kayable: credit to <user name=kayable site=livejournal.com>  @ <user name=inksplashes site=livejournal.com> (Default)
kayable ([personal profile] kayable) wrote in [community profile] valentineslockers2017-02-01 06:11 pm

2017 Locker for kayable

Name (as you'd like it to appear in the subject line for your stocking): kayable

Friending Meme Post: (optional) here

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice, Haikyuu!!, One Piece, Ace Attorney, Mystic Messenger

Characters/Pairings/Moresomes: YOI: Victuuri, Chris/Victor/Yuuri, Chris/Phichit, Yuuri in general | Haikyuu!: Iwaoi, Matsuoi, Seijou polyships, Pretty much anything with Oikawa in it (like, OiShira) | One Piece: Gen but also ZoSan kinda, Ace Attorney: klapollo, narumitsu, Gen entire cast, Sebastion DeBeste feels | Mystic Messenger: 7zen, seven/mc, Gen

Likes: FOUND FAMILIY TROPES ARE MY JAM (romantic pairings not required), anything with a happy ending, slow build, friends to lovers, switching, sex toys, friendships in general, cohabitation, all sorts of au's (soulmate au's, fantasy au's etc)

Dislikes: gore, unrequited love, character bashing, this isn't a dislike but i don't have much of an interest in like, sci-fi stuff (i'm a fake oikawa, yes), calling characters "beefy" or "buff" or "trash"

Anything else: I BASICALLY LOVE EVERYONE,,,,,,

Reminder that NOTES are welcome too - just a nice little comment (either plain, or you can even type it up on a nice little graphic/image etc.) for the recipient.

(Comments are going to screened until the reveal on Feb 14. Lockers will be open until the end of Feb.)
karahashi: (Default)

[personal profile] karahashi 2017-02-07 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
HI KAY ILY thanks for organising this great event!!! Have a vaguely MatsuOi AU??


Issei's not really all too keen on all this volleyball stuff - he quit halfway through high school, him and Hanamaki, when morning practices got too tough and classwork started piling up in the evenings. Now he stares sadly at the little pot belly building up where he used to have muscle, but he's far too lazy to do anything about it. He's stretched enough for time as is, between the clients' endless demands and his boss always yelling in his ear about some sort of paperwork. He barely has enough time for a morning coffee to carry him through the day.

So he's flicking through the ad channel half-asleep at midnight, stubbornly refusing to sleep because he has a meeting tomorrow and maybe if he stays up long enough time will stop and he won't have to present his half-assed report on the percentage of fresh fruit squashed during transit to supermarkets. He knows he'll be wrecked at six tomorrow (today?) but it's preferable to falling asleep and waking up what seems like an instant later, skipping forward five hours without knowing a thing about it.

There's this guy on TV, a small-time volleyball player for one of the local teams, and he's advertising the stupidest invention Issei's ever seen, flipping batter into the air and slamming it down with some sort of serving spoon like it's a volleyball waiting to be served. Or a takoyaki ball waiting to be served, to put it more literally. Ha. Issei develops strange tastes in things when he's tired, so he kind of appreciates the joke.

The guy on TV points to the phone number flashing in front of his stomach. "Call now and you might even get to hear me advertise in person!"

He tops it off with an overexaggerated wink and a peace sign that would have Hanamaki in stitches if he was watching. Issei just blinks blearily. He fumbles with his phone to send a text - Hanamaki does camera work sometimes for this sort of thing, so he might even know someone who knows the guy. He can kind of see why people might call, just for that promise. Random volleyball player is vaguely charming, probably, with his bright smile and athletic frame. The phone number glows temptingly on screen, and perhaps there's some sort of hypnosis behind it, because Issei finds himself wondering whether serving takoyaki will bring him the satisfaction he's been low-key missing since he had a good look at his career and realised the 'best outcome' of it would be him doing the same thing, over and over, for the rest of his already boring life.

Besides, he's kind of hungry now. Maybe the takoyaki server will come with free takoyaki?

(In retrospect, Issei will admit this is terrible reasoning.)

"Wow," someone says, when he presses call. "I can't believe that worked."

If he hadn't been awake for about thirty hours straight, Issei might find it in himself to be more surprised. "You're the guy from TV."

There's a soft rustle, a hand covering the phone on the other side, maybe. Iwa-chan, this customer has a really nice voice! Listen -- I'll put him on speaker -- and then the line rustles again; the volleyball player from the commercial is back. "I did promise!" he says cheerily. "Are you actually calling for the Rolling Thunder Takoyaki Tosser?"

"Uh." Issei doesn't really remember it having such an obnoxious name, but it sounds about right. He scratches his head, sinks back further into his couch. "I guess. Matsukawa Issei, unit number 2 -- "

He breaks off with a yawn, not bothering to hold his phone away from him, and whoever's on the other end laughs brilliantly. It's a nice laugh -- Issei doesn't get to hear that many nice laughs in his dead-silent office. It's all keystrokes and stifled yawns there, set to the muffled backdrop of someone getting scolded by their superior a couple of cubicles away. "Someone's sleepy," the voice trills. "Mattsun -- can I call you Mattsun? -- I think you should have a rest before you go ordering everything you hear about on late-night television. Why don't I call you back tomorrow?"

Are you seriously flirting with a customer, Issei hears faintly through the receiver. There's the sound of a brief scuffle, the volleyball player shouting something indistinctly, and honestly, it's kind of nice to listen to. It's been a while since Issei's been part of such an inane conversation, the sort he used to laugh about in school. He wonders how old the guy is -- maybe twenty, if he's still young enough to yell like that -- though he's a professional athlete, Issei remembers, well-established on his team. Maybe older, then, closer to Issei's age. "How old are you?" he asks, because it's the middle of the night and he might as well.

It's alright if he flirts back, the volleyball player with the nice voice retorts from a distance, clearly not listening anymore. And I'm helping him; he might not even want this piece of junk; I'm only doing it because Makki asked --

Issei waits a while, but it soon becomes clear he's been forgotten. He drifts off to the two of them arguing in his ear, wakes up with a dead arm and a familiar voice drilled into his subconsciousness -- Oikawa Tooru, twenty-three; hello? Hello??

He opens three tabs on Google and searches: rolling thunder takoyaki tosser review; oikawa tooru boyfriend; how to tell if someone likes you back.

(then they chat over the telephone and oikawa delivers the takoyaki tosser in person and they have several lowkey dates involving terribly misshapen takoyaki before mattsun charms oikawa with a lame lame pickup line and they live happy ever after)
Edited 2017-02-10 12:38 (UTC)
isshikisenpai: (Default)

ur ok i guess

[personal profile] isshikisenpai 2017-02-13 10:11 am (UTC)(link)
dearest kay!!!!! happy valentines day <333333333

thank you for being such a wonderful friend, i can’t believe we’ve known each other for like a year and a half now :’) lmao i still remember the first time we all met at marys in newtown and reading what you’d written of the what was it??? rainbow party whatever the fuck its called thing on your phone and being all !!!!! write more !!!!! I’m still fond of that memory :’))))

you’re my favourite enemy to fight with all the time and i love you a lot!!!!! thank you for all the times you’ve helped me out, dragged me on twitter, told me off for being the pain in the ass ‘dietary requirement’ monster from hell, for organising everything for us all the time bcos we’re a mess, and also special thanks for saving me from the heat last friday HAHAHA

I’m very glad we met and that we’re friends and we get to hang out heaps!!!!!!! you’re fun to be around and very funny, and of course the most important thing, the best salt sister anyone could ever ask for

i hope we continue to be salt sisters for many fandom discourse moments to come, i can’t live without your salting :’)

lots of love,
kukkii <33333

ps. feed us well at blowholes <3 i love you!!
kiyala: Impa (Impa)

[personal profile] kiyala 2017-02-13 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Dear Kay,

I hope you have a great day! Thank you for running this event, and every single other event and zine under the sun hahaha. I love how much you love doing things with people!

xoxo Kii

victor/yuuri; 632w; G

The first time Yuuri initiates casual contact with Victor, it's something so simple that he wouldn't even have given it a second thought coming from anyone else. It's just a brief moment of touching his hand to Victor's back to draw his attention but it's simultaneously much more than that. It feels like a brand, Yuuri's warm palm burning through the shirt that Victor is wearing and into his skin, as if to leave behind a mark that is ever going to fade.

Victor knows that he's being overdramatic about it, but this is the first time that Yuuri has willingly touched him outside of skating. He think he's at least allowed the catch of breath, the way the back of his neck warms, as if it's a far more intimate touch than it actually is.

Yuuri is watching him curiously, and Victor worries for a moment that his reaction is enough to put off any further contact. Instead, Yuuri's lips press together into a thoughtful line, like he's cataloguing this reaction. Victor wouldn't be surprised. From the way that Yuuri skates, Victor can tell that his every move on the ice has been analysed, deconstructed and rebuilt into something that Yuuri can recreate. It would make sense for Yuuri to pay attention to the way Victor moves off the ice as well, if not for skating purposes then at the very least, out of habit.

It's a thought that sticks in his mind for the rest of the evening. He likes the thought of Yuuri watching him, but he likes the thought of breaking down the wall between them even more. Victor has relaxed in the past few weeks that he's been here, no longer pursuing Yuuri with flirtatious words and touches. He's felt that Yuuri has been relaxing in return, and today's touch only confirms that. Surely, with Yuuri watching and analysing, he'll understand that Victor doesn't intend on pushing him, but will meet him at whatever midpoint he's allowed.

Only it's not that easy, not with anyone and certainly not with Yuuri. It's a lesson that Victor is learning, time and time again in different ways. He can't expect Yuuri to know something that he hasn't been told. Physical contact is still something Yuuri needs to get used to; just because he'd been brave enough to try it with Victor doesn't necessarily mean that he'll do it again and Victor learns that the hard way, after a day and half of anticipation. When he rests his hand on Yuuri's shoulder, an experimental touch as they're walking Makkachin together, he's pleased to find that it's allowed. He feels the way Yuuri relaxes under the contact, the tension in his shoulder disappearing almost immediately.

Victor pushes, but slowly. He's still finding his limits with Yuuri and sometimes it will be in the way Yuuri gently shrugs him off, sometimes it will be the way he shuts down a conversation midway and physically turn away to keep it from continuing. Yuuri is made of hundreds of tiny habits and Victor wants to learn them all, not because it's his duty as a coach but because each one of them carries a little part of Yuuri, almost as if he can put them all together to form a bigger picture, like Yuuri is a puzzle to pore over, finding and learning each piece before figuring out how it goes with another.

If Yuuri is a puzzle, then he's certainly the most complicated one that Victor has come across.

He doesn't mind. He's committed to this already and he knows that once he puts it all together, once he sees Katsuki Yuuri for everything he is and everything he can be, it's going to be worth every moment of effort he's put into it.
tookumade: (Default)

[personal profile] tookumade 2017-02-20 10:16 am (UTC)(link)


It isn’t as though they spent every waking moment together, Iwaizumi reminds himself, checking his watch for possibly the fortieth time in half as many minutes. That would be unhealthy, of course. Having some time away from each other was always good. And anyway, they kept in contact with Line and Twitter and Facebook—that was all fine.

Almost a month without seeing Oikawa in person—that was fine. Granted, it had been the longest few weeks of his life, but it was fine. Oikawa had been touring with the national volleyball team around South America and he had been having fun, that was what was important.

A three-hour delay for Oikawa’s flight home, with Iwaizumi waiting at the airport for most of the afternoon—that was fine. And maybe if Iwaizumi repeats it to himself enough times, he’d completely resist the urge to rip out his own hair.

(He remembers dropping Oikawa off at the airport almost a month ago, and Oikawa’s knowing smile after Iwaizumi had told him dryly, “It’ll be a good holiday away from you. Finally, some peace and quiet. You should take an extra-long holiday in Brazil or something.” The close, warm hug from Oikawa said he knew exactly what he meant; it reminds Iwaizumi every day just how well they’d always been able to read each other.)

Iwaizumi sighs. Oikawa’s flight had landed about half an hour ago—surely, he had gone through customs and all security checks already? Surely? He checks his watch yet again; only about three minutes has passed. With another sigh (the old woman standing near him is starting to look annoyed), and for want of something to do, Iwaizumi thinks about the rest of the day.

It’s currently late afternoon, so they’d probably go out to have dinner, if Oikawa isn’t so tired that he’s simply content with cup noodles instead. Iwaizumi hasn’t cooked; the delay of Oikawa’s flight has thrown home-cooking plans awry. They’d drop off Oikawa’s luggage first, Oikawa could have a shower, Iwaizumi would let him pick a restaurant, they’d walk there, hand-in-hand for the first time in a month, warm, and—


With his heart rate speeding up, Iwaizumi looks up sharply.

Just a short distance away and pulling his suitcase behind him, Oikawa is waving and smiling a brilliant, warm smile—a certain smile reserved only for Iwaizumi, that few others have had the privilege to see. Iwaizumi feels himself mirroring it, feels like it’s the first time he’s smiled so warmly ever since Oikawa left. His chest feels lighter, somehow; he hadn’t even realised how heavy he had felt until now.

They hurry towards each other, and meet each other half way.

“That flight was awful,” says Oikawa, and Iwaizumi sees how tired he looks. “And communication at the airport was so bad, I was worried I’d have to stay overnight or something, I wasn’t—”

There’s a flash of surprise on Oikawa’s face before Iwaizumi pulls him close and buries his face against his shoulder.

And after a moment, Oikawa hugs him back.

They stand there for what feels like a long time, wordless, but speaking volumes in a way only they knew how. If it were any other time, one of them probably would have dropped a silly remark in order to lighten the atmosphere, but neither can bring himself to do so at this moment. Iwaizumi holds onto Oikawa like he’ll slip away if they aren’t careful, but he knows, somewhere deep down, that they really don’t need to be so careful. That it’ll always be them; that they’ll always have this.

They release each other in one slow movement, but Oikawa leans in and rests his forehead against Iwaizumi’s.

“Brazil was nice, but I didn’t feel like an extra-long holiday,” Oikawa murmurs. Iwaizumi laughs a little.

“What a shame,” he says softly. “I was really enjoying my peace and quiet.”

“Tough luck.” Oikawa smiles.

“So, are you hungry?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Actually, yes. I didn’t eat much on the plane.”

“Come on, then. Let’s go out for dinner. Pick a restaurant, and you can tell me all about your tour.”

“Sounds good… but you’re being weirdly nice to me. Should I get used to that, too?”

“Hell no. Things will be back to normal soon enough.”

They share another little laugh.

“Let’s go,” says Oikawa.

And hand-in-hand for the first time in almost month, they leave the airport.
nautilics: (Default)


[personal profile] nautilics 2017-02-21 09:40 am (UTC)(link)
dearest kay!! thank you so much for organising this event, and for being the bestest, most constant, most #1 oikawa fan in my life!! you're the best i love you <333

i reread your oishira fic while drawing this and though im sad i couldnt include more of their MUTUAL GRRR!! in this pic, i hope you enjoy it nevertheless!!! LOVE YOU <3