#my friend and i have jumped on the ‘Viktor used to smoke before he got sick’ bandwagon

[ihavea-natural-curiosity]

everyone’s favorite freak, Academy addition!

[random-imagines-blog]

Post Red Part ii {Viktor Krum x Reader Oneshot}

Sequel to : Post Red Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2385 Summary: When you go to Hogwarts to support your school in the Triwizard Tournament, an unfortunate familiar face makes an appearance. More than once.

Your first glimpse of Hogwarts was spectacular. The ship erupted above the water, and you were finally able to see where it was that you were going to be staying. The glorious castle managed to look beautiful, even through the foggy September morning. You looked towards Viktor, who was sitting beside you, leaning his head to try to look out of your window. “Can you believe this is going to be home for the next year? I’m so glad that my parents let me come with you rather than stay alone at Durmstrang,” You spoke to him in your home tongue. Though you would be having to get used to speaking English more and more regularly, with all of the English students. You looked out the window again, your heart leaping in your chest. This was almost as exciting as going to the World Cup had been.

“It is a little small,” Viktor said, arms crossed in front of him. His loyalty was obviously to Durmstrang, and its own towering peaks. But you were used to his gruff behavior and just ignored him, focusing instead on the sights that were around.

You had no plans of entering the Triwizard Tournament. You were just there as a part of reaching out to other schools, building a sense of community, making friends, trying to see things from another’s perspective. So you did not go in with the dramatics of the seventh year boys, but rather lingered and stepped in after the displays, making yourself at home at a table with a Snake motif. It’s not as if you and the others were going to be noticed once Viktor had come in at your headmaster’s side. All eyes were on him, and conversation immediately erupted upon seeing his face. That grouchy Viktor face.

He slipped in across from you as the Beauxbatons students came through, and immediately started to put food on his plate. There hadn’t been a wide variety of food available on the ship that brought you here, so you were starving, loading your own plate up high. But you paused when you saw that Viktor had. He was looking down the table with a glare in those dark eyes. “Is that-?” He questioned with a motion of his head.

You looked down in the direction that he was staring at and it became very apparent just whom he was glaring at. Draco Malfoy. How could you forget that name when he had drilled it into your head during the World Cup? You couldn’t forget that head of silver hair either. You wrinkled your nose and nodded a yes. It was. Viktor started to stand, but you reached out and grabbed hold of his arm, fork dropping onto the table with a clattering sound. It had happened just as the Headmaster of Hogwarts had paused in his speech, and many eyes went to you and to the Quidditch Star. Or at least the ones that weren’t there already. You smiled uneasily and took your hand off of Viktor’s arm. “Not here,” You muttered.

“He disrespected you, he deserves to be punished,” He said, still standing, still glaring, despite all of the attention on him. Draco, on the other end of the table, looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. It almost seemed worth letting Viktor go, to see that expression on his face when he would come hulking over. The young boy must have put two and two together. He recognized you, and that’s why there was that fear. “Y/N...”

The teachers were looking at you as well. Only Karkaroff would be able to understand what you were both saying, since it was still in your native tongue. He looked furious that you two were causing such a ruckus, and it made your cheeks redden in shame. “Please. Later.”

Viktor finally seemed to notice all of the eyes on him, still standing, fists down on the table. He held a hand up to excuse himself and sunk back down onto the bench. You let out a breath of relief, and Dumbledore continued on with his speech about unity. All Viktor was thinking about was uniting his fist with Draco Malfoy’s face, no doubt. While you focused on uniting this amazing food with your stomach.

-

Viktor had been chosen as Durmstrang’s Representative in the Triwizard Tournament. You were both proud and deeply worried about him, but promised that you would help him along every step of the way. The first task was dragons, as he had found out from Karkaroff. He was growing distracted with trying to figure out ways of defeating a dragon, fighting a dragon, winning over a dragon, that he had nearly forgotten about Draco Malfoy. But Draco Malfoy had not forgotten about you. How you had turned him down, humiliated him in front of his father and the Minister of Magic. And he managed to catch you alone as you were heading back to the Durmstrang dormitories after a study session in the library.

“No bodyguard to protect you this time,” He said with a smirk, pushing himself away from the wall that he had been leaning against. There was no reason for him to be in this hallway, so far as you knew. So this crazy kid must have been waiting for you. He made you feel extremely uncomfortable for the second time in months.

“I do not need a bodyguard,” You said, in slow and careful English. “I need to get to my room.”

“Let’s go then,” Draco said, standing beside you. “I’ll go with you. I’m still waiting on that apology.”

“An apology? I’m waiting on one too, from you. You have been a pest since the World Cup. I would hate to have to report you to Karkaroff.”

You could have sworn that he grew a little paler, not that you thought it was possible with how white his skin already was. That made you feel a little better. Your headmaster as an intimidating man. “You won’t be getting any apologies from me, when you have been the little tease-”

“You’re one to talk about little, fourth year,” You taunted, since clearly being polite, and being avoidant wasn’t working. So you had to make sure that he wanted nothing to do with you. “If you do not leave me alone, I will tell Viktor, and the rest of Durmstrang, and Karkaroff - and they will all believe me about the annoying gnat you are. And then the word will get to Beauxbatons. Do you really want those pretty ladies laughing at you? If not, then you better back off.”

Malfoy took three steps back and you let out a breath in satisfaction. You hurried forward, slipping into the shadows of the castles to make your way back to your dorm. Once you were safe in there, you decided to write a letter to Viktor and tell him what had happened. Malfoy seemed like the sort of boy who liked to retaliate, and you wanted to be prepared in case he got any ideas. Maybe you did have a bodyguard after all.

-

Viktor started going with you everywhere, even after he was chosen as the Durmstrang Champion. It really was almost like being at your own school, and things were normal. Viktor was the person in this world that you were closest to, even more so than your parents. Nobody from Durmstrang batted an eye when you say beside each other at meals, or went for jogs together or went to the library. There was some people from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons who wanted to know about your relationship with the handsome Quidditch star; Viktor always answered them by putting his arm around your shoulders and grunting. He wasn’t a man of very many words, this Viktor Krum.

Whenever Malfoy was around, Viktor went in full shark mode, like he had when you were taken to the bottom of the lake and he had to rescue you as one of the tasks. He snarled and bared his teeth at the boy, and you usually ended up having to drag him away before he would put the blonde in the hospital wing. You always told him that he wasn’t worth it, and that after Viktor would win the Tournament, they would go back to Bulgaria and would never have to think of that rat-faced bastard again.

English slang was really starting to rub off on you.

When the Yule Ball was announced, you thought that perhaps Viktor was going to ask the cute, brunette fourth year that was always in the library, but he hadn’t. He asked you. And you, of course, had said yes. Not only just because him being around you had scared off any other potential suitors, but because you knew you would be comfortable enough around him to actually dance and have fun. Just another day, but he would be letting loose in front of other people as well.

You dressed up. And so did he. Though he definitely looked good - most Quidditch Players did, it was in their fitness regiment, he looked especially great tonight. And by the smile on his face, you thought you must have made a pretty picture yourself.

“Are you prepared to dance, Mr. Krum?” You asked in your native tongue, slipping in beside him and walked towards the winter-wonderland that the Great Hall had turned into. You waved and smiled at your friends, none of them surprised at who you were with. In fact, bets had been taken for who was going to ask who. Very few people lost a few galleons that night. “Because I am so ready.”

The Ball was a blur of fun, punch and music. Your feet were sore from all of the dancing. As were Viktor’s, because he did most of his sport above the ground. You definitely wore out your dancing shoes, and would have to awkwardly tell your parents that you needed a new pair for formal events. Once you explained that it was because of Viktor, you were sure you would have no problem getting more.

But the ending of the night wasn’t as fun, and it was because of that Ferret, Malfoy. He was pushing every last button that you had, which meant that he was poking at Viktor’s as well. All it took was one smug comment to his friends about how you had been ‘all over him’, trying to get all cozy during the World Cup, and Viktor saw red. You hadn’t seen that kind of anger in him before.

He went straight after Malfoy the way that a bull went after a matador. Nose blowing smoke. If he had horns, Malfoy would have been pinned to the wall by them, without a doubt. But as it were, all Viktor had was his brute strength - he didn’t even think about magic. Straight in with a punch to that self-approving face. Malfoy went down like an under-inflated balloon, sinking under the weight of that hit. But that didn’t stop Viktor - and neither did the other fourth year Slytherins trying to have their friends back. You even got involved, trying to pull Viktor out of the developing dog-pile.

It didn’t take long for the chaparones to notice that there was a fight going on, and you were all torn apart from each other by magic. You were now against the wall, feeling like someone had just cast petrificus-totalis on you. Your eyes rolled to find Viktor, only to see that he was beside you, with a bruise developing over one eye. One of those boys must have got him good. You wished you could see how they had come out of the fight. Viktor was sure to have given out twice as good as he got.

“What is the meaning of this?” Professor McGonagall, one of the teachers here at Hogwarts, demanded to know. “A champion? Taking part in a physical altercation?” She looked between you and Viktor, and then to the three Slytherins.

“My fault,” You said, giving up on the struggle against the magic. “I - tripped - fell on boy - Viktor defend me.”

Your English was still a bit rough, but that seemed to be working in your favor. You didn’t have to use as many words if they thought you didn’t know them. But obviously you were going to jump in and lie so that Viktor wouldn’t get in trouble. This tournament meant as much to him, if not more, than Quidditch did. You weren’t going to let him get kicked out just because of some rat-faced boy.

“Well,” McGonagall said, fixing her robes. Your mood perked just a little. She wasn’t even going to ask for the boy’s side of the story? She barely even looked at him now, except to give a hard stare. “20 points from Slytherin.”

“But Professor-”

“And be thankful that it isn’t more!” She said, and with a wave of your wand you were all set free. “I suggest you spend your time on different sides of the Ball this evening.”

“We will, thank you,” You said with a nod, taking Viktor’s hand and pulling him to the left side of the room. “You need to learn how to control your temper, or you  might get kicked out of the tournament. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking he needed to shut up,” Viktor said. All of the good mood had been sucked out of the both of you by the encounter.

“I hope he learned his lesson,” You said. “I hate liars. It should be obvious I would never be all over someone like him.”

“Good,” Viktor said. “He makes me see red.”

“Makes me mad too,” You nodded. “But let’s not think about him, and enjoy the dance. Shall we?”

Viktor nodded and took your hand, bringing you back out to the dance  floor to dance those emotions away, and forget that anyone else - especially a boy named Draco Malfoy - ever entered into your lives.

[avaruussade]

Fraying at the Edges

otayuri | T-rated | 8.2K words

“Yuri knows that if Otabek decides to do something, no one can stop him; and Yuri wouldn’t even try to stop Otabek if he suddenly told him he’s going to move to Canada to get better at skating. And apparently he had told everyone he’s going to do just that - everyone, except Yuri.“

This is part 3 of my "DJ Otabek" series, but it doesn't necessarily require reading the previous parts.

Read on AO3

It’s not quite summer yet, but the night in Almaty is warm when Yuri and Otabek meet up with the Kazakh skater’s friends outside a club located in the heart of the city. At the door they’re greeted by a familiar face, the bouncer’s serious expression changing into a wide smile when he recognizes Yuri. “Congratulations, my boys. You did well!” Yuri thanks him with a small laugh, not even trying to hide how much the bouncer’s broken Russian and warm words mean to him. The man shakes hands with him and Otabek before letting them in, telling them to have a fun night. The competitive season ended just a few weeks ago, and it’s the first time in months Yuri feels like he can smile and laugh freely. The season wasn’t easy for him: he suffered an ankle injury in the Grand Prix final, which resulted in badly executed programs in Euros. Somehow he managed to make a full recovery before Worlds where he skated to gold, and the medal definitely made up for his poor performances earlier in the season.

However, he wasn’t the only one struggling: Otabek stood on the podium next to Yuri in Worlds, but it was his first medal of the season. Even though Otabek landed his jumps somewhat perfectly and skated to nice scores in every competition, Yuri could tell something was wrong with him. Nothing else in Otabek’s life seemed to be crooked - he smiled when he talked about his family and he joked around with his friends like usual - so Yuri didn’t ask him about it. Everyone has ups and downs every season, and for some the downs last a bit longer. The competition in men’s singles is tough (even now after the retirement of both Viktor and Katsuki), and Otabek had never wore his heart on his sleeve when he skated. The lack in Otabek’s presentation scores had been a real problem this season, and he was as aware of it as everyone else. Otabek puts an arm around Yuri’s waist and pulls him closer when they line up for drinks. The steady music vibrates the floor underneath their feet, and even though the club isn’t fully packed yet Yuri knows that after a couple of hours it will be. The dance floor’s wild lights create a colorful show on the club’s high ceiling, shadows bouncing off the walls and getting mixed with the hot, almost humid air around them. Otabek is supposed to play later that night, but before that they’re going to relax and let loose together without having to worry about scores, rankings or practice the next day. They make their way through the crowd and eventually manage to claim a table on the balcony. They can barely hear each other since the dance floor is right beneath them, but at least they will have a perfect view of the stage when it’s Otabek’s time to get behind the turntables. Yuri’s plane landed only a few hours ago, so he’s happy to just sit down on the wide couch paired with their table and sip on his drink while listening to the conversation between Otabek and his friends. Yuri understands most of it (he studied the language during long flights and in hotel rooms throughout the season, Otabek helping him whenever he could), but he’s too tired from all the travelling to say anything. Otabek is sitting right next to him, an arm around his shoulders, and that’s enough for now. Every now and then Otabek glances at him, as if to make sure he really is still there, and every time he does that Yuri presses a quick, lazy kiss on his lips. Yuri is fully aware they’re in a public place surrounded by dozens of people who could recognize them, but he has decided not to care. They had maintained their relationship through a tough competitive season, and to Yuri’s surprise it was Otabek who had said he wouldn’t mind people knowing about them. Most of their friends and family already knew: Viktor and Yuuri had walked in on them making out in the dressing room of Yuri’s home rink, which meant all of Yuri’s rinkmates (including his coaches) were informed before the two of them could do anything about it. Otabek had told his family soon after that, and later he revealed to Yuri that he had told his closest friends even before the incident with Viktor and Yuuri. But the public still didn’t know, and in a post-banquet talk after Worlds they had came to the conclusion that they would stop hiding it, and if someone asked, they’d be honest. Yuri has a feeling that’s easier to say than do, but right now he doesn’t care: he smiles against Otabek’s lips and lets him take his hand, telling himself he’s blushing because of the alcohol and not because Alina, one of Otabek’s friends, calls them ‘so damn adorable’. It’s Alina who takes the place next to Yuri when Otabek has to get on the stage. Yuri sends him off with a kiss and gets a small smile in return, the sight of it making Yuri’s chest feel a tiny bit tighter. “It’s truly great to see Beka so happy,” Alina says after Otabek has disappeared behind the stage. “You’re good to him.” “He makes me happy,” Yuri confesses, hiding behind his glass. Alina smiles warmly at the words. “Beka has had his own struggles, you know. I’ve known him for a long time, and up until now I’ve felt like nothing but skating and making music could make him smile like that. You must be special,” she says with a teasing wink, and Yuri rolls his eyes at her. However, a part of him understands perfectly: for years Yuri felt like he was trapped in the middle of his negative emotions, getting crushed under everyone’s expectations, and he could only be free when he got on the ice. Nowadays being around people doesn’t make him so anxious, and controlling his anger off the ice is easier too. “I’m nothing special, just the World champion and Olympic gold medalist,” Yuri says with a shrug and Alina bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, I totally understand why Beka likes you so much. I really hope you can maintain your relationship now when he moves back to Canada.” Yuri feels his expression going blank, and at that moment the music in the club changes and Otabek gets on the stage behind the turntables. Yuri barely registers how he greets the crowd, a static buzzing filling his ears instead. Canada? What was Alina talking about? They didn’t have any plans for summer - they haven’t had enough time to talk about summer yet - but Otabek would have told him if he was moving all the way to Canada. Or at least Yuri thinks Otabek would tell him if he was going to move to another country. They had both been busy lately, and the last few months hadn’t been easy for Otabek, which had resulted in them not being able to spend a lot of time together. But Yuri had thought they could now take a couple weeks off and enjoy each other’s presence like they used to. Apparently that wasn’t something Otabek was planning to do. “Oh,” Yuri manages to force out, the piercing cold he feels in his lungs making it almost impossible to speak. He clears his throat and puts on an expression he learned to hide behind years ago: calm and distant with emotionless eyes. “He has talked to you guys about it?” “Yeah,” Alina sighs and takes a sip of her drink. “I mean, I got the impression he properly decided on it just last week or something? But he bought the plane tickets so I guess he has made up his mind. About time, if you ask me, considering he’s leaving in ten days.” Yuri gives her a small smile, and Alina doesn’t know him well enough to notice he’s faking it. “I guess,” Yuri says quietly, the booming music hiding his words. Alina isn’t really concentrating on their conversation, her eyes on Otabek who’s standing on the stage. Otabek’s eyes scan the audience and visit the balcony, looking for familiar faces. Yuri drops his gaze, his heart beating painfully in his hollow chest. Yuri stares blankly at the floor for the rest of Otabek’s set, the exciting high from alcohol transforming into a painful dullness. Yuri forces a smile on his face when Otabek gets back, but he doesn’t say anything. Throughout the years Yuri has learned to hide his true emotions behind a hard, emotionless facade, and he knows it’s better for everyone if he pretends for the rest of the night. He’s itching to talk to Otabek, to ask him what is going on, but at the same time he doesn’t want to have that conversation in the club surrounded by Otabek’s friends. “Do you want another drink?” Otabek’s familiar voice and nonchalant tone shoots right through Yuri like an arrow. He looks up and meets a dark pair of eyes he knows way too well; eyes that always calm him down and make him feel like home. Realizing that hurts. “I think I need some fresh air,” Yuri says, way too quickly for it to sound natural. Otabek doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Yuri is already on his feet and climbing down the staircase, disappearing into the crowd of people. The club has filled up in the past hour, and Yuri keeps bumping into people. His muttered apologies are half-hearted, and no one really pays attention to him when he gets to the club’s small outdoor area reserved for smoking, slamming the door shut behind himself. He leans against a metallic railing, warm from the day’s heat and sunshine, and tries to stop his hands from shaking. Yuri doesn’t smoke, has never even tried, but he almost asks for a cigarette from two guys standing in the corner of the outdoor area. In the end he says nothing, because he can’t remember how to ask something like that in Kazakh. Instead he takes out his phone and manages to type out a short text message. To: JJ So Beka’s moving there? From: JJ Yeah! We’re gonna be rink mates again! It’s been too long since we’ve been training together! You could come here too! :D To: JJ I’ll skip, thanks. From: JJ Why? :( I thought you had warmed up to me after all these years :( To: JJ So when did Beka tell you he’d move there? From: JJ When he started planning on it I think after the GPF Wait He has told you, right? To: JJ Not yet From: JJ What Wait Yuri Shit I thought he had talked to you about it Damn I’m so sorry To: JJ Fuck off, JJ Yuri fights against the urge to throw his phone on the nearest wall. It’s not JJ’s fault he’s hurt and disappointed, but it feels good to put the blame on someone. Yuri’s mind is hazy, the realization that Otabek had been planning on this since December making anger bubble inside him. The thing is that Yuri actually thinks a total change of scenery, new training team and some skilled rinkmates to practice with is the best decision Otabek could make right now. Time difference between them would be a couple hours more, but they could deal with it together - they’ve been through worse. Yuri knows that if Otabek decides to do something, no one can stop him; and Yuri wouldn’t even try to stop Otabek if he suddenly told him he’s going to move to Canada to get better at skating. And apparently he had told everyone he’s going to do just that - everyone, except Yuri. “Yura?” Yuri is too deep in his thoughts to hear Otabek coming outside, and the sudden call of his name painfully pulls him back to reality. He turns to look at Otabek, and the worry in his dark eyes makes Yuri see red. “Were you ever gonna tell me?” The question makes Otabek frown, and Yuri’s sharp tone forces him to take half a step backwards. Yuri sees how he tries to hide the underlying fear in his gaze, and it only makes his anger take over him (because it hurts, it hurts so much, but Yuri isn’t going to admit that). “Wha-?” “About Canada.” A heavy silence falls between them. Yuri manages to hide his emotions behind an expressionless face, his cold eyes watching Otabek trying to come up with something to say. Yuri is impressed at how collected Otabek looks, his gaze locked with Yuri’s cold eyes. “Who told you?” “That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me?” A hint of betrayal slips into Yuri’s words, and it hurts him to see how Otabek flinches at it. “I can explain.” “Then fucking explain.” Otabek lets out a wavering sigh, his eyes dropping to the ground. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so he closes it. He runs a hand through his hair, fingertips shaking, helplessly trying to find the right words. Yuri can see he’s struggling, and it makes him feel sick. “I was afraid,” Otabek finally says after a silence that feels like an eternity. “Of what? Me?” Yuri’s tone sounds like he’s insulted, but actually he’s scared Otabek will confirm his accusations. He’s terrified that the person who helped him to lower his guard and find the softness hiding in his core would be afraid of him. “Of what would happen to us,” Otabek’s voice is barely a whisper, and when Yuri’s mind finally processes the words, his body can’t tame the flame of anger. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Otabek still can’t look directly at Yuri. His breathing gets faster, panic and fear making their way into his eyes. Yuri feels like punching something and he looks away, trying to keep his voice from cracking when he repeats his question. “We wouldn’t see each other as often. Even if I wanted to be with you, I- the distance between Toronto and Saint Petersburg is long. Longer than what we have now.” “Did you really think I wouldn’t support you?” Otabek finally looks at Yuri, and the ice and thunder in Yuri’s emerald eyes cut deeper than his words. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.” “Saying ‘hey, I think I’m gonna move to Canada’ isn’t that fucking hard. I mean, you told your friends and JJ, how am I any different?” The expression on Otabek’s face looks wounded, and Yuri needs to cross his arms over his chest so he doesn’t accidentally reach over and wipe the pain away with his fingertips. Seeing Otabek like that hurts, it hurts more than the fact that he had told everyone except Yuri about his plans; it hurts because Yuri knows it’s his fault Otabek looks like he’s crumbling. “You are different. If you left, it… it would kill me.” “You are the one leaving, not me,” Yuri says even though he knows that’s not what Otabek means. It’s not about being physically close, because that’s something they’re used to: between practicing in their own home rinks and travelling around the globe for different competitions they’re lucky if they get to share twelve hours together every now and then. They’ve accepted it, because they know there will always be more competitions, more post-banquet nights in fancy hotel rooms, more intensive training camps held by Yakov. “You know what I mean.” Yuri knows better than anyone what Otabek means, because he exists to his parents only after winning a competition; because years ago in Japan he skated a flawless program, yet Viktor still didn’t choose him; because before meeting Otabek he had always been everyone’s second choice, and that had made it impossible for him to trust anyone. Yuri knows exactly what Otabek means, and that only makes him more furious. “Is that really how much you trust me?” Yuri’s voice cracks at the end of the sentence, and he hates himself for it. He clears his throat but doesn’t look away, trying to find the answer to his question from Otabek’s sad eyes. He refuses to believe Otabek would think he’d choose someone else over him just because the distance between them got longer. He can’t believe it because he has told Otabek so, so many times how much he means to him. The way Otabek looks away and lets out a small, shuddering breath forces Yuri to believe it. “Yuri, I-” “You know what, I don’t wanna hear it,” Yuri spits out, swallowing tears. His chest feels uncomfortably tight and his lungs are heavy, and he’s barely holding himself together. It feels like the sharp pieces of his heart were cutting him open, tearing his carefully crafted facade apart. “I don’t even want to be here.” “We should lea-” “I don’t want to see your face anymore. I- I can’t take it.” It being the tears gathered in the corners of Otabek’s eyes, and how looking at him makes Yuri still feel like he’s coming home; it being all the unopened text messages JJ has sent him in the last five minutes, full of honest apologies; it being his mind scolding him for being stupid and trusting someone, because when faced with a choice, no one would ever pick Yuri. Yuri kind of wants to kick the walls and yell at Otabek, maybe punch him hard once or twice - it’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it. In the back of his mind Yuri knows they need to talk this through, because if he leaves now his thoughts will eat him alive, Otabek will never get a chance to explain himself and things won’t get back to normal. So Yuri turns around, pretends he doesn’t hear Otabek calling his name when he leaves the club, and doesn’t even bother going back for his things before he gets on the next plane heading to Saint Petersburg.

----

Summer is rough. Getting used to the time difference between Almaty and Toronto takes a toll on Otabek, lack of sleep making the first weeks of practice in a new rink tougher than he had anticipated. However, it’s not the first time he has moved to the other side of the world, and luckily he’s still familiar with Toronto: falling back into the routine he followed years ago comes back to him quickly without him really noticing. He’s not going to admit it, but JJ’s presence makes settling in easier. It’s refreshing to share the rink with someone on the same skill level, and JJ’s brutal honesty helps him get better at things he’s lacking in his skating. The atmosphere in their practices is always warm, and even though Mr and Mrs Leroy are demanding with their coaching, they immediately accepted Otabek into their skating family. Otabek practices hard, because he feels the need to show major improvement in the upcoming season. He knows that on top of perfecting the technical elements in his programs, he needs to focus on how to express himself better on the ice. So Otabek practices hard, occupying his mind with skating: his programs, technique, proper execution, the pieces of music he’s skating to. Because whenever his concentration falters, everything reminds him of Yuri. When someone with blonde hair jogs past him during his daily morning run, the tempo of his heart picks up until his chest hurts and he has to stop because he can’t breathe; sometimes he forgets his music on shuffle, and when a song he used to listen to with Yuri comes up he paralyzes, the masochist side of him welcoming the memories that flood in; every now and then even getting on the ice is painful because the rink is supposed to feel like home, and whenever Otabek thinks about home, his thoughts still go straight to Yuri. He’s happy he still has music and DJ-ing, and whenever his thoughts drive him insane or things don’t go as planned in the rink, he puts on his headphones and works on new pieces. A friend of his who he met online years ago plays in different clubs around Toronto, and sometimes Otabek joins him. He’s not playing as often as he used to, but when he does, it clears his mind and helps him focus on the goals he has set for himself. Often when he goes out to play with his friend, someone in the club tries to talk to him or flirt with him, but he dodges the attempts. JJ always tells him to loosen up and bring someone home with him for a night or two, and every time JJ says that, Otabek gives him a bored stare as a reply. Letting someone close absolutely terrifies him - even if it was just for one night and only in the physical sense of the word. Otabek doesn’t admit it, but the only person he has ever been interested in is Yuri. JJ tried to ask him about Yuri when he first came to Canada, but Otabek ignored him coldly - not because he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, but because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. JJ hasn’t brought the topic up since. They barely even talk about other skaters, focusing on perfecting their own programs for the upcoming season, until the assignments for Grand Prix come in. The first event for both of them will be Skate Canada, and after that JJ will skate in China and Otabek will travel to Russia. “Wanna watch Skate America together?” JJ asks, not bothering to really read through who will skate in the same events as him. It’s just how JJ is: it doesn’t matter who he’s against, because he’s confident he won’t lose to them. “Sure,” Otabek mumbles. He watches JJ take off his blade guards and get on the ice, rolling his shoulders. They’re about to start their early morning practice, and Nathalie Leroy is sitting at the rinkside, a steaming hot cup of coffee next to her on the bench. “You think you’ll be okay?” JJ says, his tone almost soft, and Otabek frowns. He takes another look on the assignments, sighs and gives an annoyed look to his rinkmate. “I’ll be fine.” It’s not like he hasn’t seen Yuri’s face since they parted ways, because for some reason Yuri hasn’t blocked him on any social media platforms. Otabek doesn’t leave likes or comments under Yuri’s posts anymore, but he can’t make himself unfollow Yuri either. Overall Yuri updates his social media less frequently than he used to, and nowadays his Instagram pictures are strictly about skating and nothing else: video clips of him practicing his jumps (sometimes succeeding, sometimes falling and cursing loudly), gym selfies, shots promoting his official sponsors. Yuri even made it to gossip sites’ headlines when he caught a scandal a couple of months back (actually it’s not really a scandal, or even a big deal, but Yuri’s more than passionate fans like to go overboard). During the last days of June Yuri uploaded a picture with Viktor and Yuuri on Instagram, the caption stating he’s getting some extra training in Japan. Later that week someone spotted him in a local gay bar, and people went crazy. Otabek read every single stupid article written about the topic, but Yuri himself never commented on the subject. He didn’t update his social media for a week, and when he eventually did post something, his Angels were so delighted to hear from him again they didn’t ask questions. Everything summed up just made Otabek feel like Yuri didn’t just cut him off his life, but also decided to hide his real self from everyone. So seeing Yuri’s name on JJ’s laptop screen during the live stream of Skate America doesn’t make Otabek feel anything special. He’s doing just fine until the second warm-up group of men gets on the ice and the skaters are introduced to the audience. When it’s his turn, Yuri waves to his fans, but his expression stays serious. He has his hair tied up, and the gaze of his sharp eyes seems more piercing than ever before. “He looks a bit sick,” JJ says after a moment of silence, and Otabek agrees. Yuri looks pale compared to the other competitors, and although he has always been skinny, he looks almost fragile in his simple, full-black costume. “He’s probably just nervous,” Otabek says, trying to sound like he doesn’t care. JJ looks at him, and for once he says nothing. After a short moment he simply shrugs and turns his attention back to the laptop screen. Otabek lets out a silent, relieved sigh JJ doesn’t hear. Yuri skates third from the second group, and even though his music choice - an extract from Moonlight Sonata’s 3rd movement - is accompanied with powerful, fast-paced skating, he finishes his program with just a few small mistakes. Even JJ and Otabek are surprised at how well Yuri skates, maintaining his natural fragility without falling behind the intense music. Yuri looks exhausted when he gets off the ice, and he doesn’t smile even when he gets a high score. The audience is loud, but Otabek thinks he hears Yuri say “I can do better than that” before the stream leaves the Kiss and Cry and focuses on the next skater getting ready for his performance in the rink. When the men’s short program ends, Otabek pretends to be alright. He goes to practice with JJ and manages to land a difficult combination he’s been working on for a while. JJ invites him over for a game night, but Otabek declines the offer, telling JJ he’s been sleeping quite badly lately and wants to catch up on sleep. He’s not really lying, because he hasn’t slept well in months. Every night when Otabek goes to bed and closes his eyes, his thoughts of Yuri get louder than during the day. Otabek can’t push Yuri out of his head without distractions like skating and music, so he ends up hitting the nearby 24/7 gym at midnight or working on his laptop until he passes out an hour before his alarm goes off. Deep down Otabek knows he needs help, but a part of him is terrified of letting go. He still loves Yuri - has loved him unconditionally for years - and he’s painfully aware of how much he hurt him. Otabek made poor decisions and let his fears control his actions, and he thinks that’s why he deserves to suffer now. Yuri wins Skate America after skating a nearly-perfect free program on Schindler’s List, and Otabek is reminded of the moment he told Yuri he’d fit the song perfectly. They were laying in Yuri’s bed in Saint Petersburg, and Yuri laughed at the suggestion and said his skating isn’t yet emotional enough for the song. Yuri’s eyes look empty when he forces on a smile during the medal ceremony, and that’s when Otabek decides to talk to him when they’ll inevitably meet in Rostelecom Cup.

----

Otabek never gets a chance to act on his grand plan of pulling Yuri aside and saying something to him during Rostelecom Cup. In Skate Canada Otabek skated well enough to get on the podium, yet he feels the need to show everyone that changing coaching teams really helped him improve. Skating against the best Russian skaters on their home ice would be a terrifying experience to anyone, and on top of all that Otabek’s heart shatters once more when he sees Yuri in the first official practice. When Yuri gets on the ice, his black practice wear makes him look paler than he actually is. There are dark circles under his eyes but he nails his elements without showing any signs of exhaustion. Lilia seems to be lecturing him when he returns to the rinkside after a run-through of his short program, and Yuri has a look on his face that tells Otabek he’s doing everything but listening to her. Otabek catches himself thinking how he’s happy that Yuri hasn’t changed despite everything, when in reality he has changed. The changes in him are small and delicate, like how he avoids eye-contact with his coaches, or looks incredibly angry with himself when his quad turns into a triple near the end of the practice. There are shadows on his face, and because Otabek knows Yuri lives and breathes skating - it’s something that has saved him from self-destruction so many times - it hurts to watch how Yuri’s tense shoulders relax when he steps out of the rink and pulls on a black hoodie. In the end Yuri finishes second in Rostelecom, right behind a younger rinkmate of his. Otabek manages to climb to the fourth place, and although he’s not completely satisfied with his own performance, he qualifies for the final and that makes him determined. When Otabek returns to Canada he tries not to think about how he didn’t see Yuri smile once during the competition.

----

JJ makes it to the Grand Prix final as well, and Otabek is thoroughly relieved he won’t have to face Yuri alone (or, face the fact he simply doesn’t seem to exist to Yuri anymore). The competition is tough - something both of them already knew from the qualification rounds - and when JJ finishes third in the short program behind Yuri and his young rinkmate, he’s so pissed off Otabek ends up spending the night in his hotel room watching extremely boring romantic comedies with him. JJ doesn’t like romantic comedies, but whenever he has to sort through his thoughts, he puts on romantic comedies. Otabek thinks it’s a weird habit, but he’s not courageous enough to question a pissed off JJ. Also, it seems the terrible movies somehow channel his energy and make him skate better the next day (or make his opponents skate worse, depending on how you want to look at it). So Otabek isn’t surprised when Yuri’s young rinkmate has a disastrous free skate. He skates first, and maybe the pressure of the Grand Prix final gets to him on the worst possible moment. After all, he’s only sixteen, it’s his senior debut season, and he’s skating against Olympic medalists and World champions. Otabek feels bad for the boy, even when JJ reminds him that now they both have a chance to get on the podium. Otabek skates second from the group, and it takes his full concentration to shake off the negative energy the young Russian left in the rink. However, when his music starts, all he can hear are the notes, and his body follows the melody easily. The audience and the presence of the judges disappear, and for four minutes it’s just Otabek, the ice and the piece of music he has heard hundreds of times. He gets a season’s best and easily takes the bronze. JJ does his everything on the ice, but when Yuri finishes his program, it’s clear JJ has no chances for the gold. Otabek tries to cheer him up by telling him that it’s only the beginning of the season, and they have at least two major competitions ahead of them. By the time the medal ceremony starts JJ is back to his confident, joyful self. Otabek is already standing on the podium when he realizes who’s going to share it with him. It’s part of the etiquette that the medalists greet each other in good nature and pose together for press photos. Otabek is familiar with the procedure, but he didn’t think he’d stand a chance to even get on the podium, so he didn’t worry about it. He feels like someone had pushed him in icy water without a warning: his pulse picks up, his vision gets blurry, and for a second it’s hard to breathe. Then JJ is there, standing in front of him, and pulling him into a protocol-required hug. “Everything alright?” he asks, voice low and full of worry. Otabek can’t get anything out of his mouth, so he just nods and forces a small smile on his face. It’s obvious from the look JJ gives him that Otabek isn’t fooling him, but there’s nothing either of them can do about it. When they announce his name and Yuri gets on the ice, he looks captivating. He has let his hair down, and it looks like a halo around him under the bright spotlights. He flashes a short smile to the audience, and the sight of it tugs at Otabek’s heart, a painful hollowness spreading from his chest and taking over him when Yuri gets closer to the podium. Otabek can’t help holding his breath when Yuri hugs him. A familiar smell of hairspray, citrus-scented shampoo and Yuri wraps around him, and Otabek has to blink a couple of times to keep himself from crying. He wants to say something, but his body and mind won’t cooperate quickly enough. Yuri refuses to meet his eyes when they part, and Otabek notices how his hands shake when he goes over to JJ. They stand in thousands of photographs, uneasy smiles on their lips and tension in their shoulders; they’re close enough to touch, but they won’t. In reality Yuri is right there, but to Otabek he’s further away than he’s ever been. When Otabek gets back to his hotel room, he cries for the first time in months.

----

Two weeks before European Championships Yuri updates his Instagram with a video of him cleanly landing a triple axel - quad toe - triple toe combination. Otabek is in the middle of practice when the video goes up, yet he still doesn’t miss it. “Holy fuck!” JJ screeches from the other side of the rink, totally messing up Otabek’s rhythm. His quad turns into a double, and he barely saves the landing. He’s lucky JJ is busy staring at his phone and doesn’t see him struggling. JJ signals him closer, and when Otabek gets to the other end of the rink, JJ shoves his phone into Otabek’s hand without saying anything. The video is short, shot in the main rink of Sports Champions ice hall. The expression on Yuri’s face is concentrated as he leaps into the axel, then straight into the quad and triple toeloops, his aerial rotations as quick as always. On the same second he finishes the combination the video becomes shaky as Mila curses loudly in Russian from behind the camera, not able to contain her excitement. Otabek re-watches the video at least five times, and when Yuri lands the jump for the sixth time on JJ’s phone screen, JJ yanks the device away. “We’re doomed,” he says, closing the app. “We’re fucked if he lands that in Euros and then in Worlds. There’s like, no point in even trying to beat him anymore.” “He’s been working on that combination for a long time now,” Otabek reveals. JJ blinks, his brows shooting up in question. “He has?” “Over a year, I think. He used to have problems with getting all the rotations in,” Otabek says, his voice getting gradually quieter towards the end of his sentence. The memory of Yuri practicing the jump over and over again for hours until Otabek interfered and physically dragged him out of the rink burns in Otabek’s mind. The fact that it happened more than once hurts, mostly because Otabek suspects no one has really looked after Yuri in the past months (probably not even Yuri himself). Yuri lands the combination in Euros, and Otabek wins Four Continents (and when he and JJ stand on the podium next to each other, instead of being disappointed in himself for falling on his very last jump, JJ is beaming with pride).

----

When Otabek saw Yuri Plisetsky skate for the first time, he immediately understood what people meant when they told him figure skating isn’t just a sport, but also an art form. Even after years of watching Yuri on the ice, his skating still draws Otabek in and mesmerizes him: how he can look fragile during a choreographic sequence and then show immense strength right after, landing a combination of jumps flawlessly. Yuri never forgets to pay attention to the details in his programs, movement travelling through his body all the way to his fingertips. He makes every jump, every spin and every element requiring flexibility look effortless, and the way he moves on the ice is hypnotizing. Yet his eyes are always burning with determination: full of need to do better, to exceed everyone’s expectations and show his worth. For the first time in what feels like centuries Otabek meets those eyes during the men’s free program in World Championships. He’s supposed to get on the ice after Yuri, tune out the cheers and applause, and skate just like he did in Four Continents (and Otabek will do that, he knows he can do that - he’s proven himself many times this season, and he’s finally fully confident in himself, even if he has to skate right after the reigning World champion. The fight for the podium positions is ruthless, the top six almost tied in points after the short program, and although it makes the competition more exciting, Otabek would rather skate without all the added pressure.) Yuri spares a small smile to the audience that has gone wild, picking up a tiny tiger plushie on his way out of the rink. He straightens his back and instead of looking for his coach’s comforting, proud gaze, Yuri finds Otabek’s eyes. Otabek braces himself for ice-cold daggers and anger that spreads around his neck and chokes him, but what he sees is just emptiness swimming in specks of emerald. The moment lasts less than a second, Yuri looking away quickly. The usual toughness has found its way back in his eyes when he leaves the Kiss and Cry but stays behind, hiding in the shadows of the stands and watching Otabek skate a great program. Otabek is too focused on his own performance to notice him, and when he leaves the ice, Yuri has already disappeared. Otabek is exhausted when he finally gets off the ice, the weight of the season settling on his shoulders while he waits for his points. He hasn’t yet fully comprehended that it’s the World Championships and that he just finished his last official skate of the season, because when he thinks back on the months of training and competitions, he only seems to remember the sleepless nights, the hollowness of his chest, and how sorrow seeps into Yuri’s features every time he thinks no one is looking. It hurts to watch how Yuri struggles in front of everyone through the medal ceremony and gala practice, yet no one seems to notice: he’s present but still isn’t, somehow. The press ask for pictures and he gives them a smile that won’t reach his eyes, and he learns the ridiculously easy group number choreography without a single complaint (in fact, when Otabek really thinks about it, he’s not sure when was the last time he actually heard Yuri say anything). Otabek knows Yuri speaks through skating, conveys his feelings through it even when he hides behind a mask or a role, because that’s what he learned to do as a child. Yuri skates his exhibition number on Ciara’s cover of Paint It, Black, which is a very Yuri-like piece. It follows the same melancholic theme as his competition programs with graceful spins and beautifully flowing step sequences, but it’s full of raw emotions the others lack: anger, boldness, pain. Otabek has seen Yuri skate the program many times in the past season, and it never ceases to shake him to the core. Maybe because something in the program hits a bit too close to home (aggression, ice-cold eyes and Yuri’s serious expression that doesn’t change even after the music has stopped). Otabek won’t admit it, just like he won’t say aloud how much he still enjoys watching Yuri skate despite it filling his chest with longing that hurts more than anything else he has ever experienced. Otabek wants to think he has improved tremendously in a year, that he’s become stronger mentally and physically. He tries to convince himself that all the new personal bests, all the medals and podium positions mean he’s actually better off without Yuri. The thought ties a knot in his stomach and narrows his windpipe just enough to make him struggle, yet when they line up in front of a cheering audience at the end of the gala and out of the blue Yuri comes to stand next to him, Otabek feels like drowning instead of breathing freely. He freezes, terrified that his inner panic can be seen all over his face. “Can we talk after this?” The hall is loud, the audience screaming around them, and for a brief moment Otabek is sure he imagined Yuri talking to him. He glances at his side, and although Yuri isn’t looking at him, the question is written in his tense shoulders and empty eyes fixed on the faceless crowd. Otabek lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah.”

--

The sun is already setting when Otabek gets out of the ice hall’s back door, his leather jacket hardly keeping him warm against the chilly spring breeze. Yuri is already waiting for him, leaning against a safety railing surrounding the arena. He has pulled a black hoodie over his gala outfit, and the decorative glitter on the outer corners of his eyes glimmer in the orange light. It’s suddenly very, very silent around them. Otabek grew up in a home that was never quiet, and he learned to hate silences like this. He has at least a million things he wants to say, but nothing comes out; he can’t decide where he should start. “I’m sorry I just left back then.” “I don’t think you should be the one apologizing here.” Yuri lets out a short sigh that has a hint of amusement in it. “I totally agree. But let’s be real, me fleeing out of the fucking country was just a little bit overdramatic. I should’ve let you explain yourself.” “I think I would’ve reacted the exact same way,” Otabek says with a shrug. He sees from the corner of his eye how Yuri turns to look at him, but he’s too afraid to meet the questioning gaze. “I mean, what I did was just… a total dick move. Honestly, you had all the reasons to be angry.” “I was angry. I am angry.” “I don’t blame you for that,” Otabek says, his voice quieter than he wants. He gathers the remains of his courage and meets Yuri’s eyes, welcoming the familiarity of them. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about my plans of moving to Canada, and I’m sorry you had to find out about it like you did. There’s really no excuses for what I did, and I’m sorry I hurt you.” For some reason Otabek feels more exhausted than he did after his free skate last night. His heart is hammering painfully against his chest, and the slight, almost sad frown on Yuri’s face makes him feel worse. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri’s voice is now quiet too, but there are no sharp edges in his words. “I was afraid you’d leave me,” Otabek says. It’s what he told Yuri months ago when he asked the same question for the first time, and it’s the truth. “But I did leave you.” “Yeah, you did.” It’s Yuri who looks away first, biting the inside of his lip. He doesn’t say anything for a long time and Otabek doesn’t want to pressure him, not even when he draws in a shuddering breath and wipes a lone tear on the sleeve of his hoodie, visibly annoyed with himself. “You know, I said I was angry, but most of the time I wasn’t sure was I angry at you or at myself for thinking I actually meant something to someone. I was really hurt because I felt like I wasn’t enough, just like I wasn’t enough for Viktor and my parents. And I kinda pushed everyone away and put my walls up, until…” Otabek watches determination setting in Yuri’s eyes as he fights against tears, his hands curled into fists. He looks more pissed off than anything else, muttering a frustrated curse under his breath, and Otabek wants to pull him against his chest and tell him it’s okay to cry. But he doesn’t do that because he knows Yuri hates showing weakness in front of anyone, and especially in front of him. “Until, after GPF, grandpa was diagnosed with cancer. It’s not super aggressive or anything, but he’s not that young anymore.” “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Otabek says, worry in his tone. He takes a step closer, his fingertips brushing against the back of Yuri’s hand before he stops himself. He knows Yuri notices the brief touch when a sad, almost tired smile visits his lips. He keeps his eyes forward, careful not to look at Otabek, and when he pulls up the hood of his shirt and slips his hands into its pockets to shield himself from the wind (from the cold, from Otabek’s sharp eyes, from the world), he looks a lot younger than he is. “He’s doing better for now, but he’s not getting any younger for sure. When he got the diagnosis, I was ready to skip Euros and move to Moscow to be with him, but he told me he’d be happier to see me skate, because that makes me happy. So I stayed in Saint Petersburg and did nothing but skate and think about you.” Suddenly it feels like they’re 15 and 18 again, standing on a terrace in Park Guell, still learning how to trust someone. They’re as broken, as lost and misunderstood like they were when they met, fighting through each day. Otabek wants to think some things have changed since then - that now they at least have each other - but the truth is they’ve been both fraying at the edges because of each other. Back then Yuri learned to trust a person who saw past his carefully crafted facades and considered them equal, and Otabek learned to trust a person who wanted to learn more about him and was undeterred by his stoic appearance. The bond they built between them was something unique, standing on a foundation of unconditional, mutual love, and losing that made it hard for both of them to hold themselves together. “Why me?” Otabek asks, hiding his surprise under an amused tone. “What grandpa said made me realize how important it is to have happiness in your life. And I just kept thinking how fucking happy I was because of you, how my life got so much more enjoyable after I met you. And then I threw all that away over something so trivial, letting my anger drive me like I was a damn teenager.” Yuri shakes his head in disbelief, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m an idiot.” “We both are,” Otabek states, although he wants to add he doesn’t think it’s stupid of Yuri to fall back into behavior he used so he’d survive his teenage years filled with high expectations and belittlement. It’s definitely not stupid of Yuri to act like a child every now and then, because he never got a proper childhood. “Touché.” “Yuri, I…,” Otabek starts, trying to hide the waver in his voice. Yuri’s name feels foreign on his tongue, like he was saying it for the very first time, and even though Yuri notices this, he lets Otabek gather himself without saying anything. Their eyes meet, and instead of freezing cold emptiness, Otabek sees warmth in the midst of green and blue. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I was an asshole, but I hope you can accept my apology some day. And if… if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start over.” “What are you planning to do? Save me heroically from my crazy fans or come to Yakov’s summer camp and stalk me?” Otabek hears rather than sees the laughter in Yuri’s voice, it making a smirk climb on his lips. The amusement in Yuri’s features makes Otabek’s chest tighten, and it’s a pleasant feeling. It feels comforting and familiar, like coming home after a long day. “Maybe I’ll invite you to skate with me in my home rink this summer. As a friend, not as a bitter silver medalist who swears to take your title next year,” Otabek says with a joking tone, watching how challenge sparks in Yuri’s eyes. He’s only half-serious, but he can’t deny how excited he gets from the look Yuri gives to him: excited for summer, excited for the next season, excited for them. He offers his hand to Yuri who ignores it, hugging Otabek instead. It’s sudden, and Otabek’s body reacts before his mind does: he wraps his arms tightly around Yuri, remembering all the quick, icy and awkward hugs they’ve shared during medal ceremonies in the past months. He welcomes the scent of citrus shampoo and pulls Yuri closer when he hides his tears into Otabek’s leather jacket. “You can take it. If I can just be with you, I’ll be happy.”

------

The pieces of music mentioned in this story: Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, 3rd Movement Theme from Schindler's List and Yulia Lipnitskaya's beautiful program to it that 100% inspired me Paint It, Black by Ciara

[bloodriver-king]

Finally got my darling Dobie done by my sweet friend Dantes! I am so stoked about this piece!

Viktor Richter

Species: blue and tan doberman

Age: 35

Heigth: 6'2"

Description: Broad shouldered. Well muscled. Althletic. A ridge of white hair on his head between his ears, it falls into his eyes a little. Two diffrent colored eyes. One a golden brown, the other an ice blue. Several long scars cover his snout. One of his ears is tattered and has a hole blown through it from a bullet wound. Under his clothes, he has several nasty scars from knife wounds when a close combat fight went south.

Bio: Viktors family migrated from Germany in the early part of the ninteen hundreds. He was born on July 17, 1911, in brooklyn heigths. Orphaned as a young child of about 8 when he lost his parents to a robbery gone bad. They were killed infront of him. He then lived with his aunt. Frequently ran away in persuit of the killer. Eventually his luck and attempts at tracking paid off, he found him when he was 17. Shooting him dead in an alley with his fathers pistol.

The police caught him and took him in. He explained what happened to them and the cheif instead took intrest.

Putting him on a sort of "probation" period, he had him apprentice to a lead detective at the time. An old grouchy tiger named Grey.

Learning from him, he developed his skills quickly. Becoming a detectective at the early age of 21. Having worked for the police force for several years before he was drafted early for his knowledge of the german language in 1940.

There he trained and became an Airborn ranger. Held in high reguard for his lack of fear and great command of those around him, he was promoted to Captain of his unit. Though on June 6, 1944, thing didnt go as planned. His unit deployed ahead of the invasion of Normandy, in the early morning. Their plane was shot down and they had to jump anywhere.

Many of his men were killed in the air or became scattered in the night. He landed in a small village town ahead of the beaches in Saint-Côme-de-Fresné.

The town was a nazi staging point, and he was lucky enough to land in an isolated field, landing hard however. Cutting his parachute away he staggered to find a place to hide. He was shot in the side by a stray bullet. Clutching it, he hid in a barn to treat it. All the while taking note of the soldiers that were suddenly alerted to the empty parachute in the field.

He hid well, for a few hours. The sun was slowly begining to turn the sky blue. Getting his wound stable and his energy back, he slipped out with nothing more then his knife in hand. Despite his wound he still had a mission to do. And he did it. Taking out the soldiers one by one in the village, well into the next day. He had them spooked and confused as their numbers dwindled and he was no where to be seen.

From a church bell tower, he eventually saw the ships along the ocean. Though his wound was only getting worse from his strain through the day of clearing the village.

He eventually wondered out, of the village, trying to search for his unit, or any others that made it out. Eventually finding his way into a small forest, his luck turned his way as usual. He came across a medical unit that was shot down. Several of the combat medics and one of the nurses were there. Falling in line with them they treated him back onto his feet while they waited for the army to make it past the beach.

When the army eventually made it through the beaches. Viktor lead the medics through a few small villages. Taking more germans down as they went. Eventually making it back to the bulk of the main army with trial and blood.

He served out the rest of his career untill the war came to a close. Shiping back to New York, he was suprised that he was being shipped back with one of the very nurses that he helped through the war field. A young beautiful cow with a fiery additude and a terrifying dead eye shot.

Overseas he took up his chain smoking habit to help him calm and cope with his anxiety.

He used to enjoy baseball back home, listening to the radio he always had a few shows he loved to listen to.

A simple cup of coffee and the paper were relaxing moments to him. That turned into a cup of whiskey at night to silence his mind to let him sleep.

He also picked up a love for comics that just started to be released as well, at the begining of the war.

[beshka-yuratcha]

Victuuri Mermaid AU ch. 2

(I don’t have a title for this yet feel free to suggest one)

Splashes was what woke Viktor from his sleep. Three splashes big enough to wake him but small enough that at first it didn’t register as a threat until the trio discovered him. Before he could fight back he was being dragged out of the water by one and being nosed at by the others. Sea Dragons, young ones, babies really, he realized as he caught sight of the one who had his tail. They already had sharp teeth and claws for being so young and small. The size of a large dog they were all different colors; one had bubblegum pink scales, one had violet scales and the third had cornflower blue scales. Teeth sharp enough to puncture through his own scales and claws that tore his fins as he was poked at prodded at bu snouts, tails and paws. They were young and not very careful with their claws and teeth hurting him as they dragged him up to the surface so they could get a better look at him. He let out a keen of distress frightened and hurting from his rough treatment by these little creatures. Where was Yuuri? Did he know these little Sea Dragons? Did he send them? No they didn’t seem to know he was there till after they jumped in. Most likely they saw the pool and jumped in discovered him and got curious. These girls were too young to go out into the sea very far and especially without their clan. They would only be allowed out so far and their parents would be with them at all times as would the rest of their clan safety in numbers for such little beings. These guys would practice swimming on land somewhere safe and secluded and not very deep such as the pool Viktor was in. They probably often swam here and didn’t realize their pool had been closed off due to Yuuri placing him in here. 

Viktor let out more screeches and cries of distress and anger and pain at being dragged out of the water and onto dry ground. He was pulled roughly away from his pool and dropped the trio of dragonlings who proceeded to explore every inch of him. He knew how to speak human languages at least a few of them anyways but he was in far to much distress to think clearly. While his species primarily spoke through a series of clicks, whistles and other noises like croons and keens they could also speak mind to mind which was great for more detailed or in depth conversations. They also sometimes spoke out loud as not all species of sirens or mer or even other creatures could understand them. He wasn’t sure if these little dragons could understand his human speech probably they were rumored to be intelligent but they were young and their parents and clan most likely spoke to them primarily in their own language. They most certainly didn’t understand the noises he was making. He was too far from his pool to get back to the safety of the water where he could move easier. He was already weak from his other injuries from his capture in the net but added on the new ones he had received from the careless treatment by the dragonlings he was in no shape to even try fighting them off on land barely able to move let alone try whipping his tail at them or use his claws. That would probably also grab the attention of their parents who would then go after him for hurting the babies. Instead he focused his attention on another pool that was closer. It was smaller and shallower then his but despite the rock ledge surrounding it he could probably make it over and into the water. 

More or less dragging himself along with his arms he used his tail to bat the dragons away from him still making those consistently loud noises. He was in too much of a panic to notice the steam coming off the water or notice how the dragonlings were making their own distressed noises or how they tried to herd him away from the other pool. One tried grabbing his tail and hauling him back but got slapped by the fin for her trouble. It was only after he finally manged to slide into the water did he realize his mistake. This pool was way to hot for him. The water was also not slat water which didn’t make much of a difference as his kind could survive in fresh water but the temperature was way to high for him. It burned him and sapped the strength from him causing him to give another much louder sobbing cry of pain curling up in on himself as he slide under the water’s surface far to weak by then to pull himself back out. The trio gathered around the pools edge roaring the loudest they could calling for help jumping and climbing all around the edge every now and then diving in to try and get him out themselves only to scurry out of the water quickly for it was too hot even for them. Their scales were soft still in most places making them susceptible to extreme temperature fluctuations.  A loud roar filled the air and a giant adult dragon flew over head his scales ranging in shades of blue starting out as a pale blue and darkening as they moved down his body so while his silver white crest that ran down his back was surrounded by light blue scales his belly and paws were black as was the tip of his tail. His belly though was more of a mix of dark blue and black with some purple mixed in. Viktor could make him out in surprising clarity from his curled up position under the water and couldn’t help but think him to be gorgeous, beautiful even.  There was a human word that seemed to suit this dragon perfectly. Eros. 

Eros dropped down swiftly out of the sky sliver claws breaching the water and circling around him gently encircling him within them. He had been in these claws before he realized. This was the dragon who had pulled him out of the ship who had cut him free of the net with great care. Eros was the dragon who had saved him who had brought him to the sweet, lovely, kind, Yuuri who fed him and cared for him. Now Eros was saving him again pulling him free from the hot waters and gently lowering him back into the much cooler waters of his pool. Viktor gave a whimper clutching weakly at Eros’s claws not wanting him to leave. Eros settled himself in the water curling his long tail around the with of the pool his limbs tucked half under him as he coiled around the siren, lounging much like a cat would, in the water. He lowered his head giving a soft but deep gentle croon that he remembered from his rescue. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown with cat eyed pupils.  His wings or at least one stretched out over the water while the other was tucked against his side. His body was long and sleek like many traditional Asian dragons but he had wings small but definitely wings with thin see through fin like membrane stretched along the ribbed frame. Probably had those from a distant ancestor who had wings but now they were more suited for gliding through water. He had horns on the back of his head thin but solid that pointed and curved slightly over the back of his neck. His face and head had a frill of fins and scales jutting around the back edges along his cheeks. His paws had webbing below the claws and upon closer inspection his crest was alot like a fin. This was a dragon made for the water. 

The trio of dragonlings looked much like smaller miniature versions of the adult minus the wings and smaller bodies that were chunkier. They had rounder fins too unlike his pointed ones. They scrambled over Eros’s back to get a better look at him make a series of noises amongst themselves. Eros turned his head and gave a puff of steam at them. Steam not smoke. Most Sea Dragons breathed boiling hot water not fire. Ingesting water and using their internal body heat to boil it and shoot it out of their mouths. Each dragonling gave a small shriek bobbing up and down along his back ducking away from the steam although the steam was not hot enough to hurt them. Tiny trendals of steam escaping their nostrils and snouts. They were too little to really breath steam and could only maybe shoot warm to mildly hot water. Eros appeared to be scolding the girls who settled down after a bit still watching with fascination as Viktor slowly recovered from his ordeal. Eros turned his attention back to the siren speaking to him in the way of Viktors species, mind to mind. “I apologise for their bad behavior they did not realize you were in their pool and let their curiosity get the best of them. They are young and full of energy and wonder about the world. You are the first of your kind they have seen and wanted a better look. Axel, Loop, Lutz tell him you’re sorry.” Eros spoke at first to him before turning back to the little ones. “We are sorry Merman-san.” The trio chorused clustering together to try and get closer to him without frightening him or getting warned back by Eros. Viktor nodded his head too stunned and confused to do anything else.His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings.“Eros...Are they yours?”  Viktor asks feeling the desperate need to know if this handsome dragon was mated or not. The girls let out a series of shrill whistles and gruff grunts that sounded like laughter to him. 

“Eros?!” Embarrassment, shock, amusement and a little bit of pleasure at the name he had been given by the siren showed in the dragons eyes.  Viktor blushed his tail swishing fidgeting. “It seems to suit you... so....” He trailed off unsure. Eros shook his head slightly as if to clear it nuzzling Viktor gently with his snout. “To answer your question no the girls are not mine they are the daughters of my childhood friend Yuuko.” Eros explains and as if summoned by the mention of her name a smaller female pearly white dragon with a pink and red crest landed outside the pool calling rather loudly for her children who all scrambled over to her splashing gleefully through the water. Viktor could just picture what they were telling their mother judging from the sounds they made and how they kept turning to look at him or point a claw at him. Yuuko seemed to sigh before shrinking in size changing into her human form. Her skin covered in patches of scales and her eyes still dragon like, her hands still had claws and while she was clothed her feet were bare. The girls followed their mothers lead turning into small human children with scales and claws. “I’m so sorry for what my girls did to you. They can be quite the clawfuls at times.“ Yuuko bows to him in apology. Eros climbed out of the water not bothering to shake himself off as he too reverted to human form. He looked alot like Yuuri but his skin was of course covered in scales and he had on a black and silver outfit. His hair was slicked back and he ran a clawed hand through it talking rapidly to Yuuko in another human language mixed with little noises that could only be made by a dragon. “I already had them apologize to him once but he needs to rest now and probably to eat. He has a fever and is weak so the girls can not go swimming in the pool right now. Maybe later on depending on how he heals.” “I’ll get you some fish too eat and some slave for your wounds Merman-san.” Yuuko bows again herding her children away yelling and scolding them for their actions as they cried and complained to her. “Viktor.”  He says softly repeating it in the human language they had spoken to him earlier in. “Viktor.” Eros repeats smiling fondly the name rolling off his tongue. “Viktor.”

[itsclydebitches]

Preacher Review: Viktor

A.K.A. “It’s Game of Thrones”

Sorry for the nearly 24 hour lateness of this review, folks. We’ll jump right in with my most humble apologies.  

Episode four has two major themes arcing through it: the old-school ‘people are the real monsters’ and a newer, optimistic take on how technology (specifically television) can solve almost any problem. I’ll be touching on both throughout.

We begin with Tulip though, still surrounded by men in that laundry mat, ominously telling Viktor that they’ve succeeded in locating her. We’re given close ups of Tulip handing over her gun and smooshed between two of the thugs in the car, both of which amp up the dangerous, claustrophobic feeling for Tulip and viewer alike. The tension started last week with Tulip methodically putting coin after coin into the machine—delaying the inevitable, sending a message that she’ll go when she’s ready—and these feelings are amplified when she doesn’t even bother to take the smokes with her. Oh well. Someone else’s gain I suppose.

There’s a time jump as Jesse finds Dennis’ place the next morning, which is notable due to its ordinariness. This is specifically not the time lapse we’ve come to associate with supernatural characters (Fiore waiting for the bus, the Saint catching up with the trio). All Jesse gets is a simple cut, despite Genesis riding shotgun next to his soul. It’s a nice, cinematic touch that tells us Jesse remains more Human than Other.

Jesse certainly thinks so. He emphasizes to Cass that there was a woman—no, not like that—who was in trouble, “so I helped her.” When Cass isn’t impressed with Jesse’s bragging he drops it fast enough, launching into an explanation for how staying out so late without contact is “typical for Tulip,” especially when they’re fighting. This sets up the conflict between Cass and Jesse in this episode and it’s one that we can easily see both sides of. Jesse is (rightly) reading the situation through his long intimacy with Tulip while Cass is (also rightly) basing his interpretation off of what he thinks Tulip currently needs. In short, misunderstandings on both sides waste a whole lot of time.

And for once Tulip might actually need the assistance. She squirms in Viktor’s office, and though Tulip employs her impressive acting skills later while sobbing and insisting how sorry she is for leaving, the viewer is left with the distinct impression that these first set of nerves are real. Plus who wouldn’t be squirming with screams and a buzz saw sounding in the next room?

Cass sends a heartfelt “are u ok?” but Tulip doesn’t have time to answer. The texts will grow more and more frantic as the episode continues, coming to a head in what proves to be a wonderfully shocking final scene…

But we’ll get to that.

For now Eugene is still in hell and oh boy, I still have Thoughts about this plot-line. The Worst Memory machine is currently malfunctioning in Eugene’s block (is he somehow the cause?) and it gives the writers the chance to do the exact thing I had prayed they wouldn’t do:

Humanize Hitler.

Here’s the thing, they’ve just introduced a whole new cast of characters, so go ahead and humanize the soft-spoken Romani! Or the Native American in the background! Literally anyone other than the genocidal maniac whose atrocities are still very much a part of our present. This is hell, no one is going to be “good,” but that doesn’t mean you try to redeem the one possible character who is, as an icon, entirely irredeemable. But oh, does the show try.

Hitler is a skinny, soft-spoken man who immediately positions himself as Eugene’s defender. He takes Eugene under his wing (explaining a little about how the Machines works) and invites him into his own worst memory in Munich, 1919 when Eugene gets locked out of his cell. There we see that Hitler most regrets a time when he was trying to woo a pretty girl (and failing), was embarrassed by a Jewish man, is incredibly hesitant about labeling anyone as “vermin” worthy of extinction, and is nervous about showing his art to a gallery owner. This Hitler is later horrified to see his own salute and just wants a crossword puzzle to do. As one of the other prisoners asks, “What happened to you?” Provided he isn’t faking (Eugene’s “Are you still... bad?”) we’re presented with a ‘redeemed’ Hitler that is not only insulting, but beyond implausible. Who grows a conscious in a hell that actively encourages you to be your worst? “Act accordingly.” How does Hitler grow a conscious there? Admittedly we didn’t get to see the entirety of his memory, but as it stands the show pulls out all the idiotic evidence that’s used to try and lessen Hitler’s actions. He loved his dogs! He could have been a painter! So what? Jake, help me out here.

Thank you.

By the time Hitler is being beaten up we’re supposed to feel mighty bad for him. I don’t. What’s more interesting though is Eugene’s self-preservation. In some ways I think this is a little out of character—he’s spent a whole season actively putting himself in harms way while trying to get back in the town’s good graces—but perhaps the idea of the hole is too much for him. Regardless, Eugene re-starts the kicking of a broken and bleeding Hitler in order to save his own skin, emphasizing that hell is only as awful as the people who make it up. We’re seeing more and more how there’s very little mystical about these other worlds. Hell isn’t scary because it’s some supernatural torture-fest, it’s scary because it’s made up of people in power encouraging others to act at their worst. It’s scary because it’s a reflection of how bad humans can be—“no one had any idea the numbers we’d be getting.” Even ‘good boys’ like Eugene aren’t safe from that influence.

It’s exactly like Earth.

But you know what? I actually have a theory here, one that would explain away all of Hitler’s inconsistencies, get the writers (somewhat) off the hook, and come back to haunt Eugene later: what if that’s not actually Hitler? What if that’s just some guy pretending to be Hitler to keep himself safe? Protection based on others’ fear and respect? It would be a good twist.

I’m holding on to that. Tightly.

Meanwhile, we segue into our second theme with Cass playing couch potato and consuming the most hilariously over-the-top infomercial, which is hilarious because of how accurate it is. Flooded houses, shot of a sad dog (because we all know people care more about the dogs than the humans…), and a black woman eating out of the trash. I’ve literally seen commercials structured exactly like this. But the whole point is not a commentary on the commercial industry itself (though there’s definitely some of that), but rather it gives Cass the chance to spot fake!God on TV, just like how he spotted Fiore two episodes back. Noticing a pattern? It’s pretty on the nose: watching TV is a good thing! Watching TV will give you leads in your case! It’s the answer to your questions and the solution to your problems! The fact that Cass later claims to be representing Game of Thrones—the other ultra-violent adaptation airing this month—and succeeds in getting the information they need just reinforces this message that television is an all around excellent tool, that you should totally keep watching, especially at 9:00 on Monday nights. 

I see what you’re doing, Preacher. Although as someone who studies television, I do also agree lol.

Television (or rather, tapes) help them again as we get to see fake!God auditioning for his part, working through many of the lines he tried out last season, and ultimately getting shot when he accepts the job (an excellent touch). It’s after this that Cass can’t take it anymore, finally getting straight with Jesse about the fact that Tulip is missing.

Ah Tulip. This was set up very well. “I made you a part of my family.” Oh, so Viktor is acting all mob boss like, it’s that kind of ‘family.’ Why does Tulip have free reign in this house if she’s a prisoner? Eh, probably just a mistake on the writer’s part. That little girl was awfully mad, but that’s normal for a child of someone like Viktor. Why did Tulip threaten to kill Viktor instead of just escaping? Well, she needs to make sure he doesn’t come after her again. And remember back to the almost-wedding? Tulip just had bigger things on her mind than marrying Jesse. Right?

Nope, nope, nope, nope and nope. Everything falls into place when Tulip announces that Viktor is her husband, a twist I personally never saw coming. She’s literally family, this is presumably her house, that little girl is her step-daughter, they obviously have a relationship, and Tulip can’t marry Jesse if she’s already got a husband. That “let me go” line takes on a whole deeper meaning by the end of the episode. Things just got way more complicated, which is exactly what the trio doesn’t need with the Saint back on their trail, and Jesse is beyond pissed. Anyone else notice how he chokes Viktor harder after Tulip’s admission?

My biggest question though:

Was the baby Tulip lost Jesse’s … or Viktor’s?

We’ll have to wait to find out. 

Thanks, friends <3

Other Minor Things Worth Noting 

Dennis’ kitchen looks remarkably like the kitchen back at the church: same drab, brown coloring; slightly grimy surfaces; a single window with sun shining through that Cass needs to avoid. It’s a part of Preacher’s aesthetic—these characters don’t belong in fancy places—but it was also a lovely, nostalgic touch.

We get another angry spew of French from Dennis. “It’s French,” Cass says. Yes. Yes it is. Okay. Who’s taking bets on whether Dennis will try to kill Cass before this is all over?

Jesse tells the conspiracy theory loving, “this is probably the Terminator,” “I swear I saved you from government clones” vampire that he’s discovered a secret organization. God bless.

Love the distorted voice of the Superintendent. A creepy touch to this otherwise bureaucratic depiction of hell.

Why hasn’t Eugene questioned why he’s in hell yet? Did he actually meet Jesse in the church that one time? Are the hallucinations Jesse had last season the real Eugene? If they weren’t, isn’t Eugene wondering when and how he died? Or does he just accept all this given his guilt over Traci? The facts here are all rather muddled…

Very nice long-shot of Tulip coming up those steps. She looks incredibly small in that massive, ostentatious house.

An epic fight to “Uptown Girl’ with severed arms and a fire hose used as weapons? Yes please.

We’ve finally got “arseface” into this canon! Or rather, “assface.” I wonder if Eugene will claim this name like he did back in the comics.

[scenarios-on-ice]

Yeah, I definitely get why you chose Hange ^^ I just thought Zeke would make a much more terrifying villain. Like, you think he’d stop at antique photos? Hell no. He’d steal everyone’s antique items and stash them in his bedroom.

Then he’d steal an antique broom holder from Levi and get completely wrecked.

Lafayette’s son was named George Washington de La Fayette :) and Lafayette and Washington were really close. I don’t remember the exact quote but apparently Washington once said something along the lines of “Treat him as if he were my own son” about Lafayette.

But on the topic of Washington and father-son relationships…

I was reading Ham’s biography and apparently Hamilton and Washington weren’t really that close. Washington definitely trusted Hamilton and recognized how skilled he was, while Hamilton held Washington in high regard, but their relationship was based more on mutual respect and admiration than on any realy emotional bond. There was also the fact that Hamilton’s personality made him restless as a follower working under someone else, even if that someone else was Washington.

I got too used to their bond in the musical ;-; history has no right to have its eyes on me when it’s disappointing me so badly (but wait Evans who said history had its eyes on you in the first place you’re a loser remember)

I imagine Furuta as Jake and Urie as the MC. Urie’s expressions would be perfect.

Btw, I was playing around on Youtube and found some Yuri on Ice AMVs- one of Burn, with Yuuri as Eliza and Viktor as Alex, and one of Congratulations with Yurio as Angelica (Yurio’s expressions fit surprisingly well with the song). Plus a whole bunch of Hamilton-YoI crack videos.

That sounds terrifying (I’m only half joking here). I hope you’ll be ok! *hugs*

I HATH RISSEN FROM THE DEAD! 

True, Zeke would just steal everything from people’s houses. He’d be that person who’d never get invited to parties, since everyone would be afraid of stuff going missing.  He’d probably sneak in and steal everything, just because they didn’t invite him.

Levi would kick his ass for it. One does not simply steal from Levi. Especially if it’s something antique and related to cleaning. 

Aww, that’s so adorable! New brotp activate! Washington jr. must’ve been an adorable kid! Well, Washington senior was probably an adorable kid as well, before he became Washingdad. Also Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette This is what I got after going to wikipedia for Lafayette.

 That’s kinda sad… I mean, the musical made me think of them as quite close.  Also, I just read through the wikipedia about Hamilton basically betraying Lafayette and I’m more or less like this right now:

Hamilton was an asshole. 

Urie would be done with Furuta on so many levels. I wouldn’t be surprised if he jumped out of the window at that point. 

Do you have links? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I had 2 dreams related to Hamilton this week! And in both of them, my first reaction was ‘can’t wait to tell Evans about this!’.

In the first one, there were a few people (Not the original cast, just some random people) on one of Zagreb’s squares performing Hamilton and they were pretty good! It was only Act 1 and It’s Quiet Uptown, and I missed my bus because I stayed and watched them hahah But I wasn’t upset, since Hamilton>Being home on time.  For some reason, my history teacher was there and he was like ‘yes, this is a good opportunity to learn, you better pay attention, Luna’ and my reaction was ‘bitch, I know 80% of the lyrics to this, wtf’

And in the second one, my school decided to make a Ham musical, with different cast for every song and I was Ham for ‘Meet me inside’ with one of my friends as Washingdad. My role was mostly sitting there, pouting with my arms crossed and going ‘don’t call me son’, but I think I switched it for ‘you’re not my dad’ at one point… But I do know that I though ‘hey, I should have someone film this, so I can show it to Evans’, bc I was so proud to be cast as our favourite asshole. 

Also, holy shit this week. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna rant here a bit (a lot), since I wanna vent.

Right, so my biggest problem was yesterday night/this morning.  But the girl I ‘got’ wasn’t the nicest either, since we usually had to go home a bit earlier than everyone else (my mom’s very strict with curfews) and she badmouthed me to everyone for it, even though I told her nicely ‘hey, I’m sorry, but we can’t stay later than 22:30′. 

Yesterday, though, we went out to a club, since it was the last night and it was chaotic (Good, but chaotic). First, we almost didn’t even manage to get the Dutch kids in the club, since they look more 13 than 16. But we managed, since  we convinced the bartender that all the Croatian kids are over 18. I had to pretend to be Dutch since I definitely don’t look near 18, even though I’m turning 17 in 18 days ;-; Then, we found out that one guy brought weed with him, so some people decided it’s be a good idea to go smoke it! But not only did they get stoned, they also got wasted, because one of the girls is 18, so she bought them really strong drinks.  Somehow, I’m the only person out of the 20 of us who doesn’t drink (a I’m underage, b I don’t like how alcohol tastes), so everyone decided that Luna would be responsible that night. And I’m like ‘sure’, because I knew that most Croatian people would get tipsy, but not really drunk. However, I’m the only one who could truly be considered sober. Since I usually don’t go to clubs (this was actually my first time, hooray!), it was all really awkward for me, and I sat in the corner most of the night and drank my cola.  And at one point, around 1:30am, a guy came up to me and started hitting on me. Now that I think about it, I’m kinda flattered, but at that point, I was grumpy and I wanted to sleep, so I just turned to him (with the biggest resting bitch face, might I add) and went ‘fuck off’. I’ve never seen anyone look so offended in my life. I’m aware of how rude it was, and I kinda feel embarrassed about it now ;-; But the whole point of the thing is that I felt like I was on the party from ‘The One Thing…’, since we had 11 people who were absolutely wasted and I feel like they might’ve started shouting ‘FUCK DA POLICE’ had someone said ‘something something Police’.

I am done with the rant, thank you for your patience.