Bonus Round 6: Remixes

[referees]

The event's almost over, and you've made it this far, congrats! This round encourages you to look back at everything the SASO has made and use it as inspiration.

This round is CLOSED as of 7PM on August 18 EDT. Late fills may be posted, but they will not receive points.

RULES

• Choose a fanwork created by other participants in a previous main or bonus round of SASO and create a new piece based on it. You could create a fanart of another work, an FST inspired by a piece’s style, retell another person’s fanfic from another point of view, create a new fanfic inspired by a great piece of art... go wild!
• You cannot remix your teammates' works.
• You must have permission from the original creator. There's a blanket permissions post here (feel free to add yourself to it!), or you can leave a comment on their original post asking for permission.
• You must include the dreamwidth link to the original work in your post.
• Since all fills are based on previous works, there will be no prompts for this round. Simply post your fill as a comment in response 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 comment in one of the following ways:

If FILLING:

If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:

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

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

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

SCORING

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

For fills:

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

All scored content must be created new for this round.

Etc.

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

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

Comments

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akashi Seijurou/Mayuzumi Chihiro; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags
word count: 449

remix of winterstuck's fill

The chest itself is enough to give Mayuzumi second hand embarrassment.

He stares at it, sitting on the desk of his dormitory, and he hardly even wants to open it. He knows who it's from; even without the note attached, there's only one possible person that it could be from.

Why Akashi is lending him books at all, Mayuzumi doesn't know. Mayuzumi isn't interested in classical novels, or anything that requires more attention to read than a light novel. He isn't here to be deeply engaged by the subject matter, when reading it just a form of entertainment for him that doesn't require a lot of effort.

Besides, between his school work and first string basketball practice, he has enough on his plate to exhaust him as it is. He doesn't need any more. Dealing with Akashi and the Uncrowned Kings outside of basketball practice is already pushing it.

With a weary sigh, he unclasps the chest and pulls the lid open. It's made of heavy wood, and he twists his mouth in disapproval, before he's even begun looking at the books. They're neatly arranged inside, with their spines facing upward so it's easier for him to look at what they are. Resting his face in his hand, he looks through each of the titles. There are authors he recognises, famous books that make it onto every single list of things that all literary fans must read. Mayuzumi very barely resists the urge to roll his eyes.

He can't tell if Akashi is insulting him or trying to help, but then again, it's always a little difficult to tell the difference between the two when Akashi is involved. Perhaps Akashi wants him to read something a bit higher level than the light novels that Mayuzumi passes his time with. Or perhaps he's just trying to reach out and make some common ground through books.

Either way, Mayuzumi shuts the chest of books again without taking even one of them out.

Akashi's taste is—

Well.

It's awful, and the worst part is that he isn't even remotely surprised by it. Of course Akashi would own first edition hardcovers of books that literature professors dedicate their lives to. Of course he sees nothing wrong in actually lending them out to people, without putting thought into what happens to the books themselves, or the value of them.

The more Mayuzumi thinks about it, the more it irritates him.

He puts the clasp back on and considers hefting the box back to place on Akashi's doorstep immediately.

It's heavy, though, and he isn't really interested in lugging something so big around. Especially not after practice.

He decides that it can stay, for now.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[kiyala]

Kagami Taiga & Murasakibara Atsushi (& Himuro Tatsuya); Kuroko no Basuke
mentions of violence and injury
word count: 446

remix of winterstuck's fill

"Muro-chin got himself beaten up again," Murasakibara's voice drawls over Kagami's phone speaker. He sounds bored, like this is an every day occurrence.

As if it isn't entirely unusual for Himuro to lose a fight.

Kagami knows better, though. Despite his tone, he knows that there's a good reason that Murasakibara is calling him. They've never exactly been on good terms, but they do have common ground in the fact that they both care about Himuro. They respect each other well enough for that reason alone.

"What does he need?" Kagami asks, because he might not be part of Himuro's gang entirely, but he still knows that there are few people who can walk right up to him and take charge without consequences. Probably just him, and Alex.

"Probably another knock to the head," Murasakibara replies, yawning on the other end. "He's getting patched up now, but I don't imagine he's going to be walking around without being in pain for a while."

"Painkillers then," Kagami concludes, already reaching into a drawer, where he keeps a steady supply for just this reason. "More bandages?"

"We have enough of those," Murasakibara tells him. "We have enough painkillers too, but it always makes him happy when he gets them from you. Even if we get in trouble for snitching."

"He knows you're calling me, doesn't he?"

Murasakibara snorts. "He'll figure out that it's me. No one else has your number anyway, Kaga-chin. But I won't get in trouble for it. What's he going to do to me? So he just tells everyone off as a whole instead."

Kagami shakes his head, smiling to himself. Himuro hasn't changed at all. As harsh as he tries to present himself, he's always had a soft spot for certain people. Like Kagami. Like Murasakibara, too. They know that they can get away with a lot more than what the rest can; Kagami only really takes advantage of it when Himuro needs someone to take care of him. Murasakibara isn't quite so shy about bending the rules, but Kagami doesn't think that Murasakibara would follow the rules for anyone.

Except for Akashi, maybe, but that's a different story entirely. Kagami doesn't know anyone in their right mind who wouldn't watch themselves around Akashi—himself included.

"Alright, I'm going to drop off the strongest painkillers I have on me," Kagami replies. "Are you going to pick them up, or should I be expecting someone else."

"Depends on if there are any snacks for me," Murasakibara replies.

Kagami sighs, and reaches into another drawer. He's prepared for that too. "I have chocolate pocky, or I have strawberry. Pick."

"Both," Murasakibara replies. "I'll see you soon, Kaga-chin."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akashi Seijurou/Nijimura Shuuzo; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags
word count: 430

remix of winterstuck's fill

"It shouldn't surprise me that you're interested in this sort of thing," Nijimura chuckles, with a sidelong glance at Akashi that fills him with warmth.

"I don't know what you mean by that," Akashi murmurs, adjusting the bag on his back so that it sits more comfortably.

"Hiking," Nijimura replies. "Mountain climbing. That sort of thing. I don't know why I never thought of you as the kind of person to be interested in it but it makes complete sense now that I know."

Tilting his head to the side, Akashi slants a smile at him. "And why is that?"

Nijimura nods towards the mountain in front of them and smiles. "Conquering peaks. Setting yourself high goals. That's just like you, isn't it?"

"You're taking it all very literally today, aren't you?" Akashi laughs, "But I suppose that I can't exactly say that you're mistaken about that. I do find it satisfying to climb to the very top of a mountain. To stand at the highest point and look down at everything else around me. It's peaceful. I thought that you might like it too. I find it good for clearing my head. Perhaps it might do the same for you. Shall we?"

Akashi starts walking, and it takes him a couple of steps to realise that Nijimura is still standing there, watching him.

"What's the matter?"

"You're doing this for me, aren't you?" Nijimura asks. There's a faint smile on his lips, but his eyes look a little sad. "I've been so caught up thinking about everything with my father that I didn't even notice, but you've been looking out for me all this time."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Akashi replies, turning back to look up at the mountain towering above them. "I just wanted to go for a hike."

"You're not fooling me," Nijimura tells him, catching up to Akashi in quick strides and taking his hand. Their fingers interlock and his hand is warm in the cool air. His lips are even warmer as he presses a kiss to Akashi's cheek. "I appreciate it, though. I really do."

Akashi turns his face, aligning their lips to kiss Nijimura properly. He only keeps it brief, and pulls back to look up at him. "I know what it's like. I know how it feels and I know how easy it is to get lost in all of it. If there's anything I can do at all—"

"Trust me," Nijimura replies, taking Akashi's face in his hands and kissing him deeper this time. "You're doing plenty already."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Aomine Daiki & Kagami Taiga & Kuroko Tetsuya; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags
word count: 414

remix of winterstuck's fill

Your light is too dim, Aomine says and it's an outright dismissal if ever Kagami has heard one.

He knows what it means. He isn't strong enough. He isn't the partner Kuroko deserves.

Aomine isn't either, though. Kagami knows that, now. Aomine must know it too. His light might shine brightly, but it's the kind of light that fills a room, that doesn't leave any space for shadows at all. Kuroko can't fit himself around Aomine no matter how hard he tries and Kagami can see how hard he's tried; it's there in the way he pushes himself day after day, it's there in his eyes as he watches Aomine play.

Kagami knows that he isn't strong enough yet. It's reflected in the score. It's reflected in the way he feels utterly shattered after their game against Touou. He refuses to dwell on it, though. He picks himself back up, puts himself together, and learns everything that he can in order to improve himself. He wants to learn how to be a better partner for Kuroko, but he needs to learn how to be a better player first. He isn't going to get anywhere relying on Kuroko alone; they're good together, but Kagami knows that they need to be better.

They need space. They need time alone. They need to figure themselves out and come back together when they've both improved, so that their partnership will be even better.

They'll find a better way to fit together, and they'll face Aomine again. They'll find a way to beat him and Kagami might not know what kind of resolution Kuroko is looking for with Aomine, but he'll do everything in his power to help, anyway. Because that's what partners do for each other. He'll support Kuroko as much as he can, because after all, the stronger the light, the stronger the shadow. If he wants to lend Kuroko his strength, he'll have to get stronger for that reason alone, not even counting every other challenge that is still waiting for them.

He can't wait to meet all of them head on. He can't wait to build his strength and then test it against those who are just as strong, and even stronger.

It doesn't matter that Kagami's light is too dim now. He'll learn how to turn it into a inferno that casts deep, dark shadows, and with Kuroko, he'll blaze past their opponents. He'll burn brighter than he ever has before. Aomine will see.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akashi Seijurou/Nijimura Shuuzo; Kuroko no Basuke
no tags
word count: 437

remix of winterstuck's fill

Nijimura is not subtle about these sorts of things, if someone knows where to look.

Akashi does, smiling fondly to himself as he reaches across the short distance between the two of them, fingers closing around the sleeve of Nijimura's shirt and tugging gently.

Akashi knows that he's the only person who can see the heart there, a bright red that matches his hair. Not even Nijimura knows just how big it is, or how obvious. He knows that it's there, though, because even if Akashi has never said as much in words, the way he touches Nijimura's sleeve so often is an indicator in itself.

Whenever Akashi reaches over, Nijimura always reacts the same way.

His blush always begins at the tips of his ears, and then works its way down. It spreads across his cheeks, and even to his neck, turning him bright red.

The same red as the heart, Akashi thinks to himself with a fond smile. Like Nijimura is painting himself in Akashi's colour, just to make it that little bit more obvious who his heart belongs to.

Except two can play this game, and Nijimura is not one to be bested at this sort of thing.

He hooks his arm around Akashi's waist and pulls him close, because they're the only two in the gym at this time of night and he knows that no one else will see. His fingers curl into Akashi's hair, turning his face to the side. Nijimura's lips are warm on Akashi's cheek, always brushing against the same spot.

"Your heart," Nijimura whispers, and his breath is even warmer as he speaks right against Akashi's ear, "or maybe I should call it my heart—it's small, Seijurou. Because you're carefully measured in everything you do, aren't you? But it's still right here and I can see it. Do you want to know what I see?"

Akashi doesn't reply, because he knows that Nijimura will tell him anyway. He averts his eyes to the ceiling, and knows that Nijimura feels the warmth of his cheeks.

"It's a small heart, but it shines like a rainbow," Nijimura murmurs, and he traces the tip of his finger against Akashi's skin, like he's outlining it. From what Akashi can tell, it's definitely much smaller than the one Nijimura wears on his sleeve. The fact that it's so colourful, though, cancels out any subtlety that Akashi thinks it might have.

"A rainbow heart on my cheek," Akashi says softly, his lips curving into a smile. "For you."

Nijimura grins, and turns Akashi's face so he can kiss the other cheek too. "For me."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Abe Takaya/Mihashi Ren; Ookiku Furikabutte
no tags
word count: 435

remix of winterstuck's fill

The bird, upon reflection, is a mistake.

Abe has nothing but regret, as he buries his face in his hands that afternoon, watching as Mihashi sits at their dining table and plays with the tiny chick.

Its feet click against the surface as it waddles from one hand to another, and Mihashi laughs softly every time it climbs into his hands, from the way its talons tickle. Abe is sitting on the couch, his hands covering his face, fingers spread so that he can still watch them because it might be the biggest mistake he's ever made of his life, but if he's going to die because his boyfriend and his boyfriend's new pet are far too cute, he's going to at least watch them.

"Takaya," Mihashi murmurs, tilting his head to the side, and the tiny chick does the same. "I love the present, th-thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Abe mumbles into his hands, and that makes Mihashi look over his shoulder at him, brows lifting in concern.

"Are you… not… well?" Mihashi asks, getting up and scooping the bird into one hand as he walks over. "You're frowning. Are you unhappy? Did I do something to u-upset—"

"Ren," he says, as gently as he can as he reaches for Mihashi's free hand, "You haven't done anything. I'm not upset with you. I'm just frowning because…"

With a smile, Mihashi bends to kiss Abe's forehead. "Because Takaya always frowns."

Abe feels his face burn up even more, but he doesn't try to hide it this time.

"You're cute," he says, as it almost feels like he's about to start stuttering. "You and the bird. You're both cute together. It's nice, watching you play. I'm glad that I saw it, that it reminded me of you. I'm glad that I bought it."

Sitting down on the couch beside Abe, Mihashi lifts the hand holding the small bird, looking at Abe questioningly. "Do you want to hold it too?"

Taking a deep breath, Abe holds his hand out and nods. "Yeah. Okay."

Mihashi gently curves his hand, urging the bird to walk into Abe's cupped palm instead. The talons tickle and Abe snorts quietly, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It feels funny, doesn't it?" Mihashi asks, watching him.

"Yeah," Abe says quietly. "It does."

The bird walks in a small circle, before sitting down in the centre of Abe's palm.

"It likes you," Mihashi tells him, and kisses his cheek. "I like you too, Takaya."

Abe regrets nothing. Even if he is going to die from just how cute they both are.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Haruna Motoki & Mihashi Ren; Ookiku Furikabutte
no tags
word count: 426

remix of winterstuck's fill

Haruna finds himself writing it in his head long before he ever puts pen to paper.

As he's out at practice, the sky darkening around him, he finds himself thinking of the best ways to describe exactly what exercises he's doing. He thinks of how to put his pitches into words; a detailed description of the way his fingers spread around the ball, the way it feels tucked against his hand. He thinks of the way he winds up, the positioning of his legs, his feet, and he's no stranger to thinking about pitching in all of its component parts like this. He has to, if he's striving for perfection, for control, to be the best.

It's the first time, however, that he's ever thought of how he would explain it to someone else.

The direction of his gaze before he throws.

The extension of his arm.

The angle of his shoulders.

It's easy enough to put his warm up exercises into words. Most of them have been written down for him by a coach, or found in a book, or online, and they're all simple enough. He's satisfied with what he writes for those, when he finally buys a blank book and sits down with a pen.

He wants to capture more than that between these pages, though. He wants to express the way he feels, after a perfect pitch. He wants to bottle that elation, that satisfaction, and he wants to share it because he's never met someone like Mihashi before; he's never met someone who he is so certain will understand exactly how he feels, who loves pitching the same way that he does.

He's never hoped this hard for someone's growth, to see what they are capable of, and he might not put any of that into actual words as he writes in his book, but he has a feeling that he doesn't have to. Mihashi will understand, in the way that one pitcher is able to understand another. He'll find all of it written between the lines of each exercise, each meal plan for building muscles, each tip for training, for pitching, and for managing surly catchers. He'll get it, and Haruna is sure of it.

He shuts the book once he's done with it, smiling to himself in satisfaction as he writes Mihashi's name across the cover.

Haruna doesn't yet know how he'll get the opportunity to pass it to him, but he hopes that it will be in person.

He wants to see Mihashi's face when he opens it.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Abe Takaya/Mihashi Ren; Ookiku Furikabutte
no tags
word count: 444

remix of winterstuck's fill

The shock of a loss is the same every single time: it's a swooping feeling in the gut, the sensation of being punched, the air stolen right out of his lungs.

It happens with varying intensity. Sometimes, the disappointment is so sharp that it cuts right into him, and sometimes it's more of a light sting. Abe hates losing, but he knows to hold his head high, to look back over the game and think of what he's done right, and what he needs to work on to make sure that it doesn't happen again.

It varies depending on the team that he's on as well.

Nishiura take every single loss as a personal failure.

He can see the disappointment in the trembling of their shoulders, of their clenched jaws and averted eyes. He's no different; he's not just standing there as an impassive observer. He's right in the middle of it and he feels it too. He feels the sting at the back of his eyes, the tears that he refuses to shed.

Some of his teammates don't bother trying to hold them back, and Mihashi is one of them.

Abe knows, with just one look at him on the pitching mound, that Mihashi blames himself entirely for their loss. It's a habit that Abe knows that they're all in the process of breaking, as a team but right now, it's still there. It's there in the way Mihashi is too afraid to meet his eyes, his nervous tics still there even when there are tears streaming down his face. He stiffens as he sees Abe throwing down his catchers mask and striding over towards the mound, eyes darting around as he tries to find an escape, but Abe doesn't give him the time for that.

"Abe-kun," Mihashi says, when they're close enough to touch, "I'm s-s-s—"

Abe doesn't let him finish. He reaches out and grabs Mihashi by the shoulders and pulls him in, hugging him tightly. Mihashi freezes up for a moment, until he realises what's happening, and then he presses his forehead against the front of Abe's chest protector and cries even harder.

Gritting his teeth together, Abe blinks. It's never been this difficult to resist the urge to cry before. Mihashi clings to him, hugging him back, and cries freely, his face hidden from sight. Abe keeps him close, glad that he can provide comfort in this way, at least.

"Next time…" he promises, stroking his fingers through Mihashi's hair, "…we'll win. Definitely."

Mihashi nods against Abe, sniffing loudly. Abe feels the tears at the corners of his own eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.

Not yet, anyway.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 476

remix of luckycricket33's fill

Tooru finds him crouched at the end of the road, where the road has begun to give way to the field that stretches out in front of them. Koushi is drawing nonsensical symbols into the rough surface of the concrete, the magic swirling from his finger and all the way up his arm. His magic sparkles in the sunlight, like countless raindrops suspended in the air, refracting tiny rainbows that only shine for a moment before they wink out of sight.

In the wake of Koushi's magic, there are succulents springing to life, growing through the concrete as if it's not there to stop them. His repertoire has grown since they last time they saw each other; Tooru recognises the agave, the echeveria and the argyroderma, but the faucaria are new, and he doesn't think he's ever seen Koushi grow ceropegia or doryanthes before.

"Succulent-chan," Tooru greets, coming to a stop just behind him.

"Good afternoon, Tooru," Koushi replies cheerfully, still crouching over the concrete. He doesn't look over his shoulder.

With a quiet sigh, Tooru slides his hands into his pockets and tilts his head to the side. His wide-brimmed hat follows the movement, flopping a little.

Koushi is going barefoot again, the way he always insists on doing because he says that it makes him feel a little bit more connected to the world around him. Tooru doesn't understand the sentiment, content with his feet protected in his short boots. Plant magic isn't as innocent as it first seems, which is why Tooru supposes that it suits Koushi so perfectly. All it takes is to step on the wrong leaf to leave a foot itching for hours, until it gets maddening.

Not that Tooru knows this from experience, or anything like that.

Koushi grows a series of aloe, getting smaller and smaller as they go, and Tooru catches the way that he smiles to himself. Koushi makes plants grow the same way that other people paint; the concrete is his canvas and he fills it with colours and shapes and patterns, his magic hanging in the air and mixing with the smell of the succulents themselves, faintly sweet and refreshing.

"I have tea, if you'd like to come over," Koushi offers, breaking the comfortable silence as he grows plants and Tooru watches. "I got some nice tea leaves the other day—"

"I have better tea," Tooru interrupts. He pulls the small pouch out of his pocket. "I brought some, for you to taste. It grows well. It's easy to pick and prepare."

"Is that so?" Koushi asks, and he finally looks over his shoulder at Tooru. He's wearing a smile. "We'll have to make some, so you can tell me all about it while I try it."

Tooru smiles, tucking the pouch of tea leaves back into his pocket. "Oh, well, if you insist."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Ayase Chihaya/Ooe Kanade; Chihayafuru
no tags
word count: 451

remix of luckycricket33's fill

She learns poetry before she learns magic.

To Kanade, poetry is a magic in itself, even without the intent to cast spells. It's rich with imagery, overflowing with feeling, and it connects her with people from times that have long since passed, with the knowledge that whatever they felt at the time that they first penned the poem, she feels it too. After all, she she muses to herself with a smile, humans have always been humans.

Her interest in magic comes much later, and it's entirely because of Chihaya. She's never thought of spell-casting as anything more than a butchering of the poetry that it utilises, with magic practitioners more focused on the effects of their spells than the way that the poetry sounds. She never once thought of trying it herself.

Not until she saw Chihaya casting magic.

There's a certain elegance in it, Kanade thinks, as she sees the spell weave itself together from Chihaya's words. Each syllable is measured, thought out, and the magic that flows from them is powerful in a way that leaves Kanade utterly breathless. She's never thought that magic could do this to poetry before, and she suddenly wants to try it for herself. She wants to let her poetry take form into something else, she wants to feel the strength that comes from it, and Chihaya is more than happy to teach her.

In exchange, she tells Chihaya all that she knows about each and every poem that is used. They sit side by side, flipping through each page of their spell books as Kanade recites each poem, not as an incantation but purely as a reading. She puts no magic into it, so that Chihaya can hear the words as they are written, and picture the imagery that comes with them.

"I've never thought of it like this before," Chihaya murmurs, soft and awed. "You're pretty amazing, Kana-chan. You know so much."

Kanade averts her gaze, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "No one ever lets me just talk to them about poetry. They're always more interested in magic."

"I think it's important," Chihaya tells her, "to understand both separately, so that they can be combined properly. I think that will make the spells more powerful. Don't you?"

Kanade smiles, putting her spell book down. "Perhaps you can teach me more about the magic, and I can teach you more about the poetry. There are a lot of spells in this book, and I only know them all as poems. I'll need to learn how to turn them into something more."

"I'd love that," Chihaya replies, wrapping her arm around Kanade and pulling her close. "Sounds like fun, Kana-chan. Let's do it!"

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Manami Sangaku & Miyahara; Yowamushi Pedal
decapitation
word count: 436

remix of luckycricket33's fill

All things considered, Miyahara supposes that she shouldn't even find it surprising that she finds Manami's head just lying there on the ground, missing the rest of his body.

"Class President!" he greets her cheerfully. "I was hoping that you'd walk by and find me! I seem to have been separated from, well, the rest of me. I don't suppose you could help me?"

She stands there with her arms folded across her chest and stares down at him. She wishes it was the weirdest thing that he's done in front of her.

Manami Sangaku is an absolute disaster, but one that she feels at least partially responsible for, so she sighs and picks his head up, holding it between both of her hands as she frowns at him.

"You're lucky I have the time right now. I'm very busy."

"I know that," he replies, smiling at her. "My lucky streak continues."

"Okay," she says, looking around, wondering where Manami's body could possibly have gone. "Do you know where you left it?"

"Left what?"

"Your body, Sangaku," she clarifies. "Where did you leave your body?"

"Well, that's kind of the thing," he replies. "I didn't really leave it anywhere? Suddenly, it was just gone."

"What."

"So I guess to answer your question," he continues, "I don't really know where it is?"

"You don't know where your body is," Miyahara says.

Manami nods in her hold. It's an unpleasant feeling, making her hands move against their will.

Hooking an arm around his head, she rubs the knuckles of her other hand into his forehead. "What do you mean you don't know where it is?"

"I don't though," Manami laughs, like this is some sort of joke.

"Can't you sense your own body?" Miyahara demands, as he laughs even harder. "Sangaku!"

"Maybe we should ask around," he suggests. "Maybe someone has seen a headless body running around. Do you think I'd be able to ride my cycle without my head?"

"I'm going to throw you off the peak of Mount Hakone," Miyahara tells him, even though she tightens her grip on his head to bely her words.

"Can you at least turn me around again?" Manami asks, because she's still holding his head upside down.

"No," she replies shortly, marching off in the hopes of finding someone who won't run screaming when they see her carrying a head, and will hopefully have some sort of answer for her.

She heads in the direction of the cycling club. The rest of the team is as weird as Manami, she thinks to herself. It's probably a good place to start.

FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, G

[hapaxlegomenon]

Remix of THIS fill by garciraki. Blanket permission granted in permissions thread.

Makishima Yuusuke/Tadokoro Jin; Yowamushi Pedal

Word Count: 650
Tags: None

Makishima’s apartment is on the fifth floor, but that doesn’t really mean much when his balcony borders on a narrow alleyway; Tadokoro easily picks up enough speed to run zig-zag up the alley walls and vault onto the balcony.

The night is hot and humid, and the sweat dripping between his pectoral muscles is as gross as it is unnecessarily visible. Tadokoro thinks longingly of the imminent air-conditioned comfort of Makishima’s trendy downtown abode.

He’s still awake. Tadokoro can see lamplight through the garishly patterned curtains, and he taps the window in passing before letting himself in through the unlocked balcony door.

Makishima always keeps the door unlocked. It wouldn’t do to leave Tadokoro out on the balcony, when he shows up at all hours of the night and day in his superheroic regalia. Someone might see. Someone would be bound to see, in fact, given Tadokoro’s general size and the… vibrant quality of his uniform.

“If you touch that, I’ll sew your fingers together,” Makishima says by way of a greeting, not even looking up from his needle and thread. Tadokoro sheepishly withdraws his hand and goes instead to peek over Makishima’s shoulder. He’s working on something shimmering and metallic, plated like snakeskin. The material looks soft and pliant under his capable hands, but thunks solidly on the floor where it cascades off his lap in rigid folds. Makishima slaps Tadokoro’s curious hand, this time. “Fingers,” he threatens, brandishing the curved needle. Tadokoro laughs, then, and bends over to kiss the soft skin under Makishima’s ear.

“For Kinjou?” he asks, modulating his voice down, quiet -- his inside voice, as they call it.

Makishima’s answer is little more than a hum, but he leans ever so slightly into Tadokoro’s touch, even as his hands keep working with his characteristic, terrifyingly precise speed.

Well. He’s not going to get much out of Makishima until he’s reached a stopping point, so Tadokoro wanders over to the well-appointed kitchen to raid the refrigerator. His eyes itch, and he blinks the charmed mask off of his face, leaving it on the counter next to a bowl of olives, and his knee twinges when he crouches to rifle through the cheeses and deli meat in the bottom drawer.

“You’re limping,” Makishima says, not quite an accusation. Tadokoro stuffs half a wheel of brie in his mouth and shrugs. Makishima is on his feet, glasses off and arms wrapped around his waist, and the worry creasing his forehead and dragging under his eyes makes Tadokoro feel immensely guilty.

“Run-in with Shinkai,” Tadokoro half-explains through a full mouth, and he shrugs again in an attempt to downplay the severity of the injury.

He doesn’t like worrying Makishima, but he does really like the idea of eating about six sandwiches and then sleeping for two days. Superhero-ing is completely exhausting. His entire body is sore.

Makishima’s mouth twists. He sighs, “sit down, you big lout,” and when he does, Tadokoro moans in relief. Makishima’s hands are probably his favourite thing in the whole world, he thinks hazily, eyes half-lidded as Makishima’s long fingers spider across his knee, pressing at the pressure points and coaxing the torn ligaments to knit themselves back together. He can feel the tiny threads of his body moving under Makishima’s command, and watches as the hole in his tights repairs itself with quiet efficiency.

“That’s so good,” he groans, and Makishima finally barks a laugh at his tone.

“Keep it in your pants, Tadokorocchi,” he says.

Tadokoro makes a point of wiggling his eyebrows as he points out that Makishima would never dress him in something so mundane as pants, and Makishima laughs again.

“Just for now,” Tadokoro agrees.

Makishima’s fingers may be magic, but Tadokoro’s hands are big and strong and it’s no real effort for him to wrap them around his waist and pull Makishima into his lap.

FILL: TEAM KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, G

[hapaxlegomenon]

Remix of THIS fill by hqqt. Blanket permission granted in permissions thread.

Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru; Haikyuu!!

Word Count: 642
Tags: Swearing, nudity

Yahaba cannot believe this situation. It’s completely stupid. Completely, totally dumb. He can’t believe that his life has led to this point, standing naked in an alleyway at shitfuck o’clock in the middle of the week with some kid alternately staring at the ground, his face, and his junk, asking him, of all fucking things, what breed of dog he is.

This is utterly ridiculous.

Yahaba throws one hand in the air, cups the other protectively around his dick, and for some reason, probably because he’s tired and on edge and still really, really naked, he answers the question. “If you must know, I’m an Afghan Hound.”

You know. Mostly. There’s something else in there too, probably, or at least that’s what they’d decided that one time Oikawa had convinced Yahaba to shift forms and thereafter spent about two hours consulting the internet about dog breeds before giving up and calling Iwaizumi, who, surprisingly enough, knows all about this stuff because apparently his aunt judges dog shows.

But like hell is Yahaba going to admit that he’s a mutt to some stranger.

Kyoutani purses his lips and furrows his eyebrows, and he’s either thinking about that or trying to hold in a fart. Yahaba honestly doesn’t care which, but he does really wish that he’d move out of the way, already, because Yahaba sort of wants to go home now, thank you. He needs a shower and a nap and something to eat that isn’t the pizza crust his dog form fished out of a garbage bin behind the Domino’s a few blocks away.

Finally, Kyoutani speaks. “I didn’t think you looked like an Afghan Hound,” he says with a very serious tone and very little tact. Yahaba flushes high on his cheeks and grinds his teeth together. “Would you show me again?”

“No,” Yahaba blurts reflexively, and Kyoutani’s face falls a little. And then he gets that thinking-fart look again.

“Is it like… are you a werewolf? You can’t control it?”

Of all the insulting -- Yahaba growls under his breath (a human growl, thank you very much) and says, “Do I look like a ravenous beast to you?” before he promptly shifts back into his dog form. He puffs his chest out and sets his ears back and resents the fact that he has to tilt his head to one side in order to look up at Kyoutani.

“No,” Kyoutani murmurs, and he reaches down to rub Yahaba’s ears.

And -- oh. That feels good. That feels really good. Yahaba’s tail starts wagging before he can think to stop it, and it completely ruins the effect of the warning huff he gives to tell Kyoutani to back off.

“Cute,” Kyoutani says to himself. If Yahaba had been human, he would never have heard it, but his dog ears are excellent at hearing things people don’t mean them to. His traitorous tail wags even faster at the compliment. Kyoutani continues kneading at his ears with one hand, but the other one scruffs down his back, with scratching fingernails, and Yahaba practically drools, it feels so good.

“Do you want to come home with me?” Kyoutani asks.

Several things run through Yahaba’s mind at that. The first is, fuck off, no he doesn’t, he has his own home, he’s not some stray. The second is that this boy probably is stupid, actually, after all, if he’s just inviting some random dogboy home with him.

Unfortunately for Yahaba’s human sensibilities, the dog is predominant in the front of his mind right now, and the dog really really likes ear rubs and back scratches and especially the scent of bacon emanating from a grocery bag in Kyoutani’s backpack, and so despite Yahaba’s better judgement, he barks assent and follows Kyoutani out of the alleyway.

He can always go home later.

FILL: Team Grandstand, PG

[babster]

Tanaka Ryuunosuke/Nishinoya Yuu Haikyuu
no tags. Word count: 546
Remix of lemon's BR1 TanaNoya sleeping on a bus
fill

The bus jumps and Noya jolts out of sleep. He yawns, feeling the drool on his skin shift unpleasantly, and wipes it away with the back of his hand. The air conditioning is blasting and while it had felt great when he was still full of heat and energy after the game, now he feels cold. But Ryuu is there next to him, a line of heat down his side, and everyone else appears to be asleep.

“Ryuu,” he hisses, patting his chest. Ryuu grumbles awake.

“What d'ya need?” he slurs.

“I'm cold, I wanna move,” Noya replies. Ryuu nods, and for some reason shifts further away. Noya puts a stop to that at once, grabbing his cheeks and facing him. He looks Ryuu in the eye before kissing him one, two, three times. He feels Ryuu smile on the first kiss; hears him start giggling on the second. Noya smiles as wide as he can after just waking up and throws a leg over Ryuu, settling into his lap with a happy sigh.

“What if somebody sees, Noya-san!” Ryuu whispers loudly and Noya laughs and drills him in the shoulder before looping his arms around Ryuu's chest and his ankles around his back. Ryuu pulls him close and they sit for a moment, just breathing each other in. Ryuu is warm and firm and smells like cheap soap and sour sweat, and Noya wants to burrow into him and live there forever.

“You were so cool today,” Ryuu murmurs into his shoulder. “That last diving save was amazing.”

“Not as amazing as the other team's faces when you spiked it past them,” Noya replies, and they pull back a little to laugh at the memory.

“You any warmer?”

“Yeah.” Noya shifts even closer, feeling heavy and warm and safe. “Got m'own personal space heater.” Ryuu laughs and bumps their foreheads together. “Hey, Ryuu, can I come over tonight?”

“'Course.” Ryuu's voice is vague and sleepy as he leans his head down onto Noya's shoulder. “Always.” Noya hums and lets himself drift off against Ryuu's chest.

–
He wakes up again and glances blearily out the window. They're almost back at school, and the others are going to start waking up soon. Noya sighs. He lets himself breathe Ryuu in one last moment before blowing a raspberry against his neck.

“What? What's happenin'?” Ryuu sits bolt upright and Noya nearly falls out of his lap. He starts giggling and disentangling himself.

“We're almost back at school,” he explains. Ryuu nods and lets him go, a little reluctantly. They lean back against each other, the backs of their hands touching, and Ryuu hooks their pinkies and sends him a sleepy, sappy smile. Noya smiles back, so fond and soft that his chest feels tight. He loves Ryuu on the court, determined and energetic; and he loves Ryuu at home, messy and loud; but these quiet moments where it's just the two of them are special.

Ryuu sticks his tongue out and wrinkles his nose.

“I think I got some of your hair in my mouth,” he says. He spits it out. “Tastes like hair gel.”

Noya cackles loudly, waking up the rest of the bus.

Fill: Team Grandstand, T

[yrindor]

Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, Haikyuu!!
consent issues, bad touch, supernatural elements
670 words
Remix of Miyukitty's BR3 OiKage drawing. Permission granted in the blanket permission post.


Oikawa nearly laughed with delight when he was summoned; he could tell immediately that the little mage who had summoned him was in far over his head. In fact, he had been able to tell even before he materialized, when the mage began his incantation with his true name. There was a reason mages were always calling themselves by overly dramatic titles such as "The Grand Exalted Mage of the Seven Seas," and it wasn't just for show.

Then he did materialize, and he could have laughed. The mage who had summoned him was young, and clearly arrogant enough to think he was ready to deal with a demon even though he most certainly wasn't. He had made a decent attempt at a summoning circle, but he had missed a stroke in one of the characters covering the cardinal points, and a couple of his candles had burned down to nearly nothing, their flames already sputtering, and as every demon knew, all it took was a single error to render a circle null.

There was a reason young mages were forbidden from dealing with demons until several years after they had been granted their initiate ranks, and why their first several summons were always of the weakest imps and carefully watched by their mentors. Those who ventured off on their own rarely lived to tell the tale.

He waited until the arrogant little mage began speaking the spell that would bind him to his will. Then, he stepped through of the inner circle of the barrier, rubbing it out as if it were nothing more than a cobweb.

"Na-ah, you don't get to do that, Tobio-chan," he sang. There was a dangerous edge to his voice buried under the playfulness. "Didn't anyone teach you to look before you leap."

The young mage looked at him petulantly. "You aren't allowed to do that," he said. "I made the circle, and I summoned you; that means you have to obey me."

"Aren't you a naive little one," Oikawa replied. "Or were you really so arrogant you thought you could make your circle perfectly all by yourself?"

"I know what I'm doing," the mage replied, puffing out his chest. "They would've already let me do this if it weren't for the other idiot apprentices holding me back."

"Now now, that's not nice, Tobio-chan," Oikawa said, relishing the way the mage paled at mention of his name.

"How do you know that?" Kageyama demanded.

"You told me yourself, back at the beginning of the spell, or did you think I wouldn't be able hear that?"

Oikawa walked out of the summoning circle, his claws clicking across the stone floor. He had expected the mage to turn and run immediately but was pleasantly surprised when Kageyama held his ground, still trying to form the sigils for the spell even as his hands shook.

"You're too late, Tobio-chan. It's my turn now," Oikawa said as he hooked a clawed finger under Kageyama's chin and forced the trembling mage to look up at him.

It was a simple task to turn the words of the spell around and make it his own. He picked up where Kageyama had left off, changing words here and there to turn the binding on its head. He could tell the minute the mage figured out what he was doing and clamped his mouth shut, trying to keep the words inside even.

"Stop squirming, and it'll be over faster, Tobio-chan," Oikawa hummed, but he secretly enjoyed watching the human struggle and glare at him despite the tears in his eyes.

The end result was inevitable though; the words kept bubbling up in the Kageyama's mouth until they finally overflowed and spilled out, completing the spell that bound him to the demon's will.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Oikawa asked when the spell was done, then used his newfound power to stop Kageyama in his tracks as the mage tried to kick him in the shins.

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

[fullofjoy]

No tags
Remix of dynamite's graphic with rinharu and cherry blossoms.

I, too, love this symbolism between them. I'm just... it's such a beautiful ship. It's very fulfilling and they still need to see that one sakura tree in bloom together!

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, G

[nathengyn]

tags: werecats
remix (prequel) to kiyala's very lovely aomine/kuroko/kagami fic (AKA, my not-so-secret ot3).

Fill: team Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, G

[hqqt]

Tags: food, ghosts
Remix of this fill by luckycricket33 who gave permission to remix.
Word Count: 461



The butter sizzles in the bottom of the pan. Kojirou rotates it to form an even coating with a swish of his wrist. An egg follows it, a single tap cracking the shell.

"Hmm..."

A muscle tenses in his jaw. He ignores his commentator. He breaks his egg apart with a spatula, adding a dash of full milk to steam through it as it firms and becomes opaque.

She tutts. A vein pulses in his temple.

"What." He is very aware he will regret addressing her.

"Well," she says, then pauses. She hums for a second, leaning forward past his shoulder and over the pan.

She brings with her a chill. Ever since she began trailing after him, with her packet of snacks and judgemental words, it's been like someone left a door open to snowy plains for a breeze to brush against his neck. He would like to believe it's a reflection of his disdain for her but, more realistically, it's because she's dead.

At first, he'd only thought she was a new hire lacking manners who didn't know her place. But he had reassessed his evaluation when he noticed that she doesn't have legs. Then, he'd realised she was a ghost lacking manners who didn't know her place.

"You're so hard on your eggs..." she says, as if the ingredient has feelings.

His eyebrow twitches.

Holding the handle of his spatula out to her, he flashes her something of a smile. "Would you like to take over?"

She sniffs and looks away. "You're cruel, Shinomiya. It's no wonder the students dislike you." He's long since realised that, outside of dropping the temperature, her impact on this plane of existence is slim. He can touch her (or she reacts as if he can) but handing cooking equipment is beyond her corporeal manifestation's skill set.

He chuckles and returns to his eggs. Tossing in coriander and a pinch of salt.

Once he's turned them into a perfect meal he picks up a fork and begins to eat, a task made more difficult by his company lying on the full length of the table.

She sighs like it's the most difficult motion in the world to complete. "To eat while others are present and unable to is the height of rudeness."

He jabs his fork through her head, until his fingers encounter the coolness of her cheek. She jerks away, then swoops down on him. Her motion knocks his fork out of his hand - or rather startles him into dropping it. He shoves at her, in attempt to get the spectral ice cube away.

"Is this how you treat your conscience, Shinomiya?" she wails, with a grin. "How shameful!"

Not for the first time, he wishes he could kill a ghost.

FILL: Team Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, T

[putsch]

kuroo/yaku; haikyuu
demon au, implied cannibalism themes
a remix for hqqt's BR5 fill which is here!
word count: 626

The location of his warehouse suite was, up until his own stupid ass made the biggest mistake of it's life, perfect. The space was large and open, he could maneuver fake walls as he pleased to make a sleeping space, a working space, and... well more working space. It also had the perk of being on the top floor, with walls thick enough that he didn't have to hear any of his neighbors doing whatever it was they do. Yaku didn't care - they left him alone, he left them alone.

But he's never had anyone on the roof before ruining that sense of peace and quiet.f. The footsteps above him were quiet at first, uneven, but the longer they went on the heavier, more even they got, like someone (more accurately though, something), was getting antsy and pacing.

"One of these days I'll have some peace and damn quiet again." Yaku groans to himself, rubbing his hand over his face. He has no idea what time it is, but it's pitch black out without the moon giving off any light outside. He tries to fall back asleep, he does, but the pacing is too annoying to ignore now, so he pushes aside the book at his feet and gets up to head to the roof.

"I'm hungry." Kuroo states without even turning around.

"Good morning to you too." Yaku grumbles, stepping closer to Kuroo's side where he's crouched down. Past the horns, the demonic eyes, the annoyed hunch of his shoulders, Yaku can see the lines of exhaustion starting to etch their way to his skin. "Why don't you just go to the convenience store, it's still open. They wouldn't even question your cape."

Yaku's attempt at a joke is, for once, not met with a rambunctious snort or a pithy comeback. Instead, Kuroo just glares at him, mouth set in a firm line.

"I'm hungry for real food." His voice is sharp enough to give the glare a run for it's money, and Yaku can't even get out his cutesy comeback before Kuroo rises to his feet. "You can't expect me to just sit here and rot with you, do you?"

Why did he have to go and (accidentally!) summon such a tall ass demon again? "You're not going to rot, don't be dramatic."

"I need souls, Morisuke. Blood. Life."

"Don't call me by my--"

"Yaku, whatever, just let me go from this shithole."

Honestly, he did know this was coming. It was only a matter of time before the food Yaku could provide wouldn't be enough, and somehow he gets the sense that the new moon is only making Kuroo's mood worse.

"I'm not letting you run out and kill people or devour perfectly kind spirits because you have cravings." Yaku says firmly, "You can't just run around and do what you want."

"Big words from a little boy who summoned a demon." Kuroo retorts, his face splitting back into it's usual smile. "Come on, I'll get off your roof and let you go back to sleeep."

A tempting offer if there ever was one, but Yaku's firmly planted in a sense of trying to be a good person for the community. "No."

Kuroo scowls, rolling his eyes as if he expected the answer. "Then I need something or else I will starve, and that's not good for either of us."

Yaku hates that he's right, so he says nothing, waiting, until Kuroo's grin returns and he places his cold hand on Yaku's hip.

"You know, there is one thing we could do to help."

Yaku already doesn't like this. "And that is?"

Kuroo's grin gets even wider.

"I believe the saying is, What's a pound of flesh amongst friends?"

FILL: Team Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, G

[putsch]

no tags
remix for horchata's Rin/Haru fill, which is here!

Fill: Team Nishinoya Yuu/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, M

[tmntransformer]

Remix of allassankari's Tanaka/Noya fill from round one

tags~ boys in skirts

1,870 words

- - - - - - -

It isn’t a habit so much as a two or three time accidental occurrence. Surely something only becomes a habit after it’s happened a dozen times? Maybe even more! And this is definitely only the fourth time Tanaka’s thought about doing it since the last time he actually did it. If he follows through with it then it would be the fourth time. And isn’t there a rule that says you have to follow-through with the fourth thought if it would make it the fourth time? Tanaka sighs, it can’t be helped; it’s not like he makes the rules.

The difference this time, he supposes, is that he actually went to the shop and bought it himself instead of borrowing Saeko’s. The sizes were a little confusing and he got the distinct impression that the women behind the till were laughing at him so there was no way for him to sneakily try anything on and so he’s accidentally ended up with two. The first one is a slightly too snug, cutting into the jut of his hip bone in an unpleasant way (and for this reason definitely does not count as his fourth time). He discards it on his bed pretty rapidly. The second one slides over his thighs, clinging to his waist almost perfectly. He fastens the buttons at the side, slides the zip up and turns to face himself in the mirror. He flexes his biceps. It looks cute on him. The soft, flowing material compliments the hardness of his leg muscles and his toned stomach nicely. Maybe he should remove his socks. He has one leg perched on the edge of his bed, fingers rolling his sock slowly down when his bedroom door bursts open, rattling into the wall behind it.

“You said you were home alone tonight so I–” It’s like Noya walks face first into an invisible wall he stops so completely. He stares at Tanaka, not blinking. Tanaka stares back. Maybe he could just leave and disappear into the night never to be seen again and Noya would never even notice. He’s not really dressed for that though. Tanaka breaks eye contact to stare at where his hands have paused half-way down his shin. He coughs, placing his foot back onto the floor.

"So you…?” He prompts, willing Noya to be as spectacular and weird as he always is and to breeze through this situation as if it’s completely normal. When the silence persists Tanaka folds his arms in front of his chest and coughs a few times. He’s never felt uncomfortable being topless around Noya before (or anyone really) but the atmosphere is making him wish he’d kept his shirt on. It’s only when he takes a step towards Noya that the tension snaps out of him, jolting him into life again as if Tanaka trod on a magical switch.

“That’s a skirt.” His voice is all squeaky. The same way it gets when he’s really excited or scared and Tanaka wants to slap himself and then Noya because if a little skirt is enough to scare his best friend away, well, then their friendship didn’t run as deep as Tanaka thought it did.

“Yes,” he tugs at the bottom of the skirt just in case it’ll grow a few centimeters longer to force Noya to stop staring at his thighs like that, “it’s a skirt.”

“A school skirt.” Noya’s eyes flick upwards, searching Tanaka’s face. “Nee-san’s?”

“No.” Tanaka’s never been great at lying, but even if he were it’d be impossible for him to lie to Noya. That doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. “I bought them.”

“Them?” Noya wheezes, eyes so round in his head that Tanaka worries that they might physically roll out of his skull. Tanaka flaps behind him at the other skirt splayed out on his bed.

“Yeah, that one was a little tight...” He trails off, not sure where he was heading with that and stares at the skirt on his bed. He can feel heat creeping from his neck and bleeding into his face and doesn’t want Noya to notice. “It’s not a habit,” his reasoning is a lot less convincing when he says it out loud, “this is only like the fourth time.”

“The fourth time,” Noya echoes in a daze. Tanaka still can’t bring himself to look at him. “And you’re only now telling me?”

“What?” Tanaka chances a glance in Noya’s direction, eyebrow furrowed sternly to try and distract from the glow of his face. Noya takes a tentative step towards him, swallowing visibly.

"You could have told me,” the quiver in his voice completely betrays how steady he seems as he walks towards Tanaka. “Like if this is something you were,” he pauses, tongue darting out to wet his top lip, “curious about.” He continues to get closer to Tanaka, slowly and surely, but with a strange look in his eyes.

“I’m not curious!” Tanaka backs away from Noya a step, eyes wide at the quirk of Noya’s lip when he does so. “Skirts are cute,” that’s just a fact. Noya nods, completely in agreement. “School skirts especially.” Another nod, another step closer. “I just thought maybe,” he flounders, it’s a little embarrassing to admit he wanted to look cute too. Even to Noya.

“You look cute.” Relief floods so quickly through Tanaka that he physically feels it bursting from inside him. Of course Noya was only concerned that he’d kept something from him. Of course Noya would never judge him for something like this. Noya’s eyes dart away from Tanaka’s face for the first time, dropping slowly to his body. He huffs out a breath from the side of his mouth, pink edging high onto his cheeks, and then his gaze snaps behind Tanaka to where the first skirt lies. When he finally meets Tanaka’s gaze again, Tanaka knows he’s in for trouble; there’s a wicked gleam to Noya’s eyes that wasn’t there before.

“What?” He hedges, unsure but also a little excited. Noya just said he looks cute; he’s feeling all jittery, like there’s something buzzing underneath his fingertips. Noya places a hand on Tanaka’s waist, but pushes him a little to the side instead of pulling him forwards like he sort of expected him to. He turns to look at Tanaka, smile matching the look in his eyes, and utters six words that leave Tanaka more than breathless.

“I want to look cute too.”

“Uh.” Tanaka’s sure the buttons on Noya’s blazer usually make soft popping noises as he undoes them – has collected the sound underneath his own hands before – and he knows that it makes a light swishing sound whenever it slides down his arms, off of his shirt and onto the floor, but he can’t hear anything save for his own blood thrumming in his ears. Noya flares his shirt back unnecessarily when he shuffles out of his trousers, throwing a wink over his shoulder. “Yuu.”

“What?” Noya puffs out his cheeks like a hamster, blush more noticeable than ever. “We agreed we’d be together now.”

“Yeah, but you don’t–”

“Together!” Noya tunnels into the skirt head first, which Tanaka suspects has more to do with him wanting to have the final say on the matter than him actually believing that’s the correct way skirts go on. That is until he lets out a strangled yelp from underneath the pleats. “Together means you have to help me!”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” It only takes him one step to be by Noya’s side, hands gentle as they attempt to guide his head and arms out of the top of the skirt. Noya squirms underneath his touch, spluttering out a laugh when Tanaka inadvertently digs him in the side. “Stay still.”

“Don’t tickle me then!” Tanaka growls at the back of his throat playfully. Noya is pretty ticklish. And it would be a shame to let this opportunity pass-by. He turns Noya around just a little more, just so he can get the feel of where his rib-cage is properly, and then he attacks, fingers descending mercilessly. Noya topples backwards onto his bed almost immediately, shooting out a hand from under the skirt to drag Tanaka on top of him.

“Yuu,” he complains, despite hearing Noya echoing his laughter back at him.

“You started it!” Tanaka shifts, finding the edge of the skirt to drag it down into place and grinning when Noya’s dishevelled head pops into view.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Noya pushes at his chest with the palm of his hand, touch familiar and tender as his smile grows across his face. When Tanaka is hovering over his side he shuffles the skirt down, smoothing it into place and zipping it up slowly. “There.” He seems satisfied. “Now we match.”

“Almost.” Tanaka’s heart has started to thud again, the embarrassment and nervousness he felt when Noya first caught him threatening to return. But this is Noya. His best friend – recently turned boyfriend – who’d only been upset about not being included. There's nothing for him to be embarrassed about here. He watches, as fascinated as he was the first time, as each shirt button he pops open reveals inch after inch of Noya’s toned stomach. “There.” His shirt is still hanging loosely off of his shoulders but it will do. Noya grins when Tanaka’s hands don’t really leave his body; one stroking down the length of his skirt until it finds his bare thigh as the other trails a pattern towards his hair.

“You like it.” It’s not a question but Tanaka hums in agreement anyway.

“You look really cute.” Noya reaches out to trace the waist line of Tanaka’s skirt.

“You get it now, right?” He pinches Tanaka’s side when he’s met with a blank expression. “What would you have done if you’d have just found me like this? Damn Ryuu I almost exploded on the spot!” Tanaka snorts, remembering the stricken look Noya had worn when he’d kicked open the door.

“Well! I didn’t expect you do burst in!” Noya arches up, reaching a hand around to squeeze Tanaka’s bum, humming thoughtfully.

“I’m glad I did.” He smirks, using one leg to hook behind Tanaka’s knee and drag him back on top of him. “To think I missed seeing you like this three times already. It’s criminal!” The view from on top of Noya is almost too much for Tanaka to bear. It takes more concentration than he’s willing to admit to stay focused on their conversation and not loose himself in the dips of Noya’s muscles, the light trail of hairs leading down from his navel and disappearing beyond the slightly lighter skin he can see peeking out from over his waistband; it doesn’t get as much sun as the rest of him.

“Why did you come over again?” Noya raises an eyebrow and a leg at the same time, skirt sliding down a fraction. He curls a hand around the back of Tanaka’s neck, guiding him down until their foreheads are almost touching; breath warming each other’s faces.

“To keep you company of course.”

“Of course.” Tanaka echoes in a amazement, words almost lost on Noya’s lips as he tugs him into a kiss.

FILL: TEAM KANZAKI MIKI/TACHIBANA AYA, G

[princesssid]

tags: blood, possession, description of illness, teeth stuff, demon/spirit Makishima
508 words
remix of mother_herbivore's makishima/kinjou fill here

Makishima licked the pad of his thumb and held it up to the air, looking at Kinjou all the while. “Wind coming from the south,” he said hoarsely, baring his sharp teeth.

“Thought you would have already known that,” Kinjou said with affected mildness. In truth, he could feel the beat of his heart all the way up in his throat.

Whenever they came to the mountains, Makishima would shift, bones and muscle rippling under his skin as he got more comfortable in his own shape. It wasn’t that he actually changed very much, physically speaking. It was just in the way he held himself, like he suddenly knew himself better.

It was something Kinjou enjoyed, though he knew the risks of enjoying it too much. Usually they planned their travel paths more carefully than this, tried to avoid coming across more than one mountain a month. This would be their third in two weeks.

Makishima’s smile widened, hovered on the edge of being too wide to be possible. “Need to keep you at ease,” he said, lowering his eyelids and glancing to the side. It was a coy look. “Last time you didn’t stop bleeding for two hours.”

“We’re not changing how we do this,” Kinjou said firmly.

“Ah,” Makishima said, closing his eyes. “Good.”

He turned away then, crouching on the ground to search for sticks. Makishima liked to clean his teeth to an almost obsessive extent, especially before a possession. He would chew on sticks to get the young woody fibres right between his teeth, worry away at his gums in tiny twitchy movements. Once Kinjou had commented on how squirrel-like his actions were, and Makishima had sulked for half a day even though Kinjou had meant it as a compliment. It was hard to tell what animals a mountain spirit actually liked and respected. Since then, Makishima wouldn’t let Kinjou watch any teeth-cleaning.

Instead Kinjou looked at the fall of Makishima’s hair against his bare back, how it moved in soft undulations on its own, cleverly avoiding tangles. It was something to get lost in while Makishima did his preparations.

“I’m ready,” Makishima said, licking his lips. “You?”

Kinjou nodded and sat himself down on the forest floor.

--

First came the blood, dripping weakly but consistently from his nose, always at an annoying pace. Each time he’d wipe a hand across his upper lip there’d be another trickle just as he’d lowered his arm. The wracking coughs and fever and chills came later. Whatever sleep he managed to get while twisting and turning on a bed of rotting leaves would be filled with strange, uncomfortable dreams.

But then he’d wake up to the sunlight streaming through the foliage and the clean woodsy smell of the trees. He’d wake up with an understanding of the forest around him as clear as the water from the mountain stream he used to wash off the dried blood of the night.

He couldn’t see Makishima, but he could feel him in mind and body. That would be enough.

Fill: Team Grandstand, G

[yrindor]

Arakita Yasutomo/Kinjou Shingo, Yowamushi Pedal
no tags, minor injury
482 words
Remix of yusukesjeans BR1 fill and inspired by the conversation that took place in the comments there.

Arakita wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up sitting at the table cutting vegetables; it wasn't even like he liked the damn things. It was Kinjou who had insisted he make something other than his usual standard eggs for dinner, but rather than helping, Kinjou was just standing over his shoulder. Sure, he professed to be offering advice, but if anything, he was making things more confusing, not less.

Arakita liked to think knew how to use a knife, thank you very much, but apparently he was doing it wrong, at least according to Kinjou.

"Fingernails forward," Kinjou corrected for easily the dozenth time that night, readjusting Arakita's hand on the cucumber. "Like a claw so your fingers stay out of the way of the blade."

Arakita tried to pay attention to Kinjou's corrections, but it was difficult when Kinjou's leg kept pressing into his back. Despite Kinjou's arguments to the contrary, he was fairly certain having Kinjou "helping" was just distracting him and making him more likely to cut himself.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Kinjou rested a hand on his shoulder, and his knife slipped, running across the back of his knuckle.

He swore and stuck his finger in his mouth.

"What did I tell you?" Kinjou asked, and Arakita barely resisted the urge to point out that it never would have happened if Kinjou hadn't been there, so really, it was entirely Kinjou's fault.

Kinjou immediately grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the sink, sticking his finger under the faucet. Arakita could tell the cut wasn't bad. He was fairly certain had had worse paper cuts before, but that didn't stop Kinjou from turning his finger this way and that as he inspected it.

"Stay here," Kinjou ordered, then returned less than a minute later with the first aid kit from the bathroom.

"I'm fine, Kinjou," Arakita grumbled.

"And you're going to stay that way," Kinjou replied as he spread antibacterial ointment on the cut and covered it with a band-aid.

"I still don't see why we even have to have so many vegetables in the first place."

"Because scrambled eggs and Bepsi are not a complete diet," Kinjou replied flatly.

"God, you're worse than Toudou sometimes," Arakita complained.

"Really?" Kinjou asked as he pressed a kiss to Arakita's finger.

"Okay, maybe not worse," Arakita choked, "but mother hens, the both of you."

"Well, someone has to take care of you."

"You could cut the damn vegetables yourself, since I'm injured and everything."

Kinjou raised an eyebrow at him, but he did take Arakita's place at the table and pick up the knife himself.

It was Arakita's turn to press himself to Kinjou's side, but unfortunately, unlike Arakita, Kinjou seemed to be utterly unaffected by the proximity, and he just kept chopping methodically as if nothing else were happening.

Fill: Team Grandstand, T

[yrindor]

Arakita Yasutomo/Fukutomi Juichi, Yowamushi Pedal
needles/piercings
966 words
Remix of yusukesjean's BR3 fill


Arakita hesitates before he opens the door of the tattoo parlor. He's been inside plenty of times before, but always just to pick Fukutomi up for a date. The anticipation outweighs the nerves though, so he pushes open the door and steps inside. The automated bell over the door lets out its familiar tinny chime as he enters

"Oi, Yasutomo, you came," Fukutomi's new assistant, Daisuke, calls out. "Juichi said you might."

Arakita tries his best to make small talk while he waits for Fukutomi to finish with his current client, but it's difficult when all he can think about is the small jewelry box he found on the kitchen table that morning that currently feels like it's trying to burn a hole in his pocket. After what feels like an eternity, Fukutomi finally comes out from the back with a young woman who's still cooing over her new earrings.

"Boss, look who showed up," Daisuke says after Fukutomi's shown the woman to the door.

"I'm free now, you can come on back," Fukutomi says, and Arakita swallows hard as he follows. He's never been beyond the lobby before, so he's a bit surprised when Fukutomi shows him to a space that, if it weren't for the artwork plastered all over the walls and the music blaring through the speakers, wouldn't look out of place in a doctor's office.

"Take a seat," Fukutomi orders, and Arakita is torn between watching Fukutomi in his element and not being sure he wants to know what's coming. Every movement Fukutomi makes seems magnified somehow, and every little detail seems to catch his attention.

He tears his eyes away from Fukutomi's hands when Fukutomi turns back to face him and asks "which eyebrow?"

That at least is a question Arakita can answer. "Right," he says without hesitation, "to match yours."

He tries not to move too much as Fukutomi takes a pen and marks a couple of spots on his eyebrow, but it's difficult when Fukutomi's hands are so close to his face, and he can feel the heat coming off of them.

"How does this look?" Fukutomi asks, handing Arakita a mirror.

"You're asking me?" Arakita replies, squinting at the purple dots on his eyebrow. "How am I supposed to know!? If you think they look good, then they're fine. You're the one who knows what he's doing."

"Some people care more than others," Fukutomi says as he takes back the mirror. Then, he pulls on a pair of gloves, and Arakita feels the blood rush to his face. He's always had a thing for Fukutomi's hands, but they're even harder to look away from with the black latex tight around them (Fukutomi keeps telling him it's not latex, but he really doesn't give a damn about the technical terms; all that matters to him is that they look really damn hot).

"You doing okay?" Fukutomi asks when he turns back and notices the sudden sheen of sweat on Arakita's forehead.

"Fine," Arakita replies, but even he can tell he sounds a bit strangled.

"I'm going to put the clamp in place now," Fukutomi says as he picks up an unpleasant-looking piece of metal from his tray. "Depending on who you ask, some people say it's worse than the needle."

It doesn't feel good Arakita thinks, but that is quickly drowned out by just how close to him Fukutomi is, and the way in which Fukutomi's hands are pinching and tugging at his eyebrow.

Far too soon and yet not soon enough Fukutomi lets go with one hand to pick up the needle from his tray. Arakita tries not too think about just how big it looks, or where it's about to go, but at the same time, he can't stop watching what Fukutomi's hands are doing.

"Close this eye for me," Fukutomi orders, tapping Arakita's eyelid gently with a pinky. "Whenever you're ready, take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

Arakita closes both eyes for good measure, but he's not sure it helps. He can't see the needle anymore, but he can feel the pressure of the clamp, and the smooth drag of Fukutomi's hand on his temple.

He inhales, and he feels the prick of the tip of the needle as Fukutomi lines it up to his marks.

He exhales, and his breath catches in his throat as everything else is drowned out by the sharp pinch of the needle piercing flesh. It's quickly replaced by a dull sting, and he lets the rest of the breath out shakily. He doesn't risk opening his eyes until he feels the pressure of the clamp release.

"Still with me?" Fukutomi asks as he picks up the silver bar; it's a perfect match for the one currently in his own eyebrow.

"Fine," Arakita says, finding himself staring at Fukutomi's hands again.

"Just need to put in the jewelry, and then you're done."

There's a tugging at his eyebrow and more of the now-familiar drag of Fukutomi's gloved fingers over his face, and he tries not to wince. He hopes Fukutomi doesn't notice his eyes are watering.

"You're done," Fukutomi says, sitting back. "Do you need a tissue?"

"I'm not crying," Arakita grumbles.

"Of course not. Eyebrow piercings make everyone's eyes water; it's a natural reaction."

"Still don't need a tissue," Arakita says.

"So what do you think?" Fukutomi asks as he strips off his gloves and hands Arakita the mirror.

It's going to take some getting use to, Arakita thinks, but he likes it, and he likes it even more knowing that it's part of a matching set.

"It looks damn good, but nothing's as hot as yours," he says, finally giving into the urge to yank Fukutomi in and kiss him.

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[dynamite]

Akashi Seijurou / Mayuzumi Chihiro, Kuroko no Basuke
tags: genderbend
graphics/etc fill
remix of kiyala's fill here, permission given here

Akashi = chiharu
Mayuzumi = dynamite