There’s no such thing as a painless lesson, they just don’t exist. Sacrifices are necessary. You can’t gain anything without losing something first. Although, if you can endure that pain and walk away from it, you’ll find that you now have a heart strong enough to overcome any obstacle. Yeah… a heart made fullmetal.
Yesterday, it was raining hard in our country. then I remembered a beautiful poem by Danton Remoto called Rain, and got inspired to paint this. 😀 Commission me
Here is the poem:
Rain Danton Remoto
This morning, it is raining In my country. Water slides down The leaves Like tongue on skin. The sound of their falling Collects Like breathe on the lobes Of ears.
You are a continent away. There, the leaves are beginning To turn. Soon, night will steal hours From day, And snow will be whirling In drifts.
But you are here, In my country Of my mind, Wiping away the maps Of mist On the window pane, Lying in bed beside me, As the pulse of the pillows and sheets – Even the very throb of rain – Begin to quicken.
Yuuri’s fingers twitch on his wrist, before he draws away, not quite
meeting Viktor’s eyes. His face is red again, and Viktor melts, twisting
his hand to take Yuuri’s and lift it upwards. Yuuri looks up at him
just as Viktor presses a kiss to Yuuri’s hand, his lips brushing his
palm.
“Good luck on your free skate, Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs, his lips
curling at the wide-eyed look Yuuri gives him. “I’m not going to
relinquish gold to you easily.”
For a moment, Yuuri only gapes at him, his face bright red from
Viktor’s bold action. Then fire lights up Yuuri’s eyes, and an answering
thrill sends a shiver up Viktor’s spine. “I’m not going to let you
win,” Yuuri tells him.
Good, Viktor thinks, satisfied. If Yuuri is filled with fire,
then Viktor doesn’t have to worry about ice and darkness taking him
away.
CHAPTER 4 IS UP. 30k of delicious angst and fluff for your perusal. 💙
yuuri has just one question: how is it that victor smells good all of the time
like… all the time… it is, frankly, ridiculous
first thing in the morning, victor’s all sweet and soft with sleep, light and fresh like the sunlight streaming through a slit in the curtain.
“mmph. yuuri,” victor murmurs, bleary eyes blinking open. he wiggles as yuuri hums into his neck and snuggles closer into his side. “tickles.”
even at the gym, after a core conditioning session, victor sweats and pants a lot but does he. does he really. is he capable of doing any normal human body things, like. he’s like freaking saitama, 100 pushups 100 situps 100 squats, and what, not even a bad-breathed wheeze here or there, no god-tier B.O. shooting out of his underarms, what the hell, where’s the justice in this world—
“do you ever, i don’t know, shut the fuck up, katsudon?” yurio asks. he pauses his bicep curls just to make a point of setting down his dumbbells so he can cross his arms. “like, maybe? consider it, perhaps?”
yuuri claps a hand over his mouth while victor laughs under his breath from where he’s doing wall-sits.
“noooo,” victor says. “this is so great for the kind of validation that i need for my will to live. please keep going,” and you know what, there are not a lot of things that yuuri can talk endlessly about (the list goes: skating, dogs, victor, victor’s skating, victor’s dog) so he drops his hand from his mouth and keeps going.
“you do realize that i use a shit ton of products,” victor says later while they’re preparing dinner. “the money i spend on skin and hygiene generates its own GDP. my accountant has made it its own category. pass the salt?”
yuuri passes the salt with one hand, continues whisking the bowl on the counter with the other.
“but all of it. with everything,” yuuri waves the whisk in the air vaguely. “it’s still you. you know, like, specifically. all of it.”
“specifically, all of it,” victor repeats. he tilts his head. “i… hmph. i wanna make fun of you for that sentence but i feel like you’re complimenting me.”
“asshole,” yuuri says fondly. “i mean, like, it’s not about the products. sure, you use a shit ton of products. but you’re using the shit ton of products.”
“i can see the italics coming out of your mouth but i’m not getting it,” victor tells him. he dips a finger in yuuri’s bowl to taste the mixture, wipes his finger on yuuri’s shirt when he’s done.
“asshole.”
“see? like that. italics.”
when they’re settling into bed, yuuri cuddles victor again, ducks his head into victor’s neck in the way that he knows it tickles.
“who’s the asshole now,” victor mutters, even as he shifts so that their bodies can slide closer together.
yuuri hums. “love. you just smell a lot like love.” his words slur a bit, like he’s halfway to sleep and even like this, with limited consciousness, he nuzzles against victor’s throat to inhale deeply and press a soft kiss against victor’s skin. “smell like victor, my victor.”
“shit,” victor breathes out after a moment. yuuri has started to snore softly. love of his life. this guy. “it’s me. i’m the asshole.”
Top 10 twitter reactions to Yuuri’s Lana Del Ray skate
(for those of you who have started following me more
recently, this is in reference to something that Rivals!Yuuri does. In response
to some bitter fans accusing him of only sleeping with Viktor so that Viktor
will help him win gold, he spite skates to Lana Del Ray’s ‘Fucked My Way Up To
The Top’ during an ice show)
10) ‘FUCK YES, GO YUURI’
9) ‘Viktor Nikiforov’s
face while watching his fiancé skate to that routine is something that I will
treasure forever’
8) ‘Is there a word for when you’re impressed but also kind
of turned on at the same time’
7) ‘Me after watching Katsuki skate his newest routine:’
6) ‘HE REALLY DID THAT’
5) ‘That was so tasteless, I knew that there was a reason I
didn’t like him’ (because some people will always be bitter no matter what)
4) ‘So he’s admitting it then????’ (Because let’s be real,
some people are idiots and do not understand jokes or sarcasm)
3) ‘So, not to derail from how awesome Katsuki’s skate was
but did anyone notice Nikiforov’s awkward boner while watching it?’
2) ‘When Katsuki blew a kiss to Nikiforov, I died, he died,
we all died. I will never recover (and neither will Viktor Nikiforov)’
Victor felt as if he were no longer solid, but floating like a newly formed cloud unweighted by rain. The last time they had gone to a market together, Yuuri had come springing back to him, shimmering in his excitement. He had bought a beautiful brush for Victor’s hair, for the days when it became unruly enough that Yuuri could not comb it with his fingers. He was making well use of the gift.
The firm bristles massaged at Victor’s scalp along with the gentle movement of Yuuri’s fingers as he sectioned Victor’s hair, brushing root to tip. Victor laid with his head in Yuuri’s lap, eyes closed, never not appreciating how Yuuri doted on him.
Yuuri always took his time when he tended to Victor’s hair and Victor never rushed him. Sometimes Victor would talk, telling Yuuri stories, answering any of the questions that Yuuri traced onto his biceps. Sometimes Yuuri would hum, inventing melodies, weaving tunes until words began to spill into a song.
That night, Yuuri had sung to Victor about a river made of flowing moonlight, incorporating lines about the stubbornness of pebbles that blocked its current whenever his brush snagged on a tangle in Victor’s hair. Yuuri’s affection and spotted irritation burrowed into his chest with the magic of the siren’s music, and Victor never wanted it any other way.
Lashes fluttering open, Victor gazed up at Yuuri. The cutest focus furrowed Yuuri’s brows as he separated sections of Victor’s hair, undoubtedly trying to decide how he was going to braid them for that night. His ear feathers were out and they twitched as Yuuri scowled at himself, displeased with whatever concept he had come up with. Victor had to laugh.
“Yuuri…” Reaching up, he brushed his knuckles along one of Yuuri’s cheeks, smiling when Yuuri immediatly nuzzled in. “Lovebird, I was wondering… Do you… did you have a family? How do sirens grow up? Were you always alone before me?”
The play of Yuuri’s fingers faultered, his ministrations settling. He shook his head, tracing his response over the curve of Victor’s shoulder. I have a family.
“They’re sirens like you?”
Yuuri nodded, returning to tending Victor’s hair.
“Were they a good family to you?”
Smiling, Yuuri slipped his fingers between silver strands, crossing the sections one over the other. “Yes. They taught me almost everything I know,” he spoke quietly, his voice hushed. “How to hunt, how to sing, how to navigate at night by mapping the stars.”
Victor closed his eyes, greedy for how sweetly Yuuri’s voice sounded in his ears. Yuuri speaking was always his greatest treasure and he did not want to miss a syllable. “Were you a good child?”
Yuuri hummed in consideration. “Sometimes. I often got in trouble for trying to do too much, especially when I was with my sister. I tried to fly to the moon once, because I thought it was close enough that I could reach it. She didn’t tell me otherwise.”
Victor’s eyes snapped open. “You have a sister?”
“An older sister. Mari,” Yuuri replied, fingers deft at turning the shining sheet of Victor’s hair into a neat braid, loose enough for him to sleep with comfortably but tight enough not to unravel into a messy nest by morning. “When I was little, she would often encourage me to do all the things that my parents said I shouldn’t.”
Victor clutched at his chest, hands bunched over his Lovebird tattoo.
Yuuri blinked curiously, brown eyes wide.
“My heart,” Victor cooed, dropping the back of one hand against his forehead in imitation of a swoon. “The idea of a tiny siren Yuuri. So cute. Did you have little wings and adorably chubby cheeks?”
Laughing, Yuuri blushed, his ear tufts twitching again. He nodded.
Victor awwwed himself into oblivion, fidgeting and promising to commission Minami to sketch him such a deathly cute image, gushing about how sweet Yuuri’s childhood chirps must have sounded until Yuuri ordered him still. Victor obeyed, still smiling wide, and pressed Yuuri for stories.
Thehobs 