referees: (Default)
SASO Referees ([personal profile] referees) wrote in [community profile] sportsanime2016-07-21 08:53 pm
Entry tags:

Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

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.

  • 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.

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:

  • Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to
  • 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
  • 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.

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.

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!
catlarks: (SASO: heart)


[personal profile] catlarks 2016-08-04 08:35 am (UTC)(link)
tags: none
Ship: Kousaka Honoka/Nishikino Maki (love live)
Word Count: 1,234

"It's nothing," Maki says, when she's asked about the egg kept on its stand on her mantle. "Just a keepsake someone left with me; it isn't anything important."

Truthfully, she doesn't know herself why she kept the egg. In all her time as a pianist she's received countless gifts, most of them flowers or money, the latter in the form of careful checks written out to the company she works for. Maki does a lot of fund-raising; she raises a lot of money. It isn't what she cares about. All that matters to her is the motion of her fingers as they fly across the keys, the feeling of playing before an entire room's hushed audience.

Maki isn't certain why she kept the egg; she tells herself it's only because it's the strangest gift she's ever received.

If nothing else, it certainly does its part as a conversation piece. The egg is eye-catching, glimmering from its spot at the center of the shelf, posed between framed photographs like a jewel at the center of a crown. Its shell is a mottled orange-red, glinting with flecks of gold in the right light. Maki has considered getting it appraised, if only to know the value of what she's been given. Semi-precious stones often sell for more than one might expect. Maki's mother would have told her to get it insured.

(Maki doesn't, because that isn't what matters. She tells herself that she hasn't kept it for any special reason, that it's a curiosity, a pointless keepsake. Truthfully, she's kept the egg because when she holds it in her hand it grows hot with her touch, warm beneath her fingers like something alive. She hasn't been able to lose that feeling.)

She polishes the egg, every so often. Takes it down from its place in its little metal stand and rubs it with a soft cloth until it gleams burnished and bright. She can feel the warmth to the stone, when she cups it in her palm with a rag in her other hand. Sometimes she imagines that it pulses, a pounding drumming beneath its surface like a heartbeat. But that's impossible: a stone is a stone. Hers may be cut and polished to look like an egg, but that hardly means it's alive.

"It's nothing," Maki tells herself sternly, a mantra she's picked up over the weeks. The egg is in her hand, warm between her fingers. "It's nothing," she repeats. "A stone is a stone."

It pulses against her palm; she tells herself she's imagining it.

She can't lie to herself any longer, though, when the egg trembles and shakes and the surface begins to break, when the stone fractures all over with hairline cracks. It comes apart in her hands, broken into iridescent tiny pieces that fall away to reveal the ugliest little bird Maki has ever seen.

It's bright orange, its feathers damp and sticking — what Maki can see of them, anyway. Great entire patches of its body are bare and bald, colored the flushed pink of new skin and just as damp as the feathers. Maki's nose wrinkles up at the mess of the thing. (She tells herself she's frowning, but when her lips pull, the motion is deceptively similar to a smile.)

As a child, Maki was never allowed to have pets. She lived in a nice home, with nice things, and animals could be dirty, and messy, besides being an awfully big responsibility for a girl. Maki tells herself that this is her motivation: she will raise the bird from its jeweled egg because it's come to her, and no one else can, and because it'll be the first time she's cared for a pet as her own.

It eats everything. Maki turns to the internet for resources on raising birds but none of the websites know what the bedraggled little thing is. It doesn't matter. She takes their advice on feeding and her new pet devours her offerings, choking them down in whole bites. It grows at an alarming rate — bigger and bigger, flourishing beneath Maki's care. It doesn't become any less ugly. Its feathers fill in but its plumage remains the same mottled orange-red, ragged at the edges and never all pointing in the same direction.

It's warm in Maki's hand, just like the egg. She cradles it in her arms when she practices, dumped into her lap as her fingers fly across the keys of her piano at home. Sometimes, the bird sings with her. Ugly as it is, its voice is lovely, matching Maki note for note then sliding into more of a harmony paired with her melody. The first time it happens, Maki stops outright, surprised at the talent of a creature so newly-grown.

She's far more surprised, a week later, when the bird flops off her bed, drags itself to the door, and bursts all at once into flames.

Those flames roar up, a pillar of fire erupting into existence in the space of seconds, blasting Maki's face and bare arms with inescapable heat. She's frozen, fixed in place by the sheer impossibility of what she sees. The fire doesn't consume; it burns in place, a wall of orange and red wrapped around the bright, white-hot heart that's flickering with blue, a portal onto something Maki cannot hope to comprehend.

Then the fire dies down, and in its place stands a girl. Her hair is the same orange-red as the bird's feathers; her skin is flushed pink all over, rosy like she has the beginnings of a sunburn. An infectious grin spreads across her face, cracking it wide with a glimpse of shining white teeth.

"Thank yoooooou," she declares, diving across the room to enclose Maki in a hug. "You took such good care of me, I almost couldn't believe it! But I have to ask you... Do you have anything to eat that's solid? Sweets? Candy? Ice cream? I'm so tired of ground chicken!"

Maki freezes again, motionless within the circle of warm, snug arms. Then the girl pulls back, looking her in the face, bright smile dimming to something less blinding as its overshadowed with concern. "Maki? Are you okay?"

"Am I okay," Maki echoes. "The bird I was raising just burst into flames."

"Well, yeah," the girl says. "But that's what we do, you know? Firebird, phoenix, the whole resurrection from the ashes thing. It's really not a big deal! Come on, show me your kitchen now that I'm big enough to walk around on my own. I want to do everything, I've been waiting to be back in the world for an eternity!"

Maki unsticks, a little bit at a time. She's still holding herself apart, carefully away; she's facing down a force of nature and though the firestorm has passed, she imagines she still feels heat on her face, a warmth in her cupped palms. Maybe this time, the warmth is purely from her.

(Maybe she kept that egg for a reason bigger than she ever could have known.)

"A-Alright," Maki says. "But you have to tell me your name. I can't call another girl 'bird' for all of forever... It would be, it would be rude."

"Oh! You're right, you're totally right. It's Honoka! But come on, now that I'm human, there's so much to do!"

Laughing, Maki allows herself to be dragged from the room.