![[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 theme is historical fiction! prompts inspired by specific moments in (real or fictional) history.
this round will end on july 15th
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 Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:31 am (UTC)FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-07-02 10:50 pm (UTC)word count: 1024
pairing: winter schnee/cinder fall
fandom: RWBY
characters: winter schnee, cinder fall, mentioned salem
extra tags: spy x family au but i butcher the lore, mentions of violence, smoking
#
Cinder raises her eyebrows at Winter over the desk, turning a cigarette over in her fingers. There are, Winter notes, round burn marks all the way up her arm. “Well? You’re taking the case?”
She nods once. “That’s why I called you here. To be blunt, I need your permission to go digging.”
Her eyebrows shoot up further. “You’re asking for my permission? I thought you’d just get on with it, you know?”
Winter shrugs. “I like giving people a chance to hide the things they don’t want me to see. I figured you might like a little extra warning.”
Cinder’s expression melts a little — warmth, maybe? She’s unbelievably hard to read — as she leans over the desk, trailing ash in a straight line along the grain of the wood. “That’s very kind of you,” she says, “but don’t you think I would have done that before coming here anyway?”
“I do have a reputation,” Winter concedes. Being significantly nosy (and ex-military), she has a pattern of attracting extremely wealthy clients with extremely shitty histories that wind up coming out during the investigation. It’s been awful for business, but some people like the challenge. “So. I’ll start looking into the description you gave me.”
Cinder waves a hand airily. “Don’t bother. I can direct you to her.”
//
“You killed her.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Cinder says flatly.
“My target was found dead in her apartment with seventeen stab wounds and a calling card. She was more blood than person by the time the cops got there.” Winter presses her hands flat to her desk, fixing Cinder with a glare. “You know I work for Atlas. You took her out before they could get their hands on it.”
Cinder shrugs. Her suit is a little too big for her in the shoulders; the fabric ripples and shifts as she moves, cutting through the silence far too sharply. “What’s your evidence?”
Winter grits her teeth. She’s fucking annoying at the best of times. “Subject was found with seventeen stab wounds and a calling card. The only way the Fall Maiden knows how to kill people is by stabbing them seventeen times and dropping ash on their corpse. No offense.”
“You think I’m the Fall Maiden?”
“Your last name is Fall. You’re not subtle.”
Cinder grins at her, suddenly wolfish. “Pure coincidence, I assure you.”
“You’re being cocky about it because you like it when people recognise you.”
She sits down on the desk — particularly bold, considering how quick she knows Winter is — and reaches forward to draw Winter’s tie between her fingers, playing with the ends as she speaks. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really hot when you’re investigating?”
“That’s not even a — what?”
Cinder yanks a little on the tie. Winter blinks up at her, inexplicably overwhelmingly flustered all of a sudden, and doesn’t even think to lean back out of her range. “Seriously. You have this whole stern vigilante thing going on and it really works for you. I’m surprised more tearful clients aren’t throwing themselves on you.”
“Can you stop flirting with me while I’m accusing you of murder?”
It comes out hoarse, strangled. Cinder notes this, and she grins wider. “No. You know why I killed Salem, don’t you?”
Winter swallows thickly. “I told you. You know I work for Atlas. You knew I’d probably wind up taking the case to them, and you have a past with her, so you got rid of the evidence.”
Cinder leans closer, forcing Winter to sink back into her chair to avoid knocking their heads together. Her eyes burn amber in the shadow. Her voice is low — and fuck, Winter thinks, fuck, “I killed her because she was a huge bitch.”
Struck by the sudden urge to kiss her, Winter digs her fingers into the arms of her chair and waits for Cinder to withdraw before she replies. “Did you think I’d get rid of her for you when you hired me?”
She shrugs, looking thoroughly at home on her desk. “I don’t know what I thought. That you were the nicest-looking detective I’d seen in a while, maybe.”
“You know about my reputation.” Has her voice gone up an octave or two? She can’t tell. Cinder lets go of Winter’s tie and tilts her head back to take a sip of the drink she’s stolen from her desk, and the sight of the exposed column of her throat makes her swallow again, harder.
“Of course I do,” she says briskly. “I’m not an idiot. The positives outweighed the negatives.”
//
“Atlas are taking me on for their next Operation.”
Cinder is on her desk again. She takes a long drag of her cigarette, lets the smoke billow out through her lips before replying. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“It’s confidential,” Winter says, “but I’m asking for your help. You should be honoured.”
Cinder snorts. “I don’t work for cops.”
“We aren’t cops. Believe me, I checked.” She rests her chin on her hand, looking up at Cinder and the smoke drifting up to the top of the room. “You’d need to pretend to be my wife.”
She coughs, nearly drops the cigarette. Winter pushes the ashtray towards her wordlessly. “You — what? Huh? You want us to play happy families while you, what, run around shooting at people with guns?”
“We’re infiltrating a school. So, yes, happy families. I have —” she pauses, looks away. “I’ve been assigned a daughter. Penny. You’d like her.”
“You’re only asking me because you know I’m wildly attracted to you,” Cinder says defensively.
“I’m asking you because when you put on the costume you’re terrifying,” Winter mutters.
“Oh, you think?”
“It’s not entirely a compliment. I’d probably need your assistance throughout the course of the mission.”
Cinder looks at her, really looks at her, haloed by the overhead light with smoke curling from her lips, and for a moment she seems almost deific — “Do I have to pretend to be a housewife?”
“You can do whatever you want. Within reason, obviously.”
She smiles. Winter’s breath catches in her throat. “Then I’m in. Mrs Schnee sounds nice, don’t you think?”
FILL: Team Kittyuri
From:Re: PROMPT: Team Rosemary
From:FILL: TEAM KITTYURI
From:PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:31 am (UTC)FILL: team rosemary
Date: 2024-07-04 07:32 am (UTC)PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:33 am (UTC)FILL: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
Date: 2024-07-12 12:53 am (UTC)Ship: Ittasha/Mira Shifuto (Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger)
Words: 729
Ittasha was never a woman of great means - she was born a beautiful sports car right after the crisis that made being a sports car way too expensive to be worth it and her mama wasn’t so good at racing to surpass that -, but she had always made up for that with gusto. Deco’ed so flashy and pretty it hurt to look at, it made it all that much easier to swipe people’s wallets, suss out their credit card details, clone their phones while they struggled to process her.
“Mmm, you sure we’re up for this Ittasha?” Her darling little adoptee and partner in crime Yarucar complained to her as she punched in the credentials to gain access to the inner workings of a spaceship just about to launch after dispatching the flight attendant she stole them from with a knock over the head.
“Don’t be silly, Yaru-chan! This will be easy as cake!” She could already see in her head the beautiful beaches of the vacation planet she was planning on hijacking this ship to, now all she needed to do was work her magic.
Quiet as she could be, she sneaked to the main cabin, looking for the Richie Rich she had to flatter and convince to change plans. (A clean hijacking! No threats, only charm~)
What she found ended up being rather more curious.
“But I don’t really want to…” A young woman pacing from side to side in a wedding dress occupied the main cabin, talking to herself. “But I really have to! I have to pay my debts! Agh!”
The bride looked very conflicted… This meant Ittasha was so much more likely to succeed!!
“Hello, hello, Milady Bride!” The crafty pickpocket greeted sweetly as she tried to shut up Yarucar’s complaints that it was a bad idea. “I’m Ittasha, your attendant for this flight! But it looks like you're not all happy, are you? Do you wanna talk about it?”
The human grimaced, held her hand to her chin, still so conflicted! But even still-
“Ittasha, do you ever feel like you completely lost control over your life?”
“Eh?” That was… deeper than she thought she’d hear from someone she was about to scam. “I… used to? I used to have this real nasty boss, but now I’m the boss of me! Do you… feel like this, what’s-your-name?”
The pretty young thing blushed, realising maybe she threw too much of a curveball too quick.
“Mira. My name is Mira. Like ‘future’.”
“Wish mine was nice like that and not after waifumobiles.”
Mira laughed, and it was such a nice laugh. That groom sure was a lucky guy.
“Well, ah, Ittasha, I guess I… got myself in this really bad situation and I guess I’m gonna marry a guy I barely know at all because his dad bought my debt from the casino in Titan I dealt blackjack at because I whaled all my earnings on their gacha? It had so many cute sirens though…”
“Oh, Sirens of Titan really gets everyone down bad, huh?” Ittasha patted her back, just as a show of compassion, but damn, this girl really was down on her luck… “Hey, Mira, can I give you a very blunt solution?”
“Like what? How do I even get back on my horse like this?”
“Let’s just run away!” Ittasha exclaimed, holding Mira’s hands. “I honestly wanted to hijack this spaceship to keep fleeing my debt collectors, but we can join forces! Just you and me and Yaru-chan!”
“Finally you remember me!” He yelled from outside the cabin where Ittasha left him.
“Yaru-chan?”
“I’ll show you later, but do you want to? Do you wanna take hold of the fugitive lifestyle with me?”
Mira looked both shocked and marvelled, as if it was such a scary but exciting idea. Then something unpleasant dawned and her face soured.
“...Just one thing.”
“Yes?”
“My fiancé’s family. They’re from the mob.”
…That was a bit more than she had expected, but in for a penny in for a pound, huh?
“...We’ll deal with that.”
“Then I’m going with you, Ittasha! I’m gonna take back control of my life!”
That’s my girl!
And thus began the space adventures of the criminal duo Pink&White, last seen at the Autosalone Itauchusen exhibition with their stolen spaceship decorated entirely with characters from hit gacha game Sirens of Titan.
Re: PROMPT: Team Rosemary
From:Fill: Team Anime/Manga
From:PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:35 am (UTC)PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:38 am (UTC)FILL: Team Kittyuri
Date: 2024-07-04 03:40 pm (UTC)Word Count: 891
---------------------------------
Yuri’s painting in the garden one day when it lands. It being a metal monstrosity that’s unlike anything she’s seen before, hissing smoke and spitting fire.
“Dragon,” she breathes, clutching her canvas close to her chest. She tucks her paintbrush behind one ear and picks up as many paint cans as she dares before running back towards the house.
A loud yell stops in her tracks and her feet bumble into each other as she goes crashing to the ground. The paintbrush skidders across the floor and the cans roll and bump into one another.
The canvas, thankfully, lands face-up. Yuri breathes a sigh of relief. But the voice, the yell–it had almost sounded human. Is that what monsters are supposed to sound like?
Yuri turns around and comes face-to-face with another girl, albeit a very strangely-dressed one. She’s more metal than human, a bizarre jacket with the sleeves torn off and patches adorned to it hanging around her shoulders.
There are syllables pouring out of her mouth, loud and jarring noises that Yuri doesn’t understand. But the kindness written across her face is clear and her outstretched hand is a universal gesture.
The girl makes a note of surprise at her confusion and fiddles with something attached to her ear.
“There!” she shouts clearly and Yuri blinks. What was that–magic? “Can you understand me now?”
Yuri nods mutely and the girl hauls her to her feet.
“I’m Kitty,” she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. She keeps it cropped short, hanging just above her shoulders and there’s a bizarre pair of glasses affixed to her head. “And you are?”
“Yuri,” she replies and immediately dives for the canvas in lieu of a proper greeting, inspecting it for damage.
The paint is wet but she’d been careful to keep it a couple inches from her chest to avoid smearing. It’s unharmed except for a slight bend in the corner.
“Beautiful,” Kitty gasps at the sight, reaching out to touch the tail.
“Fresh painting,” she snaps, pulling it out of reach. “Don’t touch it, it’s still wet!”
“Right,” Kitty laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I forgot.” It’s such a welcome change from her buyers that pretend they know the meaning behind every stroke and splash even before she’s unveiled her work that Yuri decides to forgive her.
“I really am sorry about your workshop,” Kitty says, teetering on her feet. She’s not quite making eye contact, gaze fixed to a point right above Yuri’s shoulder and she feels reminiscent of one of Yuri’s younger cousins after they’ve been caught pilfering half the desserts. “And I hate to impose any further on you but would you happen to have any trash?”
“Trash?” Yuri echoes, sounding out the unfamiliar word.
“Garbage, scraps, stuff that you don’t really need,” Kitty babbles on, rolling her wrist. “Anything that’s flammable will do–stuff that burns?”
Yuri inclines her head towards the little basket she keeps in the corner of the room for broken paintbrushes and other assorted scraps she doesn’t want.
Kitty shrieks with delight at the sight. It hurts her ears with the volume but it also makes Yuri snicker. She’s like a child on Christmas morning.
“Yes, this’ll work!” she laughs, carrying it over to the back of the beast. She pops the skin open to reveal a giant tube and she puts one foot on the scales to get a better position to dump the contents in.
Her shoes look like they’re made of rubber as they squeak against the metal and they come up to her mid-thigh. It’s unheard of–well, everything about her is unheard of.
“What are you?” Yuri asks, swallowing past the fear lodged in her chest. Kitty turns to look at her, setting the wastebasket back on the ground.
“I think a more appropriate question would be ‘Who am I?’” she corrects. “Kitty Song Covey, time traveler and seeker of knowledge, at your service.”
Kitty finishes the sentence with a bow, lifting up the empty can to her. Yuri takes it with a full-bellied laugh.
“Now I’d love to stay and chat but I really must go,” Kitty says, pushing the flaps in her beast’s skin shut. “Wars to stop, sights to see, that sort of thing. But keep painting, Yuri, I’ve seen a lot of art in my lifetime and it’s clear that you’ve got talent!”
“Do you try to flatter every girl you meet?” Yuri asks, bemused.
Kitty gives her a wink as she climbs back into her dragon.
“Only the pretty ones!” she yells as she presses a button and the whole thing sputters to life.
Yuri shakes her head even as she feels her cheeks warm.
“Paint me like one of your French girls!” Kitty hollers, reaching for the metal hood. Yuri blinks at her in confusion.
“I’m not French!” Kitty tosses her head back and laughs, the wind ruffling what remains of her short hair.
“I guess they wouldn’t say that here,” Kitty yells over the roar of her beast. “Just paint something in honor of me!”
She slams the top down and the beast jets off onto the street.
Yuri nods, searing her face into her memory but even as she watches the metal blink out of existence on the horizon, she knows that no portrait can do Kitty’s face justice.
PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:40 am (UTC)(inspired by this post!)
PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:41 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
Date: 2024-07-02 05:45 am (UTC)PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:47 am (UTC)FILL: Team Webcomics/Webtoons
Date: 2024-07-15 07:48 pm (UTC)Words: 209
Notes: Part of a series of River bubble AUs.
——
Harriet Nunn (“as in ‘nunn’ya business’ ”) sits alone in the room, eyes stinging from the haze of tobacco smoke. She’s checked and rechecked the chairs, the name cards, the Tommy guns and 9mms hidden inside cabinets just out of sight. The meeting of the Nine Families isn’t supposed to turn violent, but you can never be too prepared, and they’ve been asking too many questions about why the Don and Donna haven’t made any public appearances in years.
There’s a knock at the door, and Orrin comes in, obsequious as ever. God, Harriet needs a better right hand. He’d practically pissed himself at the thought of drawing a weapon when they’d laid out their plans earlier that day.
“Sorry to interrupt, boss, but…” he trails off.
“Spit it out.”
“…but there’s a girl. Wants to see you, she says. Didn’t give her name, but she’s a big thing, red hair. Had to pull two guns and a shiv off her already.”
“Did she have an appointment?”
“None, ma’am. Just said she was here for you. Claims it’s urgent.”
Harriet considers for a moment. “I’ll see her.”
“Alright, boss, I’ll let her in if you say so. But,” Orrin pauses before continuing, “are you sure this’s how it happens?”
PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:50 am (UTC)(fair warning, class of '09 deals w some very heavy topics! proceed w/ caution!)
PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:53 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
Date: 2024-07-02 05:54 am (UTC)Obligatory Goncharov AU. ("Set in Naples in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Soviet Union…")
PROMPT: Team Rosemary
Date: 2024-07-02 05:57 am (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
Date: 2024-07-02 05:59 am (UTC)THE GOLDEN AGE OF PIRACY (the period between the 1650s and the 1730s, when maritime piracy was a significant factor in the histories of the North Atlantic and Indian Oceans)!!!!!!!!! give me TERRIBLE PEOPLE ATTACKING EACH OTHER ON BOATS!!!!!!!!!!!!! or maybe they're……… not so terrible………………? you decide
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-07-02 11:21 pm (UTC)word count: 439
pairing: winter schnee/cinder fall
fandom: RWBY
characters: winter schnee, cinder fall, marrow mentioned. he's there
//
“We’re being boarded,” Marrow says tiredly. He sounds used to it.
They all are, by now. Winter nods as she ascends to the deck, feeling instinctually for the pistols at her side. They won’t do her much good — it’s the swords she’s relying on for combat, given the closeness of the deck and the amount of crew members on board — but it’s nice to have them.
The General should have known better than to send them out directly into pirate territory with a ship practically made of gold. She curses him under her breath as she emerges into the sunlight, curses him again when she turns and finds Cinder hanging off the mast, arms spread wide to catch the wind.
“Again? This is the third g-ddamn time this week, Fall,” she calls.
Cinder grins down at her. “I’m persistent.”
“You’re fucking annoying. Get down here and fight me like an adult.”
Her hand drifts towards the sword at her side, a lingering threat that doesn’t mean much any more. “If you gave yourself over to me I wouldn’t have to do all this.”
Winter scowls at her. “You love it. You’re dramatic.”
“Mm.” Cinder taps her fingers against the sword’s hilt, smiling. “The gunmen on the prow were a nice touch. Em and Merc took pretty good care of them this time, I think.”
“If you killed my gunmen —”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. They’re just unconscious, bit bloody, that sort of thing. I like the chase, you know? Besides, more people alive means more money for their return.”
“It was captives for your boss last time,” Winter mutters. She knows Cinder’s old speeches by heart. They’ve been playing this game for months now, back and forth across the deck of her fucking ship, and the excuses keep changing. “You don’t need to make up a different reason to come see me, you know. You could send me a letter.”
“In the middle of the ocean,” Cinder says.
“Or, you know, give it to me the next time you climb aboard my ship and pretend to pillage.”
“I’m an excellent pillager.” She hops down from her perch on the side of the mast, hands settling on the hilt of her blade. Winter sighs and draws her own, just so they’re even. If she insists on this stupid song and dance every single time she comes aboard, they might as well fight fairly.
“You’re a shit pillager. You don’t even take anything. What’s your goal, Cinder? Annoy us the whole way to Solitas?”
She grins, feral. “And back again.”
“Have it your way,” Winter says, and lunges forward.
FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
From:Fill: Team Touhou
From:FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
From:FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
From:FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
From:FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
From:FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
From:FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
From:FILL: TEAM TOUHOU
From:Prompt: Team Magnus
Date: 2024-07-02 06:52 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2024-07-09 09:16 pm (UTC)Pairing: Madoka (Marcella) x Homura (Horatia)
WC: 558
“Marcella!” Horatia cries as she jerks awake.
She finds herself lying on the cool floor of the temple. The cloying perfume of burning herbs stings her nostrils, but she is alone in the chamber. Fear grips her as she shakily rises, head still swimming from the portent of despair she witnessed.
The sea will swallow Marcella whole.
The ground rumbles ominously beneath Horatia's sandals as she dashes into the empty streets. The garden wall fresco Horatia passes, newly painted and plastered that spring, is crumbling behind her. Earthquakes arrive with the heat every summer, they say, but rarely as fierce after the festivities of Neptunalia. They alone would be nothing to fear.
When she crests the hill, Horatia must stop to catch her breath. Her chest is tight with pain, and the hazy air is difficult to breathe. From here she can see the ocean, dark and churning, boats tossed about on the waves like nothing but toys.
She knows exactly where Marcella will be. Horatia grits her teeth, clutching at the fabric of her robe, before stumbling forward once more.
When the skies choked grey with ash, and lapilli clattered like hailstones on rooftops and cobblestones, the seaside people knew they had to evacuate. The mountain they built their homes around was going to erupt. They packed their belongings and took to the harbor, sailing to neighboring islands to wait out the storm.
Not everyone chose to leave that night. Some remained stubbornly in their homes, praying to any god that would listen, to spare them. Some waited too long to leave, and only now rush to the remaining fishing boats in a panicked crowd. And some, like Marcella, remained on purpose, dedicating herself to helping as many people escape the storm as she can.
Horatia runs downhill to the coast as swiftly as her legs can carry her, heedless of the burning in her lungs or the sting of sweat in her eyes. A cracked column collapses in a plume of dust across the street, narrowly missing her. A fragment of marble ricochets and glances off of Horatia's head, knocking some of her braids loose from her tightly-coiled bun. Hot blood drips from her scalp to streak down the side of her face.
For a moment, she thinks she glimpses an unnaturally white dog with glittering rubies for eyes standing in the wreckage before her. When she scrubs the blood away impatiently with her sleeve, however, the dog has vanished.
Then Horatia staggers and falls in a heap, the delayed pain lancing sharp through her skull, as she's unexpectedly stricken with another of Apollo's visions.
Not now, not –
Behind her eyelids, images of another disaster unfold: sheets of rain blowing sideways through the ruins of a city destroyed by a titanic, colorful spectre, that whirls and whirls endlessly like a chariot wheel. Beneath black storm clouds, lying in a puddle, two maidens in foreign garb, holding each others hands as their world falls to pieces around them.
They speak in a tongue that Horatia knows not, but – she would know Marcella's voice anywhere.
As soon as her senses return to her, Horatia struggles to rise again. Her traitorous legs refuse to cooperate. Frustrated at her body's limits, Horatia looks to the sky to find that all has gone black as night.
She's too late.
prompt: team magnus
Date: 2024-07-02 06:57 am (UTC)prompt: team magnus
Date: 2024-07-02 06:58 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM KITTYURI
Date: 2024-07-15 02:16 am (UTC)artwork
FILL: Team Webcomics/Webtoons
From:prompt: team magnus
Date: 2024-07-02 07:01 am (UTC)prompt: team magnus
Date: 2024-07-02 07:06 am (UTC)FILL: Team Ace Attorney
Date: 2024-07-13 12:30 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM KITTYURI
From:prompt: team magnus
Date: 2024-07-02 07:10 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM CATRADORA
Date: 2024-07-09 01:44 am (UTC)Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Ship: Adora/Catra
(important historical context - women were not allowed to act in the Elizabethan Period, so men did female roles in drag. women throughout history have crossdressed to access things barred to women, so I went nuts with that information)
"You'll surely be caught if you keep tugging at it."
Adora's head whips back, hand coming down from her side, where she was trying to adjust the wrappings binding her chest flat.
The boy behind her - Curran? - arches his eyebrow. Adora very deliberately does not think about how he looks in Juliet's dress. That's not what she's supposed to find attractive about him. Though his eyes pull her in too, blue and yellow, impossible not to notice. Maybe, despite her current charade, there's hope for her after all.
On stage, the Montagues continue to argue. "I had a farming accident," Adora says, spilling the lie she'd practiced.
Curran's lips wrinkle like he's trying not to laugh. Adora must have found him fetching before he got into costume. She must have.
"What a coincidence, Adam," Curran says. "Me too."
Adora looks back up at the stage, heart hammering. "I know not what you mean."
Curran's breath is warm on her ear. "How do you think I manage Juliet's skirts so well?"
Curran's grinning when Adora turns back. The bindings over Adora's chest feel tighter than ever. "Adam is my brother's name," Adora says.
Curran flicks glowing eyes to the stage and back. "My cue's coming up," Curran says. "But come to my lodging house tonight. We can trade names then."
"At least," Adora says before her brain catches up to her. If her cheeks weren't already red, they must be now. They flame like the fires of hell that Adora's rapidly hurtling towards.
Curran's eyes gleam. "Catra is my name," she says. "Get the rest tonight."
"What, Juliet!"
Catra vanishes, and Adora wills herself to calm. She's an actor. She can pretend that she's not consumed by wondering how much Catra's form resembles Juliet's.
Scenes later, Romeo and Juliet kiss, a soft and chaste thing, and again. "You kiss by the book," Catra says, eyes flitting to Adora as she says it, and Adora drowns in that madness most discreet.
FILL: TEAM KITTYURI
From:PROMPT: Team OC Moon
Date: 2024-07-02 07:44 am (UTC)PROMPT: Team OC Moon
Date: 2024-07-02 07:45 am (UTC)PROMPT: Team OC Moon
Date: 2024-07-02 07:48 am (UTC)PROMPT: Team OC Moon
Date: 2024-07-02 07:51 am (UTC)Re: FILL: Team OC Moon
Date: 2024-07-15 08:40 pm (UTC)Fandom: Disney
Type: Aesthetic, mood board
Link: https://www.tumblr.com/esteicy-blog/756102797959790592/gisellemeg-ancient-greece-aesthetic-for
PROMPT: Team OC Moon
Date: 2024-07-02 07:51 am (UTC)