and inspires you


46. What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.

When Victor had first received the invitation from the Tsarevich, he’d had half a mind to decline.

But then Yakov had scolded him, telling Victor would be insolent at best and dangerous at worst. Victor couldn’t deny that, knowing Friedrich as well as he did. Ever since they were teenagers, Victor guiding the would-be Tsar around the ice, Friedrich had always made his temper known. Victor had often found him unpleasant at times in their youth, the callous way he would treat his servants rankling Victor’s sensitivities.

Once Victor’s coaching had ended when Friedrich entered the political sphere at eighteen, Victor had swallowed his distaste, taken the money he’d been granted and fled further West into the continent. Never in the last decade did Victor think the Tsarevich’s reach would stretch as far as Vienna, but here was Victor being proven unfortunately wrong.

Victor bowed to the doorman at the Hotel Imperial, handing his invitation over with a careful flick of the wrist. The doorman nodded, calling over an escort to bring Victor to what was no doubt going to be one of the more grand ballrooms. Friedrich always had a taste for fine things, even by royal standards. If the Tsar ever did die, (which looked unlikely, as the codger seemed intent of living forever), Friedrich would likely bankrupt Russia in a week.

Not that Victor cared, mind.

Victor followed his escort up the Royal Staircase, adjusting the buttons of his shirt from where the white cuffs sat below the sleeves of his black tailcoat. When Victor had first suggested a short jacket, preferring the more daring fashion of it, Yakov had nearly thrown the kettle he’d been boiling at the time at Victor’s head. While it had definitely been worth it to rile Yakov up, Victor knew that he’d do better to try and emulate the Russian aesthetic. Like a good countryman.

The escort took Victor’s overcoat, bowing low and opening the door to the ballroom for him. As expected, Victor was at first blinded by the grandness of it. Gilded walls, like the palaces of home and ornate chandeliers dripping glass and sparkling light across the room. There was chatter and music, and the smell of wine.

‘Victor Nikiforov!’ the escort announced to the room, Victor just biting his lip in time to stop a sigh of resignation.

The ballroom was full of what was undeniably an almost exclusively Russian crowd. Victor recognised some of the faces from his own readings and the papers- bankers and politicians, the odd ballerina. Russia must be empty, Victor thought to himself, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

‘Victor!’ A voice boomed and Victor pushed his hair from his face, preparing himself.

‘Your highness,’ Victor said in familiar Russian as Friedrich approached, bowing low. Friedrich was reflecting almost as much as the chandelier above him, Imperial military jacket bespeckled in shining brass buttons and gleaming medals that sat proudly against his chest. Knowing Friedrich, he was probably wearing them in the prayer of a war.

‘Oh, Victor!’ Friedrich said, grabbing Victor by the shoulders and shoving him upright. ‘Don’t be so formal. I couldn’t have that, dear friend.’

Victor blinked, truly surprised at being called dear. ‘Then what shall you have me call you?’

‘Nothing unpleasant,’ Friedrich replied with a wink, dark eyes hooded beneath his thick eyebrows. He had grown a beard in the last ten years, shaven square and elegant like his father’s. He had not grown much over the last ten years, only brushing Victor’s nose. Victor inclined his head.

‘I would never dream of it,’ Victor said with an easy grin, toasting his glass to Friedrich. Friedrich beamed from behind his beard, clapping Victor so hard on the back it had him choke on his sip of champagne. Hiding his cough, Victor let himself be led into the crowd.

‘Everyone, you must know who this is!’ Friedrich announced to a group of rather impressive looking men and women. Dressed in their finery and regarding Victor in his modest tailcoat with mild interest. ‘Victor Nikiforov, the ice dancer!’

‘Oh yes,’ a portly man said, nodding his red face in Victor’s direction. ‘I’ve heard of you. You have that- how do you say- ice show? Is that it?’

Victor rolled his shoulders. ‘Yes, I do. But only during the winter season, naturally. Otherwise, I spend my time with the ballet.’

‘A waste!’ a woman with blonde hair said, leaning into her husband’s side like what Victor had said almost had her swoon with misfortune. ‘To have such talent lost to the continent. I’ve seen your shows. The Bolshoi would be happy to have you.’

‘Victor was never one for patriotism,’ Friedrich said, giving Victor another strong pat on the back. Victor was rather getting the impression that Friedrich wanted Victor to be hunched over as often as possible, perhaps to make Friedrich appear taller. ‘Fled the old country the moment you were free to, didn’t you, my friend?’

‘Call it wanderlust,’ Victor said airily, taking another sip of champagne before he said something he’d regret.

‘I’d say it was lust of a sort,’ Friedrich said crudely and Victor coughed into his champagne, embarrassed. ‘You were always one to follow a pretty face!’

Victor didn’t know what to say to that, glancing around their company for some inclination of what to do. The other men laughed while their wives smiled benignly, which really only further Victor’s discomfort. He did not appreciate being laughed at.

‘Speaking of such, I must introduce you to someone,’ Friedrich said, taking Victor’s arm again and leading him down the ballroom. Victor smiled to those who nodded to him as they passed, guests bending low to Friedrich who paid them no attention. ‘I must say I didn’t even know you were here in Vienna. Ignorant, on my part, I know. But thankfully, my betrothed knew of your show and insisted we attend. He has quite an interest in skating, you see.’

‘I see,’ Victor replied, not really listening as he finished off his champagne. Then, Victor realised what Friedrich had said to him and stopped so suddenly, he nearly toppled them both to the ground. ‘Forgive me, but did you say your betrothed?’

Friedrich looked at Victor with great amusement. ‘I am a twenty-eight year old man, Victor. Did you think me incapable of finding one?’

‘No… No, of course not,’ Victor said, dazed. His mind was racing and Victor looked over Friedrich’s shoulder, paying far more attention to the people around them. ‘I knew you had an arrangement.’

‘A rather fortunate one, as it has proven to be,’ Friedrich said, puffing out his medaled chest. Victor was certain the flute in his hand would break, he was gripping the stem so tightly. Friedrich seemed not to notice Victor’s anxiety, starting to walk again. ‘He’s quite the beauty, though I’m sure you’ve heard already. Japan performed well in that regard. They must be awfully interested.’

Victor was barely listening, following Friedrich like he were dreaming. Victor felt weightless, without an anchor. His thoughts were running ahead of him, all the imagined fantasies he’d indulged in as a young man rushing down him in a wave of nostalgia that his heart reeling.

They were almost to the end of the ballroom, towards the large windows that led to the balcony overlooking the street. And through the fine chiffon curtains, Victor saw a figure.

The man was wearing what had to be the Japanese fashion, similar to what he had the first time Victor had met him as children. Shimmering satin of a deep, blood red with embroidered black and white spirals that crept up the carefully folded fabric like rose vines. He turned when Friedrich approached, dark eyes catching the golden light of the ballroom and Victor felt time stop around him.

Yuuri.

The years had been exceptionally kind to Yuuri. He had grown tall, though not as tall as Victor, and his frame willowy. Like a dancer, Victor thought as Yuuri’s slim arms came together in front of the thick, silk belt that bound his ensemble together. The dark hair Victor remembered seemed a tad longer, combed back over Yuuri’s head quite fashionably.

And though Yuuri’s face was not as round as Victor remembered it being as a child, his eyes were just as warm. Like firewood embers, earth-brown and catching like flint in the light.

‘Victor,’ Friedrich said, holding a hand out towards Yuuri like he were a particularly fine piece of art. Not that Victor would disagree with such an assessment, as it were. In heavily accented English, Friedrich introduced; ‘This is my fiancé, Yuuri Katsuki.’

Yuuri smiled when he met Victor’s eyes. It was a small thing, just the barest curl of his full lips and then Yuuri was bending low, his arms in front of him.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Victor,’ Yuuri said in English so elegant, it was almost without accent to Victor’s ear. As he straightened back up, Victor was still frozen, all manners and protocol slipping from his mind entirely. Yuuri titled his head, dark eyes burnt gold from the light around them.

‘I think you have him quite stunned,’ Friedrich said and Yuuri looked away, his cheeks colouring. Friedrich laughed and it broke Victor from his reverie, looking to the Tsarevich in a panic. ‘Oh, do not trouble yourself, my friend. Even the court quite forgets the look of their own shoes when they see him.’

‘You are too kind, Your Highness,’ Yuuri said blithely, almost sounding rehearsed to Victor’s ear. He doubted Friedrich’s English was strong enough to pick it up, however. Friedrich stepped over to Yuuri, but Victor noted Yuuri’s slight shift. The way his hips angled slightly away.

‘What is the use of you if I can’t inspire jealousy?’ Friedrich asked, touching Yuuri’s elbow. Victor looked down, unable to stop himself. He saw the satin of Yuuri’s robe bunch, Friedrich was gripping so tight. ‘Yuuri insisted we see your show and once I recognised you, I simply had to invite you to our gathering. Only Russia’s finest, I assure you.’

‘I’m honoured,’ Victor said truthfully, looking to Yuuri’s face. Yuuri glanced up at him from beneath his dark lashes, cheeks still pink. ‘If I have ever done anything you found engaging, then I would consider myself achieved.’

‘Such flattery!’ Friedrich cried, releasing Yuuri and stepping away. He patted Victor’s shoulder again. When he spoke, it was in Russian, Yuuri’s face going blank at the sound of it; ‘I trust with such a sweet tongue you can keep Yuuri entertained while I meet with the General?’

Victor could only nod, not trusting himself to speak. Friedrich smiled at the both of them, before stepping back into the ballroom. Victor stayed where he was, too afraid even to move. Yuuri glanced up at him, a true smile breaking across his beautiful features.

‘Hello, again, Victor.’

‘Yuuri,’ Victor said, grinning before he could stop himself. ‘I wish I had the words, but I don’t.’

Victor walked up to Yuuri, impropriety abundant in his boldness but Victor found himself uncaring. Yuuri looked up at him, smiling so widely now his teeth were flashing between his lips. Victor reached out with his free hand, taking Yuuri’s own by the fingers. He raised it up, pressing the chilled skin to his lips.

‘I’m afraid I don’t have any gloves to offer you this time,’ Victor said, words kissed to Yuuri’s fingers. Yuuri was watching him, smile faltering only slightly.

‘You cut your hair,’ Yuuri said, hand slipping out of Victor’s grip. For a moment, Victor thought Yuuri might reach up to touch the careful sweep Victor retained over his left side, but then Yuuri’s hand was gone entirely. ‘It suits you well.’

Victor laughed. ‘You remember my hair?’

‘I remember all of you,’ Yuuri replied, before his eyes went wide. He stepped back, hands tight down at his sides. ‘Forgive me, that was untoward.’

‘It’s flattering to know you’ve thought of me,’ Victor said honestly and Yuuri blushed, turning to face the street from the balcony wall. Victor walked up beside him, his hand brushing against the silken edge of his robe. ‘I’ve thought of you as well. More often than I’m sure is proper for me to admit. Seeing you again is… Like something from a dream.’

Yuuri went nearly as red as his robe, blinking up at Victor with such shock that Victor was sure he’d overstepped. He was just about apologise when Yuuri laughed quietly, pushing a stray hair behind his ear.

‘You’re a skilled flatterer. No wonder you dance so well.’

‘It is truth,’ Victor said earnestly, placing his empty champagne flute down on the balcony wall. He watched Yuuri, careful not to push. ‘I find myself wondering if you kept the gloves I gave you. If you ever tried skating. If you ever think of me. To know at least one of those things for certain is more than I could ever have imagined all these years.’

Yuuri said nothing to that, eyes back down on the street below. Victor saw Yuuri tug on his lip with his teeth, almost like he were concentrating. Perhaps on the carriages that were making their way through the snow that lay across the cobbles.

‘Tell me, Yuuri,’ Victor said, trying to charm and stepping back to appreciate Yuuri’s dress once again. ‘Are you actively seeking a poetic death of cold? Every time I meet you, you seem intent on standing out in the snow.’

‘I must confess a secret,’ Yuuri said, looking up with a bashful nervousness. Yuuri inclined his head behind them. ‘I don’t care much for these political parties. I don’t really perform well with an audience, despite what His Highness says. I’d rather be out here alone and cold, than warm and with those people.’

Victor laughed, charmed as he had been at seventeen. ‘I certainly can’t blame you for that. I ran from the whole country. But I can tell you a secret, so you don’t feel too bad for it. Might be a dreadful secret though.’

Yuuri smiled, eyes coy. ‘I’m sure I could pardon you.’

Victor stepped closer, waiting for Yuuri to meet his eye. He watched Yuuri’s face, traced the lines of the cheeks Victor remembered and the lips he’d dreamed of.

‘What if I told you that I have been in love with you since we were children?’ Victor asked, voice low with an emotion too dangerous to name. Yuuri looked at Victor, his brown eyes round.

‘Then I would say you were a fool,’ Yuuri replied, breathless and it put a fire in Victor’s heart. ‘Who says such things?’

‘Fools, I’m told,’ Victor teased back, cautious but not adverse to the tension that gathered between them. It reminded him of the thunderous clouds that would roll over Vienna in the autumn time, promising split skies and flooding rain. Yuuri looked as devastating as a storm.

‘Or liars,’ Yuuri said, voice suddenly cold. He stepped away from Victor, hands before him again in perfect posture. He stood tall, regarding Victor warily. ‘It was good to see you again, Victor.’

Before Victor could say anything else, Yuuri turned and headed back into the ballroom, leaving Victor standing in the snow, wondering if he’d ever misstepped so badly before in his life.

It’s time to work through the self doubt, my dreams need to be accomplished.
—  Affirmation of the day.

One turn.

I was stopped at a Y in the road. Left led to you. Right let go my best friend. I chose right. I came back to that Y coming home. Left was home. Right was to you. I stopped and thought for a minute. I wanted to go right so bad. It took all I had not to go right. I finally turned left and drove home. I thought about turning around the entire time but I didn’t. I went home thinking about you the entire time.

anonymous asked:

Julia, my dearest love, would you please tell me a story? Any story at all.

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Lilac breeze

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A/N: Hello! Dunno what this is, but I’m a bit fascinated with November where I live, so I came up with this and *shrugs*. Happy to tell you a story anytime you like friend <3

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Some snippet of a CS adventure, at some undefined point in an undefined future.

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“Do you think we’re cursed?”

It mustn’t rain much in this realm, Emma surmises. The trees seem a different green for it, their leaves more silver and sun-sorry than at home. And even though there is currently rain dropping from tree top, to tree top, to their heads, a tiny crescendo of noise, the ground is hardly wet. There are few puddles upon the bark-littered path, no great squelch and slip of earth, low lying flowers wilting a little. The rain is new here, the plants are still taking as much of it as they can get before it sinks out of reach.

All it really does is change the colour of the trees they go past, purple bodies turning bold shades of orange and green with each ripple of water that trickles to their roots. (Almost as though the rain is trying to hide the colour from them.)

“What makes you ask that, Swan?”

Emma pulls her slipping hood back over her head, grumbling as the rain means it both slips and sticks from her head and she contemplates leaving it off altogether.

“I just feel like we’ve been in this situation far too many times before. You, me, some sort of forest-”

Emma’s words are cut off by a sharp noise above them, a haunting cackle that jars every thought in her head. Killian stops his feet, glancing up into the canopy above them for the source of the noise. The ground beneath Emma’s footsteps snap, the bark that is stripping from the trees around them mostly terracotta in tone, but she only stops walking once she’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Killian and his great leather coat again. 

He is still listening to the air as the mysterious cackling noise fades once more.

“Danger,” Emma finishes pointedly, head tilting in the direction of the laughter.

Keep reading

There are so many conflicting opinions on my dash in light of the recent news article about Liam and personally it’s important to see the variation in interpretation, the possibilities of outcomes, all those things. It is important to some days to see the various opinions – even if they are incredibly biased, maybe in a good way maybe not so much.
However, it is really important to acknowledge that:

1. Mouthpieces present lies and exaggeration to sell narratives ( you can always skip over the unimportant bits, anyway) BUT EVEN SO, using that as some sort of a moral save to not be concerned over Liam is not a good way to go about justifying it, especially because,

2. Liam slogged his ass for 5+ years for a massive – in size as well in magnitude – ungrateful community. I’d say there is a lot of truth to his struggles

3. Besides, from what I have repeatedly observed over the years, it’s not like there was anyone questioning the veracity and relevance of authenticity of accounts vilifying Liam from these very mouthpieces. If anything, everyone is always ready with their pitchforks ready to attack Liam, so what gives? Is consistency not the forte of the season? 

4. Liam’s issues are his and his alone. Making this about the other members (past/present/current/former, whatever, for the sake of simplicity I’m using it as all inclusive term which considers all 5) does not exactly qualify as  being supportive, no matter how hard you try to convince yourselves it does. I mean if you couldn’t have made their issues about Liam and compartmentalized it just fine then maybe extend the same courtesy to Liam?

5. There is nothing that suggests Liam’s dropped brand new information. Yes, there might be an expansion but he has talked about his struggles on multiple occasions (pretty sure he was the first to talk about the issues too) and enough times to invite unfair and ridiculous hate, even. Reminds me of the multitude of comments under the “Drop the Mic” video expressing anger and sadness but more over shock over Derulo’s “it’s the one you never see” line. What befuddles me is why the shock? The fandom is comfortably guilty of ignoring everything Liam related – like oh, I dunno, the time he openly talked about his struggles but people were busy misinterpreting the comments to their ship – and so was/is their old team and consequently so was the media. At least Jason genuinely meant no harm…

Disliking Liam and remaining indifferent enough to not feel for Liam is one thing but can we drop these accessory excuses? It’s 2017, for crying out loud.

Liam’s love and passion for music and his love and commitment to fans tested his perseverance, really. And in spite of everything that went down, I can constantly say my guy was always the life of every show.

Life is too short to read books you’re not interested in, to do things you don’t like, and to spend time with people that don’t motivate you to be better.
—  Things I realized when I was talking to my friend, part VIII
100 Ways to Say “I Love You” | #22 | Park Jihoon

Originally posted by yoonwang

prompt: you find love in the small things.

note: this comes from a list that can be found here! once upon a time, i planned on writing these in order…i now laugh at that time.

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

You dusted off your hands and did a small, victorious brushing off of your shoulders as you dumped the last bits of clothes onto your bed. You just finished picking out some that you no longer saw yourself wearing and would give to family or charity.

Jihoon gave you an amused smile as you continued to sashay around your room proudly and he decided to sprinkle on your parade a bit, “You know, we aren’t done yet. We also have to pack these up.”

His words stopped your movements and you spun on your heels to glare at him. All amusement left his face as he gave you a nervous laugh, “But let’s have some fun first! Why don’t you relive old memories by trying some of this stuff on?” 

Honestly, that sounded like a pretty fun idea.

“Okay Wink Boy, you’re about to be blessed with the presence of a fashion star.”

“..”

You threw an old t-shirt at his face and told him to turn around, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he continued to cover his eyes with the shirt, even while he was turned the other way.

The two of you spent the next two hours laughing at your old clothes. You held up graphic tees that had atrocious sayings, cackling at their ridiculousness. You also wore your old elementary school uniform shirt proudly as a crop top.

“I’m dating a trendsetter, a fashionista. How could someone who dresses so well date a fashion terrorist like me?” Jihoon said in between laughs while he clutched his stomach.

“I know, right?”

He stopped laughing and threw the clothes you were originally wearing back at your face this time, “Hey, you’re supposed to defend me!” 

“I can’t defend you from yourself~”

After a few more laughs and a few twirls around the room, you changed back into clothes you were actually keeping. The two of you then started organizing your clothes into boxes for either your family or charity.

Eventually, you bent down to grab the family box, which was really heavy, but still a lot lighter than the charity box that Jihoon was carrying. But as you finally settled the box in your arms, he came up from underneath you with his own box and stacked the boxes on top of each other.

“Wait, your box is already heavy as is! My box is just giving you an extra hard time!”

“I’m okay!”

“But there are years’ worth of clothes in those giant boxes…”

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

He winked and you blinked. You also hid a chuckle as your boyfriend attempted to flex the arm facing you while struggling with the boxes. Jihoon continued to smirk at you while his legs shook with every step he took towards your stairs.

You were so close to cracking as he stood at the top of the stairs, no smirk in sight, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It seemed like he took years with each step, and his arms would sway a bit, spilling a few articles of clothing every now and then.

You had tried so hard not to laugh, but you burst out in giggles when you saw him avoiding the pieces he dropped. You followed him down, only a step behind, and watched in case he slipped or something. But still, you continued to laugh as he struggled to prove his strength.

“Stop laughing!!!” His tough act disappeared as his voice went from confident to whiny. You could only imagine how his face looked at that moment.

As he finally reached the bottom of your stairs, you heard him sigh quietly in relief and stopped yourself from laughing again. You simply gathered the articles of clothing that he had dropped on his journey downstairs and stepped in front of him.

He was pouting and you smiled cutely at him. You poked his cheeks lightly and gave him a small peck on the lips. When you pulled away, you dropped the clothes into the top box that he was still holding. He looked at you adoringly - flustered, but still in awe of your kiss. You returned his look with a gaze just as loving,

“Thank you, my strong man.”

                                          though  nothing,  will  keep  us  together
                                          we  could  steal  time,  just  for  one  day
                                          we  can  be  heroes,  forever  and  ever
                                                          what'd  you  say? )

                                         clarkdianabrucearthurbarryvictor.  

hermionegrangcr  asked:

4, 8, 14, and 19 <3

thaaank you so much Jennifer !

4. Who/what inspired you to make graphics? normally I get inspired by pictures like I will scroll through pinterest and find this one picture that inspires me to make a graphic for a specific ship/fandom/character. Sometimes I also get inspired by the beautiful creations of othere people or by quotes from specific characters/fandoms/ships.

8. List 5 graphic makers you enjoy seeing graphics from (already did this but let’s just name five more because there are so many GREAt graphic makers on here omg) @selinaskyel ; @hermionegrangcr ; @anthony-goldstein ; @acciolily ; @jediknightrey

14. When did you start making graphics? omg it’s suuuuch a long time ago tbh I think it was around the time I joined tumblr, so six years ago

19. Favourite resource blog ahhhh i love so many tbh but probably @completeresources and @chaoticresources

ask the graphic maker