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 Magical Girls
Date: 2025-05-26 06:20 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM VISUAL NOVELS
Date: 2025-05-26 07:17 am (UTC)Tenochtitlan lies, wounded, in the ruins of her beloved city. Around her, war continues to rage. The Ocelomeh hold their final stand against ORT, but Tenochtitlan knows the beast will soon kill them swift. If she, their god, their deity, failed against ORT…
But there is still hope yet. Chaldea has made it this far, and if that nosey little wretch of a caster put her hope in Proper Human History’s final master, it only seems fair to give them the benefit of the doubt. The master that took down Daybit… there is something there. Something Tenochtitlan doesn't mind believing in.
She twitches against the cockpit’s shattered widow, curling into herself. Keeping her form is growing harder, keeping Tenochtitlan (that is to say, the robot and not the girl) summoned more so. But she would be fool to miss this spectacle. Her people, fighting for their lives against an invader. She couldn’t do anything as a city, but now… she had helped, in some way. All thanks to-
Something warm curls into her hair, and Tenochtitlan presses into it.
“You silly little god. How are you still alive?”
Tenochtitlan coughs up blood halfway through her laughter. The warmth moves to her face, and through her haze she can barely make out the hand cupping her cheek. In the cold night, golden bangles clink. Tenochtitlan does not think she has ever been so happy to see someone.
“I don’t want to hear that from you.”
Above her, Nitocris laughs. It’s warm in the cold, cruel night. “I held on, just like you. Aren’t we just such stubborn creatures?”
There is stubborn, and there is coming back from the dead. Or perhaps Chaldea’s master had simply resummoned her. Tenochtitlan is not in the mood for questioning.
With uncharacteristic gentleness, Nitocris begins to wipe Tenochtitlan’s face of blood and soot. She doesn’t speak of Tenochtitlan’s failure to protect Nahui Mictlan, nor her role in all this. When Nitocris notices her staring, she smiles kindly.
“Don’t you worry,” Nitocris whispers amongst the burning houses and cries of dying Ocelomeh, pulling Tenochtitlan into her. She buries her face into Tenochtitlan’s hair, gently stroking her back through her armor. It is a kind embrace, far kinder than she deserves. “It’ll all be over soon.”
Tenochtitlan closes her eyes. Perhaps this is a hallucination brought upon by blood loss. But Nitocris is so warm, and Tenochtitlan is too weak to resist as she is. And as she returns to the Throne of Heroes, she wonders if she will be cursed with this woman’s presence in her next life.
(Here’s hoping.)
FILL: Team OCs
Date: 2025-05-26 10:37 am (UTC)“I’m scared,” she said quietly. It was clear that she was in pain. Her arm that was already rotten and blackened, yet still attached to her, was causing her unimaginable anguish. “I want this arm to be removed. I want the pain to be over. But I’m so scared of them actually doing it.”
Isadora hummed. “I understand. But you’ll be asleep for the whole thing, you won’t feel anything.”
“I’m scared of not waking up.”
“You will. You’re strong.”
“I’m… I’m not as strong as I try to show myself to be.”
Isadora leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’re stronger than you believe yourself to be. You’re going to be just fine. I promise.”
“Will I be discarded once my arm is chopped off?” she asked, her eyes filled with tears and worry. “I— I won’t be useful to them anymore.”
“If they kick you out, I’ll go with you.”
“You can’t. You have to stay. This is the only place that’s even relatively safe at this point.”
“I don’t care about safety, I care about you. I care about being with you. What use is my life if I have to spend it miserably alone?”
Lenora didn’t respond for a while. Her eyes were darting between Isadora’s face and her own bad arm. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll stay, no matter what happens to me.”
“I can’t.”
“I won’t go into surgery until you promise.”
Isadora fell silent. Lenora needed this surgery, but the doctors needed her consent to perform it. She didn’t want to lie so blatantly, but if this was the cost, then so be it. “Okay. I promise.”
Lenora didn’t seem to catch on. She let out a relieved sigh, then winced as her arm was jostled. “Good. You need to be safe.”
Doctors and nurses flooded into the room just as she said that, bringing the consent form on a clipboard. “Lenora? Are you ready for us to begin the operation?” The leading doctor asked.
Lenora took the clipboard and set it on her thigh, signing it with her remaining good hand. “I’m ready.”
“I’ll be right here, waiting for you,” Isadora said before they could’ve wheeled her away. Lenora smiled at her one last time.
“Just remember your promise, and I’ll be okay.”
FILL: Team RWBY
Date: 2025-05-29 03:43 pm (UTC)fandom: RWBY
ship: winter/cinder
content warnings: injury, non-graphic
-
Cinder is dreaming, she thinks. She must be, if Winter is here.
She spits out a mouthful of blood. Winter grimaces — expected — and reaches down to brush her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she says roughly, “it’ll all be over soon.”
Cinder wants to sneer at her, wants to ask her if she’s planning to put her down like a dog. There’s too much blood in her mouth, in her lungs. She coughs instead, and Winter’s grimace deepens into a scowl.
“You could try not to get blood all over my shirt,” she mutters.
Cinder glares at her. Kind of hard when I’m dying over here, she wants to say. Winter rolls her eyes.
“I know, I know. Will you pass out if I pick you up?”
Cinder squints at her. This time, she manages to talk, a hollow, raspy “What?”
If Winter is relieved, she doesn’t show it. “I’m going to carry you back. You need medical care. Will you pass out if I try to move you?”
“You — still —”
She rolls her eyes, even though her mouth has tightened at the corners and she looks like she’d really rather not answer. “Yes, I still love you, I still care about you, all of that. And I don’t want you to die. So. Can I pick you up?”
“... Yes?”
“Good,” she says conversationally, “because the other option was dragging you back by your ankles.”
FILL: TEAM OC
Date: 2025-05-31 12:32 pm (UTC)Warnings: Violence, watching your partner kill someone and being into it
Mavourneen watches the scene play out from her hiding place. Spectre, as ever, all pride and competence, prowling towards its downed opponent. The woman on the ground, blood soaking through her tunic, tries to scramble away from it, but her body betrays her, and she cannot move fast enough. Spectre grabs her, and its touch is almost gentle. Mavourneen thinks of those same hands on her skin, calloused hands holding her so gently, and she wonders what the woman below her is feeling. Pure fear? Or is there something else bubbling away?
When it speaks, Spectre’s voice is steady and calm, “Don’t you worry, it’ll all be over soon.”
She wishes she could risk leaning out to watch the expression on the woman’s face, as Spectre’s words sink in. It doesn’t wait long before its sword flashes out and its victim falls limp in its arms.
After the fight is over, and the battle won, Spectre slips into her tent. She shifts to the side, making room for it. It’s a tight fit, it always is, but they make it work. She falls asleep with its cold body pressed to hers, one arm around it, and she is happier than she has been in years.