BONUS ROUND 5 - COLORS

[scallioncreamcheesebagel]

In this round, we want to see color prompts! You can upload a photo, you can describe a color, you can name a color, you can even post a hexcode!

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]

to participate, reply to this post!

Comments

PROMPT: TEAM RWBY

[alphajaye071]

There's a black mark the first place your soulmate touches you, and when they touch you there it bursts into color

FILL: Team RWBY

[hopelessgemini]

fandom: RWBY

ship: winter/cinder

-

Winter’s soulmark is a handprint around her wrist. Once, during a particularly desperate week, she tries figuring out how to search for the thumbprint over the pulse point, and discovers that whoever her soulmate is, they don’t even legally exist.

This is — well, any information is good, but it’s kind of disheartening. Winter has grown up absorbing as much about soulmates as she can, and in her head she has this image of something like whirlwind romance, something like destiny. She wants to fall in love.

She gives up on this after she turns 15. She stopped being able to trick herself into thinking the world would be kind to her, and that was the catalyst.

And then on her first day at Atlas Academy a girl tears past her, trailing smoke and laughing, and grabs onto her wrist to pull her out of the way of the teachers following behind, and Winter’s hand lights up with pain.

She barely makes it down the hallway she’s being pulled down. It feels like her entire body is being set on fire; it feels like her skin is peeling off her arm, and the girl doesn’t seem to notice her making absurd little pained noises and stumbling over her own feet. They aren’t being followed, it seems, and the rational part of Winter’s brain is screaming about getting wrapped up in delinquent activity on her first day, but the rest of her is in too much pain to really —

The girl pulls them into an unused classroom and slams the door shut behind them. “Sorry,” she says, not sounding very apologetic at all, “you were going to get steamrolled by a professor.”

“So you dragged me into your bullshit,” Winter starts to say, and has to cut herself off to double over. Under her sleeve, the handprint on her arm is blooming, turning kaleidoscopic.

The girl grins at her, holding up the hand that was on her wrist. Her skin is spinning with colours too, a collection of marks along her palm and her fingers. “I had a feeling.”