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 NANASE HARUKA/TACHIBANA MAKOTO
"I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what’s underneath."
- Kim Addonizio
reposted because i filled in my team name wrong the first time orz
no subject
no subject
FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, T (1/2)
Tags: Part One: Sexual implications; Part Two: Explicit sexual content
Notes: SO HERE’S THE DEAL. Part One is the fun, T rated, approved for basically all audiences, complete-on-its-own fill. Part Two is the explicit HBO extended edition continuation. Part One can be enjoyed without Part Two, and has a lower rating than Part Two, so that’s why I’m separating them into two posts.
Also, the parts are written in different tenses because I’m a hack!Enjoy!“Well, how does it look?”
Makishima spun around, the white sun dress lifting slightly as he spun and then wrapping over his legs with a bounce as he stopped.
Tadokoro hummed. “It’s pretty good.”
Makishima groaned.
“What?”
“No, nothing. Good is… good.”
“Umm.” Tadokoro fumbled for something to say. “I like the… flowers? They’re a nice green. They go with your hair.”
Makishima sighed and walked back to the dressing room stall, throwing the curtain shut with a flourish.
Tadokoro groaned. “Maki…” He stomped over to the stall, and reached out to pull the curtain open. He thought better of it at the last minute though, and let his hand drop to his side. “I liked it! Really!”
Makishima opened the curtain just enough to poke his head out. “It’s not that.” He huffed again and slouched again, practically wrapping the curtain around him like a cocoon.
“Then what?”
Makishima pouted. “I didn’t come here for just good.”
“I didn’t mean–”
“It’s not you,” Makishima said quickly. “It’s me. I can’t…” He stopped short, some sort of unsaid words hanging in the air.
Tadokoro growled. “Spit it out already!”
“I can’t wear any of the… Most of these dresses aren’t made for…”
Tadokoro hummed again. “Hold that thought,” he said, before turning on his heel and stomping off.
“Wait, Tadokorocchi! I–”
Makishima was slightly surprised when Tadokoro did stop. But instead of talking to him, Tadokoro grabbed Makishima by the shoulders and guided him to turn around.
“What are you–” Makishima yelped when he felt Tadokoro’s fingers plunging down the back of his dress. He nearly shouted for an explanation before he felt Tadokoro fish out the tag in the back.
Tadokoro hummed. “Wait, what does this size number mean? That can’t be inches, right? How do girl sizes work?”
Makishima sighed. “Witchcraft, mostly.”
Tadokoro didn’t argue. “Alright, one minute.”
“Wait, what?”
Tadokoro didn’t stop this time, instead pulling the curtain closed just as Makishima spun around. Makishima slumped and resigned himself to waiting. He didn’t wait long though before Tadokoro popped his head back in through the curtain. Before Makishima could say a word, Tadokoro thrust something bright red at him.
Makishima’s face reddened as well when he had enough time to look at the dress. “Tado–”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t want to try that one,” Tadokoro said with a huff. “You’ve been looking at it on the mannequin since we came in.”
“They don’t make it big enough for my size,” Makishima argued.
Tadokoro shrugged. “It’s close enough.”
“It’s not made for someone as tall as me,” Makishima tried to explain. “It’s not long enough.”
Tadokoro grinned. “Not long enough for what? I didn’t think you were looking for a fancy dress to wear to the opera.”
This only prompted another sigh. “Tadokorocchi, if I put this dress on, one false move and I’ll rip a seam or… fall right out of it.”
The grin only seemed to become wider. “Isn’t that half the fun? It’s the kinda dress you wear just long enough until you find someone to tear it off you, right?”
Makishima couldn’t stop the sound he made. It was a keening sort of noise in the back of his throat, and it bubbled up against his will. “Someone? Did you have anyone in mind?”
“I was sort of hoping you might,” Tadokoro said with a wink.
Makishima looked at the dress and then back at Tadokoro’s shit eating grin before sighing and pushing Tadokoro out of the dressing room and drawing the curtain shut once again. “Fine. I’ll try it.”
“Well, how does it look?”
“Uh, well, it’s…”
It was Makishima’s turn to wear a shit eating grin as Tadokoro squirmed and crossed his legs.
“It’s pretty good.”
FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, E (2/2)
Makishima hardly hears the curtain closing behind them as Tadokoro pushed him against the side wall of the dressing room. Tadokoro presses against him roughly, face buried in the crook of Makishima's neck, hot humid breathe getting trapped in Makishima’s hair.
Tadokoro’s hands start on Makishima's waist, but soon move down and around, cupping his hips. One hand moves yet further down, running fingertips down the back of Makishima's bare leg until the come to a fluttering rest at the soft spot of the back of the knee. Before Makishima can react, Tadokoro grabs a firm hold of his leg, and bracing him against the wall and steadying with his other hand, he pushes Makishima up the wall and rests the leg around his waist.
Makishima wraps his arms around Tadokoro's shoulders, and lifts his leg to join the other at Tadokoro's waist.
It's then that Makishima realizes the benefits of his new vantage point. There are two mirrors in the dressing room; a side mirror, on the opposite wall from where Makishima is pinned, and the main mirror, to his side. If Makishima looks straight ahead he can see his own head poking up over Tadokoro's mass; see every face he makes as Tadokoro's hands continue to wander.
But he much prefers the view to his side. There he can see his Tadokoro's hand run the length of his long, pale leg before his fingertips–finally!–reach the dress's red hem. Makishima can see his bony collarbones sticking out over neckline in stark contrast, as Tadokoro noses over his sternum, hot breath washing over him still. Tadokoro's wandering stops after his nose brushes the collarbone furthest from the mirror, and without warning bites.
Makishima's moan is met with a shush from Tadokoro.
"You shush," Makishima pants back.
"We're going to get kicked out if you make noise."
"Well it wasn't my idea to–"
Tadokoro decides to shut him up with a kiss, and Makishima can't bother with being mad. His eyes are back on the mirror again, just as Tadokoro's hands are on the move. One hand teases the hem of the dress, as if asking permission, before pushing it's way under the fabric. Makishima spreads his legs slightly to give him more room, and when he does, not only can he feel the straining of the dress against his thighs, he can see it too. The tight hem digging white lines into his legs, the seams straining, fit to split wide open and leave him in nothing but torn shreds. The idea excites him nearly as much as as Tadokoro's hand, caressing the soft skin under the dress before thumbing over Makishima's cock. Tadokoro seems to have learned from last time and muffles Makishima's moan with his mouth.
His cock is straining against the fabric of the dress now and the sight and feel of that on it's own is almost too much. With the help of Tadokoro's hand it isn't long before he spills over, staining the dress's lining.
Tadokoro laughs into Makishima's lips. It's the smug laugh he makes when he's won something and he's over-proud of himself, and much as Makishima wants to argue, he knows Tadokoro was right after all.
Some time later, they bring both the sundress and the red dress–strategically folded–to check out. Makishima wishes that Tadokoro would stop smiling like the cat that caught the canary, but he hopes if he does bring attention to it, the cashier won't notice.
Tadokoro's grin drops and Makishima's heart nearly stops when the cashier squints at the red dress before she scans it.
"Sir, this dress is ripped on the seam..." The cashier says.
"I..."
"It's not..."
They both fumble for excuses at once.
The cashier seems to take no notice. "If you want, I can talk to my manager and get it discounted for you."
"NO!"
FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, T
Word Count: 1,393
I can't believe Mels and I just both really wanted to kill you. Or write Makishima in dresses. Mostly the second one.
-
"This one, Tadokorocchi," Makishima says, as they stride into the next store down the line.
Tadokoro follows in Makishima's wake with the tired persistence of a manservant, subservient to Makishima's will when it comes to shopping. This isn't the arena he excels in. All of his brashness goes right out the window the moment someone asks him whether he prefers an a-line or empire-waist dress, or his opinion on boot-cut versus skinny jeans.
Makishima is the one who loves clothes. Tadokoro only loves to see them reveling in the fashionable possibilities.
"Hold this," Makishima adds, plucking something off the rack almost as soon as they're in through the door. It's a slinky something that gets draped over Tadokoro's arms, the material near slippery enough to slide through his fingers.
"Is this a dress?" he asks, face scrunching up in confusion. "It looks like. You know."
Makishima glances back at him over their shoulder, while flicking through the hangers on another rack of clothes. Their eyebrows go up, and their mouth twists into a sliver of a smirk. "Know what, Tadokorocchi?"
Tadokoro leans closer, whispering to them from behind his hand. "It looks like, y'know, lingerie."
Makishima laughs, a scoffing little bark of mirth, and turns back to the hangers. "It's an evening gown. If it was a babydoll for the bedroom, the skirt would be shorter."
Tadokoro makes a sound like an animal being kicked, feeling his face light on fire.
Makishima pats his arm sympathetically, before draping another selection over top of it. They're still smiling, but this time they have the grace to drag one hand across their face in a politely concealing gesture. "I wasn't going to buy anything like that today. Unless you wanted me to."
"That's fine!" Tadokoro yelps, loudly enough that it's nearly a bellow. "You don't have to!"
As he breathes in again, consciously dialing down his volume, he's very aware of the salesgirls at the front of the store shooting a few curious, confused looks in their direction. He's embarrassed all over again – this is a classy shop, and the last thing he needs to do is barrel through it like he's tossing riders at the rodeo. He stands out even when he does nothing, surrounded by dainty little round racks and delicately-posed mannequins, his back broad enough to block out an entire display just by turning.
But the colors are garish enough for Makishima's tastes, and that puts Tadokoro somewhat more at ease.
While Makishima continues to browse the aisles, Tadokoro turns over the garments left in his hands. They're slinky and flimsy, near-weightless in his big hands like he could rip them down the middle with only a little bit of force. His fingers find the tag on the first dress and flip it over, before his eyes nearly bug out of his head.
"M-Makishima!" he stutters.
"Hmm?" they murmur back, turning their head from two aisles over. "Do you like that one?"
Tadokoro thinks a working family of four might like that one, when its price point could feed them for three weeks.
"It's fine," is what he says, too-fast and too-gruff. "Did you find anything you like better?"
"I have a few other contenders," Makishima says, holding up their hands so that a dress dangles to their either side. "Don't tell me you're getting impatient already, Tadokorocchi, we've only been in here ten minutes."
"Of course not," Tadokoro insists. "But I thought you wanted something red."
Makishima nods, and hums to themself, like that's a very valid point Tadokoro is bringing up. He pats himself on the back for doing something helpful. He also remembers the conversation they had earlier, before ever setting out for the store – about how Makishima doesn't have enough feminine things, and how they want to go shopping again, and how much they would like it, if Tadokoro got more handsy in tugging those garments off of them when they go from dressy-casual to tumbling into bed.
Tadokoro believes Makishma's actual words were more along the lines of, "I want to buy something you can rip me out of – like a present you're eager to tear into even though you already know what's inside."
He chooses not to remember exactly, because he thinks Makishima followed it with something stupid and terrible like "And everyone likes opening presents, don't they, Tadokorocchi?" while their mouth did that funny thing it sometimes does and no amount of cheesiness could stop Tadokoro from flushing an ugly red.
"How's this?" Makishima says, cutting into Tadokoro's thoughts as they hold up a heap of red fabric, like twitching a cape before a bull. "Come on, I want to try everything on."
Their hand closes on Tadokoro's wrist as they stride past him through the racks, leading with dogged persistence toward the changing rooms at the back of the store. The attendant eyes them, taking in the spindly mess that Makishima makes in front of Tadokoro's stolid bulk standing behind them, and he sees it on their face – that weird little calculation, the one salespeople always make when Tadokoro comes into a store for women with Makishima.
He realizes he's scowling at them only when the attendant turns too fast and absolutely rushes to unlock one of the changing room doors.
"We always get such prompt service when I'm with you," Makishima drawls, as they slip into the stall.
Tadokoro only grunts, biting back the protest that's on the tip of his tongue of, "They were staring at you."
He's gotten somewhat better, over the years, at minding his words. Silence falls between them after that, broken only by the rattling of clothes hangers inside the changing room and by the swish of fabric being moved around. Tadokoro listens to the soft, fluid sounds of garments being shifted, imagines Makishima's clothes coming off and one of the dresses coming on and all over again his face is too hot not to be red.
"Tadokorocchi," he hears after another minute. "Would you... Give me a hand?"
The stall door pushes open, and Makishima's hand darts out to grab him by the arm. They're stronger than he expects every time, pulling him into the stall without any resistance. Their hair is pulled up into an elastic, piled messily at the back of their neck and all Tadokoro sees is the dress.
Cherry-red and strapless, it stretches tight across Makishima's chest where they lack anything like a bra to give the front a softer shape. Their arms are bared farther than in their cycling jersey allows, the tan of wiry forearms giving way to paler biceps and smooth, snowy shoulders. The line differentiating Makishima's tan is as clear as if they were wearing opera gloves. The dress nips in at their waist and spreads wider over hips, before they're turning around and presenting the bare plane of their back.
"I can't get the zipper," Makishima explains, impatiently. "It's too far down, with the low back."
It takes Tadokoro a minute, to realize there even is a zipper at all. He tells himself that it's because it's the invisible sort, with the tiniest dangling pull, and not because his eyes are riveted on the moles along Makishima's shoulder blades. He draws the zip up a little too quick.
"There," he mutters, gruff but softly proud.
Makishima turns, as Tadokoro's hands fall away, the funniest expression pulling at their mouth. "It's good, isn't it?"
Tadokoro remembers the price tag, and swallows. Tadokoro looks at Makishima's narrow waist and narrow hips and familiar, bony chest underneath too-thin red fabric, and swallows again – for an entirely different reason.
"It's great," he says.
They turn away from him, taking a long moment to admire themself in the dressing room mirror, so that Tadokoro can look over their shoulder and see the start to their smile reflected in the glass. They trail a hand down their sternum over the fabric, and raise their gaze to meet Tadokoro's where it's reflected in front of them.
"Maybe I won't let you rip it after all."
"Oh thank god," Tadokoro breathes out before he thinks to stop himself.
But Makishima only laughs, softer than their usual, and reaches back to pat his arm. "You can peel me out of it instead, and take all the care that you like."