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hs_olympics2012-06-10 01:02 am
hso_mods) wrote in hs_olympics2012-06-10 01:02 am
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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!
FILL: TEAM DIRK<3JAKE<3JANE<3ROXY
the images of objects opposed
IOANNES EKBATOS
not boasting many decades of years, but many hundreds of victories
"It'll be fine," Ioannes says, his eyes bright with excitement. "You're seriously just jealous because no one's given a crap about the Reds since the birth of Our Lord. And even then He probably didn't. He was probably like, 'the Blues are the best, FYI, okay ttyl time to get resurrected.'"
David stares at him. "Okay, let me try this again," he says, in small words so Ioannes will understand. "My sister, the one in the veil, the one who got us run out of Yafo, the one with the visions from God, that sister? That sister thinks you are going to die."
"Um, Dave," Ioannes says, nicely, "your sister also thinks we'll all die horribly if you and I don't make out."
"Okay, whoa now, I'm not making any sweeping claims for her rationality here--"
"Anyway, it's a chariot race. Somebody always dies!"
"Yes!" David says. "And it is going to be you! You need to get your ass out of that thing or I swear I will cut your damn ankle off!"
"Pssh. All walk and no talk. I'll see you after the race. I'll get you your own litter, it's great!" Ioannes calls back, as the slaves move on, and David thumps his head against the side of a building, wondering how he can start a riot in honor of the pointless upcoming murder of his best friend without getting his whole quarter massacred. He's pretty sure he can't.
*
Daub ibn Dimah
he flew faster than a crow in flight and fell harder than a stone.
This is not Yahya's favorite ever excuse to visit Daud, so he's grateful when the guy doesn't greet him but keeps a steady eye on his tabl. He's got the daf sitting on the end table and every so often diverts the rhythm to add a high, jingling note. "Your sister around?" he says, flattening his palm for a rolling rumble. "This really needs some shit-tastic shabbaba to round it off."
"Or some awesome qanun," Yahya says, loyally. "Listen. This is about your-- your-- agggh, what did you call it?"
"If you don't even give me a noun I'm gonna have real trouble guessing," Daud says. He slams the heel of his hand into the tabl one last time, and looks up. "My sick compositions? My heretical mosaics? My incredibly handsome nose?"
Yahya forcibly restrains himself from focusing in on the last one. "No! The wing…floaty… thing you're going to try out in front of the emir and then die in!"
"Oh," says Daud, with a crooked grin. "Yeah, I'm just calling that a 'glider' now."
"Look. You know how Jawharah is with engineering," Yahya says, sitting in front of Daud so he can't do that thing he does where he turns around and pretends if no one can see his expressions they don't exist. "You know your water clock would've been for shit if she hadn't helped you, dude! And she's said like a million times that this thing is a death trap."
Daud's face darkens. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks for your concern. It's awesome to know that my friends don't trust me to do basically fuck-all on my own."
Yahya pulls at his hair. "None of us are any good at doing basically fuck-all on our own. That's the whole reason you have friends."
"Apparently," Daud says, "the reason I have friends is so they can shit on my public debut." And he gets up and goes to find his brother.
*
HIC REQVIESCIVNT IOHS DE EGBERT ET DAVID DE ST RICHIER
The night before they sack Toulouse, Jean comes into Davy's tent when he's still checking over his armor. He ignores Davy's rambling greetings, or his comic stylings in the face of Jean's silence, and even his references to some kicking ballads which he wrote himself, and awkwardly unlaces the top couple of rows of his chemise, and makes out with him for twenty minutes.
"That's the first time I've ever done that," Jean says, afterwards, when they're both panting in disbelief.
"What--seriously?" Davy demands. "You're fucking with me, right? You've been in this army for five years, you're sixteen years old, and you've never hopped on a dick. I'm kind of embarrassed for you. They're everywhere. You can't throw a rock without hitting someone in a dick and having to fight a duel because seriously, can we discuss the word 'underequipped', I swear to God my armor is made out of like ninety percent rust. I'm killing this moment, aren't I."
"A little bit," Jean says, wearing, if possible, a stupider grin. "It's okay, though."
"You ever met my sister?" Davy begins, but Jean decides that's one ruining step too far and kisses him again and it's dawn before he gets out another inanity. He's distracted all through the battle, distracted right up until the arrow hits.
*
"I've figured it out," Ruža says, breathless. "I've got it, I have finally, after misstep after misstep, life after life, David, I have got it. No thanks to you or your hapless romantic misadventures. We need to go."
"Uh, hi," David says. "What's up? I'm working on this load of grain that we need to ship to Morocco, thanks. No, no, no lesions today. You? It's good to see you in good health. Great, glad we had this talk. By the way, I've had a prophecy babbling deficit, you think you could make that up?"
"You have never had any kind of babbling deficit in your life," his sister says. "How quickly can you get two people out of quarantine?"
"A couple of days, I guess." David thinks about ruses. "Yeah, I mean, it depends on who they are. They Jewish? We can smuggle 'em in with Terezija's friends."
Ruža paces. "It'll have to do," she says. "They're due to be infected in two days' time. You'd better get your timing right."
"Well," he says, with a grin. "That's my jam."
Their names are Jonatan and Jabuka, brother and sister passing for husband and wife. They're from a trading family with a house on the Bosphorus, and their matriarch and patriarch and closest kin are dead. They've set up comfortable camp in the quarantine, patrolled by Jabuka's great white hound, who doesn't seem to mind the confinement. It's pretty easy to guess where the vector of infection will pass.
It costs David the better part of three months' take to alter their names on the quarantine, but it's doable, which gives him pause. Maybe Dubrovnik isn't the safest place in the world right now. Maybe Ruža's got the right idea when she says they need to book it out of here with the strangers. Maybe, maybe. She's commissioned them a boat, which, hell no, she knows he gets seasick, but she ignores his various complaints and bundles their guests aboard without giving them time to find out what's happening. "Is this the ferry to the city?" Jabuka says, with a hopeful smile, and David tilts his head in what isn't too much of a lie.
Ruža points them out to sea.
"Okay," Jonatan says, coming up to the deck. "So, I don't know if you've noticed this, because you kind of look like a massive landlubber and also you're like, bright green right now. But we're sailing into the Mediterranean."
"Yeah," David says. He leans heavily on the rail. "You're really going to have to take it up with my sister. I'm just the bribing half of this kidnapping expedition."
"That isn't…" Jonatan says. After a moment, he comes up next to David, hauling him more or less upright. He's got strong arms, and smells pretty good for a dude who's been in quarantine for thirty days. He says, "The thing is, you look super familiar, and I know I've never met you before in my life."
"I am not spending the next six months waiting for you two to figure out the structure of the curse laid on us," Ruža announces, from the prow. "John, meet Dave. Dave, meet John. We're skipping wildly through the timeline of our world's history as it rewrites itself into a tolerable fascimile of a 'good end', which according to our sadistic game overlords means a world without the paradoxical origins of our friendship. I thought a fairytale attendance to the trappings of romanticism would solve the problem, but apparently not. What we need to do is stick together. Close together. As close to our point of mythic origin as possible. Jade's Hellmurder Island."
"I don't understand anything you just said," David tells her. "Like, at all."
Ruža lets out a puff of annoyance. "You no longer have to make out with him to save the world. You simply have not to die."
"Okay," Jonatan says, cautiously. He raises a hand. "Can we make out?"
"Dude, I don't even know you."
"Yeah, but come on, we're sixteen and I've been kidnapped and you're pretty hot," Jonatan says. "Life is short."
"Yes, you can engage in whatever sexual antics you like," Ruža says, dismissively. "I need to go. I believe Jabuka is trying to build a lifeboat out of the silks in the cargo."
Jonatan turns to David, eyes dancing. "So?" he says. "That sounds pretty good, right?"
For some reason, the part that sounds best to David is the part where Jonatan doesn't die for six months, but fuck if he's going to say that out loud. "Sure," he says. "As soon as I'm done throwing up seductively over the side of this boat."
"Oh. Yeah," Jonatan says. He puts a cool hand on the back of David's neck. "It helps if you don't close your eyes."
David shivers.
Re: FILL: TEAM DIRK<3JAKE<3JANE<3ROXY
Re: FILL: TEAM DIRK<3JAKE<3JANE<3ROXY
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