yurishippingolympics | YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024

Wonderland!

a village made of flowers

Ship: Undine/Kokoro (Sleepless Domain)
Words: 255
Notes: Inspired by actual events that happened many years ago when I was a legislative page for the state of [redacted] in high school, in which I played the role of Zoe, the son of a state legislator played the role of Kokoro, and nobody played the role of Undine because it wasn’t that kind of story until I turned it into one for yuri reasons.

——

Kokoro flipped her phone shut.

“Zoe says she’ll call maintenance. They should be able to get us out of here soon.” And, after a brief pause: “Do you think she’s judging me?”

Undine responded, face to the wall and back still to Kokoro. “I’m judging you.”

“Look. I may have gotten us into this mess, but I’m getting us out of it too.”

“You got us into this mess,” Undine said slowly, “by pressing every single button in this elevator at once.”

“It was an experiment! I wanted to see-”

“In a rickety elevator that’s at least twice as old as we are.”

“I’ll admit that my-”

“While the elevator was halfway between two floors.”

Kokoro sighed. “Okay, fine, you’re right. This wasn’t my brightest moment.”

This finally got Undine to turn around. She still wasn’t showing any cracks in her facade of faux outrage.

(Kokoro really hoped she was right that it was faux outrage.)

“We’re just lucky that you have a cell phone. We could have been stuck in here for hours!”

“But I do have a cell phone, and I’m sure someone would have tried to use the elevator soon enough even if I didn’t. And besides,” Kokoro lowered her voice, “you’re forgetting the most important part.”

“What’s that?”

“As long as this thing is stuck, nobody can walk in on us making out.”

Undine shoved Kokoro back, and then - with her first smile since the elevator had ground to a halt - pushed her against the wall and kissed her.

the world of A Quiet Place

a magical bakery

a deep space mining shuttle

a glamourous, luxurious wedding

Trapped in a dungeon

Paris during the French Revolution

a field of fallen stars

A crystal city

a sea of rust

a deep sea cave

a racetrack

Light wakes up in the middle of the night.

She never used to do this before. Before the Kira investigation, before her imprisonment, before L. She’s pretty sure she’d been staying up later than usual in the last few weeks preceding solitary confinement, but she doesn’t even remember what she was doing with that time.

…Being Kira?

No, Light reminds herself. No. She can’t buy into L’s insane conspiracy theories. Light Yagami is not Kira, because Light Yagami is a good person. Light Yagami is a good son.

Well, no. She’d been wrong about that, about the son part, and now her father can barely look her in the eye.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Light will catch Kira, and then Dad will be proud of her again.

She’s a good person. She has to be.

“Light-chan?”

Light freezes. Then she very gingerly lies back down. The handcuff chain does not clink.

“I know you’re awake, Light-chan,” L says. Light glances over, can’t help it, and is met with the sight of L hunched over typing at her computer terminal. The bluish glow of the screen makes L look a little like a ghost, like if Light reached for her, her hand would pass straight through. “You’re breathing differently.”

“That’s kind of creepy, Ryuzaki.”

“I’m not wrong,” L counters.

“What are you doing?” Light asks, vision focusing as her eyes adjust. Now she can see the strands of L’s hair spiking away from her head. “It can’t be the Kira case.”

“I’m just playing 2048.”

“No you’re not.” Light can clearly see blocks of condensed text moving on L’s screen. “Is that — a different case? How many investigations are you in?”

“Not enough,” L says. “Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t. I’m making conversation.” God, why does L have to make normal interactions so difficult? “What’s it about?”

“Copycat murders,” L says. She stretches, cracking her neck to one side and then the other. Light watches the fabric of L’s T-shirt bunch around her shoulders. “And the perpetrator could not more clearly be the wife of the person their department suspects.” She makes a gesture that reads, can’t believe I’m helping these fucking idiots. (Light has gotten very good at reading L’s gestures.) “I’m correcting them.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you helping?”

“That’s a strange question to ask, Light-chan,” L says, and finally, finally turns around to look at her. Light, caught in her spotlight gaze, sits up at attention without even really meaning to. “Don’t the good guys always win?”

“You put me in a cell for fifty days and then made my father pretend to shoot me.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“I’m just saying, Ryuzaki,” Light says, trying to sound as casual as she can. It’s a more difficult task when she’s sleep-deprived. “I don’t think most people would class you as a good guy.”

L shrugs. “I get the job done. Would you consider yourself a ‘good guy,’ Light-chan?”

Light opens her mouth, then closes it.

The obvious answer is yes, but claiming that without a shred of hesitation would imply moral superiority, which L would take to mean she’s Kira (never mind the fact that obviously Light is morally superior to L, she hasn’t manipulated anyone into going on suicide missions for one thing); but saying no would amount to a confession that she’s a villain, which she isn’t. Because Light Yagami is a good s— a good person.

She has to be. She has to.

“I think we’re all just trying as hard as we can at the end of the day,” Light answers. Her heart is somewhere in her throat. “I’ve definitely messed up really badly once or twice, but what matters is that we keep trying to be good, right?”

L stares at her.

What? What did Light say wrong? That was a perfect answer, wasn’t it?

Why does L look — disappointed?

“I see,” L says at last. “Light-chan is an optimist.”

“Of course,” Light says. “I wouldn’t still be working on this case otherwise.”

L nods to herself.

“Go back to sleep, Light-chan,” she says, turning back to the screen. “Don’t let me keep you.”

…

“Okay,” Light mumbles, lying back down. She curls herself in the direction of L. The image of her, a dark silhouette against a blue-white square, lingers even after Light closes her eyes.

As she drifts off to sleep, it occurs to her that L never bothered answering her question.

We keep trying to be good.

Right?

This is very cute and I very like it

thank you so much!!!! theyre such fucking TEENAGERS i love writing them and im so glad they bring you joy

This is all so stupid.

She doesn’t even care about Betty, she decides. Why should she care about Betty? It’s not like they’re dating or something. It’s not like what they do means anything.

James wraps her arms around her legs and curls into herself.

Still, she watches. She can’t help watching. Betty’s laughing, tipping her head back, eyes creasing in the way James knows is fake as the guy she was just dancing with — Tom? Thomas? — tells her a joke that can’t possibly be as funny as Betty pretends it is. James’s ribcage feels acidic.

This is a terrible prom. The streamers hung around the gymnasium — gaudy maroon and black, their school colors — look like dripping blood. People are milling about on the dance floor, socializing half-heartedly. The DJ hasn’t played a single song that James recognizes yet.

God, James hates crowds. Why did she come here in the first place? Why did she think she could handle this?

That’s right, she remembers now. Betty. Betty, knocking her shoulder into James’s as they sat together on her bed. She was wearing James’s cardigan and fairly drowning in it. She was the most beautiful girl on Earth or possibly in the entire universe.

C’mon, it won’t be that bad, Betty had said, grinning. Just stick by me and we’ll do fine.

I don’t even know how to dance, James had protested.

It’s not like you have to wear high heels.

I don’t even know how to dance in sneakers!

So Betty had taught her. They’d done a horrible approximation of a waltz right there in Betty’s room, James stepping on her feet practically every three beats, and James had never felt happier, until Betty’s mother knocked on the door and James had to dive into Betty’s closet.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. James shivers; the gym’s aircon must be broken, because she was on the ground just a few minutes ago and sweltering, but here on the alcove above the highest bleachers she’s freezing to death.

This isn’t Betty’s fault, to be fair. James was the one who had ditched her. The crowd was pressing in from all directions and the unfamiliar music was so loud and she couldn’t breathe, and before she knew what she was doing she’d shoved her way out of the dance floor and ran.

Not that Betty seems to mind, she thinks bitterly, watching her girlfriend/best friend/someone fake-laugh at another joke.

“Hey!” comes a voice.

Oh. Fuck.

“Inez,” James mutters.

“Jaybird! What’re you doing all the way up here?”

“Nothing anymore,” James says. She lets herself drop down to the bleachers. Inez is crosslegged and tilting her head. “I’m leaving.”

“It’s barely six in the evening!”

James checks her watch. It could not more clearly be seven-thirty.

“And besides,” Inez adds, leaning towards her, “don’t you want to take Bets for a whirl?”

“Why should I?” It comes out harsher than she intends. She winces. “She’s got someone else.”

“Aren’t you two—”

“We’re not,” James snaps. “We’re just friends. She doesn’t even swing that way. I would know.”

“I wasn’t going to imply anything,” Inez says. Her eyes are a little wide. Fuck, James’s said too much, hasn’t she?

“Okay, well, nice talk,” James says. “Have a good summer, Inez.”

“Wait,” Inez says quickly. “Listen. I came up here because Betty—”

You can’t believe a word Inez says. Ever. “Tell her I don’t care,” James says, and runs away because it’s all she ever does.

a/n: sorry for writing taylor swift fic. i’d do it again

it's them!!! <333 yeah yeah yeahhh this is so cute

Fandom: Genshin Impact
Pairing: Nilou x Lumine
Format: audio/MP3

Link to fill here!

(for reference, this is a chiptune cover by ear of one of the forest of blessings themes from simulanka, a magical fantasy world/fairy tale where nilou is turned into the forest fairy and lumine gets pulled in to find her! 'shared dreamscape' seemed fitting ;3c )

a/n: they’re in an international (british) high school btw! this does take place in japan but they’re not allowed to speak japanese outside of japanese class. if you think this is deeply fucked then you are correct i hated my international high school <3 anyway

Haori stomps the whole way to the door, but stops after Mrs Olive opens it for her, feeling a little silly.

It’s not her fault, she thinks, as she plods down to her assigned seat. The outrage, a previously bright fire in her ribcage, is smoldering down into sullen indignation. It’s not like she’d told Auchi-sensei to cut his hair off and become a monk on the woods! She’d just… implied it. And besides, he’d said that the British Empire had “no choice” in starting the opium wars “for the defense of free trade,” and while history wasn’t Haori’s strongest subject, one could only take her friend Susato’s mumbled objections and furiously scribbled arguments that never made their way out of her notebook until one stood up and said something.

Ugh!

At least they hadn’t made Susato go with her, Haori consoles herself. Her best friend was distraught with guilt for ruining Haori’s perfect academic record and was only somewhat reassured after Haori pointed out that you didn’t have to divulge your detention history to CommonApp. Su’s probably waiting in the library for Haori right now; they’re getting lemonades later. The thought brings a smile to her face.

“First time?” someone asks, right as Haori is about to sit down.

Haori jolts and turns around, almost stumbling over the chair.

“Whoa there,” says the person — a girl, Haori realizes, as she catches herself and sits down properly. She has her blonde hair in a ponytail, wearing a baseball cap backwards and resting her chin on one hand. She’s sitting right behind Haori. Her eyes are a deep ocean blue. “Wot’s your name?”

“Erm, Haori,” Haori answers. “Haori Murasame.”

“Huh. Pretty name. I’m Gina Lestrade,” the girl introduces, sticking out her hand to shake. Haori takes it. Gina’s palm is callused, she notices. “Wot’d they get ya for?”

“Er,” Haori says, trying to remember the exact charge a red-faced and slightly balder than usual Auchi-sensei had shouted at her. “Academic… disrespect?”

Gina rolls her eyes. “Figures. That’s the catch-all.”

“Um, why are you here?” Haori asks. Now she thinks about it, she’s seen Gina around campus before — swinging a bat at a baseball game, maybe, or talking to Mr. Gregson in between classes.

“Arson,” Gina says.

Haori almost leaps out of the chair. “What?!”

“Relax, relax, I’m pulling yer leg,” Gina says, and grins. She has a very dashing smile, Haori notices. Like the bad boy in a visual novel, but a girl. “Zieks said I was mouthin’ off.”

“You were… what?”

“Uh — shit, I don’t know the Japanese,” Gina says, putting a finger to her temple. “Bein’… disruptive? I guess?”

“Ohhh.” Haori nods. She hasn’t had any of Mr van Zieks’s classes yet; he only teaches seniors. “Were you?”

“Wot?”

“Being disruptive.”

“Oh.” Gina’s face clears. “Huh, no one’s asked me that before. I mean, not really? I just bend paper clips into cool shapes, dunno wot’s so wrong with that.”

“That doesn’t seem wrong at all,” Haori says. “I practice needle injections on Su — my friend — all the time in class!”

“You wot?”

“In biology,” Haori quickly clarifies. “And I don’t actually put it in! I just practice. Because I’m going to be a doctor someday.”

“Huh. I… see.” Gina looks exactly as lost as before.

“I can do it to you right now if you want,” Haori offers, pulling a fake syringe out of her sleeve.

Gina worries at her lip.

“It’s not dangerous, I promise!” Haori tacks on.

“…’Kay, sure,” Gina says, and rolls up her sleeve to offer Haori her arm. Oh. Wow, Gina’s forearms are amazingly muscular. Haori almost runs her hand over her bicep in appreciation before remembering professional doctor-patient practice and clearing her throat.

“Your forearms are amazingly muscular!” she says, and when Gina’s mouth falls open she positions the needle against her bicep and pushes down the plunger.

The needle doesn’t go in, of course. The tip stays still against Gina’s skin while the head of the syringe goes down, like a trick knife. But practicing the posture is just as important as the actual injection, Haori reminds herself.

Gina has gone pink.

“There, done!” Haori stuffs the syringe back into her sleeve. “What do you think?”

“I didn’t even notice you did it,” Gina says, a little high-pitched.

Haori grins. “That’s the goal!”

“And uh,” Gina says, going pinker. Her fingers fidget. “Listen, I’m flattered, I swear, but I’ve got a lass waitin’ for me.”

“You’ve… what?”

“A girlfriend,” Gina says. “A, uh, a kanojo.”

Haori blinks. Then blinks again.

“…You got a problem with that?” Gina asks warily.

“No! No, of course not!” Haori knew gay people existed, obviously, she just hasn’t met any in person before. That she knows of, anyway. For some reason the fact that Gina likes girls is the best news in the world, but the fact that she has a girlfriend is the worst.

“Good,” Gina says, relaxing incrementally.

“Good!” Haori nods rapidly. “Right!”

“Anyway.” Gina clears her throat. “Wanna see one o’ my paper clips?”

“I’d love to,” Haori says, sincere.

-

When detention is over she has successfully gotten Gina’s number. Susato asks what she’s smiling about and Haori says she’s met someone really cool and pretty in detention and doesn’t notice the way Susato flinches ever-so-slightly. They walk home together — they only live a few minutes away from each other, and Haori loves stopping by the Mikotobas’ anyway — and Susato’s brother, Kazuma, ruffles her hair and calls her a rebel while Susato swats at him.

It’s a good day.

In a bathtub

In the bedroom of someone who is not part of the yuri

MILK BAR.

Ship: Sayaka/Kyoko from Madoka Magica, link to ao3 fic here!

YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 7

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