sportsanime | Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

Entry tags:

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rin Matsuoka/Haruka Nanase, Free!

No tags

Mermen AU with Haru turning Rin into one to always be with him~

SCREAMS

I have a terrible one-track mind /zooms in on this Ahh I love this idea way too much and it's very pretty!

supernatural beings (angels), mentions of rot and decay
Kominato Ryousuke/Kuramochi Youichi
Work count: poetry, 39 lines that begin with some vague meter/rhyme scheme that gradually degrades. just like ryousuke's divinity.

RESOLUTIONS TO A SERIES OF QUERIES POSED TO "MAKE CONVERSATION" WITH A FORMERLY ANGELIC GUEST

my soul used to rest
in cold sublimation
down here it is muggy
this physical form
the atmosphere pressed
from rapt contemplation
so i'd have to say no,
youichi, it isn't "the best."

i feel this vessel rotting
the skin dies and dusts off
matter from decaying matter
into acid cavities
all to keep a human trotting
to pulse, digest, to stretch and cough
so to answer your question youichi
i am not enjoying my burger

in heaven i had six wings
and a million eyes
simultaneously each focused on a plane
exceeding your human comprehension
and my newfound mortality does limit things
perfect sight will feel myopic when i'm cut down to this size
so youichi does that answer suffice
as to whether i actually need these glasses

when i resided in that flat unseen space above the sky
emotion and sensation were not things of consequence
i was prepared to be a judge with wind and fire implements
what you would call my brain, hard-wired
for weighing and conveying retrograde ramifications
of evil, good, of selfish random instinctual "why"
and not for your cheap coffee dates
the colored pencils that so amuse you
nor the aging loud machine which, trailing smoke, you love to ride
the tactile nothings coat my new reality
though the mind has yet to dispense what i remember once had been
so youichi, when you inquire if i am happy
stripped of my angel essence and confined to this realm
the truthful answer is that i am mildly disgruntled
but i endure it somehow.

supernatural beings, changeling fairy children; lapslock; minor discussion of eating habits; hc pronouns just because
Kominato Haruichi & Kominato Ryousuke
Word count: 420

ryousuke is not as easy to get along with as his gurgling changeling twin. they are still a little rounder and cuter, with eyes that are deep, huge, and round. those eyes are unsettling, and haruichi keeps them covered, mostly. they're the only things that mark them as a faery child. they do not need them to see.

ryousuke is the one who looks and feels more alien to the town. by the time the faeries had deposited him back to the land of the living, it was too late; his upbringing had othered him beyond repair. ryousuke forgot to swing his arms like a human when he walked, and often carried food or papers near his chest so that it came out less apparent. he never looked people in the eye when speaking, had to be invited indoors, needed his milk and water boiled. he habitually avoided language that could be read as a binding agreement, stopped making promises or plans altogether, and quickly gained himself a reputation in his human village as a liar when he managed to get pressed into a contract of wormy half-truths. it was standard fare for survival in a fae court. but ryousuke was not there anymore, because the faeries decided they no longer wanted him.

haruichi palms at him today. chubby, cheerful, and blessed with innumberable gifts. they are toddling around but not speaking, yet; for just as ryousuke in the faery realm had his accelerated growth, the changeling in the human town comes up a little slow. it's okay; haruichi's lifespan will put the their whole country to shame, probably. ryousuke will only be here for a little part of it. he thinks so. he's not sure how long changeling human children last. he hadn't seen any others at the court.

ryousuke sets his book down to one side and hefts his unnatural younger sibling onto his lap. haruichi's skin is thin and opalescent and really, it's very lucky for them that ryousuke got put back when he did; for iron burns faeries, and they were still so young they had never touched it yet. their parents would be practically lost without him. haruichi should only be fed ripe fruit; when fruit was hard to find, they were to subsist off snowmelt and thin reflections of light. they ought to be kept away from running water, as it would make them nauseous.

and when they grew the faculty for language, it would be ryousuke's job to teach them how to lie.

Miyuki Kazuya &/ Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

hades & persephone au

mentions of starvation
563 words.

“You’re the one who kidnapped me, Miyuki Kazuya,” Sawamura Eijun shouts and pushes his finger into the center of Miyuki’s chest, looking up with defiance in his eyes. “You’re the one who wanted me; I never asked for this.”

“Well,” Miyuki says, nastiness seeping into his voice, “no one really cares about what you want, now do they?”

For a blessed second, Miyuki thinks that Sawamura’s going to hit him. He’d certainly deserve it; his words were true but they were meant to hurt, in the way that pointing out half of the immortal line were unwanted mistakes by their godly parents, in the way that Sawamura isn’t allowed his own agenda because no one’s asked for it.

But Sawamura stares at him, his teeth grinding against each other, his hands balled up into fists by his side.

“Fine,” he mutters, sounding like a petulant child on the verge of tears. “Fine! Fine. Fine.”

Gods do have it in them somewhere to apologize. Miyuki refuses to.

“Since nobody cares what I want, don’t bother me for meals anymore,” Sawamura yells as fresh tears stream down his cheeks. “Don’t bother me with your harpies or your minions or whatever because they always ask what I want to do but that doesn’t really matter, now does it. Don’t bother me.”

“Alright,” Miyuki agrees because he himself hasn’t been waiting on Sawamura for meals or bothering him or anything of that nature. To suggest a thing would be absurd: that’s what Sawamura Eijun is, absurd. Absurd.

How absurd—to suggest that he was waiting on Sawamura before filling the table with food that the god knew not to touch, to suggest that he was looking forward to meals where Sawamura would launch into a tirade of his day, to suggest that he anticipated being able to spend a peaceful hour where he could tease the other god and know that it would be okay.

“You better apologize first!” Sawamura yells as he stomps away. Miyuki grits his teeth. Absurd.

**

He skips breakfast, eats a sandwich for lunch while walking towards the River Styx to discuss pay raises with Kuramochi, and he only realizes the brutality of his mistake when he’s sitting at the great hall table waiting on a god who doesn’t plan on showing.

Anger comes easily. Miyuki’s mad because the other is starving himself out on such petty and mundane business. It’s the truth, everyone knows it, so why was Sawamura so upset about it? He was going to be forced into a loveless union anyways and probably produce abominations that can make flowers grow and trees to bear fruit.

It takes only a beat or two for Miyuki to realize that Sawamura has been doing just that—starving himself. Sawamura hasn’t eaten a single thing since he’s gotten here because he knows that it’s going to bound him here, hold him captive until he will no longer see the daylight of the surface.

He eats in complete silence and frowns; the food tastes worse than what he’s used to, so he eats to ensure no leftovers and waves the rest of the plates away. The gold of his table is shiny enough to show his face. His eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched; he lifts up a hand to work his sore jaw.

Gods do not sulk. Miyuki refuses to.

Matsuoka Rin & Nanase Haruka, Free!
tags: implied future death (?), pregnancy, genderbend, magic, curses, witches
wordcount: 1098

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Haruka who had hair as dark as ink, cheeks as rosy as cherry blossoms, and eyes as clear as water. She lived in a small fishing village with her mother and her father and a little black dog named Makkou, and she loved to swim.

“Go out and play,” her mother would say, “you can go down to the ocean and collect shells and play in the sand, but don’t go in the water without me. There are jellyfish in the waves.”

When Haruka was only a baby, an old woman had put a curse on her to punish her parents for fishing too close to her hut. It was a tiny structure on tall legs that stood out off the edge of a peninsula, out past the docks of the fishing village, and all of the boats knew not to go there. But Haruka’s mother had been stricken with a hunger during her pregnancy, and more than anything else, she wanted a certain kind of mackerel that shoaled in the shallows near the old woman’s hut. Haruka’s father, not being a fisherman himself, had tried bringing home other fish from the market, but his wife was half-sick with hunger for the specific kind that sheltered under the hut where the boats would not go. In desperation, her father had set out with pole and line and sat on the rocks from sunup to sundown for three days, until at last he got a bite and hauled in a mackerel for his wife.

She cleaned and cooked the fish quickly, and devoured it gratefully, thanking him all the while. It seemed they might have peace while they awaited the birth of their child. But it was not to be, for that night a mighty storm rolled in, and with a clap of thunder, a booming came to their front door.

“THIEF!” shrieked a crackled old voice like burning straw, “THIEF! Come out and answer for your crime!”

In a dramatic confrontation, the old woman decried the man for having stolen fish from her private cove. Haruka’s mother, heavy with child, put herself between the old woman and her husband.

“I was the one who wanted the fish! Leave my husband alone!”

And with that, the old woman pointed a gnarled finger and Haruka’s mother felt a jolt in her abdomen as the curse hit her.

“Foolish woman,” the witch cried, “for your meddling, I have put a curse on your child. On her thirteenth birthday, this child will be stung by a jellyfish and die. She will have a longing for the sea, and nothing you do will keep her from it. You cannot protect her. Enjoy the time you have, for those years will fly by and before you know it her precious life will be snuffed out. You should think before you steal from the Demon Grandmother of Iwatobi!”

With that, she vanished in a clap of lightning.

For years, Haruka’s parents watched over their clever daughter as she grew, joy tainted with mourning for the life they knew would soon be cut short. When a new family came to the village, however, mother and children all with bright red hair, rumors circulated that the lady of the family was a magic worker: a fox-witch.

***

“Haruka,” said her mother, one bright day when Haruka was eleven years old, “please bring this basket of sweets to the new family in the village, and make sure that this note goes to the lady of the house. It’s very important.”

“Yes, mother,” said Haruka, and she whistled for Makkou and they made the walk together across the village to deliver the sweets.

“Who are you?” asked the curious little boy who came to the door when she knocked. Surprised, Haruka did not answer right away. Soon another voice came from inside.

“Gou-chan, get out of the way.”

“Don’t call me -chan!”

In place of the little boy, a girl about Haruka’s age opened the door. She had short hair as red as maple leaves, freckles across her nose like sand, and bright eyes that shone like jewels. Haruka stared openly.

“What?” The red-haired girl looked defensive.

“I’m sorry,” said Haruka, “I came to bring these for your mother. Can you make sure she gets the note? It’s very important.”

The girl took the basket, looking at it and its contents suspiciously. Then she noticed the little black dog that sat at Haruka’s heels, wagging its tail.

“Is that your dog?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Haruka, relieved. “Her name is Makkou. Do you want to come play?”

The girl looked inside over her shoulder, and then back at Haruka and shook her head, disappointment clear in her expression. “I can’t. I have to help my mother unpack her herbs today.”

“Well,” said Haruka, “would you like to come play tomorrow?”

The girl grinned. “Sure.” She reached out her hand. “My name is Rin.”

“Haruka.” Haruka shook Rin’s hand, a bit bemused by the gesture. “My family is Nanase. We live up on the hill by the shrine.”

“I heard about that shrine,” said Rin, nodding. “Powerful magic up there, right?”

“I don’t know,” said Haruka.

“Well,” said Rin, “maybe you wouldn’t know what to look for. But that’s okay, we can go explore and find out tomorrow.”

“Will you meet me at the shrine at noon? I can bring Makkou and pack a lunch.”

“Okay!” Rin flashed a grin, her teeth startlingly sharp. Haruka blinked, momentarily dazzled, and then nodded her head.

“See you tomorrow,” she began to say, but Rin was already closing the door.

“Thanks for the food,” she said, and latched it.

What odd manners, Haruka thought absently. But what a beautiful girl.

She scratched Makkou behind the ears, and then trotted back towards her home.

Nanase Haruka was eleven years old, cursed to die at thirteen, but she did not know about that. What she did know was that she had just made a very remarkable new friend, and that tomorrow her new friend was going to teach her about magic. As far as Haruka was concerned, her life was looking up. And if she did not notice her parents checking up on her as she tossed and turned that night, too excited to sleep properly, she could have been forgiven.

Even in their worry, her parents had something new and precious in their own lives, a gift from the red-headed girl’s mother: hope. They, too, were excited to see what the new day would bring.

oh my gosh. I love this? I love this so much, Alder. I love this particular fairy tale, and your take on it is beautiful. And Haru's description of Rin: She had short hair as red as maple leaves, freckles across her nose like sand, and bright eyes that shone like jewels. Haruka stared openly. My goodness. It was so good to read the way she thought of Rin. You have such a way with setting the tone with your writing and letting things unfold at exactly the right pace in exactly the right place. Thank you for posting this!!!

Re: FILL: Team Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, G

alder_knight - 2016-08-03 01:53 (UTC) - Expand

Araki Masako/Alex Garcia; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags; yuki onna!Araki, mermaid!Alex
word count: 416

"It's warming up, over here," Masako says over their video call, and she's doing the best to keep the hope out of her voice. Most people, she knows, wouldn't even hear it but Alex isn't most people.

"You say that, but I think that our definitions of warm are quite different," Alex laughs. From what Masako can see, she's sitting in a bath tub, her tail visible at the edge of the screen. She's probably at Kagami's place. Tokyo is close, but not close enough.

"You came up here to visit once before," Masako points out.

"In summer, yeah."

"I met you during the Winter Cup. You transformed yourself to have legs. You didn't look that uncomfortable."

"You've seen the snow in Akita, right?" Alex laughs, and Masako knows that it's not an actual question. Masako is, after all, a yuki onna. She knows exactly what the snow is like. "I'm a warm water mermaid, Masako. If I come up to visit you, I'll die."

"Dying isn't as bad as it sounds," Masako murmurs, resting her chin in her hand. "I could always spare you from the cold, you know. If it gets that bad. You know the legends. You know they're true."

Alex sighs. "What if you filled your tub for me? That's probably easier than waiting until I'm on the brink of death and using your magic to keep me alive."

"I could do that. I'll buy more jackets for you so you can stay warm, if you feel like walking around. Otherwise, you won't really be able to move about."

With a soft chuckle, Alex shakes her head. "If I'm coming up to visit, I don't expect that either of us will be spending much time getting out of the house anyway. Or bed."

Masako hums, the corners of her lips curving into a smile as Alex winks at her on the screen. "You have a point there. Does this mean you'll visit, then?"

"It means I'm thinking about it," Alex replies firmly, and Masako knows her well enough to know that it means it's only a matter of time. She should probably start cleaning the bathtub. And the rest of the apartment, while she's at it.

"School holidays are coming up soon," Masako points out. "I'll have more time for you if you visit then. We might not actually have to leave the house at all."

"Damn it," Alex sighs, and Masako hides her smile behind her hand.

She knows she's won.

Kasamatsu Yukio/Kise Ryouta; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags; demon au; cardfight vanguard au, King of Masks, Dantarian!Kise, Aqua Force Rear-Admiral!Kasamatsu
word count: 897

The Castle of Masks is a tall, narrow structure that sits at the top of a hill. The front gate creaks as it opens, the trees are filled with bats, and Kasamatsu clicks his tongue as he makes his way up the winding, cobblestone path.

Tacky. It's all so terribly tacky and he can't stand it. But he knows that the owner of the castle is a worthwhile ally to have. Besides, he's in the Dark Zone. He knows to take everything in this particular nation with a grain of salt. Or a handful, he supposes, when it comes to the demons. He wonders how much salt it will take to stand up to a demon king. He wonders if he'd even have a chance.

His arrival has clearly been noticed. The double doors at the entrance of the castle swing open for him as he approaches, silent unlike the gate. It gives Kasamatsu pause.

Creepy. Creepy and tacky.

Why he chose an alliance with the Dark Irregulars, of all people, he doesn't know. For all their benefits (sharp, cunning, clever, good at magic, unpredictable enemies—even if they are just as unpredictable as allies) there's also this to deal with. A tall castle with a winding staircase and red carpet and distant organ music and—honestly. Honestly.

Kasamatsu already kind of wants to kick this guy's ass. He'll do his best to hold off, though, until the alliance is secure. Until he's sure that his potential ally is the kind of person who will actually take an ass-kicking, rather than being offended by it.

There's no one else in the castle. It's a little unsettling, only made worse by the fact that the walls of the castle, as Kasamatsu climbs and climbs the winding staircase, aren't covered with paintings, but masks.

Some of them are framed, while others aren't. Each of them have a plaque underneath them, staing their name, sometimes stating a date. Kasamatsu wonders if it marks when the mask was acquired, but he doesn't really want to know. Their eye holes are all empty, but Kasamatsu still can't shake the uncomfortable feeling of being watched as he climbs the stairs. He's done his research before coming here, and he's heard the rumours.

It is said that each of the masks in this castle as said to contain someone's soul. It is said that the King who owns them changes forms as he wears them. It is said that no one knows what his true form actually is, underneath all the masks.

He finally reaches the top of the stairs and is faced with another door. He sighs, pushing this one open, and finds himself in a small, cosy room with a fireplace and a large, stuffed armchair right beside it.

"Rear-Admiral," a voice greets, soft and smooth and friendly. "It's kind of you to drop by and visit me yourself. I know you must be busy."

The King of Masks doesn't sound anything like what Kasamatsu had expected. It makes him wonder if his voice changes with each mask that he wears, too.

"I'd offer you a seat, but I don't often entertain guests."

"I'm fine. Thank you for allowing my visit, your—"

"Kise," the King of Masks interrupts softly. "You can just call me Kise."

"Call me Kasamatsu, then."

"You're here for an alliance." The King of Masks stands up from his armchair, walking around it so he can stand in front of Kasamatsu.

He's taller than Kasamatsu is. He's holding a mask in his hand, and it shines a bright yellow, but he isn't wearing one on his face.

He's beautiful. Kasamatsu blinks, finding that he can't take his eyes off Kise's face.

With a soft chuckle, Kise holds the expressionless yellow mask up between them, obscuring his face but not quite putting it on. "Is this easier for you?"

"Put it down," Kasamatsu says. "You've greeted me without wearing a mask. I'll take that for the honour that it is."

Chuckling again, Kise lowers the mask. His eyes, a soft gold that matches the colour of the mask in his hands, shine with mirth and interest.

"You're an interesting one, Kasamatsu," he murmurs. "I think I'm going to look forward to working with you. I think I have the perfect mask."

He reaches his hand out and a mask floats towards him. Kasamatsu didn't even see where it came from. Smiling, Kise dismisses his yellow mask with a flick, making it disappear, and holds the new one with both hands. He presses it to his face and shudders with a soft moan as the transformation takes hold. He's suddenly bigger and the same size, all at once. Kasamatsu knows he's still looking at Kise, the way he looked at first, but his mind is also telling him that he's looking at someone much bigger, more imposing.

It's giving him a headache.

"This is my war mask," Kise tells him, then takes it off. He must notice the tension around Kasamatsu's eyes, because he smiles apologetically. "It's difficult to wrap your head around my mask tranformations when you've seen my true form. I don't often let people see, but I had a feeling that you wouldn't trust me otherwise."

"You're right," Kasamatsu tells him. "I'll get used to it, don't worry."

Kise smiles wider. "Oh, I'm definitely going to like working with you."

Miyuki Kazuya &/ Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

hades & persephone au

no tags--casual mention of kidnapping/starving ig
618 words.

Miyuki sighs as he walks, his robe fluttering behind him. Elysium isn’t that far of a walk and he knows that the sprawling field of life and vegetation appeals to the god he’s looking for, regardless of how artificial it is.

“Sawamura,” he calls out and the god stiffens, turning around at the sound of his name. A righteous mortal had been whispering in his ear and Miyuki can’t help the flare of contempt that rises inside of him as the mortal excuses herself, walking barefoot to another part of the fields.

“Ah, Miyuki Kazuya!” Sawamura stands up and points, ever a constant greeting. “You look worse than yesterday!”

Well.

Huffing a laugh, Miyuki held both hands out as he shrugged. Nothing he could do about it.

“I’m serious, your skin is paler than usual,” Sawamura wrinkles his nose. Miyuki supposes that anyone is pale compared to Sawamura, whose skin is currently fading slowly but surely from a dark tan to a subdued yellow due to the lack of natural sunlight. “And you’ve got these massive bags under your eyes.”

“Right,” Miyuki laughs. “I’m so glad that I’ve got the expert on health here, considering that you haven’t eaten for two weeks now.”

Sawamura noisily exhales and crosses his arms.

“I can’t eat because I don’t want to stay,” Sawamura grumbles, “I need real earth beneath my feet! Sawamura Eijun is a god of springtime!”

“Yes, yes,” Miyuki sighs, mad at himself for bringing that up. He’s desperate for a topic change. “Anyways,” smooth, “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be late to dinner.”

“Dinner?” Sawamura blinks owlishly then glances around. The sun is still high in the sky. “That isn’t for a while, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Miyuki frowns, “but I’ll be gone for a long time. I will try to make it back as soon as possible.”

“Oh?” Sawamura tilts his head. “Is it more Underworld politics?”

Miyuki’s mirthless smile is answer enough.

Sawamura takes five deliberate steps closer to him then flings his arms out wide. The rose pink silk sheet that he wore as a makeshift toga was coming loose, most likely due to the clumsiness of his own fingers and Miyuki wonders if he should enlist someone to dress Sawamura in robes every morning.

“What,” Miyuki says flatly.

“Come in for a hug!” Sawamura urges. His fingers wiggle at the end.

“Why,” Miyuki is wary, “I thought—you hate me, don’t you?”

Sawamura fixes him with a look that suggests Miyuki’s being an idiot. Miyuki has never felt this caught off guard before; he hates it.

“Listen,” Sawamura says, puffing his chest out, “you look like you don’t want to do it, but since you’re running the entire place, you have to. I respect a god who fulfills his duties. Sawamura Eijun is never one to not offer compassion! Especially for those in need! Before you go, have a hug!”

Okay, Miyuki thinks, entering Elysium. He crosses the distance easily, a bit too fast in awkward eagerness, and buries his head in the crook of Sawamura’s neck. The god’s arms come up to rub his back, Sawamura mumbling “there, there” as he pats Miyuki’s shoulders. Miyuki’s own arms hang limply at his side.

The hug lasts for a long time. Miyuki is the first to pull away.

“Well,” he clears his throat, awkwardness forcing his throat to constrict. “I’m going now.”

“Alright,” Sawamura smiles, “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Miyuki feels the heat from Sawamura’s embrace until he returns to Elysium, fatigue making him weary all the way to his core.

“Sawamura, I’m back,” Miyuki calls out. “Shall we go to dinner?”

“Welcome back,” Sawamura says and stands.

Edited 2016-08-02 04:17 (UTC)

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, haikyuu!!

pjo au

no tags
463 words.

It’s not that big of a problem, Oikawa thinks as he fixes his bangs in the mirror and flashes a grin in the mirror. He’ll be fine.

Well, Oikawa thinks as the corner of his perfectly smooth lips turn down, it’s a bit of a problem.

“Aw,” someone calls out and Oikawa fixes his half-sister with a stare, “does someone have a crush? Is Oikawa Tooru in loooooove?”

This wouldn’t be the first mini problem that this big problem caused, but it certainly was a problem.

“I am not,” he scowls and his half-sister bats her eyelashes back at him.

“Really?”

Problem with living in the Aphrodite Cabin: your love affairs become everyone’s love affairs. You don’t have a say in this.

Oikawa huffs in annoyance.

“If I had to hazard a guess,” his half-sister rolls over onto her back and her hair hangs upsidedown from the top of her bunk, which should make her look hideous but she exudes such casual allure that the entire position is sexy rather than ridiculous, “would it be on someone from the… Hephaestus cabin?”

As if on cue, the entire cabin chorused in “ooo’s”.

Oikawa scowls.

“Be careful,” another half-sibling shouts as he makes a speedy retreat, “if you scowl so much, you’re going to get wrinkles and your face is going to stay that way.”

**

“I don’t get it,” Iwaizumi says in the forge, wiping sweat from his brow. He’s working shirtless, which would be unsanitary but seems common around those demigods. Oikawa’s a bit farther away so the sparks don’t hit him, but he’s hardly sweating. “You can just charm speak your way to their hearts, right?”

“But it wouldn’t be genuine!” Oikawa grumbles. “Besides, you’re immune to my charmspeak.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees with a careless shrug, “I’ve been around you for forever; it’d be ridiculous if I wasn’t.”

Unsatisfied with that sort of response, Oikawa opens his mouth to complain. Iwaizumi makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and reaches out suddenly; grabbing Oikawa by the wirst and tugging him close.

The forge roars behind them, spitting out a sea of flames that lick at Iwaizumi’s back. The heat makes Oikawa dizzy and he struggles to keep a clear head; Iwaizumi’s sweating profusely, but the expression he makes doesn’t look like one from pain. Eventually, the fire stops and Iwaizumi sighs in relief. His back is slightly red but doesn’t look like any flesh had been charred off.

“I doubt that you’d be alright if your eyebrows got burned off or something,” Iwaizumi groans as he stands up, rolling his shoulders. Oikawa’s managed to lose his voice.

“You alright?” Iwaizumi squints in suspicion. “Your face is red. Is it too hot in here?”

“I’m fine,” Oikawa squeaks. “Perfectly fine.”

AWOOOOOOOGA

Kenma Kozume/Kuroo Tetsuro Haikyuu!!
No major warnings apply Word Count:2319

“Kenma? Kenma?”

Poppies and wildflowers rose above, clouding his vision. He blinks at a light blue sky, only dotted by a few puffy white clouds. He sighs in time with a slight breeze, but Kenma can’t be bothered to move, can’t be bothered to rise from the overgrown green.

He waits, still and quiet as though that’s anything from his default state, until the voice fades. He sits up with mild curiosity, resting on his elbows. He blows a half-toned strand from his nose as his eyes fly around the empty field. There are a few birds, butterflies, but he doesn’t see any pesky attendants, so he drops back onto the dirty ground. He doesn’t expect someone to be behind him, stooped over him, though. The man grins, lopsided, and Kenma can only blink, throat closed and dry.

“Hey,” the man says, golden eyes piercing with miniscule pupils. “Got room for one more?”

Kenma can only nod.

The main lays down so his head is next to Kenma’s, their bodies perfectly parallel. He folds his hands onto his stomach mildly, and Kenma cab only note that his robes are dark colored, as opposed to Kenma’s white, scrunched around his thighs.

“Am I intruding your privacy?” The man flicks his gaze to Kenma’s.

Kenma hums for a moment. “Only a little.”

The man looks surprised by that. “Oh, shit, I can leave if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kenma isn’t sure why he’s suddenly holding onto the man’s arm, but he can’t meet his gaze anymore.

“Hm. Alright,” the man says, softly. “Oh, my name is Kuroo.”

“Kenma,” he replies.

“I know,” Kuroo flashes a grin. “I’ve kinda seen you around. You seem to prefer this- when people leave you alone, rather than all that flashy god shit.”
“You know I’m a god?” Kenma looks to him, eyes wide.

“I mean, yeah,” Kuroo shrugs, moving so his arms are behind his head. “I’m one too.”

“Kuroo, god of the Underworld, at your service.”

----
Kenma would like to say that he never meets with Kuroo again, that he’s a good son and never goes to the field of poppies and death ever again.

He would like to.

But really, he can’t. Kuroo enraptures him like no one else. He seems confident, rambunctious, but he reigns it in a way that seems natural to Kenma. He never oversteps boundaries, he respects Kenma’s need for silence.

A lot of afternoons are spent in silence in that field.

One afternoon, Kuroo says he has something to show Kenma. He takes his wrist like it’s nothing, leads Kenma up through a hill, past some trees and roots, and not even an hour later they’re sitting on a hilltop, overlooking the entire city and offering a prime view of the temple Kenma, god of springtime and flowers, lives in with his family.

Kenma can’t help but gasp in wonder.
He watches as everyone bustles about in their days, over how many people there are in the city. He’s never suspected, despite having lived there his whole life.

"Huh," he says, a huff of air past full lips. "It's. Pretty."

Kuroo laughs, a low, guwaffing thing. "Just pretty? It's kinda marvelous in my opinion."

Kenma turns to look him fully in the face. There’s a slight air of melancholy there, maybe even envy.

"There's not- it's not like this in the Underworld," Kuroo mutters, a sad smile touching his lips and flattening his eyes. He raises a hand to ruffle his hair. "There's certainly not so many people. It's just. Me and some souls, I guess."

"Sounds lonely," Kenma says, if only to catch the flash of distaste that flashes over Kuroo's features.

"Hm, I suppose." His smile is forced. "But it's alright, I can come here. I can see you."

There’s a pause before his last sentence that Kenma can scarcely ignore.

They stand in silence for a while, content to watch the civilian's days.

"Y'know," Kenma says, just above a whisper. "It's not so great down there."

This seems to just barely peek at Kuroo's interest. "Oh?"

Kenma hums. "Yeah. Down there, my mom dotes on me with an unwavering eye. I know she means the best, I know she just doesn't want me to get hurt, but it's aggravating. I just want to... be alone, I suppose."

"You're sure with me an awful lot," Kuroo supplies.

"Hm, but that doesn't count. You're relaxing," Kenma avoids the totally genuine shit-eating grin Kuroo is giving him. "Everyone else has expectations. Things they want from me. I just want to be here, exist."

"That doesn't seem too unreasonable." Kuroo nods, then an idea seems to pass through his features, lightening every single one. His eyes are bright, his teeth flashing as his lips pull up on bright cheeks. "Hey, Kenma."

"Yeah?"

"Come with me," he says, "Come with me to the Underworld."

Kenma whips his head to look at him, eyes wide and mouth open in a slight 'O'. Kuroo can't be serious. That'd be disrupting the natural order, a god like him living in the Underworld.

But Kenma desperately wants to.

Kuroo reaches for his hand, squeezes it. "You wouldn't be able to come back, though. So, you don't have to give me an answer. Not now, not ever if you don't want to."

Kenma nods, and they leave it at that, holding hands and watching the city bustles below them.

----

That night, Kenma can't think of anything else. Go to the Underworld... live there with Kuroo, away from prying eyes, away from endless noise and intrusions.

Away from the few people he cares about.

One of those people, Yaku, comes through his door with a tray of food. "Lady Demeter wanted you to have this since you missed dinner."

Kenma mumbles thanks, pulls his knees up to his chin tighter.

"Y'know," Yaku says, setting down the tray, "You've been weird lately."

"Have I?" Kenma picks at a grape.

Yaku gives him a narrow stare. "You know you have, you little shit. You've been sneaking away lately, giving Lady Demeter a fucking heart attack. Where've you even been going?"

"Nowhere really," Kenma avoids his eyes, finding it easy to lie to Yaku. Easier than it is to hide from Kuroo.

Yaku huffs and rolls his eyes. "Well, you know we all care about you, right?"

"Yeah," Kenma says, in a bored tone.

He just isn't sure it’s enough.

The silence between them isn't as comfortable as it was between Kenma and Kuroo but it’s something. Familiar if nothing else.

Kenma pops the grape between his lips. "Hey, Yaku?"

Yaku springs up immediately. "Yes, Lord Kenma?"

"Is love enough for someone to abandon everything? To abandon everyone else they love, for that chance at a love that lasts forever? For someone who makes them so comfortable that everything else pales?"

"I..." Yaku starts, surprised beyond everything it seems, "I'm sorry, that's the most I've ever heard you say at once, Lord Kenma. But..." He pauses, seems to consider it. "Having someone to love seems the most important, I think."

"Does it?" Kenma asks. His pupils are pinpricks against wide gold that glitters against the moonlight. His hair is brushed back by the night air, his skill an ethereal smooth. It emphasizes the whole being of his godhood that if pointed out, would embarrass him to no end.

"Yeah," Yaku says, sitting down next to Kenma, in a way that he had insisted wasn't too familiar between two friends long ago. "I recently discovered that I'd probably give up anything for love."

"Are you talking about Lev, the new attendant?" Kenma turns to him with too knowing eyes that make him turn away with a blush.

"Perhaps," Yaku laughs a little, embarrassed. "I guess that's what I mean. I know it's against the rules though, so if you choose to report it to Lady Demeter I won't be mad."

"I would never do that to you, Yaku," Kenma says softly. "You deserve to be happy."

Yaku hums at that, and they both sit there for a while longer.

"Yaku," Kenma says, "I might do it. I might give it all up for love."

Yaku places his hand over Kenma's. "I wouldn't blame you, my Lord."

----

A few weeks later, and Kenma senses a shift in Kuroo's behavior. It's not really in his words or actions, but in his mannerisms. He seems antsy, anticipating. It only takes Kenma a moment, really, to figure out why.

Kenma doesn't bring it up at first. Instead, he tugs on Kuroo's hand.

"Show me somewhere new," he says.

Kuroo's eyelids flutter in surprise, but a grin soon springs across skin, natural and genuine. He laces his fingers with Kenma's and says, "I have just the place."

There's a batch of thorns that slow them down for a moment, only if Kuroo has to check and make certain Kenma is unhurt by them. The rest of the course is smooth sailing, or walking rather. They approach a cave carved from smooth light grey rock, and Kenma tenses in a way Kuroo notices, and he wraps a protective arm around him as well.

There's a light at the end of the cave, making the rocks flash with a white highlight.

Kuroo murmurs, "This is my favorite place on Earth."

Kenma presses closer to him, anxious in a positive way for once. The light brightens for a moment, then as they get closer it overwhelms everything else.

They pass through, and Kenma has to blink away the light.

It's a small pond, a sizable oasis, really, with grass and flowers scattered along the banks, and a small waterfall splashing over a rock wall.

It's sunny and quiet but for the babbling of the waterfall, and Kenma figures he can forgive that. He lets go of Kuroo's hand without a thought and steps forward, eyes trying to memorize every inch of this sanctuary.

He then turns back to Kuroo and tugs on his hand, pulls him to the edge of the water. He starts to pull of his tunic, then nudges Kuroo when he doesn't follow suit.

"Join me," Kenma says, and it's not a question, not really. Kuroo doesn't mind, though. He blinks into a smile and takes off his tunic with ease. Kenma pointedly tries to ignore how good he looks and tries to pretend it's no different when he tugs on his hand to guide him into the water.

They wade into the middle of the oasis, kicking lightly to stay afloat. They hold both hands in each other’s', and Kuroo is looking at him with a look that Kenma can't really place, but it makes him turn away and blush. He doesn't get a chance to for long, though, because Kuroo frees a hand, brushes his hair from his face, and turns Kenma's jaw gently to look at him.

They're closer than before and it makes Kenma's breath stall, before Kuroo leans in further, so their lips are barely an inch apart. At this moment, Kuroo's breath stalls, but Kenma has recovered, and it's Kenma who closes the final distance, pressing his lips to Kuroo's.

Kuroo sighs into it, relief and love clear in the breath, and Kenma has to fight the twitch of his lips, knowing Kuroo would feel it against his own. Kuroo pulls away after a moment, and opens his mouth to say something, but Kenma beats him to it.

"I want to. Go with you to the Underworld, that is. I want to go." Kenma looks at him, seriously.

Kuroo lets out a shuddering breath, shoulders curling in a little. "Thank the gods, oh gods."

----

When Kenma is finally there, he can understand why Kuroo was lonely. It's dark, for one thing, and in the halls you can hear the faint cries of the dead. But he doesn't regret his choice, not for a moment. He loves Kuroo, especially when he hears that he'd been using a massive amount of magic to see Kenma, and he honestly couldn't keep it up much longer, hence why he'd been antsy.

A few peaceful weeks later, Demeter comes hailing, and gods is she furious. Kuroo, that sleazebag, the God of the Underworld, stole her son, her precious son right out from under her. Kuroo argues though, that Kenma can't leave the Underworld now, at least not for long. Kenma hides behind his love as they argue. He peeks at Yaku who stands just slightly behind Demeter and gives him a small smile and nod.

"I want my son back for six months a year, surely you can manage that." She raises her chin. "If not, I'm sure we could talk to Zeus about it."

A terrified gleam worms its way into Kuroo's eyes. "That's fine, that's fine! No need to involve Zeus."

Demeter gives an approving nod, coos at her son for a moment longer, and then returns to the surface, attendants in tow.

Kuroo slumps, sighs. "I'm sorry, Kenma. But hey, at least you can see your family and friends. You won't have to be cooped up here with me for eternity."

Kenma pats at his face, his hair. "You say that as though I don't love you, as though I don't want to be here."

"You don't regret coming down here?" Kuroo's eyes flash up, worry transparent in them.

Kenma shakes his head, hair ruffling around his face, "How could I? I love you."

"I love you too," Kuroo sighs, pressing his forehead to Kenma's.

And that's how the stories of spring came to be, as a boy was stolen away from his mother. Half the year she mourns, the trees lose all green, the ground frosts over, and crops die. The other half her son is home, and she blesses all the crops and the season is filled with light and warmth. All because two boys fell in love.

ALI THIS IS BEAUTIFUL

Re: FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

persephonali - 2016-08-07 21:55 (UTC) - Expand

Furuya Satoru & Kuramochi Youichi & Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

undertale au

mentions of violence, canon typical supernatural things
658 words.

“He looks happy,” Miyuki comments and shoves his skeleton hands into his pockets.

The snow whips around them and Furuya tries not to shiver.

Who cares?! The bitter voice in his head calls out, has been calling out ever since he wrapped his arms around Sawamura’s bony skeleton body and chose Mercy. Why are you playing along with this charade?

“Thanks,” Miyuki smiles as Sawamura talks loudly into a walkie talkie, a gruff voice on the other side yelling at him. “I’m thankful you played along. I knew that he wouldn’t be able to go through actually capturing you. But you’re his first human friend, so that means a lot.”

Furuya smiles.

**

Furuya stiffens as the metal armor comes closer, his SOUL threatening to come out any second now.

Don’t move—oh god, he’s right in front of—

The metal hand reaches out and grabs—

“Ouch!” Monster Kid yells as he’s lifted up. Instantly, though, his pain turns into amazement as his legs wiggle back and forth. “Wow! Kuramochi! You’re hurting me—that’s amazing!”

After a beat or two, Kuramochi puts him back down on the grass. The suit of armor turns around and clacks away.

“Did you see that,” Monster Kid gushes as Furuya climbs out and looks around for any sign of danger. “Wasn’t that amazing?!”

Furuya stares.

Nod.

He nods.

**

Kuramochi chases him, bright blue spears coming up to engage him in combat through the bridge. He’s having difficult navigating—at least the wood lights up to left him know that spears are about to come up, but he’s been getting trapped by moving too fast and too unsure.

Eventually, he makes it past.

**

“I can’t let you go,” Kuramochi speaks through the helmet, “you’re a human. Killing you—the seventh human, we’ll be able to be free.”

You should kill them. The voice nastily whispers in his head.

It’s alright, Furuya thinks, we can just get through this like we’ve been getting through everything else.

Kuramochi reaches up and lifts off the suit of armor’s helmet. Blue scales come out and god, he’s a fish.

Furuya didn’t say that?

**

If you would just replace your branch with something else! The voice growls in his head.

Furuya lifts the stick to deflect the spears that are coming all directions around his SOUL, hissing as one flips around to stab him in the back.

Your bandage is pointless.

**

They’re on the run, again, and Kuramochi is fast on his feet. The clank clank clank of metal is what spurs Furuya into action.

Eventually, Furuya runs away for the fifth time and Kuramochi’s aggravated. He’s able to lift up his spear when a jingle comes up; he pauses, puts the spear down, and answers his phone.

The conversation goes a bit like this:

Kuramochi: Hello?
Sawamura: Kuramochi! Am I bothering you?
Kuramochi: When are you not. What do you need?
Sawamura: Well, I made a friend and wanted you to meet them!
Kuramochi: Alright…?
Sawamura: They should be around you somewhere—here, I’ll call them.

Furuya’s cellphone rings. Kuramochi watches as he answers.

The conversation goes a bit like this:

Sawamura: Are you close to Kuramochi?
Sawamura: He’s a bit scary but shouldn’t—well, he does want to get out, so I guess he’d probably try to kill you before he got to know you, but I’m sure he’d understand it if you wanted to talk it out!
Furuya: I am with Kuramochi now.
Sawamura: Really? Great! Give me a sec—I’m going to call him.

Kuramochi’s cellphone rings. Furuya watches as he answers.

The conversation goes a bit like this:

Kuramochi: Sawamura, I swear—
Sawamura: You’re by the human child, right? They’re really great—they love puzzles.

Kuramochi hangs up the phone. He turns to look Furuya right in the eye then scowls, stomping off.

Well, the voice sounds surprised, that worked?

Furuya turns around and continues on his journey.

Edited 2016-08-02 05:20 (UTC)

kuramochi youichi/miyuki kazuya, daiya no ace
blood/mentions of blood, kyoukai no kanata au
1267 words

i honestly could have made this such a massive au, but here's me 'containing' myself

The first time Kuramochi meets Miyuki Kazuya, he's at the Kominatos' shop, getting the stone he'd received after defeating a youmu appraised.

“Nice one,” he says with a snicker, looking over Kuramochi’s stone like it’s nothing at all.

“What? Like you can do better?” This may be smaller than usual, but he has to make some money, after all.

Then, Miyuki pulls a much larger stone out of his bag, sets it down on the counter. Kuramochi catches a quick glimpse of a ring on his finger, bandages wrapped around his hand. "You tell me."

Honestly, Kuramochi's a little in awe, caught a little off guard. He wasn't expecting some newcomer he's never met before with a big (and annoying) mouth to be anything more than just talk. But then, then there's this, which he definitely hadn't been expecting.

"Oh, looks like you're speechless?"

"I am not!"

A laugh. "He speaks."

"And you shouldn't."

"Whatever you say." He takes his money, throwing a sarcastic wave over his shoulder at Kuramochi. "See you around. Make sure you save me some of the good ones."

And then he's gone, out the door as fast as he came in.

"Who's he?" He jabs a thumb in Miyuki's direction, watching his back through the window as he heads down the street alone.

"Miyuki?" Ryousuke looks amused by the exchange that just occurred in front of them, probably is. "He's been in here a few times the past few days."

"I've never seen that asshole before. Ever." He takes the money Ryousuke's holding out for him, finally tearing his eyes away from Miyuki's back.

"Are you honestly that out of it, Kuramochi?"

"Out of what?"

Turns out, Miyuki showing up here had been a recent topic of gossip among Spirit World Warriors in the area. Mainly because of his ability—blood manipulation—that's looked down upon by others.

That doesn't bother Kuramochi in the least bit. It's more of the fact that Miyuki's annoying and insulted him that makes him not want to see him again. Once is enough, that'll be that.

The universe clearly had other plans.

.

“You.” Kuramochi stands in front of his—Miyuki’s—desk, directly behind his own in class that Monday.

“Me.” Miyuki’s response is accompanied with a laugh at Kuramochi’s reaction.

“What're you doing here?”

“I’m new in town.” He rests his chin in his palm. “Not that it’s any of your business. Unless you’re interested.”

“No way I am.”

“Standing here and staring at me says otherwise.”

He sends a kick to Miyuki’s shoe, grumbling as he takes his own seat—right as their teacher walks in.

Miyuki kicks the back of his chair at the start of class, tests Kuramochi’s limits all day and leaves him wanting to punch Miyuki by the end of it.

It continues on like that for the rest of the week, days blurring into each other, this—Miyuki—becoming normalcy, part of Kuramochi’s day.

Later, he can’t remember when he lost count of time, when this became easy, part of the day that he’d grown used to—looked forward to.

Well, doesn’t matter now. He knows he wouldn't change it once he's got it in his grip.

.

The first time is an accident.

Kuramochi doesn't want or expect Miyuki's help when they somehow end up walking toward their homes together, and encounter a youmu in the park. It's more powerful than the typical ones that you'd see around here.

Normally, Kuramochi'd walk this way home by himself, meaning he'd take it on by himself.

But this time, this time Miyuki's here too, and they end up taking it on together.

Kuramochi's never seen Miyuki's ability up close like this. Until now, he's only heard talk about it. But the blood manipulated into a sword both catches him off guard—even though he'd already expected it—and draws his attention. He's never seen anything like it, but that doesn't make it any less amazing to see up close, to see Miyuki deliver the final blow to the youmu they're facing.

"You're... better than I thought," Miyuki says when they're done, standing side by side.

"Yeah, you too. Can't believe you of all people can do something that cool. It's not fair."

Miyuki seems surprised by Kuramochi's words. Like he's not expecting them, like he hasn't heard something like that before.

But then Kuramochi remembers what he's heard people say in passing, what he knows about how people view those with abilities like Miyuki's. And maybe the surprise is warranted.

Miyuki recovers quickly, breaking the moment of silence. "Well, looks like I'll be taking this, then." He holds up the stone, teasing almost, like it's right in Kuramochi's reach and he can tear it away at any time.

"No way. I was part of this too!"

"I killed it."

"And I saw it first!"

"You didn't kill it, though."

"We both killed it."

They end up splitting the profit, since they both had a share in defeating the youmu. And this first fight together may have been incidental, circumstantial then, but that doesn't stop it from becoming a constant later.

.

"What're you doing here?" Kuramochi asks a little out of nowhere, much later, although it's reminiscent of that very first day in class together—the start of everything, in a way. Second meeting that took off just about as well as their first did, but acted as a kind of tie—brought them together in a more permanent situation, kept them in it, helped them grow.

But now's different than back then.

This time, Kuramochi's feet dangle over the edge of the roof, his thigh close enough to Miyuki's that with a simple move they'd be pressed together, touching.

This time, quiet settles over them, comforting air of tranquility rather than hostility and fighting. This time, they're friends, they trust each other, rather than two strangers who never expected a simple encounter to lead them here.

"Needed a change." Miyuki's fiddling with the ring on his finger, spinning it. Sometimes, when they talk like this—more personal—Kuramochi notices the habit. His focus shifts from his hands to Kuramochi's face again. "So I came here."

One day, maybe Kuramochi'll get the more detailed explanation, the real one that's not so vague, not completely barred up.

But until then—

"I'm glad you did, moron." He leans closer, bumps Miyuki's shoulder with his own. "You're not so bad."

Miyuki smiles, breathes out a laugh. "You're only saying that because we've been making a lot of money since this started."

That's true, at least in part. They have been making a lot of money together when they defeat youmu and sell the stones. It's a decent amount more than Kuramochi'd make when he did this on his own. And not to mention, the company—the companionship—is nice.

(But it's more than that. It's more than a partnership of convenience, a forced relationship.

It's anything, everything but that.)

The stone they'd just won still sits by his side, a reminder of what they've done, of what they can accomplish together. When they leave here, they'll sell it, bicker about their share of the money if it's an amount that won't split clean break. They'll settle it quickly, then either go their separate ways for the night or stick together a little longer. Tomorrow will begin again, this will start up once more.

Kuramochi's fingers brush against Miyuki's when their hands both come to rest against the concrete—a touch that, although new, seems familiar, feels right.

He doesn't let go. Neither does Miyuki.

"Maybe I am."

This, all of it, still implies—always implies—a next time rather than an end.

AAAAAAH THIS IS SO GOOD!! i love knk au..........

no tags

615 words

ennoyama (HQ!!), aeromancy.

--

Ennoshita remembers being afraid of storms when he was younger. As a child, one of his cousins had told him how thunder was caused by the crash of giants stomping their feet in the heavens, and he would hide under his covers, petrified that they were coming to kick over his house as the noise sounded seemed to draw closer. As he got older, he stopped believing in his friends’ and relatives’ tall tales, but the sudden boom and flash of storms would make him nervous anyway, sending his heartbeat pattering into overdrive as he tried to ignore the cacophony and either sleep or work through it. Now, what’s left of his old fear manifests only in the creak and twinge in his left knee when a storm is on its way.

Yamaguchi is afraid of a lot of things, but she is not afraid of storms. She never has been. Ennoshita has always thought that was unusual, since she probably has more reason to fear them more than anyone Ennoshita knows.

“It’s going to hit soon,” Ennoshita says from the couch. He’d been pretending to read a magazine for the last half-hour, but it’s getting to the point where he doesn’t think he can pretend anymore. He stretches out his left leg, makes his knee click. It’s been aching for hours.

Ennoshita glances over at the back porch. The glass doors are open, letting in the wind and the damp. Beyond their garden, the skies are dreary, the wind chasing dark stormclouds across the horizon. They’ll have to close the doors soon, but for now Yamaguchi is sitting on the wooden flooring, watching the wind blow fierce through the trees and shrubbery.

Ennoshita abandons his magazine and moves to join Yamaguchi on the porch, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” says Yamaguchi, even though that’s blatantly not true. She’s pale under her freckles, her hands twisting in her lap. Ennoshita reaches out to take one of her hands in both of his, gently coaxing her fingers straight, rubbing his thumb over her palm.

“I mean it!” she tries again, even shooting him a small, reassuring smile.

“Your head doesn’t hurt at all?”

“Okay, maybe it does a little…”

Ennoshita lets her have her hand back but stays pressed close against her side. Eventually, the wind picks up, starts to make the awning over the porch shutter and bang, and both of them go inside.

They sit at the dining table next to the window, and Yamaguchi sees portents in the clouds. Her ability is always there, lurking just under the surface, but it’s never drawn out until the crackle of lightning brightens her imprecise mental fog into stark relief, chasing away the blockages in her vision like it blows away the pollutants in the air.

Yamaguchi reads out symbols, and Ennoshita records them. Snake. Crucible. Cross. Skull. Sun. They’ll be at it until the storm blows itself out, and after, when Yamaguchi has come back in tune with the physical world rather than the world of spirit and prophecies, she’ll examine Ennoshita’s notes and try to make sense of them.

And that’s when the fear comes. Yamaguchi might not be afraid of the storms themselves, but what they show - and what might be done about them, or might not - are sometimes cause for anxiety.

But Ennoshita watches Yamaguchi’s mouth move, watches her irises go black, and feels a slow, quiet pride, because Yamaguchi is strong. Much stronger than when they’d first met, underneath all the worry, and he’s confident that the fate of their town, their small pocket in the world, is in good hands.

Edited 2016-08-02 13:47 (UTC)

edited version here!

Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Haikyuu!!

Word count: 1021

No major tags. Love god au. Based on Bii's music video "Love More."

the explanation for why yaku can see lev is that yaku doesn't believe in love, which is also why lev's magic doesn't work on him.

Lev makes his way through the busy street, trying not to bump into anyone. He has a suitcase in one hand, the Love Serum in the other.

Smiling, he takes in the faces of the people hurrying past him, the tall skyscrapers, the sound of cars zooming by.

“Yup, I think this is it!” he says to no one in particular. “Today it’s Tokyo, Japan!”

He doesn’t have any particular cases he needs to work on, but he figures that in a city as large as this, there’s bound to be something for him to do.

He finds one not even five minutes later. A young couple, sitting outside a café. The girl is angry, he can tell, and the boy is trying to apologize. Lev gets closer so he can hear what they’re saying.

“You said that last time!” the girl says to the boy.

“I know I did, but trust me, this time I mean it!” the boy replies.

“You’ve ‘meant it’ for the last three times we had this conversation!”

An argument about a broken promise, maybe. Nothing that Lev hasn’t seen.

He moves even closer so that he’s almost right between the arguing couple. Lev studies the girl’s face, before turning to the boy. He thinks he knows what he has to do.

Unscrewing the cap of the Love Serum, he sprinkles a few drops between them.

Instantly, the girl’s anger disappears. The boy suddenly reaches for her hand, and she eagerly reciprocates. They’ve both forgotten about the argument, it seems. Lev grins.

Not long after, he sees a teenaged boy sitting on a bench, looking at the ground. He reeks of dejection, and Lev concludes easily that he’d just been rejected.

Hurrying over, Lev slides next to the boy on the bench. He snaps his fingers, and the boy perks up. A smile appears on his face and he cheerfully gets up from the bench and walks down the street.

Lev can’t help but let out a laugh. There isn’t a day where he doesn’t love doing what he does. And it was always so easy, too.

Or so he thinks, until almost three hours later.

He just saw a girl on her way to meet her date, and she’s nervous as hell. Since they’re conveniently by a flower shop, Lev grabs a rose out of the bucket and hands it to her. Her anxiety’s gone, and she picks up her pace on her way to her date.

Then:

“Hey! Aren’t you going to pay for that?”

Bewildered, Lev looks around. Seeing nobody else around who the voice might be directed to, he looks up to see a short man standing at the top of the steps leading to the flower shop.

“What? Me?” Lev bumbles.

The man rolls his eyes. “Yes, you. Who else? Do you see anyone else running around and stealing flowers?”

“You—You can see me?” Lev asks, unbelieving.

The man looks unimpressed. “Yes, of course I can see you! I’m not blind! What are you, an idiot?”

Lev’s mind is a mess. He hasn’t ever accounted for the possibility of this happening. The big-guys-up-there haven’t ever told him what to do in this situation either. Panicking, he does the only thing he can think of.

He bounds up the steps and shoves the man against the wall.

“Hey! What are you—”

And dumps the entirety of the Love Serum onto the man’s head.

Sputtering, the man shoves Lev back. “What—are you crazy?

At this point, Lev is beyond lost for what to do.

“Why isn’t it working?” Lev whines, before all but smashing the empty Serum bottle on the ground. “They never trained me for this at the Academy! The Serum is supposed to have 100% success rate!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” the man snaps. And for the first time, Lev feels kind of sorry for this guy. After all, Lev did steal a flower, even if he didn’t think the guy could see him. And Lev also kind of drenched the guy in the Serum without any explanation, so now his clothes and his hair are a mess.

Lev tries to find an explanation to tell this unfortunate stranger without freaking him out. “Uh—do you believe in love gods?”

“What?” If he’d looked unimpressed before, now this guy was looking really fucking pissed. “Look, sir, if you don’t get the hell away from me right now, I will file a lawsuit for assault.”

And that’s when Lev thinks he’s hit the lowest point of his life. The time he accidentally broke up an eight-year-long relationship? Or the time he accidentally spilled his Serum quota of the day before he’d completed his job? Nothing compared to this. And he isn’t even sure what a lawsuit is. But it does sound ominous.

“No, no, no! Don’t do that! I’m sorry, uh, what I meant to say was—” Lev frantically looks around for something that can save him. He spots a sign in the window of the flower shop and immediately takes advantage of it. “—I’m here to look for a job!”

“A job,” the man repeats. Lev nods, hoping that he seems convincing.
The man looks Lev up and down, scrutinizing him in a way that makes Lev feel like all his secrets are about to be discovered. Lev puts on his best charming smile, hoping it can win him over.

“Well, you didn’t make a very good first impression, but I guess you can have a chance. Nobody else has been interested, anyway,” the man says eventually.

Lev inwardly cheers, and mentally congratulates himself on having escaped from a “lawsuit.” But then he realizes he’ll actually have to show up every day to this new job of his, and that’s when the gravity of the situation hits.

“Well, great! Uh, I’m glad!” Lev says. The guy sighs. Lev decides that this guy must not like him very much, not that Lev really blames him. But at least this guy won’t be his boss or anything, right?

“Well, starting today, I’m your boss. I’m Yaku Morisuke.” Yaku Morisuke says.

Shit.

Himuro Tatsuya/Murasakibara Atsushi; Kuroko no Basuke
no major tags, fade to black
word count: 462

The energy in the concert hall feels electric.

Tatsuya can feel it against his skin, making his hair stand on end, one hand firmly around the microphone he holds to his mouth, the other spread out to his side. He likes the acoustics here; his voice is projected loud and clear, and his audience is in his trance. He can see the glowing light of energy in their bodies, following the way it pours out of them and into him, filling him up. He knows that his eyes are shining with the amount of power his audience is giving him, but that's why he insists on having so many light effects, and why he wears his hair over one eye. He knows that nobody will notice.

He feels a warm body pressed against his back, and a familiar hand on his thigh, sliding up over his stomach and to his chest, dragging his shirt up with it. He grins against the microphone as Atsushi bends to kiss his neck, and the crowd goes wild. Almost nobody will notice. Atsushi knows Tatsuya for what he is, but he doesn't mind anyway.

Tatsuya reaches behind him with his free hand, fingers stroking along Atsushi's thigh in return. It's the briefest moment of contact, but Atsushi will know that it's full of promise for later. The rest of the band doesn't really mind the fanservice, or public displays of affection on stage. They don't know that they function as a way for Atsushi to help him draw even more energy from the audience, and to keep him in check.

His heart is pounding and he's so full of other people's energy by the end of the concert that he needs somewhere to let it all out.

Atsushi is always a good choice.

"How aren't you tired yet?" Atsushi grumbles, as Tatsuya pushes him onto the bed of their hotel room and then climbs on top of him. He isn't tired either, though. Tatsuya can tell by the way Atsushi's lips are eager against his, the way his hands around his thighs and pull him even closer. "Do you know your eyes are still shining?"

"Are they?" Tatsuya smiles, wrapping his arms around Atsushi's shoulders.

Atsushi brushes Tatsuya's hair out of his face so he can see both eyes, then presses a kiss to the mole just under one of them. "They're so pretty. Just like your voice."

Tatsuya's smile grows wider and he brushes his lips over the shell of Atsushi's ear. "I'm already full of energy, Atsushi, but I'm always happy to take more from you, if you make me moan for you."

Growling at the back of his throat, Atsushi rolls them over, pressing Tatsuya into the mattress. "You already know I will."

Ayase Eli & Kousaka Honoka; Love Live!
no tags; dragon au
word count: 490

The student council room might as well double as Eli's den; the bookshelves and tables by the walls are all neatly stacked with books and folders and paperwork clipped together so it won't fall out of order.

Honoka always feels a little uneasy about stepping foot inside, because dragons are particular about this sort of thing. Especially when it comes to other dragons. Even though she knows that the student council room isn't Eli's actual den; that is, of course, her own room. It's not as if Eli actually hoards work to do, as much as it might look that way to someone who doesn't actually know her very well.

Still, Honoka waits outside the door, tugging uncertainly at a strand of her own hair, before she shakes her head at herself. Inaction is unlike her. Inhibitions are there for her to push past, after all. She raises her fist and knocks loudly on the door, hearing Eli's muffled voice telling her to come in.

When Honoka pokes her head into the room, Eli is sitting at her desk, reading through a list of forms. Another one for her hoard, Honoka thinks, smiling when Eli smiles at her.

"Eli-chan," she greets, stepping a little further into the room. "I wanted to know if you felt like stretching your wings."

An eager expression flickers across Eli's face for a moment, as is the natural response to a question like Honoka's, but then she sighs and shakes her head.

"I'm sorry. I need to get this done first."

Honoka takes note of the fact that Eli said first. So it's not entirely off the table just yet.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

"I wouldn't want to dump work on you when it's my job to deal with it," Eli protests.

"I'm always happy to help my friends," Honoka says, taking one of the empty chairs near the desk. "Besides, the sooner we get through this, the sooner we can go flying, right? Just teach me what I have to do."

"It's a little complicated," Eli warns. "We need to make sure all of these club applications for the upcoming school festival fall under the guidelines. I have a spare print out of all the guidelines here."

Eli is right; the work is a little difficult, and even though Honoka's pile is significantly smaller than Eli's, it still takes her longer to get through it.

Except it's all worth it, when they're done and Honoka takes Eli's hand, excitedly leading her up to the rooftop, where the sun is still shining in the clear sky.

"Are you ready?" she asks, pleased when she finds Eli beaming.

"Definitely," Eli answers, and they both let themselves transform, leaping in the air and flying playful circles around each other.

Flying is one of the best feelings in the world, Honoka thinks to herself, beaten only by one thing: flying with someone she cares about.

sdskjgdlskjgd kii this is SO CUTE?? I think it's funny how you said you didn't know how to write Eli because your Eli is SO GOOD, she's responsible and mature and honk is such a sweet contrast to her sdkjgldsjgd I LOVE THIS

mentions of disasters

605 words

ashite (ywpd), magical singing.

--

Ashikiba looks at Teshima’s name in her address book for a long time before she picks up her phone to call him. She hasn’t spoken to Teshima in years, but she needs to, now. She needs to ask him to sing with her again.

Strange things happened when Ashikiba sings. She has sang the vines winding around the trellis in her family’s garden into flower; summoned swarms of butterflies of every hue and origin to the top of her school’s tallest building in the middle of the icy winter; serenaded the entire town until the spirits of everyone in it were soaring.

Ashikiba always used to enjoy singing. It was probably one of her favorite things to do aside from playing the piano. She would sing whenever she got the chance to - while walking or bicycling home from school, showering, doing chores around the house. Her voice was so beautiful that her neighbors would stop what they were doing to listen if they heard her, and people walking the same paths she took would hear her and then seek her out so they could listen more clearly. The only thing more beautiful, everyone agreed, than Ashikiba’s singing, was when Ashikiba sang with Teshima. But then Teshima moved away, and Ashikiba didn’t sing as much anymore.

Teshima’s voice doesn’t have the same demiurgic force behind it in the way Ashikiba’s does, but when Teshima sang with her, Ashikiba’s song was more potent, more powerful. Its effects traveled further and lasted longer. In the early days of their friendship, they’d sung away a drought that threatened to last all year. But towards the time where Teshima was set to move, they’d sung the river black with their melancholy and warbled a plague of locusts with their discontent, that had descended on that year’s harvest and decimated it. After Teshima left, Ashikiba had filled the sky with heavy grey clouds that persisted for weeks - after that, she decided it would probably be better for everyone for her to stick to the piano from then on.

The townsfolk had begged her to stop singing, then, but now that she’s grown up, with a home of her own, they’re begging for the opposite.

“There’s an illness,” Ashikiba tells Teshima in a quiet, worried voice when he picks up the phone.

He comes in on the train a few days later.

They’re silent all throughout the walk back to Ashikiba’s house. All that Ashikiba can think is: he looks older. Not different. Just older. She thinks about the years of change that she hadn’t seen as they walk over cobblestone steps, walk through the grove of trees leading to where Ashikiba lives.

She offers him tea when they get back and they sit at her dining room table, awkward, not looking at each other. Ashikiba doesn’t need to ask to know that he’s concerned about the same thing she is - if their relationship is as sour as it was when he left, they could just make everything worse.

Ashikiba opens her mouth and picks up the lyrics in the middle of a ballad, putting her voice to music for the first time in years. Teshima, tentatively, joins her.

She sings soap bubbles out of the faucet; Teshima spreads them through her house. Ashikiba flutes a rainbow over the table; Teshima transforms it into a double. When they’re done, they look at each other, smiling.

The disease that had been threatening Ashikiba’s home clears up within the next few days, and Teshima extends his visit to a fortnight. They have a lot of talking - and singing - to catch up on.

edited version here!

Akashi Seijurou/Mayuzumi Chihiro; Kuroko no Basuke
mentions of violence; demon au, cardfight vanguard au (Amon!Akashi, Fixers!Generation of Miracles)
word count: 637

Akashi's castle is so large that it defies all reason.

Mayuzumi supposes that it shouldn't be particularly surprising, considering that this is Akashi, after all. Everything about him seems to defy any kind of logic or sense. It's exhausting.

Akashi seems to have made it work out for him, though.

The castle is so big that it feels almost as if Akashi is trying to fit an entire nation in there. An entire world, perhaps, and Mayuzumi doubts that it's far from the truth anyway. He understands, at least on some level, the way that Akashi thinks. He knows that Akashi's goals don't end at the demonic throne that he's managed to claim for himself. Of course not.

Gaining dominion over his follow demons is only the first step on whatever grand plan Akashi has. As far as Mayuzumi is concerned, it's so laughably obvious that those who are caught by surprised and crushed only deserve it. They aren't the kind who are built to survive in this hellish landscape, of demons consuming other demons, adding to their own magic and power. Mayuzumi has seen the way that Akashi has fed upon demon after demon, tearing them limb from limb slowly so as to prolong their suffering, taking power from that. Mayuzumi can feel the magic in Akashi's mere presence. The sheer density of his power feels like some sort of deep chasm that Mayuzumi is standing on the very precipice of. All it would take is a light push, or a strong gust, and Mayuzumi fears that he would find himself losing himself in Akashi, so full of hidden depths that perhaps there would never be anything to break his fall.

There's the nagging feeling that tugs at the back of his mind that tells him that in one way or another, he's already falling.

He swears himself as a lowly servant to Akashi, and hopes that it buys him some time. Akashi must see exactly what he's doing, and perhaps it amuses him, because he keeps Mayuzumi nearby, hidden somewhere in the shadows as he holds court.

Mayuzumi watches as Akashi appoints his generals; Fixers, he calls them. He doesn't tell them what they're fixing and Mayuzumi wonders if they realise it at all. Akashi grants them permission to betray him, to overthrow him if they have the power for it. Mayuzumi wonders if they realise just what kind of game he is playing with them.

They don't notice Mayuzumi as they bow their heads together, speaking of how they can work together to ensure that Akashi is finally defeated. None of them have good intentions; they all mean to take Akashi's throne for themselves, and Mayuzumi watches as, over time, the rest of them come to this realisation as well.

He watches as the high ranked demons begin to tear each other apart. Power changes hands, magic flaring and spiking and then winking entirely out of existence, only to be added to someone else's. Akashi, sitting comfortably on his throne, is safely away from all of it.

"Do they realise?" Mayuzumi asks, standing by Akashi's throne. "That their fighting only keeps you safe? The colourful ones; nobody is going to challenge you before getting through them, and it means they'll have to challenge all four—"

"Five," Akashi corrects with a small smile, and Mayuzumi looks again.

The fifth in a phantom, wavering in and out of visibility. The kind of demon that no one would see unless they knew to look. Judging by their behaviour, the other four Fixers clearly do.

"Oh," he breathes, his eyes narrowing. "You're clever, aren't you?"

"Perhaps I should make you a Fixer too," Akashi hums, resting his chin on his hand.

Mayuzumi looks at the five demons who unwittingly serve as Akashi's royal guard, and snorts derisively. "Pass."

major character death (temporary)

619 words

bokuaka + bonus Kuroo (HQ!!), gods and mortals.

--

When Akaashi first notices Bokuto in the scrying pool, he dismisses the event out of hand. There are millions of mortals walking the earth - the odds are high enough that at least some of them would catch his eye now and then, but he forgets about them just as quickly. Sometimes he thinks of them again, but by that time their lives have already come to an end. Time moves so quickly for them, so slowly for him. Their lives are all so short and fleeting.

But there’s something in the bright amber of Bokuto’s eyes, the jubilation of his smile, that has Akaashi looking in on him again. It becomes a habit. When he isn’t attending to his duties, he’s scrutinizing the minutiae of Bokuto’s day in the scrying pool. It’s not long until he descends to the Earth from the realms of the gods to pay him a visit.

He’s an athlete. He runs sprints and does high and long jumps, but his specialty is throwing the discus. When he complains about a rival in an upcoming competition, it’s easy for Akaashi to watch and grant him a surge of strength when it comes to his turn to throw. The loud, joyous whoop he lets out when he finishes the event in first place brings a smile to Akaashi’s face.

Akaashi ends up speaking to him, sometimes, passing him by in taverns, markets, gardens when Bokuto is alone. He makes him one of the most accomplished athletes in the nation, watches him age. And then, in what feels like a day, decades have passed and Bokuto is old and feeble.

Akaashi thinks nothing of it when he saps a few years off of one of Bokuto’s neighbor’s lives to inject a bit more vitality into his favored one.

This, too, becomes a habit. Kuroo even comes to reproach him, armed with his scroll listing out the names of the souls he’s owed and the dates to expect them.

“His death day is long overdue. It’s up to us to keep a balance. Usually you’re the one lecturing me about that,” he says. “Look, I know you like him, but you have to let him go.”

Akaashi doesn’t want to.

He visits Bokuto, again, but this time Bokuto is suspicious, resentful.

“You haven’t aged a day,” he comments, peering into Akaashi’s youthful face with his weathered, wrinkled one.

Bokuto asks if he’s human. Akaashi confesses no. Bokuto asks if he’s responsible for his oddly long life. Akaashi, reluctantly, says yes. It’s been too long, Bokuto says. His friends have passed on. The world is becoming alien and unfamiliar. He’s ready for his next adventure, he says.

He asks Akaashi to stop, so Akaashi stops. And then he doesn’t visit Earth for a long while. He doesn’t do his job for a long while. Instead, he sleeps, deep and unrelenting.

Kuroo is the one who wakes him up.

“This is even worse than what you were doing before,” he scolds gently, but his face is worried.

“Go away and let me sleep,” Akaashi says, voice flat.

“No,” says Kuroo. And then: “I’ve come to ask you to look into the scrying pool. I’ve found something you’ll be interested in.”

Akaashi swallows a sigh, drags himself out of his slumber long enough to look.

It’s a baby. He’s half a world away from where Bokuto used to live, but the bright amber of his eyes is unmistakable.

There’s wetness on Akaashi’s cheeks and happiness in his heart. He brushes the tears away, puts his face in his hands. Kuroo slaps him on the back, says balance, emphatically, again, and Akaashi doesn’t brush him off.

Edited 2016-08-02 14:57 (UTC)

AAAAAGH THIS IS SO GOOOD

Himuro Tatsuya/Murasakibara Atsushi; Kuroko no Basuke
mentions of violence; ice demon!Himuro
word count: 527

Tatsuya freezes people out of his life, because that's one of the only things he's good for.

He can't call it a talent, when it's something that he's born with. He's an ice demon; his touch is so cold that it burns, he breathes frost into the air, and warmth is something he knows as a concept but has never actually felt.

People stop trying to get close to him, because they only ever get frostbite for their trouble. He's aloof, he's silent, he works with others when he needs to, and then he's gone, keeping to himself once again.

Murasakibara Atsushi happens to him the way that Tatsuya imagines curses must happen to other people.

Atsushi is—

He's frustrating. That's not the only word that Tatsuya can think of to describe him, but it's certainly one of the more polite ones.

Atsushi is everything that Tatsuya wishes he could be, but isn't. He's naturally talented at magic, beyond the size-shifting powers that he was born with. He's strong and imposing, in a way means he doesn't need to use his magic to convince people not to challenge him.

He's also incredibly bored with the world around him, so used to the strength he has that he doesn't see the point in making more than the minimal effort.

It makes Tatsuya want to tear his hair out. It makes him want to plunge his hand into Atsushi's chest, to freeze him from the inside out, to watch him turn blue, then white as the frost claims him—

He clears his throat softly and shakes his head in an attempt to clear it.

That's the other thing that he doesn't like about Atsushi. He sparks something inside of Tatsuya that makes him feel uncomfortable, like he can't possibly sit still, like no amount of cold will do. He tries using more magic, he tries distancing himself from the people around him, but none of it helps.

He can't even scare Atsushi away the same way he does with others. Atsushi's skin is too thick for that; part of his demon nature. He's so big and so talented at defending himself that it comes without thought. He shrugs off even the strongest of Tatsuya's ice magic without so much as a blink.

Tatsuya hates him more than he can bear. He thinks about it all the time, until Atsushi is at front and centre of his thoughts. He can't stand it, constantly restless, constantly wanting to push Atsushi into motion, to stop him from wasting the ridiculous amount of power that he has.

He doesn't understand it until the moment Atsushi crowds him against a wall, with no place to move. Tatsuya isn't used to this feeling either, isn't used to feeling so trapped, or someone even wanting him this close.

"I can't stand you," Atsushi grumbles, his hand holding Tatsuya's face. Tatsuya can feel Atsushi's breath against his face, against his lips. "You're making me burn up. I hate it."

Atsushi kisses him, hard and bruising, and Tatsuya thinks that he finally understands the unfamiliar feeling that's been plaguing him ever since they first met.

He feels warm.

Relationships/Fandoms: Nitori Aiichirou & Sugawara Koushi, Sugawara Koushi & Yagami Tomoe (Free!, Haikyuu!!, Prince of Stride)
Tags: supernatural elements, blood loss (no blood though), child Nitori, healer Suga, Wraith Tomoe
Wordcount: 999 words

"Papa. Papa!" Nitori whispered urgently as he shook Suga's shoulders.

"What is it, Ai?" Suga asked, immediately awake. It was unusual for Nitori to wake in the middle of the night, much less to wake him.

"There's something scary outside."

"What do you mean."

"The spirits are all coming inside. They're scared."

"Of what?"

"They don't say, but they've never been like this before."

Suga looked out the window, but he didn't see anything in the dark forest. Perhaps more worryingly, he couldn't sense anything nearby either.

"Do they know where it it?" he asked.

"Nearby."

"Do you think you could show me?"

"Yes, Papa."

Suga wanted nothing more than to double-check the bolt on the door and keep Nitori and Shiro safely inside, but he needed to know what was outside, so he thought a brief prayer to any deity that happened to be listening and ushered his child out the door ahead of him..

"He's right over here, Papa," Nitori said, taking Suga's hand and leading him around the side of the house.

As his eyes adjusted to the night, Suga saw a dark shape sitting against one of the large trees that bordered their cottage.

"He's right there, Papa" Nitori said, pointing directly at the shape that had drawn Suga's attention.

Suga shivered. He had no gift of the Sight himself and could see only the mundane world. Nitori was blind to the mundane but could see some of the spirit world. Beings that could cross the boundary between the worlds and exist with a foot in each were rare, and Suga would cross none of them lightly.

But he was a healer, and he couldn't in good conscious ignore the unconscious wraith in his backyard. He cautiously approached, but it wasn't until he was standing right next to it that he noticed the two dark punctures on its neck.

His blood froze in his veins.

"Ai, don't let go of Shiro," he ordered as he looked around. He didn't see anything, but that meant nothing. Especially at night when their powers were strongest, vampires could come out of nowhere silently and without warning. For all he knew, one could be sitting right above him, watching and waiting to strike, and he wouldn't know until it was too late. He had a healthy respect for many of the creatures of the forest, but vampires were one of the few he truly feared meeting on their terms.

He looked nervously over his shoulder to reassure himself that Nitori and Shiro were still there, then caught himself and forced his nervousness aside. Vampires could sense fear, and if there was one still lurking nearby, the best thing he could do would be to get everyone back inside as quickly as possible. It was not the time for fear.

He took a moment to study the wraith before him. It seemed to be cloaked in shadows that danced and slipped every time Suga tried to look too closely, as if it were only half-present, which Suga supposed, would be an apt description. It hadn't moved since he had come outside, but he didn't think it was dead. It wasn't uncommon for vampires to drink until their prey fell unconscious from blood loss, but he had never heard of one killing its prey.

He tried to pick up the wraith to carry it inside, but the shifting shadows were more than just a trick of the light, and the sensation made him feel ill.

"Ai, Shiro, can you help me?" he asked, careful to keep his voice even lest it shake and betray his fear.

Between the three of them, they managed to wrestle the unconscious wraith onto Shiro's back and back inside. They set it down gently on the floor by the fire, but from there, Suga was at a loss. He had never been so close to any border creature before, and he had no idea how to even begin treating it.

He was still standing there several minutes later when Nitori nervously said, "Papa?" Immediately afterward, Suga felt the magic in the house fade, almost as if something were absorbing it. Before he could respond though, a few shadowy fingers reached out and wrapped around his ankle. He felt a sudden chill where they touched, as if they had drawn the warmth right out of him.

"Healer?" the wraith asked in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere and echo deep in Suga's bones.

"Yes," Suga replied as he helped the wraith to sit up. An aching cold settled wherever their bodies touched.

The wraith reached up with a shadowy hand to touch the punctures on its neck. "Kyousuke," it growled, the sound filling the room and echoing low off of the walls.

"You know him?" Suga asked. It wasn't a name he had heard before, but there were many he didn't know in the forest.

"That would be one way to put it, perhaps," the wraith said as it struggled to its knees.

"Perhaps you should rest for awhile?" Suga suggested.

"I will be fine, Healer," the wraith said, wrapping its arms around Suga. Its shadows, thick and tangible as wings, mirrored the motion.

The chill was immediate and all-encompassing. Suga's bones ached and his limbs went numb as the chill set in. Just when he was starting to worry the cold would kill him, the wraith released him and stood, all traces of its earlier weakness gone.

"Thank you," it said as it left through the closed door.

"What was that, Papa?" Nitori asked weakly once the last of the wraith's shadows were out of sight.

"That, was a wraith," Suga replied, struggling to force the words out around his violently chattering teeth.

They all shared a bed that night, Suga and Nitori, and Shiro between them. The fire roared in the hearth as the shivered under a thick pile of blankets, and by morning, the worst of the chill had faded.

Edited 2016-08-02 22:59 (UTC)

hanamaki takahiro/matsukawa issei, haikyuu!!
tags; princess and the frog type au???
word count; 1415

“You know,” Hanamaki mumbles quietly, peering into his unzipped rucksack as he makes his way down the crowded street. Not a lot of friends would do this. I mean, Iwaizumi probably would - after grumbling about it for forty years, and maybe Oikawa after he stopped laughing—” Hanamaki pauses and, after a second or two, decides to amend his statement. “Maybe Oikawa if he ever stops laughing. So yeah, you should be lucky you’ve got a friend as amazing as me.”

The frog in his bag - a fat little thing with beady black eyes and brown spots along its back - pokes its head out of the gap and ribbits twice indignantly, eyes squinting into something reminiscent of a lazy glare.

“Don’t give me that sass,” Hanamaki laughs, poking the frog gently on its forehead to push it further into the bag. “Like I said, I’m doing you a huge favour here, unless you want to stay like this forever?”

Another ribbit - this one a little more despondent than the last few.

“That’s more like it,” Hanamaki murmurs quietly, cheeks flushing a little as he suddenly becomes aware of the strange looks he’s receiving from passers-by, probably confused as to why he’s walking around talking animatedly to his rucksack. “Now, stay down and keep quiet until I say so and, if we’re lucky, things’ll be back to normal in no time.”

As it turns out, they’re not lucky because things don’t ‘get back to normal in no time’. Far from it actually.

“Twelve,” Hanamaki huffs dramatically as he drops onto his bed with a tired little moan. “I’m banned from twelve different bars because of you.”

The frog, now out of the rucksack and hopping frantically up and down on Hanamaki’s bed, ribbits sympathetically.

“Oh, don’t act like you’re sorry now,” Hanamaki snorts, lips twitching upwards into a small smile despite the far from desirable situation they’ve found themselves in. “It’s like you weren’t even trying to make a connection with anyone tonight.”

The frog ribbits three times, eyes narrowing into thin slits as if it's offended by Hanamaki’s accusation.

“And the last one was cute,” Hanamaki sniffs, apparently accurately deciphering the expression on the frog's face. “Totally your type.”

The frog ribbits again - though, this time Hanamaki can’t tell if it’s to disagree or not - before hopping onto Hanamaki’s lap and settling himself on his thighs.

“Alright, so maybe not her,” Hanamaki says with a shrug, willing to admit that maybe the short brunette with the weird laugh wasn’t the best choice. He leans forwards to scoop the frog up until they’re at eye-level with each other. “But what about the guy before her? He wasn't that bad— Or, at least he wasn’t until he started trying to squash you. Which, can I just add, is a ridiculous reaction to suddenly seeing a frog hop onto a bar. It’s not like you’re a spid—”

The frog ribbits irritably again, tongue whizzing out to smack Hanamaki gently on the hand.

“Right, right, I’m getting off topic,” Hanamaki nods apologetically before his brows pucker into a slight frown. “But Mattsun—”

The frog stiffens slightly in his hands, big black eyes blinking up at him almost nervously.

“This is really hard just trying to find someone to kiss you, let alone have it be your ‘one true love’,” Hanamaki sighs loudly before setting Matsukawa, in his froggy form, on the bedside table. “Honestly, witches really need to start updating the terms and conditions of their curses. It’s just not as easy as it used to be back in the middle ages to convince people to kiss a frog. Why couldn’t she turn you into a puppy? If you were a puppy I bet I’d have people lining up to smooch you. But no, she had to turn you into a frog, and not even a cute one.”

Matsukawa croaks loudly in annoyance, hopping off the bedside table and landing on Hanamaki’s shoulder in one fluid motion.

Hanamaki laughs quietly, shifting slightly so he can scoop Matsukawa into his arms. “Sorry, you are a cute frog. Maybe. I’m not really sure what the beauty standard is when it comes to frog. But—” He adds quickly, noting the way Matsukawa’s eyes have begun to narrow. He smiles before leaning forwards to press a quick kiss against the top of Matsukawa’s forehead, trying to ignore the thin coating of slime that sticks to his lips when he pulls away. “You are definitely cute - slimy, but cute - and I’m sure someone else’ll see that soon. Preferably before I get banned from all the bars in town.”

Matsukawa ribbits again, and Hanamaki thinks it’s meant to mean something like ‘sorry for getting you involved in all of this’.

“Don’t apologise,” Hanamaki snorts, stretching to drop Matsukawa back on top of his bedside table for the night. “You know I’d do anything for you. Now—” Hanamaki reaches behind him to flip the switch and submerge his room in darkness. “Let me sleep, I’m gonna need all my energy if we have to spend another day running around town searching for you ‘one true love’.”

When he wakes the next morning, he wakes to find something pressing against his back.

It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling - in fact, it’s a very, very nice feeling - but it’s strange, because it feels like a person pressed against his back. Which is both ridiculous and worrying because he’s pretty certain he didn’t bring anyone home last night.

Hanamaki cracks open his eyes slowly, zeroing in on the strong arms he can see wrapped around his midsection. Yep, somebody is definitely spooning him right now.

He moves to leap out of bed and make a beeline for the baseball bat he keeps hidden in his closet, but the second he moves the arms around him squeeze a little tighter and a voice murmurs in his ear.

“Are you always such a morning person?”

Hanamaki freezes, because he knows that voice - knows that tired little yawn - like it’s his very own.

“Mattsun?” Hanamaki squeaks, whirling around to find Matsukawa lying by his side, a sleepy and very unimpressed look plastered across his face. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to sleep?” Matsukawa offers, tugging his arms back around Hanamaki’s waist in a failed attempt to get him back in his original position. “Trying being the operative word here.”

“Why aren’t you a frog? You’re supposed to be a frog!” He’s a little aware that he probably sounds a teensy bit hysterical right now, but can you blame him?

“Oh—” Matsukawa glances away, the tips of his ears a shade pinker than usual. “Yeah, uh— The spell broke.”

“I can see that,” Hanamaki snorts, poking Matsukawa playfully in the chest. “But how. I thought that old witch said only ‘true love's kiss’ could break the curse?”

Matsukawa tugs the blankets up past his mouth and mumbles something unintelligible, the pinkness around his ears spreading to the rest of his face.

Hanamaki frowns and yanks the blanket away. “What was that?”

“I said—” Matsukawa sighs, determinedly avoiding all eye contact with Hanamaki. “I said true love’s kiss did break the spell.”

“But we didn’t fin—” Hanamaki stops mid-sentence, realisation dawning on him. “Oh.”

“Look, you don’t have to make a big dea—”

“I kissed you.”

Matsukawa groans, fingers itching for the blankets again to cover his bright pink face.

“I kissed you and broke the spell,” Hanamaki breathes, something warm beginning to bubble up in his chest. “Holy shit.”

“I said you don’t have to make a big deal abou—”

“I want a redo,” Hanamaki says abruptly, rolling over slightly until he’s resting gently on Matsukawa’s chest.

“A redo?”

Hanamaki nods, tilting his chin up slightly. “Firstly, you were a frog for our first kiss. Yuck, that’s not the story I want to tell our grandkids—”

“Grandkids?”

“And secondly,” Hanamaki continues, ignoring Matsukawa’s squawk. “It wasn’t really much of a kiss, was it? More of a peck.”

“Oh,” Matsukawa breathes, a look of understanding flashing across his face. “So you want to— Ah, you want to—”

“I want to kiss you properly, as a human. Maybe slip in a little tongue if you’re lucky.”

Matsukawa laughs as he wraps his arms around Hanamaki’s waist and pulls him in close, dipping his head until he’s hovering just centimetres away from his lips. “Then I’m really hoping my luck has changed since yesterday,” he whispers, before closing the gap between them.

(It has.)

Edited 2016-08-03 22:41 (UTC)

Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, Free!
No major tags

~~It started off as both being mermen... how did it end up as shark!rin and siren!haruka?~~

What is a siren's heart like? Rin got curious~

Rin Matsuoka/Haruka Nanase, Free!

interspecies

Dragon!Haru, aaa.

887 words. No major tags. Rated T for Arakita's language, otherwise G-rated shenanigans.

Fukutomi Juichi & Arakita Yasutomo & Toudou Jinpachi & Manami Sangaku & Shinkai Hayato & Izumida Touichirou, Yowapeda

(An implied fukuara crush but you can probably interpret whatever ships/orientations you're into)

HAKOGAKU TEAM-BUILDING GAME NIGHT IS GO (manami makes up the rules as he goes along lol)

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

There is a murmur of discontent among the noble adventurers of the righteous kingdom of Hakogaku. The twenty-sided die skitters across the table, and lands ominously on a two. From behind the guidebook lent to him by one Onoda Sakamichi, Manami smiles serenely.

"The innkeeper declines to answer your rudely phrased questions. He continues to polish the counter, and mutters something under his breath that sounds like, 'filthy werewolf."

"Bastard. I'm gonna fuckin' eat the innkeeper," Arakita announces. He slams his fist on the table for emphasis, making the others jump.

"Is that allowed? Can he do that? Manami, can he do that?" Toudou squawks, frantically glancing around the table for someone to stop him.

Fukutomi raises an eyebrow, and squints at his character sheet, deliberating. Izumida smiles helplessly and holds his hands up as Toudou glares at him, the only one observing instead of playing.

"Fuckin' watch me," Arakita sneers.

"Roll to transform, Arakita-san," Manami says politely.

Toudou wails in despair as Arakita aggressively rolls the die. He throws it too far, and it bounces off the bowl of popcorn and lands in Fukutomi's lap. Arakita dives over the table for it, just as Toudou clambers from his seat and tries to shove him aside. Shinkai chuckles as he rises, meandering out of the room to gather more snacks.

"Fuku-chan, quick, tell me what it landed on! Get your hands off me, pretty boy!"

"Arakita, take this more seriously! Fuku, make him stop, he's gonna ruin the campaign," Toudou yowls, grappling with Arakita in an effort to keep him away from the die.

Fukutomi grunts in surprise as Arakita's bony elbow jabs him in the stomach. Gingerly he picks up the errant die between two fingers and places it onto the table, unnoticed by his companions.

"The Paladin of Tartaruga approaches the innkeeper," Fukutomi states gravely.

Manami's smile is unreadable as he steeples his fingers.

"The innkeeper looks unimpressed as he nods towards the bickering adventurers. 'Are you the leader of these ruffians? I've half a mind to kick you noisy lot right out in the streets,' he grumbles."

"I will keep my companions in line. We are on a holy quest. You should tell us where to find the werewolf king," Fukutomi intoned.

"The innkeeper laughs. 'Why would I bother to help a bunch of wolf lovers? Your kind cause nothing but trouble. In fact, your room cost just went up.'"

"Bastard," Arakita repeats, muffled voice coming from somewhere around Toudou's armpit. Toudou releases his headlock and squirms his way out of range of Arakita's pinches long enough to clap his hand over Fukutomi's mouth.

"Fuku, you're telling him everything! I'm the only one beautiful enough to charm people, so please, before you get us kicked out, let me do the talking!"

"Toudou-san does have the highest charisma," Izumida remarks, studying the rogue's character sheet. "But… is this correct, Manami?"

He points to the stats, and Manami chuckles indulgently.

"Yes, he literally put all of his points into charisma. His character is useless for anything but talking his way out of trouble. And seduction, I suppose."

Toudou makes an offended gasp. He launches into a lecture about the usefulness of good charisma while Arakita guffaws over him and snags some popcorn. Fukutomi ignores them and calmly peels Toudou's hand from his mouth.

"We will defeat the werewolf king and lift his curse. You should assist us because we are strong."

Manami's smile goes razor sharp.

"Is that a threat?" he asks, voice dangerously soft. "You don't have the skills to bluff." He gazes coolly over the table at Fukutomi, fingers toying idly with the d20, and is met with a momentary silence.

"It is the truth," Fukutomi responds solemnly. He slides his character sheet across the table to Manami, then stands up and removes his shirt. As he flexes his biceps silently, it's Arakita's turn to squawk. He chokes on his popcorn, face flushing deep red as Toudou pats him on the back and snickers under his breath.

Unfazed, Manami rolls the die to calculate. He whistles softly – a natural 20.

"…'You are indeed the strongest man I have ever seen,' the innkeeper admits, grudgingly impressed by the paladin's muscles. 'If anyone can end the curse on this town, it's you. I will help you.'"

Arakita whoops and cheers noisily as Toudou flounces back to his seat, crossing his arms in a sulk.

Izumida compares the sheets again, brows furrowed in concentration. "Ah, Fukutomi-san did the opposite of Toudou-san… all of his points are in strength," he murmurs.

"I am strong," Fukutomi said in way of explanation, and returns to his seat.

Shinkai ambles back into the room, arms laden with snacks, and raises an eyebrow.

"Juichi, why are you stripping? What did I miss?"

Manami's grin brightens.

"Oh, Arakita-san was about to bite someone, so Fukutomi-san successfully created a distraction," he chirps.

"I meant in the game," Shinkai deadpans as he peels open a power bar.

"Well, it was a success in both, look at how red the wolf's ears are," Toudou cackled.

"Fuck all of you," Arakita snaps, blushing furiously.

"It's generally not a good idea to insult the dungeon master, Arakita-san," Manami reminds him cheerfully. "Consider this your final warning."

"Just get on with the game, you little shit!"

Edited 2016-08-02 22:50 (UTC)

I can't stop laughing at this. This is brilliant! Between Fukutomi and Toudou making the least-balanced characters possible and Arakita running in without thinking all the time, I'm amazed they made it this far (~~even if this is the very beginning of their adventure~~). My absolute favorite line though has to be:

"Juichi, why are you stripping? What did I miss?"

Manami's grin brightens.

"Oh, Arakita-san was about to bite someone, so Fukutomi-san successfully created a distraction," he chirps.

"I meant in the game," Shinkai deadpans as he peels open a power bar.

I love Shinkai's deadpan, and also the fact that Manami's explanation really could apply equally well to the game characters or to the players.

Don't mind me, I'll just be over here in the corner laughing over this some more.

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

miyukitty - 2016-08-04 23:29 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 15 of 24

Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

Re: FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, T

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

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 Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

Re: FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

Re: FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

Re: FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

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

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

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

FILL: Team Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, T

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

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

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

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

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

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

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

Fill: Team Grandstand, G

FILL: Team Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, G

FILL: Team MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

Fill: Team Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, T

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, T

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

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