sole desire also pushed him to be the leader of the red team, however in recent canon he has given up on being a leader.
Fears: Karkat fears failure. He fears the loss of those close to him and people finding out just how pathetic and worthless he is. He hides behind his anger and grey text to hide more then his blood color, but also his true feelings about his friends.
To sum it up, his fears stem from the connections he’s made. He wants to appear worthy in others eyes.
Inventory:
Sickle - if it's okay?
Clothes
Clown 'honk' horns
Crab Communicator
Faygo
Magic: water
Reason: I have to say I battled between water and fire, but water seemed to make the most sense since he is a cancer. Cancer being a crab and thus a water sign. In addition I feel like Karkat has a lot of connections much like a flowing streams connecting to rivers and into the ocean and hey Blood has water in it! With enough practice maybe he can bend blood and truly be a Knight of Blood!
RP samples:
First-person http://dear-player.dreamwidth.org/1485045.html?thread=34148597#cmt34148597
http://dear-player.dreamwidth.org/1513948.html?thread=34792412#cmt34792412
Prose
It was dark and there wasn’t much to think about anymore. Alone he found himself, once again, sitting amongst the empty faygo bottles of yesterday and left a sugary stale air. It was nothing more then a reminder of someone that had been there. The alien found himself staring at the ceiling trying not to look around at his surroundings. It wasn’t just the faygo bottles that disturbed him. Bicycle horns scattered about and led to a pile the two of them had occasionally shared.
No. No. He didn’t need to think; there was no more reasoning behind why he left. Besides…the indigo blood has never really fulfilled their moirailship, but of course he cared right? The answer was as obvious as the blood color that ran through his veins. No. Let’s not think about that either. He was a mutant, but such a fact was something he had come to accept now. After all it had been 6 sweeps and an additional 3 years…so take the 9 and carry the….fuck. He didn’t really know how to convert his known alien time, sweep into an equivalent number to that of the human year. Fuck it all; no matter the time it had just been a winding shit trail of long moments and sorrow drenched fucks!
There he went again cursing to himself, just trying to distract his mind from things he dare not think about. Yet, here he sat amongst lost memories. His moirail, best friend, platonic romance partner, palebro, whatever the term, was no more.
He kept asking himself, why? Why did Gamzee decide that religion was more important then their romance -the quadrant that they shared? By this point tears had been shed and only the questions remained. They bounced against his think pan like stray balls trying to find the safe net. Could it have really been his religion, was Gamzee selfish? Was there some sort of higher purpose, maybe even the reasoning of protection behind his break up? These questions held no purpose and only drove alien troll to a tired headache.
He shifts his back against the wall, moving at a sluggish pace and comes to fall on his side. Arms moved to curl inward coming to wrap around him and his legs sprawled out to their desired length outward. He felt like he could cry, maybe, but there wasn’t much of a point. He was without any of his quadrants now, a sole troll midst a meteor full of love struck assholes who probably didn’t even consider him a friend anymore. The meteor was their home now, at least for the extent of this 3-year journey. His…friends well they had grown apart. Simply put, they found that the humans were more interesting then maintaining relationships of the past, or in Gamzee’s case religion and the focus of a higher power. Though Karkat didn’t find much point in thinking further onto Gamzee’s ‘religion.’
That religion was stupid. The only knowledge he had of it was death, the terrifying echo of a childish honk in the distance and the catch of his breath as he tried to save whom he could. Blood lined the walls of their shelter and bodies cluttered the halls. The memory was of a time so long ago. Back when everything went to shit. Back then he felt that he had saved the older troll, the one who’s blood color determined the homicidal blood lust and rage that he possessed. He had chosen to calm his rage and place their destinies into a quadrant. It had been his duty as a leader and a friend, right?
Then again…quadrant…the idea of 4 different relations was what he was used to and was part of the culture he had been born into. Yet, was there a point anymore? Their world was dead and it seemed all he had hoped for, placed his drive into, the dreams he fought towards were falling apart now. Heck he wasn’t even the leader of this asshole troupe anymore. Here he thought that little quadrant he had shared with the circus animal was sound. Ha! What a laugh. Nothing was really defining anymore.
So, his moirail…ex-moirail was gone. At least he wasn’t killing anyone. They weren’t friends anymore…how could he come to consider him one. Gamzee was never around and it seemed his only intent was to corrupt those around him into some clown worshipper, drunk upon sugary tang. Or run around dressed up in a sweet berry purple costume that resembled the form of clown like bard, shoes, and pointy hat, the whole get up. A gag, something one would find in the dollar bin of a party shop, 50% off with the free gift: the scent of aftershave vomit. With the addition of a squeaky codpiece that has been decorated with the nauseating purple hue. Obnoxious. To each their own…he guessed.
The very image causes a reaction and fills the troll with a burning rage. Though it was different from his normal bilious hate. It was frustration and uncertainty. Again the questions return, though this time he finds himself scratching at the cold pavement that surrounds him. His nails create white markings that come to contrast upon the darkness of the cold tar. In a way the mark mimics the scars that formed on the face of his ex and his memory comes full circle.
Violently he moves from his position. Coming to stand he places his hands against the wall. His back hunches over, shoulders collect around his neck. He shakes. A fist places against the wall repeatedly badgering the surface, unfulfilled. Why!? If he could just talk to him, maybe! Yet, he was never around…he wasn’t there! He needed him and yet he was done with him! Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!
He comes to fall. His knees hit the pavement with a loud clunk and the pain comes. It shoots through his legs and causes his body to internally convulse; yet he ignores it. His arms move to crown his head, fingers snaked through his hair and it starts. First a gasp of breath escapes him, stuttered and shaken, incomplete. Next came the tears. They come to pool beneath him, staining the cloth of his jeans and forever leave a mark of sorrow. He was done with this. He no longer wished to feel this way and it seemed there was no one he could come to.
Notes: None
