YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 4

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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 Kittyuri

[missiletoe]

Ship: Kitty/Yuri
Word Count: 891

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Yuri’s painting in the garden one day when it lands. It being a metal monstrosity that’s unlike anything she’s seen before, hissing smoke and spitting fire.

“Dragon,” she breathes, clutching her canvas close to her chest. She tucks her paintbrush behind one ear and picks up as many paint cans as she dares before running back towards the house.

A loud yell stops in her tracks and her feet bumble into each other as she goes crashing to the ground. The paintbrush skidders across the floor and the cans roll and bump into one another.

The canvas, thankfully, lands face-up. Yuri breathes a sigh of relief. But the voice, the yell–it had almost sounded human. Is that what monsters are supposed to sound like?

Yuri turns around and comes face-to-face with another girl, albeit a very strangely-dressed one. She’s more metal than human, a bizarre jacket with the sleeves torn off and patches adorned to it hanging around her shoulders.

There are syllables pouring out of her mouth, loud and jarring noises that Yuri doesn’t understand. But the kindness written across her face is clear and her outstretched hand is a universal gesture.

The girl makes a note of surprise at her confusion and fiddles with something attached to her ear.

“There!” she shouts clearly and Yuri blinks. What was that–magic? “Can you understand me now?”

Yuri nods mutely and the girl hauls her to her feet.

“I’m Kitty,” she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. She keeps it cropped short, hanging just above her shoulders and there’s a bizarre pair of glasses affixed to her head. “And you are?”

“Yuri,” she replies and immediately dives for the canvas in lieu of a proper greeting, inspecting it for damage.

The paint is wet but she’d been careful to keep it a couple inches from her chest to avoid smearing. It’s unharmed except for a slight bend in the corner.

“Beautiful,” Kitty gasps at the sight, reaching out to touch the tail.

“Fresh painting,” she snaps, pulling it out of reach. “Don’t touch it, it’s still wet!”

“Right,” Kitty laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I forgot.” It’s such a welcome change from her buyers that pretend they know the meaning behind every stroke and splash even before she’s unveiled her work that Yuri decides to forgive her.

“I really am sorry about your workshop,” Kitty says, teetering on her feet. She’s not quite making eye contact, gaze fixed to a point right above Yuri’s shoulder and she feels reminiscent of one of Yuri’s younger cousins after they’ve been caught pilfering half the desserts. “And I hate to impose any further on you but would you happen to have any trash?”

“Trash?” Yuri echoes, sounding out the unfamiliar word.

“Garbage, scraps, stuff that you don’t really need,” Kitty babbles on, rolling her wrist. “Anything that’s flammable will do–stuff that burns?”

Yuri inclines her head towards the little basket she keeps in the corner of the room for broken paintbrushes and other assorted scraps she doesn’t want.

Kitty shrieks with delight at the sight. It hurts her ears with the volume but it also makes Yuri snicker. She’s like a child on Christmas morning.

“Yes, this’ll work!” she laughs, carrying it over to the back of the beast. She pops the skin open to reveal a giant tube and she puts one foot on the scales to get a better position to dump the contents in.

Her shoes look like they’re made of rubber as they squeak against the metal and they come up to her mid-thigh. It’s unheard of–well, everything about her is unheard of.

“What are you?” Yuri asks, swallowing past the fear lodged in her chest. Kitty turns to look at her, setting the wastebasket back on the ground.

“I think a more appropriate question would be ‘Who am I?’” she corrects. “Kitty Song Covey, time traveler and seeker of knowledge, at your service.”

Kitty finishes the sentence with a bow, lifting up the empty can to her. Yuri takes it with a full-bellied laugh.

“Now I’d love to stay and chat but I really must go,” Kitty says, pushing the flaps in her beast’s skin shut. “Wars to stop, sights to see, that sort of thing. But keep painting, Yuri, I’ve seen a lot of art in my lifetime and it’s clear that you’ve got talent!”

“Do you try to flatter every girl you meet?” Yuri asks, bemused.

Kitty gives her a wink as she climbs back into her dragon.

“Only the pretty ones!” she yells as she presses a button and the whole thing sputters to life.

Yuri shakes her head even as she feels her cheeks warm.

“Paint me like one of your French girls!” Kitty hollers, reaching for the metal hood. Yuri blinks at her in confusion.

“I’m not French!” Kitty tosses her head back and laughs, the wind ruffling what remains of her short hair.

“I guess they wouldn’t say that here,” Kitty yells over the roar of her beast. “Just paint something in honor of me!”

She slams the top down and the beast jets off onto the street.

Yuri nods, searing her face into her memory but even as she watches the metal blink out of existence on the horizon, she knows that no portrait can do Kitty’s face justice.