sportsanime | Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

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Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

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!

Threaded | Flat

Ashikiba Takuto & Teshima Junta; Yowamushi Pedal

Word Count:: 492
No Tags

Teshima is eleven years old and finally -- finally! -- going to Hogwarts for the first time. He has his trunk and his cat and a pocketful of coins for the trolley, and he’s full of big plans. In the compartment with him are his best friend and their other two wizarding friends -- well, Kuroda’s a half-blood and Izumida’s parents are Muggles, but Kuroda and Izumida are still going to be wizards. And they’re all going to be in Hufflepuff, of course, because the Teshima and Ashikiba and Kuroda families have always been in Hufflepuff, and Izumida is the Hufflepuffiest person Teshima has ever met.

Ashikiba bounces in his seat and squeezes his cat. Mozart wriggles a bit and then settles to licking his hand. She’s been Ashikiba’s cat for a long time. Her sister, Star, watches the display from her haughty perch on Teshima head. “I can’t believe we’re finally on our way!” Ashikiba squeals excitedly.

Izumida grins bright, clutching his toad in a nervous grip. Kuroda feigns nonchalance, but Teshima can tell -- he’s just as excited as the rest of them. Teshima kicks his shin and leans against Ashikiba’s shoulder.

“My mom says the Hufflepuff common room is near the kitchens,” he says importantly. “Down in one of the basements. She says that it’s really warm and cozy and that the house elves don’t mind if you go ask them for snacks sometimes.”

“You know a lot about Hogwarts,” Izumida comments, and Teshima puffs up with pride. He’s been waiting for this day since forever. He can’t wait to finally see the Hufflepuff common room, not when he’s heard so much about it from his parents and Ashikiba’s.

They change into their school robes in short order, and then they’re pulling up at the Hogsmeade station and crossing the lake on little boats and Teshima’s first sight of the castle takes his breath away.

Ashikiba is one of the first to be Sorted, and Teshima holds his breath. It’s not that he thinks Ashikiba won’t be in Hufflepuff too… but he still breathes a sigh of relief when, barely a second after touching his hair, the Sorting Hat yells “Hufflepuff!” and Ashikiba trips on his way over to the yellow-and-black bedecked table.

Izumida is also Sorted into Hufflepuff, followed shortly by Kuroda, and Teshima smiles to himself. They’re all going to be together, just the way he always imagined it.

Finally, it’s his turn. He almost runs to the Hat, excited as he is to join his friends.

“Well, now,” says a voice in his ear. “Isn’t this interesting.”

Teshima jumps a little and wonders what it is that’s interesting.

“You think you know where you belong, hmm? You have everything all planned out, don’t you, ah yes, what a cunning little mind, I can see where your desires lie but you’ll thank me for this one day, I think. You so clearly belong in SLYTHERIN!”

Sexual Content, Dub-Con
Kuroo/Bokuto/Akaashi, Haikyuu

Kuroo and Akaashi are Incubus
Boktuo is under their spell o v o''

Edited 2016-07-29 16:15 (UTC)

Imaizumi Shunsuke / Naruko Shoukichi, & Midousuji Akira, Yowapeda
tags: teeny mention of (no) sexual activity; background major character death if you know the context :(
619 words, Lawful Drug AU

There’s a sakura tree growing in the room.

But it’s withered and bare; there is no green that flowers along the long gnarled branches, there are no buds that speak of the sun rising new in spring. Imaizumi can only stare in wonder, though, at what flowers instead in this strange, suspended space -- bright yellow goldfish that swim in slow circles through the air, gossamer tails long and trailing slowly behind them.

“How is this even possible,” Imaizumi says as he stares as a goldfish swims through a close cluster of branches, but he knows. He had touched the faded photo that Teshima had held out to him, and he had seen the imprint of a tree and a boy with glasses smiling ruefully at something in the distance, and the lingering memory that had come from just the photo and just the light touch are so strong right now in this moment, he doesn’t even hear Naruko hammering frantically against the glass that separates them.

Wait, who was Naruko--?

“Who are you that dares come here like this,” a voice hisses at him, and Imaizumi suddenly knows only the sakura tree, and the flying fish, and the tall lanky boy in the dark purple kimono that appears in front of him. Imaizumi feels something like fear bloom cold in the center of his ribs, but he’s not sure he knows what fear is in this place anymore, either.

“I was only looking for--” Imaizumi starts, but the words feel wrong. Instead, “Who is the boy with glasses?”

“Someone not gross, unlike you,” the boy in the kimono says. His eyes go flat and dark then, and Imaizumi knows he should be stepping back, instead of stepping forward into this trap of clouded curiosity and some deep, unremembered thing. “Let me… show you.”

It feels like snowfall, here in this place, the air so hushed and close that even in a room where a sakura tree grows tall enough it touches a ceiling lost in shadows, Imaizumi thinks there is only the air that comes into his lungs, and the air that he exhales, and there is nothing beyond this circle of his breathing; and so Imaizumi steps closer to the boy in the kimono he knows he should not trust, and his hands reach out, hesitant and unsure.

“Hotshot, you idiot! Step back! Step back through the glass!”

The insult is muffled, like it has passed through a greater distance than the glass and the air and the time that separates Imaizumi and Naruko, but it stings enough that Imaizumi startles, stumbles back, arms flung out to balance him, and he accidentally brushes his back pocket where he had absentmindedly slipped the condom that Teshima had thrown at him earlier that day.

(“Since apparently you’re such a hotshot,” Teshima had said, winking slow and terrible, and Imaizumi had flushed so deep pink that Naruko had held up a strand of his bright red hair to Imaizumi’s face to compare, laughing obnoxiously as he pokes Imaizumi in the ribs with a, ”What, you mean this baby virgin.”)

“Ugh,” Imaizumi says, and he stumbles over his long legs as the boy in the kimono reaches again for him, sneering, and Imaizumi has never felt relief quite like the touch of Naruko’s warm fingers as he pulls Imaizumi through the glass again.

They bring back a tattered volume of shoujo manga to Teshima, and they don’t know what to do with the look of undecipherable sadness on his face, or the gentle way he accepts the book into his hands, or how he doesn’t look them in the eye when they ask, who was the boy with glasses that Imaizumi saw.

Edited 2016-07-29 21:12 (UTC)

Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi Haikyuu!
Pokemon AU
word count: 1856
tags: non-major character death

It was dark and Suga had been navigating through Viridian Forest for what seemed like eternity. He'd come here on a tip that there was some sort of moon ceremony held by the native Clefairy and Clefable in the area. Typically they were found on Mt Moon where there were frequent meteorite showers but Suga had been keeping his ears pricked for any information about other gathering places of the rare Pokemon.

He'd been lucky when talking to his long-time friend, Daichi. Daichi was a scientist who had been studying the Paras Pokemon since they'd both graduated university. Daichi was fascinated with the possibility that the fungus growth on the grass type Pokemon's back had healing potential for humans. His line of study was controversial and a highly discussed topic in the news these days.

Daichi mentioned overhearing one of his coworkers talking about a new Clefairy hotspot in Viridian Forest one day while on the phone with Suga. Suga had rushed through the rest of the phone call, excited to follow this new lead. Now he was facing the pitch blackness of Viridian Forest at night and he realized maybe his plan wasn't that well thought out. (nor had he anticipated just how vast the forest was)

Despite studying and working with the things-that-go-bump-in-the-night, he found himself overwhelmed by just how dark it really was. He had assumed the light from the fabled Moon Ceremony would guide him in the right direction. So far no such light existed. He was starting to think maybe Daichi's coworker had heard wrong or was misinformed. Daichi had warned against his adventure and told Suga to let go of the theory he had been investigating. “Some things were meant to remain unknown.” Daichi would say very matter of factly. Suga would remind Daichi of his own research, causing Daichi to back track, giving Suga a shrug and a smile.

In moments like these, Suga had begun to think Daichi was right about letting things remain a mystery. As each moment crept by, Suga began to feel more and more uneasy and creeped out by the silent darkness that surrounded him. Nevertheless, he trekked on, determined to find the rumored hot spot.

Suga's area of study focused on ghost Pokemon, primarily as of late, Gengar; the final form of Gastly. His theory linked Gengar to the Fairy Pokemon, Clefairy and Clefable. To cement his suspicion, he knew he needed to observe the timid pink Pokemon. Unfortunately his personal funds were lacking, hindering him from making the trip to Mt. Moon. The company wouldn't fund the trip either, leaving him with almost no options. Another reason why he was so desperate to follow up on the tip from Daichi.

Stumbling through the forest, Suga saw a soft glow of light appear from what looked like a tree line. He crept closer, huddling against a large tree. He peered around the trunk and saw a circle of Clefairy's and one Clefable dancing in a clearing, their arms outstretched to the sky. His eyes followed where they seemed to be reaching and above the clearing he saw the moon. It was a full moon, which is why he had picked tonight to come. Exhausted, but having finally found the tribe, he got to work straight away. He used a tree root as his seat, quickly pulling out several journals and a pen. Using the light from the glowing stone fragments which were in the middle of the Clefairy/Clefable circle, Suga set to writing everything about the scene.

Each Pokemon was facing the circle inward. There was probably 12-15 Clefairy in total with a Clefable that seemed to serve as some kind of leader of the group. Their dance wasn't entirely intricate but was still fascinating to Suga. They side-stepped clockwise, every seventh step spinning their bodies counterclockwise. Their arms remained outstretched to the sky the whole time. Suga wrote every detail of the ceremony down, not completely sure of it's purpose. As he watched, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Suga almost gasped out loud. Another human!

He was also perched on a tree root but was closer to the circle of dancing Pokemon, in clear view. He wore a grey sweater and glasses, chewing on the tip of his pen as he watched the ceremony unfold. His brunette hair was disheveled but in a way that didn't make it appear unruly. Suga figured the stranger had been running his fingers through his hair all night long. He looked as tired as Suga felt, eyes drooping, back hunched, one hand resting under his chin, propping his head up.

Suga unglued his eyes from the stranger and continued to observe the Clefairies. It wasn't long before he found himself watching the other man again rather than the dancing tribe. His curiosity got the better of him (as it usually did) and he began creeping back into the darkness, out of sight of the Clefairies but closer towards the stranger.

Sidling up next to the stranger army crawl style, Suga positioned himself between the man and the tree. He hadn't thought of something to say by way of introduction and now felt a little silly lying on his stomach next to the handsome stranger.

“I don't know what you're doing, but keep it up and you'll scare them off.” The man said to Suga, not sparing him a glance. His tone was firm and he almost sounded bored.

“What are they doing?” Suga whispered, straining his neck to catch sight of the ritual again.

“Dunno, no one has ever seen this particular dance.”

“How do you know?” Suga asked, incredulous.

“I've seen them all. Oikawa Tooru, nice to meet you.” He finally looked down at Suga and Suga felt his breath catch. Oikawa had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. The name rang a faint bell in the back of Suga's mind, maybe he had read it in a scientific paper when he had began his research on the fairy Pokemon.

“Sugawara Koushi, but Suga is fine.” Suga extended his hand awkwardly to Oikawa whose face lit up with a toothy smile as he shook Suga's hand.

“Nice to meet you, Suga-chan. Sorry if I was a bit stiff just now. I'm dying for a nap and some food but this is too incredible to pass up.” He indicated towards the dance, which continued to remain the same.

“What's so incredible about it?” Suga propped himself up carefully, neck and back aching from laying down.

“I can't be sure, but I think this is a sacrificial ceremony.” Oikawa got solemn as quickly as he had brightened. Suga scrunched up his face and watched the dance again, trying to find any hidden signs in their movements that would indicate it was some sort of sacrifice.

“I'm here trying to prove a theory about the ghost Pokemon, Gengar.” Suga started, a little hesitant. He felt it was only fair to reveal his own reasons for this late night excursion.

“You might have the right place then, Suga-chan.” Oikawa's voice was grave but now Suga was buzzing with an excited energy. This could be it, after months of researching, this could finally be it. They watched together in silence as the Clefairy began to chant soft and slow.

As their chanting grew faster and louder, the Clefable made it's way to the middle of the group as the Clefairy made a tight circle around it. Suga saw Oikawa grit his teeth, his whole body alert and stiff as the scene unfolded.

“Your theory, what was it, Suga?” Oikawa asked quietly, his voice pained. Oikawa's nervous energy was feeding into Suga and he found his throat had become dry and his palms sweaty. (or maybe he was just that excited himself)

“I think it's very possible that Gengar are the shadow of Clefable.” Suga said with authority, eyes watching Oikawa for a reaction. The other let out a soft laugh, locking eyes with Suga.

“Very good, Suga-chan. But how exactly is that accomplished? How does the Gengar come to be?” Oikawa asked, knowingly. Almost as if he were mocking Suga.

“I have a feeling we're about to find out, don't you Tooru-chan?” Suga shot back, causing Oikawa's eyes to widen at the use of his given name.

“I'm afraid so.” A sad smile etched itself across Oikawa's face, breaking eye contact with Suga as he turned back to watch.

They were both silent as the Clefable stepped up onto one of the glowing stone fragments, stretching it's arms out as far as they would reach. The chant from the surrounding Clefairy became even faster until suddenly it stopped. Sparks rose up from the glowing stone underneath the Clefable and swirled around it.

Suga was able to see the Clefable's shadow be ripped away from it, which seemed to cause the Clefable physical pain. It flinched before falling over, lifeless, off the now dull stone. In it's place stood a triumphant Gengar, mischievous smile plastered across it's face. Suga was thrilled and horrified at the same time. He'd finally seen that his theory had been correct, though he had never imagined that this was how such a thing came to be.

His head was full of so many unanswered questions, all battling for his attention, begging to be answered first. He hadn't even realized his hand was whizzing across the pages in his journal, writing down everything he had just seen for later evaluation. He wished he had remembered to pull out the camera he had packed in his bag.

Without warning, the Gengar took off into the night, haunting red eyes piercing the darkness, stopping on the two men for just a moment, before it was gone. The remaining Clefairy's all stood, mourning over the body of the Clefable that seemed to have been sacrificed for the Gengar's creation.

As soon as the Gengar had gone, Oikawa sprinted to the middle of the Clefairy circle and scooped the unmoving Clefable in his arms, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Pen and journal forgotten, Suga followed behind, more confused than before.

Oikawa cradled the fallen Pokemon to his chest, stroking the top of it's head, whispering softly into it's unhearing ears. Suga wished there was something he could do to ease the other's sorrow, wanted to kneel down next to him and assure him everything was alright. The overwhelming urge to comfort Oikawa Tooru was a feeling Suga had rarely experienced before.

But all he could do was stand, helpless, and watch as this beautiful stranger sobbed over the body of a dead Pokemon. Running the past hour's events over and over in his head, Suga put two and two together and felt his heart fall to the pit of his stomach.

“That Clefable, it wasn't wild, was it?” Suga asked softly, banishing the desire to reach out to Oikawa.

Oikawa looked up at Suga with his tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes and Suga already knew the answer.

i had to cap myself bc this fill could have easily been so much longer. hoped i did pokemon and this theory some justice!

Tags: Suicide ideation probably, near death, cannibalism Kind Of, trans HC pronoun, chess wailing incoherently
Word count: 3100
Manami Sangaku/Teshima Junta, the sea and its lore

Bones made their way off shore eventually.

Some of their friends liked the marrow at the center. But Manami only liked the soft flesh of fish, and stole bones away when no one else would look. It was too much trouble to deaden and sharpen teeth - they would leave them pristine. Their tiny home within coral and sun became decorated by what trinkets they found to give away.

"What are you doing."

Shells decorated their hair. Round rocks they found that others would fancy, to draw them in - fish and peers alike, for food or favor. And things always washed up within reach otherwise. Something sparkled, more interesting, but the question of food rose to their mind. Manami glanced up from the shelf, away from the knick-knacks that filled the tiny pool, to a human floating above water.

Disappointment made them lose track. They couldn't eat this. But their eyes fell to what he sat within. "Ooo. What's that?"

He stared down at them. Manami wasn't familiar with things out of water, but that expression was one plenty of fellows gave them below.

"It's a boat," he finally said, breaking contact - they couldn't understand that expression, warm brown skin mixing with white and pink. "A boat, you know, that thing people use to get around? Escape deserted islands?"

"...You mean one of those big crushing things that sink with all that stuff inside?" Manami laid their arms out over the warm rock, feeling the sun burn their back dry. It made it easier to breathe - fresh and salty all at the same time. "Did yours break, then?"

"No!" He almost fell overboard with his yell, floundering in his boat till he fell back. "I built this." The stranger dragged himself up. "Captain Teshima Junta's first sea-worthy vessel." Though he grinned, Manami knew the expression well. People died more than often enough out here. Desperation was nothing new. "I'm scouting. So, what's a fish like you doing up here?"

Manami grimaced at that. They watched him jump a little, and remembered their own teeth. So instead, they smiled, full view - "I'm not a fish."

"What, are you offended?" He chuckled. "It's not like mermaids should even speak my language."

This type again. Manami kept on their petulant smile. "Dolphins aren't fish."

"Close enough," he shrugged.

They glanced at his boat, and the driftwood barely held together by sheet metal. It could fall apart at the seams. He'd drown. And the sharks would come up for the main course, and they'd pick through the remains.

"If you say so," they murmured.

Manami pulled themself up on their rock. Looked out over the endless ocean. Glanced to the tiny rock in their hand, sparkling with water inside.

"How'd you find that so far out here?" Someone over their shoulder. "I'd have thought a snow globe would break."

"Excuse me," they said -

"Teshima," he provided in a quick interruption.

Manami stared. A captain like what Arakita complained about. "Sir." Forcing an uncomfortable silence, they went on, "What is a snow globe?"

"It's just a little orb for sentimentality," he said. "People fill it with water and glitter and shake it up. See all that white stuff? That's like snow."

They rolled the orb between their hands - almost seeing what he meant. The thing standing in the middle became lost in a storm of silver. It looked like schools of fish fleeting through, running and swallowing up every hint of light.

"Snow," they said.

"Yeah, that cold stuff that falls from the sky when whatever fish gods you've got are mad at you, right?"

They knew what precipitation was. They didn't need this from him. "Yes," Manami said. "Of course."

And leapt back into the ocean, watching the remains of sun flicker through against their gray skin.

---

Humans would lose themselves, sometimes.

It wasn't any interest of Manami's, but new people did mean new things, and that was something to see. They couldn't travel too far out, held in place by season and the threat of ice, but every new boat brought another hint of a curious world.

They could never leave, but they had accepted that much long ago.

Manami watched a small boat float aimlessly through empty waters, to bounce helplessly ashore a small island. They swam through, closer to shore than most could otherwise - not many liked the burn of sun like they did. Out of water like escaping a tomb, air slamming through and making their heart buzz, there was nothing they wanted more than that single moment.

Relishing it, and pausing, leaning their face against the salty broken boards of the boat - Manami finally pulled themself back to reality, and the unfortunate facts of the situation.

"A boat?"

"On that island." Manami pointed toward something they knew in their gut was there. "There are probably things inside."

Teshima stood up on his vessel, wavering with the waters, to squint toward what they'd pointed at. "Have you ever heard of sirens?"

They tilted their head.

"Singers and story spinners who sit upon rocks to draw unfortunate sailors," he muttered. "Right till they crash into rocks and meet their demise."

"How nice," Manami said. "Is that why you're out here?"

He didn't answer their question. "How big is the boat."

---

Tools and toys laid out across the beach, Manami stared from behind a distant rock.

It was a promise of another world. Teshima still fumbled and carelessly dropped things, cursing as his skin speckled and peeled. He had sailed for two days before hitting a shore that Manami could swim to in as many hours.

On the beach, a stick stood straight out of the sand, long thread bobbing into the water. It pricked their finger when they'd touched it, without much response. This close to shore, there wasn't much worth eating, but there was plenty to see. As he tore through the sandbound ship, Manami picked through tide pools and watched without a word.

Water didn't reach the boat's body. If Manami dragged themself further up the beach, they could peel the barnacles and dried seaweed off - they could steal away the things Teshima threw outside in single-minded search. But it remained just out of their reach. They stuck to their private vigil and peered out from the water's edge throughout the night.

"Are you scared now?" echoed out after another hour stuck in lucid sleep.

Manami sank back into the water to swim closer, rising only enough to see.

"Thought you sent me out here to get something done, but you're just circling like a vulture! Ever heard of those?"

They didn't respond.

Teshima fell at the water's edge, sitting with those legs out, fire set behind him. They couldn't touch it. It seemed a shame not to.

"Some birds drag up old criminals to take them up to a perch or mountain. Wind transforming into something greater," he yelled. "Peck out their organs to make sure they pay for what they've done. Sometimes they take their eyes and leave them there to rot."

"I wouldn't do that," Manami called back. "That's a waste. Everyone would yell at me."

"Oh, right," he laughed. "So you'd just toss me down to let all your friends argue about who gets what? A liver for a shark, eyes for a squid, a bit of flesh for all those ravenous ghosts to rip apart?"

They shrugged. "Humans don't taste very good. I wouldn't know."

Teshima fell back into the sand, laughing till nothing more came out. Manami tested the distance - wet webbed fingers landing on his warm ankle. There were many things they could do.

But they didn't care much about what the others wanted.

While there were still stories to catch, falling out like pooling blood, they wouldn't push for the end too quickly. It wasn't a bad trade. They'd been offered worse below. He could die on his own time.

---

Every moment Teshima was awake, he spoke.

Far on the distance, they could see him kicking through water, yelling and laughing at fish he'd long since scared off. Manami could balance over rocks, cracking open shells like others had taught them to do. They didn't often have the patience for it, but small clams and crabs hidden in smaller pools were easy to find if they were waiting.

When fish would wander too close in how carefully they held themself though - that was a nice break. Dolphins were supposed to work together. But it didn't matter much if they wandered off on their own from time to time. Not when their home was a mish-mash of creatures and the dead hovering together below the ocean, waiting for what fell from above to weave themselves into.

Some days, they would catch him staring as they ripped flesh from bone. Fish held in their mouth, they could still smile and wave. Teshima would turn away and climb back into his boat, and they would wonder how long it had been since he last ate.

He wouldn't ask for help and they would not offer to give it.

"There are stories about beautiful women at sea," he muttered one day, slouched against what he called the hull of the ship. "If you laugh along with them, they might kill you. Or maybe they'll steal something important and ask for gold in return." He sniffled, and laughed. "Gold for gold. You know what that means, don't you?"

Some humans would die of hunger. Others drinking from the ocean, as though it was poison to them. Manami shook their head. Every day that passed seemed another closing door. It was a little annoying to watch someone waste away.

"Right. Then I won't give you any ideas," he said.

"When do you plan to leave?" they asked, pleasantly.

"Not too long now." His eyes were closed. "Just ... have to fix the rudder. Figure out how to push this back ... you wouldn't happen to know any storm bringers, would you? There are things that can do that ... it'd make it easier on me."

He wouldn't even ask for food to save himself. Only the impossible. "Of course," they said. "All kinds. They just need eyes for the center."

Teshima forced a laugh, almost inaudible. "Too bad ... I'm running low."

When he fell asleep, they dragged themself up the beach and stole away trinkets. The next morning, he didn't ask or note. He merely climbed back inside the boat to clamber around in a dying haze.

---

People would lose themselves at sea.

Some would find their way off. Others wouldn't.

Manami had come here a long time ago. There was nowhere to return to now.

They sank among those who had always been there, those who seemed to know the sea, and those who called it home, and played their games close to their chest.

"You could leave," voices and familiarity. "All it takes is an equivalent trade."

Sometimes, sitting above water, they watched how he stared at them, and wondered how he imagined dying. If to him, it would come as being dragged below the waves. They considered it. Legs to take and stand on. Over and over.

But they didn't.

Manami knew some things were impossible. Even this far beyond the boundary.

There was no way to go back, again.

---

"Water monks," he said, one day.

They were picking through more that he'd thrown out of the ship. What he called diaries, that soaked through when they touched them. Jewels and rotted food like bloated bodies run through on rocks below. Tattered clothing and chairs, pronged metal and spoons filled with holes.

"They're like the coming storm," Teshima went on. "I saw some today." He rubbed his eyes. Skin running thin from layer after layer of sand, his eyes were bloodshot and yellow. "Some people refuse to sail if they see them, but they're coming." He walked in circles. Kept on. "They could pull me free."

He was running out of words to barter.

"Is that so," Manami said. They stared at indecipherable writing. If he wasn't dying, they'd consider asking how to read.

"Soon," he said.

His mouth was bleeding. Not even fresh fish would help him at this point.

"Yes," they said. Manami was courteous. "Very soon."

For the first time, he glanced down at them, and grinned. Scarlet stained teeth. They returned it. The rock was nothing they hadn't seen coming. If Manami had predators, they'd have done the same thing.

Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka Haikyuu!!
no tags

So a little Zashiki Warashi comes across the Yuki Onna, is struck by her beauty, and falls in love

Naruko Shoukichi & Imaizumi Shunsuke, & Sohoku, Yowapeda
tags: major character death, mental disturbance, gore
722 words, Cthulhu mythos

OH GOD I TRIED BUT IT'S SUCH A MESS HOW DO YOU EVEN WRITE LIKE THIS

--

It was the wind, that terrible, cursed wind, that finally drove Imaizumi to despair.

We had thought nothing much of the strange hollow piping noise that was carried on the wind. Notes of its unusually melodic, if unsettling, nature were made in our books as one of the many phenomena that was singular to the Antarctic ice shelf, to be later studied in-depth by those in our department who have more knowledge of such things; but we have had to since greatly revise its significance.

I regret having made jest of it, at the time; I hope Imaizumi will one day forgive me for the insensitive nature of my remarks.

(“You laughed at me and called me a ‘big crybaby scared of a little bit of wind’,” Imaizumi says.

“Well, you were,” Naruko replies.)

The truly serious nature of our situation only clearly became evident on the third day, after we had finally found the previous expedition’s camp. We were all familiar with the Kinjou-Tadokoro-Makishima expedition, of course, had looked upon our mentors with great esteem; had mourned what we all thought was a natural disaster that had cut their exploration short, and finding what remained of their camp in great disarray was a great blow to our confidence, both academic and personal.

It was with utmost difficulty that I myself did not fall to despair in that moment, for the memory of the horrors inflicted upon our mentors is a thing that will haunt us to our graves, as surely as the knowledge that was imparted to us by these treacherous mountains. At this point, I must firmly put into writing my admiration of both Teshima and Aoyagi, the true leaders of our expedition -- not only for the depth and variety of mechanical skill and intelligence they demonstrated in the make and handling of our specialised arctic drill and its transportation, but for the calm they exhibited when Imaizumi came upon the bodies of our mentors, and the terrible, frightful state they were found in.

I will try not to offend the sensibilities of my readers with too gory a description, but that was some of the most fucked up shit I have seen in a while.

You will find attached to my report a more complete analysis of the bodies, as was drafted by Sugimoto before we lost him in the tunnels, but suffice to say: the bodies were cruelly torn asunder, and their heavy organs neatly removed and arranged to the side. Had we known at the time what we know now, that this was a dissection done in haste, maybe we would have proceeded with more caution.

Such as it is, we were most shaken by this discovery, enough as to reconsider the long term viability of our expedition, and it was only then that Teshima voiced the terrible thought that we had been circling around as we gathered what remained of the bodies of our peers for burial.

Koga’s body could not be found.

As his oldest companion from Sohoku University, and wretched with what must surely be guilt, Teshima had insisted immediately that we must do our utmost in locating Koga; if only the body, to be buried with the proper words of our Lord, and for the peace it would bring his family.

You will have read a more detailed telling in Imaizumi’s report of our findings past the mountain range, of the strange creatures we found buried in the deep ice; as the lead biologist, his analysis is much more comprehensive than my own, and I can provide only geological findings on the rock and ice samples that were given to me by Aoyagi as we venture deeper into the mountains.

And you will find a much more detailed report from Onoda, our expedition’s historian and philosopher, of what transpired deep inside the mountain. Aoyagi has refused to speak since our return, other than to insist upon sealing off the Antarctic shelf from any further human contact, and Onoda is the only other expedition member to return after accompanying Teshima down into the deepest tunnel in that monstrous stone city we found beyond the range.

If ever Teshima should regain lucidity, and offer us more than the mumbled ravings of a troubled mind, perhaps we will truly know what was found there that day.

no major content warnings
ayase chihaya & oe kanade

did you know that "enchantment" and "incantation" are etymologically related to singing. kana-chan did. she's an expert at reciting poetry.

animal features (bird/human hybrid)
Abe Takaya/Mihashi Ren

Howl's Moving Castle AU: what's better than this, magicians being birds,

Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, Daiya no ace
tags: possible body horror?? a blob-monster transformation, essentially
wordcount: 533
witch au

Kazuya has always known that he takes a risk, playing with spells out of the backs of the ancient tomes he digs up in libraries. Usually, though, when a spell goes wrong, it means something catches on fire, or somebody’s ears turn blue for a week. Things that are embarrassing, even potentially dangerous, he can handle in the name of experimentation and progress. This… not so much.

He walks—can he call it walking?—over to his mirror, leaving the book on the floor behind him. His legs are… gone, sort of, blended together into some strange, viscous blob, along with most of his torso. He seems to still have skin, at least, although it’s green and slimily wet, and his arms have shrunken, the bones seemingly gone, hanging limply at his sides and waving strangely when he tries to move them. He’s pretty sure he doesn't actually want to know what his head looks like, considering the odd, greenish cast and warped perspective that his vision seems to have taken on, but he has to find out eventually, so he wriggles his way in front of the mirror, closing his eyes and breathing deeply before he looks.

It’s bad.

His head is mostly gone, melted into his shoulders the same way his lower body seems to have collapsed into some sort of strange muscle-skirt, propelling him without any real definition or structure. He has big eyes, nearly all pupil, lined with a ring of yellow, and his mouth is nothing but a slit across the lower portion of his head-area. He’s maybe two and a half feet tall, all told, more misshapen blob than human. Cruelly, his glasses are still on his face.

He goes to make a noise, some sound of dismay, but it comes out louder than he had intended, a strange, unearthly, echoing croak. He shuts up.

In his mind, this—transformation, whatever it would be called—should be punishment enough, but apparently some force in the universe disagrees with him, because the door to his room opens, and he watches in the mirror as Furuya’s head comes poking through.

“Miyuki-senpai? I heard—oh.” Kazuya sighs, or tries to, as Furuya steps into the room, closing the door discreetly behind himself. At least it hadn't been Sawamura, Kazuya thinks, picturing the commotion the other witch would have set off.

“Miyuki-senpai?” Furuya asks again, coming towards him and kneeling down a few feet away. “Can you understand me, Miyuki-senpai?” Kazuya lets out another of the strange, eerie noises, and Furuya looks decidedly relieved.

“Did a spell go wrong…?”

This time, Kazuya tries for sarcasm, although he’s not sure it comes across in the weird, low wail he emits.

“Okay. Well, um… we’ll figure it out. It’ll—it’ll be okay, Miyuki-senpai. I’ll help you.” It’s all very earnest, and Kazuya can't help thinking that Furuya trying to be comforting is pretty cute, even if it did take a drastic blob-monster transformation to inspire it. Reaching out, Furuya only hesitates for an instant before patting Kazuya’s head-area, stroking him gently when Kazuya doesn't protest.

“You know, you’re still kind of cute like this,” Furuya tells him after a pause. Kazuya wails again.

Kominato Ryousuke/Tanba Kouichirou, Daiya no A
no major tags, witches/telekinesis
words: 452

Kouichirou has always suspected there was something different about Ryousuke and not in the way that keeps him up at night sometimes wondering why he finds Kouichirou attractive, worrying that his boyfriend’s taste will change or he’ll realize he can do much better than Kouichirou. It’s in the tilt of his lips and his eyebrows and the way he chuckles softly to himself sometimes in a way that says he knows something that no one else does and finds it greatly amusing.

He admitted a long time ago to himself that things seems to go uncannily right for the small man; in small subtle ways like the elevator door always opening and closing when he wants, the weather always clearing up before they take a trip, getting the best seats at sporting events, concerts, and festivals. Ryousuke also seems to never get sick and since they moved in together Kouichirou’s health has also been remarkably well, one serving of tea and soup from his partner always has him better the next day.

“Family recipe,” Ryousuke always says and smiles that cryptic smile.

Now Kouichirou thinks he gets it, standing in the doorway to the kitchen and watching Ryousuke preparing breakfast; making elegant and practiced gestures as the spoon in the coffee cup stirs itself, the spatula travelling between the eggs and sausage to stir and flip while his small pink haired boyfriend reads the newspaper.

Kouichirou doesn’t know quite what to do, if he should back away and pretend he didn’t see anything, maybe go back to their bedroom and call Ryousuke’s name so he knows he’s coming. Considering his options though maybe it would be better if he cleared it throat so Ryousuke knows he’s there and can stop hiding this part of himself. He’s not upset that Ryousuke hadn’t told him he can do these things, it seems a reasonable thing to keep private, but this is their home they’ve built together if there’s anywhere Ryousuke should be able to be himself it’s here.

He closes the distance between them in a few long strides and wraps his arms around Ryousuke’s shoulders, propping his chin on top of the shorter man’s head as his hand stops moving, sending the spatula and spoon clattering down.

“Did you already start the rice cooker or should I?” He asks and feels Ryousuke’s surprised chuckle vibrate through his chest.

He turns his head and Kouichirou can follows his gaze to the rice cooker, five more minutes showing on timer. Ryousuke turns in Kouichirou’s arms, pressing a kiss to his lips as they quirk up into a smile, the chime of the rice cooker sounding in the cozy kitchen.

“Already done,” Ryousuke purrs against him.

Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun (Daiya no A)
Just a little (yummy) nudity
Word count: 1370

Twitch, twitch. The annoying feeling of insects buzzing around his ears, grass mushing into his paws, and dampness soaking through his fur to make the craving for normality even more unbearable.

Two days he had been stuck like this, crawling around in all fours like some kind of animal- which is exactly what Kazuya’s current state of affairs entailed. Cravings for garbage and continuously washing his paws starting to cloud what little human judgement he had left.

The rain, that was gentle and almost soothing before starting to come down in buckets. Fur matted and cold against his skin as he tried to hide away in the driest spot, somehow managing to find one in the dugouts avoiding the worst of the downpour.

Hiding under the benches away from any threat of the deluge as he tried to dry off as best he could, shuddering against the damp air and gusts of wind… before a sudden noise made him retreat in fear.

“UGH! Why did it have to downpour while I was out running?!” The very familiar voice to Kazuya’s pricked ears getting closer.

Kazuya watching as a face he knew very well grew very near, fingers fumbling with untied laces before freezing- one little raccoon caught red-handed.

Puffs of air forming in the chilly wind, breath caught until realization dawned in a full-blown smile.

“Miyuki Kazuya! There you are, you have everyone worried sick!” Sawamura’s loud, booming voice announced making him shudder, reaching fingers making him slink even further back. “I know it's you, darn tanuki… this is what happens when you anger a fortune teller- they have ways of getting back at you!”

He didn't want to crawl towards the warmth reaching out, but it was better than being stuck out in the cold, damp, and dreary weather. Sawamura picking him up easily to brush his fingers ticklishly through fur before opening and placing Kazuya snugly against the warmth of his chest. Sawamura zipping his jacket back up securely before leaving the dry safety of the dugout to sprint back towards the dorms.

Kazuya meanwhile was stiflingly warm against Sawamura’s body, hearing his quickening heartbeat pounding just as loudly as the thunder booming overhead. The squishy sound of water underneath runners dissipating as Sawamura reached concrete walks and finally stopping in front of what must have been his own dorm room door.

Feeling far too safe and comfortable as Sawamura fumbled around in his pocket for keys before opening the door, the sounds of lights being turned on and shoes kicked off as Kazuya was carried carefully before he felt the pitcher sit slowly down onto his bed.

Hearing the zipper of Sawamura’s jacket open, Kazuya peered up into the brightness of the room before a fuzzy towel was wrapped around his still damp fur, the pitcher carefully starting to rub out the remaining wetness and chill from his body.

“There that should help,” Sawamura throwing the towel in the direction of his hamper before pulling off his soaked jacket to hang dry on the back of his desk chair.

Kazuya not able to help the shrill sound from escaping his mouth at noticing the pitcher’s own still wet locks, Sawamura turning in acknowledgement to notice where his attention was focused before swatting dismissively in his direction.

“Yes mama-tanuki, I'll make sure to dry my hair too…” Kazuya trying to look away but caught at the sight of so much sudden bare skin, soaked shirt collecting into a pile on the floor.

Sawamura (almost) looking as ridiculous as Kazuya himself… strands stuck out in all directions as he vigorously dried his hair quickly. Placing the same treatment on his toned arms and torso before Kazuya did have to look away. Sawamura quickly changing into a dry set of sleep clothes before stomping back to the bed.

“You're staying here tonight Miyuki Kazuya, then we’re fixing this situation tomorrow come hell or high water… and with the rain pouring the way it is, the second option might just win at this point.” Sawamura drawing back the covers so Kazuya could sneak underneath, the pitcher walking towards the door to switch off the lights before sliding underneath the sheets himself.

All Kazuya continued to feel was restless, thinking back to a boring Saturday afternoon when Sawamura had literally dragged the group of them into a tiny shop while in the city.

“We don't have these shops anywhere near home and I want to have my fortune read…” Sawamura whining until they all eventually caved into his demands.

Kazuya could still remember the smell of incense assaulting his nostrils, the harsh burn doing nothing to slow down Sawamura’s enthusiasm as the older fortune teller read his palm. Kazuya feeling his eyes repeatedly roll as Sawamura fidgeted excitingly; she had him eating out of the palm of his hand far too easily.

“What about you young man, do you want a turn to know what your future holds?”

Still remembering his grimace and cold eyes as words ground back between his teeth, “No thanks, I make my own future.”

Turning towards the door before the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, forcing him to turn around and face cold eyes staring at him straight back.

“You certainly will, be it the good with a fair mix of the wicked.”

Kazuya shaking his head once more before forcing his eyes away, feet guiding through the open door to background noise of Sawamura chastising him for offending such a wise and knowledgeable person.

Oh, if only he knew then what he did now…

But now Miyuki was sorely aware of just what power had been tucked away beneath wrinkled hands, terrified when he had woken up in the bundle of his sleep clothes before bolting through his door once opened by a roommate. Bushy tail waving behind him like a banner as he headed for the safety of the nearby bushes to a flurry of surprised shouts and hollers.

Safety that he now felt again pressed against Sawamura’s furnace-like warmth, paws still twitching in annoyance as he tried to calm down enough to sleep. The shock of ghost-like fingers surprising him to stillness as they swirled comforting patterns into Kazuya’s fur.

“I know it's hard Miyuki, but sleep will help things start fresh in the morning.”

Kazuya feeling his eyes droop along with Sawamura, fingers slowing with each other’s breaths as they both drifted off to slumber.

***

Kazuya wasn't sure what awoke him so suddenly in the middle of the night, but all he could focus on was the scorching warm surrounding him under the covers.

Shifting to get more comfortable as he felt a set of arms grab more firmly around his middle, toes twitching in impatience to escape the heat… toes?

Opening his eyes in the dim light to a very welcome feeling of being back in a very human body. A human body that he now realized was very nude underneath the covers. Fingers running through his very human hair where hours ago there had been fur, Sawamura making low mumbling noises in his sleep as Kazuya’s grin only grew wider.

Relieved to be back in a human body, a body he could actually play baseball in once again (although he had a lot of explaining to do with the coach and team) but he knew one solid fact as he remained transfixed on the slumbering pitcher curled into his chest; his battery partner would always have his back, no matter how strange the situation.

Kazuya throwing caution to the wind before leaning in to bury his face in Sawamura’s unruly hair, pressing a soft kiss against his temple before snugging back under the covers.
Decision made that tomorrow was finally the day he would reveal his (not so little) crush on one certain pitcher, just another way he would carve his own destiny after so many harsh lessons learned over the last couple days.

Missing the slight shift of eyes across from him and smirk curling sharper before they shut once again. Both taking solace in once another before having the face the harsh dawn on a new day.

The start of even more endless possibilities.

Miyuki Kazuya & Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

undertale au

where sawamura is frisk and miyuki is chara

canon typical violence, canon typical supernatural things
884 words.

“Heya!” The golden flower chirps in a singsong voice. “I’m Flowey!”

Sawamura stares at the talking flower. Monsters really do exist, he thinks, and the voice inside of his head scoffs.

Flowey goes through a lengthy speech that Sawamura patiently listens to, because he’s Sawamura. The voice in his head groans about killing the flower just to make him shut up and Sawamura firmly shuts that voice down.

“Let’s go!“ Flowey cheers.

Sawamura startles when his SOUL leaps out of his chest, red heart and all, and Flowey hums as he explains that that’s Sawamura’s SOUL and how did he know that already?

“These, you see, are—“ Flowey glares at the empty space next to him and the voice notes that the text changes instantly before he got a chance to see it, “—friendliness pellets! Be sure to run into them!”

Well, doesn’t matter if I couldn’t read it. Avoid them all if you don’t want to get hurt.

Sawamura obeys and he sees a flash of anger cross over the golden flower’s face before it’s carefully smoothed over by another smile.

“Hoo boy, you miss all of them! Let’s try that again,” the golden flower chuckles and once again, the white pellets are summoned.

Did you see that expression? Yes. Dodge them.

Sawamura opts for a hesitant smile when he avoids the flower’s pellets.

“Oi,” the flower speaks and Sawamura stiffens when a demonic face overtakes the previous smile. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

Not really, Sawamura wants to say, but no words come to his mind. Instead, he manages to remain passive throughout it all. Good stuff.

“Ah, well,” the flower shrugs with the same smile, tilting his head in a serial killer-esque way. “I didn’t want to use this, but I guess I’ll have to.”

His SOUL is surrounded from all sides by the same white pellets, which slowly narrow in. Sawamura wonders if maybe he should have ran as soon as he saw his first monster, but the voice in his head is strangely silent. Perhaps they have given up on making it through this.

He moves his SOUL and the white pellets follow, making this agonizingly slow. The flower’s smile widens.

Well, Sawamura thinks, it’s not like he fell down here wanting to be alive at the end of it all.

The voice in his head snorts. Me neither, kid.

I’m not a kid, Sawamura can’t help the mental bark back, you don’t sound much older than me anyways.

Believe me, the voice says, I’ve seen enough to make me older than you by decades.

Sawamura sighs, a quiet exhale of air, and closes his eyes. He can’t bear to watch—

A single flame pops up and he turns to look at it, the golden flower yelping as it nears. Quickly, he flees.

“Are you alright?” A goat asks once there’s no sign of the flower, adjusting her glasses while wearing high heels. “You must have been frightened; it was a mean trick to play on you.”

Sawamura nods.

“My name is Takishima. I have a house in these ruins that is safe from these monsters Come with me,” she says and extends a furry paw, “I’ll lead you to safety.”

Sawamura ignores the voice in the back of his head and takes it.

**

Sawamura stares at the dummy.

Here, the voice says, let me take over. Take a nap for now. I’ll wake you up when it’s all over.

Sawamura narrows his eyes. What, he thinks.

Trust me, the voice replies, we’re partners, aren’t we?

That means we’re equals, Sawamura shakes his head, so we’ll do things my way, sometimes, and then we’ll do things your way, sometimes.

Takishima looks on expectantly.

Sawamura pats the dummy on the head. He ignores the voice that’s currently cracking up and howling in laughter and turns to Takishima.

She has the tiniest of smiles. Sawamura takes it as approval.

**

Sawamura tells a joke to a frog monster—Froggit—and the frog laughs in a series of ribbits and hops away.

Isn’t this nice, he tells the voice.

I guess. The voice sounds like they’re sulking. Sawamura hums and continues along his way.

**

Seeing such a charming house in the ruins fills you with DETERMINATION.

Sawamura hesitates, reaches out, and touches the glow. He feels warmth fill him again, wounds from monsters who struck too soon mending.

**

Takishima isn’t hurting him anymore, Sawamura realizes. He moves his SOUL into the path of her flames and they fly away, as if repelled.

He chooses to SPARE.

SPARE.

SPARE.

SPARE.

“Thank you,” he whispers as Takishima hugs him, rubbing her back. She lets go first, looks at him one last time, then walks back to the house, her heels clacking all the while.

Huh, the voice says, didn’t think that would work.

Let’s not fight anyone, Sawamura says with sheer DETERMINATION, we’ve made it to the end of the ruins without lifting a single blade.

Yeah, like your stick would do much now, the voice groans. I’m—god, that bandage is disgusting. How many times have you used it?

Sawamura checks to make sure that that bandage is still firmly wrapped around his wrist. It is.

Let’s go, Sawamura says instead. The voice is oddly silent.

Narumiya Mei & Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

undertale genocide route au

where sawamura is frisk and narumiya is chara

canon typical violence, canon typical supernatural things, narumiya breaking hte fourth wall
678 words.

Sawamura stares at the dummy.

Here, the voice says, let me take over. Take a nap for now. I’ll wake you up when it’s all over.

Sawamura narrows his eyes. What, he thinks.

Aw, come on! Trust me, the voice replies.

I, Sawamura hesitates, I guess.

Listen, the voice laughs and mentally he can feel a grip around his wrist, threatening in its own way. I know my way in this underground more than you do. I’ve got this.

Alright, Sawamura agrees and slips into darkness.

**

Narumiya stares at the dummy.

“Takishima,” Narumiya says and she startles with the unfamiliar voice coming from what she thought was a mute child, “I don’t want to talk to it.”

“Well,” Takishima fumbles briefly, “you can also run away, if you’d like.”

“I’d rather,” Narumiya yawns and plucks the head off as if picking fruit, “do this instead.”

Takishima looks worried. Good.

**

Sawamura still slumbers in his mind, so Narumiya takes it upon himself to clean up the ruins.

DETERMINATION flares up outside of Takishima’s house. Ah, he sighs in relief as he stretches with a toy knife clutched in his left hand as he touches the glow with his right hand, that’s the last of them.

Then, again his better judgment, he turns around and waits.

But nobody came.

**

It’s me, Narumiya.

**

Where are the knives.

**

“I was,” Takishima hisses with the wound that runs across her chest, her glasses askew as she pants, “I was wrong about you.”

“Cry me a river,” Narumiya rolls his eyes because even slashing her wouldn’t do any good—he’s done enough damage, he just has to wait it out.

“I thought that I was protecting you from them,” Takishima’s going to fade any moment now, thank god, “but now I see who I was really protecting.”

With that she fades away. Narumiya hums as his LOVE goes up.

**

Narumiya doesn’t even stiffen when he feels eyes on him. Instead, he pauses and then turns.

“Oi,” Narumiya says, “you’ve read through something similar before, haven’t you? Did it end better last time? If your answer was yes, then why did you choose to read this one as well?”

He continues walking.

**

“Turn around,” the voice says, “and shake my hand.”

Narumiya turns around and places his hand in a bony grip. Instantly, a whoopee cushion erupts and he wrinkles his nose.

“Haha,” a skeleton with rectangular wide-rimmed glasses says, “gets them every time.”

Narumiya glares at him.

“I’m Kazuya,” the skeleton continues, impervious to the glare. “What’s your name?”

Narumiya glares harder.

“Woah,” Kazuya puts his hands up, “my bad.” They wait for a bit and then—

“Hey, my brother is coming soon—he’s really interested in catching a human, so how about you hide behind that conveniently-shaped lamp for a moment?”

Narumiya’s still glaring. He doesn’t move.

“Uh,” the skeleton scratches his back, “you alright there, buddy?”

Narumiya hears footsteps behind him. He wonders if he should brandish the toy knife now or later.

He chooses now.

“Woah,” Kazuya puts his hands up, “no one’s fighting anyone. Here, just—“

“Kazuya!” The voice cries out. Narumiya stares directly at the skeleton, who seems to be sweating. “What is all this ruckus about?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kazuya fakes a yawn and stretches, “I was just, you know, checking out the snow. Still cold. Still white. Good stuff, really.”

“I cannot believe you are shirking on your work duties!” The voice yells and Narumiya wonders what it would sound like dying. “Well, I mean, I can, because that’s all you ever do!”

Kazuya gives a helpless shrug.

“Well, anyways,” the voice says, “I will continue my search for a human. Let me know if you see one!”

He hears the crunch of snow. They’re gone.

“Hey,” Kazuya says after two minutes of complete silence, “you should keep on pretending to be human.” Then, in a blink, he’s gone.

Narumiya smiles.

tags: explicit sexual content, asphyxiation, bodily fluids (vomiting), dubious consent, age gaps (unrequited), supernatural elements
Ships: Miyuki Kazuya/Miyuki Kazuya, Miyuki Kazuya/Kataoka Tesshin (unrequited), (Miyuki Kazuya/Unidentified Malevolent Spirit)
Word Count: 1,125

I finally wrote something that requires me to link on AO3 take this heaping of YIKES!!! away from me

it's sexy YIKES, at least, kind of sort of. half of a good time is had.

Kominato Ryousuke/Kuramochi Youichi, Daiya no Ace
no tags, Thất Tịch AU or probably better known as Tanbata AU
Words: 1013

Ryousuke hated summer rain the most. He hated the way it made him feel humid and sticky. He hated how the rain set the sky in gloom and how it confined him to his home on the bank of the star-speckled river. Even if he stood at the very edge of the riverbank, he couldn’t see across the river through this storm. It was beyond frustrating.

Nevertheless, just like every other year, Ryousuke found himself standing out in the rain, watching as the drops dappled rippling rings on the starry river. His hair clung to his face and his soaked clothes felt heavy on his body, but Ryousuke remained adamant. Perhaps what he hated most of all about this situation was how passive it made him. Ryousuke was always the type of person to take what he wanted without hesitation, but the deal that he had struck had him practically in shackles.

“You may only see your lover once a year.” How cruel was that?

Ryousuke glared at the rainclouds with a stern expression, so focused that he almost didn’t notice Haruichi approaching with an umbrella. Ryousuke turned slightly to see Haruichi in his long red gown, looking nice and dry. It occurred for a moment that, in comparison, Ryousuke must have looked rather silly.

“Aniki,” Haruichi said. “You won’t stop the rain by just glaring at it.”

“Watch me,” Ryousuke said.

“You’ll get sick, Aniki,” Haruichi continued, concern evident in his voice. “Please come inside. Father will get upset if you get sick.”

Ryousuke hummed, frustration gnawing at him. “Perhaps Father should have thought of this before he separated us,” Ryousuke said with an icy smile before turning back to the river. “I will wait out here until the ravens come.”

Haruichi frowned and there was a long pause. Ryousuke could imagine what Haruichi looked like even when he was standing behind him, probably fidgeting with his gown, opening and closing his mouth like a fish like he wasn’t quite sure how to say what he wanted to say.

“If you have something to say, spit it out,” Ryousuke almost snapped.

“What if the ravens don’t come today, Aniki?” Haruichi finally said. “It was like this last year, too. With rain this hard, surely they couldn’t–”

“Then I’ll swim,” Ryousuke said, he held his head high and looked across the river towards a bank he couldn’t see in this weather. “If you think a little rain will stop me from seeing Youichi for two years, you are clearly underestimating me, Haruichi.”

“I’m not doubting you, Aniki—I just want you to be safe,” Haruichi said.

Ryousuke automatically felt guilty. He let out a heavy sigh. “I know,” he said with a soft voice. He turned to look over his shoulder at Haruichi. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and come keep me company with that umbrella of yours, then?”
Haruichi bounded over almost obediently, dutifully shielding Ryousuke’s head. Ryousuke smiled, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Never fall in love, Haruichi,” Ryousuke instructed with disdain in his voice. “It’s quite troublesome.”

“I know,” Haruichi said.

--

“Aniki! Aniki!”

Ryousuke awoke to Haruichi shaking his shoulder. The night sky shone over them, stars reflected on the river. Haruichi’s umbrella was folded in front of them and Haruichi himself wore a huge grin. Ryousuke wondered, first, when he fell asleep. His second thought was one that made him sit right up, awake as ever.

It had stopped raining.

“Look,” Haruichi said, pointing at the ravens the flew overhead. Ryousuke gave them a tiny wave, still dazed as they lined over the river, their heavenly magic turning them into a bridge.

Ryousuke stood to his feet, looking back at Haruichi as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“Go!” Haruichi urged him. Ryousuke only nodded in response, his heart beating faster and his throat growing dry as he walked towards the bridge. Across the river, Ryousuke could see a tiny figure walking towards him.

Ryousuke had never been one to lose his cool. In fact, even in times of great panic or great joy, Ryousuke liked to approach these situations with a simple smile and ambiguous comments. However, when Ryousuke thought of Youichi at the other end of that bridge, he remembered the man he had married—the man he was willing to give his entire life for, and Ryousuke walking quickened to a run.

Youichi’s figure grew clearer as he ran towards Ryousuke as well, an undeniable wide grin on his face and his eyes squinting with joy. Ryousuke almost stopped in his steps as his chest began to swell with emotion.

Ryousuke all but leaps into Youichi’s arms, scooping his cheeks in his hands and pulling him down for a kiss that made Ryousuke want to melt right into the river. Youichi’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist like he was afraid to let go. Ryousuke felt something wet on his finger tips and he broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together.

“My strong and talented cow herder,” Ryousuke began playfully. “Are you crying?”

“Wha—no!” Youichi obviously lied through a choked sob. “I just—I missed you so much Ryo-san.”

“Me too,” Ryousuke said. He wrapped his arms around Youichi’s neck and leaned in once again. “I missed you more than you could ever know, Youichi.”

Youichi laughed a laugh that almost sounded hollow. “You wanna bet?”

Ryousuke’s heart ached in his chest. This is what he had been missing for the past two years—Youichi’s beautiful voice, the way he kisses Ryousuke like he was made for him, the way he would make Ryousuke feel warm and safe with a single look. And they only had about four hours left before their day together was over.

Loving Youichi hurt. It caused Ryousuke pain that no one could quite understand—not even Haruichi. And yet, at that moment, Ryousuke felt like all of that pain was worth it if he could be loved by Youichi just like this. Even if it was only for a single, ephemeral day in a year.

no tags, daisuga, Pokemon Go AU
1860 words

Murmurs swept through the crowd as they gathered in the park square, their eyes flickering between their phone screens and the stage. The words “First Annual Pokémon Go Hunt” were displayed on a projector screen behind the podium, along with a countdown timer. Daichi hummed along to the Elite Four theme song that was blaring from the speakers, smiling to himself as he glanced up at the stage. Most of his friends also played the game but they hadn’t been able to take time off work or school to be here. He’d been instructed to catch enough rare Pokémon for all of them—and he was in it to win it.

The countdown clock suddenly flashed red and the crowd let out a collective gasp. The number “10” replaced the words on the screen and Daichi swore he could have heard the guy next to him yell; Daichi couldn’t blame him. He too was tapping his foot impatiently as the number changed to a bright “9”, then an “8”, and when the screen flashed “7” his heartbeat began to race. The crowd started to yell the numbers out loud as they hit “6”, then “5”, and Daichi was pretty sure that he screamed when they hit “4”. “3”, “2” and “1” took long, far too long to appear, and when the timer hit “0” and the barriers around them swung open people begun to pour out into the park. Daichi began to sprint too, but not before he heard the announcement from the speakers:

“The Legendary Pokémon Jirachi will be released in the park during this hunt only—watch out for it!”

The gardens were large and sprawling, spanning at least forty to fifty blocks of land. It was fairly likely that people might miss Jirachi if they weren’t in the right place at the right time; he would have to find people to cooperate with and communicate with so one of them could rush to the other’s location if Jirachi was found. There was really no doing this alone.

Daichi sprinted into a large field of baby’s breath flowers, glancing around for anyone who looked friendly and who might have been by themselves. People were already huddled in groups, discussing strategy. He glanced down at his screen. There was a Zubat in the corner. No Jirachi, or potentially friendly faces in sight.

He frowned. Damn. There was always walking up to an entire group of strangers and asking if he could work with them, but the thought of being alone in a clique of people who already knew each other was hardly appealing. Working with someone one-on-one, or one-on-two seemed to him like a much more viable strategy.

Daichi looked up from his screen. Ahead of him stood the most beautiful stranger where there hadn’t been anyone before-- it as though he’d appeared out of stardust. The stranger tore his gaze away from his phone, turning up and beaming in Daichi’s direction. A flush spread across his cheeks. Well, that was certainly an alternative. Before he could say anything, or even muster up enough composure to smile back, the other man extended him a hand and a wink.

“I’m Sugawara Koushi, but my friends call me Suga. Would you like to work together?”

In a muddle of flushing and stuttering and stumbling over words, Daichi somehow managed to work out a strategy with Suga. He would search the upper half of the park, while Suga would search the lower half; they would call the other immediately if they saw Jirachi floating around anywhere and send them their exact location. This, Suga had pointed out with an elbow nudge, would require Daichi to give him his number. Daichi wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to do so without somehow falling on his face.

They parted ways with a “Good luck!” and a “See you later!”, and Daichi was on his merry way. Now he was out of Suga’s vicinity he could feel his heart rate slowing down and his breath calming. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Daichi hadn’t checked Pokémon Go for an entire fifteen minutes. Who was this Suga person, and what had he done with the real Daichi?

He steeled himself. That was enough worrying about handsome strangers with gorgeous smiles. They had a legendary Pokémon to catch. Daichi opened up the Pokémon Go app again, scanning the area for anything interesting. He spun a Pokéstop with a Lure Module attached to it, and a couple of Rattata showed up. His finger hovered over one of the critters so he could catch it before a text appeared on his screen. His heart fluttered like a Zubat’s wings.

It was Suga. Daichi tapped on the text. His new friend had just sent him a screenshot of a newly acquired Machamp.

Suga: Should I name it after you?

A hot flush crossed Daichi’s face. He was suddenly very self-conscious about how he hadn’t gone to the gym in a few weeks. Still, he somehow managed to type back a semi-coherent reply.

Me: I mean, I don’t have four arms, but if you’d like!

Suga’s reply was quick, brutal, and a super effective critical hit.

Suga: There’s still some resemblance. I’ll think about it.

Daichi wanted to type something back, but he wasn’t sure if there was anything to say in response that wouldn’t be either self-aggrandizing or terribly embarrassing. He tucked his phone in his pocket for a minute before remembering that he was supposed to have it out, and he dragged it out again, only to see that Suga had sent him another text.

Suga: I loved the Jirachi movie as a kid. I’m quite excited that we’re catching it. Do you think it’ll grant us a wish if we catch it?

Daichi quickly hammered out a response.

Me: Yeah. That would be very nice.

He opened the Pokémon Go app, refusing to be distracted by this cute stranger for very much longer.

A Porygon appeared on his screen and Daichi’s eyes widened like dinner plates. He quickly tapped on the Pokémon, zooming into it and preparing to swipe like a madman. The words “CP 23” hovered over the geometric bird.

If he hadn’t just bought his phone with his hard-earned money, Daichi would have thrown it on the ground and stamped on it like that guy from the Durarara!! anime.

He swore underneath his breath. This was the first Porygon he’d seen in his six months of playing, and it was 23 CP. 23 entire CP. Nevertheless, he fed it a Razz Berry and threw it a Great Ball. The “Great!” on his screen did little to soothe his broken heart, and so did the 650 EXP bonus he got for his throw. Daichi groaned as Porygon was registered to his Pokédex. It was like a leaky antique vase: rare, beautiful but ultimately useless.

Daichi had to tell someone about this. Suga was the best, and only candidate. He took a screenshot and sent it over, and Suga’s reply was almost instantaneous.

Suga: Oh my god.
Suga: I’m laughing so hard at you right now.
Suga: I don’t know whether to be jealous of you, or to offer my condolences. This is the best thing I’ve seen all day. I am so sorry.
Me: THANKS. Rub it in.
Me: Maybe if I pray hard enough to Jirachi it will become stronger???
Me: MAYBE IF I CATCH ANOTHER TEN THOUSAND PORYGONS OH MY GOD

Daichi opened the Pokémon Go app. He could picture Suga sitting in a field of flowers, clenching his stomach and laughing his ass off, tears leaking out of his eyes. Maybe he’d caught some other good Pokémon. Maybe he hadn’t, but at least one of them was gaining some amusement from Daichi’s misery. Daichi grimaced, ready to go in and catch another Pidgey. There was no recovering from this.

His phone buzzed with another message.

Suga: Would you really waste your one wish on a phone app game, though?
Suga: I can think of a million better things to wish for.

Daichi felt his heart stop, and gathered all his courage.

Me: Such as what?
Suga: I’ll tell you after we catch Jirachi.

The default iPhone ringtone blared from his phone, and Daichi nearly dropped it in shock. Suga was calling. Nervously, he pressed the green “Accept” button, only to hear excited babbling from the other side.

“Daichi! It’s here, it’s here, come over to the ivy arches now, come faster.”

Daichi murmured a “I’m coming right now” and hung up immediately. He began running towards the ivy arches at the speed of light, at a pace he hadn’t matched since his days as volleyball captain in high school.

Just minutes later, he showed up where Suga was, panting. Suga reached out a hand to pat Daichi’s back as opened up his app. The loading bar started to fill and Daichi had a sudden thought: this would be the worst possible time for it to hang.

The bar loaded and the map appeared. Jirachi was floating just next to his trainer, leaving a trail of sunshine and light in its wake. Daichi crossed his fingers behind his back. “Please work,” he muttered, tossing Jirachi a Razz Berry before catching it in an Ultra Ball in one shot.

The Ultra Ball shook once, shook twice. Three times, then a burst of stars in the air behind it. Daichi felt his jaw drop.

“Oh my god.”

“Congratulations!”

Daichi glanced up from his phone to find Suga beaming at him, arms wide open for a hug. In his total shock he forgot to be embarrassed and returned it with no hesitation, allowing Suga to envelop him in an embrace. They pulled away, and Daichi looked down at his phone screen. Jirachi, event-only, 2121 CP.

“This can’t be real,” Daichi murmured. Now that a sighting of Jirachi had been announced, more and more people were starting to show up at their location. People were yelling with excitement as they managed to capture it, loudly announcing how much CP their catch had. Daichi was grinning so widely his cheeks began to hurt. Suga elbowed him lightly.

“I think I’m done hunting Pokémon for the day. Do you want to sit down somewhere to talk?”

Daichi nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Two hours and five cups of coffee between them later, Daichi had learned a lot about Sugawara Koushi. He worked as a teacher in the local high school and had played volleyball into university. His favorite Pokémon was Furret, and he liked spicy food and dark comedy movies. He was sarcastic and sharp with a great sense of humor. Most of all, he was also on Team Instinct, and he seemed to like Daichi back, which was a great start.

Daichi laughed at another one of Suga’s jokes, setting down his cup of coffee. Suga was leaning back in the soft lounge chair, drumming his fingers against the arm rest. He smiled, and Daichi found himself grinning back.

“Hey, you never did tell me what you were wishing for.”

Suga winked, and Daichi felt his heartbeat race once again.

“I think I already got it.”

Edited 2016-07-30 09:13 (UTC)

no tags, fire emblem awakening au, bokuaka
454 words

Light pours in from their window, filtering through the curtains and shining brightly on Bokuto’s face. Akaashi yawns, rubbing his eyes as he wakes into consciousness, watching the world come into focus bit by bit. He’s surrounded by warm sheets and a soft bed and lying next to the king of Ylisse; he’s lying next to Bokuto Koutarou and two weeks ago they saved the world. Akaashi presses his face into Bokuto’s shoulder and a smile tugs at his lips.

This moment is so perfect he wants to take it, set it in stone and lock it away tightly, but moments are meant to be savored and shared. Bokuto was the one who taught him that. “Good morning sunshine,” he whispers, tapping his husband on the shoulder. Bokuto awakens with a soft yelp and Akaashi laughs, wrapping his arms tightly around him and pressing a kiss on his bare skin. “The sun is up and your kingdom awaits you. We should probably get out of bed soon.” Bokuto mumbles something about five more minutes under his breath, burying his face into the pillow. Akaashi clicks his tongue.

“You can kill a dragon and drag me out of being possessed, but you can’t get up in the morning to serve your country.”

Bokuto groans in response. “Sounds about right,” he mutters, though his eyes flicker open and he turns around to face Akaashi. He pulls Akaashi closer to him, leaning in so their foreheads touch. “What about I get out of bed when you do?”

Akaashi pulls away, laughing. “You smell like morning breath.” He rolls towards the edge of his bed and steps out of the warm sheets, reaching out so Bokuto can take his hand. “Come along. It isn’t that difficult.” Bokuto sighs, ducking into the bedsheets.

“Another five minutes,” he pleads, and Akaashi rolls his eyes but lets it slide. The people don’t need both their kings this morning, anyway; the demands of peacetime are a lot less taxing than those of war. Akaashi walks down to the throne room only to find that their son from the future, Semi is awake. He is talking to his younger self, teaching him how to walk. Akaashi turns away, smiling to himself.

The events of the past year or so have been wild, even if he says so himself. He’s finding it difficult to adjust to this peace, almost—he almost wants to say he misses certain things about wartime. The camaraderie, the campouts, the late-night conversations with his army. Yet he wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

He gets to wake up next to Bokuto every morning knowing that he’ll be there the next, and he wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything else.

1312 words. Themes of Cannibalism, Blood, Body Horror, Sexual Content although most of these are internal monologue and implication rather than actual things that happen :U nobody gets eaten or has sex lol

Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutaro, side kuroken, Haikyuu!!

Tokyo Ghoul AU ~~(it's a miracle my sinful hands haven't written more of these at 3 am, scent marking is Relevant To My Interests)~~

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

Akaashi inhaled fresh air and held it for a long moment.

Hot pavement, the salt of sweat, rubber soles of sneakers, freshly cut grass, car exhaust from the parking lot, meat charring in the kitchens.

Today's training was finally over, but there were days to go before the camp was complete. He exhaled slowly, and wiped beads of sweat from his brow. He came outside the gym to clear his overloaded senses. Attending the training camp had been a miscalculation on his part. He thought himself naïve to risk so much over a childish game.

No, he was still in control. He could handle this. It was just volleyball, same as always.

Breathe in, hold it, count to twenty.

Akaashi was still too warm. His pulse thrummed just beneath his skin, fluttering at his wrists where he could feel it, pooling heat around his shoulder blades.

Exhale slowly, then inhale again.

He needed to get away before the meal started. He needed to get away from –

"Hey hey, Akaashi! Going for a walk? I'll come with you!"

A sweaty hand clamped firmly down on his shoulder. Akaashi shrugged aside Bokuto's casual touch, but not before his staggeringly powerful scent crashed over him. A rush of fierce heat coiled deep in his belly in response. He disguised his gasp with a polite cough, head swimming in musky overtones, oak and earth and a hint of something spicy on his palate – cinnamon? Clove? His body odor was poorly masked with commercial deodorant, the chemical scent of which mercifully acted as a bitter repellant on his tongue.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi snapped, a little more curt than he intended. "I came outside for peace and quiet. Perhaps you can bother Kuroo-san right now."

"But Aka-aa-ashi," Bokuto whined, dragging out the syllables in his name. "Kuroo's playing with Kenma and it's not time for dinner yet. I'm hungry."

Same, Akaashi's mind supplied darkly. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he quickly stuffed them into his pockets and began walking away. Bokuto trailed eagerly after him, undeterred by his seeming apathy.

Bokuto was warmth personified, he was a sunny smile and a booming voice and eyes of molten gold, a larger than life presence that filled the room and drew all eyes to him. Some eyes lingered longer than they were supposed to. Some eyes just couldn't stop staring from the shadows.

Eyes like Kuroo's, Kenma's, Tsukishima's, and his.

It was a mistake to come to training camp where there were other ghouls like him masquerading as normal high school boys. They were all suppressing the flash of their kakugan when they got too excited over a good spike, faking their enthusiasm over putrid meals they couldn't digest, making awkward eye contact with each other across the court because they all knew each other's deadly secret and had to pretend they didn't.

It would have been a mistake to not go to camp, though – with the way Bokuto attracted trouble like a magnet without ever realizing the danger he was in. How could one human unwittingly spend so much of his time around ghouls and remain unscathed?

Akaashi didn't leave it up to chance: he had leverage over the mated pair, at least. Kuroo wouldn't harm Bokuto so long as Akaashi stayed away from Kenma. Mutually assured destruction was a good title for the knife's edge trust he shared with Nekoma, though he didn't dislike them, personally. He hoped it never came to that.

(He was wary of Tsukishima, though. He had not yet pinpointed the Karasuno ghoul's weakness. And his persistent scent kept rankling Akaashi's ingrained desire to mark and possess, the ghoulish instinct to claim Bokuto as his territory before a rival could take him away.)

He shook his head, realizing he was spacing out in front of Bokuto. They were walking along the field, Bokuto chattering animatedly, waving his hands to exaggerate whatever story he'd launched into. It was very distracting to have him so close, to catch whiffs of cinnamon spice every time the wind shifted direction. The cheap deodorant was already waning, and Akaashi resisted his wild urge to inhale deeply, knowing full the effect Bokuto's scent had on his treacherous body.

He watched instead, although that too proved dangerous. Bokuto held a lot of power in his broad frame for one so painfully human. He was scant centimeters taller than Akaashi but significantly heavier, corded with muscle thickest in his shoulders, arms, thighs. Pheromones were going to be the death of him, Akaashi decided grimly. He'd never make it to the end of training camp.

Dark eyes lingered on the tantalizing sliver of bare skin between Bokuto's gym shorts and his over-long kneepads, and god, did he want to eat him or mate him?

Both, both, devour him whole, answered the frisson of heat down his spine. Bokuto turned to face him with that sunny smile, and Akaashi's last vestige of control snapped.

The ghoul lunged.

His pulse roared in his ears as he shoved Bokuto to the ground faster than his eyes could follow, fingers digging into the meat of Bokuto's biceps as he straddled his lap. The sclera of his eyes bled dark, irises flashing a predatory red. They caught the sun's dying light and shone with the preternatural glow of tapetum lucidum as Akaashi stared him down.

Bokuto's jaw gaped open in shock, spluttering on syllables he couldn't quite spit out in the right order.

"Ah – wha-?! Aka, you, I mean-! How are you stronger than me?!"

Akaashi huffed a mirthless laugh, because of course that's the detail Bokuto would latch onto, not that his underclassman was a monster in human shape pinning him to the ground. The fool had no sense of danger.

He tried to pull back, he really did, but the scent was irresistible, and his eager body refused to comply now that they were alone. Akaashi had officially lost control. His teeth nipped bruises, tongue darting out to taste the salt beading on bare skin, and Bokuto could no longer stifle a loud moan. The wing spiker's hands moved automatically to grasp at his back for support.

Akaashi gasped as his kakuhou finally burst under the touch and spilled blood red from above his shoulder blades. His ukaku crystallized into wings that blazed redder than the sunset.

They both stilled.

Akaashi's fingers twisted in Bokuto's shoulders. He was panting with the effort it took not to bite for real, with that jugular pulsing so close to his lips. The other ghouls would smell his kagune a mile away. Would they betray him now?

(Would they come to save Bokuto from him? Did that constitute betrayal, because Akaashi would fight for the right to keep him no matter who saw. Let them try.)

"You have wings, Akaashi…! You're like a beautiful angel," Bokuto blurted in a daze.

"Bokuto-san, you should be afraid of ghouls," Akaashi corrected breathlessly. Black and red eyes narrowed into a skeptical glare.

"But I really like you, Akaashi," Bokuto whined, squirming restlessly beneath his weight. "This means you like me too, right? You must like me a whole lot to show me this," he grinned, gesturing at the fiery wingspan casting them both in flickering red light.

"I do like you a lot," Akaashi murmured.

He buried his face in the crook of Bokuto's neck, rubbing his cheek against bare skin, drowning himself in the musk. He wanted to wear this scent, and he wanted Bokuto to wear his, and every ghoul would smell the way they mingled together and know who Bokuto belonged to. Akaashi inhaled as deeply as he could, and as he shuddered out an exhale, he realized he would sooner starve than eat Bokuto.

"Then I've got nothing to be scared of," Bokuto replied simply, nuzzling back, and how right he was after all.

Narumiya Mei &/ Tadano Itsuki, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

hogwarts au

canon typical supernatural things
506 words.

“I’ve enchanted some sort of Muggle contraption,” Tadano calls out and there are a series of white small balls floating in the air as he points his wand at them. “Are you ready to dive, Mei-san?”

“Yes,” Narumiya says in a way that suggests he was born ready. One of the few traits about Narumiya that Tadano likes. Well, that’s a lie, Tadano thinks, because there are a lot of things about Narumiya that he really likes.

“Alright,” Tadano says and Narumiya flies in lazy circles above the practice field on which he’s standing. “I’ll count—“

“Don’t bother,” Narumiya replies, “just send them out and see how fast I can catch them all.”

See? There are a lot of things about Narumiya that he really likes.

Without warning, he flicks his wand up. All five small balls spread out in different directions, whizzing with a swish of his wand, changing in both speed and direction as they sore through the fields.

Narumiya’s already caught two, having dove at a dangerously steep angle that Tadano’s only seen him pull off. The two balls are clasped in his right hand while his left head steadies himself on the broom, staring intensely at the space right in front of him.

It’s frustrating when Tadano himself cannot keep track of all the balls, focusing on the one that he’s been eying this entire time. He makes sure to keep it out of Narumiya’s way—he doesn’t want the other to catch that one first.

Narumiya accelerates with such speed that leaves Tadano breathless; his grip changes to accommodate the size of three balls, then four.

“Great job, Mei-san!” Tadano calls out.

Narumiya looks at him and mimes gagging. Right, he said no distractions. But he can’t help it.

It takes a little over half a minute for Narumiya to catch the final ball. Tadano focused particularly hard on that one and made it curve all sorts of directions; it took Narumiya several tries to finally corner and snag the ball. Slowly, with all five motionless, magicless Muggle orbs clutched in his right hand, Narumiya descents as gracefully as ever.

“Wow,” Tadano says, “good job, Mei-san!”

Narumiya snorts.

“You’re going to get the snitch for sure in our upcoming game against Hufflepuff,” Tadano takes the balls back and stuffs them in the pockets of his robe; they press awkwardly against his side. “And then we’ll win.”

“You’re not Harada,” Narumiya scowls, “but I guess you’ll do. Just don’t make me have to pay attention to where the quaffle is.”

“Don’t worry Mei-san,” Tadano puffs with confidence, “I’ve got this. Haven’t we practiced enough? I don’t think anyone throws a quaffle with such speed and accuracy that you do, and I’ve blocked more than enough of them.”

Narumiya stares at him pensively, as if considering something, and then shrugs. “I guess so. Let’s go to the mess hall—I’m starving.”

“Don’t forget to take a bath first,” Tadano calls out, hurrying to fall in step with Narumiya as he walks away.

Aone Takanobu &/ Hinata Shouyou, Haikyuu!!
tags: body horror maybe?? werewolf transformation, brief nudity
wordcount: 850
werewolf au

Takanobu is… concerned. It’s a full moon tonight, and the sun has nearly set, which means he has a few hours maximum before his transformation starts. Normally, this isn't a problem—he has it well under control, with a clearing in the woods near his house that he takes shelter in, and a collar and chain bolted to a tree for months when he thinks he might get too rowdy while he’s transformed and his self-control is lower than usual.

He’s sitting in the clearing right now, in fact, watching the sky fade from golden pinks to deeper purples, watching carefully for the first sign of stars. The problem is that Hinata is sitting next to him, smiling up at the sky and knocking his feet together while the two of them wait. Takanobu would never have invited him to come, too unsure about what might happen, what he might do, if another person was around when he transformed, but when he had confided in Hinata about his affliction, Hinata had been downright excited.

“Seriously!?” He had been staring up at Takanobu, starry-eyed, as if Takanobu had told him that he was secretly a rock star rather than an abomination. “That’s so cool! Can I see?” Takanobu had frowned at him and shrugged, uncertain.

“If you really want to, I guess….”

Which is how he finds himself here, standing up to prepare himself as he feels the pull of the moon starting to affect him.

“I have to, um… take my clothes off….” Hinata just nods excitedly, apparently not perturbed by that in the slightest. Tugging his shirt off over his head, Takanobu begins to strip, blushing profusely since it doesn't seem to occur to Hinata to look away. Once all of his clothes are folded in a neat pile next to Hinata, Takanobu picks up the collar, fumbling a little as he secures it around his neck.

“You might want to stand a bit back,” he tells Hinata, shifting restlessly as the stars begin to shine, the moon undoubtedly beginning to creep over the horizon. Hinata nods, stepping a few feet out of range of the end of the chain, but looks curiously at Takanobu.

“Do you get really violent or something? Why do you need the collar?” Takanobu shrugs.

“Not usually. I’ve never done it when someone is around, though, so… better safe than sorry.” He looks down at his feet, ashamed that he even has to say something like that, but he means it. Transformations can be unpredictable, and the idea of hurting Hinata makes him feel nauseous with guilt. They wait in silence for a while, and as the moon rises, Takanobu can feel the pull, stronger and stronger, until finally a wave of heat washes over him and he feels his fingernails start to pull, growing and thickening. He whimpers.

“It’s starting.”

The transformation itself is always something of a blur. There’s itching as the fur breaks through his skin, and pain as his body warps itself, bones shifting and growing, teeth forcing themselves longer and wider in his gums, but all of the sensation makes it impossible to focus on anything else until it’s over. When the pain finally recedes, he’s on all fours, his furred, clawed hands digging into the dirt beneath him. He stays like that for a moment, working himself up to looking at Hinata, although even having the presence of mind for that makes him feel better, reassuring him that he’ll be able to behave himself with Hinata here.

Eventually, he lifts his head, eyes finding Hinata. He’s sitting again, legs folded under him, and looking at Takanobu like he might cry. Alarmed, Takanobu pushes himself up, taking a cautious, hunched step towards Hinata. He lets out a sound, a warbled sort of growl, since he can’t speak properly with his jaw and tongue elongated as they are.

“That was… Aone, that was so awful,” Hinata says, voice soft. Takanobu pulls back, a wave of hot shame rolling through his chest. Stepping back and settling himself into the most comfortable crouch he can manage with his legs at the strange angle the transformation forces them into, he lets out another growl, even softer this time, tries to make it apologetic. Getting up on his hands and knees, Hinata crawls towards him, and when Takanobu flinches back he just lunges, flinging his arms around Takanobu’s neck.

“I’m really sorry you have to go through that alone,” Hinata says, voice muffled in the tufts of silvery-white fur that flare around Takanobu’s neck. “I’ll come with you from now on, okay? You’re a really pretty werewolf, by the way.”

Takanobu whines softly, wants to protest, tell Hinata that he doesn't have to come, that he’s okay dealing with it alone. He can't, though, so he settles for wrapping one arm around Hinata, mindful of his claws. He can feel Hinata smile into his shoulder, and then laugh as Takanobu’s tail thumps against the ground when he reaches up to scratch behind his ears. Maybe it would be nice to have company, after all.

Kominato Haruichi/Maezono Kenta, Daiya no ace
tags: violence, blood, body horror
wordcount: 1153
supernatural/horror au

The creature that’s cornering Kenta is—weird. Horrifying, really, supplies the part of his brain that isn't frozen like a deer in the headlights. It has black eyes, even where they should be white, in a bleached-pale face with wickedly long fangs that curve down its chin. It’s tall—too tall, towering over Kenta, although he’s larger than most people himself, and spindly, strange, with limbs and fingers that are too long and too thin. Its grip on his arms is inhumanly strong, though, its claws piercing his flesh and sending blood trickling down to pool at the bend of his elbows with an ease that makes him feel sick to his stomach.

He’s going to die. He knows it.

The thing is leaning in, its breath hot on his face, making him shudder and the hairs rise on the back of his neck. It’s going to be sort of embarrassing, the functional part of his brain tells him, to die in front of the vending machine. He wonders if the thing will leave his body or not.

His eyes squeeze shut when he sees it open its mouth, bracing himself against the sight of its jaw stretching far wider than it should, wide enough that he can feel its fangs brushing either side of his neck. He has to fight down the scream that burns in his throat—as much as he wants to, as much as terror and bile are building at the back of his tongue, begging him to do something, he clenches his fists, swallowing it all down. The last thing he wants is for anyone to come running—he can’t draw attention to himself, can't put anyone else in danger, even if it means letting this thing rip his throat out.

The teeth start to close, pressure against the sides of his neck and a disgusting, hot wetness under his chin, and a faint whine rips itself out of his chest involuntarily, close to a sob as he digs his nails into his palms so hard that he can feel the warm slickness of blood dripping through his fingers. Suddenly there’s cool night air where the thing’s mouth had been, though, and the claws rip out of his arms, the heat and pressure and the heaviness of his own death gone between one heartbeat and the next—he opens his eyes, and the sight in front of him makes his stomach drop.

Haruichi is on top of the thing, fighting it. No.

His head is screaming, paralyzed, caught between the pure terror of the creature and the desperate need to do something, help Haruichi, get him away before the thing can hurt him, kill him. Forcing himself to act, he takes a step forward, but freezes again instantly as Haruichi whips around to face him. The pink fringe that usually covers his face has been thrown into disarray by the struggle, and the eyes that glare back at Kenta are pure black above a mouth that snarls at him, as full of fangs as that belonging to the creature. The useful corner of his brain idly counts the number of beats that his heart misses—one, two, three—before the creature under Haruichi manages to wrench itself around, reversing their positions so that it’s on top, completely obscuring Haruichi’s form.

He has no idea how long he stands there, petrified and staring blankly as they struggle, growling and clawing and snapping at each other as they fight for control. With another heaving wrench, Haruichi ends up on top again, fights a hand free and rips his long claws across the creature’s face, instantly drawing too-dark blood from the deep gashes he leaves. The thing screams, and Haruichi lunges again, jaw forced open as he goes for its throat—it twists away at the last second, though, and Kenta can see Haruichi’s awful teeth sinking into its shoulder instead, hears an audible tearing of flesh before the thing is shrieking with pain again and thrashes hard enough to send Haruichi flying, smashing against the wall on the other side of the vending machine. For a second Kenta thinks it might come for them, dive for Haruichi to get revenge for the pain it’s clearly in, but instead it lurches into the shadows, gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving the hallway silent except for Haruichi’s labored breaths.

It’s quiet for what feels like a very long time, neither of them moving. Part of Kenta wants to—tells him to go and check on Haruichi, make sure he’s okay, that the thing hadn't hurt him or worse. Most of him is too desperately afraid, though, of turning and seeing terrible black eyes and glistening fangs again, and so he remains rooted to the ground, staring into the darkness where the creature had disappeared, frozen in the comfort and horror of the in-between moment before he has to find out.

Haruichi moves first, in the end, dragging himself up with a scraping of his t-shirt against the concrete behind him. He stumbles over to Kenta, clutching his side, and it takes Kenta a second longer than it should to look down at him, his reactions slow with shock and lingering fear.

“Are you alright, Kenta-san?” Haruichi asks, and his voice is soft, hesitant. When Kenta finally drags his gaze down to Haruichi’s face, his bangs are covering his eyes again, and it spikes a wave of paranoid nausea through Kenta’s stomach, but—his teeth are human where they’re visible between his parted lips, and his fingernails where he’s clutching his ribs are just that, fingernails, no horrible, rending claws in sight.

Swallowing heavily, Kenta does his best to pull his attention back to the present, remembering that Haruichi had asked him a question.

“I—,” he starts, but there’s hardly any sound to it, a hoarse whisper with no voice in it. He clears his throat, swallows, flexes his fingers in an effort to ground himself, reattach himself to his body. “I’m okay. You’re…?”

“I’m fine,” Haruichi says, although the way he’s holding his side tells a different story. There’s another pause, and then, slowly, Haruichi lifts his free hand, palm-up, offering it to Kenta.

“Let’s go back to the room, Kenta-san,” he says, gentle, an offer rather than a command. Kenta looks at his hand—soft, human—and just as slowly, places his own in it. The feeling of Haruichi’s skin against his own is still foreign somehow, like the sight and sensation of his hand in Haruichi’s aren't quite connected even though he knows they’re both happening at once. He’s shaken down to his core, but the thought of not being able to trust Haruichi, whatever he might be, is still somehow too awful to bear, so he doesn't let himself think it at all. Haruichi smiles a little, wan but sincere, and curls his fingers around Kenta’s.

Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, Daiya no A
no tags, catboy
words: 523

“Miyuki-senpai,” the voice comes quietly from the door just as Kazuya tosses the ball back to Sawamura who immediately turns on the other pitcher and starts glaring.

“He’s catching for me right now Furuya, you have to wait!” Sawamura shouts and Kazuya sees Furuya’s tail twitch back and forth in irritation, his eyes ignoring Sawamura and locking onto Kazuya’s.

It’s been almost a month since the phenomena started, Furuya coming out of his room in a panic, wide eyed, mysteriously acquired tail thrashing with distress and a new set of ears on top of his head twitching. He’d been taken to the doctor almost immediately while everyone speculated what could have happened.

“A curse,” Maezono had kept insisting, shaking his head.

“Maybe it was something he ate,” Sawamura had said, followed swiftly by a kick from Kuramochi, yelling at him that eating something doesn’t make you turn partly cat.

The doctor hadn’t given any explanation, only that he seemed to be in perfect health and they would just have to wait and see if it went away as mysteriously as it came on.

“Five more Sawamura,” Kazuya shouts, much to Sawamura’s dismay.

As rational as Kazuya is he couldn’t help but wonder if Maezono was right at first. Now though he wonders if it was secretly a blessing…

He dismisses the southpaw pitcher, shooing him off to do his homework while he follows Furuya, tail swaying slowly, to Kazuya’s dorm room. Kazuya unlocks the door for them; his roommate out practicing so there’s no awkwardness when Kazuya makes himself comfortable on the bed, propping up his pillows and leaning against the wall while Furuya waits by the door, blinking slowly at him. He pats his thigh and Furuya takes the invitation, crawling onto his lap, resting his head against Kazuya’s shoulder.

It’s a little difficult, Furuya is larger than Kazuya but they make it work; long past the awkwardness as they tried to figure out how to meet Furuya’s newly acquired cat-needs as a battery. His baseball playing is better than ever, his fielding reflexes sharper as he chases after the ball but a few nights after his sudden transformation he knocked on Kazuya’s door, red-faced and nervous as he tried to explain his need.

“Pet me, Miyuki-senpai. Please,” he’d said to Kazuya’s surprise. “I need to be petted.”

Kazuya’s hand combs through Furuya’s hair to the spot by his ear that makes him purr, his heart skipping a beat when Furuya’s hand on his shoulder tightens, the thankfully human nails kneading his shoulder in slow motions.

“Is this good?” He asks quietly, finding Furuya’s chin with his other hand and rubbing under it.

“Yes, thank you senpai,” Furuya purrs, rubbing back against Kazuya’s hand.

“It’s my pleasure,” Kazuya says quietly, pulling Furuya closer as he starts to get the need to mark out of his system, rubbing his cheek against Kazuya’s blushing cheek.

He wonders if he could convince Furuya to keep doing this even after he returns to normal. From the fact that he’s sure he’s the only one who Furuya trusts enough to do this with he’s sure he can.

Natsuo Ishido &/ Ninomiya Kei, Teppu
mild body horror; Word Count: 526

Natsuo was twelve when she decided to cut out her heart. It hurt, of course, the slide of the knife and the crack of her ribs and pulling it from her chest. It wasn't easy, and the bathroom was a mess, after, that she had to clean by herself. But it was worth it, she thought, for how much lighter she felt. For how much simpler the world seemed without a heart to complicate things. For how the pain her brother had caused her seemed to fade; not gone, but no longer important.

She wrapped her heart in a plastic bag and put it in a shoebox under her bed. Even at twelve, she knew better than to throw it away. Someone might find it and gain power over her. It might be destroyed and kill her. She might, possibly, one day (though she doubted it), want it back.

People could sense Natsuo's heartlessness; not that she ever tried to hide it. She made it clear when she beat down Sanae that she was different now. She wouldn't be tied down by old friendships, or make the mistake of making new ones. She was strong, and talented, and all she needed was a challenge; something to make life interesting. Loving people had been a mistake, one she wouldn't make again.

Living without a heart served her well, she thought. Yes, life was a little more boring, but it wasn't her fault she never had to work hard. It wasn't like she didn't have reason to act as arrogantly as she did (and was it even arrogance? Or was it simply her being unwilling to deny the truth, and the inability of others to accept it?).

And then she joined the volleyball club, and met Kei. Kei wasn't talented, and she worked hard even though she would never be as good as Natsuo, and she was almost disgustingly optimistic. And yet...Natsuo found herself spending time with her anyway. Maybe it was because Kei didn't care that she was heartless.

“I think it's ok because you don't try and pretend you aren't,” she had said. “It's just how you are. That sort of honesty is very refreshing.”

“I'm always honest,” Natsuo had replied. Kei laughed.

“I know. Sometimes I wish you weren't, but then you wouldn't be you.”

Natsuo had offered to give Kei proof that she truly didn't have a heart. She took Kei's hand and placed it over her chest.

“See?”

“Wow,” Kei said, pressing harder against Natsuo's chest, as if she might be able to feel a heartbeat if she only pushed hard enough. “What's it like?” Natsuo shrugged.

“It's fine.”

Later, Natsuo wasn't sure why she had wanted Kei to know that she was being literal when she said she didn't have a heart. But Kei didn't treat her any differently, after; she still told Natsuo off for being too harsh and still ate lunch with her and invited her out on weekends. It was...comfortable.

Natsuo wondered if Kei would ever ask to see her heart. It would be all right, she thought, to show it to Kei.

Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Haikyuu!!
tags: possibly body horror, blood mention, hanahaki disease
47 lines

i.
tobio played the game once when he was younger
pluck a petal, one by one: loves me, loves me not
his mother saw
is this from you? she asked him, fierce
no, from the garden
fear made him drop the flower, half-shorn
petals transluscently bruised
you are quite young, she conceded
but told him anyway
of their family
big lungs to hold many things
and small hearts with room for just one perfect person
and in between blood rich like soil
fertile, where flower seeds wait to grow
don't let your heart choose 'til you're sure
our family doesn't have a cure

ii.
red hair like fire
jumps like air
kageyamas always had big lungs

iii.
he waits as long as his heart will let him
to the top of the world? he asks
of course hinata says, and he feels
safe and strong and wanted
and he feels
a tickle in his throat

iv.
and during practice in the spring
he sends a perfect toss to his perfect person
and then begins to cough
he doubles over, jogs to the bench
and hacks and wretches and waves away a body at his side
and finally something spits from his lips
a ruined flower, half-shorn
petals sticky with blood, transluscently bruised
toss go down the wrong tube? tsukishima says and
yachi hands him a tissue and catches his eye
he can tell from the horror he sees on her face
that she saw
and she knows
and that this will be the first of many

v.
he pleads with his face for her to stay quiet
tobio is proud
and embarrassed by mistakes

vi.
alright, kageyama? suga asks
yeah, tobio lies
and from the side of the court
one more, hinata says, one more.

Edited 2016-07-30 21:04 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

Page 10 of 24

FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, G

FILL: Team Aldini Takumi/Yukihira Souma,M

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

FILL: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

Fill: Team Grandstand, T (1/2)

FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, T

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, G

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

FILL: Team MIYUKI KAZUYA/SAWAMURA EIJUN, T

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, T

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, E

FILL: Team Kominato Ryousuke/Kuramochi Youichi, G

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, M

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

FILL: Team Grandstand, PG

FILL: Team Chihayafuru, T