#svoevolye

Send a symbol to have your Muse touch my Muse in a certain way and see how they react!

He’d ignored it the first few times it had happened, too engrossed in the video they’d been watching on his phone to really notice the other’s finger jabbing into his side once or twice, and then a few times more.

Of course, he’s bound to notice it eventually, especially when his finger meets a rather sensitive spot and his breath catches in his throat, squirming from the other’s touch because hey, it tickles. He isn’t going to tell him that, of course, the last thing he needs is to give him more fuel to continue his probing, and he’s certain once given the information he’ll certainly use it. A light laugh spills from his lips unbidden, however, plucking the earbud from his ear so he can turn to face him fully as he bats at his hand playfully.

mila’s chatter  &  soft running commentary under her breath as she spins,  skates to a corner of the rink to prepare for a jump;  the tip of georgi’s blades striking the ice after a quad salchow  &  the itch of his smile as he feels his phone buzz with a message from his newfound love.  yuri is the quietest out of them all         viktor has never confessed this before but the boy trains with the intensity of arming himself for  war         that  warrior intensity  channelled into  fierce resolve  from the moment he steps onto the ice till the moment he leaves it. 

as he watches yuri shift  &  lock his muscles in preparation for a quad axel,  he’s struck breathless,  again  &  unmistakably,  how often it feels as if he is seeing a  memory  play out.   

viktor can’t quite tell at first when his mouth opens  unconsciously  to speak if he means these words for yuri,  or the ghost of a boy with the crown of flowers.

❛      you heard me,  yura.     ❜

they’re well-practiced at  smooth recoveries,  these two.  the first lesson yakov teaches after you learn how to  jump,  is how to fall with  grace.  because if you ever do,  the world must never see it on your face.  viktor remains  motionless  where he lingers a few feet from yuri’s aborted axel,  his eyes like the ocean or the sky or the ice depending on the day are  indecipherable.  it isn’t a question,  but the observation of a  study  he has been performing for years;  the ache of wistfulness would  soften him  if he had any less resolve to see this through.

❛      why are you so afraid of letting people  be there  for you.     ❜

no but srsly take ur time boo :* /too lazy to log into daichi

@svoevolye

Yakov usually knows what to expect -- well, a rough estimate -- by the time a student of his steps onto the ice. It’s part of what makes a coach; knowing the people enough to be able to help them be at their best.

Yuri has always been difficult with that; stubborn to a fault, though most of the time it has worked to his advantage. The only thing he couldn’t do until now was Vitya’s program -- go figure. Vitya is the opposite, full of feeling, all the time, but never nervous on the ice.

Yakov did not expect this. He expected Yuri to do well, but this high score is shaking the world in its boots, and Yakov can only gape at the screen, knowing Lilia is wearing the same expression on Yuri’s other side.

Then Yuri’s arms are around his middle, and the surprise melts into nothing more than sheer satisfaction. It’s the same thing, whatever it is Yuri has learned about himself and about the world, that led him to this amazing victory, the same thing drives him to smile like that, to just act without thinking, otherwise so unlike him.

“’m fine, Yuri, I can do it” He mumbled in protest, trying to bat his hands away as the younger skater attempts to hep support him. It wouldn’t be the first time he's crashed into the side, although admittedly it’s been quite awhile and not nearly so hard as he managed to this time.

But he’s not about to admit that in front of him, not when he’s already asked for his help enough lately trying to work through his jumps, trying to get it all down properly-just to slam his head into the sideboards. He winces when he tries to sit up fully, however, dropping his head into his hands to try and block out the suddenly harsh lights in the rink. He was pretty sure sitting up was the absolute worst idea at the moment because now his head was practically throbbing-

          "oh my gosh, i love your shirt! that's such a cool cat!"