sportsanime | Bonus Round 1: Quotes

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Bonus Round 1: Quotes

SASO 2015 is over, but this round is perpetually open to new fills (no new prompts).

PLAY BALL! For this round, we'd like you to take inspiration from songs, sayings, poems, and other kinds of famous words.

Because this is our first full round, please read this post carefully before proceeding!

This round ends at 7PM on June 13 EDT. Countdown Timer.

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: "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here!" -Kermit the Frog
- The quote can come from anywhere. Famous people, poetry, songs, books, movies, your neighbor, etc.
- Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. (This is not the sports anime gen olympics.) Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Yachi & Kiyoko). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Yachi/Kiyoko). 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.
You cannot fill your team's prompts or your own prompts.

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, including Grandstand or Sports Teams Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Place the prompt's relationship in the first bolded line of the comment. Including the canon isn't required, but it's nice. Visual example	FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Place applicable major content tags and word count before your fill (when applicable) NSFW FILLS: Post written/text fills directly to the round with clear tags. Please link to art/visual fills. You can include a small safe-for-work preview if you'd like. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> Visual example	FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING] Replace RATING with the rating of your fill, G - E, as explained in the rules Place applicable major content tags and word count before the fill, where applicable NSFW FILLS: Post written/text fills directly to the round with clear tags. Please link to art/visual fills. You can include a small safe-for-work preview if you'd like. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> Visual example

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.

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 3 fills by any member of your team: 20 points each
Fills 4-10: 10 points each
Fills 11-20: 5 points each
Fills 21+: 2 points 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.

Have a question? Check The FAQ first. If you still need help, feel free to contact the mods. Happy fanworking!

Page 134 of 137

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

anon #22

Warnings: violence, weapons, implied character death, sort of a final haikyuu quest au

Your back hits the ground, armor clattering with the force of it. He, Oikawa, crouches over you, weapon poised, eyes a burning red of passionate fury.

This is a look years ago, you never would have expected to be directed at you.

But a lot changes in two years, you think with bitter resolution, at the memory that still never leaves you, that pains you to this day. The moment you had left Oikawa, had vowed to fight in resistance against his cause rather than be his knight and champion for it any longer.

It was the moment you both realized that no matter how much you still love and care for each other, no matter how much it hurts you to do it, you cannot stay by each other's sides any longer.

But you resolved that you can fight for change. For a hope that maybe one day there will be peace and you can be together again.

"Can you believe it's come to this, Iwa-chan?" Anyone who does't know the subtleties and quirks about Oikawa, the little hints he gives away about his true feelings, would think that the taunt and the action are ones of bravado and confidence. But you know better than that. You recognize the pained look in his eyes, only if it flashes there for a brief moment, and the hesitance in his touch.

(If Oikawa wanted this to be over, he would take initiative and make it be over.)

"Yeah," you hiss, still defiant, trying not to wince at the weight Oikawa puts on your chest, at the way he pushes your already injured body harder against the ground and leans in closer. "I knew it would."

"Oh, silly me! I forgot I'm dealing with my best friend. Or should I say, former best friend."

The words hurt. A lot more than you would like to admit.

Two years is a long time, after all.

But it doesn't melt away any of the feelings that have been burned into your heart from childhood onward.

"Quit fucking around, Oikawa!" You shove back against him, but he doesn't budge. You are both weak, but Oikawa's bones are not as cracked as yours. Maybe his heart is, but his body has the slight advantage now.

(You would be--are--a much better team than you are adversaries.)

Oikawa doesn't respond for a moment. He only spins the knife in his hand, his eyes wandering away from you.

"What!? Too afraid? You can't do it?" You say the words as more of a prayer than you do a certainty. Because although you know you are on opposite sides of a battlefield now, you once weren't, and you don't want to be always.

But war is a curse that many cannot escape. And although you hope to be lucky, you know that the probability of that is low, almost non-existent.

"Hajime." Your own name, on Oikawa's lips now, cold and bitter, is a mockery of the once warm and loving way he would say it. The way that was for your ears and your ears only. "It's been two years."

Two years is a long time, after all.

Oikawa continues. "We knew it would come to this."

"Then, do it!" There has always been a part of you that has hoped that when it came to this, you both would vow never and stand and run. Run together and be free.

But it's not like that, you realize, as Oikawa leans forward again--closer, closer--weapon poised and ready. And neither of you need the words spoken to confirm that this would just be another notch of travesties added to the already large block of them, another thing you both once thought unexpected, now entirely possible.

Time goes on. Things change.

"Tooru."

Even the both of you--something you never thought would, years ago.

The pained grimace on Oikawa's lips, cracked like your bones and your heart racing in your chest, is the last thing you see. "Sorry, Hajime."

slight manga spoilers for IH2
participant 9.

the first step is the hardest.
sugimoto walks into sohoku,
sees imaizumi shunsuke (hears girls screaming his name beforehand),
and strolls up to him.
this is it, he thinks.
imaizumi is an ace and i will be his ace assist.

he does not expect to be left behind.

his lungs burn ash
his body is hollow
imaizumi’s ahead
the only thing he sees is
the road. the finish line.
one where sugimoto is not.

next year, sugimoto tells himself.

imaizumi holds him then.
he’s still not on the main stage.
imaizumi holds him,
tells him “you did well.”

sugimoto closes his eyes.
my time is with you.

SWAG2016 participant #47

Daichi wakes up to the radio playing in the kitchen.

He stretches out in bed, yawning loudly before he rolls onto his side, pulling the blankets down to his waist. He's alone in bed, but he expected that. He lies there for a moment, listening to the next song that comes up on the radio station, listening to the voice softly singing along to it, and he smiles to himself, so fond, his chest so full of love that he feels like maybe, someday, he's going to burst with it .

He gets out of bed, pulling his boxers on and walking out of their bedroom.

The digital clock on their microwave says that it's nine o'clock. It's a cloudy day outside, a little too cold to be standing around in nothing more than his boxers, but Daichi doesn't care about that.

His attention is fixed on Suga, hips swaying in time with the song as he sings, making himself a large mug of coffee. He's stolen one of Daichi's knitted sweaters out of their closet and it's a little too long on him, the creamy brown of it beautiful against his skin, the wool looking soft, just like his hair, shining in the gentle morning light. He's as beautiful as ever. It never fails to steal Daichi's breath away. He doesn't think that's ever going to change.

Daichi steps forward, his feet padding against the kitchen tiles so that Suga knows he's there. Suga doesn't move, letting Daichi's arms wrap around his waist, letting Daichi kiss the nape of his neck.

"Mm, good morning," Suga hums, leaning back against him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Daichi murmurs, pressing another kiss to the nape of Suga's neck. "Had the best sex last night with my husband, you see. He had me lift him up against the wall and fuck him. You need the strength for it, but god it's worth it."

"Your husband," Suga says slowly, and Daichi can hear the smile in his voice, "sounds like an incredibly lucky man."

"You could say he's incredible, full stop." Daichi grins. He likes the fact that living alone with Suga means that there's no one else around to tell them off for being so sappy with each other. He loves the fact that Suga makes it so easy, that loving Suga is so easy.

Suga turns around, grinning, and wraps his arms around Daichi's shoulders, woolen sweater soft against Daichi's bare skin as they press up against each other.

"Morning breath," Daichi warns, but Suga leans in to kiss him anyway, tongue warm as it licks into his mouth. Suga kisses him deeply, leaving Daichi gasping for breath as they pull apart.

"I'll kiss you as many times as I possibly can, no matter what," Suga tells him seriously, and then his lips spread into a small smile as he presses a kiss to the tip of Daichi's nose. "I can't help it when you're always so handsome."

Daichi strokes his fingers down Suga's cheek, knowing he has no hope in holding back the smile tugging at his lips. Suga leans in to kiss him again and this time, Daichi holds him tight, keeps him close, intending on holding onto Suga forever.

SWAG2016 participant #47

People don't know how to handle Bokuto in his first year of high school so for the most part, they don't.

They leave him to his moods, stomping and sulking around when things don't work out quite the way he wants them to. They don't try to pull him back in, because everything they say only ends up making it worse. It's a shame, they say to each other when they think he's out of sight. Bokuto would be such a good player, such a valuable part of their team if only he wasn't so exhausting for them to deal with.

Bokuto manages to suck it up, learns to hold himself together for just long enough that his teammates will send a toss his way. He bites his lip when his spikes don't work out, tries not to sulk, and it means that he can play with his team a little more, but he hates it, hates feeling like a pale imitation of himself.

Then, at the beginning of in second year, Akaashi Keiji happens to him and, after volleyball, might be the best thing that's ever happened to Bokuto in his entire life.

He watches Bokuto sulking during practice, in one of his first weeks on the team. The second and third years are ignoring Bokuto, standing around in their own group and talking amongst each other, the way they usually do when Bokuto's in one of these moods. Bokuto doesn't push it, he just walks towards the bench, hanging his head, feeling so frustrated at himself for being so close to hitting the perfect spike and screwing it up anyway.

He looks up a little when he notices someone sitting down beside him.

It's Akaashi, who isn't quite looking at Bokuto, but is looking at his own hands, folded in his lap.

"You do this often," he says mildly, and it doesn't sound like a complaint, but an observation. "Every time something goes wrong, or every time an important spike gets blocked."

Bokuto clenches his fists tightly on his knees. He's not shaking with frustration, but he's close to it.

"You might have noticed this yourself," Akaashi says, leaning to the side a little, lowering his voice, "I mean, it's a little difficult not to notice it, but when you're in a mood, people just kind of leave you to it. They leave you to stew in it, and it only makes things worse, doesn't it? You end up feeling bad for even longer, that way."

"Yeah," Bokuto admits, his voice quiet. He isn't looking Akaashi in the eyes just yet.

"I'm a setter, you're a wing spiker," Akaashi says slowly, like he's making a suggestion that he isn't sure will be accepted. Bokuto already wants to accept, because he can already tell what Akaashi's getting at. "If we work together, and I send you tosses in a way that are likely to succeed, then you won't end up sulking, right?"

"It's not that easy," Bokuto says, because he knows that much. "They'll still get blocked. I can spike the ball really hard and still—mmmrrgh. Sometimes it's not enough."

"And that's part of the game," Akaashi replies. "I think you're allowed to be annoyed about that. I think you're allowed to sulk a bit. As long as you make a comeback when you're ready. If you're sulking on the court, I'll give you some time. And then, when you're done, I'll send you a toss. So you can prove that you've still got it."

It's a solution, Bokuto realises, blinking with surprise. It sounds so simple, after the year worth of stress he's just put himself through. He wants to laugh. When he sees his other teammates staring at him oddly, he realises that he is laughing.

"I like you," he tells Akaashi, patting him on the back. "Come on, let's go. I want you to toss for me."

anon #22

Warnings: manga spoilers

Losing, for lack of a better word, sucks. They know the feel of defeat, the weight it brings and the doubts and regrets that accompany it.

But that never stops them from trying again.

Year after year, their team could never make it to Nationals. They would always fall short, right before the goal.

But that never stopped them from working harder in practice and fighting to try and get there again.

But suddenly, when there is no more opportunity for them to achieve that goal, defeat feels more crushing than it ever has. It’s one thing to lose—loss is always a possibility, no matter how hard they’ve worked—but it’s another to lose when it was their last chance to reach their goal in high school, their last match.

After they had lost, and had to face each other, their teammates, and the crowd, as well as the reality of it, Iwaizumi feels a rush of emotions all at once.

Sadness, that this is it. That one match ended their high school volleyball careers. That this is probably the last time he will stand on the court with Oikawa. With Hanamaki. With Matsukawa. With everyone. That it had ended in a loss.

Frustration. That they had been so close and they had come up short again. That if he had done a few things differently, maybe they wouldn’t be standing here in defeat rather than victorious.

Failure. That he, the team’s ace, hadn’t been able to carry them to victory. That he couldn’t play his part better and raise them to the top rather than what they had ended up with.

But then, Oikawa wraps an arm around his shoulder. It’s quick, but a comforting motion. One that, however brief it may be, conveys so much and says that it will be okay.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa follow Oikawa’s lead. Their gestures, their support is comforting in the moment of defeat, the moment Iwaizumi feels at his lowest.

(Of course, the feeling doesn’t disappear that easily, and it will take time to get over. But for now, this, along with the gentle nudge of Iwaizumi’s shoulder that Oikawa gives him as they walk away, is enough.

Later, they can help each other stand back up again. Like always.)

They’ll do what they always do. Even when they are defeated, they get back up. Even when everything seems hopeless or like they can’t move forward, they fight to prove that idea wrong.

High school volleyball may have ended in a loss, but that doesn’t mean that they will let defeat keep them down.

They’ll stand up again.

participant 9.

the last year. the final year.
that’s what echoes through your minds
when you watch the middle schoolers.
you’ll get ahead with your own power
but there are prospects that remind you
you don’t have to do it alone.

what a storm,
an orange storm
he reminds you of
the own storm brewing inside

he’s not a replacement.
you grow just as much
hit, hit, hit
then you two come together
it’s not a replacement
it’s a team.

1 burns proudly on your back
but it’s not just one.
it has never been just one
except for when all stands as one.

you tighten your band
stretch your fingers
stand strong and tall

take to the skies.

Number:4
no major tags, blood mention, drinking mention

poem, 21 lines

You’re not mean,
and your fist
on my jaw
well, I always asked for it

A buzzing in your ear like insects in summer air,
constant reminders that
you’re here,
and I’m here,
but we aren’t here together.

Always thought I’d find my victory
spilled from the empty liquor bottles across
my kitchen counter.

When you throw them against the wall,
they shatter
but I’m watching the glass,

a galaxy of stars sparkling against dark floors,

if it cuts you before you leave
maybe you’ll remember what we could have been,

if we were supernovas,
I think we’d explode together.

Number:4
no tags

poem, 22 lines

There were blank pages, before you
chapters and chapters that no one remembers and then

hello.

You’re there, and I’m there and the story starts.

Once upon a time,
we existed.

And time moved, like it does
and we moved
together
like we do,

words and pages, chapters upon chapters:
the shiver I felt before I grabbed your hand,
your smile when I dragged you on our first adventure,
the way your eyelashes fluttered when you kissed me the first time,

moments
in our story.

And when it falls apart,
the book crumbling, and our pages are just dust on lost bookshelves
I’ll know it’s because there was no more you.

Happily ever after,
the book is over,
close it before it disappears.

Number: 4
no tags

poem, 18 lines.

there comes a time in every dragon’s life
when we’re slain

I’ve been told dragons don’t die of old age
that we’re never taken calmly into
the dark night

there’s always a knight
some bastard in rusty armor with a pointy stick
and a princess to save

i never even took a princess
but i’d watch them sometimes, how
they’d curl their hair and think
i could have been you, in another life

but there’s another knight
and you should be here to kill me
that pointy stick of yours so sharp
you’re the hero those princesses probably dream of

but you’re sleeping in my bed now,
and you say you don’t want to leave.

SWAG PARTICIPANT #88
welp.

—

      a rosary wrapped around your neck
      prayers biting red into your throat— like apples— like invitations—

      ( for you, in you,
           i enter eden and
                 devour temptation )

      you drape me with knowledge unperturbed,

      your edges, spread, a hidden garden
      your legs, coiled around my hips, a snake
      your lips, parted, teeth—fangs—bared, a seductive overture

      i capture them; i am reminded of
      the way you capture my fingers in your mouth
      like in them exist the scriptures of god
      by whom you can be saved

      we can be adam and eve
      a wasted paradise, the fall of man

      we are the creation of sin

SWAG2016 participant #47

"Mmkay," Toudou hums, looking at Arakita. "No hard feelings, but I hate you.

Arakita snorts quietly in reply, raising an eyebrow at Toudou. "Yeah. It's mutual. I hate you too."

"Good," Toudou nods, pulling Arakita back in for another kiss, arms winding around him to keep him close.

Arakita is pressing Toudou into the couch, half kissing him, half biting at his mouth. If the way Toudou is gasping into their kiss serves as an indicator, he definitely likes it.

They're at Toudou's place because he's invited Arakita over for some ridiculous excuse that Arakita didn't even pay a second thought to. Probably something about homework, even though they're in different classes. It doesn't matter anyway, because Arakita didn't even bother bringing his books with him. In the ten minutes since he got here, they've barely exchanged any words, holding onto each other and ending up on the couch, making out.

And, apparently, reasserting the fact that they hate each other. It's important, after all. Especially if they're doing this. They need to set their boundaries and make sure that they're both on the same page.

Now that's out of the way, though, Arakita can kiss Toudou to his heart's content.

Kissing Toudou is fun, because Toudou wouldn't know how to be subtle about something if he tried. He's incredibly responsive, especially when Arakita does something he likes.

"Ooh," Toudou gasps, arching against Arakita, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Do that again."

Arakita gently scrapes his teeth over Toudou's adam's apple again, feeling the vibration of Toudou's moan against his mouth. It's hot, he thinks, to be this connected to each other. It's a different kind of connection to riding together, and maybe it's even more physical, but they get each other, not even needing words to communicate, going off nothing but soft noises at the backs of their throats, the hitch of their breath, the way they cling to each other.

Then, the noises Toudou's making get a little more desperate, a little louder, as he pulls Arakita closer. Arakita goes with it, already anticipating it. He sits up, straddling Toudou properly, kissing him hard again as they settle agains the couch, against each other, erections pressed together through their pants.

Arakita grinds down, and Toudou moans softly, grinding right back. That's another thing Arakita likes about doing this with Toudou; it's always about getting even, about giving as good as he receives. He never leaves Arakita hanging, more intent on one-upping him than anything else. They pant into each other's mouths, the friction between them so good that Arakita can't even breathe evenly any more, panting against Toudou's lips in between kissing and biting them.

"Gonna come in my pants like this," Arakita warns, even though he doesn't make any attempt to stop or even slow down.

"S'okay," Toudou gasps. "I'll lend you a pair of mine. It'll be a nice improvement on what you usually wear."

"Hey," Arakita scowls. "Fuck you."

Toudou laughs breathlessly, and he's still laughing as they both come into their pants, relaxing against each other, trading lazy kisses.

Arakita winces. "I feel disgusting."

"You are disgusting," Toudou snickers. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up. I'll find some pants for you to wear."

"I hate you," Arakita says with feeling.

Toudou pecks him on the lips and grins. "Yeah. I hate you too."

No Warnings

The last thing Arakita ever expected was to have a crush on anyone, let alone fucking Toudou Jinpachi.

Considering where they had started back when they had first met—always bickering with and insulting each other, and not really spending any time together unless forced to—this revelation would probably come as a great shock to anyone, really. But it catches Arakita completely fucking off guard more than it would anyone else.

The Great Crush Revelation hit him near the end of the summer of their third year in high school. He had been minding his own damn business—which apparently is a new way to spell out disaster, go figure—when Toudou had decided to all but barge into Arakita’s room like he lived there, and announce that they were going to have a competition. Loser would buy dinner.

Even though he had acted annoyed and uninterested in the idea, Arakita still participated anyway, and didn’t mind it. Somewhere along the way, things like this had become something for them. When initial distaste and animosity had melted away as they warmed up to each other, Toudou and Arakita somehow, someway ended up becoming close friends. And accompanying friendship were random trips to each other’s rooms, studying together, and just spending time together in general, especially since graduation was fast approaching and they wouldn’t get to have things like this much longer.

In the end, Toudou’s idea had been to challenge Arakita to a race. And like hell he would lose to Toudou at anything, let alone a race.

“You’re so annoying.” The words are more of a diversionary tactic than an actual insult, but playful banter and practiced, habitual arguments are something that they’ve fallen into as well.

“If you keep wasting your breath talking to me, you’ll lose!” Toudou singsongs, laughing as he turns his head to look at Arakita just a tiny bit behind him. “Not that you ever stood a chance, anyway. And really, Arakita, like you’re any better?”

“Oh, well sorry to annoy you, looks like you’re stuck with this, though, because that’s just the way I am.”

“Well, I happen to like you that way, so don’t go around changing, idiot.”

“What is that—?”

For that brief moment, as lame and cliché as it sounds, it feels like time has stopped, or, not so much as stopped as it is that Arakita is more hyper-focused on Toudou than he was before. Like he’s seeing something he never has before, considering something that he hadn’t until now.

As the glow of the setting sun hits Toudou’s profile, and his obnoxious—but hell, kind of endearing in it's own weird and familiar way—laughter that Arakita has grown used to and welcomes echoes while he pulls further ahead of Arakita now, it seems to be one of those fabled Moments.

The ones you want to be cynical about and don’t believe in until they actually hit you square in the face. The ones you emphasize with capital letters or italics or underlines. Because it’s one of those unforgettable ones that you keep with you—whether it’s unconscious or not—because you enjoy it, or it’s had some sort of impact on you. One you don’t want to forget. Ones that have been existent before, but maybe not so obvious. But then, bam, they’re there. And you’re, for lack of a better way to put it, fucked.

But for this one moment, among the comfortable atmosphere and clarity, there’s a sense of honesty that seems fresh and new, welcomed and needed. The kind that causes a feeling like this so suddenly, but also explains it and puts it into place.

“Have fun paying for my dinner!” Toudou calls over his shoulder.

“God dammit!” Arakita speeds up, the reverie of the moment broken, seeming far away and like a dream now.

(He even considers passing it off as just that, but then there’s really no explanation for the racing of his heart or that warm sense of clarity. Like he’s just realized something important that he hadn’t even realized existed before.)

When he thinks on it later, though, in the darkness of his bedroom that night, he thinks on it, and slowly comes to the agreement with himself that the moment of realization explains the way he always feels around Toudou, the way he doesn’t want that to end. And it’s a damn crush. One that he didn’t think he wanted, but that also makes sense and he’s not completely against.

A crush on Toudou. His damn best friend. Of all people.

Everything, all of this, is the equivalent of someone throwing a brick at him when he wasn’t ready for it, so he stood absolutely no chance in hell of ever catching it, let alone stopping it.

But… part of him—the totally irrational part where what his heart wants matters more than what his brain thinks—doesn’t mind that.

Unbelievable.

But now, this leaves the pressing matter of what the hell he’s supposed to do about it—act on it or just shut his mouth and let it go. Better to keep it to himself than bring up something so ridiculous to Toudou and risk rejection as well as ruining this comfortable best friends thing they’ve managed to fall into.

Or, there’s the option to do something rather than sit back and let it be. To try. To take initiative and take that step forward.

Hell, that’s what his heart is fucking telling him to do, after annoying and careful consideration.

But… that’s something that can be dealt with and decided when it’s not 2:00 in the fucking morning. Yeah.

anon #22

No warnings

in the darkness, you are light
(you might not think so, but you are,
brighter and brighter than any other.)
when i was lost, you helped guide me where i should be

“what more motivation do you need,” you said, “than pride?”
the words are jarring, but much needed
eye-opening.
like i can finally see and understand something i didn’t before.

(because you know. you know what it is like,
to be at the bottom and hopeless, frustrated and ashamed.
and maybe that is why you are so bright. you flickered a little,
but grew into a stronger, brighter beacon.)

one that i respect and admire,
one that i want to follow
to guide me home,
to where i belong, past an ocean i was once lost and submerged in.

sometimes the very brightest don’t know,
don’t know just how much they shine.
but with you and your light,
i don’t feel lost.

i feel back have gotten back on a path i had once fallen from,
one i had been afraid to step foot on. but now,
i am on my way home.

anon #22

no warnings

they say, "absence makes your heart grow fonder."
after our time apart and our new time spent together,
i know this is true.
and i missed the welcome warmth, the happiness our togetherness brought me.

when we first see each other again,
after our roots grew separate, but now,
begin to twine back together after that first glance across the classroom,
a welcomed pull that we build on.

(our roots were curled, when we were young.
searching for distance and distinct paths, as we grew.
but we found our way back, after the initial stretches of our journeys.
and now they are intertwined, as we remember and create new memories for ourselves.)

together.
we build on what we know,
we grow and learn from each other.
and you give and teach me something i never knew before.

you pull me in immediately,
and once that force begins it cannot be stopped.
but i don’t want it to,
so i let it happen, and i feel home.

with you, with me,
we have planted ourselves here,
in the roots of belonging.
together.

anon #22

no warnings

as we have grown together,
you have learned just how to poke at the points that make me react.
you know which buttons to push, to elicit your desire reaction.
and you laugh, and smile, bright and amused.

ever since we were kids,
you knew me well enough
to push and push and push,
actions and words painting the annoyed picture you find so amusing.

but despite my declarations
that i’m tired and i’m done,
i wouldn’t trade this or you
for anything else.

you can drive me crazy or make me angry,
but i welcome it,
like i welcome every part of you.

there is no one like you,
no one i know as well,
no one i appreciate as much.

so at the stake of a few annoyed moments,
or some tiresome headaches,
i will take them all.
because every part of you emphasizes what we have and what we love.

yours and mine,
unique and ours.
i would never trade in,
what we have built.

anon #22

no warnings

your presence is like the wind,
so strong and noticeable.
but even on the days when you are not forceful strength and announced arrival,
i know you still are there.

no matter if you are strong and tall and bright,
or weak and small and broken
i feel you there,
i welcome you here.

i long to touch you,
but sometimes the conceptualized and idealized cannot be reached.
although i once thought we were not of equivalent exchanges of desires,
you proved me wrong again.

and now i reach to touch you,
to say the words i mean and that we know.
i love you as you burn bright,
and even when you don’t.

even if we are far apart,
my love is on my mind.
and when you hold me close,
your heart vulnerable and free,
i offer the same to you,
so we may always be.

so keep me in your sight,
and i’ll keep you in mine.
because here in our plan of together, in our nook we have built,
we welcome each other,
and keep our minds on this one space
of welcomed presences and hearts that belong in each other’s palms.

participant 9.

this is ridiculous, tadokoro thinks. onoda shouldn't be here, back with him; he should be with the rest of the team helping lead them to victory. he's their climber after all. tadokoro was ready to give up for the team the second he felt his legs failing him. he dregs along, looking down at the ground as he pushes his legs to cycle one more time. he doesn't want to drag anyone down with him. but the "tadokoro-san!" rings sharp in his ears and onoda? he snaps up because that's right, there he is, in all of his glory, onoda sakamichi, glasses glinting in the sunlight.

"tadokoro-san! i'm going to bring you back with the team!"

"onoda..." he rasps and goes into a small coughing fit that forces him to stop. onoda bikes up to him and gets off to hold him up, letting tadokoro lean against him.

"tadokoro-san, here," he says, pulling off water bottles from his bike. "please take it. they were a gift from naruko-kun." onoda smiles at him, even though nearly all of tadokoro's weight is on him. tadokoro chugs down the water in seconds flat and wipes his mouth.

"onoda...you really shouldn't be here...your place is with the team, not with this old man," he heaves.

onoda looks at him, eyes big and quizzical. "i am with the team tadokoro-san. we just have to catch up with the rest of them." onoda's smile is steady and bright and tadokoro's muscles are aching, but he feels warmth bubble up through his creaking joints as onoda helps him back onto his bike. onoda might have cost their team by coming back for him, and tadokoro hates that he thinks this but he's glad he's not here alone. "tadokoro-san," onoda says, "are you ready?" he goes back over to his own bike and straps on his helmet, securing the latch underneath.

tadokoro holds back tears as he fixes on his own helmet. onoda biking with him, his small figure leading the way, lights a fire that spreads through his bones and it burns but it's a good kind, a kind that wakes him up and makes him want to go on. he watches onoda's small back push on and he thinks, for all the power onoda sakamichi holds, his kindness is the only one that brings back the world.

anon #22

no warnings

i had told myself way back when
that i do not want to love you.
that i would rather take the secret in my own heart to the grave
than speak it aloud and risk falling.

but you have been and always will be the sun,
the brightest thing i’ve ever seen
and you illuminate thoughts that i didn’t want to think about
(that i didn’t think i’d ever have)
and open up parts of me i thought were sewn shut.

you, the concept of you
(and, the better concept of you and me)
makes my heart unravel in the confines of my chest.
what was once hollow now isn’t.
and i let it come undone.

(for you, i would.
for you, i do.)

but leaving myself open and vulnerable like that is a risk
one i would take
but one i might regret

but that’s what happens when you fly too close to the sun
you burn, and sometimes you fall.
(but i don’t want to fall,
i want to soar and reach and reach, higher, higher.)

the higher i fly, the greater the fall,
but if it means i have a chance in hell,
i would take it.
(for you, i would take it.)

but if i don’t, and i burn myself
reaching for something unobtainable,
let me fall gently
let me down easy.

so there might be some hope of untangling myself
from this woven and intertwined mess people so fondly call love

anon #22

warning: angst

the last thing either of us expected,
(either of us wanted)
was to grow apart
to take separate paths we had once promised to stay on together.

but time passes
and we have grown.
you as you,
me as me.

now as we move forward,
all we have left to dwell on are fragmented memories
photographs, with worn and frayed edges,
from tracing over them so many times,
as if that will allow us to relive and reobtain those moments.

although we have grown, we will always carry parts of each other
that no one else knows.
and the promises we carved out in the sky and in our hearts
remain there. perhaps not fulfilled but remembered.

photos are physical representations of memories,
of times and promises we once shared.
and a photo may be ripped or lost or forgotten,
but that doesn’t change that it has existed.

we are like the photos we grew up with
we grew together and grew apart,
and our importance to each other may be changed or tucked away in an album,
only dwelled upon fondly now or even forgotten for good.

but we existed in the photos that mark our youth.
oh, we existed together.
time cannot wipe away and make nothing,
our integral importance to each other
and the smiles and laughs,
touches and breaths we once shared.

Number:4
death mention

you make a pledge:
your life for his,
willingly,
he only need ask.

and it’s not that you’re not worthy
or that this sham of a life you’ve built
is any more of a sham than anyone else’s
but there was the pledge

and something about him

and he’s worth even the biggest risk

so it’s there, not on paper,
but signed and double-signed somewhere
in the back of your head

your life for his,
he only need ask

is the gesture less noble,
if you know he never would?

manga spoilers for spring IH
participant 9.

Iwaizumi can still feel that last ball on his fingertips from the Seijou and Karasuno game. It was a perfect toss, he chastises himself. Oikawa threw himself across the court to get that to him; it was his final toss of his high school career. It was Iwaizumi's final spike of his high school career. The frustration builds up, leaking out of every pore, and he feels his own eyes leak over as he starts to shake and he bites his lip to muffle any sobs. What kind of ace am I? It's a question that haunts him for weeks after.
---

The bus ride home is silent and when Iwaizumi closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the headrest, he can hear Kindaichi and even Kunimi sniffling in the back where they're sitting together. He's sure their legs are touching to give the other some sort of comfort through touch, and he bumps his own against Oikawa's, who's leaning forward in his seat, jacket over his head to cover his blotchy red face. Oikawa bumps his knee back in reply but says nothing otherwise. There's no sniffling coming from him, just a silence they carry with them for a long time.

His heart winces when they leave the bus and all say goodbye to each other before going their separate ways. He's sure everyone wants to get back home and revel in the silence of their room to let out the roar of feelings simmering underneath. He's no different. He and Oikawa are the last ones to leave; ensuring that everyone has a way back home and seeing them to it is the duty of the captain and his vice captain after all (and possibly the coach, but that's neither here nor there). When they walk back to their houses together, Iwaizumi touches his shoulder to Oikawa's the entire time. Oikawa grabs onto his shaking hands and squeezes it. They're both shaking, hearts thrown out of alignment, but they hold on to each other and their hearts share the heavy loss.
---

Iwaizumi steps over the seat next to Oikawa, who jumps at his sudden appearance. He snorts at Oikawa's genuinely shocked face because really? Glasses? Iwaizumi wants to hope that Oikawa didn't think that would actually disguise him but he knows better than that. He plops down in the seat and looks out over the court.

"Karasuno and Shiratorizawa huh?" he asks.

"I personally hope they both lose," Oikawa shoots back. He doesn't look at Iwaizumi when he replies and Iwaizumi knows that their loss is still heavy on Oikawa's heart, even if he jokes about it. Iwaizumi claps him on the back and leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. Their loss will sit in their hearts for a while, but Iwaizumi caresses the side of Oikawa's face and Oikawa leans into it for a second before pulling away and focusing on the game. It won't sit there for long. There's a whole other thing sitting in it.

anon #22

no warnings

when we first meet
i can feel myself being pulled in.
i unwittingly recognize the motion, the draw to you.
but i think nothing will become of it, so i don’t act.

when we meet again
i recognize the bright fire that you are
the heat you radiate and the tremors you create on my already unsteady earth, my own little island.
but i dismiss you because i think we can’t work together.

when we play together and grow
i realize that pairs are better than singles
that being part of a duo or a team might not be so bad.
but i don’t let myself get fully comfortable yet. because the past can be repeated here too.

when we vow to reach the top
i feel invincible
the concept of having you by my side and reaching unobtainable heights is imagined and far away
but i let myself imagine and reach for it, our little goal, our shared dream.

(years pass.
we work, we grow, we fight.
we grow closer than i ever thought i could be with someone.
you are the foundation of my now stable ground,
my home that i cherish.)

when we do reach the top in front of a crowd of cheering spectators,
i understand that invincibility is not only imagined
it is a reality, something we dreamed and worked to make
years ago when we were new and young, i never expected us to teach these heights.

(but when you squeeze me tightly after you score the winning point
off of a toss once rebelled against by others that we have made our own specialty since,
i think that maybe this has been right all along,
that the initial pull to you had been correct, fated.)

and although i had not admitted it initially,
although i had resisted,
i had always known.
that you and me, together, were destined to burn bright and certain.

SWAG2016 participant #47

no tags

They lose their quarterfinal match at the nationals and Bokuto spirals into a bad mood that doesn't wear off no matter how long they give him to stew in it.

The entire team is disappointed, of course, but none of them are hit by it as hard as Bokuto. Akaashi watches him with concern, watches as he listlessly spikes the tosses sent to him in practice, slamming each one down with increasing force, even though he doesn't look even the slightest bit satisfied by any of them.

The rest of their teammates have come to learn that Akaashi is the best at dealing with Bokuto, for better or worse. They leave him to Akaashi to deal with, wishing him luck with it. He doesn't know whether or not to thank them; it's not as if they're wrong about it. Even now, Bokuto is more likely to respond to Akaashi's voice than anyone else, even if he just goes through the motions mechanically, without any enthusiasm.

Akaashi gives it a week, before he holds Bokuto back after practice to talk to him. It's their date night anyway, it's not like he's cutting into time that Bokuto is going to be spending doing anything else.

"Bokuto-san." He looks around, making sure that the club room is empty, that the rest of their team have already left. He waits a little longer just to be sure, and lowers his voice. "Koutarou. Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" Bokuto asks, with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry. I've said that so many times, but I don't think it's ever going to be enough. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"

"Koutarou," Akaashi says firmly, taking hold of his arms, tightening his grip until Bokuto falls silent. "When has anyone on the team said that it's your fault that we lost?"

"Me," Bokuto replies. "Lots of times. Weren't you listening?"

"You're wrong," Akaashi tells him. "It's not your fault. The fault never lies on just the one person, okay? You need to remember that. We lost to a better team. Because the six people standing on the other side of the net combined were better than the six of us combined. It just means that we need to practice more. It means that we need to be a better team. We're all good players. You're our ace. You're the best of us."

"And I still couldn't spike hard enough." Bokuto laughs quietly and it's a sad sound, as he hangs his head. "I couldn't stop them from blocking me. I just wanted us to get to the finals together, Keiji. I wanted us to win."

"I know that," Akaashi says softly. "We all did."

"It was going to be perfect," Bokuto sighs. "I was going to be perfect. For you. The perfect spiker. The perfect ace."

"Koutarou," Akaashi's hands hold the sides of his face. He rests their foreheads together and sighs deeply. "You don't have to be perfect for me. For anyone. I like you as you are. I like you for who you're going to be, for how you're going to grow. I want to see that. I want to go to Nationals with you again next year and I want us to be better than we were. I want to win with you next year."

That, at least, makes Bokuto crack a genuine smile. "Yeah. That sounds like something we can do."

"I like you regardless of whether we win or we lose," Akaashi tells him. "I like you because of who you are. That's not going to change."

Smiling, Bokuto pulls Akaashi into a kiss. "Promise?"

Kissing back firmly, Akaashi pulls back with a smile. "I promise."

participant 9.

his insides fill with dread
when abe gives him a sign
that he doesn’t want to pitch.
no, it’s the wrong pitch,
they’ll hit it,
but he can’t shake it off.
it means he gets shaken off

mihashi still hasn’t shaken off mihoshi.

he pitches what he’s been told
as expected, the pitch gets hit.
his heart creaks from the added weight
it’s his fault.
it’s always his fault.
pressure pushes down
every inch of his body gets dragged along

his heart cracks open.
not again--

momokan whispers to abe,
mihashi, this is it, he tells himself
not even a second to let your heart rest
but momokan asks
you knew it’d be hit; why didn’t you say
mihashi looks away, takes off his glove
he can’t.
i can’t say.

mihashi, abe says
i will trust you.
abe takes his hand,
mihashi hands him his heart.

SWAG2016 participant #47

no tags

Iwaizumi doesn't say he loves Oikawa.

Not with words.

He isn't one for romantic gestures, for things that will leave Oikawa breathless and teary-eyed. Honestly, he isn't the type to do anything that would encourage Oikawa's theatrics at all. His love isn't something that needs to be paraded for others to see; not by him and not by Oikawa either.

Maybe it takes a while for Oikawa to understand that, when they first start off, because it's definitely not how Oikawa works.

He eventually ends up getting it, though, because he understands Iwaizumi. He knows how Iwaizumi works, just as well as Iwaizumi knows how he works.

He knows that Iwaizumi's love for him isn't in the words he says but the things he does, the little every day things that have become so routine that they don't even feel all that remarkable, when Oikawa looks at them one at a time.

That makes them special in his own way, though, because it means that Iwaizumi silently says I love you to Oikawa every single day, in countless little ways.

It's there in the way Iwaizumi waits for Oikawa every morning, standing at the corner of his street until Oikawa joins him, just so that they can walk to school together.

It's there in the way that he brushes their shoulders together when Oikawa is yawning especially loud in the morning, the telltale sign of a night without enough sleep. Iwaizumi jostles Oikawa until he wakes, lets Oikawa lean against his shoulder a little as they wait to cross the streets, supporting him silently.

It's there in the way Iwaizumi will pick up the white bandage that lives in Oikawa's sports bag next to his black knee pad, on the days that Oikawa is feeling resentful about it, not wanting to wear it. Iwaizumi will wait, impatiently, but he'll wait all the same, holding the bandage out, letting Oikawa ride out the sudden rush of loathing he sometimes feels for it, before he finally accepts it and slides it over his knee.

It's there in the way that Iwaizumi spikes any toss that Oikawa sends his way, on their good days, on their bad days. It doesn't matter if it's not quite the right direction, not quite the right speed. He'll hit it, because Oikawa tossed it, because Oikawa sent it to him. Because Oikawa can always, always rely on him on the court. Because as long as Iwaizumi's standing on the court, Oikawa knows that he isn't alone.

Sometimes, it's a little louder than that, a little more obvious. Sometimes, it's there in Iwaizumi's eyes, when they're alone together at the end of a long day, when they're packing up the gym together, when they're walking home, and there's no one else to see the way Iwaizumi smiles, or the way they brush their hands against each other enough times that they give up all pretenses and just link their fingers together as they walk.

It's there when Iwaizumi will learn Oikawa's favourite song at the time, just so he can hum it when Oikawa's in a bad mood.

It's there in Iwaizumi's steady, reliable presence, and perhaps he doesn't need to put it into words at all, because Oikawa hears it all the same.

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