Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

[referees]

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

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

RULES

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

FORMAT

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

Required Work Minimums:

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

There is no max work cap.

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

If FILLING:

If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:

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

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

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

SCORING

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

For fills:

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

All scored content must be created new for this round.

Etc.

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

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

Comments

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[lemontongues]

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

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

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

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

“If you really want to, I guess….”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s starting.”

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

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

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

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

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

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[lemontongues]

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

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

He’s going to die. He knows it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[kazuyaloveseijun]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FILL: Team Grandstand, PG

[babster]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See?”

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

“It's fine.”

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

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

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

[kuriicurry]

aaah, thank you very much !! ;w;

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

[kuriicurry]

thank you !! i love drawing kiyoko's hair tbh hehe~

FILL: Team Chihayafuru, T

[horchata]

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



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

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


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


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


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


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

Re: FILL: Team Chihayafuru, T

[sawakise]

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

OH MAN
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[elucidatedlucy]

i always love the literal of imagery like this, and how well it fits to natsuo's extreme nature. i love something so mortifying as cutting out a heart being phrased and thought of as almost banal, in the aftermath - natsuo comes across as dead and distant and a little cruel in her honesty, and kei in response is - free to be honest as well. i love short scenes like this setting up the sense of one's relationship, particularly for what it could be versus what it isn't (yet), and i love how you wrote this!!! though i've really enjoyed so much of what you've written for saso and this round yet.

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, T

[fullofjoy]

Toplessness?

Also fat merbutt is fat.

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

[mother_herbivore]

he thicc

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

[fullofjoy]

I'm thankful every day for this.

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, T

[dynamite]

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

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

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

--



They didn't mean to kill that man.

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

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

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

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

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

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


--


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

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

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

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

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

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, T

[dynamite]

ahh, thank you!! I'm glad you enjoyed.... this is based on one of my favourite Lovecraft stories, which is told in a scientific, almost dry manner, and I tried really hard to emulate that. I'm glad it came through!

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[kazuyaloveseijun]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, T

[dynamite]

I can't believe they're going to save both Onoda and Midousuji by taking them on a nerd bonding trip.

Fill: Team Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[lemontongues]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um… How should we…?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Y-yes, senpai?”

“Do you like me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Re: FILL: Team Chihayafuru, T

[dynamite]

ME, MAKING PAINED CRYING NOISES

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL THIS IS SO TERRIBLE

Re: FILL: TEAM KUROO TETSUROU/TSUKISHIMA KEI, T

[mousapelli]

oh my god I THINK THE DOLPHIN BLOOD IS MAKING ME SMARTER

this is RIDIULOUS from start to finish, which means it's absolutely perfect.

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

[mousapelli]

this is so cute!!! I love this whole thing. Esp Daichi's Porygon failure lol.

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

[blueminuet]

I love Hammond so much. ;w;
I love all of them. I miss Stargate. ;w;

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

[sawakise]

Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

pjo au

canon typical violence/descriptions of gore
571 words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

**

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

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

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

[fullofjoy]

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

"Like a pink scale!"



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

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

[blueminuet]

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


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

A lot like his life.

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

Teshima glares at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mizuki smiled and lead the way.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“So, anyway, that’s why I’m back.”

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

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

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

“Th-thanks, Inui-san…”

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

[sawakise]

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

kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:

pjo au

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

“Mom?” Miyuki calls out hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiles.

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

Miyuki has no name for what he is feeling.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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