Something about losing your identity to the shadow of admiration. Just how much can you give up before there's nothing more?
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Something about losing your identity to the shadow of admiration. Just how much can you give up before there's nothing more?
close ups under cut :0 and click them if it looks pixelated

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I keep sketching away Yura and Viktor inspired by the breathtakingly beautiful fic by Jelise_A, “Все, что я хочу». Maybe one day these sketches become material for something more, or maybe they’ll remain as they are- an impression, and imprint, an emotion expressed on paper.
About three years have passed since the publication of my most popular work to date, "In regards to hate" - many had asked, back in the day, if I would ever consider writing a sequel. After so long, here we go!
You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013766
This is to you, for believing in me back then.
Love, Anto.
Rare Pair week, Day 3: Secret Happy birthday to @scribblesinthemargins♥
Mila: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?
Yuri P.: I’m a knife!
Victor: He’s the little spoon.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The Weight of Snow, a Victurio (Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky) fanfiction
Chapters: 15/15 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov & Georgi Popovich, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky Additional Tags: Only main ship tagged, Slow Burn, Eventual Happy Ending
It doesn't happen overnight. It's the slow filtering of his story through a camera lens, until Victor doesn't recognize the man they're talking about anymore.
It's the cost of being a living legend: they turn your life into fiction.
The truth doesn't look as good in glossy print. But it's much more real.
My completed pieces for the 18OI AU week
So the discord server I enjoy has held it’s second AU week event at the beginning of the month. Over the seven days, I posted 6 pieces, with the day 7 piece being the second chapter of day 5′s. Here are all the links:
Day 1 - It was Never a happily ever after
(Otabek/Yuuri, Otabek/Yuri, Yuuri/Yuri)
Rated G - Fantasy AU - Angst
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477565
*
Day 2 - Fundamental Attraction
(Otabek/JJ)
Rated T -School AU - Angst
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478252
*
Day 3 - Your Deepest Dream
Rated T - Yuri centric Supernatural AU - Angst
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516970
*
Day 4 - Gravitational Pull
(Victor/Yuri unrequited)
Rated T - Soulmate AU - ANgst
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547357
*
Day 5 & 7 - I Don't Like You
(Yuri/JJ)
Rated E - Omegaverse AU - Angst w/Happy ending
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531778/chapters/59231578
*
Day 6 When the world Paused, There you were
(Otabek/Yuri)
Rated T - Shop AU - Modern - Fluff
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24565000
Time - Victurio : an excerpt from a Yuri!!! on Ice Soulmates Week ficlet by @zjofierose
By the time the date appears on Victor’s wrist, he’s twelve years old and has decided that he must not have a soulmate at all. It’s uncommon, yes, but what other answer is there? Twelve years of watching his friends and rinkmates get their marks, pretending to admire the scrawling hand-written dates that surface on their skin on the day their soulmate is born. Many people are close enough in age to their soulmate that they don’t even remember their mark appearing at all, and, of course, half the population is born with a mark already in place, signifying their soulmate’s presence in the world before their own birth.
Not Victor. He’ll remember this moment for the rest of his life, watching with teeth gritted against the pain as sharp, dark handwriting blooms across the delicate, pale skin of his forearm.
He’s young enough that he doesn’t think about what the timing of this event means for the logistics of his life at first, but then puberty hits with a vengeance. Everyone he knows is pairing off, and suddenly he’s fourteen with inconvenient boners and wet dreams that leave him gasping, and the person he’s supposed to find true romantic love with is a literal toddler; then he’s seventeen, eighteen, and his soulmate is somewhere in the world graduating from preschool to kindergarten, and the loneliness that presses in around him gains weight and heft, holding him down to the surface of the ice.
It would be better, he thinks, to have no soulmate at all - then he would be free to pursue whatever love he could find in this life, small and unsatisfying though it might be, instead of this endless waiting. Better nothing than the ongoing feeling that he’s betraying a trust he never asked for; better nothing than giving all his love, all his passion, to something as cold and unforgiving as his own heart.