Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

[referees]

Summer's a time for swapping stories around the campfire. With that in mind, this round draws inspiration from the stories humanity have told each other over the centuries.

This round is CLOSED as of 7PM on August 4 EDT. Late fills may be posted, but they will not receive points.

RULES

• This round does not have prompts. Instead, we ask you to draw inspiration from the wide pool of mythology, fantasy, folklore, and fable. An urban fantasy or supernatural AU? A re-imagining of your favorite folk tale? Characters swapping ghost stories or playing D&D? As long as your fill in some way incorporates the fantastical and/or supernatural, it's welcome here.
• Your fill still has to be about a ship from one of our nominated fandoms. What ships you create work for is up to you, though.
• To submit your fill, simply leave it as a comment as a reply to this post.
• Remember to follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.

FORMAT

Bonus round shenanigans all happen in the comments below. Brand-new works only, please.

Required Work Minimums:

• 400 words (prose)
• 400px by 400px (art)
• 14 lines (poetry)

There is no max work cap.

Remember, this is a NO-PROMPT round. Format your fill comment in one of the following ways:

If FILLING:

If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:

FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster (without brackets) or your team will not receive points Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Place applicable major content tags and word count before your fill (when applicable) If no major content tags are applicable, make sure to state this-- even if including other additional tags NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and use clear tags in your comment. Written/text fills should be hosted at AO3 ONLY as a new, unchaptered work. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere. You may include a small safe-for-work preview of the fill in your comment. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" alt="DESCRIPTION OF YOUR IMAGE"/> Visual example

FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING] Replace RATING with the rating of your fill, G - E, as explained in the rules Place applicable major content tags and word count before the fill, where applicable If no major content tags are applicable, make sure to state this-- even if including other additional tags NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and use clear tags in your comment. Written/text fills should be hosted at AO3 ONLY as a new, unchaptered work. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere. You may include a small safe-for-work preview of your work in your comment. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> Visual example

Posts not using this format will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, regardless of what they contain. They, like all comments in this community, are subject to the code of conduct.

SCORING

These numbers apply to your team as a whole, not each individual teammate. Make as many fills as you want!

For fills:

First 3 fills by any member of your team: 20 points each
Fills 4-10: 10 points each
Fills 11-20: 5 points each
Fills 21+: 2 points each

All scored content must be created new for this round.

Etc.

If you're hunting through the prompts looking for what to fill, a good trick is to view top-level comments only.

Have a question? Check The FAQ first. If you still need help, feel free to contact the mods. Happy fanworking!

Comments

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

[adamantine]

Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka (Free!)
tags: genderswap
635 words

(Witches AU)

The grandfather clock struck twelve. Haruka added a drop of green liquid into her cauldron. A cloud of red smoke poofed into existence. She drew back from the cauldron, coughing.

“Damn it.” She’d messed up, again.

Haruka sighed and pulled off her safety googles.

Most witches thought potion making was all about the ingredients. The prettiest flower, the purest tear drop, the strongest scale. But Haruka knew better. A potion’s quality had nothing to do with the quality of its ingredients. Haruka had once used a marshmallow four-leafed clover instead of an actual four-leafed clover with any issues.

No, the real trick to potion making was the potion maker’s state of mind, their emotions, while they brewed a potion. That was something Haruka never had a problem with before. She excelled at controlling her emotions, bringing only the ones she needed to the surface as she brewed a potion. At least, she used to excel at these things.

The cauldron’s surface calmed down. The last of the smoke cleared away. Haruka took the cauldron and poured it down the sink. Another useless love potion.

Maybe she would have felt less bitter if she could at least sell the damn potions, but she couldn’t, not without causing more trouble than the money was worth. The potion didn’t do anything malicious — it wasn’t the kind of potion that made you fall in love, it was a potion that made you feel like you were in love. For a few hours you would feel hopelessly and deliriously in love, not with anything or anyone in particular. It seemed harmless enough, but after selling a few vials of the stuff Haruka learned the hard way people did very stupid things when they were in love.

Every customer that bought the potion had come back the next day to complain. One man spent an afternoon skipping around the park instead of going to work. Another had bought 200 bouquets of roses for himself. A woman yelled at her because she’d adopted twenty-seven cats while on the potion even though she was allergic to them. Haruka had started getting rid of the love potion after that incident. She had no interest in trying to find homes for twenty-seven cats ever again.

Haruka rinsed out the cauldron and sighed. She simply wanted to make a calming drought, one she’d brewed hundreds of times before without issue. But for the life of her, she couldn’t keep her mind focused or her emotions calm. It was like this with every potion she’d tried brewing lately. No matter how hard she tried to hold onto the right emotions her own real emotions would start to slip through.

She kicked the sink in frustration. This was all Rin’s fault. The stupidest things would remind her of Rin and once she thought of Rin it was over. Her concentration was shot, her emotions running wild.

Stupid Rin and her perfect body, her cheshire grin when she caught Haruka staring at her cleavage. She’d pop into Haruka’s shop to “chat” almost every day, often getting much too close, invading Haruka’s personal space, resting her arm on Haruka’s shoulder, leaning in front of her so that Haruka would get a whiff of her coconut conditioner — just all-around distracting her from getting anything done. She was trying to put Haruka out of business, that’s what she was doing. That way Rin’s rival potion shop would no longer have any competition.

Well, Haruka wasn’t going to allow that to happen. She’d inherited the shop from her grandmother. She wasn’t going to be defeated by the new witch in town.

Haruka grabbed her soap and sponge and started cleaning out her cauldron, already fired up to try again. Surely this time she'd be able to keep from thinking of Rin long enough.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Aomine Daiki/Kuroko Tetsuya; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags; cardfight vanguard au
word count: 809

Kuroko is little more than a shadow when Aomine finds him, new and unskilled

"You're―you're not a ghost, are you?" Aomine asks uneasily. "I'm not good with ghosts."

"You're a powerful demon," Kuroko says, blinking at him. "You don't have any reason to be afraid of ghosts."

"Sounds like something a ghost would say," Aomine mutters suspiciously.

"I'm not," Kuroko tells him. "I'm… I don't really know what I am. I'm a shadow."

"Well," Aomine says, draping his arm over Kuroko's shoulder, "that's not such a bad thing. Why don't you come with me?"

Calling Aomine a powerful demon is a bit of an understatement. He's a Lord; a vanguard; his soul is brimming with so much power that it shows in the fifteen wings made of blades that grow from his back.

Kuroko stares at them openly and Aomine follows his gaze, grinning with pride.

"I'll let you train with me," he decides. "Maybe if you train hard enough, you'll end up growing your own wings one day."

Kuroko goes with it, because the offer to train with a Blade Wing like Aomine is rare and he knows better than to let the opportunity pass him by. When Aomine holds his hand out, Kuroko takes it, marvelling at just how warm and firm the grip is.

"Your hand didn't pass through mine, so I'm going to go ahead and assume that you're not a ghost. We're getting off to a great start already."

Kuroko ducks his head to hide his smile. "Pleased to work with you, Aomine-sama."

"Oi," Aomine frowns. "Don't do that."

"Aomine-kun."

"Better," Aomine sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Come on, then. Let's get started."

Training with Aomine, Kuroko quickly discovers, is brutal. He has an incredible amount of power that comes pouring out of him, and everything he knows comes to him so naturally, to the point where he doesn't even put thought into the way he fights. It's all pure instinct, and Kuroko stares in a combination of horror and awe.

"I'm never going to be able to do that," he says softly.

"Well, not if you keep holding yourself back. It's not going to be easy, Tetsu, but it'll be worth it."

So Kuroko pushes himself harder. He works as hard as he can, training late into the night. Aomine is thrilled, staying back to train with him too, to give him suggestions to improve his fighting style, to alter his stance, to learn how to select the best magic to respond to each situation.

It's still a fraction of what Aomine is capable of, but Kuroko can see his own potential taking shape, and it's an exciting thing. He's finally becoming something, and he knows that he wouldn't be without some sort of guide.

"Shadows don't have form without a light," he tells Aomine one night, as they're taking a break from training. "I feel like your light is so strong that it makes me strong, too."

Grinning, Aomine reaches over to ruffle his hair. "You need to take some of the credit too, you know. You've been working really hard. Actually, I have a surprise for you. Come here."

Getting to his feet, Kuroko lets Aomine lead him out of the training room and to a sitting area to the side. There's a sealed box sitting on the floor and Aomine kneels in front of it, peeling the runes off one at a time, letting them vanish into the air.

Inside, there's a long, curved blade in the shape of a wing.

"You've earned this," Aomine tells him, and Kuroko realises exactly why Aomine's hands have felt rougher lately, like he's been working with them. "It's a marker of you taking your first step. Your soul's just starting to fill up. It's a pretty exciting time, you know. There's so much potential. You never know how things will go from here."

He picks it up, and Kuroko touches it gently, marvelling at the detail carved into it, before he slowly turns around.

Aomine holds the wing in place, the bottom of it touching Kuroko's back. There's a moment of searing pain, as the blade wing fuses with Kuroko's body, and then it's a part of him. He moves it carefully, mindful of how close Aomine is standing.

"There," Aomine laughs delightedly. "You're already getting the hang of it. I thought that maybe I could spend the rest of the night teaching you how to use your wing in fights too."

"I would love that," Kuroko says sincerely, hesitating for a moment before he reaches out to touch Aomine's hand. "Thank you."

Aomine is left sputtering and blushing, as if Kuroko is the one with the power here. Smiling, Kuroko turns around and leads the way back to the training room.

"Shall we?"

"Yeah," Aomine says, clearing his throat. "Absolutely."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Aomine Daiki/Kuroko Tetsuya; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags; demons, reincarnation, future card buddyfight au
word count: 446

Aomine likes lazy afternoons like these, where he can just lie around the apartment and not have to do anything. Here, he doesn’t even have to worry about making himself smaller so that he looks roughly human-sized, and it makes him feel like he’s stretching his limbs out after being in a particularly cramped space for far too long.

He doesn’t have to wear his usual jacket to hide the horns protruding from his head and his shoulders, because it’s just him and Kuroko here now. Kuroko is used to him, leaning back against Aomine’s bigger form with a content hum, happy to just sit there and read his book. Aomine curls his long tail around one of Kuroko’s feet, quiet and possessive, and Kuroko is used to that, too.

Kuroko is used to a lot, and Aomine tries to tell himself that it’s enough. He should be happy enough with the fact that Kuroko has accepted him as his partner, when Aomine appeared out of nowhere and declared that they would be. Fighting for Kuroko is thrilling, against other people and their partners from other realms. Fighting alongside him, when Kuroko summons his own weapons, is even better.

It’s still a pale imitation of what Aomine used to have. Of what Kuroko used to be.

“Aomine-kun,” Kuroko hums, putting his book down. “Will you tell me about Magic World?”

“What do you want to know?” Aomine asks, his heart leaping into his throat. There are things he could tell Kuroko; things that he knows that he shouldn’t, that he would need to carefully skirt around in a way that doesn’t make Kuroko immediately suspicious.

There are things that Kuroko shouldn’t know, like the fact that he’s demon royalty. He’s the prince of Aomine’s home world, sent to the human world without his memories, with his magic sealed away by his parents, to keep him safe. It’s why Aomine is here, to protect him until Magic World is ready for its future king to return.

Kuroko clears his throat. “Can you tell me why it has such a terrible name?”

“Wow,” Aomine laughs, and he whacks Kuroko’s side gently with his tail. “That’s rude.”

Kuroko catches Aomine’s tail, holding it still. His hand is so pale against the blue of Aomine’s skin, and it looks unnatural. Aomine looks away, still not entirely used to the sight of it, not knowing if he ever will be.

“What’s it like?” Kuroko asks, sounding genuinely interested this time.

Empty, without you, Aomine thinks, but he just grins and wraps his arms around Kuroko, chin resting on top of his head. “It’s great, Tetsu. I’ll take you there someday. Promise.”

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[kiyala]

Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei; Haikyuu!!
no major tags, dick jokes; gods au
word count: 431

“Does it ever get weird to you?” Kindaichi asks one day, when the local gods of the area have gathered for their meetings, as they do at the beginning on each season. “The fact that there are two trickster gods living in the same territory?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa look at each other.

“Is it weird to you?” Matsukawa asks.

“Is it weird to you?”

“I asked first.”

“Kindaichi was looking at me,” Hanamaki points out. “Which clearly means that you have to answer me first.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Matsukawa frowns. “Here, let me draw this out as a diagram.”

Everyone watches as Matsukawa picks up a stick, drawing in the dirt with the pointed end.

Oikawa stifles a snicker behind his hand, at the same time that Iwaizumi groans. “Mattsun, that’s just a drawing of a penis.”

“Blow me,” Matsukawa concludes, looking up at Hanamaki.

“Right here? Didn’t realise you were into that.”

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi says loudly. “Kindaichi, there’s your answer. It’s not weird for them at all, but it’s a headache for the rest of us if you get them started. Just. Don’t get them started. Don’t look at them. Don’t even acknowledge that they’re there.”

“Never ask Iwaizumi if your invisibility spell is working,” Hanamaki advises, “because he’s a lying liar who lies.”

“Says the trickster god,” Iwaizumi huffs out, “who will tell you that Oikawa isn’t anywhere around when you feel the need to wax poetic about—anyway. Anyway.”

Kunimi yawns, blinking awake. “Did I miss anything?”

“Iwaizumi’s in love with Oikawa and waxes poetic about him to his friends,” Yahaba speaks up with a grin. “So, no.”

“I hate you all,” Iwaizumi mutters, as Kunimi rests his head back on his hands and goes to sleep again.

“Is it weird, though?” Matsukawa asks later, after the meeting is over and he’s walking away with Hanamaki. “That we’re both the same kind of god, in the same territory? We’re not treading on each other’s toes here, are we?”

“I don’t think so,” Hanamaki hums. “I mean, we get to work together and pull of pranks that we wouldn’t really be able to do on our own. That in itself makes it pretty worth it, right?”

Matsukawa grins. “Yeah. You’re right about that.”

“And also,” Hanamaki sighs, reaching out and brushing their fingers against each other slowly and deliberately. “I might not wax poetic to my friends about you, but I’m glad you’re here all the same.”

Matsukawa huffs out a quiet laugh, leaning over to press a kiss to Hanamaki’s cheek. “That’s not what Iwaizumi told me.”

Re: FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[yrindor]

Haha, this is great. I can picture all of this happening exactly as you described.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 513

“What are you doing?” the boy on the moon asks, watching as Tadashi climbs into the sky at dusk with a bag full of stars.

“It’s night time,” Tadashi explains, carefully taking one star out of his bag and hanging it in its place in the sky. “I need to put these up.”

“Why?”

“So that people can see them,” Tadashi says, already hanging his second star, then his third. “It makes people happy, to look up at the sky at night and see the stars. I want them to feel happy.”

“What a waste of time,” the boy on the moon mutters, folding his arms across his knees and resting his chin on them. “My moon shines much brighter than they do, anyway.”

Tadashi doesn’t argue, focusing his attention on hanging the rest of his stars. When he’s done, he stands back and marvels at them. The boy on the moon makes a soft, irritated noise.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Tadashi asks. “Doesn’t it make you happy to look at them?”

“No. What’s your name?”

“I’m Tadashi. You?”

“Kei.”

Tadashi smiles, putting his bag back on his shoulders. “I’ll be back to take them down before morning. Maybe I’ll see you again then, Kei.”

“Whatever. You’re wasting your time.”

Every day after that, Tadashi and Kei see each other twice a day; once when Tadashi comes by with his bag to hang each star in the sky, and then again when Tadashi returns to pack each of them away, back into his bag.

Sometimes, even when other people can’t see the moon in the sky, Tadashi still sees Kei, sitting there on the darkened surface of the moon, talking to him as he works.

Kei stops telling him that he’s wasting his time, because he quickly learns that Tadashi won’t listen anyway. Instead, they talk about their days. Kei tells him about the sights that he sees, from his vantage point all the way up in the sky. He’s never really thought twice about it before, but Tadashi takes a special pleasure out of seeing beautiful things. Kei makes a note of every beautiful thing that he sees, knowing that Tadashi will like to hear about it.

Besides, Kei thinks, the most beautiful thing in the sky appears twice a day, always wearing a smile, always greeting Kei cheerfully no matter what kind of day it’s been. Kei wishes that he knew how to show Tadashi just how beautiful that is.

Kei waits until it’s a full moon night, and Tadashi is finished hanging the stars in the sky, and then clears his throat.

“Instead of coming back later, why don’t you just stay here? It’ll save you the trip.”

Tadashi smiles, sitting down beside Kei. They spend the rest of the night talking, and when Tadashi leaves, he presses a quick kiss to Kei’s cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after that,” Tadashi says to him, like it’s a promise, not just a simple fact.

Kei finds himself so happy that the moon shines for part of the following day.

FILL: Team Aldini Takumi/Yukihira Souma,G

[nyatsuuuu]

No Tags, Kissing, Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji + Kuro Tetsurou, Haikyuu!!

Kuroo: God get a room

In which Akaashi wishes Bokuto Good luck before a game

Re: FILL: Team Aldini Takumi/Yukihira Souma,G

[hapaxlegomenon]

*squeals*

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[chiharu]

Shirofuda Yukie/Akaashi Keiji Haikyuu
No tags, 454 Words, G

Yukie looks up from her cauldron just in time to find a boy climbing in through the window. Her tower is a significant distance off the ground, and the intruder must have scaled the walls by himself because his dark hair looks soft and windblown.

At the sight of Yukie, the boy sets a hand on his sword and goes into defensive position.

"Hello," Yukie says. "Can I help you?"

"My name is Akaashi Keiji. I'm here to challenge the Strigiformes Witch."

Yukie sets a fallen jar of cumin upright on her workbench and nods. "Ah, that's me, but I'm not accepting any challenges. Would you like to stay for some food?"

"Food?" Akaashi's face is neutral save for the quirk of his brows. His gaze travels to the cauldron, just as Yukie extinguishes her cooking fire. "I'm not interested in potions."

"Potions?" Yukie blinks once, then twice. "This is my dinner. I'm making beef stew!" She had been in the middle of plating when Akaashi broke in. Yukie pulls a second bowl out of her cabinets, knocking over a bin of worm powder in the process. With a wave of her hand, Yukie returns the powder back into its container.

When Akaashi does not respond, Yukie turns to him. "Exactly why do you want to challenge me?"

"You've cast a curse on my friend," Akaashi says, voice soft but unrelenting. "He says it's because he owes you coins that he has no method of repaying. I am here to challenge you on the condition you remove the curse if I win."

Yukie leans back against her counter. "And your friend is...?"

"The blacksmith, Bokuto."

At the sound of Bokuto's name, Yukie's barn owl begins to hoot loudly. It flies out of its cage by Yukie's ceiling and circles around the room, wings flapping loudly.

"Konoha, behave."

Konoha responds by landing on Akaashi's shoulder. To Akaashi's credit, he does not flinch or try to shake the owl off.

"Bokuto does indeed owe me money, but I did not cast any spells on him," Yukie says, grinning when Akaashi's gaze snaps back to her. "I reckon he is just being melodramatic again. I'm guessing the misfortunes he's encountered so far are everyday phenomena?"

Several expressions flash across Akaashi's face before settling on resigned disbelief.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Yukie asks again. Two bowls of stew are already floating towards the table by her window, and Yukie watches as Konoha nudges Akaashi's ear with its beak. Cute, Yukie thinks.

Akaashi sighs and drops his hand from his sword. Personally, Yukie has always been fond of boys with a sense of tact. "Yes,” Akaashi says eventually. “If you will still have me."

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

[underscored]

character death, (not the main characters), iwaoi fire emblem awakening au
516 words

He doesn’t remember much from this life, but he knows he’s seen this man in another one before. Iwaizumi wakes up in a sprawling field to the smiling visage of a man with light brown hair and eyes that sparkle as he speaks. The man extends a hand to him, and his name appears on Iwaizumi’s lips as their fingers wrap around each other’s, “Prince Oikawa.”

The princess beside him gasps, bombarding Iwaizumi with a litany of questions about how he knows her brother’s name. Oikawa doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he says, he’d be horrified if someone didn’t recognize the name of the crown prince of Ylisse, and, “Please, darling Yui, you worry too much.”

Prince Oikawa brings Iwaizumi home to his castle, and the whole time Iwaizumi cannot help but think I know you, I know you, I knew you. Faint visions from a distant life creep back into his mind: him and Oikawa walking around hand-in-hand by the courtyards, sharing kisses in the library, Iwaizumi covering Oikawa with a blanket when he passed out on the table after studying too much. Oikawa introduces Iwaizumi to his small army of town defenders and Iwaizumi remembers how he, in a different life, was the one who led Oikawa into his world hand-in-hand.

The visions are faint but lasting, ones that keep him tossing and turning in his camp at night. They haunt him into sleeplessness along with the sound of Oikawa’s snores and the thought that they could be curled up together, his head tucked under Oikawa’s shoulders, basking in his prince’s warmth if Iwaizumi dreamed hard enough. Then some nights he dreams of monsters, and of his Levin Sword crashing through Oikawa’s chest, or dark magic pulsing through Oikawa’s heart.

He isn’t sure which are visions of this life, or visions of one past. Besides, there are more pressing matters at hand. The kingdom of Ylisse is now at war and Prince Oikawa must help lead the ranks. Late-night chats after dinner have turned to quiet plotting in the war room, Iwaizumi and Oikawa leading each other through charts and maps of a world he barely remembers. They gather numbers for their motley crew as they battle through sandstorms and weather harsh winds, Oikawa recruiting even the greatest cynics with a smile and a wink.

Oikawa cries for days when his eldest sister Kiyoko dies, flinging herself off a clifftop as a refusal to submit to blackmail. He holds Iwaizumi and sobs into the crook of his neck, whimpering about how he could have said something, done something more. Iwaizumi squeezes Oikawa closer to him. Kinghood was something Oikawa had secretly wished for, Iwaizumi knew, but not at this price.

“How am I to lead a nation,” Oikawa asks quietly, “When I can barely function myself?”

Iwaizumi traces a rough hand through Oikawa’s hair. There’s no time to ponder the future, no time to ponder the past: he must be here for Oikawa now. He’ll be the wind at his back and the sword by his side, and nothing will tear them apart.

Re: FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

[knights_watch]

i'm going to eat my own fingers how DARE YOU

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, E

[kiyala]

Himuro Tatsuya/Murasakibara Atsushi; Kuroko no Basuke
sexual content, werewolf au, mating cycles/heat, fisting
word count: 1991

"Don't talk," Tatsuya tells him. "Your voice is so—I can't deal with it, Atsushi. I need you here. How long is it going to take?"

Atsushi is silent for a moment, unsure if Tatsuya actually wants him to reply, until he hears the impatient huff on the other end. "Half an hour."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akashi Seijurou/Mayuzumi Chihiro; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags, weather magic
word count: 488

Chihiro is eighteen when he meets Seijurou, sitting on the rooftop on a day that is meant to be pouring down with rain.

Instead, the skies are clear, the sun is bright, and there's a gentle breeze that blows past, occasionally rustling the pages of Chihiro's book as he reads. His weather magic has improved a lot recently, and it doesn't take as much concentration to maintain it any more. Chihiro is glad for it, because it means that he can turn his attention to the story he's reading instead. It's about fateful encounters and mysterious strangers, and just as he's about to turn the page, he hears the rooftop door click softly shut.

He looks up from his book, finding Akashi Seijurou standing there in front of him, watching him with mild interest. Chihiro doesn't know what to expect, but he knows that it's not going to be a pleasant conversation.

"It's your magic, isn't it?" Seijurou asks him, and nods towards the sky. "The bright day. The warm sun."

"What of it?" Chihiro asks, looking down at the light novel in his hands again.

"It takes a lot to go against what nature already has planned," Seijurou murmurs, and there's something about his tone that sets Chihiro on edge. It's like he doesn't see Chihiro as anything more than an interesting creature in his path. Chihiro can't stand it, can't stand the way that Seijurou is standing above him, looking down at him.

"So I'm good at changing the weather," Chihiro says, and he doesn't get up, because he doesn't want Seijurou to know that he's succeeded in making him uncomfortable. "What do you want?"

"I want to show you," Seijurou tells him, "that there's something to be said for the days when the sun doesn't shine, as well. I want to show you the power that the weather can hold."

"Surely, you must have something better to do," Chihiro mutters.

"I want to show you," Seijurou continues, as clouds begin to gather in the sky, "that you can achieve a lot, with just a little gust of wind."

Chihiro frowns, watching as Seijurou overwrites the weather spells with his own. His magic is much stronger than Chihiro's, brushing it aside like it isn't even there.

"I can teach you," Seijurou tells him, "how to harness this power. How a gust can build into a storm. Into a hurricane. How you can sweep your way past anything that stands in your way."

"That sounds difficult and tiring," Chihiro mutters. "I just want to read."

The skies continue to darken, so that Chihiro can barely make out the writing on the pages at all. He shuts it with a quiet snort. Fateful counters and mysterious strangers, indeed.

"Fine," he says, getting to his feet, taking some pleasure in the way he gets to be the one looking down at Seijurou now. "Show me your hurricane magic, then."

Re: FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[chiharu]

"Surely, you must have something better to do" is such a chilly response I LOVE MAYU

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[chiharu]

Yukihira Souma/Aldini Takumi, Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma
no tags, 869 words, G

Takumi should have known that accepting Sadatsuka Nao's duel was a mistake. Common sense suggested that anyone who specialized in dark witchcraft wouldn't take a loss lightly, but Takumi could never turn down a challenge from a formidable opponent. So it's partially his fault, really, when Sadatsuka jinxes Takumi in revenge.

"It seems to be a stronger form of the truth potion," Fumio-san says after examining Takumi for damages. Around her, the occupants of the Polaris Star dorm circle around Takumi in various degrees of concern and amusement.

Takumi frowns. "I always tell the truth."

"Ah." Fumio-san gives him an unimpressed look. "The truth can be twisted and omitted, but the jinx requires you to answer all questions directed at you honestly. What colored boxers are you wearing today?"

"Checkered," Takumi replies, then slaps a hand to his mouth.

"How do we reverse it?" Isami asks, looking torn before laughing.

Fumio stands up and rotates her shoulder. "It’ll wear out on its own."

That, in itself, is the most terrifying part. Takumi covers his face with his hands and groans when his classmates assault him with random questions. They're mostly harmless inquiries about Takumi's family or hobbies. Isami is no help and prefers teasing Takumi to shielding him from everyone's nosiness.

"What do you like more? Japan or Italy?" Ryoko asks. She seems satisfied when Takumi responds with Japan, for the time being.

Yuuki elevates Takumi's torture just as the door to the common room opens. "Do you currently like someone?"

"Yes," Takumi says, to his horror, just as Souma walks in with an arm full of scrolls. Takumi shoots up from his seat, cheeks aflame. "No more questions! Please."

"Stop picking on Takumi," Souma says as he dumps the scrolls on the table. "I dug up these spells from the library. We all need to practice them if we want to survive the next round of practical exams. Plus, I wanna see if there's something in here that'll help me defeat Tsukasa-senpai. Wanna help me, Takumi?"

"Yes!" Takumi says with fervor as everyone loses interest in the conversation and scatters across the dorm. Takumi ignores Yuuki's comment of Souma-kun is the one who teases Takumi the most while Ibusaki excuses himself to the restroom. Isami wanders off to talk to Megumi, leaving Takumi and Souma sitting together in the dining hall to pore over old spells.

They get through one scroll of nearly indecipherable text before Souma says, nonchalant as ever, "You know, I've heard of a way to end your curse."

Takumi tries to not stare too much at the slope of Souma's jaw. "How?"

"You gotta speed up the process and force it out of you." Souma grins. "All you have to do is reveal your deepest, darkest secret. So tell me, are you a bed wetter or what?"

"No!" Takumi snaps, feeling his face heat up. "Of course not!"

Souma squints and scratches his nose. "Why are you so defensive?"

"I can’t handle it when you tease me." Takumi glares down at his lap. "I don't- I can't think when you do that."

"Huh. Do you hate it that much?"

Takumi throws his hands over his face. He doesn't like where this conversation is going. "I don't hate it. I just... I don't know what to do."

"What to do about what?" Souma asks.

"You." Takumi hisses out. He tries to leave, but Souma stops him. Takumi can feel his heart beating out of his ribcage, and he wishes Sadatsuka had chosen to give him pox instead of making him do something this tortuous. "I-"

"Hey," Souma says, uncharacteristically soft. He moves Takumi's wrist closer to him and frowns. "Don't bite your hand. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Sorry for pressing you." He grins. "I'm a jerk, right?"

"You're not a jerk!" Takumi insists. "You're so kind and reliable, and that's the worst part. I wish you were a jerk. It'd be much easier to just see you as a rival if that was the case, yet you're so wonderful and I like you so much I-" Takumi can feel his entire body shaking, and he's not expecting it when Souma pulls him into a hug.

"Don't cry," Souma laughs.

Takumi buries his face into Souma's shoulder and hisses, "I'm not crying!"

Souma is warm and smells like bay leaf. When Souma sets a soothing hand on Takumi's back, Takumi never wants to let go. "It's okay. I know. I like you too."

"What?" Takumi asks after a beat. "You-"

"I knew that you liked me," Souma says into Takumi's ear, causing Takumi to pull apart from him. Souma grins. "But you're so cute when you're flustered."

"I-"

"So are you really wearing checkered boxers today?"

"No!" Takumi snaps, then pauses. He brings a hand to his mouth and blinks.

Souma smirks, his hand still on the small of Takumi's back. "See? The curse has been broken."

"Yes," Takumi says, sighing when Souma pulls him closer. Souma feels like a furnace, heating up the snowy inlands of Takumi’s heart. Takumi feels relieved in more ways than one.

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[chiharu]

Aldini Isami/ Tadokoro Megumi, Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma
G, 639 words, no tags


As the apprentice of a proficient Italian Apothecary and a student at Toutsuki Academy of Sorcery, Isami has seen some gross misuse of magic.

Megumi salvaging half-dead vegetables from the school garden is not one of them. It's strange, really, that a girl with such strong grasp of Earth magic would choose to spend her time caring for cauliflower plants, especially when Isami has seen her summon clay dragons from the ground during duels.

"Isami-kun!" Megumi nearly drops her basket when she spots him, but Isami uses a quick levitation spell to keep her vegetables from hitting the ground.

"Sorry for surprising you," Isami says while Megumi carefully plucks her carrots from thin air. "What are you making?"

"Yuuki-chan is not feeling well, so I'm making a healing stew for her."

The Aldini Apothecary specialized in potions, and Isami has plenty of experience formulating tasteless healing serums to be incorporated into meals. Megumi, however, practiced more holistic methods-- something Isami and Takumi hadn't even heard about until arriving at Toutsuki. "May I watch? Nii-chan is busy studying with Souma, so I'm bored."

"Of course!" Megumi nods and misses the teasing tone in Isami's voice.

There's something terrifyingly endearing about her, Isami thinks while following Megumi into the kitchen of the Polaris Star dorm. Inside, he helps her chop vegetables and grind magic-soaked basil leaves into paste. The cooking process is messy and leaves smudges of green on the apron Megumi lends him, but Isami prefers this to the clinical precision with which he and Takumi brew potions.

"Sweet potatoes are out of season," Isami says when he spots them in Megumi's basket. It's early August, yet Isami sometimes feels cold without his winter weight. He recalls winters in Italy and the sweet potato casserole his father made the first time Takumi hexed someone for calling Isami fat.

"Oh!" Megumi gives him a small smile. "I used a spell to recreate peak-season conditions. Sweet potatoes contain lycopene, which is an anti-inflammatory that reduces swelling. It'll help Yuuki-chan's throat."

Isami already knows about the anti-inflammatory effects, but he feels a swell of affection bubbling at the base of his throat. Megumi is nothing like Souma, yet Isami wonders if this is how his brother feels, too, to be so fond of someone.

They're interrupted when Marui stumbles into the kitchen looking for Fumio-san. "I had an accident while experimenting with a spell," he says behind cracked spectacles. Marui bleeds all over the floor while Megumi fusses over mending his glasses.

"I don't think my healing spell will be enough for your wound," Megumi says after taking a better look at the cut across Marui's leg. "Maybe you should go to the infirmary."

"Wait," Isami says while fumbling through the cabinets. He'd taken inventory of the dorm's stock the last time he stayed over for dinner, and it only takes Isami a few minutes to improvise a potion that cleans and cauterizes Marui's injury.

When Marui cries out in pain, Isami sticks a charmed rhizome of ginger into his mouth. "Chew on that," he says while they watch Marui's wounds close neatly. Later, after Marui has flopped down on the couch in the common room and Souma and Takumi have appeared just to tease Marui, Isami returns to the kitchen to find Megumi with glassy eyes. "What's wrong?

"You're amazing, Isami-kun. I would've never been able to create a potion that fast. I-um, don't perform well under pressure."

Isami blinks. "Me? No, you're the amazing one."

Megumi's cheeks grow pink as she turns around to check on her stew. "You're exaggerating."

This makes Isami grin. He returns to his spot next to her and nudges Megumi gently. "Why don't we agree to disagree?"

"Okay." Megumi smiles, and Isami can't help but smile back.

To Isami, Megumi is nothing but agreeable.

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, T

[jinbeizaki]

Makoto/Sousuke, Free!

Major Character death, angst



"Look after me, Makoto..."

AU where Sousuke made it to the Japan Olympic Team. Makoto is now an angel looking out for his lover.

FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[sotongsotong]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Haikyuu!
no tags
537 words, rain god!Oikawa


There is nothing more ineffectual than trying to get his fickle boyfriend of a rain god to stop using the weather as a means of catching his attention, Hajime discovers.

He points his umbrella towards the darkening sky, eyes narrowing as he grits out, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Unfortunately, waving a Godzilla-printed umbrella as menacingly he can at the clouds— and, in extension, their ruler – doesn’t really constitutes itself as a threat to Oikawa, so all Hajime achieves is the distant rumble of thunder and a splatter of raindrops to his face, which is ridiculous because it hasn’t even started raining properly yet, cementing the fact that Oikawa is purposely singling Hajime out as the target for his mischief.

The wind blows wilder, almost as if its howling and whistling at his predicament, breezily taunting: too bad, so sad, look at poor wet Hajime!

A vein pops up on Hajime’s forehead; well, two can play this game, and he’s definitely not going to be a pushover. He grabs the hem of his jersey and pulls it up to wipe his dripping face, exposing a tantalizing view of his torso— especially his abs, in particular.

Previously strong in its gust, the wind now stutters as his shirt rides higher, higher, and higher, abruptly dying when it stops short of revealing his chest.

Inwardly amused, Hajime tilts his head upwards and shoots a cocky smirk while releasing the hem in his grasp. It unceremoniously flops back down, cutting off any further sight of his body. “You actually fell for it, you dumbass.”

Lightning flashes overhead. A warning. Or, in a certain rain god’s case, a pouting.

Hajime scoffs, “What? Can’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” Then, he spreads his arms, and his cheeks redden the slightest bit. “Get over here yourself if you want my attention so badly. Don’t expect me to pamper thin air, okay?”

Nothing happens for a full minute, making Hajime feel like an idiot for standing at the entrance gate of his home with his arms wide open; he’s about to put them down and slump to his room in annoyance, when the black clouds above part themselves, letting a ray of white shine through and project itself onto Hajime’s chest.

“W-wai--!!” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence in time for a bundle of brown hair, gangly limbs, and teal robes, at that moment, chooses to hurtle down following the ray’s line of direction, resulting in a collision with Hajime. Meeting the ground is an inevitable conclusion because having an armful of rain god doesn’t mean the laws of inertia will slacken anytime soon for a mere human.

Slowly, carefully, Oikawa unfurls himself akin to a paper Japanese water flower placed in a pond. He gently bumps the top of his head on Hajime’s chin. The smile on his face is electric. “Thanks for catching me again, Iwa-chan!”

Hearing that makes Hajime snort, but his fingers stroke along Oikawa’s nape, and he buries his nose into his lover’s hair, smiling when he smells the familiar tones of flooded earth and sharp ozone.

(Oikawa is Hajime’s very own storm.)

Hajime replies, “It’s hard to miss when you fall like your damn raindrops, Kusokawa.”

Re: FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[chiharu]

SCREAMS THIS IS SO CUTE

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

[luckycricket33]

no major content warnings
inui sadaharu & teshima junta

they got banned from the dungeons and the ravenclaw common room pretty fast. is this the room of requirement?

Re: FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

[prillalar]

I'm so in love with Teshima's face.<3

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

[luckycricket33]

no major content warnings
sawamura daichi/sugawara koushi

MaoYu AU! The hero Daichi has just confronted the demon king Suga for the first time!

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

[sawakise]

Kuramochi Youichi & Miyuki Kazuya & Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

howls' moving castle au

canon atypical supernatural stuff
905 words.

“Miyuki Kazuya!” Sawamura shouts from his menace of a moving castle, cloak billowing in the wind as he swings around a thick, silver pipe that releases thick clouds of black smoke with each step the castle takes.

Miyuki lifts his head, his old eyes taking time to adjust. He pushes his spectacles up with his finger, also old and wrinkly, and feels the insides of his stomach churn uncomfortably. The pink ball of fur on his shoulder wiggles furiously, and Miyuki manages to turn his heavy head in time to watch it take off straight for the castle’s mouth, getting swallowed up in a matter of seconds. It’s equal parts jarring and mystical.

“You’re really here!” Sawamura cheers happily and Miyuki doesn’t quite understand how the man knows, considering that he couldn’t even recognize himself that morning. The man lets go and floats down to the ground, scooping Miyuki up with ease and walking on the air up to a door. “In we go,” he laughs and twirls Miyuki down, taking him gently by the hand as his feet float down to the wooden floor.

“Welcome to my home,” Sawamura bows with a flourish.

“Sawamura, I heard you can help me.” Miyuki struggles to lift his heavy coat off, the thick fur unnecessary in this warm room. His muscles have atrophied to saggy lumps and he’s old and grey and currently living in a saddening nightmare. After spending a minute watching him struggle, Sawamura helps him shrug his coat off and hangs it up on the rack.

“That’s true. I can,” Sawamura nods. “But I need to go; there’s been another bombing in a city. I’ll be back to help you.” The spinner next to the door changes from green to red and Sawamura opens up the door. Instead of a previously grassy field, Miyuki stares in horror at burning landscapes and houses on fire; the pleas and cries for help are carried away by the wind that they become mere whispers.

“Stay safe,” Miyuki croaks but Sawamura doesn’t spare him a glance, his mouth set in a grim expression. He steps out and flies away, the door swinging shut behind him.

Slowly, due to physical stress and not because he was being cautious, Miyuki hobbles over to a nearby chair. He plops down, the wood creaking when he rests his back against it, and exhales quietly. The house hums alongside of him and Miyuki tries not to feel like an awkward outsider, shame coursing through him when Sawamura recognized him upon sight.

A polar bear comes down the stairs with a cane firmly strapped onto its back. Miyuki doesn’t have enough energy to run away, so he opts to just raise his eyebrows. Slowly, the polar bear approaches and tilts the cane in his direction; Miyuki takes it with mild trepidation. Satisfied, the bear nods once and leaves.

“It’s for you,” a voice rings out, seemingly echoing throughout the entire house. Miyuki blinks, unused to all of the abnormalities of the house. “He made it for you once he heard about your plight.”

“How kind of him,” Miyuki drawls. “Instead of coming to get me, he made a pitiful old man walk for five hours trying to find this place.”

“Wow,” the voice replies, “your body may have aged, but you’re still an asshole.”

“Hm,” Miyuki replies, standing up and using the cane as a support. “Where are you, exactly?”

“I’m the fire,” the voice snorts, “so I’m over here. Here, I’ll wave.”

Miyuki eyes the fire with a blank stare. The eyes and gaping mouth are interesting, and he tentatively reaches out to see if the fire is actually real. He feels the heat against his skin, but the fire moves with an eye roll to avoid his hand.

“Wow, you’re uglier than I expected,” the fire grimaces, if you could even call that a grimace. “Hand me that log, will you?”

“Don’t insult someone and then expect them to do you a favor,” Miyuki says dryly, but bends down slowly to pick up the log. He holds it in his hand, dangling it over the fire, and hums contently as the fire reaches up with its tiny hands.

“No idea why he likes you,” the fire mutters scornfully when Miyuki raises the log higher, just out of reach.

“Must be my charming personality,” Miyuki smiles and the fire shoots him a dirty look, “and my good looks.”

“Right,” the fire drawls, “neither of those are true.”

“Just take it then,” Miyuki feels a tad bit immature when he all but throws the log down onto the flame, crushing him. A brief flare of panic shoots up inside of his chest when the fire doesn’t resurface—why would Sawamura help him after he killed the talking fire—but it disappears as soon as the fire comes back to life.

“I’m Kuramochi, in case you were wondering,” the fire snarls as it wraps its hands around the log and turning it to ashes.

“I wasn’t,” Miyuki replies, “but that’s good to know.”

“Huh,” Kuramochi makes a noise, “lean forward a little. I gotta tell you something.”

Miyuki snorts—yeah right, he’s not putting his wispy eyebrows in jeopardy. “You don’t seem like you’re good for anything other than keeping things warm,” he smiles sickly sweet, “so I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer though.”

The fire huffs and crosses its arms. Miyuki waves it goodbye.

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, E

[fullofjoy]

Sexual content
Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, Free!

Rin is a dark elf and Haru is a forest elf and despite the forest being really big, they keep getting interrupted? I spent more time than I expected on it but it was a different kind of thing to try?

SFW preview (with a cursor sneaking in)


Elf Haru needs to fix his priorities.

FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, T

[hapaxlegomenon]

Arakita Yasutomo & Fukutomi Juichi & Shinkai Hayato & Toudou Jinpachi; Yowamushi Pedal

Word Count: 1107
Tags: Injury/mild body horror

After the attack, Arakita tries to go home. He doesn’t have much memory of the journey, after -- he remembers the attack, and the pain… and then he wakes up to Toudou’s screaming.

He tries to take stock of himself, but everything hurts and he can’t open his eyes. He feels sticky with cold and entirely incapable of even the smallest movement, but he’s awake, and he hears Toudou scream again. It’s a harsh dissonance to the ringing in his ears and he wants to frown, wants to tell Toudou to be quiet. It hurts.

He thinks he hears a crashing sound, then more shouts, and someone is touching him, his arm, his cheek, and he manages to groan. It hurts. He’s scared.

*

Fukutomi hears Toudou’s terrified scream and falls off his rollers for the first time in years. He considers putting his bicycle away for less than a second before leaving it where it lies and hurrying outside. And stopping dead.

Shinkai bursts out from the dorm building, sees Fukutomi, and starts saying, “Juichi, what --” before he, too, abruptly falls silent. He swallows hard and Fukutomi wonders if he’s going to throw up.

He wonders the same about himself.

Toudou sees him, from where he’s kneeling in a muddy red puddle beside Arakita, and he points with a shaky hand. “Fuku!” His voice is high and shaking and seconds away from tears. “Fuku, c-call for help.”

*

“That’s a lot of blood…” Shinkai says. Fukutomi, phone to his ear, makes a shushing gesture. Shinkai tries again to swallow down the painful twist of fear and disgust that has taken up residence in his esophagus.

*

Toudou insists on riding in the ambulance, holding Arakita’s ankle, since his hands are too injured, skin shredded and bones snapped, and he tries to stay calm as the pair of paramedics bustle around him, with bandages and swabs and needles and a whole urgent vocabulary that he doesn’t understand.

“It’s okay, Arakita,” he says hopelessly, over and over. He gets one or two sympathetic glances as the paramedics push past, and he knows he must look pathetic right now, sniffling and shaking and dressed for his morning run.

He spends a minute fretting about the fact that his favourite grey running shorts are now hopelessly stained. It doesn’t really drown out the commentary about blood pressure and transfusions, but then, he didn’t really expect it to anyway.

*

The beeping is annoying, when Arakita wakes up, and he feels the familiar loopy lightheadedness and numb limbs that he knows comes from heavy painkillers. He swears under his breath, then startles when something touches his forehead.

“Language, Yasutomo,” Shinkai says lightly, and Arakita cracks an eye open to glare.

“You look terrible, banana-breath,” he croaks.

Shinkai manages a tired half-smile. “I could say the same to you.”

The narcotics drag Arakita back to unconsciousness before he can retort to that. It was going to be a good one, though, he thinks, right before he slips under.

*

Fukutomi is told to wait outside the room, and he begrudgingly complies. He glares at the wall while the police officers interrogate Arakita behind the closed door. He hears Arakita’s voice change from quiet and tired to loud and indignant, angry, and by the time the doors open again he’s on his feet, back straight and arms at his sides, but his fists are clenched.

The officers don’t even acknowledge him, talking lowly amongst themselves. He can make out bits and pieces of the conversation -- “...wounds are consistent with animal attack…” “...completely ridiculous…” “...doesn’t exist…”

Fukutomi ignores them to walk to Arakita’s side, where he stops and worries quietly about how pale Arakita looks -- grey, ashy, like someone has sucked the colour out of him.

“Fuku-chan,” Arakita says, and holds out his left hand, wiggling his unbandaged thumb impatiently. “Give me your phone.”

Fukutomi hands it over without question. There’s a sheen of sweat across Arakita’s face, and Fukutomi carefully wipes his face with a little hand towel on the bedside tray. Arakita doesn’t say anything, absorbed as he is in trying to work the cell phone with only two fingers, and so Fukutomi chances a brief, affectionate touch to his hair. It makes his chest burn and his mouth go dry.

It shouldn't even be possible, but Arakita’s face suddenly gets paler. Fukutomi leans forward in alarm.

“Arakita?”

Arakita tries to throw the phone down and turn over onto his side. The bandages clearly make things difficult, though, because all he manages is to drop the phone on his stomach and a vague flopping motion. The phone slides slowly down the blanket.

It’s certainly not the dramatic motion that Arakita was undoubtedly going for, but Fukutomi understands and respects the intent. He retrieves his phone and says, “I’ll let you sleep.”

Arakita grunts, and it should be nonchalant or grumpy but he’s trying too hard. Fukutomi considers patting his back, but ultimately he stands and leaves without a word.

It isn’t until halfway through the bike back to campus that Fukutomi thinks to check his phone, and another forty-five minutes after that before he arrives at Hakone Gakuen and actually unlocks the screen.

Moon Phase Calendar, the page reads. Fukutomi doesn’t know what to make of that.

*

When Arakita is cleared to return to school, Toudou borrows his sister’s car and meets him outside the rehab facility. He leans on the horn and yells cheerfully out the window and causes a general scene that has Arakita grinning and swearing at him while he fumbles the door open.

Toudou leans across the center console to give him a hug. “I can’t believe you’ve been gone for almost a month, I never thought I’d say this, but I really did miss -- Arakita?”

Arakita is staring ahead, grip white-knuckled on the door and the other hand rubbing uneasily at the crescent-shaped scar on his lower thigh. His expression is tight, and, Toudou realizes with apprehension, almost scared.

“Toudou,” Arakita says, “when’s the next full moon?”

Re: FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, T

[mother_herbivore]

OOOOOOOOOOO SHIT THAT REVEAL!!!!!!! 10/10

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[kazuyaloveseijun]

Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, Daiya no A
no major tags, fallen angels, very mild body horror?
words: 1,443

The day Satoru loses his first feather he knows he’s in trouble. It falls from above his head, drifting down gently to disturb the peacefulness of the viewing basin, sending ripples through the water that distort the view of the man he was watching. The others had tried to warn him of the dangers of looking so long at one human but he’d ignored them, even knowing the risks that came with getting too attached or biased when it came to humans.

Miyuki Kazuya is one of many humans Satoru has watched over, measuring the weight of his soul as is Satoru’s job. Miyuki is certainly not the purest human, he’s decidedly average in terms of morality; he often causes unintentional pain with his thoughtless remarks, can be manipulative at times but Satoru only counts those slightly against his soul as it’s never for his own personal gain. It’s not the goodness of his soul that catches Satoru’s attention but rather the holes in it. He can see the pain of lost loved ones, and fear of being hurt, the frayed edges of loneliness that are all too familiar to Satoru. It makes him wonder if his own soul has the same frays.

Even after he had a good read on Miyuki he couldn’t help checking back in a little too often for anything to have changed, or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself but watching Miyuki now with the ripple from his feather starting to settle a terrible feeling is taking hold. His pale fingers clutch the rim of the basin tightly, his knuckles turning even whiter and his stomach churning as he watches a man he’s never seen kissing Miyuki, the two of them a tangle of naked limbs on Miyuki’s bed. The look on his already beautiful face is one of bliss and Satoru has another wave of that unfamiliar feeling, another feather falling in the basin; a mix of jealousy and lust making his knees weak.

He looks away after that, scared that someone will notice as he tries to calm himself, capture that feeling of detached peace he’s had for as long as he can remember. He plucks the two feathers out of the water and drapes them over his wings as if by osmosis they’ll somehow reattach themselves, as if after a Fall has started it can be undone.

The feathers don’t stop falling and he doesn’t bother picking them up any more. No one says anything to him about it and he’s not sure if he’s grateful or not. He could do with a distraction right now with the sickness growing in his stomach but he’s always been quiet and he’s not close with any of the other angels. It seems inevitable that his great white wings shed themselves bare. What happens after that he’s not sure, maybe he gets sent to hell.

If he’s going to hell anyway he might as well indulge himself; he tunes in to where Miyuki is, prepared for another wave of jealousy to hit him but it doesn’t come. He’s by himself now and Satoru can feel the waves of bitter loneliness rolling off of him as he washes his dishes in his apartment, his heart heavy with despair and so is Satoru’s. He didn’t enjoy seeing Miyuki with someone else but he’d give anything for him to be happy and loved the way he should be, if only…

The clouds beneath his feet open up and suddenly he’s plummeting toward the earth in a panic, his wings too sparse and weak to fly, all they can do is slow him down in burst as he tries to get his bearings. By the time he reaches the ground in a flurry of falling feathers he’s in pain but he knows where he is, he’s been guiltily watching the occupants of this apartment building for some times. He can’t decide if this is a blessing or a curse, on hands and knees in the alleyway next to the garbage outside Miyuki’s apartment building when he hears footsteps approach him. He tries to recoil, make himself as small as possible, praying to a god who no longer has any use for him that he’ll be somehow invisible to mortals still but the softly breathed curse tells him he’s perfectly visible.

“Holy shit,” the voice says, the thump of his garbage bag hitting the asphalt followed by hurried steps in Satoru’s direction. “Are you…are you alright?”

Satoru flinches under the hands touching his shoulders and he looks up reluctantly into a deep pair of brown eyes, eyebrows creased with concern and if he hadn’t seen heaven with his own eyes he would think this was it.

He tries to take stock of himself, since this is his new reality but all he feels is hurt through his body, limbs sore from the impact of falling and his dying wings sending burning waves of pain down his back.

“It hurts,” he says in a voice he can’t remember using but Miyuki understands him.

“It looks like it, fuck…I…I don’t know what to do.” Satoru looks up again and watches Miyuki think, running a hand through hair that looks a little greasier than his usual level of cleanliness. He feels deeply ashamed that he knows that. “I can’t just call an ambulance or bring you to a doctor can I? You’re…you’re an angel aren’t you?”

Satoru nods slowly since there’s no sense in trying to hide it.

“I was,” he says quietly. “I fell. I don’t know what I am now.”

“You’re a mess is what you are,” Miyuki says and the corner of Satoru’s lip twitches up inexplicably. “Can you stand? I’m taking you back to my apartment.”

Satoru stands with Miyuki’s help, apologizing profusely for more than just Miyuki helping him up and taking him into his home but Miyuki just waves him off.

“Look, I’m not even sure if this is real or not,” Miyuki says, as he settles Satoru carefully on his couch. “It could be a hallucination brought on by…never mind.” He clears his throat, looking away for a moment. “Is there something I can do? Pain medication...pants? Not that I mind the view,” he laughs nervously.

Satoru closes his eyes, feeling his face heat up. “Pants, please,” he says softly, filled with embarrassment at his exposed body; although he supposes it’s only fair, he’s seen Miyuki naked before. That doesn’t make him feel better, neither does slipping into a pair of Miyuki’s sweat pants, too short for his long legs but doing the job of covering his crotch.

“This is so weird,” Miyuki says as Satoru sits again. “I feel like I must be dreaming but you’re real.” He reaches out and touches Satoru’s arm for reassurance and Satoru’s heartbeat increases. “How did you get here?”

“I fell,” Satoru repeats, closing his eyes.

“But why? How? I have so many questions; what’s heaven like?”

“I…impure thoughts,” Satoru admits. “Jealousy, lust…” He cracks his eyes open to see Miyuki looking at him seriously. He looks passed him so he’s not staring. “Heaven is…lonely. And boring.”

Miyuki huffs. “That doesn’t sound fun at all. If there’s no sex in heaven is it really even heaven?”

Satoru blushes. “I’m not sure where normal humans go, maybe there is…but not where I was.”

He cringes with pain again, leaning forward and grunting as his wings continue to deteriorate. Miyuki touches his head gently, stroking his hair.

“It’s alright, you’re here now. No rules against jealousy or lust or anything fun, within reason…I’ll help you figure things out alright? Get you on your feet in your new life…”

“You shouldn’t,” Satoru pants, closing his eyes tight. “I don’t deserve it…I don’t deserve you.” The hand stroking his hair stills and Satoru can feel the unasked question linger in the air. “I fell because I couldn’t control myself anymore,” he says in a rush. “I wanted to touch you, hold you, give you the love I could see you deserve but I’m…I’m nothing, no one, I have nothing to offer you.” He can feel his eyes start to water with bitterness. The hand on his head leaves and he expects Miyuki to make him leave but instead he finds his face cupped with gentle hands, angling his head up to look at the face he knows too well and yet not enough.

“That’s an amazing coincidence; I want to be touched and held and loved, more than anything.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to Satoru’s softly and the pain disappears, his new life unfolding in front of him, full of possibilities.

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

[underscored]

no tags, hinayachi hp au
426 words

The first time she meets Hinata, he’s laughing and radiant and shrouded in light. Yachi remembers being completely transfixed by the boy, from his small size to his expressive features, his upturned nose and crooked grin. He’s laughing and whooping with some of the Gryffindor seniors already, chatting with them at the post-Sorting Feast like he’s known them for years, not seconds. He’s brave. He’s daring. He’s bold. Hinata is everything Godric would have wanted in a student: everything Yachi isn’t.

She tears her gaze away, willing herself to stop staring. They have seven years left in the same house and the last thing she wants is for him to think she is creepy, or worse still, that she might have a crush. So Yachi returns to picking at her meal, hoping the pumpkin juice will wash down the bubbling pit of nerves in her stomach, heaving a sigh of relief as the prefects swoop in and lead them to their fresh new dorm rooms.

She’ll have seven years to get to know Hinata, or to avoid him completely. There are only a million ways this could go terribly, horribly wrong!

It’s only a matter of days before she stumbles into Hinata again. It isn’t as though she can keep dodging him for long; they share a house, six classes, and a common room, after all. Yachi bursts into the room one day after staying back in Charms to ask Professor Flitwick questions, and Hinata is running up and down the place, gesturing wildly as he waves his wand in the air. He bounces up to Yachi, grinning widely.

“I did it! I can make sparks now. Do you want to see?”

Yachi gulps. She doesn’t want to say that making sparks is easy—it’s kindling a torch that’s really hard. Starting a fire is something she knows many people can’t do after their first year. But Hinata is a Muggleborn, and he hasn’t had years of being surrounded of magic like she has. So Yachi swallows the lump in her throat and nods, doing her best to squeeze out a smile. “Y- yeah!”

Hinata lifts his wand in the air, mumbling a spell under his breath. Small bursts of fire and light spill out of the wand’s tip, a mini firework show for both their eyes; he beams at Yachi as the sparks begin to dance. Yachi cannot help but smile back despite herself. His excitement is contagious. His contagion is addictive. She feels like Icarus, drawn to sunshine, hoping that she will never fall.

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, M

[sawakise]

Miyuki Kazuya &/ Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

the raven's cycle au

canon atypical supernatural stuff, violence, second pov
805 words.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen the floor on your room. Privately, you’re glad that no one has barged in for an impromptu gaming night. Even when you’re awake, you’re having trouble coming up with an excuse for last year’s Koshien trophy, the multiple jars of differently scented hand cream, the multitude of packaged candy that you’ve always wanted to try as a kid, a few wooden baseball bats, several baseball shirts that are three sizes too big, an impressive assortment of prescription glasses that all work, and the twenty or so brand new catcher mitts that haven’t been broken in.

But half of the stuff is knocked around as the ghoulish nightmare that forced its way out of your dreams thrashes around. In your right hand is a fire axe which is neither the size nor the weapon that you hoped for, but it’s better than nothing. Your left hand is covered by a catcher mitt, which you’re using as a makeshift shield against the nightmare’s talons that are threatening to rip you into shreds.

You thwack the mitt against an extended arm and shift your weight to bring the axe down on the arm (or at least, you’re assuming that it’s an arm). The nightmare screeches and great, you know you only have a few moments to clean this up, clean up everything else, and then dream up a video game or something to reproduce the screech, before someone barges in.

There’s no way you can get out of this. You can’t handle this. This is overwhelming. Not just being catcher, cleanup, and captain in the morning, but also having to deal with your dreams getting out of hand at night. How you’re going to deal with the questions and the rumors as soon as this gets out.

You suddenly feel incredibly sluggish. Let it all just end.

Your door bursts open just as the nightmare rears up to tear at you. It happens very fast; the door slams shut almost as soon as someone tackles you out of the way. The two of you fall onto several glasses, breaking them all. Your axe fell out of your grasp and managed to somehow worm its way towards the wall that’s completely blocked off by the nightmare. Your glasses are also crooked and you can barely make out what’s going on and who’s in your room.

The person who slammed into you gets up and shouts something loud and alright, that’s Sawamura. You take the time to fix your glasses. That’s definitely Sawamura.

The nightmare is laser-focused and ready to go through anything to get to you. That anything being a loud mouthed pitcher who’s yelling idle threats and waving his spread arms frantically. “Idiot!” You hiss, or yell, or whatever, as you stand up on your broken eyewear, the sound of crunching glass under your feet.

“That could rip one of your arms off, stop, just,” you watch as Sawamura practically pitches a handful of shattered glass at the nightmare, aiming for what you assume to be the eyes. Sawamura’s hand is bleeding profusely.

Some shards hit their intended target, others embed themselves in various locations on the nightmare’s body, which is now taking on a more precise form of a four legged crow, and the rest just fall harmlessly to the floor. The nightmare crow tilts its head back, screeches again, and you’re not one to pass up an opportunity once you see it.

You sprint over to where the wooden bats are, picking one up for yourself. The crow is flapping over to you, comedically banging its head against the ceiling and giving Sawamura the opportunity to grab the fire axe if he wished. Swinging your bat just like in baseball, you slam the neck.

It breaks upon impact and there’s another cry, this time far more human as Sawamura attacks one wing at the joint with the fire axe. The two of you begin to viciously attack the nightmare from the front and the back. This continues for quite some time until the nightmare falls to the ground with a resounding thud, immobile except for its last few shuddering breaths. Then, it begins to disintegrate into wispy black smoke. Likewise, the adrenaline in your body begins to dissipate.

Sawamura locks eyes with you and the two of you just stare at each other. Something easily labeled as anxiety begins to well up in your throat, you can feel your stomach doing rolls and you have no excuses for anything that happened.

Takishima opens the door and the tension breaks as you whip your head to stare at her. There’s a beat, then you shrug your shoulders and force a smile. “This,” you gesture to the mess that your room is in, “is why I can’t have a roommate.”

FILL: Team Grandstand, G

[babster]

Hanaoka Shizuku & Hyoudou Kiyoharu, Ballroom e Youkouso
no tags, Word Count: 422

Everyone knows that enchanters work best in pairs. Of course, there are always those who try to do high-level magic on their own, but without a partner to write the complicated grounding sigils and sing the correct tethering spells, you're probably going to end up getting all your magic sucked out of you. Possibly your soul, too.

Hyoudou and Shizuku were the best pair in their class. They were the best pair in the school; the region; heck, maybe even the country. Maybe even the world. For their ages, at least. They dressed well for their magic; they understood that presentation is almost as important during competition as the results themselves. Shizuku in flowing pale fabrics that would arc prettily as she composed her sigils; Hyoudou in stark black that made him look older and more powerful as he chanted his magic. Their voices went well together, too. It might have been years of practice or it might have been natural; either way the results were truly stunning.

It's a shame, really, that the partner often goes overlooked and unappreciated in competitions. Sure, the caster's work is impressive, and it takes a strong heart and a strong will and a strong throat to make the more difficult spells truly work, but without a grounder's quick thinking, their ability to adapt to changes in pitch or adjust to ambient energy, well, it's highly likely the caster will be left nothing but a burnt-out husk. Grounding magic is quieter, yes, but that should never be mistaken for less impressive, or worse, less important.

Hyoudou and Shizuku won nearly all their competitions. Sometimes a competing pair would pull off something truly astonishing and edge them out, but more often than not they were far and away the best pair. What was interesting, most spectators agreed, was how the two appeared after their spell was over-- Hyoudou pale and tense, doing his best to hide it; Shizuku warm and glowing. It really went to show, people said, just how much Hyoudou put into his magic. If even a talented grounder like Shizuku couldn't prevent some of his magic escaping him, he must truly be powerful. It would only be a matter of time, some whispered (never within earshot of the couple themselves, of course), before Hyoudou left her for a grounder who could truly keep up with him.

And all the while, as people whispered and cheered, as Hyoudou cast and chanted, Shizuku composed her sigils, and contained the magic her partner leaked, and grew stronger.

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[chiharu]

Yukihira Souma/Aldini Takumi Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma
G, no tags, 845 words

Souma has taken the route home from the farmer's market so many times that he can do it in his sleep. It's a quiet path that helps Souma organize his thoughts and decide on today's special at Yukihira's. Sometimes he runs into a dog walker or a jogger, but most days he spends the walk home in silence.

Today, though, Souma spots an unexpected object at the edge of his vision. He sets his groceries down and wades through the tall grass around the lake to find a crane lying by the edge of the water. It's winter, and the lake is on the precipice of freezing overnight. Yet, the crane's feathers are white and pale, like it has never touched land before. One of its legs is caught in a trap, and Souma remembers the neighborhood association's letter about regulating wildlife.

Souma scowls. "How did you end up here?" He asks while leaning down.

The crane moves to look at Souma, the slope of its neck elegant and arched. Unlike the few cranes Souma has encountered in his life, this one has eyes as blue as the sky. It makes a pained noise when Souma helps it out of the trap, lifts its wings slowly, then flies away.

Souma watches the scene with mild surprise until the crane disappears from sight. He shrugs, picks up his groceries, and returns home to the restaurant to plan today's menu.

The last of Souma's regulars are paying off their tab when the snow begins to fall outside. Souma waits until the restaurant is empty before doing his customary cleaning round. He's wiping down the kitchen when the bell at the front door rings.

"Sorry, we're closed!" Souma peaks out of the kitchen to find a blonde boy roughly his age there, propelling the door open in a white coat and matching pants. Outside, the snow falls in thick pieces, buffeted by the wind.

"Oh," the blonde boy says, dusting snow out of his hair. His skin looks pale and cold. "Your lights were on, so I just assumed. Sorry."

"I have soup," Souma says, wiping his hands on his apron. "Want some?"

The stranger looks around the empty restaurant and frowns. "I see I came at a bad time. I can go-"

Souma is pushing the boy into a chair before he can take a step away. "Not a problem." Souma grins. "I'm trying a new recipe and could use a taster." He knows that this area of town doesn't get a lot of business past dark, and most of the shops are closed by now. There are few hotels nearby, and buses have probably stopped running in this weather. "You're doing me a favor."

"Oh. That’s fine, then, I guess."

"I've never seen you around before," Souma says while flipped over another chair at the table. "Are you new?"

"You can say that," the blonde boy frowns. "I'm Aldini Takumi."

"Yukihira Souma." Souma nods at the plaque on the back wall of the restaurant. "My pops is the head chef, but he's out of town for business. You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

"No," Takumi says, blinking when Souma sets a bowl of soup in front of him.

Souma watches, with some interest, as Takumi slowly tastes the soup. After a moment, Takumi sets his spoon down. "The balance between the pork and potatoes are good, but you've added too much tomato to the sauce. I can tell you're trying to compensate it with the addition of onion, but it's overpowering the flavor of the meat."

"Woah," Souma says. "You really know your stuff." He blinks when his timer goes off, and Souma rushes back into the kitchen to take the pan out of his oven. He picks up a loaf of bread from the counter on his way out and throws it at Takumi. "Here, catch!"

Takumi stands up and nearly trips over the table in his attempt to catch the bread. "Wha- Don't be careless!" He glares Souma, who laughs. Takumi's cheeks are still impossibly pale, and Souma resists the urge to warm them up with his hands.

They're interrupted when a particularly loud gust of wind rattles the roof of the restaurant, and Souma peeks out the window to find a full-on blizzard. Takumi had appeared without a suitcase or any bags, but Souma is willing to bet that he's not staying anywhere nearby. "We have a pull out couch upstairs. You can sleep there if you want."

"What?" Takumi stares with him with wide, blue eyes. "I can't possibly do that. I just came here to-to-"

"To eat my food and get stuck?" Souma suggests, breaking a piece of bread for himself.

"I should go." Takumi stands up to leave but stops after two steps when the wind makes a loud howling sound. He turns back to Souma, face red. "Maybe I will take you up on your offer."

Souma doesn't respond, for he's staring at the limp in Takumi's step and the edge of his pants.

Takumi's leg is bleeding.

FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, T

[hapaxlegomenon]

Arakita Yasutomo/Toudou Jinpachi; Yowamushi Pedal

Word count: 461
Tags: Werewolf AU, mentions of injury and body horror

Toudou is always there, when Arakita transforms back.

He kind of hates it. Really hates it, in fact, because as much as Toudou sniffs and calls him ungrateful, there’s a very real danger, and Arakita can’t find the right words to articulate something both of them already know, something that Toudou is willfully ignoring.

It’s a constant, ongoing battle, leading up to every full moon -- it starts with Arakita making snippy comments, and Toudou counters that Arakita can’t possibly mean them, not when the difference is waking up, cold and naked and in pain, alone.

Arakita’s woken up alone before, when the wolf doesn’t find its way home before the sun rises, and it’s even more awful than Toudou thinks, but he’ll never admit that. Because if there’s one thing that would make it worse, it would be waking up cold and naked and in pain next to Toudou’s eviscerated corpse.

Everything comes to a head, one morning, when Arakita screams his way back into his human shape, body humming with leftover aggression and he wonders dimly where it’s directed until he sees, and his blood runs cold.

“Did I bite you?” he manages to grate through a mouthful of shifting teeth.

Toudou sits a few feet away, back against a tree, face white and eyes wide and glassy. There are thin trails of blood winding their way down his arm from under and between his fingers, but he shakes his head. “Claws,” he says. His mouth shakes a little.

Arakita feels something cold and heavy settle in his gut, and it almost offsets the fatigue and muscle pain that wraps around him after every transformation. There are a lot of things he wants to say. So many that he’s not sure where to even begin, and his emotions shuffle around to land on anger.

“I told you!” he bursts out, some of the wolf’s growl seeping through. Toudou jumps. “I fuckin’ told you this would happen. Goddamn it, Toudou.”

Toudou stares at him for a moment, vulnerable, and then his shutter snaps up so quickly Arakita reels with it. “Well,” he says, in what is almost his normal haughty voice. Nobody else would be able to tell the difference. “It’s not really a big deal, just a scratch. I’ve had worse falling off my bike. Here, I brought you a sweater, it’s cold out.”

“Toudou --”

“Arakita. Stop. This doesn’t change anything.”

Arakita sets his jaw but he doesn’t retort, and instead, he pulls on the sweater and insists on bandaging Toudou’s arm from the little first aid kit Toudou always brings to the mornings-after. And if his hand shakes a little while he does it, Toudou doesn’t say anything. His hands are shaky, too.

Re: FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, T

[yrindor]

And here's part of the answer! I'm really liking the way these are playing up the darker side of the werewolf Arakita transformation, and how much comes across in what isn't said, like Toudou shaking even while he saying he's okay.