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

FILL: Team Anime/Manga

[hopelessgemini]

word count: 403

pairing: winter schnee/cinder fall

fandom: RWBY

characters: winter schnee, cinder fall

a/n: i have a longer au i'm writing based off of bbc ghosts lol

//

“This is the bathroom,” Winter says, sweeping her hand out in front of her. Cinder follows her indication with an unimpressed expression.

“Are you sure? It looks more like an empty closet.”

“What? Oh.” Winter glances between her and the door, eyebrows furrowing. It’s a good look on her; it makes her look cute, thoughtful. “It used to be the bathroom when I lived here. They made it into a closet when the last owners moved in.”

“Inconvenient,” Cinder says, trying her best not to sound belligerent. Her body is still warm, somewhere on these grounds. She could be back there, grieving her own loss of life at regular pace like a well-adjusted human, but Winter insisted.

Winter, who found her gasping and terrified and curled up in a ball next to the smoking wreck of her corpse. Winter, who has experienced about three emotions in the two hundred years since she died. Winter, who picked her up and took her to the house and told her it’s alright, you won’t be alone.

She can’t blame her, she supposes, even if it is a little bit fucking annoying.

It’s not like this is real life, anyway. She has to play a game, here, has to strategise. She can’t afford to lose Winter’s support. Not yet; not here.

“Inconvenient,” Winter agrees, floating up and down in time with the wind coming through the huge open windows in the hallway. “I’ve been here a long time. They keep changing things.”

“As homeowners do.” Cinder leans half past, half through her, peering into the closet. There’s a fine layer of dust on the floor. She takes some small satisfaction in knowing that she can’t disturb it. “How long have you been here?”

“A century and a half.”

Cinder jolts, stumbling a little. “What?”

Winter tilts her head to the side, like she doesn’t understand the question. “I died in 1872.” She taps a spot over the bullet hole in her chest. “It was a very famous murder case at the time. My sister was furious. Anyway, is there anywhere else in the house that you haven’t seen yet.”

She doesn’t even know what she was doing on the grounds, and she’s still stuck here for the rest of time. Cinder swallows thickly. “I think I want to go to bed.”

“That’s fair,” Winter says, “it’s been a long day for you. I’ll find you a bedroom.”