#anyway I want Nikolai to adopt me and help me through all of my struggles

[cerise-on-top]

Cried on the train today, then thought of this! This is just me coping to the highest degree again, but I thought other people might like this as well!

Nikolai as a Father

First off, he’d likely be absent rather often. He was a soldier, he runs a PMC, he’s a busy man through and through. That’s why he won’t be able to see you as often as he’d like. He’d have loved to see all your accomplishments, meeting your first partner and intimidating them, your graduation, the first time you performed on stage, but it wasn’t possible due to work. He does feel bad about it, but he can’t help it. He will try to make it up to you somehow, though he’d understand if you couldn’t forgive him. He does try to be there for you whenever he can, visiting you whenever possible, but you will be apart from each other more often than not. However, if you ever have any suggestions regarding what you’d like to do together, he’s all ears. He has enough money to grant you any wish like that. You wanna go to Japan? You want a boat trip? You wanna go karaoke? It’s all possible, as long as he gets to experience those things with you. He really does wanna make up for the lost time.

He’s a pretty relaxed kind of father. The kind that would allow you a sip of beer when you were young. He’d have no problems with you drinking, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. You should be responsible about that sort of thing. But if you ever wanted to invite a friend over to drink a bit, then he’d have no problem with getting the booze for you. Nothing too strong while you’re still young, of course, but he gets it. You’re young, you want to be stupid and do foolish things. He was like that too when he was younger, so he won’t stop you. In fact, he’ll even drive to the nearest fast food restaurant and get you and your friend something to eat. Sometimes he might cook himself, though. Nikolai’s food is downright godly, he can cook just about anything and cook it well too. As long as you don’t invite a friend over to get blackout drunk every weekend, all is good.

I think he’d probably lie to you about his job when you’re younger. You don’t need to know that he kills people for a living. You can know that he does paperwork, though. So he’d likely tell you he works an office job that has him traveling a lot. Speaking of traveling, he’ll always bring you a souvenir. That could range from a small snow globe to a nice T-shirt he found that you might like. He may be busy, but he does think about you very often. This continues into adulthood as well. If he can’t see you and give it to you in person then he’ll just mail it to you. Won’t ever allow you to work in the same field he does, though. You’re too sweet to work as a mercenary. You can become anything you want to be, but he’ll do what he can to not have you work in the military or in a PMC. He wants you to live and live well. There are no exceptions to this. He knows you might not listen to him, but he’ll tell you over and over again that those kinds of jobs are not what you might think they are. He doesn’t tell you what to do very often, but you should listen to him when he does. He’s an older man, who actually knows what he’s talking about. Besides, he only means well when it comes to you.

A very accepting father, in all honesty. You’re gay? You’re trans? He’s very supportive of you. Besides, it doesn’t matter who you bring home, he’s gonna try to intimidate them either way. Only the best of the best for you. If you ever find yourself some sleazebag, who won’t spoil you rotten like you deserve, then he’ll make sure that person will learn their lesson. He can be a very scary man when he wants to be. If you’re transmasc, then he’d delight in going clothes shopping with you and finding something that you look good in and that fits. He might even buy you a bomber jacket like he has so you can match. He’ll get you the fanciest suits too. Whatever you need, he’ll give it to you. If you’re transfem then he might not be the best suited candidate to go shopping with you. He can tell you what you look good in, but he might call someone like Laswell to help you find nice clothes that suit you well. However, he won’t save any money on anything. You know what you want? You can gladly have it. Nikolai will even pay for your surgeries as well. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy. No price is too high when it comes to your happiness. In fact, he probably has the means to get you a prescription for hormones as well. It might not be entirely legal, but it’s better than nothing if you have shitty doctors.

Likewise, if you come out to him as aromantic or asexual, he won’t mind. Sure, you might have to explain what that means, but once he understands he won’t make you feel bad for that sort of thing. Gives you a side hug and tells you that he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about your heart being broken by some asshole who can’t appreciate you for who you are. Unfortunately, if you do come out to him as ace, he might make some puns about it. Nothing offensive, but he’s your father, he can’t help the urge to make awful dad jokes from time to time.

If you don’t know Russian then he’ll teach you. He’s a proud Russian, so he does want you to know the language. He can hire a teacher for you too, if you’d prefer that, but you won’t be spared. He’ll talk to you in Russian and compliment you on your progress. Besides, it’s never a mistake to know another language. If you do know Russian then he’ll speak it with you whenever he can. Yes, even when the likes of Price are around. Doesn’t matter if it comes off as rude, it just feels homey to him. It makes him feel at ease.

[gremlinsae]

Here is my @yoihomezine piece! Thank you to everyone who helped us raised $1649 for UNHCR!

My submission was a Yuri Plisetsky introspection piece. I hope y'all like it even though it's a bit angsty. 😅

Enjoy~

◇

Agape was difficult.

As Yuri exited the sit spin, he could feel his lungs burn with strain. Memorizing the elements was easy, but executing it made him realize that his senior debut was going to be on a level he never skated before. He was frustrated and Victor’s attitude was really grating on his nerves. 

(The sting of Victor’s forgetfulness over the promise he made and his obvious pining over the pig even more so.)

Victor’s annoying clap reverberated against the rafters of Ice Castle, signaling for Yuri to stop mid-routine again. Victor stood on the ice, his stupid fake smile plastered on his face as he lectured Yuri about his supposed lack of feeling in On Love: Agape. Yuri swore that if Victor spouted some more philosophical whimsy about going to a temple he was going to take off one of his skates and chuck it at him.

“What does Agape mean to you?"

He actually put serious thought into the question, despite his abrasive answer and turning the question back on Victor himself. When Victor prattled on about some bullshit of agape being hard to define as it is a feeling, something intangible much like the love of God or a parent, Yuri scoffed at the idea.

In his fifteen years of life, he had never felt unconditional love from either.

Living with mom - Moscow, Russia

He had never known his father. By the time he was five years old, he understood that his father was out of the picture and never would be in it. It was up to him, and sometimes grandpa, to hold his mother’s hair back as she puked up that foul liquid she had been drinking all day; to rub her back as she sobbed and whimpered out half-assed apologies, yet still grabbing for the poison the next day like it was her lifeblood.

He started school smaller than the other kids, which was difficult enough without the concerned glances from his teachers and the visits to the counselor’s office where they would ask about what life was like at home. He never answered much. The school never intervened as there was no actual proof of abuse or neglect (and Yuri would never have defined it as such anyway) so they continued to let him take the school bus home where he’d find his mother sitting at the dining table with another drink, heavy bags under her eyes, as she fretted over the newest bill to arrive in the mail.

At seven years old, he had learned enough math to know they weren’t doing well - despite how hard his mother tried to hide it. Before he was born, she was ballerina with a bright future...until she got pregnant at seventeen. The damage to her reputation was harsh, but she managed to find a job as an instructor. The pay was meager, barely enough to support herself let alone a child, so she would eat less, go without, make sacrifices - all to make sure he had enough...the alcohol she abused was the only exception.

He never blamed her. Stress was high and inebriation was her only escape. He always felt guilty asking for anything, so to help out he would take quick, cold showers as to not run up the gas and water bills higher than they already were, shivering yet soldiering on. There were times where the power would go out, leaving the food in the fridge to rot and his mother to fret and overwork herself to try and make ends meet. At the end of each day, when she drank herself to an unconscious heap, he’d help her move from the dining room to her bedroom.

Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

It was difficult, but overall it wasn’t so bad. The winters were harsh in Moscow without heating, but at least they had each other and grandpa. There wasn’t much in the way of celebrating birthdays or holidays and it reached the point where he no longer asked - but even so, grandpa always made sure he had a decent pair of ice skates to practice in once he fell in love with the sport. He got through school like any other kid, ate enough that he wasn’t starving, and he got to ice skate after school every day for free. He had no complaints.

The best moments were when his mom was sober. It was hard to find her not drinking, the most excessive spells being at the end of the month when stress was high, but there were times few and far between where she would smile and spend her free time with him instead of at the bar or the dance studio. They would dance together and laugh, and on special occasions they would go to the animal shelter and cuddle with all of the kitties and she would promise that one day, when everything got better, she would adopt one for him.

It was hard, but he was happy. They were happy.

Until one afternoon he came home to find his mother, drunk and crying, with an eviction notice in her hand.

Hasetsu On Ice - Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan

Leaving Ice Castle before the pig even finished his routine left a heavy weight in his stomach. Yuuko tried to cushion the blow somewhat, but he knew from the look on Victor’s face and that disgusting whistle at the beginning of Katsudon’s routine that he was fighting a losing battle.

Victor wasn’t coming back to Russia, and “Yurio” didn’t belong here.

He ignored the way his eyes burned as he said his last do svidanya to Yuuko, who had treated him with nothing but the kind of care and attention he wished he had received from his mother during his competitions and ice shows.

What he didn’t expect, as he was waiting in the terminal for his flight back to St. Petersburg, was to see his mother standing off to the side, waiting for him to notice her presence.

To say he was shocked was an understatement.

The bags under her eyes were less prominent, but she did not age well despite being only in her thirties. There was a certain heaviness in her features, the product of a lifetime of stress and addiction. Her smile was soft, her eyes bright, as if for the first time she was truly seeing him without the fog of inebriation.

“Your skate was lovely, Yura,” she began, her voice strained as if holding back tears. If he wasn’t so shocked, he would have corrected her - she had lost the right to call him by his diminutive years ago when she abandoned him. He was still trying to grasp that she was here, in Japan, and had watched his first performance of Agape.

A little too late, if you ask him, but yet he still paused, his saliva thick and his throat just slightly constricted from the overwhelming emotions waging war inside of him.

He didn’t stop her from sitting next to him, but the silence was uncomfortable.

A part of him wanted to rage - to demand answers, but even he knew that the situation was delicate. He never blamed her for the hardships of his life, no, and he knew that’s where most of her guilt came from. But the one question he never received answers for, the one that still made it difficult to look her in the eye, was why did she leave?

Why did she try so hard and sacrifice so much in order to support him in his early years if she was only going to abandon him later?

Did he even matter to her?

She let out a sigh, realizing that he had no intention of speaking with her. “I know there’s a lot I need to make up for,” she began, hesitating slightly as she twisted a handkerchief in her hands, “and I understand if you never forgive me, but I would like a chance to at least be here for you now, to support you in your career like I should have.” Her eyes began to water so she quickly dabbed them with the distressed handkerchief. “I won’t ask for anything else.”

The remainder of the trip home was silent. Yuri didn’t know how he felt about it, but as long as his mother didn’t distract him he would let her do whatever she wants.

But deep down, beyond the pain and anger, he felt a slight pang of nostalgia.

He had missed his mom.

Living with Nikolai - Moscow, Russia

Living with his grandpa started out great. He and his grandpa had always been close and the homemade pirozhki was a huge bonus. Winters were still harsh and the house was falling apart since his grandpa wasn’t exactly well off either, having been one of the victims of losing his job at the fall of the union, but he had enough for them to get by at least.

The hard part wasn’t living with grandpa…the hard part was watching his mother slowly wither away; overhearing the arguments his mother would get in with grandpa over her drinking, the angry voices and the shattering of liquor bottles as grandpa tried to convince her to get help and quit.

He pretended every morning that he didn’t hear a thing, but he knew grandpa saw through his facade. Grandpa always tried to make it up to him by getting him out of the house, usually to spend extra time at the skating rink, just so he didn’t have to watch his mother drink herself stupid or deal with the silence of her absence when she disappeared to who-knows-where.

He pretended he didn’t care. So what if his mom never showed up to watch him skate, to see him be chosen to participate in skating competitions and shows because he was getting better and better? So what if the house was now full of arguments and emotional breakdowns every other night?

He didn’t care.

He didn’t.

He kept skating with a single-minded focus. He would hear on the radio of Victor Nikiforov quickly becoming Russia’s living legend and he could feel the burn of determination, the desire to be the best skater of them all. He was only ten years old and he was already able to do jumps that kids in juniors were still struggling with and his spins were the best in his entire age group.

He would prove that he was strong.

He would.

As long as grandpa was able to show up to his competitions, he didn’t care if his mother never supported him.

The day his life changed forever was the day he was in a local competition at a small rink in Moscow. He had to take the bus - his grandpa complaining of back pains and his mother was too inebriated to drive - but he made it just on time. He didn’t have a fancy costume and his skates were in need of repair, but none of the other kids could top his skill, his flexibility, his choreography. He worked until his feet were bruised and bleeding and it was all worth it to have that golden medal placed around his neck.

As he stepped off the ice, he frantically looked for grandpa. Despite his back trouble, he promised he’d be there.

But he wasn’t.

It felt like his entire chest had caved in, crushed by the absence of the man he wanted to make proud. The excitement over his win was gone in an instant. He fought back tears, still continuing to look around to see if maybe, just maybe, he had missed his grandpa sitting farther away or...something…

An elderly man began to approach him, and for a brief moment he allowed himself to hope, but the old man wasn’t grandpa. His skin was tanned and he had significantly less hair on the top of his head. He didn’t walk with a limp and the square of his jaw was harsher, his eyes calculating.

The man held out his right arm to shake his hand. “Congratulations on gold, Yuri Plisetsky. My name is Yakov Feltsman.”

Rostelecom Cup - Moscow, Russia

Yuri tried to get through Agape, but the absence of grandpa left a sour taste in his mouth. His vision blurred and all he could feel was simmering contempt, not the lightness of the all-encompassing love he was supposed to demonstrate in the short program.

Victor and Yuuri yelling their support from the sidelines only enraged him further. He didn’t need them. It’s not like they meant it anyway.

No one ever did.

Yakov and Lilia tried to keep him grounded, but his focus was lost. He got through the skate with little to no error, but he knew he would have to over-perform in his free if he wanted to win and rub his victory in JJ’s smug face.

And when Victor had to suddenly return to Japan, leaving Katsudon to compete by himself...he felt pity.

It was strange feeling empathy towards the pig, but he knew the feeling of abandonment and he knew it well. Even though Victor’s absence was temporary, having a loved one leave in the middle of something that’s important to you always left a gaping hole behind. During practice the morning before the free skate, Yuuri was flubbing his jumps more so than usual.

He pretended he didn’t care.

...but he did.

Later on, Grandpa made up his absence to him with an entire bag of pirozhki. Grandpa was his inspiration for his Agape for this reason because even though he had disappointed him just as much as his mother did, he at least tried. He didn’t make excuses, he didn’t give senseless apologies and self-depreciating anecdotes. He just showed up once his back healed with a pile of pirozhki or some words of encouragement. Grandpa never doubted him, never underestimated his strength. He had faith that Yuri could overcome any obstacle and it was a relieving to have someone who didn’t dance around his emotions like he was a child.

The gift also gave him an idea to help cheer Katsudon up...just this once.

The free skate was hell, his whole body burning with exhaustion. He felt a searing pain in his right thigh that had him worried of a pulled muscle and a twitch in his left hip that made his entire leg shake, but he pulled it off and managed to make it into first with only JJ and Katsudon left. He was proud, and the smile on his grandpa’s face made him even more excited, and for once he felt confident enough to cheer Katsudon on…

JJ’s comment made him pause. So what if he low-key considered Katsudon a friend? At least he wasn’t as bad as Victor. Katsudon’s skate was still beautiful, despite his inconsistencies with the quad flip. He would never admit it to anyone, but if the pig had anything it was his step sequences and overall emotion in his choreography.

He tried to ignore it, to save face in front of JJ, but it was difficult to tear his eyes away.

Huh…

Katsudon and Victor really do love each other.

Living alone - St. Petersburg, Russia

The government sponsorship was a dream come true. He had been scouted as a potential candidate for the 2016 Winter Youth Olympics to represent Russia, and with it all came his own apartment in St. Petersburg and a coaching contract with the Yakov Feltsman.

The only contingent was that he must win most of his competitions. Yuri was just fine with that.

The summer after his first gold medal was spent in Yakov’s junior training camp. He had never taken formal ballet lessons before and yet he was still one of the best in the class - whispers of him being the next Victor Nikiforov began circling due to his natural talent. He took the praise, but he never lost sight of what was important.

Grandpa was unable to move to St. Petersburg, his health as well as his livelihood in Moscow preventing him, but his mother tagged along and for the first time in years he felt excited. It would be just like old times with her - only this time they had enough and she wouldn’t have to drink away her sorrows. They could start living the good life if Yuri continued to skate well and he knew he would. He was dominating in beginner competitions and he would be able to skate at the junior level in two years, the Youth Olympics in four, and seniors in five. The private sponsorships would start rolling in and he’d be set.

His mom wouldn’t have to worry about anything from now on. She had exhausted herself to be there for him, now it was his turn to take care of her.

...or so he thought.

He almost couldn’t believe it, but his mother actually drank more. There was never a time that she wasn’t drinking, even when she was sick and hungover. Yuri would leave early in the morning and his mother would be on the balcony, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. He would come home for lunch most days just to try and spend some time with her, but she would be gone...no note, no explanation, and she wouldn’t return until late in the evening.

It wasn’t until he was a little older that he realized the reason she always wore long sleeves wasn’t because she was cold. She kept it well hidden and out of his apartment, but it soon became obvious that alcohol was no longer her only vice.

The parts that hurt the most were the few times he did manage to run into her. She would avoid eye contact, keep her answers short, and he could see the shame in her body language yet she did nothing about it. The dark circles under her eyes were a permanent fixture, she was too thin, and she was always scratching at the marks down her arms. They would fight, yell and scream at each other similar to the way she did with grandpa, but he wasn’t patient like grandpa was.

It was always “I don't need therapy, Yura” or “It's nothing Yura, don't worry about me” until his temper would hit a breaking point. She'd make excuses, disregard how much damage she was doing to her body, the damage she was doing to him every time she left. She would cry and moan of how she was a terrible mother as if to make him feel sorry for her, to make him pity and put up with her self destruction all so she didn't have to take responsibility for her own actions.

Things were finally improving for them, why couldn’t she just try? Why would she actively work toward destroying everything they worked for? He was willing to take care of her, to give her the time to recover until she could go back to teaching dance again. None of it made sense to him and it made him inexplicably angry.

Why couldn’t she at least be happy for him? He had accomplished so much in a short amount of time and not once did she ever say that she was proud of him. In fact, with his success, she only seemed to become more disappointed, more distant…

The image of his mother became tarnished and their relationship strained. The last thing he heard from her before she disappeared was a handwritten note left on his coffee table.

I’m sorry.

Grand Prix Final - Barcelona, Spain

Yuri Plisetsky had the unforgettable eyes of a soldier.

The words echoed back at him at he lay in his hotel bed. Meeting Otabek was an interesting experience, considering he never had a friend around his age. Growing up, he was mostly ignored as he had a “bad attitude” - and later, he focused more on skating rather than socializing. It felt nice to finally find someone who took him seriously and genuinely wanted to be his friend.

Yet he also felt hesitation. He never talked to Otabek before and yet Otabek was able to see the parts of him that he usually kept guarded.

The vulnerability was scary.

Was that what he had been missing? He had loved ones that he kept close, but he never allowed himself to be vulnerable with them. With his mom, he put on a brave face for her so that she wouldn’t stress out more. With grandpa, he hid his disappointment because he knew it wasn’t his grandpa’s fault that his health was declining. Even with Victor and Yuuri, who he was close to regardless of his annoyance with them, he refused to show them the parts of himself he’d rather keep hidden. Victor had a habit of making light of the situation by teasing him, which made him even more hesitant to share. Katsudon was a bit better, listening without making the situation awkward or giving him unnecessary advice and pity, but he still struggled separating Katsudon from Victor that getting close to him felt awkward.

The engagement announcement still made him sick. Who got engaged so early in a relationship? 

Those two were too sentimental, too hopeful…

Too lonely.

That’s the thought he had as he found Victor staring out at the sea the next morning. The sight of Victor’s defeated expression caught him off guard. His first instinct was to wipe that pathetic look off of Victor’s face so he kicked him until it disappeared.

Yuri didn’t pretend that he didn’t understand. Victor had been the top skater for Russia for longer than most people were in the sport. Dedicating your life to your craft always made it hard to make friends, spend time with family, process trauma...he turned and walked away quickly so Victor couldn’t see his momentary flash of empathy. He might understand, but it's no excuse to just give it up - to throw it all away.

Maybe what they all needed was balance.

“The ocean here reminds me of Hasetsu,” he commented dryly, giving voice to at least some of his thoughts. Victor smiled in response and something clicked into place.

Russia was no longer home for Victor. Victor found something in Hasetsu, in Yuuri, that gave him a sense of peace that skating never could.

Yuri walked away feeling more at war with himself. The last twenty-four hours gave him too much to process.

Living with mom was full of love, but there were too many empty promises and stress was always high. Living with grandpa was full of pirozhki and quality time with his family, but also full of anger and disappointment. Living on his own wasn’t what he had hoped, full of resentment and loneliness from his mother’s abandonment. Living with Yakov and Lilia was an experience, but it was purely professional and reeked of a broken home with their strained relationship from the divorce. He briefly thought of Yutopia Katsuki and Ice Castle, and while he didn’t consider Hasetsu a home he did feel more at ease around Katsudon’s friends and family - but being forgotten by Victor and his loss against Katsudon made his visit bitter.

The more Yuri thought about it, the more he wondered…

Where did he belong?

He carried the question with him as he prepared for the short program. He felt calm as he thought about everything, ignoring the skaters before him. He knew his grandpa was watching the live stream, as well as his mother who was living with grandpa again, and the Katsuki’s were having a viewing party according to Yuuko’s texts. He had the support of so many people, even his own competitors, and he thought of them all as he finally stepped out onto the ice.

His mind was blank, nothing but his feelings - the good, the bad, the old, the new - for his loved ones. 

For three and a half minutes, he finally felt like he was home. 

[royal-babey]

Because I hate myself and also love torturing myself and my friends, I wrote an angsty ficlet featuring my Nico Mahariel and @welcometojoelsvoid ‘s OC Leoh Yu (Badger).

Enjoy y’all

-

“I TRUSTED YOU.”

Those words still cut at Leoh like a knife, almost like Nico was slapping him again, as he sat on the couch in their living room. If he listened hard enough, he could hear Nico still sobbing in their infant daughters nursery. Nico hated him...For good reason too...He just hoped Nico would come to understand, or would stay in the same room long enough to hear Leoh explain…

It had started with his Father, the current ruler by inheritance of the Yu dynasty in China, coming to Seattle after he heard that his son Leoh had gotten married and adopted a child. He had been after Leoh and his family since Leoh was a child, had even hospitalised Nico once a month after they got engaged...Leoh just wanted him to leave them alone. But it wasn’t to be apparently. He somehow learned that Leoh and Nico’s adopted daughter, Qiu, was a mage. Her magic manifesting rather young...He wanted to take their child back to China, “Raise her the way she’s supposed to be, a Princess”, he said. Leoh knew that meant manipulating and grooming her her whole life. He refused as long as he could…

But then a threat was made against his entire family. His husband, his grandmother, Nico’s twin brother Dima who was his brother in law as well as their mother Ashalle, even his dog. He would stop at nothing to get his grandchild.

So, Leoh gave her up. After Nico left for work, unknowingly saying his last goodbye to his six month old daughter, Leoh took her to the airport. He said nothing to his “Father”, just gave Qiu a final kiss on the forehead, then handed her over to one of his Father’s body guards. He then promptly walked away, finding the nearest liquor store and buying as much whiskey as humanly possible.

Leoh knew his daughter would be saved, he had arranged it months ago. He just had to act the part of a grieving Father. He knew he would be followed and watched for a while to make sure he didn’t try to contact help. Nico would be too…

So Leoh decided to risk not telling Nico, needing a real reaction.

He just never expected it to get so out of hand…

Nico came home at eight pm as per usual when he was just working at his desk in the police station, coming in the front door and walking through to the living room whilst taking off his jacket. He called out hello, but got no reply. Then he found Leoh in the kitchen, a half empty bottle of whiskey in hand, another empty one on the table.

“Where’s Qiu, Vhenan? Is she asleep?”

Leoh didn’t answer. Just took another long sip.

“..Vhenan?”

Another.

“Leoh, answer me. Where is Qiu.”

Leoh finally looked up at him then, eyes the colour of a starless night sky dull and mournful. He barely got to mumble out a “I’m sorry…” before Nico was taking off down the hall.

“Qiu?! Qiu!!!”

Nico cried out desperately for his daughter. He burst into the nursery, checking the crib. When he couldn’t find her there, despite knowing he wouldn’t, be turned to her chest full of toys, the drawers in her room, the cupboard, it was all irrational but he was frantic. Cold panic had set in and he was terrified. Leoh couldn’t have...He wouldn’t. Surely he was just playing a trick on Nico. A cruel prank.

But the longer he searched, the more of her room he turned upside down. The less he could find. There was just...No sign of her. Eventually he was left standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, body shaking near violently in anger and fear, his steel grey eyes wide and brimming with tears.

When he heard a creaking noise behind him, the footsteps of his Husband, he snapped.

Whipping around almost faster than a bullet being fired from a gun, with his hand already raised, he struck Leoh across his left cheek, Nico’s wedding ring cutting into his flesh and creating a deep wound that began to bleed almost instantly.

Leoh was too surprised by the slap, though he really should have been expecting it, to react. Nico meanwhile, huffing and puffing as if he’d just ran a marathon, shoved Leoh up against the wall and screamed, completely enraged.

“WHERE IS MY /BABY/?!”

There was nothing Leoh could say to try and make Nico feel better. Not for the moment anyway. So he said nothing. Eventually Nico grew too frustrated to keep him pinned, so he took a few steps back, hands coming up to tug at his long black hair from his stress. He paced around the room briefly, muttering indecipherably to himself. He only stopped when Leoh began to approach him.

“Nico...I-“

“Don’t you fucking DARE SAY MY NAME.”

Nico cut him off. He had stopped pacing, was now instead just standing in the middle of the room breathing so heavily it had to hurt, fists clenched at his sides. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but Leoh wanted to say something- anything.

“...You need to calm down.”

That was definitely a bad idea.

Because almost immediately after, Nico had drawn his pistol from its holster on its belt and he was pointing it square at Leoh’s chest.

Leoh definitely did not anticipate Nico drawing a weapon on him.

“Calm down?! Calm DOWN?! LEOH YU, YOU LET MY FUCKING BABY BE KIDNAPPED BY THOSE BASTARDS. I TRUSTED YOU. I-“

“SHE’S MY DAUGHTER TOO, NIKOLAI. I DIDN’T WANT TO, GOD I DIDN’T, BUT I COULDN’T RISK EVERYONE’S FUCKING DEATHS!”

Leoh couldn’t just silently take the screaming any more. He yelled back. Maybe he knew the truth, but he wouldn’t let himself be screamed at and potentially fucking shot because Nico wouldn’t calm down long enough to hear it.

He heard the gun click as Nico turned the safety off, and god he was glad he had combat training. He wasn’t about to take any chances. He never thought he would have to forcefully disarm his own Husband, but he didn’t blame him...He supposed everyone did crazy shit when they were angry or upset. Nico continued to struggle though, so Leoh was left with no choice other than to force Nico to the floor and keep him pinned there.

Leoh expected more screaming, insults, anything...Anything but the way Nico just went quiet, then...Began to sob...Heart wrenching despairing noises tore itself out of Leoh’s lovers chest, his heart...And in it all, he could hear a very clear message.

“I hate you”...

It hurt.

But he could live with it.

He had hurt Nico.

Hurt himself more by giving their child up, even if not completely.

He just wanted everything to be okay again...To have Qiu home and not currently half way across the world…

But nothing could be okay...Not for the moment anyway…

Leoh figures it was safe enough for the moment to release Nico from his hold...So he climbed off of his lover, who didn’t react other than sitting up and burying his head into his knees, still sobbing as he rocked himself back and forth in an attempt to comfort himself…

Leoh figured he should give him some space.

He would take the gun though...Less out of fear for himself and more because he was afraid of losing his Husband the same day he lost their daughter.

So walking over to the door, he muttered one more heartfelt apology as rare tears of his own welled up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

And then the door was closing behind him.

[stammiviktor]

Requesting DVD Commentary for Tether, from "He'll fight" to "He's all I have". I'm interested in this whole scene really, but I tried to narrow it down a little. :D

[this is for the DVD commentary fanfic ask game here. Send me an excerpt from any of my stories if you want to hear my thought process behind it!]

Thank you Cait! I have a lot to say about this story, so the majority of this is going under a read more lol. I hope no one minds if I include a few lines before your selection starts for context, also.

(Link to the story here!)

“I’ll be twenty-six. And that’s only if he makes it that long.”

Yuuri is on eggshells. He fidgets. “Your grandfather seems really stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, his heart apparently isn’t.”

“He’ll fight—”

“So what?” He turns his head, trying to bore a hole through Yuuri now. “Ten years, twelve years, what’s the difference? He’s almost eighty.”

Yuuri tries his best to make his voice sound gentle. “Ten years is a long time. A decade…”

“Fuck, Katsudon, that’s not the point.” His eyes are red and wild and growing more so by the second. “Ten years, and where will I be? Still training. Still competing. You know I hadn’t seen him since Rostelecom?”

One of the greatest things about this show, in my opinion, is all of the different types of love it showcases. Yes, Yuuri and Viktor’s love story is at the center, but we have a whole supporting cast of characters that love our main characters and each other, as sons or brothers or grandchildren or adopted sons-in-laws, and are loved in return. Yuri loves his grandfather. This is very clear from the first few episodes, when Nikolai is Yuri’s inspiration for Agape, and Nikolai so clearly loves Yuri - I mean, Yuri mentions pork cutlet bowls one time in passing and Nikolai goes home that day and invents katsudon pirozhki.

But I think it’s also glaringly clear from the show that Nikolai is Yuri’s only support network. His mother is obviously not in the picture, to say nothing of his father. And they haven’t lived in the same city since Yuri was, what, ten or eleven? And how often can Yuri possibly see him, for a few weeks during the off season? Once a year at Rostelecom?

Figure skating is Yuri’s passion, it’s something he loves enough to dedicate his life to it, but it also demands incredible sacrifice. It demands money, time, and your body. (“If selling my soul is what it takes to win, I’ll give you this body, no holds barred.”)

Yuri’s point in this excerpt, as he says, is that it doesn’t matter if his grandfather surpasses everyone’s expectations and lives longer than the max ten years of the doctor’s prognosis. Whether Yuri realized it before or not, whether he was just avoiding thinking about it, he can’t avoid it now: his grandfather is old and his grandfather will die. Yuri has very limited time with him. His grandfather likely won’t live to see Yuri’s entire figure skating career. There’s a clock staring him in the face now, counting down from ten with the knowledge that it could be longer or shorter but that his grandfather, the man who raised him and supports and loves him, will be gone by the time Yuri is Viktor’s age.

So, effectively, Yuri feels torn in two directions, between his love of his grandfather and his love of skating. He feels like he can’t have both. He feels like he’s sacrificed his grandfather in pursuit of the ice. He feels guilty but also sick looking at the future and knowing this isn’t going to change. He can’t give up one or the other. And he’s already wasted so much precious time without even realizing it.

There it is.

Vicchan’s in Yuuri’s head, then, as small and soft and bouncingly happy as the day Yuuri left him for Detroit and, as it turns out, never saw him again. He nods and tries to get his voice to work around the lump in his throat.

“Okay. I understand.”

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen a character have this conflict. Yuuri ‘sacrificed’ his relationship with his beloved Vicchan in pursuit of his skating career– he leaves Hasetsu at 18 and for some reason never comes back even to visit. He missed precious time with someone/something he loved because he was far away pursuing his dream. You can’t make that time back up. You can’t change it. And Yuuri probably understands that part of what has Yuri so freaked out is that this could have been worse than just a scare - his grandfather could have actually died this time, and Yuri wouldn’t have had the chance to say goodbye or even have seen him once in the time leading up to his death, just like Yuuri didn’t with Vicchan.

Yuri’s not talking anymore. He’s looking away, white fingers balled in white sheets. His knees are drawing closer to his chest, making him smaller, smaller, until Yuuri notices a fine tremor ripple through the boy’s shoulders.

“Yura…”

There’s a low noise, barely discernable, from Yuri’s throat that means nothing and everything at the same time. On the wall, the banner encourages davai, Yuri! and his eyes are searching every other part of the room but there.

I wanted to write this story partially for this scene. This entire story is Yuri struggling with being vulnerable, and in this scene he’s finally breaking down but he’s still fighting at every step. Yuuri, though he’s used to crying more so than Yuri (especially in front of others), understands this struggle to hold himself together very well. He has a lot of empathy for Yuri in this moment.

When he finally speaks it’s in Russian, hometown accent barely there as his voice cracks and curls in on itself.

“He’s all I…”

Yuuri wants to not understand, but he does anyway. He reaches out before he can stop himself, his hand finding Yuri’s balled into a fist around the sheets. There’s that noise again, like something choked back, and Yuri’s chin falls to his chest. Behind locks of straw-like hair, his eyes are screwed shut.

The hand lets go of the sheets and makes a fist around Yuuri’s fingers, instead. A breath, then, barely audible:

“He’s all I have.”

Yuuri understands feeling like you’re fighting alone. Even with his massive support system (something Yuri doesn’t share) he knows how terrifying and pressure-inducing those feelings can be. Soon after this, he will reassure Yuri that even if he feels like he’s alone, he isn’t.

It just comes down to the fact that Yuri is scared. He’s only sixteen and he feels responsible for taking care of his grandfather now, which is a common role reversal in parent-child relationships but Yuri is extraordinarily young to be dealing with this, and has absolutely no other family to lean on. Plus, he lives far away, hasn’t seen him in months, and knows now that their time is limited. He’s terrified.

Yuuri doesn’t try to fix it. He can’t change the situation, no matter how shitty it is. But what he does, and what he has been doing since the beginning of the story, is refusing to let Yuri feel like he’s fighting alone. He is being Yuri’s support network (or at least a representative in Moscow of Yuri’s support network that is comprised of himself, Viktor, Yakov, Lilia, etc). He listens to Yuri, tries to help in any way he can, and makes sure this boy who is little more than a child knows that there are many people who love him and will help him if he will just let them.

It doesn’t change the fact that Nikolai is Yuri’s only blood family. It doesn’t change the fact that he will be dead before Yuri retires. But it does help.

(This turned more into an in-depth analysis than it did a DVD-style commentary on what I was thinking as I wrote it and how it all came to be. All of that is a bit too personal, though, so we’re gonna stick with meta-analysis lol)