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]

Steampunk + Superheroes for Dave <3 John

FILL: TEAM dave♠karkat♥terezi♥dave

[sadisticbutsweet]

(I've never written steampunk so HAHAHAHAHA I hope this doesn't completely suck.)

John counts the minutes while the pendulum swings on the large clock that sits in his tiny work room. He starts at one end of the room, hunched over his projects with tweezers in one hand and a hammer in the other. Eventually he moves to the window, carefully testing and oiling his mechanical bunny Liv while watching the people passing by. By the time night has fallen he’s sitting in front of his clock, holding Liv tightly in his arms while he twirls his hammer restlessly. His eyes follow every swing and second, his foot tapping the time impatiently.

He’s on minute three hundred and fifty-seven when he hears the door to the shop swing open. Liv whirs to life, her little head tilting toward the direction of the noise. John knows who it is before the person has even passed through the door

“What did you do this… “ John trails off. “…Oh gods Dave.”

There’s blood dripping from his mouth, making Dave Strider look even paler than usual, and the oil in his hair makes it stick up in weird angles. His aviator jacket is ripped and dirtied, black marks marring the red fabric where it was singed. He holds a cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. With a limp Dave approaches John and unceremoniously lets the fabric unroll. Pipes and gears crash loudly onto the floor, some scattering and rolling away.

“The wings need work,” he says, deadpan, limping over to John’s workshop table. He shoves the cogs and machinations aside and spreads his jacket over the hard table to give himself somewhere to sit.

“They worked just fine yesterday!” John can’t help but stare in dismay at the pipes and gears – what is left of his pet project of three months – even while he moves around the room grabbing supplies. “I checked them! The test flight went perfect!” Liv produces a small vial of antiseptic, and John hurries to the sink to fill a cup with water.

“That was yesterday,” Dave grunts, leaning back against the wall. “This is today. Shit.” Dave presses a hand to his side, gritting his teeth. John sets the bowl down by him, pulling his hand away. He fights the urge to squirm away from the dark stain on Dave’s shirt, and instead brushes his fingers over it. Dave cringes.

“Dave –“

“I was heading to meet a confidante when one of the Batterwitch’s cronies got me. Tesla ray right in the ribs took me down near the docks. Thanks to the jacket it just stung more than anything, but man he was insistent. Tried looking for me for fuck knows how long.” He trails off, rubbing a hand across his face. “And the bastard made off with my aviators, the pair you made me. Damn it.”

He sounds angrier over the loss of his shades than anything else. John isn’t sure if he’s flattered or concerned. He shoves all of that aside for the moment. Together they get Dave out of his shirt, allowing John to see that, yes, it’s mostly just burned skin and sensitive nerves. John quickly takes to cleaning up the wound. Fixing the wings can come later.

Seven quiet minutes later and concern wins out. Liv helps hold the gauze in place while John tapes him up, quietly saying, “Dave, you can’t keep doing this. It’s not safe.”

There are not enough hands to count how many times John has said that. John never made it any secret how worried he is at any given time. He’s worried ever since Dave spoke the words “resistance movement”, ever since Dirk Strider’s body appeared swinging from the Queen’s gallows, ever since he showed up on John’s doorstep in his custom made jacket (courtesy of their friend Rose) begging John to help him.

Dave’s head has fallen back and his eyes are closed. He doesn’t even open them, just licks the dried blood from his lip. “Who else is going to do it, John? Huh? I’m not going to sit around and wait for the witch to pick us off. She has enough of our friends’ blood on her claws. Someone needs to rise up.”

“I know but –“ John stops, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. Now Dave is looking at him, his eyes narrowed under his hair.

“What?” he asks, arching a brow.

“Do you think we can really take her down?” Suddenly the roll of gauze tape in his hands is very interesting.

There’s a long moment of silence. John counts twenty-four ticks of the pendulum. “If I can get a working pair of wings, a working blade, and a new pair of shades, her head is as good as ours. Until then I just need to start small and help the resistance on a more local level. That is –“

Their hands meet half way, fingers weaving together.

“-as long as I’ve got my mechanic with me. Can’t get anywhere without having you fix my ass up every time I fuck up.” He kisses John's knuckles, like some kind of knight greeting his princess.

John smiles gently, despite any misgivings he may still have. “Geez, Dave, you already sound like some kind of hero out of a theater play!”

“Nah, I ain’t no hero,” Dave mumbles, closing his eyes again. “I don’t even have an appropriately shitty name yet, although I’m working on it. How about ‘The Birdman’? Not shitty enough? ‘The Metal Macaw’. 'The Feathery Asshole'. Whatever it is, it needs to have ‘the’. That’s what makes it five times more obnoxious than it should be. A proper hero name for a proper hero."

John laughs and pulls away, rolling up his sleeves. The pendulum ticks away the seconds, each one lost time. Time's counting down, and John doesn't want anyone to lose anymore. Invigorated, John says, “Alright, let’s get those wings fixed up. Liv can get you a pen and we can wire anything you got to the resistance.”

Dave just sits there and smiles, even when Liv shoves a notebook and pen into his hand. "Where would I be without my trusty mechanic?"

John's smile doesn't leave for the full four hundred and thirteen minutes it takes him to repair the wings.

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3NEPETA

[bloodredbites]

Battle Royale/Survival game + really cheesy romance for Karkat <3 John

FILL: TEAM JADE<3NEPETA

[superginjya]

(Warning: blood and character death. Also, I tried to make the ending as sappy as possible to fulfill the “cheesy romance” part of the prompt, but I don’t know if I did it quite right.)

Though the forest is shady by day, any land located under the conglomerate of trees is pitch-black after sunset. In the mind of Karkat Vantas, this is good news: for him, surviving this game isn’t about hunting— it’s about hiding, hoping that whoever’s left in the end will be weak and injured enough for him to take out.

He takes shelter in the dark woods, moving as quietly and as quickly as possible. The scattered foliage and dimness created by the trees makes both of these goals nearly impossible, but he’s still fairly certain he’s not being followed. More than half of the game’s participants— no, more than half of the game’s victims are gone already, and everybody left is probably trying to kill each other. He’s safe— for tonight, at least.

Karkat considers making camp for a brief moment, but the sound of plants rustling behind him changes his mind quickly. The source of the noise was probably a stray hopbeast, but he’s alert and awake and panicked enough that traveling a bit farther in the opposite direction of the sound seems like a fantastic idea. If Sollux were still around, Karkat thinks, the Gemini would probably be telling him to grow a spine and stop freaking out about a harmless wild animal.

And then Karkat reminds himself that Sollux is not around, and he hasn’t been around since that strife with Eridan that morning over the small pack of supplies that Doc Scratch oh-so-politely dropped between five or six starving trolls, effectively ending any loose sort of alliance they’d formed. And he decides to keep moving.

After another hour of creeping through the forest, trying and failing to move noiselessly through the branches and occasional patch of fallen leaves, he comes across a small clearing, and barely resists the urge to spew out a loud string of expletive-ridden insults directed at nobody at particular. Not only would anyone else wandering around in the woods be instinctually attracted to the wide open space, but said space provided absolutely no cover—the entire point of loudly and half-blindly stumbling through the forest in the first place.

Suddenly, he hears more rustling, and the crackle of leaves, and the snapping of branches, and it’s all from a creature far too large to be anything vaguely resembling a hopbeast.

Karkat spots the faint outline of a figure on the other edge of the clearing about a hundred or so meters away. It’s too dark to tell whether the figure is troll or human, much less who it might be— but whoever it is, to Karkat’s horror, is making absolutely no effort to hide their presence, walking rather noisily from the edge of the forest into the clearing.

That could mean one of two things— they’re either prepared enough, or they think they are, to take on anything that wants to confront them, or they’re too stupid to realize they’re practically a walking alarm, warning everything in the area to come and attack them. While being in the vicinity of either is asking for death, the figure walks a bit closer to Karkat and he can make out
something else— the figure is dragging a blunt-looking object behind them. If it’s a weapon— and it probably is— then they’re probably in the ready-to-kill-whoever-they-come-across category.

Karkat instinctively takes a step back, preparing to sprint away— and steps on a large, dry branch, a rather loud snap echoing through the area. The figure turns in Karkat’s direction, and begins to sprint towards him.

Despite all the noise around him, from nocturnal beasts and mysterious figure alike, everything seems silent to Karkat as he pulls out his scythe. But he’s hungry, and tired, and scared, and whoever’s running towards him seems just full of energy, and—“

“Karkat!”

Hearing his name in that familiar voice snaps him out of the trance. He slowly lowers his scythe as he recognizes the figure— the boy— running towards him.

“Karkat, are you okay?”

It takes the troll a moment to process this. “John, what the fuck are you doing?”

John gives him a small smile. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Y’know, after this morning, when…” he trails off. “When we all got separated. Do you know what happened to everybody with us?”

Karkat grimaces. “I think Jade got away, but I’m not really sure about Kanaya. Last I saw, she was trying to intervene between…” The grimace fades away into a miserable, tired frown.

“I think I… know what happened between those two. I’m really sorry about that.” The boy tries to lay a reassuring hand on Karkat’s shoulder, but is pushed away almost immediately.

“John, don’t you get it? Scratch put sixteen of us here, and fifteen aren’t leaving. It was pretty much guaranteed that Sollux was going to be one of them, and it’s pretty much guaranteed that we are, too.” He takes a breath, and continues. “And let’s say, somehow, everyone else on this island manages to kill each other off? Then what?”

He’s a bit surprised to see that John hasn’t walked away at this stunning display of logic, or, if he was really smart, killed him with the weapon he was carrying around— where the hell did he manage to find a sledgehammer? “Yeah, I know all that, Karkat. But…”

“But what?”

“I’d— Karkat!”

Karkat is utterly unprepared for what happens next— he sees the startled look in John’s eyes and suddenly he’s on the ground; a loud shot rings out, and John is lying facedown on top of him a second later.

Karkat can vaguely hear someone running away behind him, but he's much more focused on the boy right on top of him. "John, what just― John?"

Said boy mumbles something incomprehensible onto Karkat's chest, and he sits up, careful not to jostle John around too much. As gently as possible, Karkat lifts him up, and turns him over. And, as John lays in his arms, breathing unsteady and eyes barely open, Karkat realizes what has just happened.

Blood blooms from the bullet embedded in his stomach, and his parts of his light-blue shirt are dyed a sickening red. It distantly occurs to Karkat that this will be the second time today he watches someone important to him die.

“Why?” his voice is weak. “Why did you do that?”

Despite the pain he’s obviously in, John. “You’re right. Only one of us is making it off the island. And, Karkat...”

The troll feels tears forming in his eyes, and in a moment, pale red drops are falling onto John’s shirt.

“I want it to be you.”

Before John’s eyes close for good, Karkat places a gentle kiss on his lips. John grin grows a bit wider, and then fades into a small smile.

“Promise me you’ll live, Karkat.”

“…Yeah, John, I will.”

Karkat sits with him, cradling his body until he no longer feels the boy breathing. Gently lowering John’s body to the ground, the troll stands up and, after taking one last look at the boy who died for him, pulls out his scythe. The sun’s going to rise in a few hours, and he’s done running.

After all, he’s got a promise to keep.

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3NEPETA

[bloodredbites]

Magic + Cooking for Roxy <3 Jane

FILL: TEAM KANAYA<3ROSE

[tapps]

“Ooooooh,” Roxy whines, tipping back on the chair legs just the way she’s been told not to. “Give it here, Janey, I need to try this puppy out.”

Swatting the sneaky fingers away, Jane moves the ten-and-a-half inch elm wand (Dragon heartstrings, packing quite the punch) out of reach. They’ve had enough drunken magic accidents to last a lifetime, most of them (luckily) fixable through mundane household spells.

“Nuh-uh,” she chides. “I don’t have time to be removing rabbity features again. No, not today, not today at all!”

With a flick of her own wand (a stocky nine inches flat, a rare mahogany, filled with the ever-reliable unicorn hair), Jane lines the rest of the ingredients up along the counter. Another flick, and Roxy’s chair legs hit the floor with a thump - and stick. Literally. She tests them, can’t move an inch, gives up - and then hefts the trendy, handy, sweetly-sized spellbook and stands.

Jane stirs the batter by hand, since it simply never turns out right with the spell her housemates used, but the ingredients march merrily over to add themselves to the mix in their precisely, pre-measured proportions. Like clockwork. It will be the perfect cake.

It will be the perfect cake, if Roxy stops trying to shove all these quick-bake spells on her. It is Jane’s honest opinion that her wife will just never understand the value of Muggle baking. Mostly-Muggle baking.

Batter does best with a figure-eight turn, something most witches never bother to learn, and Jane will be damned if her confections will turn out with the same slightly-overly-moist finish that magic-baked cakes do. See, she’ll tell everyone over and over again, being Muggle-born has its uses, being Muggle-born isn’t all bad, being Muggle-born doesn’t make her goshdarned useless!

Roxy shoves the spellbook under her nose (Semilie Shakes’ Spells for Startlingly Supple Sweets!), and though Jane knows it’ll be another inferior charm, she nudges her glasses up her nose again and peers down at the curly typeface, complete with moving pictures for added help. Jane forces a smile.

“Maybe next time, dear. This cake deserves a more... personal touch, I think.”

“But you say that every. damn. time.”

Eyes are rolled. The spellbook shuts with a snap. Jane’s stirring doesn’t skip a beat. She remembers to add that counter-clockwise turn as well - keeps the batter aerated! - as the last of the ingredients is worked in.

Ooh, but sometimes she does feel guilty, brushing off Roxy’s suggested spells. She would ask her wife to help more often if it weren’t for the fact that those cakes end up barely edible.

“Ah,” she replies. Perfectly noncommittal, for a friend's birthday cake always requires a personal touch. “Fetch the cake tins, would you?”

“We wouldn’t need cake tins if you’d just use those spells,” Roxy singsongs quietly, but she goes and gets them anyways, sets them (perhaps a little too hard; Slytherins hold grudges like no others) on the stovetop, even sneaks the wand out from under Janey’s nose to summon a pat of butter with which to grease the pans.

As always, she leaves a little too much, and Jane makes sure to wipe out the excess as soon as Roxy turns her back.

From there it’s just a ~Wingardium Leviosa~, and the batter pours gently into the pans. There’s no harm in using magic to get all of the batter out of the bowl, no harm in cleaning up with spells. Jane is a purist over the baking portion of the project only.

The tins go in the oven, the timer set to half an hour, and cleanup is a breeze as Roxy lounges again in her chair, lazily waving her wand in circles. It’s a bit of a show, watching her bags of flour and spice tins dance their way back into the cupboard, and Jane relaxes, resting a hand on Roxy’s shoulder.

That hand is quickly seized and marked with black lipstick, lauded with quiet praise of its baking as well as serenaded with filthy promises, wholly nonmagical spells that enchant nonetheless.

There is, after all, half an hour to waste while the cake rises.

Rises the right way.

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3SOLLUX

[astraldeveloper]

courtroom sketch + protest art, Terezi<3Karkat<3Sollux<3Terezi

PROMPT: TEAM JOHN<3VRISKA

[tehstripe]

Nepeta<3Terezi, Legal Thriller and Visual Novel

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3SOLLUX

[astraldeveloper]

letter + tragedy, Karkat<>Sollux

FILL: TEAM [Alpha!Dave/Alpha!Rose]

[andthus]

SOLLUX,

IF YOU ARE READING THIS THEN I GUESS I'M DEAD. IF YOU ARE READING THIS AND I'M NOT DEAD, THEN SOMEONE FUCKED UP MY INSTRUCTIONS AND WE CAN BOTH GO AND KICK THEIR ASS LATER.

BUT REALLY, IF YOU GET THIS I AM MOST LIKELY DEAD. I KNOW THAT WE WERE HOPING THAT I COULD MAKE IT THROUGH THE DRONES BUT I GUESS IT WAS JUST TOO HARD TO COVER UP MY DISGUSTING BLOOD.

I HOPE YOU ARE SAFE AT LEAST. I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO HAUNT MY MOIRAIL WHILE HE'S STUCK PILOTING SOME SHIP AND NOT BEING ABLE TO MOVE. THAT WOULD BE FUCKING BORING NOT TO MENTION RATHER PATHETIC.

SO IF YOU AREN'T STUCK IN THE SHIP OF A BLODDTHIRSY HIGHBLOOD WHO USES YOU AS A BATTERY THEN I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I PITY YOU, YOU STUPID IDIOT. YOU NEED TO LIVE THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AS WELL AS YOU CAN AND JUST BE HAPPY OKAY. FIND QUADRANT MATES THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY, HELL, IF YOU FIND ANOTHER MOIRAIL THAT COMPLETES YOU THEN THAT'S OKAY TOO. I'M DEAD AND YOU'RE NOT. JUST *BE HAPPY* AND STAY ALIVE AS LONG AS POSSIBLE.

<>
KARKAT

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3SOLLUX

[astraldeveloper]

still life + graffiti, Karkat<3<Feferi

FILL: TEAM ERIDAN<3<SOLLUX

[kephra]

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3DAVE

[razzda]

Tavros<3<Karkat Hills + Mystery

PROMPT: TEAM ARADIA <3 SOLLUX

[icylily]

Warfare(weaponry) + Magic, Jade<>Dave

FILL: TEAM [Alpha!Dave<3Alpha!Rose]

[andthus]

They stood back to back, surrounded by a circle of enemies.

Dave swung his sword to create a wave of power that cut down the first few that had jumped at him. The drones from the opposing army that got caught up in the wave screeched as the fell, but more soon took their place. Wave after wave were taken down by the swipes of the sword and the shots of the rifle behind him.

“How many more are there?” Jade asked between shots of magical energy from her weapon, taking care of any that tried to get close to her partner.

“Just a few more waves I think, we can be done here and then head home in time to watch all of those amazing great cartoons that you live for Harley.”

“Hey shut up, my cartoons are the best, Dave!”

Even while more and more drones kept showing up, the two still kept their focus with smiles on their face.

The battle finally ended with the two humans being that last ones standing. For the first time since it started they turned and saw each other, one grinning and one smirking.

They gave each other high fives and then raced each other back to the compound, walking through the magical barrier, another day’s work done.

----

Sadly I don't think this is my best work and it's really short, but I hope it's what you were looking for!

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3DAVE

[razzda]

gamzee <3 karkat whirlwind romance & jazz

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3KARKAT

[write_skivvie.livejournal.com]

Calliope/UU<3Roxy

Body Horror + Comfort uvu

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3DAVE

[razzda]

eridan <3< sollux burlesque & drama

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3DAVE

[razzda]

dave<3jade

Uniforms & Mafia

FILL: TEAM [Alpha!Dave<3Alpha!Rose]

[andthus]

She smoothed down the lapels of her new suit, making sure that she looked perfect. It was her first solo job for her new family and she wanted to make sure that she presented the right image while she did so. Looking herself critically in the mirror, Jade nodded, nervously grinned, and then grabbed her gun, hiding it in the discreet pocket hidden in her jacket.

"Are you all ready then?" The man that had trained her in how to pull off jobs with him and had taught her how the family operates had entered her room. "It's your first solo tonight Harley, can't have you messing up and then the others thinking it was my shoddy teaching that led to it."

She went up to him punched him in the arm, and while he rubbed it she quickly kissed the smirk off his lips.

"Hah! Yeah right, I'm going to be the best and make my way up, so one day you'll be the one taking pointers from me!"

And after slowly kissing him one more time, her nerves now completely gone, she slapped him on the ass and sashayed out the door, laughing at his surprised yelp.

"And I expect some... congratulations...tonight when I come back after having done an exemplary job!"

---

Hope you like it OP! I wish I could draw, because I feel like that would be better, but sadly my skill does not lie in that field.

PROMPT: TEAM ARADIA <3 SOLLUX

[icylily]

ghosts + prom, john<3vriska
(sits here and expects sadstuck)

FILL: TEAM Dualscar <3< Mindfang

[retardokoolaid]

done!

PROMPT: TEAM ARADIA <3 SOLLUX

[icylily]

superheroes + romcom, roxy<3AR

FILL: TEAM JADE<3KARKAT

[lattelatte]

Haha this doesnt seem very superhero like but autoresponder was supposed to be like iron man?? (´A｀)ノﾟ

PROMPT: TEAM ARADIA <3 SOLLUX

[icylily]

This absolutely classy song + ballroom dancing, Snowman<3<Spades Slick (do it do it)

PROMPT: TEAM ARADIA <3 SOLLUX

[icylily]

im on a roll
Tragedy + Fantasy, jade<3davesprite

PROMPT: TEAM BRO<3DAVE

[sugoiprincess]

magical girls + chick flick
aradia<3sollux

PROMPT: TEAM BRO<3DAVE

[sugoiprincess]

mafia + music video
vriska<3<tavros (i hope this can work hAHAHA)

PROMPT: TEAM BRO<3DAVE

[sugoiprincess]

sci-fi + fairytale
doc scratch<3rose

FILL: TEAM Nepeta<3Terezi

[vulturer]

((Sorry this isn't very shippy at all... Hope you enjoy it anyway!!))

- - -

Rose's kicked-up sneakers hit the oily puddles light and swift, splashing up just enough to kiss the hem of her filthy wool coat. The deep city crowds move in chaotic currents that she slips through, ducking under tarp-covered jars balanced on deliverers' heads, sidestepping rattling carts of salvaged machinery. The air she sucks down is thick with secondhand smoke of hundreds of cheap import cigarettes. She keeps balance with one pumping arm, the other deep in a coat pocket clutching a treasure to king all treasures.

Just holding the milky globe in her hand gives her such sight. The city lays out in a live map in her implant eye; vector lines of light marking every street corner, food dive, prosthetic modification, aircar make, even metal grates in the fucking gutters that could take her to someplace secret. She follows the gridlines with her eye and finds that it's a joke how easy it is to piggyback on surveillance, spying on her stomping grounds and further. Her vision splits, half trained on the shuffling crowds and half jumping from camera to camera, picking out the passersby with a grainy focus. She's a single blood cell hopping the veins.

Then paranoia hits like sickness; every pedestrian is a threat, can think her suspicious and flag down a drone that would rope her in and take her to the capitol building where she would know nothing but concrete rooms and questions and braintaps until she gave up why she took it. She would be tortured for a name, an employer of sorts, of which she has absolutely none. Closest thing is a partner in crime, if one could call a troll girl with a penchant for dealing her dues in eights a trustworthy associate. Not trustworthy, no, but certainly formidable and definitely ballsy, leading her and Rose in a scheme to bag the biggest get this city cannot know.

Rose's face aches from grinning.

Once upon a time, there were two young thief girls, one human and one troll.

She skids on the slippery concrete as an airbus lands a few yards ahead, right where she would have been in three seconds had she not felt the blast of searing wind from the jets, and she banks to fade back into the masses.

The troll girl was greedy and ambitious, like any self-respecting blue-blood would be, and she led the human girl on a daring scavenger hunt.

Across the technicolor skyscraper-wide advertisements sprawls stark white words that follow Rose as she runs. When she stops, they cease scrolling mid-sentence through the transparent displays, waiting for her to continue her flight. Heart pounding a rhythm of legend's birds, she ducks into an alleyway to cross to another street. Bone pixel text is waiting for her on the other side.

They snuck into a forbidden lair and snatched two priceless items from within. The trophies granted them unfathomable powers of semi-omniscience, a skill they would likely put to rather questionable use.

She runs for the sake of running now, heart in her throat and lungs pushing up higher too. Mid sprint, she relaxes her vicegrip in an experiment, dropping the ball down to the bottom of her pocket; the words vanish. Okay. Hand back around the sphere, she edges into the street where she can glance at the billboards without crashing into bodies.

Or, at least they could, as long as I didn't explode the loot in their faces.

She slows to a stop in front of a newspaper projection wall—thousands of suspended screens with articles scrolling like rain in reverse, a downpour of written languages—and catches her breath.

"All right," she huffs, clenching her hand around the sphere, the other in a fist. "You have my attention."

Your friend really should have given me the same.

"She's not my friend."

But surely not an enemy?

"And why not? I was impressed on to keep that kind closer."

Clearly that has served you well.

"It has. It's gotten me a key, for instance."

So I see.

"Can you?" Rose asks and, instead of feeling clever and powerful, she now feels watched. An uncanny feeling, like there's a gremlin behind her eye. "You're linked to this ball, that much is apparent. And if I can even believe you at all, which I don't, you remotely blew up it's sister."

I did.

She pokes her finger through a Korean tabloid, laughing humorlessly and short. "Machine ghost. Surveillance, judging by the paths that make a web out of security cameras. You're the big white server with all those plugs in the treasure room."

Mostly correct, yes. But to claim I am a simple program is an insult to my character, and I am quite sure that you know better. I am not merely a sum of parts.

"Then what are you?"

A victim of burglary. And what does that make you, thief?

She doesn't reply. A rhetorical question, followed by a one-white-letter-at-a-time answer.

Impressive.

PROMPT: TEAM dave♠karkat♥terezi♥dave

[sadisticbutsweet]

Historical fiction + Tragedy for Roxy<3Jane

(Why am I a bad person to my favorite ships?)

FILL: TEAM [Alpha!Dave<3Alpha!Rose]

[andthus]

They lay together in the alleyway, holding hands and huddling for warmth. The two of them had been together since they could remember, but only recently did they find themselves both without family and without support.

The Depression was a tough time for everyone, but Jane and Roxy had been doing okay with their neighboring families before the fire took both their homes and their guardians. The two had run away, not risking being taken into a terrible orphanage and being treated horribly or worse, separated. They promised each other that they would always be together, no matter what circumstances they were in.

And so they learned on the streets how to scavenge, how to beg, even how to steal juts so that they could survive.

But now it was winter and they were cold and starving and alone. Except for each other, that had never changed and it never would.

"Let's go together." Jane said, kissing Roxy sweetly one last time as they felt their bodies shut down.

With the last of her strength, Roxy grabbed Jane's cheeks and deepened their kiss, and with their last breaths they said goodbye.

---
Right in the ship ;a;
Hope it was what you were looking for!

PROMPT: TEAM ARADIA <3 SOLLUX

[icylily]

penpals + drama aradia<>feferi

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3TEREZI

[anonymouscomrade]

Pro wrestling AU + camp (think Adam West as Batman)

Sollux <3< Eridan

PROMPT: TEAM KARKAT<3TEREZI

[xelfi]

Aradia <3 / <> Sollux

Propaganda + anti-bucket protest movement (where buckets are tools of fear and oppression in troll society)

PROMPT: TEAM DIRK<3JANE

[moonkistforlife]

I'd ADORE seeing Jane<3Jake mixed up with Mermaids in the Victorian era!

FILL: TEAM [Dave<3<Karkat]

[fluorescentnova]

I hope you like it!