Bonus Round 2: Tic-Tac-Toe

[referees]

SASO 2017 is over, but this round is perpetually open to new fills (no new prompts).

Get three in a row! That's the goal of this bonus round. Inspired by a fanwork event type called kink bingo, this round encourages you to create and fill out themed prompt cards.

Please read this whole post before commenting to ensure that your team gets the most points possible. There's a lot of text here, but if you read carefully and follow the instructions step by step, you will be okay.

RULES

Please refer to the first comment thread of this post for an example of how this round works.

PROMPTING

1. Select a ship to create your prompt card about. Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Haruki & Kazuma). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Haruki/Kazuma). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!


2. Visit this card generator.
   • Here is a visual guide to using it.
   • The large text box is where you can list prompts if you have your own ideas. Please list at least 9 prompts; you can list more if you want. (The generator says you need at least 24, but it's lying.) Single words or short phrases are better than sentences.
   • Otherwise, you can use the dropdown menu found right below it. Note: some of these prompts lists are NSFW. (NSFW prompts are a-ok as long as you tag for it.) If you don't like some of the options that appear in a prompt list, you can delete them.
   • Text prompts only, please. Also, each card square must be unique—don't list the same prompt 9 times.
   • In "Configuration Options," make sure you select 3x3 and (Normal prompt). This is the most important step!
   • Leave the tic-tac-toe card with its default colors, so everyone can read it clearly.
   • Click the "Create a bingo card" button.
   • Scroll down to see the card that was created for you. If you don't like the prompts it picked, you can reroll by clicking "Create a bingo card" again.
   • When you're satisfied, scroll further down the page until you see a textarea box full of HTML.
3. Copy and paste the HTML from the box and into the body of your prompt comment, then post!

FILLING

Fill prompts by selecting an individual square to create fanwork for, then leaving a responding comment to the prompt with your newly-created work. (Optional:) If you can fill three squares from a prompt in a horizontal, vertical, or diagonal line, you get a tic-tac-toe (and an additional point bonus)! You can also just fill prompts as you please and get standard points.

• Prompt squares are labeled as follows:

  A1	B1	C1
  A2	B2	C2
  A3	B3	C3

• If you're trying for tic-tac-toe, you cannot combine squares into one fill. If your fill can satisfy multiple squares, pick the most relevant square: e.g., one square is sailing and another is pirates and you make a fill about pirates sailing, it's mostly pirates so put down the pirates square.
• Each fill must stand alone as an individual piece, but all your fills can slot into a larger universe if you'd like.
• You cannot fill a prompt square more than once, but you can fill every square on a tic tac toe card if you want to.
• You cannot work with your teammates to get a tic-tac-toe. Only individually achieved tic-tac-toes get the bonus.
• Multiple people can fill the same prompt square. You cannot "block" others from getting tic-tac-toe.
• Remember to also follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.
• Here is a prompt/fill index for your convenience.

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/images)
• 14 lines (poetry)

There is no max work cap.

Format your comment in one of the following ways:

If PROMPTING:	If FILLING:	If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to. Any way you format it is fine. Copy/paste/fill out the following form into your comment box. Delete the guidance text that's in parentheses. Make sure you use tags. Here is a BR Template Creator for your convenience if the textarea is confusing. (Please delete all text in parentheses as you go. LEAVE THE HTML ALONE or the bonus round scoring program can't parse your comment. Don't forget a comment subject!) <strong>Ship:</strong> (the ship your prompt is focused on. "&" indicates a platonic relationship, "/" is non-platonic. Format the ship name any way you want, but clarity is more likely to get you fills.) <strong>Fandom:</strong> (what fandom the ship is from) <strong>Major Tags:</strong> (https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/1609.html, when applicable; these apply to content *in the prompt itself* and is NOT an implication of what you're looking for in a fill. If your prompt doesn't require tags, write "None" here. More info: http://sportsanimeolympics.tumblr.com/post/161707236774/tagging-and-you) <strong>Other Tags:</strong> (anything else that you feel requires tagging; can include jokey tumblr-style tags here; may also pull from the "Additional Tags" list from the URL above, if applicable; otherwise, write "None" here.) <strong>Prompt:</strong> (copy and paste the HTML of your prompt square here!)	FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [SQUARE], [RATING] Replace [SQUARE] with the specific square you're filling (e.g., B2). Click here to see a comment thread example of which square is which. Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to. Any way you format it is fine. Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Copy/paste/fill out the following form into your comment box. Delete the guidance text that's in parentheses. Make sure you use tags. Here is a BR Template Creator for your convenience if the textarea is confusing. (Please delete all text in parentheses as you go. LEAVE THE HEADER HTML ALONE or the bonus round scoring program can't parse your comment. Don't forget a comment subject, especially which square you're filling!) <strong>Ship:</strong> <strong>Fandom:</strong> <strong>Major Tags:</strong> (https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/1609.html, when applicable; otherwise write "None"; if omitting tags to avoid spoiling, say "tags omitted." More info: http://sportsanimeolympics.tumblr.com/post/161707236774/tagging-and-you) <strong>Other Tags:</strong> (anything else that you feel requires tagging; can include jokey tumblr-style tags here; may also pull from the "Additional Tags" list from the URL above, if applicable; otherwise, write "None" here.) <strong>Square:</strong> (the theme of the square that you are filling, just copy and paste it from the prompt comment) <strong>Word Count:</strong> (if applicable; otherwise write "None") (Place any author/artist's notes BEFORE the asterisks. Leave the asterisks alone or won't get points!) *** (Place your fill here. You can use HTML after the asterisks. FOR NSFW FILLS, please cross-link these fills and use clear tags. Refer to the body of the post above for more information. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" alt="DESCRIPTION OF YOUR IMAGE"/>. Consider posting only a thumbnail if the image is large. For more info, visit http://referees.dreamwidth.org/5647.html#images ) NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and tag them clearly. saso_afterhours is open to all NSFW fills. Written/text fills can be hosted on AO3 or saso_afterhours ONLY. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere; you may include a small safe-for-work thumbnail of the fill in your comment.	FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [SQUARE], [RATING] Replace [SQUARE] with the specific square you're filling (e.g., B2). Click here to see a comment thread example of which square is which. Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Copy/paste/fill out the following form into your comment box. Delete the guidance text that's in parentheses. Make sure you use tags. Here is a BR Template Creator for your convenience if the textarea is confusing. (Please delete all text in parentheses as you go. LEAVE THE HEADER HTML ALONE or the bonus round scoring program can't parse your comment. Don't forget a comment subject, especially which square you're filling!) <strong>Ship:</strong> <strong>Fandom:</strong> <strong>Major Tags:</strong> (https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/1609.html, when applicable; otherwise write "None"; if omitting tags to avoid spoiling, say "tags omitted." More info: http://sportsanimeolympics.tumblr.com/post/161707236774/tagging-and-you) <strong>Other Tags:</strong> (anything else that you feel requires tagging; can include jokey tumblr-style tags here; may also pull from the "Additional Tags" list from the URL above, if applicable; otherwise, write "None" here.) <strong>Square:</strong> (the theme of the square that you are filling, just copy and paste it from the prompt comment) <strong>Word Count:</strong> (if applicable; otherwise write "None") (Place any author/artist's notes BEFORE the asterisks. Leave the asterisks alone or you may not get points!) *** (Place your fill here. You can use HTML. FOR NSFW FILLS, please cross-link these fills and use clear tags. Refer to the body of the post above for more information. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" alt="DESCRIPTION OF YOUR IMAGE"/>. Consider posting only a thumbnail if the image is large. For more info, visit http://referees.dreamwidth.org/5647.html#images ) NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and tag them clearly. saso_afterhours is open to all NSFW fills. Written/text fills can be hosted on AO3 or saso_afterhours ONLY. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere; you may include a small safe-for-work thumbnail of the fill in your comment.

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.

If you see anyone breaking the code of conduct (e.g., causing drama, being rude) anywhere (not just DW), please contact the mods immediately.

SCORING

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

For prompts: 5 points for each tic-tac-toe card (maximum of 50 prompt points per team per round)

For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 20 points each
Fills 5-10: 15 points each
Fills 11-20: 5 points each
Fills 21-50: 2 points each
Fills 51+: 1 point each
Tic-tac-toe Bonus: 2 points each for the first 12 achieved by your team

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 (see the line of links below this post).

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

Comments

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Miyahara, A3, G

[elucidatedlucy]

Ship: Manami Sangaku/Teshima Junta
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major tags: None
Other tags: Supernatural elements, Weather working is another kind of magic
Square: Lightning/ Thunderstorm
Word count: 588



***

Wind doesn't follow the rules.

If Teshima looks closely enough - reads between the lines - he can find a gust wailing behind every event. Fire needs air, water only burns with energy behind it, and thunder only comes with something pushing it toward him. If he tries hard enough, it means there's always something to blame.

His hands burn with the familiar ache of woven rope. Thunder announces its arrival. Wind is already there by the time he notices. It's attached - alone and excited, dragging every chaotic noise behind it. It probably doesn't notice he exists yet. Teshima clatters up the length of stairs, feeling the rumble of distant trains in every window. Whistling gales seep through the cracks of weekend madness. The lights flicker and flail along to the weather outside, and it carries Teshima up faster, till the air leaves his chest to leave him running on hot oil.

The door is already open when he reaches the roof. It screams on its hinges and refuses to quiet with his weight. But Teshima can hardly hear the shriek against the roar outside. Lightning dances on the horizon's edge, following the gale's suit.

Time and time again, it has left him hanging hopeless and alone, so close to reeling in something, only for his luck to shatter and bring him back to square one. Scars tatter his legs from broken falls. Rails have bruised his gut in the attempt to draw it back. But he's prepared, this time. He's no storm wrangler. So Teshima takes a different approach.

He swings the lasso at his side. Playful, articulate, the loop spins beside him, in front, above. He hops into the center, and just as quickly jumps out, to bow toward no one and nothing. Thunder like this means people don't come out. He stands on the open roof in a one-man show and takes his turn.

It's hard to catch a breeze. There's nothing to hold onto. Winds aren't bad. But a gale, loud and threatening and physical, is something he can dig his fingers into. The rope lands heavy on air and Teshima pulls as though he could have ever practiced for this. It does not pull away from him. Ideal, almost - if not for how it drags him along, feet slipping over broken roof tiles, and over the edge.

But he's used to rope burn. Gloves stand between him and being flayed alive, though his cheek runs close to the ongoing heat. Plans are all he has, but as he soars over the ground, Teshima has little more than the sick grit running through his belly.

And he yells, "I told you this was the day I'd drag you down!"

And its answer is the way rope twists in his arms, making him a rag doll on air, the very fate his teachers warned him against. Thunder runs under his feet and keeps him alight like nothing else will, and he knows, he hopes, it hates the very weather it brought standing on his side.

They get further away from the water, till there is little to back the gale's unending glee and furious speeds. The rope shrinks around it and it cannot slip free. Sinking to the ground, Teshima struggles to run without his feet being dragged through the brambles, till even the wind crashes to a dead standstill.

"What," it breathes. "Are you trying to do?"

"Just so happens I keep my promises," Teshima says, years of study and uneasy interest beneath his skin. "Unlike you, Manami."

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, A3, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Nijimura/Himuro
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: blue blood
Word Count: 426

nba!au (knicks/nets)

***

When you have enough money, you can buy class, pay to dye your blood navy blue and blend in. You just have to try, and most people don’t try hard enough. It’s not an inborn thing, class; it’s something taught, observed, learned; it’s something Tatsuya’s managed to force his way into one charming smile at a time.

“I don’t like these rich-people things,” Shuuzou says.

“I’d rather play basketball,” Tatsuya says, as close as Shuuzou’s going to hear for an agreement. “But it’s for a good cause.”

Shuuzou wonders if that good cause is the charity and the associated tax breaks or Tatsuya forcing him into another goddamn suit and pouring him a little extra wine, footsie under the table, bread stuffed in his mouth when no one’s looking. And, to be honest, there’s a hell of a lot to be said for all of that, but—still.

Shuuzou doesn’t like wearing cufflinks or a tie; it reminds him too much of the grind of the season, the worst part, the part with no basketball and endless inane questions from reporters and having to smile his way through interviews when he’s dead on his feet after three fucking overtimes in the playoffs.

Tatsuya has no such associations, or if he does he’s buried them deep tonight. Or maybe it’s just that he’s a fucking masochist sometimes, and he loves dragging Shuuzou along for the ride.

“Come,” Tatsuya says, pulling on Shuuzou’s hand, and Shuuzou can smell the expensive cologne Tatsuya only ever wears for him, in the middle of the season when they’re both exhausted but manage to have a weeknight when they’re both at home, in the same borough of the same city, same room of the same building. It smells a little like weightlessness, if Shuuzou’s being poetic.

Tatsuya lets him kiss all over in the elevator, the long ride down from the twenty-second floor; it’s too old to have cameras and there’s usually no attendant; it gives them privacy until the door opens at six. But there’s no one there; they must have given up and taken the stairs or forgotten something in the apartment. Shuuzou pushes the door close button and Tatsuya leans up for another kiss, pressing their bodies together.

Their photo ends up in the style section of the Sunday paper, Shuuzou’s arm around Tatsuya’s waist, both of them smiling, and Shuuzou won’t admit it out loud but Tatsuya’s smirk is enough to say he knows Shuuzou doesn’t think this whole rich-people thing is all that bad.

FILL: Team Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, E

[pugglemuggle]

Ship: Mila/JJ & JJ/Isabella, sort of Mila/JJ/Isabella
Fandom: Yuri on Ice
Major Tags: Sexual content
Other Tags: Prostate stimulation, fingering, orgasm denial, voyeurism, dom/sub undertones, begging
Word Count: 1,772
Square: A2: Can't Get It Up
Word Count: 1,772

This. This is the porn you were looking for. #EndMe

***

link *quiet screaming*

Re: FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, C2, G

[miyukitty]

These T2s are so soft and sweet, especially as a pair ;w; I love the gentle pace of getting to know each other, and falling into that familiar rhythm of theirs <333 and how easy it feels at the end, to simply stay together~

and, and! I love seeing game dynamics worked in so naturally! thanks for the lovely fill ;3;

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, A1, T

[wino]

Ship: ushijima/oikawa
Fandom: haikyuu
Major Tags: mention of sexual content, mention of suicide, mention of drugs
Other Tags: disasters (apocalypse)
Square: somedays i wish that i wasn't myself / no luck / and i hate that you know me so well
Word Count: 975

***

Three weeks before the end of the world, Ushijima is watering the plants on his balcony as the television rages on in the background. This is not a habit of his—it is not characteristic of him to be wasteful of anything, much less of electricity, and evening is not the best time for irrigation—but a certain priority had to take precedence that night. That is, his peace of mind, which is frequently disrupted by his next-door neighbors. They are a couple, they are married, and they are childless, which, according to Ushijima's unintentional eavesdropping, is a sore spot in their arguments. Ushijima wouldn't even have a television set if it didn't come with the apartment, preferring to read or browse online, but he is grateful for it these days, the way he can simply turn up the volume when the shouting starts and tune them out, concentrating very hard on the well-being of his plants.

It is during one of these sessions that the news breaks, interrupting the drama that had been broadcasting. There is an asteroid headed for Earth, says the news anchor, and the mission to stop its trajectory has failed. In three weeks, she continues, it will make impact and destroy all life on the planet.

Ushijima glances up from his plants, frowning at that. His neighbors don't seem to have heard yet, if the yelling is any indication. He has just finished dinner, and if he were to follow routine, he would be on his way to bed in preparation for the work day. He wonders if there would even be work to attend tomorrow.

He sets down his watering can and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, as he always does before he goes to sleep. There is no use wondering; he will find out in due time.

-

Two weeks and six days before the end of the world, it turns like it always does, and for Ushijima, the the hours unfold like they always do. He goes in to work and finds that most of his department are not present. Later, he will be told that a fraction of them had killed themselves, while the others have disappeared from the city, presumably to go home to their families. He stumbles upon one of those who stayed snorting cocaine in the men's bathroom, and leaves him to it.

When he returns to his apartment, after clocking in all the hours required of him, his neighbors are no longer fighting. If the creaking bed noises are any indication, they are having vigorous sex. Perhaps it is an act of forgiveness, proof that they do still love each other after all, or perhaps it is celebratory, thanking the gods for not giving them a child to mourn.

Ushijima has watered his plants this morning, so he does not go to the balcony today. He doesn't turn on the television; he does not need reminding that the world is ending. He goes to bed earlier than usual instead.

-

Two weeks and five days before the end of the world, it is a Saturday, so even Ushijima has no excuse to go to work. Even the television cannot drown out his neighbors' groans and moans, so excavates himself from his apartment to spend the day outside.

It seems a mistake immediately: the streets are in chaos, filled with packed bags and crying children, their parents set on the idea that there is such a thing as running far away enough from an asteroid. Some shops have been looted, and others are on fire. Ushijima contemplates driving away to a farm and spending his last days somewhere quiet, but the drive there in this environment will be troublesome.

He detours into a nearby ramen shop instead, one of those still standing, and orders their biggest bowl, since he will be here a while. After he gives his order, he turns and sees the last person he expects to see, alone as well during the apocalypse.

"Aren't you going to say hello, Ushiwaka-chan?" says Oikawa Tooru, fresh out of Ushijima's youth, his brown curls and doe brown eyes near untouched by age. Ushijima has not seen him in years.

"What are you doing here?" asks Ushijima, because what else was he supposed to say?

Oikawa hums noncommittally, making a vague motion with his chopsticks. "I was in the area, and I remembered I love this shop, and here I am. And you? Any reason you're wallowing alone, so close to the apocalypse?"

"You're alone too," says Ushijima. It's only the truth, and he has always been blunt, but something tells him he should not have said it, as if it might cause Oikawa to fling the remnants of his ramen at Ushijima's head and storm out of the shop, fuming. But Oikawa only hums again, and finishes chewing his noodles before he speaks.

"So you noticed. Everyone's with their misses and their kids, you know? I can't intrude on Iwa-chan, not right now, even if he'll have me. I'd spoil Hajime Jr. rotten, but he deserves to be spending time with his daddy and mommy, not Uncle Tooru." If that is regret in Oikawa's voice, it doesn't linger long enough for Ushijima to find out. "Let me guess. You're in the same lonely boat."

Ushijima nods, even though he does not feel lonely. Or at least he hadn't, until Oikawa reappeared in his life looking like he always does, musing on what-could-have-beens.

His ramen arrives. He murmurs a quiet itadakimasu to himself and begins to eat, feeling Oikawa's gaze on him as he drinks some of the broth. He can hear Oikawa's smile, even without turning his head to look.

"What a sad pair we are, Ushiwaka-chan."

Ushijima, with warm soup in his belly and Oikawa beside him, would not necessarily agree.

FILL: Team Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, T

[pugglemuggle]

Ship: kageyama tobio / hinata shouyou
Fandom: haikyuu
Major Tags: None.
Other Tags: Making out, love bites
Square: B2: teeth sinking into the spot just above your collarbone
Word Count: 453

***

“Hhhn,” Kageyama breathed. “Hinata—”

“Mh?” Hinata pulled back from Kageyama’s neck and looked up. He had a hint of that look—the slightly unnerving one he wore on the court sometimes. His eyes were wide and dark. Kageyama swallowed.

“You’re not—you’re not leaving marks, are you?” Kageyama asked.

Hinata frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together. “No. I’ve never left marks.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

Hinata pulled back a little further, looking Kageyama in the eye. “…Do you want me to?”

“What?”

“Do you want me to try, um, you know. Biting?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

Why would I want you to bite me?!”

“A lot of people like it!” Hinata said defensively. “How would you know you don’t like it unless you try it?”

Kageyama didn’t have an answer to that, but he didn’t want to give Hinata the credit for making a good point, so instead he just frowned harder.

“What about this,” Hinata said. “If we try it and you don’t like it, I’ll buy you your milk boxes for a week.”

Hm. That was actually a pretty good deal.

“…Fine,” Kageyama said. “Just… just don’t do it anywhere that the jersey doesn’t cover.”

Hinata nodded eagerly. “Sure! Is here okay?” He tapped the skin just above Kageyama’s collarbone.

“…Yeah.”

Despite having just given Hinata permission, Kageyama was totally unprepared for the sensation of Hinata’s teeth on his skin. The second he felt it he jerked back, nearly elbowing Hinata in the face.

“Hey!” Hinata complained. “What was that for?”

“…Sorry…” Kageyama mumbled. He clenched his fists around the fabric of his practice shorts in an attempt to keep them in place.

Hinata moved back in, a little more hesitantly this time, but no less persistent. His teeth scraped the skin above Kageyama’s clavicle, pulling it and nibbling at it in a way that wasn’t quite painful, but not quite comfortable, either. He felt hyperaware of himself in a way he’d never felt before, acutely conscious of every pinch, every tiny bite, every swipe from Hinata’s tongue. When Hinata trailed an open-mouthed kiss over the spot he’d been working on and sucked, Kageyama decided that maybe, he might like this biting thing after all.

“Nnh,” Kageyama shuddered the next time Hinata’s teeth sank into his skin. Almost immediately, Hinata pulled backwards, looking way too triumphant.

“See?” he said. “I told you you’d like it.”

Kageyama huffed. A small part of him wanted to deny it out of spite, but a much larger and more vocal part of him just wanted Hinata to get back to work. “Now that you’ve started,” Kageyama said, “you should finish.”

The dark-eyed, intense look was back on Hinata’s face. He nodded once and leaned in.

“I will.”

Re: FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, A3, T.

[miyukitty]

oh jeez, oh boy, i wasn't expecting owasera but I'm here now, afghdadg thx for fill

this scene is set so well, the uncomfortable glimpses of kags's past and then the eerily calm way oiks seduces him :)));;; he is beautiful and terrible, don't listen to him-! THIS IS COOL BUT CHILLING. THAT PARTING LINE.

Re: FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, A3, G

[earlgrey_milktea]

i love this, i could feel the joy and love radiating from these 400+ words. how midorima is so enamoured with takao's laughter and just---takao, and how takao points things out to midorima about himself. and the end was very sweet, too, because midorima's right?? gosh they just work together so, so well....... i'm really happy with how happy this one is!!

FILL: Team Imaizumi Shunsuke/Kinjou Shingo, B3, G

[yrindor]

Ship: Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: none
Square: tracing the lines on your palm
Word Count: 458

***

Midorima was extremely protective of his hands. That came to no surprise to anyone who knew why he always tapes his fingers when he wasn't on the basketball court, or who waited after practice while he carefully trimmed and filed his nails so that no stray rough edge could catch on the ball and throw off his shot, or who made the mistake of assigning him dishwashing duty during a team training camp and failing to bring dishwashing gloves such that Midorima spent the rest of the night stopping every ten minutes to rub more lotion into his hands lest they dry out and crack.

Takao, as the team member officially in charge of wrangling Shuutoku's eccentric first-year prodigy, had learned early on that nothing short of an immediate threat to life or limb was important enough to interrupt Midorima's hand care routine. Takao had offered to help once to try to speed the process along, but he had quickly learned that Midorima trusted no one but himself to do it properly.

It wasn't until late in their third year that Takao even considered trying again. They had just finished one of the hardest games Takao had ever played; they won, but it had taken a lot out of their team's shooting guard. Midorima was sitting by the lockers with his towel over his head, a look Takao knew meant Midorima was trying to recharge enough to finish changing.

Takao sat down on the bench next to him and picked up his hand. "Hey, Shin-chan," he said, tracing the lines on Midorima's palm, "almost ready to get going? The bus is going to leave soon."

Midorima looked at him. He didn't have to say anything. Takao knew that look well; it was the look that said "are you kidding me?"

"Can I help?" Takao asked, trying not to let his nervousness creep into his voice.

Midorima didn't agree, but he didn't stop Takao either when Takao took the tape out of his bag and began tearing off long strips. He let Takao turn his hand over and begin wrapping the tape up the length of his fingers.

Takao hadn't offered since his first year, but he had practiced since. Midorima made it look easy, but it was deceptively difficult to make the tape lie flat and even. Takao hadn't known if he would have ever have a chance to show off his practice, but he had wanted to be prepared just in case.

Now, he was glad for his foresight. "Let's go, Shin-chan," he said, pulling Midorima up by the hand when he finished. The way Midorima draped himself over Takao in an awkward hug was worth every roll of tape and hour of practice.

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, B3, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Nijimura/Himuro
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: drop of a star
Word Count: 420

***

Shuu looks at Tatsuya sometimes, when he thinks Tatsuya’s not looking, with awe in his eyes, almost. He used to be better at hiding it, before Tatsuya left, but back then Tatsuya never really knew how to handle it. He still doesn’t now, not as much; Shuu knows him, his messy self, the flaws he tries to hide or gloss over, and he still looks at Tatsuya like this, like he’s the drop of a star or something.

It’s flattering, in a way. Tatsuya knows he’s pretty, but this isn’t just because of that; this is so many things, the same stuff that makes Shuu hold him close at night, suggest they go bike-riding again, play ten one-on-ones in a row with him even when he’s dead tired because he knows Tatsuya wants to (and Tatsuya tries not to abuse that privilege too much, really; he can tell when Shuu’s hitting his limits and usually stops before they get very near the edge).

Shuu has seen him fight; Shuu hates fighting and avoids it if he can, but he will, poison on his face as if it kills him a little bit more each time. Tatsuya has no such hatred for the action, only for himself afterwards when the violence clings to him like plastic wrap tangled on its roll, the blood on his knuckles, the bruises all over his body, the sweat stickier and more sinister than that which clings to him on a humid day, or after basketball practice. Shuu has seen Tatsuya do this, no reservations, and still looks at him like that.

“How long?” Tatsuya asks, looking past Shuu, into the late-afternoon sun, shielding his eye.

“Until you believe it,” Shuu says. “Because you are.”

He is not; there are still some ugly parts of him, gaping black holes that Shuu can’t see, that he doesn’t want Shuu to see—he wants Shuu to think well of him, but not this well; it’s a paradox that tears him up sometimes.

“I’m not like that.”

Shuu kisses him, rough and wanting, and this is the language Tatsuya knows how to speak, the debate he knows how to win, even if Shuu won’t concede on the other. Shuu’s fingertips graze his waist, skim up his torso, fist into his hair, and Tatsuya wants to melt and cry. Instead, he just kisses back, long and fierce; if this is all Shuu remembers of him when it’s all over, then it might just be worth it.

Re: FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, B1, G

[earlgrey_milktea]

i want to?? hold this and tuck it close to my heart?? it's so soft and quiet and warm and just. loving. the familiarity between them, the quiet understanding, the simple sitting together and touching. it's so comforting. i just. love this a lot, thank you so much

FILL: TEAM OTABEK ALTIN/YURI PLISETSKY, A1, T

[beltenebra]

(Please delete all text in parentheses as you go. LEAVE THE HEADER HTML ALONE or the bonus round scoring program can't parse your comment. Don't forget a comment subject, especially which square you're filling!)

Ship: Bokuto/Kuroo
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: harmless pranks, Jello, Bromance, Huge crushes, kissing, mild swearing
Square: neighbors playing harmless pranks on each other AU
Word Count: 673

On to number 2!

***

It started innocently enough. Bokuto was going out of town for a week and he asked Kuroo to water his plants a few times while he was gone. He handed over a spare key on a cute owl key chain with a big grin and a friendly thump to Kuroo’s shoulder.

They were best bros now, despite the volume of Bokuto’s music - which made Kuroo regularly and vociferously express his concern for Bokuto’s hearing - they hung out several times a week and talked just about every day. Bokuto was endlessly enthusiastic and incredibly easy to spend time with. They clicked immediately and their friendship had improved Kuroo’s life immensely.

He had the keys to Bokuto’s place… he had to fuck with him, right?! ‘Sure,’ a traitorous voice in his head whispered. ‘Fuck with him. Riiiight.’

Of course he watered the plants as he had promised. He also drew a little face, bandanna and gun on a questionable carton of milk so it looked like it was holding you at gunpoint instead of throwing it away. It was going bad, after all. He was hilarious, Bokuto was sure to agree. He might also have rigged a box of packing peanuts above the bathroom door. Whoever played just one prank at a time, that would be weird.

Bokuto came back from vacation and though Kuroo was waiting for his reaction, given Bokuto’s habits he expected an immediate text, he never mentioned it. Kuroo remained mystified until he had an academic conference in Kyoto over a long weekend and came back to find every item in his fridge had been individually plastic wrapped. Kuroo unwrapped a bottle of water and grinned. Ah, so it was going to be like that, was it.

They had keys to each other’s places so it wasn’t exactly like they were breaking in to prank each other but about once every week or two they would take turns setting up some harmless prank. Ok, Kuroo wouldn’t have called the time Bokuto replaced his orange juice with god only knows how many Kraft dinner cheese powder packets mixed with water harmless exactly. He must have spit that crap halfway across the kitchen. But he got Bokuto back pretty good for that one by Ziplock bagging Bokuto’s TV remote, fitness tracker, and mp3 player and setting them in a variety of Jello flavors.

Kuroo had come downstairs to witness that discovery in person. Bokuto shouted with ill-disguised glee when he discovered each one while Kuroo laughed helplessly.

“Dude! That was a GOOD one,” Bokuto enthused, his hands full of Jelloed devices. “I’m going to have to think hard about something to top that!”

Blame it on the high of a successful prank or the sparkle in Bokuto’s eyes or maybe the fact that he’d been head over heels since basically the day they met but Kuroo couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward to kiss Bokuto if he’d had the presence of mind to try.

It was pretty tame as far as kisses go, more of a warm, affectionate press of lips. Kuroo pulled back gently, hoping to see the lightness he felt reflected in Bokuto’s smile. The vulnerable, crestfallen look on his friend’s face knocked Kuroo back a step.

“I know we’ve been messing with each other but that… that isn’t funny, Tetsu.”

He hoped Bokuto could hear the sincerity in his voice, “I wasn’t kidding, Koutarou. I’m crazy about you.”

It took a breathless moment for the switch to flip and happiness rise in Bokuto’s eyes but a second later Kuroo found himself locked in what had to be the world’s best hug.

“I’m happy, Tetsu,” Bokuto said, voice slightly muffled from pressing his face into Kuroo’s neck.

“Me too, Kou,” he answered, wrapping an arm around those strong shoulders.

“Don’t think this is going to stop me from lubing up all of your door handles or whatever.” He could feel Bokuto’s grin against his skin.

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh, “I would expect nothing less.”

FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, A2, T

[dynamite]

Ship: imaizumi shunsuke & manami sangaku
Fandom: yowapeda
Major tags: tags omitted
Other tags: typical warnings for persona 4 shadow things, implied death of self
Square: The Fog
Word count: 508

murder manami is such a fanon trope i'm lol


***


The fog turns the world to shadows. It creeps into the unguarded space between the sure step and the unsure breath, and Imaizumi doesn't feel the warmth of the sun slip from his side until it's too late.

When Imaizumi looks behind him, it's only the winding path of the road stretched grey and treacherous and unending into the fog. The thin blue plastic of his glasses slip uneasily as cold sweat beads down his hairline, down the straight line of this nose, and then they're flying off his face as sinuous shadows trip him. He thinks he can hear a smile somewhere in the dark, but how do you hear the sound of a smile at all?

This is not the landscape of his heart anymore.

The pavement is rough against Imaizumi's back, loose grit tearing into the palms of his hands as he tries to drag himself away. He can barely feel his legs with the weight of this world on him. The air is damp, a chill that clings to the thin cotton of his shirt and sends goosebumps up his arms, and his heart beats too fast and too scared, a jackhammer thundering against the cage of his ribs. He can hear his own breathing in a thin, strained whine and it’s everything for Imaizumi not to black out. The air here tastes like not even the air at all.

If Imaizumi thinks back far enough, he can remember only the soft chime of the doorbell and a gentle smile that grows bigger in the dark of the evening. Soft chimes, soft bells, the clear sweet sound of glass breaking.

Imaizumi's back hits a wall.

Manami is footsteps lightly treading through the shadows and a face that leans down to look at him. It's casual, like they have all the time at the end of the world. Imaizumi wonders if he had just imagined the gold of Manami's eyes, but the light is tricky in this place. Onoda had warned him. Onoda had been here just a moment ago. Onoda had been trying to tell him something but Imaizumi had been so consumed with the overwhelming press of his own anxieties he had curled in on himself, had locked away the hard thing inside his chest so he would never have to look at it again. This was not him.

"You're really good friends with Sakamichi, aren't you?" Manami's voice is so light, so easy. It might as well be fog, too. It's not looking for an answer.

Imaizumi doesn't even try to give one. He feels the shadow inside his heart try to answer anyway, and his breath comes frantic then, manages "What have you done with him," before the fog creeps up inside his heart, too.

The road isn't a road anymore, it's a classroom. It's a lonely bedroom. It's a hospital room. It's Manami humming to himself while he closes the door and the shadows inside of Imaizumi's heart take on Imaizumi's face and spill their blackness all over his hands.

FILL: Team Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, A3, R

[bandera]

Ship: Harada Masatoshi/Narumiya Mei
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: pt 3!!!
Square: A3: doves
Word Count: 1,000


BINGO
also this took forever and the last part was lame... gomen

***

In a remarkable and rare showing of grace, Mei concedes peace talks to their neighboring kingdom.

Tadano remarks on it as he helps Harada put on his armor, ceremonial and white golden and mostly useless. It's a complicated beast, and Harada hasn't healed enough to put it on himself, so it's necessary. Tadano's hands are kind, calloused palms on strong fingers; Harada's sure he'll take his place when he decides to retire.

His understanding of Mei is part of that too. "It's funny, that's all, senpai," he says, lacing the back of the armor so it fits snugly across Harada's shoulders, "Someone tried to kill him. I thought I'd be pulling out your battle armor for sure."

Harada doesn't snort, keeping his eyes closed, though perhaps a tic of a smile is evident in his voice. "Don't hold your breath. It could just be a ruse."

Tadano laughs, pulling the last leather strap into place and knotting it, "I don't know. I think Mei-san's..."

"Yeah." Harada cuts him off, because he doesn't need to say what they're both thinking. The atmosphere in the kingdom has changed, and for the first time in a while, things feel light--freer. Like when Mei first came to the throne, golden haired victory himself, carrying the hopes of the people on his shoulders and looking like it never weighed him down.

Harada steps away from Tadano and looks at himself in the tall mirror in his dressing room. He makes for an imposing picture in the kingdom's ceremonial armor, something custom ordered by Mei the day he placed himself in the throne. It's all white gold, the theme of the sun incorporated into the metalwork, gleaming even in the low light of the dressing room.

It's flashy.

He grunts. "The fact that he's having us all wear this means I'm taking it back."

Tadano laughs, behind him, and gives him a sympathetic pat on the back. The lightness of the moment is refreshing--though it doesn't really take away from his irritation at all the pomp and circumstance, Harada doesn't really mind.

--

The flashiness suits Mei, to be certain, but there's something about it that wasn't there before.

The ceremonial aspect of the peace talks--the end of a war--shouldn't need to be done in front of a thousand people, but Mei is still Mei and some things about him will never change. He stands in front of a tall, thin curtain separating him from the waiting crowd outside, as dignitaries are introduced, laid with green and gold laurels as they duck their heads under the fingers of Mei's closest two advisors.

Harada comes up behind him. They're to walk out at the same time, unsurprising, and he takes the moment to asses Mei. His shoulders are drawn back, but his head's bowed, eyes closed, the crown on his head just a little askew. It's a moment of pensiveness, and Harada doesn't break it.

He looks good. The sunlight dappling through the translucence of the curtains makes the armor gleam onto his skin, casting Mei in a white, golden light, making his shadow seem larger than he really is. It's the first time in ages that he's made a truly public appearance, and Harada can see it weighing on his shoulders, watching him for a reaction, a change of mind.

His crown's a little crooked.

Harada doesn't make his presence known; he steps up behind Mei and puts his hand between his shoulders, palm against his spine. Mei looks up at him, not startled, but searching, looking for an answer to a question he hasn't voiced out loud.

With his other hand, Harada reaches forward and adjusts the crown.

Mei doesn't breathe as he does, perfectly still, his head tilted up. Maybe Harada should say something--but perhaps one of the strengths of their relationship has always been the ability to speak without it. He pauses, pulls the golden ring to the top of Mei's head, and lets his hand drop down to rest against his cheek.

(Mei has always seemed so small standing next to him. Harada liked to say the he had a small personality, that he was a small person, but in reality, Mei stands as tall as he does, his pride and his strength making him look like he could move mountains. Harada always believed he could.)

Tilting his head, Mei doesn't need to say anything, either--won't, if Harada knows him as well as he knows he does. He just closes his eyes and exhales, his cheek warm under Harada's hand, the thumb that traces his cheekbone unconscious and necessary, and then pulls himself away.

His gaze is brilliant and blue before he hears his name called--his majesty, King Narumiya--and Mei turns back to the crowd when Harada pulls the curtain open. It is the first time in months that they've cheered.

--

When Mei and the king of the neighboring kingdom sign the peace treaty, Mei's flair for the dramatic rears its head: there's a bit of fussing behind the balcony, and Harada stands guard as a hundred doves fly free from their confines and sail off into the sky, ruffling his hair with their feathers as they soar past his head.

Mei turns back to him and smiles, as the crowd below erupts in delighted cheering and screaming. It's honest; it reaches from cheek to cheek and brightens up his eyes, blue as the sky behind him, and Harada feels the warm burn of tears at his eyes.

Harada has often said that Mei rarely shows his true feelings. Perhaps, when the cheering has ended and they step back inside, alone, when Mei steps forward and presses his face against the front plate of Harada's armor, his hands coming up to curl in the back of his undershirt, he can admit that he's bad at it too.

For now, he closes his eyes, drops his chin on Mei's head, and lets the warmth of victory--a real, true victory--allow him a smile.

Fill: team otabek altin/yuri plisetsky, C3, G

[marks]

Ship: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major tags: None
Other tags: None
Square: room of requirement
Word count: 1027

other pairings implied again. tic tac toe! i'm gonna try to fill more of these out, but probably won't finish before the deadline.

***

Most of the time, Tsukishima didn’t mind being a half-blood. It meant he didn’t have all the inbred baggage that purebloods like Kageyama had, but he also wasn’t a complete moron when it came to the magical world, like Hinata. But sometimes living half in the Muggle world, half in the magical world really sucked, like when he couldn’t find Yamaguchi and he couldn’t just text him from across the castle like normal people could.

By the time Tsukishima got to the seventh floor, he thought he probably should have given up. And honestly usually he would have, but –

“Dammit,” Tsukishima muttered under his breath.

Earlier that day, Tsukishima and Kageyama had been fighting about… well, everything. It started out logically enough, Tsukishima arguing that since they all could change now, they should all be able to come along whenever Kageyama had his werewolf thing going. But then Kageyama said that Yamaguchi’s guinea pig was useless, and Tsukishima’s face went blank and the next thing he knew, he was telling Kageyama in detail about seeing Hinata and Yachi kiss, back when Hinata was the only one who could change. And it got the result Tsukishima was after; Kageyama looked angrier than before and about two seconds away from punching Tsukishima in the mouth, and it made Tsukishima feel awful.

And that was before Yamaguchi’s face went weirdly blank and he walked off, snapping that he wanted to be left alone when Tsukishima tried to stop him. And he said it like that, too: “Tsukishima, leave me alone.” Just hearing his real name out of Yamaguchi’s mouth had frozen him to the spot.

Tsukishima sighed and ignored the pit in his stomach. He just had to find Yamaguchi, and then he’d figure out how he could fix things. He was thinking that, too – I need to find Yamaguchi – when he leaned against an ugly tapestry and fell right through the wall.

“What the fuck?” he muttered to himself, rubbing his ass as he stood up. Tsukishima didn’t know where he was, but wherever it was, the room was cluttered and the walls were stained and singed, like some disaster had happened there long ago but the room itself had mostly forgotten about it.

“Tsukki?”

Yamaguchi’s face was a little puffy and he had dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and the pit in Tsukishima’s stomach that he was ignoring got a little bigger.

“What are you doing here?” Yamaguchi asked, and thank god for small favors because at least he sounded normal.

“Looking for you,” Tsukishima said. He suddenly wanted to reach out, but he kept himself still. “And here you are. Uh. Where are we?”

Yamaguchi swallowed. “The Room of Requirement? I think?”

Tsukishima wrinkled his forehead. “I thought that got destroyed years ago.”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi said, and laughed. “Me too. I guess the room didn’t get the memo.”

Yamaguchi looked at Tsukishima, then looked behind him, then back at Tsukishima again. He got that determined look on his face he always got, the one Tsukishima wished he didn’t like as much as he did, and walked the few steps to the place he’d been looking. He sat down on the floor and, after a second, Tsukishima joined him.

There were stacks of pictures there, ones of just the two of them first, riding brooms or posing with Akiteru or waving to Yamaguchi’s father before they boarded the train on their first day at Hogwarts. Then, there were ones of them getting older; Tsukishima looking annoyed with Hinata during Herbology in second year, or Yamaguchi grinning with Yachi in the stands during Quidditch, back before he became a Beater. And there were more: Kageyama and Hinata sucking at Wizard Chess, Tsukishima and Yachi during Potions, Kageyama covering his mouth when Yamaguchi told a joke in the Great Hall. Then one Yachi took of the two of them, Yamaguchi’s grin for the camera wide and easy, his arm around Tsukishima’s shoulders, and Tsukishima slowly turning his head to look at Yamaguchi, a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth.

That one was hard to look at. Tsukishima felt like everything was spelled out on his face.

“That’s my favorite,” Yamaguchi said.

Tsukishima watched his picture self turn and smile at Yamaguchi again. “This was what you required?”

Yamaguchi shrugged. “I guess so,” he said. “I guess I just needed proof that we’re all friends.”

Friends. Tsukishima felt his shoulders sag just a little.

“Or maybe more than friends,” Yamaguchi said tentatively. He switched the picture to one of all five of them, the one Sawamura had taken at the beginning of this year.

“Oh,” Tsukishima said. Then, after a beat, “All of us?”

Yamaguchi shrugged. “Maybe. It’s weird, right?” Then, he laughed, a little hysterically. “But I want a lot of impossible things.”

Tsukishima didn’t answer. Instead he shoved Yamaguchi to the ground and kissed him, and Yamaguchi kissed him back, clutching at Tsukishima’s back. It felt like Yamaguchi was trying to keep him in place, like Tsukishima was likely to float away and never return. But all Tsukishima wanted to do was kiss him again, his hand on Yamaguchi’s jaw, his tongue inside Yamaguchi’s mouth. And he wanted Hinata and Yachi to walk in on them, the same way Yamaguchi and him had done to them. Maybe he wanted a lot of impossible things, too.

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” Yamaguchi said, once they’d pulled apart, still holding hands. “You’re braver than me, Tsukki.”

“No,” Tsukishima said. He really wasn’t. He still only thought the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor because it was Akiteru’s house first. “I’m sorry I upset you before.”

“It’s okay,” Yamaguchi said. “We’ll convince Kageyama that I can be useful.”

“If not, you can just ride on my back.”

Yamaguchi snorted. “Are you still mad you’re a horse and not a dinosaur, Tsukki? Horses are very intelligent.”

“I’m over it,” Tsukishima said, sitting up and adjusting his glasses. “Could have been worse. Dolphins are very intelligent, too.”

Yamaguchi snickered, back to his normal self, and they were still holding hands when Tsukishima pulled them back through the wall again.

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, C2, G

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Midorima/Kise
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: smiles
Word Count: 433

***

The first time Midorima had smiled at Kise had been back at Teikou, before everything had gone to shit, before Kise was even a regular on the first string. He’d been watching Midorima at practice, trying to copy that long shot from across the court, his own bouncing off the backboard or sailing over, underselling and bouncing to roll out of bounds, hitting nowhere near the net.

“You’re not strong enough yet,” Midorima had said, looking at Kise’s arms.

Kise had happened to have very nice arms, thank you very much; he’d been a model after all, and they’d gotten a little more defined after he’d started taking basketball sort of seriously.

“Work out, then try,” Midorima had said, as if dismissing Kise.

He hadn’t smiled, then, but he had after Kise had spent more time training, going a little harder on his arms and watching them firm up, define, turn into something better, and Kise had taken a shot from half-court. It hadn’t been Midorima’s shot, per se, but it had counted for three, and Midorima had shot Kise a small smile that Kise had thought was reserved for Akashi and maybe Murasakibara. And that had been a victory (who gave a damn about the game) and had given rise to the uncomfortable notion that maybe Kise had had a crush on Midorima.

Of course, it’s way more comfortable now that Midorima has to stop himself from smiling at Kise sometimes and still can’t, the way his serious face crumbles away into something kinder, gentler. Kise has always been an easy smiler, but he saves the real ones, the ones he feels deep inside of him, resonating, for Midorima.

Midorima notices; he’s bad at reading people but he knows Kise better than his favorite book, well-worn and dog-eared; he’s flipped through Kise’s pages time and time again, read the sections out of order, faced him on court, ordered him dinner and known exactly what he’d wanted (the reverse is true, too, but Midorima’s so habitual and predictable that it doesn’t count on this end), kissed him the right way after Kise had told him not to hesitate so much.

Any of that on its own would be deserving of a real smile, but all of it combined comes full-circle, all the smiles Kise doesn’t want to give dragged out of him (and so maybe, in this way, he and Midorima are alike, smiling even when they wouldn’t, maybe shouldn’t, from different spins but the same result, like those half-court shot, Midorima’s rising arc and Kise’s gentle glide).

Re: FILL: TEAM OTABEK ALTIN/YURI PLISETSKY, A1, T

[greenowl]

Death by fic fill. This is just plain illegal, illegal illegal...this is the most bokuroo thing I've ever read I love u

PROMPT: TEAM GRANDSTAND

[psiten]

Ship: Inui Sadaharu/Kaidou Kaoru
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Major Tags: None.
Other Tags: None.

Prompt:

Thousands of lights weave through the city	The evening sun staining the sky red beckons	Spending night after night alone until I could break
Now I'll steal away your extravagant strength without a trace	I flit around the sky still in my cocoon and someday I'll hold my dreams	The face I make at the tall roadside trees says I'm tired of waiting
I grasp this in my fingertips	C'mon whining is easy	A kicked can clinks as it rolls away

FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, A1, T.

[intricacies]

Ship: oikawa/kageyama
Fandom: haikyuu
Major Tags: harassment, dubious consent
Other Tags: psychological horror, supernatural elements, unhealthy power dynamics, oikawa is a vampire (again)
Square: if I put my hands around your wrists would you fight them?
Word Count: 401 words

***

What you learn in the first few days of being in this mansion is that vampires are so, so much stronger than you will ever be, no matter how much you struggle.

Oikawa is a particular type of terrible, because he's beautiful in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat, so beautiful that sometimes you forget what kind of monster he is when you watch him from meters away. But now he's so close that you can feel his breath falling apart on your skin, fangs on the verge of sinking into you.

He's smiling—and he smiles so much that you can never tell whether to hate or admire it, how much it adds to his features.

"Tobio-chan," he croons and aligns himself with you; his edges press into yours with his thigh between your legs, so, so close. "What are you doing here, hm?"

You should've known he'd find you slipping into his room in search of the things he'd taken from you when you first arrived. They're on his dresser a few meters away, but you're trapped on his bed, caged against his body. The fear is beginning to settle in, striking you bone-deep, and you move because you need to get out of there— Anything—

When you struggle, he's quick to pin you down, hand on your wrists. His fingers are locked in tight, and you learn how useless human strength is against a vampire's.

"Can I have you?" he asks and you find yourself captured by his eyes, frozen into place. Then you can see his fangs under that razor smile and remember the feeling of him in your flesh, drinking you dry; the burning that gives away to something softer, enough to melt you into him, pliant under his fingers.

Oikawa chuckles at your silence as if he's expected it, or finds it amusing. It's hard to read him with all his contradictions, but he promptly lets you go and lifts himself up from the bed, somehow already satisfied. And you aren't ready to test him just yet, anxiety lodged in firm, so you move away from him, away from your things, out the door.

Once you're in the hallway, you take the time to check your hands. They're unscathed, but you see the beginnings of circling bruises around your wrist, where he had locked his fingers tight. A different type of mark.

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/OIKAWA TOORU, B2, G

[sotongsotong]

Ship: Kise Ryouta/Kuroko Tetsuya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: poetry fill, light angst
Square: can i be your hurricane
Word Count: 31 lines



***

His presence
slips through
your fingers, like the grains of
sand you tried
to cup into buckets
as a kid.

A flashback: you
grab your yellow shovel, you
stab it onto concrete,
the plastic handle comes
off, dangling like a
carrot stick.

You think of it
now, that little broken
piece; when did it lose
the right
to be part of
a whole thing?

And now,
the present: he
buries himself
deeper, away from
any sort of digging
and nothing short of
a hurricane
will be able to blow off
the mound he's hidden
in.

(But you bring no wind;
just a lonely
whim.)

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, B3, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Midorima/Kise
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: trust
Word Count: 433

***

“It’s Game Seven of the Finals. A few seconds left; you have the lead and the possession. Who do you trust with the ball?”

What kind of question is this? Midorima tries to be patient with the American reporters, but it fails half of the time because their questions don’t make sense.

“Any player in the NBA right now,” says the reporter.

That’s stupid, illogical; most of the players in the NBA right now will never come to Boston, and Midorima’s not leaving; even if he makes the finals every year that situation won’t come to pass with more than a few players (if that) as his choices. Midorima tries not to sigh.

“Yourself?”

(That’s the wrong answer, even if it’s true, and—well. He’ll never play for the Celtics; he’ll never leave the west coast and all of its shining glory, but.) “Kise.”

“Kise? From Golden State?”

Midorima nods.

-

“Wow, Midorimacchi, I'm flattered!” says Kise.

His voice is bright over the phone; he pretends to wake up like that but Midorima knows firsthand what Kise’s routine is like, all the caffeine practically pumped into his veins (though if he said anything about that, Kise would probably try the literal meaning) and all the makeup caked on, rubbed off, and reapplied.

“Flattered about what?” says Midorima.

“You said you’d trust me in Game Seven!”

“Well,” says Midorima. “The question doesn’t really matter; it’s not like such a hypothetical situation could happen, where I had any NBA player at my disposal—”

“Stop equivocating, Midorimacchi; that’s not cute,” says Kise.

“I’m not equivocating,” says Midorima.

“Yes you are,” says Kise, in a terribly uncute singsong voice of his own.

“I’m not. But, provided you were on my team, not playing against me, then—well.”

Midorima coughs. Shit.

“You’re my boyfriend,” says Kise. “I expect you to trust me, you know.”

“I didn’t answer you because of that,” Midorima snaps. “You’re a good basketball player.”

“I’m better than good,” says Kise, “But thank you.”

Somehow, it always feels like Midorima loses these arguments.

-

“It’s Game Seven of the Finals. A few seconds left; you have the lead and the possession. Who do you trust with the ball?”

“Myself!" Kise chirps.

The reporters eat it up, stupid and annoying as they are, because somehow Kise can always get away with that stuff. Midorima texts him a succinct GO DIE before turning off the TV.

My real answer’s you, you know, Kise texts him back. But it’s a secret.

Midorima buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t have time for this.

Fill: team kanzaki miki/miyahara, A2, G

[elucidatedlucy]

Ship: Manami Sangaku/Teshima Junta
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major tags: None
Other tags: Supernatural elements, non-canon pronoun usage, sorry
Square: Heavy Rain
Word count: 728



***

Pleasant days are usually the only ones where Manami meets anyone. Easy days, they tire and sink to the earth in quiet warm melancholy they can't place, and amble on bikes, instead of taking a world by storm. Before they met Miyahara, they carried a dreary rain everywhere they went, a bone deep sickness that turned the world gray. But she carried umbrellas and bright red boots, and Manami grew till tripping in puddles no longer made them ill.

And life was better.

The world grew under their feet till they no longer had to touch it.

Till they forgot there was a reason.

One day, a boy was huddled in a shelter. He had a familiar name. Manami came just in time, right as the rain stopped, he said - the moment they settled away from their storms and from their gales, and settled in the beams of sun cutting their way through the storms Manami brought.

"Don't worry about it," they told him. They did not think much of their own silent - 'please.'


---


"Don't worry about it," Teshima says, fiery and damp at the same time. "I mean, I'm only a few dozen miles away from civilization, in the middle of one of the worst tropical storms that I've seen in my life."

"Doesn't that make it a hurricane," Manami asks him, absently, not really asking at all.

"Weather is made of math," Teshima says. "I don't get to call things something they aren't."

It was very mathematical, they could say, that he managed to drag them down to earth with a lasso, after they dragged him kicking and screaming to another county, but Manami didn't really know anything about math. That was more Miyahara's thing. More than it could be Teshima's.

That was a fact.

Similarities weren't a question.

Teshima had dragged them to an abandoned farmhouse, the only thing he could find in weed wormed corn fields in the midst of heavy rain. They didn't have to walk much. At a point, rocks didn't feel like much of anything, and the rain pelting their face became needles so many times over they forgot there was a point in their life they had ever not been soaked. Bodies were strange that way.

Rain leaks through the roof, the bricks of an old fireplace, the wood planks beneath them. It pours straight down with every force gravity has to offer, like the ocean decided to evaporate and make its way downward again.

Teshima manages a flicker of fire, the most a weak storm wrangler like him can manage. They've never seen one so shoddy. But they've also seen few so foolishly stubborn. In the sky, it's fun - hilarious, even, after every time they've warned him like a demigod happy to play guardian angel. They've brushed past many. One caught them once. But Onoda was an accident.

This was on purpose.

"I guess the town needed rain," they hum. "It's not going anywhere now."

"I didn't know you were dragging this behind you," Teshima says.

"Yeah," they say. "People usually don't."

He opens his mouth - shuts it just as quickly. Like he noticed something, but when they turn, there's nothing. Instead, Teshima's staring at them.

"What's that mean," he asks.

They shrug.

"May as well play twenty questions," he says. "Not like we're going anywhere."

"I could," they say. "If you'd let me out."

"With that rain? That's like giving a child a toaster in a bathtub, and telling them that's how to fry all the fish."

Even, quiet, they say, "Or do you want the city to be flooded into the ocean."

"Why would you do that," he says.

"You said I don't keep my promises." The rope is loose. But they've done this many times before, they think. Rain makes them tired. "I guess we wouldn't know."

The rain doesn't stop. It's only when he puts a hand on their arm that Manami realizes they're cold. Chasing storms and cutting down wind. They don't know why people do that. In the same breath - they do.

"Not like I know anything," he murmurs.

They leave in a snap - a shock - an uncomfortable jolt in their chest, when he speaks.

They leave with the rain, moving it till trees rip free from the ground, moving it till the water recedes. Till the storm burns away.

But another always comes.

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, C2, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Momoi/Riko
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: Competition
Word Count: 504

reposted for format compliance

***

Their first match of the Winter Cup is against Seirin. Symmetry, but they’ll win this time. It’s got nothing to do with the way Satsuki’s boys already have Seirin written off without Kagami; they could be dressing a middle-school team and Satsuki would still prepare carefully because it’s against Riko. That’s not just out of any of the due respect she owes Riko because of their relationship, or because they’ve managed together, or because of Riko as a coach. It’s because Riko’s pretty fucking dangerous when she wants to be, which is all of the time.

“Don’t underestimate us,” Riko says, staring into the sky.

Satsuki’s gaze follows hers. “We won’t.”

“Good,” says Riko.

Her kiss is forceful and strong, reiterating, riveting the sentiment into Satsuki’s mouth (as if she could forget). It’s important, still; it’s good to be reminded of mistakes before she makes them. (She sets her alarm early enough to send a long good-luck text that Riko will pretend not to appreciate and to get Aomine up so he gets his complaining about not getting to face Kagami--not that he’ll phrase it like that--out of the way.)

Touou takes the court; Momoi stands behind them, nodding in approval of their straight backs and tall stances; they don’t leer so much as they intimidate with their presence. Seirin’s shootaround is fast-paced; they don’t look at Touou, giving off the impression of not caring, but looking at Riko anyone could tell that’s not the case. She’s pacing, the way she does when she’s truly nervous; the point of her pencil is attached to the clipboard. She’s frowning; she looks up and catches Satsuki’s eye. Satsuki winks; Riko blushes and sputters, turning her head to face the Touou backboard, acting like she’s getting more notes on the players. Satsuki doesn’t need to put her off-balance like this to win (and she’ll recover before the game, anyway) but all’s fair.

Of course, Riko’s strategies and hidden plays can only go so far. Asahina’s shoulders can’t, shouldn’t, hold the same weight that Kagami and Kiyoshi had held properly together; they can pass as crisply and effectively as they want, misdirect every shooting attempt, but they actually have to put the ball in the hoop. Aomine’s fast; Wakamatsu’s strong; they can block enough and make up the rest in their shots without even making a statement like the rattling dunk Aomine makes to start off the last quarter, bringing Touou’s lead back up to twenty points.

Riko is yelling at her team on the sidelines, clapping her hands; she’s not ready to give up, and no matter how much Aomine whines at her Satsuki’s not either.

Touou wins in the end; it’s decisive (and, as the far-better team, it damn well should be) but it’s not easy. When it’s Riko, it’s never easy, and every win is satisfying (every loss burns inside her like an eternal candle). She doesn’t apologize afterward, or offer consolation.

“Congratulations on your win,” Riko says.

Satsuki claims her prize as a kiss.

FILL: Team Daisuga

[pugglemuggle]

Ship: kageyama tobio / hinata shouyou
Fandom: Haikyuu
Major Tags: None.
Other Tags: weird awkward dumb boys being dumb
Square: B3: feather-light fingertips as they trace down bare skin
Word Count: 463

Thanks for all these cute prompts! These have been super fun~

***

“Hinata.”

Hinata pauses changing and turns around. Kageyama is watching him a couple lockers down, dressed again in street clothes except for his socks.

They’re the only two ones left in the changing room. It was their turn to clean up after practice today, and the others are already long gone, off to their respective homes. Hinata didn’t mind—Kageyama and him usually walked most of the way home together, anyways. What did it matter if they were a few minutes later?

“What is it?” Hinata asks. He sets down the shirt he’d been attempting to turn right-side out. “Did we forget something?”

Kageyama shakes his head, his frown deepening. He points a finger at Hinata’s chest. “What’s that?”

Hinata’s hand moves to cover the spot Kageyama gestured to, almost as a reflex. He knows exactly what Kageyama is pointing at. “Oh,” he says. “It’s a birthmark. I’ve always had it.”

Kageyama is still staring, despite the spot being covered by Hinata’s hand. He takes a step forward and asks, “Can I…?”

Reluctantly, Hinata moves his hand away.

The reddish-brown spot on his abdomen is coin-sized and oval-shaped. He’s always been a bit embarrassed of it, ever since changing in a middle school locker room. He knows plenty of people have birthmarks, and it’s nothing to be self-conscious about, but…. Well. He’s only a 16-year-old boy.

Kageyama walks forward a few paces closer to Hinata, his arm outstretched. When he’s close enough, he extends his hand forward ever so slowly and brushes his fingertips against the discolored skin on Hinata’s stomach. Hinata shivers.

“Do you have any birthmarks?” Hinata blurts as he tries to distract himself from the maddening sensation of Kageyama stroking his chest. “Why are you so interested in mine?”

Kageyama glances at him quickly, but just as quickly lowers his gaze again. “No birthmarks,” he says shortly. “Yours is enough for the two of us.”

Hinata isn’t sure if that’s meant to be offensive. He doesn’t think so, what with the softness of Kageyama’s expression. He looks almost… no, reverent isn’t the right word. Kageyama has never looked reverent in his life. But he does look… awed, maybe. A bit like when they first pulled off their miracle quick. He skims the edge of the mark again, just once, and then seems to come back to himself. He pulls his hand away.

“…Get changed,” Kageyama says. He grabs his socks and starts putting them on.

Hinata notices that Kageyama never answered his question. As he pulls his shirt back over his head, he can’t seem to shake the memory of Kageyama’s fingertips ghosting over his skin. Weird, he thinks. He brushes his hand over the mark under his shirt, softly, and then finishes getting changed.

It probably doesn’t mean anything.

Re: FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, B1 T

[fickle]

YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PROMPTED IT, YOU HAVE ONLY YOURSELF TO BLAME.

But I'm glad you're invested because GODS, I loved writing it. XDDD