yurishippingolympics | YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024

Lapistoria (Pop'n Music Lapistoria)

Fear Factory from Legion of Superheroes

the backrooms

“How are you not more upset,” says Light.

L glances over. “About what?”

“This is the third room we’ve been in that’s just a pool in the middle of nowhere!”

“Mm,” L says, unperturbedly. (She is perturbed. L does not like to be in any place without knowing more about the place than it does about her, and she suspects these rooms aren’t on any map. But at least Light’s distress is amusing.) “It’s a good thing I’m barefoot.”

“No it’s not! What if some — bacteria was down there?”

“Your concern is gratifying,” L says, taking another step along the metal railing. “I’m touched, Light-chan. We work so well together.”

“Fuck you,” Light says. She’s skirting around the edges of the pool, because she’s a square. “Look, I’m serious, I don’t want you killed by falling into a pool.”

The railing wobbles. L does not. “If I was going to contract foot disease from bacteria, I would have done so at age five.” And you say that because you want to kill me personally, Kira.

Light makes a disgusted face. “Why did I ask.”

“Only the heavens know,” L says dryly.

She tilts her face up to look at the ceiling. Truthfully, she would rather there were ants or dead flies or some organism here. But it seems there isn’t a single living thing in these rooms other than herself and Light.

Could Light have done this deliberately?

L sneaks another look at her. Light is currently shaking invisible water droplets off her dress shoes with a look as grim as the Reaper.

No, she decides. Light is almost certainly a supernatural serial killer who has a body count of six thousand people and counting, but she was not the reason they ended up here.

“You’re staring at me again,” Light says, without looking up. “Cut it out.”

The railing wobbles again. L decides it’s not worth the risk of using her feet; despite her training they’re still not quite as dexterous as her hands. She flips upside down and starts handstanding her way across instead. “You are a suspect in a murder investigation.”

“You’re still on that,” Light says, exasperated. Her fingers twitch. Her writing hand, L notices. “We caught Higuchi yesterday. Can’t we just agree to be friends?”

“We were always friends,” L says, as she does an elegant flip and lands on the other side of the pool. Ha! L 1, Kira 0. “I’m only stating the facts.”

“Right.” Light looks like she wants to say more, but instead speeds up, shoes squeaking on the tile.

L considers forging into the next room without her, but pauses instead, tapping her fingers on the wall. She knocks on every tile, starting from her feet to as tall as she can reach. They all sound equally solid.

“Nothing?”

L whirls around. There is Light standing right in front of her. L hadn’t even noticed she’d made it across.

She really has to stop letting her guard down, she thinks. She’s gotten soft.

“Nothing,” L says, straightening into her usual hunch.

Light drags a hand across her face. “Damn it.”

It would not be as easy as Light probably thinks it would be to take L in a fight. L hasn’t trained in martial arts for years for nothing. Still, being trapped in an extradimensional space with a miasma of creeping horror exuding from every corner with your worst enemy isn’t pleasant. It would be very easy for Light to drown her right in this room, in fact, and make her own way out of this space to claim that Ryuzaki died trying to get us both out, isn’t it tragic? It’s not like there are any witnesses here.

But it wouldn’t be in keeping with their game. Light has had ample opportunities to poison her and has taken none of them.

Is that it? Is it the Death Note or nothing?

Light’s fingers twitch again. “C’mon, Ryuzaki. Let’s get going.”

“Let’s,” L agrees.

planetarium

fast food restaurant

diner

Edited 2024-08-20 18:14 (UTC)

vinyl cafe

example

supply closet

“Kiyomi? Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up,” Kiyomi says. Her blood is running hot and her brain is television static and she needs to punch Misa, she needs to kill her, she needs —

Misa gasps in feigned shock. “You don’t mean…? Oh Kiyo, it’s not even noon yet!”

“Shut up.” She digs her nails into Misa’s wrist for good measure — not hard enough to break skin, just barely enough to hurt. Misa gasps again, ragged around the edges; a liquid surge of triumph soars through Kiyomi’s nerves.

“What did I do this time, Vice Principal Takada?” Misa asks. Even without turning to look Kiyomi can see her batting her eyes.

“You,” Kiyomi grits out, “questioned my authority in front of an entire grade of students. And their parents.”

“It’s not like I rigged that microphone on purpose!”

“Yes you did.”

“Yes I did,” Misa says, and laughs. “But c’mon, that’s nothing. Remember that time with the noodles—”

Finally! The teachers’ lounge is clear, thank god. Kiyomi swipes her ID card too fast and has to hold it to the sensor for five long, agonizing seconds before it beeps and she shoves the glass door open.

“Wow, you’re in a hurry,” Misa remarks, a little breathless.

Kiyomi doesn’t know why she does this. It’s not like she likes Misa. Kiyomi’s well aware she’s bisexual, but Misa isn’t anywhere near her type. Misa is stupid and petty and annoying and arrogant and — and exactly like the women Kiyomi has spent so much time trying to prove herself as different from. As better than. And Misa just swings in and ruins everything so easily with that sharp smile on her face.

They’ve been doing this for two school terms now. Kiyomi has several regrets, and also none at all.

The supply closet is, thank the gods, unlocked.

“Two taps for out?” Kiyomi whispers.

“Same as always,” Misa answers, and grins.

Kiyomi fumbles the lock shut in record time before shoving Misa against the wall, and when she kisses her in the darkness Misa’s groan is electric.

school rooftop

Pairing: Ora/Tsukuyomi (Kamen Rider Zi-O)
Words: 457

-

Once upon a time, Ora had mocked the privileges her classmate got as plain and simple nepotism. So what, she was the principal’s sister? Ora was his favourite student, and it wasn’t like she got first dibs on lunch or a key to the (very much out-of-bounds) rooftop.

Now, given that she’s dating that very same nepo-baby, she thanks god that Swartz is such a suck-up to his little sister. If it weren’t for their parent’s messy divorce, Ora wouldn’t be having rooftop dates with her girlfriend while they wine and dined on the most fresh, delicious (read: relatively mediocre) cafeteria food.

Not that she’d ever admit to giving Swartz any props. He has a big enough ego as it is. Alpina probably doesn’t need to know about the whole ‘thinking you were a nepotism hire acceptance’ thing either.

Instead, she just smiles and nods while Alpina rambles about this-and-that. Complaints about Myokouin and Tokiwa, most likely.

“-I mean, seriously? You’d think they were toddlers and not highschoolers! I can’t believe those two sometimes…” Alpina complains, taking a bite out of her melon bread. She chews it methodically, before noticing Ora is staring at her unblinkingly. “Hm? Ora?”

“‘s nothing.” She replies, then thinks better of it. It’s not an answer Alpina will accept laying down. “Just thinking how cute you are, that’s all.”

As expected, Alpina goes red. She’s so bad with compliments.

“H-hey! Not in public!” Alpina says with a hiss. Despite that, she doesn’t really sound angry.

Ora rolls her eyes. “We’re the only ones here; what, you think someone's gonna walk in on us flirting?”

“You were the one flirting.” Alpina corrects, frowning. “Well, not the point. My brother has the key, and so do the rest of the staff! Swartz gave me the key because he believed I wouldn’t ‘fool around’ on the roof.”

“Come on! Your brother totally knows we come up here to make out! He’s probably just glad we aren’t cutting class in the process.”

“Still…”

“What? I can’t call my girlfriend cute? You’re basically depriving me of my basic needs!” Ora exclaims. “Food, water, my cute girlfriend-”

Alpina cuts her off before she can finish, playfully hitting Ora’s shoulder. “Okay, I get it! Ugh, you sound like Sougo when he’s with your brother…”

“Gross? Don’t mention those two in the same sentence as us ever again.”

Alpina laughs at the expression on Ora’s face. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t sound one bit sorry. Ora really wants to kiss that smile off her face.

So she does, regardless of the threat of being walked in on. Shouldn’t have given Alpina the rooftop key if you didn’t want her girlfriend to make good use of the private area, old man. Suck it.

shopping mall

butler cafe (mascgirl version of maid cafe)

train station

comic shop

Haori plucks out the final manga.

She wishes she had room for one more — her eye is especially drawn to The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All — but she already has two armfuls of books, and besides, she’s limited herself to only investigating classic yuri for now. She can branch out later, but it’s important to get a good understanding of the fundamentals.

She stands decisively and is about to make her way over to the counter, when —

“Haori-sama?”

Oh. Oh god.

“Susato-chan!”

There she is — Susato’s near the American superhero comics section, eyes wide in shock, holding a single volume of Spiderman along with a previously acquired copy of Moriarty the Patriot. Haori attempts to wave before she remembers how many mangas she has on her. One slips to the floor. It’s Revolutionary Girl Utena, because of course it is.

Susato’s eyes go down to the book. Then back up to Haori. “I wasn’t aware you liked comics, Haori-sama,” she says, and starts making her way over.

“Oh! No! I mean, yes! I mean — I thought I should branch out a little more,” Haori says, almost gesturing with her hands before stopping herself again. “Into some other romance genres.”

Susato tilts her head, amused. “Sick of dashing gentlemen?”

“Never!” Haori says vehemently. “Just, um…”

Susato waits patiently until it becomes clear Haori isn’t going to finish the sentence. “Is something wrong?”

Haori attempts to hide behind one of the stacks of mangas she’s holding. She suspects Susato sees her blush anyway. “…more kinds of gentlemen,” she mumbles.

“Here you go,” Susato says, her warm lilting voice suddenly very close. Haori almost jumps out of her skin. She pokes her head out and oh, Susato is right there, slotting Haori’s fallen manga into the pile gathered in her arms; Haori gapes at her. “That’s quite a lot of books.”

“It’s necessary for research,” Haori explains.

“Oh?” Susato blinks. “What kind of research?”

Well, after you dressed as a boy the other day, I realized I’ve been in love with you for eleven years and I need to know all the yuri tropes so I can propose to you immediately.

“Well, after you dr—I mean!” Haori is not actually bad at lying, per se. She’s just bad at lying on the spot, and therefore sputters for five seconds while growing steadily redder. “Um. It’s for. A book report!”

“A book report?”

“Yes and I have to start on it right away see you later Susato-chan thanks for the help,” Haori yells before she sprints for the cashier.

Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY

static_prevails - 2024-08-27 05:30 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY

ghostvines - 2024-08-27 05:51 (UTC) - Expand

a greenhouse (think of the yuri-charged greenhouses in Revolutionary Girl Utena or Gundam: The Witch from Mercury!)

on a ferris wheel

candyland

bus stop

the jjk breakup kfc

Gymnasium

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

FILL: TEAM KITTYURI

magicmooshka - 2024-08-31 13:35 (UTC) - Expand

A renaissance festival!

Lug/Anode, no warnings!

Weeks and weeks of planning had finally come to fruition. The costumes Lug and Anode were now wearing had been easier to make than the ones for the Terran animation convention, if a bit different than their original visions. They were metal, but it had still been an ordeal. Most human outfits needed fabric, and even the plastic polymer fabrics from the aforementioned convention had been expensive. Natural fibers? They could have purchased a small vehicle as a pet. The human who had suggested they both should go, Verity, had hemmed and hawed over possible options before tossing up her hands and suggesting they go as knights.

A museum exhibit in a nearby country had provided the inspiration. Both of them had assumed they'd go in, transscan them, and spend the rest of the day admiring the other exhibits, but it hadn't really worked. Those knights were very deceptively made; there was no machinery inside their hollow shells.

Silver paint had been acquired, armour patterns altered, and they were indeed rolling. Those armour patterns had taken a lot of work, and could be permanent depending on how they felt. The battlemasks were quite stylish... it was tempting.

Despite the difficulty, the impressed looks as they made their way across the parking lot to the ticket tent indicated it was going to be worth it. They'd recorded metal clangs to give that authentic effect; their own armour was too insulated to give the proper noise (reduced of course so as not to sound like a fight in a saucepan cupboard).

It had felt a bit like cheating to do a metal being, but the cost of period-accurate Renaissance fabrics for patterns scaled to their size was enough to purchase property in the area. The cost of the space bridge to the planet had already been more than enough for their shared bank account.

Both femmes' dreams of strange organic outfits had fizzled at the first cost estimate.

Anode picked up more fascinated whispers as they were given their armbands. It was mid-morning, and both bots had plans.

Touring the artists' tents earned them excited exclamations and many requests for selfies. Other faire-goers had similar requests. Collecting gifts of various types, they meandered around, enjoying the various smells of human food and drink. Fermented grains poured from casks and sugars caramelising over flames, alongside more standard fare. On the second round they decided on a few items for themselves. A quilt for the organic-sized sofa installed in their jump-ship. Some sharp objects for display. More sharp objects. Some honey and tea for their occasional human visitors. Beeswax for polish, which blew out almost half their budget.

Doe-eyed looks poured in from the LARPers' booth, and had they been the types to rest on one planet, there would have been serious consideration.

A few hours past noon, the sword fights began from the local academy, and Lug was dragged over by Anode as soon as the sound of clashing metal was heard. They were invited to join the amateur trials (humans often assumed all Cybertronians were involved with the war), where they fought against each other (poorly, neither had experience, Lug losing on a technicality), and another Cybertronain attendee dressed in armour from a more eastern country (both thoroughly trounced even 2-on-1, the bot had clearly been a combatant). Having exhausted themselves with laughter and shared some smuggled engex with the other bot, they parted ways to enjoy the plot up near the stage.

There was some on-the-fly mental translation going on as they watched, far more closely than had been intended, as they attempted to parse the calcified clichés and plot beats. Such styles of play often left gaps that were easily filled by audiences familiar with them, but left others a bit in the dust. Both Lug and Anode were very experienced with it, but organics had never made it easy.

The area was them dismissed after the curtains had closed and the clapping had stopped, and checking the schedule left them excited — dancing.

The dance teacher, an older male with long, braided facial hair dressed up as Geralt from a foreign book series, was a bit bewildered at teaching two students ten times his size, but took it in stride. Each heavy step of the conjuges made the adjacent couples stumble, and it took a while to move light enough that they weren't sabotaging the other dancers. Soon, cast members came to fill the gaps as the waltz shifted into a jig, and a member with a tightly curled beard and darker skin (apparently titled "Balderdash the Wizard" (Anode suspected it was not his real name)) came to teach them. Both femmes sadly stepped out as they didn't want to shake down the performance tent.

Once again they enjoyed the company of the other bot, who happily showed them his very real, very sharp Cybertronian blade as the sun eased down, and slowly they were all rounded up by the jester to clear the field. It would begin again tomorrow morning, and perhaps they should practise their dancing before they returned. That had been embarrassing.

Dark Hour/Midnight Channel/Metaverse (Persona 3/4/5)

In a pillow fort

In a forest, at night, where there is definitely nothing to make them freak out

Blue Lock

Pride parade!

YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 7

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Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY

Re: FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY

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