Bonus Round 4: Quotes

[referees]

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!

Comments

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[wino]

Ship: murasakibara/himuro & kagami
Fandom: kuroko no basuke
Major Tags: implied sexual content
Other Tags: none
Word Count: none

***



full size

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

[marks]

cosplay fill cosplay fill cosplay fill!!! THIS IS MY FIRST! first, i love the snap framing. second, i love that iwa-chan hates that he loves oikawa the sexy cat. third, YOUR SHIRT IS SO COOL!

FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[kiyala]

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: None
Word Count: 455

***

Lying comes to Tooru as naturally as breathing, as easily as the fake smiles that he has ready for the girls in his fan club, for his teachers, for anyone that he doesn't deem a friend and sometimes, for his friends too.

It doesn't happen with Hajime, but that's probably because it's never going to work. His fake smiles have a different meaning in this context; they're not there to convince Hajime that everything is okay, but as a sign that he needs his space. Hajime calls him out on his bullshit, but keeps him at arm's length while he does it. That's all Tooru needs.

He doesn't tell lies, but that's different too. He knows that if he truly wanted to, he would be able to lie convincingly, right to Hajime's face. It's not a matter of whether he can do it or not. He just doesn't want to. Not when Hajime understands him so well, when he's the one person in the world who Tooru feels comfortable being himself with, for all the good and all the bad. Hajime might complain about his bad personality, might push him around instead of coddling him, but that's what Tooru needs. There has to be at least one person in his life who can call him out without judging or leaving him. There's no one for Tooru but Hajime.

"Hey," Hajime says softly, when they're lying on Tooru's bedroom floor one night. Hajime's stayed over too late watching movies, and Tooru's family has invited him to just stay for the night. They lie in their futons, side by side, and Tooru is looking up into the darkness, trying to make his eyes adjust to the dark enough that he can see his ceiling.

"Hey yourself, Iwa-chan," Tooru replies.

"Do you like anyone?" Hajime asks, getting the words out so quickly that it takes Tooru a moment to understand them, and then a moment longer because it's not a question that he's ever expected to hear from Hajime.

He feels the weight of the answer on his tongue. He doesn't want to lie about this, but he doesn't know if he's ready for the questions that will follow, if he tells the truth. He considers his answer, and then notices the way Hajime is tensing up at his side.

Tooru turns, and his eyes are adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the tension in Hajime's shoulders, the way his hands are balled into fists at his sides. Tooru blinks slowly, realising exactly why Hajime is asking.

With a smile, Tooru reaches out, answering two questions in one as he brushes his fingers across the back of Hajime's hand and says, "Yeah. I do."

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 434 words

Yet another loveless AU! Violence, spellcasting, etc.

***



The Sacrifice collapsed and the battle ended. The thick-throated, broad-shouldered Sacrifice had endured bravely; even across the field, even over the sounds of the Fighters shouting spells, Imayoshi had heard the cracking of his ribs and the snapping of his bones.

Ushijima spun back, running to his Sacrifice as the battle ended.

Hanamiya didn’t turn back to Imayoshi. He ran after Ushijima instead, a glint of metal shining from his left hand as Hanamiya flipped out the butterfly knife that he favored.

Imayoshi propped himself up on one elbow and breathed, watching through hazy, disfocused eyes as Hanamiya caught up to Tsukishima.

Blood sprayed in the air, a silk scarf of crimson hanging there, and then Imayoshi let his eyes close and listened instead to the sound of screaming. With the Sacrifice of Speechless unconscious, Hanamiya could take Ushijima on in an old-fashioned fight.

Imayoshi breathed in slowly, trying to assess the damage. His sides ached, his shoulder felt wrenched (possibly dislocated?) and there was a metal aftertaste in the back of his mouth that warned he might be coughing up blood soon.

Hanamiya had rushed off for vengeance without checking on Imayoshi; it showed either trust or an utter lack of care. Or both.

Who knew what it was with Hanamiya?

Not for the first time, Imayoshi wondered why he stayed with Hanamiya. The bond between them could be denied, after all. He could choose another Fighter, he could let Hanamiya suffer through a broken bond, he could walk away from this by spitting in the face of yet another taboo.

He chose to honor the bond between them. He chose to guide Hanamiya.

Logic said there was nobody in the world would make as good a match. Logic said that to have an improper weak bond with someone else was not preferable to a strong bond with his destined partner. Logic said that with another partner, he might be hurt worse and what good would fussing over him do then?

Hanamiya was focused purely on offense but he was good. It was rare that a fight ever lasted long enough for Imayoshi to be badly damaged.

Logically, Hanamiya was the right choice to pair with.

(Logically, Hanamiya was a terrible choice to love but Imayoshi loved him anyway.

When Hanamiya returned, there was blood on his knife and an ugly scowl on his usually controlled face. The rawness of the emotion was more shocking than the blood.

It was as close as Hanamiya could come to saying ‘I love you’ and it was ugly and bloody and perfect for them.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 415 words

Loveless AU. Ironic considering the quote! Little mention of violence but actually kind of sweet?

***

Love is not a gentling force, Imayoshi knows that now first-hand. Love is a terrifying screaming rage, a protective fierceness that could hold the sun in its bare hands and press it into dandelion wine.

Love is what makes him step up fearlessly as Hanamiya’s Sacrifice; love is what makes him call out, “Eyes!” when he realizes that the enemy fighter is rubbing at his eyes between spells as if the strain is telling there. Love is what has him hungry to learn how to cast spells himself - oh, they say it’s impossible but to Imayoshi, impossible has always sounded like ‘I can’t do it and therefore it’s impossible’.

“I’m going to learn to cast spells as well,” he tells Hanamiya and Hanamiya blinks up at him, pushing his head under Imayoshi’s hand demandingly to be petted.

After a second, Hanamiya says, “Seimei could. And anything someone else can do, you can do better.”

“Your faith in me so sweet, Makoto-chan,” Imayoshi says teasingly and Hanamiya bites his hand lightly as a reprimand.

“It’s not faith, senpai. You’re my partner. You’re Merciless. If you aren’t as good as I am, then you wouldn’t be matched with me.” Another bite, Hanamiya chewing on Imayoshi’s hand as if he’s teething with the thoughtless gnawing actions of a kitten presented with a new toy.

Imayoshi takes his hand away and wipes it against Hanamiya’s shoulder.

“If I weren’t better than you, you wouldn’t listen to me,” he corrects.

“You’re not better than me.” Hanamiya wrinkles his nose, pouting for a second in a carefully practiced manner. “You’re my Sacrifice. That’s all.”

Imayoshi considers pointing out the circular logic but settles instead for tugging Hanamiya upwards, getting hold of a good handful of hair in order to pull Hanamiya to his feet.

“Do you love me?” He asks and watches Hanamiya’s eyes widen, pupils dilating and shrinking in a tell so obvious that Imayoshi has to fight back the urge to laugh at his little Fighter.

“No!” Hanamiya spits the word out as if it should be obvious and tilts his head back to loosen Imayoshi’s grasp on his hair. “Why would I love you?”

‘Because you try to kill pairs that actually endanger me. Because you always bandage me up yourself. Because you curl against me when we sleep. Because nothing makes you angrier than when I’m hurt.’

“Because you’re such a little fool,” Imayoshi says and kisses Hanamiya’s forehead as Hanamiya yowls indignantly.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya, Akashi/Aomine
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 457 words

Discussions of underage, surgery and deliberate rumor-mongering. Aka the Loveless AU that nobody wanted.

***
Some battles begin before systems are engaged. The Sacrifies of Peerless and Merciless war against each other with no help from their Fighters.

*

"Have you heard the rumors about Peerless?"
"No, what?"
"Akashi cheated. He's not actually Aomine's Sacrifice!"
"No way! I've seen the mark on his chest. It says 'Peerless'."
"Yeah!"
"When they play basketball, his jersey slips and you can see part of it!"

"It's not his true name! It's a tattoo!"
"What?"
"NO WAY!"
"No fucking way!"
"Why would he do that?"

"Because he wanted the best possible Fighter. He waited until he was sure that Aomine was the best and then he got himself tattooed to match so he could claim Aomine as his sacrifice."
"...Wow."
"Rich people are so weird."

"You're not believing this shit, are you?"
"Well, it does make sense..."
"Yeah, who wouldn't want to be Aomine's sacrifice?"
"Peerless are undefeated!"
"Who do you think the real Peerless is then?"
"I don't know. Maybe Akashi had him killed!"

"Listen to yourselves! Now you're accusing Akashi of being a murder!"
"Well, if he's not the real Peerless, then the real Peerless must be somewhere!"
"Yeah! And it's weird that he hasn't surfaced to complain about Akashi stealing his Fighter!"
"And Akashi's so ruthless-"
"I wouldn't put it past him to have killed someone so he could have Aomine."
"Yeah!"

*

"Hey, you know how Merciless both have their ears and tails?"
"Yeah, they're only in their early teens. So?"
"They're fake."
"...No way."
"Shit."
"But they move!"

"Hanamiya's rich. His family paid for good transplants."
"Ear transplants?!"
"There's such a thing?!"
"Yeah! Look it up on your phone!"

"They didn't want to admit that their twelve-year-old wasn't a virgin so they had surgery done."
"Ewwww. It looks so gross."
"Yeah but look at the after photos! Don't they look totally normal?"
"...They do."
"Yeah. Those are really good fakes. Much better than headbands."

"But if Hanamiya and Imayoshi aren't virgins, then who..."
"Who do you think, stupid? Each other."
"Hanamiya's 12! His Sacrifice wouldn't do that to him."
"Imayoshi's only 13. It's not that big a gap but still, ew."
"Yeah, Hanamiya's way too young. Why would Imayoshi even want to?"

"Because it strengthens the bond between Fighter and Sacrifice."
"You really think he'd fuck a twelve-year-old just to win?"
"You really think he wouldn't?! Remember, he's the one hurting."
"...I guess. But EW."

*

"I declare a battle by Wordspell!" Hanamiya calls out and Aomine replies immediately, "I accept!"

Next to their respective fighters, Imayoshi and Akashi smile coolly at each other over the battlefield but neither smile holds any warmth.

Their war became one of attrition and both of them are already wounded before the spell battle begins.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya & Oikawa/Kageyama
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke, Haikyuu
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 501 words


Inspired by this fill by miyukitty who helped me out with the verse details for this! Warnings for discussion of Hanamiya being a total jerk despite being 12.

***

"You're not a real Sacrifice," Hanamiya jeered and Imayoshi fought the urge to facepalm. Hanamiya was so brilliant and yet when it came to the chance to cause pain, Hanamiya chose to follow his own sadistic urges over all else. They’d had a plan but now it was obvious that Hanamiya would rather wing it. Imayoshi stayed where he was, watching Hanamiya circle around until he was face-to-face with Oikawa.

"And you're too little to be a Fighter," Oikawa said dismissively, looking down at Hanamiya with his arms crossed over his chest. "Run away and maybe my Fighter won't chase after you."

Hanamiya flashed his teeth in a smirk, "You're used to fighting those Karasuno sad sacks. We're nothing like them. We're Merciless."

"Nice name." Oikawa yawned exaggeratedly, then reached down to tousle Hanamiya's hair. Hanamiya's hand snapped upwards, catching Oikawa's at the wrist, and he bared his teeth this time in a snarl.

"Nobody touches me except my Sacrifice," he said, eyes narrowing. "And if you were a real Sacrifice, you'd be able to call your Fighter over. He'd already be here, challenging us but you can't do that. We could skin you and string you up from a tree and leave your corpse for him to find."

A flicker of something (unease? disgust? fear?) passed over Oikawa's eyes as he let go of Hanamiya's wrist as abruptly as if it had grown teeth and bitten him.

(Imayoshi smiled to himself; people so often reacted like that to Hanamiya when he exposed the monster behind the schoolboy smile.)

"You aren't worth bothering him with," Oikawa said as loftily as he could in the face of a pint-sized psychopath. "Come back in ten years--"

"And you'll have another partner?" Hanamiya asked, sweetly poisonous. "This one will get tired of you too. Worthless, Flightless - what name will they bury you with? Fighterless? Partnerless? Hopeless?"

"You're only a child," Oikawa said but his hands were starting to curl into fists. "And you were born with a name. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure I do," Hanamiya said cheerfully, smiling up at Oikawa, "I'm talking about having what you want. I'm talking about what you'll never get. We're a true Bonded pair and you are nothing but a pathetic wannabe who--"

Enough, Imayoshi decided. It was time to make his entrance.

He stepped out of the bushes onto the path, calling out, "Hanamiya!"

Hanamiya turned, feigning surprise, "Senpai! Look, I found a Sacrifice who can't call his Fighter. What do you think we should do with this Pretender?"

His eyes were aglow with cruel anticipation, Hanamiya letting his tongue trace over his lower lip as he glanced back at Oikawa, "Shall we teach him how much we don't like fakes?"

Imayoshi stared at Hanamiya for a second, watching Oikawa tense up from the corner of his eye. When he judged the tension was just right, he glanced over to Oikawa and said calmly, "Run."

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya, Oikawa/Kageyama
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke, Haikyuu
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 403 words

Inspired by this fill by miyukitty who helped me out with the verse details for this! Warnings for discussion of violence and sex.

***

"Who are we going to fight next?" Hanamiya asked, sprawled on his stomach on the bed and kicking his legs idly in the air. He peered over Imayoshi's arm at the book on Imayoshi's lap, studying the photos and notes. "Who's that -- Worthless?"

"Flightless," Imayoshi corrected, pointing at the dark-haired boy. "He's the Flightless fighter. That's his Sacrifice."

"...No, that's Worthless," Hanamiya insisted stubbornly. "The Sacrifice, I mean. I saw him when I was younger. He had a huge fighter with him, bigger than either of us, shoulders so wide he has to turn sideways to get through a door."

"That was before, Makoto-chan." Imayoshi sighed and smoothed his hand over Hanamiya's hair, scritching lightly behind his cat ears. "He's changed Fighters since then."

"..." There was silence for a second, then a hand firmly closed in Imayoshi's hair and yanked him backwards onto the bed. A second later, Hanamiya had scrambled on top of his chest, straddling him and glowering down at him.

"Sacrifices can't change Fighters!" He said, hissing the words with his tail lashing bad-temperedly against Imayoshi's thighs.

"They can," Imayoshi disagreed calmly despite the narrowed, furious eyes of his Fighter. "Sacrifices can bond with other Fighters who don't bear ther name. They won't be able to summon those Fighters but in all else, it will continue to function as a normal bond."

Hanamiya snarled; in response, Imayoshi twisted the knife deeper. "You can't bond with another Sacrifice. Your name will bleed and you will listen to my commands still. The pain will be intense even when you are not in battle."

"That's not fair," Hanamiya spat, fingers clawing at Imayoshi's shirt, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric. "How come you get to leave me but not the other way around?"

"Why do we lose our ears and tails when we have sex for the first time?" Imayoshi drew his fingertips over Hanamiya's jawline, feeling the softness of the skin underneath. Soon, little hairs would start to prickle up and Hanamiya would begin shaving. Was this jealousy a precursor to puberty? Or was it just Hanamiya's hatred of being the one trapped instead of laying the traps?

"...I don't know," Hanamiya said after a second of consideration, brow scrunching up with thought. "You think that's connected?"

"No, Makoto-chan. I think that it's how the world works. Fairness doesn't come into it." The reprimand went unspoken: haven't you learnt that by now?

FILL: Team Kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[kitaiichis]

ship: miya atsumu/miya osamu
fandom: haikyuu!!
major tags: incest, mentions of blood (implied injury)
other tags: inception AU
word count: 567

bonus mood music while reading, i.e. this is what happens when you write to a song on loop with lyrics like And release me now kind of like dreams do / And I see you now, it's hard to see you

***

Whether the world is real or dreamed is irrelevant; Atsumu can’t throw a punch without hurting worse than whoever he’s punched. It’s a little known fact that Osamu, despite himself, usually finds endearing–or at least, easy to poke fun at.

(A soundtrack most often heard after Atsumu gets into a fight: Osamu’s laugh. His real one, unrestrained and honest and ugly, wrung between gasps and a grin that forces his eyes closed in the wake of it. Guess I’m the only one who gets to see you laugh, huh, ‘Samu, Atsumu’s voice, rough but fond even in memory, in dreams.)

Now Atsumu wheezes, breaths shallow, and Osamu only hears because he’s listening for them. He pushes Atsumu back down when Atsumu tries to sit up, hands scrabbling into fists for purchase he isn’t finding on the floor. Osamu closes his eyes, breathes in. He isn’t laughing.

Atsumu is, though, the shape of his laugh obvious but soundless when Osamu opens his eyes and looks at him, Atsumu’s half-lidded eyes and the white of his teeth, stark against the laboured dip and rise of his chest, the barely-there beat of his Adam’s apple at his throat.

A siren goes off, somewhere to their left. There’s an extraction left to finish, after all. Osamu decides to leave it–had extracted himself from the team’s puzzle pieces the second he shrugged off instructions to find Atsumu.

“–‘Samu,” Atsumu manages before coughing. Then: “Hey, ‘Samu.”

“Stop trying to talk,” Osamu says, sighing.

He doubts Atsumu will listen. Osamu never did, whenever Atsumu lectured if extractions went awry. Atsumu’s only ever tried to lecture him twice. Osamu doesn’t dwell on it.

Atsumu’s body quiets. His voice goes very, very soft. “Didya know? You were right.”

“Usually am,” Osamu allows.

Red slips between the white of Atsumu’s teeth. Osamu would wake him if there was a kick that brought you back to the surface again, two dreams in. Osamu just wants to wake up, surface or not.

“Swappin’ roles,” Atsumu continues, “was probably a bad idea.”

Osamu is a good dream builder, but Atsumu is better. Osamu doesn’t mind; playing point to Atsumu’s architect is just a grown-up excuse out of saying Osamu is still chasing Atsumu’s walls away, following whichever road Atsumu steers them towards. Except.

“You said you wouldn’t build anymore,” Osamu says.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t,” Atsumu begins, but Osamu cuts him off. “You can’t fight either, ‘Tsumu. But that don’t stop you, so I gotta stop ya instead.”

“Your accent’s stronger when you’re worried,” Atsumu says.

“Quit worrying me, then.”

Atsumu’s mouth falls open, his laugh-that-isn’t softening his face.

“More honest than I was expecting, since it’s you,” is all he tells Osamu.

Osamu does laugh, then. He might be many things, but a compulsive liar isn’t one of them: that’s Atsumu. Even now, Osamu notices the dream shifting, lights stop-starting, walls flickering into windows and doors that don’t materialise. Atsumu won’t build anymore, Osamu had said, because that’s what he’d promised. What Osamu made him promise.

Osamu is not nearly as honest as he pretends.

Neither of them are as good at pretending as they’d like.

“That’s a real kind way of sayin’ it–,” Osamu finally says.

The sirens sound closer and closer with every moment, but Osamu can’t be sure if it’s the dream or himself, or. He won’t look at Atsumu.

“–Since it’s you.”

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 433 words


Three looks at how ImaHana could’ve met in a Loveless AU.



***


1) There was a sudden outcry, a babble of voices yelling, "IMAYOSHI-SENPAI! IMAYOSHI!" and when Imayoshi looked up from the corner where he was changing, there was a mob charging towards him. His teammates pushed the new first year at him, a small dark-haired boy with twitching ears, and they grinned.

"We found him--"
"It's him--"
"LOOK!"

A point guard yanked the boy's towel away from his hip, exposing the word written in black script over his hipbone: MERCILESS.

Imayoshi stopped breathing for just a second, looking at the boy's shy, sweet face, thinking of every rumor he'd heard about this honor student and school sweetheart. Nobody had a single bad word to say about him and yet, there on his hip, it pronounced him 'Merciless'.

Imayoshi's match. Imayoshi's Fighter.

Now Imayoshi knew for a certainty that the rumors lied.

No good boy would be his match. No good boy could ever be Merciless.

2) "Hey! Hey, Imayoshi-senpai!"

Imayoshi kept walking, hands in his pockets and his hair damp from the post-practice shower. Whoever was yelling could just run and catch up to him.

"Hey!" A little louder, a little sharper, "HEY. MERCILESS."

At that, Imayoshi did stop. The name on his hip wasn't a secret. He showed it every time he showered after practice, wearing it like a badge of pride, but it was not a nickname to be yelled out in public. He turned, eyebrows drawing together in annoyance.

"Who do you think you are--" He began, words cutting and clipped as he faced down the school's newest golden boy.

"I'm your Fighter," the boy said, yanking up his shirt and peeling off the wet bandage over his hip. "I'm Merciless."

Imayoshi's ears pricked forwards at the sight of the letters; a second later, the boy surged up and kissed him, sparking their bond to electric life.

3) There were forums for people to post their names and look for their other half. Imayoshi had occasionally toyed with the idea of posting but really, he wasn't that eager to find his Fighter. At the moment, he could pass by the battles unscatched. If he had a Fighter, it would be different; he would be pulled into the Battles, unable to resist showing off.

He didn't post his name but he did check the forums weekly with the self-denial of an addict who promised he could give it up any time.

One day, there was a photo of a hip with MERCILESS inked over the jut of the bone.

Imayoshi swept his fingertips over his own hipbone and felt his heartbeat quicken.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya, Asahi/Nishinoya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke & Haikyuu
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 671 words

I know absolutely nothing of Loveless except what I read in 2 fills so this might be fucked up re: world canon but I liked the idea of destined battle couple too much to ignore it. Many thanks to Mousi for their help!


***

Hanamiya's ears twitched as he cocked his head to a side, eyes narrowing suddenly.

"There's a Fighter nearby," he said, tail lashing from side to side. He pressed up on his tiptoes, turning-stumbling like an inexpert ballerina as he tried to hone the signal he could sense. "Someone new."

His lips peeled away from his teeth, a wide smile spreading over Hanamiya's face. "Can we fight them, senpai?"

Imayoshi placed his hand on the back of Hanamiya's neck fondly, scritching lightly at the soft hairs there. How was he supposed to deny his Fighter anything when Hanamiya looked at him with such big, cute eyes? For such a sadistic Fighter, Hanamiya certainly could be cute at times.

"Yes, yes, Makoto-chan," he said indulgently, already mentally preparing himself for the Restrictions. Hanamiya liked toying with his opponents far too much, crushing their hopes as much as actually crushing their Sacrifice and while Imayoshi did enjoy the show, it sometimes led to him being unnecessarily injured when a Fighter panicked. "Let's show them the power of Merciless."

Their names rested on their hips, marked in letters bold and black over the jut of the hipbone. It was easy to expose - all they had to do was lift their tops - and sweet to kiss, though Hanamiya was still a little young for such pleasures. It was why he still had ears to twitch and a tail to flirt from side to side when he saw the enemy.

They looked an odd, mismatched couple. One was small, barely Hanamiya's height, with dual-colored hair and big shining eyes. The other looked in his twenties at least with brown hair pulled back in a bun and a stubbly little faux-beard. The sheer size of the older one was worrisome; if he was the Sacrifice, he looked able to withstand more of a beating than Imayoshi. Imayoshi was only thirteen, after all, and Hanamiya twelve.

But if the Sacrifice was the small one...

Surely they'd win. The big one might be used to fighting but the sheer cruelty of Hanamiya was a weapon in its own right. Most Fighter did not have Hanamiya's sadism backing their spells.

"I declare a battle by Wordspell!" Hanamiya said the moment that that they were within reach.

The big one nodded, to Imayoshi's relief, and called out in return, "I accept!"

"System Engage!" Hanamiya said before Imayoshi could even ask the name of the pair they were about to battle. The misty haze that sprang up around them; the heat of Hanamiya's eagerness to spill blood, the battlelust that was his truest desire, was met by an equal hunger from Imayoshi. Bonded as they were, Imayoshi took equal part in the battles by calling out suggestions for attacks and weaknesses - the few times that he had been too Restricted to keep talking, to keep fighting, Hanamiya had gone into a near-Berserker rage, physically attacking their opponents with his blade once the fight was over.

Fighter or not, it was the Sacrifice that held the leash.

"Your lungs are full of powdered glass, you breathe blood," Hanamiya said, starting off rapidly with the more complicated spells he favored.

At the same time, the enemy Fighter called out, "Our net falls over you and traps your arms!"

Chain links whipped around Imayoshi, snapping hard over his arms and waist, but Imayoshi didn't let himself grimace. He braced against them instead, watching as the small enemy Sacrifice braced as well against the chains that wound around his throat, breathing already rapid.

"Our spider web pierces through you, binds around you, and spiders crawl down your throat," Hanamiya countered and the flicker of shock on the enemy Sacrifice's face made Imayoshi grin even as the Fighter desperately cast, "Solidify! Dauntless does not let you entrap us!"

Such a predictable pattern. Everyone always panicked when they realized that Hanamiya never used the standard spell set.

It wouldn’t be long now before the enemy forfeited.

(Or maybe, if they were lucky - if their opponents were stupid - they could actually fight to the end this time.)

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 406 words

The story exists! Warning for threats of violence.


***


"Urgh," Hanamiya says plainly, scowling as he draws back from the kiss. "You taste like cigarettes."

"I chewed gum afterwards," Imayoshi says, mild as milk as he offers Hanamiya a stick of fresh extra-strong mint gum. "How can you possibly still taste it?"

"Because my tastebuds aren't dead years of huffing cancer sticks that taste like shit," Hanamiya snaps but he takes a piece of gum anyway and pops it into his mouth. "You ought to quit."

"Because it'll kill me?" Imayoshi asks, a sardonic smile creeping over his mouth.

"Because I'll fucking kill you," Hanamiya threatens. He keeps chewing, narrowing his eyes at Imayoshi. "You're smart, senpai. You know what they're doing to you. How come you won't stop?"

"Because I like annoying you with them too much." Imayoshi rests his hand on Hanamiya's hip, lets his thumb sweep down just under the waistband of Hanamiya's jeans where he knows a circular scar marks the place that he burnt Hanamiya with his cigarette last month.

"You've got other ways to leave marks on me." Hanamiya shifts just a little, raising an arm so that when he lets his arm drop again, the end of his loose sleeveless top will disguise where Imayoshi's hand is. They're in public, after all. Such caresses between university students will be noticed and Imayoshi cares about his reputation still.

"I know." Imayoshi's left a plethora of marks on Hanamiya, both over his skin and under it. "One day, I'll find a way to carve into your bones."

Hanamiya shivers, a reflexive little twitch that runs through him rapidly and makes him grin at Imayoshi. "Yeah?"

"It's called scrimshaw," Imayoshi says and pulls out his cigarette packet. A quick shake of his hand has one popping up but before he can catch it between his lips, Hanamiya takes it instead and tucks it into a pocket.

"Makoto--" Imayoshi starts to protest but Hanamiya's smiling now, wide and vicious.

"I read a story about someone being forced to stop smoking by a company that'd cut off a finger every time they tried. It's summer vacation now, Shoichi, and I've got nothing to do. I'm going to be your personal anti-smoking guru." The cigarette disappears into a pocket and in its place, Hanamiya flips out a butterfly knife. He angles them so passerbys can't see, then flicks the knife over, rolling it over his knuckles.

"You already know how sharp my knives are."

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 494 words

This is not at all based on personal experience, nope!

***

Hanamiya's always in motion, Imayoshi observes. Spiders spin their webs, yes, but then they settle down and wait for prey to wander in. Or in the case of trapdoor spiders, they dig little pits, obscure the entrances and wait for their prey to fall down to them - but Hanamiya is not a trapdoor spider, he could never be so stationary.

He spins pencils over his fingers in class, drums his fingers against his thigh, jiggles his legs. He's full of energy, sparking firework-bright behind his eyes, gleaming under the bars of his eyelashes. When he works, he multitasks, keeping three or four tabs open at once so he can trade between tasks to keep himself focused.

The method is easy to understand. Hanamiya's pattern there is predictable. In the upper left corner, he keeps a movie playing. In the lower left corner, he has two or three chat windows open. The right side of the laptop screen holds the word document he writes in, occasionally divided in half vertically so he can research and write at the same time.

Imayoshi's never seen Hanamiya's browser have less than 10 tabs open at a time.

"Studies have shown that multitasking isn't actually efficient," he tells Hanamiya one day.

Hanamiya flips him off.

"Yes. That is an eloquent argument that effectively undermines years of research and study," Imayoshi says with a straight face.

"It works for me," Hanamiya says, fingers not pausing in their skitter over the keyboard as he looks up. Touch-typing isn't an impressive feat in itself but Hanamiya's ability to talk and type at the same time is. It means he's holding two separate streams of thought in his head - one for his mouth, one for his fingers. "Why are those idiots saying it isn't efficient?"

"Because your brain can't actually do multiple things at once. When you think you're multitasking, all you're doing is constantly stopping and restarting tasks, so you're losing time by trying to do everything at once instead of focusing on only one thing." Imayoshi knows it doesn't really matter, not with Hanamiya already on the Honor Roll. How much higher is there left for Hanamiya to climb? He can't spin his cobwebs between clouds.

"Yeah, obviously." Hanamiya rolls his eyes with exaggerated contempt, letting his tongue hang out at Imayoshi for a second. "I'd get bored if I only concentrated on one thing. Trading what I focus on makes it all stay interesting."

"I see," Imayoshi says and glances back at the page on ADD that's part of his reading. Supposedly, highly intelligent people can automatically compensate for ADD sufficiently that they function well enough to go undiagnosed.

For a second, Imayoshi lets himself wonder what would happen if Hanamiya were ever properly medicated and the full force of his intellect could be brought to bear down on a problem.

He shudders and discards the thought with a sardonic smile. The world is not ready for an ultimate spider.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 416 words

Nothing bad! But also not a crossover for a change.

***


The flat is vast, spacious in the way of palaces where the high roofs and abundance of empty space speaks to the wealth necessary to be able to waste space. The walls are bulletproof glass and take up a large portion of the walls, carefully treated to be mirrored against sunlight, snipers and spies.

Minimal furniture, modern and sleek, is scattered around the flat with the careful touch of an interior designer. It's all white, black, dark green and grey, even the steel vases with their springs of evergreen that make the room smell warmly of pine.

It suits Hanamiya well enough to wander through the large rooms with a drink in his hand and hear nothing but the soft pad of his own footsteps.

*

Imayoshi's wife did a beautiful job on their house. It's a sweet white house, traditional with a large courtyard. Inside, the flor always shines thanks to the efforts of their servants. They have a cook, a driver, a nursemaid to look after the children and a gardener who comes once a week.

The children are quiet and well-behaved but still Imayoshi likes to retreat to his study. It's his little oasis of calm, the only room that his wife didn't decorate. The desk is heavy mahogany and the walls are decorated with copies of his awards and photos of him meeting famous people. The originals are at his actual office, of course.

The rooms aren't too big but it's all very traditional, very proper. Imayoshi walks through his house and feels like a stranger.

*

"Don't you ever get lonely here, Makoto-chan?" Imayoshi asks one day as he reclines on Hanamiya's windowseat with a glass of whisky in his hand. The ice cubes clink gently against his other but apart from that and their breathing, that's all the noise in the flat. They're so high up that even the honk and rubber-shift of traffic doesn't disturb them.

"No." Hanamiya stretches out a foot and nudges Imayoshi's lightly while he sips at his own glass. "Don't you ever feel crowded at home?"

"I have a study," Imayoshi says and watches Hanamiya over the top of his glass, through the shield of his glasses. It's been a decade but Hanamiya's changed so little from their high school days; something perfect need not evolve. "But it's much smaller than this."

Hanamiya shrugs and takes another sip. "Your choice, senpai. I like living alone."

His teeth flash in that familiar wide-sickle smile. "It means no witnesses."

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 412 words

Oh no, it’s a Hunger Games AU! Aka Imayoshi in the Games. Warnings for mentions of death, violence, bad childhoods, implied prostitution.

***


In Three, they say when Tributes become Victors, "the Capitol chose them".

They never say it where it can be heard, they never let the Peacekeepers know that they don't believe in the propaganda of the Capitol, but they say it all the same.

After all, why else would anyone ever win who wasn't from 1 or 2? Those were the Districts that trained their children to kill, that armed them and fed them and said 'one day, you will have to kill starving little children who want nothing more than not be in the Games'. They were the Districts that made monsters out of their youngest sacrifices and who always, always, sent big hulking eighteen-year-olds who had spent their entire lives training for the Games into the Arena.

Three was too clever to believe the stories of underdogs and surprise Victors. Three knew that if someone who wasn't a Career won the Games, it was because the Capitol wanted the other Districts to still have hope. If everyone became disillusioned about the Hunger Games, if everyone said that there was no point to them and the Capitol might as well just execute their children rather than force them to take part in such barbaric entertainment...

Well. Three never spoke the word 'revolution' but it was in everyone's mind. The cycle of history had every regime falling eventually. Panem could not endure anymore than the Roman Empire or the Ottoman Empire or the British Empire or America.

*

Imayoshi is 17 when he is Reaped. He is one of the cleverest kids in Three, on the track to be a factory supervisors or perhaps even get one of the relatively cushy computer-engineering jobs that could see him being taken to the Capitol in the future.

He hears his name be called out and watches his future vanish into ashes and blood.

*

His Mentor tells him about electrical wiring, about the composition of the pedestals, about every little trick of making electricity from lemons and batteries that he knows. He passes on to Imayoshi how to create technology even in a maze of rock, even in a sea of salt, and arms Imayoshi with knowledge for lack of anything better.

"Fight smart," Beetee tells Imayoshi and the desperation in the man's eyes, the surety that Imayoshi too will die, makes Imayoshi pat his arm comfortingly.

"Of course," he says, "I would never do otherwise."

*

The Capitol chooses the Victor; Hanamiya chooses Imayoshi.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, M

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 405 words

Hunger Games AU! Aka how Hanamiya fell for Imayoshi. Violence, death, prostitution, all the good canonical stuff. Serious dubcon/noncon discussion.

***


Hanamiya watches the Games with his usual keen interest. The mock-Games played by Avoxes surgically altered to look like Victors have their own thrill, especially when the blood splashes onto him or an Avox pleads with their face and hands for mercy, but the pageantry isn't there. The Arenas are always much smaller, the traps far less exciting, and there aren't any muttations for them to battle either.

Only the real Games will do and this year, the Games hold an especial savor for him.

It's his 16th birthday and his mother said distractedly that he could choose whatever he wanted for a present and bill it to her. Immediately afterwards, she'd swanned off in a cloud of perfume that made her smell bakery-sweet and edible.

Hanamiya is used to choosing his own birthday presents. His mother's nearly unlimited purse meant that in the past, he'd purchased some extremely expensive gifts for hiself and she had never even commented.

This year, however, he is going to outdo himself. Whomever the Victor of the Games was, he'll buy their first night.

He hopes it'd be a Victor from an outlier District. He's fucked enough of the Careers that he was bored of them - they're all alike, under their surface differences. They all have the same hard souls, the same strength of coal ground down into diamond. They fake their enthusiasm well enough, even when Hanamiya brings out the knives (and other, less recognizable toys), but they're jaded by the hell that was their childhood. Anything Hanamiya does them just slides right off, scraping the skin but not the diamond souls underneath.

The outlier Victors are more fun. Hanamiya hugs himself to the thought of what they must do when they leave him - the drugs they take, the alcohol they drink, the tears they cry.

He can make them cry in his bed as well but that’s never as fun. Too often, it feels like the tears they shed are to please him.

He wants to break one of those Victors. He wants to take them to his bed when they’re still shiny and new, when they’re still struggling to understand they’ve escaped the Arena into a worse cage and he wants to shatter.

He wants to be the one to break them beyond repair.

He wants to do what the Arena didn’t.

He wants to kill them in every way that matters.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 542 words

Drift AU! Nothing really bad but implied bad stuff.

***

There was no way that Hanamiya was letting anyone inside his head. He'd make a great Jaegar pilot, he was sure of that, but sharing all his thoughts and memories with someone? No. He wasn't going to do that. Anyone who saw inside his head would immediately report him to the police - or even worse, to a psychiatrist and then the police.

It was a pity in more ways than one. He'd done beautifully on the placement tests and found himself immediately fast-tracked into the Jaegar program. At first, the idea of fighting and killing giant monsters while in a mech suit had appealed to Hanamiya. He was a Japanese boy who'd grown up on stories of Gundams, after all.

When he'd heard that the stories about sharing minds and memories were true, all of Hanamiya's excitement had quickly turned to exasperation. Why couldn't he just pilot a Jaegar on his own? He demanded that of his superiors and anyone who'd listen, throwing himself into proving that he was more than competent enough to be trusted solo.

It made no difference in the end. No matter how he excelled, he'd always end up on the mat, facing an opponent whom he was supposed to meld his fighting style with so that they could do the test run for the Jaegars.

*

Imayoshi's latest partner had been brash but talented, so cocksure that he could handle a Jaegar on his own that he'd left Shadow and Kuroko Tetsuya to try to pilot a Jaegar solo. The resulting burnout had left him nearly ruined for Jaegars and drifting completely; with Imayoshi taking the bulk of the strain, Aomine had been barely able to manage drifting with him. It hadn't been good enough, not compared to how he'd functioned while piloting Shadow, and so Aomine had been relegated to more experimental treatments and methods of fighting.

(Other people scoffed at the theories that the remnants of kaiju were being used to mutate humans and create super soldiers who could swim into the depths and meet the kaiju without Jaegars but Imayoshi knew better. Some of the programs had been his brain children, after all).

It left Imayoshi looking for a new partner, watching the recruits train and spin around each other. The star recruit was one Hanamiya Makoto, beloved by all. There wasn't a single unpleasant rumor about him, everyone claiming that he got the highest scores on everything but was still so kind and humble. If other people's impressions could be trusted, Hanamiya was some sort of saint- but one whose fighting style never quite meshed up with anyone else's. Such a pity.

When Imayoshi chose Hanamiya to do a mock-spar with him, it was because of the rumors. There was no such thing as a truly good person. Whatever lie Hanamiya had lurking behind his mask, Imayoshi would find it.

He could adjust his fighting style to match Hanamiya's, make it seem as if they were a destined match. He just needed to get Hanamiya to drift with him.

Afterwards, that was when he'd decide if Hanamiya was worthy of being his new partner or not.

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, M

[fickle]

Ship: Imayoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 411 words

When words don’t work - DRIFT. Blood, slight sexual content, gore, violence to teeth.

***



Hanamiya scowled at Imayoshi one final time before he closed his eyes. He hadn't wanted a drift partner! He was going to have to choose now between either somehow trying to make sure that they couldn't drift together (and how did he even sabotage that? Did he think of the worst experiences in his life, did he make his thoughts so jumbled that there would be nothing for Imayoshi to latch onto) or killing Imayoshi as soon as the drift ended so that Imayoshi would have no time to warn anyone of what he'd seen in Hanamiya's head.

He was so resistant to the concept of sharing his mind with anyone that he tried to keep it as closed as an oyster - and then Imayoshi washed over him. The sense of him was sharp somehow, amused and distant. It was like hearing a knife laugh, the jarring synthesia of knife and laughter somehow overlapping, of poisoned tea being as warm and thick as blood.

Curiosity made Hanamiya pay attention to the slow sweep of fingers up over a bare flat chest and then around a throat. He felt the pulse of another's heartbeat under his palm and then saw the skin burst and blood ooze out like jam from a stepped-on bun. Was this real? Was this a fantasy? Why was Imayoshi showing this to him? It had to be a trap of some sort and yet Hanamiya could no more stop himself from watching than he could stop himself from permanently breathing.

There was a glimpse of Hanamiya now, a sense of rumors (all positive) that lay at odds with the wide, laughing mouth that might look like a clown's if it was painted but that hid such white, sharp teeth. Predator's teeth, ready to rend, ready to end lives, and Imayoshi's fantasy (it was not a memory) had him gently prying each tooth out, one by one, until Hanamiya's mouth was red and gummy, nothing but raw wounds and a flickering tongue.

When Imayoshi's cock slid over Hanamiya's lips into the depths of that wet wound, Hanamiya felt an answering surge of arousal through him at the concept of being used while in so much pain, while so pretty mutilated.

He'd resisted being made to drift but now, deliberately, he opened his mind and counterattacked.

Imayoshi had shown Hanamiya his fantasies; Hanamiya would do the same and hold back his memories until he was sure Imayoshi wouldn't recoil.

Re: FILL: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA, G

[snowysatoru]

EM!!!!!!!! I'M YELLING A LOT JUST SO YOU KNOW!!!!!!!!

(and also I listened to "id - serenity" while reading this, so thanks for that :') )

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G

[wino]

Ship: midorima/akashi
Fandom: kuroko no basuke
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: angst
Word Count: none

redraw of this scene from eternal sunshine of the spotless mind <3

***



full size

FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[kiyala]

Ship: Bandou Haruki/Hashimoto Kazuma
Fandom: Cheer Danshi!!
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: medical issues, hospitalisation, dementia (all for Kazu's grandmother)
Word Count: 442

***

"It's Kazu," he says, while peeling apples, but his grandmother only smiles politely at him, like she doesn't entirely believe him. He smiles back and tries again, "Your grandson."

It's been difficult lately, visiting her in the hospital only to sit there for hours without her remembering a single thing about him. Sometimes, she'll think that he's his father, and sometimes, she'll mistake him for her own brother, and tell him stories from years ago, that he doesn't quite understand, filled with people that he doesn't remember but she somehow does, even though she can't remember him.

Then again, it's always been difficult. His grandmother has been the only family that he's had left for such a long time that he isn't prepared to let go of this, even if it hurts to visit her, and it hurts to sit there while she doesn't remember a single thing about him. At least now, Kazu has realised that she isn't the only family he has. There's Haru too, who enters the room with a gentle knock against the doorframe and an apologetic smile.

"Are you eating your apples?" Haru asks Kazu's grandmother, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Kazu's been cutting them up for you so carefully."

"Oh," she says, looking down at her hand as if she's only just realising that she's holding one. "Did he cut that for me?"

"Kazu has cut so many apples for you, Obaa-chan," Haru tells her with a smile. He reaches for Kazu's hand, thumb stroking across his knuckles as he squeezes gently. "Maybe we'll have to help you eat them all."

She doesn't remember who Haru is either, but he's so pleasant that she never minds when he comes to visit. Kazu is surprised by how much he likes it, when he thought that he'd be uncomfortable letting even Haru into such an important but painful part of his life.

These days, Haru is the only reason that Kazu can keep coming here. He holds Kazu together, reminds him that there's someone in the world who still loves him, who still knows who he is. They stay until all the apples are eaten, and Kazu's grandmother is beginning to look tired. She wants to stay in her chair by the window, so that's where Kazu leaves her, with a promise that he'll visit again tomorrow, keeping the smile on his face until he's out of the room.

Haru takes his hand again, squeezing tighter than before.

"You're doing great," Haru whispers, and Kazu nods tightly, squeezing back.

"Thank you," he murmurs, and he knows that it's not enough, but he knows Haru understands anyway.

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

[gionkenji]

ahhhh thank you for the fill!!!! siren!himuro is a force of nature here, weathered and mostly not bitter. the specific nature of what a siren song entails is great, with the projected desires being built off of memory and belief both

i'm glad himuro still has his own desires, even if they're kinda vague and detached. also, him not having great vision as a siren is apt?? not much he has to see in order to work his magic/mind control

nijimura being brave and noble til the end is nice!!!! just, himuro finding/getting a bright moment in his monotonous routine is sweet and i'm happy for him that he's kinda happy??? sorry nijimura sacrifices had to be made

Re: FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, G

[miaoujones]

this is unbelievably adorable. and so on point!

FILL: Team Kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya, G

[kitaiichis]

ship: oikawa/kageyama
fandom: haikyuu!!
major tags: none!
other tags: (very loosely an) actor AU
word count: 1015 words

***

A story is best when structured in three acts. Or, Oikawa muses, perhaps best is not the right word; rather, a story is easier in three acts, simple structure and easy packaging.

This is all hypothetical, of course. And, like many of Oikawa’s hypotheses, Tobio shatters right through them, stumbling clumsily but doggedly as if unaware of the debris he leaves behind.

Every story has a beginning, but before this story begins, there is this: Kageyama Tobio stands at the door of Oikawa’s dressing room, a rolled-up script in hand and the small, well-worn ghost of a smile in his eyes.

“I guess we’re co-actors again, Oikawa-san,” Tobio says. “I’ll be in your care.”

“Of course,” Oikawa says. Of course.

Then, because neither of their managers nor the director is around, Oikawa walks out of his dressing room, still wearing half of the clothes he arrived in. Tobio steps aside from the doorway to let him leave, his mouth set in a flat line. Oikawa doesn’t remind him to use lip balm to stop Tobio’s lips from chapping. Oikawa does not stay long enough to say anything at all.

Not every story is a new story.


act i
In which the heroes are introduced, and problems arise.

Filming moves faster than anticipated. Oikawa isn’t surprised; Tobio is actually a rather good actor, once you moved past his inability to add any emotion into his sincerity. Or at least, the Tobio that Oikawa knows. The Tobio in today’s filming is someone else entirely.

“The crew gave us water,” Tobio says between scenes. This is not an entire truth: Oikawa saw the crew set several water bottles at a table to the side for everyone on set. Is everything alright, Tobio is asking, if not in as many words.

Tobio offers Oikawa a bottle. He isn’t holding one for himself.

It’s been a long time since Oikawa could confidently say he knows Tobio, however, and even then he has never confessed that he might not have been correct.

“Well,” Oikawa says, accepting the bottle. “That’s nice of them.”

“Yes.” Tobio nods, once, too hard.

Oikawa looks at him as he unscrews the cap of the bottle and takes a sip. Tobio swallows, but doesn’t look away.

“If you’re this tense away from the cameras, it’ll be awkward when filming picks back up,” Oikawa eventually says. He passes Tobio the bottle.

“Oh,” Tobio says. “Right–yes, thank you.”

Tobio fumbles with the bottle cap before deciding against a drink. The fidgeting settled him, though, the rest of him still even as his eyes waver between light and–and something else, watching Oikawa.

Oikawa pauses. Then: “You remembered to use lip balm.”

“Moisturisation is important,” Tobio replies, almost solemn.

Oikawa snorts, hiding his smile away behind a hand, but there’s no accounting for the sound.

“How right you are,” Oikawa says. “I suppose you’ll be alright after all.”

Tobio smiles, and nods.



act ii
In which catalysts spur the heroes into action, and growth occurs.

Oikawa is one of the first to leave the set, habitually making space for a full schedule that isn’t always there. Tobio is one of the last to leave the set, habitually determined on running through lines he’s already memorised to practice matching expressions that he hasn’t.

This is how Oikawa catches him some time after he’d first left, Tobio poised in front of a mirror and script held to his chest. Oikawa had returned to pick up his gloves; they must have slipped from his coat’s pockets. He meets Tobio’s eyes, wide in the mirror’s reflection.

“Oh,” is all Tobio says. His cheeks are pink, and Oikawa distantly wonders if he’s been getting enough sleep.

A pause, before Tobio says, “Your mirror was bigger. Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa promptly forgets about picking up his gloves.

“What scene are you on?”

Tobio blinks. “Um.”

“What scene are are you practicing,” Oikawa clarifies.

“Nine,” Tobio answers, because it is exactly like Tobio to identify by number over context. Oikawa knows which scene he’s referring to, though. Tobio’s alone in this scene, after every other character has exited the room, leaving Tobio to a monologue as he considers the green screen where a window will be.

A gazebo, Oikawa remembers. The window Tobio is supposedly looking out from overlooks a gazebo beside a pond.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that scene,” Oikawa tells him.

Tobio’s frowns. “Am I missing something?”

“No,” Oikawa answers. “Rather, you look like you’re missing someone.”

Tobio doesn’t correct him, but the flush in his cheeks rises, pronounced against his cheekbones.

He looks determined, eager, attentive.

He’s beautiful.



act iii
In which there is a resolution, and an ending.

“Oikawa-san,” Tobio says, “Do you have some time after this?”

This is the last episode they’re filming. It’s late on a Thursday afternoon, and Oikawa usually heads straight to the gym from the set.

“Depends on how much time you need,” Oikawa decides.

Tobio doesn’t shift his weight from one foot or the other, but he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, as if he’d like to. “Well. That depends on you, I think.”

Oikawa tilts his head, waiting.

“–Or,” Tobio tacks on, “How much time you’d like. If you want.”

Oikawa steps closer and, when Tobio doesn’t step away, he takes another step closer still.

“And how much time would you like me to take,” Oikawa hums. Tobio’s taller than he is, now, and he tips his head up, pleased at how he can watch the realisation travel up Tobio’s face, from the gentle set of his mouth, to the wide, open look in his eyes. Oikawa can feel a smile sliding onto his face, and he makes no move to cover it.

“As much as you need, please,” Tobio breathes.

Oikawa says, “That’s quite a long time, you know,” and waits for Tobio to object.

Tobio grins, and Oikawa catches a brief slip of Tobio’s teeth before Tobio leans in.

FILL: Team Himuro Tatsuya/Nijimura Shuuzou, T

[cherrysalmon]

Ship: Midorima Shintarou/Akashi Seijuurou
Fandom: Kuroko no basuke
Major Tags: bodily fluids (blood), death (mention of dead character; implied...not exactly death, but.), graphic depictions of gore/violence (puncturing the skin, violence to hands)
Other Tags: supernatural elements, witchy stuff, maybe a bit horror-y, oc (midorima's sister has a talking role), animals (animal sustaining an injury that is not abuse)
Word Count: 1658

i totally. did not see the florist au part until like right now sdksjhf im sorry orz

***

there’s a tale for everything, you see:
the creaking of the brass gate ghouls waiting in the graveyard,
the sigh of the wind a faerie’s kiss;
won’t you come in my garden to see for yourself
what you might otherwise miss?

-

Shintarou’s mother had told him never to enter the garden at the edge of the little town they live in, the wild overgrown garden with untrimmed rosebushes spilling out of the wrought-iron fence and into the little church with most of its paint eaten away by time and dust. It’s too close to the graveyard for comfort, and who knows what comes out of it at night, or even during daytime when the too-thick mist rolls in from the mountains to their part of the foothills.

She needn’t worry; Shintarou is as superstitious (not that he would use the word on himself, oh no) as they come. He would buy his day’s protection from the witch next door every day, in the form of a little trinket or a stale piece of bread or a handkerchief dotted with daisies. Takao would laugh and tell him he’s being duped, that the true witches have all packed up and left for the hills years ago, but he’s never yet had a day of horrid luck while carrying his lucky items.

Until today, when he walks up to her door to find a closed for one day sign in the window, the ink still faintly glistening.

This can’t be true.

Perhaps he should stay home then, today. The last time Shintarou had gone without his lucky item he’d fallen into the stream, his sister Shizuka had spilled hot soup on him, and he’d gotten his books stolen while he’d been eating. No, he would stay inside all day. Whatever bad luck would get to him would surely be minimized—

“Hello,” someone says from behind, quiet but assertive, and Shintarou turns to see a young man standing there, pensive and beautiful in a crisp black suit, his red hair seeming to glow in the slant of morning sunlight. “I’m sorry to bother you, but…do you by chance know the way to the town cemetery?”

Some young master who’s lost his entourage, Shintarou thinks, but even more than that he’s thinking about his eyes, serene yet commanding all the attention in the world. Still, Shintarou cannot be careful enough on a day like this. “What is your name, and why do you want to go there?”

“Akashi Seijuurou,” the young master answers, a twinkle in his eye. It could be curious, or dangerous, or both, but Shintarou has not yet had his morning cup of coffee and the sun in his eyes makes it impossible for him to tell one from the other. At least he has offered up his name freely; the witches never do. “My mother was buried there some years ago, before my family moved away. I’d like to visit, but as I’ve only arrived yesterday I have not yet figured out where it is.”

A most compelling reason. Shintarou finds his tone of voice soothing, even as he moves his face away from the offending sunlight. He had read about the Akashi name in the town library before, a wealthy family who had owned the town and its surrounding lands in the centuries before, who had resettled in another nearby town after the plague had devastated the town twenty years ago. Shintarou does not remember much of this—he had been too young.

Akashi looks about the right age, and Shintarou, superstitious but with nothing else to go on, turns and points. “If you go down the road there, and turn left by the rosebushes, you will find the cemetery. It’s locked now. Perhaps you should wait until the caretaker comes by this afternoon.”

“I will,” Akashi says, smiling, his scarlet eyes never leaving Shintarou’s face. “I’m very grateful for your help. May I know your name, if I forget the way?”

Shintarou hesitates. “Midorima.”

“Very well.” Akashi reaches out a hand, and Shintarou takes it. His grip, Shintarou notices, is cool and dry. “Thank you, Midorima.”

-

Shintarou finds himself walking towards the cemetery as the sun starts to hang low, a worry on his heart that had not been there previously. He carries yesterday’s charm (a single dried peony) and an old volume he’d borrowed from the library, containing Akashi’s family records.

Perhaps he’d like to have a read, but it doesn’t take long into the trek to occur to him that Akashi might have a similar copy already. Well.

He’s not worried about Akashi getting lost or trying to climb over the fence—worry is for the fact that he’s found himself outside again, without the help of today’s lucky item. If any reasonable affair could compel him to come outside, he thinks, it would only be—

“Midorima.”

Akashi is inside the gate, which hangs half-open, creaking. He’s looking up at the roses, and Shintarou follows his gaze.

The roses are blooming—but that cannot be. It’s only April, and they have not, in Shintarou’s mind, ever bloomed that early.

Akashi sighs, parts both woeful and petulant. “They are so beautiful, are they not? I remember Father saying our gardener planted them here to accompany the cemetery, in the old days…if only I could have one to remember Mother by.”

Shintarou steps into the garden, boots sinking into the soft ground as he nears the rosebush. It is tall, taller than any other rosebush he’s seen before. There are thorns there, of course, among the leaves, but its fragrance remains soft and inviting. Akashi stands there like he’s meant to be there—not among the cemetery, not in the gentle afternoon light, but one with the flowers.

“I brought this for you,” Shintarou says. Takao would call this an out-of-character moment, wag a finger at him about trusting nobody and everybody at once, but he isn’t here right now. Shintarou is not doing this out of the goodness of his heart; he simply doesn’t want his bad luck rubbing off on another person coming to him for help.

Besides, Akashi seems grateful when he flips open the pages. Shintarou turns away, towards the rosebush, and reaches up for one closest.

The thorn pricks his finger before he realizes it, blood oozing down his hand as he retreats with a single petal on his thumb. He bites his lip in annoyance; of course forgetting to bandage his hand would happen on a day like this.

Akashi looks at his wound, taking his hand. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s fine,” Shintarou says. He feels a little dizzy looking at the blood, bright red, red like Akashi’s eyes and hair and— “Let me try that again.”

“No,” Akashi says, pressing a finger to Shintarou’s wound, his voice suddenly very far away. “This will do just fine, Midorima Shintarou.”

-

Shizuka wakes up from her nap late that day, noticing with some panic the light already starting to fade outside. Her parents were away visiting friends in a nearby town, and her brother—

Where is her brother?

Shintarou had said nothing about going outside—she’d seen him earlier pacing about the house like a caged cat, something so unusual to the point where she’d pointed it out and gotten reprimanded in return.

Maybe he’s finally gotten rid of his preoccupation with lucky items. Shizuka wouldn’t know; the witch next door is nice enough, but one encounter with a pack of lethal cookies had had her convinced maybe she’s not cut out for this whole magic thing after all.

None of the townspeople knows where he’s gone, though there’s not many places Shintarou likes to go, after all. The librarian tells Shizuka he’d borrowed a book on genealogy—for what purpose, he has no idea. Right—maybe he wants to look at the headstones in the graveyard.

She has no idea why the thought occurs to her, but it does, and it does not leave her as she leaves the library and takes the main road down the street, past her house, until she sees the rosebushes. Someone ought to trim it, really, but at eleven years she’s not tall enough or strong enough for any of that.

Shizuka does not find her brother; instead, there is a young man standing there, next to a headstone not far away from the edge of the garden. Shizuka looks at the gate, which is locked, and wonders how he got inside.

“Mister,” she calls out, from beyond the gates, “I’m sorry, but have you seen my brother?”

The man turns, his red hair brushed back by the wind. Something about his eyes scares her, but Shizuka does not run away as he approaches, bending down to take a good look at her. “Oh? —I don’t believe I see a single human being out here, except for you. What do you think?”

Shizuka swallows. It’s true she sees nobody else, not even the caretaker, who probably is sleeping on his job again. Something flickers in the corner of her eye, and she sees a cat dart behind a tree, one of its front legs bandaged up. She suddenly feels very cold. “I…I see, it’s true. Thank you, sir.”

The man stands up as she turns and walks away, fast, and then faster even when she realizes he is not following her. Of course Shintarou would not be here; why would he be nosing through those ugly grey headstones with creepy men who hang around graveyards? No, not even the roses are incentive enough. She’s sure of this, now that she can see the houses at the edge of town again.

Her brother’s simply gone away for a little while, that’s all.

-

there’s a tale for everything, so beware:
don’t walk through the door to places unknown,
don’t follow the witches into their dens;
you’ll see flowers with blood on their lips,
and into their world you’ll slip.