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hs_olympics2012-06-10 01:02 am
hso_mods) wrote in hs_olympics2012-06-10 01:02 am
Entry tags:
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!
PROMPT: TEAM BRO<3JOHN
Alpaca romance + Action
FILL: TEAM Dolorosa <3 Mindfang
Best movie ever.
Re: FILL: TEAM Dolorosa <3 Mindfang
EVERYBODY GO HOME, OLYMPICS OVER.
Re: FILL: TEAM Dolorosa <3 Mindfang
Re: FILL: TEAM Dolorosa <3 Mindfang
Re: FILL: TEAM Dolorosa <3 Mindfang
http://ilony.tumblr.com/post/25146515458/my-fills-so-far-for-the-bonus-round-1
Re: FILL: TEAM Dolorosa <3 Mindfang
Re: FILL: TEAM Dolorosa <3 Mindfang
FILL: TEAM Karkat♥Sollux
Yes - soon the breeding season would arrive, and every alpaca would begin to look upon the others with new eyes, albeit eyes hidden behind thick, lush layers of wool. John thought briefly of delicious hay before eyeing the neighboring alpacas, raising his head and staring one down in apprehension. Slowly, it had been encroaching on him for almost twenty minutes, the only cloud in the otherwise perfect sky of his peaceful day. Of all the alpacas dwelling in the nigh-Elysian field, this one caused him by far the most problems with its strange hostility.
Karkat glared back, raising his head and threatening to spit, his ears perked in rage. His wool stood out in a lush, fine, deep black halo around his body, set off by the brown areas above his eyes that looked for all the world like furious eyebrows; any observer could see that the only rival of his downy magnificence was the soft, white cloud of an alpaca enjoying the luscious patch of grass nearby. In flagrant defiance of his alpaca nature, a nature more devoted to remaining in a herd and peaceably eating than to behaving standoffishly, Karkat was spoiling for a fight. He faced off with John for a minute, working up a good vengeful spit for that perfect wool, when a loud noise seized their attention and they let out identical, quacking alarm bleats.
By and large, their peaceful lives were broken up only by surprise; John had most recently been surprised by a butterfly that landed on his nose and flapped its wings three times, and Karkat had most recently been surprised by a fast-moving cloud that passed in front of the sun and cast in shadow the hay he had been eating. Those surprises were tame fare compared to the trucks that suddenly rumbled into the pen, and while usually this meant food, they watched in discomfiture as the humans who dismounted from the truck seized Sollux instead. Showing care that belied the sudden scream he let out, they set him on his side on a padded mat before turning on the clippers and pressing them against his throat.
“Eeeeyaaaa!” Sollux wailed again before relaxing and staring blankly forward, the clippers running down his newly bared neck and to the heavy blanket of tan wool across his back. Even his shapely legs were unspared by their calloused hands and the cold, buzzing metal that stripped his wool away. It was at that moment that Karkat and John looked at each other and came to a silent but mutual agreement to set their concerns aside; together, if only for a short time, they would work to escape the shearers. Not only for misguided self-preservation, but for the sake of dignity.
Perhaps fortunately, the segment of fence Karkat chose to push was unwelded, the fastenings on one side gone. It was for this reason that the fence, composed as it was of long bars that came in segments for easy dismantlement and movability, budged slightly when he pushed against it; however, his own light weight and four-foot-tall frame had no hope of moving it far enough to get through the small open space he created. John pressed against it next to him, the metal bars moving just a little further. Karkat bleated softly; John shoved with renewed effort, his padded feet scraping in the dirt, loyally going along as the gate finally shifted further and they slipped through the space.
Freedom was a new thing to them both; they walked uncertainly through the new grass on their padded, two-toed feet, stopping as the need for a curious nibble overpowered their small attention spans, so far undetected by the men still focused on shaving their quarry. Naturally devoted to remaining in a herd, they glanced back at the others repeatedly before a loud shout sent them into a run, their woolly heads bobbing, legs carrying them over the small grassy knolls of their homeland as the need to escape struck them with renewed vigor. Shouts and bleats followed them as the other alpacas streamed through the open fence and were in their turn caught, herded back into the pen for their shearing. Unhindered, however, nothing could stop the eager legs of John and Karkat from cutting swiftly through the new air of freedom.
Yet even the air of freedom is not without its share of oppression, particularly for animals that survive based on herd behavior. Even as they ran, their lustrous eyes wide in alarm, their wool weighing them down with every stride, they paradoxically ran not only from that which caused them fear but their very source of comfort and support as well. Far behind them were the other alpacas that normally clustered around them in a dense, safe group, far behind them remained the barn that provided them shade from heat and precipitation. Their unusual behavior had shown them hints that there could be a new way of life, one unlimited by fences, but the implications - no more hay, no warm and woolly forms around them when they slept, no others to follow or to lead - were heavy, oppressive, against their pliant alpaca natures. John slowed first, trotting only uncertainly away from the sound of the trucks. Karkat slowed with him, letting out a desperate bleat, pushing at him from the side to spur him on. Together, two alpacas in a new and surprising world, they ran at last into the trees.
Nervous, John bleated softly. Karkat nudged him, staying close, taking solace in his fleece as they wandered and slowly, without understanding, became lost.
It rained that night, a dark torrent that soaked their outer wool and sent them scurrying for shelter, padded feet sinking in the mud. John screamed as he slipped, almost falling. His dense hair had become matted, soggy and gray with water; Karkat pushed at his forlorn, stumbling shape again, encouraging him even as he strained to see through the wool that flopped into his own eyes. In a figurative sense, he had pulled this wool over his eyes, blinding himself to the difficulties of this sort of life and taking John along with him, a hapless but surprisingly loyal sacrifice to his impulsive decisions. As much as he could apprehend regret, Karkat regretted his choices.
It seemed an eternity before he found an outcropping of rock beneath which he pushed John, sheltering him from the worst of the weather. John slumped exhaustedly into the dirt, his wool streaming water over the ground, and Karkat was in no better shape. The mats and tangles of their hair steamed as they dried, tightening and pulling at their skin. John shifted uncomfortably against his side. Unhappy, they huddled together for warmth, their rivalry forgotten and their wool impossibly heavy with absorbed rain. The idyllic pasture seemed so far away at that moment that Karkat let out a mournful, resounding bleat; he gazed into the forest until long into the night, terrified by his own absence of natural defenses and the soft honks of geese on a lake not so far away. His muscles quivered, perpetually on the verge of bursting into flight, his throat prepared all the while to issue his alarm noise and wake the alpaca who nestled so trustingly against him. He looked down at John, at the soulful eyes closed in uneasy sleep, and slowly bowed his long neck until it lay over the matted white fluff of John’s neck. He lay thus, eyes trained on the woods and ears perked for noise, his sensitive nose comforted by the familiar scent of John’s wool, until an unexpected sleep claimed and held him captive until morning.
They woke to bridles, admonishments, and the fact that their small physical endurance limits had carried them not nearly so far from home as it seemed. “What were you thinking?” a familiar man asked, gently herding Karkat toward a waiting truck. “It’s lucky you were so close to the road, no one might have seen you.” John hummed beside him as they walked, obviously excited to be found; Karkat looked around, tormented by uncertainty but led by his herd nature to walk alongside. John, after glancing at him, hummed louder as though to appease him. Karkat lowered his head slightly, grateful for the sound and the companionship; he could no longer imagine, after the night’s adventure, that he had ever resented this loyal, self-sacrificing alpaca. The others, freshly shaved, called out shrill welcomes as they walked from the truck. Their fur was dingy and matted, their faces slightly haunted by their knowledge of lives they could never have and were not quite sure they had ever wanted, but they were home.
“Time for the shearing,” a voice said.
“Eeeyaaaa!” Karkat shrieked as the black wool fell away from his sides, as hands rolled him over to get to his other side. He kicked his legs a little, an obligatory token of resistance, but John lay passively as the wool was stripped from his neck. By chance, Karkat’s gaze landed upon that pale column and he froze, transfixed by the sight of dense, pale wool pulled so unchastely away from skin he had never before seen. Suddenly the concept of being without wool lost its terror; his own darker skin felt cooler, his body lighter, and with fascination and a surprised bleat he gazed at the white curves of John’s body as they became exposed to him.
John’s eyes met his, then traveled down his bare throat to the curves of his ribs; yet again their lives were characterized by peace and then surprise, and this surprise was by far one of the nicest ones yet, by the way John let out a sudden and contented hum. They eyed each other as they were stripped bare, as each part was revealed, their colors contrasting and their shapes more defined and pleasing. Even the tangles and mats came away to leave smooth cleanliness.
Perhaps being sheared was not such a bad thing, provided that one was not altogether alone. Even in their failure to escape from the shearers, in the difficult lesson in survival they had attained, they had nevertheless accomplished an escape; they had escaped from inhibition. Freely, after the suffering they had experienced and the sights they had seen, they could love one another.
They both bleated for joy as they were released back into the fold with good-natured pats and pushes, John’s eyes lustrous as he thoughtfully hummed in a way that set Karkat’s alpaca blood aflame. They trotted together to the good grass patch; Karkat generously bumped John toward it to offer him the better grass, reveling in the sensation of his new, shorter wool against the warmth of the other, and let out a pleased bleat when John bumped him in return. Together, elated, their warm bodies pressed against one another in pleasant solidarity, they ate.
EDUCATION CORNER: Alpacas have padded feet! Their ovulation is triggered by mating when they’re receptive, so they can mate at any time of their year; their offspring gestate for about 11 months and are called “cria.” Depending on location, people time the alpacas’ breeding so cria emerge during a season when the weather is gentler. They produce roughly 11 pounds of wool per year. The huacaya alpaca is the one you’re imagining; the big puffy one. The suri alpaca grows dreadlocks.
“novelty: it’s like writing a Regency romance, gotta do your research
novelty: otherwise you'd have alpanachronistic behavior
novelty: alpacanachronisms”
Re: FILL: TEAM Karkat♥Sollux