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

hilarious, this is too long for a dreamwidth comment, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK
______

Rooms don't have keys, in the palace.

Closets do, as do glass-cases, to protect the priceless treasures they contain. But a servant might be called out of their coon when the sun has reached its zenith, and guards need to be able to enter the royals' suites at a moment's notice, for security reasons. Even the Queen's door doesn't have a lock – and she was the one who'd stopped the past dozen of assassination attempts, and only kept her attackers alive to make examples out of them.

Instead, there are latches. It's the best substitute privacy can obtain, and so Feferi didn't give Sollux a key to her apartments, but a secret knock.

She's undoing the ribbons holding her sleeves when the rasping on her door calls her attention, and, smiling, she opens for him.

“Sollux! I'm so glad you could make it!” Then she takes in his expression, and her face changes.

“How do you even put up with me, FF? I can't even be bothered to tell you if I'm coming over or not. Fuck, I'm such a pathetic sack of shit.”

She moves the side to let him in. “Okay, Mr Grumpypants, I sea you got this pity-party started. Get the glub in and tell me what's on your two-fold mind.”

“I'm a mess,” he says, obediently following her to the dressing table, crossing his arms as she sits back down on the stool. The skinny line of his shoulders tenses, taut like the bones are going to poke through the fabric of his jacket.

He is a mess, and her heart swells in pity at the sight of it.

“No worse than my hair,” she replies. “Care to kelp me out?”

The hairbrush she holds out to him handle-first glistens with a carved tracery of ivory, more like the liturgical finery kept in the temples to the Horrorterrors than like the combs sold on the marketplace.

“If you trust me not to fuck this up,” he comments, closing his hand over the hairbrush.

“I know you won't.”

In the mirror, above the tempest of her hair, she can see his expression at the whisper when he slides his hand under the curtain of her hair to gather it whole. He brushes against her nape, warming up her neck, numbed cold where her hair is resting throughout the day. Feferi sighs. She's becoming aware of the thinness of his wrist, the thinness of his skin, and the heat of his blood underneath. She can almost feels the pulse of his blood, she fancies.

Sollux stops moving. “Feferi.”

She opens her eyes – she hadn't realized she'd closed them – and meets his gaze in the mirror, and the small smile at the corner of his lips.

“I can't brush your hair if it doesn't let me go,” he says, and to prove his words he tugs his hand to the side. True enough, a strand has already coiled tight around his wrist.

Feferi feels the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Oops. Shore-y?” she grins through her embarrassment. It takes only a flicker of will to force the lock of hair to relax and let Sollux' hand go.

He just snorts. “Yeah, shore. That was awful, by the way.”

“You know you glub it,” she counters, sighing happily.

“You got that right,” he mutters under his tone.

The brush dives into her hair, parting through it like the hull of a ship cutting through the ocean. It follows streams, explores swiftly, navigates through the currents.

In the eye of her mind, Feferi sees rows of boats leaving port, and the tentacles of the Horrorterrors reaching out for them freely.

She can feel her world expanding, tendrils of sensation coming back to life, creeping in all directions. She can feel Sollux's hands plunging tirelessly in the whorls, and the way the tentacles of her hair playfully twine, streaming between his fingers. She can feel waves rolling down as he toys back, stroking a curl that's already free, twisting another around the arm of his glasses. She can feel wisps pulling the ribbons of her bodice, undoing the buttons of Sollux' jacket.

She can feel them, sneaking deeper and deeper under the fabric of Sollux' clothing, craving for his skin, his warmth, trying to work beneath. The sounds she's making in the back of her throat, deep echoes resonating through her bones, are answered with the pumps of Sollux' heart.

Near the knuckle of his left hand forefinger, the squirming coils of her hair find a nick, and eagerly a strand winds in. Elsewhere, single hairs dig into the pores of his skin, and solid locks wrap around his limbs, his neck.

He hisses.

Feferi pauses, stilling the swarm's onslaught, and breathes. “Too fast?”

“Nah, it's good. Just--” she can feel him shifting in the tentacles that keep him upright. “Is your hair trying to eat me alive again?”

When he speaks, she can feel the vibrations in his throat, and when he swallows, through the collar of two spontaneous, whip-thin tresses bound tightly around his throat. Thin locks snake down his shirt and up his jaw, and the tips of a couple more are testing the furrow they made in the skin yesterday, obsessively searching for a way in.

“I think so,” she says seriously, when other tendrils slip into his waistband. “Is that a problem?”

He jolts – another tentacle has pierced the skin over a rib, and creeps inside. “Just – wanted to make sure. Oh cod,” his breath hitches, and she feels her hair getting caught in his eyelashes, stroking his eyelids. “So long as I get to eat you out later.”

He's fully ensconced in the deployed length of her hair, now, tentacles writhing snugly over him.

“Works for me,” Feferi breathes.

The brush clatters to the ground, forgotten, as they tangle with a silky hiss.

BONUS ROUND 1

Bonus Round 1

FILL: TEAM PARCELPYXIS 2/2