SASO Referees (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sportsanime2015-05-30 08:51 pm
referees) wrote in sportsanime2015-05-30 08:51 pm
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Bonus Round 1: Quotes
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!
FORMAT
Bonus round shenanigans all happen in the comments below. Brand-new works only, please.Required Work Minimums:
- 400 words (prose)
- 400px by 400px (art)
- 14 lines (poetry)
Format your comment in one of the following ways:
| If PROMPTING: | If FILLING: | If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant: |
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP]
|
FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING]
|
FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING]
|
Posts not using this format will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, regardless of what they contain. They, like all comments in this community, are subject to the code of conduct.
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!
PROMPT: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU
"He says to be cool but
I don't know how yet
Wind in my hair
Hand on the back of my neck
I said, "Can we party later on?"
He said, 'Yes, yes, yes'"
― Lana Del Rey, National Anthem
FILL: TEAM KUROO TETSUROU/OIKAWA TOORU, M
No major content warnings; Word Count: 1552
It’s a terrible idea, Miyuki knows it. From the thumping bass of music from the Top Forty spanning over the past ten years, to the humid room temperature rising from the constant bustle of bodies struggling to keep in time. He gets shoved to the side so many times that he’s stopped trying to count. He knows it well enough that he calculates seven different ways to escape; three including the front door, and four by using the defunct disco ball hanging from the ceiling as a distraction to the deeply intoxicated people he calls his classmates.
It’s a party, and Miyuki Kazuya doesn’t do parties. It’s cross of something between a reunion and a team-building exercise because his university baseball senpai’s have configured it into a tradition for all the new recruits. And although this is his second year at Waseda, Miyuki can barely count ten of his teammates, let alone name the extra individuals that managed to sneak their way into getting free booze.
The can of beer is already lukewarm in his hands, but he insists on holding onto it like some kind of anchor in this mess. Across the room, he watches as a group of guys trip over themselves and tumble to the floor after an attempt to start a congo line. And by this time, Miyuki is really starting to consider leaving.
“God, Kazuya. You’re such a bore,” a familiar voice calls from within the crowd.
Or not.
Miyuki flicks his gaze to the left, eyes falling on Narumiya Mei’s grinning face before he turns back to observe the crowd, ignoring the other boy in favour of watching the wriggling ocean of bodies moving in off-step beats. Because of course Mei is at the party, the other boy wouldn’t waste an opportunity to goad over their kouhai. Miyuki’s lips quirk upward. “As if you’re any better.”
“I can be a lot more fun than you.”
Miyuki raises his brows before frowning slightly as his glasses slip down his nose. “Do you want to test that theory?”
“Eager, are we?”
“No,” Miyuki shrugs, indifferent enough for Mei to hopefully leave without starting anything. “Just bored enough.”
“Did baseball leave you with no social skills whatsoever, or have you just never been to a party?” Mei leers, clearly amused with himself.
“And what? The great Mei-sama has come to take pity on the wallflower? You might want to be careful with your image there, ouji-san.”
The nickname amuses Miyuki as much as it pleases Mei. The other boy loves the dramatics and thrives on fanfare almost as much as he loves baseball itself, and Miyuki has long gotten used to tuning out Mei’s inanities whenever they appear.
When he turns to chance a look at his teammate, there’s a slight glimmer in Mei’s eyes. But under the poor lighting of the reflective disco ball, Miyuki can only guess what it entails.
“What?” Miyuki asks after a silent minute, brows raised.
“Let’s go outside,” Mei says as if he’s just made a decision, nodding towards the front door. He turns, walking ahead and weaving through the crowd, not bothering to check if Miyuki chooses to follow.
Miyuki frowns at the other boy’s retreating back, mentally weighing the options of following or staying inside to breathe in the crowded party air. He casts a look at the time, 12:15 a.m., figuring that the party isn’t in any position to be winding down regardless of how many people were left barely sober.
He escapes easily enough, bypassing his team senpai’s who are lined up against the walls, already two steps beyond drunk, garbling on about batting statistics and the team managers. As he makes his way through the kitchenette, he leaves his warmed beer can on the tabletop.
When Miyuki finally makes it outside, Mei is seated on the edge of the balcony, legs swinging to and fro in the same light-hearted manner that he’s had since middle school, glancing out into the lights scattered across the city of Tokyo.
“You know, as your partner, I’m going to tell you that hanging off the edge of a building eight stories up is a grave occupational hazard,” Miyuki announces, causing Mei to turn to him in mild surprise. “Also you’re drunk.”
Mei’s eyes narrow. “I’m not drunk.”
“Forgive me if I don’t find you convincing.” Miyuki moves from the doorway, stepping forward to stand next to where Mei is sitting, not too near and not too far.
“Whatever,” Mei mutters, pulling a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, fingers fiddling to light a stick before taking a deep breath and exhaling a stream of smoke into the air.
Miyuki watches him with mild disapproval. “That’s an awful habit.”
“As if you have any better ones,” Mei breathes out, as he gives Miyuki a side glance.
“Are you stressed or something?” Miyuki finds himself asking, because it’s not like the other boy to do things without a reason.
Mei gives him a strange look. “Is this you trying to be friendly? Because that was awful.” He taps his cigarette over the edge, watching as the embers fall. “Really, Kazuya. You should work on that.”
“Just like all the friends you have?” Miyuki offers brashly, smiling wide at the other boy’s indignation when Mei kicks at him lightly.
And Miyuki almost laughs, because he isn’t sure when the both of them had made a habit of staying together regardless if baseball was at the heart of it or not.
It’s been two years of being on the same university baseball team, and finally establishing the battery that Mei had been chasing him for. But for all the exaggerated gripe that Miyuki makes of it, the reality hasn’t strayed from his expectations, because when it comes down to it, Mei will do what he wants, when he wants, if Miyuki lets him.
He doesn’t give himself much time to rethink it in his half-drunken state of mind; but then again, Miyuki has always been a sucker for taking risks.
“Hey,” he says after a moment, a pitch quieter, as he reaches a hand out to touch Mei’s elbow.
Mei eyes him curiously, only half-trying to ignore the fact that Miyuki is still there. “Can I help you?”
Miyuki meets his stare, searching for some kind of a clue or indication that he isn’t reading into something that isn’t there.
“If you want to do something, Kazuya. Then do it,” Mei says, head tilted to the side and eyes observing him in a way that makes Miyuki’s insides burn.
It’s a minute that passes, and when Miyuki sees the slow rise of Mei’s lips in expectation, he makes his decision.
Miyuki’s feet move forward towards the other boy, hand reaching for Mei’s neck as he presses their lips together, slow and tentative until he feels Mei gasp, lips parting enough for Miyuki to push his tongue inside.
It’s not smooth, Miyuki can tell, because there’s a moment where their teeth click together, but Mei’s hands bunch the front of Miyuki’s shirt —cigarette long dropped to the floor— pulling them closer together, their bodies warm despite the outside chill. And it takes all of Miyuki’s reflexes to keep them steady on the edge of the railing.
It’s heavy breaths between them, and Miyuki can taste the tell tale flavour of smoke and alcohol on the tip of Mei’s tongue, licking into his mouth. Miyuki groans when Mei moves to pull away, only after leaving a slight bite on Miyuki’s lips, hot and burning.
“So, did you get what you asked for, Kazuya?” Mei breathes, seemingly content not to move away from the narrow space between them.
Miyuki exhales slowly, trying to appear more collected than he actually feels.
“Almost,” he says, before pulling Mei away from the balcony railing and pushing him against the wall of the apartment, his hands gripping on hips, fingers skimming at the other boy’s waist. Mei lets out a breath in surprise.
“You’re not going to retract that offer, are you?” Miyuki asks, letting his rationality have a moment despite how winded he feels.
Mei scoffs, hands already sliding into the back of Miyuki’s jeans. “Yeah, right. Stop talking, Kazuya. You’re wasting time,” he responds, before pressing forward and pointedly sliding his thigh between Miyuki’s legs.
He meets Miyuki’s eyes, the corners crinkled in amusement but his pupils are blown in a way that makes Miyuki sure that he isn’t the only one who is waiting for the next move.
“I better make it count then, Miyuki says, smirking before leaning forward the drag his tongue along the skin of Mei’s neck.
---
It’s minutes later, when their breaths are mingled, limbs caught up in each other with their foreheads pressed together in something like the bad ideas and hormones that they should’ve outgrown.
Mei stares at Miyuki head on, lips bruised and his face betraying nothing but faint amusement. “So, are you entertained yet?”
From the inside of the apartment they can still hear the thumping music, filtered with the loud eruption of yells. It’s ridiculous and un-calculated, but Miyuki honestly can’t stand to regret any of it.
So Miyuki laughs, breaths hoarse.
“Some party,” he murmurs, fingers hooked in the hoops of Mei’s jeans, and content to stay.