hs_olympics | BONUS ROUND 1

Bonus Round 1

Genre-Mixing

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

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

Rules

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

Look through the prompts and fill whichever you like!

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

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

Title Format
If you are starting a new thread, please use this format in your title.

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

If you are filling a prompt, use this format in your title.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

((So I know this has already been filled, but I've had an idea for it buzzing in my head for a while now. I'm afraid that maybe it's more sitcom than soap opera, because I watch more sitcoms than soaps, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.))

The thing about cheap apartments is that there is always a reason why they are cheap. Sometimes it's obvious: mold, leaky faucets, tiny kitchens, a lingering scent of cat. Sometimes it's not, and those are the most dangerous. Because you buy an apartment thinking that you got an absolutely fantastic deal, when the reality is anything but.

Equius Zahhak was one of the many people in this world who fell prey to the allure of the cheap apartment that didn't seem cheap. He wasn't used to being poor, wasn't used to a budget. He was used to being spoiled but neglected, used to the upper crust of society where his kind of people were.

Of course, that had been before his father's company crashed. Before, in a potentially related series of events, he had been essentially disowned. Before he had to attempt making it on his own with what few practical working class skills he had. So he was most certainly not used to the sort of living accommodations his budget could afford him.

The apartment looked like a steal. And it probably was, but he wasn't the one being stolen from.

"Blue-blood." The voice startled him, even though it didn't start abruptly and wasn't particularly loud. It was soft and ethereal and faded naturally in and out of existence, and every sound was so, so empty. It was an echo of a voice, not the voice itself. And it startled him every single time.

Equius removed his working goggles and put down the things he was tinkering with, carefully composing himself so that he could respond with the aplomb befitting one of his class and breeding. "I have reminded you excessively that I have a name, and that I would far prefer being referred to by said name than by a monicker that could apply to any of my family and a good deal of the world beyond that."

"You try too hard." His 'roommate', aside from having an endlessly unsettling voice and an exceptional bluntness, had an unblinking stare and a worrying habit of floating. On account of how she didn't have legs.

Yeah, his apartment was haunted. You really do get what you pay for.

"You need someone to loosen you up. And I am afraid that I'm not exactly the soul for the job." No, the one who the job did belong to was the green-blooded girl he was currently awkwardly attempting to court. The girl that he needed as a friend so that they could be honest and open with each other, so they could change each other without the messy gore of having to change while intertwined by physical-emotional-pity-love-red feelings.

Life (and undeath) would be so much easier if everyone just gave into their destiny.

(She was a bit hypocritical in thoughts and statements like that. Her own destiny lay before her, sweaty and fumbling over himself like he was a wriggler awkwardly stretched into the body of an almost-adult, and she hadn't yet killed him. It was, of course, because she was repulsed by his sweat and his hobbies and his attitudes and actions. She didn't want anything to do with him, and certainly not the way destiny seemed to. (Lies and lies; her long-dead heart still had a bit of softness left to it, and she couldn't bring herself to kill the truly pitiable creature who had sheltered himself in her domain, even if it would mean she had him for herself.))

He went out on his date that night, and returned home at a reasonable hour (he had, after all, been the perfect gentleman) to find that much of his work had been smashed. Rage began to boil up from the depths until, from behind as always, he heard her echo of a voice again.

"You're home early. Did things not go well?" It was empty and the emptiness was slightly contagious (what was the point of being mad at someone who could not feel?), but mostly his anger was quelled by something quite contrary to it.

"Did you ruin my work?" He asked, not entirely sure that it mattered.

"It was faulty. You will make better. You always do."

And there was something about that voice, those words--something that sounded almost sorry but like she had forgotten how to apologize, something that sounded completely resigned to her fate, something that sounded so completely, unquestioningly confidant in his ability to the point of fact--that made it hard to be angry and caused another bout of sweat to soak the clothes that had barely dried from all of the exertion and nerves of his date.

There was something elegant about her words, as well, the way she calmed him down without having to actually apologize, like her remorse was a given. She held that elegance in every rigidly placed fragment of herself, in the way she turned and floated away to whatever hidey hole she had.

"I will return later. Hopefully you will focus on your work when you are working, between now and then. No more daydreaming of cat ears, if you ever wish to get your work done."

It didn't take a lot to bring Equius up to new and disgusting levels of sweatiness. His apartment's ghost was quite a hand at it regardless.

Love it! <3

BONUS ROUND 1

Bonus Round 1

FILL: TEAM Roxy<3Dirk

Re: FILL: TEAM Roxy<3Dirk