#fieryrussianballerina

[the-eros-experience]

Hearts of Gold, Fire and Glass

closed multi-way rp with @yurisgodonice & @fieryrussianballerina

Grand Prix Final, Sochi, Russia.

The final rankings after the free skate was out and Yuuri was miserably at the bottom. Russian flags filled the crowd as the expected Russian skaters won a one-two finish.

On top of the podium in the victory ceremony was Victor Nikiforov. A level down at silver was Yuri Plisetsky. And at third place was Christophe Giacometti. Two flags of Russia an a flag of Switzerland was hoisted as the winner's represented nation played their national anthem.

He was finally able to skate at the same ice as his idol but he performed awfully both in the SP and FS. A humiliating loss. The 27-year-old living legend, Victor and the 25-year-old eternally-silver rival Yuri Plisetsky must've looked down on him.

Yuuri had just finished a tearful call with his mother when a sudden kick to the door startled him. He opened the door a little and saw a blue Russian Olympic team jacket. Yuuri trailed his eyes up to the chest to see long, pale blonde hair that covered half of the tall man's face. One glinting green eye glared at him like he had done something offensive to the man.

"Y-Yuri Plisetsky." Yuuri squeaked, swallowing dryly when the tall Russian skater's eyes were practically shooting fire arrows at him.

The Russian Ice Tiger is looking at me like I'm a piece of shit.

Next to reply:@fieryrussianballerina

[wldbirds]

  THE  PIROSHKI  IN  HIS  HANDS  IS  WARM ,   as  he  bites  into  it ,  rice  fills  his  mouth ,  mixed  with  deliciously  crispy  pork   and  mesmerisingly  soft  egg .  how  fitting ,  a  celebration  of  home  and  his  new  life ,  collapsing  together  ,  and  in  that  moment ,  the  nerves  he  had  been  experiencing  suddenly  vanished ;  he  no  longer  felt  the  need  to  attach . himself  to  every  single  living  thing  within  a  six  mile  radius  and  cling  for . dear  life .  the  gesture  is  touching ,  he  cannot  help  but  smile  down  at  the  blonde  russian ,  moved  by  the  attempt  to  comfort .  ‘  it’s  delicious ,  yuri-o  .    did  you  make  this  ?  ‘  /    @fieryrussianballerina liked .

[bekayim-archive]

"Beka, I heard there's naked pictures of you all around the Internet."

Otabek couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did someone hack his phone and get a hold of that one nude picture he took last year. “Who told you this?”

[flowercrownbeka]

||Forgotten||

@fieryrussianballerina

Otabek had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least that’s what is mother told herself as she watched over her son in a hospital bed. He was badly injured with cracked rips, a fractured arm, and several cuts and bruises covering his body. Of all the places she thought she should worry about, Dinara never thought the book store would be one of them. He had been there browsing through the shelves of books after practice one day when a man came crashing into the shelves, knocking Otabek over. She didn’t know why Otabek hadn’t just given the man the book. The police told her that’s what the struggle was over, a book. They had the book in the station, looking through it as evidence but while Otabek was in the hospital it had been brought back to him, being deemed useless to the average onlooker. Otabek must have known something she didn’t but she couldn’t even ask him, he was still unconscious.

She had to do something, something that might wake him up and lift his spirits. He always talked about his best friend, Yuri. Maybe if he came to visit then her son would get better. She had to try. It took a few tries but she got into his phone and found his number, stepping into the hallway to call him, leaving him a voicemail. “Yuri? My name is Dinara Altin, I’m Otabek’s mother. I’m afraid there was an incident…he was hurt pretty badly. The doctors think he’ll be okay, but I think it’ll make him happy to have you here. He’s always talking about you,” she said softly. “You’re welcome to come stay with us if you’d like,” she offered. She left her own cell phone number on the message, not wanting to make a habit of using her son’s phone.

She stepped back into the hospital room quietly, a small gasp escaping her throat when she saw Otabek awake, his eyes seemingly alert. “What happened?,” he croaked weakly. “You were attacked,” the older Kazakh said softly. Otabek was quiet for a moment, taking in his surroundings and his own, hospital gown clad appearance. He nodded gently but inside his emotions were going haywire. He felt like he was forgetting something really important, a piece of the puzzle and a reason that he was sitting in a hospital bed. His heart beat a little faster as he tried to figure it out. Dinara sensed her son’s discomfort and laid her hand gently on his forehead to feel his temperature. He wasn’t warm. “I called your friend, Yuri,” she said softly. “I thought it might make you happy to have a friend here.” He tilted his head, frowning up at his mom, it seemed he had forgotten more than he initially thought. “Who?,” he asked quietly.