yurishippingolympics | YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024

Honeyflower (love sweet and secret) and White Lilac (youthful innocence)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Sacred Stones
Pairing: L'Arachel x Eirika
WC: 549

“L'Arachel, please try to hold still for me,” Eirika murmurs behind her, gentle but firm. Her fingers weave through L'Arachel's wavy hair to separate it into even lengths, then twist and fold the strands under and over each other, deftly working them into forming braids. “I have no desire to pull your hair by accident.”

“Why, I strive to be the very portrait of refinement, elegance, and patience at all times,” L'Arachel announces too loudly, gesticulating in the air for emphasis. Her knee jiggles as she squirms in her seat, positively brimming with restless energy. “You need not remind me of virtues I already extol!”

“Well, it's just...” Eirika sighs, pausing to select her words with care. “You're still moving quite a bit, even after I asked you the first time.”

Spots of flustered color redden L'Arachel's cheeks. Her lips press into a tight line as she demurely chooses to hold back her reply. She can't exactly help but fidget when her dearest Eirika is leaning against her back like that, touching her hair, radiating such glorious warmth and femininity, one beauty tending to another...

What a peerless picture of perfect princesses they must portray, paired like two peas in a pod!

As she wiggles with barely restrained excitement, L'Arachel reflects on one of her earliest childhood memories, of a red-faced Dozla's clumsy, callused hands tugging a comb through her hair. How gruff the man's repeated apologies were, how gallantly he offered to find her a female attendant to replace him – and how vehemently L'Arachel refused to allow anyone but Dozla the honor of affixing her daily pigtails!

She can't recall her late mother ever having assisted with the styling of her hair before that, but surely she must have, as surely L'Arachel's stubbornness was some juvenile product of her grief and seeking comfort in the familiar. Therefore, it must be inspirational to acknowledge how mature and wise and heroic the L'Arachel of present-day has become by comparison – and how soothing the intimate act of allowing one's hair to be handled is for her personally.

After all, L'Arachel could hardly entrust something as important as her appearance to just anyone!

“I haven't had much practice at this, since I wear my own hair loose,” Eirika admits modestly. She ties a red ribbon into a bow to secure the pleat, then allows her hands to drop to her lap. “Is it acceptable, L'Arachel? I can brush it out again if you dislike it.”

L'Arachel raises her looking glass to inspect Eirika's neat handiwork. It's not her usual style, but oh, how her heart soars at the sight of wearing braids personally woven by Eirika's delicate hand! She solemnly vows in that moment to commission one of the Rausten court painters to preserve this monumental occasion on canvas later. It shall make for a glorious centerpiece at her future wedding to this woman.

“I do not dislike it,” L'Arachel proclaims. She touches her mouth with a pensive finger as she turns the glass to admire herself from every angle, quite taken with the result. “In fact, I would even graciously permit you to continue practicing on me... if that would please you, Eirika.”

“Perhaps I shall, then!” Eirika brightens, visibly relieved by L'Arachel's reaction. “It would be my pleasure.”

Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

mikukilledtheradiostar - 2024-06-22 17:38 (UTC) - Expand

"Dreams are sweet, until they're not
Men are kind, until they aren't
Flowers bloom, until they rot, and fall apart"
-Flowers, Hadestown

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts."
-Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5

"The seasons change, they rearrange,
And no one seems to find it strange;
And pretty soon
The flowers bloom,
The tulips always change their tune"

- Tulip, Dropics

in victorian flower language, red tulips represented passion. giving a person a red tulip was a declaration of one's love.

Pairing: Kitty Song Covey/Yuri Han (XO Kitty)

artwork

Poppy - consolation, sleep, forgetfulness, consolation of sleep, fantastic extravagance, eternal sleep, oblivion, imagination

Maybe something tragic or reminiscent of Sleeping Beauty?

Fandom: Fire Emblem Sacred Stones
Pairing: L'Arachel x Eirika
WC: 456

Dawn breaks gentle over the rolling foothills of who-knows-where, spilling warm colors into the lightening sky to paint the still-slumbering war camp in hues of pastel. Once the sun crests the horizon, morning role call and breakfast will begin, and their march will resume.

In the meantime, their motley herd of horses and pegasi graze together, tails swishing, whilst the free-roaming wyverns fly in at their leisure from their nocturnal hunt. Birds trill to each other and flit about from tent to tent, searching determinedly for spilt grains or hardtack. L'Arachel listens to the silly little things pecking and singing without any heed to whose beauty sleep they might disturb with their antics, and scowls at the firmly closed tent flap.

She dreamt she was in her childhood bedroom, safe in Rausten, until reality proved otherwise. Nature can be so inconsiderate.

On the bedroll beside hers, Eirika stirs slightly, long hair spilled over her pillow, lips parted on some unspoken syllable. The poor dear has been tossing and turning about for hours. No doubt her dreams have been less than pleasant, but at this rate, she's going to make herself ill. Exhaustion and stress have hollowed dark circles beneath her closed eyes, and her complexion has gone as pallid as that white face powder that the courtiers have been clamoring for of late.

Without thinking, L'Arachel reaches across the modest space between their bedrolls, and takes Eirika's small hand within her own.

She sought only to offer some small measure of comfort, empathetic and benevolent holy woman that she is. As soon as L'Arachel realizes what she's done, though, flustered heat rushes to flood her cheeks.

They're holding hands. Bare hands. They don't even have gloves on!

She hurriedly closes her eyes lest Eirika catch her awake, though she can do nothing for the wild hammering of her heart against her ribs. Hypocrite though she is, L'Arachel also doesn't let go, as she is loath to lose a moment of that precious, rarified contact. They've never held hands before. She's sure her face is positively aflame, imagining Eirika accepting her hand willingly.

(And, oh – L'Arachel might as well rescind her vows of purity to Saint Latona now, before the shame of corruption forces her to retire from her profession entirely!)

With a soft sigh, Eirika's fingers curl, squeezing her hand.

L'Arachel bravely cracks one eye open for a peek.

Her dearest companion still appears to be fast asleep. L'Arachel's shoulders slump in relief. She fires off a swift prayer for forgiveness – never hurts to throw in a little extra piety, like Uncle Mansel says – and silently promises to leave some seed out for the songbirds in thanks for waking her up just a few minutes early.

Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

mikukilledtheradiostar - 2024-06-22 00:45 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

miyukitty - 2024-06-22 08:06 (UTC) - Expand

yellow chrysanthemums, can be love spurned or grief or longevity depending on the culture, combined with yellow hyacinths for jealousy and hyssop for sacrifice

Tragic yuri bouquet :)

A truly albino plant is unable to photosynthesise to feed itself as it lacks any pigmentation that can interact with the sun in this manner. The only way for one to survive is through parasitising other plants. Even then, occasionally, in dense brush, you find a bright white vine flourishing among many other lively greens, who have plenty to spare.

Pairing: Azu/Tono Akane (Kamen Rider: Zero One)
Words: 743
Notes: warning for halfassed religious symbolism (to stay consistent with kamen rider zero one: realxtime ofc)

-

Once, this church had been glorious. The hallowed halls were filled to the brim with devoted worshippers in its many pews, God’s beautiful light shining down at them through large stained glass windows. It had been a place of worship, of beauty and grace and love. Once, Akane had trailed her hand across the aged wood, turned to her fiancé and said “I want to be married here.”

Now? She isn’t quite sure if it could be considered a church anymore. It had stopped resembling one long ago, and the acts performed within its halls are anything but holy. The once well-maintained pews are knocked over, the stained glass shattered and the remnants spread across the floor. Almost everywhere she looks, red Chrysanthemums creep up from the floorboards like pools of blood. This building hasn’t seen the light of day in a long, long time. Akane feels like she hasn’t either.

But it’s okay. This church will no longer be needed when her paradise comes about. She will keep her promise to Rihito. Together, in their beautiful world, they will be wed. Together, forever, as God has willed it.

Standing alone in the broken remains, Akane smiles to herself. Soon, her plan will come to fruition. 24 hours more. All she needs is a single day, and their Garden of Eden will come to life. It’s so close she can almost taste it, can just imagine Rihito’s reaction. Her lover, her beautiful Adam. They will be together soon.

She brings her hand up to her mouth, kissing her ring lovingly. Yes, so very soon. She will slip the matching pair onto his finger, as they are wed in the eyes of God. His Children, untainted by the world outside the garden.

No more death and destruction, no more snakes and their thinly veiled threats of depravity and promises of sin. There, in their beautiful and eternal paradise, there shall be no more temptation.

Hearing footsteps approach, Akane closes her eyes. Truly, speak of the devil. It’s best not to make eye contact with the beast. Like Medusa, it will strike without hesitation if it senses your fear. She goes still.

A hand slides up her back, cold like a corpse.

The smell of apple scented conditioner reaches her. Rihito’s favourite.

Two bright, red eyes stare back at her. Akane is sure she closed hers- when had they opened?

“My beloved Ark-sama,” The snake croons as it loosely wraps around her, “My beautiful bride, my lovely Eve. How is our paradise coming along?”

Ark-sama is not a name she aligns with, nor one she ever responds to. She is not this creature’s bride, nor its Eve. Such a frightening beast will not be allowed in their holy garden under any circumstances. God shall strike it dead.

One more day. Soon, so very soon, she will be free of this parasite. Rihito mustn't worry.

“One day more.” She repeats. The beast presses close at her words, its maw against her neck. One wrong word and it will bite down without hesitation. Akane leans into it, unthinkingly. “Our paradise is close at hand. Hiden will not be able to stop it.”

It smiles. “How very wonderful. You are so very perfect, my Eve. I knew I was right to choose you.”

It’s barely praise. Such empty platitudes from an empty creature. She laps them up like a starving dog, nevertheless. One mustn't bite the hand that feeds them.

“...Thank you.”

It wraps tighter. Long strands of black and red hair pool over her shoulders, stark against her white wedding dress and mantle. What a disgusting creature, trying to taint her so. Like a poisonous frog, the red streaks are a warning sign. Akane should have known from the very beginning.

She feels the hand creep up higher, clasping the back of her neck. The grip is not cruel, but inexperienced. This creature knows how to strike, but not how to caress. How amusing. How foul.

“Ark-sama deems that his most faithful servants must be rewarded. Is that what you would like, my beloved Eve?”

This Ark must be the devil, for he has sent his most loyal sinner to torment her. This mechanical, unfeeling beast manages to look coy as it tempts her into sin. With dead eyes, it leans close.

“...Yes, my love.”

As the serpent slips its tongue into her mouth, Akane thinks of Rihito waiting for her faithfully.

Just one more day.

Edited 2024-07-01 13:51 (UTC)

Plants that look like other plants with vastly different messages/ effects.
Ex. queen ann's lace looks very similar to hemlock (as they are in the same family) but while one symbolizes safety and security, the other is extremely poisonous and thus usually symbolizes a similarly toxic sentiment.

Ship: bold of you to assume I know (Sasha & Not!Sasha & Melanie, the Magnus Archives)
Notes: This may not be in character but unfortunately I am really starting to enjoy writing notSasha. She is so fun and evil. This is sort of a sequel to this fic

“Sasha James” smiled to herself as she watched the One Who Saw storm out of the office.

It had gone badly, then. Well of course it had — “Sasha” rather prided herself on the illusions she could play on human minds. They were always so eager to turn on each other, given just a little push. It was easier than air to make them recategorize their friends into enemies and loved ones into strangers. What were any of them but masks, anyway? What did they even have that they could call their own?

Far less than they thought, usually. And ripping off the last of their selves was always so satisfying.

“Melanie!” Sasha was still screaming beside her. ”Melanie! I’m right here! Look at me! Can’t you see—“

Melanie whipped around then, and Sasha froze. “Sasha” kept typing away, despite the plain black computer screen before her. Appearances were important in her time trapped here.

“You,” Melanie said.

She wasn’t looking in Sasha’s direction. She had locked eyes with “Sasha” instead.

“Sasha” let herself savor the little groan of despair Sasha let out beside her before she stopped typing. She closed and opened her eyes rapidly. “Is something wrong? I can show you the exit if you’d like.”

“Was there — someone else before you?” Melanie tapped her foot against the ground. Jittering. The Tim human was looking in their direction but not interfering for now; good. “Someone also called Sasha.”

Sasha, beside her: “l’m right here. I’m right…”

“I don’t think so,” “Sasha” said blandly over her. She vibrated her vocal cords in a casual laugh. “You’d think they’d tell me if they did!”

“Right.” Melanie’s eyes narrowed. There was fear expressed in her facial muscles, yes, but more than that — determination. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. It was something she shared with the Eye’s human, “Sasha” noted with vague disgust.

“Well if that’s all—“

“No, hang on,” Melanie said, leaning forward. “Would you happen to know anything about pubs?”

“What?”

“Pubs,” Melanie said. “You know. Drinking establishments.”

“I know they exist,” “Sasha” said, bemused. She had never been the type of monster to make people run away screaming, but the spark of fear in Melanie’s eyes was a little too dim for her liking. “Is something wrong, Miss King? Did you perhaps have a little too much to drink?”

“No!” Melanie’s voice rose. “I’m, I’m talking about ghosts. About pubs. That are haunted.”

“You remembered,” Sasha whispered. “Sasha” thankfully managed to stop herself from looking over at her; nevertheless the joy in her voice was clear. “It’s been months…”

“I see,” “Sasha” said, carefully projecting an air of accidental condescension. “Ghosts. Alcohol. Hallucinations are a serious matter, you know.”

”You’re being an asshole!” Melanie slammed her hands on Sasha’s desk. “I’m not hallucinating! I know you’re different! So if this is some, some kind of sick prank, I’ll tell… I’ll…”

She trailed off then. Sasha had drifted behind Melanie to brush a hand over her shoulders, features distorted in sorrow. Melanie didn’t turn in her direction.

“You don’t have anyone, do you,” Sasha said to her unhearing audience. Genuine concern. “Oh, Melanie.”

This tableau was objectively hilarious, “Sasha” thought. Shame she didn’t have anyone to watch it with. If the delivery drivers were here she could probably have a good laugh with them — most annoying corpse-in-the-making failing to comfort the only human who could see she was gone. Sitcom material.

But she didn’t feel like laughing. She felt… angry?

Huh?

It was Sasha again, “Sasha” thought to herself. She’d just gotten too used to seeing the human cycle through Pain and Fear and Temporary Amusement At Doppelgänger’s Expense and More Pain that watching her interact with any other human was jarring. Most of her victims passed out and unraveled long before they met the One Who Saw Them.

She was just annoyed, again, at how Sasha was still sticking around. Cockroach. That was all.

This was the only reason she said to Melanie, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Melanie and Sasha chorused.

“I should have taken you seriously,” “Sasha” said, widening her eyes slightly to make her look more sincere. “You’ve clearly had a long day. What was it about haunted pubs?”

Sasha was giving her a blatantly suspicious look. Melanie, on the other hand, sagged a little.

“I’m sorry too,” she muttered. “I’ve just been so angry lately and — look, forget it. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” “Sasha” said. “I want to help. Tell you what, I can take you to a nearby pub later if you want. It will be a treat from me.”

Sasha’s look changed into the “no one conjugates that sentence that way” look. At least she’d stopped looking at Melanie.

“Are you serious?” Melanie asked.

“Of course.” And — she’d have to tell “Tom” to call the scheme off, ugh, but Melanie seemed more fun to mess with anyway — “It can be a date. If you like.”

“O-oh. I, uh. Right. You mean the platonic meaning of date.”

“If you like,” “Sasha” repeated, and let the smirk settle into her muscles.

Sasha, it appeared, had finally caught on. “No — no, Melanie, don’t —“

“Right, well,” Melanie said very fast. She looked more uncomfortable than anything; oh well, “Sasha” hadn’t really planned to seduce her or anything. It was just worth it for the look on the actual Sasha’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Does Wednesday work for you?”

“Of course,” “Sasha” said again. “I look forward to it.”

“You bastard,” Sasha hissed at not-herself.

“Okay, um. See you then?” Melanie said.

“See you,” “Sasha” said, and tilted her neck when she smiled, just far enough for a few vertebrae to crack apart and reform in her spine.

Oh, there was the fear. She’d missed it.

“Okay well thanks bye,” Melanie said, and darted off quickly enough that even if Sasha hadn’t been inaudible, her scream wouldn’t have reached her in time.

“Sasha” leaned back in her chair.

“What the fuck,” Sasha said. “What the fuck, S—no, that’s my name — what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She seemed to like your original self,” “Sasha” commented.

“I was going to ask her out,” Sasha said. “I had her number and everything, and then you fucking killed me.”

“Well, you can experience it vicariously through me instead,” “Sasha” offered. “You’ll have to, as a matter of fact.”

“You’re going to torture her, aren’t you,” Sasha said in muted horror. “Like you’re doing to me right now. You’re — you can’t kill her.”

“Why not?”

“You can only do one person at once, can’t you? And you’ll be sad to lose me.” Sasha cracked a strange, sad smile at something “Sasha” didn’t understand. “I’m unforgettable.”

“You humans and your assumptions,” “Sasha” said, ignoring that they were all true. “You think you’re so important.”

“I am,” Sasha said. “Everyone’s important.” It had the cadence of something she’d had to tell herself in the mirror often.

“She didn’t remember you.”

Sasha hissed a breath through her teeth. “That’s not fair.”

“When we get home,” “Sasha” said, “tell me what your date outfit was going to be, alright?”

Vrei să pleci dar nu mă, nu mă iei,
Nu mă, nu mă iei, nu mă, nu mă, nu mă iei.
Chipul tău și dragostea din tei,
Mi-amintesc de ochii tăi.

(You) want to leave but don't want to take me,
Don't want to take me, don't want, don't want to take me
Your face and the love from the linden trees,
Remind me of your eyes.

Dan Bălan, Dragostea Din Tei

Frozen flowers: flowers that were frozen with the intent of preserving them - something fleeting that human hands tried to turn into eternal

he'd died. he was a monster, now. but he threw a bundle of poppies and lilacs at his feet and asked to still be friends.

red poppies represent blood, sacrifice, and remembrance; purple lilacs represent the beginnings of love. combine the two.

-

(brownie points for anyone who knows what this is referencing :)

Edited 2024-06-21 21:48 (UTC)

Weiss/Blake (RWBY), Negative AU
https://archiveofourown.org/works/57116305

The hydrangea has a wide spectrum of meanings in flower language. From heartfelt emotion to arrogance, its meanings differ across cultures and even amongst different colors of the flower.
Pink hydrangeas tend to represent sincere emotions or love. Blue hydrangeas symbolize apology or regret.

Pressed flowers: trying to eternize something, and in a way succeeding, but not entirely. The flowers are dried and have wilted, they're a former shell of their once gallant bloom

"Bouquets are made of dead flowers" - the title of a fic I have yet to finish writing. Just... This thing (relationship) is beautiful but it's also dead

Green willow - False love

Edited 2024-06-19 20:45 (UTC)

“On sunny days I go out walking
I end up on a tree-lined street
I look up at the gaps of sunlight
I miss you more than anything”

Francis Forever by Mitski

White chrysanthemum - Truth, loyal love

Fandom: Fire Emblem Sacred Stones
Pairing: L'Arachel x Eirika
WC: 591

The horses huff through flared nostrils, hooves thudding against the dirt path and kicking up dust. The weary creak of leather, the jangle of metal, the monotonous rhythm of hoofbeats – even for a worldly lady who is more than accustomed to traveling long hours in the saddle, L'Arachel is growing bored to tears of endlessly riding from battlefield to battlefield. When Eirika warned her of the great and terrible danger they would face, she failed to disclose that war was also a dreadfully tiresome slog from one place to the next.

If they could at least hire a minstrel or a jester for some entertainment on the road, it would make for less drudgery! L'Arachel has half a mind to summon Rennac and Dozla to her side and demand a performance of them. Her devoted retainers can always get a laugh out of her.

Mounted on Fleur, Eirika’s proud shoulders do not waver or slouch, nor does the strict line of her spine. If Eirika doesn't deign to voice her complaints, then L'Arachel shall choose to follow her stoic example – even if, truth be told, she does have a most unladylike bruise on her tailbone from this infernal terrain bouncing her up and down, and thighs so sore she can scarcely stand without wobbling like a newborn foal.

A beautiful princess of peerless beauty such as herself mustn't set a poor example for commoners.

L'Arachel grips Valkyrie's reins tight in her gloves as she wriggles restlessly in her saddle, trying to find any position that inspires less aches of the body. Alas, such a position does not exist. She nudges the stirrups against Valkyrie's sides, urging her mare to pick up the pace and draw abreast with Eirika.

“Any word from the flying scouts as to when we'll set up camp?” L'Arachel asks with forced cheer, offering Eirika her most dazzling smile. “This repetitive scenery has little to offer in the way of aesthetics, and I fear my sweet Valkyrie is growing disillusioned with the landscape. I should like to retire her for the evening before her ill temperament reflects poorly upon my house.”

“Your horse... is tired of the scenery?” Eirika repeats, polite but puzzled. She smiles in gentle apology, inclining her head in a slight bow. “There is still some ways to go, I'm afraid. Ephraim would like for us to camp at the base of the mountain, and as you can see... your horse may have to put up with marching a while longer.”

L'Arachel sighs with theatrical flair, tossing her head back and gesturing with her arm for emphasis.

“Very well! I shall endeavor to keep her spirits up for the time being, but know that it grows more difficult with each passing hour. Perhaps, if you were to regale her with anecdotes from your homeland of Renais, it would inspire her to carry on further...?”

Eirika, eyes bright with amusement, leans forward to pat Fleur's neck. “I suppose it would be worth a try,” she concedes. “Is there anything you – or rather, Valkyrie – are curious about in particular?”

L'Arachel beams, straightening her posture.

“Why, the castle gardens sound just lovely! Or any tales from your youth, or perhaps, adventures you and your brother got up to together? I'd love to learn more about your upbringing – that is, I'm certain my mare would as well.”

“Very well,” Eirika concedes with an indulgent smile. “Give me but a moment to search my memory, and I'll tell you both all that I can remember.”

Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

mikukilledtheradiostar - 2024-06-22 00:50 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

miyukitty - 2024-06-22 08:11 (UTC) - Expand

FILL: TEAM KITTYURI

magicmooshka - 2024-06-28 21:45 (UTC) - Expand

Purple hyacinth - Grief and sorrow

Snapdragon

Presumption, deception, a gracious lady

This potato looks like a monster, but it's actually just desperately searching for water. It even has its roots curled around a water bottle, but can't reach it without help.

Nepeta (catnip, catmint) - represents happiness, fertility & love

Pairing: Kitty Song Covey/Yuri Han (XO Kitty)

artwork

I don't feel any pain
A little fall of rain
Can hardly hurt me now
You're here, that's all I need to know
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
And rain will make the flowers grow.

- A Little Fall of Rain, from Les Miserables

Ship: Lana Skye/Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

651 words

There were two things that Lana Skye wished she hadn’t taken for granted. Having done so, her life had shattered into a million pieces.

One of those things was her freedom. Before Phoenix Wright had found the truth of the SL-9 incident, she had constantly felt the walls closing in around her. She knew she had to do Gant’s bidding for Ema’s sake, but the constant, looming dread that someone would discover Ema’s supposed crime hung over her like an anvil dangling from a frayed rope. Its cold shadow seeped into her, straining her relationship with her beloved sister, for whom she would do anything to protect. That crushing weight had been lifted, but the damage of two years of holding Ema at arm’s length had been done.

Of course, after the trial, she had taken on a different pair of shackles; however, those felt like aluminum compared to the lead ones that Gant had burdened her with. Her time in prison was the freest she had felt since becoming chief prosecutor.

The other thing she had taken for granted was her relationship with Mia Fey. When it had begun, every moment with Mia had sent her heart aflutter. As time passed, though, they settled into a comfortable routine. She still loved Mia, of course. That would never change. But they way she loved her did. No longer were there butterflies in their stomach when they kissed— their intimacy was just another fact of life. Or so Lana thought. As Lana started putting more time into her career, quality time with Mia became a rarity. And eventually, it became a “never”. She couldn’t blame Mia for growing tired of being second to Lana’s work, for becoming sick of feeling like Lana’s dirty little secret. She had meant to tell the people in her life, she kept telling herself and Mia, but Mia eventually saw this for the lie it was, as she was wont to do.

Even after their romantic relationship ended, she still took their now-strained-and-cordial relationship for granted. Sporadically exchanged texts, a few phone calls, one deeply awkward visit to her office.

Lana Skye’s freedom was something that had been returned to her. She swore to herself she would appreciate every day of liberty, and to close the distance between herself and her sister. But Lana Skye’s relationship with Mia Fey was something she would never have again. As much as she regretted them, Lana’s heart ached for the days when taking their relationship for granted was a possibility.

The first time she visited Mia Fey’s grave, it was raining. She stood in front of the tombstone with her inappropriately cheery transparent-floral umbrella (an old favorite of Ema’s, and the only one Lana still owned). She felt a hot tear slide down her cheek. But more than the somber atmosphere, more than the almost-offensively simple epitaph of “Here lies Mia Fey”, what drove her to cry was the fact that the place where Mia was buried was covered entirely in grass and wildflowers. Of course, Lana hadn’t expected a freshly dug grave. But the stark reminder that Mia Fey had died, and instead of halting like it should have done for such an occasion, time cruelly marched on. It was enough to crack her hardened heart.

But at the same time, other fissures inside her were slowly closing. She knelt on the grass, placing the bouquet of sunflowers she’d brought carefully against the tombstone. She hoped that somehow, as their name implied, they would stop the dreary rain and project the blazing warmth of the sun onto Mia, the same blazing warmth that Lana had felt in her chest when she had first laid eyes on her.

Lana Skye had taken two very important things for granted, and there was nothing do be done about that now. All she could do was slowly begin to gather the scattered shards.

“Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.”

- Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost

"Where the blood fell, red flowers grew." -Neil Gaiman, Sandman

In fields where nothing grew but weeds
I found a flower at my feet
Bending there in my direction
I wrapped a hand around its stem
I pulled until the roots gave in
Finding there what I'd been missing
[…]
Inside my hands these petals browned
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now
I pushed my fingers through the earth
Returned this flower to the dirt
So it could live I walked away now

- Rise Against, The Good Left Undone

Edited 2024-06-21 18:48 (UTC)

YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 3

PROMPT: Team Rosemary

FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

Re: FILL: TEAM FIRE EMBLEM

PROMPT: Team Rosemary

PROMPT: Team Rosemary

PROMPT: Team Ace Attorney

FILL: TEAM KITTYURI

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