#ive never had a brand new pair of skis

[llynwen]

european skiing vs american skiing is so funny

like the mountain is Right There it takes like an hour to get to the slope I got my mom's old skis I got my cousin's old helmet the poles just magically materialized in the basement one season my pants have 38 holes and I shotgun monsters before getting in the car

meanwhile over the pond they're going to Aspen and buying equipment worth Thousands Of Dollars and they got Matching Pants and Jackets and then they're having Apreski and April Spritzes and own Three Different Pairs of Skis for Different Kinds of Snow

baffling

[queenofallthatscold]

immortal

i.

We are broken promises and pretty pink petals that can't survive the winter.

We are everything we swore we'd never be-

smoke clouds, and broken bones and bleeding knuckles, paint cans in vans in warehouses in city hearts, back street backbones and the blood that pumps through the concrete veins of this bloodthirsty beast- we are gods.

We are the Kings and the Queens of all those who don't know how to trust, who put their love into drugs as their lives start to rust we are the Lords above that they pray too as late November rains destroy all that's brand new

We made the wrong choice one too many times and now they worship us the way the sick and tired worshiped God as their families around them died over and over and over again.

ii.

Mother said that shooting stars were just angels throwing away their cigarettes before God caught them smoking. She said rainbows were just what happened when light shattered tears and icicles existed as weapons of cold hearted.

She said she didn't believe in second chances and that music was the only way for souls to scream without being heard.

She said Heaven didn't exist but everyone went to Hell.

Everyone went to Hell, she said, every time they woke up and every time they fell asleep and every time they bought a coffee or a pair of shoes or picked some flowers. Every time they took a breath- the sharpness of cold air was a way to punish the existing.

Mother said I better not become a God, for to sit upon a pedestal only means I’ll have farther to fall (and of course I will fall). I better not become a god, you don't want to be worshiped by those who hit rock bottom only to discover that they ran out of second chances eighteen cigarette packs and thirteen used up needles and seventeen bed frames ago.

iii.

I forgot how to feel today

It was screaming running crying on pavement on grass on broken glass. It was hollow eyes and smoke clouds and damp streets and alleys and fire escapes. It was head back and no clouds in the sky but it might as well be overcast because I can't feel a damn thing.

I forgot who I was today.

I am hurricane winds and poisonous fangs that had to be reminded that she can't touch anyone without hurting everyone. I am a time bomb set to negative ten and a pencil insult traced over in pen. I am everything you hate and everything you need. Everything I swore I’d never be.

I forgot how to breathe today.

When rainbows split skies, and danced like butterflies in the clouds, and you said you didn't believe in miracles, or me. You said we were the best damn actors in the world, we deserve an award for lasting this long. I forgot how to breathe when you said shooting stars didn't exist.

My mother told me they were cigarettes, thrown down by angels.

And you told me angels don't exist as angels, they are just devils pretending to be angels, covering their horn with paper halos.

iv.

Eternal means forever.

Endless.

Immortal.

v.

To be immortal is to be a god

And to be a god is the loneliest achievement of them all

To be a god just means you have farther to fall

[fifteenleads]

well, he has his moments.

@viktorweek day four: family/friends

Viktor Nikiforov can be both endearing and annoying all at once, but it’s exactly these qualities that have captivated people’s hearts in more ways than one.

(Five moments in Viktor’s life, as told by other people.)

AO3 | stories on (and off) ice

.

i.

Yuri should have known when Viktor shoved the tub of ice cream and kitty treats into his hands.

"Please please please watch Makkachin for me!" the old goof all but pleaded, his hands clasped together like those silly anime girls and his puppy-dog eyes welling up and threatening to spill over any moment. He sure is upfront with his requests, if anything, and Yuri wouldn't be surprised if this sudden favor he's asking has something to do with --

"Yuuri and I are going out on a date tonight! It's the most perfect Valentine's Day ever!"

-- Fucking called it.

It was so obvious at this point, he didn't know why he even bothered.

The large poodle bounding over and tackling him didn't help things, either, and his face is all sticky from the mutt's slobbering saliva, and it's so disgusting as fuck, and Katsudon is now peering in from the doorway, and --

"Fine, already!" Yuri snapped, throwing his hands up in irritation. "I'll keep it until you come back, okay? Just get the hell out of here!"

Katsudon and Viktor couldn't be out the door sooner enough. The teen chased them to the veranda and hollered at them not to be late.

The pair returned at three o'clock in the fucking morning, one very much intoxicated and the other very much covered in - ugh, hickeys.

Really, he didn't know why he even bothered.

  .

  ii.

Yakov should have known when Vitya asked for the rink to be closed off the day after tomorrow.

His student is quite the whimsical man, always doing as he pleases and never (for once!) listening to his sensible coach's sound advice -- not when he decided to add four quads into his program, not when he suddenly dropped his whole skating career to coach Yuuri Katsuki, not when he just-as-suddenly made his comeback, insisting on coaching and competing against said Japanese skater at the same time.

And especially not when he plans on proposing to Katsuki over a romantic, candle-lit dinner on the ice.

"Isn't it a great idea, Yakov?!" Vitya enthused, his eyes practically shining with excitement. "We'll dance together after dinner, and then I'll ask him to marry me!"

Frankly, Yakov thought his protégé could have come up with something better. Still, he has no intention of dashing the younger man's hopes with an honest remark.

"Surely, you prepared very well for this?" he asked instead. "It is quite an ambitious plan, if you ask me."

"Oh no, it's not as grand as yours was," Vitya teased (and Yakov winced because it's true), "but I already have everything down, no worries. All that's left is to pop the question."

He then grinned earnestly, a luminescent shade of powder pink coloring his cheeks. There are times the coach doesn't understand how Viktor Nikiforov can be both endearing and annoying all at once, but it's exactly these qualities that have captivated people's hearts in more ways than one, himself included.

That said, today was the proudest Yakov was yet of his silly (but nonetheless star) student.

And he hated to ruin the moment, but --

"I thought you are both already engaged?"

"Then I'll propose to him again! Yuuri deserves nothing but the best."

-- Katsuki should have married this man years ago.

  .

  iii.

Christophe should have known when Viktor came in wearing a different brand of lip gloss.

(Or rather, a certain someone's lip balm.)

He never thought he'd see the day Viktor would use a cosmetic product other than the expensive ones he owns (and if all those commercial endorsements are of any indication, they are a lot), but he supposed this is what love does to people, especially to those who are tying the knot in a few hours.

Viktor immediately made a beeline to his side and gave him a tight glomp. Chris returned the hug with one of his own, patting his friend's back encouragingly for good measure. "Love the new lips," he commented, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Why, thank you, my friend," Viktor accepted the compliment, smacking his lips playfully. "Mmm, I like strawberry."

"His favorite flavor?"

"I don't think he has a preference," Viktor shrugged absently in thought. "It was actually green mint last time. I'd like to think he likes the Chanel one I usually use the most, though."

"More like he likes the taste of its owner on his lips, if you ask me," Chris suggested with a wink, and caught the small tube Viktor all but chucked at him in embarrassment. He's glad he hasn't lost his Friend Touch.

And because he's such a good friend, he's gonna make sure this hopeless man gets to the altar in one piece. (He doesn't even want to think about how Chulanont is handling poor Yuuri's nerves right now.)

"Your man has good taste," Chris remarked, playing with the long-worn lip balm. It's a cheap brand he sees most women use, probably bought from a downtown supermarket. "Can't wait to see the look on his face when he finds out."

Viktor smiled in part-nervousness and part-mischief. "I love to surprise him."

If one weren't listening intently, they might have heard an "I love him" instead. And for all intents and purposes, it might as well have been that.

"Good," Chris nodded approvingly, pocketing the pilfered cosmetic. "Go get dressed. I'll give this back to Chulanont for you." Viktor hummed in thanks and did as he was told.

Halfway out the door, Chris turned back to his friend, who was admiring the plain gold engagement band on his ring finger.

"It will be a lifetime full of surprises," the groom whispered, his voice choking with happiness.

Chris smiled in agreement. "Sounds promising."

And he knew, at that moment, that Viktor will be fine.

(The way Yuuri's eyes widened in recognition as Viktor dipped him into their wedding kiss was absolutely priceless.)

  .

  iv.

Phichit should have known when Viktor clung to him like an overgrown child during practice.

"Haha, what's this?" he asked jokingly as he pulled the older man along the curve. The new not-really brother-in-law is so fun to tease. "Trouble in paradise so soon?"

At once, Viktor's forlorn expression was replaced by one of incredulity. "What? No, of course not!" He still didn't let go of Phichit's arm, though, further tightening his grip instead.

And if the way those pale, manicured nails digged into rich, brown skin is of any indication, Phichit now had a second differential in mind.

He never imagined The Viktor Nikiforov, of all people, to join the legions of victims tormented by his ongoing web serial, but he supposed that that, too, was an accomplishment of its own right. At least his minor from college is paying off well -- and handsomely, too, at a hundred dollars per chapter.

"I warned you, it wouldn't end well," Phichit laughed. "I even spoiled half the story for you."

More like Viktor actually lived through half of it, since it was a fictionalized version of his life and all. But Phichit wouldn't tell him that - not yet.

(If anything, he's actually more than surprised that his subject hasn't figured it out for himself yet. Even Yuuri already has, and he's currently getting a lot of hell for it over Skype.)

"I can't believe he wanted to break up all along," Viktor whined at him mournfully while shaking his arm. "Their relationship had so much promise, and he was willing to throw it all away? It's unacceptable."

Phichit simply raised an eyebrow in amusement. Barcelona. Of course. He shot the poor Russian a devious shit-eating grin over his shoulder. "Triggered much?"

He wasn't even being subtle anymore at this point; Not-Brother-in-Law's denseness is losing its novelty pretty fast.

Phichit received an adorable scowl in return, and the pressure on his arm is gone as Viktor left his side to bother Yuuri instead. He laughed as his best friend stumbled over his code-switching again, mixing up English, Japanese and Russian phrases in confusion. The way Viktor's face lit up at once as he glomped his husband on the ice was simply too precious.

He snapped a photo as always, of course. Those two dorks really are the best for each other, and as their friend and one of their best men, he is willing to fight anyone tooth-and-nail for it.

And if posting endless photos of them weren't enough, he'd write whole novels and dissertations for them.

Speaking of which, he has a new side story for his serial now. Spasibo, bratan.

Phichit skated away from the kissing couple, immensely satisfied.

("Viktor says he loves your new update. How do you even come up with ideas for it?"

"Aw, shucks, Yuuri! Thank you so much! Stay in love always, okay? I'll be watching~."

"Phichit, STOP.")

  .

v.

Yuuri should have known when Viten'ka, for lack of a better word, lost it.

And by "it," he meant both the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle and his husband's sanity.

The almost-completed picture of Van Gogh's The Starry Night was left abandoned on the table, in favor of getting down on their hands and knees to look for the missing piece. The puzzle pieces were quite small, and losing only one shouldn't really be too distracting, as long as the right frame is used and the guests kept their distance.

Yuuri had considered talking Viktor into just hanging it up as is to spare them both the time and effort, but the puzzle-shaped blank space smack dab in the middle of swirling blue skies ticked even him off. That, or a year into marriage has made him as nitpicky as his husband about such trivial things, like twin peas in a pod.

Or maybe not, because he also appreciated said husband's well-endowed ass, as it constantly shifted in position while the man was looking under the couch. Admittedly, far-from-innocent thoughts have filled his mind while it was sticking up like that, but no, he would never go that far. He isn't a bit sorry for not helping out at all, however.

As Viktor moved to the CD stand next, Yuuri affirmed the last statement as the truest of them all.

That was one more thing that had changed over time, he supposed. And Viktor, too, knows this all too well, if the generous affection he lavished in bed at night was of any indication. Those times were the most fun.

Even now, Yuuri couldn't believe how much things have changed since they first met. Back then, Viktor had been someone akin to a god -- perfect, immaculate, unattainable. Over time, he came to learn how his god turned out to be as human as he was, with various faults and quirks and random eccentricities of his own. And though he's practically run the whole gamut of emotions for it, he considered himself very lucky that Viktor Nikiforov came into his life the way he did -- like a flashy, exploding supernova that surprised him and set everything on fire.

Viktor, for his part, would never tire of telling their story this way -- how everything in his life had been falling apart like the thin ice beneah his feet, then how it all suddenly fell into place when he met the love of his life, and he felt more than whole again. Phichit certainly cried buckets when Viktor called Yuuri Katsuki the best surprise of his life, and how truly, immensely lucky he was to be married to him. (They completed each other like perfectly-fit jigsaw puzzles, he'd said. Ha.)

They couldn't have found each other in a much better way, Yuuri mused as he spied a small piece of blue cardboard under the television set. As he reached his hand forward to retrieve it, however, another larger hand closed in first and pulled out of the dark space just as quickly. His husband let out a silly grin as he raised the puzzle piece between his fingers, and Yuuri was overcome with a wave of unexplainable feelings as he pinned the other man to the floor.

"What's this?" Viktor asked with amusement. "Are you that happy we finally found it?"

"Maybe," Yuuri answered teasingly, bending down to kiss the other man senseless. Maybe it wasn't only Viktor who lost his sanity this round, after all. (And how, indeed; all this over a single missing puzzle piece.) "I've had a lot of thoughts today, is all," he confessed breathlessly as he pulled away.

"Wow, do share," Viktor commented, his flushed form clearly betraying excitement and arousal. "I'm all ears, since we've already finished the puzzle and all."

"No, thanks," Yuuri declined with a smirk, taking the puzzle piece instead and lifting himself off the ground. He enjoyed the way his husband's face comically fell at the blunt rejection. Viktor whined as he got up and joined him at the table. "Yuu-chan!"

Yuuri looked back over his shoulder. "You have your moments, Viten'ka; let me have mine."

[dino-planet]

chroma. | kirishima eijirou

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader Genre/Warnings: Soulmate!AU Word Count: 874 Notes: Soulmate!AU where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate.

A/N: This is a fic originally posted on my dA that I wrote almost a year ago! If you like it, check me out at dinosauruses. This whole tumblr thing is still new to me but I will be uploading my fics here from time to time. Enjoy! ❤

Chroma [kroh-muh] || The purity of a colour, or its freedom from white or grey.

i. red

The first thing you saw was a pure, blaring red-- coating his facade from his unkempt hair and attentive gaze, to the maroon outfit he wore and the bright streak of blood running down his arm. He had just pushed you out of the way of some flying debris that the monster he'd been fighting had flung around. The sudden burst of hues had clearly taken him by surprise as well, and he was quickly whipped aside by a tentacle. The scene was straight out of a movie-- regaining his concentration, he defeated the creature easily, limping his way back to you. You recall the cherry blush spreading across your face as he took your hands in his, the unending warmth you felt within, and the remnants of your crimson lipstick staining his mouth as he pulled away and introduced himself. Kirishima Eijirou, your hero in red, had finally brought colour into your life. ii. blue Every once in a while, the two of you find the time to spend all day together-- these are days that take you through all the shades of blue. From soft cerulean of late mornings and big brunches to sapphire sunsets and navy skies scattered with starlight, he is there by your side. Blue never makes you feel sad; it's tranquil and serene; it's nostalgic and sentimental. "I've always wanted to see the ocean, (Y/N)." You're on a blanket in the middle of the field behind your house; it'll be one of those nights again-- up sharing secrets and laughter and random conversation-- these nights are your favourite nights. "I just never want to take it for granted, you know? I bet a lot of people don't end up meeting their soulmates if they're halfway across the world." Kirishima gazes up at the slate blue moon; it reflects in his eyes. "I think we would've met regardless." He feels at ease when you say that, his heart steadying to a familiar rhythm; like teal tides crashing onto stone. Indeed, still wild like the unpredictable waters, but firm and comfortable nonetheless. "I'm going to take you to see the ocean one day, (Y/N)." iii. yellow The world is yellow when you are with Eijirou-- his optimism brings its own unique brand of light into your life. His yellow is bright and unwavering; reliable like sunshine, easygoing like golden wheat bending in gentle summer wind. Admittedly, you had initially been skeptical about soulmates-- you couldn't ever see yourself just "clicking" with someone-- but his mere presence has the power to put you at ease. His kisses trail like electric shocks across your body, his hands are drawn to you as sunflowers to the light. Sometimes, it's a soft yellow. Like when he hums gently into your ear, or when the first hint of sunrise peeks through the window and he buries his face into the back of your head. Like a sandcastle that the waves have yet to wash over. He is of radiance and of vitality, and you are grateful just to be able to bask in his glow. iv. white The white you see today is different than the white you'd seen before-- it had never been dull, nor had it been ugly-- simply quiet and unnoticeable in a world where it had contrasted solely with black and its shades. Today, white is the most beautiful colour, from your porcelain dress to the glistening pearls adorning your neck and soft petals scattering the aisle. His breath hitches in his throat the moment he catches sight of you, and it's as if he's reliving the very first moment he noticed you among the blooming colours. Tears well up in his eyes, and you even catch Bakugou smiling behind him. He doesn't care how unmanly this looks for him-- you're positively stunning. White is refreshing, and it holds promise; Eijirou always keeps his promises to you. He looks into your eyes and vows to love you, to cherish you; in sickness and in health. He sees pale oceans in your eyes; of morning mist and bubbling seafoam. White is a blank canvas, and he wants to paint it everywhere with you. v. grey Ever since you began to see colour, you were never truly able to appreciate the beauty of a soft grey sky. It isn't particularly ashen today, as if it were to burst open with rain at any moment-- but rather silvery and gentle. You find yourself looking up at the sky a lot today-- maybe it's because in your hand, you clutch two plane tickets. He's always busy with hero work these days, and with your day off, you decide to treat him tonight. You arrive at the grocery store, humming happily as you pick out a box of chocolates and some fruit, and plan the night in your head. He loves coming home to surprises, and he loves coming home to you. You blink once. You blink again. It only takes those two moments for some sort of realization to set into your head. The chocolates scatter to the floor as you run out of the store, fumbling for your phone and car keys. The sky is still grey. Now, so is everything else.