SASO Referees (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sportsanime2017-07-23 07:03 pm
referees) wrote in sportsanime2017-07-23 07:03 pm
Entry tags:
Bonus Round 5: Clue
Sometimes, all you need are a few little details to imagine something bigger. This round is inspired by a classic board game with a cast of colorful characters, but for SASO your only limits on "who", "where", and "with what" are what you can imagine (and the SASO fandom list, of course)!
Please read this whole post before commenting to ensure that your team gets the most points possible. (There are changes from last year!)
RULES
- Submit prompts by commenting to this post with the format of a Clue mystery - "[character] in the [location] with [item]", along with any ship/ot3/etc. from one of our nominated fandoms.
- Example: Sawamura Daichi in the teachers' lounge with the Hello Kitty! lunchbox
- The person in your prompt MAY be a member of your ship, but is not REQUIRED to be part of your ship. They must still be a named character from a SASO-nominated fandom.
- Your place must be a physical location, not a state of being or a state of being. However, this location is not required to be real, nor must it be from the same setting as the characters.
- The "item" used must be a physical object that the character can hold or manipulate.
- Unlike the board game, your prompt is NOT required to imply murder. The scenario implied can be anything at all! (As always, please tag properly!)
- 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 Clue-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)
Format your comment in one of the following ways:
| If PROMPTING: | If FILLING: | If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant: |
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP]
| FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING]
| FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING]
|
Posts not using this format will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, regardless of what they contain. They, like all comments in this community, are subject to the code of conduct.
If you see anyone breaking the code of conduct (e.g., causing drama, being rude) anywhere (not just DW), please contact the mods immediately.
SCORING
These numbers apply to your team as a whole, not each individual teammate. Make as many prompts/fills as you want!For prompts: 5 points each (maximum of 50 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:First 4 fills by any member of your team: 20 points each
Fills 5-10: 15 points each
Fills 11-20: 5 points each
Fills 21-50: 2 points each
Fills 51+: 1 point each
All scored content must be created new for this round.
Etc.
If you're hunting through the prompts looking for what to fill, a good trick is to view top-level comments only (see the line of links below this post).Have a question? Check The FAQ first. If you still need help, feel free to contact the mods. Happy fanworking!
FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, T
Fandom: haikyuu!!
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: past semi eita/shirabu kenjirou, angst, smoking, mental health issues (depression), food comfort!!!!
Word Count: ~1200
first of all, thANK YOU FOR PROMPTING THIS. I AM WEAK. my ideas for what i had originally planned to write for this spiraled out of control, so this is only a portion of what i finished before the br deadline orz
***
It was astonishing how quickly love could devolve to hate.
Smoking was only one of the bad habits Eita had picked up because of Shirabu. There was also the gritted teeth every time something reminded him of his ex -- because that asshole just had to show up everywhere Eita looked -- and the staying up all night for no reason other than not wanting to dream. Avoiding text messages and phone calls. Rushing to finish his coding job so he could leave the office a little early and cry until he puked in the sanctity of his own bathroom. Sitting in the shower with his hands curled into fists until the water ran cold, until the beast that was urge to hurt retreated to its corner.
Eita was two cigarettes away from forgetting that he never told Shirabu to leave his key. He leaned against the wall and let the puff of smoke curl out the open window, watching as it dissolved into the night, wishing that his memories would do the same.
He didn't know why he was nursing his hurt like this. It wasn't as if he was any more or less lonely now that Shirabu was gone, since his new job had made short work of keeping him busy with no time for their relationship in the last few months it had taken for everything to go to hell.
They'd broken up before a few times, but it was never permanent. They'd find their way back to each other only to spew more venom and sleep apart again because it was all they knew how to do. Shirabu had never packed before he disappeared, until he did. He had always come back for more, until he didn't.
In a morbid way, Eita missed the screaming matches that left him hoarse and too angry to function; at least they were better than this perpetual, numbing silence.
Eita craved indifference, but he couldn't help the flare of hope in his chest every time his phone buzzed. He routinely ignored and deleted the apologetic messages from old teammates and friends who'd heard out about the split, but dutifully, if not a little curtly, responded to work emails -- most of which were programming questions that had easily googleable answers -- since he couldn't afford to lose his job. Things were tense as is, when he came into the office every weekday looking like death itself. At least his mask kept the most annoying ones away from his cubicle.
He'd collapsed into bed (gods, his sheets needed washing) for another sleepless night when a message from Reon caught his eye. Those were the only messages he kept because they were never pushy or insincere. Reon never asked how Eita was. Instead, he messaged him about books he'd read and thought Eita would like and other, harmless topics that didn't require Eita to think too hard on his replies.
I have something for you. I can drop it off any time this week, just let me know when's good for you.
Eita hadn't seen Reon in ages and was tempted to tell him to just send whatever it was by mail. But he knew Reon wouldn't have said he'd bring it in person if there wasn't a valid reason behind his offer. Truth be told, he didn't really care either way.
tomorrow. i get off work at 4. I’ll send you my address in the morning
Knowing how volatile his relationship with Shirabu was, it wasn't surprising that Eita had fallen apart in the wake of their breakup. But Reon still felt a pang in his chest at the sight of averted bloodshot eyes underscored by bruise-like circles, and the way the wrinkled long-sleeve tee hung off Eita’s body, nearly swallowing him whole.
The cloying scent of cigarettes and heartache was thick in the air.
Reon didn't think; he blurted an apology and a promise to be right back, all in the same breath, and then he was jogging to the little market a few blocks from Eita's flat, a list already formed in his mind.
Eita didn't know what to make of Reon's abrupt arrival and departure, but since he said he'd be right back, he left the door unlocked, smirking at the comforting thought of someone coming in and murdering him in the meantime.
"My grandmother used to say the first step to healing a broken heart was a good bowl of miso," Reon said, unpacking his haul on the kitchen counter.
Eita glowered at him from the living room. He sat with his chin resting on his palms on the back of the couch as he watched Reon prep for the soup and fiddle with the rice cooker. "My heart can't be broken if I don't have one."
"You could stand to be a little less miserable, Eita. Believe me -- you aren't heartless." Reon eyed the take-out containers in the slightly over-full trash. "When's the last time you cooked?"
"Cooking? What's that?" was the sarcastic reply. Underlying it was a bitterness that confirmed Reon's suspicions. Eita had never been thin, but he looked withered and withdrawn, more shadow than substance, as if he had been willing his body to disappear.
Reon pulled his gaze from Eita and shook himself because he wasn't here to scrutinize and make him uncomfortable. Just his original mission of passing him the envelope and his new mission to make sure he ate decently for once, both of which he desperately hoped would bring Eita some peace of mind.
Their closeness from high school had morphed into something more mature, where they didn’t need to see each other every day to know that they were still friends. Just the texts every now and then, which was how Eita preferred it.
Eita couldn’t remember exactly how long it had been since they’d seen each other. He was pretty sure there was a party he and Shirabu had gone to (and left separately) a few months ago, and some of the old team had been there. He quashed that memory quickly. It didn’t matter how long it had been.
Because even though they’d grown older and apart, less dependent on their unrivaled sense of camaraderie, watching Reon flit around his kitchen in the apron he’d filched from one of the drawers, one Eita hadn’t even remembered he’d had until Reon already had it over his head, didn’t feel like novelty. This was Reon’s first time in his kitchen, but it was also his thousandth.
The miso was a welcome heat on Eita's tongue, and the was rice fluffier than he ever managed to get it, but Eita slowed down at Reon's quirked brow. He was surprised at his own hunger, since he'd largely forgotten what hunger felt like. Everything else he'd been eating -- even the curry he got from his favorite restaurant -- had tasted like sawdust. This, though, was heavenly, and he took seconds, then thirds.
Reon didn’t take any, content to sit with Eita while he ate at the dining table, still wearing that infernal apron with its pastel floral pattern. It suited him, Eita thought.
Re: FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, T