sportsanime | Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

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Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

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

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

RULES

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

FORMAT

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

Required Work Minimums:

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

There is no max work cap.

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

If FILLING:

If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:

FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING]

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

FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING]

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

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

SCORING

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

For fills:

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

All scored content must be created new for this round.

Etc.

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

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

Threaded | Flat

Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

reincarnation au

no tags!
64 lines ig I don't know I'm on mobile

i.

first time i am reborn
you speak in tongues that i do not know
it is a struggle to speak
we get frustrated too quickly
the prior glow of our relationship fading with every complications

i yell and you stare
you quip and my reactions fall short of the mark
frustrated tears force us to part

you die when your hair is white as snow
i try to tell you i love you for one last time
you understand nothing
but you smile anyways

ii.

you pursue me with a fervor that wasn't there in our previous lives
too many regrets that you were unable to voice
you sob openly in my palms

emotions cross when words cannot

we walk hand in hand
i point out a flower
speak my language
your eyes widen
speak your language
i repeat it and you laugh
mock my pronunciation
and i huff and speak my language
your mouth twitches and you grimace

then you speak my language

iii.

for the first time that we've met
you don't recognize me
it's hard because i come off as a little too strong
desperation lacing my butchering of your language
you scowl and brush me off

i can't tell which one hurts more
you don't know me
or that
you don't want to

iv.

who are you?

v.

we meet at 3:12 in the afternoon
on the dusty diamond of a field
you smile and you see me
and your mouth falls open
my loud bluster fades away

it's you
we say at the same time
and fall into a familiar rhythm of understanding

what do you have

i splutter
nothing but fastballs
that's all i need

you laugh and i try a language from one of our lifetimes

shut up
i love you

you say something

what was that

you smirk
it's i love you

that's what i thought!
that's what i said!

i know
you snort
i learned 4 languages because of you

well, you say and point to the monster
let's take him out together
as a couple

my face flushes

you choose our first language

partner.

Miyuki Kazuya/Chris Yuu Takigawa, Daiya no Ace
Word Count: 889
Major Tags: Implied Major Character Death
Notes: I wrote a Dragon Age fusion verse! In which Miyuki and Chris are mages of the Circle. This was originally supposed to be the prologue for a longer Misawa work, but I decided to cut it here since it stands alone. More understandable in context of the DA lore, but basically mages are considered dangerous, so they're rounded up into Circles and guarded by templars for life.

"This life of mine...it's as if I'm living at the top of a tall, tall tower, where I've let down a single strand of my heart."

Kazuya could feel the chill slowly settling in the air, the warmth of the sun slowly seeping away. The few tendrils of spring in the wind faded, reminding him that the flowers had yet to bloom and a soft layer of winter frost still covered the world around him.

Spring was still too far away.

Very soon, someone would come by to bring him back inside. After all, dangerous creatures such as they were not allowed to stand outside after dark. Maker forbid that they might use the cover of the night for blood rituals or worse. The templars liked to claim that the curfew was for their own safety, but no one was fooled.

This place was their prison.

It had been bearable before, at least. But the first signs of spring in the air marked a year now…a year since he left. A year of regret, wondering over and over again why he was still alive. He had found one good thing, one beautiful thing here in the Circle at last…

He could almost believe it had been worth it.

***

“You know, as long as you’re here, it’s not too bad.” Kazuya quipped. Despite his tone, he didn’t mean it lightly. He loved the magic, loved learning about it and weaving it to his will, but he hated the oppressive darkness of the tower.

Some of the mages could be content here, living quietly with no memories of their families and no dreams of ever leaving the tower. It wasn’t as if the Circle was the worst place to be– they had libraries with high ceilings and books lining the shelves all the way up. All of them were books deemed “safe” by the Chantry, of course, but nonetheless, it was more than Kazuya ever had as a child. They were fed well, given an excellent education…not a bad life if it weren’t for the constant watch by templars and the rumors of those put down during their Harrowing. Even so, it was better than the fate that awaited most of the impoverished students back home, so Kazuya didn’t blame them for being content here.

It wasn’t like he had anyone waiting for him back at home either. His mother had shielded him from the Circle for years, but the moment she died, his father had him sent away. There wasn’t anything left for him, but still…anything was better than being beaten by templars for any perceived misstep. He missed sitting out by the lake, watching the fire dance at his fingertips without worrying about a holy smite throwing him to the ground.

And so, he could never stop searching for a way out. A mage so locked away was hardly a mage at all, was what he believed…until he met Chris.

Chris Yuu Takigawa, with the beautiful way he spun his magic, his innate understanding of the Fade and all its spirits, was the proof that perhaps there might be something worthwhile in the Circle after all.

“I think it might be okay to stick around here if we do this more often.” He said. This night was one of many that the two of them spent in the library, researching some obscure Fade objects and alternate ways to cast spells.

“Oh?” The older boy looked away from the tome in his hand, raising an eyebrow. “And you were planning to go where?”

“Well, I’ve thought about shaking the templars a few times. Smash my phylactery and everything.”

Chris looked worried now.

“Don’t say that. The First Enchanter might like you, but even he won’t overlook talk like that.”

“Oh, does Yuuki like me now?” Kazuya smirked. The First Enchanter was a calm, stern man, expressing approval but rarely showing affection. He frustrated Yuuki on a regular basis, he knew, with his backtalk.

“Stop it, you know he recognizes your talent. And that’s not the point. Don’t talk about running so loosely like that Miyuki.”

“Mm. Don’t worry. Though maybe you should keep me close by to make sure I don’t?”

Chris blushed at that, a lovely pink color on his cheeks. Kazuya almost laughed. Chris must have had apprentices flirting with him daily, but his reaction never changed.

“…I guess I will.”

Kazuya felt his eyes widening. He’d been expecting Chris to brush him off as usual, to change the topic to something more comfortable and acceptable. But…

Maybe I can hope for little more.

“Hey Chris?”

“Yes?”

It was all the warning Miyuki gave him before leaning over to catch his lips. He felt the shy, but definite smile forming on Chris's lips as they parted, and he thought in that moment that everything from before was worth it.

***

How foolish I was.

He felt his own lips curl into a bitter smile at the memory. Just a few months later, the templars took that from him as well. The little bit of good, the brightness that was Chris…a talented senior mage, one of the youngest to pass his Harrowing.

They had had everything. And then nothing at all. Because the Circle was sure to take it all away, because mages would eternally pay for the sin of being born.

This was the reality that Miyuki had forgotten just for moment. He had let his heart hope for a moment, and this was his punishment.

Edited 2016-08-05 00:24 (UTC)

Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, Free!

dragon on human, interspecies, sexual content

[[ Full Image ]]

Edited 2016-08-04 21:49 (UTC)

Makoto Tachibana/Sousuke Yamazaki, Free!

No tags

Catboy!Makoto waiting for his master to wake up and give him attention already~

kuramochi youichi/miyuki kazuya, daiya no ace
595 words
fire emblem: awakening au.
miyuki is the vessel for grima. assumes the ending where the player puts grima to sleep instead of sacrificing the player character.

no content warnings.

miyuki’s nightmares don’t go away, even when all is said and done.

he still has nightmares featuring his mirror image, the husk of a body that held the fell dragon.

on those nights, it’s as if they never put grima to sleep.

telling himself “it’s all in your head” doesn’t work, because miyuki has learned that just because something only exists inside of you doesn’t make it any less real.

(sometimes it makes it worse, even.)

the worst part is when, during the course of the dream, he gives in. when he accepts grima, when he accepts the overwhelming rush of power as his own.

on those nights, he wakes up and wants to wretch.

then comes the night when he’s pulled from the dream before it has the chance to reach a conclusion.

“miyuki—oi, miyuki!”

he blinks awake, sitting bolt upright and almost hitting his waker on the way up.

“relax, it’s me.”

miyuki squints. given the darkness and the fact he’s not wearing his glasses, the person is only a blur.

but he knows that voice. “kuramochi?”

“yeah.”

“what’re you doing here?” he asks.

“sawamura came back from training late and told me he kept hearing weird sounds coming from your room,” kuramochi answers.

miyuki blinks. “weird sounds.”

“his words,” kuramochi says. “i didn’t know what to think at first either, but—” he clears his throat. “i figured i’d come check to see what was going on and. it didn’t sound like you were having a good time so i figured i would wake you up.”

miyuki swallows. he’s grateful, but thanking kuramochi for doing this—thanking kuramochi after seeing him like this requires a mental leap miyuki isn’t sure he can manage.

he’s grateful to be free of the nightmare for the time being, but hardly for the fact that now someone is aware of all this.

“it’s just a dream,” he says, fixing on a smile as best he can and hoping it reaches his voice. “nothing to be worried about.”

kuramochi is silent. miyuki can’t make out his features, but he’s more than familiar enough with the line of kuramochi’s brow and the set of his jaw that he can fill in the blanks.

“if it wasn’t anything to worry about, you wouldn’t be having the dreams at all.”

“‘mochi—”

kuramochi nudges miyuki. “budge over,” he says.

“what—”

kuramochi fixes him with a look. “either you’re gonna talk about this, or we can talk about something else to distract you, because you’re still as pale as you were when i walked in, or we can sit here and not talk and maybe you’ll sleep better knowing someone else is here.”

miyuki blinks. kuramochi is half on the bed, practically on top of miyuki. “‘mochi, you don’t have to—”

“i do if i want our tactician to be in top shape, okay? we’re still rebuilding after everything that happened. so get some damn sleep so you don’t look like the dead tomorrow.”

after a moment, miyuki finally moves. kuramochi sits against the headboard and waits. when miyuki doesn’t say a word, he says: “i already laid out our options. take your pick.”

exhaustion still dragging at his brow, miyuki finally lies back down. even with his back to kuramochi, he can sense the other still there, his weight on the bed impossible to ignore. another moment passes and he becomes of kuramochi’s breathing, steady and even.

he even thinks he might feel the barest trace of kuramochi’s hand on his back, tracing shapes into his skin as he drifts off to sleep.

supernatural creatures: vampire, werewolf
tadokoro jin/makishima yuusuke

body horror, insects
kuramochi youichi/kominato ryousuke

[tiredly] A LINK TO THE BEES

merman
takigawa chris yuu/tanba kouichirou

Kanou Shuugo & Mihashi Ren, (Oofuri)
tags: demons, implied horror, confinement
word count: 476 words
notes: Hide and Seek in the Forbidden City, Kakurenbo AU

Kanou curled himself tighter into a ball, watching the light sweeping across the run down room through the cracks of the boarded up windows. He tried to focus on the sound of his breathing and not the mechanical whirring outside of the abandoned house he found. It had chased down their group and they all had to split up, he lost sight of Mihashi in the process. Kanou felt a sinking sensation in his gut as he thought of where Mihashi ended up, or worse if he was caught and spirited away by the demons. Anyone who was spirited away was never seen again.

A ruckus outside interrupted his abysmal thoughts and the sweeping light left the room. Kanou could hear the demon’s clunky footsteps as it steamed down the alley, probably in search of the noise.

He released a sigh of relief and uncurled from his position, yet the tension remained. He slowly crawled out of his hiding spot, and surveyed the dimly lit room. He dashed into the closest house he could find to seek shelter. He was one of the lucky ones that managed to get away from the demons looking for them.

Kanou wondered if it was a set-up, he and the other kids who were gathered at a remote area were the only ones who knew about the meetup. They were all tired of playing the game and were planning to escape the city rather than playing by the rules. But, alas, only half way into their meeting they were ambushed by the demons who forced their way in through the restricted area, finally finding their prey. It was a free-for-all, they all scrambled as the demons broke into the square. There were kids, younger than he was, who were snatched up by the demon’s elongated mechanical arms and whisked away into the night.

It was during this panic and mayhem that he lost sight of Mihashi, the poor boy being shoved around in the crowd and eventually had to run in a separate direction to flee for safety. Kanou knew that his first priority was to find his lost friend and try to find an exit to the city. There had to be a way out, right? It couldn’t be total lockdown, at least that’s what he hoped. He knew the moment they set foot into the Forbidden City that something was wrong. The atmosphere felt different. Noise only came from within the city, you couldn’t hear anything from the outside, even the wind felt stagnant as if some force surrounded the city locking its inhabitants and forces in.

You could enter, but you could not leave.

Kanou shivered and ran a hand down his face only to touch a mask instead.

Ah, that’s right.

He was still playing the game -- still on the run from those that were It.

roughhousing
shinomiya kojirou/inui hinako

guardian angel. ghost. conscience. fairy. whatever.

Miyuki Kazuya & Kuramochi Youichi & Maezono Kenta, Kominato Ryousuke & Kominato Haruichi, the tiny budding of Kuramochi/Ryousuke, Daiya no A
mentioned past death, ghosts, cisswap (myk, moch, and kominatos)
or, the ghostbusters au no one asked for, 2643 words

"What the hell."

Kazuha only looks up because of the tone those three words are said in, rather than the speaker that says them. Usually when she hears that incredulous, vaguely furious voice, she knows she's probably about to get a roundhouse kick to the ass if she doesn't tread carefully. Thankfully, she's mastered pushing her luck to get that reaction and then artfully, if verbally, dodging away from getting throttled.

Kuramochi stares at her from the doorway, takeout bag precariously loose in her fingers.

"So," Kazuha begins, pointing her screwdriver down at the bag. "Maybe don't drop that? I'm hungry."

"Miyuki," Kuramochi growls.

Kazuha raises her hand, and the screwdriver, placatingly.

It does not help. The growl continues as she slams the door shut behind her.

Rather than let a rabid roommate get her hands on her work, Kazuha pulls it all into her chest, hovering over it like Kuramochi can't get to any of it. "If it's any consolation, none of these parts are from anything important?"

It's probably because her own food is also in the bag that Kuramochi doesn't slam it down on the table, now that there's space amidst all the chaos of her project. "What the fuck are you even doing? Is that coupler from the microwave?"

"Okay, in my defense, the microwave was dying," Kazuha tells her. "So there's a lot of parts from the microwave in here."

There's a safe moment where the focus is taken off her and put on the food, thankfully. Food tends to make Kuramochi less dangerous. Usually. Sometimes.

So Kazuha relaxes, slowly settling in her seat again as Kuramochi unpacks the food, grumbling under her breath, much of it unsavory things towards Kazuha. Casually, she continues, as she pulls her own food towards herself while Kuramochi digs into hers. "I'm making a ghost trap, by the by."

Kuramochi promptly chokes on her gyoza.

***

As it turns out, ghost hunting isn't as much of a lucrative business as it'd once been when the government paid occultists to investigate hauntings and the like. It also turns out that it's not very well respected. Shrine workers get respect, but they're a different can of worms that Kazuha's not going to focus on. That's spiritual, not scientific.

But ever since she was a kid, Kazuha's wanted to know about the scientific place of ghosts and spirits and ghouls, because the answer of it's magic just doesn't sit right with her. There's no explanation there, at least not one that satiates her.

So, ghost hunting and the creation of equipment to allow them to study them.

"I don't know how you drag me into these things," Kuramochi bitches, helping her put together a casing for the positron collider she's built out of spare (or stolen, mostly) parts and their dying microwave. Despite her complaints, she's deft with the tools, and has little trouble figuring out exactly what Kazuha is aiming for in her design.

Also, despite appearances, Kuramochi makes modifications to the design that actually make it a little... safer. They'll probably get radiation poisoning still, but at least there's less of a chance of them being blown up while carrying around miniature versions of a Large Electron-Positron Collider that run on nuclear power.

"You're a thrill seeker," Kazuha drawls, banging a piece in where it won't fit. "And like the idea of possibly punching a ghost in the face."

There's a beat where Kuramochi scratches at her shaved sides with the screwdriver, and then returns to screwing the casing in place. "Okay, fair."

"And we'd be famous for proving their existence," Kazuha continues, once she's gotten things mostly together.

Square peg, round hole: zero. Miyuki Kazuha: one.

"And rich," Kuramochi agrees.

***

When asked about why she went into paranormal investigation, Kazuha frequently dismisses the questions and answers with cheeky, flippant responses. She wants to be rich, she wants to be famous, she wants to prove to the world that she's right, that she wants to explore the unknown and show it to everyone.

The real answer is that she wants to see her mother again. Only one person knows the truth, and she'd like to keep it that way, if she can help it.

She hasn't even told her father about it.

Her mother had passed away peacefully one night, in the hospital after months and months of pain, and it'd been both a relief that it was over and heart wrenching at the same time. Everything was a whirlwind of preparation right after her death, preparations for her wake set in motion only days later. Kazuha was six years old and more than a little unsure of what to do, for once in her life.

But in the midst of the grief, Kazuha had seen her mother one night. She'd woken up, left her room for some asinine reason that she doesn't even remember anymore, and she'd seen her standing over where her father had fallen asleep at the table, letters and condolences and plans scattered around him.

Her mother had looked... sad, but like she'd accepted it. And then she'd looked up at Kazuha, and smiled, and then was gone.

Every night until the wake, and the funeral the day after, Kazuha would leave her room and find the ethereal figure of her mother overlooking their family. Like it was her goodbye.

***

Word travels through the grapevine until it reaches them. Kazuha stuck her feelers out years ago to find the right connections for information, blackmailing where she had to to get what they needed, and it finally comes in handy one day.

So she and Kuramochi show up on Zono's doorstep one day with a prototype pack and an address.

He takes one look at the two of them - Kazuha's smirk shitty and maybe a little manic, Kuramochi's grin wild and rakish - and moves to close the door.

Kuramochi sticks one of her combat boots in the way, the door simply bouncing off the steel toe, and shoulders inside.

"Oh no," Zono protests anyways, trying to keep Kazuha out especially. "No, no way. You are not taking me on another wild goose chase - "

"You'd be overjoyed if it was a goose chase," Kazuha hums, ducking his grabbing hands and trotting after Kuramochi.

Zono despairs immediately. "No, I'd be overjoyed if you just left me alone - don't touch that, Kuramochi!"

She ignores him, moving one of his antiques off his coffee table to unroll some floor plans across it.

Kazuha pats him on the arm, dropping the pack down with a heavy thump so she can roll and stretch out her shoulder. "We need someone with a car to help us with our gear, and even your tiny ass smart car will do in a pinch."

Kuramochi grunts, a small noise of agreement, marking notes all over the plans. "We got enough weird looks for the pack on the train, and there's no way we can carry the rest - oi, Miyuki, where do you want to set up the thermal detector?"

"Why are neither of you listening to me?" Zono asks, though it sounds rhetorical.

Kazuha answers anyways as she ties her hair up into a bun, looking over Kuramochi's shoulder. "Because you're not about to let us go off and get ourselves killed by doing something stupid."

A pregnant silence falls over them, until Zono eventually sighs, his shoulders sagging, and he comes over to take a look at the plans with them. "I hate you."

"Uhhuh," Kuramochi replies absently.

Kazuha grins, unperturbed. "I know."

***

Very few people are aware of the fact that Maezono Kenta is actually a gigantic softy. He volunteers at the animal shelter during the weekend, drives an electric smart car that's three sizes too small for him, goes to the farmer's market, and likes to go antiquing.

He's also terrified of ghosts and ghost stories.

Kuramochi was the one to find this out, and delighted in this discovery when she'd made him scream like a girl one night, having blooded herself up and put in a pair of white contacts. Kazuha had recorded it and cackled for almost an hour right there with Kuramochi, until Zono had threatened to throw them in the river. It was a mostly empty threat, although one of these days Kazuha has a feeling that he's going to go through with the promise. At least with her.

This might be the breaking point.

"You just said you'd need help transporting things!" Zono yells into the empty house, carrying the prototype pack on his back. It's a little snug on him, considering it was designed with Kuramochi's broad but still feminine figure in mind, but he's obviously less concerned about that and more about the way the house creaks as it settles.

There's a little sympathy in Kuramochi's face as she looks back at him, but not much. Especially considering she rolls her eyes. "Chill out. Even if something does happen, the ghost's just been rumored to be a troublemaker, not a poltergeist."

"Yet," Kazuha points out.

"Yet," Kuramochi agrees, and then grins at Zono. "So don't scare it with that mug of yours, huh?"

When Zono scowls at her, the entry room is filled with Kuramochi's signature two-note laugh, which echoes into the silence of the rest of the house. Kazuha squints as she shines a flashlight down the hall, like she can see if the laughter summons anything. When nothing comes, she flicks it back off.

"All right, let's scope out the first floor before we head upstairs. Basement is closed off, supposedly, so we'll save breaking into that for last."

"Is that even legal?" Zono asks. "That's probably not legal."

"It's not," Kuramochi and Kazuha answer simultaneously.

"Great."

Kazuha grins at him, clapping her hands together. "Isn't it? C'mon, let's go. Here, Kuramochi - " she tosses the flashlight to her, unsurprised when she catches it. " - you take point, punch a ghost if it gets ornery."

Kuramochi rolls her eyes but turns the flashlight on anyways, moving down the hall. "Chickenshit."

"I don't trust you with the camera," Kazuha simpers. "You left the lens cap on last time."

"One time!" Kuramochi barks back over her shoulder, stomping ahead.

Kazuha and Zono look at each other as she goes; Kazuha shrugs, and Zono glares, before they both follow.

***

The first floor is largely uneventful, which isn't too surprising. The lights work every now and then, electricity buzzing where they won't turn on, and they just move on from room to room when nothing registers on the meter. Kazuha stares through the camera as they go, looking for any sign of electrical disturbance.

It's as they're turning the corner on the way back to the main room that they get the shit scared out of them, the beam of the flashlight in Kuramochi's hand landing on an ethereal face.

"Holy shit!" she yelps.

Zono covers his mouth to keep from shrieking.

Kazuha fumbles the camera trying to focus on the figure ahead of them.

"You're very loud," the face tells them, scathingly sweet, a dainty hand lifted to shield her eyes from the flashlight being shined directly in her face. "And if there's a spirit here, you've surely annoyed them into leaving. Good job."

"Aneki..." another voice chides, the same sweet sound of it softened when it's not backed by something sharp as a knife.

"And you're not a ghost," Kazuha says, disappointedly lowering the camera. She's about to say more when she gets a look at Kuramochi next to her, flashlight lowered enough to not shine in anyone's eyes. Not that she's sure it matters, because Kazuha can't even see any eyes through those frankly Disney princess length eyelashes, but her attention drops from the newcomer's face to where Kuramochi is looking. And shining the light.

That's one hell of a rack.

A hand enters their field of vision, snapping at them, and they both look up at the same time to see the literally most dangerous smile either of them has witnessed in their entire lives. Kuramochi swallows, and Kazuha swears to every scientific journal that she can see the progress as she turns scarlet, from her ears to her face to her neck, in one fell swoop.

She's doomed, and they're all dead.

"Well, now that we've cleared that up," the pink, busty, not-ghost drawls, smile still intact. "Kindly take your your stomping and shouting somewhere else. There are people trying to get real work done, here."

"Aneki," that second voice comes again, and this time there's a person to go with it. Another pink-haired girl materializes from the dark - exiting a room, probably - and gives her sister(?) an exasperated look.

Kazuha thinks she does, anyways. Does this family just have a sixth sense that lets them see without using their eyes?

Zono is mysteriously quiet behind them, but that might be because he expired from having a heart attack. Kazuha doesn't trust these two to turn around and check on him. Especially since Kuramochi is a useless lesbian right now, and can't be trusted, either.

"The house is big enough for all of us, right?" the second, less curvy, but still pretty cute, girl asks, smiling hopefully before looking at them. "Sorry about that. I'm Kominato Haruhi."

"Miyuki Kazuha," she answers, promptly elbowing Kuramochi to get her to answer. Zono wheezes a noise behind them - good, he's alive - so she gives his name. "Maezono Kenta, back there. Don't mind him, I think you scared the ability to speak out of him."

"Ah - Kuramochi You."

There's an expectant pause, before the older sister sighs the weariest sigh, like this is beneath her. "Ryouko. That wouldn't be the first time I've done that."

"I believe it," Kuramochi murmurs, but she still looks starstruck, so Kazuha takes it with a grain of salt.

"Well, now that that's taken care of!" Kazuha says, grinning, trying to disarm the situation. "How about we go back to work?"

Ryouko looks at her like she's something that she's found on the bottom of one of her pretty heeled boots, smile twitching so that her lip curls a little in disdain. "I would rather we go back to work, and you leave."

"I'd love to," Zono finally speaks up, croaky. Everyone ignores him.

Kazuha frowns a little, despite herself. "Didn't your sister just say there was plenty of room?"

"There is," Haruhi confirms, frowning at her sister.

"You're in the way," Ryouko tells them.

"Now, hang on - I'm sure we could help each other out - " Kuramochi begins.

Without missing a beat, Kazuha backhands her square in the boob.

"Ow, fuck! Miyuki, what the hell!?"

"Your input is invalid right now because you've been compromised."

Ryouko huffs, something that was probably a laugh in another life but is probably a death threat in this one, but as she opens her mouth to say something, Haruhi lifts her hand up to quiet everybody.

With a frown, she asks, "Do you hear that?"

The group falls silent, Kuramochi glowering but letting her embarrassed grumbling peter out. Kazuha has no sympathy for her right now, but it's easy enough to forget when she strains to hear what they're supposed to be listening for.

A droning, like the buzz of the power trying to come on, grows louder. It feels distant, almost, until it finally reaches them, and -

The lights flicker on - all of them, probably - and flicker, buzzing louder.

And then the bulbs explode, making everyone jump and move to cover their heads.

The droning continues, relentless.

"Okay," Kazuha decides, "How about we all regroup outside?"

Despite the fact Ryouko looks less than thrilled, an exchanged glance with Haruhi has her relenting. "Fine."

"Oh, thank god," Zono groans, and he's the one leading the way outside, as fast as he can go with heavy equipment and without leaving the group behind.

Edited (YELLS AT TYPOS) 2016-08-04 23:09 (UTC)

Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Haikyuu!!
Polyjuice potion, gender swap, switching from M/M to F/M to F/F to M/F.
word count: 4259

At least four times a week Tsukishima's life was made intensely difficult by dating the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but on this particular Saturday morning, he had to admit it had its perks as well. Not everybody had a boyfriend who could brew a textbook-perfect Polyjuice Potion and then would turn around and use it solely in the name of sexual experimentation.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Tsukishima asked, just to nettle. Kuroo's potions were always fine, even when he made weird ingredient substations, infuriatingly. Tsukishima's potions blew up if he so much as sneezed over them.

"I put in the O in OWLS, Tsukki!" Kuroo said cheerfully. "Also I made Bo test it last night. We turned him into another Lev and I thought Yaku was going to—"

"Do NOT make another Wingardium Leviosa joke," Tsukishima interrupted. Kuroo chuckled, carefully ladling Polyjuice into jars and trying not to drip on the rug.

rest of fic on Ao3

Aoyagi Hajime/Teshima Junta; Yowamushi Pedal

Word Count: 534
No tags

Teshima hates the Slytherin common room. It’s not where he’s supposed to belong. It’s in the dungeons, under the lake, and it’s dark and the air is ever so slightly cool and damp. The green and silver colours hang from the walls and mock him. He longs for the warm Hufflepuff yellow and on his first night in the castle, Teshima cries in his pillow until he falls asleep. He doesn’t need to try to muffle the cries, though, really -- he’s the only first year Slytherin boy despite the dorm room being clearly meant for more, cavernous as it is.

He thinks sulkily that it’s a good thing he’s alone, because he doesn’t want to associate with the Slytherins any more than he has to. Everyone knows Slytherins are evil, after all.

Teshima misses his friends.

Slytherin and Hufflepuff don’t even have any classes together until the end of the week -- Transfiguration on Thursday, and then double Charms on Friday. His first day is spent mostly in the company of the other Slytherins, followed by Potions with Gryffindor.

At least the Potions classroom is close to the dormitory, Teshima thinks, as he trudges down the hallways. Then again, the Hufflepuff dorm room is also in the lower levels, and he almost starts crying again.

Most of the other first years have already paired off by the time Teshima finds his way to the classroom, and he doesn’t want to sit with one of the Slytherins, anyway. Gryffindor may not be Hufflepuff, but at least it’s better than the Slytherins. Teshima zeroes in on a slight, sandy-haired Gryffindor boy with an obviously secondhand cauldron and more importantly, an empty seat beside him.

“Mind if I sit here?” Teshima asks, feeling incredibly self-conscious about the green around his collar. The boy looks him up and down, shrugs, and then nods once and shuffles his textbook just a bit closer to one side. Teshima sits down with relief.

“I’m Junta, Junta Teshima, what’s your name?”

The Gryffindor boy matches Teshima’s sunny grin with a small smile of his own, and he answers in a quietly confident voice, “Hajime Aoyagi.”

“Aoyagi? Nice to meet you!”

Teshima quickly discovers that he has no apparent talent for potion-making, but Aoyagi does, even if he keeps skipping steps in the instructions or misreading the words or getting the numbers backwards. But between the two of them, by the end of their first double lesson, they’ve managed a passable attempt at a Colour-Change Potion, and Teshima is feeling very satisfied. He can see the sentiment echoed on Aoyagi’s face, and they share a conspiratorial smile.

That is, until the Potions Master comes over to inspect their work, and awards them ten points each -- ten to Gryffindor… and ten to Slytherin.

Somehow, Teshima’d managed to forget, during the lesson. Remembering is like a punch to the stomach. He curls in on himself a little, already on his way to a full-blown self-pity session, but then Aoyagi catches his sleeve.

“We have History of Magic together next,” he says. “I don’t know where it is. We should go look for the classroom.”

Aoyagi doesn’t seem to care that Teshima’s hood is edged in green.

Edited 2016-08-04 22:15 (UTC)

verbal abuse, slurs, internalised homophobia, mild horror, dark spaces, mention of character death, mild unwanted selfcest (nothing explicit), shadow self disasters, persona 4-ish au, mild violence, nosebleeds, blood... i think that's it

Iwaizumi Hajime&Iwaizumi Hajime

4291 words

---

He wakes up in a chair, face making an imprint in the bed he’s sitting flush against, his right arm stretching out to grasp cool, empty air. There’s a gnawing pain at the back of his mind, which he dismisses as the result of not having had a good sleep. As he tries to ease out of drowsiness with stretches and yawns, he contemplates his surroundings. He doesn’t remember how he got here, but judging by the bed with its multifunction panel, the numerous monitors, and the pale blue curtains enclosing the bed area completely, he is unmistakably in the hospital. And judging by the cold, crumpled sheets in front of him…

He gets to his feet, pulls open the curtains, and sighs. Through the windows he sees that it’s still mostly dark outside, though some red on the horizon indicates that it’s probably about five in the morning. ‘Dammit, Oikawa,’ he curses softly, ‘It’s too early for this.’

Since childhood Oikawa’s been no stranger to hospitals, and every time he’s had to stay, at some point he would slip out of the room, much to the chagrin of all the frantic hospital staff. Each time, he would either quietly reappear after a few hours or, more likely than not, Hajime would find him curled up somewhere, staring quietly into the distance.

Hajime takes to the hallway, determined to find Oikawa and drag him back to the bed as quickly as possible. The lights are still dim, and it’s quiet. Directly opposite the room is a desk plastered in athletic product posters, and a nurse is sitting behind it, head bowed – Hajime should probably be more affronted, but it is ass o’ clock, so he can’t really begrudge the nurse for taking a rest. Besides, he has something more pressing to deal with. Where could Oikawa be?

He could wake the nurse to ask for help, but he doesn’t want to trouble more people than necessary for what is likely a minor issue. Oikawa’s vanishing tricks have never once been due to kidnapping, and he’s always come back safe. Hajime stops to consider where Oikawa could have wandered off to. His first thought is the physiotherapy rooms, since Oikawa’s in the hospital this time for his knee, and he’s been anxious about getting back to volleyball as soon as possible. But all the non-patient rooms are locked this early in the morning, and Hajime is sure that all of the charm in the world would have no effect on either the stern orderly or the physiotherapist who control the keys.

Could he be outside? One of Oikawa’s most frequent hiding spots is the garden, but at this time, Hajime is doubtful that the door leading to it would be unlocked. Oikawa does like getting fresh air when he can, though, so… Hajime turns and starts walking in the direction of the stairs. He’s probably on the roof.

When he passes a sign that gives directions to the garden, a memory from their childhood surfaces: Oikawa pushing Hajime into the river for a lark, but having to dive after him when he realised that Hajime couldn’t swim. Somehow, Hajime had emerged from the incident unscathed, but Oikawa had developed a lung infection, and spent several weeks bedridden. Hajime had visited almost every day, but he hadn’t been allowed to go near Oikawa. One day, Hajime and his mother had arrived at the hospital to find the nurses in a panic: Tooru-kun has gone missing, where could he be, he still needs plenty of rest to get better.

Hajime had wandered over to the window whilst his mother and the nurses spoke to one another, and when he looked out, he’d seen a familiar light-brown head bobbing amongst the flowers of the hospital’s outdoor garden. He’d dashed down several flights of stairs and gotten yelled at by several doctors and patients, and when he finally reached the garden, Hajime had thrown his arms around Tooru with such force that he hadn’t realised what his own head was doing, and he’d accidentally given Tooru a nosebleed.

Hajime, you brute! Tooru had cried then, coughing and smearing blood across his face instead of stopping the flow properly. Hajime had shuffled forward on his knees, reached out awkwardly to cup Tooru’s face gently with his hands, and Tooru had stilled completely at the contact. Then, he’d firmly pressed down on Tooru’s nose and started questioning him. Where have you been? Have you been here all this time? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Didn’t you know that everyone was worried about you? What could have been so important? The more questions Hajime had asked, the more sullen Tooru had become. When Hajime ran out of breath and patience, he’d sat back and huffed, and when he started looking around because Tooru wouldn’t make eye contact or respond, he’d realised. There were crushed bluebells under Hajime’s right knee, and behind to Tooru there were scissors, a card with a colour pencil drawing of a stag beetle on it, and ribbon. He’d reached for the card, and before Tooru could snatch it back, he’d glimpsed the words ‘I’m sorry Hajime’ in Tooru’s 8-year-old-child scrawl.

Tooru had placed the card on the floor and sat on it, arms folded and looking away with a pout on his face. Hajime had closed the distance between him and Tooru, then placed his hands firmly on Tooru’s shoulders. When Tooru turned and made eye contact with him, he’d wrapped his arms around Tooru tightly in a hug. After that, Tooru had burst into tears, sobbing in earnest as he hugged back.

That was ten years ago, and Hajime’s clearest memory of such prolonged and intimate physical contact between them. Since then, instead of shuffling forward to close the distance, Hajime’s been scooting back. Sure, they’ve had physical touch in the form of roughhousing, high-fives after pulling off successful volleyball moves and back-slaps after matches, but Hajime has been sure to avoid any lingering touches or gazes. He’s even gone so far as to reduce the intimacy of how they refer to one another: since middle school, Tooru has been Oikawa, or some insulting version thereof to hide Hajime’s affection for his first and dearest friend.

Hajime shakes his head vigorously, trying to dispel his stray thoughts about Oikawa the way one might try to lessen the wrinkles in an item of laundry. He stops and sighs, rubbing his temple. His head is still throbbing lightly with pain, but it’s easy enough to ignore. He hopes he finds Oikawa soon so he can get a damn rest. He’s been walking for a while, but he hasn’t come across the stairs yet. Maybe he went the wrong way? When he looks in the direction he came from, he feels a chill run down his spine.

The hallway is pitch black. When he started walking, the lighting had been dim, but that was better than nothing. He turns to look at the other end of the hallway. The lights are still on, but he can’t see the end of it. He stands still, weighing his options. He could try to fumble his way through the dark hallway to just wait in the room for Oikawa to return, or he could press on to look for Oikawa, and they could return together. He thinks about Oikawa: what condition is he in? Is he hurt? Is that why he’d left his bed for so long that it was cold when Hajime touched it? Injured or not, it won’t be easy to navigate the dark hallway alone. Hajime turns towards the dimly lit hallway and steels his resolve: he will find Oikawa, and they will return to the room together.

He walks and he walks and he walks. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking for, but the hallway doesn’t seem to be coming to an end. He starts jogging, then running at full tilt, but still the hallway stretches out endlessly. He keeps it up for a minute or so before slowing down and leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. This is pointless. Maybe I should turn back. He casts his eyes at the hallway behind him, and his heart freezes.

Instead of the dimly lit hallway he expects to see, it is completely dark behind him.

Hajime draws himself up and breathes deeply, trying to calm his increasingly frantic heart rate. He faces the darkened hallway squarely, then nods to himself. He’s going to test a theory.

Slowly, he starts walking backwards, away from the darkened hallway, counting out loud to distract himself from the eerie silence of the hospital. At five steps one of the ceiling lights comes in view, and at eight steps, he blinks, and in the next second the dim light goes out completely. He stops and clenches his fists, trying not to tremble. What should I do now? He could continue down the dimly lit hallway, though that seems pointless.

Perhaps it would be more productive to keep a hand against the wall and try feeling his way back, after all. He nods to himself. Let’s try that. He slaps his right hand against the wall and puts his left foot forward into the darkness with more confidence than he actually has. In that moment, the pain in his head reaches a sharp peak, and senses something hurtling through the darkness towards him, and then something smooth and cool makes contact with his left wrist. Horrified, he shakes it off, jumping backwards into the light. It’s faint, but he thinks he sees multiple tendrils retreating into the endless maw of black. Forget about going back the way I came, I’m sticking in the light! He turns and speeds down the dim hallway. Behind him, the darkness gives chase, swallowing his options whole.

---

Hajime isn’t sure how long he’s been running, and though the hallway shows no signs of stopping, he doesn’t want to stop and check on the situation behind him.

What the hell was the thing that had tried to grab him? He shudders. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to stick around to find out. God, could this all be a dream? He pinches his arm and twists the flesh hard enough that his eyes scrunch closed in pain. He looks down – his feet are still slapping against the floor as he dashes through the hallway. No such luck. He keeps his eyes down as he takes deep breaths to draw the strength to run more, and then he’s crashing headfirst into solid wall. He thinks he sees stars as he falls on his ass, swearing and clutching at his head. The hallway had seemed endless, so it’s a surprise that he’s reached the end so quickly. As he massages his head, he cautiously peers at the direction he came from. The darkness is about two meters away, and it doesn’t seem to be encroaching on the light. Then, he looks in the direction the hallway is continuing in, and his heart lifts.

The lighting is still poor, but he can see the end of the hallway. More importantly, he can see the desk plastered in athletic product posters, and he can make out the shape of the nurse slumped in the chair behind. He takes off running towards the desk, listing all the things he needs to do. Wake the nurse. Ask them for help about Oikawa. Tell them about the lighting in the hallway. Maybe the creepy tendrils, too…

The pain in his head increases in intensity the closer he gets to the desk. By the time he’s standing in front of it, he’s trembling from the exertion of running, and from trying not to give in to the endless sensation of sharp needles scraping across his mind. He takes a few deep breaths, and is about to reach a hand out to shake the nurse awake when he notices that something is off.

For one, the nurse isn’t moving at all – their chest isn’t even rising and falling. For two, well, he’s fairly certain that the nurse hasn’t moved at all since he first saw them when coming out of the room.

There’s a gnawing sense of anxiety growing in his chest as he stands before the nurse and thinks about whether or not he should prod them for help. An image of Oikawa, face contorted in pain like the first time Hajime had found him collapsed in the Seijou gym, flashes across his mind. Shit. Oikawa might be in trouble, and here Hajime is letting his mind play tricks on him. He scoffs, and boldly reaches out and shakes the nurse’s shoulder.

Two seconds later, the nurse’s head is rolling off, and Hajime finds himself holding on to a headless dummy.

Makoto Tachibana/Sousuke Yamazaki, Free!

No tags

Theseus!Sousuke & Arianne!Makoto sort of AU.

Lines count: 20 (Poetry)

The warrior laid the Minotaur low.
His blade deep inside the creature.
After hundreds of humans sacrifices,
They were finally free from this.

Sousuke was victorious in his fight.
And then, the maze got him for good.
He was able to kill creature easily,
But not walls nor his lack of directions.

How pathetic he was to walk around.
He had to find a way to go back or
They would not believe in his victory.
And sacrifices would then continue…

But then the Gods sent their help
In the form of a boy with green eyes.
He guided Sousuke through the maze.
Makoto was the name of his savior.

Sousuke was seen as a hero afterward.
However for him, Makoto was the one.
Never since they came out of the maze,
Did they ever part ways from each other.

Iwaizumi Hajime / Oikawa Tooru, Haikyuu
nsfw, all kinds of weird biology
511 words

Oikawa is an Exeggutor and Iwaizumi fucks that.

(link on AO3)

Edited 2016-08-04 22:25 (UTC)

Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, daiya no ace

supernatural elements, ig ghosts, lowkey character death
15 lines

it starts when he puts his catchers mitt on
and it falls right through him
his hand fading in and out of existence
a flickering lightbulb that refuses to go out

sawamura bursts into his room
baseball in his hand
a request as old as time on his lips

he arrives in time to see miyuki
look up in horror
his shirt sleeve becomes limp
when nothing solid is there

there is no place for him
when baseball is all he knows
without his catchers mitt
he is nothing

sawamura arrives on time to see him disappear

Kominato Ryousuke/Kuramochi Youichi, Daiya no Ace
no tags
657 words

Kuramochi had never had any problem with the cold. His body ran at a higher temperature than a human’s and more often than not he found himself kicking off the blankets while trying to sleep even in the winter, or wearing tank tops in three feet of snow – people would be concerned until they found out he was a fire elemental, after which it was just common sense that he wouldn’t feel the cold like everyone else. Just as ice elementals could keep cool easily in the summer (although they couldn’t do much with their abilities), or how water elementals were an asset in the desert. It came with the job description.

Ryousuke was different, though, a rare non-elemental in the neighbourhood. Unlike Kuramochi he was sensitive to the cold and holding his hand in winter felt like holding a block of ice, though the most he ever showed it externally was via shivering. It could be difficult, being a non-elemental in a city full of them, but if it got to him at all, Ryousuke was very good at hiding it.

The door slammed, and Kuramochi looked up to see Ryousuke standing there, snow settled on his shoulders and scattered in his hair and scarf. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, rubbing his arms with gloved hands.

Kuramochi grinned at him from where he lay on the sofa. “Hey, Ryou-san.”

“Hey.” Ryousuke frowned. “Did you turn the heating off again?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon,” Kuramochi admitted. “I wanted to save power. Bills and all that.”

Ryousuke hummed in acknowledgement, reluctantly tugging off his scarf and draping it over the sofa. Kuramochi watched him shed his gloves and saw how red his hands looked – Ryousuke immediately shoved them in his pockets, but Kuramochi still reached out a hand. “Hey, c’mere.”

Ryousuke walked past him. “I have work to do.”

Kuramochi caught his wrist as he made his way over to his room. “You can’t write anything with hands like that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Your handwriting’s gonna be a mess. Let me warm you up.”

He was resisted for a couple more moments, until Ryousuke finally sagged his shoulders and relaxed. “Fine, but only for a few minutes.”

“Sure, sure,” Kuramochi agreed, waving a hand. Quietly he knew Ryousuke would end up staying for longer than that and probably even falling asleep, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud or Ryousuke would just turn on his heel and walk off to his room without a word.

He reached up as Ryousuke knelt down on the sofa next to him, pulling him down to where he lay and tucking him securely against his chest. Ryousuke shivered a little, sighing, and Kuramochi yelped as he felt icy hands snake under his shirt and splay over his back. “Jeez, you really need some better gloves.”

Ryousuke smirked, drawing his fingers in circles over Kuramochi’s skin. “I thought you said it didn’t bother you.”

“Anyone would react to hands that cold,” Kuramochi complained, but tugged Ryousuke closer all the same, rubbing his back to warm him up. Concentrating a little, he drew up an extra layer of heat – not enough for things to start smoking, but enough to make parts of his skin start to glow and enough to feel Ryousuke relax against him, releasing a sigh of contentment. Kuramochi pressed his lips into his hair, brushing out pieces of melting snow, slowly chasing the cold away with gentle kisses against his skin.

It wasn’t long until Ryousuke was asleep, pressed tightly to Kuramochi’s chest. Kuramochi knew he would be annoyed if he slept through his working time, but he’d noticed Ryousuke’s stiff shoulders and tired eyes over the past few days – he needed a rest. Kuramochi had work to do as well, but he could afford to put it off for a little while longer to stay like this.

Aoyagi Hajime/Teshima Junta; Yowamushi Pedal

Word Count: 441
Tags: Religious imagery, soulbond-ish

Aoyagi waits three thousand, six hundred, and twenty-eight years for Teshima to be reborn.

Even for them, it’s a long time -- Teshima’s one of the last, one of the low, unremarkable foot soldiers to fall in the battle against Lucifer. One of many. He’s replaceable, in the thousand eyes of their generals, and of course, by logic, he is. Aoyagi remembers that Raphael was raised just weeks after the battle, awakened in a new human vessel and brought hastily to Heaven to mend the damage and heal the fresh scars. Teshima was never nearly as important as an archangel, and that’s why it’s taken centuries and decades for his soul to find a new home.

But like any of the universe’s creations, Aoyagi is flawed, and so was Teshima, and they do not let logic rule them as purely as they should. Aoyagi is a good soldier, he is strong and obedient, but he loves Teshima. Loves him in a way that he can never think of as a flaw. It feels so correct that they have often wondered, alone among the stars, if they were really created to be together. To complement each other. They are so much more together than they are apart.

For three thousand, six hundred, and twenty-eight years, Aoyagi does his duty, and he never lets thoughts of Teshima distract him from his greater purpose. Teshima will return, some day, after all. It’s simply a matter of when. The only noticeable change in his behaviour, after the Fall and Teshima’s first death, is that he keeps his wings impeccably groomed and his muscles solid and strong.

He’ll need them, when Teshima is reborn and his wings will be as small and downy as a newly-hatched chick. He needs to be strong enough for two, to carry Teshima until Teshima can fly alone again.

Finally, finally Aoyagi feels him, and he flies down immediately, passing through the shimmery plane that separates the Heavens and the Earth.

He finds himself in Japan, a countryside city, and he follows the song of Teshima’s soul until he finds the human body it lives in.

Teshima’s new body doesn’t look much like his old one, but Aoyagi almost smiles -- his hair is exactly the same. And when Teshima sees him, and his mouth drops open in confused shock, the expression is painful in its familiarity.

“I dreamed about you,” the boy blurts out, and his cheeks immediately redden.

“You know me,” Aoyagi says quietly, and he’s surprised by the intensity of his own emotion. He reaches for Teshima’s hand, and Teshima squeezes back without hesitation.

Aoyagi spreads his wings.

vampires, abuse, dubcon bloodsucking, mild drowning, implied mind control and mind reading, stag beetles, shapeshifting

soupyun, dialovers au

1765 words

--

The moon hangs in the sky like a lantern, tinting the land below into a crimson sea of blood. The cloud cover gives the moon the appearance of an eye, lid heavy with sleep. But the moon is ever watchful, especially so on a full moon like tonight. On nights like this, the air is thicker than usual with magic, so thick that even normal creatures feel compelled to seek shelter as soon as possible. On nights like this, flashes of lightning are more likely to be summons for covens and demons than they are signs of impending rain.

Sousuke wakes up in a cold sweat, struggling to catch his breath. His limbs are like heavy, immobile weights when he tries to move, and his panic rises for a moment before he realizes that he is alone in the room. He tries to regulate his breathing whilst waiting for the sleep paralysis to pass, trying to sort out his thoughts as he does so.

Strange dreams have plagued him since he started living in this manor. They have nothing to do with his living conditions - materially speaking, he can’t exactly complain about the manor: the grounds are large, the buildings beautifully designed, and the rooms luxuriously appointed. It’s a huge upgrade from the humble wooden houses of the port town he grew up in. However, for all the manor’s opulence, it lacks hospitability, the high ceilings heightening his sense of insignificance, and the sparkling clean rooms giving a sense of unfriendly sterility.

His breathing evens out, and movement returns to his body. He heaves himself off the bed and walks towards the balcony, wiping an arm across his forehead, hand lingering to massage his temples. He stops before the glass doors and gazes up at the moon.

At first, he didn’t remember anything of the dreams at all; would only wake with a lingering sensation of terror. But as time passes, more images and sensations stay with him. There are recurring flashes of red, and though he cannot yet distinguish what they are, they leave him full of nostalgia, tenderness, and sorrow. The white he sees is more or less in focus now: more often than not, it’s a flash of fangs peeking out from a smile. And lately, there’s an outstretched hand, and a voice that whispers into his ear, calling his name, telling him…

Sousuke shivers and closes his eyes, shaking his head firmly. When he opens his eyes again, he sees a bat flying into the sky towards the moon. Seconds later, more bats follow suit. He counts the bats – one, two, three… Twelve bats have left the manor. There’s a smaller creature trailing after them. Sousuke rushes to his desk and grabs his binoculars. It’s a bit hard to tell, but he thinks it’s a stag beetle. He runs the numbers through his head. Twelve bats and one stag beetle. That’s all the… people living in this manor, isn’t it? He sighs, relieved that he’s been left alone during a time so dangerous for a non-magical being such as himself.

He feels completely alert; it’ll be a while before he can fall asleep again. Sousuke weighs his options: he could get back in bed and wait for sleep to come, or he could take the chance to walk around the manor undisturbed. He recalls being told that there’s a swimming pool indoors. His shoulder hasn’t exactly healed yet, but if he takes it easy, it should be fine. Besides, he misses swimming.

He finds the pool area with relative ease, considering his complete lack of sense of direction and the manor’s vastness. He’s pleased that it’s a normal Olympic-sized pool, though the lane dividers aren’t in place. He quickly strips down and jumps in. The water is cool against his skin, and it’s comforting to swim again after so long. After two laps, he feels his shoulder start to ache in complaint, and he stops to stretch.

He’s about to push off for another lap when he feels something on the back of his neck. The next moment, he’s crashing headfirst into the water, drinking huge gulps of pool water as he struggles against the person sitting on his head, holding him down in the pool.

He’s about to lose consciousness when he feels firm hands pulling him out of the water. He coughs violently when he resurfaces, choking and spitting up water and bile. His ears are ringing and he’s making too much noise to hear what’s going on around him, but he can feel the vibrations of laughter from the person holding him up in the pool. When he’s not coughing or choking anymore, he pushes out of their grip and turns around to face them. He feels the blood drain from his face.

‘Hello, Sousuke. Did you miss me?’ When Sousuke doesn’t immediately reply, the man clutches a hand to his chest in mock hurt. ‘You wound me. And here I stayed behind in the manor, thinking I would keep my favourite meal company.’

‘You- I thought you-‘

‘Left? How could I leave, when you always find ways to get into trouble? If I’d left, who would have saved you from drowning just now, hmm?’

‘In the first place I started drowning because you-‘ Sousuke starts to retort, but he bites back his words before he can complete his sentence. Nevertheless, the damage is done. He gulps and takes a step back when he sees the dark fury flash across the man’s eyes.

‘Yes? Because I?’ The man matches every step Sousuke takes backwards with a step forward. At Sousuke’s silence, he sighs. ‘Oh, Sousuke. I remember when you would talk to me about everything; when you would hold me in your hands and let me crawl around on your body. What’s happened to us? Is it me?’

Yes it is, Sousuke wants to scream, but by now, he knows better. So instead, he keeps his mouth closed, hoping that the man will have his fun and leave as soon as possible. He’s focusing on keeping distance between them when he hits the edge of the pool. Shit.

‘Yes, shit indeed.’ The implication of the man’s words makes Sousuke’s chest constrict in terror as the man brings his face close to Sousuke’s, their noses touching. He peers into Sousuke’s eyes, humming contemplatively. Then he rests his head against Sousuke’s, hands gripping the concrete surface behind Sousuke, effectively boxing Sousuke in. When he speaks, his words are hot breaths against Sousuke’s pool-chilled skin, and Sousuke tries not to shudder at the contrast.

‘You know, Sousuke, I don’t think it’s me, after all. I think it’s you. You’ve been having bad thoughts about me since I arrived, haven’t you? You never used to be like this… You won’t even call me by my name anymore, not since I started taking this form more often. Could you be a speciesist?’ At this, the man transforms into the stag beetle Sousuke had had to learn to love, but recently had come to fear. He tries to keep completely still as the stag beetle navigates his skin. His vision flashes white when horns dig viciously into the tender flesh of his injured shoulder, and he struggles not to scream.

The man is before him again, stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘See, you’re not happy with me whether I’m a man or a beetle. I do think it’s you, Sousuke. What can we do about that?’

‘Please, just stop-‘

‘Stop?’ A loud smack reverberates through the pool area, and Sousuke is clutching his mouth, looking dumbly at the blood that’s dripping into the water and diffusing concentrically. The pale wisps surrounding the roundish red drop in the center reminds Sousuke of the moon. He closes his eyes.

‘You should learn your place, human. Especially when we’re doing you a favour by letting you live. Here I even thought that I’d reward you with some pool time. And this is how you repay me?’

What did he just say? Sousuke’s eyes widen, and the man starts laughing. ‘What, did you really think that it’s possible for you to find this place so easily? With a sense of direction like that? Funny, Sousuke, you’re funny!’

He stops laughing and pushes Sousuke against the pool wall, holding their bodies flush together. When he speaks, his voice is a low purr. ‘Well, play time’s over.’

He starts to bring his mouth to Sousuke’s injured shoulder. ‘What… are you doing?’

The man looks up at Sousuke, annoyed. ‘Don’t interrupt me, Sousuke. I’m about to have a pleasant meal.’

‘You… you usually drink from-‘

‘Yes, yes, your neck or thighs, but novelty is essential to every relationship, isn’t it?’

‘But my shoulder-‘

‘Since when did you care about your shoulder? When I found you, weren’t you taking a rest because you’d been swimming until it hurt? Enough talking.’

The compounded pain that sears across Sousuke’s body when the man’s fangs pierce his injury is intense enough that Sousuke thinks he’s seeing light in a tunnel for a while. It’s so overwhelming that he struggles to control himself, and he can hear himself panting, ‘Please, stop, forgive me, god help me,’ repeatedly.

The man lifts his head from Sousuke’s shoulder and looks him in the eye. ‘I’ll stop if you call me by my name.’

The man’s true vampire name is too complicated to pronounce, and Sousuke will definitely get punished if he messes up. But Sousuke knows what the man really wants.

‘I can’t… You’re not… Pyunsuke was my friend. You’re…’ Deep down, Sousuke knows that Pyunsuke and this sadistic vampire are one and the same, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge that. The name Pyunsuke doesn’t belong here; it belongs in a better time, a time somehow still wrapped in the gentle cloth of sentimentality despite all that has happened during Sousuke’s stay so far.

‘Save the excuses. If you can’t, you know what happens.’ He leans down and sinks his fangs in again, rougher than before. He’s noisier this time, and quicker, and the pain is more intense than before.

If I just call him Pyunsuke, this could be over… I could go back to my room and rest... No. Sousuke would not yield. He closes his eyes and tries to think of greener pastures to distract himself until the ordeal is over. His mind turns back to the red of his dream; to its warmth and nostalgia and other myriad sensations.

He turns the feelings over and over in his head until his consciousness fade away.

Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Haikyuu!!
Tags: violence, demon Kuroo, angel Kenma
Wordcount: 822 words

Kuroo roared as the point of Oikawa's sword drove into his wing, shattering bone and tearing the delicate membrane as it pinned him to the wall. With a terrible smile, Oikawa snapped his fingers.

The ornate throne of obsidian and metal that had stood on the dais in the center of the room and shattered, and just like that, Kuroo was deposed.

He tried to struggle as Oikawa had a massive iron cross brought up from the dungeons and installed where the throne had been, but Oikawa twisted the sword still in his wing, and he was brought to heel by the sudden agony that only intensified when he reflexively tried to jerk away. Before he recovered, Oikawa yanked his sword from the wall, sending another wave of agony through Kuroo's body that immobilized long enough for Oikawa to wrap chains around his limbs and have him raised onto the cross.

The throne room had been designed to awe and intimidate, the windows high on the walls all focusing the red light of the double moons onto the dais and the throne and casting deep shadow on the rest of the room. Now, it served only to highlight the fall of the demon king Kuroo Tetsurou. The blood-red light of the moons displayed the defeated form of the once-proud king to any who passed by. He was chained to the cross overlooking the shattered ruins of his throne, bloodied and battered with his broken wing bent awkwardly behind him. The title had passed to the young Oikawa Tooru, and he had been abandoned and turned into an example of how quickly the fates could turn.

The only sounds in the throne room were Kuroo's harsh breathing and the steady drip of his blood onto the floor below. Both seemed to echo loudly in the oppressive silence. As the hours dragged on, the dripping seemed to grow louder and louder until it was deafening in the silence.

In his half-conscious state, Kuroo didn't notice the figure that slipped in through one of the high windows. It wasn't until he felt an unnatural heat on his face that he looked up, and then he saw the angel hovering before him. The angel's six wings were edged in flame, and Kuroo knew him instantly―the Avenger, the angel of justice. The angel's face betrayed no emotion as he pointed his flaming sword at Kuroo's neck.

Kuroo refused to look away as the angel drew back his sword; he would never submit.

The angel's sword fell, and Kuroo braced himself. He felt the rush of superheated air across his face, but the searing pain he had expected never came.

Then, belatedly, he heard the tortured screech of metal shearing through metal, and his chains fell away. He bit back a cry as he landed hard on the dais, the broken shards of his old throne digging into his hands and knees. He looked up at the angel, but he remained as impassive as ever, his face betraying nothing as he waited for Kuroo to choose.

Kuroo knew the logical choice. He knew the choice that was expected of him. He also knew it was a choice he would never make.

He turned his back on the angel and waited for the sword to fall.

It never did, and when he risked looking back over his shoulder, he saw the angel still waiting and still watching.

He took a couple of cautious steps forward to pick up his sword from where it had fallen. When he turned back, he found himself facing the angel's outstretched sword once more.

He took a moment to truly study his rescuer and potential executioner. The angel was cloaked not in the light of the heavenly host but rather in the flames of justice―flames that could burn just as strongly as the flames of hell. He showed no emotion on his face, acted for no reason other than for justice, and justice's judgment could be cruel and swift indeed.

Kuroo would never join the angels, but maybe, he thought, he was interested by this specific angel.

He took a step forward, gritting his teeth against the pain and forcing his broken wing to open fully behind him. He growled the true name of his sword, and black hellfire sprung to life along its length. He slowly raised the tip of his sword until it touched the angel's, the two sets of flames mingling and forming a sword-bond between them.

The angel's sword belied no more emotion than the angel's face, but the sense of duty and honor that flowed through it was strong enough it nearly brought Kuroo to his knees. And at its core was a will of steel that would be as merciless as the situation required.

A feral grin split Kuroo's face as he recognized a kindred spirit, and his sword sang in agreement.

Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei Haikyuu!!
tags: blood (not really but just in case ?)

"Have you seen those troublemakers ? One dangerous sorcerer who uses forbidden black magic and one demon who constantly helps him escape with funny tricks, are actively researched for causing chaos in the city. If you have seen them, please inform us as soon as possible. Reward below."

Edited 2016-08-04 22:39 (UTC)

Makoto Tachibana/Sousuke Yamazaki, Free!

Major Character Deaths

Orpheus/Eurydice!AU But instead of playing lyra, I thought it could be nice to have Sousuke singing due to Hosoyan's beautiful voice~

Lines count: 29

How much could you love one person?
How far would you go for this one?
Are you able to let go of everything?
Is love really that important for you?

Sousuke replied to all those questions.
It took an instant for him to lose love.
This one person dearer than himself,
He had lost him by a single snake’s bite.

Makoto had been everything to him.
No one would be able to ease this lose.
Not even his voice that was supposed
To heal every pains in this world.

In his mind grew a crazy idea then.
He would go to Hell to fetch Makoto.
If he didn’t make it, he’d be in Hell.
Sousuke would already be dead.

His voice sang all his pains and love.
In this song he was allowed to give,
There were nothing but raw feelings.
And Persephone agreed to his request.

But the deal was beyond his will power.
Not looking and not touching at Makoto.
And the way to the exit was long -so long.
Doubts were overflowing him. Until he glanced.

In front of his eyes, Makoto disappeared.
Sousuke lost everything for the second time.
This was twice more than necessary.
He had failed in beating death for love.

Yet he died for love that very same day.

Tajima Yuuichirou & Riou Nakazawa & Tajima's Mom
tags: imaginary friends, implied death, ghosts, spirits
word count: 496 words
notes: The concept of imaginary friends scared the heck out of me when I was younger because I was always told that it either meant a) you're seeing someone who died in this house/room place; b) you witnessed a traumatic event; or c) you yourself are near death so you can see others who are on the other side. It's just...a very dark interpretation of it...

Tajima was the youngest with four older siblings, it could be assumed he was doted on and spoiled. That was the territory that came with being the youngest of the bunch. Yet, while an energetic child he was and loved by his siblings that would play with him there was one playmate that Tajima had all to himself.

It began when Tajima’s siblings got older and they had to go to school, little Tajima was left to himself until they came back. His mother would drop by his room with snacks, and Tajima would come downstairs to get another serving. Curious, his mother asked if he was hungry and Tajima would scurry out of the kitchen calling out a “it’s for my friend!” over his shoulder as he hurried back to his room.

Thinking he was playing a game, his mother let it be and went back to preparing dinner for her big family.

But Tajima’s “friend” would always come over.

Tajima would keep himself in his room all hours of the day, and his mother would hear him talking to someone, but when she came inside to check up on him she would see no one there - just her little boy alone in his room.

Many days had passed, and it was the third weekend of the month.

Tajima showed no signs of illness, he was a healthy little kid, but Tajima’s mother was worried over the rumors she’s heard in the past week. Tajima got along well with the kids in the neighborhood at first, but slowly, the kids began to distance themselves from him because he would say “weird things”.

Kids say whatever comes to mind, so she didn’t think too much of it, but she would hear the complaints from other mothers that Tajima was scaring their children with his stories.

Tajima’s mother went upstairs to talk to her son and to hopefully clear up the confusion, but before she could knock on his door, she heard his voice slip through the ajar door.

“They’re all calling me a liar, it’s not fair!”

“You’re were right there and they skipped over in picking you!”

A few moments of silence.

“What do you mean it’s ‘okay’? It’s not nice of them to pick on you. You can’t let them walk all over you.”

Tajima’s mother held a hand against her mouth as she watched her little boy conversing with air. She slowly opened the door and approached him cautiously.

“Sweetie, w-who are you talking to?”

Tajima gave a dramatic sigh and crossed his arms pouting as if he’s been asked this many times and he’s tired of it, “This is Riou.”

He gestured to the space in front of him and she could see no one. She was scared, very scared for her youngest son as her grandfather’s words reverberated through her mind.

Children who could see things not of this world were linked to death itself.

Edited 2016-08-04 22:43 (UTC)

Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Haikyuu!!
Tags: temporary character death, necromancy, dark magic, demon Kuroo
Wordcount: 568 words

He has to find Kuroo before it's too late. That's all Kenma can think as he sprints through the forest after Kuroo's weakening presence, heedless of the branches that are leaving angry scratches across his skin.

He's still too far away when he feels Kuroo fade entirely. He screams and puts on a final burst of speed to carry him to where Kuroo's lifeless body is lying on the ground riddled with arrows and sword wounds.

Technically he's too late, but that doesn't matter to him. Kuroo's spirit is still lingering nearby, and the mercenaries who thought it would be fun to kill a demon for sport are still nearby.

He pulls the arrows from Kuroo's body and sings a simple spell to return them to their owner. They fly back through the forest and all strike true. The archer doesn't even have a chance to cry out before his spirit departs from his body.

Kenma's already waiting with the second part of his spell. He calls the spirit back to him and uses it to weave a cage around Kuroo. Kuroo's a demon after all; it's easy to keep his spirit from going to far just by offering other spirits for it to eat.

One spirit won't hold for long though, not for as long as the rest of the spell will take, so Kenma turns his attention to the two other mercenaries. They fought with swords and knives, so they're a bit more difficult, but not by much. Kenma simply sings the words that tear their spirits from their bodies. They're forbidden words, but not particularly difficult ones; after all, everyone's spirit leaves their body eventually. Once they've been split, it's easy enough to weave them into his cage; three spirits should be enough to hold Kuroo for the time he needs.

With Kuroo's spirit secure for the time being, he turns his attention to Kuroo's body. Healing a body is easy; every body has songs of its own―the song of blood pulsing through veins, of air flowing through lungs, of muscles contracting and relaxing. Healing a body is just a matter of filling in the damaged pieces of the song.

He sets his hands on the first of the wounds and begins to sing the torn flesh back together. His own power runs out long before he finishes, but he pays it no mind and draws energy from other sources instead. Around him, trees wither and die and birds fall from the sky as he takes their life force and reshapes it to fill the holes in Kuroo's.

Finally, all that remains is to reunite Kuroo's spirit with his newly repaired body. Splitting a spirit from a body is easy; it's the natural progression of all things. Joining a spirit to a body is far more difficult; it's a power normally granted only to the gods.

He sings more loudly now, singing words never meant for mortal ears. Up in the heavens, an angel screams and falls as its grace is stripped from it and fed into Kenma's spell, tying Kuroo back together again.

By the time Kenma's song finally ends, his ears are bleeding, and there's not another living thing for a kilometer in any direction. Even the heavens are trembling in fear, but Kenma doesn't notice. All he cares about is Kuroo finally opening his eyes again and pulling him in close.

Threaded | Flat

Page 23 of 24

Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: TEAM FURUYA SATORU/SAWAMURA EIJUN, G

Fill: Team Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka, E

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, T

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

FILL: Team Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

Re: FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

FILL: team kominato ryousuke/kuramochi youichi, T

FILL: Team Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, E

FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, G

FILL: Team Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka, T

2/2

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, E

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

FILL: Team Kominato Ryousuke/Kuramochi Youichi, G

FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, G

FILL: Team Shimizu Kioko/Yachi Hitoka, M

Fill: Team Grandstand, T

FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G

FILL: TEAM Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, T

FILL: Team Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, T

Fill: Team Grandstand, T