hs_olympics | BONUS ROUND 1

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bonus round

BONUS ROUND 1

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

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.

Look through the prompts and fill whichever you like!

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

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.

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.

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rose<3Equius

Historical AU + Forced marriage

Pet caresheet + comedy, Jade<3Davesprite?

such a good prompt wow good
----

If Dave Strider can do anything, he can surf the internet.

He can surf that shit like that penguin in that chill-ass movie from what was it 2008 yeah that was it with the awesome orange penguin sideburns and this Dave knows that other Dave is jealous of his awesome orange bird-dude sideburns they are so fucking soft it isn't even funny, it's like a funeral for your dead dog that you've had for 7 years that is how not funny that shit is.

Speaking of dogs. That's why Dave is riding the smooth waves of the interwebs today. He's got himself a bitch that- wait fuck no he can't call her that she'd probably claw at him or something she wouldn't understand the irony oh god his heart is beating a little fast now oh god oh god oh god- He's got a GIRL who is part pup and he thinks yeah what wouldn't be romantic about maybe learning a bit about what that means for her yeah Dave is so fucking smooth with cultural sensitivity he could be a goddamn U.N. Diplomat.

Except that he's a fucking bird.

Yeah.

HOUSEBREAKING YOUR DOG

“The most immediate concern of new dog owners is that of housebreaking the pet. In order to accomplish this task, the essential principle that the owner must recognize is that it is always the desire of the dog to please its master. Nothing can give the dog greater pleasure than to know that its actions have met with approval; nothing can cause the dog greater displeasure than to know that its behavior has called forth disapproval.

When the dog performs its functions properly, it should be rewarded by a profusion of endearing words, by petting, or even with a tidbit. When the dog performs its functions improperly, it should be grasped by the scruff of the neck, told briskly and in no uncertain terms that it has done the wrong thing, shown what it has done, and then put back on its paper. The animal also may be slapped over the haunches with a piece of folded newspaper; this will cause the animal no pain, but will make a loud and impressive noise.”

Dave Strider is a strong man. He stares into the oppressive length of the yellow yard and the yellow yard caws first.

But he's not exactly sure how to pull this off.

How exactly has he been missing these cues all along? Every time Jade goes to use the little furrygirl's room he just lets her walk by without any praise or without smacking her on the “haunches” whatever that fucking means. How badly must her ego be damaged already? This is a hard mistake to make up for, indeed. It's going to take some severe cooing and coddling to let Jade know to the very soles of her feet -or does she have paws Dave doesn't really know she wears those sparkly-ass shoes a lot ok- that she is appreciated.

Good dog. Best girlfriend.

Dave sees his first chance to show his cultural sensitivity during the GhostbusterX2000 Marathon that night. Night as in, about 12 hours after he last decided to close his eyes. Firebird is the daybringer, motherfuckers.

GhostbusterX2000 Marathons run a little like this: Dave, and an army of crocodiles take over one wing of the ship playing the Ghostbuster MMO. Meanwhile Jade and John stream the two movies on the other side, audio at full blast, while chasing around Jaspersprite like a bunch of fucking idiots to pantomime chasing a ghost or something. Dave decides that Jade being able to display her canine side like this without proper representation and appreciation of her dog culture is brave as hell and feels a little teary watching it. His avatar dies. Fuck.

As he's regenerating at home base, Jade suddenly stops her fursuit he means pursuit. She wipes her brow and stretches a little, turning away from where Jasper is still floating around, taunting her. Ugh. Scummy cat.

“John- I have to go to the bathroom, could you pause the movie?” OH SHIT

“Yeah sure! Lemme find the remote-” AW FUCK

“It's right over here...” THIS IS HAPPENING

“Oh! Thanks. Yeah got it.” WE ARE MAKING THIS HAPPEN.

“Jade hey wait a moment I gotta lay an egg on you.” Except Dave totally said something cooler like “lay something on you.”

“Uhm Dave I really have to go-” She looked fucking adorable, standing there pretending she didn't need affirmation to go piss what an angel Dave thought no Dave didn't THINK Dave KNEW.

“Jade I need you to answer a question for me alright.” He has sprite-floated his way over to the prospitian side of the ship, and was looking straight at her. Jade pulled her eyebrows together and nodded.

“Jade where are you pissing on this ship.”

“Dave what.” He sighed, placing his hands on Jade's shoulders and attempting to make eye contact through his shades.

“I know this can be difficult for you to answer but I need to know if you're... going to the proper places, Jade. Shit this is confusing for me too ok?”

“Dave! I. I'm going to the bathroom! The one downstairs? It's next to the one that John uses? What are you trying to sa-” She was getting flustered now, her face turning red. Dave felt his heart grow warm.

“God, I'm so proud of you. Good girl. Gooood girl. I just had to make sure, I'd never asked before. You're such a smart girl, so good.” Dave started to brush his hand through Jade's hair, petting softly. “I can't believe you taught yourself to be housebroken.”

There was only an indignant gasp and a snap before Dave lost consciousness.

Dave Strider wakes up seeing double. Or triple. Or like a lot-le. The point is he just sees lines upon vertical lines around him, and it's kind of goddamn disorienting. Where is his usual alarm, that chill crocodile that takes it upon himself to gather his feathers when he's molting? He misses that guy right now, with all these lines. Where the shit is he?

He rubs his eyes and realizes that they are metal. Metal... bars. What the hell. Pushing himself up, his hand touches a soft, cushion-y substrate. Suddenly, he feels sleepy again. What is that? Like... It's cut up newspaper, but it feels so good. Damn.

Looking over into the corner, something catches his eye. Attached to the metal bars that surround him is a mirror. Dave Strider is looking fucking fine, if he can say so himself. He wastes a few minutes or maybe half an hour checking himself out in it and fluttering his wings around before he remembers that he doesn't know where he is.

Looking out of the bars, he sees familiar patterns and furniture- but it all looks kind of wrong. Kind of... big? No, it's definitely the deck of the ship, he decides, just off of a long line of computers...

He's in a cage.

Dave Strider is in a cage on the floor of the ship deck.

He's also really fucking tiny.

Damn it.

Sometimes Jade is a bitch.

CAGE PLACEMENT
"Bird cages should be placed in a draft free area that is well lit, but not in direct sunlight.
To make your birds feel secure and comfortable keep their cage against a wall or in a corner.
Place your bird's cage so that it is at eye-level or lower for good social interaction. You don't want your bird above your head because for them, being up higher means they are dominant."

Edited 2012-06-17 03:04 (UTC)

Re: FILL: TEAM KARKAT <3 NEPETA

rex - 2012-06-17 12:53 (UTC) - Expand

Dualscar<3<Darkleer, decadent lit + rock star AU

You are the slitherbeast king; you can do anything.

You have no idea what you're doing. There were some drugs at some point and you pretty much just had all of them, because that's the thing you do with drugs, and now you're out here with your shirt off and most of your pants and about a million gallons of sweat all over you and your guitar and your bulge is a nine-story ziggurat and your eyeballs are individual messianic utopias with their own populations of transcendent machine elves that can't talk to each other.

You have no idea what you're doing.

Apparently it's good, what you're doing, and it had better fucking well be because you're the slitherbeast king and the polyjewellate crown of the world rests on your horns and no one has ever hatched who can make an electric guitar make the sounds you make it make. You look out into the audience and you're probably doing those sounds right now because everyone's screaming because what you're doing is too beautiful and they're all crushing their nipples against the security barrier and sweating

The stink of them is so fucking rich, you can't even handle it, it's like summer in the corals when the ocean is too hot, just like this, and the water is made of salt sex and you can breathe it in and see yourself breathe it back out

that's what you do, you breathe sex back out

and then the Condesce finishes crashing down on the song and closes her lips over her teeth and the dying suns flow back up into the speakers fuck

okay yeah you had a little too much maybe

whatever

you're done you guess

Somebody takes your guitar off you and helps you get backstage, pours a bottle of water over your head and tries to hand you a towel but your hands are a little bit of a problem right now, so it ends up around your shoulders like a cape and by this you are greatly pleased.

“It's the least I can do,” says the soundboard guy, so you know that thing about being greatly pleased was something that happened on the outside of you.

Also that your towel guy is the soundboard guy Zahhak.

you don't ever have to even think about the soundboard guy because he's so fucking good. You tell him this, he is so fucking good that you could ignore him all fucking day.

“Oh, sir,” he says. “Let's uh. Get you settled down. Just a bit further on.”

Fuck settling down, you tell him. You are the gogdamn slitherbeast king. The rest of the band is on their way to the green room past you and you think maybe Pyrope's giving you some straightedge stinkeye but fuck her, she can play lead guitar after the band breaks up and you die in a hotel room with your nook stuffed full of adolescent bonebulge and cherry lip balm and nobody finds you for eight days and sure, then she can get the band back together to play casinos and solo all she wants.

You forgot where you were going there for a second. Right, you were the gogdamn slitherbeast king and your soundboard guy was trying to be so fucking gentle about pushing you toward the green room you want to cry a little.

“I'm ignoring the shit out a you right noww,” you say, but you're totally not, you're letting him sort of catch you because you are too majestically maudlin to remain upright at the moment. Fucker doesn't even have to bend his knees to catch you, it's like falling into a machine.

You lift both hands in front of your face and watch the trace images of it curl around and make all sorts of secret signs to you. Mouths open in your palm, mouths with golden tongues and ruby teeth, and this is a portent which you feel that you understand fully: you raise your holy hands and you pap those golden tongues straight and slow across your sound guy's face.

He nearly drops you. It's like he doesn't even have a face anymore, it's just blue and your hands and huge blue eyes staring at you from between your fingers.

You twist around like a hissbeast to perch your bulge over his through most of your pants and grab his waist with your legs, you know he's good for this, between your legs he's like a furnace and he's shaking a little, fuck yeah that's good

maybe there's some people around, maybe you're back on the stage and thousands of discerning persons are just standing there watching you grind your junk all wet and saltnasty on your sound guy, maybe you're on national television, whatever

You slide your horns up under his chin and jam his head up good and hard so you can lick his neck and you tell him

“I'm going to fuck you to death”

“and you're going to make me breakfast”

and Zahhak almost drops you again but you've got his junk tearing your pants to get in your nook and you've got all his hair in your fists and you are. The gogdamn. Slitherbeast king.

You're the slitherbeast king. That's what's important here.

SUPERSECRET BONUS PLAYBILL FOR THE SHOW :D :

Troll John Quincy Adams and her Cabinet of Advisors
The Farts
The Sensuous Gangsters
Eight Pillars Astride the River of Heaven
****The Vultures of Sensation****

Edited 2012-06-14 17:17 (UTC)

(no subject)

cypher - 2012-06-14 17:21 (UTC) - Expand

You know you want some Dad<3John up in here 0 w 0

Well, I do, anyway.

Superhero au + Greek Tragedy

You gotta admit it sounds cool 0 w 0

...This may actually be the most ridiculous thing I've ever written, fuck. If you feel it stops too abruptly, that's because I looked at my life and my choices and decided it was probably best to cut my losses there. If you know your Antigone it'll be obvious what episode this is parodying.

---

~~John is king of Thebes. The city is suddenly and mysteriously struck by a terrible plague~~

The following fragment is all that remains of Hussides’ John. Scholarly opinion is divided as to whether this extract follows immediately after the parados, or whether it is preceded by an episode involving DAD and BRO. The play is believed to end with the suicide of JOHN and the descent of CROCKER upon the machina. Though less well known than Hussides’ more infamous work, the Vriska, the John is recorded to have won first prize at the City Gamzenysia, beating Dirkylus’ Detective Pony, the only surviving play from a trilogy of tragedies exploring the traditional myth of the Pony Pals.

…

DAD:
John, you’ve come here knowing your father’s actions.
Do you think less of me for them?
Or have you accepted that the exile of the Striders
was a necessity for the sake of the city’s safety?

JOHN:
Father, I’d never hate you for something like this…
You acted as you saw fit,
as your son it’s my place to obey.
You are known for your good judgements
and your undying care for the city you protect.

DAD:
It’s wise of you, my son, and only proper
to thus support your father’s actions.
A hero who raises his sons to be heroes,
to take up the cape and the mask
and to follow their father in all he does;
why, he is truly blessed.
But all men pity the hero whose household
is filled with the weak and villainous,
for in his old age he will find no respect
and waste away to nothing, mocked
by his enemies.

Son, the actions of the Striders
threatened the very life of the town
I have worked so hard for, and hold so dear.
Heroes like them, their insolent ways,
their callous disregard for tradition,
for the established hierarchy of the city,
cannot be allowed to sow their seeds
upon our way of life.
We must root them out!

JOHN:
Father, I respect your decision…
I wouldn’t presume to question your authority
and your choices as highest of the heroes
of this city. What son is more proud
of his father than I of you?

And yet I can’t help thinking, perhaps,
your single-mindedness, your loyalty
to the established tradition, may do harm.
It’s always been our way to fill the city
with many heroes, all good people,
to encourage healthy discussion,
to fight at each other’s backs
and it’s clear this has led to great peace,
a city blessedly free from crime or villainy.

The expulsion of the Striders—
if this is only the beginning,
and you plan to get rid of any heroes
who disagree with your proclamations;
why, I believe you are endangering
the very people you want to protect.

CHORUS LEADER:
To us, the citizens safe under your wings,
the ones you have protected from every evil,
we urge you, Dad Egbert, to listen to your son.
It seems there is some truth in what he says,
just as your words are sensible also.

DAD:
Insolence—
My own son, telling me how to behave?
How to act in my role as head of the heroes
of this city that obeys my every word?

JOHN:
It’s not orders I’m giving you, father, but advice.
The city agrees with me, the other heroes
whisper that you must relax your rule,
do the sensible thing.

DAD:
A city of underground criminals and vice,
barely held in check by a band of traitors?
Why should I listen to its advice?

JOHN:
O, would that there was some way
to tell a man’s corruption from his face,
or that a loyal son was not bound to obey
the worst of all fathers!

DAD:
You go too far.
You’ll pay for your disloyalty;
this city obeys me, and me alone.

…

(no subject)

ex_lionpyh573 - 2012-06-14 00:47 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE<3ROSE<3TEREZI

laughably_unimportant - 2012-06-14 03:53 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE<3ROSE<3TEREZI

nextian - 2012-06-14 03:56 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM DAVE<3ROSE<3TEREZI

megaparsecs - 2012-06-15 05:12 (UTC) - Expand

Dave<>Terezi. roadtrip + surrealism.

Edited 2012-06-13 16:12 (UTC)

They were somewhere around Dana Point on the Pacific Coast Highway when the drugs began to take hold.

That was a blatant fabrication. There were no drugs--Dave was not rockin' on the horse size pills--though there might as well have been for how Terezi carried on. Girl was high on life, high on the blue sky and white clouds and the litter-strewn sandy beaches. Dave wasn't sure if he was glad to have brought her to California or not; the trip had sounded like a good idea originally, but that was before she'd scrambled halfway up a palm tree to taste its sharp fronds. She was so light that the slim trunk barely bent under her weight.

"California is insubstantial!" she shouted down to him from her perch, and scraped her tongue over the bark. The tree swayed lightly in the wind, and Dave almost felt nauseated on her behalf. "It is all spun sugar and fondant. I could crush everything here in my palm."

"Get down from there," he said. "You look like a fucking psycho. Here, come check out this asphalt, this should be like goddamn licorice candy for you, right?"

She shimmied down to the sidewalk, but his heart kept beating like an 808 drum anyway.

Now they were crawling up the PCH in the battered Alfa Spider he'd scored on Craigslist back in Houston, top down and the breeze in their hair and traffic moving ten miles an hour like a rusted glacier. Every breath tasted salty to Dave and he didn't know if it was from proximity to the ocean or if Terezi's fucked-up synesthesia had elevated itself contagious and cackling into a full-blown folie à deux, coming apart at the seams, pitching himself for leads in people's dreams.

He reached for the bag of Red Vines in the center console, shoved a red sugary stalk into his mouth and chewed. It was ninety in the shade today, and the heat haze rising off the road was dizzying, made the melty world waver like Salvador Dalí-vision on a week-long bender.

The road cleared north of Aliso Beach, and Dave opened the Alfa up heading towards Heisler Park, shifting into third, then fourth, amazed that the car hadn’t yet caught fire as Alfas were prone to do. Even so, a whine of protest from the engine made him wonder if maybe the Reliant Robin would have been a better choice. That had been a looker--fur-lined boards, white wall wheels, cruise control, built for speed, chrome on everything.

"Let me drive," Terezi said.

"No."

"Let me drive, coolkid, you are drifting dangerously towards the double lines." She snatched the end of the Red Vine from his lips and popped it in her own mouth, wicked teeth gnashing.

"I am not going to let you drive my car so you can score an eighth from the lesbians out west of Venice. You don't even have a license, E.T." He pulled off to the right into a strip-mall and turned into the In-N-Out drive-through. "What happens when we get pulled over--'Oh no, Officer, I'm prepping her to get her learner's permit! My little girl's growing up so fucking fast!' Maybe if I cry he'll let us off with a warning."

Together they sat in the parking lot, devouring animal-style fries while the world melted into the persistence of memory. The birds circled, waiting for them to fumble and spill their food. Dave watched Terezi lick cheese and Thousand Island dressing from her fingers like a penitent kissing Christ's feet, widening the corridors and adding more lanes. She was now accepting callers for these beautiful pendant keychains.

He stole an onion from her 2x4 burger, and needed nothing more to get him through this semi-charmed kind of life.

"We can't stop here, coolkid." Terezi held a fry aloft, cackling as it was snatched from her. "This is seagull country."

When they pulled back onto the road Dave was grinning.

He was a man on the move, and just sick enough to be totally confident.

Re: FILL: TEAM Rose <3 Sollux

i2eve - 2012-06-14 03:43 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cypher - 2012-06-14 04:22 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM Rose <3 Sollux

rex - 2012-06-14 08:45 (UTC) - Expand

FILL: TEAM John<>Vriska

jesscookie - 2012-06-21 21:41 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM John<>Vriska

jesscookie - 2012-06-21 21:46 (UTC) - Expand

Aradia <3 Sollux
Film noir + paranormal

Doing this yes yes yes

FILL: TEAM John<>Vriska

jesscookie - 2012-06-23 07:38 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM John<>Vriska

thehuitzilfire - 2012-06-23 17:38 (UTC) - Expand

Nepeta<>Equius

Letters+Military

(I hope this is alright? Also, I know Equius doesn't use periods, but characters who don't have used them for the sake of letters before, so...)

________________________

D --> My dearest moirail,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know it must be stifling for you to be unable to hunt freely, but you must endure .You will get used to it in time, just as countless trolls before you have. I have no doubt that you are making quick work of your enemies at a level the other green b100ds cannot comprehend. I 100k forward to hearing stories about your victories.

Our regiment is currently on a small planet inhabited by aliens who remind me very much of hoofbeasts. The Empress has little concern with them, so it would not be too harsh for them if they would only surrender. But they are strong and noble and continue to resist despite the overwhelming odds. It is a shame to slaughter such a magnificent and beautiful people, but that is what the Empress has ordained, and so I will obey.

Please do not cause any trouble where you are, dear Nepeta. While the hemospectrum has never mattered to you, it will matter to others. Keep yourself courteous amidst the nobility. You know they will not hesitate to cull those who are not respectful. I do not want to lose my moirail over a squabble.

If all goes well, I will get leave before the end of the sweep. As my moirail, yours should be scheduled for the same time. I 100k forward to seeing you again.

<>

Equius Zahhak

Re: FILL: TEAM DIRK<3ROXY

specialagentartemis - 2012-06-20 16:08 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM DIRK<3ROXY

lustfullyc.livejournal.com - 2012-06-20 21:12 (UTC) - Expand

The Sufferer<3The Disciple

Passion play + Poetry

Rule 63 + Sukeban/Japanese Yankee girls, Dave <3 Tavros

bonus love if Aradia is actually their boss

Edited (clarification) 2012-06-13 17:38 (UTC)

"So!" A tall girl half yelled, her tied up blonde hair swinging as she slammed a bokken down next to another girls head. "What in the lords name did you think you were doing?"
"I-I...I don't know!" The second girl cried out through a surgical as her dark brown hair was pulled, forcing her to stand.
"Oh, I'm sure you do. I mean you can't almost burn down a whole building without knowing what the hell you're doing." The first girl replied.
"But Da-."
"Don't 'But Dave me', I've told you not to call me that anymore." She sighed. "Look, Tav, you just...really really worried me okay? I mean you could have died for hells sake."
"Bu-but I wouldn't have, I mean, I'm meant to cause harm aren't I? I-I mean...That's what we're meant to do...right? Scare people?" Tav whispered, sounding close to tears.
"Not if it means- God, Tav." Dave let go of the other girl’s hair and pulled her into a hug. "It's-- You didn't even want to join did you?"
"W-well, no...but Dave, I'd follow you anywhere...really." Tavs face was bright red once she had finished talking. ‘I won’t be able to look at her again, ohmygod, she’ll hate me for saying that. It’s a weakness, liking somebody like this, she told me that before. Oh, I hope Aradia gets here soon…’ She though, burying her head into Daves chest to stop her from seeing her face.
“Do you really mean that Tav? You only joined for me?” The only answer Dave got was a small nod of a head against her chest. She grabbed the others girls chin and brought her face close to her own. “Tav, that’s-” Dave’s face was slowly moving closer to Tavs, but as their lips were just about to meet a voice called out.
“Hey, if you’re going to do that, will you do it in private?” Both turned around to see a girl, slightly older than the both of them, most of her skin covered by a school uniform, and messy dark brown hair.
The two sprung apart as if stung, while the other girl smirked widely. Tav began to bow but was held upright by Dave, who had her arm around her shoulders. “Good afternoon Miss. Medigo.”
“Yeah, afternoon.” She ‘tsk’ed and spat. “Oh, why did I do that?” She glared at the two girls, but her eyes softened slightly as she saw Dave holding up Tav. “I’m sorry guys. I mean, I like you, I really do…but for what you guys did, I have to let the gang, punish you a little.” Her glare was back. “Come on, off to the slaughter you go.” She seemed to suddenly be emotionless, as if okay with what was about to happen.
Dave dropped his arm from around Tav and began to follow Miss. Medigo, Tav rushed to catch up and caught Dave’s hand in his.
“We’ll be okay right?” Tav asked.
“Sure, I’ll make sure of it.”

Oh, I hope this is okays...

Re: Fill: Team [Dave<3Aradia]

eremiticantiquarian - 2012-06-17 08:16 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Team [Dave<3Aradia]

blackestdaekfire - 2012-06-17 08:20 (UTC) - Expand

Karkat<3Equius

Heartwarming family film + Parody

Coming soon... to theaters...

The ~~Black~~ B100 Stallion

Re: FILL: TEAM Equius<3Gamzee

alymira - 2012-06-24 01:08 (UTC) - Expand

oh god i hope i'm not prompt-ing wrong

i'd like to see eridan<3<vriska with comedy and pirates (is that even a genre?) yeah okay enjoy

historical au and childhood friend romance for Eridan<3Kanaya<3Karkat?? :D

Dirk <3 Jake

Superheroes + Fairy-tale

Gamzee <3 John
ghost story + cyberpunk

how about some aradia<>feferi magical girl + horror!

UU<3uu romcom and alternate universe?

Karkat<3Kanaya or Karkat<>Kanaya, children's storybook + survival horror

I'd like a Robinsonade + Sci-fi for Psiionic<3Sufferer please!

gosh I didn't know how badly I wanted this until you prompted it. I had to stop myself at the first plausible conclusion I could find or it would have tried to be an epic. ;;

---

You've been seeing the doom coming for so long that when you first see the flicker of something else could happen here you don't believe it. This whole revolutionary ride has a clear ending, where SL dies and the rest of you are fucked, and with your visions you've known that from the start.

Until suddenly one night you don't know it anymore. You believe it, you expect it, you're sure it's the most likely ending, but you don't know it. You grit your teeth against the hope because hope always betrays you but you can't shut it out entirely. It dogs your footsteps as you work with the others, recording SL's sermons and uploading video clips, hacking into public systems to start playing his message of spectrum equality in the commercial break between blackrom dramas. You divert nutritive supplement shipments and the four of you distribute them in secret to inhabitants of the brown quarter. You keep one step ahead of the ruffiannihilators and tell yourself you're not looking for a way out.

You're lying to yourself through your overgrown, speech-mangling teeth.

It happens when you're sure you're all fucked, racing half-blind through the maintenance tunnels with a cadre of blueblooded killers on your heels, doom leaning in to grab the whole lot of you even while you unleash your psionics to blast them any time you can, and DC cuts down anybody who gets close. SL cries for the assholes, even as they're trying to kill all of you, and part of you wants to shake him for being too fucking nice but most of you is humbled so much you can't even speak. How does anyone feel that much compassion?

You blow the grate off the end of a tunnel and accidentally, coincidentally, knock a pair of hunterrorists off their hoverbikes. The timeline splits so hard you choke. The blue path goes where you've always known this was going. You take the red.

"Thplit up," you say, grabbing SL's wrist and pulling him onto one of the bikes with you. "Go to ground."

The ladies grab the other bike and they're peeling out almost before you've finished talking. You gun the engine of yours and SL locks his arms around your skinny waist and you take off in the opposite direction.

You're pursued, of course. As soon as they figure out what's happened they send drones to follow you, drones and more highbloods, baying for your blood. You try to outfly them, try to shoot them down with your psionics. "You idiot," SL yells in your aural, "let me drive!"

It's not a pretty maneuver, trading seats in midair, but you're both pretty damn motivated. You pull it off. He drives. You shoot.

He swerves back through the Capital, the crazy bastard, making a show of himself, and you would wring his neck if you weren't sure he was doing it to get attention away from DC and DL. You knock pursuing drones out of the air instead of yelling at him, and when you get close enough you take a potshot at the Hall of Justice, knocking some ancient legislacerator statute to its crunchy demise on the sidewalk far below. Your head pounds.

When you've made enough of an impression for SL's taste he wings outward, away from the city and across the water. Pursuit starts to thin as you get away from the city, but you're also slowing down, and one of the drones clips the bike's engine before you can knock it away.

The bike wobbles, dips, starts losing altitude at an alarming rate. SL uses language you frankly thought he didn't know. "I've got it," you tell him, raising your voice to be heard. "Keep going!" You're losing the last of your pursuers now, so you can put more of your energy into keeping the bike aloft.

He takes you at your word, and the two of you fucking go. With power amplifiers, psionics like you fuel starships. With just your own talent and the desperate desire to live? You can damn well keep a hoverbike in the air for a while.

The bike skims over dark water, a blacker shadow against the waves. The air is cold, and the wind cuts through your clothes. How far to land? You're not sure. You're almost certain the bike wouldn't float if you brought it down for a careful landing, and even if it did, you'd be easy prey for seadwellers, troll or otherwise. The endless motion is hypnotic, almost a distraction from the way your body is telling you in no uncertain terms—nausea, throbbing headache, that awful metal taste in the back of your mouth—to stop pouring your energy into the hoverbike's engine and save some for yourself. You lean against SL's shoulder and ignore your body's complaints. There'll be time enough to rest once you've gotten him somewhere safe.

"Hey," he says at some point, "how are you doing back there?"

You tell him that you're fine. The words sound a little far away. He says something back that you don't catch but it sounds dismayed, so you tell him again that you're doing all right. You think you do, at least. Your tongue feels sort of sticky. At some point you've closed your eyes and that seems like a good plan. SL takes hold of your wrist and squeezes. You hum.

The next thing you're aware of is a horrible series of rattles and crunches that jar all of your bones loose, make you feel like a sack of dice being shaken for luck. You make a noise like a dying bleatbeast as your momentum grinds out its death throes and slide down off the bike and land on something with a little more give than payment. SL is apologizing and he sounds panicked so you try to tell him it's fine and you're still friends, but you've really overdone it this time and you feel awful, and you're not sure if you make any sense.

You black out.

When you wake up your head throbs and your mouth feels like that dying bleatbeast is still stuck in it. You swallow a few times to try to get the sticky feeling out of your throat, then make yourself sit up and peel back your ocular guard flaps.

"Oh thank fuck," SL says, and you turn toward his voice before you're really processing anything. "I wasn't sure what I was going to do if you didn't wake up."

You blink a few times and try to take stock of your surroundings. You're in a cave, slick and jagged walls of black stone around you. SL's cloak is draped over you and he's sitting just out of arm's reach. Beyond him there's the flicker of a small fire.

"We made it to land," you say, and wince both at the effort of talking and at how painfully inane that statement was.

"Yeah," SL says. "You got us here in one piece." He scoots over and reaches out to brush your hair off your forehead. Against all reason that makes your headache more tolerable. "How are you feeling? You want some water?"

"I feel," you tell him, enunciating as clearly as you can, "like fried asth. Refried, even." He laughs really quietly, this gentle sound that you know isn't laughing at you. "Water would be good."

He hands you a bottle. "Be careful with it," he says. "I don't know yet how hard it'll be to get more."

You nod and then wish you hadn't. Your brain is determined to exact revenge for being so hellishly overworked. "What'd I mith by being a vegetable?" you ask before you drink.

SL runs his fingers through his hair and tugs on it a little. It's one of his putting-my-thoughts-in-order gestures and it always makes you want to hold his hands so he won't cause himself even that little bit of pain. "We're on an island," he says. "Not sure how big it is, didn't get all that good a look while we were crashing. I don't think it's inhabited, or at least, I didn't find any signs of trollish life near here. I dragged the bike under a tree to make it less visible from the air, but it's fucking heavy and I was more worried about getting us out of the open before the sun came up. We have the water bottles and some nasty grub jerky from the bike's saddlebags, and after that...." He huffs a sharp exhale and squares his shoulders. "After that I don't know."

The water helps to make you feel like a real live troll again. You stop yourself at half the bottle, though. "Ith it nighttime again?" you ask. Silly question. He's awake, so probably, right?

"Yeah," he says. "You think you're up for coming out to take a look around?"

"Okay," you say. "Yeah." You get up with only one false start, and you have to duck a little bit to avoid banging your horns on the roof of the cave, but you follow SL around his campfire and outside.

The first thing you notice is that the air smells weird. Salt and some kind of flowery smell and no exhaust at all.

The second thing you notice is holy fuck there are a lot of stars. You knew that intellectually, obviously, and of course with the smog and the streetlights and the neon and everything visibility in the capital was bad, but wow. You stand there for a second just looking up at the sky, conscious of SL standing shoulder-to-shoulder with you, being your warm anchor when you have a moment of falling-up-into-endlessness vertigo.

The third thing you notice is that you don't feel doomed at all.

You take a deep breath. You think you could get to like the air here. "Firtht, we find more water, right?"

"Seems like the best place to start," SL says. You turn to look at him and he's completely fucking beautiful under the starlight, and you're both alive, and if you have anything to say about it you're both going to stay that way.

You take his hand. "Then let'th go."