Forth-Consecutive World Title For The Russian Super Star?
Yuri Altin-Plisetsky is the star of the ice, no one can question that. After dominating the Junior Division, he went on to become the first skater in male figure skating history to win the Grand Prix during his senior debut at merely age 15.
“Look at them in their ballet tights and pastel colors,” JJ said and lightly bumped Otabek’s shoulder as they stood in front of the giant window allowing them to look into Studio 3. They’d become friends eight months prior when JJ walked into Otabek, successfully spilling hot coffee down his shirt, in one of the hallways of the Ballet Academy where, as it turned out, they both worked as part time pianists accompanying the rehearsals and lessons. “You’d think they’re all innocent little souls, right? Pff, if only people knew what some of them get up to at night.”
Otabek’s limp body hung off the chair, his arms bound behind his back and secured to the wooden chair. There was absolute silence all around, a lone bulb attached to the ceiling flickering every once in a while, the air completely still. He moved slowly around the chair, dust swirling through the air as he walked, his hands hanging on his sides, his eyes carefully watching the unmoving body still completely unconscious.
“What’re you looking at, asshole?” a gruff voice asked ripping Otabek out of his thoughts. Until he spoke, Otabek hadn’t even realized that he’d been staring at him. His mother would’ve definitely reprimanded him for such rude behavior.
The guy, or maybe boy, it was hard to tell his age, sat up in a tree in the middle of the park, his long blond hair open and falling over his shoulders, his clothes loose but carefully color coordinated to fit the scenery around him. He looked almost ethereal with the sunlight hitting him just right, though the scowl on his face didn’t match that idea at all.
“It looks even fucking worse than on the pictures,” Yuri said as they walked into their new apartment in New York. “It almost looks exactly like that dumpster fire of an apartment you used to live in Moscow. Fuck.”
When Otabek was invited to fly to Ibiza to play at Pacha, he’d welcomed the opportunity with open arms. His friends only encouraged him more, said he needed the change of scenery and that it would help him move on. While he wasn’t too sure about the latter, the former was true.
As much as he loved the city, it held too many memories, just like his apartment. All his things were long gone, all traces faded, replaced by others, but Otabek could still feel Yuri’s presence even months later.
Protocol #173B2 Patient: Plisteksy, Yuri Age: 22 In treatment for: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hallucinations Psychiatric: Victor Nikiforov Session #37.1 Plisetsky showed signs of distress upon entering my office in form of eye contact avoidance and fidgeting with a hair tie around his right wrist.
The Catherine Palace was abuzz that night in 1916 as Emperor Nikolai Plisetsky, father of the Russian Tsar, sat and watched as the numerous guests danced across the ballroom. It was a grand display of colors and smiling faces, beautiful music and delight. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling lit with thousands of lights, the walls decorated with rich wallpapers, ornaments and wide windows allowing for a look out onto the winter night’s sky.
It seems like I have a thing for opening stories with some sort of dialogue or an introductory paragraph to set the scene. But besides that, I don’t really see anything pattern wise, I think. Do you guys see anything? :)
It seems though like my titles seem to be usually somewhere either 1 to 3 words, or really damn long, 5+ words.
Summary: Reader is spending the night doing what they love with the person they love.
Paring: Justin Foley x Reader
Request: “Can you write anmagine where Justin comes over and you cuddle and watch movies?”
Warnings: a little fluff
Word Count: 1013
It was a lazy Saturday night and people were taking a break from partying, so you set up your living room to binge watch movies for the night. Looking outside, you saw the sunsetting. The sky had somewhat of a cotton candy color scheme going on, the clouds littering along the horizon and houses looking like nothing but silhouettes in a beautiful picture. You moved away from your window and went to the kitchen to get a few snacks from the cupboards, a couple of cold drinks and some blankets that were in a cabinet near the fireplace. Once situated and comfortable you started to scroll through your favorite movie genre to see all the movie options that were being provided on Netflix. You finally spotted a movie that sparked your interest and hovered the button over said movie before you clicked on it. As the movie was beginning and playing the cheesy music, you pulled your food off the coffee table, onto your lap and started eating the junk food as the vibrant pictures started to move across the television screen.
Based off this headcanon by @selflessbellamy: look i changed my
mind, i also need a scene where bellamy and clarke say: ‘screw it’ and
they take the rover during the night, driving towards the middle of nowhere - a
soft song playing on maya’s ipod, and once they start to feel tired, they park
the car, open the roof so that they can lie on the backseat, cuddled up against
one another and look at the millions of shining stars above them. “i never thought i’d
see them from the ground.”
At first, she thinks it’s just another piece of her
nightmare pulling her awake, like it so often does. But when her eyes open, it
is him, standing there, over her. Not the darkness, not the blood, not the gun
that took so much. It is him.
And he is staring down at her, brushing hair off of her face.
“Clarke, I need you to wake up.” His voice is soft,
insistent, raspy from the hour.
She pulls herself up and into a pair of pants. “What is it?
What’s wrong? What do you need?” The words are automatic; she doesn’t have to
think before asking.
“I need you.” He whispers, hands shaking against hers. “I