kist headcanons

hey m new to this i kind of dont know what im doing but i do like kist

any prns / unlabeled gender call me whatever

self explanatory title this is a bunch of kist headcanons, drawings, writing, etc.

they get a little explicit sometimes probably so tread carefully

asks r open for headcanons or fun drawings idk

tags

#kistrot - general tag to find me

#kistrotart - drawings i make

#kistrotdrabble - writing i make

whenever dust gets sick (somehow) he always hangs out in his room and doesn't come out. he already does that normally but when he's sick he loses all motivation to do anything.

killer is bored out of his mind after a mission and finds his way to dust's room. on the other side he can hear dust sniffling and coughing and having all the symptoms of sickness.

killer is a terrible cook. he can make basic foods but anything more than that is a disaster so soup is out of the question.

killer barges in and closes the door behind him. dust jumps and raises a bone attack at killer. upon realizing it's just him he lowers it but keeps it summoned just incase.

killer crouches down to dust's level and pokes him. dust has a fever. he asks killer to go fetch him some medicine because he's too lazy to do it himself. killer flicks dust's forehead and gets up to get him medicine.

he returns and also has an icepack. dust raises a brow but takes both. killer sits down next to dust and helps him with the ice pack. dust is too lazy to retaliate and lets it happen. after that, dust gets a little tired and feels fuzzier than normal.

killer fills the silence with stories of his adventures while going on missions nightmare assigned him. he goes on and on with dust listening along until dust eventually falls asleep. he's all huddled up in a blanket and scrunched. he's asleep and snoring softly while killer gets his talk time.

when he runs out of things to say he cleans the room up a bit before changing dust's ice pack and tucking him in further. he feels a little funny in the soul but it's not uncomfortable.

as for headcanons these are likely different from canon

killer is omnisexual with a preference for men and is unlabeled when it comes to gender identity. he's looked into agenderflux though and doesn't mind the term.

when either killer or dust are having a bad day, i can imagine them helping each other out by offering to spar. they wouldn't say outright "let me help you" or something, but it'd be a silent acknowledgment that they're sparring to take out all their frustrations on each other. sometimes it ends up pretty bad, and maybe they'll patch each other up, but that's about it. killer would probably poke fun at dust it doesn't matter who's patching up, who he'll find a way to irritate the other.

when they're both having bad days, i don't think it would be any different. maybe they'd actually be out for each other's throats, but they're too scared to actually kill each other. they won't admit they like each other, but they do need each other in the most co-dependent toxic way possible.

-

Killer looks out over the mushy landscape Nightmare created hundreds of years ago. His window whistles but not from the wind coming in and thrusting itself back out. Instead, there's a fake whirling he conjured up inside his brain that sends a sickening cold spark up his spine.

Even though there wasn't wind in the place, Killer still felt unbelievably cold anyway despite being nothing but a sack of bruised up bones just waiting to be snapped into a trillion pieces. The loud thrumming constantly ringing over and over again in his ears wasn't helping his case in the slightest.

The only light he ever saw in this godforsaken place was from his eye strainingly bright red soul. He hated himself so much it might as well have created another new feeling for him to experience if he could even feel anything anymore. It's not like it mattered.

Admittedly, he felt like a fuck up. The only reason why he's here in the first place is because he made a mindless deal with a god who suffers from a lack of parental guidance. To be fair, he had no place to be talking about being parentless, but it made him feel better about himself when he was stepping on other people to get some resemblance of a reaction or maybe a rise.

Matter of fact, messing with Nightmare was one of his favorite things to do. The anger in Nightmare's horrifyingly black goo always gave him a disgustingly pleasurable feeling when he got the harsh end of the stick which just so happened to be every single time. It gave him the heightened sense of finally being able to melt into his head and forget about the ringing for a while.

Sometimes he'd lay there in a puddle of his own black tar-like tears for hours on end wondering when he'll slip back into that familiar state again. The one where he can't think straight.

Other times Killer gets up to find something more to hurt himself and watch as the blood spills out, making a mess while he stares at the oozing red liquid.

Sometimes he tries again.

Killer gets up from his bed, clearing the thoughts from his head and sitting up. He's looking down towards the floor like it has some deeper hidden meaning or has some kind of complex code he could lose himself in for a couple of hours. He needs to lose himself for a couple hours. He hates feeling nothing. He hates feeling like nothing.

His voided eyes glanced up to his door which was locked. There were scratches on the door from the short amount of time he kept a cat around. The moment was short-lived.

Strangely enough, the lights were on in the hall. Killer shared the hallway with three other versions of himself but he never paid any attention to them. He wasn't even sure what their names were. All he knew them by was through their attributes. Red eyed creep, hooded freak, monotonous geek.

For the first time in a while Killer felt a rush run through his bones. The feeling made him shiver. Thoughts of what could possibly happen swirled around in his empty head, making him so dizzy he might fall over from sheer excitement.

Slowly, Killer finds himself pushing his hollowed out body off of his bed and quietly sneaking forward to twist the knob of his door as silently as he could. He didn't know why he was being so stealthy. Maybe he wanted to connect with someone. Maybe he didn't wanna scare them away so he could get the full feel of what something new feels like again.

The door creaks unbearably loudly. It sounds like scratching the surface of a chalkboard with nothing but your bare fingers or the sound of a fork screaming when it rubs the side of a plate.

Killer peeks out the small gap he managed to peel back, looking left. Looking right. To his right is the hooded freak sitting with his back against the wall. Watching him, Killer can tell his posture is terrible from the way it curls unnaturally. The other is scrunched up like he's about to lose his shit if the silence keeps getting louder.

Killer almost feels bad for the guy. Almost. He was here for a reason and he had no doubt that they were similar at least in that aspect. His legs moved forward before his good for nothing brain could form a comprehensive train of thought. He had no idea where he would go with this but the thrill made his bones tingle in a way he's never felt before.

The hooded figure perks up, aware of his not so secret presence.

He looks up to find Killer staring at him with those dark soulless eyes, head tilted 45 degrees like a curious mutt. The urge to stick two fingers into his eye holes makes his soul throb nauseatingly. His eyes don't dare to meet fully with Killer's, the fear of seeing himself in the mass of black oily tears filling him with a terribly unpleasant dread.

Killer grins from the corner of his eye to the other as he senses the power he has over the hooded freak.

"So," he started, stepping in front of the skeleton, "You look pathetic, you know." His tone of voice had an underlying line of sympathy for the lonely pile below him. His shoes were toe to toe with the other's dusty and faded pink slippers, covered with strange stains.

"Fuck off." A fire ignited in the skeleton beneath him, making Killer's soul skip a beat if it could. He felt a gentle push of amusement pull him forward, wondering what else he can get his other version to say.

Killer's smile widened. "So you do talk." He pushed on, mumbling just low enough for the other skeleton to barely hear him, "And you're feisty too."

He didn't know why, but his heart was beating rapidly. He could feel the pulse of his soul reaching out for any kind of surface to helplessly grip onto.

He tried shaking it off in his next failed attempt at a sentence, the words coming out in unsteady breaths.

"What's.. Your name? N-never bothered to ask."

"Why should I tell you?" The nameless freak tugged at the scarf around his neck, pulling it forward to prevent the feeling of a noose constricting his neck.

"Well, mine's Killer. I see why you don't talk. Your voice sounds like you drowned yourself in hard drugs until you couldn't think anymore." Killer poked at him, gauging a reaction.

"...Dust." The other finally answered.

"And you don't know anything about me."

He sneered, wanting so badly to be left alone. His bones ached from being in the same spot for so long, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave this moment.

"You reek." Killer blurted.

Dust raised a brow, though Killer couldn't tell. "I didn't know smelling nice was a standard."

Killer squinted his eyes and bent down until he was at Dust's level, and yet he wasn't willing to sit next to the scum. His boney fingers rested on his knees as he studied Dust's shadowed face. His hands could easily choke the fuck out of Dust right now if he wanted.

Dust must've read his thoughts because he pulled the red scarf up to cover his exposed neck.

"Is this all you do?" He mumbled. "Stare?"

The way Dust spoke gave Killer's head a spin. Something inside of him was begging to be free, to set Killer off and give him something to chase down as prey. His empty eyes had a dangerously determined glint to them.

The light flickered once. Twice. Killer disappeared. Thrice. He's on top of Dust, jerking the scarf far enough back to choke him even just slightly. Dust's hands tensed up as did the rest of his body. His magic surged under the flick of his wrist, knee coming up to shove Killer away.

Soon enough, a sharp bone appeared in his grip and he had flipped their position so he was on top of Killer. Dust held the sharpened edge up to Killer's throat in that same second, the fine side sanded down to the sharpness of a needle.

I've been a little busy but hopefully I'll have something interesting soon.

they're kind of like bird sans think of it that way

so wingplay is a yes. basically their wings are sensitive points on their body.

except hear me out whenever they preen their wings they can't get every single feather so they kind of depend on each other to get the rest. they hate asking each other for help so sometimes they'll just live through the messy wing life before giving in and letting each other comb through their wings. and hey who knows if it's really good maybe they'll accidentally set each other off. i love wings. i like birds. i love kist.

when they do let the preening happen, they try to be gentle as possible so they don't hurt the other person. despite that, they still poke fun at each other and make snarky remarks. it's in their nature.

FADE IN:

QUIET CHARACTER ROOM -- NIGHT

Dark room with the moonlight peeking in through the blinds. Crickets are chirping. There’s a dark shadow or a silhouette in the room, the light illuminating their body. They are in bed looking out the window longingly as the trees rustle and the wind howled. Outside the window is the moon hiding behind thin clouds who casts a beautiful light through the glass. The bed the mysterious character is laying on is disheveled as its bedsheets cascade to the floor, spilling like a body of water. The character is deep in thought, his arms now pushing on the bed behind him and lifting himself up into a sitting position.

LOUD CHARACTER ROOM -- NIGHT

The room is much brighter than the last, it being lit up with red led lights plastered along the ceiling. The loud character is listening to music in his headphones. His right hand is pushing one side of his headphones closer to his ear, trying to listen to the music louder. The music is on the highest volume it can be, seeping out the headphones. His other hand is in a rock sign as he begins to bang his head back and forth, jamming to the music. He is whisper-yelling the lyrics out loud before he suddenly stops. He takes off his headphones and frowns.

LOUD CHARACTER

"Aw, man… Headphones are dead. Bummer."

He sets down his headphones on the bed and sighs. The loud character brings his palms up to his ears and presses them there only to retract them and do it again. He repeats this a few more times. The sound is also muffled at the same time as he does this.

LOUD CHARACTER

"Uuugh…"

The loud character groans and glances over to the alarm clock sitting on his nightstand. The clock reads 11:11. Seemingly bored, he takes his blanket and wraps it around himself. He swings his legs off the bed and reaches the floor, now getting up and staring out the window. His eyes are on the stars and his reflection in the glass. We can see the curtains are up and always have been. His arm reaches out from underneath the blanket wrapped around his body, now unlocking the window and pushing open the glass.

Instantly, the wind whirled into his room and hit his face. He closes his eyes and allows the breeze to whistle in his ears.

But there was another sound of a different whistle nearby. His eyes open. The wind isn’t only reaching into his room, it’s reaching into someone else’s as well. He grabs onto the ledge and pops his head out the window. First, he looks left. There is nothing. Then, he looks right. There is a wave of smoke drifting away into the night, and it’s coming out of someone’s window.

QUIET CHARACTER ROOM -- NIGHT

The dark silhouette is leaning against their windowsill with a cigarette in hand. He brings the end to his mouth and takes a long drag. For a few seconds, there is no smoke in the night air, and soon, the last smoke puff is long gone as it disappears into the sky.

There is a loud noise, like someone is trying to yell to him.

LOUD CHARACTER

"Hey! What are you doing!?"

The odd man is leaned over the ledge and waving his hand in a crazy manner. He looks excited, and his hair is tumbling in the wind.

The quiet character looks to his left and sees the crazy guy waving at him. He looks unphased, almost like this has happened before.

LOUD CHARACTER

"Hellooooo??"

The loud character is leaning out even further now. He sticks out like a sore thumb.

LOUD CHARACTER

"Hey, are you even listening? What. Are. You. DOING??"

The quiet character pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in frustration. In one swift motion, the man puts out his cigarette and tosses it into a nearby ashtray carelessly.

QUIET CHARACTER

"I see you. What do you want?"

He rests his chin on his hands.

The loud character grins.

LOUD CHARACTER

"Wow, I was starting to think you were deaf! Well, let’s start with one thing - Uhh… Oh! Yeah, what are you doing?"

The quiet character rolls his eyes and turns his attention away, his eyes now on the moon.

QUIET CHARACTER

- drug addictions

just being cautious and do take care of yourselves

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dust and killer would probably have different views on getting high or whatever. dust would probably do all of the above. snorting stuff, inhaling stuff, smoking, drinking, he'd probably do those. killer on the other hand isn't a big smoker. he also doesn't drink too much. maybe killer will drink occasionally but nnneeh? personally i can only see killer inhaling things and maybe snorting stuff. probably a big fan of baking things into sweet treats even though he himself still needs to work on baking.

anyway despite not smoking, killer always carries a lighter on hand for dust just in case he needs it. dust forgets to grab a lighter often. eventually with time I'd imagine he just gets used to killer having a lighter at all times and never thinks to bring one anymore. how sweet.

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bonus - whenever dust and killer are zooted they react differently.

for example killer is the annoying type. he's got the wit, the intelligence, blahblahblah. when he's baked i imagine his stats would all start building into the annoyance bar. he'd poke at dust jokingly and say something dumb like "I'm not touching you"

dust on the other hand reverts to being lazy and lies around doing little to nothing. if he had to be doing something it would probably be something that gets him higher up in the clouds.

the end

guess who is who (impossible edition)

or if you want something better then "i can make him worse." x "i can make him worse." they're terrible for each other but you can make them truly worse or turn the tables and actually make them learn to be better. bonus points if you make them terrible for each other but codependent. side note don't do this in real life it really sucks

if killer and dust were birds they'd be

killer - a crimson backed tanager

dust - a seychelles paradise flycatcher

Killer and Dust have totally played russian roulette together. they're all about the dangerous stuff.

dust already didn't want to trust people because he knew that when he let them close they always had to leave him one way or another

so killer leaving him behind would hurt him so much on the inside that he'd be skeptical of every attempt at friendship or a connection

but surprise surprise killer comes back for dust after convincing color because they're best friends but dust makes it incredibly hard to be saved. he feels betrayed by killer so he closes him off. it takes some time for killer to get dust to trust him again with the help of color and eventually dust and killer get out.

bonus if you want horror to get out too but this is a kist blog so that part is up to you

side note this scenario is perfect for kist angst as dust probably believes he's lesser than color. he's also well aware that color would be the best choice for killer but that's not what killer wants. killer's first choice is dust. it always has been and it always will be.

little bit of explicit stuff i guess proceed with caution

kist clicker training

killer would be the kind of guy to scroll through a random list of like random kinks or whatever and comes across clicker training (honestly I'd argue that it's not even a kink just a random activity)

killer decides to test it out on dust very subtly. at first, he clicks once and gives dust a random gift as a reward. maybe a rock, coffee, tea, a bracelet, etc. eventually dust grows used to the sound and associates one click from killer with a reward. one day, killer clicks once and dust looks up to find that there's no reward in killer's hand. instead of a physical reward, i imagine killer would just stare back with a look that says "what?"

and he'd be all smug about it and tease dust about it (then like a few months later he'd do it again and dust would STILL look up because now it's stuck in his brain. click = reward.)