so they both fell for each other because of their skating? :) it's lovely
yep! yuri!!! on ice is first and foremost a lovestory about figure skating and it’s always present in everything the characters do and feel, especially in yuuri&vitya’s relationship!
when yuuri first saw vitya skate, it was love at first sight. maybe not for vitya the person yet at that point, but for his skating and talent and the way he tells stories through his skating and carries himself on the ice. and he took that love and let it inspire his own skating for years and years and it all grew and blossomed into something brand new and beautiful! i think that love is a big part of why yuuri’s skating is so different from the other skaters, because he has always been skating with the need and want to become an equal to vitya and to one day become a skater worthy of competing against him and that need comes from the ever growing love he’s felt since the moment he first saw vitya skate
vitya had seen yuuri skate before the vid went viral, and he recognized his own influence in his skating. but it wasn’t until he saw yuuri skate his very own stammi vicino program when it really hit him because?? this was the man who surprised him at the banquet (and who he kind of might have suddenly fallen for) and now surprised him again by turning his own program into something brand new and it’s not flawless by any means but it’s just so beautiful and he can’t look away and he feels something for the first time in ages and somewhere in his mind he just knows he’s the only person who can draw
out that beauty? (and it’s true and it’s because yuuri’s been skating not only because of vitya, but for vitya, for much longer than anyone, including himself, knows and long before he realizes he’s dancing eros for him)
so it all comes a full circle and their love for each other’s skating is what drew them to together in the first place and it’s where their story began? it’s also the reason why it’s so hard for them (and us) to separate their personal relationship from the one they have as a skater&coach. and since skating is so deeply ingrained in everything they do and who they are, it makes sense it’s a huge part of the love they have for each other as well. their love is a very complex one and i find it almost impossible to define with words, other than just “Love” and “Soulmates” and i think that’s exactly what yamamoto&kubo were going for and i think it’s all just incredibly romantic ♥
@rhysand-darling based on her post requesting that someone,
anyone write a post acowar fanfic where Feyre and Tamlin talk. He apologizes to
her and all this stuff. I hope that it meets a few of your needs.
- - - - - - -
He was ashamed to admit that it took him a better part of a
decade to stop being angry with her. One night and many bottles of wine later, his
ever loyal sentry Bron had shared with him what those few years were like. In
the haze of his intoxication he remembered something his mother once told him. Hate and love were a fine line, you chose
which side of the line your heart resides. The next morning he went to her old
room, he expected the thorns, what he did not expect were the paintings.
He knew deep down that she did not paint these before or during
the war. Five paintings sat as roses amongst the thorns.
An enchanted willow tree. Lucien laughing while sitting on a
blanket with a bottle of wine. A pool of stars. Two beings dancing to the song
of will-o’-the-wisps. A beautiful male playing the fiddle. No, not a nameless beautiful male, him. Not
the monster he saw in the mirror, had seen for decades, centuries. The memories
came cascading down upon his soul and that is when he cracked. He fell to his
knees, he did this, he had chosen hate. Even before her, he let the monster within
rule his life.
- - - - - - -
Every solstice after he found those paintings, he told
himself that he would talk with Feyre. Every year he said he would apologize.
And every year he made up an excuse not to reach out to her. In the end he always told himself that he was the one that needed closure, not her. She was happy.
She had no idea that he had moved the paintings to various
places around the manor. They helped remind him that he was not his father, he
was not the beast that prowled beneath his skin. The paintings reminded him
that he had a musician’s soul.
- - - - - - -
It had taken decades, but his court and his soul were
healing from his father’s reign, a reign he had allowed to continue in the name
of tradition. Since the day he leashed
the beast, each tradition was evaluated for what it brought to his people, to
his court. He was about to cancel the upcoming centenary Jubilee, another
pointless tradition of the Spring Court, when his advisers told him that the
people needed a celebration. More importantly the Jubilee was a chance for
other courts to visit.
- - - - - - -
The night of the Jubilee ball came, as he descended the
stairs his breath caught. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever
seen. Her gold brown hair cascaded down her back in waves. She wore a fitting dress of
midnight blue that complimented her skin tone and her tattoos.
Her attention was on the painting he had hung in the foyer, her
painting of two souls dancing to the song of will-o’-the-wisps.
“I was wondering if you ever found them.”
He swallowed the knot forming in his throat, “I found them a
decade after the war. Thank you.”
It had been too long since her voice echoed off the walls of
this manor, “I was so angry with you. I felt like I had given everything for
our love and you never saw it. Never valued what I gave.”
He couldn’t look into the eyes of the girl he had abused, he
instead looked at his toes, “you had every right to be angry with me. You gave
your life for me, for this court, for Prythian. I repaid you by locking you within
this manor, letting the grief and despair eat you alive. I did not see you and
I will always regret that I didn’t find a way to help you. That is why I hung
this painting here, as a reminder.”
He finally looked up and saw silver lining her blue-grey
eyes. He only then realized that they had both needed this. They both needed
closure. And for all the things he had never given her, the one thing he could give
her was closure.
“When I came back I wanted to burn this place to the ground
for what you had done to me, for taking me away from my mate and my family. I
am sorry for the part I played, for the destruction I caused.”
He nodded, “I was angry at you for a long time for that, but
you have nothing to apologize for.”
She looked at him, and for a briefest moment he saw the
shock at his words.
“During that month, you gave me choices. If I would have
chosen my sentries over a high priestess, my court would not have fallen as
easily as it did. If I would have choose to listen to Lucien instead of Ianthe,”
he spit out her name with a level of venom that had not passed his lips in
decades, “my court would not have been starving.”
He took a deep breath, “I made many bad choices, the moment I
made that deal with Hybern, I should have evacuated most of my court, instead
of letting countless souls die at the hand of that monster. After I received
your letter, instead of running to Hybern, I could have requested a meeting
with you. After Lucien came back from the Illyrian steppes and said that you
were healthy and you made the choice to stay, I could have listened to him.”
They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. Each
of them trying to silently convey everything that they had ever felt for one
another, happiness, love, regret, loss, anger, forgiveness.
“I’m sorry. I am sorry for every painful moment you felt because
of me, either from my inaction or from my actions. No matter what I did, it
always seemed to hurt you and that will always be one of my greatest regrets in
Her hand reached up to caress his cheek, “There will always
be a part of me that loves you and I will always be grateful for what you have
“Thank you, Feyre,” he swallowed the sob that wanted to
leave his throat, “thank you for seeing the male behind the beast and loving
She didn’t need to hear that there would always be a part of
him that loved her as well. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, a silent goodbye
to the girl he loved. With a smile, he left her in the foyer.
Before he entered the ballroom he turned around for one last
look at the girl who changed him. In that moment he knew the monster that had once
ruled his heart was gone. Instead of feeling jealousy and anger, he felt awed
by the sight before him of the High Lady and High Lord of the Night Court.
He knew there would be another time for the apology that he owed to a
male that had given him friendship when no one else had. He would need to tell
him a story and beg his forgiveness for his inaction.
date: july 20th, 2014 time: 10:09am location: the pier status: exclusive to @romanmontague
There’s something momentous about this walk – something grand and splendid and just slightly taut, and though she has seen things larger, wider, and more statuesque than the towering white boat standing sentinel before her, that otherness and somethingness has her swollen like a pink silk balloon ready to float upwards.
It has everything to do with knowing a person in the stages cradling full intimacy; there’s a man on board that boat waiting for her, and both are too large to be called a boat or a man. The vessel before her is definitely a yacht, and Roman Montague – there’s a glint to him that makes him something other than fully mortal.
Coming down the pier, she’s a mirage from another age: cinched pale blue sundress, white wide-brimmed hat, sharp sunglasses and legs that go on and on to the golden age her outfit evokes. Lillian had even packed for the trip in a vintage, stickered-and-stamped portable trunk, which bumped against her thigh as she walked. It had seemed especially romantic to her, dressing like a Grace Kelly understudy for their embarkment. Sidling up to Roman’s yacht (easily identified without the signifiers he had listed for her; it was the largest one in the bay), she placed a flattened hand above her eyes and looked upwards to to the deck. There was someone with dark hair bustling about far above her, but the glimpses she caught of them were too great to disconcert whether or not it was Roman.
“If I didn’t know better,” she called up, her voice like a rope throwing itself over the edge. “I’d say the man that owns this is compensating for something.”