hs_olympics | BONUS ROUND 4

Bonus Round 4

Mobius Double Reacharound FST - Revisited

Hi shippers! Welcome to Bonus Round 4! Bringing back a favourite from last year! (Sorry for the delay, we're very busy!)

Here’s how this is going to work: somebody will submit a selection of 3-6 songs without comment. Then somebody else will come along and create a companion fanwork to fit the soundtrack!

Rules

If you are submitting a soundtrack: submit only the track listing and download or youtube links. The idea is that people should ~interpret~ your selections!

You are not allowed to fill soundtrack prompts with your team's ship, nor are you allowed to fill your own soundtracks. (Filling your team's soundtracks is okay!)

Soundtracks count for 5 points each, for a maximum of 100 points per team.

Fills may be in whatever format you choose (except FST, of course) so long as they link the songs by mood and/or lyrics in some kind of narrative.

Post your fill as a comment to the prompt post, using the title format described below.

This challenge will run until 11:59PM EST August 3rd.

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 per team: 30 (per entry)
Entries 6-10: 20 (per entry)
Entries 11-15: 10 (per entry)
Entries 16+: 5 (per entry)

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

We would prefer that any questions about this challenge or anything else in the HSO be emailed to us at homestuck.shipping AT gmail!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I DirkSol'd. .-.

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Roxy’s pissed that you’re not dancing, Jane’s throwing you worrisome glances, and Jake’s thumping over every once and while to snap in your face, but you’re not interested in them.

It’s a freewheelin’ club, so you shouldn’t be surprised that there are trolls here. But the one across from you captures your attention. His position matches yours, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, and looking like he’d rather go into labor than get bumped into by the drunken dumbasses that breed and coalesce in this fucking place. The three musketeers dragged you out tonight while you were in the middle of working on your latest update for Sawtooth, and though you know next to nothing about this guy, you can tell that his natural environment is one spent crouched against a desk, muttering to himself in poor lighting. You can see it in his posture, the shades he wears, the aggravated balance of his four horns, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve been so interested in someone you could figure out so easily.

You think he catches you looking. So you make your way through the crowd, winding around gyrating bodies, noise and sweat. A few girls hook their arms around your shoulders and try to summon you into their bump n’ grind clan but you swiftly avoid them. Your reward is standing in front of him as he sizes you up and scowls.

“Something you want?” he lisps. You quirk an eyebrow over your shades and he seems to backtrack. “Not what I meant, you sick fuck. Either tell me why you’ve been staring at me or go the fuck away.”

“You’re directly across from me. Eyes naturally tend to snap forwards.”

“You were lingering.”

“So were you.”

“I was glaring.”

“Wouldn’t know, would I?” You tap the edge of glasses. One eye blue, one red. You trace along the side and he looks like he wants to rip your finger out of its socket, but he doesn’t move.

“Did you come back from a showing of The Power of Love in 3D?”

“What?”

“These are incredibly shitty, dude.”

He grabs your wrist, moves it down, applies pressure, “You’re so fucking clueless. You don’t get it do you? I could fucking break your spine without even touching you.”

You feel the electricity. “Psionic?”

“My name’s Sollux. Now I suggest you go bother someone else. I’m not in the mood to deal with this bullshit.”

Stepping away sounds boring, so you get closer, “Your threats are hardly impressive.”

“Just fuck off.”

“No.”

“I swear to fucking god—”

“He’s getting some?”

“—that I will murder you!”

You tilt your head. His frustration is palpable and it eggs you on. “Nah.”

He growls, “I just want to be miserable in fucking peace!”

Red and blue flares out of the side of his glasses, his horns. A few people turn and stare quizzically, but his tantrum isn’t obvious under the lights of the club.

But you know it’s there. You watch. Your throat goes a bit dry and you know you don’t want to go back to your apartment to work on Sawtooth.

“Leave with me,” you say.

He sputters. Cringes. Stops flashing.

“Fuck no! You’re the biggest douchebag I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“Come on.”

“No!” As if on cue, an obnoxiously upbeat song blasts through the club and Sollux groans and presses his fingers to his temples. You wonder what the fuck managed to drag this antisocial recluse to a place like this, but before you ask, he’s pulling you towards the doors, out of the club, into the street filled with puddles and drunken stutterers.

Okay sure.

He’s still holding his head, his fingers clawing into his scalp despite the fact that the noise is gone.

“Shit shit,” he mutters.

“Dude, stop. It’s going to get worse if you keep squeezing your head like it’s a fucking stress ball.”

“Shut up!” he barks. And you’re not sure if he’s talking to you.

Backing off, you lean against the wall and watch as he slowly stops freaking the fuck out. You didn’t realize he was trembling until it ends. He drops his hands and lets out a breath.

“Don’t say a word,” he groans. You stare. Stare at the symbol on his shirt, the two sets of horns, the double teeth and you think you understand him a lot more than you bargained for.

You trace the top of the building across the street, words leaving you flippantly, “There was a time when I used to flit between two consciousnesses.”

He snaps, snarls, “No! You’re nothing but a fucking human. Don’t pretend, don’t even try to think you’re capable of understanding.”

In all honesty, you probably aren't. Not yet. You shrug.

“Whatever.”

He doesn’t move. You thought he would have marched away by now but he stands there. His face relaxes and sighs; he runs his hands through his hair a bit fervently.

“Sorry. Look, I’m an asshole. Don’t, I didn’t mean—”

Bipolar too? Jesus Christ, you’ve got yourself a fun one. “Nah, I don’t care.”

He stops fidgeting to just look. You allow him this, tilting your head back and exposing the arch of your neck. You wish you could see his eyes travel down the expanse, but you feel it, so that’s good enough.

“You’re really white,” he blurts. You actually fucking snort.

“Thanks for noticing.”

“Oh shit, that was a really dumb thing to say.” His emphasis on the ‘to’ barely distracts you from feeling annoyed at his self deprecation. He needs more confidence. At least, this side of him does. The other just needs to chill the fuck out. You’ll help both.

He steps closer, stands beside you. You wonder if his moods are separate, true duality. Do they bleed together? Are his thoughts deranged, discriminate, or a festering mass of discoordination?

You look at him, unfazed by the mere inches between you.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he whispers, “I really could break your spine without touching you.”

You smirk. He doesn’t realize he’s saying all the things you like, “You better fuckin’ try.”

He makes a small noise, curses at it, leans away and then back again when your hand goes under his shirt and touches his skin.

In the end, he follows you home.

BONUS ROUND 4

Bonus Round 4

FILL: TEAM BRO<3GRANDPA