BONUS ROUND 1: THROWBACK PROMPTS
May. 25th, 2025 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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yurishippingolympics
In this round, we'll be using prompts from last year's bonus rounds! You can either come up with a prompt based on the previous themes, fill a prompt from previous bonus rounds, or fill a prompt that's been posted this year!Here is the tag with all the previous bonus rounds!
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]
If you're filling from a 2023/2024 prompt, please link to their prompt in your post!
To participate, reply to this post!
PROMPT: TEAM RHYTHM GAMES
Date: 2025-05-26 02:47 pm (UTC)FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
Date: 2025-05-27 04:30 am (UTC)828 words
Betty usually walks Trucy to the bus stop after a performance. Either that, or her dad’s friend takes her home in his shiny sports car.
This time, though, Betty has to spend a bit of extra time cleaning up backstage. When she comes back to the lobby, where everyone’s mingling, she sees Trucy talking and laughing with a girl who’s brighter than the sun. More literally than figuratively, since she’s wearing a neon yellow suit jacket and skirt, but Trucy’s looking right at her and her eyes are shining and her smile is blinding. Trucy’s the sun to Betty, but darkness is finding its way into her chest at the thought that Trucy’s universe revolves around someone else.
She tells herself it’s fine. She disappears into the crowd before either of them even have the chance to see her and walks to the bus stop. She isn’t even with Trucy, for god’s sake. She knows that the yellow girl is her dorky coworker who helped defend her when she was accused of murder and it makes sense that they’re close and this train of thought isn’t helping at all. Trucy doesn’t show up while she’s waiting.
Betty invites Trucy for coffee one Saturday. Trucy texts back, sure! Betty’s heart soars for an instant. Then, her phone buzzes again. can i bring a friend? she’s visiting from out of town. And her heart comes crashing back down. She’d hoped it could just be the two of us, but she can’t find it in her to say no to Trucy.
The friend, Jinxie, is awkward and shy and orders a hot chocolate because her heart can’t handle coffee, but Betty can tell that Trucy adores her. There’s something between them that Betty can’t seem to get in on no matter how hard she tries. Betty makes a thoughtless comment about the ghosts that people think live at the Penrose and gets a warding charm in the face for it. She goes home feeling more frustrated that before.
She tells herself it’s fine. They’ve been friends forever, they’re bound to have inside jokes that she won’t get. Her chest aches at the thought.
Betty walks into Trucy’s dressing room before a show. Bonny’s already there. Her sister is normally soft-spoken, but she seems to gain confidence around Trucy. Right now, she’s apparently gained enough to braid flowers into Trucy’s hair.
“What are you doing?” Bonny shies away.
“Um…”
“Hi, Betty. Bonny was just helping me get ready. I wanted my costume to have floral touch, since the new act is spring-themed.”
“No one told me.”
Trucy slowly raises an eyebrow. “Why are my costuming choices any of your concern? And if you mean the theme, I would have thought your Easter Bunny getup was a dead giveaway.”
Betty can feel her face getting red. She shoots Bonny an icy glare, huffs out a “whatever”, and storms out to sulk in an empty corner until she’s cued on.
She doesn’t even try telling herself it’s fine this time.
After their next performance, Trucy is waiting in Betty’s dressing room with flowers. Betty’s heart skips a beat, and she reaches for them more hesitantly than she would like.
They’re not the roses that she and Trucy usually get from fans. They’re huge yellow bunches of smaller flowers. Actually, they’re pretty ugly, in her opinion, but she’ll drop dead before refusing a gift from Trucy.
She apparently senses Betty’s confusion. “Yellow hyacinths.”
A beat. Trucy is smiling, but her eyes are dead serious. “Do you know the meaning?”
“Why would I?”
“Jealousy.”
She swears Trucy’s eyes are boring holes through her. The space behind Betty’s eyes feels cold. For once, she doesn’t know what to say.
“I think you know why I gave you these.”
“What?”
“Come on, Betty, you make it so obvious. And I don’t think you’re just jealous of me as a performer.”
Fuck, how did she know? Betty’s whole job is lying to people. Then again, Trucy knows the tricks of the trade intimately and has a knack for seeing straight through people.
“Okay, fuck, I don’t like it when you spend time with other girls. They’re beneath you and it pisses me off that you waste your time with them. I’m the prettiest and coolest girl you know; but you ignore me to spend time with Bonny. Fucking Bonny?” She throws the flowers to the floor and crushes them under her heel.
Trucy actually laughs. “You’re not a good person, Betty.” Before she can come up with a scathing response, she continues. “I’m not, either. I’m just better at pretending.” She crosses her arms and tilts her head. “There’s a new pizza place down the street that I’ve been meaning to try. I’ll see you there at seven tomorrow. Wear something pretty, okay?” She turns on her heel with a swish of her cape. Betty’s left with some ugly flowers, a bruised ego, and the lingering promise of more.
FILL: TEAM YELLOW TANABE
From:FILL: Team RWBY
From:no subject
Date: 2025-05-26 03:30 pm (UTC)FILL: Team OCs
Date: 2025-05-27 12:48 pm (UTC)“Six hours for the demon to materialise?” she cried when she saw the words on the page. “Six hours? Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous! I could go watch a movie, come back, and I’d still need to spend several more hours just staring at the sigils!”
Actually… That wasn’t a half bad idea. Maybe she should’ve gone to the cinema while the spell was working. Was that disrespectful of her? Would the demon she summoned be aware that she was at the cinema? Only one way to find out.
Lenora did the ritual precisely, down to the letter. She lit the nine black candles, did the incantations, sprayed her own blood over the sigils, and the floor lit up underneath her. There was a definite connection to the underworld that she’d established. The spell was underway — but it wouldn’t be complete for the next six hours.
Prime time for her to go enjoy a movie.
“I’ll be back,” she whispered to the chalk drawings. “I’ll just step out for a little bit.”
—
When Lenora opened her bedroom door, she found everything absolutely ransacked, with an at least nine feet tall demon in the middle of the wreckage. But that couldn’t be. The six hours weren’t up yet, it had barely been three!
“You,” the demon said as soon as she opened the door. “You dare summon me?”
Thankfully, there was a line of salt in front of the threshold, and Lenora stayed on the demonless side of it. “You weren’t supposed to be summoned for at least another three hours,” she squeaked, ducking out of the way as the demon chucked a book at her.
“Where were you, human?” she growled. “I was summoned against my will, trapped in this ridiculously small room, and there was no one to even explain why. Where were you?”
Lenora took a careful step back from the door, getting ready to duck again. “I… was at the cinema,” she admitted awkwardly. The demon grabbed another book and threw it at her.
“Are you mocking me?” she thundered.
“No! No, that wasn’t my intention at all! Please, let’s just calm down. Isadora, right? I summoned you?”
“Yes,” the demon said, narrowing her eyes. “I am Isadora.”
“I didn’t mean to trap you in here or anything. Please don’t throw another book at me.”
“If you didn’t mean to trap me, break the line of salt and let me out.”
“Well… The thing is, I kind of don’t yet trust that you would be benevolent if I did that.”
Isadora scoffed. “You summoned a demon. I find it hard to believe you did that hoping for a benevolent ally.”
“I was at least hoping for an ally,” she tried.
The demon grabbed another book, but didn’t throw it yet. “Go on. Why do you need an ally?”
Was this the time she should’ve admitted that she’d summoned her because she was lonely? Lenora bit her lip nervously. “Well… You see…” This wasn’t at all how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to have the upper hand. She was supposed to be prepared for this encounter.
“What is it, human? What is it you seek? Revenge? World domination? I’ve heard it all, so out with it.”
“A partner,” she blurted out. The demon froze, so stunned that she didn’t even think to throw the book at her.
“A… what?”
“Being a dark mage gets lonely! No one ever wants to associate with you, because they’re afraid you’ll curse them. Come on, I just wanted someone to talk to! Is that so hard to believe?” Lenora asked. She was speaking quickly, trying to get it all off her chest before the demon had a chance to interrupt. “I’ve thought about it, and realised my best bet was to summon a demon. Demons are filled with black magic, so you’d have no reason to detest me.”
Isadora lowered the book. “You summoned me… to date?”
Lenora nodded, stepping closer. She was almost on the other side of the salt barrier. “Sort of.”
Suddenly, the demon burst out laughing, her tail swishing back and forth in what seemed like excitement. “I said I’ve heard it all, but I do believe that’s inaccurate. Well, human… it appears you have gotten yourself a date.”
PROMPT: TEAM MAGICAL GIRLS
Date: 2025-05-26 03:32 pm (UTC)"I'd recognise her even if she were ashes."
FILL: Team RWBY
Date: 2025-05-26 11:54 pm (UTC)(wasn't sure if it posted, if you see another version of this from me feel free to ignore it)
fandom: RWBY
ship: winter/cinder
content warnings: mild injury, no gore/graphic detail
-
There’s a temporary shelter in the bottom of the city. Winter has been ferrying people to and from it for the past six days following the collapse of the last of Vale’s infrastructure, using the old Glenn train systems to get supplies to refugees in the tunnels under the tunnels. And some tunnels under the tunnels under the tunnels.
She’s rather proud of it, really; she was the one who came up with the idea of evacuating Valeans under the city. It’s not going to be like the Mountain Glenn Incident — they have plans in place, they have fortified tunnels, they have Huntsmen with semblances designed to carve paths through rock. She spent days working on it with Whitley. She planned for every eventuality, she vetted Huntsmen by hand. And yet, and yet —
The makeshift hospital at the bottom of the shelter at the bottom of the city has just received a new intake of soldiers from the city. And Winter was off duty when she got the call.
Qrow meets her at the top of the first tier, hair slick with Grimm matter, face pale. “She was on the most recent transport,” he says before she can deck him, “I saw to that personally. She’s fine. Just like, six or seven life-threatening injuries, but she was awake and yelling at me the whole way.”
It doesn’t calm her down, exactly, but his hands are raised to placate her and he does look quite genuinely stressed the hell out, so Winter gives him a pass this time. She runs straight past him and down to the hospital tier, pausing exclusively to hear him shout, “And Weiss is fine, by the way!” after her.
There’s another Huntsman stationed at the entrance to the hospital, and she doesn’t even look twice at him as he runs by. Weiss is fine, she thinks, Weiss is fine, that’s good, that’s something, but where —
The Huntsman grabs her arm. Winter nearly throws him off before she gets a good look at him — Marrow, looking faintly shellshocked and definitely in need of a nap. She should really fix the shifts. That’s probably important.
“What?” she snaps, and he blinks at her.
“Um. You’re here for Cinder?”
“Yes. Where is she? No, nevermind, I’ll find her.”
Marrow drops the hand he had been shakily raising to point. “I dunno, Winter, she looked pretty roughed up —”
“I’d know her even if she were ashes,” Winter says. It’s meant to sound romantic and put-together; it comes out sounding more like a sob. Twenty minutes since she got the call that Cinder was too injured to continue and she’s already in tears. God, it’s a miracle someone hasn’t fired her yet. “Stay at your post. Don’t let Qrow follow me.”
Marrow glances up the path. “Uh.”
“Distract him, obviously! I’ll be back. Probably.”
“Right,” he says, shuffling from foot to foot. She leaves him to it.
-
“Didn’t know they made angels who looked that mad,” Cinder says dazedly. She’s half-slumped across the stretcher they have her on, doing her best not to actively resist while a medic bandages the entirety of her left side — her prosthetic must have been destroyed. That’ll be expensive to replace.
“I’m not mad,” Winter hears herself say.
“You look soooo mad. Don’t be mad at me. It isn’t my fault I’m dead.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose to keep herself from bursting into tears. “You’re not dead.”
“Nah, I got hit pretty good.”
Winter glances at the medic, who shrugs helplessly back at her. “Just how many painkillers do you have her on?”
“She won’t go under no matter how hard I try,” the medic says. “Short of hitting her over the head with a blunt instrument, there’s not much else I can do.”
“Pfft, I can hardly feel pain anymore.” Cinder waves her remaining hand dismissively, grinning up at Winter. Half of her face is covered in soot; her prosthetic eye is glitching and sparking, and it’s a miracle her hair hasn’t caught on fire yet. In sickness and in health, Winter supposes. “And like, my wife thinks scars are hot. I think. I dunno. I hope she isn’t dead yet. Do you think she’s dead yet?”
She tries to sit up, suddenly urgent. The medic forces her back down as gently as they can, but Cinder is nothing if not terrifyingly strong, so it falls to Winter to push her onto her back again. “You’re not dead,” she repeats, palm to her chest, “but you are annoying.”
Cinder’s face breaks into a wide grin. “We’re both dead! That’s awesome. Not awesome, actually, very bad, but I’ll take it. Hey, I missed you!”
Winter wants to kiss her. “I missed you too.”
FILL: TEAM OC
From:PROMPT: TEAM CAITVI
Date: 2025-05-26 03:39 pm (UTC)FILL: Team OCs
Date: 2025-05-27 01:28 pm (UTC)Princess Lenora gave no explanation, just grabbed Isadora by the arm and pulled her inside.
“Your Highness!” she whisper-yelled. “You know I can’t be caught in your chambers!”
“Look how beautiful the moon is from this window,” Princess Lenora said, dragging her all the way over to the other side of her bedchambers. “Don’t say anything. Just look for a second.”
Isadora had no choice but to comply. She stared out the window at the full moon, and sure enough, it was awe-inspiring. She slowly followed its light to the balcony, then into the room, to Princess Lenora’s face. She was also looking at the moon, seemingly oblivious of being watched. Isadora tore her eyes away and looked back at the moon, still silent.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Princess Lenora asked. “You can talk now.”
“It is, Your Highness,” she agreed blindly. “But you have to understand, I really can’t be in here—”
“I’m getting married,” she went on, and Isadora’s eyes widened. “The ceremony is on the day of the next full moon. A month from now, I will be shipped off, never to be seen in this castle again.”
“That can’t be,” Isadora breathed. “Your Highness—”
“I stupidly asked whether I was allowed to take a guard with me. A skilled knight who has been with me for the past decade or so. I’ve never seen my mother lose her temper like that before.”
There was a moment of silence before Isadora spoke again. “Do they know?”
Princess Lenora turned to her, the tears in her eyes catching the moonlight. “Why do you think they made such hasty arrangements to get me shipped off?”
Isadora wanted to reach out and wipe her tears away, but she held herself back. It was unbecoming of a simple servant to touch royalty like that. “Your Highness… I’m so sorry. I should’ve stayed away. Far, far away.”
“They would’ve married me off either way,” she said quietly. “Besides, I rather doubt I myself could’ve stayed away. Look at me now, forcing you into situations like this against your will.”
“My will is your will,” Isadora said gently.
“Loyal to the bitter end,” she said with a smile. “Do you think the moon ever misses the sun?”
Isadora looked back out the window, considering, trying to keep her own tears at bay. “Why would it? There are hundreds of stars to keep it company. It doesn’t need the sun.”
Princess Lenora hummed. “There certainly are. Though none of them shine as brightly. I suppose the moon just has to make due.”
Minutes passed in silence, with both of them looking at the moon and evaluating their options. There seemed to be no good outcome for them. Eventually, Isadora averted her eyes.
“I’ll be taking my leave, then,” she whispered. “I will do my best for the next month to protect you, as I have done for the past eleven years. I wish you a journey free from troubles.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the princess’ bedchambers. It was only when she was out in the hallway that she let her tears flow freely.
One month. She had one month to make the best of.
PROMPT: TEAM CAITVI
Date: 2025-05-26 03:42 pm (UTC)FILL: Team RWBY
Date: 2025-05-27 01:48 pm (UTC)fandom: RWBY
ship: winter/cinder + some background weiss/ruby
-
“I think she wants me dead,” Cinder says.
To her credit, Ruby doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Doesn’t Winter always want you dead? Like, all the time?”
“No, she —” She grabs her own phone and starts hunting for a picture. “She left me flowers. Like she broke into my apartment and left me flowers. And I looked them up, and —”
“... What am I meant to be looking at? She left you flowers, isn’t that a good thing?”
Cinder resists the urge to throw her phone across the room. She’s been getting better about not doing that recently, and her screen protector thanks her. “She left me orange lilies. I looked them up.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty, so what?”
“My rival left me flowers that symbolise hatred, Ruby.”
That gets her to look up. “Well, duh,” she says, frowning at Cinder, “she’s your rival.”
“I certainly would never have left you flowers when we were —”
“Fighting?”
“ — competing.”
Ruby blinks slowly. “So either she hates you or she’s in love with you?”
Cinder groans, burying her face in her palms. It’s fine; it’s not like she’s been in love with Winter Schnee since they were teenagers or anything, it’s not even that important, she shouldn’t have bothered to ask —
On the other side of the couch, Ruby starts fidgeting. “I mean, I’m dating her sister, aren’t I? I can always just check. Like, ask her if she knows how Winter feels. Surely that wouldn’t backfire on the both of us.”
Cinder sits bolt upright. “Yeah?”
-
“So you broke into her apartment,” Weiss says flatly.
Winter nods, trying not to look too enthusiastic. “I know it’s a little hypocritical, but this is my sworn rival, so.”
“I thought Qrow was your sworn rival.”
She shrugs. “Well, I actually dislike Qrow.”
“And… breaking into her apartment is how you’re showing you like Cinder.”
“Well, it sounds stupid when you say it like that!”
Weiss pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Since when am I the sensible one?”
“I’m still very sensible, I’ll have you know.”
FILL: TEAM RHYTHM GAMES
From:FILL: TEAM TOKUSATSU
From:PROMPT: TEAM OC
Date: 2025-05-26 03:57 pm (UTC)FILL: Team RWBY
Date: 2025-05-27 02:18 pm (UTC)fandom: RWBY
ship: cinder/neo
-
They don’t talk. It feels redundant, at a time like this — Neo watches Cinder pace silently while they wait for the thing in the sky to slow to a halt and knows anything she could possibly say would be pointless.
The world is probably going to end very soon. And it’s probably a little bit Neo’s fault. She doesn’t know what she should be feeling, but it’s certainly not this.
She works up the courage to tap Cinder on the shoulder eventually. It’s not that she doesn’t know what to say, she realises, it’s more than that — she’s kind of the smallest bit afraid. Which feels stupid to admit, but it’s true. She doesn’t know what happens next; she doesn’t know if Cinder is even going to bother upholding her half of the agreement, even though she’s told her Salem is the best way to do that. She could just kill her now and be done with it. Even though Neo would like to think she’s proven herself more than useful.
… Would Salem find her useful? After everything Cinder’s told her, Neo isn’t sure.
She reaches for her eventually, and Cinder snarls when Neo’s hand makes contact with her shoulder, fire sparking in her eyes. “What?”
Neo holds up her scroll. Cinder has been trying to learn sign language, but it’s not exactly easy with her Grimm arm. Which is horrifying, by the way, and Neo doesn’t like to look at it for too long, but that’s whatever. She can improvise. want me to steal an airship?
Her scowl flattens out. “Oh. Yes. I’ll — we need to lie low for a bit. I’ll figure something out.”
Neo’s eyebrows shoot up. do we? bc it seems like they’re too busy shooting each other to care
“Just go,” she says, waving a hand, “don’t draw attention to us.”
So Neo goes.
-
She flies back up to the rooftop in the ship. Cinder has destroyed most of the glass in the apartment — she found that out the hard way — and now she’s pacing the length of the roof with a sandwich and a bottle of water in hand. It’s startlingly domestic, given the circumstances.
Neo parks the ship and hops out, swinging her legs. i was right, it’s chaos out there. i heard gunshots outside the hangar.
Cinder makes a complicated face. “You went right into the building?”
“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Neo starts to sign, then remembers Cinder can’t understand her. She can’t really be bothered to type it all out on her scroll instead, so she just shrugs extravagantly and waits for Cinder to get it.
“Yes, well. You could have. You know. Not.”
She shrugs again. doesn’t matter now. r we going or not????
“Yeah, yeah,” Cinder mutters. There’s a small pause, a moment where she appears to contemplate something, and then she tosses her an apple from the pack at her feet. “Eat something and let’s go. I suspect she’ll send us out again right after we drop the lantern off.”
Something in her face twists. She doesn’t appear to like the idea very much. Neo doesn’t bother wondering what that’s about.
Re: FILL: TEAM OC
From:PROMPT: TEAM RHYTHM GAMES
Date: 2025-05-26 04:00 pm (UTC)FILL: TEAM HORROR
Date: 2025-05-30 02:08 pm (UTC)Ship: Samarina
Content warnings in the AO3 tags.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/65923771
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-26 05:13 pm (UTC)Red Shift 적색편이 (Drinking Boys and Girls Choir)
For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic (Paramore)
Kill (Jimmy Eat World)
Good Luck Babe (Chappell Roan)
PROMPT: TEAM TOKUSATSU
Date: 2025-05-26 07:18 pm (UTC)FILL: TEAM MECHA
Date: 2025-05-28 12:58 am (UTC)Technically slipstream is starscream’s clone in TFA soooo
PROMPT: TEAM TOKUSATSU
Date: 2025-05-26 07:27 pm (UTC)Prompt Fill: Team Mecha
Date: 2025-06-06 01:51 am (UTC)Fandom: Transformers original continuity (drawing on our ideas elsewhere and influenced by Transformers IDW, and a Transformers Cybertron homage)
Ships: Aileron/Arcee, Aileron/Arcee/Elita One, Greenlight/Aileron/Arcee/Lancer
Word count: 1,412 words
cw: references to the prison industrial complex and depiction of background pollution
other tags: trans solarpunk heck yeah
"You know Arcee, Aileron, it didn't escape my notice how serious Delegate Executive Elect Windblade and the Autobot Alliance are about relations with the United Vanguard when they appointed two of their most outspoken and experienced warrior-thinkers to be liasions to us, to me, when you could be off liberating peoples from Cybertron Imperials, Functionists, and Decepticons directly, building your… transformative pluralistic consensus autonomies." Pink and ruby red armored hulkingly sloped transformer Elita One mused from her deep gray throne of a lean chair in her large bookshelf filled study quarters, whose large window overlooked the megacomplex factory flames and fumes among blocky residential and amenity skyscrapers and government fortresses...
“So, since we’ve gotten to know each other so well, dear Camien advisors, since one of you has bested me by the sword and the other by aerial duel, give me your appeal at the end of a gun, for clearly I am outmatched here, save for the might of the loyal Unit-Vans.” Her head and upright jet wing flapping posture were strategically placed between us and the window, a cyan optic smirk between her crested and six pointed helm coronaed by fires of industry behind her. Where forests and meadows used to be much more interwoven with Iacon polity’s much shorter and architecturally varied residences, halls, and so many schools, galleries, and libraries, with only carefully managed and sectioned off industrial impact… and yes, I’m sure there are snipers with a bead on me, on the off-chance they can hit me before I deflect a shot with my blade.
I held back my snarl, and gently gave roundedly stout and also winged Aileron’s hand a squeeze while I smiled, thinking of her and our other four beloveds, including Greenlight and Lancer in deep cover as Elita’s guards, just outside the doors of her residence, in case anything went wrong. Love you all so much, miss sparring- and come to think of it, is Elita taking an intense sensory interest in Aileron and I?
Aileron caressed my palm in return with her fingers, tapped twice to give a signal for how to approach the situation, and her jet gray cylindrical rocket engine shoulders purred as she spoke. “Primier Elita,” she took a step forward, tugged me along strong enough to seem as if she had done more, had bucked me forward, which I leaned into the act of, a slight sigh, body akilter, wheels spun and optics wide with surprise before I awkwardly, shakedly composed myself. I was, despite myself, warm all over and in the spark. I do love you so much Aileron sweetspark, clearly, that’s always the trouble with seductive philosophy inducement team-ups, is that both the act and feelings can be quite strong especially since you’re not alone.
Elita’s briefly grinned and startled optics struggled to stay away from mine and my frame while she very clearly was trying to focus on Aileron, eventually settling on staring at the fore of domed helm while my beloved spoke, giving my hand another squeeze and tap of electric charge to say =Nice job darling.= “You know as well as we do that the peril of continuous revolution and notions of civilization rests in defining of the enemy, the other, the civilized. It is from that the horrendous great game of imperialists arises and puts our worlds in danger! I will say bluntly what my Conjunx has toiled, bled, sobbed, hoped for and made love and joy from for longer than either of us have been alive; we cannot offer a permanent, forever, perfect utopia. Such a thing does not exist. What we bring forth to you, with all our flaws and mindful learning and praxis with reason and emotion both-” she let go of my hand and strolled up one wide thigh in front of the other to Elita, tenderly turning one of her big hands over in her own mightily gentle grasp that I was so enamored with. “Are the policies, practices, and socioeconomic solidarity to best weather the eternal storm of variety and assemblage vs. hierarchy, of diversity against hatred. Not just the mediations, reconciliatons, or consensus gift economies, syndicalisms, and distributisms of old- but something new, something psycho-automatic, reifying, liberating,” she squeezed chuckling Elita’s hand, “anchoring. The Autobot Revolution is at it’s core, an aesthetic assemblage, technological and existential one, and thus are it’s principal additional tools to the autonomous thought of old. I think you’ll find this most appealing for the rural populations you lead, as we know you wish to restore and exceed educational rates of the Golden Age and the idiotic reactionary regimes after alike.”
“Ever the diplomat, saying so much about something without telling me quite what it is, though I have some knowledge of what you’re getting at, the soul reflectional trinkets you Autobots use amongst yourselves whether mechanoid, organic, lithoid, or otherwise. And how exactly will these concretely make a difference to a worker’s autocracy in desperate need of military industrial complex expansion against imperialist foes, when what you offer in full could easily be the very democratic weakness that ended the Golden Age, that your consensuses have not erred from?”
And yet, in her snickering glower, she still held Aileron’s hand, to which Aileron laughed.
“I am living proof of that, am I not?” I spoke at last, feeling a surge in me of the billions who had shaped my life in collective history I too was part of, of my kind and all kinds. “Through the ages from near the end of our Foundational early halcyon days to the Golden Age to The Fall, the Reforging, and now the Great Wars, not only have I endured and grown, but so have the ways of pluralistic autonomy. The one as many and many as one in all our variety, all with a voice and dignity, and rejection of a monopoly on regime types. Our polities built around and in communion with flora and fauna whether mechanoid like us or organic cohabitation with peoples who have joined us, we make no differentiation in geography, merely plan with gratitude to the cycle of life, much as you value recycling of the dead, something we share.” I sidled up to her, and grasped her chin. “Surely you must see that at least with free expression and alliance we both stand much to gain in working together, with voluntary reconciliation and rehabilitation producing more than the carceral state, with federated autonomy Camien distributism as a theater and anarchic trust is not far off from legal central command economy. We are the utopia your Unit-Vanguard seeks, reinforced to the core by consensual and communal psychosensory trust and campiness and joy alongside collective and individual reflection. Iterative practice and ideas flowing with no end.
At the words of Camien economics and Autobot aesthetic principles, Elita’s optics widened with softness, a hand grasped over her armored up spark, mouth a little loose.
“As a Prime, you’d maintain your prestige, your guidance and didactic inspiration, and military authority, and I am doubtless that in your alliance with us the people will gladly elect you to executive council as defensive head as well, for the galaxy knows of your honorable equitable conduct in military affairs. We offer you more power than you have, with even less dissent. Please, Elita, esteemed colleague in solidarity, join us.” I let go of her chin to carress her face and let go.”
“How could I refuse the torquey transfem and her partner who have led and fought millions for the times war was at your door and survived, and helped built a peace and legacy in touch with the land and aerospace industry that does it all through family and camraderie,” she kissed Aileron’s cheek and leamed up to mine in turn, and despite myself, my frame warmed with biolights flush to the touch. “You have a deal. I will convene the supreme secretariat and people’s congress to begin the process of changing to delegation.”
Then she stood among our grins and hugged us, and we embraced in turn. “I will likely face resistance from Deluge and Strika, who might even get help from Decepticons. Can I count on Autobot forces to aid us?”
“Windblade provided me with strategic plans for just such an occasion,” Aileron looked up at her. “We will be there for you all, en masse, and stay to build peace as long as we are invited. It’s what we do.”
PROMPT: Team Horror
Date: 2025-05-26 08:09 pm (UTC)FILL: TEAM SKYLANDERS
Date: 2025-05-28 01:00 pm (UTC)Pairing: Hex/Stealth Elf
Word count: 1101
Link to the completed piece here
FILL: TEAM SKYLANDERS
From:PROMPT: TEAM OC
Date: 2025-05-26 08:31 pm (UTC)Between my Teeth - Orla Gartland
Please Be Rude - Gigi Perez
Yru - Derivakat
hunter - Paris Paloma
PROMPT: TEAM JACKIESHAUNA
Date: 2025-05-26 09:01 pm (UTC)good luck, babe -- chappell roan
you first (re: remi wolf) -- paramore
STFU! -- rina sawayama
bitter -- fletcher, kito
FILL: TEAM TOKUSATSU
Date: 2025-05-26 09:04 pm (UTC)Fandom: Blue Period
Ship: Maki Kuwana/A Sculpture
Words: 561
When Maki first took up sculpture, her prep school instructor gave them a rather strange cautionary tale.
“Be careful when sculpting people. You will know that stone so intimately it’ll feel like a lover’s body in your hands, but no Galatea will spring forth to answer your love.”
It had sounded like a joke back then, like just a poetic musing into mythology to spark students’ imaginations, but now she gets it. She well and truly gets it.
The first assignment for first year Sculpture students at Tokyo University of the Arts this year is to craft a human figure in a material of one’s choice. Seemingly such a simple thing, something sculptors take for granted as “ah yes, the quintessential subject of sculpture”, and yet…
Marble was nobody’s first choice this time, for all that it is freely available. It seemed so trite, so cliché? But Maki’s first attempt with wax was a disaster: it felt way too much like greasy, sweaty flesh when molding it. Maybe she could use wax for something else another time, but for people? She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the creepiness of it.
So here she is, trying again with marble, the very flesh of Galatea from her teacher’s warning, which had become her inspiration in the concept for this piece. How would she craft the perfect person? The form inside her head conjured up by the word “human”?
For most people, their “human” Platonic ideal is a man, by virtue of centuries of conditioning. Maki does think of Man sometimes, but the true holder of the concept of Human in her head is neither man nor woman and yet it is both. The idol boys she loves only really have a claim to beauty beyond compare in the inherent androgyny of how they’re presented, the same as the otokoyaku from Takarazuka. The perfect human is like a perfect flower, male and female at the same time.
She had known, for a time, someone like this. Maki’s recollection of Yuka Ayukawa is vague — they had always been more Yatora’s friend than hers —, but she’s kept up with their work in the fashion landscape as more and more indie idol acts turn to them for costume commissions. It would probably rankle Yuka to be thought of as a perfect person, considering just how easily androgynous gods and goddesses are put upon pedestals only to be immediately discarded at the first show of complexity, but this only fuels Maki’s imagination in crafting her stone person.
To be human is to have flaws, to have pain, to be contradictory, to be misunderstood, to be misguided. So for every curve and plain of the marble Yuka in Maki’s head she’d chosen not to polish it too smoothly, a roughness to it typical of hard living, of late nights and early mornings, of too much left unsaid. And eventually it is something else than Yuka or idols or actresses, it truly is Maki’s Human, in all its naked glory.
Maybe it is what Maki’s soul yearns for, because the pull is unimaginable. Galatea is real, it is the ghost in every sculptor’s heart, seeking to free herself in every chip of marble or wood or wax.
The final touch of her first assignment becomes a pink lipstick mark on the lips of Galatea, who will never kiss back.
PROMPT: TEAM JACKIESHAUNA
Date: 2025-05-26 09:04 pm (UTC)paris of troy choosing the fairest between aphrodite, hera, and athena with a golden apple. possibly polyship, or twist ending
PROMPT: TEAM SKYLANDERS
Date: 2025-05-26 09:30 pm (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM HORROR
Date: 2025-05-26 09:48 pm (UTC)FILL: TEAM VISUAL NOVELS
Date: 2025-05-29 05:14 pm (UTC)I drew little vampire fangs on Sua but there isn't really any blood,,,
Based on the Sua in the official arts who has blue eyes (when the actual Sua has purple eyes)
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2025-05-26 11:04 pm (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2025-05-26 11:13 pm (UTC)PROMPT: TEAM OC
Date: 2025-05-26 11:21 pm (UTC)The Odyssey AU
PROMPT: TEAM OC
Date: 2025-05-26 11:21 pm (UTC)Sun goddess x Moon goddess
FILL: Team RWBY
Date: 2025-05-29 02:24 pm (UTC)fandom: RWBY
ship: winter/cinder
-
This is how it has always been:
Cinder lies cold and still in the earth and watches the moon. She raises a hand, and soft blue light runs over her fingers. When she wakes up, she will not remember this — a breeze running through her hair, brushing her face; a voice in her ear. The bleeding, pounding heart of the earth under her back will not give her back any of what it has taken from her, and she shivers in the chill.
This is how it has always been:
Cinder wakes up alone.
She spends most of her mornings hanging low in the sky, watching the ground spin away beneath her. It’s easy to get carried away up here, and she did, when no one knew her name. Altitude sickness, she supposes. That’s what she said when Emerald asked.
Today, though, something is different. The breeze has been picking up all morning, skittering over her feet as she wades through oceans and steps over hurricanes. Cinder runs a hand through it idly, struck by something she can’t quite remember.
She doesn’t mind the shift; she could use some novelty up here. She bears low over the Vacuan desert and watches humans scramble for shelter, drifting through sand dunes and over dust mines. She wonders if she’s being watched in the same way.
Well, no, she knows she’s being watched. She sees the figure sometimes, idling on the horizon, the faintest white outline of a pair of shoulders, a set jaw. She wishes she could talk to them. It’s been so long since she talked to anyone.
-
This is how it has always been:
Winter learns her name from the earth. Humans call her Artemis and Selene and hundreds of other names; the earth, her maker, has always called her Winter. She learns the sun’s name, too, in whispers over the empty forest, in the echoes she leaves behind.
Cinder doesn’t talk to me, the earth says, because I take things from her. Because I need her to survive, but I can’t give her anything back. The only thing I’ve ever done for her is make her feel — watched.
Does she like being watched? Winter asks. She reaches for the warmth Cinder leaves behind, a cold wind driving into the soil, and finds only remnants.
I don’t think so, the earth says wryly.
Does she mind when I watch her, then?
I wouldn’t count on it.
Winter ponders this. She catches glimpses of Cinder, sometimes; they chase each other around the sky, but they’ve never spoken properly. She wonders if she could pass a message along to her via the stars — they don’t talk to her, either, but they used to. She knows what it’s like to be watched.
Then, something new: an eclipse.
An eclipse, the earth tells her, is when the sun and the moon cross paths in the sky. Humans revere it. It’s a reminder of the end of the world.
Winter takes this in her stride. She thinks she could wait for millenia just to see Cinder’s face.
-
“Where do you go?” Cinder asks. “When you’re not doing this, I mean. Where do you rest?”
Winter stares, and stares, and stares. Cinder’s voice is new to her, and yet entirely familiar — she’s heard the echoes of her in the core of the earth, in the wind that runs over the tops of the trees, in thunderstorms. She wonders if it’s possible to be in love with another celestial body.
“I — the ice floes in Atlas,” she says hoarsely, and Cinder looks just as struck as she feels. “Or the lakes in Mistral.”
Cinder smiles, radiant. “Well then, I’ll be there.”
PROMPT: TEAM OC
Date: 2025-05-26 11:22 pm (UTC)"You came..."
"You called."
FILL: TEAM SKYLANDERS
Date: 2025-05-27 01:29 pm (UTC)Pairing: Ange Le Carre/Princess Charlotte
Word count: 1020
Link to the piece here.
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2025-05-26 11:25 pm (UTC)"It appears from a very ancient, but little known tradition, that the rabbit, or rather the hare; sacred to Ostara, was originally a bird, very possibly the swallow. The goddess finding her winged messenger was not fitted to endure all toils and climates, transformed her into a brisk, quick-footed little quadruped with long ears, a warm furry coat, and no tail to speak of, ready and able to summon belated spring from wherever she might be lingering, and to guide her safely, even among the icebergs of the frozen north. Thenceforward the hare, the emblem of fertility, was known as the friend and messenger of the spring goddess; and in memory of her former existence as a bird, the hare once a year, at Easter, lays the gaily colored eggs that are the symbol of the awakening of earth and the renewal of life."
- Ohio’s Fulton County Tribune for April 13, 1922
PROMPT: TEAM MECHA
Date: 2025-05-26 11:42 pm (UTC)Flower Language
I reign over a field of poppies with the butterflies as my court.
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2025-05-26 11:43 pm (UTC)"He [Gilgamesh] claims that Ishtar once loved the horse, but ultimately decreed a number of misfortunes for him [...]. Because Silili is only mentioned in passing, there is little to say of her character, other than she is a female divine figure closely associated with the horse."