yurishippingolympics | YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024

a1c0bb posting in

for this bonus round, the theme is competition! pretty open-ended, prompts that are about some sort of competition! this round will end on july 31st!

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! To participate, reply to this Dreamwidth post!

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]

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

thestoryeater

A person who revisits their favorite game at an arcade discovers that someone has beaten their high score

From:

ghostvines

a/n: if this happened to me i think i'd commit a murder

Franziska hasn't gone to an arcade in years.

Before everything had come crashing down, Papa had taken them after a successful trial: they would go for pancakes at IHOP, karaoke at the hotel next to it, and then, sometimes, the Tom's World arcade. Miles didn't like how loud it was; he usually ended up watching from a corner or providing dry commentary on Franziska's youthful attempts to shoot basketball (like he was any better, the absolute hypocrite) or hiding in the bathroom. Papa usually stood by the counter. Sometimes his aura of silent menace ensured that he was surrounded with five or more stuffed animals by the end of the night, presented by terrified employees who understood that Franziska's Papa was the God of Prosecutors and deserved animal sacrifices in his name.

But Franziska loved arcades. The constant heavy music, the flashing lights, the mysterious stains on the floor — well, those were minor points of detraction. Far more important, though, was that arcade games were a solo challenge. Something she could learn all the hidden corners and fault lines in, and then crush them to little bits of dust.

Perfection.

Franziska always held her head up high whenever she left an arcade. It was a nice chaser to a trial in which she had also, obviously, won. Usually she didn't even need to whip the machines all that many times.

…

It's been a long time since she's visited. Papa's — dead. Miles Edgeworth is not, but sometimes she feels like if she doesn't keep looking at him he'll disappear too, and she'll just be no one. A stupid little girl with a whip too big for her. It features in most of her nightmares that aren't about Papa or the gunshot wound in her shoulder or Papa-and-the-gunshot-wound-in-her-shoulder.

Anyway, this is a deeply depressing mood altogether unfitting for a place like the arcade, so she's not gone since. But Franziska has been — better, recently. Her flight back to Germany isn't for another week, and her brother is smiling, and Maya Fey had texted her to ask if she wanted to "try another burger joint??? theres GOTTA be one u like i swear it on the burger king himself".

Franziska may not have won the trial against Sister Iris, but sometimes she thinks she's won something far more important.

— Which is stupid and sappy and sentimental, so:

"Miles Edgeworth!"

"Yes, Franziska?"

"I want to go to Tom's World."

His expression melts into something vaguely — fond? "Alright, Franziska."

This uncharacteristic bout of sentimentality, however, is quickly dashed as soon as they get there.

Franziska stares at the screen in quiet, horrified disbelief. She blinks once, and then again, just to make sure she's seeing right, but she is:

まよい 100597

FVK 100581

SOME OTHER FOOL 52210

(A few months after the Big Top case: "Nick, look, F-V-K! Do you think it's Miss von Karma?"

"I doubt it. You really think she'd lower herself enough to play Taiko no Tatsujin? Here?"

"I dunno, I think she'd like it. And only a von Karma could get that kinda score."

"…If you say so."

"Hey!"

"Anyway… I'll play one round to show you how it's done, and then you're up. Alright?"

"Okay! But watch out, Nick. I think I was born for this thing."

"I don't think the ghosts in your blood cry out for arcade drums."

"There you go with your narrow-minded cultural assumptions again — oh, look, it's starting!")

Franziska whips the screen.

"Ma-yo-i," Miles Edgeworth sounds out behind her, squinting slightly, apparently unfazed by the brief flash of red and blue the screen had deployed in its weak attempt to defend itself from Franziska. "Isn't that Maya's Japanese name?"

It is. Franziska had checked every single member of the Fey family's legal documentation for the Turner Grey case, triple-checking Maya Fey's for obvious reasons. She'd done it again when she'd flown back for the Elise Deauxnim case, just in case she bumped into Maya Fey and had a chance to demonstrate that she knew what the other girl's blood type was. Foolishly there had not been, but Franziska was still holding out hope.

"Miles Edgeworth, you don't think…"

"I could text Wright to check," Miles offers.

"Absolutely not!" Franziska whips the floor. "You will spend the rest of the night smiling at your phone if you do so!"

"That is patently untrue," Miles says, petulantly.

Franziska scowls up at the screen.

Some part of her knows she should feel — indignation, rage, the urge to reassert herself as absolutely perfect. And she does, of course. But something about it being Maya Fey who's beaten her —

Franziska is curious about Maya. She can admit that much. They are the same age, and yet Maya is so much stronger than she is; can stay strong for her little sister, can wear a carefree smile after spending days hosting wayward spirits, even after Maya's own mother —

Well.

And now she's good at arcade drums, too?

Franziska pictures it. Maya with drumsticks in either hand, laser-focused on the notes flying by on the screen, beads in her hair swaying as she hits with beautiful, precise violence. Her mouth still greased from the burgers she'd no doubt had at the store at the neighboring intersection. Maybe she'd be smiling. Maybe her eyes would light like twin fire.

"—Franziska? Franziska?"

Miles Edgeworth is, of all cliches, waving a hand in front of her face. Franziska whips the ground again.

"Miles Edgeworth!"

"…You want me to get tokens for this, don't you?"

"Six of them," Franziska decrees. "This will not be an easy fight."

Miles pauses, then, and looks at her for a second. Then two.

"What is it?"

"Did you just say it wouldn't be easy?"

"Yes," Franziska says. "Do you need your hearing checked, little brother?"

"No," Miles says, shaking his head. "I just… You…"

"Speak up!"

"You really like her, don't you, Franziska?"

He escapes to the token machine before Franziska can start whipping his face into a nice cream.

Oh well. She looks back up at the screen.

Maya Fey is going down.

Edited Date: 2024-07-18 05:17 am (UTC)

Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY

From:

missiletoe - Date: 2024-07-23 11:04 pm (UTC) - Expand

FILL: Team Kittyuri

From:

missiletoe - Date: 2024-07-26 01:09 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

twyrewolf

Monster hunter and their quarry

From:

hopelessgemini

Foolishly, perhaps, Winter runs.

Her feet catch on sticks and run slickly through mud, her hair spills out of its ponytail and hangs loose around her neck. She doesn’t look behind her; she doesn’t know where Cinder is, and she doesn’t care. Her body slams into a tree trunk more than once, sleep deprivation and desperation steering her off course without her permission. She just — keeps getting dizzier.

She’s not going to win this. She’s not going to be able to shift in time. Overhead, the moon glints smugly at her, hanging low and waning in the sky. She ran far too late, and now she’s going to die.

Behind her, the forest creaks in the wind. Winter tries to listen — really, she does; her senses have yet to fail her — but blind panic leaks into her muscles, spurs her onwards. Cinder could be anywhere. Cinder could be right behind her, silver-tipped blade driving towards her throat —

Something under her foot slips. Winter trips, stumbles, lands on her face in the mud. Rain patters softly on the back of her head as though mocking her, rattles through her body in time with footsteps she can feel echoing along the floor beside her.

Shit, she thinks, shit.

A hand grabs the back of her shirt, yanks her upright. Winter spits out mud and glares up at Cinder as she tilts her head back, inspecting her. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. Just studies her like she’s trying to gauge a price.

She spits out another mouthful of dirt. “How much?”

Cinder’s eyes narrow. For a moment, the only sound is the rain and Winter’s laboured breathing, and then her mouth curls into a sneer. “Not very much at all, my love.”

Fine. So be it. Winter pushes her chin up, baring her throat. “At least make it quick, then.”

Her mouth twists again, cruel and sharp. Winter looks away. “That’s not what’s going to happen here. I’m taking you back.”

“Torture won’t work on me,” she says automatically. “I’m a wolf, remember? We don’t talk. We won’t talk. You can’t get us. You can’t —”

The grip on the back of her shirt lets up. Winter has to scrabble to catch herself against the ground; Cinder rises to her feet, face disappearing into rain and the haze filling Winter’s vision. “I’m not going to do anything with you. I’m just — not letting you leave.”

“You’re kidnapping me? How is that any better?”

“It’s better,” and here her voice dips dangerously low, “because I’m going to clean you up and send you back to your family, and normally I don’t make a habit of sparing pretty girls with tragic backstories.”

From:

scallioncreamcheesebagel

Forced to compete

From:

thestoryeater

Leftist infighting yuri

From:

thestoryeater

Person A dreams of making it big in some field but is having trouble, so Person B decides to become their rival so they'll think they're doing alright

From:

thestoryeater

Jousting tournament

From:

static_prevails

living to fight x fighting to live

From:

thestoryeater

Punk lover vs pop fan

From:

static_prevails

Competing with a concept (for example, internalized religious homophobia or devotion to a noble cause) for first priority in someone's life

Edited Date: 2024-07-17 05:43 am (UTC)

From:

thestoryeater

Two people trying to outperform one another as hosts by throwing bigger and better parties

From:

static_prevails

The Prisoner's Dilemma

From:

realxeyez

Partners in a Pump It Up freestyle competition. This is where two people perform a choregraphed dance routine to a Pump It Up chart that allows them to both dance and press the buttons in-time. (This could also be Dance Dance Revolution, In The Groove, Stepmaniax, whichever dancing game you're more familiar with. PIU is just the one that has this active freestyle community from my knowledge.)

Examples:
WPF 2016 Japan
WPF 2016 Japan (different angle)
WPF 2016 Mexico
WPF 2005 Mexico
Indonesian PIU Freestyle Competition

From:

static_prevails

The master being surpassed by the student

From:

static_prevails

Realizing something matters more than winning

From:

realxeyez

Pairing: Ayase Naru/Renjouji Bell (Pretty Rhythm: Rainbow Live)

Words: 597

It’s less of a sudden realisation and more of a final, concrete acknowledgment. One she knows has been a long time coming but only now does she truly, undeniably believe in.

Performing with Ayase Naru is worth more than any trophy she has on display, more than the title she’s been fighting for all this time. Being able to be her true self, alongside this irritatingly kind and wonderful girl who has never once doubted Bell, is absolutely priceless. This feeling of true freedom is unlike anything else Bell has ever known.

Forget her mother or Edel Rose’s praise, Naru’s sunny smile as the crowd roars below them is all she’ll ever need. It's truly a shame that it's taken her this long to realise, but Bell is particularly talented at making up for lost time.

Bell is the first to grasp Naru’s hand, fraught over both these new emotions and her parents’ faces in the crowd. Naru is like a grounding stone, even if sometimes she feels like she’s up in the clouds. Once, Bell believed all she needed was to stand on the stage by herself. She would soon upstage June and become the face of Edel Rose. It feels a little silly, now that Bell knows that all she had really wanted was acceptance beyond her talents. Here, now, she shares the stage with Naru and it feels deserving.

And Naru, dressed in her silly duck-esque costume, grips Bell’s hand with the same intensity. Her smile is soft, warm, but the fire in her eyes matches the one in Bell’s heart. She’s just as proud, just as happy to show the world what she and Bell can do together. Beyond Edel Rose and Prism Stone- as friends, as partners, as two people who understand each other.

If Bell were a little more impulsive, less interested in her public image, she’d lean in and kiss that lovely smile. She’d let the whole world know that Edel Rose’s prized rose was nothing more than a homely sunflower in the face of Ayase Naru’s bright light. But there is too much at risk, and Bell isn’t sure Naru would appreciate her sudden affections. She thinks about it, though; Naru’s red cheeks and crinkled eyes, the thrum in her veins of a perfected Prism Jump. Naru’s hand in hers, damp but so warm it almost burns.

(Bell never wants to let go. One day, she hopes she’ll never have to.)

“Bell-san,” Naru starts, eyes like crescents, “you did it!”

It might not be much to someone else, but Naru clearly has realised that this performance was important to Bell. It looked like she had put her all into it, keeping up with Bell’s rapid-fire Prism Jumps like it was nothing. Bell loves her friends, but a part of her feels like it had to be Naru together with her on this stage. Naru might not yet fully understand the significance of her being the one to be beside Bell, but it's enough that she’s still standing next to her like this. Hand in hand, heart in heart.

Bell knows her next words are cliché, knows that Wakana will forever make fun of her if she catches wind of it, but she truly can’t help it. Naru deserves a response that comes from the heart, and Bell’s heart is, just like her, a teenage girl in love.

She shakes her head, wondering if her smile is as wide as it feels. “We did it, Naru-san.”

Even amongst the roaring applause, Naru’s tinkling laughter is all that she can hear.

From:

static_prevails

Realizing something doesn't matter more than winning

From:

thestoryeater

Pairing: Irulan x Chani from Dune

Irulan's first year on Arrakis is a lonely one. Having been bestowed such a great responsibility by her father, it falls on her shoulders to ensure that spice production, and by effect all interstellar travel, remains running as smoothly as possible, she throws herself into her work. Hardly any time remains for her writing, not when the consequences for any one mistake are so dire. It is a great burden, balancing the galaxy on her shoulders, but one she is privileged to carry. By the end of the year, production is more efficient than it has ever been. She is the cornerstone of the known universe. She feels like a shell of herself.

The princess reasons that she has exhausted herself with checks and balances. It is better to sharpen an axe than continue a task with a dull one, so she arranges for a vacation, or the closest thing one of her status can have. She departs the northern side of the planet with minimal guards, her book of writings in hand, to establish good relations with the Fremen.

It is far from a relaxing experience, but Irulan had not sought that impossible ideal. In the camps on the border between north and south she finds tangled knots of human conflict to pick at as she records them in her book. She discusses politics with their leaders, debates religion with their Holy Mother, and is even allowed to watch a worm-riding once. All of this, she is aware, is shown to her through the lens of a guest whose presence is more tolerated than honored. Another tangle in the knot for her to pick apart.

She is traveling on foot the first time they meet. Irulan had thought she was alone, having excused herself for a moment of privacy to clear her head. But as she moved across the desert sands, she felt a presence watching her.

"Your sand-walking is terrible," the woman watching her is about her age, and that is all they have in common. It is clear at a glance that she has been shaped by these lands, and she regards Irulan's offworld ways with disdain. "Too rhythmic."

"I'd thought it was passable," the words leave Irulan's mouth before she fully thinks through how ridiculous it is to tell that to a Fremen. She voices her regret, and the woman smirks.

"Try it like this," she moves closer, demonstrating her own sand-walking, and they spend a considerable period of time moving across the desert sands together.

The woman's name is Chani Hynes, and she is a thing of the desert. Irulan seeks out her company the next day.

"You're always arguing with people," says Chani.

"Debating," Irulan corrects her.

Chani rolls her eyes and asks "Why?"

"A well-kept mind is one that is always being put into practice," Irulan replies. "It's better to test out different methods of persuasion in calmer circumstances than be forced to experiment in an emergency."

"So are you hoping to convince someone or be convinced?"

"Neither. Just to gauge how people respond."

"You're not thinking of any of this as an exercise, are you?" asks Chani. "I don't think bantering with your hosts who'd love a bit more respect from your father will do much for you when everything starts to go downhill for the next emperor."

"You think House Corrino's luck will sour soon?"

Chani shrugs. "We were told for a long time that someone else would be sent to govern Arrakis. We've seen many come and go."

Irulan studies Chani's face. She's watching something else off in the distance, her eyes fixed on something in the desert scenery that Irulan cannot fathom.

"What would you do if you were in my place?" Irulan asks.

"Bold of you to assume I'd ever trade places with you," even Chani seems briefly taken aback by the brashness of her words. A beat passes, and Irulan breaks out into unexpected laughter.

"I'm not offended! I understand, the Fremen's place on Arrakis is different than anyone else's."

"Especially yours," Chani's gaze loses its edge, and a hint of a smile appears. "Still, I can't say it'd be too bad to have one of us govern our own planet, for once. Maybe just for a day, we should trade."

They continue their conversations every day, Irulan asking Chani for her opinion on the state of so many things the Fremen woman has never seen, telling her in exchange of so many things she can hardly fathom, such as oceans and rain. It is always Irulan who seeks out Chani, until the day when it is time for her to return to properly governing Arrakis. That day, when the ship lands on the sands and waits to pick up Irulan, she finds Chani waiting for her outside the door.

"I hope I'll see you again," Irulan tells her.

Chani smirks at her. "If you're still here."

Irulan's second year on Arrakis is not so lonely. She settles into more of a rhythm as the days pass, making time for her writings and her work. Despite the planet's desolate appearance, there is new material to write about constantly. Rumors creep in about the state of the wider galaxy. New feuds are brewing and old ones reawaken. Her father sends word to be prepared. Surveying her work over the endless waves of sand, Irulan finds that it all feels so distant.

She takes a fistful of sand one day and lets it run through her fingers. Then she takes it inside and fashions an hourglass from it, placing it at her desk as a reminder. No one outlasts the desert.

Arranging for a second visit to the Fremen is simplicity itself. This time, Irulan brings gifts. She listens to their leaders and their children, carefully considering their words when she asks them what they would change if they had the power. Of course, she had not been unaware of the discontent of many of the Fremen. But now Irulan feels as though she is sitting upon a tightly wound spring, a host of untapped energy that only needs the slightest help before it lashes out.

Chani and her go out for walks in the twilight hours, when the desert obliges them with a brief window between extreme temperatures. They bring each other snippets of their life up to this point, a lyric of a nursery rhyme, a hazy memory from an unpleasant family gathering, a description of an old childhood toy, and they sit on the sand dunes to watch the winds blow.

"What're you writing about?" one evening they're ostensibly watching the sun set, although Irulan is jotting down a few notes in her book and Chani is watching her.

"People," Irulan replies, not looking up. "Just my thoughts and observations."

"Right, never could've guessed that," this gets Irulan to look up. Chani's watched her write before, it simply isn't a subject they've broached before.

Irulan chews on the end of her writing utensil before responding, a habit she only indulges herself in when in privacy or around Chani. "My father claims tensions are rising between two houses- the Atreides and the Harkonnens. It has been some time since I met either one in person, so it's useful to reference my old notes."

"It sounds serious if your father's asking you for help," notes Chani.

"It might not be, he is rather fond of tests."

There must be something in her face that tells Chani that Irulan is uncertain, for she immediately changes the topic. "Have you got anything about Stilgar in there?"

"Stilgar, yes," as she flips through the pages of her writing, Irulan feels a bit of the tension leave her body, an almost unwilling reaction. "Here we go. A very persuasive, important figure. Also very circular."

"Circular?"

"Have you ever tried to convince him of anything? He only thinks in circles."

They both share a laugh at that.

"How about me?" Chani asks. "Have you written about me?"

"Yes, a few things," says Irulan. She flips through more pages, it doesn't take long to find thoughts on Chani. "Sharp-tongued. Opinionated. Insolent."

"It does not say that! Let me see."

"I'm afraid it does," Irulan smirks and keeps her writings out of Chani's reach. "It's a small wonder you haven't been left out as food for the worms by your people."

Chani pushes her on the shoulder playfully. "Sorry to not live up to your standards, majesty."

"Well, the imperial life certainly wouldn't suit you. But I think any ruler would do well to have you as an advisor."

"Hmm?"

Irulan's voice takes on a different tone. She lowers her gaze for three seconds, the perfect amount of time to shift the mood of the conversation without losing its flow, then looks back up to Chani. "You're honest, and you've got a keen eye for uncovering the true meaning behind grandiose speeches. Bribes would be ineffective on you. Disapproval would do little to hamper you. If you somehow landed yourself in the world of politics, well, you'd be a gem in the rough."

"You're laying the flattery on a bit thick, don't you think?"

"Maybe, but part of the joy of this game is seeing you react."

"For what it's worth, you'd make a terrible Fremen."

"And for what it's worth, I wasn't lying about how well you'd do in court."

This next moment- this is one that Irulan has been laying the groundwork for carefully- is key. She has prepared the perfect sequence of events in her mind that would catch Chani's attention, subtly let her know where Irulan's interests lie, even if it would be unthinkable to say so aloud, and thus move their game into a different sequence.

But then, of course, Chani does what Chani always does. She surprises Irulan.

Chani leans in and kisses Irulan on the lips.

Surprised, Irulan pulls back. She sees Chani frowning, tilting her head. The other woman says "I thought you were..."

"No, I- I am!" Irulan exclaims. Dammit, what happened to all that composure she had a moment ago? This woman makes her feel like a stray sliver of ice in this desert planet. Her eyes dart around, checking for any stray silhouettes on the horizon. There are none.

This time it is she who initiates the kiss. Chani's lips are rough, chapped by the heat and sun and wind. Irulan's are comparatively soft, but still toughened by the unforgiving Arrakis environment. She has known far gentler, more expertly delivered kisses in her time, stolen by princes and dukes in the shadows of her father's court. This is by far the best she's had.

Both of them are moving their bodies closer together, but now it's Chani who's pulling back. "What's wrong?"

"I am the emperor's daughter," Irulan can feel Chani's breath on her face. "Someday, my hand will be given to the future emperor, and I will bear his heirs. Are you certain you would have me?"

In response, Chani kisses her again, this one longer and more passionate than both that came before. "Yes."

Irulan leaves the Fremen again, but the nights before she does are warmer than any that came before. Her third year on Arrakis passes in a blur. She sets up more ambitious projects to increase spice production and works tirelessly to see them through. The planet finds itself in need of more workers soon, and so they are sent, and with them comes more news. The situation beyond Arrakis worsens. At the end of every day, Irulan pens a letter to her father outlining various trains of thought she has had on what might be done, no matter how late her work lasts. Then she writes another letter to Chani, writing out poems, telling old anecdotes from her life, and in the darkest hours of the night, writing around the outline of a confession. What is not there should speak for itself. After that, she places the letter in a safe box and goes to sleep in an empty bed.

By Irulan's fourth year on Arrakis, she simultaneously feels that not enough time has passed to celebrate a four-year anniversary, and that she has spent an eternity on this place. She has opened new positions in her operation for the Fremen, relying on their advice and soldiers in exchange for degrees of greater freedom. There are grander changes she is considering, designs for massive overhauls that would take resources she has at her disposal and time she may soon not. And one day, Chani arrives along with a Fremen security team.

"You've been busy," is what Chani tells her when they finally find a moment alone in Irulan's chambers.

"It seems I haven't been the only one," observes Irulan. "How many fights did you have to gain respect from the rest of the Fedaykin?"

"Enough," Chani peels her shirt off, revealing a number of new scars across her skin. "That's not the question you really want to ask, though, is it?"

Their conversation takes a very different form soon afterwards.

Irulan's fourth year on Arrakis is the best she's had. There are bumps in spice production, but her skill in her position is unquestionable. Chani visits quite often, and they spend hours together. She reads Irulan's letters lying on her bed, Irulan's arm draped over her, and they tell each other wild fantasies in the early hours of the morning. Swimming in a lake. Discovering the perfect solution to the House rivalries. Living together.

Irulan's fifth year on Arrakis is when it all falls apart. Despite everything, despite the Emperor's efforts and the Bene Gesserit's machinations and Irulan's advice, civil war besieges the empire. House Atreides and House Harkonnen have escalated their rivalry into battle, dragging everyone they know into their escalating conflict. The blood used to feed the machines of war could flood the pools where the Fremen keep their dead.

And then, in one fell swoop, it's all over. The Harkonnens bring House Atreides to its knees, killing Lady Jessica and Duke Leto in the Emperor's throne room, humiliating him. One of the Atreides daughters will marry na-Baron Feyd-Ruatha to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. And the Baron Harkonnen himself, he will have Irulan's hand in exchange for her father's life.

Chani and Irulan meet one last time, after the Baron's coup but before the wedding. In the dead of the night, Chani somehow reaches Irulan's room despite the armed guard, and she pulls her out of bed and into a tight embrace.

"Come on, there's no time," Chani starts to tug Irulan away.

"No." But Irulan stays where she is.

The look on Chani's face is incredulous. "What're you doing? More guards will arrive at any moment."

"And if we manage to escape? Then what? Do you think the Baron will allow my father to live? Do you think that he will let the Fremen go unpunished for the disappearance of his betrothed?"

"So what, you're just going to sit in the Harkonnen's lap, then? You'll just give up?" Chani accuses her with fire in her voice.

"I will be the closest person in all the empire to the new Emperor," Irulan tells her. She has to swallow before she can continue. "I'll- I'll lay the groundwork for his destruction. Everything I will do, every life I take and every deed I perform in the name of House Harkonnen, it will all be to one day topple them. And you must be the one to lead the Fremen when the day comes to bring them down, but you cannot do that if you are a prisoner here. Understand?"

Irulan thinks back to those days long ago, when Chani teased her over thinking that her debates would be any kind of a measure of success of how she would stand on her own. Now, she can only hope that Chani remembers the game they played with each other well enough to survive now that they find themselves at the center of the game of politics once again.

In the dark it's difficult to read Chani's face. How dearly Irulan wishes she could see it clearly, study its every detail one last time. But she can't, and time is running out, so she kisses Chani for the final time.

The Fremen warrior tastes strongly of spice. When they break off their kiss, she doesn't say anything to the princess. She simply spits on her face, then turns and escapes before the guards can arrive without looking back once.

Irulan has always known that Chani belonged to the desert. But in this moment, as she heads to her new life in a familiar place, she wishes she could belong to her.

Irulan's sixth year on Arrakis is a cold one.

From:

twyrewolf

Defense Attorney and Prosecutor/Ace Attorney AU

From:

magicmooshka

Pairing: Elle Woods / Vivienne Kensington (Legally Blonde)

artwork 1 || artwork 2

Edited Date: 2024-08-01 12:23 am (UTC)

From:

scallioncreamcheesebagel

Bridge (the card game) tournament

From:

twyrewolf

Knight and the noble lady they're fighting for the honor of

From:

hopelessgemini

Cinder corners her in the garden, under the hanging lights and the thick gold glow of the sunset. They slot perfectly against each other in the shadow of the wall, tucked out of sight, out of mind. It’s safe; it’s quiet.

She’s not wearing her usual robes today — just dress pants and a black shirt. She looks like a commoner, like a horse rider, and it’s apt, Winter supposes; Cinder has always insisted she was much more suited for a simpler life. She presses WInter up against the wall and says as such, tells her they should run away together, tells her she loves her.

She always does the same thing before a duel. Winter tangles her fingers in her hair and lets herself indulge in the simplicity of it all, the daydream Cinder spins against her lips. It’s a nice idea, really. But this isn’t what the duels are for. “Well,” she says, “I’ll have to see.”

Cinder sighs, tugs her in by her hips. “Let me guess. If you lose the duel, you’ll think about it. If Weiss suddenly spontaneously explodes —”

“Which she won’t,” Winter says firmly.

“ — which she won’t, you’ll think about it. If the world collapses inwards and we all tumble into infinite nothingness, you might be tempted to —”

“Shut up,” she mutters, kissing her again. Cinder obediently falls silent.

From:

miyukitty

We got a number one Victory Royale
Yeah, Fortnite, we 'bout to get down (get down)

From:

scallioncreamcheesebagel

im obsessed with the miku version https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTggoptzEuk

(no subject)

From:

miyukitty - Date: 2024-07-17 06:16 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

miyukitty

Pokemon battle! Can be in-universe, modern characters playing the video games, or some secret third option ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

From:

twyrewolf

Rival pirate captains

From:

static_prevails

I can't compete with your new-found religion
The good word seems everywhere
But good words only
I can't compete with a real education
All the fucked up things you say
Couldn't possibly be any less help to me

Jimmy Eat World, "Heart Is Hard to Find"

From:

realxeyez

Idols with rival fanbases. Fighting over who has the most streams, highest number on the charts, most solos in an album, etc.

The pairing could either be two fans on either side of the 'war' or the idols themselves (maybe they're dating and don't know how to deal with their fans wanting to kill eachother?)