sportsanime | Bonus Round 4: Quotes

Entry tags:

Bonus Round 4: Quotes

A shipping olympics favorite, this round uses quotes of all sorts to fuel your creative endeavors.

This round is CLOSED as of 7PM on July 21 EDT. Late fills may be posted, but they will not receive points.

RULES

Submit prompts by commenting to this post with a quote attributed to a specific person or character, along with any ship/ot3/etc. from one of our nominated fandoms.
- Example: "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." - M. Gandhi
- The quote can come from anywhere. Famous people, poetry, songs, books, movies, your neighbor, etc.
- Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. (This is not the sports anime gen olympics.) Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Makoto & Rin). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Makoto/Rin). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!
Fill prompts by replying to the prompt with your quote-inspired fanwork.
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.

Format your comment in one of the following ways:

If PROMPTING:	If FILLING:	If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to, including Grandstand or Sports Teams Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Place the prompt's relationship in the first bolded line of the comment. Including the canon isn't required, but it's nice. Below that, place applicable major content tags (when applicable; otherwise write "no tags" or "none") Visual example	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 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) 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 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 prompts/fills as you want!

For prompts: 5 points each (maximum of 50 prompt points per team per round)

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!

Page 76 of 141

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

oooh nah, i'm chill with any chris ships you think of!

:D :D :D
where is the oikawa & mei mean girls au we all deserve

*sparkles tragically in your direction* h urt me

reaches fingers out softly oh....

Makoto/Sousuke or Rin/Sousuke; Free!
no tags

"We could be pirates or go somewhere private
I don’t wanna make a scene I just wanna leave
And head back to your place cause I got a roommate
And he don’t wanna hear or see what you’re doing to me"

— "Pirates" by Jenny Owen Youngs

Edited 2016-07-10 18:46 (UTC)

Rei/Nagisa; Free!
tags: angst, genderswap

"Tell you that I love you, that I can't hold back
The feeling that you give me, wanna give it right back
I know you always win at this particular game
I need to know the rules if you want me to play

You treat me like your boyfriend
And trust me like a... like a very best friend
You kiss me like your boyfriend
You call me up like you would your best friend
You turn me on like you would your boyfriend
But I don't want to be your secret anymore"

— "Boyfriend" by Tegan and Sara

no tags, 611 words

Yamaguchi starts taking pictures sometime in their second year. At first, Kei isn't really keeping track of it. It starts as just some fooling with his phone camera; the other idiots on their team are all too happy to play along, to jump in and out of the frame, creating blurry images that make Yamaguchi laugh.

Kei doesn't really see the point of it, but he still holds still when Yamaguchi asks, even submits himself to the occasional shot containing just the two of them.

He notices when the cell phone camera gets swapped out for a digital one. It's not very new, and certainly not fancy, but Yamaguchi seems pleased with it. So much so that even Kei's teeth ache from watching him clean the lens, or fawn over the settings.

He wears it around his neck more days than not.

Even today.

It's not their second year anymore. It's not even their third, not really. It's the two of them standing at a train station ready for Yamaguchi to go off to some school in Kyoto of all places.

Kei recounts the facts to himself with this precise level of vagueness, like making all the facts fuzzy in his head will somehow make them less real, like they'll prevent Yamaguchi from getting on the train.

Tongue worrying the small piercing in the corner of his lip, Yamaguchi gives him one of those trembling, nervous smiles that's never failed to make Kei's mouth go dry. He looks over his shoulder, back at the tracks that are still lying empty. "It should um, be here soon."

"Right." He's never prayed for a train to be late before.

"I've got something for you! B- before I go," a laugh almost flutters out of his mouth before he swallows it again, turning and digging into his backpack with a hum. The camera bounces slightly against his chest at the movement, twisting with his body.

As he digs, Kei can hear the distant rattle of the train approaching. "Yamaguchi..."

"Got it!" He pulls out what looks like a journal at first glance, and Kei can see his fingers curling to make a nervous fist. "I, um, made this for you."

Kei hesitates before taking it, blinking slowly. The pages are wrong for a notebook, he realizes. They're plastic sleeves made to hold pictures inside of them and each one seems to be full of images.

He flips through it quickly. There's images of the team, of himself, the other members of their year, and all the pictures of the two of them that Yamaguchi roped him into taking.

Kei isn't used to feeling this kind of lump in his throat, and Yamaguchi's hair is very nearly torn out of its loose ponytail as the train rushes into the station, screeching to a halt. He yelps, grabbing his bag and sucking in a deep breath. "I'll text you when I'm there, okay?"

Yamaguchi leans forward, not quite on his toes, and presses their lips together. It's a quick, clumsy gesture and the steel of his lip piercing is warm against Kei's mouth, and he wants to reel Yamaguchi back in close to him and try again. He wants to go through the last three years with more courage, enough at least that this isn't the only time that he's managed to kiss Yamaguchi.

"Bye, Tsukki," the little flutter of laughter is back, even though he can see the tears welling up in Yamaguchi's eyes before he jogs onto the train, the camera bouncing along with him.

Kei clutches the album tightly to his chest and stands still to watch it pull away from the platform.

Haru/Rin; Free!
tags: genderswap

"You've got me where it hurts
But I don't really care
Cause I know I'm OK
Whenever you are there
You take me to a place
I always wanna go
You always make me high
Whenever I feel low
I'm paper in your hand
I'm under your command
And I'll never let you go
Cause you're that girl"

— "Tutti Frutti" by New Order

I love that this song got prompted for other pairings too ^_^

"And to the fella over there with the hella good hair-"

"shittykawa this song is not about you"

-offended oiks noises in the bg-

i don't know this fandom at aLL but i am so glad you're putting Taylor Swift shenanigans into this entire thing AND ALSO GAY LADIEZ

daisuga, 470 words
no tags

"daichi" means earth. it's not a good word play at all haha

--

It's the spring of their third year and Daichi feels intoxicated with it.

There's something about the sunlight scattered through the branches of the sakura trees in full bloom; the air is suffused with the quality of it, everything lit with the fleeting promise that a new year brings, and time feels suspended in that moment, like Daichi’s heartbeat is in his mouth, like he's forgetting to breathe.

Suga’s head is crowned in wayward petals, stuck there from where they floated down, and more are gathering atop his head from the wind that shakes them gently from the branches; Daichi has to physically stop himself from reaching out and brushing them through the ashen strands of Suga’s hair.

Because that's weird, right? Daichi thinks, as Suga snorts at a petal that lands directly onto his nose. Suga grins with the full of his mouth, all his teeth, and the way his eyes scrunch up is what Daichi thinks perfection must feel like. You don't run fingers through your best friend’s hair. You don't want to tuck the wayward strand behind their ear. You don't want to see if they laugh or slap you in the gut if you try to smooth down that silly tuft that sticks out of the top of their--

“Daichi…! Earth to Daichi!” They're supposed to be walking to Daichi’s place to review for their English final, but it seems that Suga has already started. Both their pronunciations have always been off the mark, but when has that ever stopped them.

Daichi snorts. “That's terrible, Sugar.”

Oh. Daichi can feel the heat spreading across his face; he can feel his chest grow hot with it. “I--”

“Oh, so you do think I'm sweet. That's very kind of you,” Suga teases as he sidesteps completely. Daichi feels a little faint. “Especially after you called me a monster for adding more chilli oil to my noodles. It's not my fault you're a weakling, Daichi.” Suga shakes his head ruefully, as if reliving that dark moment of disappointment in the long history of their friendship; the petals all slide off in that instance, and Suga’s hair is impossibly lovely in the gold of the afternoon light. Suga is impossibly lovely, and that’s when Daichi thinks, 365 days of this, I could do 365 days of this, even when everything has changed, because nothing will have really changed at all.

Daichi clears his throat; or he tries to, but his bravery is stuck in there between the space of his lungs and the passage of his mouth, and all he gets is a thump on the back from Suga and a slightly worried look.

Petals continue to fall and Daichi swallows his bravery back down; it’s early yet in spring, and time will take him where he needs to be.

Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
tags: alcohol use maybe??

i love kyoutani forever

I'M LOSING IT

DOXY

No tags
Poem, 27 lines

It was stifling
hot enough to form beads of sweat along the brow,
craving water like a starving man but
not wanting to disturb the deep slumber of the bed’s other occupant;
arm slung across his chest like a vice.

It took a while for Kazuya to allow anyone to get this close,
but he was willing to make a special exception,
even if it resulted in alternating sweating and freezing throughout the night.

Fingers twitching on his chest,
patterns formed from interrupted sleep as Kazuya tried to still,
watching a set of eyes open slowly to meet his own within the bed.

Uncomfortable? whispered across the heavy twilight air,
Kazuya aiming a slow smile in return at hooded eyes.

Overheated but I'll be fine grumbled back
lazy grin in response warming Kazuya’s insides,
doing nothing to quench the slow burn eating him up,
no hesitation to kick off strangling blankets now that the other occupant was awake.

Shifting to find the last traces on cool on his pillow,
cool air of the room hitting his overheated skin to stifle the burn slightly
until a warm set of arms re-wrapped themselves around his core.

Opposites attracting through hot and cold,
two similar players yet different in all their frailties
yet Kazuya wouldn't take it any other way,
a small price to pay through sweat and bone and blood to have another so close,
breathing slowing together back into slumber,
coolness finally returning to Kazuya’s skin as a rumbled
Sleep well fell softly in his ears.

Mizuki Hisahito /& Tsukamoto Tsukushi, Days
no tags

I looked at him and I saw myself.
— How to Train Your Dragon

words: 2825
Tags: Did some one say Fae AU? Light angst, soul bonds, magic

(/sweats/ I hope you enjoy it ;u; )

Unbent, Unbroken

The Mad King, that’s what the High Order call him.

Akaashi’s seen him only once before. Stood close to the elbow of his Master, there could barely be a generation between them; Akaashi, fine boned, willow strong and this wild haired Prince, held in front of the court, on display and stalking like a caged animal.

His grandfather had been the first to hold that title, Akaashi knows, King Bokuto had been a great and formidable ruler, but he was taken with the primal powers; quick with his temper and his vengeance but, mercifully, succeeded by three wise eyed queens, each gentle but firm in their ways.

All of whom had gone too early to the trees, age and loss weighing heavily on each and leaving behind their lineage in the barely grown fae before him. Grief curved still broadening shoulders that day and there was this aura, this glint of power, of magic unrefined and reactive behind yellow eyes and it scared the order. This late born miracle, a carbon copy of the first Mad King, given preference out of respect but nothing more.

No one expected the Home Tree to choose the runt of a long spent bloodline - there were three others, two of the High Order and another matriarch far better suited and waiting - but they were lead by tradition and that tradition dictated the first approach be the heir.

Akaashi remembers how he moved, hunched and suspicious under the scrutiny of the court, but relaxing the closer he came to the heart of the kingdom, the root of their season and source of each Autumn fae’s power, as if it alone were enough to sooth even the most feral beast and maybe it could. Hands raised, the Prince had placed his palms to the smooth bark of the Home Tree and bowed his head to its majesty and Akaashi was alone in the breath he held; tense, waiting for the sign of their new ruler.

There was a beat of silence, an exhalation as if the tree’s themselves had sighed and the Prince had glowed; tendrils of light curling up strong forearms, slipping past skin and bone to take root in the heart of their new monarch.

The Home Tree had spoken.

There was pandemonium in the hours that followed, but none looked more surprised than the yellow eyed prince; now brimming with the power of their realm and though Akaashi’s Master had called him away in disgust to retreat to the Higher Reaches, there had been a feeling of rightness in the decision that he was hard pressed to ignore.

It’s been many turns since that day and Akaashi is grown; powerful, a Master in his own right, but many seasons more from an Apprentice of his own and so he’s being sent away - back to court and to the mad king.

The Order claim that the king is untamed, unruly in his speech and his actions, though Akaashi has seen no great detriment in the kingdom at large, the senior Magi are ever restless with such a ‘primal child’ on the throne without the right instruction, the right guidance and so Akaashi goes.

But he is not permitted to stay.

Not when their eyes meet across the great pillared hall and the surge of power Akaashi feels in that moment is enough to bring him to his knees, enough to make the Prince stumble and they are both left gasping for breath and consumed by the urge to reach for the other; suddenly desperate for proximity and drowning in the knowledge of belonging, that the other half of their souls reside in the other.

Intellectually, Akaashi knows what this is. He’s read the stories, the accounts - it is their magic at it’s most primal, it’s most base - the idea that each fae’s soul is split upon creation, that out there, somewhere, is the one that will finally complete them, is outdated; largely disregarded as legend or the ravings of those old and ancient among them and far removed from the higher calling and refinement of the powers they control now. Instinctively, however, everything he’s ever learned, ever held to be true, is incinerated in that moment and all Akaashi can think of, is to fight to his feet and close the distance between himself and this other half of his immediately.

But it isn’t that simple.

Propriety should be the last thing on either of their minds, but when Akaashi finally struggles to his feet, his approach is reserved; moving through the parting crowd to stand before his King and his behaviour is mirrored in the wary prowl of Bokuto’s movements. They meet in a clearing left among the gathered courtiers and Akaashi clenches his hands into fists against the sudden tremble in his limbs. This close, the King's aura is suffocating; oozing power and barely contained energy, even in the sturdiness of his frame and, sensitive as he is, Akaashi can barely breathe.

Bokuto circles him once, twice, as if Akaashi is a puzzle he can’t unravel or, more worryingly, as if he’s prey; pinned under the all seeing sweep of his gaze and left vulnerable in the wake of his power. Akaashi stands defiant however and when Bokuto stops to face him once more, he is the picture calm at the center of the mad king’s storm.

He watches impassively as Bokuto raises a hand to rub at his chest, as if the area aches and Akaashi feels it too; a tug below his ribs that flashes understanding across his features and reaching up to touch the area over his own sore heart. Something soft and unspoken passes between them then and both are naive to the significance of the gesture as they both move to touch the other - Bokuto’s broad knuckles a breath from the pale skin of Akaashi’s cheek and his own steady palm reaches to press over the leather tunic before him and the heart beneath - but the elders gathered are not.

Before either can make contact, a wall of air slams between them with enough force to push distance between them and Akaashi’s stomach fills with dread the moment a hand catches his upper arm, halting his desperate bid to dash back to the King’s side. He meets his Masters furious gaze with wide eyed confusion, with hurt; why would he intervene?

“The Order will not stand for this- this savagery, Keiji. Come away!”

Muddled as he is from the emotional whiplash, Akaashi’s mind is sharp; of course. True soul bonds were said to empower the fae that found each other, rebalance their souls so neither would be at a deficit and that could mean anything from increasing their life spans, to making each other infinitely more powerful. Akaashi gasps at the realisation and the thought is echoed in the eyes of his Master; Bokuto finding a bond mate - especially one as powerful as himself - would make him unstoppable in the eyes of the High Order, rocking the very foundations they had built the Order on.

He has only moments to decide; the instincts of fight or flight battling his control and take over, but the decision is made for him when Bokuto howls and throws himself against the magic keeping them apart. The impact echoes through the hall and the king is fire eyed and furious; an avatar of rage - glowing and incandescent - as he physically claws at the currents, pulling apart their refinement with the purest form of magic at his disposal.

Akaashi’s choice is there in the straining lines of his kings arms, in the primal light in yellow eyes that swears he will tear this and any kingdom to the ground to reduce the distance between them. Their eyes meet once more and Akaashi knows exactly why Bokuto was chosen by the Home Tree and why the difficulty of his decision is no difficulty at all.

His power builds as he turns to his Master once more, but the elders did not maintain their positions out of simple respect and he is still young, for all his strength. The air is snatched from Akaashi’s lungs at the same moment that the king is brought to his knees; half the royal guard and several Magi wrestling him into place “For your own safety, your Majesty!”.

Akaashi gasps for breath, for power, but he’s locked out of his own mind and falling; caught up in his Master’s arms, but reaching desperately for his king, even as magic gathers and they are gone in a swirl of Autumn leaves.

Distance, he finds, is agony.

A bond recognised, but not completed, is a clawing ache, an insatiable want and he understands now, the insanity described in many of the old writings; if this continues, his mind surely won’t last.

He’s confined to his chambers in the High Reaches, losing count of the cycles in his weakness and Akaashi wonders, does his king suffer so? He slips in and out of restless sleeps, senseless pacing and every visit from his Master only inspires fury; far departed from his usual demeanor and earns scolding words “We will talk when you are feeling more like yourself, Keiji..” and Akaashi wonders if that being even exists any more?

Cut off from the world outside, from his powers and, more importantly, the other half of himself, he is lost to his mind and the infinite replay of Bokuto’s agonised expression as he was whisked away from his sight.

Unbeknown to Akaashi, reports of the king’s disappearance have the kingdom below in an uproar - missing for days they say - gone completely without a trace, magical or otherwise.

It’s several cycles more before he wakes to the powerful waft of feathered wings and the silhouette of the largest owl he’s ever seen; landing on the sill of the open window and he watches, breathless as that shape morphs into exactly the one from his dreams.

“..Your Majesty? How--”

Akaashi’s sitting up in bed, gathering the covers close as he fights the grogginess and weakness he feels and the state must be mutual, because Bokuto is across the room in long strides, but soon collapses beside the bed in shaken limbed exhaustion.

“Finally-- I’ve found you!”

Or maybe it’s relief.

Proximity, they find, is like sinking into warm water after a day of trials, or a sip of cool water while traversing the hot plains, it’s the balm that soothes Akaashi’s tired mind and the knife the cuts the bow string of Bokuto’s taught frame and has them reaching out and shivering at the simple touch of their hands. Fingers threaded together, Akaashi drags his tired king up beside him and they slump against each other; foreheads pressed flush, knees brushing and words lost in the din of their heartbeats.

Bokuto explains himself. How the ache had him half mad; lashing out and confused. How the courtiers and Magi had done their best to placate him, redirecting his demands and his anger and how, in a fit of desperation, he’d fled to the Home Tree in his distress. The maidens that maintained the kingdoms heart had always been kind to him and Bokuto had found refuge there; curled among the roots and lulled to dreams by their songs and the warm beat of life around him.

His dreams had been of high branches, of Akaashi; of the thread between them, gold and warm like the power from the Home Tree, the power that runs through them all and of the echo of pain across the distance between them.

Few knew of Bokuto’s power to transform; learned from the feral tribes that pass through their lands with each turn, but it was at the roots of the tree that he finally found the focus to maintain his other form for such a flight. For days he followed the thread he could feel and the kingdom let him pass; there are no barriers for a true king, not even the powers of the Magi, the wards on this room, that can keep him away and Akaashi’s pulse flutters in his throat at the mere thought.

“..And I made it, all the way here for you and..I don’t even know your name..” Bokuto’s expression is sheepish and trembling, so unsure in the wake of his own words, as if he’s struggling to even believe them himself and Akaashi can only think that such uncertainty should never exist in those eyes.

“--Keiji, Akaashi Keiji, my king..”

It’s said with the beginnings of a smile and Bokuto’s expression lights up, gaze gone wondering at what he sees enough to have Akaashi dropping his own eyes away, embarrassed.

“...Keiji… s’beautiful, like you..”

Akaashi feels heat touch his cheeks at the tone and it’s followed, finally, by the brush of Bokuto’s knuckles across the colour there, fingers unfurling to cup his cheek and unconsciously he responds; hand now free to complete the press over Bokuto’s heart and looking up into yellow eyes, it’s like falling all over again.

Their mouths draw closer as the moments tick by, but it’s halted by the gentle pressure of Bokuto’s thumb against his lips; stopping the contact before it can happen and Akaashi blinks, as if waking from a dream and tilts his head in question.

“I-If we do this, you’re stuck with me, you know that right? Bokuto Koutarou-- the Mad King… an’ the maidens told me, no one’s gonna be happy about that-- Well, none of the Order Magi, I mean I’ll be happy! B-but, uh will you?”

Akaashi watches the play of emotions across his face as Bokuto speaks, taking in in the ups and downs of his thoughts, the way his eyes light up and how his tone pitches low and quiet toward the end of his speech. He replays all he knows as fact about Bokuto in his mind, what he’s witnessed in their encounters and how he feels now, cradled by strong hands as he is and his heart swells. It would be impossible for them to stay away from each other - they’ve experienced that agony already - and yet, here is his king, asking him, giving Akaashi an out..

His expression turns soft and Akaashi reaches up to tangle their fingers once more; removing the barrier of Bokuto’s thumb and leaning in to brush a chaste kiss against his tan cheek instead of his lips.

“..I would very much like to know you, Bokuto Koutarou, if you would allow me that honour.”

It’s murmured against Bokuto’s skin, close to a finely pointed ear and Akaashi can feel the shiver it prompts; feels the returned kiss to his own cheek and the flex of his bones as he’s caught up in laughter and his king’s powerful embrace.

Proximity, for now, is enough and as dawn approaches and their words die away, Akaashi slips from the window sill to the branches beneath it; safe under the guidance of Bokuto’s steady hands and the protection of his power and reaches for his own for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. They take flight together across the kingdom, wheeling in the sun warmed currents and arrive at the Home Tree, late in the cycle of the day, to a complete uproar in the court.

There are talks to be had and proclamations to be made, but Akaashi has a plan - no part of which involves the cowing or taming of his king, much to the Order’s disgust - and he finds that, as the royal consort and first advisor to the king, he now holds enough sway to begin. Bokuto has more allies than he ever realised and the revelation of their bond, is cause for much celebration throughout the kingdom; summoning a resurgence in the old ways and practices and the joy it brings the king, is worth every scathing discussion and heated talk Akaashi fields from those opposed.

With the right support and someone to guard his back, Bokuto is a natural ruler; full of confidence, he is charismatic and powerful and Akaashi is the whetstone that gives his king the keen edge he’s been missing. Autumn comes to it’s power in a way that has not been seen since before the first Mad King and under the hard work and strategy, their relationship grows into something Akaashi is warmed by and that they both find solace in.

Perhaps soon - many cycles after the first - their chaste touches will lead to the kiss that binds them forever and the thought of finally calling the fire he sees in Bokuto his own, fills Akaashi with heady anticipation. He has seen his king for everything he is - everything the elders would destroy in their pursuit of the kingdom - and would not change a single inch of him.

Edited 2016-07-10 19:47 (UTC)

Fuji Shuusuke /& Inui Sadaharu (Prince of Tennis)
Tags: gore... I'm sorry...

“You have a really nice chest… I’d love to crack it open and get my hands all over your organs.”

- Dr. Rossi, Brooklyn 99

no tags, word count: 443

When Natsuo first steps into the octagon, she notices the atmosphere feels different. It's heavy somehow, with the weight of the audience's gaze and her opponent's skills and her own hopes and expectations.

It is heavy, but it isn't enough to stop her from winning.

The second time she steps into the octagon, it's to fight Sanae, and the air is heavier this time. Heavy with recent wins and losses, heavy with sweat and frustration and relief, heavy with her and Sanae's past. It's harder to move through, and Sanae is good, has always been good, and she nearly beats Natsuo.

Nearly. In the end, Natsuo wins, and she tries hard not to feel disappointed. She's beat Sanae before, but a part of her had still hoped...

No point in getting upset over winning, though, especially as Natsuo remembers what's next.

Mawatari. Obnoxious, unsettling, relentless, cheerful, beautiful Mawatari. Natsuo grins as she thinks about their fight, the culmination of months of hard work. She doesn't know if she's going to win or lose, doesn't even know if she wants to win or if she wants to lose, but she's going to find out, once and for all, what Mawatari is. If they're the same.

The third and final time Natsuo steps into the octagon, she is ready for the weight. It energizes her nearly as much as the sight of Mawatari's bright eyes. She can't stop herself from talking, the pressure of the octagon squeezing all her thoughts from her, but then it is time to get down to business and fight, and that's even better than the talking.

Natsuo understands the language of bodies and fighting better than she understands words, and with every kick, punch, block she asks Are you like me? Am I like you? How many monsters are in this cage? And Mawatari responds the best way she knows how, taking Natsuo down and grappling with her.

On the floor, in front of the crowd, with the air thick in her lungs and Mawatari heavy on her, Natsuo has her answer. She and Mawatari are not the same. They seem the same on the surface, both of them loving to fight, neither of them sensitive to the feelings of others, but deep down, where it counts, they're different. Natsuo isn't kind, and she doesn't like to show fear, but the suppression of something is not the same as the absence of it. Mawatari's body, although heavy with muscle and hard work, is missing something.

Natsuo exhales. She's not going to win this fight, she knows, but she has her answer. The air feels lighter now. It feels like victory.

Fuji Shuusuke/Inui Sadaharu (Prince of Tennis)
Tags: violence/death in quote

Double bubble disco queen headed to the guillotine
Skin as cool as Steve McQueen, let me be your killer king
It hurts until it stops, we will love until it's not
I'm a killing spree in white, eyes like broken Christmas lights

- Panic! At the Disco, Victorious

But honestly like, this whole song? There's a lot of refs to drinks/drinking and then the violence and stuff. Like, I'm so sorry that this is my ideal FujInui aesthetic.

oh did it?! i haven't kept up as the weekend has been busy! heard it on the radio last night and knew instantly it would make a great prompt!

Kaidou Kaoru /& Kikumaru Eiji (Prince of Tennis)
Tags: sexual content in quote, nsfw or not is up to filler though

“Cuz you’re a fuckin’ drag queen, no one cares! As long as you got the words to ‘My Heart Will Go On’ and suck a dick at the end of the night, you’re fine!”

- Willam Belli [video (nsfw audio)]

I mean, I'm angling for amateur drag queen Kaidou being mentored by veteran queen Eiji, but ~Follow Your Dreams~

WHAT IS THIS

At last, a lyric prompt I can get behind

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Bonus Round 4: Quotes

Re: PROMPT: Team Miyuki Kazuya/Narumiya Mei

Re: PROMPT: Team Miyuki Kazuya/Narumiya Mei

Re: PROMPT: Team Miyuki Kazuya/Narumiya Mei

Re: PROMPT: TEAM KOMINATO RYOUSUKE/KURAMOCHI YOUICHI

PROMPT: Team Grandstand

PROMPT: Team Grandstand

FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

PROMPT: Team Grandstand

Re: PROMPT: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA

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

Re: PROMPT: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

PROMPT: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru

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

Re: Prompt: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

FILL: Team MIYUKI KAZUYA/SAWAMURA EIJUN, G

PROMPT: Team Tennis no Oujisama

FILL: TEAM Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, T

PROMPT: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA

FILL: Team Grandstand, PG

PROMPT: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA

Re: PROMPT: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA

PROMPT: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA

Re: Prompt: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Re: Prompt: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou