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

Toplessness?

Also fat merbutt is fat.

Imaizumi Shunsuke / Naruko Shoukichi, Yowapeda
tags: cisswap, murder, ghosts; physical assault, choking
652 words

I used to read a lot of Alice Hoffman........

(For those worried about the physical assault tag: witch Imaizumi gets attacked, but kills her attacker. This is basically the shitty guy from Practical Magic, except Not Sisters.)

--

They didn't mean to kill that man.

It had been dark out, fireflies blinking sluggish and slow over the peppery scent of rosemary and lavender that grew heedless along the trail, and the wayward path that took so many twists and turns through the little dark green wood had been lit by nothing but the pale yellow glow of the harvest moon hidden deep behind the clouds.

(Strangers who passed through this town didn't know you were not to meddle with the hedge witches.)

(Strangers who passed through this town certainly didn't know how anger could flare so bright and so dangerous, if drunken hands were to attack the tall, dark haired girl who lived at the other end of the little dark green wood.)

“It was self-defense,” Imaizumi huffs, but she looks sick and drawn in the waning moonlight, and sweat sticks to her hairline even in the cold, mint-scented air. The man’s body is partially hidden in a wild, unchecked sprawl of peppermint, but it doesn't quite mask the iron scent of blood. And it certainly does nothing for the large roses and thorns that had sprouted stinging and green to spear through the man’s heaving lungs as he wrapped hands around Imaizumi’s neck, and Imaizumi had panicked as she could not draw breath with her back pressed hard against the cold wet dirt; and then the man could not breathe, either.

“We need to call the cops,” Naruko says, but she looks between the root trimming knife in Imaizumi’s trembling hand and the shivers that are shaking her thin shoulders even as she sets her mouth in a determined line, and Naruko feels suddenly too fierce in this moment; she knows what they'll say. She knows what they've always said, the hundreds of years they have tried to live here in peace, but the stories will not forget them. So instead, “Or I can help you.”

They bury the dead man at the back of the garden, and they plant agrimony under the freshly turned earth to keep the malcontent at bay, and sow nettle and cumin seeds into the grass that covers it to ward against the evil that lives in the heart of men.

--

“There's a dead man standing in our garden,” Imaizumi says the next morning as Naruko hands her a steaming mug of rosehip tea to calm her nerves. Naruko grins as she licks her hand and tries to smooth down Imaizumi’s bedhead, as she has always done for an untold number of years, each and every morning they wake up together, because who has time for the ugliness of men when Imaizumi is standing here in the new morning sun, beautiful even with a restless sleep making her messy.

“Men are such bullshit, they can never just take ‘no’ for an answer, huh,” Naruko replies, and she stands up on her tiptoes to kiss Imaizumi gently at the corner of her downturned mouth before going to drag the large specialty bag of salt out from the back of the pantry.

“My wife just wanted a little bit of peace and quiet,” Naruko says as she salts the earth where the dead man’s body is buried.

“It would have been nice if we could have had a little nettle patch here,” Imaizumi frowns as she rakes the bare patch of now infertile earth into a rock garden.

No one ever comes looking for the dead man, Imaizumi makes sure of that with the care for details that have let them survive for so long, and after a month of heavy autumn rain, nettles do grow around the rocks seated in the salted earth anyway, and lavender crawls around its edges, pure and new, and Naruko dries them both to make into Imaizumi’s morning tea, and the stories of witches who eat the hearts of unkind men continues to live on in the whispers of children.

Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, Daiya no A
no major tags, shapeshifting, mild sexual content
words: 827
Also posted on AO3

Kazuya wonders if he’ll recognize Furuya in his wolf form as he leans on the railing of the dorms second floor, straining his eyes to see the edge of the forest for any signs of the wolves coming back from their pack building exercise. It’s cold out and he’s been waiting a while, shivering in his coat but he wants the chance to see; transformations at the school are strictly controlled, for training purposes, and Kazuya hasn’t seen Furuya transform yet.

He’s considering going back inside and going back to sleep where he’ll be warm and comfortable but sound draws his attention as the pack leader steps out of the forest and into the clearing, his massive form enough to make Kazuya’s blood run cold even though he’s seen the sight before and knows there’s no danger.

The others follow as they pad after their leader toward the “locker room” which is really just a large shed they use to transform and change back into their clothes when they return. He finds Furuya nearer to the top of the pack than he thought he’d be and his chest swells with pride and relief that he’s fitting in after such a rough start to integrating into the pack. It’s unmistakably Furuya, he moves with long strides and his fur is snowy white, standing out among the dark grey of the other wolves and Kazuya swears he sees piercing blue eyes find him in the dark. All those things plus the more rambunctious wolf nipping at his heels when they break rank tells him it’s Furuya.

Kazuya could go back to bed now or he could go sneakily greet his lover like he wants. He doesn’t hesitate, his body responding to his will and changing with practiced ease, shrinking into his clothes and climbing out of them. He leaps from the space between the railing and stalks silently toward the shed where he can hear Kataoka give them feedback on their excursion before bedtime; he can see the wolves sitting in rows as Kataoka talks, already dressed quickly by the time Kazuya got there.

He waits until Kataoka ends his speech and exits, leaving the boys to transform and dress themselves. Kazuya slips in before they start, heads turning in his direction as they smell him and then turning away when they realize who it is; all except one pair of blue eyes that focus on him. He pads toward Furuya lazily, like it wasn’t his intention to greet him until he rubs against his fur, breathing in the smells of the forest and marking him as his own. He can hear the others transform and dress but Furuya just lowers his head, nuzzling Kazuya’s fur in return, his breath hot and a little dangerous feeling in the cat part of Kazuya’s brain.

“Damn it Miyuki let him change,” a voice says, nudging Kazuya with his foot a little too forcefully.

Kazuya hisses, swiping at the leg with his claws safely retracted but Kuramochi jumps backwards to avoid him anyway.

“You little shit,” Kuramochi says as Kazuya purrs back at him. He glares until Furuya growls softly, making the hair on Kazuya’s back stand on end. “Fine, whatever,” Kuramochi says. “If you get in trouble for breaking curfew it’s your own damn fault.”

Kazuya goes back to rubbing against Furuya a little more, enjoying the feeling, before stalking away to lie down on his clothes. He watches as Furuya snorts at him before his body begins to change until he’s standing over Kazuya, naked and human, leaning down to rub Kazuya’s stomach.

“So soft,” he says quietly and Kazuya smacks his hand away, rolling off the clothes and watching Furuya get dressed into his pajamas.

He follows Furuya back to the dorms, rubbing against his legs and mewing softly. When they get to the upper floor Furuya scoops up Kazuya’s clothes and carries them back to his room, letting Kazuya in first. He jumps on the bed and waits.

“Are you really staying like that?” Furuya asks, and Kazuya meows in response, kneading the blankets with sharp claws, popping some of the threads until Furuya approaches the bed and turns down the covers.

Kazuya moves out of the way until Furuya is settled in and holding the blankets open for him, allowing him to crawl under and curl up against him. Furuya strokes his fur and rubs all the spots that make him purr, completely content. They’ve slept like this before when Kazuya is especially cold; it’s warm and comfortable and there’s really only one thing better than it…

Kazuya allows his body to shift fluidly, his limbs changing and growing until he’s human again, pressing his naked body against Furuya’s clothed one. The hand on him snakes around him, pulling him tighter and he can feel Furuya’s breath against the back of his head.

“That’s better,” he says, his hand splaying out across Kazuya’s stomach and Kazuya purrs.

Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, Daiya no ace
tags: blood-drinking, mild sexual content
wordcount: 1216
vampire au

Having a vampire for a battery partner is an interesting experience. It involves a lot more puppy dog eyes than Kazuya would have expected, for one thing.

“Miyuki-senpai, I’m hungry….” Furuya is hovering at the edge of Kazuya’s bed, one hand on his stomach, staring at Kazuya with a forlorn expression on his face. Cocking an eyebrow at him, Kazuya puts his textbook down and sits up.

“Didn't I just feed you yesterday?” He holds his wrist up to demonstrate, the small puncture marks and faint bruising still visible where Furuya had sunken his teeth in yesterday afternoon before practice. Not quite meeting his eyes, Furuya shrugs.

“I’m sorry, Miyuki-senpai…. Practice was long today, and I got hungry sooner than I thought.” He’s not wrong about practice, but Kazuya can’t quite shake the skepticism he feels. Furuya has been asking for feedings a lot more often lately, and it’s not that Miyuki minds, exactly, because he never takes much, not even enough to make him light-headed, but he can’t help suspecting that Furuya has some ulterior motive here.

Deciding to put his theory to the test, Kazuya strips off his shirt. Furuya’s eyes widen, and he stares at Kazuya, confused and uncertain. A faint flush forms high on his cheekbones, which Kazuya catalogues as evidence, but not proof.

“Miyuki-senpai…? What are you doing?” Kazuya shrugs, patting the bed beside him to encourage Furuya to sit down.

“My wrists are both still sore from your other feedings, so you’re going to have to make do with my neck, and I don't want blood on my shirt. You don't mind, right?” Furuya’s mouth opens and closes once, and then he bites his lip, shaking his head. Crawling onto the bed next to Kazuya, he hesitates again.

“Um… How should we…?”

“Ah, good question…. I have an idea,” he says, trying not to let his smile twist too far into a smirk. He can’t tip Furuya off, after all. “Sit down, okay?” Furuya obeys, seating himself on the bed with his legs folded criss-cross in front of him, hands in his lap. Kazuya picks his hands up by the wrists, drops himself down into Furuya’s lap, and then places them back on his own thighs as if there’s nothing unusual about it at all. Behind him, Furuya makes an odd, strained noise high in his throat.

“You okay back there?” Kazuya asks, half-turning to face him. Furuya’s cheeks are practically crimson now, and his eyes are wider than ever. Kazuya fights down a laugh.

“…F-fine, Miyuki-senpai,” he manages after a minute, and Kazuya pats his hand encouragingly.

“Good. You can reach my neck this way, right?” Slowly, Furuya bends down, pressing closer to Kazuya and leaning forward across his shoulder to brush his lips against Kazuya’s pulse where it flutters under his jaw. It raises the hairs on Kazuya’s arms, and he starts to think maybe he miscalculated this just a little.

“Yes, Miyuki-senpai,” he says quietly, breath whispering along Kazuya’s jaw. He fights down a shiver.

“Go ahead, then.”

He can feel it against his back when Furuya takes a deep breath, and then his fangs are sinking into Kazuya’s neck. It’s a familiar pain, the piercing of his flesh, but somehow, even with all the care Furuya takes to keep his marks punctures small and manageable, the fact that Furuya’s mouth is on his neck seems to amplify the sensation. He shudders, squirming a little, and Furuya makes a distressed sound against his neck, pulling away.

“Mi-Miyuki-senpai, please, stay still. I—I don't want to hurt you,” he says, and there’s a note of raw pleading in it that he rushes to cover up.

“Sorry,” Kazuya says, a little breathless. He takes a breath to steady himself, feeling the blood welling from the small wounds dripping warmly down his neck. Furuya laps it up, the flick of his tongue uncertain against Kazuya’s skin, but Kazuya doesn't say anything, just settles himself a little more comfortably in Furuya’s lap.

Following the trail of blood back up Kazuya’s neck, Furuya sucks gently at the puncture marks. Kazuya really underestimated the effect Furuya has on him, because he has to suppress a shudder at the sensation of it. It’s even more gentle than usual, interspersed with frequent brushes of Furuya’s tongue, and Kazuya wonders if he’s trying not to leave a mark. It’s kind of sweet, really, but it still makes Kazuya’s ears burn, heat starting to build in the pit of his stomach as Furuya’s lips work against his skin.

After a few minutes, Furuya seems to find his rhythm. It’s always kind of funny when it happens—Kazuya can picture it, the way his eyes drift almost completely shut, long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks as he suckles at Kazuya’s wrist, feeding contentedly. Behind Kazuya, Furuya lets out a soft humming sound, and his hand drifts up to settle hotly on Kazuya’s stomach—both signs that he’s mentally checked out, feeding on instinct. He’s a surprisingly noisy eater, and this close to Kazuya’s ear, he can hear everything, from the soft, wet sounds of Furuya’s lips and tongue to the hums and groans that escape his throat when he’s not paying attention. Kazuya deliberately grinds his ass back against Furuya’s lap, more to get his attention than anything.

It works. Furuya startles, gasping as he breaks away, and his hands fly to Kazuya’s hips.

“Ahh, Miyuki-senpai—” he cuts himself off, but not before Kazuya can hear Furuya’s arousal in his voice—not that he can't feel it pressed against his ass, anyway. He snickers, and hopes the sound only comes out a little strangled.

“Furuya, I have a question.” Furuya’s hands tense on his hips before he seems to realize where they are, snatching them back like Miyuki had burned him.

“…Y-yes, senpai?”

“Do you like me?”

“…You’re a very good senpai, and a good battery partner—,” he starts, but Kazuya clucks his tongue, cutting him off.

“I think we both know what’s going on here, Furuya, no need to play dumb.” Furuya draws back from him, as if admitting this will mean he’s not allowed to touch Kazuya anymore.

“…Yes, Miyuki-senpai. I like you. I’m sorry—”

“Good,” Kazuya says, cutting him off again. “In that case, you don't have to be so gentle, you know.” There’s a long pause, and Kazuya can practically feel Furuya staring at him.

“I… I’m sorry, Miyuki-senpai, I don't think I understand.”

“No, you do. The feeling is mutual, Furuya. Why else would I let you suck my blood every day if you ask? It’s not like there’s no one else who would help you, you know.” There’s a long pause as Furuya digests that.

“Ah…. I suppose I hadn't thought of that. I’m sorry for not telling you, senpai.” Kazuya smiles, though Furuya can't see it from this angle.

“Don't worry about it. Now hurry up and finish your meal.” He feels more than sees Furuya nod, and when the pitcher ducks his head again, wrapping his arms around Kazuya’s waist, he just presses his lips to Kazuya’s neck for a second, as if he’s savoring it. Kazuya’s stomach flutters a little. He wonders if it's going to be even more interesting having a vampire as a boyfriend.

Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

pjo au

canon typical violence/descriptions of gore
571 words.

“Ah, what’s this?” Sawamura leans in and Miyuki would flinch if he weren’t immobilized by hurting all over. “Is the great Miyuki Kazuya all tuckered out from the War?”

Miyuki looks at him. He is the son of Hades. He just raised an army of the greatest Greek and Roman warriors to fight against literally the Creator. He survived a 3000-foot fall until his dad plucked him out of the sky and threw him to Cerberus in a heart-halting “am I a chew toy of a son” moment. He met his mother through spirit form as she materialized next to Hades.

So to say that he was “all tuckered out from the War” would have been an understatement.

“Sawamura,” Miyuki groans and Sawamura nears even closer—Miyuki tries not to flinch as he picks up his scent, which smells like a combination of clean linen, hospital antiseptic, and fresh dew. His eyelids feel heavy. “Are you going to heal me or not?”

Sawamura huffs. It probably didn’t help that Miyuki had been casually antagonistic—it was hard to show Sawamura that calling him an idiot wasn’t an insult when you had saving the world on the back of your mind. That and he didn’t practice spar with the other—ignoring that a sword versus a bow was never a fair fight—and chose to spar with the son of Poseidon instead, Furuya. Sword versus sword, water versus earth, Child of Big Three versus Child of Big Three. It’s fairer that way.

“Whatever, Miyuki Kazuya,” Sawamura looks at him out of the corner of his eye, as if it would hurt to see him face to face. Rough, Miyuki thinks, because his injuries are going to take a while to heal. “Mind stepping out of those clothes?”

Miyuki looks down. He’s wearing what he picked out of his closet: a lime-green tshirt that had two thick stripes of orange running horizontally through the center, sandy brown khaki shorts, and grey socks with his favorite black and white tennis shoes. It wasn’t exactly “I’m going into war” material, but Miyuki didn’t exactly have the luxury of being a fashionista when Camp Halfblood was in the process of being obliterated.

“So eager to see me undress?” Miyuki laughs as he toyed with the hem of his shirt.

Sawamura splutters, face bright red as he takes a step back. Miyuki howls with laughter.

“Go take a shower,” Sawamura points to another hallway; at the end, there’s a characteristic male bathroom symbol with a sign that states “shower” underneath. “I’ll bring you a towel and some clothes to change into.”

Miyuki nods, then walks off and lifts a hand in a lazy wave.

**

“Ooo,” Sawamura hisses as he lifts up Miyuki’s new shirt, courtesy of the infirmary. Miyuki’s entire torso has three “previously deep now a little less deep” cuts running across abs and his belly button—Miyuki fondly remembers the sick twist of desperation involved in the action of pressing his stomach to avoid anything being spilled out. Ah well, the spoils of war.

“I’ll save you,” Sawamura puffs his chest out and Miyuki snorts.

**

Kuramochi enters the infirmary later citing that his cheek is healing wrong.

He takes one look at Miyuki—swathed in rolls and rolls of bandages from head to toe, only skin uncovered being his eyes, nose, and lips—and bursts out laughing before it devolves into pained yelps.

Edited 2016-07-31 04:09 (UTC)

No tags
Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka (again) Free!

"Like a pink scale!"

Some context: the short drama for cop Rin and merHaru has a moment where Rin beings Haru to see a cherry blossom tree in bloom. A petal lands on Haru's cheek, Rin laughs a bit and plucks it off. (I can't believe it was a real thing still it's so cute.)

Edited 2016-07-31 04:37 (UTC)

Mizuki Hajime & Teshima Junta (Prince of Tennis & Yowamushi Pedal)
Tags: body horror, transformation (off-screen), inui juice (and all that comes with it)
Word Count: 744

A hand wraps around Teshima’s bicep, stopping his forward momentum with a bit of a jerk. Teshima nearly falls, because in all honesty he hadn’t been paying much attention; just walking a well worn path into his dismal, slightly reeking destination.

A lot like his life.

He looks to see who’s caught him and catches sight of smug, smiling boy with dark black hair.

Teshima glares at him.

“I see you’re headed to the juice wizard,” the boy says, still smiling, still holding Teshima’s arm, still looking tremendously punchable.

Teshima frowns. “So what? Who are you supposed to be?”

The boy chuckles lightly, his voice tinkling like a forty-eight piece sterling silverware set being spiked on the ground. “Consider me the friendly competition. My name is Mizuki Hajime, at your service.”

Teshima frowns, feeling a bit queasy at hearing this guy’s given name; and his threshold for queasy has been pretty high lately, given his frequent visits to the juice wizard. “What do you want?”

Mizuki grins. “You don’t have to be so suspicious,” he says, airily waving the hand that isn’t digging into Teshima’s arm like it’s looking for a pulse. “As I said, consider me the alternative to that reeking swill I’m sure Inui is feeding you.”

Teshima frowns. It’s true, he’s been visiting the juice wizard for more than a month now. His juices taste awful, but… Teshima does feel like he’s starting to see results. He was actually begging to increase his juice consumption to see if he could finally outpace that stupid elite.

Inui had argued against it, saying that side effects could include something he had termed as “extraneous limb growth” but Teshima was starting to think maybe it was worth the risk.

Teshima felt like he was getting a bit too far in for second opinions. “Look, thanks for the offer, but—”

“Have you tasted that swill Inui had the audacity to call tea?” Mizuki says, an edge forming to his grin. “There aren’t even any tea leaves involved. But, my friend… all of my potions are made from only the finest teas.”

Teshima gaped at him. Collecting himself for a moment, he finally managed to reply. “So, how far to your tea shop?”

Mizuki smiled and lead the way.

“So, then he said that he didn’t think I should increase my intake because it might have side-effects! And I’m just thinking like… what side-effects could be worse than just tasting that stuff?”

Mizuki nods sagely, listening to Teshima’s woes as he mixes tea leaves with various oils and other fragrant ingredients. So far, nothing in Mizuki’s lab has made Teshima as wary as the stuff he’s seen in Inui’s. He curses himself silently for not looking for other options sooner.

“That’s just like Inui,” Mizuki says. “Always blaming other factors for his shortcomings. Don’t you think if he were truly a good wizard, his potions wouldn’t have side effects at all?”

Teshima shrugs. “I dunno, I never thought about it like that… I guess it’s just because he really seems to know his stuff…”

“Inui.” Mizuki grinds the ingredients in his mortar and pestle a bit too hard, making a sharp grating noise. Though, when Teshima thinks about it, maybe that’s the sound of Mizuki’s teeth clenching, since his jaw is suddenly set somewhat angrily. “He’s always… He’s so… Know it all…”

Teshima blinks, suddenly a bit concerned. “Umm…”

Mizuki shakes his head, his composure seeming to come flowing back. He grins as if nothing happened, and Teshima gets a familiar queasy feeling in his stomach.

“Anyway, the tea is prepared,” Mizuki says, dumping the contents of the mortar into the rest of his concoction. “Now we’ll just steep this and get you started. Since you wanted an extra punch of power, we’ll steep it for much longer than usual.”

Teshima’s fears washed away as Mizuki pulled out a teapot and began heating the water.

“So, anyway, that’s why I’m back.”

Inui was glaring at him; Teshima was almost certain of that. It was hard to tell since it was impossible to see his eyes around his reflective lenses.

The worse thing about those lenses was that Teshima could see his reflection in them. His green, furry reflection. Teshima wrung his hands together — or rather, wrung his paws together. They were looking more and more like paws by the minute.

Inui sighed. “I’ll see what I can do for an antidote.”

“Th-thanks, Inui-san…”

Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun & Miyuki's mother, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

pjo au

canon typical violence/descriptions of gore, death as a concept and a person
806 words.

“Mom?” Miyuki calls out hesitantly.

His mother’s spirit turns and her mouth falls open in surprise but instantly turns into a smile. She opens her arms and Miyuki doesn’t have to think about it before he’s running, no, sprinting towards that embrace.

In his embarrassment, he runs right through her and bumps into Hades, who looks at the both of them with a combination of amusement and sorrow in his eyes.

His mother laughs and her hand comes out to hover over his hair.

“You’ve gotten so tall,” she murmurs. “You’ve grown up so well.”

Miyuki doesn’t trust his voice to not crack when he speaks. Instead, he ignores the ache of his muscles and the creak of his bones as he straightens.

“My dear Kazuya,” his mother smiles and her hand goes right through him—he ignores the chill that it sends through him and imagines that it’s the warmth of his mother’s touch. “How I wish that I could spend more time talking to you.”

“I can—“ Miyuki swallows thickly. “I can spend more time in the Underworld; you’re in Elysium, right?” He never did go there in fear of—of finding her.

She smiles.

“I would rather you live a fulfilling life up here,” she murmurs and his heart drops, “and then join me in the Elysian Fields.”

Miyuki has no name for what he is feeling.

“It’s time for you to go, the battle is over; all spirits must return to the Underworld.” Hades cuts through the moment like a cold knife and Miyuki opens his mouth in protest but his voice fails him.

“Your father brought me up here because he could not find the words for you that I can,” she confesses as she fades, starting at her feet. “Kazuya, as long as you do something that makes you happy, I will be proud of you. It doesn’t matter what others think. Your happiness is the most important thing to me. You will always be my little hero.”

His mother’s eyes slip shut. Her smile fades—and then she does.

Miyuki does not look away from where she stood for the longest time.

**

“Hey,” Miyuki calls out and Sawamura turns to look at him, his sun-kissed skin almost glowing as the wind blows his hair. It’s too late nights with his half sister who’s more in the know of current events teen movie-esque for Miyuki to take and he feels his heart stutter.

“Hey,” Sawamura smiles and Miyuki has to make sure that he’s still on solid ground. He is. Good. “That was rough. Man, I’m so glad it’s over. I was going to help with my light arrows but then everyone needed medical attention and—“

“You’re unhurt,” Miyuki cuts him off with a strange thickness in his voice. “I had thought—didn’t a giant throw a fleet of ships onto you?” After you pressed a small cube of ambrosia into my mouth and shoved me out of the way.

“Oh!” Sawamura laughs. “That! Man, Narumiya, he’s something else.” Miyuki’s gut turns. “He blew me and the entire healing crew out of the way instead of blasting the ships with lightning because he was worried about the leftover shrapnel.”

“Yeah,” Miyuki sighs, “Mei’s a quick thinker.”

“Right,” Sawamura nods, mostly to himself, then turns to look at Miyuki directly as if he remembered that Miyuki was the one who called out to him first. “Is there something you want?”

Yes, Miyuki wants to say, I wanted to spar with you but I don’t know how to fight with anything that’s not a sword so it wouldn’t be far against your arrows. Yes, Miyuki wants to say, I’m sorry that I went on this massive quest to find myself and save the world and not fill you in on anything and essentially drop off the face of this earth for a good two years.

Yes, Miyuki wants to say, I want to go to sleep and wake up with you next to me.

“You look terrible,” because he’s the child of the King of Smooth, not Dead. “When was the last time you slept?”

“When was yours?” Sawamura retorts, hands on his hips. Touché. Miyuki elects to ignore his question and that seems to be answer enough. They fall into a silence.

“Hey,” Sawamura asks, looking right at him, “what does—what did ambrosia taste like to you?”

To me? Miyuki wants to retort something quick, the same defense mechanism that he’s fallen back on again and again, but there’s a look in Sawamura’s eyes that makes him hold his tongue.

It comes out as a rush, as if he cracked open the earth and skeletons spilled out in earnest.

“It tasted like the rice porridge my mom made for me when I was sick as a kid.”

Takigawa Chris Yuu/Zaizen Naoyuki (Daiya No Ace)
Tags: sexually suggestive content, mention of injury/injury recovery, nautical/mermaid AU
Word Count: 601

The ship rocked violently in the storm, water splattering across the streaked glass of the captain’s quarters. Zaizen frowned and dipped his head back down below the water of his tank.

Merfolk were no strangers to storm waves, and if Zaizen had his choice, he’d have been swimming along below the surface, too deep to care much for the clouds and winds. He flicked his tail, irritatedly; the scarred tissue along the side of his tail still pulled at him whenever he moved the wrong way, serving as a reminder for why he wasn’t out braving the storm. That was for stronger swimmers than he was currently.

He huffed as he flipped over in the tank, a mass of bubbles flowing up to the surface. The tank was too small, but that wasn’t really what bothered him. It was demoralizing to be scooped up and plopped into a bowl like a human’s pet fish — it was worse to actually be in need of it.

Zaizen’s moping was interrupted when he heard a creaking noise, followed by the sounds of the storm intensifying, seeping from the air and rippling through the water slightly muffled. Zaizen bolted up, his head breaching the water as he wrapped sharp claws around the tank’s edge to steady himself.

Chris stepped into the his quarters, throwing his weight into the doors to clap them shut against the raging winds. He was completely drenched and dripping, and as soon as the doors were bolted shut, he slumped slightly, seeming to feel the weight of it. He shucked off his overcoat and it hit the floorboards with a wet slap. Even below that he seemed soaked to the bone, as if the rain and waves had found every crevice they could to cling to him.

He reached up, tangling a hand in his hair and slicked it back, wringing it so that thick rivulets of water ran down his neck. His hand was still paused in his hair as he met Zaizen’s eyes and smiled.

All at once, Zaizen realized he’d been staring and looked away quickly.

“Well, we’ve dropped anchor and reefed the sails,” Chris said. “Only thing to do now is wait it out.”

Zaizen grunted in acknowledgement, not feeling like talking about the storm. Chris fell silent, leaving only the raging storm to fill the moment. When Zaizen looked back, Chris was unbuttoning his shirt.

Merfolk didn’t wear clothes, per se, and Zaizen had always thought it was ridiculous just how much cloth Chris had constantly draped over himself. But now he found himself transfixed as he watched Chris work the fastenings of the garment and slowly peel off the wet, clinging fabric.

Chris’s bare torso was very much like that of a merman’s — not that Zaizen had suspected otherwise — but Zaizen still found himself staring at the toned skin, taut over muscles. Zaizen had never put much thought into what humans looked like underneath all their layers, but now…

Now he was a bit too eager to find out.

Chris looked over to him once more, with a smile that seemed to prove that Zaizen was as transparent as still, clean waters. “You don’t mind if I change into drier clothes, do you?”

Zaizen huffed, slipping farther back into his tank and looking away. “Do whatever you want. It’s your room. Your ship.”

Chris huffed a laugh at that. “I didn’t say you had to stop watching.”

Zaizen’s tail thrashed at the implication and Chris laughed, pulling some dry underclothes from a chest, and he began unfastening his belt.

Zaizen kept watching.

[1/2]
Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Haikyuu!!

magical tattoos
3431 words

Nishinoya hesitated outside the door. The address matched the one Tanaka had given him, but the building looked nothing like what he was expecting. He had been to tattoo parlors before, and he was used to brightly-lit signs and art-filled storefronts, not the dilapidated wood paneling that stood before him.

He almost turned back, but he couldn't forget how incredible Tanaka's new tattoo looked, and how badly he wanted one of his own. He double-checked the address one last time, put aside the last of his hesitation, knocked twice, and stepped inside.

"Hello?" he called, looking around the empty room. The door had been unlocked, but he didn't see anyone inside.

He was about to give up and leave when he heard rustling from the back room, and a somewhat nervous-looking man poked his head through the door.

"Oh, sorry," he said when he saw Nishinoya, "I wasn't expecting anyone to come in...Can I help you with something?"

"Are you the tattoo artist here?"

"Yes. Um...my name's Azumane Asahi..."

"Nishinoya Yuu. You did a tattoo of an oni for a friend of mine, and it's so lifelike sometimes I swear it moves."

"It does," Asahi said too quietly for Nishinoya to hear.

"I'm interested in getting one too."

"Oh, what were you thinking of?"

"A dragon."

Asahi hesitated. "A dragon?" he asked.

Nishinoya nodded. "A thunder dragon across my back."

Asahi seemed almost afraid of Nishinoya's words for reasons Nishinoya couldn't imagine. "Are you strong enough?" he asked.

"What?" Nishinoya asked in confusion. "I play volleyball, so I'm used to bumps and bruises, if that's what you mean?."

Asahi shook his head. "That's not what I asked. You...Are you strong enough? My tattoos look lifelike because they, ummm...they turn the stories into ink. Dragons are powerful...They don't tolerate dishonor or disrespect, and, ah, of the dragons, the thunder dragon is the most powerful of all. If you aren't strong enough, or if the dragon, um, rejects you, its power will consume you."

"Meaning?"

"You'll die."

Nishinoya swallowed hard. "Has that ever happened?" he asked hesitantly.

Asahi nodded. "The...the last time someone asked for a dragon," he said softly.

There was a long silence while Nishinoya thought. "I'll fight for the things I care about, and I'd put myself on the line for my friends," he said eventually. "I'll watch their backs for them so that they can keep looking forward. Maybe it's nothing dramatic, but I'd hope it's enough."

"You're the only one who can make that choice. There's no shame in either decision."

"I still want that tattoo," Nishinoya said confidently.

"Then, um, why don't we sit down and talk about the design?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Nishinoya found himself standing outside the nondescript door once more. He knocked again and let himself in, ready for his first session.

Unlike the last time, Asahi was waiting for him in the front of the shop. "You can, ah, come back here today," he said, gesturing to a room set off by a folding screen. Nishinoya followed him into the small room where a futon was already laid out on the floor.

"You do this all traditionally?" Nishinoya asked hesitantly as he looked at Asahi's setup.

Asahi nodded. "It's easier to work in the stories that way," he replied. "Umm, you can leave your shirt and your things by the door."

When Nishinoya was ready, he lay down on the futon. He couldn't see what Asahi was doing anymore, and while he hadn't been consciously paying attention to it, he missed it as soon as it was gone.

"I'm just going to start with the, ah, outline today. I'm...I'm thinking I'll work from the dragon's tail over your hip up to its head." As he spoke, Asahi sketched the rough outline of the design on Nishinoya's back with his finger.

"That's fine," Nishinoya said, and Asahi's hand came back to rest firmly over his hip.

"Where did you learn to draw like this?" Nishinoya asked as Asahi began working.

"Practice," Asahi replied.

"How did you decide to become a tattoo artist?" he asked when Asahi didn't elaborate.

"Umm, I'm not really sure...It was more fate or an accident than anything intentional." Once again, Asahi didn't provide any further detail.

"You mentioned you inherited this store from someone?"

"My mentor."

After a few more similar exchanges, it became clear that Asahi wasn't interested in holding a conversation. Nishinoya fell silent, not wanting to disturb the artist while he was working, but he wished he had something to distract him from the incessant sharp scratching across his back.

"Do you know, ahh...Do you know the story of the Thunder Dragon?" Asahi asked out of nowhere several minutes later.

"I think so, Nishinoya replied. "The Thunder Dragon was one of the five elemental dragons created to maintain the balance the universe. It's widely regarded to be the strongest of the five, and it was the one who called forth the lightning that struck down the False Emperor as he walked across the palace grounds one day."

"That's part of the story," Asahi conceded, "but what about the rest of it, the stories that are, umm...rarely mentioned in the books?"

"I don't think I know those," Nishinoya admitted.

"I could tell you, if you like. If you're going to make him a part of you, it , ah...it seems only fair that you'd maybe know his story."

"I think I'd like that."

"Very well," Asahi said. "I'm going to begin in the time before dragons, so that you know what the world was like when the dragons came into being.

"Back in the beginning, before the five elements had even come into existence, the universe understood good and evil, but they weren't opposites as they're seen today. They were two sides of a continuous circle: that which is good can become evil, that which is evil can turn to good, and neither can exist without the other," Asahi began. His voice changed as he spoke, all of the earlier hesitation and awkwardness vanishing. He spoke softly but clearly, and his words seemed to wrap around Nishinoya and pull him into the story. He spoke of the creation of the world and of the gods, and of the creation of the elements that allowed the gods their individual roles, and all too soon he said "and that's enough for today, I can continue next time if you like."

Nishinoya blinked as he suddenly found himself lying on the floor in Asahi's shop as Asahi covered his back. He had no idea how long he had been caught up in the stories, but if the dull throbbing that now stretched from his hip to his shoulder was any indication, it had been hours.

"Would you, umm, like to see it so far?" Asahi asked, and Nishinoya shook his head.

"I want to wait until it's finished," he replied. He left the shop with his head still spinning with Asahi's stories, and he thought his next appointment two weeks later couldn't come quickly enough.

The second appointment passed much like the first, with Asahi telling of the beginning of the struggle between good and evil and the conflicts that arose over the hierarchy of the elements. They were all abstract stories of the universe in the distant past, but Nishinoya still found himself completely immersed in them. Once again, he thought the session ended far too soon, and he left with his head full of the legends of days past.

It wasn't until the third session that Asahi began telling the story of the Thunder Dragon. He spoke of the day the dragon was born out of a conflict between the sea and the sky, and Nishinoya swore he could hear the crashing of the waves as they were battered by the wind. He spoke of the Thunder Dragon racing through the clouds leaving lightning in its wake, and Nishinoya swore he could smell the ozone in the air. He spoke of the dragon roaring in anger when wars erupted out of spite, and Nishinoya swore he could hear the angry rumble of thunder. When Asahi finished for the day, the sheer power behind the words hit Nishinoya, and he stayed lying where he was for several minutes until the shaking passed.

The fourth session passed much as the third had, only with a new set of stories. Asahi no longer told the stories of the early days of the gods and the beginning of mankind; his stories shifted to the tales of dragons and men. He spoke of the times foolish men drunk on power tried to force the dragons to obey, and of the terrible ends they met when the dragons refused to be bound. He spoke of the wise men who found for justice in place of wealth and who called upon the dragons as equals and asked for their assistance.

And he spoke of the Thunder Dragon specifically. Of the great destruction it rained down upon its enemies, and of how quickly it could turn from friend to foe when it deemed one's actions to be unjust. When he finished, Nishinoya lay in the same shell-shocked state as he had after the previous session. He was in awe of the dragon he had chosen, but at the same time, it terrified him.

It was with no small degree of trepidation that he opened the door to Asahi's shop for his fifth appointment. Asahi intended to finish the tattoo that day, and Nishinoya had spent the entire night awake thinking of the stories and wondering if he was deluding himself believing he was worthy of the Thunder Dragon.

"Are you...Are you sure you wish to continue?" Asahi asked as Nishinoya settled into his now-familiar spot on the floor. "Once the dragon's, ah...power starts flowing into you, there's, umm, no turning back. Either you can withstand it and, um, the dragon accepts you, or one or both of you rejects the other...and you die."

Nishinoya swallowed hard. "I'm sure," he said, and he was. After so many hours, he felt he needed to see it through to the end. And, some small part of him added, he liked hearing Asahi's stories, and he didn't want them to end.

"I'll tell you this now since it will be...too late later: you'll know immediately when it starts, and when it does, ah, don't fight it; umm, accept it and, ah, let it flow into you."

"I'll try my best."

"I know you will," Asahi said as he bent over his work, and Nishinoya couldn't explain how such a simple statement could cause such a warmth in his chest.

At first, Asahi seemed prepared to work in silence, but after only a couple of minutes, Nishinoya asked, "Will you tell me another story?"

Asahi seemed genuinely startled by the request. "I think I've told you all of the, ah, interesting ones at this point," he said.

"What about the less interesting ones, then?" Nishinoya replied. "I want to hear all of them."

That seemed to be all of the invitation Asahi needed, and he immediately launched into one of his seemingly endless supply of stories. The stories were no longer tales of great battles in the Heavens and the turning of the wheel of fate. Instead, they were stories of the little things — the time the Thunder Dragon scared a princess with its thunderous laughter, and made it up to her by giving her a crystal that sparkled with lighting; the time it was invited to a court dinner by a prideful young noble, but the noble's plans to impress were thwarted when the dragon couldn't fit through the door; the time the dragon was struck by a mild curse and destroyed half of its palace by sending lightning bolts flying every time it sneezed.

They were all small stories, but to Nishinoya, they were some of the best. Everyone knew the dragons were powerful, and everyone knew some of the legends, but very few knew the stories that made the dragons feel real.

Nishinoya was so wrapped up in Asahi's storytelling that he missed the first small static jolts that ran down his back. When several smaller shocks hit in rapid succession though, he noticed; it reminded him of walking across a rug and then touching a doorknob on a dry winter day. He tried fidgeting to make the sharp tingle fade, but all that happened was that Asahi cut his story off abruptly and placed a warning hand across his shoulder.

"It's starting," Asahi said. "Let it come."

Nishinoya tried, trying to focus on the reassuring pressure of Asahi's hand on his back instead of the electric charge, but it was difficult as the static shocks grew stronger and more frequent, eventually drowning out even the feel of Asahi's needles. Along with the them, Nishinoya began catching pieces of stories, all drawn from the tales Asahi had told, and all flowing into his back. Everything continued increasing in strength, but he barely noticed; he was too intent on staying grounded and not creating unnecessary eddies in the current as all of Asahi's stories rushed back around him.

It wasn't until Asahi inked the last line and removed his hands from Nishinoya's back that the worst came. Without warning, he was hit by a memory that was definitely not from Asahi's stories.

He was flying through the air over a fleet of ships when a flaming crossbow bolt tore into his wing, burning the delicate membrane and sending him tumbling toward the water and the waiting ships. Before he could recover from the spiral, a second bolt struck him squarely in the heart, and he screamed as he struck the water with a large splash and began to sink below the waves. He tried to claw his way back to the surface, but something was pulling him down.

He had lost any sense of where he ended and the dragon began, and just when he was certain he couldn't take any more and was going to be destroyed by it, it faded abruptly with what he would have sworn was a sigh of relief. The electric shocks were replaced by a slight tingle across his back, and he regained his bearings to find himself still laying on the floor with Asahi's hand pinning the base of his neck.

"You made it," Asahi said with relief. "I was worried for a minute."

As was I, Kitten, added an unfamiliar voice that rumbled like rolling thunder.

Fuji Shuusuke/Inui Sadaharu (Prince of Tennis)
Tags: no major tags, genderswap, mental overstimulation, allusions to harm, mixed metaphors
Word Count: 537

A glowing thread wraps around Inui’s fingers, pulsing and slightly dripping with wet potential. Inui spreads his fingers and watches as the thread pulls at the entire cloth spread out before him, tangling and knotting with the others. Each thread weaves together to make the whole, the singular thread becoming lost in the collective. But not for Inui. Inui sees each thread for its own purpose. Every interaction, every tangle, every single accidental ripple that make an integral part of the whole.

Once upon a time, there was a man who wished to know everything, and the djinn he’d captured hadn’t failed him. Inui can see every outcome before him. What will happen if he walks left or right, what happens if he kicks a patch of dirt. He can see the threads that are supposed to be invisible, see how they each interconnect while creating an image that seems totally random but is actually extremely organized chaos.

Soon, Inui loses the ability to move.

There’s too much to see. There are too many options unravelling before him. There are too many possibilities. And the longer Inui spends paralysed, unable to decide from any of the millions of paths sprawling out in front of him, the more the options change. A thousand branches wither with his indecision and another thousand bloom in their place.

Inui doesn’t move anymore.

Inui watches.

He finally knows everything.

Inui once thought not having all the information was maddening. Making guesses, extrapolating instead of knowing. It was terrifying.

But this.

This is truly maddening.

He doesn’t move, he doesn’t make decisions. He watches, sees the data change before him, lets it ebb and flow, and finds himself unable to do anything but watch.

A hand presses to his cheek, and for the first time in his — vast, endless — recent memory, it’s a surprise to him. The shock fills him with something akin to longing; nostalgia for something he never thought he’d miss.

Fuji turns Inui’s head (since it’s been a long while since Inui has found a need to move himself) and directs him to look at her. Her ever present grin is beaming at him.

“How does it feel, Inui?” Fuji asks, her voice a notch too pleasant; too knowing. And yet she remains a blind spot in his data, and Inui is drawn to that like a flame. “Your greatest wish has been granted. What now?”

She’s beautiful, a glowing void of information made flesh before him. He sees the paths of possibility blooming around her, but not intersecting her. There threads can’t tie themselves to her. Inui is transfixed by her ineffability. He wants to find out how she ticks, but in the same moment wants to wrap himself in the ignorance of it.

“Please,” Inui manages to say, his voice cracking from disuse. He can’t bring himself to continue, to vocalize what he needs.

He just wants it to stop.

Fuji grins once again. “Alright, Inui.” Her hand presses harder into his flesh, nearly grinding her fingers against Inui’s skull, and Inui can’t bring himself to mind. She moves closer, her lips hovering just in front of his. “I’ll grant your last wish too.”

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, haikyuu!!

minor injury
507 words.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says as he knocks on the door. “You’re going to make us late.”

“Come in, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa calls out. “I’ve got exciting news to tell!”

Iwaizumi thinks about it. Either he could get it over with now or be forced to listen to it as they walk to school.

He enters and stares at Oikawa, who’s all dressed up and ready to go, but still sitting on his bed underneath the covers. Oikawa looks up at him and grins.

“I had a dream last night,” is what he says.

“Okay,” is what Iwaizumi says, because honestly, what else could anyone in their right mind say to that?

“And now, I’ve got the healing kiss,” Oikawa says and waggles his eyebrows. He’s playing music in his room out loud, as usual, and soon the eyebrow waggling is to the beat of the song.

Iwaizumi reminds himself to count to ten. He clenches his fists. Unclenches them. Reminds himself to count to ten.

“That means,” Oikawa smiles, “if you’ve got a boo-boo, stop by your handsomest childhood friend to get it fixed.”

Iwaizumi looks around for something to throw at the other. Thankfully, because they’re both obsessed with volleyball, he’s able to pick one off the ground and hold it high above his head. Oikawa cowers and lifts his blanket up over his head. Iwaizumi throws it anyways.

**

“Aw man,” Hanamaki says a bit too loudly after Oikawa informed him of the healing kiss, “looks like Iwaizumi scraped his knee!”

They both turn to look at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi looks down at his knee, which is covered by his school uniform pants. Iwaizumi looks back up, barely able to resist rolling his eyes. Hanamaki grins deviously. Matsukawa shrugs and goes back to reading his magazine.

Oikawa looks vaguely disappointed. Iwaizumi tries not to read too much into that.

**

And because fate is a cruel mistress, Iwaizumi stumbles, falls, and scrapes his hand.

Oikawa looks delighted at the fact that he’s hurt which is a situation that shouldn’t be taken out of context.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa purrs and gets down on one knee next to Iwaizumi, taking his hand in his own in the most delicate of fashions. Then, very gently and ignoring all the potential health risks, Oikawa kisses his hand.

Iwaizumi can actually feel his wound healing up, so that’s pretty cool.

“Huh,” he says and examines his hand, which looks good as new, “you really do have the healing kiss.”

Oikawa puffs his chest with pride. Iwaizumi is about to remind the other than having a healing kiss is not really something to be that proud of, but Oikawa gives a gasp and leans in close to his face.

“Iwa-chan!” He shouts and Iwaizumi furrows his brow; he can feel the other’s breath on his lips. “You’ve got a cut on your lip.”

“Oh my god,” Iwaizumi huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Guess I’ll have to smooch it better,” Oikawa says with a devious smirk.

“Go ahead,” Iwaizumi groans.

Regardless, he smiles when they kiss.

Sanada Shunpei & Todoroki Raichi Daiya no A
Tags: Major Character Death
Word Count: 1025

Sanada's time was running short, and he knew it. His hand unconsciously fiddled with the green amulet he wore around his neck. It was a small oval, that could fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. He couldn't think of a time he had ever been without it. Well, since he had acquired it, that was. In his world, amulets like this were life and death. Everything seemed to revolve around them and the horrific secrets they housed. If you were a warlock that was.

Halflings (those that were not warlocks) knew of the amulets, the talisman, that each warlock possessed. It was common knowledge that each warlock's power source was his talisman. The secret to that power though, was not widely known. For good reason.

“Sanada-senpai!” Sanada's hand returned to his side as he turned and smiled at his apprentice, Todoroki Raichi. “Got just about everything for the incantation.” His protege beamed, pouring the contents of the basket he was holding out onto the table.

“Looks like it.” Sanada did his best to give a genuine smile. He wondered if this was how his mentor had felt just moments before it was time for Sanada to perform the same incantation Raichi was preparing for. Again, his hand went to his talisman and closed around it.

“I”ll finally have my own talisman! Wish dad was here to see this.” Raichi mused, stuffing a spoonful of beef and rice into his mouth. Thankfully he failed to notice Sanada go still next to him at the mention of Raichi's father, Raizou. Raizou, as far as Raichi knew, had been killed in a battle, hundreds of years ago when Raichi was still young.

Sanada knew the awful truth. He'd never worked up his courage to tell the younger Todoroki and soon it would be too late. Raichi was smart, he would put the pieces of the puzzle together eventually. Once he'd been given all of the pieces. It wouldn't be long now.

Sanada had known Raichi ever since he was born, having been only 125 at the time. He had just begun training under famed warlock, Todoroki Raizou, who had taken him under his wing. He'd taught Sanada everything he knew and when it came time for Sanada to recite his coming of age incantation, Raizou had made him promise to watch over Raichi (a mere 60 years old) in his place. Not understanding and thinking it normal that he would help Raizou with Raichi, Sanada had promised. He was too excited with creating his own talisman to notice the signs.

It had been 200 years since that day. As Sanada and Raichi continued to grow and travel together, they'd become closer. Closer than Sanada had ever imagined it possible. He cared a lot for the younger boy, would do anything for him. Raichi's talent was unimaginable and Sanada had tried his best to nurture and guide Raichi so that his talent could blossom to it's fullest potential.

It hadn't been an easy road with the rambunctious warlock, but Sanada wouldn't have traded it for anything. Even knowing what he knew now.

“When can we start, Sanada-senpai?” Raichi asked, eyes big and hopeful.

“Whenever you're ready, Raichi. You'll need to get all the elements in place and then recite the incantation. It's all written here for you.” Sanada pulled an tattered scroll from his pocket and slid it over to Raichi. “You must not read it before you are prepared to speak it.” He warned firmly, adding a soft smile to reassure Raichi everything would be fine. (He'd given Raichi no reason to think it wouldn't be)

“Gotcha!” Raichi leaped out of his chair and excitedly began rearranging all of the things they'd been collecting over the last few months in preparation. Sanada stood, taking in everything around him. He slowly made his way to the opposite side of the room, turning to face his apprentice. Raichi stood tall, scroll in hands, a serious look on his face. He was ready.

“You will direct the incantation towards me.” Sanada instructed, removing his talisman from around his neck and placing it in his right hand. “You're going to do just fine.” He added, once again smiling at the other. Raichi seemed to relax after that and then began to unroll the scroll.

Head high, voice steady, he began to read, extending his left hand out towards Sanada. Even though he knew what came next, Sanada wished there were some other way he could be permitted to stay by Raichi's side. His nagging doubts clawed at his brain as he tried to focus on Raichi. Had he been right to keep Raichi in the dark about the so-called incantation? What Raichi believed to be an incantation was in fact a ritual. The Devouring Sacrifice.

As he neared the end, Raichi's voice began to waver, outstretched hand shaking. Sanada saw tears in the corners of the younger's eyes, threatening to spill over. He'd figured it out. Now Sanada's amulet buzzed with electric energy, burning the inside of his hand. He felt his limbs begin to tingle and then go numb. His hearing was muffled and his vision was going black around the edges.

Raichi looked as if he wanted to stop and run to Sanada, but Sanada gave a small, sad shake of his head. Raichi nodded, resigned, as he read the last words of the scroll. As the last syllable left Raichi's mouth, Sanada's amulet broke into a million pieces. He felt himself crumbling down down down, looking up to see Raichi screaming, rushing towards him. But it was too late, there was nothing that could be done.

**

Just like that, Sanada was gone and Raichi felt something cold and heavy in his left hand. Not wanting to, but having no choice, he opened his palm and saw a blood red amulet staring back at him. It seemed to buzz to life for a split second then became cold once more. Falling to the ground where Sanada had just stood, Raichi brought the talisman to his forehead and whispered “Forgive me.”

Kuga Kyousuke/Yagami Tomoe, Prince of Stride

major character death, murder, supernatural elements
760 words

Kyousuke hadn't expected to see Tomoe at the race against Kakyouin; he hadn't even known Tomoe had returned to Japan. The minute he saw Tomoe though, he knew something was horribly wrong.

If he had to pick a color for Tomoe, it would have been black. Black hair, black eyes, black clothes. But it had never been a flat black. Black clothing held areas of shadow in their folds, and Tomoe's eyes had glinted like obsidian, drawing Kyousuke in and promising secrets hidden in their depths.

When he saw Tomoe before the race, Tomoe's eyes were dead. They were flat and lifeless, as if all traces of Tomoe had been removed. He tried to speak to Tomoe, but Tomoe brushed him off stating that he needed to prepare. His voice was as flat and lifeless as his eyes, and Kyousuke worried.

He worried more during the race, when Tomoe ran with unmatched technical precision and an almost unnatural sense of timing. He didn't know what had happened while Tomoe was away, but whatever it was, it made him uneasy.

That night, Tomoe had belittled the value Kyousuke placed on his teammates and then said goodbye. Kyousuke remembered the times he and Tomoe had run together. He remembered the sense of connection that had run between the two of them, and he fought back tears.

He felt no such connection anymore. In fact, he felt nothing at all from Tomoe. No personality, no emotion, nothing other than an empty shell. He shared his concerns with Heath, who had been hiding in the shadows, and despite Heath's protests, he left to confront Tomoe on his terms.

He found Tomoe in the stands overlooking the Stride course. Riku knelt by his side, and Kyousuke was about to step back outside so as not to interfere with the reunion between brothers when he noticed the horrified look on Riku's face and the way he clutched at Tomoe's hand on his chest.

The moon came out from behind a cloud just then, and suddenly Kyousuke could see the knife in Tomoe's hand, the blade glinting in the moonlight where it buried itself in Riku's chest.

"What have you done, Tomoe?" Kyousuke asked as he stepped forward.

"He was weak," Tomoe said with the same flat affect, pulling the knife from Riku's heart and pushing his brother's body away. "He let his emotions interfere with his training, and he refused to see the error of his ways."

"What happened to you, Tomoe?" Kyousuke asked in horror.

"I learned the secret of Stride," Tomoe replied.

"This isn't Stride," Kyousuke snapped. "Stride is about connecting, about relationships, not whatever this mockery is."

"Stride is about winning. There is nothing else."

"You aren't the Tomoe I knew."

"The Tomoe you knew is gone. The Tomoe before you now is Tomoe as he should have been."

"No," Kyousuke whispered past the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, "this isn't how it should have been. Do you remember what it felt like when we used to run together? Do you remember the first time we kissed?"

"No," Tomoe responded, seemingly immune to Kyousuke's emotion. "I told you, that Tomoe no longer exists. I know nothing but Stride. Everything else was a distraction; I discarded them."

"What did you do to Tomoe!?" Kyousuke yelled, closing the gap between them and slapping Tomoe hard across the face, startling Tomoe and knocking the knife from his hand.

"I did nothing," the flat voice-that-wasn't-Tomoe replied. "Tomoe requested this himself."

"No," Kyousuke said quietly but fiercely. "I won't accept it!"

"You are a fool if you think that changes anything. I chose Stride; you are nothing to me. Now go before you meet the same end as Riku. Or do you want Honan to be two runners short tomorrow?"

Kyousuke burned with a sudden anger, anger at what had happened to Tomoe, and what Tomoe had done to Riku. "You're not Tomoe," he snapped as he wrapped his arms around Tomoe's neck.

"I am what Tomoe chose," the not-Tomoe rasped before Kyousuke tightened his hold, cutting off Tomoe's air completely.

Tomoe never struggled. Kyousuke watched him the entire time, but he saw no flash of recognition in the flat, lifeless eyes that stared back at him. He wasn't sure how long he waited before he finally released his hold, setting Tomoe's lifeless body down next to his brother's.

"Forgive me, Tomoe," he said as he stood. "I don't know what happened to you, but you deserved better than that."

Arakita Yasutomo & Sugawara Koushi (Yowapedal/Haikyuu!!)
Tags: injury, werewolves
Wordcount: 1199 words

Suga was no stranger to werewolves...or werecrows, werecats, or any other variety of werecreature for that matter. They were some of the more common residents of the forest, and others were always passing through on their way elsewhere. Years spent among them had taught Suga that they weren't nearly so dangerous or vicious as the stories would lead one to believe.

That being said, anything was dangerous when scared or cornered, having claws or fangs just made it that much more so. So when an injured and terrified werewolf stumbled into the forest, Suga was immediately alert. He usually relied on the plants and animals in the forest to pass along news from the areas outside of the range he could sense himself, but the waves of fear, pain, and anger radiating from the new arrival were strong enough that he was moving before any of his eyes and ears even had word back to him.

He quickly packed a basket from the shelves in his workroom and ran out the door. Even if he hadn't been able to sense the werewolf himself, the steady stream of frightened animals and other creatures rushing toward him would have told him he was heading in the right direction. After several minutes of brisk walking, he heard snarling in the distance, and he picked up his pace even more.

He was nearly running when he first caught sight of the werewolf through the trees, and then he did break into a sprint until they were face-to-face. The werewolf was a young man who didn't seem much older than Suga himself. He was bleeding freely from a wound on his leg, and he also seemed to be stuck partway between his wolf form and his human one. Suga wasn't sure which way he was trying to shift, but being stuck in the middle couldn't be helping the situation.

"Are you injured?" Suga asked as he set down his basket.

The werewolf looked up as if seeing him for the first time. "What does it look like?" he snapped. "Yes, I'm bloody injured, and it hurts like demon fire in case you were wondering?"

"What happened?" Suga asked, dropping his earlier pleasantries to focus on the issue at hand.

"Some self-important trophy hunter decided he wanted to add a werewolf to his collection. Caught me by surprise and hit me in the leg before I could escape. Silver bullet, and coated in wolfsbane too by the feel of it."

"Stop running around so much," Suga ordered firmly. "You're only spreading the poison."

"What do you want me to do?" the werewolf snapped. "It hurts too much not to move. And if it's going to kill me anyway, I don't see why it much matters whether it's sooner or later."

"I can help," Suga said firmly. "Let me see it."

"Are you an idiot!?" Arakita yelled. "I'm a werewolf. Wolfsbane!? Silver!? They're poison, you can't just slap a bandage on it and make it better."

"Sugawara Koushi; I'm a healer," Suga said, cutting through Arakita's protests. "Now let me see it...sorry, I forgot to ask your name."

"Arakita Yasutomo," the werewolf said. He continued to look unimpressed, but he did stop and offer his leg to Suga.

"Just the one bullet, Arakita-kun?" Suga asked, noting where the fabric over Arakita's thigh was torn and bloody.

Arakita nodded. "Hunter was too full of himself to even imagine needing a second shot. If I hadn't been -- Watch It!!!" he snapped abruptly and yanked his leg away from Suga's expertly probing fingers.

"Sorry, I had to check. The bullet's still intact, but it's lodged fairly deep," Suga said as he pulled various dried herbs from his basket and ground them together with a little water.

"And knowing that helps how?" Arakita snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"It needs to come out. Treating the poison does nothing so long as the source is still there." Bandages and an obsidian knife joined the poultice.

Arakita paled. "No," he said nervously. "Your are not coming near me with that."

"If that's what you really want, then I won't," Suga said calmly, "but you'll be dead by the end of the day. Wolfsbane and silver are both painful ways to go."

The silence stretched between them until finally, Arakita looked away. "I hope you know what you're doing," he grumbled.

"I assure you I do. Lie on your back and cross your arms behind your head," Suga ordered as he slid his basket closer. He knelt straddling Arakita's shin, pinning it to the ground. "Close your eyes, Arakita-kun, and focus on whatever you normally do to get through your transformations," Suga said gently. "Keep breathing, and I'll be as quick as possible."

"Could you just get on with it already?" Arakita asked tightly.

Suga cleaned the worst of the blood from Arakita's leg, then squeezed once in warning before setting blade to skin. Arakita cried out and jerked under him, trying to pull his leg away.

"Steady, Arakita-kun. Keep breathing," Suga said as he pressed down with the knife again, cutting more deeply along the same track. After the third quick stroke, he had a clear view of the poisoned bullet, and it was easy enough to remove it and let it fall to the forest floor. Then, he applied a thick layer of the poultice to the raw wound and covered it with a pad of moss.

"Arakita-kun, it's done," he said as he began wrapping bandages around Arakita's thigh.

Arakita whimpered under him as his body finished shifting fully into human form, no longer trapped midway by the hunter's bullet. "It's gone?" he asked weakly, stumbling over the words.

"It's gone," Suga confirmed.

"Thank you," Arakita whispered. He tried to stand, but stumbled, and Suga caught him before he could fall.

"Why don't you come stay with me for a few days?" Suga asked.

"I'm fine."

"You're not going to be able to run on that leg for a little while yet, and while I treated the worst of it, there's no way to neutralize wolfsbane entirely. It won't kill you, but it's going to make you sick."

"It's bad enough I already owe you my life; I'm not adding to that debt."

"Consider it aid freely given with no expectation of repayment," Suga said.

"You're human. I don't trust selfless humans; there's always some ulterior motive."

Suga smiled. "Consider it a selfish request then. I'd worry if you left now, so I'll propose a deal: you stay with me until you're healed, and I'll consider it repayment for saving your life."

Arakita just stared at Suga. "You're serious?" he asked once a long minute later.

"I am."

Arakita muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under his breath. "Fine," he said eventually, "but only because I hate owing blood debts, especially to you blasted humans."

Suga smiled as he offered his arm. Arakita tried to ignore it, but he didn't make it far before being forced to accept that he was in no condition to be traveling on his own.

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll kill you," Arakita growled as he let Suga support him.

"I wouldn't, Arakita-kun."

Makoto/Sousuke, Free!

Sickness?

Another werewolf AU but this one is inspired by a RP I'm having with my Mako~ It was to begin with inspired by Teen Wolf where the werewolves are able to suck in their bodies the pain of others to heal them but they end up suffering in their place.

Word Count: 987

The glaring white walls were starting to disturb Sousuke’s sight. Why was he here when he didn’t need this? The people didn’t even seem to mind him walking around. What if he decided to kill everyone here would they finally realize his presence?

For a werewolf to become friends with human was not making sense for the young boy. His alpha was the one forcing him to behave like those beings. Of course it wouldn’t be a good idea judging how he attacked one of them in class. But before you judge him, he had the best reason to do something like that. This guy had told him he was a freak only because he would sniff everything given to him. Obviously he would do something like this! Humans were killers! If they knew he was a wolf he would be attacked.

Sousuke had already witnessed human boys fighting so he didn’t think twice before launching against that one who seemed to have something against his being. Maybe the claws had been a bit too much due to the amount of blood on the floor. Thankfully for that boy, they were stopped by adults. The mere thought of his ‘father’, of his alpha to know what just had happened was able to calm down Sousuke.

Few days later here he was in this hospital forced to apologize to that human after his alpha had disciplined him. The black haired man was walking around completely hopelessly of this maze. Why would they build things in such an incoherent way? Sousuke despite having a strong smell sense was still able to get lost in those buildings. At some point when he passed by a corridor, a beeping sound caught his attention enough for the wolf to walk closer to the source of the sound.

This repeating beeping sound was so nerve wrecking it didn’t allow him to focus on anything else. Sousuke wished it would shut up.

As he made his way up there, he didn’t think about the noises anymore. His teal eyes were glued on this young boy lying on a bed. There were a lot of machines around him, most of them linked to that human. It had to be one of them that was making this horrible noise. But it didn’t matter. This sleeping boy was all Sousuke could think about.

He looked about his age. His brown haired strands were lightly moving thanks to the slightly opened window. He was so pale, almost as if he had never been under the sun. But most of all, Sousuke could smell his pain. It was so overwhelming for his smelling that he didn’t know why no humans could realize this.

Why no one was here around this boy to help him?

His hatred towards the human race only increased. They were supposed to be the sympathy race, the ones who cared about the weaker, to help those in needs. This was what was supposed to make them above werewolves who only think in terms of strength to live –to survive.

Yet this boy had been abandoned to his sad and painful end.

Sousuke could not leave him. Something deep inside him urged him to act, to do something –anything to help this human. Hesitantly, the werewolf walked into the room. His eyes slowly turned a golden shade as he knew what he could do. It would be the first time he would use this on a human but he didn’t have a better solution.

Softly his hands covered the looking so fragile hand. There wasn’t any reaction from the human, he was too unconscious or in pain to realize someone was by his side, holding his hand. Sousuke closed his eyes trying to focus on this ill. It should not be different from when he did this with a wolf.

Breath in. Breath out.

Only when the werewolf was only focusing on this human did he notice the beeping sounds had been synchronized with his heartbeat. If this noise stopped, it would mean this boy died. Suddenly Sousuke felt bad for wishing this noise to ever stop.

Give me your pain… The wolf thought as the veins in their hands were starting to turn black. The moment the raw and lacerating pain was flowing through his blood the werewolf was growling. It didn’t matter if someone was to come inside this room or if that human was to wake up. Sousuke needed to let out all those noises in hope to think about something else.

How could such a fragile and weak looking human boy could keep within such a huge amount of horrors? The werewolves had regenerating power helping them to never get sick or to heal faster than humans. But even with it, Sousuke could feel his body was not able to suck in all of the ill within that boy.

After emitting one final whimper, the werewolf was finally letting go of that hand breathlessly. It was the first time Sousuke felt this pain and he actually would never want to experience this ever again. To think this human boy was able to still live… Was it the machines around him that were able to keep him alive? Were humans actually able to save him or were they just keeping him barely alive for experiences just like they were doing with animals?

Sousuke couldn’t wonder more about this question as he started to hear someone groaning as well. It wasn’t him and there was no one else in the room except that boy –he was waking up. How could he–

Green.

Gorgeous and stunning green eyes were looking at him.

They were filled with tiredness and pain as well but this human was clearly looking at him.

Green met gold.

And Sousuke finally realized what that something was that boost him to help this boy.

He had fallen in love with this human.

Akashi Seijuurou/Aomine Daiki, Kuroko no basket
tags: suggestive language?
wordcount: 571
vampire au

Seijuurou is staring up at him, standing in the middle of his offensively large and minimalist bedroom, the slightest of frowns marring the usual perfect, serene smoothness of his forehead. Distracted from thoughts of what he could steal out of Seijuurou’s offensively large fridge as a post-practice snack by the expression, Daiki cocks an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“This doesn’t… bother you? At all?” Daiki sighs, scratching his nose before putting his hands on his hips, staring down at Seijuurou like he’s asked Daiki to explain why he likes boobs again.

“No offense, Sei, but I was pretty sure you were a vampire anyway, even before I found out that you. You know. Actually are one.” The frown line creases deeper, and Seijuurou opens his mouth, taking a breath, and then closes it again silently. Daiki waits it out while he figures out what he wants to say.

“…I think I probably should be offended by that, actually,” is what he finally comes up with, staring sort of blankly at Daiki’s shirt like it will help him decipher how exactly he’s been insulted. Daiki gives him another second, then claps him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Well, whatever. Point is, I don’t give a shit. You’re like, the king of self-control, and I’m probably too big for you to eat, anyway.” At that, Seijuurou’s eyes snap back up to meet his, and Daiki wonders idly if all vampires have red eyes, or if that’s just a Seijuurou thing. A smirk curves the corners of Seijuurou’s lips, though, the kind he gets when he’s about to say something so filthy that it makes even Daiki blush.

“I think we’ve already figured out that that isn't a problem, haven't we? You always underestimate my appetite, Daiki.” There it is. Daiki wheezes a little, feeling the tips of his ears start to burn, and Seijuurou laughs, his shoulder relaxing under Daiki’s hand. It’s worth the embarrassment for that, at least, and when they both quiet down again, Seijuurou is smiling softly at him in the way he’s always had that makes Daiki’s chest feel tight, like terror and hope all wrapped up in one.

“So… You’re really, truly okay with this? You aren't going to see me eating and suddenly realize that I’m a monster?” Daiki shrugs.

“You already said you get blood from your dad’s hospital connections, so it’s not like you’re running around murdering people. And besides, I’ve always known that you’re a monster—it’s not like that’s news. That’s part of why I like you so much, right? You can keep up with me.” He lets his hand slide off Seijuurou’s shoulder, skimming his fingers down his arm until he can catch his wrist, tug it upwards to lace their fingers together. “If anything, I probably have to protect you from yourself more than I have to protect me from you.” He squeezes Seijuurou’s hand, watching him carefully as he processes all of that.

“You… are ridiculous, Aomine Daiki,” he says after a long moment, but he tips his head back to smile up at Daiki, the smile that makes his eyes scrunch up and looks like the sun breaking over the horizon. Daiki thinks about the fact that he spends his life cataloging Seijuurou’s smiles, but then Seijuurou uses their linked hands to tug Daiki down and kiss him, and he has to figure there are worse uses of his time.

Makoto/Sousuke, Free!

No tags

Gods and travel time AU to save Sousuke.

Lines count: 48 (Poetry)

Give me this chance please.
Let me help this man.
He suffered enough in his life.
I have to change his destiny.

Makoto would pray all day and night to the God of Time.
Even if it was forbidden by the Olympian Gods,
He could no longer keep up with his lover’s pain.
Sousuke did not deserve such a tormenting life.

His dreams had been shattered by an injury
That not even the best doctor could heal.
No matter the amount of prayers,
The Gods would not help this man.

Makoto did not lose hope to save the man he loved.
He was ready to sacrifice everything for Sousuke.
One night the God of Time heard his offer.
He would be able to save him… Finally.

This was all that mattered.
Sousuke’s future would be different.
It would be bright and joyful.
It was all that Makoto cared for.

But Chronos had warned him of his offer.
Changing the past had effects on the future.
Sousuke might not fall in love with him.
Makoto knew this far too well.

Sousuke’s smile was too important for him.
More than his own happiness.
He didn’t hesitate to the God’s offer.
Makoto would change Sousuke’s past.

But the moment he saw those living eyes,
When Makoto saw the young self of his lover,
He realized how much he loved Sousuke.
And how cruel destiny was to him.

Chronos had allowed him only few hours unfortunately.
Makoto knew he had to be concise and yet evasive.
He made sure Sousuke wouldn’t push past his limits.
No injury should ever have tainted such a beautiful soul.

Time was tickling too fast though,
Makoto had to go back in his time
Where no one was waiting for him.
With half of his life time given to the God.

Sousuke was there when he woke up.
The teal eyes still looked saddened.
But it wasn’t because of his ripped future.
It was due to their ripped future.

Despite his travel trip
Despite his sacrifice
Sousuke would still love him.
Until his soon last breath.

no tags

Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka, Haikyuu!!, Puella Magi Madoka Magica AU

Makoto/Sousuke, Free!

Zombie, Major Character Death, Angst

Word Count: 1,101

How long had it been since they were able to share a peaceful morning in each other’s arms like this? How long had it been since they were able to forget about the apocalypse crawling at the door of their shelter?

They still needed to be quiet to not attract unnecessary attention from those dead creatures. Makoto would whisper words into Sousuke’s ears and he would answer with few nods or moves. They had been used to this for so long that they would find it weird to shout or yell.

Even when they were chasing the depressing thoughts of their situation with their bodies finding each other desperately, they would be silent. In their heads they could imagine how the other would sound so seductively and this was all that mattered. Their bodies touching was enough to prove that they were here. That they were alive.

But this wouldn’t last. Nothing last in that cruel world.

As they heard grumbling and inhuman groaning, the two of them knew what they needed to do. Quickly they would take their stuff quickly as well as their weapons.

They had never hurt anyone before those things appeared, never even held a gun…

But now this was their daily life. They had to survive –for the other one.

Makoto would not be able to survive without Sousuke’s warmth.

Sousuke would not be able to survive without Makoto’s smile.

They were all they had left in this world.

The noises were louder, they had to hurry. Yet before they left this house, they shared one last kiss. A promise for the two of them to survive this attack once more. It didn’t last long, it had to be quick for the two of them to long for more so they would survive just to enjoy another kiss.

Running, running and running.

This was all they could do. Sometimes Sousuke would use his baseball bat to smash into a zombie that would come too close to them. But they knew they couldn’t kill them all. How could they kill something already dead anyway?

So they ran. They hid. They tried to remain alive.

Until that day.

Sousuke had thought the old lighthouse would be a good place to hide from them. It seemed like the undead wouldn’t know how to swim besides so it would be a good way to be safe quickly if they were attacked.

Makoto was less enthusiastic about being so close to the ocean though he had to admit this was a good idea. His fear of the ocean was nothing next to those killing creatures who already took everything but Sousuke from him.

Yet as they were attacked, this second of vacillation before jumping into the ocean was fatal. Sousuke had hold Makoto’s hand the whole time so he had been able to push him to be the one receiving the zombie’s attack.

The bite was so powerful that for the first time in months, Sousuke shouted from the pain. Nonetheless he couldn’t leave Makoto so he more or less managed to drag the zombie with him in his fall into the water. The cliff wasn’t that high, just few meters above the water surface.

Sousuke kicked the zombie away before he was diving into the cold water. His body was yet burning so much that it actually felt nice. He had to find Makoto… Makoto…

“Sou—!” The scream was able to keep his eyes fully open. He had to fight that pain, that virus which was slowly turning him into that monster. No he shouldn’t find Makoto. Sousuke didn’t want to kill him in his madness. It was better if he just drowned here.

However, he felt powerful arms dragging him to the nearest beach. Makoto wasn’t going to let him go even if he too surely knew how all of this would end.

“Sousuke! Please stay awake! Fight it back! Hang in there! Please!”

If Sousuke was able to talk, he would have surely told him to not scream, to not attract more zombies in their directions. Makoto didn’t care though. In front of him, his lover was slowly turning into one of them.

Sousuke’s warmth was just a memory judging by how cold his skin currently was. The teal eyes were barely shinning and actually the only thing that let him know Sousuke was still alive was the light pulse of his heartbeat.

“…” Don’t cry The black haired man’s hand tried to reach Makoto’s cheeks but the moment he saw the blood from his injury he wouldn’t dare to touch his beloved. He had been contaminated.

Yet Makoto hold his hand almost desperately. It was his fault, he knew this. If only he hadn’t been scared of the ocean, then they would have both been alive and well right now. The tears wouldn’t stop, never.

“…” Go Sousuke was hoping his beloved would be far from him the moment he would completely turn but it seemed like Makoto wouldn’t ever let him. Moving his lips to form his words were already starting to be so hard.

“No… I’m not leaving without you! I am—... I can’t!” Nonetheless the moment Sousuke started to groan just like them, his hands had unconsciously let go of his beloved before quickly holding him tighter. His body was starting to react to the danger forgetting his heart.

For Sousuke this was all he needed to know before closing his eyes. Even if Makoto was reluctant in letting him go, he would eventually do it before he would attack him.

Soft lips covered his own and it was only now that Sousuke knew that there would be no more kisses. This was a farewell kiss. There was no promise behind it, just a pouring of all their feelings for one another.

Makoto didn’t want to ever break this kiss but he had to when Sousuke let out another inhuman noises. It seemed like his beloved was fighting so hard against that thing within his veins to at least let him run away safely.

“R—un…”

Sousuke’s voice was barely recognizable anymore and this was the last push he needed before starting to move away and finally run.

Not looking back…

If he glanced backwards, he knew he would rush back by Sousuke’s side.

Makoto couldn’t die.

He needed to find a cure.

To find someone or something that could turn Sousuke back into his beloved.

It was impossible, he knew this deep down…

But this was all Makoto could come up with to continue living.

The hope of finding Sousuke back.

Hongou Masamune/Furuya Satoru, Daiya no Ace.

No tags

Soulmate AU~

Word Count: 470.

He knew at first glance it was you.

Or at least that was what Renji hoped as he glanced at his best friend behind. His normally cold blue eyes were no longer glaring –it was one of the first time he saw Masamune like this. Normally he would always frown, look upset, act annoyed by everything…

But as his eyes set upon that boy, it was as if he learnt how to breathe properly after 17 years. Nothing would be the same after that day, everything would no longer feel the same.

Unfortunately for Masamune.

He had found his soulmate.

The one person he had the least wanted to meet.

And it had to be that guy out of the whole world.

Love was not something Masamune looked forward to, preferring baseball or video games. Since their birth, they would learn more about the soulmates system and how their whole existence was about finding them. Too bad for Renji, he was still looking for that person. Nonetheless he didn’t mind waiting a bit longer.

What if their soulmates were not loving them? Or more like not loving what they loved? What if their soulmates had already someone else they loved? Would they actually fall in love?

There were so many questions, of course for teenagers like them, it would be better without caring about it and postpone the research for later on. However, Masamune found his soulmate in a place he would never not go –a baseball field. It seemed like destiny was forcing them to meet here. Well it was better than letting the blue eyed boy look for his soulmate himself. He wouldn’t have even glanced around if it was the case.

Furuya Satoru.

Masamune had already heard about him but he never expected that man to be his soulmate out of everyone in the world. Sure they both came from Hokkaido and loved baseball yet this was all they had in common. Their pitches may look similar for the journalists but for Masamune, they weren’t.

Yet destiny had put them together, marked their souls for them to match.

It was only during their match against each other that they realized they couldn’t fight destiny. No matter how exciting they could feel about pitching for a whole game in another circumstances, this was nothing to this level.

Their souls were craving for one another after being apart for so long that they didn’t even care about the results. All that mattered was one another. Masamune knew he had other concerns about this soulmates stuff but it seemed like it didn’t matter in Furuya’s arms.

Actually his whole mind wasn’t caring about anything else when their bodies were touching each other. Was that solace? When they were finally one entity, nothing seemed to be of importance –not even baseball.

Edited 2016-07-31 17:29 (UTC)

sexual content (semi-public sex, oral sex)
1419 words, kotori/honoka, welcome to night vale au

Kotori was hiding underneath the table with all Honoka’s DJ equipment, camouflaged between circuits and wires and a strange plant that had grown out of the metal desk.

Edited 2016-07-31 18:49 (UTC)

no tags, nozoeli
436 words

The goddess of the Moon, Nozomi, was lonely; it was cold and remote, and she felt so alone hanging up by herself in the night sky. Other planets didn’t talk back, and neither did helicopters or airplanes. The stars blinked back when she waved at them, but they were too far away. Nozomi spent most of her time alone waiting in silence.

The goddess of the Sun was a lovely girl, but Honoka was always asleep when Nozomi woke up and wanted to play. Besides, she already had the goddesses of the Skies and the Seas as her best friends, and Nozomi didn’t want to disturb their peace. The moon could do little more than reflect the sun’s light from the other side of the world, after all, and Nozomi wasn’t sure how much she could offer Honoka in return. So she met Honoka with brief hellos and goodbyes, savoring the brief moments of dusk and dawn when they shared the sky together.

Sometimes, Honoka tried to stay up for her after dusk. Nozomi could see how Honoka yawned as she hung around, exhausted without her energy source to give her fuel. She rubbed her eyes when she spoke to Nozomi and sometimes fell asleep on her, drooling, but sometimes they would manage a short five to ten-minute exchange. It was during one of these exchanges that Honoka proposed an idea.

“They say wishes on stars will come true. Why don’t you try asking for that?”

That night, Honoka passed out on the sprawling grass, disappearing into the ether as she did before she resurfaced the next day. Nozomi looked into the sky where the moon hung, and at the stars next to it. She closed her eyes, and wished.

All I want is a friend.

She opened her eyes. There was a twinkle in the distance where there hadn’t been one before—probably a trick of the light, but it had been worth trying. Nozomi sighed, sitting down on a soft tuft of grass. There was no harm trying, she supposed, and Honoka had only meant well. Perhaps she would be doomed to loneliness until the end of time.

A sparkle of stardust appeared in front of her eyes. Nozomi’s eyes widened and she let out a gasp, and a girl appeared in front of her, tall and blonde with a sweet, sweet smile.

“I’m Eli. I heard your wish.” She reached out a hand for Nozomi to take, lacing their fingers together.

“Would you like to explore the world with me?”

Nozomi nodded, taking her hand. Perhaps wishing on stars did work after all.

Edited 2016-07-31 18:49 (UTC)

no tags, t2 pjo au
425 words

The ocean ahead of them stretched out for further than Aoyagi could see. He took in a deep breath, savoring its salty smell and the chill breeze, the atmosphere enveloping him in the embrace of home. Beside him stood Junta who was much less familiar with the seaside; Aoyagi knew that his best friend wasn’t too fond of water after a near-death incident trying to find The Mark of Athena. Still, Junta turned to him with a smile, and Aoyagi felt a faint fluttering in his chest. Junta bumped his shoulder against his lightly.

“You want to wade in the water,” Junta said, lacing Aoyagi’s fingers into his. “It’s less scary if you’re with me—maybe we can go together.”

Aoyagi nodded in response, knowing that Junta would hear the unspoken Thank you. Mind-reading wasn’t typically a trait of the children of Athena, but Aoyagi was half-certain that Junta’s ability to read him was almost superhuman. Aoyagi squeezed Junta’s hand tightly, kicking off his flip-flops and wandering into the sea. Water splashed across his feet and ankles, sand filled the crevices between his toes. Aoyagi tugged on Junta’s hand, brow knotting with concern. “You okay?”

Junta smiled, still not letting go of Aoyagi’s hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little nervous, that’s all—ah, fuck it, I’ll do it.” Now it was Junta’s turn to kick off his shoes, following Aoyagi into the water with a slow, tentative step. He was squeezing Aoyagi’s hand so tightly that his knuckles were white, and for a moment Aoyagi almost spoke up again, wanted to say that he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. But then Junta laughed, and Aoyagi felt relief course through his body. They were going to be all right. For a while they just stood there, enjoying the breeze and the sound of the ocean’s waves. Junta, of course, was the first to break the silence.

“I should have known I wasn’t going to drown. Why would I, when I’m with Poseidon’s son who can rescue me at any moment?” He bumped his shoulder against Aoyagi’s. “The great hero and savior of the world, huh?”

Aoyagi felt a flush tinge his cheeks. He rolled his eyes, bumping Junta’s shoulder back in return. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” Or Onoda, or Naruko, or any of the other children of gods who’d saved the world with them. Still, it had been the most important that Junta was by his side.

He leaned in closer to Junta, pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss.

Edited 2016-07-31 18:44 (UTC)

Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

soulmate au where the first words spoken Directly To your soulmate are written

supernatural magic
588 words.

“Hey, Rei-chan,” Miyuki calls out to the both of them and they turn to look at him, “mind if I handle his balls?”

Oops. That’s not really what he wanted to say—handle his pitches and catch his balls merging into one messed up sentence.

The previously noisy pitcher stares at him, mouth slack, and Miyuki casually waves with a laugh. Instantly, the middle schooler’s mouth turns into a scowl and hey—isn’t that rude? Miyuki makes sure that he looks completely offended, because he is.

Silently, the pitcher stomps over, fuming, and reveals his left wrist to the other.

Hey, Rei-chan, mind if I handle his balls? is right there, blazing gold in his impeccable handwriting.

“Oh,” Miyuki can’t help grinning, wide shiny teeth betraying the loud thump of his heart, “whoops?”

The pitcher throws his hands up into the air with a noisy gush of air. Miyuki checks his wrists. Nope, still bare.

“Are you going to speak or no?” Miyuki gestures to his wrists—all the other stereotypical soulmate identifiers are happening: he feels warmer, safer, and there’s a strong temptation to touch the other.

The pitcher mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

**

“Sawamura Eijun,” Takishima tells him, “he’s only in middle school, but you’ll see why I’ve brought him here.”

**

“What kind of pitches do you know?”

Sawamura shakes his head—still not going to speak, huh—and then mimes the grip.

“Uhm,” Miyuki squints, yeah, any basic pitcher should have the fastball. “Anything else?”

Sawamura fixes him a glare as if to say excuse me, of course I don’t have anything else and Miyuki laughs as he slings an arm around the other and pulls him close.

“Well, just follow my lead then.”

Sawamura mimes gagging.

**

After they get their third out, Sawamura roars in victory.

Miyuki conspicuously checks his wrists again—nope, still nothing.

Sawamura’s taunting Azuma and talking to Takishima now and still nothing pops up, which is fine by Miyuki, because he doesn’t want the words that are going to remain on his wrist forever to be intended for another man. He’s fine, he thinks, he’ll be patient.

**

“I think that Sawamura wants to construct the ugliest sentence ever to put on my wrist,” Miyuki tells Kuramochi over lunch because Sawamura still refused to talk to him—even after he snuck up on the other and it looked like he wanted to shout something, probably Miyuki Kazuya! or something.

“Oh yeah,” Kuramochi nods, “I’ve been helping him.”

Miyuki sighs and thunks his head against the wood of his desk.

**

“Miyuki Kazuya,” Sawamura’s voice drifts into his ear for the first time ad Miyuki jolts to attention, his heart thumping as the words start to write themselves on his skin, “you are the most insufferable bastard that I’ve ever met—”

Well, Miyuki resigns himself, that’s probably it. There we go. The sentence that he’s going to look at whenever he needs another self-deprecating laugh.

“—but,” Sawamura continues and the universe writes that on his skin too, “I trust you.”

Oh.

“Yup!” Sawamura exhales noisily through his nostrils. “That was everything that I wanted to say! Ahhhhh—Miyuki Kazuya, do you know how hard it was for me to keep silent! But it was not in vain; I’m glad that I was able to come up with that sentence! Haha—let me see it.”

“God,” Miyuki rolls his eyes but extends his arm so Sawamura can look at the golden characters. “You’re so noisy.”

Edited 2016-07-31 20:24 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

Page 11 of 24

Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, T

Re: FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, T

Re: FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, T

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, T

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

Re: FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

Re: FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

Re: FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Re: Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Re: Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Re: Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Re: Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Re: Fill: Team Grandstand, T

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, G

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Re: Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Re: Fill: Team Grandstand, T

Fill: Team Grandstand, T

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: Team sawamura daichi/sugawara koushi RATING: G

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, T

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, E

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G