![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a1c0bb posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yurishippingolympics
For this bonus round, the prompts will all be dialogue!
This will be somewhat similar to "Adopt a Line" threads on older writing forums. For prompts, post a line or lines of dialogue. For fills, post something that uses the dialogue, or is inspired by the dialogue. Your prompt can be any length, from one line to an entire conversation.
This round will end on June 16th.
Fills can be in any format, and you can fill your teammates prompts, but you cannot fill your own prompt.
You can post as many fills and as many prompts as you want!
for your prompt post title, please use the following format:
PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
for your fill post title, please use the following format:
FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
POINTS - BONUS ROUNDS
For prompts: 10 points each (maximum of 150 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 100 points each
Fills 5-10: 50 points each
Fills 11-20: 40 points each
Fills 21-50: 30 points each
Fills 51+: 25 points each
PROMPT: TEAM ADMIN EXAMPLE
Date: 2024-06-02 04:50 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM CATRADORA
Date: 2024-06-02 04:59 am (UTC)"That sounds like a you problem."
PROMPT: TEAM OC- Moon
Date: 2024-06-02 05:06 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM OC MOON
Date: 2024-06-06 08:49 am (UTC)Words: 817
This is chapter 2 out of 4 in a series! AO3 for all chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56401327/chapters/143310463
Previous chapter: https://yurishippingolympics.dreamwidth.org/3182.html?thread=309358#cmt309358
THE SECOND DAY
The girl was called Hyacinth.
Hyacinth wrapped Antigone in fabric to protect her from the dawning sun as they traveled. It was the first time she could remember being out in the daylight without burning alive, and though she welcomed it, the thought that the flick of a cloth would be all it took to plunge her back into that Hell kept her tense the whole ride.
Though she kept quiet, Hyacinth filled the silence. She was a merchant, traveling to collect exotic treasures to sell at a price befitting the effort of bringing them home: fabrics in rare, bright colors, the seeds of fruits and vegetables too fickle to make the journey in their fully-realized forms, strange metalwork contraptions intended for restraining a demon, glittering jewels and sweet honey and rich oil and wines the likes of which Antigone was sure she hadn’t drank when she still could–and now, her.
“Not that you’ll be sold,” Hyacinth was quick to assure her, “Rather, your knowledge.”
Antigone’s voice came muffled through her protective covering. “My knowledge?”
“Why, who better to teach the secrets of the creatures of the night than one such creature herself? What you have is priceless, you know. You could find yourself training royal guards back home, a pretty penny indeed. All yours, of course. I’d not take from one who has nothing.”
The cloth rustled threateningly around Antigone as she dared to curl up. “I don’t care for guards.”
“Then you will tell me all you know, and I will sell your knowledge in your place,” Hyacinth amended. “You will make me your pupil, and in turn, I will care for your every need. You needn’t so much as look at anyone you disdain.” When Antigone did not answer, she continued: “Linen and lambs’ blood, it all awaits you when we arrive home.”
Antigone did not have much in the way of knowledge, and without revealing that, she couldn’t know whether a mere demonstration of her hunting methods was what Hyacinth valued so highly, or whether she expected something more.
But Antigone was no mindless animal. She waited until dusk, when Hyacinth broke for camp and announced they were done traveling for the night. “I’ll admit, I’ve never felt so safe. Wolves would think twice rather than attack a vampyre and her companion.”
“Companion,” Antigone echoed under her breath. She shrugged off the fabric, emerging into the night. “I must hunt.”
“There’s no need.” Hyacinth took her hand once more, soft fingers curling over sharp claws, and led her to the mule at the wagon’s front. “Barosus won’t mind much, I imagine, so long as you’re gentle and leave her enough for tomorrow’s journey.”
Antigone had risked her life for less. One could never know how fiercely a sheep would be guarded, or if a lone night-wandering child would be missed. Humans could be fiercely protective of such things, and often woke in the night. Yet here this merchant was, offering her own blood and her steed’s all in the span of two nights.
“Thank you.” The words felt foreign on her tongue. She expected that if Hyacinth’s treatment did not change, they would quickly become routine.
Hyacinth rewarded her with a glowing smile. “It wouldn’t do to keep my vampyre unfed, now would it?”
As she drank from the mule, which only stepped nervously in protest, Hyacinth set up camp. There was only one mat, but Antigone did not mind. She had never used one, and welcomed soft earth over the floor of the cage she’d been trapped in over the past years.
“Come,” Hyacinth called when she finished, patting the mat.
“It’s not for you?” she asked.
Hyacinth laid down on it. “There is enough room for two, if you lay close beside me.”
Antigone scoffed, but obeyed. “You wish to be informed if I attempt to leave.”
“Perhaps,” Hyacinth admitted bashfully, “My only method of keeping you here is my words. Should you forgo me, I’d at least like an opportunity to use them.”
She wrapped her arms around her, Hyacinth’s stomach pressed against Antigone’s back. “Sleep. I will not let the sun or anything else touch you.”
Antigone had never had aid before. Somehow, illogical though it was, Hyacinth’s embrace felt safer than the damp dark of a cave.
“What happens when I have nothing more to offer you?” she asked.
Hyacinth smiled against her ear. “Then you’ll have a choice. You can either stay, or go.”
It should have been harder to say than it was. She was a creature of pride. But her years in the cage had made her brittle, and she no longer had the patience for such things. “Please… don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Antigone felt the brush of lips against her cheek. A kiss, just barely. “Rest, now.”
For the only time in her second life, she slept soundly.
PROMPT: TEAM OC- Moon
Date: 2024-06-02 05:11 am (UTC)"And what about us? what we built?"
FILL: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-06-03 04:06 pm (UTC)Pairing: Vriska<>Terezi (Homestuck)
Word Count: 198
Notes: this technically has formatting. but dreamwidth is being mean.
--gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG] --
GC: H3Y
GC: DONT DO TH1S
AG: D8n’t do whaaaaaaaat?
GC: DONT 4CT FUCK1NG STUP1D VR1SK4!
GC: 1 KNOW YOUR3 NOT STUP1D!
AG: This is for all of us, dummy!!!!!!!!!GC: 4 SU1C1D3 M1SS1ON?
GC: J3GUS
GC: JUST B3C4US3 YOU GOD T13R3D DO3SNT M34N YOUR3 1NV1NC1BL3!
AG: Th8t’s kind8 the whole point, actually!!!!!!!!
GC: YOUR3 FUCK1NG 1MPOSS1BL3!
GC: GO1NG TO F1GHT J4CK NO1R 1S STUP1D 4ND YOUR3 GO1NG TO D13 4G41N
AG: ::::/
AG: It’s literally fine!!!!!!!! You’re being suuuuuuuuch a worrywart!!!!!!!!!
AG: Wh8t???????? D8 you like me 8gain or s8mething!!!!!!!!
GC: GOG
GC: FUCK YOU!
GC: 1 DONT KNOW HOW 1 3V3R THOUGHT 1 P1T13D YOU
GC: YOU FUCK1NG B1TCH
GC: WH4T 4BOUT US HUH
GC: WH4T 4BOUT WH4T WE BU1LT?
AG: It doesn’t maaaaaaaaatter!!!!!!!!GC: YOUR3 ACT1NG L1K3 A W1GGL3R
GC: YOUR3 SC4R3D
AG: N8pe!!!!!!!! I’m g8ing to s8ve all yo8r stuuuuuuuupiiiiiiiid ungr8ful 8sses!!!!!!!!
AG: 8nd you'll *wish* you listened to me 8efore!!!!!!!!
AG: 8ecause you’re wrong wrongy wrongity wr8ng!!!!!!!!
GC: VR1SK4!
GC: dont do th1s
AG: It’s the only w8y
AG: Au revoir, Teeeeeeeereeeeeeeeeziiiiiiii!!!!!!!!
arachnidsGrip [AG] is an idle troll!
GC: FUCK
GC: fuck.
-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG] --
PROMPT: TEAM OC- Moon
Date: 2024-06-02 05:14 am (UTC)"This is not what you deserve"
FILL: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
Date: 2024-06-09 05:58 am (UTC)Words: 354
----
There should be no room for Yuri to sympathise with a Fangire, much less one of the Checkmate Four. Bishop killed her mother. She has been on her vengeance quest since she was a young girl. Fangires are the enemy.
And yet.
Maya defies everything Yuri had ever known about Fangires, and about herself too.
She had never known Fangires dream, yearn, and that it’s the Queen’s own burden to kill those dreams, should they get too big. Executing traitors had always sounded so much cleaner and more sterile than the painful reality of self-castration - that the Queen, too, must kill her own dreams soon as they germinate upon her heart, and that this precludes any possibility that this is a choice, that anything in her life is a choice.
It is deeply cruel. Almost as cruel as the knife Maya twists every day in Yuri’s chest teaching Otoya the art of the luthier, honed through centuries of experience and passion, and bit by bit stealing away the love Yuri had thought she had earned for life, against every odd.
And yet - and yet! - Maya’s hypnotic stare and esoteric beauty, her tragedy and contradiction pull Yuri in such a way that Otoya fades into the rearview. He’s her spark of life, the thrumming pulse of joye de vive, of course, but Maya is a soft, weeping melody that calls upon her ears like the shriek of a nightbird.
Why? Why ally herself with humans, hunters at that, as Fangire Queen? Why risk it all? It made no sense - she’d be destroyed, surely, either by her own kind or… or by Yuri, she should be destroyed by Yuri.
Why is she not taking the chance?
Maybe it is because she’s met that man, that monster, the Fangire King, and seen how little he thinks of his queen.
This is not what you deserve, she dares to think, even if it’s ridiculous. What does a Fangire deserve other than swift death?
But maybe, just maybe, she wants to believe a world where Maya’s sorrowful lament can become a happier song is possible, even if it’s foolish.
PROMPT: Team Magnus Archives
Date: 2024-06-02 05:23 am (UTC)FILL: TOKUSATSU YURI SHIPS UNITED FRONT
Date: 2024-06-17 12:59 am (UTC)Canon: Kamen Rider 555
Words: 534
----------
“I wanted to give you something,” Mari says, “To say thank you.”
The ivory roses in her hand gleam, still dewy from the sleepy morning above. The world hasn’t recovered from the winter this year yet, anyway, so Mari hopes they’ll make do. She doesn’t blame it at all; with the particular bite this winter had given everyone in Japan, she’ll forgive planet Earth for struggling against colder temperatures again today.
December 2003, bleeding into January 2004, now having left hand-in-hand to let February take over, with no warm weather in sight. Mari really should have picked something more appropriate. One day, she’ll thank Yuka with some bittersweet hot cocoa, or even chocolate, but today… No. Snow-white roses to match a snow-white crane. Isn’t it perfect?
It’s quite odd, one would say. To hang out with a loved one outdoors, on a cold February morning. Who would ever make plans for seven in the morning?! Mari would have complained the same, three months ago. But now… well. What is a girl to do, but spend her time with any loved one who requires it?
What is a girl to do, but answer the call of the one she loves?
“I know. I probably should have picked a better gift. There was this really cute sweater that I think would have fit you perfectly, but I really just want to take you there to try it yourself!” she says.
Maybe, Mari will make it her next purchase, for when she visits Yuka. She’ll be sure to carefully wrap it in bright paper, and scrawl a note to hand off alongside the gift.
Thank you, Osada Yuka. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for everything you fought for.
…Cheesy, sure. Mari herself might roll her eyes, if she was the one to receive it. But Yuka’s always been the genuine type, never caring for wording or handwriting on a silly little letter.
And right, Yuka has never been the type to care for what sort of stupid little gift she receives. She wishes, she dreams, just like everyone else. Never in the history of Mari’s friendship with her has she seen dissatisfaction with any present received, even the most hideous.
But shouldn’t it be perfect, Mari’s long-aching heart asks — is there anything less than perfect that Yuka deserves? No. No, she deserves only the best. That way, she can warm up Yuka even more, and revel in the soft glimmer of her smile.
Sonoda Mari, always fighting wars inside of herself. How much time after is appropriate to confess? What to say, and what not to say? And how should she wish for anything — even matters of the heart — ever again?
It’s good to continue a conversation, lest Mari kill it. If her heart dares dream — like it does now — she’ll let its cries hitch a ride and pray Yuka may hear over silence. Well, then, it’s for the best that both messages overlap effectively.
She’ll fire them at once. Ba-kyun!
“But maybe I shouldn’t assume what you want. Is there anything you’ve been keeping your eye on?”
I like you. Is there room in your heart for another?
Yuka’s gravestone, naturally, remains ever-silent.
PROMPT: Team Magnus Archives
Date: 2024-06-02 05:30 am (UTC)"I don't want to talk about it."
"Did they hurt you?"
"I just said I don't want to talk about it."
( "they" is used as a filler, but it can be replaced with anything :P )
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-06-04 03:56 pm (UTC)pairing: winter/cinder
fandom: RWBY
characters: winter schnee, cinder fall, mentioned jacques schnee + weiss schnee
other tags: non-graphic injury (blood), implied/mentioned child abuse, canon divergence
word count: 539
Someone is knocking on Cinder’s door.
She pays it no mind, at first. Not even when it grows urgent and desperate; not until she hears her name and the faint sound of sobbing.
That’s Winter’s voice.
Cinder rolls sideways out of the bed and bolts to the door. That’s Winter’s voice. She’s on the other side of her fucking door. She came to her; she came all the way out here to Mantle, she —
Cinder undoes the last latch and throws the door open. She doesn’t register the way Winter is slumped against it until she falls forward onto her.
“What the fuck,” she says aloud.
Winter’s arms come up and lock around her torso, pulling her close. She’s crying. She’s crying. “Cinder,” she says into her shirt, “Cinder.”
“Yeah, it’s me. What happened?”
Her hands tighten into fists in the back of her shirt. There’s blood in her hair, on her blouse. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Winter so — undone. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbles.
“Did he hurt you? Your father.”
Cinder glances out into the street. No one else there. Very little chance of someone watching them; Winter’s father’s guards would never bother following her down into Mantle. She pulls her inside, tugging her gently backwards, and kicks the door closed.
“I just said I don’t want to talk about it,” Winter says weakly. There’s no bite behind it. She sounds like she’s been crying for hours.
“You’re bleeding,” Cinder points out.
It takes a lot of effort to lower them both to the floor. Winter is heavy, and her entire weight is resting on Cinder’s upper body. The moment she sinks them both down, Winter practically crawls into her lap, seeking comfort like a child.
“I know,” she says, “I know, I know, I know. I’m fine. I just — needed you.”
They haven’t spoken in almost a year, not since Winter said she was joining the military straight after school and Ironwood kicked her out. Cinder doesn’t mention this.
She’s needed Winter the whole time. She doesn’t mention this either.
“Let me guess,” she says quietly, “you told your dad you were taking Ironwood’s offer and he got mad.”
A nod into her shoulder; a muffled sob. She’s always been the only person Winter has ever cried around. It would be an honour, a symbol of trust, if it didn’t fucking suck. “He said he’d take it out on my sister if I left.”
“Piece of shit,” Cinder mutters.
“So I, um. Stuck him to the wall.”
It shocks her so much that she bursts into startled laughter. “Oh my G-d. You did what?”
“Don’t laugh,” Winter says, “but I took my Opa’s swords and, um. Put them through his jacket.”
“You stabbed him?”
“No, just his jacket.”
“You should have,” she grins. “Like, just a little bit. Non-fatally.”
“I’m not going to stab my father, Cinder,” Winter says into her shirt.
“I’ll do it for you, then.”
She turns until her head is buried in the hollow of Cinder’s throat. They haven’t touched each other in so long. “I just — needed you.”
I’ve always needed you, Cinder thinks. I’ve spent every day down here waiting for you to come back.
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 05:53 am (UTC)FILL: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
Date: 2024-06-11 02:59 pm (UTC)PROMPT: Team Magnus
Date: 2024-06-02 05:55 am (UTC)"Wait, why did you eat a live frog?"
"It wasn't on purpose!"
"How did you accidentally eat a live frog?"
FILL: Team Kittyuri
Date: 2024-06-08 06:43 pm (UTC)Word Count: 800
------------------------------------------------
Kitty’s still scrubbing the words PORTLAND FROG EATER off her locker when the bell rings.
“As much as I like graffiti, I don’t think it’s allowed on school premises.”
She turns to find Yuri leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Of course her socks match her skirt which matches her tie. Of course she doesn’t have a single hair out of place. Of course there’s a cute little teddy bear clip pinning a strand of hair behind her ear.
Everything goes right for KISS Arcane Academy’s top student. Kitty wishes she could say the same.
“I’m not creating graffiti, I’m cleaning it. The school should be thanking me.” She throws the damp sponge against the locker and lets the wet SMACK! of it against the floor do the talking.
“Portland… frog eater?” Yuri reads.
“I eat a live frog one time and now it’s all I’m known for!” Emotions cycle across Yuri’s face like an old film reel–first shock, then curiosity before finally landing on amusement. It’s not a good look on her. (Well, it is. Everything is a good look on her but Kitty’s not thrilled that it comes at her expense.)
“Wait, why did you eat a live frog?”
“It wasn’t on purpose!”
“How did you accidentally eat a live frog?”
“It wasn’t just any frog!” Kitty protests. “It was Minho’s frog but somehow everyone seems to forget that tiny little detail when they’re telling the story!”
Yuri snickers and does a poor job of covering it up with her palm.
“Okay, why’d you swallow Minho’s frog then?” Kitty sighs and throws down the bundle of paper towels in her hand in defeat. Not like they were doing much for her anyways.
“Q and I were in his dorm for our weekly Friday movie marathon. Minho, his unfortunate and insufferable roommate–god, I don’t know how Q puts up with him. Q is a literal saint and Minho is like if the devil had a child and then left the child at an orphanage but instead of an orphanage it was a school dedicated to raising–”
“Kitty. Frog. Focus.”
“Right, sorry. So Q and I were in his dorm and Minho had just found a frog outside and he was intent on taking it in as a little pet or something. I think he saw some TikTok about pet care being good for your skin or something. Anyways, he had it in some little posh cage and he was showing it off like it’d just solved World Hunger or something and then we got a knock on the door. It was Professor Lee with ResLife doing random room inspections.”
“And we’re not allowed to have animals in the dorms so.” Kitty sighs and mimes something going down the line of her throat. Yuri mock-gasps in response.
“You didn’t.”
“Hey. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Kitty Song Covey, you’ve got to be the weirdest girl I know,” Yuri laughs, shaking her head. Kitty’s torn on whether to take it as a compliment or an insult but her stomach makes the decision for her when it feels like a cage of butterflies has been released into it.
“Thanks, I try,” she replies, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“Hey,” Yuri says, slipping her arm through Kitty’s in one fluid motion. Kitty blinks and tries to place when she got close enough to do that. “I’m heading out to a cafe to grab a drink before I go home. You wanna join me?”
The prettiest girl in school is asking her to hang out and Kitty just spent the last ten minutes telling her about the time she swallowed a frog.
“Your… friends are going to a cafe?” she clarifies.
Yuri laughs like she’s said the funniest thing in the world and leans in close to pinch her cheek.
“No, silly, it’s just me!”
The prettiest girl in school wants to get a drink with her. Just the two of them. Holy shit–is this a date?
She’s gone quiet long enough for Yuri to start tapping her foot and Kitty decides to throw caution to the wind. She can figure out the semantics later, for now she just needs to get out of here and to that cafe before Yuri comes to her senses and ditches her on the side of the road. Probably in a pond near some frogs.
“Yeah. I’d love to go out with you.”
“Great! Let’s go then!”
Yuri unhooks her arm to lead the way and Kitty has to fight to suppress the urge to chase the touch. It’s a battle that she just barely wins.
She only turns around when they’re at the exit.
“Sorry, though, I don’t think there are any frogs on the menu.”
“ONE TIME! It was one time!”
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 05:56 am (UTC)FILL - TOKUSATSU YURI SHIPS UNITED FRONT
Date: 2024-06-15 08:52 pm (UTC)Canon: Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger
Words: 832
----------
“Morfonia has insisted I appear at an event.”
May the snow keep falling onto Gokkan and Rita themself. Routine is rather essential, when it comes to keeping themself sane. Hence, this event has thrown chaos into their clock, twisting the hands every which way until Rita’s own head had spun every which way.
The shriek of agony after being informed had only rung across the walls, unable to change their fate.
Currently, however, is routine to their schedule; while weekly tea with Himeno has been a relatively new addition, the fall of Dugded had necessitated a change in activities. Himeno had swiftly made her claim to the evenings, every week. Nevertheless, that alteration had been very much welcome, if only for the fact that Rita has some experience in wading the waters of teatime.
That, and the company has not given any reason to bury themself in more work.
“Oh?” Himeno asks, honey in her tone to match the tea, “Dare I ask what sort of event?”
She had opted for drinking outdoors this time around. With the moderate temperatures of Ishabana, there is no need for extra blankets. Surely, that must have regulated Himeno’s choice of dress as well; her shoulders and upper back are exposed to this cool night, and the gems nestled on the top of her head twinkle in the moonlight.
As expected of the dazzling queen.
Rita, in turn, does not shake or nod their head; to do so would break neutrality.
“A formal in Shugoddam.”
Himeno gasps, putting a hand to her chest before taking another sip of her tea.
“And I’m not invited?!” she asks, pitch slightly raised.
Rita replies, “I am the only member of the Ohsama Sentai making an appearance.”
Himeno tuts. Rita, in the meantime, allows themself a sip of their own tea. Lavender, orange, clove, and cinnamon blossom together on their taste buds, a satisfactory replacement to the cocoa drinks often found in Gokkan. As expected of Himeno once again; her assortment of teas have yet to prove themselves subpar.
They look at the queen again. Himeno’s carefully-glossed lips form a pout, while her hand makes itself a rest for her chin. Meanwhile, her brows hang lower from their usual place, assisting the slight crinkle in her eyes.
She asks, “Is there anyone you know who will also appear?”
“I was informed Suzume will be doing so,” Rita replies.
And therein comes the instructions they had informed themself before they had left for Ishabana; they are not to make their return to Gokkan before giving Himeno a request. How cumbersome; were it not for that accursed event, Moffun may have instead been the topic of conversation for tonight’s activities.
Fluffy, fluffy Moffun, not akin to their leadening bones with every tick closer to the formal.
They take another sip. Tea, as Himeno had claimed, has the ability to calm oneself down. Hogwash, Rita thinks — despite the glacial stillness of their hands, their mind could not possibly be any more different. How would such a watery drink alleviate their nerves?
Nevertheless, they should let logic run its course. Himeno is unlikely to deny said request, and fulfilling it would only lead to an increased chance of survival — nay, an increased chance of being able to swallow down their screams, and hence not distract from the music of the night.
And if there is anyone who will prove themselves best, it is and will always be Himeno herself.
They set their teacup back down onto the saucer, ignoring the clinking of pottery as they rest their hands on their thighs once more. With their gaze now fixated on Himeno once more, it is evident to see the moon has decided to become a lighting assistant, illuminating the glitter behind Himeno’s eyes, the luscious blonde curls of her hair, the gloss on her lips, and the edges and colours of her face.
Their throat has become a desert. Rita waters it with some more tea before taking a deep breath.
“...I am rather unacquainted to this type of event, as you are aware,” they say, carefully.
A sharp nod on Himeno’s end. While the world may view Rita’s day-to-day to-dos as a veiled mystery, and even the protectors of Chikyuu lie in the shadows on some, it is likely as obvious to Himeno as the colour of daffodils matching her current dress.
“Yes,” Himeno says.
The next sentence may as well prove itself as painful as carving their heart out with a rusted blade. For one moment, the blade presents itself to be preferable.
“Do you wish to educate me on some etiquettes?” they say, words dragging themselves out.
Their words may trace the border of silence, but Himeno’s eyes gleam regardless, and her glistening lips make way for a shimmering moonlit smile. Their heart, in the meantime, begins to tumble, for Rita only knows one thing as Himeno’s devious grin already lights up the stars above:
Doom is imminent.
“Why, darling, I thought you’d never ask!”
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 05:59 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM TRANSFORMERS
Date: 2024-06-10 02:59 am (UTC)Canon: Movies/Tyran
WC: 641
Carly Spencer was an administrative assistant for the British embassy when she first met Mikaela Banes.
She had been brought along on a tour of the N.E.S.T. headquarters in Washington as an extra being utilized outside of her usual job description. She was labelled a personal assistant but truly utilized as a glorified gopher. Carly’s clearance wasn’t high enough for the current meeting her superiors were in, but she knew her role in all of this.
Wander, look a little mystified by everything, and see what the American soldiers would let slip to her.
Carly was ready to be hit on, but she was expecting it to come from a leering alpha male, not a woman digging furiously into an alien robot’s arm in the middle of what looked like a robot-size waiting room.
Said woman barely looked up from her look as she spoke to Mikaela. “Please, step exactly behind me. There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours. Sideswipe’s arm transforms into a giant sword that is currently unable to actually come out.”
Said robot spoke perfect English in reply. “I’m not gonna stab a human!”
“You’ve fucked this so hard I think it’s gonna change the second I get this joint unlocked, whether you want it to or not!”
Carly did as she was told and thought to herself as the two continued to argue. Her business attire was always conservative—button-up shirts always done up to her neck and that always had enough room in the bust, knee length skirts, wide-leg pants to create uniform, boring legs, and perfectly tailored jackets that complimented her overall shape. When dressed like this, men usually gave very general compliments (more like cat-calls) because they didn’t know enough about fashion to imagine what was underneath.
She was honestly just happy that someone had finally noticed how good this pantsuit was, in a roundabout way.
From this angle, Carly couldn’t see the woman’s face or what she was doing. The Autobot named Sideswipe was staring intently at her work, while complaining about how some (presumably) squadmates were useless, and how he wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for them.
The mechanic told him to stop complaining.
Then, Carly jumped a foot into the air as the previously mentioned sword arm finally popped out.
“What did I say!” said the mechanic.
“Primus, we should have never let Ratchet take you as an assistant, his personality is rubbing off on you.” Sideswipe rotated his arm at his elbow, inspecting both sides of the blade before transforming the limb back to just an arm. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” As the robot left, the mechanic turned to face Carly.
She was cute, really cute. Actually, kind of smoking hot with her hair up in a messy bun and with what looked like both regular grease and possibly alien fluids smeared on her face, arms, and coveralls. She stared at Carly for a moment before breaking out into—an also very cute—smile. “Oh, you’re with the Brits, right?”
“Yes, Carly Spencer.”
“Mikaela Banes.” Her smile turned into a slight grimace. “Ah… sorry about the comment on your chest. I was a little focused in on Sideswipe’s arm and my mouth got ahead of my mind.”
Carly laughed and Mikaela’s expression turned sheepish. She spared the other woman, decided to shoot her own shot. “No, no, you’re good. Maybe you can show me how yours look in some more form-flattering clothes at a later date?”
The smile returned. “It better be an actual date then.”
“Oh, of course.” Carly pulled out her phone and passed it to Mikaela. “Your number, please.”
Later, Carly smiled at the robot and wrench emojis Mikaela had added into her contact name as a text flashed in her notifications.
So, when and where?
Re: FILL: TEAM TRANSFORMERS
From:PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 06:02 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM OC MOON
Date: 2024-06-04 06:39 am (UTC)Words: 602
This work will be chapter 1 of a 4-part series responding to prompts in this thread! AO3 link for the rest of the chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56401327/chapters/143310463
THE FIRST DAY
Antigone hissed and scrambled back in her enclosure as light poured in. It wasn’t the cursed light of day, but the flickering flame of a lantern was nearly as bad: it meant a human was here to visit her.
This one was new. Her curled hair was unlike that of the townspeople, her dress finer. Her eyes, almost violet in the half-light, held none of the disgust Antigone had grown accustomed to.
“Oh my.” She held the lantern closer, trying for a better look, the key held loosely in her other hand. “You’re not a demon at all. You’re just a girl.”
Antigone had shed her clothes the night she ceased to be human, and could remember little before then. The townspeople had cut her hair when it started to mat, leaving her with little way of shielding her burnt and battered body from the visitor’s gaze. “What do you want?” she bristled, wishing her voice could be as sharp as her teeth.
“I have been sent to collect a demon and return it to the great minds of my island so they may learn about it and better protect our people,” she announced.
“I am vampyre.” Antigone bared her fangs, to little effect. She was the one in the cage.
The girl tilted her head in thought. “That’s close enough,” she decided.
“I am no demon!” Her voice cracked, the thought of what those with more calculated dispositions than the spontaneous torments of angry townspeople might do to her betraying her weakness. She hugged herself, a slight tremble running through her.
“Let me be clear.” The girl turned the key and pushed the door open, dissolving the barrier between them. “You’re hurt. It’s close enough for me to get you away from here.”
The scent of the girl’s honeyed blood flowing through her veins might have been enticing enough for Antigone to pounce, had she the strength. She did not. “And then what?” she spat. “Nothing will change. Your humans will be the same, until I manage to rip one of your throats out and escape. And it will happen.”
“They will not harm you,” the girl promised, stepping ever closer. “They only want to learn, and I will personally ensure your safety. It’s not right what they’ve been doing to you. You cannot help what you are.”
Antigone stared her down. “I don’t believe you.”
Her visitor knelt before her, their eyes level now. “Here.” She rolled up the sleeve of her dress, exposing soft skin. “Drink. You must be thirsty.”
She shouldn’t trust this woman. Her motives were painfully transparent: keep her complacent during their travels, then lock her up again as soon as she was right where the girl wanted her.
But she was being offered human blood.
Antigone dove in, clamping fangs tight around the girl’s forearm so she couldn’t pull away, drinking in the rich, crimson nectar that sprung from it. Her visitor winced and dropped the key, but didn’t pull away.
On the contrary, she set down the lantern and ran a gentle hand over Antigone’s back as she drank. It was the first gentle touch she’d felt in all the time she could remember, and before she knew it, a low purr rumbled in her throat like a tame cat.
She stopped herself before she could seriously injure her benefactor, pulling back with a final lick at her skin.
The girl rolled down her sleeve, stood, took the lantern, and held out her free hand. “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. Just take my hand.”
Ever the fool, Antigone did.
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 06:06 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 06:17 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 06:27 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-05 05:46 pm (UTC)The installation of the bunk bed had proven a particularly arduous quest, but L’Arachel could not find it in her to regret it for even a moment. Were she to be faced with a horde of disapproving Uncles, armed with petty quibbles of space, and logistics and 'please, niece, who is going to sleep on the bottom bunk?'s, she would’ve sallied forth for the glory of two-fold bowers all the same.
Now, all that was left to complete her victory - already so perfect! - was to elicit Eirika’s awe-struck approval at the sight. There was little doubt in the Peerless Princess’ mind that she would be just as astonished by the novelty, the innovation of such a design! As a woman of noble breeding, she too must be acquainted with those solitudinous nights; those long and empty hours where it swiftly became clear that the world had departed with all its trifles and daylit joys. She too L’Arachel was certain, as she always was, had sampled the hollow silence of a castle’s walls, had been struck with the profound realisation that she had never been more completely and entirely alone.
Those long evenings had never affrighted the young princess, of course. It had just been so very quiet, was all. And L’Arachel loathed nothing quite so much as she loathed silence. Fortunate indeed, then, that here was a pallative for those isolated ills!
Having swept her darling friend towards their sleeping quarters, L’Arachel suddenly paused, hand resting against the sleek oak of her bedroom door. She turned: the very picture of solemnity.
‘Now, Eirika, you must vow to me that you will not exclaim in shock, no matter how delighted you are. I have procured a wonder so startling, so marvellous!-’ Her eyes had started to sparkle, already conjuring images of her closest friend’s reaction to the sight awaiting her, almost too much to bear! Composing herself, she turned from the door with a huff, taking ahold of her beloved house guest’s hand. The surprisingly soft contours of her palm pressed into the silk of L’Arachel’s gloves, rumpling the fabric into an impression of her grip, and so very warm.
‘What you are about to witness is so inutterably brilliant, that even I was struck speechless at the first glimpse, so please, be prepared.’
A giggle, and then a sharp inhale met her arched brows. This was only marginally a laughing matter, and L’Arachel would have due diligence paid to it!
‘Yes, of course L’Arachel.’
‘You have made ready?’
‘As much as I’ll ever be.’
Well that sorted it: Eirika’s willpower was second to none. Steadfast as ever! Truly, the Princess of Rausten’s ability to select only the finest of bosom-companions was unimpeachable. Allowing herself a moment of self-congratulation, she turned back to the door, and flung it open with a crash.
A view of L’Arachel’s bedchambers emerged in all its opulent glory. To the left, her trusty staff reclined against a stretch of pale green wall; its transparent end bright as a daisy’s heart, glimmering with a sheen that could have only been exacted by hours of scrupulous attention and hearty helpings of varnish. And lo, to its left, there resided a finely wrought vanity, its edges spilling over with the instruments of this brilliant art: various fine handkerchiefs, sparkling polish in small containers, and a few trailing ribbons. To the right, a wardrobe divulged a host of white and gold, all fluttering finery and elegant gloves, and, most significantly, sleepwear! But, the pièce de résistance, which left all the rest to shame, was placed at the far end of the room, facing a window which framed a view of Rausten’s coast: the bunk-bed.
Satisfied with the tour she had provided of her lodgings, L’Arachel paused before the bed. Now, here was a dilemma. Certainly, there may have been worse, but no plight had felt more pressing than this! How were they to rest until the matter of who was to assume the lofty height of the topmost bower was resolved? It was impossible. This would require at the very least an hour of deliberation; perhaps she ought to summon Rennac as an adjudicator…?
Oh, oh! It seemed that Eirika had already assumed the bottom bunk. Her hair fanned over her shoulder against the pillow as she pulled the duvet aside, and clambered in. It was a brilliant, horizon-melting blue, streaming over the whites of her borrowed pyjamas like rivulets of a mountain spring. She looked like a painting, the sort of tapestry meant to be hung in the great hall.
‘It is your room, L’Arachel, I couldn’t take your spot.’ The noblewoman murmured, ebullent with all the goodness possibly afforded to a mere mortal. Blinking once, and then twice, L’Arachel smiled.
‘Ah! Astutely judged, I am eternally grateful for you gift in leadership.’
And truly, for L’Arachel always spoke truth, she was. There were few who the great princess would condescend to obey, and Eirika was one of those fortunate number. It was not a privilege she bestowed lightly.
‘Are you ready for bed?’ Eirika asked. Ah, she had been so caught in the matter of who would sleep where, that L’Arachel hadn’t moved from her spot before her darling Eirika! How, by Latona's staff, had she forgotten herself so?
‘Certainly. I feel myself dangling on the precipice of slumber’ L’Arachel said, clambering her way to the top bunk. ‘Good night, Eirika.’
‘Goodnight, L’Arachel.’ A voice from beneath her floated upwards, delicate and slow with sleep. It was a rare sound; Eirika’s voice unguarded, and unguided by the demands of her position. The flush that pinkened the cheeks of Rausten’s finest was merely testament to the prodigy of this occurrence, of course.
They had shared quarters in Rausten during the war - but never since, not until this very moment, and the sudden change had imbued L’Arachel with a rather unbecoming shiftiness. The Princess turned onto one side, and then the other. She tried her back. She stifled her face in her pillow. Beneath her, Eirika was silent.
‘Eirika…?’
Not a sound.
‘Eirika… Hey, are you asleep yet?’
A shuffling, and the sounds of covers rustling.
‘Me neither. It seems the fates have conspired against an easy slumber. Would you like to hear a ballad I’ve been composing? I am certain it will lull the both of us to sleep. It’s about the adventures of a Beautiful, Peerless Princess of Beauty, and the most wonderful, noble heroine. Here, I’ll begin: Once upon a time…’
Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
From:Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
From:FILL: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
From:Re: FILL: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
From:PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-06-02 06:36 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
Date: 2024-06-02 07:02 pm (UTC)Ship: Susato Mikotoba/Haori Murasame (The Great Ace Attorney)
Notes: Modern AU
This is fine, Susato tries to reason with herself. This is fine. It's like… getting a vaccine, or something. Haori had explained to her everything about vaccine science already; the whole idea was to take small doses of something to build up resistance to the real thing, right? She's just… inoculating herself against lovesickness. The feeling has to go away eventually.
For now, though, she's stuck with her stupid heart going haywire every time Haori's knee bumps into hers. Which is quite often, because they're sitting on the same futon, Haori bouncing her leg while Susato sits in lotus form and tries not to lean too far into Haori's touch.
"Are you an angel, baby? Because— Ack!" Haori slams the phone on the futon. "I messed it up again!"
"I'm sure they'll be pleased at being called an angel anyway," Susato offers, hiding her grin behind her hand.
"But it's not funny that way!" Haori leans back on her hands with a little frown. Some of her hair has escaped her white ribbon, Susato notices. "See, Su, you have the advantage here."
"Wha— do I?"
"Because you look so serious," Haori explains, eyes going a little soft. On instinct Susato shifts to face her. "Like, you don't need pickup lines, you know? You're so, so gentlemanly. You could proffer your hand to anyone and say, like, 'My dear monsieur, your features are akin to the divine, shall we go to the opera together?' and everyone would fold. Just like that!"
"I—Do I sound like that?" Susato asks in bewilderment.
Haori affects a thinking-seriously pose. "A little," she decides. "Sometimes."
"W-well—" Look, it's not like Susato has ever tried to flirt with anyone, she would probably combust before that ever happened, but she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks anyway. "Do you think I should start learning pickup lines too?"
"What? No! I meant that your thing works for you. Boys should be falling over at their feet!"
"I don't really want anyone to fall because of me…"
"Metaphorically," Haori says, leaning forward only to poke her on the shoulder. Thankfully she picks up the phone again before she can see how the blush has traveled to Susato's ears. "Okay, okay, how about this one? 'Hey girl, you know what you should lower for me? Your standards!' Winky face."
"…Winky face?"
"There's one on the end, look," Haori says, turning the phone to her. "What do you think?"
"Well, um—" This was not how Susato had thought an afternoon of "reviewing romance techniques" would go, but at least this was probably better for her cardiac health than the alternative would have been. "I don't like it."
"You don't?"
"No one should have to lower their standards for you, Haori-sama," Susato points out. "They wouldn't be a very good partner if they did. You're perfect the way you are."
"O-oh."
"And besides," Susato adds, "nothing good can come of a pickup line that starts with 'hey girl'—" She blinks. Haori has buried her head in her hands next to her. "Are you alright, Haori-sama?"
"You keep saying things like that," Haori groans.
"Like that?"
Haori lifts her head out of her hands. Susato realizes that her cheeks are stained a very attractive shade of pink. "Like, like you're perfect the way you are — Su, this is unfair, how are you so romantic all the time!"
Please don't think too hard about that one, Haori-sama… "I, I don't know. I just talk like this."
"You're so," Haori says, before — she tilts so her head is between Susato's head and her shoulder. Oh. Susato freezes, staring; Haori is still looking at her phone, still a little flushed, and she's so warm, and her eyebrows are furrowed so prettily, and—
"Ooh! Okay, what about this: 'Are you WiFi? Because I think we have a connection!'"
"No."
"Aw, I liked that one."
Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
From:Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
From:Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
From:Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
From:PROMPT : TEAM OC - Moon
Date: 2024-06-02 07:58 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
Date: 2024-06-09 11:58 am (UTC)Words: 827
--
When she returned, she found her beloved’s body beneath the cherry tree at the top of the hill.
There was no blood to sully her beloved, only a silent wish lingering in the twilight. Her hands were clasped at her lap; her back leaning up against the bark. Her skin was a deathly white, her eyes closed and mouth in a smile unbefitting the horrors of death—no, death for her had come softly in the night, a gentle rest under the shade of the spring sakura in full-bloom.
Yukari Yakumo—youkai of borders, ancient and all-knowing, the ruler of the gap between all things—had failed yet again. With all her power—all her power, her bluster, her bravado, she’d failed to realize Yuyuko’s importance, her impossibility. Not until she was dead and gone. For the second time, Yukari had failed.
She gazed up at the cherry tree—it was half-abloom now, little petals shearing off from it with the wind and fluttering down in a blizzard of pinks and whites, dousing the air in the sweet scent of warmth, of life. Yukari’s gaze fell—down from the topmost branches, following twigs converging into branches, then to trunks; she followed the gnarled, woodpecker-drilled bark all the way to its base, and the corpse of her love.
The tree fed on death. Given life, a kami of its very own long ago, it lured wayward spirits to the little hollow at its base. It promised shade, promised stability. And in return, it consumed.
It had already begun to consume her beloved Yuyuko.
Yuyuko’s body did not stir as Yukari gently placed her hand under her neck, hand cradling her head; it did not stir as she pulled Yuyuko away from the tree’s grasp, and the very air around them both felt charged, like the air before a thunderstorm; the tree was flooding its surroundings with its very lifeblood as a defense mechanism—diffusing pure hyper-concentrated mana through its bark, so much so that the air had turned to a thick, bluish mist.
What was it that Yukari felt, in that moment? Yukari didn’t know. She’d long since abandoned her humanity—shucked it from herself and tossed it aside, placed herself above such petty attachments. Thought herself incapable of such a feeling. Thought herself incapable of feeling anything ever again. Until—
“It’s you. It’s always been you,” Yukari mumbled into Yuyuko’s cold hair, the scent of cherry blossom overwhelming. She took a wavering breath, and held Yuyuko tighter. “A different name, perhaps, a different body, but… I’ve found you. Across all of time and space and dimension, we found each other again, just for that little while…”
Yukari pulled away to gaze at Yuyuko’s face.
“And yet, again we must part? Again?” Yukari said, her voice losing its sound on the final word, replaced only with a hitching breath. “My beloved…” she said, her voice but a whisper now, “Do you remember Torifune? Do you remember Old Adam? Oh, let’s ride the Tokaido this time, my love, I want to see Mt. Fuji for real…with you…”
Yuyuko did not respond. Yukari’s mourning died in her throat, then, and she just pulled her in tight again, her breathing slowing, hugging neck to head, breaths long and deep, golden hair intertwining with coral locks, skin cold enough to make Yukari tremble—
“This world that dares keep us apart,” Yukari hissed, “I will rip it in two.”
Each word, each syllable sent little puffs of blue air swirling, swirling, like speaking through smoke. Mana continued overflowing, draining from the tree, its blossoms shriveling on the vine. It was richer, more powerful than anything Yukari had ever tasted. It flooded her senses, blinded her blue, and still she held onto Yuyuko’s corpse—even as it began to disappear.
“For you, my love—I will destroy the whole world. The world that forsook us, that called us mad for believing, for hoping—I will tear it all to pieces, and build a new one in the gaps,” Yukari said, with each breath absorbing more mana, more fuel, “With this power, I will build us a paradise—and all your little monsters can come to live in it. A paradise for all that’s dead, all that’s gone and forgotten. An occult Elysium—a phantasm just for us,” Yukari whispered into her beloved’s ear as her body faded from her arms.
As the great tree began to shrivel, and the very borders of reality began to fade, stretched into ribbons and torn away, Yukari pulled the wretched tree into the inky black gap between—and from out in the surrounding blackness of nothing, ten thousand eyes opened all at once.
“My hope for you, my love…” Yukari spoke into that nothingness from ten thousand mouths, “is that you will never reincarnate, never remember, and so will never again suffer pain… And that I will never again suffer the pain of being apart from you.”
FILL: TEAM KITTYURI
From:PROMPT: TEAM OC (Moon)
Date: 2024-06-02 08:19 am (UTC)"I wasn't even trying to insult you. Wow, you're sensitive."
PROMPT: TEAM OC (Moon)
Date: 2024-06-02 08:24 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM TOUHOU
Date: 2024-06-02 08:53 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM OC MOON
Date: 2024-06-05 06:32 pm (UTC)-------------------------------------------------
Night falls over the camp, leaving everything lit by torches. It is by this firelight that Acantha makes her way out of the camp, Evadne beside her as always, and advances north. This way lies the Draxi camp, though that is not her destination. Instead, she is heading for the woods that lie between the two camps. There she will meet with Eoforhild of the Draxi. Arranging this meeting was the product of several sleepless nights, and tonight will be another one, but if she can achieve what she wants, then it will all have been worth it. She and Eoforhild are likeminded on one crucial point; the need for peace. Neither the Draxi nor the Aeliae can keep going like this. They on the ground see it, even if those in charge don’t. And so, she and Eoforhild, as two figures who have gained a certain notoriety, have agreed to meet. They will each be accompanied by one other person, in case of deception.
She steps into the clearing, Evadne at her side, and is greeted by the sight of two other women. One, tall, broad, and dark-haired, she knows to be Eoforhild. The other, smaller in proportions than Eoforhild, though clearly strong, and with vibrant red hair, is a stranger to her.
“Hello,” Acantha greets them both. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“Not at all,” Eoforhild replies, “We’ve only been here a few minutes.” She gestures, with one gauntleted hand, to the other woman, “This is Wulfgifu.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Acantha makes her own introduction in turn. “This is Evadne.”
“Good, good. Now then,” Eoforhild claps her hands together, gauntlets clanging disconcertingly, “Let’s get down to business.”
“Let’s.”
“I have a proposition for you, but you may not like it.” Eoforhild’s tone is grave, and Acantha wonders how bad this proposition is.
Still. “Tell me.”
“Marry me.”
Evadne gasps in horror beside her, but Acantha herself is simply running through what this would mean. A marriage between the two women who have all but become emblems of their respective armies might well force the peace issue, it is true. It would also be an immense risk. Then again, so is all of this.
Eoforhild seems to take her silence and Evadne’s evident horror as refusal, and jumps to explain herself. “If you don’t want to you don’t have to, of course. I’d never force you. I just thought, politically speaking-”
Acantha cuts her off. “I understand. I’d be willing.”
“You would? Truly?”
Acantha tilts her head up to look the other woman in the eye. She cannot be allowed to think that Acantha is anything other than completely serious. “Yes.”
Her attention is so focused on Eoforhild that she doesn’t notice what Evadne is doing, and the same is true of Eoforhild’s focus on her. Luckily for them both, Wulfgifu does notice. They both spin around to the sight of Wulfgifu tackling Evadne down, from where she had been stood behind Eoforhild, with a knife drawn.
Acantha feels her heart sink. “Eva,” she begins, unable to not still address her with that fond nickname, “What are you doing?”
“I won’t let you do this, Acan,” Evadne replies, voice aflame with anger,“You are betraying both yourself and the Aeliae. I am willing for peace, but not like this! It should be negotiated, we should get the upper hand we deserve. What are you thinking? Have you even for a second considered what people will think of you?”
Acantha locks eyes with Eoforhild again as she speaks, willing her to understand the intent behind her words. “She speaks some sense, unfortunately. I do have my reputation to consider.” Her voice is unnaturally calm, she can tell, cold like a frozen over river.
“An understandable issue.” Eoforhild replies, and she begins to feel some trace of relief. “I have a few proposals, in that case. First, kill her.”
Ah.
So it has come to this. The two of them, who have been each other’s closest companions since girlhood, now sitting at either side of this insurmountable divide.
“You wouldn’t, Acan. You’ve always been so forgiving,” Evadne sounds so confident in this statement, and Acantha turns to her, and watches her face fall. She doesn’t know what look is on her own face, but clearly it is enough to convince Evadne that she, in fact, would.
“I’ve forgiven you a lot, Eva,” she says, still with that same icy calm. “But this is too much.”
It is then that she moves. Evadne is a competent fighter, but Acantha is better by far, standing a league above. Perhaps more so than Evadne knows. She doesn’t think Evadne has seen her in her most ruthless moments on the battlefield.
It is the work of minutes to overpower Evadne, and she drives her knife, with precision into her heart. She looks up at Eoforhild, still knelt over Evadne’s body.
Eoforhild places a sympathetic hand on her arm, and a moment passes in silence.
FILL: Team Webcomics/Webtoons
From:PROMPT: TEAM TOUHOU
Date: 2024-06-02 10:54 am (UTC)"We've... only known each other since yesterday."
PROMPT: TEAM ANIMANGA
Date: 2024-06-02 11:45 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM TOUHOU
Date: 2024-06-02 12:09 pm (UTC)FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
Date: 2024-06-17 01:04 am (UTC)Ship: Inubashiri Momiji/Kasodani Kyouko
Word count: 2172
As she walked along the small dirt path under the trees, Kyouko's mind drifted towards memories of that evening, just a few days ago. She had just concluded one of the punk performances that her and Mystia had become known for — for sounding like a loud cacophony to just about everyone else. As she thanked the (sparse) audience for its support, she noticed another group of people moving in. From one glance at them she could tell they were tengu, white wolf tengu to be precise. They had probably come to disperse the attraction for being too loud, too close to Youkai Mountain.
Kyouko did not think about it, because all of her focus was on their leader. Her outfit was more or less the same as the other tengu, save for her shield which seemed more elaborate, decorated with a maple leaf. She was tall, much taller than the others, and Kyouko couldn't help but stare at the way her clothes revealed all of her muscles as she walked around. Her abdomen, no, every part of her looked strong and robust. But her face wasn't completely stone cold serious, Kyouko saw a glimpse, an ember of confidence and skill in the way she moved around, in the way she looked around everywhere, in the way her white hair and wolf ears moved around, as she held her sword. Kyouko didn't want to be on the other end of that, but that would also mean being at the center of the tengu's attention, and she thought herself insane for thinking that didn't sound so bad. She tried quelling her heartbeat which had grown frantic as she stared at the woman, with little success.
The tengu had indeed come to kick them out, and ordinarily the two-woman band would have protested then and there, but this time Kyouko had to know more about the tengu. She learned her name was Momiji Inubashiri, patrol captain among the white wolf tengu. She spoke with equal parts confidence and casualness, and just this time she felt a bit happy at being kicked out. She decided to try to catch Momiji's attention from that moment on. The first step of her plan was to start loudly protesting (using her natural abilities as a yamabiko) and making a fool of herself in front of the several armed tengu, which didn't end well for her, but it didn't matter because Momiji had taken notice!
After that evening, Kyouko would sometimes try to wander towards Youkai Mountain to try and meet Momiji again. The smartest plan she came up with was causing so much trouble on tengu territory to end up detained, and subsequently freed by Momiji, who seemed more worried about her than anything. Afterwards, she was calmly but sterny scolded by Byakuren for all the trouble had gotten herself into.
Days turned to weeks, and after more steps in her pathetic quest to impress the white wolf tengu, they had ended on speaking terms of sorts, which Kyouko considered a strategic victory — Momiji considered it the easiest way to have Kyouko not hurt her own body or pride.
But the echo dog had quickly realized her feelings for the tengu ran deeper. She didn't just want to be noticed, she wanted to be considered, appreciated by her. And the more she talked and exchanged with Momiji, the more she wanted to give that to her. Despite being the captain, she felt so distant, so cordial with all of her underlings. Maybe it was pure wishful thinking to believe Momiji looked forward to her visits, but Kyouko couldn't shake that tenacious hope that she meant something. She needed to confirm it.
So she asked Momiji to meet her, on a day and a time where she would have no immediate obligations, in a place close not far from the Myouren temple. To Kyouko's disbelief, she agreed, for some reason. And so, today was the day she...
Her head snapped up, and saw an opening in the trees up ahead. She had reached her destination, a small clearing she had scouted out. She stopped, took a deep breath, and, calming down her nerves, walked into the sunlight.
The green grass of Gensokyo flowed and rippled under the wind, making waves that looked impossible, and amidst it all, Momiji sat calmly, idly, her white hair blowing all the same. She was looking into the distance, and for a moment Kyouko wondered whether she was actually looking at something impossibly far away like her ability allowed her to, before one of her ears perked up and she turned to face Kyouko. She grinned, putting all of her sharp teeth on display; Kyouko still wasn't exactly sure why she felt so weird seeing them.
"Sup, kiddo!", she said, waving at her.
"H-Hello, Momiji," she replied as she walked closer.
"Y'know, I'm glad I could make it, it's a really nice place. Relaxing and all," she mused, looking around.
"I'm v-very glad you like it." She inhaled. "Listen, I have something I need to tell you."
Momiji raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? What's wrong? Wait, don't tell me the folks at your temple think I'm a bad influence on ya!"
"N-No! Well..." She recalled Byakuren's nagging about her frequent visits outside of the temple, and Murasa's lighthearted teasing. "Agh, that's not what this is about! No, it's something different."
"Welp, that's a relief, at least. 'Was worried your folks saw me as bad company for a monk in training, heh heh!"
Kyouko wanted to tell her that she wouldn't have given up even if that was the case. That she felt lucky to even be allowed to meet her on a regular basis. Seeing Momiji's smile, that bewitching smile, she knew it was the time, she had to face her feelings head-on. She would take the first step and-
Feel Momiji's hand touch down on her hair, and start petting her. Wait, no! A wave of heat came over her, and she knew she was soon going to blush harder than she ever had before.
"'s'alright, kid, take your time. I've got plenty," she said nonchalantly, unaware of the pandemonium she had unleashed within the yamabiko's head.
Being pet by Momiji, to have her hands be this gentle, even though they could crush anything, was just too much bliss for the poor dog. Like many times before, her small tail started to wag, and this time she was in no state to calm it. Being pet by her, being cared for, resting against her body, all of these desires were taking over her thoughts.
Miraculously, through all of these, she remembered what she had come here to do. Just ask her. Do it. You can't just say nothing. Yet, she kept doing just that for a bit, Momiji's wonderful touch reverberating from her hair down into her thoughts, shaking any resolve she tried to build up.
However, it built up all the same, pushing against the thoughts of love, desire and pining she usually took great care to suppress. All of them were growing, filling the girl's mind without any way to relieve the pressure, making her think she was about to explode. Something had to give, and the more it went on, the more the rising tension started having an air of impending doom to it.
Feeling adventurous, Momiji brushed her thumb against one of Kyouko's droopy ears, and unwittingly set off the chain of disaster. The stimulation was finally pushing past Kyouko's limit, and all of the pressure was released at once.
"I WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH YOU MOMIJIIII!", she cried out, completely forgoing any volume control.
Kyouko's defining ability as a yamabiko was to speak very, very loudly. She had woken up the whole temple on several occasions before by just being a bit too excitable. As such, the explosion in her brain translated to a scream so deafening, it created its own shockwave, and carried the sound of her voice across miles in every direction.
With lightning speed, Momiji tried covering her ears, but she was too late, and winced in pain. Kyouko immediately covered her mouth, and her eyes widened. The tengu bit her lip in pain, and breathed out as she slowly uncovered her ears.
"Please never say that again. My ears hurt." She paused, realizing something. "...Ah, I can't even hear myself."
Kyouko frantically bounced around, muttering a string of incoherent apologies while flailing her arms around — taking care to avoid actually touching Momiji's body. She prayed she hadn't made Momiji deaf by accident.
She raised up a hand. "Save your breath, kid, I can barely hear ya anyways." Kyouko immediately stiffened. The tengu placed a hand on her shoulder and sighed. "My ears'll be fine in a bit, don't worry, I know how it is for ya. Anyway, about that..."
In that moment, Momiji started considering the actual content of Kyouko's words. There was no doubt about her words with how loud she screamed them. She looked at her. Her eyes were filled with genuine fear, and she was still seriously blushing. Oh, no. She really was serious, that mutt...
"Hey, this might come off as a surprise, but... I thought this was supposed to be a date already?"
Kyouko's eyes shot wide open, bewilderment replacing every other emotion. She outright recoiled in confusion, and shook her head vigorously. She opened her mouth to deny it further, but stopped, recalling the situation they were in.
"Huh, didja not think ahead that far? Y'know, when you asked me to meet you, one-on-one, on a day off, in the middle of some idyllic grassland, I kind of assumed... Welp, guess not!"
Kyouko shook her head again. What a mess, she thought. They had completely misunderstood each other, and now it was... She stopped to actually consider Momiji's actions. She had accepted to meet her, seeing as how they were standing face to face. And she did it, assuming she had been asked out on a date... The realization hit her like a stack of bricks. She clenched her fists in excitement, Momiji had said yes! She was okay with her, she was okay with going with her, she wanted to go with her... Kyouko's heart filled with joy as she unraveled all of the implications. And if the smile on Momiji's face was anything to go by, she had reached the same conclusion.
"Blah blah..? Ah, still can't hear a lot, but it's a start. Ya really did a number on me, y'know?"
"I-I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay, I think it's very much like ya. Pretty cute." Kyouko started blushing again. "Hey, c'mere," Momiji said, patting the spot next to her, then curving her arm, inviting her to her side.
Kyouko, still blushing, looked at Momiji's arm in disbelief, then back at her, to figure out if this was some sort of joke.
"It's not a joke," Momiji replied, as if reading her mind.
Stuck between pure embarassment and the desire to snuggle up against her with all of the little strength she had, Kyouko hopped over excitedly and sat down in front of the extended arm. In one swift motion, Momiji retracted her arm, and pressed Kyouko's small body against her side. The yamabiko was on a cloud. Everything about her was comforting. Her clothes and chest were soft, yet all of her muscles were firm, and with the strong arm holding her in place, she felt inexplicably safe. And above all, Momiji's body was very warm. It was everything Kyouko had dreamed it to be, and perhaps more. She wanted to know more, to feel more, to be even closer to Momiji, and so she wrapped an arm behind her back and embraced her waist, snuggling her head against it.
Momiji was surprised. Kyouko was always so earnest, so straightforward, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, but it was still surprising seeing her act so hungrily on her affection; immediately taking the first opportunity to get close, as if she would seize any opportunity to express her love, rather than predicating it on this and that.
In response, she started slowly combing through Kyouko's cyan hair once again, sometimes untangling the knots, and sometimes just petting it for the sake of feeling the yamabiko's embrace tighten ever-so-slightly. With the two of them looking out at the small corner of Gensokyo before them, alone except for the soft sound of the wind blowing through the grass, Momiji thought this was something she'd like to get used to.
PROMPT: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
Date: 2024-06-02 01:51 pm (UTC)FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
Date: 2024-06-02 06:23 pm (UTC)Ship: Kiyomi Takada/Misa Amane (Death Note)
"Do you have any comments regarding the rumors of tension between you and Misa Amane?" a reporter shouts at her on her way into the readied limousine.
Kiyomi very nearly lets her shock show on her face. How did they know—? Had she been bugged at some point? But no, no, calm down, Kiyomi; this is clearly just a shot in the dark, an attempt to wind her up after Amane failed to show at the NYE event. (Which Kiyomi is not worried about, thank you very much. She'd mostly been hiding glee at the outset, yeah, before she started wondering why Amane would purposefully damage her own reputation like this, because she'd thought Amane would want to show her up during her time slot — so immature, Kiyomi wouldn't put it past her — and besides, what about announcing her engagement with Light?)
(Does she just not care about beating Kiyomi at her own game anymore? But Kiyomi thought—)
(It's not like Amane to not be here.)
(Kiyomi isn't worried.)
Halle casts a glance at her — she must have frozen for a beat too long, Kiyomi realizes in dismay — and moves to block the reporter from Kiyomi, but Kiyomi taps her on the shoulder: it's alright. "I haven't heard of any such rumors, but they're completely unfounded," she says smoothly, leaning into the microphone. "Misa and I are on quite good terms, and while I haven't been able to get in contact with her for the span of the event, I trust she has a good reason for everything she does. I've always known Misa to be very reliable."
Halle looks almost amused — Kiyomi isn't sure she's ever told a sentence so packed with lies even when it's Kira-related — but the reporter looks satisfied, at least, before Kiyomi is swept into the limousine and away.
She stares out into the night sky.
Where is she?
Why do I even care?
Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
From:Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
From:PROMPT: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
Date: 2024-06-02 01:51 pm (UTC)FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-06-05 05:10 pm (UTC)pairing: suletta/miorine
fandom: mobile suit gundam: the witch from mercury
characters: suletta mercury, miorine rembran
word count: 827
//
Suletta is awake when Miorine comes back in with coffee, frowning at the ceiling. The marks on her face are glowing a dull orange in the low light, throwing her eyes into shadow, but still. She’s alive; she’s conscious. That’s what’s important right now.
“Hello,” Miorine says softly.
Suletta’s head turns slightly to the left, facing her. It must hurt a great deal, but it doesn’t prevent her face from lighting up when she sees her — quite literally. She opens her mouth to talk, winces in pain, and tries again.
When she speaks, her voice comes out hoarse and weak. It’s still one of the most beautiful sounds Miorine has ever heard. “Hi, Mio. Coffee?”
“Coffee,” Miorine confirms. “The doctors haven’t cleared you to drink anything but water yet, but, you know. I got you some in solidarity.”
It’s exactly what Suletta would do. Her answering smile could melt glaciers. “Thank you.”
There’s something else lingering on her tongue, too. Miorine can probably guess — What else have the doctors said I can’t do? — but it hurts to think about. She doesn’t entirely know, either; no one has stopped her to tell her yet. They’re still running tests on her, and they have been ever since she woke up.
“Of course,” she says, sitting down beside Suletta’s bed. The coffee tray goes on her bedside table, shuffling Eri out of the way for room; the sheaf of papers it’s replacing gets tucked into her bag and kicked under the chair. She takes Suletta’s hand the moment she can, threading their fingers together. She hasn’t let her go this entire time, not unless she absolutely has to.
“Did anyone come by while I was out?”
“No,” Suletta hums. She can’t say more than a few words at a time yet. “Walked past though.” Her fingers flex around Miorine’s, too weak to close around her hand properly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Miorine says. And she did; she misses Suletta whenever she’s out of her sight, she always has. Lillique calls it the honeymoon phase. “I — wish I was allowed to sleep here.”
“Soon,” Suletta promises softly. “I’ll get better quickly.”
Miorine rolls her eyes; Suletta laughs, and the Permet marks on her cheeks light up. They look a little bit like whiskers.
She doesn’t really know why, but it’s this that drives her to blurt out, “I love you.”
The Permet marks flare bright red. They’ve both had enough scares to know that this is Suletta’s body’s new way of blushing.
Fuck, Miorine thinks, sort of distantly, that was a stupid move. She thought she was smarter than dumping her feelings on the girl she’s marrying, but apparently not, despite everything. And Suletta is sick, and she’d sworn she wouldn’t tell her until she was feeling better and they could talk about — everything, weddings and the company and Eri.
Then again, she’s always been bad at keeping her promises.
“I — wow,” Suletta says faintly.
Miorine jolts out of her panic, sure she’s also blushing furiously. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s —” She shakes her head, fingers fluttering around Miorine’s hand, “it’s fine. You don’t have to. Say it, I mean. If you’re not ready. I know.”
“You — know?”
“Mhm.”
Miorine buries her face in her free hand. “I’ve not been subtle with it, have I?”
Suletta laughs. This seems like a bit of a subdued reaction, given the circumstances. “No. Cute.”
“I am not cute, thank you very much.”
“Cute,” Suletta repeats, scrunching up her nose.
“You’re cute,” Miorine says — not the retaliation she thinks it is, because it only makes the marks on Suletta’s cheeks glow brighter, all the way down her neck — and puts her head back in her hands again.
“You think so?” Suletta beams. And then, softer, “I love you too.”
She pitches forward until her head is resting on the bed so Suletta can’t see her face and squeaks out, “Really?”
“Obviously,” Suletta says, sounding unbelievably shy. “Moment I saw you. Eri knows.”
“Eri hasn’t shut up about it,” she mutters. “I take her to work with me, you know. For enrichment.”
“She adores you,” Suletta grins.
Miorine has grown decently fond of her too, but she would rather die than admit it. “She has a funny way of showing it.”
Suletta laughs — she’s always loved the sound of her laugh — and her fingers flutter again, flexing experimentally against her hand. Miorine thinks about being sixteen, sat alone in her greenhouse; thinks about Suletta saying Aerial and I — we don’t want you to be lonely ever again to her, curled up next to her in her bed; thinks about Suletta’s long-fingered hands wound over her own, helping her cut through the stem of a tomato when she was shaking too badly to do it herself.
“I love you,” she says again, turning her head so she can see her.
Predictably, Suletta flushes again. “I love you too,” she says in a small voice. “Very much.”