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for this bonus round, the theme is competition! pretty open-ended, prompts that are about some sort of competition! this round will end on july 31st!

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
! To participate, reply to this Dreamwidth post!

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]
 




PROMPT : TEAM OCS - MOON

Date: 2024-07-17 04:06 am (UTC)
sapphicam: (Default)
From: [personal profile] sapphicam

Family feud AU

FILL: Team Anime/Manga

Date: 2024-07-17 10:08 pm (UTC)
hopelessgemini: image of catra, a short-haired latina person with cat ears, turning slightly to face the viewer and smiling, transposed over the he/him lesbian flag. (Default)
From: [personal profile] hopelessgemini

word count:385

pairing: miorine rembran/suletta mercury

fandom: mobile suit gundam: the witch from mercury

//

“There you are,” Miorine says, propping her hands on her hips, “I was starting to think I’d lost track of you.”

Suletta grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. Her other hand rests on the hilt of her sword, which doesn’t go unnoticed — she watches Miorine’s eyes flick down, then up again, like she’s cataloguing, calculating — “Sorry. I was busy.”

“I bet you were,” Miorine hums. She crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Are we gonna do this or what?”

Right. She’s always been very down to business Suletta swallows and tries not to look nervous, which generally tends to be a futile endeavour. “Do we have to?”

“We do,” she confirms. And that’s it, isn’t it? They do. It’s a cycle, a pattern: as long as there are Rembrans and Samayas on the face of the Earth they’ll always have to do this. There isn’t any peace for them, any future.

Suletta tilts her head up, taking Miorine in as best as she can: her eyes, her smirk, the way her hair pools from where it’s been shoved into her collar. Why she doesn’t just tie it up, she’ll never know — she thinks about saying the same thing to Miorine when they were ten and twelve and eighteen and twenty and learning how to spar, feeling each other out. “Alright,” she says, “but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Miorine’s lips press into a thin line. She uncurls her arms, settles her fingers on the hilt of her own sword. Anesidoria, Suletta remembers. Naming her weapons always made her feel stronger, safer. “We have to,” she says, and, “I’m sorry. I think in another life, I would have liked to marry you.”

“I would have too,” Suletta says quietly. “I would have offered.”

“Not if I offered first,” Miorine grins. She draws her sword, silver fluid in the cool afternoon light, and takes up a fighting stance. “Maybe it would have made our parents come to their senses.”

Suletta draws her sword too, just so they’re on even ground. “Probably,” she agrees — although it’s hard to imagine Prospera and Delling getting along at all. “Or maybe they’d just be the peaceful kind of spiteful.”

“The peaceful kind of spiteful,” Miorine echoes, smiling wistfully, “that sounds nice.”

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