sportsanime | Bonus Round 4: Quotes

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Bonus Round 4: Quotes

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

An oldie but a goodie—in this round, we draw inspiration from famous words said by other people.

Please read this whole post before commenting to ensure that your team gets the most points possible.

RULES

Submit prompts by commenting to this post with a quote attributed to a specific person or character, along with any ship/ot3/etc. from one of our nominated fandoms.
- Example: "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." -Friedrich Nietzsche
- The quote can come from almost anything—famous people, poetry, songs, books, movies, etc.— but please don't quote personal conversations you've had or overheard.
- Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Natsuo & Yuzuko). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Natsuo/Yuzuko). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!
Fill prompts by replying to the prompt with your quote-inspired fanwork.
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)

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. (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.) <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>	FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING] 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!) <strong>Ship:</strong> <strong>Fandom:</strong> <strong>Major Tags:</strong> (https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/1609.html, when applicable; otherwise write "None".) <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>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"/>. Thumbnails only, please; more info @ 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, [RATING] 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!) <strong>Ship:</strong> <strong>Fandom:</strong> <strong>Major Tags:</strong> (https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/1609.html, when applicable; otherwise write "None".) <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>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"/>. Thumbnails only, please; more info @ 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 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!

Page 117 of 171

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I'M SCREAMING. I totally didn't expect to get a fill for this fandom so thank you, oh my God.

“Tomoya, have you ever been on a date?” Robo blinks at him, passive as always.

WHATTA BEGINNING. Poor Tomoya! He's such a good friend and he Suffers so much.

I love that their preparations for a date is to go to the library and reading etiquette books instead of hitting up shitty pickup artist sites on the web. THESE ARE SUCH PURE GOLF-PLAYING YOUTHS???

Oh, Youzan is so straightforward, I love him.

Also I would never be able to leave a cat cafe, not even for the promise of makeouts, but then again, I'm not a teen so idk. And once again, Tomoya is such a good friend. I love this. ;___;

Ship: Akashi/Midorima
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 413

***

“Your Majesty,” Midorima murmurs, bending over to brush his lips across the back of Akashi’s knuckles.

Akashi lets him linger before lifting Midorima’s chin, staring into his eyes, and then nodding, a silent bid for Midorima to rise, as Akashi sits, straight, upright, commanding, on his throne.

“Sir Midorima,” says Akashi. “You’ve been away a very long time.”

“Indeed, as short as my duties as your vassal would permit.”

“Quite,” says Akashi. “I hope you are not feeling overburdened?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.”

Akashi smiles; all of Midorima’s answers are as he expects and Midorima takes great care not to smile back. Not that Akashi does not bit him to smile, when they are alone; here they are in front of servants, courtiers, people who know them only as lord and vassal, king and champion.

“I look forward to hearing your report in detail,” says Akashi, nodding in dismissal.

*

The summer palace is large, wide; its grounds are full of vegetation, carefully cultivated; Akashi’s own herd of strong white horses is lodged in the stable, a few foals trailing behind their parents as they are let out in the wide pasture. Midorima’s own horse, a mild-mannered grey, is housed in the auxiliary stable, well away from the king’s herd. As it should be. Here, unlike the smaller, warmer winter palace, there is nothing but distance, the promise of a meeting but Akashi’s other priorities getting in the way, as usual. Midorima cannot begrudge his king this; the business he’d been sent on had not been urgent.

“Hello.”

Akashi steps onto the balcony, flanked by a nobleman; he gives him a pointed glance and the nobleman slides back through the door. “I know this is not ideal for a report deposition, but we’ll have that later. How do my subjects view me?”

“Quite well,” says Midorima. “They admire your rule, your steady hand of justice, your tax brackets.”

It’s not meant to come out snappy; Akashi knows this but he smiles briefly. “And you? What do you think?”

He’s stepped closer, face beautiful in the light.

“I,” says Midorima. “I approve. Though perhaps, if I were selfish enough to ask—”

“We’ll get more time together,” says Akashi. “I promise.”

He seals the promise with a kiss, his mouth royal, of the kingdom, but earthly, real, of Akashi the man as well as Akashi the monarch. That is more than Midorima could ask for, even at his greediest, but all of what he wants.

Ship: Aida Riko & Aida Kagetora, Aida Riko & Kiyoshi Teppei
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, implied/referenced incest
Other Tags: oh boy
Word Count: 879

I'll take my cocktail with a side of unease and foreboding, thanks.

***

Read on AO3

Ship: Akashi/Midorima
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 408

***

It’s not his fault; Midorima’s heard that from everyone. It's come from Takao, who hasn’t heard the whole story, Kuroko, who wants to hoard the blame for himself, Murasakibara, phrased differently. It's come from Akashi, abrupt but sincere, in a way that makes Midorima hurt and angry all over again, and then he feels guilty for all of that, emotions cascading down his back in a spasm. Teikou isn’t his fault; the collapse isn’t his fault; it’s not his fault he couldn’t bring Akashi back to the way he used to be.

It still feels like it, a faultine in his own expected perfection, something that’s tripping him up on a wire, preventing him from moving further ahead. He couldn’t; he can’t. He can’t forgive himself for that, for not being absolutely competent (and it’s not for once, it’s for all the many things along the way).

At least Akashi gets it; he stops saying it. There is a part of him that blames himself, too, that Midorima can see sometimes. Some of it was his fault; it’s not as if Midorima holds all this bitterness against himself and none against Akashi for not being the captain he had been earlier, for falling apart under something no one should have to withstand. It’s stupid; it’s easy to let go when he sees Akashi holding it against himself, something that’s so logically untrue, unsound. He can’t add to the burden of the grudge Akashi’s already got with himself, and so he doesn’t; he lets it fall away.

Akashi has forgiven him, too, in the same way; they had held each other in mixed regards, mixed feelings, mutual blame. Akashi forgiving him will not make Midorima forgive himself any faster, but it will make him want to try, make him want to hurry up and put all of this in the past. Because an Akashi who does not blame him, who holds out a hand, a forgiveness, who digs a grave for the axe and the sword, is an Akashi Midorima wants to please, all over again, just the way things were once upon a time. Things are different now, yes, for each of them, for the two of them, but it’s a bright future ahead, one that glares off of Midorima’s glasses, one they can head toward, hand in hand, on the way to something if not totally healed then close enough to it that they’ll close the gap.

OH MY GOD !!!! That was so cute T^T

"Haizaki might actually not care" So true I laughed so hard XDDD

And Midorima is also so cute, and so shy this precious tsundere :3

Thank you so much for this fill, I loved it<3

AWW T^T This is so good<3 The regal Akashi with one of his trustworthy vassal I love it thank you so much for filling it :3

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya, Hanamiya & Seto
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 420

***

Once, Imayoshi had been naive enough to suggest that Hanamiya was his shadow. Not to his face; he enjoys getting Hanamiya twisted but not about something he feels so serious about, not about something that maybe isn’t serious—but. Hanamiya follows him, listens when he says he doesn’t, takes note of Imayoshi’s passing, his leadership style. He’s quieter than most people (Imayoshi included sometimes) give him credit for when he wants to be; he knows how to observe, how to synthesize.

It’s probably better Imayoshi had said nothing, because Hanamiya’s not so much a shadow when he steps out himself. Imayoshi’s keeping an eye on the middle school championships for Touou; he and Susa as the best freshmen are sent out to do the gruntwork to prove themselves for next year; Susa spots a cranky-looking forward who’s got a lot of heart and endurance, and that should be good. Imayoshi’s not here for business, though; they have enough guards for now (not that they couldn’t use someone like Hanamiya) and Hanamiya’s probably committed elsewhere.

He is a monster of his own kind, perhaps taking inspiration from Imayoshi somewhere, but it’s hidden behind abstractions, punches that are no longer pulled at all except in the name of psyching his opponent out. He’s dirty when he doesn’t have to be; victory is just another object. How had Imayoshi left him alone like this? How could he ever have equated the two of them? He’s just a fool, isn’t he?

“That’s your middle school, huh?” says Susa.

Imayoshi nods. Susa says nothing, looks to the team on the court, Hanamiya and four players separate, and then back to Imayoshi.

A true shadow is a third kind of beast, not the trendsetter Imayoshi fancies himself, not the monster who grinds your bones and blushes like Hanamiya. Imayoshi knows this because Hanamiya picks up a real shadow in high school, a playmaker who is functionally useless without him, never on the court without Hanamiya and without the bright lights. Seto Kentarou isn’t as much of a basketball player but a tool, loyal, stuck to Hanamiya’s foot with the glue of physics, in a way Hanamiya never was to Imayoshi, even when he’d played up the role of kouhai to the point where Imayoshi had believed it to an extent. There had been no sense of loyalty with him then, not the way there is now. Imayoshi should have known all along that Hanamiya wouldn’t be satisfied without being the one who casts the light.

Ship: Furuya Satoru/Miyuki Kazuya
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: none
Word Count: 438

***

Furuya comes into Miyuki’s life with neither swiftness nor grace; there is simply an absence, then a presence, approaching Miyuki at the dinner table one spring evening.

He's no hand-wringing first year who asks the question with a wince; he's not a wannabe ace demanding that Miyuki catch his pitches. It's not even a demand. It's a statement delivered with finality, ended with a period, a fact.

Of course Miyuki tells him no. Where would the fun be in saying yes?

Furuya is someone who looks unimpressed by the very aspect of life itself. Not that he's depressed by living; he just looks bored by it, like a salaryman going through the motions of the same job he's been working for the past ten years. He gets average grades. His broad shoulders bump his classmates in crowded hallways, and while he doesn’t intend to be rude, he doesn't apologize. When it comes to baseball, Furuya’s face doesn't change, but there's a spark in his eyes. It isn't a flame aching to be doused in gasoline; it's unfazed by the strongest breeze. It regards Miyuki as an equal, and only then does Miyuki change his mind.

Some might call Furuya’s pitches powerful, or dynamic. Miyuki is of a different opinion; Furuya’s pitches simply exist. Sure, there are adjectives he would be tempted to associate with Furuya’s pitches, if Furuya bothered to own them with any flair. He just knows that the delivery into his mitt is guaranteed. That’s enough for Miyuki.

After a while, something changes in Furuya, just visible enough on the periphery for Miyuki to notice. It's the feeling of contentment, not a flimsy layer, but a faint aura of it, a soft glow to his skin that wasn’t there before, different from the depth that hours out in the summer sun has given him. It’s in the relaxed parting of his lips, no longer putting in the effort to keep them together in a vague frown. He doesn’t make much eye contact with Miyuki, or anybody, when he’s not on the mound, but his mouth twitches upward in a smile sometimes, briefly, when watching tape or some unseen nature documentary. How he fits in Miyuki’s arms when they’re spooning together on a cramped dorm room bed, legs tucked up so his feet don’t dangle over the edge, a solid weight, but not one that has to be carried.

There’s still a lot Miyuki has yet to learn about Furuya, and plenty for Furuya to learn about him. But what they have now, what is growing between them, feels sturdy, like the seams holding a ball together.

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 402

***

Imayoshi had thought there could be nothing worse than Hanamiya hating him, or Hanamiya thinking he hated him. He had neglected to conceptualize Hanamiya loving him, though, or Hanamiya loving him and thinking he hated him, insults bitten on Imayoshi’s lips when they kiss, Hanamiya rolling over and glaring after sex like that was it? Like he has no use for Imayoshi, like he’s trying to treat Imayoshi like a thing.

He cuddles close when they’re asleep, claims it’s because Imayoshi keeps the damn windows open all the time, and it’s cute shit like this that makes Imayoshi remember why he loves Hanamiya in the first place (if there is indeed a why of love, if it’s not all uncontrollable whim and chemical reactions). But he can love Hanamiya and resent loving him, the same way Hanamiya loves Imayoshi and resents it, smokes indoors just to get Imayoshi mad at him (he’s got a body and a future, and their only ashtray is outside). Imayoshi’s not quite so passive-aggressive about it, though he knows how to be snide; he knows how to counter Hanamiya’s remarks with sharp wit of his own. He doesn’t quite think about sinking sharp knives into Hanamiya; this isn’t that kind of relationship, as much mutual resentment as there is.

It would be better if Hanamiya had just hated Imayoshi, resented staying in his shadow, gotten annoyed with him and stayed that way, let Imayoshi pine on his own for those pale cheeks, the messy dark hair, those ridiculous eyebrows and big brown eyes, the way he tosses a basketball into the hoop, an art Imayoshi’s seen him practice and perfect, but that makes the finished product seem all the better, all the more impressive (if Imayoshi were moved by cute cliche underdog stories, but this isn’t that, the story of a talented boy applying himself and moving forward; that’s not likely to show up in any feel-good TV movie). It would be better if they could stay away from each other, if Hanamiya were truly repelled rather than attracted, if. If things that were not were, instead. It would be better, but loving each other, resenting each other, taking up each other’s spaces, snarling and snapping, is the best they’ve got. And it’s not like Imayoshi’s not to blame for not controlling himself; it’s not like, as things are, he’d have it any other way.

Ship: oikawa tooru/ushijima wakatoshi OR mashima taichi & kinashi hiro (or one-sided hiro -> taichi)
Fandom: haikyuu!! OR chihayafuru
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: none

Prompt:

"don't play stupid and handsome with me!" -- parks and rec

Ahh i'm so glad you liked it!! Thank you for prompting it! I put it aside when you posted it and wondered if i'd even be able to fill it, but i WANTED to. i've really been loving RxL.

OH GOD PUAs. Of course these good golf boys would never, but wow, robo learning about negging and thinking about how to properly pull it off is... something.

And thanks again for telling me to switch my subject! ♥

this is brilliant. :D

Ship: Kise/Kuroko
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 424

***

Kise hasn’t been to Tokyo at all in three years. He can blame his travel schedule and accommodating family members and endorsement obligations all he wants, but he could have made time. A weekend in the summer, one of his sisters’ birthdays, a quick getaway, a commercial shoot over there (despite the international costs). Coming back is strange, not the way it had been in high school when he’d been in the city at least once a week for a game or a shoot or some family thing; he’d left but he hadn’t been too far removed; the city had never changed much before he could see it.

New bars have replaced old barbershop in the neighborhood where his parents live, not the neighborhood Kise grew up in, the one they’d moved to halfway through middle school for a better commute for his dad and lower rent on a smaller apartment now that Kise’s oldest sister had left home. Along the way to the coffee shop, the one Kuroko has assured him is still there, it feels a little disconcerting. Old houses have been refurbished or replaced; street signs have been reinstalled with shinier ones, their stems not bent. Trees are pruned back, and a whole row has been chopped down. The cars that line the streets are newer models, the kind he’s used to seeing in Oakland but not here.

“What’s wrong, Kise-kun?”

Kuroko has a knack for seeing straight through Kise’s smile, maybe because people see straight through him most of the time. Kise shrugs.

“It’s not anything wrong; things are just different.”

His hand finds Kuroko’s knee under the table and he pats it; Kuroko slurps at his decaf vanilla latte. “That’s what happens in cities.”

Kise frowns; he knows; he’s seen the changes slowly before, shifting demographics and new construction, but it’s never been sudden, only when he cares enough to look back. Now he’s looking straight ahead and it’s hitting him in the face, and he doesn’t like it.

“Perhaps you should come back more often.”

“You should come see me, too.”

“I do,” says Kuroko (and he does mean outside of the few times a year their teams face off against each other).

“I know,” says Kise.

“It’s hard,” says Kuroko, a little bit of skepticism in his voice because even though it is hard, there are things a lot harder out there than first-class international flights, being rich enough to rent a room in any hotel until Kuroko gives in and Kise stays with him.

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 401

***

Lovely, sweet, darling, wonderful, yes, good, beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, perfect, angel, yes you, of course I mean that, sweet nothings turned to sweet somethings cascading down Imayoshi’s mouth and into Hanamiya’s like a stream of sweet water, a stream Imayoshi doesn’t intend on breaking until he runs out of breath, until his brain is burning with his lungs and he can’t think of anything he hasn’t already said, sarcastic or sincere or somewhere in between. He will, later, when Hanamiya’s lying between the sheets, his hair tangled and matted, sweaty and breathless and still so beautiful like this.

Words can only get them so far, the things they say and the things they don’t, the words Imayoshi pushes through the kiss that Hanamiya can choose to ignore (or pretend to) but never does, accepting sometimes but more often debating, rebutting, resenting the concept of being Imayoshi’s darling boy, as much as he says he wants to cultivate a particular image.

Perhaps it’s the way it seems mocking even though half the time it’s not, Hanamiya seeing the worst in everything; perhaps it’s that he expects, since Imayoshi’s always seen through whatever act Hanamiya’s putting on at the moment, Imayoshi to give him the truth. Somehow, Imayoshi reckons, words like spiteful bastard have a little bit less of a romantic affectation to them. And they wouldn’t get the same rise out of Hanamiya, even if he pretended to enjoy them more, and that’s what Imayoshi’s here for. He wouldn’t want Hanamiya if he were the picture of docile acceptance, if he would just be what he needed to be. People like that are so boring, so predictable. They have their places, their uses; they need to be if only in contrast to the rest; Imayoshi won’t begrudge them that simplicity.

But Hanamiya’s the crashing wave, the slow erosion, the crushed beer can under an expensive boot heel. Those are the things Imayoshi thinks while he whispers the simple things, and slips a few of them in there, too, a simple love poem turned to nonsense. He hears it all in the rhythm of Hanamiya’s breath when he sleeps, the rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of the hair that’s fallen over his mouth, the dent of his head on the pillow, the awkward way his elbow’s all twisted and his feet are all tangled up with Imayoshi’s under the blankets.

Ship: Shizuku Hanaoka &/ Kiyoharu Hyoudou
Fandom: Ballroom e Youkoso
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: thinking on what it means for shizuku's dancing career to depend on hyoudou

Prompt:

You helpless, foolish man,
I love you all I can,
I think. Or do I?
I take off my hat, unpainted
and figurative, to you.
Again I promise to try.

-- Elizabeth Bishop, "Manuelzinho"

Ship: Mako Akagi/Shizuku Hanaoka
Fandom: Ballroom e Youkoso
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: none
Word Count: 617

***

“You won,” Shizuku says, wearing her softest stage smile. “Congratulations.”

“Ah, thank you!” Mako blushes and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “It was thanks to Tatara, mainly.” Shizuku's smile tightens for a moment.

“Don't be so modest,” she chastises. “This was a partner competition. It was you who won out there. Remember that.” Mako is a rival, of course, but she is also a friend, and younger than Shizuku, and so no matter how upset Shizuku is at losing to her, she cannot bring herself to be discouraging. And despite the sting of losing, there is a part of Shizuku that is glad she lost, and doesn't have to partner with Gaju anymore.

“I look forward to competing against you in the future!” Mako smiles.

Shizuku smiles back and agrees. They both know that it is unlikely Mako will win against her again. This was her moment, perhaps her only one.

The judges and other dancers start calling Mako a doll partner, and Shizuku can see how it hurts. Mako practices hard, and she loves dance, but Gaju is such a presence that all her effort seems inadequate.

(Shizuku knows, too, that if Mako ever outshone Gaju, she would be accused of trying to eat him. There are so few ways for partners to win and be seen on their own terms.)

Shizuku sees how Mako hides her flinches at the words, and practices all the harder. Shizuku knows that, for all her work and Kiyoharu's care, there will come a day when she, too, is seen only as a doll partner. He'll advance beyond her, and look for a different partner (one more like Chinatsu, or Chizuru; a fellow monster) and she will have to gracefully accept it, and find a new leader of her own.

It will happen, one day, but she'll push it off as long as she can.

The competition is a small one, the kind she hasn't danced in in years, but she is D-rank again, with her new leader. He's a fine dancer, and she knows they will win this, but the chances of her ever reaching her old level are slim. It's good to dance, though. It is.

The B-rank dancers leave the ballroom, and Shizuku catches a familiar face among them.

“Mako-chan?” she calls, tentatively. Mako turns to look at her, and her face lights up.

“Shizuku!” she cries, and hurries toward her. She still dances Latin, Shizuku sees, her muscles glowing from having so recently danced. She'd wondered if, now that Mako was free of Gaju, she'd change and dance Standard. She'd always liked the dresses more. “It's good to see you; I haven't seen you since the last time you danced with Hyoudou.”

Shizuku winces, and lets Mako see it. She'd withdrawn some, after hers and Hyoudou's partnership dissolved. She'd needed the time to figure if she really did want to continue dancing, and to conduct interviews, and it was easier to do that without talking to her old dance friends.

“I needed some time,” she admits. Mako nods.

“I understand,” she replies, her lovely face open and sincere, and Shizuku can see that she really does. Of course she does. “It's hard to start over again. It's hard not to think of how things used to be. But Shizuku,” she steps forward and clasps Shizuku's hands in her own, “I think it helps to have someone familiar with you.”

Shizuku hears the music in the hall come to an end-- the C-rankers are finished. Her turn, now.

“I'll find you after the tournament,” she promises. Mako squeezes her hands.

“I will be waiting.”

(did you prompt this last year, by any chance? because i've definitely written chrismiyu for this quote. if you were the one who prompted it, i'll happily stick your name in the "gift to" line at ao3.)

(but also i hope more people do something with this, because it's such a good chrismiyu quote! *bookmarks to read fills*)

this is the through-line for this ship. (i know popular fandom headcanon is that their story is one of angst that only relents intermittently for sex, but i don't subscribe to that. :3)

in saso-related news, i fully intend to do something for this, but i might miss the deadline. (how do you feel about post-apocalyptic...?)

Ship: Futakuchi Kenji&/Kamasaki Yasushi OR Kunimi Hiro & Tachibana Hideo OR Kitamura Kou&/Tsukishima Aoba
Fandom: Haikyuu!! / H2 / Cross Game
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: None

Prompt:

"Somebody kiss that man so I don't have to."
— Eliot, Leverage

Edited 2017-07-16 20:20 (UTC)

Ship: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Fandom: Yuri!! On Ice
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: boys kissing, mild language (Yuri Plisetsky's potty mouth), future fic
Word Count: 1372

This quote is so perfect for them, I can't even. <3 I'm pretty sure they are both 100% convinced that makeouts are a normal part of the best friend package. :D

***

It was definitely Mila’s fault that Yuri couldn’t sleep. It had been a totally normal day: early morning run, practice, lunch, weight room, more practice, and dinner. Yuri was working on some ideas for the choreography of his free skate so he went back to the rink after dinner to try them out and Otabek tagged along like he often did.

One of the footwork sequences had gone really well and when Yuri came off the ice, flushed with exertion and exhilaration from running it perfectly three times in a row Otabek met him at the barrier, pulling him in to kiss his satisfied grin. There was no one around so they made out in the stands for a while, Yuri straddling the bench with one heavy skate clad leg thrown over Otabek’s thighs, Otabek turned towards him, hands threaded through Yuri’s hair.

He clearly had missed the string of texts Mila sent asking if he was still at the rink and could he check and see if she had left her iPod there. He was lost in the hot press of Otabek’s mouth, the slow slide of their tongues when he heard someone delicately clearing their throat.

When he opened his eyes Mila was standing there in clothes that looked like she was on her way out to a party or a club or something, trying (and failing) not to look like she was staring.

“Mila, hey,” Otabek greeted her with a nod as Yuri untangled their limbs.

“What are you doing here,” Yuri added with only mild annoyance.

She raised an eyebrow, “I can see you weren't checking your phone. I just stopped in to grab my iPod and now I’m gonna go.” Her eyes trailed down to where Otabek’s arm was still slung around Yuri’s waist.

He could see the wheels turning in her head - she was lingering but not saying anything. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied quickly before shifting back to her normal, breezy tone. “Just don’t stay too late, you know it makes Yakov cranky when he’s not hear to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry,” Otabek chuckled, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“...I’m sure you will. Ok, see you tomorrow!” She spun on her heel and left with a wave over her shoulder.

“So,” Otabek’s hand slid around the curve of Yuri’s hip and down a crucial couple of centimeters to squeeze gently. “Dinner or….?”

Yuri turned back quickly, pressing his face into the curve of Otabek’s neck and nosing along the line of his jaw. “Sure. In a few minutes.”

They made it to dinner not too much later and when they had gone to their own apartments they still spent an hour texting each other before bed. Yuri had probably only been asleep about twenty minutes when his phone chimed. He blinked in the dark, suddenly startled awake. Fuck, he’d forgotten to turn the ringer off. It chimed again in quick succession so he couldn’t just ignore it. He rolled over with a groan and thumbed the phone open.

Hag Mila: So how long have you and Otabek been dating?

Hag Mila: I mean, when he decided to move here to train I kind of suspected but you never said anything…

Hag Mila: And there was your expo skate last year of course. I mean, I’m not exactly surprised.

Yuri glared at the screen in the dark, like she could feel his ire if he tried hard enough.

What are you smoking. I’m not dating Beka.

Hag Mila: Come on Yuri, it’s fine. None of us are going to give you a hard time- well, ok. We probably will but no one will have a problem with it or anything. You looked pretty comfortable with Otabek’s tongue down your throat. Friends don’t usually do that kind of thing.

He rolled his eyes, fingers flying.

Fuck you, what do you know?!. I think I’d fucking know if we were dating. Now leave me alone, I’m sleeping.

He exited out of the message with a vicious stab and flung his phone back onto the table next to him. The light of his screen dimmed and the room was once again dark and quiet but Yuri’s brain hadn’t gotten the memo. Mila’s comments were ricocheting around his head, keeping him awake.

Of course he and Beka were friends. They did all of the normal friend stuff - they skated together and trained, in their off time they watched movies and sent each other texts and snapchats constantly. Well, Yuri sent snaps, Otabek mostly just provided running commentary on them. Otabek played him new music and Yuri made sure that when he went shopping Otabek bought at least one item per trip that wasn’t plain black. They spent most of their time together and sure sometimes they spent that time kissing. But that’s because they were best friends. He and Beka were fucking awesome friends.

Right?

Forty minutes of ceiling staring later he tried texting Katsudon. The response was nearly immediate but it was a string of very irate Russian that was clearly Victor using Yuuri’s phone so he didn’t pursue it. Georgi would probably just laugh at him and Mila caused all of this in the first place.

It was just past two and early practice waited for no one. But it might be worth a shot.

Hey. I can’t sleep. Are you awake?

Beka: Be outside in five mins. Bring a coat.

Yuri grinned in the dark. The best.

They went to the harbor, they both liked the sound of the water lapping at the docks. They sat on their usual bench, Otabek behind Yuri, his chin hooked over Yuri’s shoulder their hands intertwined. Yuri was getting taller, soon he’d have slump down more than a little to make this work but he thought that probably neither of them minded.

Yuri was incredibly comfortable with Otabek warm and solid behind him. He tried to make his voice match. “Beka, we’re friends right?”

“Best friends.” Otabek’s response was immediate and Yuri relaxed a little bit more.

“Yeah. That’s what I told her. Mila was talking all kinds of crap about us dating. We’re nothing like Katsdon and idiot Victor or Georgi and any of his insane girls.”

Otabek made a thoughtful sound and Yuri waited. He wasn’t usually a patient person but Otabek was always worth waiting for.

“We’re nothing like that, it’s true. We’re... really close.” Otabek’s voice was soft in Yuri’s ear, “I want to be closer to you than anyone.”

Yuri tightened his fingers around Otabek’s just a little, encouraging.

“Maybe for us, this is what dating would look like. I don’t know for sure but I do know that I like this. I like us so much.”

The quiet intensity of Otabek’s voice in his ear made him shiver a little. His voice came out softer than he expected. “Me too.”

“We don’t have to say anything or call this anything you don’t want to, Yura. We can just stay like this.”

“Good,” Yuri replied firmly before turning his face, lips brushing lightly against Otabek’s. “And we can keep doing this?”

Otabek answered by taking his mouth in one of those methodical, bone melting kisses that Yuri loved. The kind that woke every nerve in his body while his mind went quiet and still.

When they finally pulled away to catch their breath Otabek smiled. “I’m definitely ok with that.”

“Good.” Yuri forced himself out of the warmth of Otabek’s arms, standing to stretch and enjoying the way Otabek tracked the movement of his shirt riding up. He held a hand out to Otabek and pulled him up off the bench with a smile. “Now let’s go the fuck to sleep. This isn’t the first time we’ve gotten chewed out by Yakov for staying out all night.”

Otabek’s answering grin was wild in the moonlight, “And it won’t be the last.”

Yuri’s laugh was lost in the rumble of Otabek’s bike as they sped off towards home but he liked to think Otabek could feel it where Yuri was pressed up behind him. It was the best feeling.

Ship: Kominato HaruichI/Sawamura Eijun
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Major tags: none
Other tags: look at these nerds
Word count: 448

God dammient

***

There's few things as important as shipping to Eijun. Creating fanwork, looking up fanart and reading fanfiction of his favourite couples slowly falling in love... Whenever it's not baseball, all his time is taken up by doing that.

And he's not the only one in Seidou to be into that; Haruichi is, too. He's a genius at drawing just as much as at batting, really. Eijun is so glad to have met him, for that sole reason. He's so glad that Haruichi knows of SASO, too. And most of all, it's a true blessing to have Haruichi on his team. It's what he thinks, in the beginning, but then...

It turns out, Haruichi has some sick prompts up his sleeve. Or a lot of alternate universes, scenarios, lyrics, quotes... Sawamura can't sleep at night just thinking of these prompts...

Team Jail, it's a very real curse. God damn..

"Eijun, Do Not Even Think Of Filling This."

"Eijun nO."

"I swear to god, Eijun..."

"Close your Word Pad. Right. Now. This is not for you, Eijun."

"We're on the same team, Eijun..."

Damn that little devil... Haruichi... He knows how much Eijun craves to write the ships, Haruichi's prompting... and what nerve he has to leave notes for Eijun to not fill the prompts! It's irritating, unnerving, Eijun's hands itch. WordPad is indeed open, it's his favourite writing program... but it's blank, because all Eijun can think of is bits and pieces of prompts left by Haruichi. And he can't, really can't do that. As much as he wants to weave words about Victor and Yuuri falling in love underneath the polar lights, holding hands and whispering sweet confessions of love to each other, he just can't. Because they're on the same team, because he's been foolish enough to agree to this...

Sure, it has it's merits to have Haruichi there for main round entries, for ideas and brainstorming and art, but bonus rounds have become such a pain. It's so frustrating; it's like Haruichi can read his mind. It's like they have the exact same taste...

"Eijun-kun, listen, I'm sorry..." Haruichi tells him when they meet up to work on the part they have to do together for main round two. Eijun's been silent, but this time not really because he's mad. No, he's been contemplating... In a way, Haruichi is amazing. Sure, it's torture to be on the same team like this, but...

But isn't this perfect? Isn't Haruichi perfect? His taste is so great... Eijun thinks, he might have caught a feel...

"Please, say something?" Haruichi tries, again, distress audible in his voice.

"Go out with me, this Saturday, there's a day off of bonus rounds."

Ship: Sangaku Manami &/ Junta Teshima
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: i love this image and asked myself which characters would break into their own houses

Prompt:

"Losing the key, breaking in
With a spade, on
Down to the floor to the front
Door as evil or only
The brass of familiar luck.
If some surface would hold
Our hopes then show them to us."

-- Lucy Ives, "The Country House"

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 405

***

Hanamiya’s always been told to temper his expectations. It’s fine to let the rich kids from better families win; it’s fine if they do. It’s fine if the bigger kids win at basketball; he still has books. It’s fine if he’s second in the class; he doesn’t have to be the best. The people who tell him those things are insecure; they’re the ones trying to justify their own settling for fourth-best. Hanamiya’s not like them; he’s not going to turn out that way.

And then there is Imayoshi, not so perfect, smart enough to get good grades but slacking off in the library, texting inside a textbook; his class rank is unremarkable and yet he can solve college-level math problems in seconds. He acts like he doesn’t need any of this, like school isn’t important to getting what he wants, like he can have this—top grades, top spot on the basketball team—and he doesn’t even want it, the ungrateful asshole. What kind of sumg person waves around their intelligence, lets someone else take first with the knowledge that they did not truly snatch it out of the hands of an Imayoshi who tried? There’s no satisfaction in beating someone who’s given up unless they give up because of your might, your intimidation, when you rip them apart. But there’s no use letting people like Imayoshi know that, because then they’ll consider it their victory, because they couldn’t win on the score sheet, by whatever means necessary or some shit like that. It makes Hanamiya sick, a personality like that.

He turns it into a game of sorts, or tries to, getting Imayoshi to crack. It’s not as simple as tripping him up in the hall, breaking his knee; there’s a subtle way Hanamiya wants to go about this. He doesn’t care if Imayoshi sees, until he starts losing and decides this isn’t the kind of game he wants to play anymore. Losing’s no fun, especially to someone who’s not even playing at all (playing by different rules is fine; Hanamiya knows that all too well).

Still, sometimes Imayoshi lets him steal a kiss, a touch, as if to placate (please) or as if he thinks Hanamiya actually wants him. Dumbass, as if. But if he can pull the wool over Imayoshi’s eyes on this one, then it will be a victory in Hanamiya's book, and that’s the one that counts.

Ship: nanase haruka/tachibana makoto
Fandom: free!
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: it's meant to be mystical elements, but could be interpreted as mental health issues
Word Count: ~1125

notes: a lot of the time i read a prompt once, let it inspire whatever it's going to inspire, and go ahead with that without consulting the prompt again. so that's how we got here. :3

***

haru is sixteen when the voices start. at first he thinks they're just his imagination, or maybe a stress response to that night, the night he almost lost makoto.

that's when the voices start, and at very first, in the moment of hearing them that very first time, he didn't think they were for him—he thought they must be talking to makoto, and that maybe they'd been talking to makoto for a while now, and that's why makoto has not wanted to swim in the ocean...

but when haru asked, several times, each in a roundabout way of its own, makoto gave no indication of hearing voices. as an experiment, haru went down to the ocean on his own, put his toes in the surf, and heard the voices.

he heard a voice at their next practice too. a different voice. he heard another one when he went to itsc, similar to the one he'd heard at school; and another at samezuka, at regionals, at the national pool in australia.

everywhere he swims, voices speak to him.

when he turns pro, he has a session with a sports psychologist. it's a condition of sponsorship, and sponsorship is a de facto condition of beinig a pro, so haru does it. it turns out to be not at all like what he was expecting. he doesn't mind it at all.

he decides to go to another psychologist, one unaffiliated with his sponsor, one to whom his name won't mean anything.

"i hear voices," haru says at the second session, looking at the psychologist.

the psychologist looks back. "in your head?"

haru shakes his head. "in my life."

the psychologist sits back. "ah. and what are they saying?"

haru tells her, and ends up telling her more about himself than he'd intended to but he thinks it's fine, because she sat back when he said the voices aren't in his head. he talks with her about being a professional athlete, a swimmer, the pressures of making the national team and the upcoming olympic trials, especially with the games in tokyo later this year.

he talks about a lot of things with her and he feels lighter when he leaves her office.

but as soon as he dives into the pool at the tatsumi international swimming center, he hears a voice.

when he's done, he takes the train to a bus line and then walks down to the shore. he stands at the edge, listening to the wordless roar and rush and crash of the waves. he walks in up to his knees, and listens to the chorus of voices.

he walks back to the bus stop, waits, takes the bus to the train to makoto's apartment. "do you want to go swimming with me," haru says when makoto answers the door, not bothering with inflection.

makoto glances down at haru's trousers, still damp up to the knee. he smiles when he meets haru's eyes again.

they go to the pool at makoto's school. he's teaching japanese language and he's also the swim coach for the boys' middle school team. haru has been here once before, when makoto first started coaching here, and he remembers the timbre of the voice here.

they dive in and swim a few laps. makoto does his backstroke start on one lap and haru is grateful he happened to be looking just then: makoto's backstroke start is just as beautiful as it was in high school.

"race me," haru says, catching up with makoto at the far end of the pool.

makoto laughs, head tipping back. haru has seen him laugh like this before, but he can't take his eyes away this time.

when he tips back down makoto is smiling, his gaze clear as he looks at haru. "race me," haru says.

"all right," makoto says after uncounted heartbeats, breaking the silence in the gaze but not the gaze itself. "freestyle, of course. one hundred meters?"

haru nods. they climb out and walk around the sides of the pool to take their places. haru is content for makoto to count them down, so makoto does:

and they dive in, one and the other.

and in that same breath, they start to swim.

haru's cycle has him turned towards makoto with each breath, but because haru's reaction time off the blocks was so much quicker, it takes him several strokes to understand what he's seeing, and several more to decide what to do about it.

he slows, stops, treads water, the bottom of the pool too far for his feet to reach without taking him under.

makoto passes him—stops, too. pulls his goggles down to dangle around his neck. "haru?"

"i'm all right," haru says to the concern furrowing makoto's brow.

makoto pushes the lane divider down and floats over it, propels himself to haru with usual strokes. he says haru's name again; he's always said haru's name a lot, more than anyone else, more than normal.

"i'm all right," haru says to the concern darkening makoto's eyes. like storm clouds, haru thinks in an unexpectedly poetic moment.

he means to ask when makoto took up butterfly but he forgets to as he turns from the storm. he turns from the storm but doesn't leave it behind as he swims to the end of the lane and makoto follows.

when they get to the end, makoto hoists himself out and sits on the edge, and haru doesn't. "i hear voices," haru says, not looking at makoto or makoto's eyes or any storm that is or isn't there. "telling me what to do, sometimes."

"what are they telling you to do?"

it's the obvious question and haru shouldn't be disappointed, but somehow he thought makoto might have something different to say.

he swallows the disappointment. swallows the remaining heaviness on his tongue.

"pools—everywhere, including this one—tell me to go home," haru says. he looks at makoto and makoto is looking at him. haru can't read his expression, but right now it's enough that makoto is looking. "and the ocean tells me to come home."

he waits for makoto to tell him he should move back to iwatobi or take up competitive open water swimming, the obvious responses, the ones the psychologists have suggested to him.

makoto stands up, walks to the head of haru's lane, bends and holds out his hand in one fluid movement, and everything about him is so fluid right now, his smile too, his smile most of all, and all the unseeable everything flowing from it, all the everything that can't be seen or touched but that haru feels, oh, that he feels~

"so come home," makoto says, smiling; holding out his hand and smiling, and smiling.

Edited 2017-07-16 22:07 (UTC)

Ship: Tadokoro Jin / Toudou Jinpachi
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: none

Prompt:

"Viola, darling. Remember, chew like you have a secret."

- She's The Man

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Page 117 of 171

Bonus Round 4: Quotes

Re: FILL: TEAM OTABEK ALTIN/YURI PLISETSKY, G

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G

FILL: Team Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, M

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

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

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

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

FILL: Team Himuro Tatsuya/Nijimura Shuuzou, G

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

PROMPT: TEAM GRANDSTAND

Re: FILL: TEAM OTABEK ALTIN/YURI PLISETSKY, G

Re: Prompt: Team Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

PROMPT: TEAM GRANDSTAND

FILL: Team Grandstand, G

Re: PROMPT: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA

Re: PROMPT: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA

PROMPT: Team Daiya no Ace

FILL: TEAM OTABEK ALTIN/YURI PLISETSKY, T

Fill: Team Daiya no Ace, G

PROMPT: TEAM GRANDSTAND

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

fill: team grandstand, t

PROMPT: Team Grandstand