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sportsanime2015-06-27 09:18 pm
referees) wrote in sportsanime2015-06-27 09:18 pm
Entry tags:
Bonus Round 3: FSTs
Bonus Round 3: FSTs
This round is CLOSED. Late fills can be posted, but they won't receive points.
We're halfway through all the bonus rounds now. If you're like us, every love song on the radio seems to apply to your OTP. In this round we'd like you to serenade us with some of your top picks!
This round ends at 7PM on July 11 EDT. Countdown Timer.
RULES
- Submit prompts in the form of a short playlist (3-6 songs) and a ship from any of our nominated fandoms. Submit only the track listing and a link to where they can be listened to; the idea is for others to interpret what you present. You may also link to lyrics if you would like.
- 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., Riko & Momoi & Alex). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Riko/Momoi/Alex). Please don't say "Any pairing," either.
- Create content based on the playlists of others! Fill prompts by leaving a responding comment to the prompt with your newly-created work.
- Fills may be in any form you choose (except for another FST of course) as long as they are inspired by/fit the mood of the soundtrack they are filling for.
- Remember to follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.
- You cannot fill your teammates' 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)
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 KOUSAKA HONOKA/MINAMI KOTORI
We are Beautiful, We Are Doomed - Los Campesinos
Dirty Business - The Dresden Dolls
Flagpole Sitta - Harvey Danger
FILL: TEAM Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, T
additional tags: food, this is really gross,
word count: 924 (aka got out of hand length)
The lighting was harsh and artificial, and it almost reminded Sangaku of someplace unpleasant, except for three things. First, the electric current was slow. Sangaku could tell because their eyes were sensitive enough to pick up on the flicker rate of the lights, barely perceiving a pulse from overhead. Second, there were huge, round flies; not a lot of them, but enough, that one or two was always in Sangaku’s line of vision. In direct sunlight and up close, maybe they could have marveled at a subtle sheen on the fly’s shell, but they were indoors at night and so the bugs were nothing more than fat dots, buzzing in loops around people’s heads, resting briefly on the grubby display case. Sangaku watched the person across from them swat one away from his head. The third thing was that no hospital had ever had the night breeze sweeping in and mixing the smells of traffic exhaust, sweaty bodies, and cheap pizza into a humid soup, barely mitigated by a rickety circle fan.
“Teshima-san. Why did you bring me here.”
“Hm? Oh.” Junta had been preoccupied tugging at the silver stud at his earlobe. It itched and hurt a little when he wiggled it. Junta chalked this up to the ear piercing being a recent acquisition. If he had left it in and waited another few weeks, he would have noticed that it never seemed to heal properly, and that most other people’s ear piercings did not itch and swell and turn red and ooze pus when they were touched. But Junta would never learn that he was actually allergic to the metal in his ear, because later that night, as they tussled in the alley between the pizza shop and the tattoo place next door, Manami would rip the stud out with their teeth and it would get lost in the garbage that by necessity coated all city gutters.
“I felt like pizza, I guess. I have a friend who likes pizza.”
“So why aren’t they here instead.”
“Well they had somewhere else to be, of course,” he responded almost petulantly, and Sangaku dropped it at that. It didn’t matter anyway. The reasons stopped mattering any time Teshima called them out.
He gets up from the table to pick up their slices: plain cheese for Sangaku and mushroom for himself. Sangaku’s face was turned away from the counter, but they could see Teshima’s back in the blackened mirror that made up one entire wall of the store.
Sangaku probably shouldn’t be eating pizza, they think, picking at the rubbery yellow ropes of cheese. None of this belonged in their body. The tomato sauce seemed undercooked and rancid oil dripped off the pizza to soak the paper plate. But Sangaku stopped caring about stuff like that a while ago, because what difference did it make if they were adding garbage to something that was garbage to begin with?
The decision to ingest it comes back to haunt them a couple hours later, along with the rest of the contents of their stomach (brunch was takeout from a comparably low-end store). This is after the usual offhand taunting results in the routine lunge across the table. Teshima comes at them with a flimsy plastic knife this time, almost laughable in how useless it is until the serrations catch the skin on their forearm and rip Sangaku a shallow new scratch, five inches long. Next follows the traditional expulsion from whatever eatery had the misfortune of hosting them on a given night.
Junta muses as the burly cashier tosses him into the street that he’s probably run out of restaurants to downgrade to. With each – definitely not a date – outing, he’s dragged Manami out to a less and less classy establishment, but this was probably rock bottom; you couldn’t really compete with the glamour of dollar-slice pizza served from a hole in the wall. Junta learns the second time he invites Manami back that they weren’t blacklisted from the place because it was hardly the first attempted stabbing that particular joint had seen. Junta makes sure the third time they go back that it’s far from the last attempted stabbing they see. But that first time is the only – outing – where he’s ill-prepared enough to be using a plastic knife.
The knife snaps easily at some point during their scuffle, which continues into the back alley. It’s honestly more dangerous after shattering on the brick into a single sharp plastic spike. Junta digs it into the flesh near Manami’s hip, and it sinks in a satisfying half-inch before falling out and joining the pointed detritus that littered the alley. They stand panting for a few moments, Manami with their bleeding hip, Teshima with his bleeding ear.
Sangaku doubles over.
“Come on now, don’t tell me you’re done already?”
Sangaku covers their mouth with their hand and leans against the dirty bricks.
“Hey… come on”
Junta grabs Manami by the collar on their shitty pajama t-shirt and hoists them up so the two of them can see black eye to black eye, taking care to scrape their back along the rough wall of the building.
“What’s the matter? Look alive, Manami,” he says to their ear, and the end of the sentence hangs implicit in the air between them, look alive so I can punch you again.
Teshima lets go when Sangaku upends onto the front of his shirt a mixture of spicy beef, lemonade, hydrochloric acid, and the liquefied remains of one slice of dollar cheese pizza.
Re: FILL: TEAM Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, T
Re: FILL: TEAM Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, T
Re: FILL: TEAM Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, T
FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/IZUMIDA TOUICHIROU, M
Additional tags: blood, needles, ROT AND DECAY??? MAYBE???, i'm marking this mature half because i just Refuse, [manami voice] GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER TESHIMA-SAN, trans character
Word count: 2211
"I didn't think you'd be this much fun tonight." The most fucked up date Teshima had encountered in his life spoke too airily, between giggling, their fingers slipping awkwardly over their belt. "I was just going out with you for a free dinner!"
He grabbed their hands. "What are you doing?" His head was spinning, he already felt like he'd collapse from running the last five blocks without pausing, sure that the ringing in his ears was bound to never stop at this point, and the worst date he'd had in the last five years trying to undress between the trash cans at the back of the last open pharmacy in this part of the city was the last thing he wanted to put up with.
"How do you expect me to fix my leg otherwise?"
They shook his hold, but he shifted to grab their arm wholly instead. "No, just what do you mean by that? How the hell are you supposed to fix your joint slipping out of place with some thread and medical," and he pulled at their arm - and through the sleeve of their jacket, he could feel it go slack.
"Ugh." They swatted his face and tugged down the side of their jacket. "Of course ... I should have realized that would have loosened it ..."
"What?"
He tugged their jacket away, until he could see bone sticking out.
"Oh, don't look at that," they muttered, "I can't fix that with thread at all. I'll have to get home and get the pliers."
Teshima stared, unblinkingly. "The pliers." He pressed his fist over his mouth, trying not to shove it in entirely. "For your bone. Right. For your bone jacket arm problem." He slid a palm over his eyes. "That makes a lot of fucking sense."
"Mhm!" There was a thump, presumably of something of their body, into trash, and he couldn't help but think about how fitting it was - for both of them, probably. "I mean, it isn't as though it's the first strange thing about tonight, after all."
He peeled his hands away and shoved them under his arms, trying not to hyperventilate as they peeled their pants off with not much more than vague disinterest on their face - though, at this point, he was personally far more preoccupied with the way their right leg came off right with them. "Which part would qualify as the first strange thing then?" HE was absolutely panicking, he knew, but shoved it all into a grim wide sarcastic smirk. "The part where I threw ice in your face? Was it strange because it wasn't a proper cup of tea?" It wasn't a prosthetic - if it was, it was the most messed up one he'd ever seen in his life, dried broken blood vessels and their inner hip bone entirely clear, chipped bone sticking out of their thigh. "Oh! Or maybe where we got into a fight in the back alley, and I didn't set a proper table first. You probably need elegant sets like that, considering what a high class date you are. Satin cloth, right? Blue, with white embroidery, that would have been just right before you hit me between the eyes." They dropped their leg to the concrete with a thud that was far too fleshy for any kind of comfort and Teshima raised his voice. "Maybe the part where we were chased by security for 30 minutes and I had to carry you for 15 of those?"
"Those parts were all kinda interesting," they hummed, "But I was thinking specifically the part where you punched me and accidentally snapped my sternum." Too lackadaisical, the whole time, more focused on the fact that they only just remembered to remove their shoe from the detached leg.
That was preferable to think about than lingering over just what he'd spent the night with. "I did what?" He still asked in something more approaching a scream than he intended.
That made them look up. "Weren't you wondering what you cut your hand on?"
"I cut my hand?" Teshima looked at it, not seeing much in darkness, until he flashed his phone's light over it. Maybe that was why the clerk at the store had been staring at him in such concern - the clotting sticky mess of blood covering their right fist shouldn't have been so simple to overlook.
At least the situation was strange enough for it, especially as his date answered his rhetorical question, "Yep!" At that, they dropped their leg without a second thought and began pulling up their shirt.
He tripped over himself to grab them. "Could you stop undressing, for maybe five minutes?!"
They pursed their lips, from what little he could make out of their face at this distance, trying, trying to make himself stop screaming internally, and it only worsened when they laughed, short and empty.
"Five minutes. I suppose I could handle that. Sure."
Teshima jolted up from the ground. "Great." It was surprisingly difficult not to kick them in the gut, but he had a bad feeling his foot would get stuck if he did that, and at this point, it was nothing he wanted to invite.
"But um ... my leg?" Even turned away, he could guess what kind of smile they were wearing. Just wearing - wearing as much as the clothes and limbs they managed to keep stripping. "Like you eloquently mentioned, I am having what can be called a bone jacket arm problem. It makes it a little hard to fix up my leg!"
"You want me to ..." He looked at the bag in his hand. "Sew it back on ... in the middle of a bunch of garbage."
"It isn't exactly my ideal locale for it, but you're spot on!" He assigned their laugh as a cackle instead, to try to make himself feel better. "How'd you guess?"
When he turned back to them, Teshima didn't pass up the chance to kick their leg onto what remained of their lap, his only response. Actually seeing the thin smile he'd imagined destroyed any sense of satisfaction he could have gotten out of it. He kept his head down, and tried to focus on the needle, refusing to ask them to hold up his phone as he struggled to shove the thread through the eye.
"So, Teshima-san."
"It's Teshima," he snapped between his teeth, at the same time as thread from the spool. And paused. "What did you say?"
"Did you think I said Kojima, again?" He could faintly see them blink from behind their cracked sunglasses, barely see an eyebrow raise from behind the hat and hair that hung down. "I'm not that forgetful."
He dropped the spool.
Date number bad luck thirteen - took off their cap with a friendly flourish, revealing hair that never seemed to get properly matted down from hat or helmet, and their glasses slipped down their nose, just enough. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Manami winked, and for a moment he could see how off color one was from the usual jaundice and blue, before they shoved their sunglasses back up.
Manami looked expectant, in the far off hum of cars driving past and between the silence over them. It felt like the first victory of the night.
"Yeah." Teshima couldn't summon anymore of a reaction. The night had already sailed far beyond the event horizon. "I guess it has." He shoved their leg back into their hip socket with an uncomfortable crack, and they shuddered, all the way up to their teeth chattering. "What, you want me to be softer with you or something?"
"It's fine," they spat back. "I'm just used to skillful hands, you know how it is." Leaning a little closer, they laughed. "Or maybe you don't?"
"Oh, come on, you're not even giving me a chance here." He twisted into the bone as hard as he could manage, until they gasped harshly enough to double over into coughing - they failed at flipping their pain back over into laughter, until tears were rolling down their cheeks, and he asked, "That better for you?"
"Mhm!" Their glasses fell off and he could see their wide dilated eyes, mismatched and far different from anything they'd been before. "Perfect! Thanks so much!"
He dropped his gaze back to their hip, skin sickly gray even through the darkness, and stabbed the needle into their leg. They hardly responded, past the way their fist shook - maybe from fatigue, or pain, or shock, or just plain anger. Teshima pulled himself together enough to say, "This would be a lot less inconvenient if we weren't hiding behind a dumpster."
"What, you want to take me home?" Their voice came at such a register as to hurt his ears, until they dialed it back. "Or back to my place?" They snickered from behind their hand. "I don't want to give you the wrong idea."
"I don't think you could at this point," more of a grimace gracing his face, "You couldn't even manage to stand for one night. I doubt you'd be capable of doing much more." He glanced up to meet their eyes, wide as their fake smile. "Though you could at least do me a favor and flip over so I can get the other side of your leg."
Manami ripped their leg out of his grasp and practically threw it over him, for their knee to rest at his shoulder. "You just need to see the other side, right?"
He had to slam his hand against them to stop from being pulled over by their weight - cut the other side of his hand on the mess of bone sticking out of their arm - cursing as quietly as he could manage, until he hissed into their face, "What was that about giving me the wrong idea?"
Shaking, giggling into their ear, they answered, "Come on, Teshima-san, get your mind out of the gutter." He grabbed their shoulder - maybe it was something like the funny bone, he didn't have a clue, and wrenched at it until they dragged their nails down the other side of his face, slammed their working knee up and into his gut. "Just a recommendation," they started, right at his ear, "Try not to cause more damage. Unless you want to end up having to take care of it."
He couldn't tell if they'd scratched him hard enough to start bleeding - too cognizant of the fact that blood from his hand and what little seemed to come out of them was everywhere at this point - but they were right. In what little light ran down the alley, he could see old scars down the back of their thigh.
"I'm pretty good with needles, don't you think?" he asked, more to fill the space, more to get his mind off the sight.
Humming again, Manami said, "Better than some."
"I don't do much embroidery." Teshima couldn't stop talking once he started. "I'm better with knitting. If you went with yarn skin, that'd probably serve you better. And it'd do me the favor of making you a little softer, too. My knuckles don't always appreciate the trauma." He spoke his mind, only in the most humiliating ways.
"Maybe."
He had forgotten how non-responsive they could be, though. It had been years ... "What ever happened to competitive cycling?"
They shrugged. "Things happened."
"Right," he muttered. His cheek ran smooth against their leg as he leaned closer, almost certainly from blood. "I had to stop a couple years back. Not like my body can keep up with that kind of thing," he went on, without thinking, "It's just some poorly put together vessel that's bound to fall apart."
"Oh, really?" He regretted his words the moment they spoke. "Well, I guess I wouldn't understand anything like that." They sounded playful, cheery in obvious disdain, and they made him want to throw them away. No matter what he did, nothing could keep up with them - not his best and especially not his worst.
Even after all these years, it was sickening just how much he wanted them to be his problem.
He started to lean down to snap off the thread and stopped, when he looked up to see their wide disturbed eyes. Instead, Teshima stabbed the needle full force into their hip, until they hiccuped into a broken smile.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Manami narrowed their eyes at his unwanted response, and he bounced his head confidently as he wrapped up the mess at their leg and hip in medical tape. It took too long for them to remember that their leg was still draped at his shoulder, until they took to move and he took to brush it away at too much the same time.
He let them stand up on their own - poorly balanced and examining the fresh blood still drying on their dead skin. There was enough dead air to make him think someone had died - probably them.
"So." Manami pulled their clothes back on as well as they could with one hand. "I'm a bit curious. How are you with pliers?"
Re: FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/IZUMIDA TOUICHIROU, M