Bonus Round 6: Remixes

[referees]

The goal is in sight, participants! Let's finish strong by drawing upon the thousands of fanworks you've created this summer and putting them in new lights.

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

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

RULES

• Choose a fanwork created by other participants in a previous main or bonus round of SASO 2017 and create a new piece based on it. You could create a fanart of another work, an FST inspired by a piece’s style, a podfic of someone else's work, retell another person’s fanfic from another point of view, create a new fanfic inspired by a great piece of art... go wild! Sequels do count as remixes, with limits: "And then the same thing happened again" is not ok, but "And then some totally new thing happened" is fine, and please don't create only sequels.
• You cannot remix your teammates' works. You cannot remix your own works. You can remix fills that were created to your own prompts.
• You can remix a remix, but if we see any remix chains we'll be upset, so do this with moderation and restraint.
• You must have permission from the original creator. There's a blanket permissions post here (feel free to add yourself to it!), or you can leave a comment on their original post asking for permission.
• You must include the dreamwidth link to the original work in your post.
• Since all fills are based on previous works, there will be no prompts for this round. Simply post your fill as a comment in response to this post.
• Remember to follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.

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)
• 8 tracks (fanmixes)

There is no max work cap.

Format your comment in one of the following ways:

If FILLING:

If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:

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. (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>Original Work:</strong> <a href="url">link</a> (place the DW link 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. (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>Original Work:</strong> <a href="url">link</a>(place the DW link 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

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Haizaki & Kise
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by fickle
Word Count: 427

***

Haizaki’s trying not to grind his teeth; he really is. All he fucking wants to do is give Akashi a piece of his mind, Akashi who loves talking about his stupid fucking gardening and flower arranging, Akashi who’s definitely going to know exactly what he means when he gives him the shittiest flowers he can find (and come on, pretty boy behind the counter, don’t say you don’t have any; just because you shock the shelves doesn’t mean you’re probably not sneering at consumers’ shitty tastes).

“Then just - use that flower language thing. About red roses meaning love, white roses meaning innocence, that stuff. Make a bouquet that says I hate you,” Haizaki says.

(That ought to be enough, right? Actually get his meaning across so he can stop wasting his time and get on showing Akashi?) The pretty boy looks like he’s going to talk back again but then wisely seems to remember that the customer is always right, giving a cutesy little smile that probably makes all the girls shriek but is faker than than the dewdrops made out of glue on a fraying plastic rose. Please. Haizaki waits to sneer before the guy goes to the back (he does, after all, call Haizaki “sir”) but he still does it, and maybe it’s still on his face when he gets back.

“Here you go.”

It’s a trash looking bouquet, all right; half the flowers are wilted and the colors don’t seem to go together at all, purple and orange and some white flowers that hadn’t absorbed all of the red dye that had been placed in their water. Haizaki’s not sure what kind they are, not that it really matters (not that he gives a damn about the language of flowers).

“And you’re sure it says fuck you?”

Pretty Boy rattles off a list of flower names, as if that’s supposed to impress Haizaki or something (whatever, nice to know he’s learned something doing this job for however the fuck long he has). And then the charge on the cash register appears, way too fucking overpriced but whatever. Haizaki’s gotten to this point, anyway; Akashi’s not the only one who can throw his money around.

“May I ask what the recipient did?” Pretty Boy asks (nosy, too, but it’s not like Haizaki wouldn’t want to know).

“He kicked me off our basketball team,” says Haizaki, practically spitting the words as he heads toward the door, kicking over a bucket of bright pink flowers that look like they’re mocking him even worse than Akashi ever has.

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Nijimura/Himuro
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by kiyala
Word Count: 469

***

It’s strange to think of Tatsuya as gone now, when he’d always been leaving. He’d let Shuuzou coax him into bed with the implication of staying over hanging in the air and then he’d leave in the middle of the night, sneaking out in the quiet way Shuuzou had mostly stopped doing with his parents years ago, only now he's on the other side. Tatsuya would leave him at the street court, disappear into the shadows when Shuuzou was distracted, as if he was an illusion, a mirage, never really there in the first place.

But Tatsuya who’s leaving is different than Tatsuya who has left; before there was always the feeling that he’d come back again, always the hope that this time Shuuzou could grab onto him, solid fingers on solid flesh, and keep him, however selfish or bad or wrong that might have been. There was the thought that maybe he wasn’t real, except it would get blown away, the physical messages on Shuuzou’s phone screen, the bite marks on his skin (the way Tatsuya would always leave behind something of himself on Shuuzou, a reminder to say to both of them that he was really there). But now that he’s an ocean away, the doubt creeps up, stupid and useless, that maybe Shuuzou had made up the whole thing. A boy too beautiful to be real, a personality too nebulous and vague to take shape, because Shuuzou hadn’t decided on it.

This is a desert and it’s full of mirages, but the cold ache of missing Tatsuya is all too real. It’s comforting in a twisted sort of way, validating Shuuzou’s other feelings. It’s standing on the court with Tatsuya’s old teammates (for lack of a better word, usual pickup game companion doesn’t have the same ring to it), an empty fifth spot, and none of them saying his name but thinking about him all the same, passes to where he’d be and none of them have the same clear vision, the same drive to convert every play into a shot, the same point of view the games had always come to focus on. The things that Shuuzou’s been relying on without realizing he has, absent again.

He wishes Tatsuya was here; he wishes they could be playing together, with or against each other, rather than him here in Tatsuya’s scene and Tatsuya over there in what had once been Shuuzou’s (if he could lay that much of a claim to it, which judging by the occasional LINE messages he exchanges with Akashi or Kubota is a solid no—he wants to ask them about Tatsuya, if they’d played against him, if they’d seen this guy with this kind of shot and that kind of face, but, well, better to leave that alone just in case).

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Mayuzumi/Akashi
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by hyalinee
Word Count: 407

distant?? sequel??

***

History repeats itself, or at least people parrot the phrase. Chihiro has been the village priest for many years now; he, too, has taken in a child whose parents are long gone, rumors of their disappearance swirling like water in the river under the rotting bridge in a storm. It is good, Chihiro decides, that the bridge has decayed this much; it doesn’t tempt or seem quite as legendary, forces people to spread their imaginations elsewhere (though they always end up spreading the same sort of stupid rumors).

The child, though, is preoccupied; she draws the bridge in the small sketchbook that Chihiro regrets buying her, its image captured with all the perspective and spatial awareness that should not be there in a child of her age. Spooky, the other children call her. She keeps drawing, face unblinking like a slab (Chihiro is often blamed for raising her wrong, as if her artistic talent or predisposition to be quiet are his fault, not that he really cares).

“Are there spirits on the other side of the bridge?” she asks at dinner.

Chihiro shovels more rice into his mouth and waits before speaking. “Who told you there were?”

The child shrugs. “Everyone says. I’ve never seen one.”

“That’s bullshit," says Chihiro. “The only thing on that bridge is mold and water damage.”

She nods, her face a blank as usual, but something in her eyes, something that reminds Chihiro of a memory that doesn’t leave him alone, of bright eyes, red and gold like autumn leaves. History repeats itself, but spirits (if they exist, which they do not; as a priest Chihiro considers himself pretty educated on the farce of religion) exist outside of time. They are the stuff of legend, appearing in a line that never quite fades out from book to book. Maybe she’s been reading too many books; Chihiro certainly had at her age.

There are flashes of red and yellow now and again in her summer drawings, at the edges of the frame, a smudge almost like a mistake, but a colored pencil she would not have picked up and pressed to the page by accident. Her marks are deliberate; the colors shine against the muted dark green of the woods and overgrowth and of the river, the grey and brown and black of the rotting wooden bridge. She does not explain it, and Chihiro does not ask. Some things are better left unsaid.

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Akashi/Mayuzumi, Nebuya&Mibuchi&Hayama
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by kiyala
Word Count: 435

***

It’s obvious that something’s pulling on Reo’s mind, more than the usual things like trying to fit studying for every test in around basketball and homework and any semblance of a social life, something that Reo—always inclined to talk things through—is keeping quiet about. Eikichi’s pretty patient, but he’s not that patient, and there’s only so much of Reo staring into space and looking distraught he can take.

“What’s up?”

“Oh!” says Reo, snapping out of it. “I’m. It’s—well.”

Reo sighs, letting out a breath that Eikichi can almost feel from the next chair over (their dorm common room is tiny, but it’s not that tiny). Even Kotarou looks up from his calculus homework, when he’d been muttering some mnemonic for the chain rule just a minute ago.

“Mayuzumi-san asked me about Sei-chan earlier today.”

“What about him?”

“About...how he used to be. When we were all in middle school.”

(No need to revisit that time in history, Eikichi remembers all of it all too well, but especially the Akashi that had led that killing machine that was Teikou, how different he’d been than the Akashi who had showed up at the beginning of April.)

“And?” says Kotarou.

“And I don’t like him messing around in it. This is none of our business, especially if Sei-chan is helping us win like this. If this is what he needs to do, then…I don’t know.”

“You think Mayu-san has an ulterior motive,” says Kotarou.

Eikichi snorts. “What, he’s sabotaging the team?”

“Well he very well could end up doing that!” says Reo.

“You think he loves Akashi,” says Kotarou in a singsong voice that Eikcihi hasn’t heard any of his peers use since he was maybe ten or eleven.

“I think he has a crush he’d be stupid to pursue.”

“Wait,” says Eikichi. “Mayuzumi? Likes Akashi?”

Reo sighs, as if Eikichi is a small child who needs to have the same basic concept explained to him multiple times. “He’s asking all of these questions. He keeps on looking at Sei-chan, like he’s fascinated. He wants to get to know the real Sei-chan, and for our closed-off snide upperclassman, that’s practically confessing right there.”

“So?” says Eikichi. “So what if he does? Maybe if they start dating Mayuzumi will be nicer, and then their chemistry will translate to the court or something.”

Both Reo and Kotarou are giving Eikichi the same kind of unimpressed look, as if he really doesn’t get it. And maybe he really doesn’t, because he’s not sure what the hell’s going on.

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Mayuzumi/Himuro
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by multilinear
Word Count: 457

***

The world is supposed to divide itself neatly into two, before and after, a fresh sheet of paper added to the timeline. It’s supposed to when the relationship is pivotal enough, but Chihiro supposes that this one simply hadn’t been. Strange that he'd expected it to be, wanted to give it more weight and at the same time withheld, withdrew, in a way that made Tatsuya want to chase because he knew he wouldn’t end up with Chihiro in his hands, letting him in and not knowing what to do with him (both of them calling the other’s bluff, and Chihiro would rather stay here than screw with Tatsuya in that way).

The drunken hookups had escalated to a relationship, living mostly together, Tatsuya in Chihiro’s apartment telling him to take the ashtray out on the patio, Tatsuya trying to get him to smile and be a little bit more fake free. It’s something Chihiro wishes he could have called Tatsuya on, that they could have had a big blowout fight, because it had ended the way it had started, abrupt and shaking, Tatsuya pushed toward a decision of moving back home. Chihiro could have followed; he can write anywhere with the right converter for his laptop plug even if he can’t speak the languages of Tatsuya’s neighborhood, navigate the streets or get comfortable driving in a car with the wheel on the wrong side.

There had been a before Tatsuya, a during Tatsuya, an after Tatsuya, but nothing so neat of phase, like the moon in the sky, like Tatsuya sitting on the step, Tatsuya palming the ever-present basketball (pulling him to the past, a part of time that had brought Chihiro and Tatsuya to acquaintanceship but a part Chihiro would like to leave behind, a phase that he has let go of—and maybe all of this is Tatsuya's fault, his messy lack of ability to compartmentalize, Chihiro spilling over from acquaintance to lover to former cohabitant, but he’d let Tatsuya get away with it so it’s his own damn fault, too).

But it’s enough, Chihiro thinks, enough of the life experience all his writing teachers have told him he should have, that he can’t sit back and observe and record, he has to know what he writes, write what he knows. He’d used Tatsuya for his body, for the good head he gave and those hollowed-out cheeks better than anything Chihiro could conjure up on the page at the time (he’s since improved). And now he’s got Tatsuya to use for material, the memory of him that will eventually fade and cover itself with Chihiro’s idea of how things were (the more times you recall something, the farther from reality it becomes).

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Aomine/Kagami
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by kiyala
Word Count: 424

***

“Real cute, you know,” Aomine says, leaning over the kitchen counter. “Like you’re Cinderella and I’m the prince.”

Kagami snorts. “Some prince.”

“Hey, I came after you—the only boy whose foot fit the slipper.”

“I'm pretty sure Cinderella’s prince didn’t drop her shoe on the floor and call her an asshole.”

“Maybe he should have!”

“The shoe would break and she wasn’t being an asshole; she needed to get home so her horrible family wouldn’t abuse her more. I don’t know how you can even compare the situations.”

“I mean, it’s just the shoe,” says Aomine. “It fits and stuff.”

“What if my feet get bigger?” says Kagami.

Aomine straightens up, dropping an arm around his shoulder, and—it had been sort of obvious before, when they’d been guarding each other and both times they’d kissed, but Kagami’s definitely closing the height gap. Aomine looks at him with something that looks like alarm and annoyance and maybe something else, like the way he’d looked after Kagami had kissed him, the thing that had made him bolt in the first place.

“I’m still taller. So my feet are going to get bigger first, okay?”

“Okay,” says Kagami, raising an eyebrow. “But what if I get taller than you? Like, five inches taller or something?”

“Gimme some of your steroids, then,” says Aomine, grinning.

Usually by this point when he’s touching Kagami, he pulls away; this time he still feels comfortable and Kagami could make a crack about enjoying his leverage of a centimeter or so while he’s still got it, but he doesn’t want to make the situation awkward. He doesn’t want Aomine to pull away. He kind of wants to kiss Aomine again, but wonders if it’s too soon, because they still haven’t talked about it, really. Whether they’re going to keep doing this, pretend it never happened (they’re even now, aren’t they?) or Aomine’s going to say something weird about it.

And then he leans closer, resting his head on Kagami’s shoulder and yawning.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” says Kagami.

“You kissed me first,” says Aomine.

“That’s not—“ says Kagami. “I want to kiss you; I don’t want to have to hold you up in the middle of my kitchen.”

He feels his face flush; it’s a little bit closer to a confession of sorts, but then again hadn’t the kiss been enough of one already? He needs to stop overthinking it, simplify it a bit.

“Comes with the territory,” says Aomine. “I’ll kiss you again, though, if you want it.”

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Aomine/Kise
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by fickle
Word Count: 428

***

What leads up to a breakup isn’t just one thing. If your partner cheated, they’d done it for a reason, because you weren’t available or they’d been looking for a reason to cut you loose because of some deeper problem, or because they weren’t good at monogamy but you were. If you fell out of love, it was a gradual thing, not a reason but a billion steps that could have diverged. If you were Kise, if you are Kise, it’s a little bit like that, except you’re still halfway in love with a man who doesn’t want you all that much anymore.

He loves the things around you that form the outline of your shape, the expensive presents you give him and the way it’s so easy for you to fit together, your mess joining his mess in the apartment you share, and on the rare nights he stays over at what’s nominally your place, his old sweatpants that fit you just as well and his brand of canned vegetables in the pantry. But it’s been a long time since he was able to see you for you, a long time since he’d tried.

And in the end, he amounts to just a collection of stuff at Aomine’s place, shaving cream and shampoo and mineral water that he leaves in the fridge, the blue coffee mug that’s always his in the morning (and that stays too), things he can toss into a duffel bag.

“So that’s it?” Aomine says, like he’d expected Kise to say, as if he believes everything will just right itself, as if he can’t see that they barely know each other anymore.

Kise continues to shove his crap into the bag, a couple of shirts he wants to keep, a toothbrush that he doesn’t really need but he’s taking just because, his concert DVDs, that probably-empty Starbucks card on the bedside table.

“Ten years and you’re gone, just like that?”

Kise looks at him, just once, letting the exhaustion flood through him, the way that used to make Aomine come over and try to solve the problems he’d been less equipped to deal with than Kise, but he’d cheer Kise up with his inane suggestions and dumb masculine posturing. Except this time he’s just standing in the doorway, filling it like Kise’s the only one he wants to confront.

“Then give me a reason to stay,” Kise says (but the battle’s already lost, isn’t it; if Aomine hasn’t by now, if he can’t think of one—it’s no use; it’s no use).

FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T

[multilinear]

Ship: sonoyura
Fandom: stella c3
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Original Work: link by stariceling
Word Count: 1195


***

in hindsight, maybe sonora wasn't as good as she'd thought she was. looking back, it should have been obvious; yura wasn't twitchy, but rather well-trained. what sonora thought had been little quirks were things yura did as a result of intense training: the way yura walked, with silent footsteps sympatico with sonora's, and the way yura preferred to sit with her back against the wall, facing the door of any room. it wasn't just calculated, sonora realizes. yura is tactical.

she supposes she has rin to thank for the revelation. that little bomb in the kitchen had been an unpleasant surprise; sonora's been in deep cover for a reason, and she likes the way that kitchen had looked. it had been fairly accident- and knifefight-proof, just the way sonora (and, she mentally adds, yura) likes. the whole house was like that, remodeled to ensure nobody could be cornered; sonora understands now why yura hadn't gone for the open floor plan. it would have been entirely too difficult to find good cover. sonora briefly mourns the work and money they'd put into the place, plaster chips, dust, and bullet casings under her bare feet.

sonora knows yura, but she's not quite sure how yura fights. she calls out, back pressed against their absurdly wide nightstand (god, it all makes sense), finger on the trigger, "so where were you really, last christmas?"

"i was visiting my sister," yura snaps back. she sounds irritated but genuine, and sonora wonders, marvels, at how yura's woven her fiction with her truth. the best jobs were always like that. the best agents always knew how to lie: convincingly, honestly. "where were you?"

last december, sonora had shipped out to america to retrieve a valuable package that had been unfortunately lost in transit. sonora found the informant in a tidy little safe house, ransoming both his former employer and his potential buyers, and done her job. "work," sonora laughs. "sorry, honey."

yura will find her in the bedroom, but sonora's prepared for this. she has the bed between them, and sonora's left the bedroom door open for a reason.

sonora moves while yura enters the room, firing shots with a tidy accuracy that sonora would admire, under different circumstances. yura has the advantage, with her back flattened against a wall, but sonora knows yura the way she knows how to breathe, or so she hopes.

yura's form is rigid from shock, but her hands grip her handgun with surprising ease. for five years, sonora's worshiped those hands and yura's body, gotten her to cry out her name and never, ever pried out a secret like this. sonora heaves herself out of the bedroom, cursing the lack of morning coffee and the jolt of kissing yura awake. someone will probably notice that they've shot out all the windows.

sonora gets the jump on yura when yura has her back turned to her at last, vulnerable for only the briefest of seconds. yura twists on her heel, gun pointed at sonora's chest; sonora keeps her trigger finger tense while she levels her gun at yura's head.

there were only so many ways someone could get out of a stalemate with their life intact. sonora hopes she's got the better of yura in field experience, although (judging by the terrifying precision of yura's shots) she wouldn't want to bet on it. sonora stares at yura, really looks at her and sees her professional demeanor, her steady hands and the way yura looks oddly relaxed, sweaty but in control of herself. it's kind of sexy.

sonora shoots up into the ceiling, plaster raining down on yura's head. yura's shot goes wild, and if sonora's right, she only has one more bullet. their kitchen, living room, and bedroom are ruined now, and it won't be hard to shoot yura when she's down.

yura is crumpled up on the floor, head protected by her forearms, gun still held tightly in her grasp. sonora goes against every instinct and piece of advice she's ever gotten in the field, and doesn't kick her gun away. she crouches before yura's body, yura's eyes open and alert at her movements. sonora wonders, briefly, if she should (she can, she knows she can, and she knows yura knows). it would be quick, and probably mutual.

she looks like she's just crash-landed from the sky, as if yura's body punched a hole in whatever reality sonora's been living in and this, yura-as-an-operative, is some form of waking dream. sonora leans in close, yura's body tense, but this kind of tension, yura's tension, she can work with.

sonora kisses yura on the tip of her nose. if she knows their kind at all, this will be it: the end all and be all, the last goodbye. yura doesn't make a sound.

yura was always a well-behaved, reasonably fit girl. she was on the thin side, but she was wiry in a way that sonora had liked, even five years ago. she's surprisingly strong, carrying most of their groceries in one trip and pleasantly delighting sonora when yura permitted herself to be carried, her body a relaxed, reassuring weight in sonora's arms. yura explodes into action, sonora still close enough to be shot, but instead yura just grabs her shirtfront, holds her still while yura kisses her like they haven't done so in years.

sonora used to coax yura into doing things, taking hiking trips and watching scary movies. yura had been a hesitant kisser, sonora's technique lacking, neither of them knowing what to do with their hands and bodies. yura kisses sonora with a fire behind all their practice; she kisses the way she fights, as if her life is on the line. sonora can feel that heat, too, curling warm in her her gut, yura's tongue in her mouth and lips crushed heavy, teeth clacking. "honey," sonora breathes, yura intoxicatingly close, "i love you too, but--"

yura steals the air from sonora's lungs. sonora tries to tell her the rest, but it's as if yura knows already, ahead of the curve, or just doesn't care, or both. sonora knows they should check the kitchen again, make sure rin hasn't left any other time-delayed gifts around the remains of their destroyed house, but the rush of merely being alive and loved all at once is overwhelming.

when yura lets sonora go (or vice versa, sonora's not able to tell, they've barely given each other room to breathe), sonora tries to find what it was that had seemed so important. "we should probably turn off the gas." at some point, sonora must have pulled yura to her lap. yura studies her, cases sonora's body like a crime scene, a pensive frown on her face.

"you're reckless," she says. as if that was supposed to be an accusation, but in their line of work, it was a particularly useful advantage.

"and you're kind of ruthless, aren't you?" sonora replies, and she means that entirely as a compliment. sonora smiles, ignoring the ruined wreck of their shared home, and presses her forehead to yura's, grinning. she adds, whispering low like it's a secret, entirely truthful, "i like that."

FILL: Team Grandstand, T

[babster]

Ship: Kiyoko/Asahi/Daichi/Suga
Fandom: Haikyuu
Major Tags: murder (attempted); injuries
Other Tags: none
Original Work: link
Word Count: 557

i loved your fill and i loved how it ended but i also wanted there to be a happy ending so

***

As princess, Kiyoko belonged to her people first, more than she would ever belong to herself.

As her guards, Daichi, Suga, and Asahi belonged to Kiyoko. They had spent their lives knowing they would protect her, training to protect her. It was their life’s purpose; it was all they ever wanted. For they, all three of them, loved the princess with unswerving devotion, first as herself, and then as a symbol for the people.

Such things were not proper to say, however, and so they kept their feelings close, speaking of them only with each other. Instead, they did what they could to not only protect the princess’ body, but her mind and her heart as well. It wasn’t a hardship; they gave her everything they could, protection and companionship both, and it came as naturally as breathing.
 

As the political situation worsened, attacks against the royal family increased. The trouble began in subtle ways: a carelessly fastened saddle that would have caused the princess to fall from her horse if Asahi were not so diligent (and the stableboy gone, dead or a traitor, either way a problem for the castle guard rather than the Princess’ Guard, who were not to leave her side); a snake under her chair, discovered before she even entered the room. Things escalated from there.

One day, there was poison in the princess’ tea cakes, and if Suga’s quick eyes hadn’t noticed the tarnish on the silver cake knife, there is no telling what might have happened. 

After that, the three of them only accepted food brought from those they trusted, and they always tasted the princess’ food first (although never in her presence, as that would only cause her further pain).
 

They had been expecting assassins; they had not been expecting so many at once. The three of had trained for this moment, though they had all hoped it would never come. Nevertheless, at the first twang of a crossbow, Asahi was in front of the princess, shielding her from harm. Daichi shouted for the guard as Suga ran ahead of them, scouting for further assassins.

The princess had to get to safety; that was all that mattered. They would fight off the assassins, and do their best to survive, but they would die to keep her safe, if that was what it took.
 

They were lucky, and more than that, they were better trained than the assassins, with more to live for. Daichi took a slash to the ribs; Suga was limping; Asahi, as the most obvious target, had an arrow in his back by his shoulder, and a half dozen other wounds besides. They leaned on one another for a moment, taking comfort in the fact they all still breathed.

Then they opened the trap door, and Kiyoko lunged at them with a knife.

They stared at her in surprise, half-formed reprimands about how she should have gone, should be safe, on their tongues. And then she flung herself into their arms, trying to hug all three of them at once.

Surprisingly, it was Daichi who began to cry.

“Princess,” he said. “Kiyoko.” He curled his free arm around her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said Asahi gently. “You should be safe.”

Kiyoko gave him a watery smile.

“Where else am I safer than with my guards?”

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Aomine/Kise
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by sotongsotong
Word Count: 406

***

They come together in an explosion, but that’s how it had to happen. Satsuki calls it something she could see coming from a mile away, a car crash from two vehicles spinning out on the freeway until they collide and leave a mass of rubberneckers slowing down traffic all around them. Maybe they’d been circling each other like birds of prey; maybe it’s just a tangle of beaks and feathers and the talons of a raptor.

It’s a beautiful explosion, the kind that gets splashed on the front pages of the papers and etched in the collective memories, an image of the bursting flames, the clouds of smoke, the symmetrical shape of the air moving purely wrong. Daiki knows going in that it’s not going to last, the release of all the feelings he’d built up, amusement and fascination and lust and competitiveness pressing against the dam until it bursts, rushing over dry land to meet Ryouta’s, much the same; his is tinged with looking up and looking at Daiki as an equal, with all of his feelings for basketball; with them it’s always going to be pretty fucking complicated.

Except the sex isn’t complicated at all. They’ve always been a physical match, even when Ryouta was trying to get close to catching up to Daiki on the court, even when their bodies were still growing at uneven rates, even when the scales tipped over and Daiki fell hard like Ryouta had just jumped off the fucking seesaw his talent was so high, and it was Daiki catching up from the wrong side. But they know each other; they’ve been reading each other’s bodies forever; this part’s inevitable, a consequence of feelings (built up more like plaque on teeth without a proper cleaning, Daiki thinks, than any other comparison he would have used two seconds ago) and a clash of flesh on flesh, mouth on mouth on skin, a competition in another form, the same prize of mutual satisfaction that there’s always been.

But it’s like a volcano, blowing off the side of the mountain; it’s never going to be the same, their relationship as it was, as it was supposed to be. The things that are irrevocable, the fruit long out of reach tasting nowhere near as sweet as they’d imagined it to be. Necessary, the collateral damage being only each other, but at least now they’re free of it, thrown back their separate ways.

FILL: Team Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, G

[soveryaverageme]

Ship: Aone Takanobu/Hinata Shouyou
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: Podfic, Fluff, Travel
Original Work: link by plume_sombre
Word Count: None

***

Listen Here! [3:22] (Google Drive)

FILL: Team Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, G

[terrencelovesyou]

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: None
Original Work: link by notallbees
Word Count: None

this one's a lil rushed but my guy if u continue the passengers au i will draw every single scene in it i swear to baby jesus

***


full image: http://imgur.com/PFoU8TC

FILL: Team Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, T

[moetushie]

Ship: Hanamiya/Imayoshi, Hanamiya & Kise
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: when you're twenty-one you're no fun, Hanamiya is 100% monster, 0% regret
Original Work: link by fickle
Word Count: 409

I loved the murder/model AU so much. :'D

***

That Kise turned out to be stupid and reckless came as no surprise. Makoto already knew a pretty face almost always guaranteed an empty head too, but it was nice to have that confirmed once again. He looked sadly down at Kise’s broken body as the rest of them gathered around. What a pity. It had been a very good body too. Someone should really call an ambulance or something.

Somewhere on inside his coat pocket, his phone buzzed and Makoto strolled down the catwalk and took it out. To his non-surprise, it was Imayoshi, who had texted that he wanted to meet.

It was always like this. Like all designers, Imayoshi was captivated by the newest thing, the freshest face, but in the end, he always returned to what he liked best. Touou’s muse was Aomine, and he had been for going strong for a decade now. Nothing changed and it seemed that the customers didn't want it to either. Aomine was aging though -- Makoto could see it -- and besides, whatever Imayoshi’s loyalty to his brand, he had never fucked Aomine. Makoto had made sure of that.

“Senpai!” he said breezily as he answered on the third ring. Imayoshi chuckled at the end of the line. They had never actually gone to school together -- Imayoshi had been in high school in the late Cretaceous, after all -- but it amused Makoto to call him that and it amused Imayoshi to be called that. It was like they were peers, almost, and equals, almost. “Have you missed me this much, you old pervert?”

“I've read that you caused some havoc on the MIRACLE runway just now, you bad, bad boy,” Imayoshi purred, sounding so sinister that Makoto imagined him in his lair of an apartment, petting his snow-white Persian. So horrible cliche and yet -- it worked.

“Were you thinking of hiring Kise for your spring campaign? It looks like to be a while before he’ll recover, if he does, poor thing.”

“Come over,” Imayoshi said, “I don't want to talk about Kise, he's over.”

“Just trash,” Hanamiya agreed happily.

*

Later that night, naked in Imayoshi's bed, Makoto scrolled through the latest gossip about Kise's literal fall from grace. Akashi had announced that Kise would take a leave of absence from the brand to 'focus on his recovery' and all that garbage.

Everyone knew what that meant. Kise would never model in this town again.

Makoto smirked, satisfied. Served him right.

FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, G

[mother_herbivore]

Ship: Kinjou Shingo/Makishima Yusuke, Inui Sadaharu & Makishima Yusuke
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major Tags: character death
Other Tags: past parent death, ghoooOOOOooosts
Original Work: link
Word Count: 548


***
There was a ghost standing in Kinjou’s upstairs window. He watched them walking up to the front door, and Makishima stared back at him.

Ever since he could remember, Makishima had seen ghosts.

He was never afraid of them, not even the gory victims of accidents or murders. They were sad things, lonely and frightened as they hung in the limbo between this life and the next. Sometimes they tried to reach out to him, to say something, but their voices didn’t exist on the living plane of reality. Other times, they just hovered nearby, and Makishima would talk to them until they disappeared. He never knew if they had passed on, or if they just got tired of listening to him.
No one living ever believed him. All they saw was a weird rich kid talking to the air, and he didn’t have many friends. He stopped talking with the ghosts when he was ten. He still didn’t have many friends.

In high school, he was glad when he became known for his cycling instead. At least that was something he could control; something he had worked hard to be good at. He still saw the ghosts, everywhere he went, and he ignored them. He got good at that, too, and it became a closely guarded secret.

But he trusted Kinjou, who had been nothing but kind and understanding and respectful since they met. So he gathered his courage as they walked into the house, and, sounding much calmer than he felt, said, “Um, Kinjou… did you know your house is haunted?”

Kinjou turned to look at him, and Makishima braced himself for a very abrupt end to their friendship.

But Kinjou only sighed, looking faintly amused as the ghost in question glided down the stairs to stare at Makishima from the end of the hall.

“Makishima,” said Kinjou, “meet my dad.” Then, to the ghost: “Dad, this my teammate, Makishima Yusuke.”

Makishima bowed, smiling crookedly. “Nice to meet you,” he said, and for once, he didn’t feel like such a freak.

Later, he learned that he had inadvertently ruined a year and a half’s worth of Kinjou and Inui’s theorizing, just by existing, and he laughed until his sides ached.

☉

Kinjou was science-oriented, always in search of an answer, an explanation. He saw things in terms of quantifiable data, and used that to understand the world around him. It wasn’t enough to just know that things happen—he had to know why they happened. He used the rules of nature and the universe to understand Inui’s condition, to understand the occurrences that had bound him to the living world.

Makishima, on the other hand, simply knew. It was Kinjou who kept Inui here. It was Kaidou, it was his daughter, it was the old teammates and friends that couldn’t see him but missed him still. Inui had died young, and although Makishima never asked for specifics, he knew that it had been sudden. He knew that Inui was afraid to leave his family alone.

He also knew that Inui couldn’t stay forever.

Will you take care of him? Inui wrote, 12 years later.

All Makishima could do was nod.

The words disappeared from the page, and as the ceremony ended, so did Inui.
☉

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, T

[horchata]

Ship: kuramochi youichi / miyuki kazuya
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word
Original Work: I hang tethered by sotongsotong
Word Count: None

The first stanza of this poem is just fucking amazing wordsmithery, my friend.

***

Please listen here!

FILL: Team Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, G

[moetushie]

Ship: Kiyoshi/Hanamiya
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: yes it's the good omens au, you're welcome
Original Work: link by wino
Word Count: 559

I fully intended to have Hyuuga as Newt, but it got Too Long. Also, the Akashi and the rest of Rakuzan as the Horsemen and Kuroko & Kise & Aomine & Momoi as the rest of the Them.

***

It was remarkably hard to track down a misplaced Antichrist and Kiyoshi wouldn't recommend it to anyone. Hanamiya, of course, complained incessantly on the drive to where he (the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness) lived, which Kiyoshi only attended to with half-an-ear.

Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream played faintly in the background. Every song that entered into the vicinity of his sleek, black sports car turned into a Katy Perry song. It was unfortunate, there was nothing he could do about it.

“How stupid are the Hellish Legion they thought a perfectly ordinary child was their lord’s precious offspring for all of these years?”

“Well,” Kiyoshi said brightly, “it seems the Heavenly Host was fooled completely as well. Can't help these things, I suppose.”

Hanamiya glared at him though he knew it did no good. Kiyoshi was impervious to this, and many other of his expressions. Kiyoshi was looking at him from the corner of his eye, still smiling.

“Eyes on the road,” Hanamiya snapped. Unfortunately, this was exactly the same time Kiyoshi ran over a bicycle, and the person who happened to be riding on it.

*

Aida Riko was a very self-possessed young woman and had managed to leap from her bicycle in just in time not to be crushed by Kiyoshi’s car. Her bicycle wasn’t so lucky. She regarded them both with a jaundiced eye and not so subtly took photos of Kiyoshi’s license plate.

When Kiyoshi offered her a ride to wherever she was going, she declined, firmly.

“We’re going to be late, asshole! Hurry up!” Hanamiya said from inside the car. He looked out and squinted at Riko suspiciously.

“Coming, coming, my angel,” Kiyoshi said, rolling the bicycle over to the side of the road. As they rolled away, Riko was surprised to realize that her bicycle wasn’t in as bad a condition as she had thought. But had it always had a basket? And one that was trimmed with design of an adorable gamboling puppy, no less?

*

They found the Antichrist (who happened to be a young American returnee named Taiga, who was very nice if somewhat dim and entirely fixated on basketball) and prevented the Apocalypse, and now there was really nothing left to do besides go to the park and feed the ducks.

“How are your people taking it?” Hanamiya said idly, hitting a duck square in the face with a bread roll bullet. It squawked at him and ruffled its feathers. Hanamiya made a gesture that, in the language of angels, was very obscene. The duck disappeared into a puff of smoke.

“They’re disappointed, of course,” Kiyoshi said, “but the new American president has really been great for our bottom line. By the way, Hanamiya, there’s something I’d wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Why don’t you fall with me?”

“What?” Hanamiya sneered. “I’d never. Falling is what happens to Heaven’s trash.”

“All right, all right,” Kiyoshi said, walking on ahead, his hands in his pockets. Hanamiya jogged to catch up and pushed him off the path. Kiyoshi gave up easily enough, since he had looped his arm around Hanamiya’s waist and they both tumbled down together, making a scene for the passersby.

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, T

[horchata]

Ship: kuramochi youichi / miyuki kazuya
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word
Original Work: there are places you never knew by sotongsotong
Word Count: None


***

Please listen here!

FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

[hatchbacks]

Ship: Momoi/Riko, Teppei & Riko
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Original Work: link by lemontongues
Word Count: 427

***

It starts—well, Teppei’s not exactly sure when it starts. Maybe the seeds are planted before he comes back, or maybe he’s not paying the right kind of attention to see it right away. And Momoi’s pretty sly (it takes one to know one); she works in the shadows better than Kuroko because she doesn’t draw attention to that part of her. And gradually, her affections transfer; it’s not like some molecule making its way across a membrane but it’s not like one day she’s all over Kuroko and the next she’s all over Riko.

But there’s a time when it’s the former, and then later a time when it’s the latter, and, well, Riko certainly seems to be enjoying the attention. Maybe she doesn’t get it, the lingering looks and the way Momoi plays with her hair, dropping the always poised facade and acting like the lovestruck teenage girl she is, but by the time Riko looks back Momoi’s gathering her hair to push behind her shoulders or sticking her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. It's cute, but if Riko doesn’t do anything about it—she’s no chicken, but it’s frustrating just to watch, sometimes.

(“What does this have to do with me?” Riko says.

“You haven't noticed?” says Teppei.

“Noticed what?”)

That does it, but that’s the plan, after all, from the shadows for Riko’s own good (though, truthfully, Teppei’s a little surprised that Momoi hasn’t made a more overt move herself, but, well—he supposes he doesn’t really know her that well). And it’s better this way, to watch everything unfold, the way Riko suddenly seems to realize that everything around her is what it is, the way she blushes with awareness of herself, in Momoi’s vicinity, of the way Momoi touches her and whispers things in her ear.

Of course, it actually happens when he’s not there, but Teppei doesn’t need to be privy to all the little details. He just gets to see it, Riko blushing and happy, Riko distracted from her job, Momoi’s excuses growing flimsier and flimsier until they’re thinner than plastic wrap, tissue paper, the surface of a soap bubble. It doesn’t really matter, but they’re cute to look at, cute when Momoi gets a little bit possessive (like Teppei and Riko could be anything anymore, like either of them want that—Hyuuga, maybe, but Teppei can’t thank Momoi enough for getting him all wound up and twisted, providing easy entertainment to the afternoon until he complains too much and Teppei can pawn him off on Izuki).

Fill: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, G

[horchata]

Ship: kuramochi youichi / miyuki kazuya
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: sung poetry
Original Work: I didn’t fall in love by sotongsotong
Word Count: None

This one, I heard as a country song. So! I sang it!!

***

Please listen here!

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, T

[horchata]

Ship: kuramochi youichi / miyuki kazuya
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word poetry; original fill: post-breakup, angst
Original Work: here’s to your emptiness by tripsh
Word Count: None



***

Please listen here!

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, G

[horchata]

Ship: kuramochi youichi / miyuki kazuya
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word
Original Work: you are allowed by kazuyas
Word Count: None



***

Please listen here!

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, T

[horchata]

Ship: kuramochi youichi / miyuki kazuya
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word; original: arson as imagery
Original Work: he tosses the lighter over by sotongsotong
Word Count: None



***

Please listen here!

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, G

[horchata]

Ship: kuramochi youichi / kominato ryousuke
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word
Original Work: in which ryousuke is a falling star by multilinear
Word Count: None



***

Please listen here!

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, T

[horchata]

Ship: furuya satoru / kominato ryousuke
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word
Original Work: a ghost comes back from her grave to talk by snowysatoru
Word Count: None



***

Please listen here!

FILL: Team Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, G

[horchata]

Ship: isashiki jun / kominato ryousuke
Fandom: daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: spoken word
Original Work: i was sure romance would be like shouto mangas by hyalinee
Word Count: None



***

Please listen here!