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 BRO<3GRANDPA

[gjarble]

Could someone make a combination film noir and sitcom for Jane<3Gamzee?

FILL: TEAM Gamzee<>Karkat

[novatoast]

It was just like any other day when Private Eye J first met him; all swank with his trinkets and exuberant sense of style. Little did she know that purchasing a vial of suspicious looking liquid toted as a “love potion” of sorts on that dreary late-afternoon to get him to split the scene would mark the first of many encounters with this individual. He came and went as he pleased, and no matter how hard-boiled her methods, she could not find a trace of the man afterwards. A phantom of the night.

A person of interest.

But the city never sleeps as they say, so life went on as her leads one by one dried up. Dames and gents alike paid visit to her office with a sticky situation or a promising mystery for her to solve in the meanwhile.

The second time she met the man was during an undercover mission. Fedora on head and fake mustache in place, she--most assuredly, merely momentarily--abandoned her case to give chase to the stranger. Meeting eye contact with him was a whirlwind thunderstorm in the drought that became of his case and she was determined not to lose him. Who was he? Where did he come from? What exactly was in that bunk potion? How many others fell victim to his wares? She was certain he was not to be trusted and it electrified her nerves. That, or she was spurred on by the desire to win back her side of the pranksters gambit between them since falling for his tomfoolery. Comedy was in her blood after all. She was not about to let herself be outmatched by this joker of a character.

He gave her quite the runaround before she had him cornered in an alleyway. Breathing hard, she laughed in her distinctive way, “Hoo hoo! Why aren’t you the slippery devil!”

“The store is all up and motherfuckin’ closed, my fine-ass sister. Permanent-like, you dig?” he’s cool as a cucumber despite the detective blocking his only clear exit. Neither of them have drawn weapons, but that could all change in an instant with just one wrong move if she‘s reading the current situation right. Although, honestly, while he’s clearly focused there is still enough blankness to his expression that there could be any number of reasons behind his smile. To cast his every action in doubt is how she chose to understand him best under the circumstances.

“Oh! Now I do wonder how that could possibly happen,” she’s seen and heard much worse than his brand of vulgarity and so pushes onwards undeterred. “Might it be that you do not have a merchant’s permit, mister…? Well shucks, I don’t believe I know your name!”

He had laughed at her then. Nasally, and nearly sounding like a “honk” if that weren’t just so absurd! She learned of his agility when he jumped and ran along the face of a wall to pass her with seemingly ease. Then, the moment she turned around to pursue him anew was exactly when a fluffy cream pie had hit her dead center in the face. That cad! And a coward too! Oh, how her pranksters gambit plummets! She suffered her loss to the fool.

It was on that day, while wiping cream from her delicate taped-on mustache, that Detective Jane Crocker had sworn to herself that she would not underestimate him again.

From joy buzzers and slippery banana peels to wooden nickels and smoke pellets, Jane had every intent to enjoy herself immensely in their encounters that followed. And so she did.

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3JADE

[portaling]

OKAY I'D REALLY LIKE TO SEE SOME JADE<3ARADIA because they are so cute.

and uh....for genres....Robinson Crusoe/Indiana Jones-esque story meets Cyberpunk!

FILL: TEAM [JADE<3KANAYA<3ROSE]

[mirroreuler]

“Got anything?”

Jade bit her lip, listening intently. But the radar continued to beep and after a few moments she sighed, closing it up and dropping the machine back into her bag at her feet. “Nothing.”

The troll girl sat down with a loud thump, digging her hands into the sand. Jade jumped, eyes wide. Her heart was still pounding, adrenaline from earlier not even beginning to wear off.

Awkwardly, she looked around – nothing but sand and jungle, the plane sitting awkwardly on the beach next to them. Instinctively she tried to think about what they should do now (food? Shelter? No, water, probably...) and wrack her mind remembering what gadgets she'd managed to bring, but exhaustion overtook her and she sat down in the sand next to her companion.

For several minutes, they remained quiet.

Finally, the other girl spoke. “Thanks. Thanks for- everything back there.”

Jade shook her head. “You were in trouble. I did what I could.”

“No.” Jade turned; the girl was looking at her intently, her eyes a vivid yellow even behind her ragged hair. “You didn't need to do any of that. I don't even know you, I-”

“Maybe. But I get the feeling we have the same enemy.” Jade sighed, looking up at the sky. “I've been working against CrockerCorp for years now, from the inside. I couldn't do much – if I deliberately messed the drones up, I'd just get fired at best, but I was able to at least do something. Intelligence. And spare parts here or there – that's how I was able to get all of these.” She gestured to the bag.

“But now you can't anymore. And I'm just a redblood, I'd probably have died anyway-”

“No-one's going to die if I can stop it,” Jade said harshly, staring back at her. “I won't regret saving someone's life. Not anyone's.”

The girl stared back. Slowly, she nodded.

She held out her hand. “Aradia Megido.”

Jade shook it, grinning. “Jade Harley.”

With that, Jade stood up, brushing the sand from her coat. “Well, it looks like we're in for a stay. I don't think they'll be able to find us on this island here – not for a while, anyway, especially if we keep communication very limited.”

Aradia watched her, then smiled, retrieving her whip and standing up. “I'm sure I could be stranded with worse people...Jade.”

Jade giggled. “Same here!”

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3JADE

[angiie]

i would give my first born child for a:

dirk<3kanaya
satire + high school au!

doesn't it sound enticing?

Re: PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3JADE

[djiinraidinnae]

Consider it done.

PROMPT: TEAM ROSE<3ROXY

[adaorardor]

Picaresque + police procedural, Vriska<3Terezi.

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

[nextian]

she ain't fancy she ain't fine, or, being a part of the reminiscences of Spinneret Mindfang, here published for the edification of the wicked and the entertainment of the virtuous

It is now for me to relate how my cousin and sometime partner Serket came into service as the engraver to Captain Pyrope of the Royal Guard, though it is a story that is professionally painful for me to relate. I was, of course, absent for this episode, informed of it only in retrospect through Serket's extravagant boasts, but through careful investigation I believe I have worked out what remains of the truth. It is as follows.

I was, as I have said, in the cells of the capital, and sorely in need of funds for bail. I had dispatched Serket to fetch the counterfeit funds we kept in reserve in an arroyo not far from the capital, but what with one thing and another, Serket had done a very poor job of it; to wit, she had been seen. She protested gravely at this to me, saying that she had been very well disguised in my clothes, and besides that the witness was an old woman and very nearsighted, and besides that they had been miles away at the time, and besides that Serket doubted she had been seen at all!!!!!!!! It was all nonsense and I told her so in no uncertain terms. I am really extremely lucky that she did not take this opportunity to reassess her loyalties to the imprisoned marquise of a pirate fleet. Instead, after considerable grumbling, she went to steal the eyewitness' report.

She was just in time. A young troll with hardly eight sweeps' growth of horns was toting boxes of forms and the composite portrait to the Captain's office, and she offered assistance, which was gratefully accepted. They took the reports through every layer of security and laid the portrait on the Captain's unoccupied desk, at which point the young troll, encouraged by a boondollar, up and left. Serket must have been practically pailing herself in delight. She lifted the picture, ready to take it out the same way it came in. It was at that precise moment that Captain Pyrope reentered.

"Thank you, young miss," the Captain said, taking a seat at the desk with some care. "You may leave the portrait on the desk."

Serket stared at her in open awe. They had been friends as girls, practically still hatchlings, playing at ancestors and death, and Serket had blinded her some years back. She had assumed that the Captain could not have risen so high without culling without some form of sight, but the woman in front of her was indeed blind, and walked with a cane, and did not recognize Serket at all. It was a shock to the system, and it left Serket strangely, and, I am afraid, very foolishly off-guard.

In the meantime, the Captain had groped her way to the portrait. She lifted it with a profound grimace and dragged her tongue straight down the front of it.

"I can't see this," she said, her grimace getting worse. "This is far too small. Call the engraver to enhance it."

I am sure to Serket it seemed like a brilliant opportunity. "Oh, I'll do it, Captain," she said, lifting the portrait. "I'm an engraver of sorts."

Captain Pyrope waved a hand--I suppose it could not matter to her very much how well the work was done so long as it was done large and bright enough to taste--and Serket scurried out, the thing pinioned under her arm.

She blew the thing up, of course. She certainly had ink enough, from three sweeps' counterfeiting practice. She also altered herself beyond all recognition in it, making the thief look to be an oliveblood of ten sweeps with horns that were practically antlers. Some vanity, there. She took her time with the background, as well, adding the curves of the arroyo and the pink moon in the sky. It was all very artful, and I must say I enjoy it a great deal. I have it on my cabin wall at present, along with some of her more youthful portraits of me. I do not know what Captain Pyrope could possibly have made of it, except that when she drew her tongue over it, she made the very same face as last time.

"Enhance it again," she said. "No, not the troll. The arroyo and the moon. We can navigate by it."

Serket was at a loss with this request, but did as she was told. She had to use practically all the pink in her kit to get the moon properly, and privately she was pleased to think of Captain Pyrope lost and wandering in the hills with an enhanced map of nowhere at all.

This portrait was met with a much longer taste-test, when Serket presented it. Then Pyrope lifted her head with a grin. "Oh, yes," she said. "This is what I wanted. The ink is very familiar. This is the same pink as was on every single one of those counterfeit boondollars down the arroyo, Miss Vriska Serket."

Serket, to her credit, possibly, stood her ground. "It cannot be," she said. "I am no daring, dashing, super attractive smuggler and counterfeiter and pirate. I am only an extremely boring private in the guard."

"I think, Miss Serket," suggested Captain Pyrope, "that that is as fake as this incredibly fake portrait you have just handed me."

"Well, taste-test me then," said Serket, quite out of patience, and she must have been very surprised when Captain Pyrope did.

They taste-tested each other for some time, and very thoroughly. After some hours had gone by, and Serket had regained her pants but not her tunic and certainly not her original socks, Captain Pyrope sat back on the desk. Serket eyed her warily.

"I think you are not a dashing, daring, super attractive smuggler or whatever that was at all. You are free to go, since you are indeed a lowly worm of a private of the guard," Captain Pyrope said.

"Hey, now--" Serket began.

"The ultimately pitiful position," Captain Pyrope said serenely.

"Oh," said Serket, much pleased. "Yeah, okay."

PROMPT: TEAM ERIDAN<3FEFERI<3SOLLUX<3<ERIDAN

[pantsu]

Please mix up space opera and bildungsroman, for Dirk<3Jane!

If anyone needs a handy list of genres, Wikipedia is your friend.

FILL: TEAM Roxy<3Dirk

[chronologicalimplosion]

Jane takes off her headdress and comes back to herself. Some of the pieces jingle, and she'd never admit it, but she hates that that's always the first sound she hears clearly after. Her mouth also still tastes like bland starch, and that is something she will openly complain about.

"Jane, y'alright?" The twang to his voice is something much more pleasant to her ears.

"Oh, I'm fine, but golly am I hungry." Admittedly, her headache is also killing her, but first she needs some food that's not army rations.

"You don't have to do this, y'know." Dirk fell into familiar step beside her as she made her way back to her room. She needed to get her hands back on her familiar pots and pans. "There are other lives."

"Yes I do, Dirk, and you know it. I am an heiress, and while you seem content to take your birth flippantly, that means something to me." Jane's voice could be called a snap, but it was still mild, her face pulled into a sharp little pucker of disapproval. Her companion said nothing in response until Jane sighed and moved her hands to the bridge of her nose and her temples in an attempt to massage the headache out. It wasn't helping, and she wondered if there was anything that could be done about it.

"Sorry. But you know that I'm needed. After all this time, connected to the furthest stars, and we're still having a land war with Phillistines. I need to be a leader to my people, and we both know that this thing"--she paused and held up the headband, making its sickening, jingling music punctuate her point--"is the only chance I have of doing a halfway decent job of it."

"I could write you a fully functioning AI to do it all. You wouldn't have to have anything to do with it. It'd be the best general ever, win you all the gorram wars." He looked at her sideways, so she could see the bright orange of his eyes without the glasses in the way, a hopeful glint in his eyes even though they both knew what she would say.

Jane waited a moment before responding, cherishing the glint of his eyes. She knew it was an expression of trust, that he didn't let many people see his unusual eyes, and even though she wasn't always very good at being a friend, she did appreciate that Dirk was so kind to her.

"It's important that I'm there, as a symbol to the people, and as a controlling force in the war. I'm one person who can't betray me."

"You doubting my ability to code a good general for you? No child of mine is gonna turn their back on her great highness Jane Crocker. On penalty of keelhauling."

"I just don't think I'm comfortable trusting such major decisions to anyone else, robots included."

"You're not really in control as is, with the headpiece."

"Yes I am," she corrected with a roll of her eyes, "and maybe it's not the most efficient solution, but don't you think a robot would be a bit too cold and calculating to make the right moral decisions? There are a lot of hard, human choices in wars."

Dirk stopped in his tracks, and, somewhat offput, Jane did stop and turn around a few steps ahead of him. "Woah. Woah woah woah. You did not just go and say that AI are inferior. That's just flat out racist."

"'Robot' is not a race."

"Maybe it should be."

"Come on, ya big meathead." She rolled her eyes at him again, walking off towards her room again and waiting for him to leisurely stroll back in step with her. "When are you setting off again?" she asked once he had.

"Don't know yet. AR's taking care of the ship and the crew for now, but I'll get antsy again at some point. Figure I'll stay around for a bit, keep you company."

"Eat all my cake?"

"Somebody has to."

PROMPT: TEAM BRO<3GRANDPA

[macca44552]

Ship: Feferi <3 Vriska

Genres: horror and slapstick comedy.

FILL: TEAM KANAYA<>KARKAT

[draconicalgorithm]

This pretty much just turned into a horror movie parody.

---
"I'm telling you, this is THE BEST place to make out!" Bushes and tree limbs parted at the edge of the clearing, allowing a bright eyed, grinning Vriska Serket past. With the hand not being used to hold back branches, she tightly clutched the hand of Feferi Peixes. The seadweller, if possible, looked even more excited than her companion.

"Are we finally… here…" The excited tone in her voice trailed away when she saw the scene that waited for them. Vriska, who hadn't been entirely paying attention to the familiar surroundings, finally got a good look around. When she did, she held back the urge to vomit.

The small clearing, one that Vriska herself had often visited in the forest behind her hive as a wiggler, was painted with blood. There seemed to be nearly every shade possible, with the exception of Feferi's own magenta blood, and strewn among it was body parts. Hands, feet, lower jaws, sometimes lone eyes, but more often it was internal organs, looking like they'd been ripped out and forgotten. Feferi put a shaking hand over her mouth while Vriska clenched her teeth. The spider troll wasn't new to death and killing, but this even bothered her. What was worse was that it was in a place so familiar.

"Who… who could have krilled all these trolls?" Feferi looked a little worriedly at Vriska.

"It wasn't me," the cerulean blood snapped. "Besides, I don't kill highbloods. This is the work of someone else. Or something else." That was the other thing that bothered her. None of the cuts on the remaining body parts were clean—there wasn't a weapon involved, just tearing force. And every body part looked like it was from a different troll.

"Let's go back, Vriska," Feferi said, tugging the other girl's hand, but Vriska shook her head.

"Like hell I am now. I'm getting to the bottom of—" She was cut off by a scream that ended with a terrible ripping sounds. Vriska faltered for a moment. The scream had been close, less than a few yards behind them. Both girls whirled around, backing farther into the clearing. Feferi cringed when her bare feet touched blood, but they otherwise kept their eyes in the direction of the noise.

The next noise was soft at first, barely perceptible, but the forest was silent otherwise, like the very wind was holding its breath. It was a gentle creaking of footsteps on grass, growing closer, and occasionally accompanied by the swish of leaves in a person's wake. By this time, both trolls had taken their weapons from their strife specibus. Feferi clinged to her trident, and Vriska squeezed her dice in her hands so hard that she felt sure their points would cut through her skin.

The wait was unbearable, and both girls felt their aquatic vascular pump beat faster and faster as the noises drew closer. But just as the tree branches began to part, a cloud passed over both moons, blocking their only source of light. They could barely see the figure in black when it stepped into clearing, but Vriska still caught the wetness dripping from its hands. Fresh blood.

Laughter rang through the air, hollow and cruel. It shook the girls, and for a moment, neither were sure they could move. The figure moved closer.

And then, to their surprise, the figure proceeded to slip and fall in the bloody grass.

For a moment, Feferi and Vriska just stared in shock, not quite comprehending what they were seeing. Then, as one, they both laughed uproariously, a sharp contrast to the figure's laughter only a moment ago.

"What—don't laugh!" The voice, angry and indignant, was obviously that of the killer. His voice was actually a little nasally and high pitched, which only proceeded to make them laugh harder. He tried to scramble to his feet, but he couldn't seem to get a good grip. He kept slipping in the wet grass and falling face first. Finally, the cloud was swept away by the wind, and the two moons illuminated the scene.

Judging from the remainder of the face paint on the troll's face, Vriska guessed he was probably a highblood, but certainly not anyone she knew. He was a little scrawny, truth be told, and not particularly imposing at all. Though, she guessed, he did kill all those people. Now, though, his face was smeared with blood of multiple colors, and when he looked up and glared at them, the absurdity of the rainbow on his face only made them laugh harder. He growled and finally managed to climb to his feet.

"You—" he started, but that was all he had the time to get out before Vriska got a hold of herself and rolled her dice. The effect was instantaneous. He was suddenly paralyzed. Unable to move and further, he glared at them.

"Huh," Vriska said. "Not a lethal one. You can do the honors, Fef."

"Shore!" The Empress-to-Be, now in control of her own mirth, replied before stabbing him in the stomach with her trident.

After that, the two decided that the forest might not be such a great make out place after all, and from then on, they stuck to Vriska's hive.

PROMPT: TEAM ROSE<3ROXY

[adaorardor]

Fantasy of manners + splatterpunk, Kanaya<>Karkat.

FILL: TEAM ERIDAN<>ROSE

[wallwalker]

I might've failed at the Fantasy of Manners part, but I tried. ;p

---

Your scythes rip through the throat of another trained prowlbeast, spilling ridiculous amounts of olive blood on the ground. The monster gurgles as it collapses, fur matted with grime and blood and scars, eyes glazing over as it bleeds out.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you have been fighting for your life for days. You barely sleep anymore, and it's a good thing that you're better at going without sleep than most of your old friends, because at least there's one silver lining to this whole mess. You were the only one that got caught out of your cohort, at least that you know of, and you can handle this; you trained as a Threshcutioner for most of your life.

"Only one of you will make it out of this alive," the blueblood running this mess had said to the bunch of you, fifty or so scared culling-targets who'd been selected for the games. He'd been so proud and haughty and full of himself, gesturing wildly, but you hadn't been able to keep your eyes off of the silent Subjuggalator who'd stared at you with dead eyes. He was the one who scared the grubsauce out of you, maybe because you could see something of what one of your friends might turn out to be someday in his eyes. "If you are able to prove that you are worthy of your status, you will be permitted to serve Her Imperious Condescension. Fail, and you will die."

You and the rest of the unlucky weirdos had been tossed into this labyrinth and given weapons, and never given the chance to even speak to each other. You hadn't tried; you'd spent most of your time trying to eavesdrop on the guards, not that it had done much for you - the only remotely thing you'd caught was that another fifty trolls were being carted in from somewhere to join you, just to make things more interesting. Not what you'd call good news.

You'd barely seen the rest of them since you'd arrived; you'd gone out of your way to avoid them. You can fight animals easily enough, but you don't think you could kill another poor bastard who just wants to survive. It's cowardly, sure, but maybe you can just outlast everyone else. Maybe -

A hissing sound tips you off, and you manage to throw yourself aside before the slitherfang strikes. It misses you completely, its mouth snapping shut in seeming irritation, and you have just enough time to scramble to your feet before it's facing you again. You've heard about these little fuckers, you think with a sinking feeling. One strike, and then your arm swells up and your body starts rotting black from the inside.

It's about to strike. You lift your scythes, knowing it won't make a lick of difference - the thing is long but skinny, and fast, and there's just not much to hit -

- and before you can do much of anything, the thing's head is neatly bisected by... a chainsaw??

Well, it looks like one, for a second anyway. And the gobs of yellow flesh and blood flying around are certainly convincing. You squeeze your eyes shut, but that doesn't help; you feel the pelting of wet snake flesh and bits of bone striking your face. Somehow it's not as easy as when you do it; the scythes cut fast and kill quick and clean, and this is anything but -

"Karkat," a voice says in your ear, and you're being papped all of a sudden, a very warm hand against your cheek. "Karkat? Are you all right?"

"I... what. What?" You open your eyes. "Kanaya," you say, staring into a pair of shifting rainbow-colored eyes. "No. You're dead, damn it, you're not supposed to be - I wasn't supposed to -"

"Hush, now," she says. "We have to go. It's not safe here."

It's not safe anywhere, you want to say, don't you get that? But you don't; you let yourself be led along by a troll you saw killed sweeps ago, your mind completely on autopilot.

It's at least an hour before she'll answer any of your questions - when the sun has risen, and the two of you are huddling in a cave that probably has a camera or two in it to see who's holing up where during the day. Hopefully they're not going to tell the rest of the poor bastards.

"You should rest, Karkat," Kanaya says. "I am perfectly capable of guarding us until sunset."

"Wait," you say, as she guides you to a conveniently-placed pile of dead leaves. "Can't you tell me... I mean, you're dead. You had a hole in your stomach from that accident -"

"Yes, well," she says, looking ruefully at her pale, glowing skin. "I cannot say that you are entirely wrong."

"Oh," you say. Of course. "Rainbow Drinker, huh? Figures."

"Some would call it poetic." She smiles slightly.

"Yeah, well... did you have to disappear on us? I mean, you won't believe this, but we actually did miss you, you know."

"I was aware of the possibility." She shook her head. "When I first became a Rainbow Drinker, the hunger for blood was very... unpredictable, for lack of better terms. I was afraid that I would lose control and harm someone that I cared about. It took some time before I felt comfortable with my control of my urges, and I was hoping to come back, but I am afraid that things did not happen the way I expected them to."

"Do they fucking ever?" you ask, and a sick laugh bubbles up in your throat. It all made sense, of course. You wish it didn't, but it did. She thought she had it down, and she got careless, and one of the culling drones caught her. They don't care much for dead trolls running around and eating the live ones.

"Karkat," she says, and takes off her ridiculous sash. She wraps it around you as best she can; it's not really wide enough, but it's something. "Sleep. Now."

"Thank you," you say, and relax into a long-needed sleep.

[adaorardor]

Domestic realism + psychological horror, Kanaya<3Rose.

FILL: TEAM JOHN <3 KARKAT

[fivetail]

I hope this is okay! Your prompt stirred a scene in my head and I really had to do something with it even though I have not a goddamn clue what even is this sweet lord is this even your prompt anymore im sorry

-

Tick, tock.

Balls of bright, pristine yarn sit at her side; she shifts her posture straight, poised, her busy fingers keeping the knitting needles at a steady pace.

Tick, tock.

The troll is a willow with a victim entangled within her branches.

Tick, tock.

The colours of the scarf knit together without sense and without purpose, an equation of nonsense shades and passive aggressiveness serving as mix-n-match variables.

Tick, tock.

The corpse thumps as it splashes in a pool of its own blood, a ragdoll of tangled limbs and lifeless eyes in a puddle quickly spreading across the living room floor.

Tick, tock.

Knit one, purl two.

Tick, tock.

The stick of colour drags across Kanaya’s lips like a masterstroke, the final touch to a masterpiece, green elegance at the forefront of luminescent white skin dripping in rivulets of purple. The sight of a body dead by Kanaya’s hand is thoroughly unfamiliar to Rose and the scene sends shivers trickling down her spine, though she hides it well. Her gaze is patiently unaffected.

I strongly suggest a more effectual method of taxidermy before adding the hunt to the furnishings, my dear.

Kanaya’s fangs pull against her bottom lip. Her tone is steady.

I Seem To Have Transgressed Boundaries Tonight

There’s barely a waver in her voice when she half-turns and says a very dry “Sorry” to the pair of dead ears on the ground.

These relapsesare unbecoming of you.

I Blame My Condition

That Is A Thing I Can Do That Now

You have been aware of your own strength and limitations for a long time. If I didn’t know any better, I would think these amount to more than just your average accident.

A roll of the eyes. A sneer.

Kanaya straddles Rose’s waist and sinks into her lap, all willow and bone, all grace and stealth and silence. Purple dampens along Rose’s fingertips as she pulls on the soaked, well-tailored fabric covering Kanaya’s sides. Purple smudges she pulls, dragging their bodies closer together until the rise and fall of their chests meet and they’re kissing the blood away. Purple highlights platinum blonde hair that has a hand run throught it. Purple darkens balls of bright, pristine yarn.

He deserved it, she says against her lips, expression unfaltering.

I know, she replies, as it’s always the purplebloods who do.

Contentment and exhaustion breathe life into Kanaya’s sigh as she kisses and stains a girl who has never been clean.

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3ROSE<3TEREZI

[megaparsecs]

Biopunk and Historical fantasy, Rose<3Sollux

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

[fayharley]

The Dark Heart of the Castle Condesce!

The Castle Condesce sat high in the mountains, clinging perilously to a dark cliff face. The stone it was carved from was black as night, cool sparkling obsidian. Climbing into towers was a dangerous prospect, not only would the fall kill you but any sharp edge of the building's material could cut as surely as a knife.

Rose Lalonde was not one to be deterred by such dangers. She tapped her wand three times on the sparkling, silken rope in her hands, chanting that deep and guttural tongue of the ancients, and then tossed it into the air. It flew up and up and up, faster than the fastest falcon and wrapped itself around a turret. Rose tugged the Rose, making sure that it would hold. While she had the utmost faith in her magicks she was no fool.

With the tope secure she began her ascent. Foot by foot she worked her way up the sheer black wall of the castle. Her potions for strength and endurance burned through her body, making her muscles feel like they were on fire and her hair float, pale and glowing with the excess magickal energy she was giving off. Rose was thankful for the Condesce's egotism which meant there were no live guards on the battlements. The stone statues that scanned the skies could be fooled by simple glamours, mere child's play for a sorceress as powerful as Rose.

The potions were beginning to wane by the time Rose heaved herself into the tower window. Inside the castle was much different. Rather than the sharp carvings of the exterior the interior walls were curved in strange organic shapes. Rose ran a hand over a spiral relief. The stone was warm and slightly tacky. It was almost like touching the inside of a mouth. Rose pulled her hand away.

She pulled her wands from her sash and held them ready as she exited the tower room. The strange walls continued throughout the building. The light was violet and did not come from candles, rather from glowing gems set in the ceiling which flickered and blinked as Rose passed. She stepped lightly, barely making a noise on the oddly squishy floor.

The castle was laid out in a most unusual way. It was almost as if it was a great living animal. If it was, Rose was following the circulatory path straight to its heart. It seemed to be the most logical place to go. The halls were empty but not silent. There was a low pitched, rhythmic noise that radiated from the walls. A heartbeat. As Rose journeyed towards the center it grew louder. The carvings on the wall changed as well. It became apparent that they were some sort of pipe, pumping a strange warm liquid through the eerie structure.

Rose turned a corner and entered a grand corridor. At the far end was a bright light, yellow in tint, clashing with the violet of the overhead glow. Rose tightened her grip on her wands and strode towards the glowing, squinting her eyes as she boldly plunged into the next room.

The heart of the Castle Condesce was huge, stretching around Rose like the belly of a behemoth. That was the only comparison to make. The walls were ribbed and dripped yellow. In the center was a pillar of tangled wires which twitched to and fro. Rose approached it cautiously.

"Hello little human," came a lisping male voice. Rose's wand crackled to life as she readied a defensive spell. The voice laughed in response.

"Show yourself," Rose commanded.

The mass of wires shifted, parting themselves so that Rose could see the ghastly pale troll tangled within. The wires not only surrounded him, they were embedded into his flesh as well.

"You're too late," the troll said.

"How so?" Rose asked.

"I assume you are here to defeat the Condesce, am I wrong?"

"No, you are quite right in that regard."

"Well you see, the Empress has been dethroned already. Dethroned and beheaded. I know, you must be so disappointed."

"Excuse my skepticism," Rose said, not lowering her wands. "But I'd prefer to double check her deceased status personally."

"Be my guest," the troll said. "Literally. I am the castle, after all."

"I see," Rose said. She eyed the dripping walls, searching for the prying eyes of the Condesce's insect-like servants.

"She's right through these doors," the troll said. "I'll light the way for you."

The floor glowed golden, marking a path through one of the round exits from the heart room. Rose followed it warily. It led to another gallery where on a low pedestal laid the body of the Condesce. And on a separate podium, her head.

"Told you," the troll's voice came from the walls.

"That you did," Rose said. "It seems that my journey here was quite pointless."

"I wouldn't say that," the troll said. "My name's Sollux by the way. Why don't you stay awhile?"

PROMPT: TEAM BRO<3GRANDPA

[gjarble]

Genres: Medical drama + Surrealism
Ship: Dave <3 Dave

FILL: TEAM JOHN<3VRISKA

[tehstripe]

This is probably the weirdest thing I've ever written; congrats!

----

You’re standing in the corner of a circular room, and you’re also standing in the other corner of the circular room. The other you is wearing a military jacket over a muumuu. You think to ask, but you realize that you probably already know the answer.

You – the other you – speaks first. “They’re losing you,” you say.

“What?” you say.

You repeat the words again, but this time the noise echoes off the walls, causing a chorus of “Doc, we’re losing him.” The voice doesn’t belong to either of you, but it sounds familiar anyways. You forget why, and the room contracts.

You’re standing closer to yourself now, and occasionally you beep at you. You raise an eyebrow, and you shrug at you like you don’t get it either. Beep.

You have the urge to get closer to you because, let’s face it, you’re pretty attractive. So you take one step, three steps closer, and the walls of the room follow you so you stop, but the other you starts coming closer too, and next thing you know you’re standing nose to nose with yourself, red eyes to red eyes.

“Prepare the defibrillator,” the other you says, and fuck you if that’s not the hottest thing anybody’s ever said to you. You pull yourself close to you and – why not? – you kiss yourself right on the lips.

You flat line.

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3JADE

[angiie]

medical romance + existentialist fiction
for john/rose!

Re: PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3JADE

[universeheart]

Consider it done soon.

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3JADE

[angiie]

Post-Apocalyptic + Urban Fantasy
for Rose/Jade!

FILL: TEAM DAVE<3ROSE<3TEREZI

[megaparsecs]

swallowed by the waves and the weird fishes

It takes you three days to find it, three days spent pressing hard looking men against crumbling brick walls and hissing questions at them, needles at their throat. Three days spent sleeping during the day and traveling at night, hood up, knowing that not even the nastiest of sewer-gnomes will fight you with your iridescent scars and sure steps.

You finally find her court in what used to be a park, and still looks like one if you squint. Buildings have fallen sideways into it, crushed stone slowly being smothered by green vines, and there's more fountains than there ought to be. You notice that the fountains are made out of soda cans, after a minute.

There's heaps of rubbish and shrubs everywhere and you slip your boots off (a necessity in the glass ground gravel streets) to wiggle grateful toes in thick moss.

The entrance to the court is a joke. The guard's a dog, a huge white beast that could probably tear your throat out before you could draw your needles, but not nearly as impressive as the gutter rats and soothsayers near twenty-third street had made it seem.

You straighten your shoulders, adjust the rucksack slung across your back, and nod to the guard dog.

He nods back. This surprises you not in the least. When you make a move to the iron wrought gate, all hung with weeds and thistles and strange pink green flowers, he doesn't kill you.

The court's scattered with a dozen dozen strange creatures - tall willowy girls with branches for hands, stocky men who sometimes shift into different shapes in the corner of your eye, a thousand chittering icy beautiful ladies who all smile at you like they'd cut your heart out and eat it, like you'd enjoyed it while they did.

You ignore them.

You ignore everything.

You walk in a straight line to the center of the throng and you do not look behind and you do not let yourself become distracted, by the jangling bangles of witchy women or the sweet smell of something from your childhood that you can't quite place.

The Queen's sitting on a throne of milk crates and street signs, and she looks every bit the girl you knew so long ago. She's wearing a dress as green as the grass, and her head's thrown back, laughing at something a skeletal man to her right said.

There's a hush, when you approach her.

You sweep your skirts, torn and tattered as they are, into something approximating a bow, and the Queen sits there and she laughs and doffs her aluminum and tin crown to you.

"My lady," you say.

"Oh, come on!" she says, and bounces to her feet. "You know my name. Use it."

"Jade," you say, averting your eyes from her bucktoothed shine, the lush green of her dress. "I've come to pledge to serve you. My wands and I. If you'll allow it."

She cocks her head, steps down from the throne, off the dais. "Why are you acting like this, Rose?" Jade asks.

You push up your sleeves a little, so she can see the black and silver burns, the scars of your service to uglier things.

Jade wraps her arms around you and pulls you in close, you can smell the honey-and-clover smell of her hair and you wilt, a little.

"I missed you," she says.

"I'm sorry. I had things to do."

"People to kill," she says, and bumps her nose against yours. "I know. Are you back now?"

"I don't know."

There's nothing left of New York, or your mother's home, the places you spent your childhood days glomping around all unsure and stiff. There's nothing left for you out there, not really.

Jade kisses you, and her mouth is a bear trap. A lock. Locked lips, long nibbling thoughts of old days and her hands curled in your lavender sheets, before everything went to shit.

"Come home, Rosie," she whispers.

PROMPT: TEAM ERIDAN<3FEFERI<3SOLLUX<3<ERIDAN

[pantsu]

Regency fiction and comedy of manners for Rose<3Sollux.

FILL: TEAM JAKE<3TEREZI

[thatfeatheryprick]

i had to size it down to make it fit ;; you can find the full version here http://oi45.tinypic.com/ip9tw2.jpg

PROMPT: TEAM Gamzee<>Karkat

[novatoast]

I think I would enjoy seeing a Romantic Comedy + Ghost Story for Equius<3Gamzee.

FILL: TEAM Dave<3<Gamzee

[backdrifter]

this was going to be a two parter and it still didn't turn out how i would have liked because i rushed it toward the end but here you go~

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3ROSE<3TEREZI

[megaparsecs]

metafiction and cosmic horror for rose<3vriska

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

[sidhewalksinbeauty]

Fill in progress, hun!

PROMPT: TEAM BRO<3GRANDPA

[gjarble]

Genres: Minimalism + Steampunk
Ship: Dirk <3 Jake <3 Jane <3 Roxy

FILL: TEAM JADE<3KANAYA<3ROSE

[true_red]

A quartet walks into the diner. The waitress looks up, tired from her shift. An odd group - a girl who clunking her jetpack onto the bench; (On the inside, the waitress grumbles unspeakable thing about the bourgeois.); a boy covered in oil and dirt stains; (Must one of the few unfortunates who need to work in the mines to make their dough.); a another girl, blonde, who nearly slips off the seat when she attempts to sit down; (Somebody in her family isn't keeping a close enough eye on the booze cabinet); and another boy, with shades covering his eyes; (Upon closer glance, the waitress realizes they're hooked up to a clunky pack that the boy is somehow managing to carry one-handed.)

The rich girl chides the drunk (most likely because her family can't or won't do it themselves). The drunk rolls her eyes and shuts up the other girl with a kiss. The waitress comes up then, all smiles like she's supposed to be, and asks for their order. The children don't hear her; the worker boy had found the drunk's kiss amusing, apparently, so the rich girl, in annoyance, gives him one of her own. The worker's chin is suddenly stolen away from her as the strong one gives him a kiss of his own, saying something about everything being even now. He then gives the rich girl a kiss, as if to make up for it. Her blushing smile tells him it does.

The waitress rolls her eyes at all of this. The drunk finally notices the waitress, and asks something so slurred, it's unintelligible. The strong boy looks up - it looks like he does, the waitress can't see his eyes at all, and says they're ready to make their order.

The couple's special. One glass, four straws. For here.

------------------

Dunno if I managed the theme, but I had to give it a shot!

PROMPT: TEAM GAM<>KAR

[sicklikewinter]

gosh this is neat! i'm seriously wondering if this:

dave<3karkat
post-apocalyptic & steampunk

could be a thing that exists?
gosh i adore steampunk and post-apocalyptic things

FILL: TEAM DAVE <3VRISKA

[simpleruser]

CG: YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WHERE WE ARE GOING IS NOT IN FACT RELOCATING ITSELF TO A MORE CONVENIENT LOCATION JUST DOWN THE ROAD
CG: WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO GO TO IT
CG: WHICH MEANS MOVING
CG: NOW!
TG: but if we head off immediately i wont be able to give you a kiss for the road
TG: your cheek will remain unpecked until we settle for the night
TG: when the corpses over by the windmills will kill all possibility for smoochage
TG: im not kissing you where theres corpses karkat
TG: youre going to have to do it now
CG: NO.
CG: FUCK NO A THOUSAND DIFFERENT WAYS FOR TAKING TOO LONG AND THEN ONCE MORE BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T BRUSHED YOUR TEETH.
TG: point
TG: sucking face postponed

PROMPT: TEAM ERIDAN<3FEFERI<3SOLLUX<3<ERIDAN

[pantsu]

Postmodernism + lab lit for UU <3< uu.

FILL: TEAM DAVE<3ROSE<3TEREZI

[megaparsecs]

uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]
UU: have yoU been tampering with my experiments again?
UU: i thoUght we had an agreement with regard to our mUtUal work.
UU: one that involved yoU not throwing oUt all of my petri dishes.
uranianUmbra [UU] ceased cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]


undyingUmbrage [UU] began jeering uranianUmbra [UU]
UU: YOuR EXPERIMENTS ARE A CuRSE ON THE SCIENTIFIC COMMuNITY.
UU: A *PLAGuE* THAT MuST BE DESTROYED.
UU: THEY WERE IN MY WAY.
undyingUmbrage [UU] ceased jeering uranianUmbra [UU]


uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]
UU: i hope yoU dont force me to go back on my word.
uranianUmbra [UU] ceased cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]



undyingUmbrage [UU] began jeering uranianUmbra [UU]
UU: I WILL BuRN You AND YOuR *IDIOTIC* EXPERIMENTS ALIVE.
undyingUmbrage [UU] ceased jeering uranianUmbra [UU]



uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]
UU: not yoU wont.
UU: yoUre too mUch of a coward ^U^
uranianUmbra [UU] ceased cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]



undyingUmbrage [UU] began jeering uranianUmbra [UU]
UU: DONT PuSH ME
UU: SICKBuRNS1.jpg
UU: SICKBuRNS2.jpg
UU: SICKBuRNS3.jpg
UU: SICKBuRNS4.jpg
UU: THATS WHAT ILL DO.
UU: YOu SHOuLD BE *TREMBLING* IN FEAR NOW.
undyingUmbrage [UU] ceased jeering uranianUmbra [UU]

uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]
UU: oh my lord
uranianUmbra [UU] ceased cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]


undyingUmbrage [UU] began jeering uranianUmbra [UU]
UU: HAH.
UU: MAYBE NOW YOuLL THINK TWICE ABOuT GETTING IN MY WAY.
UU: INSERT STuPID SMILY FACE HERE.
undyingUmbrage [UU] ceased jeering uranianUmbra [UU]

uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]
UU: i think yoU may have misUnderstood.
UU: im not frightened, brother.
UU: i jUst forgot how horribly yoU drew.
UU: thanks for the laUgh
UU: uvu
uranianUmbra [UU] ceased cheering undyingUmbrage [UU]

PROMPT: TEAM MEENAH<3<ROXY

[salticidae]

Dave<3Tavros

Space Opera + Slice of life

FILL: TEAM Aradia<>Dave

[eremiticantiquarian]

The door flashed open, briefly letting in the noise from the rest of the busy space station. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. The only noise filling the apartment was the heavy metal clang of footsteps down the hallway towards the living room.

"You're home exactly two days, 15 hours, twenty-three minutes and four seconds early from your three week space flight battle simulations training," the voice was deadpan, smooth without a hint of emotion.

Tavros flung his pilot jacket over the back of the recliner. The airman turned towards the voice.

Before him stood a machine, for that's the highest that anyone would consider this being. Specifically, he was a Domestic Assistant and Vigilant Escort unit. He smiled at it. Reached a hand to caress a smooth silver cheek. The metal wore the heat of his fingerprints as he pulled away. The machine seemed to follow his fingers away, begging silently for more touch.

Tavros eyed the static hair, the removable eyeshields and clothing this mess of gear and wires wore. How seamless this creature was, how captivated he was by it.

Tavros nodded and walked towards the kitchen.

"If you had informed me sooner, I would have prepared for a meal to be ready upon your arrival," and no one would believe Tavros if he said it sounded concerned.

Or well, if they did think he had any sort of emotions or free-thinking, they'd probably have it melted down to comply with safety protocols for possible artificial intelligence outbreaks.

"Don't trouble yourself, D.A.V.E. I simply completed my tasks faster than the others," he explained, though he didn't think he should have to.

The machine moved to pull out a pan to begin making a meal.

He opened the cooling box with a quick "don't worry about it," and pulled out ingredients for a sandwich.

It was as he was spreading the mayo that the fighter pilot stiffened to the feeling of smooth arms under his shirt snaking their way around his waist.

"I missed you," a desperate emotion from the once flat voice.

"D.A.V.E.!," Tavros cried.

He spun around, dropping the knife, one hand over the machine's mouth and frantically looking around.

Cool fingers pried him away, am argent eyebrow raised from behind the eyeshields.

"I checked the place 16 times today alone for surveillance equipment. We're safe, Tav. Come on and trust me on this one, fly boy."

Tavros relaxed his shoulders and sighed. He wraps his arms around the cool metallic body, hand cradling the back of his head.

Their lips met. The metal's pliancy a miracle of modern technology, but still foreign when compared to real flesh. The tongue moving against his own stronger than anything a natural human could be. Tavros' nails scraped along the back of D.A.V.E.'s head rather than through hair, while hard fingers work his cropped mohawk upright.

"Come on, Tav," the machine mumbled against his lips. "You've been gone far too long... I need you."

"Bedroom," Tavros breathed out.

Sandwich abandoned, D.A.V.E. led the human down the hall.

The machine smiled at Tavros, looking out over his eyeshields as he leaned back onto his elbows into the plush mattress. And it's the unspoken emotion there that melts the pilot every single time, why he's risking everything he worked so hard for to keep him a secret.

And yeah. It's worth it. It will always be worth it.

PROMPT: TEAM MEENAH<3<ROXY

[salticidae]

Feferi<3Jade

Cyberpunk + Crime fiction

FILL: TEAM DAVE<3KARKAT

[write_skivvie.livejournal.com]

Restlessly, you tap your fingers against your keyboard and take a bit of solace in the click-click-clickety-click sound your fingertips make as they fall along the keys. From beneath your hands, the keys glow bright and translucent. You told your providers that you didn't mind using an older model of a laptop, but now was the time, in a room completely blackened save for the glow of your computer, where you certainly DID mind. Whose idea was it to make a clear keyboard with lights so blinding that you needed sun goggles to even so much as glance at them? You can't even fathom a person's reasoning for this kind of-

You're distracted.

You shake your head to clear irrelevant thoughts of luminous keyboards and anything else that could possibly seep into your mind and throw you off focus. Inhaling, you turn at your laptop screen once more and begin to scan your previous work with tired, fuchsia eyes. You feel slightly angry with yourself for not paying more attention to those times Sollux had attempted to teach you how coding worked. Coding, you're finding out, is quite difficult. How does one arrange a series of numbers and letters and symbols together in just the right way so that you could get your job done? It's some kind of art, you decide.

From behind you, your ears pick up on a pair of footsteps coming within your proximity. You mentally pat yourself on the back as you immediately identify them. They're slow, as if the person making them is very sleepy, and they slap against the floor, indicating the feet are bare. Contributing to the fact that there is only one person still left at the lab, you recognize these footsteps as belonging to none other than Jade Harley.

You spin around in your seat to meet her, giggling as a your chair squeaks out a metallic protest. She's dressed in a long, black nightdress, doted with a starry pattern that shimmers and twitches as it fluctuates between bright nebulae and series of bold, pixelated coding. Jade is cleaning off her rounded, wraparound spectacles on part of the dress she has bunched up in her hand. She places them back on to her face and rubs under her eyes before starting towards you. You hold out your arms, and she slumps into them ungracefully.

"Tired?" you giggle, patting her back.

She nods into you. "You think you're anywhere close to cracking this?"

You smile sheepishly, grateful that she can't see it while her head is buried into your shoulder.

"No, not really. This case is proving to be quite a tough one!" you admit. "I'm having problems figuring out how to hack into the corporation's main system..."

"I could help! Can I help you, Feferi?" Jade is right in front of you now, and although her eyes present heavy bags of sleepiness just underneath them, they're alight with what can only be classified as sheer excitement.

You stretch forward to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I don't want you to overexert yourself..."

"But it's important," she starts. "This case needs cracking! Because that's what we do here. We crack cases and catch the baddies and other stuff like that."

You grin at her. "I know, I know! But are sure you want to waste precious time you could be sleeping on something like this? It's really tedious."

Vigorously, she nods again.

"Alright." you sigh. "You're better than me at coding, anyway."

After an hour of typing code after countless code, you have little to no progress. You and Jade managed to breach one of the systems for a few seconds, only to be shut down by an angry counter-hack that Jade just barely deflected. Otherwise, neither of you have made very much success at all. However, you don't allow yourself to feel disheartened by it. You and Jade strive forward in these endeavors of hacking into systems and putting forth complicated codes, not pausing for an instant.

You glance at the clock idly. It reads as 4:30am. You heave a sigh and return to your screen, lazily entering another code or two. Within seconds, you're staring at an unfamiliar desktop with files and applications scattered around at random. Your eyes go wide in realization.

"Jade! Jade! We did it! We got into one of the main computers of this troublemaking corporation! We can-"

Jade is asleep on her keyboard beside you, head resting in arms.

You giggle softly and lean forward to kiss her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Jade." you tell her with a smile of satisfaction plastered across your face. Turning back to the computer, you double click on a folder and rest your chin in your hand. You're uncovering secrets, and you are going to crack this case.

PROMPT: TEAM DAVE<3KARKAT

[write_skivvie.livejournal.com]

I think this would be p cool!

Sea Story and Paranormal Fiction for Gamzee<>Karkat?? o w o ;

FILL: TEAM JOHN<>VRISKA

[togekissies]

I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind and I haven't read it over sooo

--

The sky is turning a soft shade of orange while you watch. Glittering stars gradually blink and dim, hidden from sight until night comes again. The waves gently lap up against the side of the worn-down boat, creating a rhythm of one, two, three, splash.

You’d go inside if you could bring your feet to move. You curl your toes inward. The sea here is calm, much calmer than the seas you had travelled since you went on the run in this same boat. You see no dangerous aquatic beats hungering for your rich mutant blood, nor any psychotic seatrolls craving violence against landdwellers. Any other troll would regard this as a blessing, but you know better. Nothing ever goes well for you.

“Hey, best friend.”

The voice is thick and syrupy with sleep. A hand gently touches your shoulder.

You turn and try to glare at your partner, your moirail, your only company for the past few sweeps. Your heart isn’t into it and you end up giving him a pathetic look instead.

Gamzee laughs, his raspy, honking laugh as disgusting and as comforting as the first time you heard it. “Let’s get our motherfucking sleep on. Don’t want the sun to burn your eyes out like our teal sister.”

A pang in your chest aches when you think of your life on land. “Maybe I’m sick of looking at your ugly face,” you mummer into your curled up arms.

Gamzee smiles, his sweet, knowing smile, and he picks you up in his long arms and cradles you like a broken-winged tweetbeast. Perigees of this routine has made your protests dull and half-hearted, so you let him carry you to the recuperacoon that you two share.

You scramble out of his arms, still too stubborn to let him put you to bed, and stare inside. “Gamzee,” you say, closing your eyes and sighing, “Why is half the sopor slime gone?”

“Fairies.” He answers with all seriousness. You look at him. “Motherfucking fairies, not the sweet ones like Tavbro liked. Nasty motherfuckers. Got a taste for my pies, they keep demanding more. Keep trying to make me give ‘em more.” He holds out a hand to you. Warily, you take it, unsure of what he wants you to do. With his other hand he guides you to the tip of one of his fingers, where a perfect ring of small indigo cuts stands out against his grey skin.

You fold his fingers back, ignoring the queasiness in your stomach.
“Stop making shit up and trying to scare me.”

Gamzee looks at you, his head tilted. He smiles. “I promise I won’t bother my best bro about it anymore.”

You sigh, huff, good, he should know better than to make up dumb wriggler stories. You’ve been on the run since the Alternian fleet found out about your blood color, you can’t take any more undue stress.

You don’t sleep that day. You’re too busy imaging the sound of the Condesce’s voice. It sounds suspiciously like the sound of fluttering wings.

--

The sea gives you the creeps.

Vicious seatrolls and deep-dwelling Horrorterrors you can deal with. Hell, you’d give your left arm and eye for a seatroll to attack right now, just so you could have something to let your aggression out on. Instead the sea is calm and quiet. You and Gamzee haven’t even caught any fish recently and are living off the salted reserves you’re glad you insisted on keeping.

You keep thinking you see things out of the corner of your eyes. You keep thinking the stars have changed since you last stared at them, that the ocean is whispering to you. Things keep going missing in the ship and Gamzee refuses to tell you where they went. You’re sure you know what he would tell you.

You stare at the water. It mocks you, laughs at you, tried to lull you into feeling safe with its gentle rocking. You can’t take it anymore. You bend over the rail and start to gag. You have been too nervous to eat anything in two days so the only thing that comes up is bile that burns your throat. Gamzee comes up behind you and rubs your back, brushing your hair out of your face.

His voice is quiet and you almost miss what he says you to. “Don’t worry, best friend. I’ll take care of it.”

--

The next night you wake up alone.

You’re stiff when you try to move, and it takes several minutes for you to get out of the recuperacoon. You slide down the side and hit the ground with a thud. Your mind is so foggy it takes you several minutes to realize that you weren’t sleeping in slime. You swear there was some left when you crawled in that morning, too much for Gamzee to eat in a short period of time.

Your pulse races with fear. “Gamzee?” you croak, throat dry. You stumble over to the sink and drink some of the last fresh water left. “Gamzee?” you call again, this time louder.

No answer.

The boat is still and you don’t even hear the waves.

You stumble out of the livingblock, full-blown panic running through your veins. You call his name one, two, three more times, each louder and more desperate than the last.

The boat isn’t very big. It doesn’t take you long to search it. You end up in the captain’s room, curled in on yourself and unable to breathe.

Static erupts from all sides, and at first you think it’s your head finally snapping. The sound of a voice slowly rises above the static, and you find it within you to shout back. Who is this? How did you find us?

“—kat?”

You shout some more. Leave me alone, you cry. I’m alone, I’ve always been alone, I’ll die alone. You’re screaming, crying, you can’t even tell if you just hallucinated Gamzee’s presence ever being on this boat. You can’t tell if he had died all those sweeps ago, trying to protect you, trying to save you.

“Shh, shh,” the voice over the intercom says. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You choke on your voice. “…Gamzee?”

“Shit, yeah, that’s me.”

You stand up, legs quaking, and only remain standing by grabbing onto the command panel for dear life. You try to laugh, but it’s strangled and dies in your throat. “Where are you?”

“Crossed over.”

“Crossed over where?”

He honks. “With the fairies.”

“Of all the stupid, bulge-munching things you have said since you crawled out of the caverns—” You rub your face, trying to keep your eyes dry. “Where the fuck are you? Don’t you spew some bullshit about fairies this time, I mean it.”

“Well, fuck, I’m not even sure if they are really fairies or what. Motherfuckers won’t let me get a good look at ‘em. They’re all sparkly.”

Pale red drips down your cheeks onto the control panel. You inhale, exhale, inhale, each breath more ragged than the last. “Gamzee—I mean it—where are you?”

“Look outside.” The static returns and his voice is fading. You look through the windows; part of the ocean is shimmering, almost as if it’s dancing.

“You’re in there?”

When Gamzee speaks again, his voice is gentle and soothing. You feel your breathing steady and your head clears. “If you go through there, then we’ll b—eee together.” Unfortunately, the intercom seems to be breaking down. If you look closely, the sparkling water seems to be dimming.

You rub at your eyes with your fist and childishly wipe your nose on your sleeve. You must spend so long staring that it worries Gamzee, because he sounds almost panicked. “If you don’t go—go—go now, then you might—” Static. “Never see me again.”

You breathe, letting air fill your lungs. You straighten your back and put on your bravest face. “Okay.”

“See you soon, best friend.”

The intercom dies. The shining portal begins to fade. With one last reserve of strength you launch yourself over the side of the boat and into it.

The ocean suddenly picks up. Sudden waves make the boat topple over. When it’s discovered perigees later, no one is quite sure if it was ever occupied at all.

You feel warm.

PROMPT: TEAM ERIDAN<>ROSE

[wallwalker]

This. Round. Looks. Beautiful.

Romantic Comedy Meet-Cute + Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy, Dirk<3Equius.

FILL: TEAM KANAYA<3VRISKA

[memyselfandi]

Haha I have no idea what I'm doing.

Building Bridges

The thing is, you've been trying to cross this damn river for days.

You know your bro is probably on the other side of it, in the little town beyond the forest. At least you think so. Hope so. The whole 'leaving cryptic notes on the fridge' mode of communication worked a lot better when cell phones, and cars, and your fridge itself were things that existed. Which they're not, anymore, but you guess that's what you get when your planet is razed by an alien threat and their weapons do weird shit to everything's biology.

But according to the map you ripped from the claws of some feathery asshole that kept following you (you're used to feathery assholes dogging your every step, but you kind of preferred it when they didn't talk), the town's called Roof, because you're in fucking Michigan and apparently they name their towns that here. You figure it's as good a place as any to find your bro, and to do that you have to cross this river. Which used to have a bridge, judging by the pile of splintered wood you came across half a mile back, but it definitely doesn't have one anymore.

You probably should have taken the opportunity to learn how to swim before the world ended. Oops.

So you've been trying to cross this river for a really ridiculous amount of time, which is probably the reason you're not freaking out about the guy who just ran into a tree and knocked it down across the river.

That, and you're just one chill motherfucker.

"Hey," you say, experimentally. You haven't talked in a while, since it's been forever since you've come across any actual people, and you draw the line at talking to birds.

The guy doesn't respond, since he's currently facedown in some moss. You walk over and nudge him in the ribs with your toe. Politely.

"Hey. Dude. You alive? If so, thanks for knocking that tree down, you probably just saved me fuck knows how many more god-forsaken miles of walking."

In response you get a grunt. He raises his head, and oh shit, it's one of the goddamn aliens, isn't it.

You grab your katana and slip into a fighting stance, but the alien doesn’t seem like that much of a threat at the moment.

"Er," he says, kind of awkward. You almost feel bad for the guy. He did help you out, after all. "I apologize for the intrusion."

"Hey, man, it's not like I own this creepy-ass forest. Knock down conveniently placed trees all you like."

He gets up, brushing dirt off his clothes, taking a look around him. He's cute, for an alien, which is…probably not something you should think about a member of the species that fucked up your planet. The broken horn's pretty endearing, though. Whatever, you haven't had anything resembling human company in weeks. It's a wonder you haven't completely taken an acrobatic pirouette of the handle yet.

"Do you know of anywhere near here I could obtain lodgings?" he asks. He seems pretty chill with the fact that you still have your katana out, so either he's an idiot or just very very confident.

"Dunno. We're kind of in the middle of nowhere. I'm headed to a town over across the river, since I can actually get across it now. Thanks for that, by the way." You give him another once over. He doesn't seem too dangerous, despite the fact that he's obviously strong enough to knock down huge trees. And hey, you need someone to talk to that isn't a bird. You'll take what you can get. "Wanna come with?"

"I--am not sure that would be appropriate," he says. "With our…"

"Yeah, we're different species, thank you Captain Obvious."

He blinks. "I'm a general, actually."

You roll your eyes. "And they left you stranded on their newly conquered planet? In Michigan?"

"…Former general."

"Though so." You put your katana away and step onto the newly formed log-bridge. "I don't really care about whatever you did to get kicked out of your world's evil inter-galactic army. Stay here and talk to the birds if you feel like it, but I'm heading towards civilization. You clearly are going to need some help integrating into society." You hold a hand out towards him.

He bites his lip, and starts to sweat, but after a moment, he takes it.

PROMPT: TEAM ERIDAN<>ROSE

[wallwalker]

Steampunk + Were(cat)s, Equius<>Nepeta

FILL: TEAM KARKAT<3NEPETA

[bloodredbites]

So very decreased in size so you cant see the fact i can't speedpaint and all the blegh in it |DDD



Oh btw its based off the Wallace and Gromit the curse of the wererabbit movie poster haha...

PROMPT: TEAM ERIDAN<>ROSE

[wallwalker]

Picaresque + Conspiracy Thriller - Aradia<3Feferi

FILL: Karkat<3Karkat

[doubleohally]

I tried, hope it's okay!
___________
The Masked


Your name is Feferi Peixes and you were born at the top rankings of the social ladder, much to your relief. The world you lived in was cruel and terrible, and you were glad that as a high class citizen you never had any problems—but that didn’t mean you were okay with it, not at all actually. You believed in equality, that everyone should be the same; no one should be hungry or sick because they were poor or low class and they definitely shouldn’t be treated any different. A dreamer they called you, mocked you even, but the joke was on them because you were going to do something about it, raise awareness and convince people to join you in uniting everyone.

You’re selected career path was journalism, and thankfully the position came to you very easily, it normally went to someone in the middle class but since you wanted it, you snatched it up. Your bosses were also, generally lower than you, and you felt bad about it but that let you do what you needed to. Your normal topic was coverage of the wrongs done to the lower class, and things involving it, and your case of the century had finally been presented.

Recently you had been doing some very deep research about the new programs that were being run; they had been for about a year. Their job? To support the lower class, keep them fed, healthy, and off the streets. There were significantly much less homeless on the street now, much to your joy and they thanked you for raising awareness, they said they wouldn’t have realized the issue if it weren’t for you, and so you were happy but that wasn’t the big scoop, there was an even bigger one at hand.

You heard about her only a week ago, the girl who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, you supported the thought but stealing wasn’t the way to go about it. You wondered why it was now she was showing up, after things had already been put in place for these matters, maybe it was publicity. From the moment you heard about her, you needed to find out more. Soon, you became infatuated, following her every move, you knew everything except for her identity, but soon you’d find out.
All of these events lead you here, standing to face your death. You think about all the things you want to do with your life, and all the things you’ve done in your life. Do you regret any of it? Yes, you did. Once you had begun snooping and following around the girl everyone was calling ‘the masked’ you followed her pattern, her habits, and everything you added up over time lead you to a devastating conclusion: you had made everything worse. The only thing your media attention was doing was directing the higher class to see them as a problem, an issue, they were overpopulating the cities and didn’t do anything productive, but they decided that the lower class could do something—they could be used as experiments. They were being experimented on to help cure illness, and it was your fault. Not as many homeless on the street? They weren’t being taken care of, they were being murdered, just like you were about to be murdered. The reason the masked had only just shown up was that, it wasn’t true, she had been there the whole time operating quietly and stealthy, surviving as a low class only on her wit and courage; and when the high class were up to no good, she couldn’t just stand by, but she wasn’t here right now. You were, and yes, you regretted it in the end, all it was going to do was get you killed.

That’s when you saw her, busting through the window just like in an action movie, her whip at the ready. A whip! The people had guns to your head and here comes a slim girl bursting through the window and disarming them with the crack of a whip. The girl ducked as one swung at her with his arm and she gave him an uppercut knocking him out cold and making quick work of the other peon.

The girl looked at you before she slipped off her mask, just like any superhero at the end of a movie does, and she gave you the big thumbs up.

“Could have been worse!” she declared smiling at you, and you felt yourself smiling back at her, despite all the danger she was everything you’d thought she’d be; beautiful, cunning, witty, and agile—and you loved every bit of it.
Of course, naturally, like at the end of everything when the hero comes in and saves the girl who was only trying to help, she kisses you. You know this is the end of a chapter in your life, but the kiss represents a new beginning.

PROMPT: TEAM ERIDAN<>ROSE

[wallwalker]

Fairy Tale + Tragicomedy - Eridan<3<Feferi

FILL: TEAM Roxy<3Dirk

[chronologicalimplosion]

((Wow, this got out of control. I was originally gonna do the funny sense of tragicomedy, but it sort of turned into a tragedy-with-a-sorta-happy-ending, instead. One way or another, it's long.

I hope you like it.))

Once upon a time, there was a prince and there was a princess.

I am fully aware that most of the fairy tales you've been told start with either a prince or a princess, and the other one comes in later, as a romantic interest. As the savior or the damsel in distress, the plot device that barely gets a name and is largely a thoroughfare to a happy ending. But our tale starts with both parties already acquainted and, in fact, in a quadrant.

Yes, my oh my. I certainly am breaking the rules of story-telling. Stay away from Shakespeare for a few years, kid; I have a feeling it just might shock you into a coma.

Princess Feferi was, literally, the princess of Alternia. Next in line to become Her Imperial Condescension, she had lasted into her sixth sweep without being culled, so her chances for ascension were looking pretty fair. She was sweet and caring and disliked many of the traditions of her forbearers, but she also realized that, in order to overcome the bulking, discriminatory system of castes and hatered, she would have to use rules and tact and the very bureaucracy which she hated to her advantage. Passionate though she was, she was not stupid, and she knew that she would have to be patient.

Knowing something in one's head and knowing it in one's heart, however, are not necessarily the same.

Her moirail was not a literal prince, not in line to inherit anything, but he was certainly a seadwelling troll of high stature, and he expected to be treated as one. He would call himself a prince, if asked, because who was going to call him on it?

Well, that's a story for another day.

He was the one that kept Feferi from doing anything drastic that would change the way her people saw her. His motivations, surely, were not the same as hers (he was a foil to her in many ways, a fervent believer in the hemospectrum and in the unquestionable, violent superiority of seadwellers to all others), but he kept her -Excit---------Em-Ent in check. In return, she kept him from murdering people. Well, at least their friends. Because this story has an evil queen. Well, two, counting Her Actual Imperial Condescension. But she doesn't factor into our story too much.

The biggest problem in the princess's day to day life was her largest responsibility: her lusus had to be fed. And it feasted exclusively on the corpses of other lusii. Though she loved her lusus and would never let it starve for its sake and the sake of her many future subjects, she was not the sort to kill so frequently herself. She would have become the sort, if she had had to, like all of the other Tyrian Bloods before her, but as things stood, she was rather glad she had Eridan to take care of that for her. She knew not what he did to get them, and it was not a train of thought she longed to pursue.

Things were nice, for a while. Or maybe fine is a better word for it. In the way that when people ask how you are and you tell them fine because it doesn't matter, not really, and it's all little stuff, and eventually you start believing it yourself. But they were a ticking time bomb of barely restrained passion and conflicting views and dissatisfaction about the state of things.

He confessed that he was less pale for her than he was red, and she confessed that it was getting old. With no small amount of bitterness, as their entire world was collapsing, they went their separate ways. No longer did she need him to hold back her ambition or to cull lusii for her, and no longer did he want to put up with having her in a quadrant that wasn't the one he wanted her in. (He regretted losing what he had more than anything else, after, but that's beside the point.)

He became an actual prince and she became a princess no longer, still royal and still occupying the high ground, but assigned the monicker of witch. Really, it worked much better that way. They were both what they had always been meant to be.

A lot of things happened, after that. A lot of stalling and shuffling feet and a lot of just barely getting things done. They were born and sent back in time. They all found shortcuts, the prince and the no-longer-princess and all of their friends, and with their old world dead, they didn't even manage to enjoy the new one they erected. Because they fucked up, and they fucked up bad.

And then they were in the eye of the storm, having already lost, hiding from the game over screen in the corner of a meteor. Her Highness found a new moirail, and the prince found a new hobby. Magic or science, call it what you will, the prince found power.

For a short, blissful while, they were still friends. It fit awkwardly on them, and both had some residual feelings from both their relationship and the breakup, but they couldn't just let go of each other so easily.

And then he killed her.

Wait, no. It wasn't that simple. He, the Prince of Hope, was trying to buy them all a new hope, a possible way out, and he was trying to convince the others--convince her, at least--to join him. But she'd always had stronger morals than he, always been less troll and more of something else entirely, always known exactly what she wanted things to look like and prickled when things went differently.

She said no. And everyone else was on her side. And he was, for once, passionate about something that was his own and not what he was supposed to be, and he was frustrated. Everyone was taking it the wrong way and no one would listen and he snapped. The princess's oh-so-fabulous, oh-so-better-than-he moirail wanted a challenge? So be it.

He was better at fighting and tactics and war, willing to kill, and with his science-magic-who-even-cares, he took the poser down easily. And then she came at him, angry and passionate as ever and he felt something stir in him that he hadn't felt in a while, and he took her out, too.

Yes, he killed her. Killed his ex-moirail whom he thought he'd been in red with. And he had a hard time regretting it.

And then Kanaya, who'd treated him so well and whom he had even come to trust, attacked him, and he killed her too. Because, hell, there was no hope left for them anyways, so why not? Now that he'd taken the life of his best-friend-slash-ex-slash-crush-slash-whatever, what was one more? What was the spilled blood of one more who had turned on him?

And then Kanaya killed him, and they'd come sort of full circle. He really should have seen it coming. Classic tragedy. Everyone dies, bringing themselves and each other and everyone down, and nothing is resolved beforehand. All of the loose ends are left a dangling, awful, unresolved mess for the few survivors and the sadistic readers to pull something meaningful out of.

Full circle.

He woke up. Sort of. It was more just that he started being, that things sort of fuzzily wobbled and then came into existence around him, like they had always been there, and he just went along with it.

He and Fef were having that fateful conversation, and the deja-vu tickled at the back of his mind, but he was too busy being mad at her to notice. Being fitfully, overwhelmingly, viciously mad. And he started shouting and she started shouting back and the point came where they both remembered everything but nobody stopped shouting because it only gave them more to shout about. And it wasn't over the computer, any more, because they were barely a hairsbreadth away from each other, shouting words into each other's steamy, shouting mouths and tensing all of their muscles as they tried to get the upper hand.

And then the infinitesimal distance was no more, and they were messily kissing and shouting and biting; scratching and shoving and fighting.

"I hate you," he said through heaving breaths, and she scowled.

"You're an over dramatic, manipulative fool. But I guess you've finally hooked me into a quadrant with your pathetic bass."

He froze, which gave her the opportunity to take the upper hand and knock him over. "Fef, what are you saying?"

"What do you think I'm saying, doofish? I hate you." And he could hear it, deep in her throat, oozing out of every word. She meant it.

And, finally, everything was just as it was always meant to be.

After all, they had always disagreed, had only ever liked each other for what they could be (and didn't want to become), and the string of murders was only the latest in a long line of wrongs.

Possibly the first one that was remotely right. Because it was direct and deliberate and it had led to... oh, cod, what was she doing? At this rate, they were going to need a bucket. Fast. Oh gog.