SASO Referees (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sportsanime2017-08-15 08:01 pm
referees) wrote in sportsanime2017-08-15 08:01 pm
Entry tags:
Bonus Round 7: Free For All
Let's finish SASO 2017 with a bang. This bonus bonus round allows any kind of prompt imaginable in any format. The sky's the limit!
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 literally any kind of prompt, along with any ship/ot3/etc. from one of our nominated fandoms, with the following caveats:
- Large image prompts should be thumbnailed and linked to, as explained here.
- Fanart/fanfiction/fanwork prompts are only allowed if you created the fanwork yourself or if you have explicit permission to use it, and proof of permission must be linked to in your prompt header.
- Quote prompts can come from almost anything, but please don't quote personal conversations you've had or overheard.
- Reposting prompts is fine, but be respectful and keep crediting in mind. A prompt belongs to the person who posted it to this round, and who can fill it is determined by whether or not they are on that person's team.
- If reposting a br2 (tic tac toe) prompt, please post each prompt square as its own individual comment. Posting tic tac toe boards wholesale will crash our br scorer and the bonus doesn't apply for this round, anyway.
- Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Akira & Hikaru). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Akira/Hikaru). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!
- Besides that, if you want to prompt something, regardless of format—even formats not previously allowed in SASO—go right ahead. If you're unsure you can ask us for clarification, but tbh just go for the gold.
- Fill prompts by replying to the prompt with a 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)
- 8 tracks (fanmixes)
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 GRANDSTAND, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: Sexual content (not explicit, implied, up to interpretation, could just be kissing, who knows)
Other Tags: sometimes i just want to write intense makeouts
Word Count: 503
this quote really caught my eye :')
***
He remembers the first time he saw Atsushi cry. He will not remember the second.
He will not remember it, for Atsushi will swear afterwards, in the daylight, that it had never happened, that Muro-chin had mistaken the sweat on his brow for something else. What Tatsuya knows he has not mistaken is the awkward way they fit together behind locked doors, Atsushi’s chest heaving under Tatsuya’s palm, the heat of him. Tatsuya had half-expected rejection, built a beautiful glass wall around his heart in readiness. It had shattered.
Atsushi had bent his own prickly angles against Tatsuya’s, inhaled all of him, all of his hard-edged diamond dust ground fine beneath heels in American streets, stretched thin across miles and clouded skies. He had trembled with his face buried in Tatsuya’s neck, and then there had been no more space for breathing.
It’s not how Tatsuya had ever imagined, if he’d ever imagined such a thing. Perhaps he had dreamt it. He couldn’t say, now.
Atsushi, even from the corner of his eye, is an unmissable presence. He doesn’t try to catch anyone’s notice. He simply cannot help it. And it is this, thinks Tatsuya, that has made him pliant in surprising ways; for all his protestations and languor, he’s never said no to Tatsuya when it counts. It is as if some part of him is paying a wilful penance for how much space he takes up.
So Tatsuya had made a point of not asking, and Atsushi had not said anything.
A kiss, Tatsuya’s learned, can be a savage thing; teeth and tongue against bottom lips dry from the sun, the tang of lemon popsicles and cola and salt, a strange cocktail that made Tatsuya smile, for no one but Atsushi would taste like this. There had been a candy wrapper still lying on the floor from where Atsushi dropped it, a crinkle that echoed like a guilty whisper as Atsushi moved his feet, tried to shift his weight back, only Tatsuya had not let him.
That was not when the tears started pricking. That had come later. This—a fistful of Atsushi’s jersey in his balled up grip, his hair loose around his shoulders, brushing Tatsuya’s cheeks—
This was a low hiss between Atsushi’s mouth, a furnace simmering, something uncoiling, waking. Tatsuya had never seen Atsushi quite so alive, heard him make a sound like that. He had not known his own pulse could rage in his ears like this either.
Atsushi, he knows, will ask him about the bruise under his shirt when he notices it. He will not talk about many things, about Tatsuya’s glass-shard laugh when he pushed him up against the wall, about coming undone, and that suits Tatsuya fine. They don’t have to talk about it. They don’t have to talk about this either, the fingerprints he pressed into Tatsuya’s skin, the saltwater streaks he left there.
Tatsuya keeps his sleeves rolled down, thinks of tonight and the lights going out.