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sportsanime2017-06-25 06:52 pm
referees) wrote in sportsanime2017-06-25 06:52 pm
Entry tags:
Bonus Round 3: FSTs
Please read this whole post before commenting to ensure that your team gets the most points possible.
RULES
- Submit prompts in the form of a short playlist (1-6 songs) and a ship from any of our nominated fandoms. Submit only the track listing and a link to where they can be listened to; the idea is for others to interpret what you present. You may also link to lyrics if you would like.
- Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Lilia & Sara). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Lilia/Sara). Please don't say "Any pairing," either.
- Create content based on the playlists of others! Fill prompts by leaving a responding comment to the prompt with your newly-created work.
- Fills may be in any form you choose (except for another FST of course) as long as they are inspired by/fit the mood of the soundtrack they are filling for.
- Remember to 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)
- 14 lines (poetry)
Format your comment in one of the following ways:
| If PROMPTING: | If FILLING: | If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant: |
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP]
| FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING]
| FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING]
|
Posts not using this format will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, regardless of what they contain. They, like all comments in this community, are subject to the code of conduct.
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 each (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
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!
FILL: Team Aoyagi Hajime/Teshima Junta, M (1/2)
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major Tags: So many. Death (implied), injury, blood, vomiting, illness (not explicitly named but it's cancer), mentions of suicidal ideation, vaguely implied drug abuse, mentions of emotional breakdowns/mental illness, the apocalypse basically.
Other Tags: It's Pacific Rim AU time, ya'll. Bad stuff happens. (Feel free to DM about specific possible triggers!)
Word Count: 2864
Okay, so, this got away from me, but the prompt really hit me over the head to write the sequel to THIS fill from SASO 2015, which I've been meaning to do for a very long time and just hadn't been able to get done. This fill should stand alone without reading the prequel, though.
This isn't exactly what you were asking for, I don't think, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Sorry? :p
***
Makishima’s living in London with his brother when the first Kaiju attacks hit. Their adopted island home feels like a time bomb tomb until the world realizes that the Kaiju only emerge on the Pacific rim. But any relief they feel from the realization is short-lived -- Great Britain may not be in danger, but Japan is.
“I’m going back,” Makishima tells his brother. Japan hasn’t been hit yet, but Makishima’s a realist. He knows it’s only a matter of time. Ren doesn’t try to stop him, but the hug he gives in the airport is just a little too long and a little too tight.
“Seeya, Ren,” Makishima says as he turns and leaves with a wave over his shoulder.
“Bye, Yuusuke.”
Makishima thinks that a simple goodbye as last words is just as appropriate as anything else.
There are two people waiting in the airport when Makishima stumbles his way off the plane, stiff from a twelve-hour flight and lack of sleep. Still, he can’t help but smile when he sees them. “Hey!” he yells, the stretch of his cheeks almost painful, and then Tadokoro wraps him up in a bear hug that lifts him off the ground and spins him around and echos with booming laughter, and for a moment Makishima forgets that the world is ending around them.
“Good to see you,” Kinjou says. He slaps Makishima’s shoulder when Tadokoro puts him down, then steps in for a tamer hug of his own.
“You too, doctor,” Makishima teases. Kinjou’s ears redden the slightest bit, and he looks deservedly pleased. He’s tried to explain his PhD research to Makishima more than once, with negligible success. Makishima’s proud of him anyway.
“Got any bags?” Tadokoro asks, already heading for the baggage claim before Makishima stops him and nods to his carry-on.
“Figured I wouldn’t need much,” he says by way of an explanation, and the jovial mood falls a little. Makishima coughs against the back of his hand.
Tadokoro clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yeah. Let’s… let’s go, then?”
If there’s one positive thing Makishima can say about Tadokoro’s driving, it’s that it certainly makes him forget any repressed fears he has over joining the Pan Pacific Defense Corps.
Kinjou, with his shiny new doctorate degree, is immediately snapped up by the physics department and the engineers, with barely enough time for a parting wave before Tadokoro and Makishima are ushered together through a whirlwind series of fitness assessments and psych evals and logic and reflex tests and dumped out the other side with initiation packets and the key to a shared dorm room.
And so they come to be a part of the historic first class of the Japanese division of the Jaeger Program’s Pilot Academy.
The class isn’t large to begin with, and it shrinks steadily as prospective pilots fail and drop out around them. The training is backbreakingly rigorous and they stumble to their bunks every night with barely enough energy to shower and make it into bed before they fall asleep. They go weeks without seeing Kinjou beyond glances caught across the mess at mealtimes. He looks dignified in his ever-present white lab coat, but his glasses are grimy more often than not and there are dark shadows circling his eyes, and Makishima frets over the change. Makishima himself, already skinny by nature, simply gets more wiry, and Tadokoro’s signature belly disappears under a mountain of hard muscle.
Someone slaps a tray of food down inside Makishima’s bubble of personal space and Makishima jumps and drops his chopsticks, nearly upending his plate in the process.
“I can’t believe we tied again, this is getting ridiculous,” says a loud voice right beside Makishima’s ear. “Scoot over a bit, Maki-chan,” he adds, and sits down half in Makishima’s lap before Makishima even has a second to respond.
“Toudou,” Makishima says through gritted teeth. He ignores Tadokoro’s knowing snicker in favour of trying to recover both his chopsticks and his dignity. Toudou is still talking about their scores -- the two of them have been leapfrogging for position since the start of the program, and what began as a heated rivalry has somehow evolved into a strange kind of friendship. Toudou’s roommate and his roommate’s assigned co-pilot join them at their table, scaring away a handful of mechanics who were sitting at the end.
The amount of deference pilot trainees get has always struck Makishima as something ridiculous. But then again, he thinks, with morbid practicality, maybe nobody wants to be around the dead men walking. Maybe nobody wants to get close to the people on their self-imposed death row. Maybe they fear that suicidal bravery is contagious. It certainly seems that way, sometimes, when Makishima meets Toudou in the Kwoon Room to spar between classes, and the perfectly matched fight becomes like a dance, a spinning, sweaty dance that has them both panting and laughing and yelling each other’s names until they collapse in a pile on the floor. And they drop their staffs to hold each other, panting and laughing and whispering each other’s names between damp, sticky kisses, because what’s a better place to find love than in the middle of the apocalypse?
“I can’t believe you two are getting a Jaeger first,” Toudou is grousing, having finished his meal and tucked himself up against Makishima’s side. He leans back to push at Arakita’s hip with his foot, and yelps when Arakita retaliates with a stinging slap of a chopstick to Toudou’s bare ankle.
“Of course we are, we’re fuckin’ fantastic,” Arakita snipes, and Shinkai grins his sleepy-eyed grin across the table.
Never to be outdone, Tadokoro gestures between himself and Makishima. “We’re next,” he says proudly, sharing the news of the morning, and his booming laughter is almost drowned out by Toudou’s shriek of indignant surprise.
Sometimes, Makishima doesn’t know how they all seem to be handling the pressure so well, when he’s scared to death and killing himself not to show it. But then he sees Arakita’s stockpile of pain meds, always in the front pocket of his pants, and hears Toudou’s nightmares through the walls, and he’s there for Shinkai’s nervous break, right before graduation. He’s there to rub Tadokoro’s back when he throws up in the middle of the night, and he sees Kinjou’s thousand-yard stare, still lost in his work even when they carve out a few quiet moments to just exist together. So maybe none of them are handling it.
He watches Wolfhound Demonic deploy for the first time with Arakita and Fukutomi at the helm, the last of the Mark Ones, and he cheers for them until his voice goes hoarse. He holds a shaking Toudou close, and leans into Tadokoro’s comforting bulk, and prays that they come back safe, trusting Kinjou’s silhouette up in Mission Control to guide them home.