BONUS ROUND 1

[hso_mods]

Bonus Round 1

Genre-Mixing

Hey, shippers! Welcome to your very first bonus round proper--we hope you have lots of fun with it! This time around we're going to be asking you to mix it up a little--each fanwork posted for this round will be a mish-mash of two different genres, blended together in a delightful incestuous slurry to create an UNSTOPPABLE CREATIVE CONCOCTION--er. Or. Something.

Yeah, we're genre-mixing. That's what we're doing this round.

Rules

1. Submit prompts! Prompts should consist of two different genres and one ship. This cannot be your team's ship! These are worth 5 points each, for a maximum of 100 points per team.


2. Look through the prompts and fill whichever you like!


3. You may not fill prompts for your ship, nor may you fill your own team's prompts.


4. Fills should be posted as replies to the prompts which they are for, following the format below. They may be any medium.

Title Format
If you are starting a new thread, please use this format in your title.
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP]
Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If your team name is not in this format and in the title we cannot guarantee that it will be counted.

If you are filling a prompt, use this format in your title.
FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP]
Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If your team name is not in this format and in the title we cannot guarantee that it will be counted.

Posts not using this format in the title will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, no matter what they contain. They, like all comments on the comm, are subject to the Wank Policy.

Scoring
For prompt posts: 5 points each (maximum of 100 per team)

For fills (as stated here):
First 5 entries in each post: 30 (per entry)
Entries 6-10 in each post: 20 (per entry)
Entries 11-15 in each post: 10 (per entry)
Entries 16+ in each post: 5 (per entry)

All scored content must be created/assembled new for this round.

If you have any questions, please ask them at the FAQ post here, or email them to us (homestuck.shipping at gmail). Otherwise, we cannot guarantee that we will see them in a timely fashion!

Comments

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3NEPETA

[bloodredbites]

Stitchpunk + Spy Fiction for Dave <3 Terezi

FILL: TEAM Dave<3Rose<3Terezi

[dragon_bagon]

uHH, I'm not really sure how good this is but here you go?

~*~

The spying business just isn’t what it used to be, Dave “Coolkid” Strider muses over his beer. Once upon a time it had been tailored suits, concealed pistols and expensive gadgets.

Of course, to be fair, he still had at least one expensive gadget to work with.

She might take offence if he called her that, though.

Ah. Speak of the devil and she’ll cackle madly into your ear. “I got the data, Coolkid! Now put down the drink, and get your fleshy human ass over to the vent so you can unscrew it for me!”

“Agent TZ, you know I would never drink during a mission. That would be highly irresponsible of me.”

“Haha, of course not, Coolkid! Of coooourse not!”

Damn it, she’s definitely getting quicker every time. He only managed to get halfway though the beer. Ah well, it’s best to do what the lady says. It’s back to the vent for him.

He arrives and the vent is already open with his partner nowhere to be seen. Dammit, where is sh-

-There is something very slightly pulling at the hair on the back of his head-

Dave reaches behind him to pluck the tiny, high-tech, rag doll that is his partner off of his head. She just hangs from his hand, grinning impishly. Not that her stitched up mouth ever seems to be wearing anything that isn’t an impish smile, of course.

“Really, TZ? You couldn’t wait the extra five minutes for me to arrive?”

“You were being too slow! For the safety of the mission I obviously had to take matters into my own hands!”

“Whatever. You sure you got everything?”

“I already told you earlier that I did! Sigh,” (she actually says sigh, that’s how melodramatic she’s being,) “Despite all these months of working with Mr. Coolkid here, my partner still doesn’t trust me!”

“It’s just standard procedure, TZ. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

“Standard procedure is for uncool wimps!”

“And the lady proves my point. C’mon, lets go.”

Yeah. Spying is definitely nothing like it used to be.

Dave Strider thinks he might like this better, though.

PROMPT: TEAM DIRK<3JAKE<3JANE<3ROXY

[nextian]

Heist film + bildungsroman, Aranea<3Meenah.

Re: PROMPT: TEAM DIRK<3JAKE<3JANE<3ROXY

[angiie]

I AM ON IT

PROMPT: TEAM DIRK<3JAKE<3JANE<3ROXY

[nextian]

Found poetry + Gothic literature, Kanaya<3<Rose

FILL: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

Contemporaneously Gothic, Romantic
literary movements
the roman noir

by such writers by such writers

author
The Seer
of works more horrific and violent

the Gothic
The fruit of this harvest of horrors

lurid tale of monastic debauchery, black magic, and diabolism
The novel could be read as a pastiche of the genre, self-parody
a constituent part of the Gothic from the time of inception.
appalled some contemporary readers; depraved, sadistic

spectral nuns
scurrilous view of the important development
influenced established terror-writer
ensnared in a web of deceit
eventually dragged

transcend the horror of these scenes
she would have to visit hell itself.

The framework for fiction,
critiqued in the preface
"the inevitable product of the revolutionary shock with which the whole resounded"

This correlation

between the Terror and the "terrorist" of writing

represented

and was noted

(original text found [HERE])

PROMPT: TEAM JADE<3JOHN

[vinenettle]

Aradia<3Sollux

Sword and Sorcery + Forbidden Romance

FILL: TEAM WV<3PM<3AR

[vamoosi]

Wow ehe this got kinda... long. These things happen, yanno. Hope it's up to snuff! Also that it suitably fits the second genre... I tried, but. (Sworcery is awesome, let's be cosmic friends forever.)

Warning for... ... not much, I don't think? mentions of blood and, well, death, obvious. Swearing. Extremely silly crossovers.

--

She saw him across the Alternian hills, all aglow in the dark from the screen of his husktop, shoulders hunched up to rest his wrists on the keyboard, & she turned around and followed the ghosts home. This was not her place to make friends or enemies or anything. It was not her place in any way.

She saw him again in the dreamspace that Alternians visited sometimes, that they clawed and fought to avoid. Between the tendrils of the suffocating, cloudy shadows, she saw him in a half way, maybe flickering, maybe just asleep. She peered at him from afar until he was swallowed by the horrors of the twilight realm & swept him from her mind to return to her quest.

He saw her while she was listening to the fretful whispers of the dead & there was no walking away, then. He shuffled up to her - his waking self seemed so odd without his husktop - & said, voice a little odd, like he was speaking with something between his tongue and teeth, "Are you talking to yourself, or."

The Maid met his eyes. She held his stare for some time & it was in a way Right, like the way she'd hold her whip. Then, "we're discussing the consequences of my task, although we still seem loathe to explain the task itself."

"Uh-huh," he said back, & she figured that maybe they could be friends after all.


He spied her, days later, days which blurred together at the borders of dreams and waking, conjuring a copse consort with temporal tones. His posture shifted while she coaxed it out of its sleep, went a little straighter than his normal lazy slouch. Something in the megatome told her oh, wow. When she had finally sent the consort off with a ringing nak, he cleared his throat & spoke.

"I have a friend," he said, "well, not really a friend, he's kind of a fucking nutjob, but I know a guy and he'd probably say this was some kind of fucking miracle."

He had a smirk tilted on the side of his face & something about it was very, very sad.

"I'm Sollux, by the way," he said, though he didn't have a hand out to shake.

"We aren't friends," the Maid said. She gathered herself up from the ground & the ghosts told her to hesitate. She hesitated. Sollux hesitated.

"Well," he said finally, "well, fuck you too. I don't need to be your friend, god, I was just extending a damn olive branch to you and your weird mystic who-goddamn-knows-what, I figured it was polite, I mean, FUCK."

He spun on his mismatched heels (everything was mismatched with him, split down the middle, reds & blues & blacks & white), but in the same breath spun back & said, "Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm an asshole, I'll just leave you alone." Turned around again.

The ghosts in her whispered, no, whispered, leave, whispered, soon we will all be dead. They compelled her away.

"Aradia," the Maid said first, then followed the urgings of the dead.



He freaked out when she came back limping, a hand clutched tight over her side & two trigons heavier, but to give him credit he only freaked out a little before she blacked out. She slipped into sleep, fell hard into the realm of dreams where the moons loomed too dark to see & the horrorterrors almost touched her skin. Their limbs slid over her just centimeters away, so cool and dark that she could feel the puckering freeze. She let herself be a coward & ran.

She ran into him there, in a mock version of his home, tall with many windows, tall without any of the shadows in. Some portion of him, anyway, split down the middle like all the rest of him, a Sollux made of empty eyes & crackling energy. He touched her where she bled & leaned in close enough that when he breathed she felt it against her ear. He was cold as the shadows. "Firewalk with me," he whispered, &.

She dreamt he kissed her & in the twilight realm of dreams she kissed him back. The ghosts in her whispered all about her demise.

She woke up to Sollux swearing like it was a prayer. He had her propped again the outer wall of his tower, a rag tied tight around her wound & when she twisted over to cough up blood and vomit he only chanted louder. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Aradia!"

The Maid spit to clean out her mouth. "You were warned that we couldn't be friends."

"God, what, why, because you were gonna come over sometime and bleed all over the fucking carpet, that's not a good reason, Aradia!"

"We aren't just a Maid," she said. When she talked her tongue slid against all the parts of her mouth that tasted coppery sick. "We're a martyr. Do you have any water?"

Sollux glowed red/blue & she could hear a window open far above. A glass of water floated down on his telekinesis. While she drank, he took a breath & said, "Yeah, I know. And you're fucking stupid to be one, you know that."

She swirled one gulp around her mouth, swallowed a second. "Yeah, we know."



With the third trigon, with the megatome, with the key she took after filling a girl's vicious spiderweb with the screams of the dead, with the lengths of time twisted, she finished her task. She finished & she was alive, somehow. The ghosts had quieted to a murmur & she thought, what now?

She stood on the crest of a hill with her whip in hand. Maybe she should go back to sleep, maybe she should confront the horrorterrors, maybe she should dream of Sollux again.

From the hilltop she saw Sollux slurring his steps & the huge spikes of psychic energy around him had her terrified.



fulfilled my w0eful errand #sw0rcery
s0rry #sw0rcery

@twinarmaggedons im s0rry, and im s0rry i lied
@twinarmaggedons we are friends f0rever
@twinarmaggedons <3

PROMPT: TEAM Dave<3Rose<3Terezi

[dragon_bagon]

Science fiction detective story for Jane<3Roxy!

FILL: TEAM Dave<3Terezi

[soashamed]

I hope this is up to scratch...

---

The death of Jake English was certainly making waves, and lots of them.

Jake English had been an outspoken man; he was against implanting tracker chips, against mandatory cybernetic modifications, against CrockerCorp's monopoly on The Web and their monopoly on space exploration. He'd created SkiaNet, the only direct competitor to CrockerCorp's megacompany. He'd gone on intergalactic television and declared that if Ms. Crocker had any guts left in her yellow belly at all she would 'fight him in a proper duel at dawn, you fishy tyrant!'

It wasn't very hard to see why Jake English had been killed. The real mystery was why it had been a SkiaNet robot that did it.

Not just any robot either, the robot was Jake English's famous sparring robot and bodyguard. Brobot was the first completely free thinking AI android that either Prospit or Derse had ever seen. Even CrockerCorp had never been able to recreate it; Brobot's design could have revolutionized worlds. That would never happen now that it had been seen standing over Jake's corpse, metallic hands outstretched and waiting to be arrested.

The scene, captured on film and broadcast intergalactically, was a damning one. And it wasn't just damning for Jake English's company but also for the man who had made Brobot in his image: Dirk Strider. He was SkiaNet's chief roboticist and the sole creator of the android.

Which was why Jane was going to talk to him first, if she could ever get a hold of the man. It felt like he had more distracting AIs than Jane had disguises in her chest. Every time she thought she had found the real Dirk Strider it turned out to be another robot.

It would have helped if the receptionist would stop being so damned cagey with her.

"Why are you even going after a guy in mourning?" The receptionist was a pretty young woman who had both a half finished martini and a distinctive slur to her voice. Jane didn't exactly have to put her detective skills to use in order to deduce the girl was drunk. Probably because her boss was dead and SkiaNet wasn't likely to survive much longer. "I'm sure Dirk is off crying his little metal heart out, give the man some peace! His best friend died."

The receptionist shook her head solemnly and then attempted what appeared to be a go at downing her drink in an equally solemn manner. Jane watched as she put her drink down and then started typing on the desk. Jane had always been jealous of people who could afford the desk computers, the technology was as advanced as it was expensive. When the woman finished she took out a shaker from under her desk and poured herself another drink.

"Now see here young lady," Jane crossed her arms, wearing her sternest look, one that came courtesy of her Dad. "I understand this is a hard time for everyone but I need to talk with Mr. Strider while everything is fresh in his mind. If you wouldn't mind miss...?"

"Roxy." The girl, Roxy, winked at her. "Roxy Lalonde."

And it appeared the mystery had begun to thicken. Jane pointedly ignored the wink, it was very silly. However it looked like the receptionist was on her list of people to talk to as well. She just hadn't known how she was going to go about it. Roxy Lalonde was the daughter of a rather well known celebrity and had famously inherited 'unreal' amounts of money. Money she had magnanimously poured into SkiaNet.

What Roxy Lalonde was doing in SkiaNet's head office acting the part of a receptionist was a mystery that needed to be gotten to the bottom to. Jane's famous detective's gut was telling her this was most definitely an important development.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Lalonde." Jane gave her an affable smile and a nod. "I would very much like if we-"

"So, you didn't tell me your name." Roxy smiled back at her. She really was a pretty woman, especially when she smiled. Her fuchsia eyes were most likely mechanical implants, but they looked nice framed by her white eyelashes and it stood out starkly against her dark skin. "I need to know who to tag on my blog." She picked her glass back up and had another long drink from it.

Jane had the urge to just pluck the drink out of her hands and tell the girl she had clearly had enough, but she was hardly Roxy's mother and alcohol was as good a tongue loosener as any. "Apologies, I'm Jane Crocker." It occurred to her that her name might not help her much here, but Roxy didn't seem to react much besides swaying slightly in her seat. "I'm a detective in the homicide department."

"Nice to meet you, Janey." Roxy put out her hand for a handshake, the movement almost exaggerated in nature. Jane took it and gave it a quick shake, a little surprised when Roxy squeezed her hand before letting go. "You were saying?"

"Just that I think we should talk." She was happy they were coming back around to business. She got the feeling Roxy was probably very good at running people around in circles. "I heard you knew Mr. English well."

"We were pretty good friends. He was a great guy." Roxy sighed and looked away. "You know, I'm surprised there's even an investigation on this. I thought they'd just melt down Brobot, arrest Dirk and be done with it."

Jane resisted the urge to wince, because that had been the exact suggestion made. The pressure from CrockerCorp to quickly close the book on this case and neatly disassemble SkiaNet had been immense. But Jane was a true gumshoe, and she never shirked her duties! "Well I just want to make sure that nothing had interfered with the robot before we jump to any conclusions. Hence why I wanted to see Mr. Strider."

Roxy turned back to look at her, her bright eyes sharp. As she leaned in, Jane couldn't help but wonder just how drunk this woman really was. "Oh something interfering with that robot alright, but it wasn't Dirk."

Now that was interesting. "Do you know something pertinent to the investigation, Ms. Lalonde?"

And then it was gone, Roxy's sobriety vanished as though it had never really been there. She was smiling and waving her hand dismissively. "Pleaaase, call me Roxy! Or Rox, or Ro-lal or anything else. Whenever people call me Ms. Lalonde I feel like I'm talking to my mother." She rolled her eyes.

"Alright." Jane didn't really understand the aversion to the name, but she did know a stalling tactic when she saw one. It was going to take more than that to trick her! "Do you know something I should know about, Roxy?"

"Maybe." There was definitely something sly about this Roxy. Jane had suspected, but this confirmed it for her. She knew more than she was letting on. "And maybe I'll tell it to you if you take me out for a drink."

"A drink?" Jane raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the half finished martini on the ridiculously expensive desk. "You already have a drink."

"Yes, but I'm paying for that one."

She frowned, deciding to make a last ditch effort at protocol. "You know, withholding information from the police is a crime."

"It's only a crime if you can prove I'm withholding it." Jane was graced with another wink. "Now what do you say? Will the cute detective take the hot receptionist out for a drink or should I break out my nail file and get back to work?"

Jane didn't blush, but it was a near thing. It wasn't often the people she interviewed called her cute, usually it was much nastier things. But this girl was clearly a joker, and Jane could respect that. "Just one drink. That's it." She didn't need to get sloshed in front of what could be a valuable witness.

"Perfect." Roxy smiled warmly at her and then began to type furiously on the desk. the image of a cartoon speaker showed up and she spoke into it. "Di-Stri, I'm taking the day off. I've got a hot date!"

The voice that came back from the desk was deep and familiar. Jane had heard it on the news more than once and she had been listening to automated recordings of it running her around in circles. "I don't know why you're telling me this. I told you not to even show up."

This Di-Stri was obviously Dirk Strider and quite possibly the real version of him too. She could hardly let the opportunity go to waste. "Mr. Strider," She interjected, "My name is Jane Crocker and I would like to-"

"Okay, byyyye!" Roxy talked over her hurriedly and made a slashing sign on the desk to end the call. Jane looked up at her in shock and Roxy just grinned at her, standing up. "So how about that drink? I know a great place on Derse's moon. You're gonna love it."

For what was supposed to be an open and shut case Jane got the feeling that this was going to be a very long investigation indeed.

PROMPT: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

Steampunk + Western, Dave<3Tavros

FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

[manisoke]

Why yes, those are dicks embroidered on Daves boots. Also Dave rides side saddle and no fucks were given, haha~

PROMPT: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

Gothic Romance + Futuristic Dystopia, Eridan<>Kanaya

Re: PROMPT: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[thelawisnotmocked]

Consider it done.

PROMPT: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

Soap Opera + Urban Fantasy, Aradia<3Equius

FILL: TEAM Eridan<3Roxy

[lustfullyc.livejournal.com]

Early in the evening I found myself on my way back to the hive of Mr. Zahhak, the wealthy blue-blood I had met earlier that week. My matesprit believed I was visiting a client about the spirits haunting their hive. In a strange way it makes me pity him more.
I know I shouldn't be doing this. It would probably be for the best if I never saw Equius Zahhak again. But something about the blue-blood is irresistible. The way he stumbled over himself when he tried to give orders, a nervous sweat beginning to show on his brow. The way a troll known for his strength looked at me, me of all people, as if I could break him to pieces. Besides, the voices told me to go back here. Why the dead care if I see him again is beyond me.

When I got to his hive I was once again hit by how foolish it was for me to even be here. But I pressed on and nervously knocked on the door.
He answered it as though he was waiting for me and hurried me inside, looking around to see if any of his neighbors saw me. Only then did I realize that he had almost as much to l did. He was looking anywhere but at me as he moped at his sweat. "I wasn't 100% sure that you would come."
"Neither was I," I told him.
"Ah..." He paused. "I understand that my invitation was undeniably forward. Perhaps even lewd ..."
I didn't know what to say to that. I'm still not even sure that last part was meant for me.
At last he seemed to notice the awkwardness in the air.
"Perhaps we should retire to the sitting room... Or somewhere else more comfortable... If you wouldn't mind"

-
I hope you like this. I think I did better with making it Soap Opera-y than I did with hitting the Urban Fantasy mark. *shrug*
I may write more of this same world.

PROMPT: TEAM Dave<3Rose<3Terezi

[dragon_bagon]

Coming of age ghost story for Meenah<3<Roxy!

FILL: TEAM DIRK<3ROXY

[robokittens]

(Ahhh, this feels more like ... a bit of a story than a complete thing, but I hope it is acceptable!)

"THIS," Roxy shouted, slamming the front door behind her, "IS STUPID."

And it was stupid. The stupid fight they were having was stupid, and their big stupid house in the middle of stupid nowhere was stupid, and the forest surrounding it was stupid, and her mom's stupid writer's block was stupid, and her mom's stupid plan to move Roxy away from the "bad influences" of the big city was stupid, and moving in the middle of sophomore year was really stupid, and the big old lake with the crumbling old cemetary leading down into it was incredibly stupid.

"You're reely loud," said the thing sitting on a mostly-intact gravestone near the water. "You shoald be more careful. You might wake the dead!" The thing smiled at Roxy, and it had an awful lot of teeth.

Roxy bristled. "What are you? Some kind of demon? Ugh, mom really did a great job picking this place!" There wasn't as much invective to it as there could have been, because she was busy kicking at the dirt around the big tree in the center of the graveyard. She knew she'd hidden a bottle here somewhere, and there was no way she could deal with evil creatures sober. "Just the place for her fucking magic books," she muttered, and finally the bare hint of a smile crossed her face as the toe of her shoe made contact with something solid.

She bent and pulled the bottle of vodka from the dirt, and when she stood upright again the thing was standing next to her. It was still weirdly translucent, catching the light in odd ways, but from this angle she could see the tall horns arching up from its head. The mouth full of shark teeth wasn't any more reassuring this close. She uncapped the bottle and took a pull of it, pointedly ignoring the way the thing watched her swallow.

"A demon?" The thing snorted. "You don't know anyfin, do ya? I --" There was a pause, clearly intended to be dramatic, during which Roxy took another swig of vodka. "-- am a ghost!"

"Great. Even better."

"Hey!" The thing frowned, brows furrowed over the weird sort of glasses it was wearing. "Why dontcha sound impressed? Or scared, you otter be reely fuckin scared, you know that?"

Roxy capped the bottle carefully, and reached out a hand toward the ghost-thing. "Yeah right," she said, and poked it, expecting her finger to go right through. When she made contact with the soft, damp fabric of the ghost's t-shirt, her eyes widened. She dropped the bottle, and didn't even hear if it shattered. She took a step back.

"That's right," the thing said. "Water'd I tell you?" It smiled again, and as it took a step toward Roxy, the setting sun glistened off its teeth.

PROMPT: Team Jake<3Jane

[veryberrybunch]

Aranea<3Meenah

Romantic Comedy + Horror!

FILL: team dave<3vriska

[thip]

"You're a lot quieter without your head, you min-know?"

PROMPT: TEAM TEREZI<3VRISKA

[mishfin]

how abouuuut dave<3rose detective comedy! :')

FILL: TEAM DAVE<3TAVROS

[tavdos]

i don't know why, but i immediately thought of rose as sherlock holmes and dave as john watson

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3DIRK

[calamitybreak]

Dave♠Karkat
Featuring Historical romance and psychological horror would be amazing!!

FILL: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

He has lost track of the number of nights he has spent in his pitch prison. In the beginning, he had counted by the times he was fed stale bread and dirty ale. Then he started suspecting that the meals weren't at regular intervals. But he was cut off from the sun, and therefore had no way to track the time in any meaningful manner.

He twists against his shackles, not to get comfortable on the stone slab he is stretched across, but rather yearning to scratch at where the cuffs have dug in and left itching wounds.

Sometimes, he would hear them whispering outside the iron door. The iron door that sealed so tightly not even a stray beam of light could pass through. And he wondered if he was going insane, maybe hearing voices from beyond the grave waiting to greet him, or they were just trying to make him feel that way.

On occasion, he would be unchained and dragged as quickly as possible up numerous winding stairs and into a courtyard. Always midday. And he prayed to the Lord he served to provide him with some means to shield his eyes. Even a blindfold to protect him from the worst of it.

Today seems to be one of those occasions. He tensed as he sensed a club being brought down on his head. A precaution against attempted escapes while they uncuffed him.

Smart of them, he admitted.

His eyes fell shut soon after impact.

When he awoke, he was sprawled face down on the floor of a room. A room, he wondered in his head, and not the courtyard. Today would be one of those days, he concluded with a cynical twist of his lips.

"Open your eyes," bellowed an angry voice, instantly recognized by the prisoner.

He refused.

The man spoke once more, quickly and under his breath, this time in a tongue he understood not. The words of those heathens. The words of his captors.

His hair was grabbed and head flung back. He sprawled backwards on the floor. Eyes opening instinctively, and he lost the first of the day's many battles.

The atmosphere was caliginous; Smoke filled the room and his maladjusted eyes burned and hazed his vision. A single flame flickered from an oil lamp in middle of the room. From his viewpoint, he room itself was empty except for the table holding aloft that lamp, his captor, and himself.

"Are you ready to obey," yelled the dark-skinned man in front of him. "Are you going to willingly submit to me?"

The prisoner rose up to his knees, ankles bound and looks into the jaundiced eyes of his abductor. He spits in his face.

It only earns him a back-handed slap across his face.

The sudden hot breath on his face causes his to flinch away.

"You will crumble before me today, knight."

"I have all the time in the world, saracen."

The man stood, retrieved a harvesting instrument from the table. He watched him walk, hazy in the abrasiveness of even the single flame. The man dropped to his knees to come before him, face nearly touching his.

"But, Sir Strider, do you have enough blood in you to withstand that long?"

And he bit down on the prisoner's bottom lip, drawing blood and chuckling as he pressed the curved blade against the crusader's pale neck.

The knight smiled wickedly.

PROMPT: TEAM Dave<3Rose<3Terezi

[dragon_bagon]

How about a superhero romantic comedy for Rose<3Jade!

FILL: TEAM TEREZI<3VRISKA

[skaiasthelimit]

sorry this isn't very good ;-;
http://imgur.com/8G1JF

PROMPT: TEAM Dave<3Sollux

[querulousartisan]

Steampunk and Zombie killing, Aradia<>Dave!

FILL: TEAM DAVE<3DIRK

[calamitybreak]

I.

There once was a boy named Dave Strider. He doesn't exist any more.

In his place stands a man who weilds a sword half his weight and relishes the sensation of the steel biting into his hands. He loves the swing and the taste of (murder) vengeance that hangs in the air.

In his place, stands a killer.

And always by his side, his (sidekick?bestfriend?soulmate?)--

Another killer.


II.

There once was a city named Alternia. A tall, beautiful city, right on the crux of development.

Until they developed themselves right into death and back again.

Needless to say, it doesn't exist any more. Only a ghost of the city remains, and only the monsters inhabit it.

Aradia is very familiar with monsters. After all, she's been living with them her entire life. The one by her side now might wear a pretty moniker and a pretty jacket and, undoubtedly, a pretty face, but he's a monster all the same.

Just like her. Just like him.


III.

There's a whine that wakes him up, rings in his ears and alerts him to something more. His mind clicks and whirrs as the gears shift into place and his eyes snap open, awake and alert and who is sitting on my chest?

He cranes his neck and it's her, it's always her. From the dirty brown leather goggles she wears to the matching whip in her hands, he recognises everything about her.

"Mind getting off?" he grunts out eventually,

She looks down at him and smiles. Doesn't move. "People don't come here any more," is all she says.

"Really? Then what am I doing here?"

"Well, no one that dances anywhere near as well as you do."

She doesn't mean a tango, either. Eventually, she slides off Dave's chest and almost makes no noise as she hits the ground.

He heaves in a breath of relief and sits up, stubbornly ignoring the wave of nausea that hits. He sets a hand down to steady himself, and eventually it passes. When he lifts his hands up to cradle his head, they're covered in blood.

None of it is his. It's all theirs and he's hit with another wave of nausea, one he almost fails to swallow down, but it's not his fault! It isn't his fault. He didn't ask-- he didn't want--

The hand on his shoulder drags him back to reality. She hands him his boots and his jacket and squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, "It's a crowd, out there. Ready to dance?"

There's a quirk on his lip, ever so slight but she catches it. She always does.

He pushes his shades up further on his nose and when he stands, he's ready. He holds his hand out for her. "May I...?"

She laughs and takes a little bow, then passes his sword (handle first quick learner) into his outstretched hand. "It'd be my pleasure."

They dance.


IV.

He can hear the clock tick in his mind, the perfect beat keeping time to the music in his head. It synchronises perfectly with the screams and gutteral moans that echo around him (block it out keep it out heft the headphones high heft the sword and swing slice cut and ignore it).

He can hear her footsteps dance in time beside him, a shuffle and a beat missed but never a step out of tune. They dance a perfect dance, even as (especially as) hands grip and slice at their skin, grappling for anything to hold on to grab on to rip tear apart--

The blood splatters on their clothes, but that's okay. They've long since learned to survive the bloodstains on their clothes and on their weapons and in their hair. Better someone else's blood easily removed than their own blood not so easily replaced.

He throws her a glance and she catches it, nods, moves beside him and they cordon the crowd off, using the steps of their dance and her whip to keep them in place.

He taps his feet with the tune. His tune. Their tune. Four bars rest then step forward swing fast quick allegretto moving into vivace and she moves beside him, whip moving in tune to his sword. It is a veritable storm, an ugly bloodbath as limbs fly and heads fly and feet fly but not theirs. Never theirs.

They're down. She quick steps back, moving into a tango, and he claps.

"Well danced," he says.

"I have a good partner," she says back with a grin.

Their dance is over (for now) but the dregs of it still tingles on his skin.

She picks up a head (still bleeding still moving? still disgusting) and dances.

---V?. -I?(?)
There once were two kids named Dave and Aradia. They don't exist anymore. For now just surviving is enough.

(and maybe a dance along the way)

---

(wow, that... good somewhat out of hand. Too many dancing metaphors! Aha... ha;;;;)

PROMPT: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

[manisoke]

Oh man uh....

Davesprite<3Jade
Body horror/Comfort

Re: PROMPT: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

[cypher]

...oh jeez I wish I could fill this one XD

PROMPT: Team Dave<3Rose<3Terezi

[magnificentbastards]

Rose<3Kanaya, film noir + vampire fiction

FILL: generalsparklepants (dave♠gamzee)

[generalsparklepants]

hope this is okay~

PROMPT: TEAM DIRK<3ROXY

[robokittens]

Dave♥Terezi, Harlequin Romance + Buddy Cops!

FILL: TEAM DAVE<3DAVE

[alouetta]

(the most staggeringly erotic thing ive ever written, no competition at all)
~

And she froze there, her womanly curves silhouetted in the doorway by the neon lights of the marijuana farm before her. Her powerful pistol was erect in her hands, one finger pitilessly caressing the trigger, the only one in control of its ruthless release.

STR1D3R, she vocalised dominantly, the husky tones of her voice as consternatingly erotic as they were authoritative, 1 4M GO1NG TO 3NT3R TH1S ROOM

1 4M GO1NG TO P3N3TR4T3 D33P 1NTO 1TS MO1ST 4ND HUM1D D3PTHS

4T F1RST SLOWLY, 4LLOW1NG TH3 CR1M1N4LS W1TH1N TO TR3MBL1NGLY 4NT1C1P4T3 MY 4RR1V4L, TH31R T3NS1ON MOUNT1NG W1TH 3V3RY STRONG 4ND S3LF-4SSUR3D ST3P 1 T4K3

BUT TH3N F4ST3R, F4ST3R 1 W1LL RUN! YOU W1LL QU1V3R 4S D4RK BULL3T 4FT3R BULL3T 3XPLOD3S FORC3FULLY FROM TH3 HOT 4ND THROBBING H34D OF MY P1STOL, STR41GHT 1NTO TH3 SOFT 4ND D3F3NC3L3SS 1NN4RDS OF V4R1OUS M4R41JU4N4 M4NUF4CTUR1NG M1SCR34NTS!

4S SPURTS OF HOT, W3T BLOOD 4ND V1SC3R4 TR1CKL3 S3NSUOUSLY DOWN TH3 PL4N3S OF YOUR F4C3, YOU W1LL F1ND YOURS3LF OV3RCOM3 BY TH3 URG3 TO JO1N M3 1N TH3 3V3R-GROW1NG, WR1TH1NG, UNSTOPP4BL3 C3NTR3 OF TH3 C4RN4G3

k, he said, his eyes blazing. His loins were quaking in anticipation of the unbridled thrill that he knew watching his superior summarily cull those wretched drug fiends would bring him, but he knew he could never show it. so do i get a slice of –

BUT YOU W1LL B3 PR3V3NT3D BY YOUR HUM4N W34KN3SS!

4ND TH4TS WHY YOUR3 W1TH M3

He shook his tousled flaxen mane, eyes flashing chastely. He knew he could not deny his position as her submissive slave in all matters justice-related:

TH3 W1LD 4ND P4SS1ON4T3 P4SO DOBL3 OF POL1C1NG C4NNOT H4RM YOU 4S LONG YOU 4R3 W1TH M3, she gritted out, in a deep and throbbing voice.

He found himself blushing, made all too suddenly aware of his physical frailty in contrast to her, the way her horns thrust unapologetically upwards into the defenceless air, her hard yet inviting mouth filled with teeth as pointed as his nipples became every time she exposed them to him in a reckless, dangerous smile.

oh but captain i would never want to hold you back , he uttered, noting in consternation the quaver of his soft and troubled voice. i may be a human but i promise you my body is as firm as it is youthfully supple –

P4RDON MY 4LT3RN14N BUT TH4T 1S HOOFB34STCRUD OFF1C3R

W1TH YOU 4T MY S1D3 OR MOR3 L1K3LY SL1GHTLY B3H1ND M3, W3 SH4LL 3NT3R TH1S D3N OF BR4Z3N 1N1QU1TY 1NCH BY ST34DY 1NCH UNT1L 1TS F1RST V1RG1NAL D3F3NC3S 4R3 D3STROY3D

4ND TH3N W3 PUMP OUR GUNS 4ND G3T R34DY TO F1R3

k, he repeated breathlessly, overwhelmed by the wanton fire of her fierce, primal urges. Her body was so hot, yet her heart was so cold! So hot, yet so cold!

And then there was no need for words as they moved together, as though of one body and one mind, waves of pleasure erupting over them with every shot they eagerly released into the miscreants laid out before them. Her blind yet somehow all-seeing eyes feasted greedily upon the sumptuous corpse banquet arrayed carelessly before them, devouring every seep of bodily fluid, and he thought, panting and unravelled, that in a way, they were both blind – she from severe retinal burns, but he from desire.

H4V3 YOU DON3 TH1S B3FOR3 OFF1C3R?

gosh no captain

i swear it

never

ive never

i would never –

DO NOT B3 4SH4M3D OF YOUR 1N3XP3R13NC3, she asserted rigorously, and her sightless eyes blazed with sensuous fire as her words echoed gruffly around the now damp room. Placing one foot upon the spent and sated body of a former dope fiend, she beckoned to him, with one graceful, domineering finger.

In that moment, he knew that she would take him, and he knew that she would take him now. And what is more, Reader: he knew there had never been anything he had wanted more.

PROMPT: TEAM GAMZEE<>KARKAT

[rex]

I'd love to see sci-fi + spy fiction with Aradia<>Sollux!

PROMPT: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

Cyberpunk + Military, Dave<3Sollux

FILL: TEAM Dirk<3Equius

[cypher]

b-best genre choices for these two, unf. brief sexual content!

--

"On your three," Captor's voice crackles in his ear as Dave finishes putting down the last bunch of combat drones to come after him.

"Already on it," Dave says. The readout in his glasses is blinking yellow on the right margin: four more incoming. He focuses for a split second on the monitors for his upgrades. They're all in the green. He has plenty more juice left before he needs to slow back down to human speeds. "How about you work on getting that fucking door open for me, cowboy? Can you handle that?"

"While I'm blindfolded, drunk, and getting a blowjob," Captor sneers. "Stop distracting me by trying to get your kicks with security drones."

Dave grins. "Hey, not my fault it's boring waiting for you to finish," he says. The next batch of drones show up and he slides into action, spinning, striking out with his heat blade to sever them at the joints. They look like they're moving in slow motion when all his systems are activated like this. Taking them apart is the work of seconds.

The lights in the corridor die and Dave toggles automatically to infrared. "Tell me that was you," he says.

"No, they're trying to sneak up on you in a tank and they thought it would be easier in the dark," Captor says. "Of course it was me. The system's stubborn, you're going to have to pull the hardware instead of just jacking in the leech."

"What happened to blindfolded, drunk, and getting a—hnnngh," Dave says, as Captor jacks into his systems and starts stimulating his nervous system directly. "Fuck. You are not going to make me finish this job with come in my pants."

Captor sniggers. It's a terrible sound and Dave wants to hurry back and kiss his stupid face to make him stop. "I guess you'd better practice your self control, then," he says.

"When I get back to base," Dave says, watching his own vital signs out of the corner of his vision and willing them back to a resting state, "I'm going to pin you to your overpriced console and fuck the obnoxious out of you."

"Promises, promises," Captor says, and does something to Dave's nerves that feels a hell of a lot like licking his cock. The door to the enemy command center clunks, hisses, and slides open. "Grab me that intel box and I'll think about it."

"Yeah, you'll think about it the whole time you're waiting for me to get home," Dave says as he advances into the room. He deactivates his blade and crosses to the console he needs to disassemble. This shouldn't take long, and then he's going to spend the whole ride back to base telling Captor what he has to look forward to. In excruciating detail.

Dave grins as he starts to disassemble the housing for the secure drive. The mission's going well, but he's really looking forward to the debriefing.

PROMPT: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

Slice-of-life + Pirates, Eridan<3Karkat

FILL: TEAM Eridan<>Rose

[headlessbird]

"Y'know, this is getting a bit bothersome by now," Captain Vantas sighs, leaning against the desk Advisor Ampora had barely managed to press into the captain's quarters, "the wind's been practically non-existent now for... What. Like six days?"

"Yeah, well. It's not like you've been quite bored, ain't it , Cap?" Ampora waggles his brows, letting his seadweller accent slip in. He doesn't really care for using it in the crew's company since he knows that they obviously won't appreciate his 'highborn sea-dweller bonuses', as he calls them, but he lets it reign free whenever it's time to tease his matesprit.

The redblood sighs and turns his full attention to righting the captain cap on his head, lips twitching at the edges. Advisor Ampora revels in his smile and is about to advance on his matesprit to perhaps kiss him when a knock sounds on the door and it's unceremonially opened.

"Dinner," Second officer Egbert says, not sparing a look at the disgruntled captain or his advisor before he's out of the door again.

Captain Vantas is about to shout at his second mate to remember to FUCKING KNOCK when he realizes that officer Egbert had, somehow, suddenly gained some manners.

He "hmmph"-s instead and lets out a gust of air before he stretches his arm to his matesprit as an invitation.
"Well, shall we go have dinner, then?"

The natural seadweller pushes a lock of hair out of his face and nods, pushing himself off from leaning on the table and straightening his clothes from any tear or wrinkles they could, somehow, have gotten from that.

"I guess we got no other choice then, don't want Kan tryin' ta force-feed us again."

PROMPT: TEAM GAMZEE<>KARKAT

[rex]

Film noir + zombies, Dirk<>Roxy?

FILL: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

She stumbles into my office like someone let her stay on the merry-go-round at the park down the street for a little too long. Something tells me that by the time we're through with whatever she needs me for, I'm going to end up being that someone who pulls her off.

The lady talks and drinks like a sailor, but I'm willing to bet she's never gone out to sea a day in her life. The martini glass screams of class, but I'm not sure yet it that's authentic or a stinking farce.

From the piece she's hanging on to in her other hand, I can tell this doll means business.

She drops her gun and stalks towards my desk. Her drink splashes on my papers, smearing the ink on the report of my last job. She pushes up her golden locks and leans towards me.

"You arre Dirk Strider, right?"

"That I am, ma'am. What can I do you for?"

"I gots me a problem I cant go to teh coppers for and I hear you just might be the man for the jyob."

Her voice isn't sultry like you might expect slipping from lips that jet, but there's something in her pink eyes that makes me believe that I really am the only one who can help her.

"Tell me more, ma'am."

"First ya gotta stop callin me ma'am. I'm not my mom. The name's Roxy Lalonde, Mr. Private Eye Guy. And I think you're gonna wanna sit doiwn for this."

I look at her puzzled because I am sitting. But I motion for the broad to go on. She's got me hooked and curious now. She winks at me, but that might have just been a drunken twitch.

"I was down at the soup kitchen, passing out some pumpkin pies I had my gurl janey bake up. When all of a sudden!"

"All of a sudden?"

"All of a sudden some man walks in, bloody all over his clthoes. When we ask what's wrong, mister, are ya hurting somewhere?"

Now I'm really intrigued by her story. She's leaning closer and closer now, and I, enraptured, find myself leaning closer as well. Our foreheads meet, she stares me down and silently dares me to ask more questions. My throat is dryer than Death Valley and I couldn't form words even if I wanted to.

"He said," she whispers with intensity, "There's zombies out theer! Then he just collopsies on the floor in front of me. I nearly fainted, detectiv! Fainted! I only usually pass out when I'm drinking that much on purpose!"

I reach my hand up and stroke her silken hair, shushing her like I'm comforting a child. After a few comforting words offered to her, she stands upright.

And wouldn't ya know it, that Roxy slams back the rest of her martini. Olive between her teeth, she grins devilishly at me and slips the toothpick out.

From around the olive she demands, "We gotta go get those zombies, Dirk! I haven't even started passing out mai weekly pumpkins yet and these ppl are gonna start straving!"

"Alright, Roxy. We'll get these zombies."

I march like a man with a purpose and grab some decorative sword off the wall as we exit my office. I slip on my fedora and sunglasses, all gussied up for a night on the town stopping the zombies from disrupting Roxy helping those poor lost souls. Headed down the stairs, a thought strikes me like a red-head in a slinky dress across the street.

"Say, Roxy... What are zombies anyway?"

She throws her head back in a laugh and slips her arm through mine.

I don't give it another thought, and I wonder why I trust this boozer. But I do, and maybe I shouldn't question it. Maybe I should just go along for the ride and see what these zombies are for myself soon enough.

Nonetheless, I think Roxy and I are scheduled up for some bloodshed and general wrecking of their shit. And after, well, maybe we can see about getting her off that merry-go-round for a while.

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE <3 VRISKA

[simpleruser]

Sollux <3 Jade

Detective and dystopia. c:

FILL: Team Aradia<>Tavros

[gallantjester]

ahhh i hope i did your prompt justice, sorry it turned into a bit of a sadstuck at the end


She sits in her t-shirt and shorts, reading through the daily paper, sipping from her silly coffee mug that states, in big bright comic sans, "BEST DOG." (An ironic gift from Dave, she calls it. You call it atrocious. At least, you would call it atrocious if you could pronounce that correctly. Sadly, you cannot pronounce it, so you simply stick to calling it ugly, which is still an accurate adjective for it.)
By now, your morning routines have melded into each other, forming a neat little habit that only seemed to change when you got a customer in need of assistance. Not that you got all that many customers; this city is considered perfect, an oasis, Heaven on Earth, what with the low crime rate, pleasant citizens, and pretty appearance. You two know better though, so you've banded together to form a detective agency (the name, though, is still pending), and each day you run your fingers over the dusty old windows, praying for a customer, while she reads aloud any suspicious obituaries (sometimes you wonder if she might be a killer, with how easy those buck teeth of hers could rip out the jugular of any unsuspecting victim). However, the government and the press does a neat job of covering up any murders or missing people cases.
You're so used to this usual system that you've worked out, you nearly jump right out of your jeans and through the roof when she walks up behind you and sets a hand on your shoulder. She dissolves into giggles and snorts when you shout at her, stumbling over words with the occasional lisp, "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Jade! You almost gave me a heart attack, and it would have been the most deadly heart attack to ever occur in the history of heart attacks, I just hope you know that. You would've been famous and known as "Jade, the girl who killed Sollux Captor by giving him literally the worst heart attack to ever happen." By now she's stopped giggling obnoxiously but still lets out the occasional snicker.
"Wow, you are such a silly dummy," she sighs before patting you on the cheek and heading back to her office/room combo.
You can't help but watch her leave until she is completely out of the room.


Jade returns to the room shortly in more appropriate apparel, and you two are just beginning to bicker about the best way to serve up coffee when you are interrupted by an opening door. Both of you turn around immediately in surprise. A fairly young, disheveled troll stands panting in the doorway, concern and mud apparent on her face.
"Please," she whispers. A sob racks her body and she continues on, "my friend, she's been missing for a couple of days. You have to help me."
Being the gracious host she is, Jade puts a blanket around the girl's shoulders and leads her to the couch while mumbling comforting words to her. Ever so eager to get a customer, you quickly grab your note pad and hurry over to the couch to interrogate her. Of course, you're careful not to get too close, considering those ram-esque horns could probably harm somebody pretty well if she suddenly decided to get hostile.


When night falls and everyone hurries into their warm homes, you and Jade are just heading out, being brisk but silent, cautious and careful as you head down the cobblestone road. Nothing perks your interest, and after a while, you begin to think that you should be heading back home, but then an icy scream pierces the air. "Shit!" Jade mutters under her breath before grabbing your head and dragging you in the direction of the scream. Your brave facade seems to be disappearing very rapidly all of a sudden.
Eventually your running slows to a halt in the old side of town. The wind whistling through the loose wood of all the decaying, abandoned houses makes everything all the more eerie and causes your skin to crawl. Jade presses her back against yours, and you both pass your flashlights over every surface in search of anyone or anything that could've caused that scream.
After a couple of minutes, you see a silhouette run behind a house nearby. Without a second thought, you're chasing after the person, yelling at Jade to stay behind and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.
"Stop!" you shout after the person after they turn a corner. When you follow after them, you nearly trip over a body in your path. Snickering proudly, you lean down to apprehend the criminal. After being given no response, you turn over the body to see a slit neck with teal blood oozing out. "Shit," you swear under your breath, jumping to your feet. It is then that you remember Jade being left alone while the culprit was still out there. With perfect timing, Jade cries out, and then she's screaming your name "Sollux!" over and over.
Your legs aren't working right, and you stumble over and over in an attempt to go faster, but everything spins around you in slow-motion. But you have to keep going, you have to save Jade; she is going to die if you don't hurry up, but the shock numbs the pain of this realization. When you finally get there, and see her body lying on the ground with blood pooling around it, you have to force down the thought that it's too late.
Her eyes stare at you as you kneel next to her, and when you gently set her head in your lap she whispers, "I missed you."
You nod and brush her hair back. "I missed you twice as much, Jade." You're nearly choking now and it pains you to see the toughest girl-- no, the toughest person-- you have ever known in such a vulnerable state. All of your life, ever since you met in fourth grade when she first moved here and offered you half of her sandwich after hearing you didn't bring a lunch, she was the toughest person ever. Even when Karkat accidentally pushed her off the slide in 7th grade and she broke her leg she didn't cry, and she carried on like a trooper. Even when her heart was broken multiple times all throughout her high school career, she didn't let anything get her down, and she carried on so happily. You can't remember many times you saw her without a smile. And when she pats your cheek with her bloodied hand, you're breaking down in sobs despite not being the one here who was stabbed in the stomach.
"It's going to be okay, Jade. We're going to make it out of this." Maybe if you say it enough it'll be true.
She smiles and laughs weakly. "You really are a gigantic silly dumbass, Sollux Captor."

PROMPT: TEAM JOHN<3VRISKA

[tehstripe]

How about a Spaghetti Western mixed with Dark Comedy for Karkat<3Feferi?

PROMPT: TEAM JOHN<3VRISKA

[tehstripe]

Ooor Jade<3Karkat mixed with film noir and fairy tales?

FILL: TEAM DISCIPLE♥SUFFERER

[echo_delta]

Karkat Vantas stands in front of the office door, tilting back slightly onto the heels of his oxfords. Some kind of muffled ragtime ditty comes from inside. “Always with the old tunes,” Vantas ponders briefly.

“Jade Harley, P.I.” is printed on the door in professional, impartial black block letters. The writing underneath never strikes Vantas as odd, though – in a curly black script underneath is written “The Witch of Space.” It’s almost like a signature, pristine and perfect.

“Focussss” slides out of his suddenly gritted teeth. He fingers the rim of his fedora, as if he’s making sure it hasn’t vanished, takes a step forward, and knocks directly on the glass.

“Come in!” a jaunty voice calls back.

Vantas steps inside, expression flat but eyes darting everywhere. Vantas had seen a few offices in his day, but this one was, well, “different” is a good word for it. He’s seen it many times, but he always worries that one day it’s going to be completely different and throw him off. Office staples like a desk, chairs, and bookcases are accounted for, but The Witch of Space likes to make sure you know her skillset. Tiny planetoids hover near the ceiling, and Vantas hopes those don’t have actual inhabitants. The room is full of afternoon sunshine despite the late hour, and there doesn’t seem to be a source. The phonograph producing the music sits in the corner farthest from the door, within Harley’s reach.

Harley herself sits at the desk, hands in her lap, soaking in the music. Her dark hair stands in stark contrast to the white dog ears that seem to follow the playing music. Her cloche hat sits on the desk and not her head, but it certainly matches her dress – both are glossy and dark and covered in miniscule green sparks.

“Evening, Karkat! How are you doing?” Harley asks, grinning.

"Fine." Vantas shrugs. “Question: you remember Jack Noir, right?”

Harley blanches. “Of course I do. He owns the Derse nightclub, right? …Tried to kill me, right? He couldn’t go through with it for some reason.”

“That’s the guy,” Karkat smirks. His hand goes to his pocket and pulls out a pair of shades. They’re blood-stained. “Or, that was the guy.”

“Are you telling me you killed him?”

“Of course I killed him. Isn’t that the Knight of Blood’s job? It sounds like my job anyway.” Vantas slumps into one of the chairs facing the desk. “I hate the whole ‘damsel in distress’ concept, so I took care of it for you. We gotta look out for each other in this line of work, right?”

Harley is a bit solemn. “I – I’ve been afraid,” she admits, starting to chuckle. “Shouldn’t a Witch be able to take care of things herself? Thank you, good sir Knight,” Harley beams.

“No big deal.” Vantas shrugs, but then he smiles. “Also: drinks and dinner tonight? That’s the other reason I came over.”

Harley beams even brighter than before. “Is that a date? Of course, good sir Knight.”

((Ahhh I'm sorry I don't know what I'm doing and I was a bit subtle with the fairy tale theme! XD I hope it's okay!))

PROMPT: TEAM DOLOROSA<3MINDFANG

[anordinarything]

Jane<3Roxy

Cooking Show+Musical

FILL: TEAM Aradia<3Equius

[person4]

It was supposed to be her introduction to the world as the next head of the Crocker cooking empire. The Jane Crocker Cooking Hour, shot from a carefully secured bunker to ensure that no assassin could snatch up the chance to kill the Crocker heir on live TV, during which she'd prove her gumption by walking through world through all the steps in making a delicious meal, topped off with a sumptuous cake with a Crocker-brand box mix as the base its recipe was built from. She was ready and she knew it, as long as her viewers correctly followed her instructions they'd end up with dishes that would prove with the first nibble that she had what it took to take over.

Unfortunately, instead of just trusting in that certainty that everything would turn out well she'd decided that she wanted a little moral support. Even more unfortunately, after choosing Roxy to bring to the studio with her she hadn't thought to remove the cooking sherry, or wine, or rum extract from the kitchen. They were hardly ten minutes into filming before Jane realized her mistake when Roxy began drunkenly caterwauling in a voice that couldn't be considered music to anyone's ear.

Jane steeled herself and continued on, even as Roxy sang along with everything she did. She managed to hardly falter in completing her appetizers, even when she'd needed to quickly move her cutting board and ingredients to the counter beside the stove because Roxy had decided to jump on the table she'd been using to prep her ingredients and do a solo can-can, and stalwartly moved onto her first side dish.

"If you can, try to get really fresh sugar snap peas," she said, keeping her voice just as bright and friendly as it had been to start with, though her face was starting to ache with the strain of keeping a bright smile on it in the circumstances. She wished that she could make a quick dash for her disguise kit; if she could just dig out a mustache shaggy enough to cover her lips then nobody would ever know if she let the smile drop. "That crispness adds a great texture to the dish that you lose out on if they've gone limp, and besides they hardly deserve to be called snap peas if they don't do this!" She raised a pea close enough to her mic for the audience to pick up the sound when she broke it in half, snap!

"Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan you taste the love tonight?" Roxy wailed behind her, only just too late to cover the sound of Jane's pea. "The peas the side dish brings?"

Jane really honestly was trying to keep her attention on the show and not engage Roxy in her tomfoolery, but... "That one's not even from a real musical, Roxy, it's from a cartoon." And it was, she supposed, a very good thing that the company had bought out Disney decades back in order to, if Roxy and Dirk were to be believed, effectively spread their subliminal messages to children at an earlier age. Otherwise The House of the Mouse would probably already be preparing lawyers to dump on their doorstep for using the song without paying royalties on it, even with the lyrics mangled.

"Jaaaaaney," Roxy cooed, which at least meant that for one moment she wasn't singing. "Janey, can't you taste the love? I can taste it, Janey."

"Does it taste like rum extract? Because I already told you that really isn't for drinking, Ro--"

And she'd obviously gotten too used to Roxy drunkenly hanging all over her in private, whatever sense of personal space she'd ever had vanishing with each drink she consumed, or she would have had the sense to back away when Roxy suddenly stumbled towards her, or maybe it was her attempt at a lunge, and suddenly shoved her tongue in Jane's mouth.

Oh dear, Jane thought. If the show was going to turn into The Crocker Heir unexpectedly coming out live on national television she wished it could have at least happened with a good kiss instead of the sloppy licky mess which was the best Roxy could currently manage. "Taste the love," she slurred again before bursting into song once more, "On her shooooow, preparing her snap side peas--"

And this time Jane was the one doing the cutting off, covering Roxy's mouth with her hand and keeping it there even when Roxy oh-so-maturely chose to react by licking her palm. "Hey, not that one," she said, trying to keep her voice low enough to be private even if she wasn't sure that was actually possible while wearing a body mic. "If you're going to keep using my show as an excuse to keep mangling showtunes, at least don't pick ones which are unrequited." Then she turned back to the camera, her Company Heir smile firmly in place, and added for the sake of the audience, "And I hope that all our viewers at home are learning an important lesson about not drinking things that are meant for cooking!"