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sportsanime2016-07-21 08:53 pm
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Entry tags:
Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

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)
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]
| FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING]
|
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!
FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T
Warnings: Injury, mentions of Death
Words: 456
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Lore: Either unimportant or critical parts of your life flash before your eyes when you’re about to die
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It’s his eagerness that kills him, he thinks, as the front wheel of his bike hits the railing. It’s his nervousness too, he thinks as he watches the world flip while his bike stops, saved by the railing, and he keeps going.
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”You always push yourself” Teshima had sighed, watching him finish his laps. “You should slow down and take it easy. Training hard is one thing, but nothing will come from being reckless.”
He’d dismissed his concerns then. But in hindsight, even if he hated to admit it, Teshima was probably right.
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He went too fast, turned too late, the traction lost in a critical moment. He can see the faces of passing cyclists now, he’s flipped upside down and over the edge, and he sees their eyes widen in a second of realisation.
Time catches up to him for a moment, slamming him down hard on the side of the incline, throwing him back out into the air.
-
“Are you okay?” Hajime asked as he collapsed after his last ten kilometres. He’d done it, finished the laps well before anyone else, the other two dropping out completely.
“I’m fine.” He had responded, even though his legs felt like fire.
Hajime frowned, had wrapped an arm around his waist and let him lean on their shoulder all the way to the medical bay.
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He hears something snap, but pain doesn’t register. He wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him, compensating and trying to make sense of what’s happening as the world continues to turn around him in a circle of dirt, sky, dirt, sky. He can taste bitterness in his mouth, and wonders if it’s disappointment. It takes another beat to realise it’s blood, splattered on the grass as he tumbles down the slope. His head bangs hard against the ground when he meets it, jagged rocks and clumps of grass and dirt interrupting his fall, and he’s suddenly dizzy and nauseous all at once.
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”Kimitaka, right?”
The other first years were in front of him, the blonde one hiding behind the curly haired one, the latter holding out his hand.
“Let’s work hard this year!”
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When he finally stops, time restarts. It hits him all at once, from the sting of scratched up legs to the jarring pain in his left shoulder. He can’t seem to lift his arms to check, to push his face out of the dirt, and he wonders if he’s dying.
There’s noise around him, but he finds himself unable to pick out words. Voices a garbled mess that he cannot respond to because his brain has disconnected from the rest of his body and he cannot move at all.
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