YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 7

[a1c0bb]

For this round, we want to see prompts that are based on settings or locations! For your prompts, please provide a location or setting. It can be as specific or as abstract as you want, and can be in any medium you prefer!

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 ACE ATTORNEY

[ghostvines]

“I’m afraid there are no more rooms,” says the old lady at the counter.

“That’s not possible,” Kiyomi argues. She tries her best to be polite to minimum wage workers, but she’s been freezing ever since she accidentally brushed the single wilted potted plant in the corner of the room and it shriveled away from her touch and into the peeling yellow wallpaper, so forgive her. “I booked ahead, I have my reservation receipt right here.”

“Sorry,” the old woman says, and smiles at her. Her teeth are very sharp, Kiyomi notes. Very, very sharp. “I’m — that is, we’re full.”

Kiyomi grits her teeth. She will not let herself be scared away from her rightful place by one slightly creepy elderly woman. “Please, I really don’t have another place to stay,” she says. “I’m sure you could find something.”

“No more rooms,” the old woman says stubbornly.

“I could sleep on the couch in the lobby,” Kiyomi threatens. Let that chase away all the customers. It wouldn’t be a good look for Kiyomi, but it’s not like anyone respectable is coming to this motel.

“What couch?”

Kiyomi turns. The couch is gone.

“It was right there,” she says, pointing in front of the potted plant.

“I’m sorry, dear,” the old woman says. “I’m afraid your mind must be playing tricks on you.”

“No, I swear—”

“Is that who I think it is?” comes a new voice from down the hallway.

Kiyomi stiffens. No. No, please god no…

“Kiyomi-chan!” Misa fucking Amane pokes her head out of her room. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, how lovely!” The old woman claps her hands together. “You two are friends?”

This is somehow the most horrifying thing that has happened all night.

“Yes,” Kiyomi grits out. “We’re on wonderful terms.”

“And I still owe you a meal!” Misa grins at her, leaning against the open doorframe. Her smile is even more like a shark’s than the old woman’s. “I’ve wanted to meet up with you again for ages!”

Kiyomi had actually contemplated asking Misa out again, this is true. She’d lost horribly at their last dinner and she knew it. But the winner asking the loser for a rematch is just bad etiquette.

Then again, she shouldn’t have expected Misa Amane to know anything about etiquette.

“Can we share a room, please?” Misa turns her puppy-dog eyes on the old woman. “Pretty please? We’ll be good quiet girls, right, Kiyo?”

If you don’t get drunk again, Kiyomi kindly does not say. “Yes, of course.”

“Hmmm,” the old woman says. “I suppose I’ll allow it. Friends are so sweet when eaten — I mean, meetin’ together.” She smiles at Kiyomi again; Kiyomi flinches. “Free of charge.”

“Oh, thank you very much!” Kiyomi nods politely.

“Now shoo.”

Before Kiyomi can do so, Misa has already darted out and pulled her into the room with a vice grip on her arm. The door slams shut behind them.

Kiyomi turns in a circle. The ceiling fan is not only broken, but also slanted at an odd angle to the ceiling. There is a pentagram etched on the floor. The bathroom mirror is grimed with mold from unknown sources. And to top it all off, the true horror: there is only one bed.

“Shall we work out sleeping arrangements, Amane-san?”

Misa doesn’t respond.

Kiyomi turns. “Amane-san—?”

Misa pauses in the middle of barricading the door with a chair, a knife between her teeth. “Mmf?” she asks through the knife.

“What,” Kiyomi says slowly, “are you doing.”

Misa finishes shoving the chair under the handle and shifts her knife to her free hand. “Saving our lives? Duh?”

“By trapping me in here with a knife?”

“The knife is for the monsters outside, obviously,” Misa says.

Kiyomi scoffs. “Amane-san, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but this motel—”

“I’ve stabbed three different zombies already,” Misa informs her cheerfully. “Because I’ve been here three nights. And you know what? If you were out there on the couch, you’d be dead five minutes in.”

“…There isn’t a couch.”

“Fucker.” Misa pauses. “Why are you staying here, Kiyomi?”

Kiyomi’s head is spinning. Is this some kind of reality TV show she’s been snatched into? Has Misa finally lost it? What the hell is going on?

Best to play along for now.

“NHN is hosting a get-together event,” Kiyomi says. Truth.

“And this is where you’re staying?”

“Yes,” Kiyomi bites out. “Because I’m the stand-in for the host, who is Miho Sato.”

“And you have to pay for it yourself?” Misa stares, then shakes her head. “Bastards.”

With anyone else Kiyomi would’ve defended her company’s decision. Maybe even said she was happy with how it had all turned out. Kiyomi Takada is meant to be above it all.

But Misa — what does she have to lose around Misa?

“Bastards,” Kiyomi agrees.

Misa grins. “Alright, monster of the week should be here in ten.”

“Do you have another knife for me?” Kiyomi asks.

“Better,” Misa says. “I’ve got a gun.”