YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 4

[a1c0bb]

for this bonus round, the theme is historical fiction! prompts inspired by specific moments in (real or fictional) history.

this round will end on july 15th

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

Comments

FILL: TEAM CATRADORA

[asaphida]

Words: 836
Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Ship: Adora/Catra (we're going to just pretend that their names would be totally normal in 1910s Eastern Europe Yiddish-speaking communities)

(featuring barely-edited lines from an English translation of גאט פון נקמה, or God of Vengeance. I cannot stress enough how little I edited the on-stage dialogue, it is almost entirely verbatim. Thank you so much for the prompt and the push to work with yiddish yuri.)

The blue lights shimmer on the stage like the rain it's pretending to be. Catra's hair flows loose behind her, and the stage is warm and alive under her bare feet.

Adora smiles at her from offstage, waiting for her cue. She's nervous. Tonight, playing these roles for the first time with an audience, everyone is. But Adora's always nervous no matter how many shows she does.

Catra taps the ceiling with her stick, and Adora leans out the wood-cut window. Her white nightgown glows under the stage lights. "Manke," Adora says, Romanian accent making her Yiddish dance. "Manke, did you call me?"

"Yes," Catra says. She reaches towards Adora's hand, clasping. "Yes, Rivkale, I called you." The want that spills over Adora's face as Catra's lines entice her into the rain will never stop making Catra's heart stutter.

Catra says, "I'll let your hair down," and unweaves the braids Adora so painstakingly readied in the dressing room. You needn't put so much effort in, Catra whispered over her shoulder an hour ago, when I'm only going to undo you.

Adora had pushed her playfully away, cheeks pinking and eyes darting for listening ears, but on stage, Catra has permission to run her fingers through her hair and say, "Now let me wash it for you in the rain, just like this."

"All night," Adora said, "I laid awake waiting to steal out to you."

Catra wraps her arms around her, cupping the back of her head in her hand. She's standing on a chair to reach, but Adora's replying embrace makes her feel steady as they exchange their lines, sweet and soft and exactly what Catra thought she'd never be able to do outside of their bed.

When they step offstage to let Scorpia give her monologue, they stand exactly as close as they want to. Adora only speaks her feelings when the words are written for Rivkale, but she wraps an arm around Catra's shoulders, cool in the dimness of the wings.

They walk back on. Catra never knew how to wax lyrical about Adora, but Manke does. She's been terrified to speak them aloud on the stage, but with Adora in her arms, the audience melts away and they're running lines in the dark of their room again.

"How sweet your hair smells," Catra's lips say. "Your breast so white and soft, and the blood in them cools under my touch, just like snow, frozen water, and their fragrance is like the grass on the meadows. Cool me."

Catra can feel Adora's breath stumble, even though she's heard the words dozens of times. There's something magic about the lights, the echo, the quiet waiting from the crowd that hasn't turned into a mob after their blood.

"I'll comb your hair like a bride's," Catra says, stealing another stroke through it, gold and silk, the only riches she'll ever need. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes." Adora's chest vibrates with it.

Manke's words keep spinning the fantasy - the Shabbos table, parents aglow, a bride bringing her groom to join the family. Catra and Adora both lost their families long ago, to disease and hunger and mobs with knives and guns, but that's not the reason this can be no more than a dream between two imagined women.

"Your parents have gone to sleep," Catra says. Until Adora mouths louder, Catra hadn't noticed her voice dropping. "The lovers meet here at the table. We are shy with each other, aren't we?"

Adora swallows. "Yes, Manke."

Catra forces her voice steady. "Then we come closer to one another, for we are bride and groom, you and I." Adora's cheeks flush, barely visible under the stage makeup. "We embrace, ever so tightly." Adora's skin is just as warm as it looks. "And kiss, very softly. Like this."

They knew this part before they'd set foot in this theater. The director insisted that this play had been put on before, in other theaters across the continent. He said everyone would understand it wasn't real. Some days, kissing Adora is one of the only things that makes Catra feel real.

It's not in the script, but Catra brushes the droplet from Adora's eye before it reaches her makeup. "It's nice, Rivkale," she says, "isn't it?"

Adora nods, breathing hard, pausing long before her next line. "Yes, Manke, yes."

Catra rests her forehead against Adora's and the next part rises to her lips to keep her from kissing Adora again. "And then we go to sleep together. Nobody knows, nobody hears. Only you and I, like this. Do you want to sleep with me tonight, like this?"

The script calls for Rivkale to get nervous now, worry about being caught, fear her own lust, and Adora's never needed to act to show anxiety. The scene moves away from the two of them soon. But before Adora speaks her lines, she gives Catra one more moment of softness.

"Yes," Adora says, exactly like she has for years in every way but volume. "I do."

Re: FILL: TEAM CATRADORA

[eloquentalias]

AAAAAH OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR WRITING SUCH A LOVELY FILL FOR MY PROMPT!!!! the tension between the stage and reality, the performance and the truth... so good. thank you for the yiddish yuri food