YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 4

[a1c0bb]

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

Comments

PROMPT: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front

[eloquentalias]

Medieval nuns

FILL: Team Anime/Manga

[hopelessgemini]

word count: 315

pairing: winter schnee/cinder fall

fandom: RWBY

characters: winter schnee, cinder fall, emerald sustrai

a/n: so sorry to all the medieval nuns. i just invented a bunch of stuff

//

“What are you doing?”

Cinder lifts the bucket in her hand. “Taking this to the nunnery. You know, like a good g-dly peasant.”

Emerald makes an unenthused face. “That’s dull. Why?”

“I’ve suddenly decided I want to go to heaven,” she says blithely, turning back around. “And if I get there before noon then they’ll look away when I drag Winter around the back of the building.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Sister Winter? Really?”

Cinder grins at her over her shoulder. Emerald’s eyes bore into her back the whole way up to the top of the hill. Winter has a reputation for being particularly hard-headed, and as such she tends to get away with the most bullshit in the village below. Including making out with Cinder around the back of the abbey.

She finds her as she usually does, kneeling on the floor in her room with her hands held up in prayer, dressed — characteristically — in men’s clothes. Cinder pauses in the doorway and smiles, leaning against the frame. She much prefers waiting for Winter to notice her, if only to see the way her entire body reacts to her presence.

Today, it happens like this: Winter’s eyes open, fixed on the edge of her bed, and a smile flickers at the corner of her mouth. Cinder watches her eagerly, bucket of produce propped on her hip, and waits for her to turn.

“Hello,” she says, “whisking me away again?”

“Only if you’ll put a good word in for me.” Cinder gestures to the cross mounted on her wall. Winter snorts.

“Please. We’re both going to hell.”

“Not with that attitude,” she grins. “I’ll take this to the kitchens and meet you outside?”

Her eyes flick to Cinder in the doorway, shoulders loosening. “Outside,” she agrees, and, softer, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Cinder smiles. She closes the door behind her as she leaves.

FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

[miyukitty]

Fandom: PMMD
Pairing: Madoka (Madeline) x Homura (Honoré)
WC: 605

“Ma... do...?”

“I'm Abbess Madeline,” the nun says by way of polite introduction. Though her unseen hair is tucked fully beneath her veil, her concerned eyes are a distinctive hue of soft, dusky rose, muted by the dimmed light of the lantern she carries. The color is achingly familiar. “And you are?”

“...Honoré.”

A heavy silence settles over the pair of them like a dense fog. She doesn't mean to sound so curt, but that name has never felt quite right on her tongue. Madeline... That doesn't sound entirely correct either, but whatever word she was about to utter in its place has seemingly vanished into thin air.

“I have no relatives to take me in, no prospect of marriage, and nowhere else to go,” Honoré clarifies, bowing her head to humble herself. “This is surely the will of the divine. I was drawn here by a dream in which I saw your face.”

The stone walls rise forbiddingly high, blocking Honoré's view of the interior of the convent. A white owl perched high atop the ramparts lets out an eerie shriek, eyes glittering as red as blood.

Madeline looks vaguely troubled, her brow pinching as her gaze lingers oddly on Honoré's dark braids, but she shakes off the spell first.

“This is no dream you find yourself in. Our way of life is not a luxurious one, and we house many sisters already. Between worship, we grow our own crops, sew our own clothes, care for the infirm... Can you work for your keep?”

Honoré swallows hard as Madeline clasps her hands. Madeline's palms are weathered and callused from years of laboring for the sake of others. By contrast, Honoré's are soft and unbroken. She must brace herself for the inevitable rejection.

“My heart is weak and my constitution poor, Abbess. I shall collapse if I'm sent to the fields or the laundries,” Honoré confesses bitterly. “I cannot.”

Cold dread trickles down her spine. They both shiver when the white owl overhead wings off into the shadows.

“Do you know your letters?” Madeline, somewhat unexpectedly, does not let go of her hands. “Can you read or write?”

“...Some,” Honoré admits. Hope flutters painfully in her chest, sharp as any blade. “The church that raised us bade us copy the scriptures. I have those memorized.”

“Our scriptorium could always use a younger pair of hands,” Madeline says, countenance softening into a gentle smile. “Copying manuscripts will strain the eyesight and the wrists to their limits, but it is easy on the heart.”

“I'll do anything,” Honoré beseeches. “Please.”

“You need only follow me inside, Sister,” Madeline says soothingly, lacing their fingers together. Neither of them is willing to give up the single point of contact, of warmth, between them. Madeline's searching gaze sweeps over her again, seeking something she does not locate. “It is strange, but... I feel as though I've seen you before as well. Your arrival must indeed be providence. Pray tell: what was the nature of the vision you were given of me?”

Honoré swallows hard, stumbling as Madeline leads her past the walls and into the safe haven of the convent.

I saw us laying on a green hilltop together, holding hands, just like this. I saw us as lovers in another lifetime, one where we were blessed to grow up together. And I watched you leave me every night, until your absence haunted me throughout my waking hours, until I could bear my yearning for you in solitude no longer, and I was compelled to find you at any cost.

“I saw you die in my arms,” Honoré simply says.

FILL: Team Rosemary

[cosmicabsurdism]

oc/oc

FILL: Team Webcomics/Webtoons

[static_prevails]

Ship: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus, The Locked Tomb
Words: 178
Notes: Part of a series of River bubble AUs.

——

The chatter of the nuns ceases as the Reverend Mother enters the room.

“Well, is there word of the prospective novice?”

“Yes, Abbess,” Sister Abigail responds. “She is working the fields diligently as we speak, awaiting our decision.”

“I see,” the Reverend Mother says. “And what say you: is she prepared to receive the vows and commit her life to our order?”

“She is strong, but she lacks discipline,” offers Sister Marta.

“She has a kind heart, but a sharp tongue,” adds Sister Dulcinea.

“She is a child - not unlike yourself, I must add, Mother Harrow,” Sister Abigail says, bowing as she does so. “She has virtues yet to cultivate, but her soil is fertile, and the seeds are already sowed. What better place to water and prune them than our convent?”

“You speak well,” the Reverend Mother says. “I wish to speak to her myself, before I come to a decision.”

“As well you should,” Sister Abigail responds, pressing a hand gently to her shoulder, “but pray keep in mind: is this truly how it happens?”