SASO Referees (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sportsanime2015-06-27 09:18 pm
referees) wrote in sportsanime2015-06-27 09:18 pm
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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!
FILL: Team Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, M
((basically oikawa fucks up his knee beyond repair after high school and subsequently develops a drinking problem))
Word count: 2511
“You know, my life has completely fallen apart.”
“... And this just occurred to you?”
Oikawa contemplated his drink. Such a familiar color, whiskey was – whether it was fruity or nutty or sour or bitter, it always retained that pretty amber color. The color of autumn leaves. The color of his own eyes in the sunlight. And the color of the inevitable vomit in the toilet sometime past midnight. He took another sip and lolled back his head to look at the ceiling.
“Every time my knee aches, it does.” He kicked up his bad leg on the table and wiggled his foot. “Booze makes it better though. Sooooo much better. I don’t feel a thing when I’ve got a little booze in me.”
“I wouldn’t call this ‘a little.’” Iwaizumi raised the half-empty bottle on the floor and waved it over Oikawa’s head. “And I’d never call this,” he gestured up and down Oikawa’s body, “‘better.’”
“Do you only hang out with me anymore just to make me feel bad about my terrible habits?” Oikawa flicked the bottle and exhaled. “If that’s the case, you’re going to be disappointed. I don’t feel bad. I feel great.”
“I don’t hang out with you to make you feel bad, jackass. You make yourself feel bad.”
“Only because I know you hate it when I drink.” Oikawa swung himself forward and finished off his glass. “And you being here just reminds me of how unpleasant you find my company when I’m intoxicated.”
Iwaizumi set the bottle back down on the floor. “You do nothing but angst when you’re drunk. All this ‘woe-is-me’ shit. Nothing like the Tooru I used to know.”
“So then leave,” Oikawa snapped. “Not like I need you here, anyway.”
Iwaizumi remained silent. A frown pulled at the ends of Oikawa’s lips hard enough for his eyes to grow watery. His nostrils flared and his bottom lip quivered. “Fuck. That wasn’t right. I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah, you are,” Iwaizumi muttered.
“Fuck!” Oikawa slammed down his glass – it shattered – and covered his eyes with his hands. “Fuck, what am I doing? Why am I doing this to myself?” His chest heaved as tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m awful. I’m awful. I’m useless and a shitty person.”
Iwaizumi rubbed Oikawa’s back and squeezed the nape of his neck. “Still waiting on that apology.”
“Why do you bother with me?” Oikawa asked. He tensed up underneath Iwaizumi’s touch and shivered. “I’m so shitty. All I do is bitch and complain about how my life sucks. You have no reason to be around me. I suck.”
“You do, sometimes,” Iwaizumi agreed. “Only when you drink.”
“I suck other times. Almost all the other times. And yet, here you still are.” Oikawa coughed and bile rose in the back of his throat. He pressed his head into Iwaizumi’s shoulder and he smelled like oranges. Oranges and vanilla extract. Oikawa had the scent memorized by now. “You’re not a martyr for willingly hanging out with a drunk ex-volleyball star.”
“I don’t want to be a martyr. That shit is for people who blame the world for problems they brought on themselves.”
“Is that meant to be an attack against me, for fucking up my knee so bad?”
“Yes, everything I say is an attack against you. Don’t you know that by now?” Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa into a hug and kissed his forehead. “I like you better when you’re arrogant.”
“It’s all just a lie. You like a facade more than you like me.”
“The only facade here is the shitty sob story you keep telling yourself as an excuse for spending all your time at home drinking the daylights out of yourself.”
This scenario was so familiar that Oikawa felt like he was reading from a script. He’d complain about his life, Iwaizumi would offer valid advice through a critical lens for the sake of his well being, and he’d complain about how he couldn’t do that because he was too busy complaining about his life. God, and he wondered why he didn’t have any friends anymore.
“I’m pathetic,” Oikawa mumbled with a stifled whimper. “How did I get to this point?”
Iwaizumi paused, and his soothing hand froze over Oikawa’s back. “I think a more important question is…,” he began, treading carefully, “how do you get away from this point?”
“The most important question is how the hell should I know.”
“Well.” Iwaizumi pulled away and Oikawa clung onto his shirt by the sleeve. It was too cold without him. “I got an idea of where to start.”
“Oh?”
Iwaizumi picked up the bottle on the floor and screwed on the cap. He grabbed Oikawa’s arm and yanked him to his feet. “Show me where you keep all your booze.”
“Hajime…?”
“I don’t care how much you have, I just want to get it.”
Oikawa wobbled where he stood and wondered if he could get out of this by vomiting on Iwaizumi’s shoes. To his misfortune, though, Iwaizumi probably wouldn’t even give a shit at this point. “Cabinet next to the refrigerator.”
“Okay.”
Oikawa wanted to sit back down on the couch, but Iwaizumi dragged him into the kitchen and made him hold onto the half-empty bottle of whiskey while he dug out all the other booze in his cabinet. Beer and hard lemonade and more whiskey and rum and even the crappy artificial fruity flavorings: Iwaizumi stacked all of it on the kitchen table and counters and made no comment on the volume.
“Where else?”
“Nowhere else. That’s all of it.”
Iwaizumi glared at him. Oikawa held onto the bottle in his arms like it was his newborn child.
“... Under the bed.”
Iwaizumi dragged Oikawa to the bedroom and pulled out another case of beer or three. “What about your shot glasses and shit?”
“Back in the kitchen, next to the stove.”
By the time Iwaizumi unearthed all of Oikawa’s booze and booze paraphernalia, every surface in the kitchen was filled. Oikawa fidgeted with the dimples on the bottle in his hands.
“I have a problem,” he said, eyes focused on the floor.
“We’re gonna get rid of it, though,” Iwaizumi replied. He took out his car keys from his back pocket and jingled them in front of Oikawa’s face. “Help me pack this into the trunk.”
Oikawa buried himself in Iwaizumi’s sweater – he forgot to grab a jacket, and Iwaizumi said he wasn’t cold – as they pulled out of the parking lot outside his apartment building. He prayed to whatever god that would listen that Iwaizumi wouldn’t accidentally run a stop sign. Getting pulled over by a cop with a trunk full of beer, a backseat full of liquor and a passenger seat full of intoxicated underage boy would be the worst possible ending to their already awful night.
They didn’t talk much the entire way, but Oikawa did manage to ask if he could roll down the window. Iwaizumi wondered aloud why he would want the window open if he was cold, but whatever he didn’t really care. The cool breeze helped Oikawa think straight. It cleared the alcohol from his mind. He had no clue where they were going at the start, but when he could smell the ocean Iwaizumi’s intentions grew more and more clear.
“What are we doing?” Oikawa whispered.
“Therapy,” Iwaizumi responded simply.
He parked in the corner of the lot near the beach and turned off the engine. Oikawa was about to ask for clarification before Iwaizumi leaned over the emergency brake and kissed him. One hand threaded through his hair and the other slid under his sweater and held onto his back. Oikawa caught Iwaizumi’s shirt between his fingers and pulled him closer. Their lips fit against each other like long-lost puzzle pieces, tender and warm but still stained by the taste of alcohol. Oikawa didn’t like the taste. He didn’t want it in his mouth anymore. The more he kissed Iwaizumi, the more it faded away.
Iwaizumi pressed his tongue into Oikawa’s mouth and moaned in the back of his throat. A heated blush rose to Oikawa’s cheeks that he knew was not just the alcohol getting to him, and part of him wanted to pull Iwaizumi into his lap just to get him closer. As soon as he tried, though, Iwaizumi separated from him, panting and wiping saliva from his mouth.
“Is your idea of therapy making out on the beach under the stars? Because I’d be happy with that,” Oikawa said.
“In a way. It could end up like that.” Iwaizumi shoved his keys into his pocket and opened the car door. “Help me unload everything.”
To Oikawa’s dismay, they didn’t make their way to the beach. To his greater dismay, they instead climbed a sloping cliff that overlooked the ocean, carrying the heavy bags of booze and glasses in each hand. Well, to be fair, Iwaizumi just had Oikawa carry one bag while he handled the rest, but it still made his knee crack more than what was comfortable.
Upon reaching the summit, he collapsed among the grass and rock and rolled onto his back to face the sky. Wind bristled through his hair and he could feel the bug flitting about across his face. There weren’t any clouds for miles that would keep Oikawa from counting the stars above his head. He heard Iwaizumi shifting the glass bottles and aluminum cans around in the bags and sat up.
“What are we doing?” he asked again.
“Like I told you, therapy.”
Iwaizumi held a hand out to Oikawa and pulled him to his feet once more. He plucked a case of beer from the shopping bag closest to them and handed it to him.
“Hajime, I don’t want to drink anymore.”
“I know you don’t.” Iwaizumi grabbed a case for himself and cracked open the first can. “Let’s make sure that happens.” He kissed the back of Oikawa’s hand before walking to the edge of the cliff, and turning the beer upside down. Oikawa watched as the contents fell out of sight, dissolving into the black ocean stories below their feet. Iwaizumi shook out the last of it and tossed the empty can back into the bag.
“Your turn.”
Oikawa stared at the case of beer in his hands.
He set it down, grabbed a can, and popped it open. At home, he’d raise the rim to his lips and down it within a minute. But at the top of the world, with Iwaizumi’s gaze fixed on him, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else but flinging the contents as far away from him as possible. It fizzed in the air and some of it splashed back against Oikawa’s clothes, but he didn’t care; he wanted it gone. Gone fast enough that he wouldn’t think to take even a sip. Once the can was empty, he threw it to the ground and crushed it under his foot.
When he looked up, Iwaizumi was grinning and applauding his performance. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Iwaizumi grabbed another can and dumped it out. Oikawa took two at a time, popped them open, and shook them out; he took another two, popped them open, and shook them out; two more; two more; two more until his arms ached and he was out of breath. And they still had three more bags to empty.
“Fuck,” Oikawa panted, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “This is a lot.”
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi said, leaning on his knees and shaking his head back and forth. “We gotta keep going, though. Get rid of all of it.”
Oikawa stumbled over to the remaining bags and took out a case of hard lemonade. He squinted at the metal caps and asked, “Did we bring an opener?”
A pause. “Oh, dammit.”
“That’s okay.” Oikawa raised the bottles over his head. “I’ll just smash them.”
Iwaizumi opened his mouth like he was going to argue – probably with something like, “We can’t just leave glass all over the place or dump it in the ocean like that.” But then he waved his arm and said, “Go for it.”
Oikawa launched the bottles across the cliff and they shattered at the far edge with a satisfying burst. A smile curled onto his lips. He took up the entire shopping bag and yanked out another bottle of he didn’t care what, and threw that, as well. It landed just short of the edge and ricocheted into the water. He chuckled. Three more, hurled one after the other, exploded against the rock. Oikawa erupted in peals of laughter as a strong breeze ripped through his hair and gusted underneath his shirt.
“Careful that the glass doesn’t fly back at you, dumbass,” Iwaizumi called, but when Oikawa looked at him he found that he was about to do the exact same thing with a bottle of whiskey. Iwaizumi grunted as he raised the bottle over his head and smashed it at his feet. “Shit, that feels good.”
“Right!?” Oikawa looked forward to peering into the bag on his other arm for more bottles to break. As he chucked another one, he laughed again, “It’s exhilarating!”
“Good!” Iwaizumi shouted. “Keep going!”
The time flew by. The sounds of their yelping and laughter climbed over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Soon Oikawa was crouching by the edge and breaking shot glass after martini glass after wine glass against the face of the cliff. Glittering pieces disappeared in the foaming water and to hell with the world if that made him some anti-environment asshole. He was still a little tipsy, anyway; what did he care? This was his therapy. This was his rebirth. This was his happiness.
Oikawa went back to the bags once last time, only to find them empty. Iwaizumi stood before him, holding the half-empty whiskey bottle he’d been nursing just an hour ago.
“Wanna do the honors?” Iwaizumi asked.
Oikawa caught Iwaizumi by the wrist and replied, “Do it with me.”
A grin that could outshine the sun. “Of course.”
They faced the edge of the cliff together, and held the bottle over their heads.
“One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
And just like that, Oikawa was free.
Iwaizumi’s breathing was loud in his ears. Oikawa leaned his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder and swayed back and forth.
“All gone,” Iwaizumi whispered. “All gone.”
“All gone,” Oikawa repeated, moments before an overwhelming sickness made his stomach churn. He bolted from Iwaizumi’s arms with a strangled grunt, and kneeled at the edge of the cliff just in time to vomit into the ocean. His eyes burned at the awfully familiar sensation and shards of glass pricked the palms of his hands. Iwaizumi rubbed his back until he stopped heaving.
“Okay, it wasn’t all gone before,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “Now it is.”
Oikawa wiped his eyes and coughed. “I never wanna have to do that again.”
“Good. Because you won’t.” Iwaizumi kissed the side of his jaw. “I’ll make sure of that.”