Valentine's Day Letter From Karkat Vantas

Dear (F/N)

   Okay, so the first thing I guess I should say is, I'm really fucking sorry that this letter you are about to read is so fucking awful. Let's face it by the time you have read this, it will have been past-me's god awful writing, and we all know I hate that petulant wriggler.

    Let's also preface this lousy piece of shit by stating my humble apologies for you potentially wasting valuable moments of your life reading this. I'm sure you have far better things to do, and better company in which to allot your time to, so I whole fucking heartedly appreciate you spending these precious minutes on a worthless sack of shit like me. No time like the present to say this, or past, because yet again this is past-me. Present me is likely anxiously waiting to know what you think about this letter.

   Today, as I have been told by the insufferable prick, Strider, is a human holiday called Valentine's Day. Being the horrendous ass that he is, he told me that it is the day that humans present their genetic material to a Saint named Valentine. The Rose human later explained that Dave was lying.

   I found that this holiday was actually the best human holiday by far, at least better than scaring children then feeding them sugar. Or the one with an old man sneaking into your house at night and leaving shit everywhere. With the newfound definition of the holiday in question, revolving around love, and red affection; I sought advice on what to do on this romantic holiday.

   So I suppose that brings us to the point of this letter. For sometime now, I've felt a sort of connection to you. From the first time I trolled you, I felt we may have been onto something. You actually laugh at my horrible jokes, not even pity laughter, like actual laughter. You encourage me to keep practicing coding; even after I accidentally blew up your computer. You are patient with me when I'm arguing with myself, and even end the arguments from time to time.

  I don't see you as just a petty human, I see you as an equal. You've proven time and time again that you are smart and strong. And I mean you look- well, that doesn't really matter as much, I could gush to no end but I'm choosing not to embarrass myself even further in this letter.

And while you sometimes annoy me endlessly, there are more times when you make me... Smile. As much as I hate to admit that. Across this gruff, angry, exterior, you manage to paint a smile bright enough to be seen by all of paradox space. When that happens, my next thought is, "is (F/N) smiling right now?"

  Do I make you smile? Do I give you the same fucking obnoxious feeling of butterflies fluttering against your insides? Is your blush as bright as mine when we subtly red flirt? Basically what I'm asking is, are you as red for me as I am for you?

  God why did I write that? Is that really something I wrote with pen, not even a minute ago? How could I be so stupid. I am truly sorry about past me. The fucking idiot.

   Look. I am burning red for you (F/N). Or in your more pedestrian human terms, I am deeply in love with you.  And so, today, this 'Valentines Day', I Karkat Vantas, ask you (F/N) (L/N) to be my matesprite. If that's okay. I mean if you want to take things slower that's fucking A-OK. I just poured my heart out, I don't EXPECT anything grand in return. In fact I don't even expect a yes. You could do FAR better than the sorry excuse of a troll that I am. But if you could find it in your blood pusher to pity me, I would probably do some sort of acrobatic pirouette off the fucking handle in absolute joy. Flushed for you (F/N). I hope you feel the same, otherwise I've just made myself to be an incredible tool.

Rose said it was customary to add a check box at the end of these letters. So I guess you return this letter? So I know the answer? You could just tell me, but in the name of cultural sensitivity; I will bend to this ridiculous poll at the end of the letter.

Love,
Karkat Vantas

Yes ⬜ Fuck No️⬜️