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inthewildwood2015-07-25 12:17 am
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Girls Like Girls! A femslash ficathon

Because I want there to be more femslash out there. Be the change, etc.
RULES:
1. Fic and art fills are both cool!
2. Any character is elegible as long as she canonically identifies as female. So Nomi Marks from Sense8 is a-okay; not so much, fic about Samantha Winchester.
2. (b) if there's a case where a character's canon identification is unclear, shoot me a question and I'll let you know.
3. RPF is also okay!
4. One prompt per comment
5. If you fill a prompt, link to it in the fill thread!



PARTY ON, WLW

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It's one thing to have a crowd of eyes on her, even the lower levels have crowds, but it's different at the top. Here they expect a spectacle, they demand entertainment, and that... that isn't why she's here.
Across from her, Chihaya appears to have no idea the cameras are there at all. She tucks a stray lock beyond her ears, automatically, never looking away from the board for even a moment. Her hakama, sleeves expertly tied up by her little pigtailed friend, is managing to maintain some show of elegance, but she's sweating and the humidity is doing her hair no favours. She doesn't care. She never cares, even though she's the reason the crowds have gotten so big lately.
Shinobu doesn't care either, but she has a harder time of it because she can't pretend she isn't aware of every single eye on her. She can feel them -- judging, expecting -- and she resents them, whether or not she has any right to.
It's true that their presence hones the pressure to a fine point, gives this match a thrill that no other can claim. That’s worth something. She’ll admit that. Even so, she doesn't like it. She'd rather be in Chihaya's apartment, annoying the downstairs neighbour with their racket, alone with the only person whose presence actually matters.
Some nameless fool in the crowd shouts her name, cheering her on, and she hisses through her teeth.
This isn't for you, she thinks, almost angry enough to be distracted from the game.
"Shinobu-chan," Chihaya says softly, trusting in Shinobu's ears to pick it up. "I know it's bothersome, but...."
"Ugh, don't," Shinobu says, annoyed at herself most of all. "If I can't handle it, I have no business playing competitive karuta, I know. I know."
A pause, accepting. "After this," Chihaya says, voice feathering away to the finest point, "you should come over."
A hard breath worms its way into Shinobu's chest, curls up in her lungs, solidifies.
They aren't friends, exactly, even now after all these years. They don't call each other to talk their little daily miseries out, they don't go places together (at least, not often), they don't have any mutual agreement -- silent or otherwise -- for support or understanding. They aren't friends, but they're something. Something a little warmer than rivals.
Whatever they are, it means endless late-night games on the narrow expanse of Chihaya's floor. It means leftovers and sleep and sometimes it means Shinobu goes home wearing Chihaya's clothes, her own too soiled with effort to wear on the train. They no longer cry when they lose to each other. They don't gloat, either, too aware of each other's feelings for that.
Shinobu wants to win this match but more than that she wants to win the match after this one, the one no one but them will witness.
Looking at Chihaya isn't always like looking in a mirror but right now, right now it is. Chihaya wants to win this game, there is that familiar fiery yearning for victory in her eyes, but it isn't the end. The queen matches are the pinnacle of the public competition, yes... but not the pinnacle for them.
There is a higher, more exalted space waiting for them in the shadowed hours of the late evening after.
She looks at Chihaya, finds that Chihaya is looking at her. The cards murmur gently between them, waiting for their names to be called. The crowd, at last, falls away into a meaningless abyss of soundless chaos. Static. White noise.
She is free, they are both free. Nothing but the game is real.
Chihaya smiles.
The reader draws a breath.
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