http://alchemicink.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
alchemicink.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
writetomyheart2019-11-06 08:38 pm
alchemicink.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2019-11-06 08:38 pm
[Team one] f(ire)
Ansa suggested I write basketball crack fic and uh... this is what I came up with with my starting words. I actually had some semblance of a plot in mind but wrote this instead. Whoops.
They burn brighter and hotter with every passing moment, and Takaki can only stare in perplexed confusion.
"How?" he utters, looking from the burning basket of basketballs to the rest of his teammates and then back to the basketballs again, which he is quite certain had not previously been in a burning state when he left the court three minutes ago.
Everything smells terribly like burning rubber.
Yuto has the decency to at least give a sheepish shrug.
"I was gone for three minutes," Takaki says out loud as if this will break the illusion of whatever alternate reality he's clearly just stepped into. He's floating in that weird space between disbelief and outright outrage.
He'd only stepped away to the storage space by the locker room to look for an extra practice jersey after Keito had somehow tripped stepping onto the court and ripped the one he was wearing clean in half. When Takaki had left the court, it had absolutely been both fire and smoke free.
He's certain.
"Isn't anybody going to put it out?" he asks, watching the smoke climb higher and higher. The smoke alarm starts blaring an annoyingly high-pitched beeping noise, sounding somewhat like a strangled bird.
His ragtag team of amateur basketball players (and he uses extreme emphasis on the term amateur) merely stare at the burning basket with various shades of impassive facial expressions. (Actually, he thinks Inoo might just be asleep standing up somehow.) They look like this sort of thing might regularly happen in their everyday life.
And, well, considering how terribly the first five minutes of basketball practice have gone, maybe that's actually true.
This is the last time Takaki recruits random people for his intramural team.
He grabs a fire extinguisher hanging by the door and puts out the burning basketball inferno. His teammates clap politely as if they'd shown up for a dinner show instead of a basketball practice session.
Takaki runs his hands over his face, ignoring the lingering acrid smell of smoke.
"Just go home," he sighs. "Practice is cancelled. We'll try again tomorrow."
Your turn![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aleena_mokoia ^_^
They burn brighter and hotter with every passing moment, and Takaki can only stare in perplexed confusion.
"How?" he utters, looking from the burning basket of basketballs to the rest of his teammates and then back to the basketballs again, which he is quite certain had not previously been in a burning state when he left the court three minutes ago.
Everything smells terribly like burning rubber.
Yuto has the decency to at least give a sheepish shrug.
"I was gone for three minutes," Takaki says out loud as if this will break the illusion of whatever alternate reality he's clearly just stepped into. He's floating in that weird space between disbelief and outright outrage.
He'd only stepped away to the storage space by the locker room to look for an extra practice jersey after Keito had somehow tripped stepping onto the court and ripped the one he was wearing clean in half. When Takaki had left the court, it had absolutely been both fire and smoke free.
He's certain.
"Isn't anybody going to put it out?" he asks, watching the smoke climb higher and higher. The smoke alarm starts blaring an annoyingly high-pitched beeping noise, sounding somewhat like a strangled bird.
His ragtag team of amateur basketball players (and he uses extreme emphasis on the term amateur) merely stare at the burning basket with various shades of impassive facial expressions. (Actually, he thinks Inoo might just be asleep standing up somehow.) They look like this sort of thing might regularly happen in their everyday life.
And, well, considering how terribly the first five minutes of basketball practice have gone, maybe that's actually true.
This is the last time Takaki recruits random people for his intramural team.
He grabs a fire extinguisher hanging by the door and puts out the burning basketball inferno. His teammates clap politely as if they'd shown up for a dinner show instead of a basketball practice session.
Takaki runs his hands over his face, ignoring the lingering acrid smell of smoke.
"Just go home," he sighs. "Practice is cancelled. We'll try again tomorrow."
Your turn
aleena_mokoia ^_^
no subject
no subject
no subject