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 MECHA
Date: 2025-05-26 11:49 pm (UTC)Dialogue
"Do you always flirt with people trying to arrest you?"
"Only when they're cute."
FILL: Team OCs
Date: 2025-05-27 01:48 pm (UTC)“Only when they’re cute,” Lenora said, grinning up at her from where her face was smushed up against the car. “Are you always this rough?”
“Only when they’re annoying. Up you go, and inside the car.”
The drive to the police station was filled with one-liners that must’ve made Lenora feel quite smart, but only elicited the occasional sigh from Isadora. Once they were inside the interrogation room, Lenora sat in the chair as comfortably as she could with her hands bound behind her. “So…” she began. “Am I in trouble?”
“Why were you at the jewellery store on the night of the fifth?”
“Oh, I really shouldn’t talk about that…”
“I’m very interested in hearing why,” Isadora said, leaning in. “What could you possibly have been doing there at eleven in the evening?”
Lenora leaned in as well, lowering her voice. “Well, if you must know… Which you shouldn’t, because this’ll really ruin the surprise… I was checking out their engagement rings,” she finished with a cheeky grin before leaning back against the back of the chair. “Can’t help it, I guess, cat’s out of the bag…”
Isadora pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Okay, let’s put it this way. There have been five jewellery store robberies, and so far, our only lead is that someone saw a suspiciously acting woman from their window across from one of the stores. When we asked for the security tapes, we found out that the suspicious woman was you. You’re our only link to all five robberies.”
Lenora whistled. “Well, that spells trouble for me, doesn’t it?”
“Are you willing to cooperate?”
“Well, you know what they say about snitches…”
“I don’t believe you’re the robber, Lenora. But I do believe you know where to find them.”
Lenora puckered her lips. “I’ll tell for a kiss.”
Isadora sighed again and stood up. “Alright, that’s enough of that. I’ll get Colin on your case.”
“Aw, don’t be like that! I was just joking!”
Isadora didn’t spare her another glance as she turned around and exited the interrogation room.
FILL: Team RWBY
From:PROMPT: TEAM MECHA
Date: 2025-05-26 11:52 pm (UTC)Historical Fiction
Resistance Spy/Overeager Aspiring Author
FILL: TEAM MECHA
Date: 2025-05-29 08:01 pm (UTC)Ship: Arcee/Butch!Hot Rod
Words: 1801
“This is your last chance to answer me and keep all your limbs intact; who are you working for?” Arcee glowers over the short orange bot tied to the chair in front of her. She's had the safety on her blaster the whole time, only using it for intimidation. Truth be told, she'd rather just hand them over to Elita to deal with. Elita always had more an appetite for violence than Arcee, and she really wants to go over her intel with the rest of the Wreckers data team. But if any member of her team finds out that this bot had followed her all the way back to the outskirts of the outer base without her awareness, they could label her as compromised and she'd be left to deal with the Decepticon government with no support. So she has to deal with this mess by herself or lose the comrades she had gotten to know only six months prior.
“No one, I swear!" That's the same response the orange bot has given for the last hour. It’s starting to grind on Arcee's gears, but she still has enough self restraint to not smack them with her blaster.
“Then why have you been following me? Don't think I haven't noticed!" Arcee hopes her bluff is believable and can cover up the shame from being tracked by such an amateur.
“I'm just a really big fan, honest! I've seen you and the other resistance gals fight against those 'Con soldiers in the dark of the night. I just wanted to talk with you and learn more.” The squirming from the bot seems to be less of an escape tactic and more of a nervous tic. That doesn’t make Arcee any less apprehensive.
“That is the worst cover story I've ever heard.”
“It's not a cover story! I know it sounds really really stupid. I just wanted to talk to you guys and get some perspective.”
"Do I look like I was forged yesterday?"
“I wasn't trying to imply anything like that! Look, I'm a writer with the Iacon Inquirer, you can check my badge in my pack.” The bot stretches their neck, pointing their nose to the brown box on the table behind Arcee. She reaches back and shuffles through it, eyes never losing sight of her captive. Her hand stops over a stiff card and she pulls it out to look.
“‘Hot Rod, Writing Intern, Iacon Inquirer.’” The picture on the card seems to match the visage of the bot in front of her. Though the bot in the picture looks more polished with a wider, cuter smile and a certain light in the eyes that’s not there in the orange captive. Arcee flips the card around and squints at the holographic seal of authenticity. There hasn’t been any evident tampering. Arcee would know, she tried to use a stolen reporter’s card to get into a press conference with Chancellor Starscream. But she couldn’t deal with the ink that spilled when she tried to remove the seal around the card and replace the photo.
Maybe they are telling the truth. She looks back at Hot Rod as they continue.
“No one wants to write anything that puts those 'Con scum in a bad light, they’re all scared of getting thrown in jail or worse. I'm on the knife's edge with my editor for suggesting anything too ‘radical’,” Arcee can almost picture their fingers curl at the word. “so I thought maybe I could write some kind of book or zine or something about your team. If other bots saw that there was a whole group standing up to the government, maybe it'd inspire them to do something rather than be afraid. I'd use aliases and cover faces and things like that if you want, but I think it could do a lot of good.” They give her a small hopeful smile and Arcee only scowls.
She recognizes them for what they are; a naive Iaconian dreamer. She’d seen their type before, spoilt punks that lost some of their privileges after the invasion and thought all they had to do was waltz into an allied cadre above ground, offer to give the resistance some ‘really good ideas’ and go back to life before the ‘Cons. Arcee had been privy to Greenlight grilling the pompous brats whenever they’d show up to the bakery front offering their support and suggestions. She takes in a deep breath, preparing to scare some common sense into this idiot.
“Lets say for even a minute I believed you. There’s a reason we fight at night and keep ourselves hidden. We don’t even use each other’s real names so that if we get captured, nothing gets back to the enemy. Do you know how absolutely stupid it would be to just publish our information out in the open? Do you realization how that compromises us?” She grabs the back of the chair and makes sure their face is level with hers. “And do you think for a second they wouldn’t come looking for you, trying to break you for the truth about our team? They will make you disappear for good. Your family and friends won’t mention your name out loud ever again. This isn’t a game, buddy. Its war.”
Hot Rod goes still and silent in sudden realization. There's tears in the corner of their eyes that scratch on Arcee’s spark casing. She’d never seen any one of those kids react the way they were right now. Perhaps she went too hard on the poor bot.
Curse my sensitive soul. Elita would smack her helm if she saw what she’s about to do. She holsters her blaster and crouches beside them.
“Look. I’ll let you go if you promise to go back to whatever fancy little apartment you live in, stay away from work for a few days and forget you ever saw anything. If you squeal, I’ll make sure whatever the ‘Cons could do to you look like a daydream.”
Hot Rod doesn’t look up at her, blue eyes fixed to the grimy basement floor. She moves to undo the chains, trying to dampen the awkward silence. Finally, the orange bot says something with a soft, shaky voice.
“I don’t have family. Not anymore, not since the ‘Cons moved into Nyon.”
“Oh. I’m…sorry.” Arcee wants to kick herself in the shin. She’d only heard about the horrors on the countryside, the firebombs, the captured survivors. Out off all Cybertronians, they’d suffered the worst of it. Of course somebot like Hot Rod would want to fight back. She fumbles awkwardly to remove the last of the bindings on their wrists, and doesn’t look up at them when they rub their sore joints.
“I…I just wanted to do something. I’m tired of going into work and pretending that everything is fine. I’m tired of having to ignore what they’ve done to us, what they’re doing to us. You’re the only bots doing anything about it.” Hot Rod locks eyes with her. “I saw you over at the Pavillions break heads and blow up that ugly Megatron statue. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, like ‘I gotta meet her and figure out how to help.’. I’m sorry to be a bother.” Hot Rod turns to the stairs and walks out.
“Wait!” Arcee calls out for them. “You could join us.”
“What?” They whip their head around and wipe the rest of their tears from their confusion stricken face.
“You could…be a part of my team. You’re clearly good at sneaking into places without being seen easilt. You have to have some writing chops to get hired at the Inquirer, and you’re either brave or stupid enough to want to throw your life away for this.”
“Is…is that supposed to be a compliment?” Hot Rod tilts their head and studies her. “It had the cadence of a compliment but that sounded kinda back handed.”
“I don’t know, do you think having a death wish is admirable?” Arcee folds her arms with a smirk. Hot Rod shrugs.
“I don’t really care about being admired. We’re never going to be safe if we just lay on our backs and let them walk over us. So if I die like I probably will anyway, I’d like it to count for something.”
They’ll fit right in. Arcee places a hand on their shoulder and pulls them closer.
“I’ll have to talk to the others to vet you, but if you tell them you’re from Nyon and about…y’know, maybe they’ll be nicer about it.”
“Okay, I will.”
“You’ll get a new name too. And you can’t tell them you followed me here. You have to say I…”Arcee hesitates, thinking about the most plausible lie to give to Greenlight. “Picked you up from a ‘radical’ book club.”
“Sure thing, Captain.” They give her a full salute and a wide beaming grin. Arcee can’t help but return the gesture, smiling for the first time in months. “So…when do I start?”
“I can take you to them at first light tomorrow. I can meet you at the market center and we’ll go from there.”
“Alright, will do!” The two climb up the stairs, then Hot Rod pauses. “I didn’t get your name. Or code name rather, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Arcee. But some of the others call me ‘Cee.” She offers her hand out and they shake it firmly
“Arcee.” Hot Rod stretches out the vowels, as if feeling them on their tongue. “It’s a cute name and it suits you.”
“How do you figure it does?”
“It’s the name of that ancient governess, Arcee Tetralight from Protohex, right? I read about her in history lessons at the University. She was firm and kind in her rule, and she looked really pretty in those old statues.” Hot Rod’s eyes are focused somewhere far away from the confines of the old dingy basement. There’s a hint of blue flush on their dark gray face.
“You think I’m pretty too?” Arcee teases. The flush spreads all across the expanse of Hot Rod’s face.
“Oh I didn’t mean to imply… and I’m not saying you aren’t…I mean I wasn’t trying to…look I’m so so sorry if that was way out of line of me, I don’t want to seem like a jerk I…” Arcee places a hand on the stammering bot’s shoulder and squeezes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hot Rod. Okay?”
“Uh huh, yup, sure thing! Good night, Arcee, ma’am, miss!” Hot Rod bolts up the stairs and out the back door of the abandoned building so impossibly fast, it takes a moment for Arcee’s processor to register. She laughs to herself giddily, realizing for the first time in a long time she wasn’t completely overcome in misery.
She’s really looking forward to seeing Hot Rod again.
PROMPT: TEAM MECHA
Date: 2025-05-26 11:54 pm (UTC)Competition
Enemies to Lovers baking show - their signature bakes
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-26 11:58 pm (UTC)"What did you want me to do?"
"Not that!"
FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2025-05-28 08:09 am (UTC)Ship: Clorinde x Escoffier
WC: 658
Clorinde regards Escoffier coolly as she takes a sip of her latte. The damp, gloomy, cramped atmosphere of Fleuve Cendre is worlds away from the sunlit Court of Fontaine above, and yet, despite her high class reputation, Escoffier appears surprisingly comfortable. It could be her familiarity with the influence of Spina di Rosula here, or it could just remind her of Meropide. The undercity may have poor air quality, but it still beats the fortress under the sea.
“So,” Clorinde says, swirling the contents of her mug. “The Maison Gardiennage accepted your official testimony about the lumiline poisoning incident, but off the record, I'm curious. Why would you pursue a dangerous suspect to an unknown, remote location by yourself, instead of notifying the authorities?”
Escoffier huffs and crosses her arms. “For the same reason I accepted a prison sentence for unknowingly using poisoned ingredients. My kitchen, my responsibility.”
Clorinde raises an eyebrow. “That's it?”
“Did you expect my answer to change depending on who's asking? It won't.” Escoffier's lip curls in scorn at the very suggestion. She's very prideful and headstrong, Clorinde notes, but refreshingly blunt in her honesty. “That's it. I wanted to resolve the situation myself.”
“Attempting vigilante justice could land you another sentence in Meropide,” Clorinde states mildly. She takes another sip, savoring the bitter espresso on her tongue, before adding, “Assaulting a criminal is still assault.”
“Unless you're a Champion Duelist,” Escoffier retorts.
A faint smile plays on Clorinde's lips. “Well, if you're brought up on charges after all, you're always welcome to duel me instead of facing the court. I wouldn't recommend it, though. I don't lose.”
The tense silence stretches between them. Escoffier's tail-like meka twitches behind her chair, betraying her annoyance. Finally her infamous temper gets the better of her, and she lets out a frustrated groan, ruffling her hair with both hands.
“I wasn't thinking, all right? I was sleep deprived, and I got swept up in my emotions,” Escoffier grumbles. With her hair drooping and her posture deflating, she looks smaller and more petulant, like a child sulking after being scolded. “I just wanted to talk things through. It didn't even occur to me that it could be dangerous. Or that I'd get a gun pulled on me.”
Clorinde's calm demeanor doesn't change. Desperate people do desperate things. She merely nods, then arranges her empty coffee mug on its saucer.
“I don't regret chasing her, though! Any later, and she would have gotten away,” Escoffier adds defensively. She straightens in her seat and meets Clorinde's gaze without flinching. “What did you want me to do?”
“Not that,” Clorinde replies. She rises from her seat, leaves a tip for the server underneath her cloth napkin, and dons her iconic hat. “I'm not going to stop you, though. Not my business.”
“Then why are you here, if not for business?” Escoffier asks pointblank. “Just to bother me? I have to get back to the restaurant to prep for dinner service, you know. My time is valuable.”
Clorinde regards Escoffier for a pensive moment, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. The corners of her eyes crease in amusement, though the ghost of a smile barely curves her mouth.
“I told you. I'm curious. I wanted to learn more about you,” Clorinde admits without an ounce of shame. “The best way to find the truth of a situation is to go directly to the people involved in it. I have a good measure of your character now, and I like what I found.”
“I... I see,” Escoffier blusters, a blush creeping up the back of her neck to dust her cheeks and ear tips a soft pink. Her meka-tail waves about, obviously pleased by flattery. “Does that mean... you intend to see me more often? Because of this curiosity of yours?”
Clorinde tips her hat politely. “Perhaps. Hopefully not in a duel, though. That may put a damper on our relationship.”
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-26 11:59 pm (UTC)Women working in factories during WWII (think Rosie the Riveter)
PROMPT: TEAM MECHA
Date: 2025-05-26 11:59 pm (UTC)Prompt Fusion: Mythology/Competition
Two warriors fight for Helen of Troy's hand (bonus marie brownie points if it ends up poly)
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:05 am (UTC)Women fighting for the Republicans during the Spanish Civil War (info in this article, and inspired by the iconic photo of Marina Ginestà)
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:06 am (UTC)Lovers to enemies + there was only one bed
Re: Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-31 02:58 pm (UTC)ship: winter/cinder
fandom: RWBY
-
“Well, this is the worst,” Cinder says. Winter is inclined to agree.
She can’t stop staring at the collar of bruises around Cinder’s throat. She didn’t realise the scar hadn’t faded; she wasn’t thinking when she grabbed her neck before. It wasn’t fair on her to assume. Debating whether to say something or not is probably the only thing keeping her from crumbling into despair right now.
The unending void spat them out somewhere around western Anima. She doesn’t really remember most of the walk to the village, nor the bandit camp. Cinder had to carry her. She says Winter was incoherent for a while — it’s what grief does to a person, she supposes — and then she registered that if they were alive, then so was Weiss, and apparently that was when she started making sense.
Winter doesn’t know if she believes anything Cinder is telling her. She doesn’t know if she’s going to kill her in her sleep. She can’t believe that she let her get this close, that she let her crawl into bed beside her and watch the door in case the Branwens try anything. Then again, if you’d asked her a few days ago she would have said she wanted this — them — back more than anything.
So here she is. Lying on her non-broken side, still in the brace, staring at Cinder’s neck and trying to figure out how to say that she still loves her.
Penny would hate her for that, she thinks. Winter definitely hates herself.
“Stop staring at me,” Cinder says roughly.
“... Why?”
“Why do I want you to stop staring at me?”
“No, I —” Winter clears her throat, scrubbing ineffectually at her face. She’s been crying for hours now. She didn’t know people could cry this much. “Why not just kill me?”
Cinder sighs, and it’s a very real sigh, the kind that says I wish you hadn’t said that. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
“Since when do you care about fair fights?”
Cinder’s jaw tenses. Winter entertains the thought of kissing along the spiderwebbing scars on her cheek, down the side of her face. Penny would be so, so disappointed in her, but at least she doesn’t have to think about desecrating Weiss’s memory. “I care when you’re involved.”
She wants to laugh. She wants to put a sword through her back. “What?” And, quieter, “I grabbed you by the throat.”
“Yeah, and you’re lucky I’m so forgiving.”
Winter stares at her for a moment, grasping for something to say. “I… Weiss is alive.”
“You said,” Cinder mutters, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Winter wonders if there are any muscles in that Grimm arm. She used to be obsessed with the wiry strength in Cinder’s arms, her shoulders. “Like fifty times. The whole way here, in fact.”
“What else did I say?”
The corner of her mouth Winter can see tightens. “‘I’ll kill you’, mostly.”
It startles her so much that she laughs a little. “I absolutely did not.”
“You did. A lot, actually.” A pause. “Do you… have any aura?”
“No,” Winter says. “It broke when the General started trying to kill me.”
Cinder huffs. “Are you serious? It’s been hours.”
“The only thing holding my spine together is this brace.”
Cinder pauses, and then she looks at her, gaze soft and unwavering. Winter almost forgot what it was like to be looked at like this, to be thoroughly seen. She missed it. “Yeah, well. I’m sorry about that.”
And here her jaw does actually drop. Cinder huffs again.
“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean to go so hard on you. But you did cut off my arm.”
“Oh, please. It grew back,” Winter hears herself say, playing along.
-
When she wakes up, Cinder is holding her.
Re: Prompt: Team OC
From:Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:07 am (UTC)"Wait, [character] was behind us. Where did they go?"
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:08 am (UTC)Body sharing + love triangle
OR
Body swap + love triangle
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:09 am (UTC)A Calvinball-style game invented by bored kids/teens
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:10 am (UTC)Vampires + Western
FILL: TEAM CAITVI
Date: 2025-06-02 03:41 am (UTC)Ship: Caitlyn/Vi
This was the third body this week. Sheriff Kiramman heaved a sigh as she watched the local ranger help lift the corpse into the undertaker’s wagon. Same circumstances as usual: a man nobody particularly knew or cared about; body found in the wee hours of the morning behind the saloon or the general store or the bank; eerily white body, with no bloody wounds except at two small openings in the side of their neck.
The Sheriff flipped the holster of her gun open and closed, a nervous tick she still hadn’t been able to get rid of no matter how many times she caught herself. She was biting her lip, watching the undertaker drive away, when Deputy Sheriff Nolen sidled up to her.
“The rangers are blocking off the crime scene till later in the morning,” said Maddie Nolen. The Sheriff nodded. She flicked her holster open and closed again. Lowering her voice, Maddie leaned in. “Sheriff… I can’t help thinkin’... the two marks on the neck…”
Sheriff Kiramman turned to her deputy with a scoff. “Nolen. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Nolen frowned. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But the rangers in the next town over say they’ve been findin’ bodies like this. And, you know, they’re thinkin’ bloodsuckers.”
Snorting a laugh, the Sheriff responded, “Since when have we bothered ourselves with what the rangers in Noxus think?” She took a step back and clapped Nolen on the shoulder. “Trust me. It’s probably just some knucklehead going town to town trying to terrorize everyone.. Undertaker’s been saying they’re probably stab wounds. Now.” Kiramman straightened. “Go ahead and go back to sleep. I’m going to check the perimeter one more time, and we can get to this investigation once the sun is up.”
“Are you sure you don’t need backup?”
“I’m sure.”
Once everyone had cleared the scene, Kiramman lazily walked around the side of the general store, down the little alley between it and the pharmacist’s building next door.
She felt her before she heard her.
“Evening, Sheriff,” said a voice from the darkness.
Kiramman smirked, turning to the back of the building.
“You’re getting messy, Violet,” she said to the darkness.
Vi, bane of Sheriff Kiramman’s existence for the past month and also the star of her most unseemingly dreams for the same amount of time, slinked out from the shadows. Her teeth flashed in the dim light from the back porch of the general store. She tipped her hat at the Sheriff before removing the hat completely.
“Just trying to keep your attention,” said Vi.
The Sheriff folded her arms. “My rangers are getting suspicious. People don’t want to send their kids to the schoolhouse anymore.”
Vi shrugged. “I’ll be gone soon enough.” She stepped even closer to the Sheriff until she could reach out and touch her. Stroking Sheriff Kiramman’s neck so, so lightly, she murmured, “The blood here is just… so good.”
Kiramman knew Vi could feel the way her pulse sped up at their closeness. Could probably hear it, too. Humiliating. But also.
“Be gone where?” she asked, willing her voice not to shake.
“I don’t know.” In a blink, Vi was in the Sheriff’s personal space. As a vampire, Vi did not need to breathe, but she did anyway, letting the cold breath drift over Sheriff Kiramman’s cheek. “Will you come with me, Caitlyn?”
Caitlyn Kiramman swallowed. “I…” Her throat was dry. “I can’t leave my town. They need me.”
Slowly, Vi nudged Caitlyn’s jaw with her nose. “More than I do?”
Legs suddenly weak, Caitlyn gripped Vi’s shoulders.
“Will you let me this time?” Vi whispered. “Is your answer yes yet?”
Caitlyn couldn’t respond.
“Say yes,” said Vi. “Say yes, and stay with me forever.”
It was reckless. Not sensible. Completely out of character for Sheriff Caitlyn Kiramman, who did everything by the book. Who was predictable, safe, never stepping out of line. But, maybe. Maybe.
“Yes,” she said.
“Hm?”
She cleared her throat. “I said yes. I’m ready to join you.”
Caitlyn felt Vi’s mouth stretch into a smile against her skin, before sharp canines sunk into her neck.
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:11 am (UTC)"This wasn't the distraction I had in mind."
FILL: Team RWBY
Date: 2025-05-30 03:05 pm (UTC)fandom: RWBY
ship: winter/cinder
-
Blake’s voice comes in over the radio, broken up by static and what sounds like gunfire: “We need — everyone out of that room so we — relic. Winter, can you — distraction — ?”
Winter has to fight not to react. Theo and Raven are debating hotly over the table in the centre of the room, Qrow is pacing and muttering to himself, and Cinder —
Cinder is staring at her, eyes wide. She must have heard Blake too; Winter can see the gears turning in her head, formulating a plan. The access hatch to the relic is directly under the table everyone is arguing over, meaning they’ll have to work to draw Theo and Raven away from it first before they can get them outside. It’ll be hard convincing them to move, unless there’s something to demand their attention specifically, which means —
Winter hasn’t exactly tried to form a summoning glyph in a different room before, but she has no real doubt that she can manage it. She closes her eyes and tries to visualise the corridor outside Theo’s office, the lockers, the elevator, the fine layers of dust lining the shelves. If she can fake a Grimm attack convincingly enough, she can draw them out into the courtyard and get RWBY into the vault. Her summons aren’t exactly the most Grimm-like, but if she uses gravity Dust she can maybe get them to be less identifiable.
She opens her eyes in time to see Cinder surge across the room and kiss her.
Winter’s mind goes blank. Cinder’s hands come up to cup the sides of her face and hold her closer, tangling in her hair, thumbs cradling her jaw. “Uh,” Qrow says, and she can’t bring herself to care. Cinder is kissing her. Cinder is kissing her.
She barely registers that they’re moving until Cinder turns her, driving her up against the table and pushing past Theo and Raven. The shock of it makes Winter gasp, and Cinder takes this as her cue to deepen the kiss. Her hands move from Winter’s face to cradle the small of her back, her hips, pressing them against each other; her lips are chapped and she tastes a little like woodsmoke, and Winter wonders why they’ve never done this before, how she could have possibly gone her entire life without this —
“Uh,” Qrow says again, “guys?”
Cinder responds by hooking her hands under Winter’s knees, which she absolutely didn’t know she could do, and lifting her up onto the table. Oh my god, Winter thinks faintly.
“This is what I get for working with a bunch of teenagers, I guess,” someone mutters. Any indignation Winter might have felt vanishes when Cinder bites down on her lip.
She’s distantly aware of movement — someone taking something off the table they’re making out on; feet shuffling awkwardly past them — and then a door slamming, a loud groan from the corridor outside. Cinder pulls away immediately, and Winter lets out a very undignified noise in response.
Cinder swallows thickly. “They’re gone.”
“You kissed me,” Winter says intelligently.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Ah.
She clears her throat, feeling — something complicated. “Not the distraction I had in mind, but I suppose it worked.”
Cinder nods, looking flushed. “God, Raven’s never going to respect me again.”
“Why not? You’re a good kisser.”
“Stop flirting with me, it sounds wrong. I’ll call RWBY; you can barely talk.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have —”
Cinder pauses halfway to radioing in, suddenly grinning. “Are you saying you didn’t want me to kiss you?”
Winter opens her mouth, thinks the better of it, and shuts it again. Cinder’s smile turns sharp.
Re: FILL: Team RWBY
From:FILL: TEAM CAITVI
From:Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:16 am (UTC)"Are you scared of her?"
"Sometimes."
FILL: Team RWBY
Date: 2025-05-31 02:31 pm (UTC)ship: winter/cinder
fandom: RWBY
content warnings: emotional manipulation (ironwood -> winter), canon-typical violence
-
There’s only so much watching Winter get singled out for training Cinder can take before she gets bored. Sitting with the rest of her team in the stands, she waits for Winter to get done mopping the floor in her third 3v1 round of the class and wonders when Ironwood will finally stop treating her like his pet project.
There are other talented young Atlesian elites, is the thing. There are dozens of other kids just like Winter. Cinder can’t see what makes her so special in that regard, and she can’t figure it out just from watching Ironwood watch her. It’s — unsettling.
Well, it doesn’t matter, because Winter has just driven the head of her last opponent into the mat and is kneeling on the small of his back, waiting for Ironwood to signal that the match is over. Cinder isn’t the cheering type, but she rises with the rest of their team as they start to applaud her, only —
The guy on the mat starts wriggling, trying to throw Winter off. He won’t succeed, of course; she has him pinned to firmly for that, but Ironwood hasn’t told her to stop. He’s just watching her watch him, watching the way her mouth opens slightly while she tries to figure out what to do, what she could possibly do to make him call the match. Cinder wants to vault over the railing and deck him in the face. She wants to set fire to the entire stadium.
“She’s going to pass out if he doesn’t tell her to stop,” Thea says nervously. It takes Cinder a while to realise that she’s talking about Winter’s aura levels. She’s going to burn Ironwood to ashes.
Thea grabs her shoulder. Cinder nearly burns her, too, but Winter has been showing her how to be less reactive recently. “Don’t,” she hisses, “just wait.”
Down in the arena, Winter’s jaw sets. Cinder doesn’t get a good look at what she does to the guy she’s pinning, but she can hear the dull thud his skull makes when it hits the mat again. She straightens, visibly furious, and he doesn’t follow her, but up on the screen his aura tracker ticks down to zero.
“He lost,” she says to Ironwood.
He smiles placidly. “Behind you.”
She whirls in time to catch the flat of someone else’s blade. Ironwood’s giving them time to recover, Cinder realises, and Winter isn’t even armed.
Winter twists the guy’s arm out from his side until it pops out of its socket. He crumples, whimpering, and she kicks him in the gut for good measure. His aura drops too — she kicks him twice more, and it flickers out into nothing. “Good,” Ironwood says.
-
“I’m going to kill him.”
“You’re not going to kill anyone,” Winter says pleasantly. “It was a training exercise, Cinder.”
He kept her fighting for three more matches after that. Her aura dropped; Ironwood wouldn’t let her retrieve her weapon from where it stuck in one of the hard-light barriers; if it weren’t for Cinder picking her up she wouldn’t have been able to limp to the infirmary. Two hours later and the nurse still isn’t done injecting her with aura boosters.
“He was — god, I’m actually — I can’t believe he would do that. I can’t believe he — that has to be illegal, right?’ Cinder whirls on Thea and Hazel, who are both staunchly refusing to make eye contact with them. “That has to be illegal. That was illegal, what he just did.”
“I did technically agree to all that,” Winter says unhelpfully.
“That’s not informed — does it matter?”
Hazel shifts uncomfortably. “It will in the board’s eyes. If we went to them about this they’d just brush it aside.”
“He’s the Headmaster,” Cinder says. She wants to throw up. She wants to lock Ironwood in his office with a pipe bomb.
Thea snorts, throwing a glance at Winter. “Are you ever scared of her.”
“Sometimes,” Winter hums. She stands up and catches Cinder’s wrist before she can even think to be indignant, smiling softly — and something about the way she looks at her makes Cinder pause.
“I agree with you,” she says, quiet, “he shouldn’t have done that. So I’m going to tell him, and hopefully he’ll listen.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Winter shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”
Cinder opens and closes her mouth, feeling more than a little sick. “I don’t like any of this.”
“Well, your concern is noted.”
“Don’t give me that,” she says, but submits to the kiss Winter places on the bridge of her nose.
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:17 am (UTC)"Don't lie to me, that was an 'I'm talking to a cute girl' giggle."
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:17 am (UTC)"You haven't even added me as a contact. Unbelievable."
FILL: TEAM VISUAL NOVELS
Date: 2025-05-27 04:09 am (UTC)Ship: Morgan/Reyes (of The Devil)
Words:
704
791 with parenticalsNote: click the red text to reveal more!
Content warning: Singular overt mention of murder and physical violence, smoking, swearing
--
It's barely been a month since that trial. After finally seeing through David's will and 'officially hiring' Spearmint, most of the cases I work have been rather boring. Plus,
I haven't had the time to go out
some dickhead made a mistake looking at me like that; besides, who doesn't like hearing the taught pluck of snapping vertebrae"Are you fucking for real?" Well, looks light tonight's not so boring after all.
"Detective Reyes! It's good to see you again," I greet Little Miss Sunshine with as much enthusiasm as my nicotine-starved self can muster. Reyes gives me a glare from her uncovered eye.
"Why the hell are you here?"
"I just finished up with a client earlier in this precinct, figured I need some peace and quiet to complete the final pieces of paperwork before I go back home."
"Couldn't you just work elsewhere?" She's clearly annoyed,
but I've got plenty of time to kill
and it's fun seeing this little shit seethe, might as well have some fun"I did say I want peace and quiet. Homicide's
just the perfect spot
for once the State is on my side, more budget cuts mean more fun late night outingsReyes scoffs. "Fine. I'm gonna go out and get some snacks. I need some fresh air, all I've been smelling this entire day is bullshit and now there's even more in this room." She glares at my lit cigarette in hand.
"Okay! Have fun, Detective Reyes." I watch her leave the room, not before she shoots me a
little scowl
fucking child. Well, I guess given her height it shouldn't be that surprising--
It's been 15 minutes. The nearest convenience store is a couple of steps away, how long does it take to get snacks? I look at my phone. No messages from anyone. Even Fran's been quiet for the past couple of weeks, and they're a serial 3am texter. Probably exam season. They did say they had to pass one class for their probation milestone. But knowing them, that probably means fudging their results on the school computers.
Reyes can handle herself
State-issued compact railgun holstered on her right. Easy grasp for a quick mist"...."
"...Who's this?"
"Hello, Detective Reyes! It's Counselor Morgan. How's the snack hunt goin--"
"--Delete this number."
"What? Why?"
"How the hell do you know my number I changed it since last time."
"Detective, you know I have access to court records, and your details are on some of my clients' documents--"
"--God, can you please delete this number. I'm busy buying snacks. Stupid fucking machine why won't you turn--"
"--you're taking quite a while to grab some snacks. Also,
you haven't even added me as a contact?"
Unbelievable."ARE YOU FOR-- okay, look. I'm almost done buying my snacks. Just, this damn thing isn't working."
"Do you need help? I can come over and kick the vending machine for you in case your leg length's giving you a bit of trouble."
"No I don't need your fucking help. I'm fine. Also it's not a vending machine."
"But I thought you said you were getting snacks--"
"STOP TALKING."
"...."
"...I'll get back soon, Counselor Morgan."
...And she hangs up.
--
"Here." A packet of cigarettes lands on top of my documents. Even got the correct brand. Guess Chuckles isn't that terrible maintaining basic
bed side manners.
Wait, is that why she was taking so long?"I didn't expect a gift, Detective. Thank you!"
"Don't get it twisted. Figured you needed a refill so I got 'em while getting food." Reyes opens a bag of corn chips and sets it on the desk after popping a single plain chip into her mouth. "You gonna be here for long?"
"No. I've finished all the paperwork for tonight. I'm gonna turn these over, head home and make some breakfast."
She stops munching on her food, giving me a weird look. "Didn't think you're the type to cook."
"Well, I usually don't; too lazy and tired after work. But Serra insists on having regular meals so I'm just following along."
"Huh, didn't think an android would be into eating food. Can she even eat food?"
I nod. "David gave her a taste of real human-grade food. Can't feed her robo-kibble, else she pouts." Reyes snorts, the briefest flash of a grin betraying her cool, detached demeanor. "Alright, I'm heading out. Say hello to Detective London for me."
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:18 am (UTC)"So you're just going to ignore the obvious sexual tension between the two of you?"
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:22 am (UTC)Letterbomb (Green Day)
Stockholm Syndrome (Muse)
Paper Wings (Rise Against)
I Will Steal You Back (Jimmy Eat World)
Famous Last Words (My Chemical Romance)
Prompt: Team OC
Date: 2025-05-27 12:26 am (UTC)American Teenager (Ethel Cain)
Mi Primer Amor (Piperrak)
555 (Jimmy Eat World)
It's up to you if you want to include this in your response, but the common thread for all three of these songs is alcoholism.
no subject
Date: 2025-05-27 12:42 am (UTC)A Pearl- Mitski
The Rockrose and the Thistle- The Amazing Devil
Autoclave- The Mountain Goats
In a Week- Hozier
PROMPT: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM
Date: 2025-05-27 02:37 am (UTC)this, too, can be yuri
PROMPT: TEAM MECHA
Date: 2025-05-27 02:42 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM TOKUSATSU
Date: 2025-05-27 03:01 am (UTC)Fandom: Kamen Rider Revice
Ship: Transfem Kagerou/Daiji Igarashi
Words: 836
Devils are awfully fickle creatures. They never say what they mean and never make decisions that make sense, but that’s because they’re shadows: the dark, ugly impulses of each given person given form and character. Incomplete emotions and maladaptations, without the tempering social conditioning that tells you not to.
But devils, too, can love.
There is no one an inner devil loves more than its host, though often there is also no one it hates more as well. Why wouldn’t a shadow hate the fetters of humanity, after all? Hate all the self-imposed restrictions its better self deems sacrosanct?
But all in all it remains faithful. A devil’s mischief is born of true concern, of a true drive to help. Even if its actions are misplaced, never let it be said that it did not try.
As much as a devil cannot live without its host, so the host will fall ill without their inner ésprit of malice to breathe life into their actions through the perpetual motion of dialectical thought negotiation. Without the love of a devil, one is but a hollow shell.
This Tsurara Igarashi knows far too well.
In her scrupulous suppression of all her bad thoughts and overbearing needs, her inner darkness had grown so strong as to overtake her body and see them to an end herself.
Because she cares. Even as she shut Tsurara in the depths of their shared mind, Kagerou cared. Imperfectly, roughly, awfully - like the devil she is.
She made her face her own feelings, communicate about them, reach new heights in who she could be because of that. Tsurara could never be Kamen Rider Live, could never have that faith in the power of her own conviction, if she didn’t have her flipside of Kamen Rider Evil laying their one heart bare.
But Tsurara had never acknowledged this then. To her, Kagerou had just been a nuisance she’d overcome at first, and a terrifying one at that. She hadn’t realised the affection in it. She wouldn’t for a long while.
And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Kagerou’s overwhelming love was impossible to read for a girl so kind and sweet, whose roughness had been harshly pruned away by herself in an attempt to restrain the thorny brambles of resentment that sprouted from being belittled and coddled at every turn. There was no fear like facing the crocus that grew from the shed foliage, the needly desert plant that thrived fed only by her dregs. How could something good come out of that?
But Kagerou does and always did love her, and she showed it at every turn; every time her sisters summoned her for something arbitrary, everytime Tsurara was in danger or consumed by despair. A warm meal without her overly sensitive restraints. Protection from schemes of overly involved scientists. Silly things, but still nice.
Somehow, Tsurara became paradoxically infatuated with the monster under the floorboards of her heart, even if she was still convinced that other self held nothing but contempt for her. In the throes of the excruciating pain the coming of the natural predator of all devils instilled in her corrupted body, all Tsurara could think of was that she wanted to continue living a life beside her darker half. She’d take any punishment, any belittlement, any disdain, just to be whole.
There was nothing Kagerou found more disgusting than that.
Only one of us can prevail, the ultimatum she gave her. Kill her own shadow or be killed by her.
There was no greater sorrow than that. Or so she thought, until she was victorious, until her darkness was truly gone and she stood a sanctified murderess of herself.
Alone, she was empty, starved, and empty shells are easy to manipulate, to break into tiny little pieces.
Without darkness, without the mist of summer haze, the light was blinding, searing. A greater evil laid in pure white than in charcoal grey.
It’s funny, one would say, that a certain charm lies in being angelic and traumatised. But those angels are not warrior angels, fighting like knight templars for an evil even their holy light is too weak to resist against. Will everyone be safe, if I just submit?
In the moment Kamen Rider Holy Live chooses to abandon herself, the voice comes from within, dyed in her tears.
Have I not always loved you?
Of course. Of course Kagerou had. The darkness so deeply entwined within her heart that it’d regrow from a single micron, because she could not exist without it.
If there’s no life in you without me, I can’t bear to see you decay.
So devils, too, can love. Even if their pride provokes them to extremes, it is only a passing fancy of a threat display, but their gestures of love, just as ephemeral, are much grander.
When the blue sky darkens to grey and white feathers become enmeshed with black, Kamen Rider Evilyty Live blooms into the sweet-scented crown of a moonlight cactus.
PROMPT: Team Ace Attorney
Date: 2025-05-27 03:10 am (UTC)Under the Milky Way - The Church
Still Ill - The Smiths
Disintegration - The Cure
I Don’t Smoke - Mitski
Pas de Lune, pt. I - Flooding
The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives
PROMPT: Team Ace Attorney
Date: 2025-05-27 03:12 am (UTC)- Knee Deep at ATP - Los Campesinos video | lyrics
- Out of Sight - The Beths video | lyrics
- Angela - Vivi Rincon video | lyrics