#i just also want the russians to stay the fuck out of figure skating too instead of the isu sucking up to them asap

[feyarcher]

Sooo... can we keep the Russians out of the sport permanently yet? Or are we eventually going to let them come back with more doped up children? Something tells me the ISU and I have different opinions on what the answer should be.

Kamila Valieva: Russian figure skater given 56 medications and supplements over two years

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/winter-sports/68570073

[kyungwonrp]

+ ... // STUDENT PROFILE ... LOADING

NAM KIYONG, also known as AXEL, is 20 YEARS OLD and currently enrolled in kyungwon university. he is in his 1ST YEAR of the UNDERGRADUATE PROGRAM, with an UNDECLARED MAJOR. he is notably part of the ICE SKATING CLUB TEAM and the ICE HOCKEY TEAM. he is also a NATIONAL ATHELETE. you may find him in the WEST WING (ROOM #4).

                           + ... // LOAD STUDENT BACKGROUND . . .

rule one: money is power

ice skating is an expensive sport, he’s known this since he was a child, having had to learn how to fundraise for his first pair of ice skates. but dang, why is ice time so expensive? he feels his head is about split from all the numbers he’s had to crunch out so he could afford to go for the junior grand prix happening soon.

sure, kim yuna sunbae’s success as a figure skater has injected more funds into the sport but with great popularity comes even greater competition. kiyong loves competing with the best of the best, always looked forward to seeing them skate during trainings. the downside is that it’s harder for him to get funds when there are other people as good, or hell, much better than him.

he sighs as he tosses the hotel and flight quotations back on his desk, tears about to erupt from his eyes. from his peripheral vision, he spots the contract one of his potential sponsors had drafted for him to sign.

the sponsor’s terms and conditions were stuff of nightmares, not only did the legal jargon confuse the hell out of him but he had a strong suspicion some of the clauses were borderline unethical and most likely illegal.

“i’m only 15. how the fuck am i supposed to understand all of this shit,” he whines to himself. the older he gets, the more he understands why his parents have worked continuous long hours the moment he stepped onto the ice, swearing to become an olympian.

-

rule two: just smile

podium finish. silver medal.

he should be happy but he’s not. well, he is internally happy, but the korea skating union isn’t. they wanted him to win gold, and had expected him to win since his usual opponents were injured (boo, kiyong hates when there’s no tough competition). he’s definitely going to get an earful during the post-mortems later.

but this is russian land he’s competing on, so to no one’s surprise his errors caused points to be deducted unfairly. his heart had sank the moment he saw the change of judge lineup the week before he flew to moscow. you could perform to the best of your ability but when someone is out for you and money's been exchanged, it’s hard to change their mindset.

“how do you feel about the silver medal, axel?” a microphone is stuffed right infront of his face.

“i’m happy i’m on the podium, but not pleased with the placing. i know i can perform much better. however, what matters is that i’m one step closer to the olympics. my goal is to qualify and as usual, enjoy myself.”

classic sportmans-like answer. his PR manager must be so proud. oh, how he wished he could cuss out the judges for being bribed so easily. but then, he did sign up for a subjectively scored sport and not objective. (he should have stuck with speed skating, at least people couldn’t sabotage his finishing time that easily).

-

rule three: prioritise?

“you sure you want to study in korea? and not elsewhere?” his parents ask again. “if you’re worried about the tuition, we’ve got it covered. you should move back to canada and join the others. or move to japan.”

“no, it’s okay. i want to stay here,” kiyong replies firmly, accepting the tea his mom has poured for him.

“you can always come back here when you’ve retired,” his mom says earnestly, placing a plate of sliced fruits onto the round table.

“yeah, but it’s not the same. i want to experience the korean university life,” he whines, pouting.

“you’ve watched too many korean dramas, haven’t you?” his sister snorts from behind, where she’s been busy massaging her sore calf muscles with a foam roller. he throws a pillow at her, sticking out his tongue.

“maybe. can you blame me? anyways, it’s not like i won’t have access to good training facilities here. coach said he’s willing to move here in order to train me.” and that marks the end of discussion on his next course of action.

"so, kyungwon university, huh?"

[artificialqueens]

Love is a Dog From Hell, 1/5 (Rosnali) - Mattels

is it really that complicated that denali wants to be the best? all signs from the figure-skating gods seem to point to yes. (especially with her decidedly adult and mature hatred of coach rosé, who keeps wearing those god awful skin-tight ski-pants.)

aka denali’s a figure skating coach, rosé’s a ski coach; the rest is history

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861322/chapters/73479360

-

November is sacred to Denali.

Although she’s a full-time figure-skating coach year round, boasting a full clientele of Olympic level students alongside a waiting list that seems to be growing by the year, November always manages to remind her why she started teaching to begin with.

Bonneville Academy, despite Denali considering its title of ‘academy’ being a stretch, has managed to wedge itself into her life, year after year. She spends six months of her year in Chicago, teaching private lessons to overenthusiastic and grossly rich teenagers, but from November through to April, she spends in Utah, working with the students to tighten their quadruple lutzes and receiving a paycheck that leaves her feeling pretty comfortable until the next November.

Although the school is technically a legitimate boarding school, offering fairly okay-quality education alongside the best training in the country all year, a lot of the students only attend for the ski season, unable or unwilling to fund a whole year.

Or maybe, Denali considers with a smile, nobody wants to live in the middle of nowhere, locked away in the mountains like a fucking yeti.

Michelle Visage, school director, emails Denali every year about working for them full-time, but every year Denali finds herself unable to leave Chicago behind. She loves her cozy city life, thank you very much. Living alone in her uptown apartment has yet to be beaten, even with the promise of the best skating facilities money can buy.

Half of the kids who attend don’t even realise how lucky they are, she finds herself thinking as her rental car starts the ascent to the school. It’s a long drive, the journey from Salt Lake to Bonneville is deliberately out of most peoples’ way, ensuring the cleanest snow and freshest powder for its plethora of skiers and snowboarders. She’d definitely have killed for something like this when she was still training.

The school is specialised, known for its premium winter sports programme raved about by former Olympians and their coaches. Everything is fully equipped, facilities and machines inside the camp always sparkling new and top of the line; huge dance studios with scary Russian ballet teachers to help her skaters achieve their best on the ice; big gyms and personal trainers; meals specially catered and designed to build muscle and strengthen bones.

It’s also really fucking expensive; Denali sees the checks on Michelle’s desk with their seemingly endless zeroes, given by mothers determined to boast that their little Sally went to Bonneville! But the elusive RuPaul, who Denali knows funds the school, but has never seen or heard much about, hands out plenty of scholarships to kids she deems talented and hard-working enough to thrive.

Denali’s car turns the corner, giving her a view of Bonneville’s ski slopes. She spots a couple of instructors already at the top of the chairlifts, riding down the mountain in neat lines as they enjoy the start of what’s looking to be a beautiful season. It’s still early, but it’s snowing heavily, Denali’s windscreen wipers working hard to keep the snowflakes off her windscreen.

As Denali pulls up to their entrance, she spots a couple of other employees hanging around outside, boisterous laughter coming from their conversations. They’re all old-timers, Denali is sure one or two of them have worked at the school since its opening in the late nineties.

She immediately spots the inky black mullet that belongs to Mik, one of the snowboarding coaches for the younger kids. She’s standing alone, narrow back pressed up against a red bricked wall as she smokes a cigarette, flicking ash off of the end into the thin layer of snow below her feet.

She gets out of her car, passing her keys over to the valet Michelle hires unnecessarily every year, always insisting, rather pointedly if you ask Denali, who seems to consistently be at the receiving end of the seemingly never-ending gripe, that she knows that someone’ll fuck up her parking arrangement, Denali.

It’s a fair point– Denali would never be bothered to follow Michelle’s colour-coordinated and meticulously planned spreadsheet, in which she’s grouped all the instructors of the same sport together in the carpark, as if it matters to anyone which spot they have.

The valet takes her bags too, which she’s perpetually grateful for; her suitcases are almost always overweight in the airport, despite taking three of her big ones with her. They’ll take them down to her room for her too, as if she’s staying in a nice hotel, not just a ridiculously boujee school.

Mik spots her, dropping the cigarette she was smoking and stubbing it against her chunky boots, jogging over to catch Denali in a tight hug. “Hey slut!”

Denali laughs, embracing her. “Nice to see you too, Mickey.”

Mik shrugs, letting her go with a smile. “You know you missed me, don’t even try it.” Denali rolls her eyes but can’t deny it, grinning when Mik wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Denali Foxx!” Michelle greets her loudly, ticking her name off on a clipboard. “Usual room,” she says, fishing a key out of her pocket and passing it to Denali.

“Roomies!” Mik says, laughing with an eye-roll when Denali pretends to shover her fingers down her throat complete with exaggerated gagging sounds.

Denali’s always grateful to room with Mik, the rooms are a slightly awkward size– too big to stay in alone, a little too small for two people. Mik works at the school year round, and Denali knows she’s equally grateful to have someone to share with, forever complaining about how empty it feels when she’s by herself with two beds.

“Almost everyone else is already on the slopes,” Michelle notes, turning around so she can point out people on the mountain behind them. “You’ve got a couple days until the kids are allowed out, so better make the most of it.”

The school is laid out like a small village, boys on one side and girls on another, divided in almost everything except meals, which they have in the dining hall all together. The dorms are split into age, six buildings facing parallel to one another in a large U-shape, each with attached communal bathrooms and showers for the students. The buildings are all deliberately short so you can gape at Utah’s mountains practically anywhere on campus.

“I’ve been waiting for you to go out,” Mik says, grabbing Denali’s hand between her cold fingers, trying to drag her down the asphalt leading to the sports instructors’ rooming in the centre of the U.

The academics take place a couple miles down the road in a big building that actually looks like a school, which Michelle swears helps the students to stay focused, but Denali can’t say she’s totally convinced. She’s seen them get off the bus after school, racing one another to be the first in the chairlift queue.

“I really don’t want to go.” Denali whines, but lets Mik tug her down the path regardless. She’s not the best snowboarder even on her best days, and Mik always wants to take her down the especially mogul-ly runs, zipping in between trees and dodging ice patches that are still missing snow.

“Yes you do!” She says, practically skipping down the road. “There’s only a couple of us here anyways, and the kids aren’t allowed to carve up the snow yet– it’ll be fun!”

Denali rolls her eyes, with a sigh. “I’m only doing green runs!”

“Only red runs? Perfect!”

“No, fuck, come on Mik,” she huffs, her breath coming out in sharp puffs in the cold air. “I’m out of practice, this isn’t fair.”

Mik looks at her, shrugging her narrow shoulders, “how’s that my issue, gorge?”

She groans loudly as they approach the staff building, letting Mik lead the way to their room, unlocking the door with her own key.

Mik keeps their room uncharacteristically clean, especially in comparison to her wardrobe filled with clothes piled up on the bottom rather than on their hangers. Denali is pleased to see her blue suitcases on the side of the room Mik’s left for her, both her skating and snowboard boot bags by the end of her bed.

Mik talks aimlessly about the year so far as Denali changes out of her oversized shirt and equally oversized jeans combo. She rifles through her suitcases, half listening to the other girl, searching for her snow-pants and a hoodie, adhering to Mik’s advice to forgo her ski-jacket as it’s still early in the season and sunny enough, despite the snowfall.

She makes her help her lace up her boots properly, watching Mik’s skilled hands tightening them in record time. “Are you borrowing a board?” She asks.

“Mm,” Denali confirms, “are they ready?”

“You can literally borrow mine,” Mik squints up at her from her kneeling position, “we’re like, basically the same height.”

Denali scoffs at this, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “No fucking way am I borrowing one of yours, they’re all deathtraps.”

“They’re literally normal boards.”

“No, they’re all weirdly thin and flexible, I’ll literally break my neck.”

Mik frowns, “ok, first of all, rude. Second of all, I’ll have you know my boards are perfectly safe–”

“–did you or did you not snap one in half last year?”

“That was one time!”

“And that’s one time too many, doll.” Denali says, leaning down to tuck the laces into the tongue of her boot, pulling down her pants so they rest over the top. She reaches out a palm, helping Mik up from her kneeling position. “Get ready and I’ll meet you by the chairlift, okay?”

Mik rolls her eyes, reaching into Denali’s suitcase to attach her goggles to her helmet, passing it over with her gloves tucked neatly inside, as she would with her ten year-olds. Denali yells a thanks over her shoulder as she leaves, weaving her way out of their building to run down to their small ski shop.

☆☆☆☆☆

Humiliatingly enough, Mik makes Denali carry her snowboard with her on the chairlift, refusing to let her sit with one foot strapped in like a normal person would.

“You’re gonna knock your teeth out,” she laughs when Denali complains loudly about it. “Like fully splat, bitch.”

“I know how to ride a chairlift, thank you very much.” Denali grumbles, clutching her board tightly in her arms and sitting down. Mik reaches behind them, pulling down the safety bar, which Denali rests her feet on.

“Can’t have any casualties on day one, gorge.”

“The only casualty will be from me wringing your skinny little neck out when you push me down the mountain, you fucking bitch.” She groans, looking at the run below them.

There’s a pack of skiers weaving their way down tightly together under the poles of the lift. She can already see the deep valleys of moguls, even with her terrible eyesight. One of them looks up at their chair, waving at them with a grin.

Denali squints and she can see it’s Tayce, one of the newer instructors at the school. They had made fast friends last year, gossiping together about who hooked up with who over Thanksgiving– no, no, no, it’s clearly Brooklyn and Vanessa, they keep eyeing each other up–, which of their kids were likely to actually make the Olympic team– all of mine, thank you very much, Taycey–, who they might fuck given the chance– have you not seen A’Whora in the physio suite? I’d let her curb-stomp my neck– et cetera, et cetera.

“Everyone else is coming up tonight and tomorrow,” Mik remarks, waving over-exaggeratedly waving down to Tayce like she’s in a pantomime. “Tayce is like the only bitch I can stand here, as of currently”

“ As of currently? I’m here, as of currently! ”

“My point still stands, gorge.”

“After this run can you join up with them?” Denali groans, “Tayce’ll go super-speed with you. And she’ll let you harass her without breaking your nose.”

Mik laughs, “I don’t go that fast, bitch.”

“Have you ever seen that Disney movie Bolt ? Y’know the one with that dog who runs like, full speed of light? They could do a live-action version with you as the dog.”

“Woof!”

Denali’s face cracks into a grin as she rolls her eyes, “I’m serious! One minute you’re next to me, the next you’re–” she slides her gloved hands together in a forward motion “–zip . And then I’m the idiot who can’t get down.

“I’d never leave you!” Mik gasps, clapping a palm to her chest. “How dare you, fucking bitch.”

Denali scoffs loudly in response. Every year Mik tries to bully her into doing a couple runs together, and every year without fail Denali obliges, only to find herself stuck at the top of a mountain, Mik nowhere in sight.

“Head,” Mik announces, reminding Denali to duck her head so Mik can raise the safety bar, as they start to approach the end of the lift. Mik lines herself up to the drop-off, riding around the corner smoothly, giggling as Denali has to jog to keep up.

They both sit down to strap in, Mik tightening Denali’s bindings for her and pulling her up with a roll of her eyes.

“See you at the bottom?” Mik asks. Before Denali can answer, she’s slipped off, whooping as she hits a bump and flies upwards, grabbing the nose of her board as she hits the jump.

“So much for never leaving me, I guess,” Denali grumbles, carefully edging herself down the slopes with big sweeping S-shaped turns, she knows Mik will laugh at her about later, reminding her how her ten year-olds could easily out-board her.

Uh yeah, I’d fucking hope so, Denali thinks to herself, curving around onto the toe-edge of her board. Otherwise this’d be the biggest waste of money like, uh, ever.

The air that whips around her is cool, blowing snowflakes into her dark hair, but she doesn’t feel cold, happy in her thick sweatshirt and pants. Her feet are desperate to be unlatched from the board, feeling slightly unnatural to be locked in. She’s much more in her element spraying ice as she nails a complicated spin, she knows Mik would eat ass on.

Yeah, she thinks, fuck you and your ten year-olds, Mickey.

☆☆☆☆☆

“Michelle’s put the board up,” Tayce says in the late afternoon, sticking her head around Denali and Mik’s door propped open by a snowboard boot.

Denali looks up from the book she’s reading, comfortably curled up on her bed with her mandatory evening uniform of thick fluffy socks and sweats on. Mik, on the other hand, is still in her lycra leggings and hoodie, having made no effort to change since coming back, much to Denali’s disgust.

“Well?” Tayce asks in annoyance, cocking her hip, “you coming or what?”

Mik groans, rolling off of her bed and moving to stand next to Tayce in their doorway, bare feet on the cold linoleum. Denali carefully places her bookmark in her book, grabbing a pair of Nike slides– sponsored, thank you very much– and begrudgingly walking down the corridor to their big common room.

The Board– with an optional trademarked symbol from Mik– as it’s been aptly dubbed, is a large whiteboard divided neatly (by the increasingly anal Michelle) into a leaderboard. The top ten coaches are listed top to bottom, ordering the number of world title holders they’ve coached at Bonneville, bonus points being allotted to those whose kids win gold, and double points if the title being held was Olympian.

Michelle says it builds healthy competition. Denali says it builds a desire to Tonya Harding every other bitch in this place. Tomayto, tomahto.

Denali hadn’t even been on The Board, until she had returned three seasons ago with the last World Skating Championships under her belt, managing to land three podium spots. She proudly boasted for months to anyone that looked like they might listen that her girls had swept the categories, winning medals across the ladies’ single event, ice dance and pair skating.

Despite her allure of confidence, she knows she only made it up there because Michelle insists on starting fresh each year. She tries to tell them that she’s giving the new coaches a chance, but everyone knows it’s to keep egos in check.

Egos like mother-fucking Rosé McCorkell’s, who’s placed first on The Board two years running.

First as in one spot ahead of Denali’s second, first. First as in gloating in Denali’s face every opportunity she gets (and rest be assured, every opportunity means every opportunity ), first. First as in deliberately sabotaging Denali’s skaters, first– well, at least in Denali’s eyes.

Okay, whatever, yes it could have been a coincidence that one of her front runners’ sole came unglued from the attached blade on the morning of Nationals a year ago. And yeah, sure, maybe Rosé was like, several states away from the incident. And okay, yes, she still came in first after the whole thing, so it’s not it even really mattered after all. But Denali just knows Rosé had something to do with it, that bitch.

“Who’s on top of the pyramid this year?” Mik sing-songs when they approach The Board. Denali instinctively works her way through their photos from the bottom to the top, clapping Tayce lightly on the back when she sees her smack-dab in the centre.

She isn’t nervous; she knows she did well this year, the girls she had coached in the previous season competing in nationally-recognised competitions, pictures of them grinning up on their podiums, flowers in sequinned arms, emailed to her and the school. And it’s not even like it matters.

Her photo stands in line with another, both placed side-by-side at the top of the leaderboard. She can hear Mik mumble an oh shit, with a laugh as she realises that Denali is tied with Rosé at the top.

Okay, so maybe it matters a little bit.

Rosé’s photo looks down at her. She’s wearing her obnoxious signature pink ski jacket, her name embroidered into it in a sparkly silver thread. Her equally obnoxiouly signature curly pink hair has been tied up in a messy ponytail, and she stares at Denali with a big fucking grin on her face.

Denali wants to rip down the laminated photo, putting it into a paper shredder and watch as Rosé’s dumb face gets torn into ribbons.

“Healthy competition huh?” Tayce remarks, wrapping a long arm around Denali’s shoulders. “The cheek, the nerve, the audacity and the gumption, mama.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” A voice groans, Denali turns around and is met by the woman of the hour. Rosé looks her up and down, irritation flickering in her green eyes. “Stepping your shit up, this season ice princess?”

Denali arches an eyebrow in response. “Evidently, McCorkell.”

Rosé smiles at her, all pearly white teeth Denali is pretty sure are veneers– well, at least that’s the rumour she and Tayce started last year as a laugh.

All of a sudden, she feels like a shark’s prey, a minnow trapped inside the great white’s tank. Rosé doesn’t have to say anything for Denali to know that she’s going to be in for a tough season.

Better get that hammer ready, she thinks to herself, I am not the Nancy Kerrigan of this competition, bitch.

tags: rosé, denali foxx, gottmik, rosnali, rivals to lovers, coach au, figure skating au, skiing au, lesbian au, love is a dog from hell, mattels

show my blog ! <3

November is sacred to Denali.

Although she’s a full-time figure-skating coach year round, boasting a full clientele of Olympic level students alongside a waiting list that seems to be growing by the year, November always manages to remind her why she started teaching to begin with.

Bonneville Academy, despite Denali considering its title of ‘academy’ being a stretch, has managed to wedge itself into her life, year after year. She spends six months of her year in Chicago, teaching private lessons to overenthusiastic and grossly rich teenagers, but from November through to April, she spends in Utah, working with the students to tighten their quadruple lutzes and receiving a paycheck that leaves her feeling pretty comfortable until the next November.

Although the school is technically a legitimate boarding school, offering fairly okay-quality education alongside the best training in the country all year, a lot of the students only attend for the ski season, unable or unwilling to fund a whole year.

Or maybe, Denali considers with a smile, nobody wants to live in the middle of nowhere, locked away in the mountains like a fucking yeti.

Michelle Visage, school director, emails Denali every year about working for them full-time, but every year Denali finds herself unable to leave Chicago behind. She loves her cozy city life, thank you very much. Living alone in her uptown apartment has yet to be beaten, even with the promise of the best skating facilities money can buy.

Half of the kids who attend don’t even realise how lucky they are, she finds herself thinking as her rental car starts the ascent to the school. It’s a long drive, the journey from Salt Lake to Bonneville is deliberately out of most peoples’ way, ensuring the cleanest snow and freshest powder for its plethora of skiers and snowboarders. She’d definitely have killed for something like this when she was still training.

The school is specialised, known for its premium winter sports programme raved about by former Olympians and their coaches. Everything is fully equipped, facilities and machines inside the camp always sparkling new and top of the line; huge dance studios with scary Russian ballet teachers to help her skaters achieve their best on the ice; big gyms and personal trainers; meals specially catered and designed to build muscle and strengthen bones.

It’s also really fucking expensive; Denali sees the checks on Michelle’s desk with their seemingly endless zeroes, given by mothers determined to boast that their little Sally went to Bonneville! But the elusive RuPaul, who Denali knows funds the school, but has never seen or heard much about, hands out plenty of scholarships to kids she deems talented and hard-working enough to thrive.

Denali’s car turns the corner, giving her a view of Bonneville’s ski slopes. She spots a couple of instructors already at the top of the chairlifts, riding down the mountain in neat lines as they enjoy the start of what’s looking to be a beautiful season. It’s still early, but it’s snowing heavily, Denali’s windscreen wipers working hard to keep the snowflakes off her windscreen.

As Denali pulls up to their entrance, she spots a couple of other employees hanging around outside, boisterous laughter coming from their conversations. They’re all old-timers, Denali is sure one or two of them have worked at the school since its opening in the late nineties.

She immediately spots the inky black mullet that belongs to Mik, one of the snowboarding coaches for the younger kids. She’s standing alone, narrow back pressed up against a red bricked wall as she smokes a cigarette, flicking ash off of the end into the thin layer of snow below her feet.

She gets out of her car, passing her keys over to the valet Michelle hires unnecessarily every year, always insisting, rather pointedly if you ask Denali, who seems to consistently be at the receiving end of the seemingly never-ending gripe, that she knows that someone’ll fuck up her parking arrangement, Denali.

It’s a fair point– Denali would never be bothered to follow Michelle’s colour-coordinated and meticulously planned spreadsheet, in which she’s grouped all the instructors of the same sport together in the carpark, as if it matters to anyone which spot they have.

The valet takes her bags too, which she’s perpetually grateful for; her suitcases are almost always overweight in the airport, despite taking three of her big ones with her. They’ll take them down to her room for her too, as if she’s staying in a nice hotel, not just a ridiculously boujee school.

Mik spots her, dropping the cigarette she was smoking and stubbing it against her chunky boots, jogging over to catch Denali in a tight hug. “Hey slut!”

Denali laughs, embracing her. “Nice to see you too, Mickey.”

Mik shrugs, letting her go with a smile. “You know you missed me, don’t even try it.” Denali rolls her eyes but can’t deny it, grinning when Mik wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Denali Foxx!” Michelle greets her loudly, ticking her name off on a clipboard. “Usual room,” she says, fishing a key out of her pocket and passing it to Denali.

“Roomies!” Mik says, laughing with an eye-roll when Denali pretends to shover her fingers down her throat complete with exaggerated gagging sounds.

Denali’s always grateful to room with Mik, the rooms are a slightly awkward size– too big to stay in alone, a little too small for two people. Mik works at the school year round, and Denali knows she’s equally grateful to have someone to share with, forever complaining about how empty it feels when she’s by herself with two beds.

“Almost everyone else is already on the slopes,” Michelle notes, turning around so she can point out people on the mountain behind them. “You’ve got a couple days until the kids are allowed out, so better make the most of it.”

The school is laid out like a small village, boys on one side and girls on another, divided in almost everything except meals, which they have in the dining hall all together. The dorms are split into age, six buildings facing parallel to one another in a large U-shape, each with attached communal bathrooms and showers for the students. The buildings are all deliberately short so you can gape at Utah’s mountains practically anywhere on campus.

“I’ve been waiting for you to go out,” Mik says, grabbing Denali’s hand between her cold fingers, trying to drag her down the asphalt leading to the sports instructors’ rooming in the centre of the U.

The academics take place a couple miles down the road in a big building that actually looks like a school, which Michelle swears helps the students to stay focused, but Denali can’t say she’s totally convinced. She’s seen them get off the bus after school, racing one another to be the first in the chairlift que.

“I really don’t want to go.” Denali whines, but lets Mik tug her down the path regardless. She’s not the best snowboarder even on her best days, and Mik always wants to take her down the especially mogul-ly runs, zipping in between trees and dodging ice patches that are still missing snow.

“Yes you do!” She says, practically skipping down the road. “There’s only a couple of us here anyways, and the kids aren’t allowed to carve up the snow yet– it’ll be fun!”

Denali rolls her eyes, with a sigh. “I’m only doing green runs!”

“Only red runs? Perfect!”

“No, fuck, come on Mik,” she huffs, her breath coming out in sharp puffs in the cold air. “I’m out of practice, this isn’t fair.”

Mik looks at her, shrugging her narrow shoulders, “how’s that my issue, gorge?”

She groans loudly as they approach the staff building, letting Mik lead the way to their room, unlocking the door with her own key.

Mik keeps their room uncharacteristically clean, especially in comparison to her wardrobe filled with clothes piled up on the bottom rather than on their hangers. Denali is pleased to see her blue suitcases on the side of the room Mik’s left for her, both her skating and snowboard boot bags by the end of her bed.

Mik talks aimlessly about the year so far as Denali changes out of her oversized shirt and equally oversized jeans combo. She rifles through her suitcases, half listening to the other girl, searching for her snow-pants and a hoodie, adhering to Mik’s advice to forgo her ski-jacket as it’s still early in the season and sunny enough, despite the snowfall.

She makes her help her lace up her boots properly, watching Mik’s skilled hands tightening them in record time. “Are you borrowing a board?” She asks.

“Mm,” Denali confirms, “are they ready?”

“You can literally borrow mine,” Mik squints up at her from her kneeling position, “we’re like, basically the same height.”

Denali scoffs at this, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “No fucking way am I borrowing one of yours, they’re all deathtraps.”

“They’re literally normal boards.”

“No, they’re all weirdly thin and flexible, I’ll literally break my neck.”

Mik frowns, “ok, first of all, rude. Second of all, I’ll have you know my boards are perfectly safe–”

“–didn’t you snap one in half last year?”

“That was one time!”

“And that’s one time too many, doll.” Denali says, leaning down to tuck the laces into the tongue of her boot, pulling down her pants so they rest over the top. She reaches out a palm, helping Mik up from her kneeling position. “Get ready and I’ll meet you by the chairlift, okay?”

Mik rolls her eyes, reaching into Denali’s suitcase to attach her goggles to her helmet, passing it over with her gloves tucked neatly inside, as she would with her ten year-olds. Denali yells a thanks over her shoulder as she leaves, weaving her way out of their building to run down to their small ski shop.

☆☆☆☆☆

Humiliatingly enough, Mik makes Denali carry her snowboard with her on the chairlift, refusing to let her sit with one foot strapped in like a normal person would.

“You’re gonna knock your teeth out,” she laughs when Denali complains loudly about it. “Like fully, splat, bitch.”

“I know how to ride a chairlift, thank you very much.” Denali grumbles, clutching her board tightly in her arms and sitting down. Mik reaches behind them, pulling down the safety bar, which Denali rests her feet on.

“Can’t have any casualties on day one, gorge.”

“The only casualty will be from me wringing your skinny little neck out when you push me down the mountain, you fucking bitch.” She groans, looking at the run below them.

There’s a pack of skiers weaving their way down tightly together under the poles of the lift. She can already see the deep valleys of moguls, even with her terrible eyesight. One of them looks up at their chair, waving at them with a grin.

Denali squints and she can see it’s Tayce, one of the newer instructors at the school. They had made fast friends last year, gossiping together about who hooked up with who over Thanksgiving– no, no, no, it’s clearly Brooklyn and Vanessa, they keep eyeing each other up–, which of their kids were likely to actually make the Olympic team– all of mine, thank you very much, Taycey–, who they might fuck given the chance– have you not seen A’Whora in the physio suite? I’d let her curb-stomp my neck– et cetera, et cetera.

“Everyone else is coming up tonight and tomorrow,” Mik remarks, waving over-exaggeratedly waving down to Tayce like she’s in a pantomime. “Tayce is like the only bitch I can stand here, as of currently”

“As of currently? I’m here, as of currently!”

“My point still stands, gorge.”

“After this run can you join up with them?” Denali groans, “Tayce’ll go super-speed with you. And she’ll let you harass her without breaking your nose.”

Mik laughs, “I don’t go that fast, bitch.”

“Have you ever seen that Disney movie Bolt? Y’know the one with that dog who runs like, full speed of light? They could do a live-action version with you as the dog.”

“Woof!”

Denali’s face cracks into a grin as she rolls her eyes, “I’m serious! One minute you’re next to me, the next you’re–” she slides her gloved hands together in a forward motion “–zip. And then I’m the idiot who can’t get down.

“I’d never leave you!” Mik gasps, clapping a palm to her chest. “How dare you, fucking bitch.”

Denali scoffs loudly in response. Every year Mik tries to bully her into doing a couple runs together, and every year without fail Denali obliges, only to find herself stuck at the top of a mountain, Mik nowhere in sight.

“Head,” Mik announces, reminding Denali to duck her head so Mik can raise the safety bar, as they start to approach the end of the lift. Mik lines herself up to the drop-off, riding around the corner smoothly, giggling as Denali has to jog to keep up.

They both sit down to strap in, Mik tightening Denali’s bindings for her and pulling her up with a roll of her eyes.

“See you at the bottom?” Mik asks. Before Denali can answer, she’s slipped off, whooping as she hits a bump and flies upwards, grabbing the nose of her board as she hits the jump.

“So much for never leaving me, I guess,” Denali grumbles, carefully edging herself down the slopes with big sweeping S-shaped turns, she knows Mik will laugh at her about later, reminding her how her ten year-olds could easily out-board her.

Uh yeah, I’d fucking hope so, Denali thinks to herself, curving around onto the toe-edge of her board. Otherwise this’d be the biggest waste of money like, uh, ever.

The air that whips around her is cool, blowing snowflakes into her dark hair, but she doesn’t feel cold, happy in her thick sweatshirt and pants. Her feet are desperate to be unlatched from the board, feeling slightly unnatural to be locked in. She’s much more in her element spraying ice as she nails a complicated spin, she knows Mik would eat ass on.

Yeah, she thinks, fuck you and your ten year-olds, Mickey.

☆☆☆☆☆

“Michelle’s put the board up,” Tayce says in the late afternoon, sticking her head around Denali and Mik’s door propped open by a snowboard boot.

Denali looks up from the book she’s reading, comfortably curled up on her bed with her mandatory evening uniform of thick fluffy socks and sweats on. Mik, on the other hand, is still in her lycra leggings and hoodie, having made no effort to change since coming back, much to Denali’s disgust.

“Well?” Tayce asks in annoyance, cocking her hip, “you coming or what?”

Mik groans, rolling off of her bed and moving to stand next to Tayce in their doorway, bare feet on the cold linoleum. Denali carefully places her bookmark in her book, grabbing a pair of Nike slides– sponsored, thank you very much– and begrudgingly walking down the corridor to their big common room.

The Board– with an optional trademarked symbol from Mik– as it’s been aptly dubbed, is a large whiteboard divided neatly (by the increasingly anal Michelle) into a leaderboard. The top ten coaches are listed top to bottom, ordering the number of world title holders they’ve coached at Bonneville, bonus points being allotted to those whose kids win gold, and double points if the title being held was Olympian.

Michelle says it builds healthy competition. Denali says it builds a desire to Tonya Harding every other bitch in this place. Tomayto, tomahto.

Denali hadn’t even been on The Board, until she had returned three seasons ago with the last World Skating Championships under her belt, managing to land three podium spots. She proudly boasted for months to anyone that looked like they might listen that her girls had swept the categories, winning medals across the ladies’ single event, ice dance and pair skating.

Despite her allure of confidence, she knows she only made it up there because Michelle insists on starting fresh each year. She tries to tell them that she’s giving the new coaches a chance, but everyone knows it’s to keep egos in check.

Egos like mother-fucking Rosé McCorkell’s, who’s placed first on the board two years running.

First as in one spot ahead of Denali’s second, first. First as in gloating in Denali’s face every opportunity she gets (and rest be assured, every opportunity means every opportunity), first. First as in deliberately sabotaging Denali’s skaters, first– well, at least in Denali’s eyes.

Okay, whatever, yes it could have been a coincidence that one of her front runners’ sole came unglued from the attached blade on the morning of Nationals a year ago. And yeah, sure, maybe Rosé was like, several states away from the incident. And okay, yes, she still came in first after the whole thing, so it’s not it even really mattered after all. But Denali just knows Rosé had something to do with it, that bitch.

“Who’s on top of the pyramid this year?” Mik sing-songs when they approach The Board. Denali instinctively works her way through their photos from the bottom to the top, clapping Tayce lightly on the back when she sees her smack-dab in the centre.

She isn’t nervous; she knows she did well this year, the girls she had coached in the previous season competing in nationally-recognised competitions, pictures of them grinning up on their podiums, flowers in sequinned arms, emailed to her and the school. And it’s not even like it matters.

Her photo stands in line with another, both at the top of the leaderboard. She can hear Mik mumble an oh shit, with a laugh as she realises that Denali is tied with Rosé at the top.

Okay, so maybe it matters a little bit.

Rosé’s photo looks down at her. She’s wearing her obnoxious signature pink ski jacket, her name embroidered into it in a sparkly silver thread. Her equally obnoxiouly signature curly pink hair has been tied up in a messy ponytail, and she stares at Denali with a big fucking grin on her face.

Denali wants to rip down the laminated photo, putting it into a paper shredder and watch as Rosé’s dumb face gets torn into ribbons.

“Healthy competition huh?” Tayce remarks, wrapping a long arm around Denali’s shoulders. “The cheek, the nerve, the audacity and the gumption, mama.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” A voice groans, Denali turns around and is met by the woman of the hour. Rosé looks her up and down, irritation flickering in her green eyes. “Stepping your shit up, this season ice princess?”

Denali arches an eyebrow in response. “Evidently, McCorkell.”

Rosé smiles at her, all pearly white teeth Denali is pretty sure are veneers– well, at least that’s the rumour she and Tayce started last year as a laugh.

All of a sudden, she feels like a shark’s prey, a minnow trapped inside the great white’s tank. Rosé doesn’t have to say anything for Denali to know that she’s going to be in for a tough season.

Better get that hammer ready, she thinks to herself, I am not the Nancy Kerrigan of this competition, bitch.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 5 paragraph x

Of my classes, English was the only one I looked forward to, yet I was disturbed by how many of my classmates disliked Thoreau, railed against him even, as if he (who claimed never to have learned anything of value from an old person) was an enemy and not a friend. His scorn of commerce—invigorating to me —nettled a lot of the more vocal kids in Honors English. “Yeah, right,” shouted an obnoxious boy whose hair was gelled and combed stiff like a Dragon Ball Z character—“some kind of world it would be if everybody just dropped out and moped around in the woods—” “Me, me, me,” whined a voice in the back. “It’s antisocial,” a loudmouth girl interjected eagerly over the laughter that followed this—shifting in her seat, turning back to the teacher (a limp, long-boned woman named Mrs. Spear, who always wore brown sandals and earthtone colors, and looked as if she was suffering from major depression). “Thoreau is always just sitting around on his can telling us how good he has it —” “—Because,” said the Dragon Ball Z boy—his voice rising gleefully, “if everybody dropped out, like he’s saying to do? What kind of community would we have, if it was just people like him? We wouldn’t have hospitals and stuff. We wouldn’t have roads.” “Twat,” mumbled a welcome voice—just loud enough for everybody around to hear. I turned to see who had said this: the burnout-looking boy across the aisle, slouched and drumming his desk with his fingers. When he saw me looking at him, he raised a surprisingly lively eyebrow, as if to say: can you believe these fucking idiots? “Did someone have something to say back there?” said Mrs. Spear. “Like Thoreau gave a toss about roads,” said the burnout boy. His accent took me by surprise: foreign, I couldn’t place it. “Thoreau was the first environmentalist,” said Mrs. Spear. “He was also the first vegetarian,” said a girl in back. “Figures,” said someone else. “Mr. Crunchy-chewy.” “You’re all totally missing my point,” the Dragon Ball Z boy said excitedly. “Somebody has to build roads and not just sit in the woods looking at ants and mosquitoes all day. It’s called civilization.” My neighbor let out a sharp, contemptuous bark of a laugh. He was pale and thin, not very clean, with lank dark hair falling in his eyes and the unwholesome wanness of a runaway, callused hands and black-circled nails chewed to the nub—not like the shiny-haired, ski-tanned skate rats from my school on the Upper West Side, punks whose dads were CEOs and Park Avenue surgeons, but a kid who might conceivably be sitting on a sidewalk somewhere with a stray dog on a rope. “Well, to address some of these questions? I’d like for everybody to turn back to page fifteen,” Mrs. Spear said. “Where Thoreau is talking about his experiment in living.” “Experiment how?” said Dragon Ball Z. “Why is living in the woods like he does any different from a caveman?” The dark-haired boy scowled and sank deeper in his seat. He reminded me of the homeless-looking kids who stood around passing cigarettes back and forth on St. Mark’s Place, comparing scars, begging for change—same torn-up clothes and scrawny white arms; same black leather bracelets tangled at the wrists. Their multi-layered complexity was a sign I couldn’t read, though the general import was clear enough: different tribe, forget about it, I’m way too cool for you, don’t even try to talk to me. Such was my mistaken first impression of the only friend I made when I was in Vegas, and—as it turned out—one of the great friends of my life. His name was Boris. Somehow we found ourselves standing together in the crowd that was waiting for the bus after school that day.

“Hah. Harry Potter,” he said, as he looked me over. “Fuck you,” I said listlessly. It was not the first time, in Vegas, I’d heard the Harry Potter comment. My New York clothes—khakis, white oxford shirts, the tortoiseshell glasses which I unfortunately needed to see—made me look like a freak at a school where most people dressed in tank tops and flip flops. “Where’s your broomstick?” “Left it at Hogwarts,” I said. “What about you? Where's your board?” “Eh?” he said, leaning in to me and cupping his hand behind his ear with an old-mannish, deaf-looking gesture. He was half a head taller than me; along with jungle boots and bizarre old fatigues with the knees busted out, he was wearing a ratted-up black T-shirt with a snowboarding logo, Never Summer in white gothic letters. “Your shirt,” I said, with a curt nod. “Not much boarding in the desert.” “Nyah,” said Boris, pushing the stringy dark hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know how to snowboard. I just hate the sun.” We ended up together on the bus, in the seat closest to the door—clearly an unpopular place to sit, judging from the urgent way other kids muscled and pushed to the rear, but I hadn’t grown up riding a school bus and apparently neither had he, as he too seemed to think it only natural to fling himself down in the first empty seat up front. For a while we didn’t say much, but it was a long ride and eventually we got talking. It turned out that he lived in Canyon Shadows too—but farther out, the end that was getting reclaimed by the desert, where a lot of the houses weren’t finished and sand stood in the streets. “How long have you been here?” I asked him. It was the question all the kids asked each other at my new school, like we were doing jail time. “Dunno. Two months maybe?” Though he spoke English fluently enough, with a strong Australian accent, there was also a dark, slurry undercurrent of something else: a whiff of Count Dracula, or maybe it was KGB agent. “Where are you from?” “New York,” I said—and was gratified at his silent double-take, his lowered eyebrows that said: very cool. “What about you?” He pulled a face. “Well, let’s see,” he said, slumping back in his seat and counting off the countries on his fingers. “I’ve lived in Russia, Scotland which was maybe cool but I don’t remember it, Australia, Poland, New Zealand, Texas for two months, Alaska, New Guinea, Canada, Saudi Arabia, Sweden, Ukraine—” “Jesus Christ.” He shrugged. “Mostly Australia, Russia, and Ukraine, though. Those three places.” “Do you speak Russian?” He made a gesture that I took to mean more or less. “Ukrainian too, and Polish. Though I’ve forgotten a lot. The other day, I tried to remember what was the word for ‘dragonfly’ and couldn’t.” “Say something.” He obliged, something spitty and guttural. “What does that mean?” He chortled. “It means ‘Fuck you up the ass.’ ” “Yeah? In Russian?” He laughed, exposing grayish and very un-American teeth. “Ukrainian.” “I thought they spoke Russian in the Ukraine.” “Well, yes. Depends what part of Ukraine. They’re not so different languages, the two. Well—” click of the tongue, eye roll—“not so very much. Numbers are different, days of the week, some vocabulary. My name is spelled different in Ukrainian but in North America it’s easier to use Russian spelling and be Boris, not B-o-r-y-s. In the West everybody knows Boris Yeltsin…” he ticked his head to one side—“Boris Becker—” “Boris Badenov—” “Eh?” he said sharply, turning as if I’d insulted him. “Bullwinkle? Boris and Natasha?” “Oh, yes. Prince Boris! War and Peace. I’m named like him. Although the surname of Prince Boris is Drubetskóy, not what you said.”

“So what’s your first language? Ukrainian?” He shrugged. “Polish maybe,” he said, falling back in his seat, slinging his dark hair to one side with a flip of his head. His eyes were hard and humorous, very black. “My mother was Polish, from Rzeszów near the Ukrainian border. Russian, Ukrainian—Ukraine as you know was satellite of USSR, so I speak both. Maybe not Russian quite so much—it’s best for swearing and cursing. With Slavic languages—Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, even Czech—if you know one, you sort of get drift in all. But for me, English is easiest now. Used to be the other way around.” “What do you think about America?” “Everyone always smiles so big! Well—most people. Maybe not so much you. I think it looks stupid.” He was, like me, an only child. His father (born in Siberia, a Ukrainian national from Novoagansk) was in mining and exploration. “Big important job—he travels the world.” Boris’s mother—his father’s second wife—was dead. “Mine too,” I said. He shrugged. “She’s been dead for donkey’s years,” he said. “She was an alkie. She was drunk one night and she fell out a window and died.” “Wow,” I said, a bit stunned by how lightly he’d tossed this off. “Yah, it sucks,” he said carelessly, looking out the window. “So what nationality are you?” I said, after a brief silence. “Eh—?” “Well, if your mother’s Polish, and your dad’s Ukrainian, and you were born in Australia, that would make you—” “Indonesian,” he said, with a sinister smile. He had dark, devilish, very expressive eyebrows that moved around a lot when he spoke. “How’s that?” “Well, my passport says Ukraine. And I have part citizenship in Poland too. But Indonesia is the place I want to get back to,” said Boris, tossing the hair out of his eyes. “Well—PNG.” “What?” “Papua, New Guinea. It’s my favorite place I’ve lived.” “New Guinea? I thought they had headhunters. “Not any more. Or not so many. This bracelet is from there,” he said, pointing to one of the many black leather strands on his wrist. “My friend Bami made it for me. He was our cook.” “What’s it like?” “Not so bad,” he said, glancing at me sideways in his brooding, self-amused way. “I had a parrot. And a pet goose. And, was learning to surf. But then, six months ago, my dad hauled me with him to this shaddy town in Alaska. Seward Peninsula, just below Arctic Circle? And then, middle of May —we flew to Fairbanks on a prop plane, and then we came here.” “Wow,” I said. “Dead boring up there,” said Boris. “Heaps of dead fish, and bad Internet connection. I should have run away—I wish I had,” he said bitterly. “And done what?” “Stayed in New Guinea. Lived on the beach. Thank God anyway we weren’t there all winter. Few years ago, we were up north in Canada, in Alberta, this one-street town off the Pouce Coupe River? Dark the whole time, October to March, and fuck-all to do except read and listen to CBC radio. Had to drive fifty klicks to do our washing. Still—” he laughed —“loads better than Ukraine. Miami Beach, compared.” “What does your dad do again?” “Drink, mainly,” said Boris sourly. “He should meet my dad, then.” Again the sudden, explosive laugh—almost like he was spitting over you. “Yes. Brilliant. And whores?” “Wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, after a small, startled pause. Though not too much my dad did shocked me, I had never quite envisioned him hanging out in the Live Girls and Gentlemen’s Club joints we sometimes passed on the highway. The bus was emptying out; we were only a few streets from my house. “Hey, this is my stop up here,” I said. “Want to come home with me and watch television?” said Boris. “Well—” “Oh, come on. No one’s there. And I’ve got S.O.S. Iceberg on DVD.”

[shinymooncolor]

Hi!

Hope you’re all doing well this fine Friday. Here’s part 2 of the sweater weather chat #13!

As usual, we owe this entire fandom and world to the amazing @lumosinlove 💓

Thank you to @frombeauxbatons and @siriuslyqueer for being so cool!

Also - to avoid confusion. A Finn is a Finnish person and Finn is our love Finn o’hara 😜

Link to part one 💖

Sergei is still mad about his hair. He’s also got sweaty glitter in his eye. Ava is adorable. Nado and Kuny hosts an after party. Their cat is adorable and spoiled. Nado is being stalked by a drone. Blizzard is a lucky man. We discuss dick pics. Logan wants to be supportive. O’Knutzy jerseys!!!!! Olli has a team of protectors cause he’s a precious moomin.

—

“JACKIIEEEEEE”

“Oh, looks like we have a young lions prospect joining us as well. Nice to meet you, young lady, what’s your name? And here we have Kris LaVolie, Pascal Dumais and Henrik Sunnquist as well”

“Jackieeee wanna pwayyyyy”

“Sure kiddo - bye”

“Seems like LaVolie junior has more important things than press. Gentlemen, hi! How’re you enjoying this event today?”

“I think it’s great! Great to be able to support charities and show some support in general and it’s always fun to be able to bring my little girl to skate”

“She looks like a natural! And you two vets - what’s it like seeing this in the nhl?”

“It’s great! We’ve, or well me and sunny, have been in the game for a long time and it seems like the league is ready to move into the 21st century with the rest of us”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to Ivanov’s hair. Do you know?”

“Well I don’t personally. I do like the color - mixed with his blonde it’s nearly the color of my home. Yellow and blue”

“Did you dye his hair then?”

“I would never! You’d have to ask him yourself. Hah”

“Well he’s been avoiding me so far”

“Oi Sergei!!”

“Well with that bellow it seems we’re finally joined by the final third in the trio of lions veterans today - sergei - we’ve had a lot of viewers ask us about your choice of hair color today? Is it a statement or?”

“Is stupid prank. I’m find out and make regret. Also I’m full with glitter and it sweats into my eye”

“That sounds uncomfortable but you all four look good - are your families here as well?”

“Yes, most kitted out as well. We had some trouble with my youngest who refused to wear anything but a paw patrol onesie but other than that Celeste managed to wrangle the other three into their jerseys”

“They think it’s fun and the glitter was a hit. Sergei’s daughter dumped an entire box of glitter on Logan and kuny. It was funny”

“Thanks guys, you look like you’re ready to get back out there”

“See ya”

“Wait, Logan, interview?”

“Hey”

“Logan! We’ve had multiple asks about your jersey and the name which seems to be on the back off Leo Newt and Finn O’Hara too?”

“Uhm, yeah, it’s an inside thing”

“Ohh okay, our viewers were wondering. Are you enjoying today’s event?”

“Yeah. Feels good to be out and supporting you know? Like there’s a lot of kids out there who’s scared and if I can help one I want to”

“Yes definitely. We’ve had so many positive comments come in. And here we have Olli Halla joining. Or... heh well. He’s got Logan in a headlock now”

“Olli! How’re you today?”

“I’m good thank you, how’re you?”

“Very well, just been asking some questions from viewers. Are you enjoying wearing the rainbow colors? We’ve had a lot of question regarding your relationship status?”

“Ohh Ollibear is a precious, single moomin and he’s got a team of protectors. Whoever wants to woo our precious baby Finn has to go through a series of tests to even be considered”

“Shut up timmy”

“Well here we have Timmy Jones as well, joining Logan Tremblay and Olli Halla”

“I think we all look good in rainbows and I’m happy to support this cause. Mental health is important and we have to use our platforms to make sure everyone is seen and heard and validated”

“Aww Olli you’re making me cry”

“Shut up lo, go play with Finn”

“Haha you’re all just jealous cause I look best in rainbows”

“That was Logan Tremblay. Now, timmy, how’re you feeling about today?”

“Get to wear awesome colors, get to skate for fun and it was fun to do glitter wars in the locker room”

“Well with that I’m gonna end the transmission for now. Do send in more questions. We’re back after a short break”

—-

Nadotheman: oiii glitter after party at our house!!! Bring your families and babies. Pets welcome too!!!

Blizzard: this is not another surprise party for your cat right?

RussianGod: it was anniversary for first month very important say so in lily baby book.

Prongstar: are you using our baby books to raise a cat?

KrisVolley: that explains a lot. They send me weekly updates. Do you have a baby book for her too?

Timmyforrealz: of course, I’ve seen it. You know they have a photographer every month. They do parties for her every anniversary and they went through an agency to get a cat sitter

Ollibear: it’s cute. Though I don’t need the daily updates on her mice eating skills

Nadotheman: she’s so talented! How’re you not impressed? She hunted and killed it herself... you don’t complain when we have some stupid kid party. You all breed like fucking rabbits... baby showers, christenings, birthdays ahhhh... so many babies... we get to celebrate our cat too...

Prongstar: did you steal my baby book? To raise a cat. That’s weird

Nadotheman: calm down she’s a kitty and we didn’t know how to raise her. At least my baby sleeps through the night.

Prongstar: don’t compare a kitten to my baby.

CarbO’Hara: hahahahaha poor James. His kid being upstaged by a spoilt kitten.

RussianGod: she’s not spoilt. She got good parents

Sergei_81: you are weird. Baby cat is not baby human.

Talkiewalkie: I did enjoy the circle of life themed cat name giving party. The snacks were really good!

DumoDad: celeste, Anya and linnea want to know if there’s going to be anything x-rated? Otherwise we’re all not going.

Nadotheman: that was one time and I had no idea she was a stripper

LeWilliam: how do you accidentally order a stripper?

Prongstar: it’s Nado. I wouldn’t put it past him. He did accidentally adopt a penguin in Pittsburgh and he’s joined like three pyramid schemes?

Ollibear: that’s why he’s got an accountant now 😂 that is one of the best memories of my life, when Nado’s mom came and yelled 😂😂😂

Siriusly: I spent $150 on a stupid cat present and she spent the rest of the evening playing with the box it came in... she’s definitely your cat...

RussianGod: best cat best cat parents best after party stop whiny

Logantremblayzzz: we’re in!!! Is the jacuzzi on?

Nadotheman: you’re not doing sex stuff in our jacuzzi

Newt-leo: we’ve all seen the photos of you doing it though. Little hypocritical

Nadotheman: well stupid drone stalking me.

Sergei_81: we bring vodka. And babies. They want play street hockey? Is March. They crazy

Talkiewalkie: oh I’m in for street hockey!! Also does that explain the amount of dick pics we’ve received?

Nadotheman: what happens on Snapchat stays on Snapchat... you’re all dirty voyeurs...

Ollibear: thought you promised to keep this pg-13?

DumoDad: that’s the pArty not the chat. I don’t think we’ve exhausted the topic of nado’s general sluttiness

Nadotheman: oi. I’m not a slut I’m sexually expressive and ya lot is all just jealous.

Nadotheman: also no one is chasing kuny? He’s dating around as much as me and he’s also sent dick pics

Blizzard: the difference is that Kuny is always naked or semi naked and well we’ve all seen his. And most of his bragging is in Russian anyways

Sunnysideup: hah if you understood you’d be ashamed. And also want to lock up your daughters.😂😂😂

RussianGod: is the accent. They all think they fix me hehe

Prongstar: I’m not even missing being single at all 😳

Blizzard: me neither 😜

Nadotheman: you’ve got Nat. I think you’ve won. Hands down. Your wives are all cool but Nat.... damnnnn 🙏🏻

Blizzard: id say back off but. What can I do 😜💖💖

—-

[vampire-named-gampire]

Carry On Countdown - Day 22

Wow, watch me use the @carryon-countdown to plug my skating fic lmao

I don’t know if this counts, since Angelina is an OC and actually, Baz would totally make friends with/practically adopt a 17yo Russian girl, so I don’t know how unlikely it is, but it’s here. And also, I just really want to share more of On thin ice content, but the fic itself isn’t ready to be published yet so have this instead. 

For context, Baz used to train in Russia aged 16-20, and now both him and Simon train in Montreal (no, idk why I chose Montreal out of all places but that’s how it is.) Also I think Gelya is the Russian diminutive/nickname used for the name Angelina, but I’m not sure. The fic is still in the works, so this scene is bound to change/expand (I did omit it a bit when writing because spoilers) but anyway, I’ll stop rambling now. 

Prompt: Unlikely friends Word count: 1950 Rating: This scene is G, although the whole fic will be T or M 

SIMON

The ride from the airport to the hotel is awful. Baz must’ve suspected this, because he made me sit in the front.

“Go on,” he said teasingly. “The only skater who has motion sickness.”

I have to say, sitting in the front almost didn’t make a difference. I may not know how to drive, but even I know you’re not supposed to drive like that. When the cab drops us off in front of the hotel, I don’t even bother hiding my relief. Baz laughs.

“I never want to experience this again,” I say, knowing full well that this is my life for the next week. The hotel might be close to the venue, but it’s still far enough for it to be a driving distance. I can only hope buses are less deadly than cabs.

“You know, Moscow traffic is actually tame compared to the rest of Russia,” Baz smirks, handing me my bags.

“Well then I never want to see the rest of Russia,” I mutter, slinging my duffel bag over my shoulder and stepping through the automated hotel doors. Baz scoffs and follows me.

This hotel is fancy – much fancier than the hotels we usually stay at. Baz doesn’t seem phased by it at all, the posh bastard. I bet the hotels he stays at when he’s on vacation are at least twice as posh.

He does, however, seem phased when someone yells “Basil!” across the lobby. Before either of us can register what’s going on, a small figure in a red jacket runs towards us at full speed and crashes into Baz, making him emit a surprised oof sound.

The moment I realize the figure is actually Angelina Nuriyeva is the moment she starts speaking in fast Russian. I don’t understand a thing, but Baz seems to, because he laughs and hugs her back.

I knew Baz and Angelina were friends, but I didn’t think they were this close. I mean, they’re the exact polar opposites; Angelina is an actual sunshine (she’s always hugging and smiling at everyone) and Baz is… Baz. (He’s a big softie, I know that, but he goes through great efforts to appear cold and closed off.)

But here he is, ruffling Angelina’s hair and telling her something in Russian. (I’m suddenly met with the realisation that being in Moscow means I’ll get to hear a lot more of Baz’s Russian. I am very much not complaining at this prospect, even if I don’t understand a thing of what they’re saying.)

Angelina is nodding along and she pulls out her phone to show him something, but that’s when Baz stops her, suddenly speaking in English.

“Wait, I think in the interest of Snow, we should switch to English. He already looks lost enough as it is,” he says.

“No, no, I’m fine, by all means…” I start, but I’m soon cut off by Angelina.

“Yes, of course! I’m sorry, Simon! Come here, it’s so good to see you,” she says and hugs me. (This is what I mean when I say Angelina is a sunshine.)

“Good to see you too,” I nod.

“I was just about to show Basil how his houseplants are doing. Do you want to see too?” she asks.

“Houseplants?” I don’t bother hiding the surprise in my voice. Since when does Baz like houseplants? His flat in Montreal doesn’t have any, spare the tiny cactus on the windowsill.

“I had a lot of houseplants when I still lived here, but I couldn’t take them with me on the plane when I moved, so Gelya took them in her care,” he explains, as if he’s reading my mind.

“Georgy is doing amazing but Ilya went a bit floppy. I changed his earth so now I’m hoping he gets better,” Angelina says, showing Baz a picture of two houseplants, side by side, one of them (Ilya?) looking slightly wilted.

“When it goes floppy, we say it wilts, and we don’t say earth, we say soil,” Baz corrects her. If I was Angelina, I’d probably be annoyed right now, but she just smiles at him.

“Thank you. It’s so much harder to learn English now that there’s no one here to practice with me,” she sighs.

“You know you can call me any time and we can practice,” Baz offers.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I stop them both. There is so much new information I have to process. “You had houseplants? And you named them Russian names? And you taught her English?” (That would actually explain why Angelina’s English is so good.)

“Yes, Snow, are you keeping up?”

“And when he gave them up, he wrote me a whole notebook on how to take care of them,” Angelina chimes in. “And another notebook with English grammar.”

Maybe I do have trouble keeping up. Who is this Baz? (And why is he so attractive?)

“I never thought of you as a houseplant kind of bloke,” I shrug. “You don’t have any houseplants in Montreal.”

“I’m still mourning the loss of my old children.” Baz deadpans before turning back to Angelina. “Show me Alyosha. He was always my favourite.”

-

BAZ

Unsurprisingly, the jet-lag catches up with me right when it’s time to go to bed. I don’t know why I was naïve enough to believe I won’t need melatonin when dealing with an eight-hour time difference. I better take it now, before it’s too late.

I sigh and throw the covers back before picking up my phone to check the time. However, a text message notification from Snow grabs my attention before I can do that.

Is he nervous again? It would make sense, since this is a big competition for him. Would I be able to sneak into his room and sneak out the next morning unnoticed? I doubt that. There are only athletes staying on our floor, the coaches, press and competition staff are all on different floors, and I doubt the athletes would pay us much attention, but it’s still risky.

I’d much rather risk a few weird looks than have Simon spiral into panic two days before a major competition, though. I decide I’ll go to his room if that’s what he needs.

Maybe I should check why he’s even texting me before I devise any plans.

SS: do u have melatonine? SS: jet lag

I sigh in relief. He’s not having a mental breakdown. He’s just jet-lagged. (Which is a bit strange for Snow, but I suppose even his circadian rhythm can take a blow from time to time.)

BP: It’s spelled melatonin and yes, I have it. You can come get it if you still need it BP: Room 254

SS: yes ik where u r SS: I’ll b right over

I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for Snow to knock on my door. He’s staying a few corridors down, in room 273, so it takes him a few minutes. I jump up when I hear his knock.

He’s standing in front of my door, wearing joggers, a hoodie and those damned glasses of his again. His hair is messed up, like he’s been tossing and turning too.

“I thought you didn’t get jet-lagged,” I say, stepping aside to let him in. He settles on the edge my bed while I rummage my luggage for melatonin supplements.

“I don’t get sleep jet-lagged, but I do get food jet-lagged,” he says.

“What does that even mean, Snow?”

“It means it’s lunchtime in Canada right now and I’m so hungry I can’t sleep.”

I bite back a laugh. He’s an idiot. (An adorable one but an idiot nonetheless.) “You don’t need melatonin, Snow, you need this,” I say, throwing a granola bar at him. He startles, but manages to catch it.

“You’re just giving this to me?” he asks, audibly surprised. (Which is ridiculous. He gives me food all the time and here he is, questioning my generosity over a fucking granola bar.)

“No, Snow, pay up. Fifty rubbles.”

“I don’t have any Russian money,” he laughs, tearing the wrapping open. He’s going to get crumbs all over my bed, but I don’t shoo him away. Instead, I finally find the melatonin supplements and take one with some water. “Do you still want one?” I ask.

“Do you have any more granola bars?”

I laugh and pass him another one before sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Are you nervous?” I ask, just to make sure he’s really okay.

“Right now? I’m just hungry,” he says, tearing open the second granola bar.

“Right,” I nod.

“Baz. Are you doing that thing where you’re worrying about me again?”

“A bit,” I admit.

“Stop,” he says like I can just turn it off like a tap. (I wish I could.) We sit in silence for a while, me thinking about how much easier my life would be if I just stopped worrying about Simon Snow and him chewing through his granola bar. “I didn’t know you and Angelina were such good friends,” he finally says.

“We trained together for four years,” I shrug, but it’s not just that. The training environment in Russia was intense. It’s a bloodbath to even get on the national team there, so of course it’s intense, but I think every other skater the rink was looking at me sideways because I was an outlier. I wasn’t Russian, I didn’t speak Russian and I think they felt like I didn’t belong there. (I know now that I really didn’t.) They eventually accepted me and by the time I left Russia, even the ones who refused to speak during my first year there were sad to see me go.

But Gelya was nice to me from the start. She was only thirteen at the time and didn’t speak any English, but she clapped for me when I did something well and cheered me on when I was having a bad day. (Thanks to her, davai was one of the first Russian words I learned.) She brought me homemade pyraniki on special occasions and when I got injured and had to go back to England to have surgery, she sent me get well soon cards all the way from Russia and she made the entire rink sign them.

That’s just who she is. She’s this nice to everyone and it didn’t matter to her if I was Russian or English, I was just another person at her rink who she could bring biscuits to. Over the four years that I’ve lived there, she became like a little sister to me.

“Baz?” Snow’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. “You seem tired. I’m going to go.”

I have half a mind not to ask him to stay here. (We both know we can’t do that.) “Okay,” I say instead. He stands up and throws the granola wrappers in the bin. I stand up too, to walk him to the door (I have manners), but he waves at me to sit back down.

“It’s fine,” he says.

“Will you be able to sleep?”

“If my hunger doesn’t get to me again, yes,” he laughs. He’s already by the door.

“Wait.” I stand up and grab the last granola bar from my bag, offering it to him. “Just in case,” I explain. I want him to stay here, to make sure he sleeps well and doesn’t spend the night worrying about the competition, but I can’t do that, so this is the least I can do.

“Thanks,” he smiles, tucking it in his pocket. Then he hugs me briefly and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

And he’s out the door.

[ancano]

YoI Fanfic Recs

Okay so I just wanna share some love and show y’all some amazing fanfics that I have personally read and absolutely adored!! You’ll likely see repeated authors, either cuz I follow them on tumblr or cuz I’ll raid their uploads once I find one I really like. Also apparently I read a lot of A/B/O so if that isn’t your thing sorry hhhhhh

No particular order for these, just going down my bookmarks and history lists on ao3

Glitter & Gold by plisetskytrash and victurius (I just caught up with this one and oh my god I love it.) Summary - In a world where drugs, sex, and violence rule, Viktor Nikiforov is the king. As the Pakhan of the Russian Mafia (the Bratva) he is responsible for murder and mayhem across multiple continents and that’s just the way he likes it. The only problem is that a new leader has risen to power in America – known only as ‘JJ’ – and he starts to intrude on Viktor’s territory.Not only is that rude, it’s damn right unacceptable.So, Viktor sets out to find out as much about JJ as he can, including infiltrating the businesses he owns, such as The Kiss and Cry, a sleazy club that works as a front for an exclusive exotic omega strip club that only the richest and most powerful men can access. Naturally, Viktor has no trouble getting inside. Once he’s there, however, his plans are thrown out of the window when he spots a beautiful, young Japanese omega with chocolate-brown eyes and an ass to die for. There’s only one problem: Viktor swore he’d never mate an omega.Will Viktor manage to stay focused on his mission? Or will this omega break Viktor’s most important rule?

Eros and Agape by ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl and Spunky0ne (you’ll see a couple works from these guys in this list because they are *chef’s kiss* amazing) Summary - For as long as Victor can remember, Yakov and Lilia have protected him from being discovered to be an Omega by helping him to project as an Alpha. But at the Grand Prix Final banquet, he comes face to face with the man destined to be his husband.

NEXT LEVEL: Nights After Dreams by RipVanGabriel (this is a LONG one, I haven’t even gotten very far in it, but trust me it’s worth it) Summary -  The silver medal was hard fought and won, but now the stakes are higher than ever. Five gold medals loom on the horizon, but more importantly, the "life and love" within the gold rings. Yuri and Viktor's relationship grows as they get back on the competition road, and new complications rise with them. (Proper follow-up to the TV series; not AU, no crack ships, no weird shit.)

Wait! But, I’m not Yakuza! by ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl, SesshomaruFreak, and Spunky0ne (like I said, these guys, *chef’s kiss* I refuse to admit how many times I’ve reread the 2 chapters that are currently posted. I’m also the only person commenting on it last i checked which is a fucking shame, so y’all go comment on this amazing fic pls) Summary - The Katsuki family, except for the Hasetsu Katsukis, are the largest and most powerful Yakuza family in Japan, so it’s not surprising that poor Yuuri keeps getting mistaken for one of his distant relatives. On a trip to Russia with his father, Yuuri stumbles into a bar to avoid a group of rough looking punks, and he comes face to face with a beautiful, silver-haired exotic dancer. Things get crazy when Yuuri sees the lovely dancer being abused and steps in, only to get himself beaten into unconsciousness. He wakes in his hotel room and finds a note next to his bed…”Thank you for your kindness. I’m sorry those ruffians hurt you. It’s better you stay away. I don’t want anything else bad to happen to you. Vitya” He should go home. He should just forget the man, but Yuuri can’t help himself…Victuuri, intersex Victor, intersex pregnancy, lots of flustered Yuuri!

Love’s Requiem by Kashoku (gonna be honest, I don’t even ship Yuuri/Yuri, but I enjoy this fic) Summary -  If you had asked Yuuri in Barcelona if there was anything that could ever bring him down from the high of being with Viktor Nikiforov, he would have laughed. But when the living legend suffers a career ending injury, it brings new struggles to their relationship. Viktor begins to drown his sorrows, and Yuuri finds himself being pulled beneath the surface in a way he’s not sure he can survive.

you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be by roserelease (this shit right here is my fucking bread and butter y’all. I can’t even express how much happiness and love this fic gives me) Summary - More than anything, Yuuri wants to impress his cosplay role model Viktor Nikiforov. But after a horrible start to a convention weekend, he panics and backs out at the last second to meet his idol. Normally this would be fine, except Yuuri discovers too late that there's a little Viktor related secret inside the con vlog his best friend filmed over the course of the weekend for him...It's fine, he thinks. Embarrassing, but not the end of the world. And it's not like Viktor himself will ever see the con vlog, so why worry?(Except then Viktor does.)

Paying For Poison by SaerenDPity (another one of my absolute faves that sadly only updates once every other blue moon but when it does update I feel overwhelmingly Blessed) Summary - "Skater Katsuki?" Yuuri's eyes widened as he nodded, and suddenly Viktor Nikiforov was clutching at his coat. He barely registered that his childhood hero knew his name, he couldn't think on that when Viktor's voice was on the edge of breaking. Desperation lined his every movement."Yes th-that's me. Um… Mr. Nikiforov… Do… do you need help?"Viktor shook his head violently and shoved his hand into Yuuri's pocket. Yuuri only had time to squeak before Viktor was backing away, breathing heavily. "Please… please buy me."…Years after Viktor Nikiforov suddenly disappeared from the public eye, he resurfaces at the Rostelecom Cup, desperate for help. And Yuuri simply cannot abandon the man who inspired almost every aspect of his life, and so, he makes the decision to do just as Viktor asks - buy his services as an omega for one night.

Drowning In Your Love by MysticLipstick (another rarely updated fic that I’m head over heels for. please feed me, I need MORE) Summary -  Victor Nikiforov has always gotten away with being a whore in college. Being the top athlete swimmer has gained him tons of attention, championships and girls. However, a cosmic encounter with Yuuri Katsuki has him questioning everything—including his sexuality. Yuuri’s shy nature and blatant disregard for Victor’s fame has Victor chasing him—something he’s never done, but Yuuri shuts him down. Completely.

November’s Secret by LanaBerry (I’ve reread this one about 5 times already tbh) Summary - Overwhelmed with anxiety and his fear of failing, Yuuri faces the issue of if he should continue skating. His best friend, Yuko, proposes a solution - if no one knows it's you, then it's less embarrassing, right? Yuuri begins to create a completely new disguise and persona.But it works a little too well.Before he knows it, Yuuri has become the biggest mystery of the skating world and everyone wants to know who he is. Especially Viktor Nikiforov, the idol he's been loosely basing his new persona on for years.

The ‘Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches’ series by Reiya (recently finished rereading this one, always so fucking good) Summary - ‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’ A single event changes the course of Yuuri’s life, throwing him into a bitter rivalry with Viktor Nikiforov that spans across his entire skating career. But as the years go on, rivalry and hatred begin to develop into something very different and Yuuri doesn’t seem to be able to stay away, no matter how hard he tries.Hatred and love are two sides of the same coin and even though everything changes, some things are still meant to be.

With What We Once Had by MagicalMirai (this one is just too cute tbh) Summary -  They called it quits, over a year and a half ago. But even though he should have been expecting it, Yuuri can’t help but feel suffocated when he bumps into Victor at the Grand Prix final, whilst holding his son. The son... he never told Victor about.

Nerve Endings by Phyona (this one is next on the “to reread” list) Summary -  When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri's anxiety and Victor's secrets to find their balance.

Puppy Love by Phyona (another phyona fic and it’s just way too fucking cute tbh) Summary - When Yuuri gets turned into a dog, the last place he expects to end up is Victor Nikiforov's apartment. He learns quickly that the only thing worse than being his idol's pet, is watching him pine for someone else.Warning: Makkachin has recently passed away at the start of this story.

The Stars on his Cheeks by QueenWinterofLuna (this one was actually written for a prompt I personally requested and I absolutely adore it, even still) Summary -  A short drabble based on this Tumblr request from @napsushi: Can you write a fic where Yuuri discovers Victor has freckles and is just over the moon about it? This fandom needs more freckled Vitya.

This is all I can find and think of for now but if I remember more I’ll be sure to update it!!

[alitaimagines]

character: EMIL NEKOLA - Yuri on Ice 

song recommendation: butterfly’s repose - zabawa 

note: this depression episode last nearly two months. I can’t believe it lasted THAT fucking long. I’m ashamed and feel like I should crawl in a hole to apologize. while writing this imagine, I lowkey made the realization that the Crispino twins are literally those Russian twins from Shake It Up. 

“Sara, I’m tired, can I please just go back to bed?” you asked her while she dragged you to the ice rink, “nope! I promised Michele I’d be here at eight and since we’re competing in a few months, we need all the practice we can get,” she explained. 

you dramatically started to fake cry as she ushered you to the locker rooms, “can we at least get coffee? I haven’t drank any all day!” you exclaimed making Sara role her eyes, “relax, we’ll only be here an hour which give us enough time to do our routines a few times before you get cranky.” 

you begrudgingly went to your locker and put on your skates. you knew you had meet Michele here and if you were to guess, Emil would be right alongside with him. 

you and Emil had a small past with each other. not many people knew that the two of you had dated once but when both of your skating careers took off, the break up became inevitable and the two of you broke it off. from what Sara had told you, Emil never got another girlfriend after that and all of your pictures with him were still on his Insta page. 

Emil had been one of the best boyfriends you had ever had so once the two of you broke up, she had to comfort you on the days you came crying to her. 

“do you know if Emil is coming with him?” you asked her. she gave you a small smile, “I know they were bunking in the same room together so assumedly yeah, he might be with him,” she admitted. you didn’t bother to give her a response but she could tell you felt bittersweet about it.

Michele and Sara were on the same page when it came to the both of you. mostly everyone was. they knew it was a matter of time before the two of you would get back together. 

you grabbed your headphones from your gym bag and told Sara you’d meet her in the rink. the competition in Barcelona was only a few months away and since the both of you qualified for it in March, the past few months were dedicated to practicing all day and all night. 

the rink you and Sara were using was closed off to the public for the weekend as they knew a lot of pro ice skaters were in town for different press events. it came off as a surprise when Sara had told you that Michele booked a flight later than hers considering he was attached at her hip but you figured that he must’ve caught the same flight with Emil.

the mens competition was also being held in Barcelona which you had heard that both Michele and Emil had qualified for. you were happy for Emil but the feeling of seeing him more often made you feel some type of way. 

“wow, you’re wearing Emil’s sweater, how convenient,” Sara joked as you immediately looked down to see that you were in fact wearing his sweater. it was one from his previous competitions as the huge Czech flag was slapped on the side of the right sleeve and his last name was on the back, “I seriously didn’t even realize I was wearing it. I’ve gotten used to wearing sweaters he used to leave at my place that they more or less became mine,” you said rapidly.

Sara put her hand on your shoulder, “relax, I was joking. I’m sure Emil is going to freak out if he sees it but enough of that! you can take one side of the rink and I’ll take the other?” you nodded as you skated towards the right side of the rink. 

it was easily distinguishable that they had just used the rink for a hockey game which was a bonus for the skaters. you popped in the headphones and clicked on the mix you were planning on skating too. 

Sara was on the other end of the rink already skating by the time you started. for a few minutes, your mind was completely scatterbrained on the thought of Emil until you realized that you were completely messing up your routine. you were sure that if your coach had seen you, she would have screamed at you by now. 

what was supposed to be an hour felt like fifteen minutes when you looked up at the clock again. Sara had been chugging down her water when you skated to her.  

“god, this routine might actually kill me,” you huffed before chugging your own water, “SARA!” you heard a familiar voice scream. Sara instantly seen you stiffen up as you both heard Emil’s voice and Michele telling him to quiet down. 

the two of you locked eyes for a moment before looking away from each other, “I’m going to take my skates off and I’ll meet you in the lobby in five?” Sara nodded as the three of them watched you leave. 

“how awkward,” Sara joked. Emil remained quiet making the twins a bit concerned about him, “you okay Emil?” she asked. 

he didn’t respond for a few moments, “she’s wearing my sweater,” he muttered. 

the twins looked at each other knowing there was only two possible outcomes for tonight. one of them being that the two of you would get back together and other would be you ditching them because of Emil. however, it didn’t go unnoticed by Emil in your sudden change of physical features. your hairstyle was different, the color was different but your outfit stayed very much the same. 

you took a terrible amount of time putting on your shoes again that by the time you walked out, Michele had begun complaining that you were taking too long. 

“god Michele, patience is a virtue, you know?” you scolded making Emil and Sara laugh, “so, where are we getting breakfast? I’m hungry and I want to eat and go back to sleep,” you told them. 

Sara shook her head, “all you do is eat and sleep. isn’t there other things you like to do?” she asked rhetorically. you couldn’t help but laugh, “nope. I have no boyfriend, outside of you and Michele, I have no friends, and my only hobby is skating so no, I don’t like to do other things.” 

this time it was Sara’s turn to dramatically roll her eyes as all four of you found a small restaurant by the hotel all the skaters were staying at. you noticed how silent it was and how much it would increase the awkwardness between you and Emil. 

“hi, how many?” the waitress asked. Sara gave the girl a smile, “four,” she mentioned as she ushered all of you to a table outside in the small patio. 

it felt like an eternity when finally someone spoke up. you noticed a few fans coming towards the table.

“hi! you’re ( your name ), right?” one of the boys asked. you nodded as the girl he was with smiled at you, “do you think we can get a photo with you?” he asked. you nodded as Sara offered to take the photo. 

you stood in between the boy and the girl as Sara took the photo. once you released the two of them, the boy looked up at you with a smirk, “are you single?” he asked suddenly. that made everyone instantly look at you. 

you stood uncomfortably for a moment, “uh, yeah, why?” you asked awkwardly, “can I take you out on a date?” he said with such confidence that it made you feel a little bad that you were going to deny him, “I’m sorry but I don’t date fans. I appreciate the compliment however,” you tried to say as nicely as possible. 

you could tell that the girl he was with was his sister as she stood there, mortified, “Luke, let’s go! I’m so sorry for that,” she exclaimed before dragging her brother away. 

as soon as you looked over to everyone, they couldn’t help but laugh at your embarrassed expression. “shut up, it wasn’t funny,” you muttered before looking down at your menu. 

you discreetly looked at Emil who had a bit of an annoyed expression written on his face. you didn’t bother to give it a second thought as you assumed that he was annoyed with something Michele or Sara did. 

after breakfast was over and you managed to get away from the three of them, you went to your hotel room and sprawled on the bed before yelling into your pillow. 

for a few hours, you remained in bed, hugging your pillow and trying to calm yourself down. “this is such bullshit,” you screamed into the pillow again before hearing a knock on your door. you immediately stood up, wiped your stray tears, and walked up to the door before looking into the peep.

it was Emil. 

you immediately looked at yourself through the small mirror they had and tried to fix your hair but the puffy look on your face didn’t go away. you slowly opened the door and seen Emil looking at you. 

the two of you remained silent before he gave you a smile, “hey,” he whispered, “may I come in?” you nodded, fully opening the door and letting him in. 

“what do you need?” you asked quietly as both of you sat on the table, “just wanted to say hello. you were really quiet at breakfast and wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admitted. 

you nodded, “I’m fine, thank you for checking in on me,” you managed to say. the music you had playing before he arrived didn’t really help the very somber feeling in the room.

“cause, I’m right here, darling, I’m right here. close your pretty eyes, my butterfly. baby, have no fear.”  

you had no idea what triggered your tears again but before you knew it, you were crying into Emil’s arms as he tried calming you down. “it’s okay, don’t cry,” he tried to comfort you. 

you pushed yourself out of his arms as he tried to hold your hand. 

“no Emil, it’s not okay,” you exasperated, “I thought I was over you but here you are, coming into my life like it’s okay, and now I’m back in the same stage I was in when you first broke up with me.” 

Emil wanted to interject but decided to let you keep talking, “I don’t know what gives you the right to come back into my life and act like we didn’t have a past with each other. I don’t understand why you’re even in my room! are you here to make me feel like shit?” you continued. 

he brought you in for another embrace and this time you wanted to push him away again but you didn’t bother too. his hug was warm, inviting, and frankly, you had missed them. 

“I’m here because I want you back,” Emil confessed. you immediately retracted yourself before giving him a surprising look, “wait, what?” you asked rhetorically. 

Emil grabbed your hand, even going as far as getting on his knee before looking at you, “I want you back. I know for a fact that we never truly got over each other and I think it’s ridiculous that we’re not together knowing we still like each other.” 

you stayed silent, waiting to see if he would continue what he was saying, “I wanted to give you this while we were still together but we broke up and I never got the chance to present it to you,” he said. 

Emil dug into his pocket and pulled out something that looked like an engagement ring, “I’m not proposing but I’m promising you. this time, we’ll go all the way. I wanted to give it to you on our year and a half anniversary but you can see why I never did,” you couldn’t help but gawk at the promise ring he was holding. 

“this ring is my promise that we will get married,” he continued, “not now or anytime soon but we will. you have every right to deny it but I knew today was now or never.”

you stayed quiet making Emil petrified that you were going to deny him. you hadn’t fully processed what he was telling you until he put the ring into his pocket and got up to leave. 

“Emil!” you yelled as you got up and ran to him. he looked at you before catching you for another hug, “yes, I’ll accept it,” you replied as you gave him a kiss. he smiled in between kisses as he got the ring out of his pocket and slipped it on your middle finger. 

once the two of you broke away, he wiped the stray tears you had running down your face before putting his forehead on yours, “I never stopped loving you, you know that?” he whispered as you nodded, “neither did I,” you said. 

the two of you stayed looking at each other for a few moments before you brought him in for another kiss. 

ALITA 

[randomfandomfiction]

An Introduction to Viktuuri pt.2

part one

I’m back with another list of fics I think deserve to be considered fandom classics and essential reading!

(in order of length)

katsuki_fc wrote by tetsurashian (12k, Gen)

Just because Yuuri isn't big on social media, doesn't mean his fans aren't.

(aka a social media fic)

this fic is really well done and super cute for an outsider pov fic and the author got the formatting down pat!

life and love by novocaine_sea (12k, Gen)

“You showed me life and love and that’s something I can never forget. Thank you for that, Victor.” Twenty-two year old Yuuri Katsuki travels to Italy to study photography. One day, while going around the city taking photos he gets lost and ends up at a coffee shop, ultimately meeting one Victor Nikiforov who would take him all around Florence, showing him what life and love are really all about.

Italian Viktor!! Falling in love! So cuuuuuuuuute!

Healthy Impropriety by mtothedestiel (29k, Explicit)

Victor is the wealthy master of the Nikiforov estate.  At a society party he's swept off his feet by the mysterious, suave, and very drunk Katsuki Yuuri.  Victor aims to declare his love and secure Mr. Katsuki's hand in marriage, but first he has to find him!

it’s like the best kind of jane austen novel!! it’s cute, I love the setting, there’s some smut, and the infamous banquet is included

Unwritten by kaizuka (34k, T+)

Soulmates AU where whatever you write on your own skin appears on your soulmate, but when there is a language barrier, meeting becomes just a little more difficult than it should be.

This is one of the first yoi fics I ever read and I’m still totally in love with it

Yuuri Enchanted by the__magpie (57k, T+)

At birth, Yuuri Katsuki was given the gift of obedience, although he quickly learns as he grows up that it is a curse. He has to obey any command given to him, even if it puts him or others in danger. Too afraid to face the terrifying outside world, Yuuri stays in his home town of Hasetsu, until a chance encounter with Prince Victor urges him to venture outside of his safe bubble. Determined to break his curse, Yuuri begins on an adventure involving fairies, ogres, true love, and courage he never knew he had.

I love Ella Enchanted! I love Viktuuri! Perfect combination!

Like a Fairytale by lucycamui (73k, T+)

In which Prince Victor gets swept off his feet at a royal banquet and will go to any length to find his 'Cinderella' Yuuri. (And Phichit is the fairy godmother who has no idea what he's doing).

 “The crown prince of the Nikiforov kingdom, infatuated with a mystery pastry chef he’s only just met. This is exactly the kind of scandalous love story my life has been missing… So, what’s he look like? What exactly is Prince Victor’s type?”

 “…Sweet.”

 “Well, he does make pastries."

A cute, fluffy, piney fairytale!!

like your french girls by ebenroot (101k, T+)

"Victor," Yuri begins, lowering the eighteenth sketch of the figure skater Victor drew this week, "you have a fucking problem."

--

in which Victor is an artist, Yuuri is his figure skating muse, and Yuri is so done hearing about their stupid love story through Instagram

artist viktor being whipped for his muse yuuri is music to my ears

Lessons in Love by fangirlandiknowit (143k WIP, Mature)

All Viktor wants is for his son to be happy - and if that means spending countless hours at the ice rink, a million more in the ballet studio, and devotedly cheering for Katsuki Yuuri at every competition he enters, then that is precisely what he'll do.

He just didn't expect to become a fan, too.

(He didn't expect to fall in love.)

This is so cuuuuuute~ Viktor is adorable and and Yuuri is lovely and I LOVE the Viktor as Yurio’s dad trope

Into the Deep by Ars_Matron (181k, Explicit)

For five years the mysterious pirate ship, the Eros, has tormented the eastern seas. The most heinous of their crimes, the abduction of omegas from their very homes. Some merely children.

Viktor Nikiforov, captain of the Russian military's fastest ship the Agape, has dedicated his life to finding the infamous pirate pack. Rescuing the omegas that he can, and avenging those beyond his reach.

But Viktor's never gotten close to the Eros. He doesn't even know who he's chasing. And the years of arriving too late are beginning to wear on him. If he cannot find them soon the mission and his command will be taken from him.  

A new lead in the mission may be just the break he's been waiting for. After five devastating years he'll do anything it takes to catch the Eros and her crew and bring them to justice. And finally he will have vengeance for the innocent souls that were lost along the way.

I LOVE THIS FIC!!!! It’s ABO but honestly it’s done so well - even if you don’t usually like ABO fic it’s probable that you’d like this one. The plot is so good and I ADORE Yuuri’s characterisation. This is a true rec from me

Beside the Dancing Sea by lily_winterwood, MapleTreeway (186k, Explicit)

He’s finally here in this lovely and quiet little beach cottage, and the rest of the year seems to stretch out infinitely before him. Time will pass, though, and it will pass faster than he realises, but in the meantime he will stop worrying about writer’s block and deadlines and not even having the foggiest clue what his next novel’s going to be about, and live.

New York Times-bestselling author Viktor Nikiforov arrives in the sleepy seaside town of Torvill Cove to cure his writer's block. After encountering local wallflower Yuuri Katsuki at a party, he discovers that this mysterious dark-haired man has a couple secrets up his sleeve.

And Viktor will be damned if he doesn't find out just what those secrets are.

Another true true true rec! This is one of my favourite mythology/supernatural aus - it has so much heart. It’s so sweet and soft, but also beautifully written and with a healthy dose of angst. Bonus points for a respectful and honest depiction of a disability!

[kieranmorozov]

⋆ ° ⟡ ( BEN BARNES, THIRTY-THREE, CIS MALE, HE/HIM ) I SAW KIERAN MOROZOV AT THE WINTER PALACE. DID YOU KNOW THAT THEFORMER OLYMPIAN/COAH IS ORIGINALLY FROM ENGLAND/BELARUS ? I HEARD THEY CAN BE QUITECAUSTIC, BUT ALSOMETICULOUS. THERE’S RUMOURS THEY’RE AT THE WINTER PALACE BECAUSEHE’S HOPING TO RUB SHOULDERS WITH NOBILITY, BUT YOU NEVER KNOW.WISPS OF BREATH FADING INTO A COLD NIGHT, MIRRORED SUNGLASSES THAT HIDE WHAT’S BEHIND THEM, AND A SIP OF COLD WATER AFTER EATING PEPPERMINT ALWAYS REMINDS ME OF THEM.

( POSSUM, 25+, EST, SHE/HER)

i tried to keep this as short as possible but lbr, you’re probably just skimming, right? if there’s anything you want to know about him just ask.

*TW: death, physical abuse, mental abuse, food mention.

born in belarus to a russian father and a british mother who met while his mother was a student traveling through europe. they did not stay together, hence his dual citizenship in both belarus and the UK. he was carted back and forth between countries. belarus in fall and winter, england in the spring and summer, before being kept in belarus by his father full time as his talent for skating took off. 

his father died in a motorcycle accident when kieran was twelve, and he was sent to live with his mother for a few months before his coach in belarus urged his mother to send him back to continue with his skating. she was always very absent with kieran in general, but with declining health issues, she obliged and sent kieran to go live with his coach to continue training and skating. his mother died of cancer a year afterwards. 

kieran’s coach became his guardian, and with both parental figures out of the picture, the sport he loved became something he feared. routines done well during his practices were praised beyond belief, but the smallest of faults in his skating resulted in swift smacks to the temple, among other forms of violence that worsened over time. when physical punishments weren’t getting the point across, meals were withheld. it was a brutal way of living, but he did not know any other. his coach had always been more of a father figure to kieran than his actual father, so the need to gain his acceptance was high. to this day kieran will claim the harsh conditions made him the skater he is, oblivious to how wrong of a statement that sounds. 

kieran’s style of skating, which held a similar passion to an animal fighting for its life, was both raw, highly athletic, and technical, and caught the attention of judges and scouts. one of whom took kieran away from his previous coach to skate for britain once kieran was old enough to realize the situation he was in, and free from the legal obligations of a guardian.

his attitude remained despite being in greener pastures, and it didn’t take long for him to be considered the “bad boy” of the skating world, and was one of the few figure skaters heavily publicized enough to become a household name.

was a solo skater for a while and had silver medal success with that, but it was his personal life, not his skill, that always docked him points---regardless of whether or not the judges would admit that. he was matched up with different partners, but they never quite worked out, mainly because of dueling personalities. the only partner he has ever skated with with success was piper.  

after some years and a blow up between kieran and piper resulting in their breakup later, kieran was back to performing solo with mild success. unwilling to wait for his career to fizzle out, he took his solo silver and bronze medals and fucked off back to belarus to train olympic hopefuls.

as a coach he is known for the brutal regimens he places his athletes on . (still nowhere near the type of brutality he faced when he was their age), and the success that it has had for the country. his students are known to be ruthless, highly skilled, and major competitors.

so why tf is this boi here???? he is in genovia accompanying his athletes, and also with low key hopes of meeting a certain genovian princess that is in need of courting....

shoot your shot, right?

     THATS IT

also

i don’t watch anime or figure skating (unless it’s 4am and i’m on youtube) but in my head i picture this being the type of shit he’d do mostly because i can’t find any real life ones that match this energy lmaooo

he’s an aries sun, scorpio moon so this dude can be mEAN, but within those many many many many walls is a soft center. he knows it’s there, too, but he hasn’t let anyone else get close in a really long time.

this meme sums him up:

ty if you made it this far. let’s plot!

[eighteaseven]

title: glasnost

word count: 2.1k+

warnings: some derogatory words used, both in English and Russian. also, reference to the homophobia prevalent in the 1980s, both in North America and Russia. brief mention of the AIDS epidemic.

My submission to the @sidgenophotochallenge

It’s a tough loss to the Sabres. The older guys in the room take it in stride, the guys like Phil Bourque and Paul Coffey. But the younger guys, Sid especially, are frustrated, and they’re tired of losing.

“It’s one out of eighty, Sid,” Mario says as he drops a hand on Sid’s shoulder.

Sid throws his skates in his bag and brusquely says, “Yeah. I know. We still lost it. And it’s the second one in a row.”

“Can’t win ‘em all, bluenose” Paul says from across the room.

“Maybe you no good, Coffey, but I’m win all games one season. I’m best,” Geno says from the locker room bench.

“Keep dreamin’, Russki,” Bob Errey says.

“Fuck you, Frenchie,” Geno says back with a smile and a joking middle finger.

 “We have the next couple of days off. Maybe, like, veg out or something, Croz. Take a chill pill,” Recchi suggests.

 “Yeah, I’m with Marky. Maybe don’t start wiggin’ out this early in the season, man. We’re not even a month in.”

 “Yeah, cool out, dude!” Dan laughs while he unlaces his skates.

 “Bite me,” Sid grumbles to the room.

 “Geno, you’re tight with Sid. Maybe, like, show him how to chill for the next few days, eh?”

 Geno turns to Sid, “You want to hang out?”

 Sid purses his lips, “Okay, but not because anyone told me to, alright? It’s because we’re friends.”

 “Whatever you say, kiddo,” Coffey laughs.

 “So what we do?”

 “I’ve been looking to get up to Allegheny National Forest. We could drive up tonight, stay Sunday and Monday then head back Tuesday morning?”

 “Sound good. We take my car, yes? Is best. Everybody like. Car is sick!” Geno teases.

 “Not even, man. We’re taking my Jeep. Your little sports car can’t even handle gravel. No way am I getting stuck in the mud in that thing.”

 “Harsh,” Geno jokes.

 Sid smiles back.

 “I’ll go back to Mario’s and pack, then I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Okay. See you one hour!”

Sid honks when he pulls up outside the Coffey residence and he honks again a few minutes later when Geno still hasn’t come out.

 Eventually the front door opens, and Geno walks out with a duffle bag over his shoulder.

 “What took you so long?” Sid asks through his rolled down window.

 “Why you get here so early?” Geno responds while he opens the back door to throw his bag in the back seat next to Sid’s.

 “I’m not! I told you one hour, it’s been one hour!” Sid complains as he cranks the window back up.

 Geno walks around to the other side of the car and hops into the passenger seat.

 “Is okay. I’m here. Let’s go. No more complain,” Geno says.

 Sid rolls his eyes and puts the Jeep in first gear.

 “How long is drive?” Geno asks.

 “Mario says it’s about an hour and a half up 79 to Tionesta. I figure, we’ll get there by midnight, find a hotel, and tomorrow morning we can get breakfast then go to the Forest.”

 “I don’t know midnight is good. If Mario say drive is one and half hour for him, it take you three hours. You drive slow, like babushka. Should let me drive,” Geno teases.

 Sid laughs back, “Get real, man! No way am I letting you drive. We’d be dead with the way you book it down the highway!”

 “So mean! Where the jams, Sid? No music?” Geno asks.

 “Alright, alright,” Sid says as he turns on the radio.

 “When asked to evaluate his glasnost policy after its first year of implementation, General Secretary Gorbachev said ‘Glasnost is working. Openness, transparency can only help the Soviet people.’”

 “In other news, in a press conference this afternoon, the Center for Disease Control announced that the AIDS epidemic has passed a new threshold, with now more than 100,000 reported cases of the disease in the Unite-”

 Sid reaches out and twists the dial until the white noise clears and a Janet Jackson song plays through the speakers.

They finally arrive in Tionesta two hours later, and after driving around for a while, they spot a Holiday Inn with vacancies. They rent a room with two doubles and they each crash into bed immediately after dropping their bags on the floor.

 Sid wakes up first the next morning, but decides to lay in bed for a while, enjoying a rare lazy morning. When the paddles on the alarm clock eventually flip to 9:00, he finally convinces himself to get out of bed and jumps in the shower. After drying off, he puts on his boots, some Levi’s, and a thick plaid flannel shirt, then goes downstairs to claim his free breakfast, leaving Geno still snoring into his pillow.

 Geno walks into the dining room in a bright blue tracksuit just as Sid pulls his Belgian waffle from the waffle iron.

 “What on Earth are you wearing?” Sid asks, awed.

 “Is tracksuit. Comfy, look nice. Is okay to be jealous, Sid,” Geno says as he peels a banana.

 Sid just laughs and shakes his head, then drowns his waffle in maple syrup.

 “So much sugar! Make my teeth hurt, and I’m not even eat!” Geno says.

 Sid cuts a huge piece off and eats it in one bite without breaking eye contact.

 After they both finish their breakfasts, they walk up to the reception desk and get directions to the entrance to the forest. Sid makes sure to diligently write down every step the concierge lists.

 “You drive here. Now is my turn to drive.”

 “No way, Geno. I’m not letting you crash my car!”

 “I’m not crash! Why you think I crash? I’m never crash. Also, Jeep not crash, just roll over, yes? So is nothing for worry!”

 “Nope. I’ve got the keys. That means I’m driving,” Sid says as he dangles them in the air.

 Geno’s just quick enough to grab them.

 “Hey! Give them back! Those are my keys!”

 “Hmm, no. Sorry. I have keys, mean I drive!” Geno says smugly, as he holds them in the air, just too high for Sid to reach.

 Sid finally gives in and Geno gets in the driver’s seat, pointedly pushing the seat all the way back and adjusting the mirrors.

 “Why you so short?” he teases.

 Sid just rolls his eyes and holds back a smile.

Geno gets them to the forest entrance safe and sound and parks the car. When he hands Sid the keys, he says, “See? I’m very good driver. Best.”

 Sid ignores Geno and walks past him to the information desk. He signs them in, names and time, and what they’re wearing in case they get lost and people need to look for them. Then Sid leads them out onto the trail. Geno follows behind.

 “You know, maybe it is a good thing you’re wearing that horrible tracksuit after all,” Sid says with a grin.

 “Why you so mean to me? I’m very nice, but you just mean,” Geno grumbles.

 “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. You’re the biggest bully I know!”

 “So mean to me! And why you say is good thing I wear if you think so ugly?”

 “If we go missing, there’s no way anyone will walk by without seeing us! We’ll be found right away. It’s so blue! And hunters too! They’ll see you from miles away!” Sid laughs.

 After a few minutes of walking and teasing, they stumble on a train track.

 “Maybe we should follow the tracks,” Sid suggests.

 “Why? Animals not like trains. Not see any deer or rabbits. Too loud,” Geno complains.

 “There will still be plenty of them. It’s not like a train goes by every hour or anything. I just thought it would be a good way to make sure we don’t get lost in here. You know I’m bad at directions.”

 “Yes, you very bad. Worst.”

 “I won’t even argue that one.”

 “Is good you know this. We walk with trains then.”

 “You like forest, trees?” Geno asks after they’ve been walking next to the train track for a while.

 “Oh, for sure. I bought a house up in the woods back home in Nova Scotia this past summer.”

 “You serious?”

 “Yeah. I love being out there, seeing the deer and hearing the birds every morning. I love it.”

 “Sound nice. Canada sound like nice place.”

 “It is. My favorite place in the world.”

 They walk in silence again for a while before Sid asks, “What’s it like over there? In the Soviet Union, I mean.”

 Geno thinks for a while before he speaks.

 “I grow up in Magnitogorsk, in Russia. Is steel city, like Pittsburgh. Air is not very good there. People get sick. There is not always food. But the people are my people. They are good, working people.”

 “Do you miss it?”

 Geno pauses before speaking.

 “My family is there, and for this, I love my country. Country that make good people like my mama, my papa, is good place, good country. But, for me, I do not like it. I do not miss it. I like play hockey here.”

 “There’s not many of you guys here from the USSR. Just you and Fedorov and a couple other guys. Moligny. Why’d you defect?” Sid asks

 “NHL is good hockey, yes? I’m good hockey too. Best hockey.” He answers with a teasing grin.

 Sid can’t help but smile back. He bumps his shoulder into Geno.

 “But seriously, Geno? Why’d you do it?”

 Geno chews on his lip and says nothing for a while, they just keep walking. He looks at Sid out of the corner of his eye before he asks.

 “We friends, yes?”

 “Of course. Best,” Sid replies with a gentle smile, but Geno doesn’t smile back at the small joke.

 Geno stops walking and puts his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit. He stares down the train tracks and takes a breath before he begins to speak.

 “I remember, I’m still little, I’m 10, back in Magnitogorsk. My family, we listen, hear on radio, ‘In America, they are wrong. They let pedik and gomik have marches in the streets. In America, Men kiss in the street and they do not arrest them. This is the morals of the west.’”

Geno pauses and he and Sid stand in silence, listening to the birds sing.

Geno rubs his hands over his face before he speaks again, still refusing to meet Sid’s eyes.

“My papa and my mama and my brother, everybody, all they say ‘this is why the west will fall, because they are weak, no morals.’ But... but, I hear this and I’m think, if they do not arrest them there, maybe is not so bad place to be. Maybe… maybe I’m want to be there.”

 “Oh,” Sid breathes out.

 “When Gorbachev say, we have more openness, with glasnost, you know, I say I go right now to America, before they change their mind, say ‘No, we won’t let you go. No passport, no papers. You are always here’,” Geno finishes.

 They stand in silence by the tracks, only the sound of birds fill the air. Sid turns suddenly and grabs Geno with both hands and pulls him in for a hard, closed mouth kiss. It’s not a very good kiss. Geno’s chapped lips are shoved hard against his teeth by the force of it, but it’s the best thing Geno’s ever felt. He’s never felt warmer than he does right there, in the brisk October chill.

 Sid pulls back and his cheeks blush even pinker than the crisp, fall air had colored them. He looks down, won’t meet Geno’s eyes. But Geno pulls his left hand out of his pocket and holds it out to Sid. Sid looks up at Geno and shyly smiles when he takes Geno’s hand. Geno smiles sweetly back.

 Geno gently raises his other hand to brush his thumb along Sid’s flushed cheek. He runs his thumb down Sid’s cheek to his mouth, drags it across Sid’s full bottom lip, and Sid gasps. Geno leans down and presses a much softer, sweeter kiss to Sid’s lips.

Geno pulls back a few inches, and softly asks, “Yes?”

Sid nods.

They resume walking along the tracks, hands together, occasionally looking at each other from the corners of their eyes and smiling, but still saying nothing.

 “I like living with Mario,” Sid announces.

 Geno raises his eyebrows.

“But... maybe I could move out. And, um, maybe you could move out of Paul’s. And, maybe, you know, we could find a place together, be roommates or something.”

Geno smiles so brightly.

[shemakesmeforget]

Back when it was the bysotid drought, I had a dream and that became a fake bysotid verse fic. After that, I decided to write 20!!! fake fics (even though I can’t write) so yeah... a huge thanks to @diedraechin for existing and for helping me with #4 and #8

1 - 20 of 537 Works in Katsuki Yuuri

1.

Title: Hot Wet Japanese Summer

Author: shouriftw

Length: 3403 (Chapters: 1/1)

Rating: Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Nakagawa Shouta

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Nakagawa Shouta

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Swimmer! Yuuri, Explicit Sexual Content, they fuck in the pool okay?

After a long day of practice, Yuuri decides he wants to stay in the pool for a bit longer... only if Shouta stays with him.

2.

Title: BYSOTID the show

Author: skatinginreverse

Length: 36201 (6/?)

Rating: Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov, Nakagawa Shouta/Tatsuno Shuji, Alexei Turov/Turov Riku

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov, Nakagawa Shouta, Tatsuno Shuji, Alexei Turov, Turov Riku, Yakov Feltsman, Katya Babicheva, Christophe Giacometti, everyone in FS

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - TV Show, Alternate Universe - Actors, Social Media, Mutual Pining, UST, Secret Dating, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Romantic Comedy

"I can't believe they haven't kissed already, I'd kiss you there and then" also known as Yuuri's freudian slip.

Viktor is all smiles "Oh really? How? You know, for science"

Or…

The successful Teen TV show AU following the life of Yuuri Katsuki, a 14-year-old figure skater moving to Russia to train with his idol and… they’re still not dating.

All the drama and diva moments from the actors and sweet romance for the masses.

3.

Title: Not as Sweet as You

Author: bellepelle

Length: 1402 (1/1)

Rating: General Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Reader

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Reader

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Dating, Fluff

Yuuri was stressing about the competition so you take him out for ice cream. Under the sunset light you couldn't resist and ended up confessing your heart’s most intimate desire.

Translated from Russian, original by viktorkatsuki

Part 1 of My World

4.

Title: The Magic in You

Author: livelaughskate

Length: 208021 (14/14)

Rating: Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov, Katya Babicheva/Nymphadora Tonks

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov, Katya Babicheva, Nymphadora Tonks, Albus Dumbledore, Yakov Feltsman, Alexei Turov, Minerva McGonagall, and a lot more

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Howarts, Magic, Enemies to Lovers, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Some Fluff, Angst, Angst with a happy ending

Viktor never liked being in someone else's shadow. And just when he thought he'd broken out of Lyosha Turov's shadow, Dumbledore tells everyone that Turov's (the pride and joy of Gryffindor post Maurauder Era) protégé was transferring from Japan to Hogwarts! A fact that Katya and her girlfriend Tonks find neverendlessly amusing. But when Turov's protégé turns out to be a fan of Viktor's, he doesn't know what to do!

5.

Title: IDOL

Author: EXCITEhime

Length: 9813 (3/?)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Tatsuno Shuji

Characters: Tatsuno Shuji, Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov, Nakawaga Shouta, Noda Haruka, other idols, lots of OCs

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Guitarist Yuuri, Singer Shuji, Stalker Viktor, Fandom, Social Media, Fake Dating, Mutual Pining, Drama, Angst with a happy ending, so much drama

“Nobody is gonna hurt you… I won’t let them” Shuji said between tears.

“So... are we really doing this?” Yuuri asked, still very agitated.

“It’s the only option! the police won’t do anything about it” distressed, Shuji held Yuuri close to him.

“Okay” he whispered, holding him back.

AKA

Shuji and Yuuri have been bandmates for 3 years and when Viktor tries to kidnap Yuuri they decide that fake dating might keep him away… little did they know.

6.

Title: Dream a little dream

Author: bellepelle

Length: 1225 (1/1)

Rating: General Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Reader

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Reader

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Compliant, Wedding, Fluff, Humor, you’ll die of a sugar overdose

All your wildest dreams are about to come true, you were actually getting married to Yuuri Katsuki and happiness forever is waiting.

Translated from Russian, original by viktorkatsuki

Part 2 of My World

7.

Title: tango for three

Author: katsukiaddict

Length: 4051 (1/1)

Rating: Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Nakagawa Shouta/Tatsuno Shuji

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post Canon, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M/M, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Blow jobs, Porn without Plot/Porn what Plot, Katsuki Yuuri’s famous stamina, set after high school so shut it, highly self indulgent

In their high school reunion, dancing the night away could have been amazing but what they did instead was way better.

8.

Title: All you need is love… and cats!

Author: rawmechris

Length: 4953 (1/1)

Rating: Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Katsuki Yuuri

Characters: Christophe Giacometti, Katsuki Yuuri

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Meet Cute, Getting Together, Cats, Chrischan the cat, Explicit Sexual Content

"OH? You have a rag doll cat too? Aren't they adorable? And they just love being petted.” Chris purrs and Yuuri finds his face heating even more, but he doesn't get a chance to say anything because Chris starts talking again. “There really is nothing as enjoyable as getting petted. Has anyone ever stroked you, Yuuri?”

(or… Yuuri and Chris bond over cats, Chris gets to pet Yuuri’s cat and something else wink wink).

9.

Title: Music with your body

Author: katsukidon

Length: 472 (Chapters: 1/1)

Rating: General Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri

Tags: Music, Lyrics, Song Fic, kinda, Program analysis, Drabble, Under: 500 words, who is he skating for???

An interpretation of Yuuri’s FS program

(in which the author writes lyrics for Yuuri’s FS music)

10.

Title: Pas de quatre

Author: undertheice

Length: 32152 (7/?)

Rating: Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Phichit Chulanont, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti, Christophe Giacometti/Viktor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov, Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont, Christophe Giacometti, Viktor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin, Lee Seung Gil, Sara Crispino, Mila Babicheva

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College, Alternate Universe - Roommates, they all live together in a frat house, Drama, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, kinda, Explicit Sexual Content, Endgame Viktuuri, Endgame Phichimetti, or maybe… endgame polyamory

Yuuri Katsuki and Phichit Chulanont are high school sweethearts that got in the same frat house, add some hot boys and trouble in paradise… Will their love survive? Is it strong enough? Things aren’t always what they seem and you’re about to find out.

11.

Title: let’s keep it coming

Author: katsudamn

Length: 9265 (1/1)

Rating: Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Phichit Chulanont, Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti/Katsuki Yuuri, Katsuki Yuuri/Lee Seung Gil, Katsuki Yuuri/Michele Crispino, Katsuki Yuuri/everyone

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont, Viktor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti, Lee Seung Gil, Michele Crispino, everyone in fs

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Olympic games, Yuuri wins the olympics and fucks everyone, Explicit Sexual Content

Still ecstatic about winning olympic gold, Yuuri sets his mind for other prizes and he is determined to get gold with each one of them.

12.

Title: je t'aime mon amour

Author: viknik1

Length: 9153 (1/1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Viktor Nikiforov

Characters: Christophe Giacometti, Viktor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri, Alexei Turov, Turov Riku, Yakov Feltsman, Stéphane Lambiel, Katya Babicheva, Josef Karpisek

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Wedding, Fluff, Romance, Pets

It’s summer time in Geneva, the perfect time for a wedding. Chris and Viktor are finally saying yes forever, featuring Yuuri and Stéphane as the best men and Makkachin as the ring bearer.

13.

Title: 雅

Author: nakatsuki

Length: 12158 (1/1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Nakagawa Shouta

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Nakagawa Shouta, Tatsuno Shuji, Noda Haruka, all the idols

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Secret Dating

When Shouta saw Yuuri for the first time he fell, literally he fell on slippery hallway floor. And Yuuri? he fainted because of the hot weather… or the hot boy.

--

Please follow for more fun and silly romance!!

14.

Title: At last

Author: skateprincess

Length: 2053 (1/1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Takagi Keiko

Characters: Takagi Keiko, Katsuki Yuuri, Aaron Reyes, Aida Masao, other skaters at 4CC

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Compliant, 4CC, Fluff, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Romance, this is so cute y’all

After being rinkmates and friends for a long time, Yuuri and Keiko want to take their relationship one step further, but who’s gonna make the first move?

15.

Title: Champion

Author: katsukidon

Length: 7053 (1/1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov, Stéphane Lambiel, Aida Masao, Katya Babicheva, Takagi Keiko, Nobunari Oda

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Olympics, Figure Skating, Pole Dancing, Romance, they’re clearly gay for each other, highly self indulgent, I just want my boy to win everything

#shouldhaveorderedthekatsudon

or

Yuuri Katsuki goes to the Olympics, wins the gold medal and wins the boy.

16.

Title: Stammi Vicino High

Author: binktop

Length: 7123 (1/1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov, Katya Babicheva, Mila Babicheva, Georgi Popovich, Yakov Feltsman, Lilia Baranovskaya, Alexei Turov, Turov Riku, Christophe Giacometti, Aaron Reyes

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, no age difference, set nowhere because I can, Ice Skating, Soccer, Dogs, Anxiety, Fluff, Humor, Slow Burn, Angst, Light Angst, Rivalry, sort of, Viktor is a diva, Yuuri is precious but bites back

Yuuri transfers to Stammi Vicino High and falls in love with Viktor Nikiforov, the most popular guy. He doesn’t even dare to dream about confessing because this is Viktor’s senior year. In the meantime, Viktor is oblivious to shy Yuuri, but he is very aware of the new midfielder in the soccer team.

17.

Title: We found love in a hopeless place

Author: puripuri

Length: 37087 (5/?)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Nakagawa Shouta, Christophe Giacometti/Viktor Nikiforov, Tatsuno Shuji/Noda Haruka

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Nakagawa Shouta, Tatsuno Shuji, Noda Haruka, Christophe Giacometti, Viktor Nikiforov, all the idols and all the skaters

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Pet Date, look… it makes sense pls trust me

The first people that came to see if they were a match were the famous figure skaters Viktor and Chris. That was the first match Yuuri made and he was very happy. After trying the matching coffee himself, Yuuri realized he didn’t have a soulmate but at least the new barista was in the same position.

18.

Title: Skating Fam

Author: allforkatsudon

Length: 8120 (1/1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Alexei Turov, Katsuki Yuuri & Turov Riku, Alexei Turov/Turov Riku, Alexei Turov, Turov Riku

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Alexei Turov, Turov Riku

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Tragedy, Yuuri is an orphan, Adoption, Skate fam is actually a real fam, Light Angst, as light as it can be, Fluff, you’re gonna cry

After a tragic accident, Yuuri is left alone with no family… or that’s what he thought. He already knew the Turovs are kind people but not to this extent.

19.

Title: Shooting stars!!!

Author: knifeshoes

Length: 7053 (1/1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: The Russian Fam, Viktor Nikiforov & Yakov Feltsman, Katya Babicheva & Yakov Feltsman, Katsuki Yuuri & Viktor Nikiforov, Katya Babicheva & Viktor Nikiforov,

Characters: Yakov Felstman, Viktor Nikiforov, Stéphane Lambiel, Katsuki Yuuri, Christophe Giacometti, Aida Masao, Katya Babicheva, Takagi Keiko, Nobunari Oda, Alexei Turov, Turov Riku

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hockey, instead of an ice show they play a hockey game, humor, crack

It was all Yakov Feltsman’s idea, after a tiring season, he decided his skaters needed something different and well… hockey happened. And yes, they’re using the right skates and all!

20.

Title: The Three Muskeeters

Author: viknik1

Length: 22153 (5/11)

Rating: Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov

Characters: Christophe Giacometti, Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov, Alexei Turov, Turov Riku, Yakov Feltsman, Stéphane Lambiel, Katya Babicheva, Seung Gil Lee, Phichit Chulanont

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Roommates, Polyamory, M/M/M, Fluff, Humor, bad puns

After living together for many years, Yuuri, Chris and Viktor realized that what they've been looking for was right there in front of them.

*

Yuuri, Chris and Viktor decide that they work better as lovers than friends. ANGST FREE!

[yoiotdfics]

Fic Rec List July 2017

R & R (Risk and Ruination)

fishingclocks

Summary:

On the floor by Yuuri’s bed, there is a forlorn little beep, as Yuuri receives his fifteenth unanswered notification of the morning.

One of them from his fiance.

One of them reading ‘YUURI!! TAKE THE DAY OFF!!! YOU’VE BEEN WORKING HARD AND I LOVE YOU BYE’ followed by a copious amount of varying heart emojis.

Going ignored, the screen goes dark.

Of Office Blunders

BunniesofDoom

Summary:

Yuuri accidentally sends a picture to his boss that he really shouldn’t have sent. AU.

“OOC MY ASS!”

preciousbunnynoiz

Summary:

Yuuri secretly writes fanfiction, including Victor Nikiforov/Katsuki Yuuri fanfiction and some asshole keeps telling him he writes too OOC.

Yuuri hates him so much

I’m Pretty Much Fucked

monstersinthecosmos

Summary:

Quick drabble about getting ready to have company over. :)

If you can’t take the heat…

mtothedestiel

Summary:

Stay tuned, coming up next it’s Top Chef: International! Join thirteen chefs from around the globe as they battle it out for glory and prizes in the one and only New York City (and share all their innermost thoughts along the way!) Who will emerge victorious, and who will burn out?? Heartwarming triumphs, devastating eliminations, and even ~forbidden romance~ are all coming your way on this showstopping season of Top Chef!

To Worship and Be Worshipped

Unforth

Summary:

Tumblr ficlet written to the prompt: Yuuri as god/deity of some sort and Victor as a completely besotted worshipper

Déjà Vu

KasumiChou

Summary:

“Are you planning to sleep all day?”

A voice questioned with a soft chuckle. A chuckle that set his heart alight.

Victor lay there for a moment, a feeling of déjà vu overtaking him.

Warning: Major Character Death

Soul Loop

Cherry101

Summary:

It was almost funny, how easily it was to watch the day restart.

At this point… it was even common. Every few weeks, there would be a day that would repeat itself. Once, twice, three times, and then everything would go back to normal.

Otabek knew what it was, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

All The Beauties In His Hands

WinterSky101

Summary:

The wedding of Jean-Jacques Leroy and Isabella Yang is the wedding of the century.

Load Paper Tray 1

esutonia

Summary:

Perhaps, Victor realized, they were all gifted in their own ways. The way that Victor could charm the ancient, malfunctioning Xerox into producing perfect packets was perhaps the same way that Yuuri could print carts of brochures but not once refill the paper trays.

Soulmates/Office AU: Everyone has a little magic in them, but soulmates’ powers complete each other. Soulmates don’t know they’re meant for each other, until they figure out how their powers fit together. Victor and Yuuri work for the same company, and end up together with the help of a particularly old, obnoxious Xerox.

we have at least eleven minutes

spicyyuuri

Summary:

just a quickie between gala performances. no big deal, right?

nsfw victuuri week ♔ day two ♔ clothes

Ache

Val_Creative

Summary:

She misses everything about Minako. Hasetsu isn’t the same — too quiet, too empty of joy and laughter.

rouge my knees and roll my stockings down

alykapedia

Summary:

“It’s just that only whores wear the knot in front,” Yuuri says, stepping in close to breathe in Viktor’s intoxicating scent before peering up at him through lowered lashes and affecting an accent he’s heard during one of his and Phichit’s ill-advised jaunts to Covent Garden. “Did you want me to be your whore, milord?”

(Or: A morning well-spent with Lord Nikiforov and his expensive whore.)

At First Bite

opalish

Summary:

“Phichit,” Yuuri said slowly, noting that the hamsters currently had fangs. Tiny, needle-sharp fangs. “Did you name your hamsters Spikester, Hamsticula, and Edward Cullen II because they actually drink the blood of the innocent?”

“Oh, you caught that?” Phichit asked with a winning smile.

The Track

YuriPirozhki (AceOfSpace)

Summary:

JJ liked to think that one day, he could realise his goal of skating flawlessly to a program and song that he’d put together by himself. That would be the day when he’d be more than just Jean-Jacques Leroy, the son of ice dancing’s power couple. He’d be JJ Leroy: Record breaker, history maker, and one of a kind. He was convinced that his new guitar would help him to get there.

places to go, sights to see

Mayarene Rose (Paradise_of_Mary_Jane)

Summary:

This is what Yuuri knows: There is a giant green monster blob, a man with a blue box, and a planet called Barcelona. Also there’s time travel.

(“Time and Relative Dimension in Space,” the Doctor had proudly explained which made absolutely no sense. But then, nothing in the past hour had made any kind of sense so Yuuri’s willing to go with it.

It’s probably not a dream.  Probably.)

Boof? Boof.

JMonCheri

Summary:

Makkachin tells us on how Viktuuri sexy times go down.

WARNING: EXTREMELY explicit. Don’t read unless you want to nut your intestines out.

Soft Things

airspaniel

Summary:

Yuri dresses up, with a little help.

Always Looking Out for You

TripCreates

Summary:

Mari walks over to the closet to start getting things out. She reaches for a box up on a shelf and she begins to pull it toward her. Once it slides off the edge, some sheets of paper slip off the shelf from underneath the box and drift to the floor. Mari laughs as she sees the familiar Viktor posters land on the floor. “I was wondering where those went.”

~~~ Or Mari helps Yuuri pack up his room as he gets ready to move to St. Petersburg to be with Viktor.

love is blind(folded)

hamartiawrites

Summary:

It’s the day of Viktor and Yuuri’s wedding.

Everything looks perfect. The decorations are perfect, every single visitor looks stunning, and Phichit is certain Yuuri will look absolutely breathtaking when those big doors at the end of the hall open.

There’s just one problem, and unfortunately, it’s a big one.

The groom, Viktor Nikiforov? The five time world champion? The Living Legend? The most decorated men’s figure skater in history?

Yeah, he looks downright ridiculous.

(Or the time where Phichit thought Viktor wanted to hurt Yuuri when all Viktor wanted to do was hurt himself with Yuuri’s beauty.)

My Favorite Shape

thoughtsappear

Summary:

Isabella has never doubted Yuri Plisetsky’s animal magnetism.

Firebird

LavenderProse

Summary:

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal,” Viktoria says, and the thing is—the thing is, if Viktoria wanted it to be, Yuri would make it one. If Viktoria had asked, “Is that a marriage proposal?” Yuri would have unhesitatingly said yes. She would have lowered herself onto a knee before Viktoria in Fukuoka Airport, the officially certified least romantic place in the world, and said Viktoria Konstantinovna Nikiforova, please—please—

(Yuri doesn’t know if Viktoria will stay. She wants her to. She wants her to want to. But she doesn’t want to be the only thing holding Viktoria here. Life for Yuri Katsuki is, as always, Hard.)

Cherry

sophiahelix

Summary:

Now Mila turns to look at her, blue eyes open and bright. She offers the cigarette back, pinched between two fingertips lacquered red as her lips, and quirks a smile, sarcastic and knowing. “You mean you don’t support your brother no matter what?”

“Hmph,” Mari snorts, and takes the cigarette back.

Situation Status: Possibly Awesome

ineptshieldmaid

Summary:

It’s early in the season, his first year competing in the Grand Prix as a senior, and Kenji is in a Situation.

We’ll Always Have Paris

Teuthida

Summary:

Lilia recognized her, of course.

The Struggles of Living with Viktor Nikiforov

Minipandacakes

Summary:

Yuuri had imagined life with Viktor in St. Petersburg as being a perfect blur of snuggles and laughter and kisses. And while he was right, he wasn’t quite prepared for the frustration that comes right along with the happiness when you first make a home with your partner. This one-shot is made up of a trio of short stories I couldn’t resist writing out. Enjoy!~

Blades of a Ballet Dancer

Katrinova

Summary:

When word gets out that Yuuri helped create his record breaking routine Yuri On Ice, the world wants to know if he thinks he could do solo work. Yuuri says no, everyone else disagrees. Obviously, everyone else is a traitor.

Part of Yuuri Week 2017 Day 4- [Theme: On Ice]

Strut For Me

Katrinova

Summary:

“Darling, as your coach and choreographer it is also my job to make sure you get the exposure you deserve!” Or, there were aspects of being a world champion figure skater Yuuri was not prepared for. At all.

Part of Yuuri Week 2017 Day 5- [Theme: Eros]

Tweet tweet - Yuuri Week Day 7

hazelandglasz

Summary:

In which Yuuri should never be left alone with a full bottle of vodka and a fully charged phone

[Player] is Suffering From Thirst. [Player] is Well Again.

counterheist

Summary:

“Tell him you’re a blacksmith, Yuuri, tell him you’re good with your hands.”

“…but I’m not a blacksmith?” Phichit is a blacksmith. Yuuri used to make saddles and gaze longingly at daguerreotypes of men wearing the newest shirt collar designs. Now he gazes longingly at Russian immigrants. Maybe he’ll see Nikiforov wearing a new shirt at the next Fort. Maybe he’ll drown at a river crossing first.

Who’s to say?

Crop Top Distraction

nerdlife4eva

Summary:

When Yuuri, Phichit, Victor, and Yurio take a vacation to an all-inclusive resort, Victor’s and Yurio’s fans begin to monopolize their time. Even though Yuuri is understanding, he easily goes along with Phichit’s plan to regain Victor’s attention. These dorks fall in pools over each other. Yuuri is in a crop top, Phichit is in a crop top. Victor is lucky to be alive.

This is part of YuuriWeek and the amazing art is thanks to my insanely talented friend Magical-Mistral please go give this artist some love and watch for our future collabs!!

not in service

PuggleFiclets (Pugglemuggle)

Summary:

“You know what they say…” Yuri replies. “If you crack the ice once, you better be ready to shatter the whole motherfucking pond.” In a dictatorship dominated by the International Skating Union, Yuri was bound to end up in prison sooner or later. He isn’t planning to stay there, though. No—Yuri’s got bigger plans.

[insomniaruler]

what if... Margaret "Maggie" Lang was also dusted

(1 min post snap)

Jim Paxton was driving home to Maggie and Cassie when it happened. it was apocalyptic as cars swerved and crashed into telephone polls and fire hydrants. Paxton swerved out of the way of a vehicle that suddenly stopped. Jumping out of the car he looked around as other people climbed out of their vehicles.

"what in the holy hell." he muttered to himself looking into the empty car he almost hit. and then his phone started ringing, it was Maggie. "Mags thank god your oka-" "Jimmy!" Cassie's wet voice sobbed over the phone. "Cass are you okay? are you hurt? Where's your mother? Can you put her on the line?" He asked softly as a woman started screaming for her son.

"I CAN'T" Cassie sobbed. "Alright, Cassie I need you to take a deep breath with me alright?" And Paxton took an exaggerated breath and Cassie followed. "Alright. now tell me why your mom can't answer the phone." He started to pace. "She- she... we we're getting ready to go skating like you said we could but then- then she just dissipated!" Cassie sobbed. Paxton cursed looking at the road covered in immovable cars. "Cassie stay on the line i'm ten minuets out, i'll be there soon don't worry we'll figure everything out. okay?" He asked as he started running to the house in slacks and work pants.

-- (2 weeks post snap)

"Still no sign of Scott?" Paxton asked Kurt. "No, I think it's time to admit. Scott Lang is another victim of Thanos." The Russian admitted with a bowed head. "Okay." Jim swallowed before turning to go to Cassie's room. "Cass?" He asked knocking. "come in." She said from behind the door.

It had been a rough couple weeks for the duo and Cassie's hair showed it. Kurt had braided it a week ago and the braid was still in and frizzy. "We can't- I can't find any evidence that your dad is still around." Jim said sitting on the rumpled bed. Cassie's wail permeated his soul.

-- (4 weeks post snap)

"Margaret Lang gave you tertiary power of attorney you are the primary guardian once you sign this paper." The rumpled lawyer said sliding over a paper. With out a second glance Paxton signed the legal document.

He had taken all his carefully curated leave days to stay home with Cassie as schools were closed indefinitely. the 10 year old had been grieving for of her parents and Paxton mourned his fiancée, together they held celebrations of life for all there fallen loved ones. Paxton had also lost his mother and Sister to Thanos.

-- (5 1/2 months post snap)

"the body when an organ is removed fill's the spot with the other organs, in this fashion the world kept turning and the pit's of grief are covered. But treat these as traps because if you step wrong you will fall into the pit." Cassie said as she read aloud a paragraph she had written for her classes grief wall. "It's amazing Cass." Jim assured her, knowing that english was her least favourite subject; just like Scott in that aspect. "Do you think it's too callous?" She wondered, biting her lip. "No. I think it's perfect kid." He smiled reassuringly.

-- (10 months post snap)

"Hey kid remember what I said about keeping the likelihood of electrical fires top a minimum?" He asked leaning against the smoking work bench in the basement, surveying the tools/half finished projects spread out across the surface. "Sorry Jimmy." Cassie said putting down her fire extinguisher. "It's fine I just don't want you to get hurt." He said messing up her hair.

-- (1 1/2 years post snap)

"Cass remember when you said you wanted to get stronger?" Jim asked when she opened the door. "Yeah?" She said questioningly while taking off her helmet. "I've got some guys down at the station ready to teach you to box." He said placing a set of grey and red boxing gloves on the counter. "eeee thank you Jimmy!!" She bounced smiling brightly.

--(2 years post snap)

They stood holding candles and flowers at the San Francisco memorial. "Hey Maggie..." Paxton said tracing her name on the stone. "I really hope i'm not fucking up too badly down here." He whispered glancing over to Cassie who was staring at Scotts name. "She's a damn good kid Scotty." He smiled ruefully.

--(2 4/12 years post snap)

"Jimmy I need you to buy pads while you're out." Cassie said peeking into the front hall. "okay kiddo you need anything else? Advil?" Paxton asked. "no thanks Jimmy." Cassie flashed him a smile.

-- (2 7/12 years post snap)

Cassie smiled brightly over the ice cream cake that Kurt had brought in. "Thanks Kurt!" She exclaimed. "it is no problem little жук*." he said smiling. "Really Kurt thanks I couldn't stop anywhere after this god damn vigilante case." Paxton said smiling. "Ah yes ze Beetle?" Kurt asked. "That's the one." Jim groaned. And Kurt side eyed Cassie who ducked behind her cake to hide her smile

*жук is Russian for Beetle (according to google translate)

-- (3 1/2 years post snap)

"Are you the Beetle?" Paxton asked sitting down across the table. "Whhaatttt noooo." Cassie said not breaking eye contact. "Kid you have piles of Pym tech on your work bench and the beginnings of Pym particle extraction down there." Paxton said raising an eye brow. "Alright fine. I'm the beetle. What are you going to do? If you try to arrest me I could just run. I'm just trying to help people..." Cassie said with a glare.

"I'm not going to arrest you, Scott and Maggie would haunt me. But i do have some rules." Paxton said squinting at the smaller girl who nodded. "Cerfew is 10 pm on a school night, 12 on the weekends. We both take basic medical training, you keep your studies up." Paxton said writing down the three rules. "Ugh fine." she huffed.

-- (3 8/12 years post snap)

it finally happened Cassie got stabbed. "Jim Paxton, leave a message i'm busy. or try again later." she sobbed as the phone beeped. "he-hey Jimmy i-i'm hurt. I'm in that alleyway on 24th. I know you've been working nights so you could look out for me. so I know your probably in an interrogation. I'm so sorry Jimmy..." and she cut the message off and closed her eyes

-

"I swear I'm a magnet for these stupid ass vigilante types. I moved out here so i wouldn-" A woman's voice faded in and out of her hearing.

-

Cassie woke up in a softly lit apartment. "Ya know i think you vigilante types are getting younger and younger." Turning her head she saw a pretty woman in a cardigan. "He-Hello?" She stuttered out. "I'm Claire, you?" Claire asked. "Cassie." Cassie said nodding. "You've 77 missed calls from a 'Jim the Cop' by the way." Claire said passing her the bloody phone. Cassie groaned and hit call.

-- (4 5/12 years post snap)

"Hey Jimmy?" She asked approaching the the police officer's office. "Yeah Cass?" He asked looking up from his files. "I like girls." She said quickly. "So you finally figured it out!" He smiled widely. "You you knew?" Cassie asked, shocked. "Yeah, you've loved girls since you were eight." He chuckled.

-- (5 1/2 years post snap)

Jim looked at the man asleep on his couch. "Cass am i hallucinating or is Scott Lang having a nap on my sofa?" he asked. "Yep!" She smiled as she turned on their beloved coffee pot.

[imatastyporkcutletbowl]

                                                        Summary                                   

Newlyweds, Victor and Yuuri Nikiforov have it all, but things go awry when a silver-haired child is dumped on their doorstep with a message identifying her as Victor’s biological daughter. Traumatized by the sudden death of her mother, Victoria refuses to speak or to have anything to do with her new parents. But could a selfless act by Yuuri open the way to making them a family?

Chapter 1: Little Girl Lost

Soft footsteps sounded in the darkened bedroom where Yuuri Nikiforov (formerly Yuuri Katsuki) laid, curled on his side and deeply sleeping. His tall, silvery-haired husband approached the bed slowly, admiring the adorable sleeping face of his Japanese spouse. He sat down at Yuuri’s side, watching as the movement on the bed brought Yuuri awake, and he blinked his brown eyes slowly and focused on Victor, his expression both happy to see him, and sad to know they were about to say goodbye. Victor coaxed Yuuri into his arms, meeting him for several long, passionate kisses, before he sat back and squeezed Yuuri’s hand comfortingly.

“I have to go now,” Victor said in a regretful tone, “I still wish you could come with me, Yuuri.”

“It would be fun,” Yuuri agreed, “but I have to get ready for my first competition of the season. I’m going to miss you, Victor, but it’ll be fine. You need to get out there and stir things up to get people excited about the new season.”

Victor nodded.

“They’d be more excited to see us together,” he mused, smiling, “but I agree, you’re at a critical stage, getting ready for your competition. You need to focus on that. I won’t be gone long, just a few days. Yakov is going to keep you so busy, you’ll hardly know I’m gone. Just ask him anything you don’t understand, and if he starts to yell at you, hug him. It usually surprises him so he’ll stop. Yurio said he would practice the new combinations with you, so that’s taken care of.”

“And I’ll keep working on improving my Russian,” Yuuri promised, “That will give me something to do when I’m not skating, eating or sleeping.”

Victor gave him a warm kiss on the lips and an amused look.

“You mean there are times we’re not doing one of those three things?” he chuckled, “Take care of yourself, Yuuri.”

“I will.”

Victor dropped to one knee to pet the old tan poodle that laid on the bed next to his husband.

“You take care of Yuuri, Maccachin,” Victor said, hugging the dog as whined and licked the Russian skater’s face, “And take care of yourself. Good boy.”

He rose again and ran light fingertips along Yuuri’s soft cheek.

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” Yuuri whispered back, watching quietly as Victor turned away and picked up his suitcase, then carried it out of the room.

He listened to Victor’s retreating footsteps, then the sound of the front door opening and closing. Left alone with Maccachin in the now too quiet house, Yuuri rolled over in his bed and looked out the window, into the cloudy sky, where a flock of seagulls were flying by, emitting soft cries that reminded him instantly of the ocean in Hasetsu. He breathed slowly, mulling over the past year he had spent in Victor’s home country, and the turns that their relationship had taken.

Living here with Victor is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. While it’s true that we couldn’t be married in either of our home countries and our marriage license isn’t worth the paper it’s written on, where we live, we feel a bond that’s real, one we acknowledged when I took his surname. It doesn’t really matter what the world calls us. We know who we are, and that’s all that matters now. Victor and I are happy.

Yuuri’s eyes blinked slowly and he yawned and hugged Maccachin, who thumped his tail on the bed and licked the young man’s cheek.

We’ll stay in Saint Petersburg until we retire from skaing, he mused silently, then we’ve talked about going to settle down somewhere where our marriage will be acknowledged. I guess as much as we can be happy the way we are…everyone wants to be accepted.

Yuuri closed his eyes and curled closer to Maccachin, letting himself drift off again and sleeping for another hour before the alarm clock brought him awake and coaxed him out of bed. He deflated a little at the too quiet house and the lack of Victor’s energetic presence, but revived himself with a quick shower, before dressing in his practice clothes and heading out to meet his spirited rinkmate. He found Yurio waiting on the bridge, a few blocks away from the house, in the company of a tall, serious-faced man, who was also a member of the skating elite.

“Hi Yurio,” Yuuri greeted his friend, “Otabek. I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“Hey, pork cutlet bowl,” Yurio greeted him, “He’s not visiting.”

“I have moved to Saint Petersburg now to train here,” Otabek explained.

“Oh, that’s great,” Yuuri said, smiling.

“Here,” Yurio said, tossing Yuuri a bag filled with still warm pirozhkis, “They’re fresh. I figured you’d need some company, now that Victor’s off doing publicity. I’m surprised you didn’t just say fuck it, and go with him.”

“The competition’s going to be extra tough this year,” Yuuri said, an edge of anxiety in his voice, “and my program this year is really difficult.”

“Well,” said Otabek, “Victor wouldn’t have given you that program if he didn’t have confidence that you would master it. You’re skating has been growing by leaps and bounds.”

“Yours has been amazing,” Yuuri said appreciatively, “It’s hard keeping up with you.”

“Thanks,” Otabek replied, nodding.

“We should get going,” Yurio suggested as Yuuri pulled out one of the pirozhkis and started to eat, “Yakov will be in a pissy mood today, because his ex is going to be working with me on my new program. If I were you, Yuuri, I’d find a corner and just keep your head down and do your thing. It’s a pain being around him when she’s there, nagging him.”

“I’ll watch my step,” Yuuri chuckled, “I feel sorry for you, having to put up with the two of them.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Yurio huffed, playfully mocking him, “It’s worth it to get a program I’m going to crush you with this year.”

“You said that last year, didn’t you?” Yuuri reminded him, exchanging a smirk with Otabek, “As I recall, Victor and I both beat you.”

“The power of love,” Otabek said in an amused tone.

“Hah!” Yurio scoffed, taking Otabek’s hand, “Well, this year, I have that too.”

“I think that’s great,” Yuuri said approvingly, “Bring it on.”

The two fell in together, crossing over the bridge and completing the walk to the ice rink, where they checked in and sat down to put their skates on. Yuuri watched as each headed off to begin their training, giving a bored sigh at the thought of training without his lover there.

It’s so funny. For most of my life, I wanted to train alone. I wanted to be alone. All I wanted to do was to be on the ice and to think about how much I wanted to be as good at skating as my idol, Victor.

So much has changed.

I don’t want to be alone anymore. I look forward to every day with Victor, here or wherever we go together, whatever we’re doing. And I have friends here now. Yurio hasn’t changed at all. He still calls me names and teases me about my weight, even though I’m not overweight anymore. He’s rude, but beneath the words, I feel the connection. I’m actually friendly with some of the other skaters here, too. Victor taught me a lot about putting myself out there and making friends. That’s turning out to be a good thing. I miss him right now, while he’s gone, but I’m okay.

“Yuuri!” Yakov snapped, “Stop daydreaming and get over here.”

“Uh-oh,” Yuuri sighed, climbing to his feet and stepping onto the ice.

“Get warmed up,” the elder man said gruffly, “I don’t have all day.”

Yuuri nodded and began his warm ups, quickly falling into the routine that he and Victor used to structure their practice sessions. Within minutes, he was knee-deep in work on the step sequences for his programs, then spins and jumps. Time passed more quickly than he had thought it would, and soon practice was over and he was heading home.

“You want to go out somewhere?” Yurio asked as the two reached the bridge, “You must be bored with just the old dog at home.”

“I’m working on my Russian,” Yuuri said, taking his leave, “I’m getting better, but I have a lot to learn.”

“You learn faster by talking to natives, you know,” Yurio chided him.

“I know, but I’m tired. Yakov had me doing about a billion jumps before he was satisfied. I thought I was going to die on the last few.”

“All right,” Yurio said, smirking, “Go home and eat the rest of those pirozhkis. See you tomorrow, pork cutlet bowl.”

“Bye Yurio.”

Yuuri headed back across the bridge, turning off on the far side to stop by the market on the way home. He strolled home slowly, in no hurry to be faced with the empty, too quiet house.

Maybe I should have taken Yurio up on his offer.

He turned the last corner and headed up the street, his mind on what he was going to make for dinner. It took him a moment to notice that there was something happening on the doorstep at his and Victor’s home. A stern looking woman stood, scolding a little girl.

“Stay there!” she ordered the child, then she turned and hurried to a waiting car.

“What the…hey!” Yuuri called out, breaking into a run, “What are you doing? Where are you…?”

The car shot forward and disappeared down the street, leaving Yuuri staring after it in dismay. He stood, holding the grocery bag and trying to make sense of things, but only felt more confused as a little, scared whimper made him turn and look at the girl who had been left behind. He moved towards her in slow steps, staring at the silvery hair that was pulled up into a high ponytail, the wide, pretty blue-green eyes that he felt like he’d know anywhere.

What is this?

What’s going on?

Who is she?

“Hello,” he greeted the trembling child in Russian, dropping down onto one knee and facing her, but keeping just enough distance not to frighten her more, “I am Yuuri Nikiforov. What is your name?”

The girl rubbed her teary eyes, but gave no answer.

“Do you speak Russian?” he asked in Russian.

The girl gave no answer.

“Do you speak English?” he asked in English.

Do you speak at all? he wondered, She looks scared to death. But I saw that she reacted to hearing English. I guess that’s what she speaks.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, digging through the bag he held and pulling out the last of the pirozhkis that Yurio had given him that morning, “This is good cold, or we could go inside and warm it up. Do you want it cold or warmed?”

The girl quivered, but accepted the pirozhki. She looked down at it silently, then back at Yuuri.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged her, “It’s really tasty. It’s called a pork cutlet bowl pirozhki. It’s my favorite.”

The little girl quivered, staring at him raptly as she took a tentative bite. She chewed slowly, blinking and making no other moves as she ate.

“It’s great, huh?” Yuuri said kindly.

He spotted a note attached to the girl’s coat and carefully extracted it, opening it to read it.

Victor,

This girl is your daughter. Her mother has died and she has nowhere to go. Her mother’s wish was that, if anything happened to her, the girl would be brought to you. Her name is Victoria and she is nine years old. You will find her documents in her bag. Please do not attempt to contact members of her American family. They have no interest in her.

Yuuri looked at the girl again, his heart pounding.

It’s hard to believe, and I know Victor will question it. Who wouldn’t, right? But, I see it. She has his hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his ears.

This is Victor’s daughter, a daughter it seems like he has no idea at all she exists.

“Your name is Victoria?” he asked.

The girl said nothing, but gave him a withering look.

“Oh, you go by a different name?” he concluded, “Will you please tell me what it is? Or…or maybe write it? I need to know what to call you.”

The girl paused in her eating, looking at him as though considering.

“Tora,” she said in a voice barely more than a whisper.

Oh my god! I even hear it in her voice. She’s got Victor stamped all over her. She’s obviously scared. Who wouldn’t be? She’s been dumped in a country where she doesn’t know the language or any people. Poor kid. And she’s lost her mother and whatever family she had there.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tora,” Yuuri said kindly, “You can call me Yuuri. I’m Victor’s husband.”

The girl continued to chew on the pirozhki, but gave no answer.

“Why don’t we go inside?” he asked, slipping the key into the lock and opening the door.

Maccachin burst through and crashed into the girl, making her sit down hard on the porch. Yuuri started to scold the dog, then his breath caught in surprise as the girl dropped the last bit of the pirozhki and wrapped her arms around the old poodle’s neck, burying her face in his soft fur and letting out a sob. Her body shook with more silent sobs as she held onto the dog and Maccachin licked her cheek and whined.

“You must be scared to death,” Yuuri said sympathetically, “But, you don’t have to worry. You can come inside and I’ll take care of you until Victor gets back. I’m sure we can work things out. Will you come inside?”

He extended a hand towards the girl and waited silently. The girl peeked around Maccachin’s head, her damp eyes meeting Yuuri’s, and he could see she was considering. After a long hesitation, her slender hand reached out and latched onto his.

“Good,” Yuuri said, helping the girl to her feet as Maccachin barked and finished off the last of the fallen pirozhki.

He picked up the little suitcase that had been left with her, and carried it inside. The two stopped in the entry and Yuuri closed the door behind them.

“You can stay in our guest room,” Yuuri offered, leading her down the hallway and into a comfortably furnished bedroom, “Victor will be back in a couple of days. Until then, you need to stay here, in the house, unless you’re with me. You’re in a different country and you don’t know your way around yet. If it makes you feel better, Maccachin can stay here with you. He’s good at making me feel better when I feel a little lost. Maybe he’ll make you feel better too. Tora, I’m really sorry about you losing your mom. I’m sorry for whatever made the rest of the family decide to send you away. But, you’ll be okay here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, okay?”

Tora said nothing, but nodded briefly and climbed onto the large, soft bed. She patted the bed with one hand, and again, Yuuri saw the similarity to Victor, plain in her movements.

She’s had it hard. I wonder what went on with her American family. I have so many questions. And I have to decide what to tell Victor. He’s focused on getting people excited about the upcoming season. And what could he do from so far away, anyway? Maybe I should wait and tell him when he comes home.

He looked back at Tora, who sat, holding onto Maccachin and looking out the window, into the clouds.

“The remote for the TV is by the bed,” Yuuri informed her, “There’s a bathroom in the hallway. The door is open. You can come to me if you need anything. I’ll make some dinner for us in a few hours. Is there anything you really like, that you would want me to make?”

He waited for a moment, watching the girl look out the window.

“Okay, I’ll be around.”

He left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen, where he sat down at the table and pulled out his home language course. He placed the ear buds from the set into his ears and began the lesson, listening carefully and repeating, answering questions in Russian, and trying again when he made a mistake. Intent in his work, he didn’t notice when the girl slipped into the hallway and walked down to the kitchen, where she peeked around a corner of the wall to watch him.

Yuuri focused carefully on the images in front of him, studying the pictures and naming things, then putting pictures in order and matching them with statements written in Russian. He completed the lesson, then sighed and sat back, yawning as he looked at the clock.

“Guess it’s time to make dinner. I wonder what she’d like. She wouldn’t even talk to me.”

He dug through the refrigerator and cabinets.

“What do American kids like? Hamburgers? Hot dogs? Pizza? Like we’d keep that stuff around, the way I gain weight when I get nervous and binge eat…”

He sighed in frustration and turned around, then he froze for a second as he spotted Tora watching him. She ducked back behind the wall, and Yuuri turned back to face the sink, pretending that he hadn’t seen her.

She’s curious. Maybe there’s a way to use that. I just have to keep her interest.

He reached over and turned on the radio, smiling as a familiar song came on. He sang along in Russian as he gathered the makings for pork cutlet bowl. Behind the wall, Tora peeked out at him, watching through widened eyes as he measured out the ingredients and started cooking. Soon, delicious cooking smells filled the air. Yuuri breathed in the pleasant scent, his stomach growling as he finished making their dinner. He turned around and a smile crept onto his face as he found Tora waiting at the table for him.

“Hi,” he said, nodding, “I hope you like pork cutlet bowl. It’s from Japan, just like me. It’s my favorite food. Please try some.”

He set a plate in front of her and sat across from her, with his own. The girl sniffed the steam that rose up from the plate, then took a bite. Her face lit up, and Yuuri could almost hear Victor’s happy exclamation of “Vkusno!”

“It’s good, huh? I know the pirozhki was also pork cutlet, but this is what I grew up on. I only usually eat them when I win a competition, because I eat too much and get too heavy for skating.”

He pointed out a portrait on the wall, one of Victor and him, dressed in costumes and holding each other as they swept across the ice.

“Your dad and I are figure skaters,” he explained, “We compete professionally. I’ll tell you what. If you want, tomorrow I’ll take you with me to the ice rink. You can watch me practice if you want to.”

The girl said nothing in reply, but Yuuri didn’t miss the way she continued to steal glances at the portrait as she devoured the food in front of her.

I wonder how Victor will react when he meets her. I wonder what he’ll do. If she’s nine, then Victor was twenty when she was born, which means he was nineteen when he fathered her…assuming she’s really his daughter. It’s a lot to take in. This is a lot for all of us.

I wonder what will happen when Victor gets home.

[omgkatsudonplease]

IF YOI TAKES PLACE IN 2016 THEN BITTY AND JACK'S KISS™ HAPPENS BEFORE YUURI AND VIKTOR'S. what a year for in-universe ice sport fans

to be fair it’s very obvious the two take place in different universes considering the lack of homophobia in yoi’s. but yeah, if they were in the same universe and bits is graduating in 2017 and these SC playoffs are in 2016, they’d be smoochin on the ice before viktuuri does in the fall. which also means, holy fucking shit, that my timeline in intersections is completely off (because 1) i timed YOI to 2015-2016 season bc that’s how the dates lined up irl and then Sayokubo jossed that and 2) i hadn’t anticipated Jack to win the SC that quickly lmao) 😂😂 i’m laughing so hard, what if it turns out viktor and yuuri were just following in their footsteps:

Viktor Nikiforov still follows hockey, to some extent – mostly just the career of his childhood friend Alexei, who’s moved from the KHL to the NHL a year or so back and send all sorts of cheery pictures of him eating disgusting-looking American food once in a while. 

(When the pies and jams and pb&js show up, Viktor almost breathes a sigh of relief. It’s much better than the deep-fried nonsense Alyosha has sent him in the past.)

Viktor Nikiforov follows hockey just well enough to know about Jack Zimmermann, though part of that is also due to the fact that one of his own competitors (Joe-Johns? James-Jacks?) would not shut up about his amazing hockey cousin, son of The Amazing Hockey Legend Uncle Bob Zimmermann. Viktor had sifted through the babbling about kings on ice and Leroy-Zimmermann total ice domination to cut to the fact that Jack Zimmermann is in fact one of the new rookies on the Providence Falconers, and is in fact dating the source of the pies and jams and pb&js blessing Alyosha’s Instagram feed.

He doesn’t think too much about that, because he’s extremely preoccupied with the fact that the love of his own life, who he had met wrapped around a pole in Sochi sloshed on sixteen glasses of champagne, has just skated his routine in a viral video on YouTube. Clearly his path is now laid out for him: Yuuri had asked him to be his coach. Viktor now has to go to Japan and become his coach. And if he’s lucky, Yuuri will remember him for more than that, and maybe they’ll dance together under the stars or something else equally as heartrending. 

(He’ll get that wish. He just doesn’t know it yet.)

The next time Viktor tunes in to hockey, Alyosha has sent him a string of exclamation points and a YouTube link. Viktor clicks it, mostly anticipating another mirror of the “Stay Close To Me” routine, but gets instead post-game footage of the Falconers as they celebrate winning the Stanley Cup. 

Congrats! Viktor types in Russian to his old friend. I’m proud of you! 

Not just that, you can see Zimmboni’s boyfriend, Alyosha insists. At 1:30, look!

Viktor goes to 1:30 and looks. And his heart leaps up at the sight of a diminutive blond man running out onto the ice, tackling Jack Zimmermann in a hug. Zimmermann spins him around for a moment, before the two of them settle, pause as if in discussion, and then – 

Viktor’s heart is in his throat. The camera has zoomed in on Zimmermann and his boyfriend, on the soft expressions on their faces once they pull back from their kiss. It had been hesitant at first, but then confident, loving, unafraid – and Viktor wants it, too. Wants it more than anything from the Japanese skater currently deep in some video game in the next room over. 

He hears a knock at the door and closes out of the video. Makkachin perks, as Yuuri slides the door open and smiles at him. Viktor’s heart stutters. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” Yuuri asks. It’s not quite dancing under the stars, but Viktor takes it. 

It all comes to a head at the Cup of China. The fears, the insecurities, the wishes – they all bubble out of Yuuri with his tears, with his broken, racked sobs that wrench at Viktor’s heart. He hadn’t meant what he said, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions anyway, so does it matter?

All he can do is hold Yuuri for a while, give him his hanky to wipe the tears and the snot away, and apologise. Yuuri says nothing to that, only turns around and says that it’s time.

Viktor’s heart leaps as Yuuri steps on the ice, as Yuuri presses a finger to his hair part, a teasing little hint of forgiveness. It flutters hard as Yuuri begins his programme, not even flinching in the face of technical imperfections.

It leaps into his throat when he falls on the quad flip, but there’s enough rotations in it, and if that’s not a sign of something new and beautiful, Viktor doesn’t know what is. 

Yuuri extends his hands to Viktor as he ends his routine to thunderous applause, and Viktor’s heart feels like it’s lodged against his jugular, shocked and amazed in equal measure as he looks out at the man who had shown him love and life in all of its forms. How does he even begin to repay such a debt? How can he surprise Yuuri more than Yuuri’s surprised him already?

A flash of ash blonde against his mind’s eye brings him to the memory of Jack Zimmermann and his boyfriend hugging and kissing on the ice. Viktor makes his choice. 

He runs.

And the rest is history.

“Jack, oh my god. Pinch me, I’ve got to be dreaming.”

Jack looks down at where his boyfriend Eric has pulled from his side, eyes wide as he stares at the TV in their living room. He recognises the look on Eric’s face; he’d worn that same expression when Beyonce had announced she was having twins.

Out on the ice, the cameras have zoomed in on Yuuri Katsuki and his coach, collapsed onto the ice in each other’s arms. They’re saying something to each other unheard by the roaring of the crowd, their eyes fixed on each other and only each other. Katsuki’s expression is soft, almost tender. Jack’s heart wrenches.

Eric’s fingers dig into his forearms. “Oh my god you know I thought he might have preferred men, but I didn’t – I never dreamed – my fifteen-year-old self is dying right about now, Jack. Holy shit.”

“He?” Jack echoes.

“Viktor Nikiforov! Oh my god, I had a poster of him next to the Bey posters, didn’t you see? He’s like… he’s like the Bad Bob of figure skating, okay? The Beyonce. A complete legend.”

“Oh, cousin JJ talks about him sometimes,” says Jack. Eric sends him a look that screams of ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were distantly connected to Viktor Nikiforov through your Terrible Cousin JJ, this is a betrayal of the highest order’. Jack chuckles at it anyway. 

“Still, good for Katsuki,” he says, turning back to the screen, where the scores are being announced. Yuuri Katsuki is still flushed and happy from the kiss, which is now being replayed over and over again as the commentator screams with joy, while next to him Viktor Nikiforov looks so proud that he’s bordering on smug. 

“Yeah, he bagged my fifteen-year-old celebrity crush and destroyed the fantasies of every other figure skating fan out there,” says Eric. “Though I’m honestly surprised it took him this long; GoldenSkate was saying there’s no way the two weren’t together after seeing his short programme.”

“Not just that,” Jack says, tugging his boyfriend closer again. “Didn’t you see what he was like during warm-ups? He’s come so far.” 

“Yeah,” says Eric, smiling softly as he presses a kiss to Jack’s cheek. “They both have.”