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yurishippingolympics
For this round, we want to see prompts that are based on settings or locations! For your prompts, please provide a location or setting. It can be as specific or as abstract as you want, and can be in any medium you prefer!
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: Team Webcomics/Webtoons
Date: 2024-08-16 11:34 pm (UTC)FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-08-22 09:46 pm (UTC)“I told you we’d be close by,” Cinder grins, dumping her bag on Winter’s bed. Winter lurches forward a little, as though to adjust the duvet she inevitably fucked up, and halts once Cinder drops down next to it, clearly giving up. It’s cute, really.
“You did,” she says, defeated. “How you got into Atlas in the first place, I’ll never —”
Cinder kicks her ankle. Winter yelps, reeling away. “I told you, babe. Hard work. Who’s your roommate?”
She shrugs, scowling a little. “I don’t know yet. They haven’t shown up.”
“It’s been a week.”
“Exactly!”
Cinder wriggles back until her back is pressed against the wall, her shoulder slotted under the shelf at the end of Winter’s bed. Looking reluctant, Winter crawls in next to her, curling her arms around her sides. “Want to watch something?”
She looks down, then back at Cinder. “Watch what?”
“A show?”
Winter makes a face. “What show? What shows do you even watch?”
“Oh, you know,” Cinder says, waving a hand. “We’ll find something.”
She roots around in her backpack for her laptop, ignoring Winter’s expression as she peers over her shoulder. They have a lot of free time and nothing to do with it; it makes sense to spend it with Winter. “You ever seen She-Ra?”
“Excuse me?”
“Apparently not, then.” She extracts her laptop from between two folders she doesn’t need and boots up (pirated) Netflix. “How long have you got until your, like, dick-measuring society starts?”
Winter scowls at her. “Fencing, 6 pm. Seven hours.”
“Oh, perfect,” Cinder says, dumping the laptop on her crossed legs. “We’ve got loads of time.”