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yurishippingolympics
For this bonus round, we're looking for high fantasy prompts & fills!
For reference, high fantasy is defined by being set in an alternative, fictional ("secondary") world, rather than the "real" or "primary" world.
This round will close on August 14th!
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: Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
Date: 2024-08-02 02:58 am (UTC)FILL: Team OC Sun
Date: 2024-08-03 01:09 am (UTC)-
It was one hour before the Coronation tournament.
Leona managed to slip away from the Eos elders. They became too preoccupied with their petty gossip and accusations to notice her. She found herself speed walking to the preparation tends. She looked around for a familiar round crest, and approached the opening of the tent.
She peaked her head inside and saw Diana standing alone. Gold and white armor hung loosely from her body. The metal clanged loudly as Diana moved. The queen was reaching behind her back in awkward angles, an attempt to fasten the armor by herself. After her stunt in the preliminary tournament, most of the kingdom of Eos had abandoned Diana. Elders, family, attendants. Leona was all she had left.
“Diana.”
She paused and turned towards the source of the sound. The two locked eyes, not daring to move a muscle. After an eternity, or perhaps only a few minutes, Diana cleared her throat.
“Leona.”
Leona bit her lip. “Let me help you.”
Diana closed her eyes and nodded silently. Leona fully entered the tent and moved behind Diana. She reached around and grabbed her chest plate. She pressed the plate to Diana’s body, then moved her hands to her back. She pulled on leather straps and slipped them through metal fasteners.
“How does that feel?” Leona asked.
“Good,” Diana replied, “Sturdy.”
Leona tucked the leather straps into the folds of the plate, making the armor look sleek and ornate. She reached down to fasten the leg armor, but instead, her arms wrapped around Diana’s waist. Leona’s fingers felt cold against the metal, but she could still feel the rise and fall of Diana’s abdomen as she breathed.
Diana leaned back into Leona’s embrace. Leona placed her chin on Diana’s shoulder and sighed. They stood there in silence, and eventually their breathing fell into a dichotomic pattern. Diana’s exhale matched Leona’s inhale. Opposites, complimenting each other perfectly.
“Please be careful,” Leona whispered. Her lips brushed against the crook of Diana’s neck.
Diana shivered under Leona’s breath. “I will,” she whispered back.
Leona pressed two small kisses to Diana’s shoulder. She slowly unwrapped her arms from Diana’s torso, and returned to fastening her armor.
Leona was on the last bit of the suit when a head popped into the tent. It was one of the officials for the tournament. “All queens to their designated Coronation entrances in five minutes.”
Leona grabbed the final pieces of the armor, the gauntlets, from the ground.
Diana shook her head, “I can put those on myself.”
“Hush. Let me do this for you.”
Diana opened her mouth to protest, but Leona’s glare quickly shut her up. She grasped Diana’s hand in her own, and ran her thumb across Diana’s knuckles. She slipped on the gauntlets and stepped back.
Leona glanced over Diana’s body. “Do you have your blade?”
Diana walked to the back of the tent and grabbed her long curved blade from the corner. She grasped the handle and pressed the tip to the ground.
Leona exhaled. “Okay. Good luck.”
Diana smiled at her, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you.”
Diana left the tent, and Leona followed. The queen jogged to her Coronation entrance. Leona stood at the entrance to the tent and watched her lover disappear into the stadium. She sat on her knees, closed her eyes, and muttered a prayer to the gods above.
FILL: Team Kittyuri
Date: 2024-08-03 07:58 pm (UTC)Word Count: 431
Sato takes a seat on the bench and stares up at the poster written into the wall with magic.
YUGURE YUHI V. UTATANE YASUMI, Final Round of The Magical Gladiator Tournament. She notices the way her name is written in font two sizes smaller, the colors of her letters a little more faded. The odds are stacked against her before it’s even begun and she swallows past the bitter taste in her mouth.
She faced Yugure Yuhi once at the beginning of the year in a practice match. It was a stomp of course, she got absolutely smoked with nothing but a line of bruises and an embarrassing record to show for it. And isn’t that a testament to how their futures are destined to play out?
She’s a ticking time bomb who’s almost reached the end of her fuse. Three years dedicated to this craft and little to show for it–if she doesn’t make a splash with this match, her career is set to end here.
Yugure Yuhi, on the other hand, is a newborn star. She crashed into this industry less than a year ago and she’s swept up twice as many victories as Sato has in her lifetime.
Kagisaki’s watching her brood, counting out the seconds with her pointer finger.
“You’re getting caught up in your own head again,” she says, pulling her wand out from her pocket.
“I know,” Sato mumbles. She tries to ease the tension that’s settled on her limbs with a laugh but it comes out strangled and garbled instead.
“You’re a good fighter,” Kagisaki says, patting her head and it’s the closest she’ll get to encouragement from her. “You’re a good kid. Keep your head up and trust your practice.”
Sato nods and Kagisaki hands her wand over to her. She takes it, studying the chips and patterns carved into the handle.
She bound it with her blood–it was the best way to get it to stick. Sato stares at three years of hard work, of blood, sweat and tears twisted into the wood and wonders if it can hold a candle against raw talent.
What does it matter if it can–she has no choice but to give it everything she has. To feed her time and passion and life and soul into this sport and hopes that it burns bright enough to leave a mark.
Sato spells her hair up out of her face and pushes herself up off the bench.
“Give ‘em hell out there,” Kagisaki says, holding her fist up into the air.
She grins and spells the doors wide open.