YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 4

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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 Webcomics/Webtoons

[static_prevails]

Ship: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus, The Locked Tomb
Words: 266
Notes: Part of a series of River bubble AUs.

——

“No quarter for witches,” Ortus spits. He’s brave enough, now that Harrow is bound and gagged. He had never dared to speak like this before. “Confess your sins and repent, and we’ll give you a merciful death. Persist in your wickedness, and you’ll be cleansed by fire.”

Harrow shakes her head, her voice muffled beyond recognition, and with a grimace Ortus releases the rough cloth binding her tongue.

“I confess that I am a sinner!” Harrow screams. “I am the basest of sinners, a crude beast atop the bones of two hundred graves! I have abused and oppressed all the days of my life, and whatever judgment is rendered against me for that, I confess that I deserve it! But of this thing you call ‘witchcraft,’ you know nothing! I have only ever practiced what the Kindly Lord has taught us. I have only ever used it for the purposes with which he tasked me. Judge me, but judge me righteously - let my other sins be laid at my feet, but relieve me of this burden!”

“That’s out of my hands,” Ortus replies. “The judge is coming now. Make your case to her, and hope that she will listen.”

He gestures into the torchlit night, and Harrow sees a figure approaching, tall, imposing, head bathed in orange as if she too is alight. Fear courses through Harrow’s veins - fear, and traces of hope, and shame, and something far more powerful whose name she doesn’t dare speak…

“Calm, it’s okay,” Abigail says from her place tied beside her. “You know this isn’t how it happens.”