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yurishippingolympics
For this bonus round, we're looking for prompts inspired by plant/flower symbolism and the language(s) of flowers!
Here are some resources on flower meanings:
Script Florist
Farmer's Almanac
Wikipedia: Hanakotoba
Wikipedia: Plant Symbolism
This round will end on July 1st.
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]
POINTS - BONUS ROUNDS
For prompts: 10 points each (maximum of 150 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 100 points each
Fills 5-10: 50 points each
Fills 11-20: 40 points each
Fills 21-50: 30 points each
Fills 51+: 25 points each
PROMPT: Team Tokusatsu Yuri Ships United Front
Date: 2024-06-16 06:54 pm (UTC)― Susan Polis Schutz
(in the hopes of avoiding every prompt being "flower - meaning" I'm gonna throw y'all some quotes about flowers and varying degrees of symbolism.)
FILL: Team Ace Attorney
Date: 2024-06-18 03:04 am (UTC)FILL: Team Kittyuri
Date: 2024-06-21 02:04 am (UTC)Word Count: 623
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They get married in sunshine. That’s how Kitty will remember it twenty years down the line.
She always thought she’d get married in a ballgown. She also always thought she’d get married in a big, old church with an organ playing in the background. She thought she’d get a silver, fat diamond ring in a velvet box. (She never thought that she’d be the one getting down on one knee in a restaurant. She never thought that they’d both be–laughing with the realization, and that the ring tumbling out of Yuri’s box would be not one but two carats.)
There’s a lot of preconceived notions that she’s shed along the way. Her wedding is anything but conventional and she wouldn’t have it any other way. They get married in a field full of flowers and Minho sweats through all three layers of his suit but Kitty’s already put up with his bitching for ten years so what’s another three hours? Yuri had wanted the flowers and Kitty had wanted the sunshine so it seemed like a perfect venue.
They’re both wearing white though–they’ve caved at least that much to tradition. Kitty’s long dress is tied off with a huge bow at the waist and her heels are silver beneath her skirt.
She’s wearing the same string of pearls her mother wore on her wedding day. She hopes she’s making her proud, even as her dad pinches her cheek reassuringly and tells her that he’s more than proud enough for the both of them.
Yuri’s stunning on their wedding day. She always is but in a strapless dress lined with flowers and a slit for her leg, she’s ethereal. She’s on her tippy-toes in heels too and they both laugh at the sudden height difference.
Her father’s crying–he won’t stop crying–and Lara Jean keeps blowing her nose into Peter’s sleeve when she thinks Kitty isn’t looking. Margot, at least, fights to maintain some semblance of control and it’s only her shaky mouth that gives her away.
They lay on the grass after the ceremony and that’ll probably make their wedding organizer pull out their hair but Kitty doesn’t care. They’ll only get married once, after all.
“The flowers were a good choice,” she says, pulling at a few with her fingers.
“You were too,” Yuri replies, knocking their shoulders together. She holds still long enough for Kitty to thread the petals–small and white–through her hair.
“Your turn,” Yuri says, knotting a rose clumsily above her ear. It looks goofy and silly and Kitty laughs when she touches it and then they’re both laughing. Her heart feels full, happiness spilling over at the top.
Margot eventually comes to fetch them for the father-daughter dance and her dad holds back his tears long enough to spin her in a circle.
Yuri and her are swaying slowly to the music now–a Spotify playlist that Yuri herself had carefully curated after many a sleepless night. She wouldn’t allow Kitty so much as a peek.
The song choice is beautiful, just like every other aspect of her. Kitty wants to kiss her and then remembers that she can. She digs her heels into the grass to close the distance.
“You’re gonna have all the time in the world to do that,” Yuri laughs but she sounds pleased. Kitty twists her finger around the daisy laced into her hair and kisses the spot.
“I’m gonna make you so happy,” she says and it’s a promise that comes out more like a threat. Yuri laughs at the wording. “I’m gonna make you the happiest person in the world, just you wait.”
Yuri tosses her head back and the flowers twisted into her hair glow gold.
“Kitty Song Covey, I already am.”
FILL: Team Griddlehark
Date: 2024-07-02 03:53 am (UTC)-
Long before she worshipped the Light and the Dark, Icca found their comfort in shadow nestled under wisteria trees, in sun peering through the overhang. In the soft shape of stray petals, floating down to grace their heads.
Her young, girlish form, curled in a nook between roots, book spread in its palms. Caro and Tecca, a small distance away — whirlwind of heat and body, laughter and desire.
Their motions are exaggerated and wild, a roughhouse more than it is a dance; as deliciously uninhibited as the three so often were together. Caro barks a delighted laugh as she collides with Tecca, reaching up to sneak a peck and pull away again.
“Icca, up,” Caro calls out her command. “Dance with us!”
Icca follows with a snort, leaving her book by the wayside. Tecca steps away with a rugged grin on her face.
“Icky Sickle.” Caro’s voice drips with faux sweetness, her calloused hand outstretched. “Will you do me the honor?”
“Of course, my dear,” Icca replies, fondness shining through.
She falls easily into a dramatic spin, a twisting twirl beneath one arm; finds herself laughing as loudly and brightly as her lovers do. Her feet are light and flying.
Tecca startles her by dropping a crown of soft purple flowers upon her head.
“There you are, princess. Belle of the ball.”
Icca beams, caught in the gentle rays of sunlight, radiant in her joy. Their favorite hideout, now the floor for a glorious tumbling waltz; all out of place, out of time.
She wouldn’t have it any other way.