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

Boy Falls From The Sky - Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark
Breath Of Life - Florence + the Machine
To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra

((Meant to be the Sufferer<3the Disciple, but I got a bit carried away...))

Red
He runs with his caretaker. They've been escaping from the streaks of purple and blue, slipping from town to town. He's never anything more than a tall figure with a strong voice and unwavering ideals, and she's never anything more than a softly glowing jade silhouette by his side, healing all who seek help and refuge. But still trolls know of them. They are revered and beloved, but only by the lowbloods. As he grips his caretaker's thinner, rougher hand in his and weaves through the thick foilage, it's no wonder why he wishes for someone to share his burden. A saving grace.

Someone to hold onto.

Olive
She is an orphan, a Huntress who has been wandering for years. Her mind has been quiet for a long, long time. Even if she dwells far above the splatters of red and gold and green, she can't find the breath of life she has been searching for.

She cannot show her face, for she once clawed the face of a blueblood who was pursuing a troll cloaked in darkness and liberated by the curse of his blood. She follows him for a while after that, always leaving to carry on her life in the wild. The jade lady is kind, and she reminds her of a tenderness that she had long forgotten.

The red troll possesses a steadiness that she hasn't known for sweeps. He is like a heavenly light.

"Will you stay?" he asks one day. It's doom, she knows. She has very little time with him, if at all. No, says logic. This is foolish, no, no, no, no...

"Of course," she replies.

Yellow
He has never known comradeship such as this before. Neither has he been able to witness two beings feel for each other so strongly in his short, enslaved life. His friend, his good friend, positively glows next to their little scribe. Likewise, she is so much more alive than she has ever been, never leaving the side of her beloved infidel.

One day the mother stops and invites them into a rundown little hive, an abandoned little place in the middle of the desert. She walks around as if in a trance, and when the scribe sighs softly and wraps her twiggy arms around the mother's thin shoulders, he understands. The blues and purples can't track them here, and it's not long before his friend disappears along with her darling. The mother smiles and pats his hands when he folds them over hers, a ghost of a grin that she used to bear in this hive, in her childhood. Soon the moment is gone when a mass of dark hair barrels into his chest, the troll beneath it laughing gleefully as she bears yellowed but blank sheets of paper and bolls of colourful cloth.

Soon the cloth is draped wherever the four of them deem fit, brightening up the old place in a messy, childish way. She doesn't take long to stack a few rickety old chairs and construct a makeshift shelter with a shamelessly colourful roof. It's a tight fit, but the three children crowd in anyway, snickering like a group of wrigglers who've never seen the horror of murder. Their jade mother peers in fondly, and soon she has joined them bearing dried strips of meat and some water. It's a paltry meal, but they feel like empresses and emperors in their own personal palace.

But perhaps that was not what it actually felt like. If they had known what it meant, they'd say that they felt as though they were at home, a happy family, free from the burdens of their blood. Perhaps they did know what "family" and "home" truly encompassed, after all.

Jade
He's strung up by his wrists and it must be so painful, her poor child, her son. The Disciple is a crumpled mess of olive and black in the Psiioniic's arms, and she can just barely make out her frantic babbling.

"I knew, we couldn't have lasted long, but he suffers, he suffers still!" she thinks she hears the Disciple say so. They flew too high, they'd done too much. Their wings, patched from the hopes and resilience of the oppressed, has been destroyed by the sheer heat of the highbloods' anger. And there's nothing they can do about it.

The last wax binding of their wings is melted away by the navy blue arrow of the E%ecutioner.

------------

Sweeps in the future, but not too many, a once-loving mother is now no more than a battered, skeletal stain on the deck of a violet's ship. She has been a victim of jealousy and false red feelings, and her owner's care brought her to her doom. Maybe she was mistaken in showing a shred of the care she used to show her son.

A once-proud pilot who had tasted freedom and true comradeship is now bound to a ship, limp and uncaring. He can't remember why he ever fought the fuchsia ruler, anymore. He's mournful as he thinks of his past, but it's no more than a dream that he can't shake. Even as he serves mindlessly, something at the back of his mind says, you knew true joy once. But it's all in the past now.

The once-happy scribe now forgets her cyphers and speaks no more, and the only words she remembers are those which she etched in the tattered old stacks of paper she still keeps, now almost destroyed beyond repair. Instead she paints pictures in all the colours of the spectrum, scenes of heartbreaking disaster and disasters that would rip souls apart. But in a corner, she had sketched clumsy depictions of love, and hope, and brighter days. She was found limp and much thinner than she should've been, sitting upright with her cheek pressed up against what looked like a red and olive stain.

His flesh and bones have been burnt to ashes and buried deep underground in a cave no one would ever find again. No one, that is, except for a jade lady whose broken body was buried equally deep by a broken-hearted pirate. No one save a sorrowful Huntress who would never rise again. And no one other than an overworked, soulless pilot whose lifeless shell had been tossed into the lonely place, long after the destruction of Alternia.

BONUS ROUND 4

Bonus Round 4

SOUNDTRACK: TEAM DAVE<3ARADIA

Re: SOUNDTRACK: TEAM DAVE<3ARADIA