#otayuri AU

[leiandroid]

YEEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWWWWW !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is all @weeheilandcoo's fault she's the one spreading this illness

[easternlonging]

"i want wolfstar figure skating au" yurio and otabek from yuri on ice already exist girl...

[lou-is-lurking]

“Wait,” Yuri frowned as he followed Otabek down the hall, “Who actually signs your report cards if your parents aren't around?”

If he were in Otabek's shoes he sure as fuck wouldn't be thrilled having to show that report card to anyone, but somebody had to sign it, right? Did he mail it to them? Did he get an extended deadline?

Otabek gave him a look as if the question was somehow funny.

“I do.”

Yuri was so taken aback he abruptly paused in his steps, soles squeaking on the floor.

“What? Really?”

Otabek slowed down as well, glancing back at Yuri, the amusement on his face growing more pronounced.

“Don't think they've seen any of my report cards since 8th grade.”

He shrugged, as if this was just one of those things. Just Otabek things. Yuri still thought he was probably messing with him.

“Okay. But that's definitely illegal.”

Otabek moved lightening quick and all of a sudden Yuri's back collided with the wall, his entire vision filled with a scowling Otabek.

“You gonna squeal on me, Plisetsky?”

[capsensislagamoprh]

Yuuri slept. It was a simple sleep, filled with the thoughts of cold and shink of skates. It danced in his head and let him breathe in gulps of wonderful things. He could sense a tune playing. In his dreams he chased the notes, dancing along the winter scene, laughing, reaching, playing a game of catch me with something that glimmers just out of reach.

He stopped as the world opened up from the ice of the rink to the ice of a lake, lumpy at the edges with sticks and bits of rock, a river flowing towards it feeding the mirror of its surface. The lake was huge, and in the distance someone twirled like a music box ballerina. It was graceful and elegant. He wanted to do that. Eyes wide, he beamed, clapping his hands. Yōsei! A beautiful yōsei was angling towards the ice, hand never touching as it teased the snow from its blades into a swirling arch about its body, twizzling into an arch that lead into a double… a backwards double. This was backwards. Yuuri was confused.

He tilted his head, trying to understand, only for the world to tilt with him. He slipped thrugh the ice, standing on the other side. Through it he could see the yōsei dancing forward now, but it was no longer beautiful. It terrified him. The face was carved ice, translucent without letting him see what lay beyond. Was there anything beyond? There must be, he could see it smile. The teeth were razors, pointed and fanged. It's every breath froze the air, the silver that was its hair made of frost. Even its clothes were mere frost feathers. Only the blades were real, and those were made of the purest cutting edge.

Looking around, Yuuri tried to figure out where he was, why he was thrugh the ice. It had to be a dream. This was the only thing that made sense. Slipping on the silver, Yuuri fixed his stance, careful not to use his toe pick to much, afraid to crack the mirror. As he slid into the shadows, his found the darkness full of nothing.

"Ahi!" he cried, waving his hands as he felt himself stumble. It would be good to have some light. Suddenly illumination began, steady and soft, radiating from his skin. Yuuri spent a good deal of time staring at his hands, trying to figure out what just happened before he remembered he was in a dream. Dreams were not limiting. Raising his head, he tried to see what had tripped him.

A claw was sticking out of the darkness that was the sky. A sky he was skating on. Turning to look from where he'd come, he saw that every strike of his blade had left a little trail of clouds. Trying to touch them, he pushed forward, only for small bursts of light to shine thrugh. Dawn breaking the night. Yuuri paused, something catching his eye. He looked up. The yōsei had stopped. It mirrored his movements now, head turned in his direction, arms twisting when his did, gliding as he pushed himself along.

Blinking, he looked away, looked at his feet. The light shinning from him showed him the thing beneath the ice. A great white dragon, curled, and waiting. It seemed stuck in time, but aware. Awake. Yuuri knelt, placing his hands on the sky. A gold ribbon, words etched in red shot from where he pressed. It arched about him, swirling towards the silver of the mirrored ice above. At the same time, a ribbon, properly mirrored, seemed to try to reach down to him.

Turning his attention back to the dragon, Yuuri saw its eyes move, taking him in. He knew this being. How could he not? Slapping his hands against the sky, he tried to free it. Predictably, it did not work. He tried again anyway, only to hear the hollow echo of the yōsei as it did the same over him. Yuuri paused. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Looking up at that freighting face, teeth shinning with permafrost, Yuuri swallowed hard.

"Okami?" Bright blue. It's eyes that opened to stair down at him were bright blue. Unlike the cold that chilled it's flesh, the yōsei's eyes were longing, sad, self contained as if anything more would risk greater death. Pain beyond understanding. It made his heart hurt.

“Sen-Yomi-Oni-Yomi,” the yōsei said, scales of ice slicking over its skin. It sounded… wrong. It was accented, and haunted. Like it was trying for the words, but wasn't sure.

"No one knows the future, Okami-sama. I will be careful with mine."

The yōsei seemed to reach, a red ribbon trailing from it's wrist. He could almost see the writing. Kanji. It was Kanji, and -

"YUURI!" Mari banged on his door. "GET UP! You'll be late!"

Yuuri jumped out of bed, still reaching for something he thought he should have. By the time he made it thrugh breakfast, he'd forgot about the dream. Somewhere in Russia, a long haired teen woke up unsure of why he was crying.

(The links are starting to pile up. Go to the oldest part to find previous links to the story's beginning!)

part 25, part 26, part 27, part 28, part 29, part 30, part 31, part 32, part 33, part 34

[3cheers4alex]

Chapters:  2/16

[Completed, published every Friday/Saturday]

Yuri emerges from the shower, dresses in his warm-up attire, and descends the stairs. The sun has already climbed high into the sky. As he checks his reflection in a puddle, a figure in gray approaches from behind.

“Are you sleeping in the stairwell or something?”

Without fail, Grumpy is waiting outside the glass doors every morning, e-cigarette in hand. “No,” he says.

“Where the hell are you staying, then?”

��In the apartment next to yours.”

It adds up. That old bastard Viktor’s family owns a bunch of properties in Saint Petersburg, including the building where Yuri lives. Yuri snorts, whirls around, and hastens toward the rink. Grumpy follows, remaining in his shadow.

[chemicalarospec]

a ship not fitting into my "demolition lovers core" category of my favorite ship dynamics is so embarrassing for them. if one of them died, they would just give up. like, you wouldn't even sell your soul to bring back your lover? commit 1000 (100 if the devil/me is going easy) murders? soooo uncommitted.

[schaladresdan]

New Fic!

My contribution for Otayuri Advent this year is an Otayuri set in the world of magic and soulmates that Aurone and I created. Chapter 1 of 3(?):

Title: Secrets

Rating: Mature (language)

Pairing: Otayuri

Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Mages, Familiars, Mage Yuri, Familiar Otabek, Secret Relationship

Summary: In this world, there are mages and there are familiars. Familiars have the ability to use lower magics and to shapeshift. Mages can use higher magics with the assistance of their familiar. Each person has a soulmate, a mage or familiar they are supposed to bond to. It's a soul bond that allows them to feel each other's emotions and talk mind to mind. The soul bond can only be broken by death, and often the other half of the bond soon follows.

Shortly after Victor left, his half-brother Yuri was named as the heir. Their father plans to force Yuri into a contracted bond when he turns 16. But that plan goes awry when Yuri meets his new personal guard…

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52829803/chapters/133626193

[avaruussade]

a lil snippet of something I've been working on 😈 supernatural au

***

Viktor takes them to a neighborhood that in the gloomy, rainy weather looks rather unwelcoming. He whistles as he walks toward a tall building with chipped outer walls and dark, square windows, and Otabek thinks the fog around them only gets thicker as they cross a parking lot with only a few cars on it. Viktor has started humming a song Otabek distantly recognizes but can’t quite name, and he keeps on singing when he punches in a code on a digital lock at the building’s front door and walks in as if he lived there.

The corridor is cold, and their steps echo between the walls. The apartment doors don’t have names on them, only numbers, and when they reach the fourth floor the buzzing of the sickly yellow halogen lights gets louder.

“Viktor, what-”, JJ starts, but he’s interrupted by Viktor stopping in front of a door and knocking on it. The number - 130 - on the door has faded slightly, and there’s a small post-it note over the mail slot (a pink one, Otabek notices), saying no ads, thank you.

A few long seconds pass before the door opens. A young man with blond hair framing a pair of strikingly green eyes takes a long look at Viktor, who flashes his trademark smile.

“Hello, Y-”

“No,” the man says and closes the door.

Viktor’s smile doesn’t falter as he gives a reassuring look to Otabek and JJ over his shoulder and knocks again. The door swings open, more widely this time.

“What part of a ‘no’ you don’t understand?”

“Listen, Yuri-”

“The last time I listened to you I spent the night in jail because someone who was in charge of looking out for my ass didn’t do their job. So whatever you’re about to say, my answer is no.”

“For my defence, I was doing that job with Yuuri, and you know how putting us two together isn’t a very bright idea.”

The blond gives a long, borderline angry look at Viktor, who amazingly keeps on smiling. Otabek knows it doesn’t show on his face, but inside he is terrified - for himself or for Viktor, he’s not sure yet.

“Look, Yuri,” Viktor starts, a soft apology in his voice. “I’m sorry about that last time. No one got hurt in the end though, right?”

The boy - Yuri, Otabek assumes - reaches for the handle and pulls it, but Viktor manages to get a foot between the door. Yuri looks surprisingly calm, but he’s biting the inside of his cheek and there’s a fire behind his eyes.

“Okay, yes, you’re right, I screwed up and I apologize. I completely understand if you don’t want to work another job for or with me-”

“That’s an understatement.”

“But I’m here only because these two gentlemen came to me for help.”

It’s the first time Yuri’s eyes scan Otabek and JJ standing behind Viktor’s back, as if he had just realized they were even there. The small pause gives Otabek time to take a look at Yuri, too - he’s around the same height as Viktor, and has his hair on a messy ponytail. The shirt he’s wearing is way too big for him, and underneath his brightly colored eyes are quite dark circles that look more like bruises in the sickly lighting.

Yuri leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest. “You have 30 seconds.”

“There are demons in here. In the city,” JJ says before Viktor gets his mouth open, probably afraid Viktor would only anger the mysterious blond ever more.

“I know about the old lady in Red Hill,” Yuri says, and JJ and Otabek exchange a quick look. “She’s been possessed for some time now, but exorcism would kill her. I visit weekly and so far it’s been quiet.”

“Not anymore,” JJ says, and Yuri raises his eyebrows in question. “We’re pretty sure the entire neighborhood is possessed.”

“Weird electricity problems, gardens full of dead plants - hell, even the grass outside is fried,” Otabek lists. “And it’s… it’s quiet there. Too quiet.”

Yuri looks at them for a few seconds, brows in a pensive frown, before he lets out a long sigh and holds the door open. “Come in.”

The apartment is bigger than it seemed from the outside. The living room has a couch that looks older than any of them are, fitted between an overflowing bookcase and a round coffee table covered in handwritten notes and old books barely held together by their peeling binding. Instead of a TV there are maps, drawings and pages from different books hung on the wall, and the plush armchair tucked in the corner is taken by a brown, fluffy cat. Endless stacks of books create pathways to the kitchen and what Otabek assumes is a bedroom, and despite the awful weather outside, it’s pleasantly warm inside the apartment.

“It’s a bit messy, I just came home,” Yuri explains as he picks up an open black backpack from the floor and tosses it towards a room Otabek assumes is the bedroom.

“Where were you?” Viktor asks. He’s crouched down by the armchair, cooing at the cat who’s now loudly purring.

“Mila needed help with some vampires.”

“Vampires? So far up north?”

Yuri shrugs. “An entire family. Either it’s global warming or hunters around here are forcing them to relocate.”

“I see,” Viktor says, eyebrows in a subtle frown. “Everything went alright?”

“We left in one piece, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Viktor looks at Yuri over his shoulder, still petting the purring cat, and flashes him a wide smile. “Well done.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and turns around, heading to the small kitchen located right next to the living room: it’s so tiny and dark Otabek didn’t even notice it first. Yuri clicks on a switch on the wall and multiple strings of tiny lights turn on, filling the kitchen in a warm glow and revealing a stove with two burners. The stovetop has more wonky piles of books on it, so Otabek assumes Yuri isn’t a big fan of cooking. Next to the sink on the counter sits an iron samovar, surrounded by a mismatch selection of teacups: tall and small, from painted porcelain to plain black and faded cartoon characters, almost hiding the electrical kettle behind them like it was a shameful abomination.

Something within Otabek relaxes at the sight; welcomes the familiarity without him really noticing.

“Tea?” Yuri asks while rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, pulling out three cardboard boxes with differently flavored tea. Otabek and JJ exchange another quick look, but Viktor beats them both.

“We’d love to.”

*

The living room couch is soft, and the warm cup of tea between Otabek’s hands is surprisingly comforting. He watches through the steam of his tea how Yuri picks up the fluffy cat before sitting down on the armchair, the cat curling up on his lap and letting out a content sigh. A small, barely-there smile visits Yuri’s face, and it’s the first time Otabek has seen him show some other emotion than exhaustion or annoyance.

“So,” JJ starts, placing his untouched cup on the table. “Demons. Apparently.”

“Have you guys ever dealt with a demon?”

“No,” Otabek says quickly before JJ’s need to look grand in strangers’ eyes takes over. “We deal with ghosts, angry spirits sometimes. We were only in the neighborhood because it seemed like a spirit case at first. We don’t do demons.”

Yuri hums. “Well, you’ll be doing now. You find it, you deal with it.”

“Didn’t you say you’ve known for a longer time there’s a demon in there? And you did nothing,” JJ reminds, a sharp edge in his tone. It hurts Otabek’s ears, but he stays quiet.

“I didn’t think there’d be more,” Yuri states and calmly takes a sip of tea before placing his cup on a corner of the table that’s not overflowing with what looks like diary entries on post-it notes. He carefully places the cat on his lap on the floor before standing up and heading towards the massive bookcase. “She’s done nothing in months. My mistake.”

“She’s gathering knowledge, maybe? Or keeping an eye on something,” Viktor ponders.

“Probably. As I said, I’ve visited her weekly. The demon inside her knows I’m a hunter, either recognizes me or feels all the anti-possession stuff on me, yet it’s been normal out there. So my question is, why now?”

Yuri is pulling out books and stacking them on top of each other, and Otabek wonders how he has the strength to carry them all. He drops one stack on the table on top of another stack and heads towards another corner of the living room, looking through the piles placed underneath a window.

“Maybe it just got bored?” Viktor suggests, and Yuri shrugs. He comes back to them with another tall stack of books in his arms and puts them next to the other books on the table.

“What are these?” JJ asks, picking up one of the books.

“Everything I could quickly find about demons, possessions and exorcism,” Yuri replies before sitting back down on the armchair and reaching for his teacup. “I can help you with the demons but we’re not going there unprepared.”

JJ lets out a dry laugh that sounds amused, but Otabek knows what it means: JJ is getting annoyed at Yuri, probably because he’s not recognizing JJ’s efforts. Instead of saying anything Otabek picks up a book.

It’s surprisingly heavy, the corners of the covers torn. The pages are thick, not made out of regular paper, and as he leafs through it he notices there are notes written on the pages with a pencil. It takes a moment for Otabek to realize the writing seems a bit strange, yet he can understand parts of it: it’s been a long time since he last read anything in cyrillic, and the writer didn’t have the neatest handwriting. The book itself is in English, and Otabek turns to the very first page that states the title. Under the ominous Demonic Omens and Possessions is yet again a penciled note:

Nikolai Plisetsky, 1995

“Nikolai Plisetsky?” Otabek says out loud before he can stop himself.

Otabek might just be a regular ghosthunter who never intended to hunt, but even he knows of Nikolai Plisetsky: a legendary hunter, travelling the country after demons, vampires, ghosts and other things and putting them down like it wasn’t a big deal. Otabek heard that some years ago he was on a hunting trip with his son and daughter-in-law when the married couple got killed by demons, and after that Nikolai dedicated his time to hunt down the demons in question. He’s kept low profile for a longer time now, yet his techniques and tips are practiced and shared among hunters every day.

Yuri glances at Otabek over the rim of his teacup and blinks. “Yeah, my grandfather. Most of the stuff is his.”

[auronevardell]

Fanfic Update 1/31

It’s a little cold down here.  With frozen rain and sleet covering the roads, I am home for a couple of days this week instead of at work. Hopefully I can get a bit of writing done.  Below the break is my current WIPs if you are interested.  I write for many fandoms (part of the WIP problem).  If you enjoy my fics, consider buying me a Kofi or just sharing this post would be much appreciated.  Thank you and have a great week!

Yuri on Ice Fics

Heroes on Ice– (crossover with Tiger and Bunny) (a/b/o fic)(many ships)

New Roses Have Thorns (soulmate AU )(Emimike)

For You Could Belong to Us (a/b/o) (Chris/Victor/Yuuri)

Unholy Dreams–(crossover with Seraph of the End)(Supernatural AU/Soulmate AU)(many ships)

The Reluctant Vampire—(vampire au)(Emimike)

For You Would Belong to Me (a/b/o)(Emimike)

6 Swans (Fairytale AU)(Victurri)

Sitting on Top of the World (Surfer AU)(Emimike)

Golden Flowers (Soulmate AU)(Phichit/Chris)

Caught by You (a/b/o and Soulmate AU)(Victurri, Otayuri and Emimike)

Unexpected (a/b/o)(Emimike)

Wrecked (a/b/o)(Emimike)--writing

At the Market (Emimike)(Continuation of Stormbringer)(Chapter 2 in editing phase)

Don’t Want to Be a Memory (Emimike)(a/b/o shapeshifter AU)

Cup of Silence (Emimike)(Soulmate AU)

Voltron Fics

Meeting of Fire and Ice- (Fantasy/Mage/Familiar soulmate AU)(Klance and background Adashi) 

Fateful Summons (Demon AU)(Klance)

Red Lions (Soulmate AU)(Klance)

Dragon Dreams (Supernatural AU/Soulmate AU)(Klance and Adashi)

Touken Ranbu

Wanton Frolic of Swords– (soulmate au)(many ships)

SK8 Infinity

Fly to You (matchablossom modern a/b/o)(currently writing chapter 2)

SK 8 Drabbles (will be posting new drabbles all year)

Twisted Wonderland

Hunting Season (Deuce/Ace)(Soulmate AU)

My Boyfriend’s Back (Jack/Epel)(PWP one shot)(editing phase)

Untamed/Demonic Cultivation

Run Daze (Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangi)(Soulmate AU)

[capsensislagamoprh]

The AU that exsplains why everyone is a ice shatter with knife shoes.

"Even if you do manage to not fall, mortal, and catch me, I sill cut you with my knife shoes!" Glides to start position...

“So, why are we learning martial arts at a wizard school?” “Because I’ll be damned if I lose another promising wizard to a thug with a knife again.”

[leiandroid]

dumpster makeouts for @weeheilandcoo !

[lou-is-lurking]

He should have seen the signs, they had been right there – the detours, the burner phones, the sneaking around. Otabek had thought he was fucking someone else on the side, but it had actually been worse. And Otabek had been such a good little pawn, playing along, giving him rides, making excuses for him, too besotted to see the full picture. Once the dots connected he could hardly fathom how he hadn't seen it coming.

But loyalty was blind, and so was love.

[capsensislagamoprh]

CHA 3

“When you said I could come along, I didn’t know I would be carrying your gear and moving lights,” Victor groused.

“How else was I supposed to get you in,” Christophe grinned. “It’s not like anyone can just wander on and off the set.”

“Outdoor setting is a location, not a set,” Victor mumbled, trying to be right about something. His morning had been pretty basic. Rise. Skin care, hair care. Two hours - one for each. Beauty is upkeep! Dressing, forty five minutes. One must accessorize properly! His look doesn't just create itself! Then breakfast of a decadent croissant from the most delightful bakery by the apartment, washed down with a vanilla latte`. Christoph washed his pastry down with rooibos, sturing in a touch of honey to sweeten it up. They then got into the Miata and drove. Today’s shoot was for children’s clothes, taking advantage of the whimsical nature of Paris’ many highlights. Wrot iron, the Eiffel Tower, Lurve, streets made of old stone, and niche locations. All within a few blocks of each other whenever possible. 

It was an interesting side of the fashion world. Most were concerned with avant garde, couture, or stage costumes for high end productions. Victor wanted to see his designs out there, making people feel beautiful, special, even on the worst days. He wanted someone to reach into their wardrobe, pull out that one special piece and know the feel of it on their body would get them through the roughest day because they knew they were not only comfortable, but fashionable. There was just something about how the touch of cashmere or the pull of silk could change the way one thinks. But first he had to pay his dues.

Christophe had some of the best assistants twitching lighting, fixing props, lining up markers. Paris itself seemed to adjust to him. Crowds dissipated, birds flew at artful angels, and the sun kissed just the right part of every model. Victor was amazed by the way he managed to walk casually through any scene, clicking his camera until the city noises were overwritten by the sound of another moment being captured in time. They looked over the shots between changes of clothes and models, keeping the children busy so as to avoid boredom and antsy guardians.

The street-wear line was fun, playful, full of youthful vigor. When they changed over to the more elegant, formal designs, the models did too. Dark haired girls with luminous eyes, boys with elegant cuts mocking adult slide backs, slick at the sides and tapered to look upscale. Accessories changed to watches that were less Swatch and more metallic. Some seemed to be casually dressed as tinny ideals, while others were fantastical. Few stood out, being nervous or a little too full of themselves.

Christophe watched the world through his lens, waiting to strike. Victor saw a few potential stars starting to shine, caught in the flair of his lens, but only one seemed to carry that shimmering quality that would take them from childhood through the cruelty of puberty and into adulthood with all their beauty intact. A fairy-like boy, very young and very serious. When asked to turn, he turned. When asked to be whimsical, he stood tall, arms stretched to the sky before doing a jeté with ease. He leaned against a lamp post, the billowing sleeves of his cooler colored shirt, polka dotted with puffs of thread a sheer overlay for the thin undershirt pressed into his thin frame, white shorts cut in an arch at the thigh, white tights tucked into ballet flats. His golden hair picked up the echoes of sunset as he looked towards the Tower. Victor could almost see the fairy wings that were not there. Christophe must have seen it too. He took more pictures of the boy in his many outfits than the others. He just pulled them off better, seeming to look at home in anything they threw at him. The casual play line clothes earlier were tried on him. As he darted about the darkening streets, arms thrown behind him in a playful run, eyes to the sky, his smile just a little melancholic, Victor felt what Christophe saw. Ethereal took a lot of work, but when you came across it naturally, you worked with it until it could do no more.

The boy wore what was asked, changed as many times as needed. He went through hair style after hair style, make-up touches, and did not complain when he received little to no break for four hours of grueling activity. But those smiles. Those melancholic smiles. No filter in the world could make that smile true.

As they were wrapping up for the day, Christoph looked over the stills, picking and choosing with rapid efficiency. As he stretched his aching back, he turned to see how the clean up was going. The boy was crouched down, hand low, a street cat slowly approaching. Quickly he snapped some candids. These would be great for his school portfolio. He didn’t even need a release, as anything he took while working was free game, and since the boy was still wearing the hair and make up style from the last shoot, he figured that counted.

Soon, the boy was picked up. Christophe turned back to the dailies, while Victor stared for a moment. “I could get used to living here,” he sighed as the man in the ass hugging jeans took the boy's hand, leading him to a silver Lexus. Popping his head up, Christophe smiled.

“Ah, Paris! De tels trésors abondent dans la ville de l'amour.”

“I don’t know about l’amour, but definitely… how to say, strast'?” Victor tapped his temple a few times. “Passion!”

“There’s passion and there’s lasciveté. What you have, mon ami, is a need to release.”

Victor raised a brow, his lips twitching into a smile. “You can’t blame me for looking.”

“Can’t I?” Christophe purred.

“Heartless tease.”

_______

CHA 4

They sat together looking over stills, images caressed by just the right amount of light and ones born of miserable reflections captured in lens flares and ill timed background elements. “You could adjust them,” Victor offered quietly.

Christophe looked scandalized. “I will do no such thing. When making some elements it is fine, the amount of adjustment these images will need? Non. When creating art it is never a good idea to bring dishonesty to your piece. The human can tell, even if they don’t know what the lie is.”

Leaning against the wall in the antechamber between his bedroom and the bath, he sighed. “It’s not that hard, right? You have the skill, da?”

“I have the skill, but correcting these is … It’s like seeing a blurry, pixelated Monet and asking a toddler to make it better. You can’t replicate that look of melancholy, the way the sun caught his hair, the way the clothes seemed to float around him. I’m telling you, Vita, that kid is magic. There’s something about him.” Christophe threw himself backwards in his chair, sending both it and him sliding back a few feet. “Something special, and I almost captured it.”

“Comrad, you have so many other images of him. Look, in this one he’s even smiling.”

“It’s plastic, Vita. Can’t you see it? Here.” Christophe pulled himself back towards the computer. “Look at how there is no light in his eyes. Too many teeth, shoulders are tense.”

“You see all that?” Victor looked again, trying to find the signs the photographer noted. To him the child looked happy, well dressed and fed, other children surrounding him just as pleasant and cheerful. He saw children playing a game with chalked out squares and a rock. It seemed like the kind of thing all advertisers ached for. An air of youthful relevance combined with age old money. It practically commanded people to buy what was shown without being too obvious about it. At least not until the company plastered their brand on the page with a massive scrawl across the pleasant scene.

“I do. I see a lot of things through the lens. A lot of very secret things.”

“Voyeur.”

Christophe smiled. “Have you considered using those exceptional skills at flattery on that man with the tight ass?”

Victor blinked, his blue eyes vacant as he tried to recall who Christophe was talking about. When he remembered his cheeks turned pink, his eyes sparkling. “If he shows up again, I just might.”

“Flirt.”

Victor gasped. “You? Call me a flirt?” He grinned. “Flatterer.”

A deep chuckle mingled with the light, airy sounds of laughter as they felt tension leave them with the faint breath of gentle comradery. Finally, Christophe turned from the computer, having saved the files, ready to take them in the next day for approval and printing. “So,” he smiled, deep burr fairly purring the word, “What plans do you have for the evening?”

“Dinner, I suppose. I should work on that desk, and I need to get some more boxes unpacked…” Victor sighed. “I need to put together my start of semester portfolio.”

“Victor! You should already have that completed,” Christophe chided.

“I did, but then I moved, and I didn’t want things ruined, so I …” A vague gesture to the many tubes and flat pack boxes with reinforced edges stacked in various piles gave depth to the weight of the problem. “Now I have to find everything again.”

“Oh, min vän. You start sorting this,” Christophe stood, wiggling his fingers at the daunting task, “and I’ll order something. We can make a night of it.”

Victor’s shoulders dropped as his knees bent back. “Must we?”

“Min kärlek, vi måste. There is no time like last week. Today will have to do.” Slipping through the door to the bathroom, disappearing through another, the tall blond was off, leaving Victor to stare down the many packages wanting his attention.

By the time Christophe returned with lobster bisque, fresh salad, and the crispiest chunks of crackling bread Victor had the privilege to break diet for, he was more than ready for the wine that accompanied it. He’d found several of his more necessary sketches wrinkled by box shift during the move. A few of his fabrics were naked, ripped, or had holes that made it very clear what postal thought of the extra money he’d paid to have them expressed and marked ‘KHRUPKIY’. All those rubbles down the proverbial drain.

“Oh, Victor. These photos. Did you mean for them to be so…” Christophe tried not to wrinkle his nose, he really did. Victor looked over sharply.

“Oh! Oh no! Net! Net, no, no, net, no!” Victor slipped between English and Russian in his frustration. The whole album was sticky, as if someone had spilt a sugar drink, carelessly pushing the package along without a care. His hands found his hairline, tugging great tufts of silver pale locks.  His whole fashion line from his previous collections was represented in those photos. Photos he would need for his classes, for reference, for the memories. “Christophe! Chris, comrade! Can they be saved?”

The Swedish man winced as he tried to unstick a few pages. Looking at the box of supplies they’d found earlier, Christophe rummaged until he found the pressure blade he’d spied earlier. Carefully he cut the picture free of its sheath, only for it to make a puckering, Velcro sound that caused every fiber of his being to shiver in distaste. Catching the pale cheeked face of his friend, his blue eyes so wide with the edge of desperation and hope, Christophe braced himself. Turning the photo to the light, the damage was clear. Colors peeled off, micro tears deformed some of the image. It was coated in what smelled like cola, which was clearly eating into the integrity of the paper. Victor’s throat dropped to his thighs, hands slack at his side. “What am I going to do?”

These photos were useless now. He’d not been able to get the originals, only prints. The photographer he’d worked with had refused to give up his claim, wanting exorbitant amounts of money Victor simply didn’t have. Someone’s carelessness cost him over a fourth of his portfolio.

“Do you still have the clothes?” Christophe asked, looking at the many unpacked boxes.

“I … yes, most of them. Some were sold to pay for my travel.”

“Bien. Here is what we’re going to do…”

cha 1&2

[capsensislagamoprh]

Well, fucking draw more, damn it!

yes i still draw otayuri in the year of our lord 2022

[yurionice-secretsanta]

Welcome to the Yuri!!! on Ice Secret Santa 2024 edition! This upcoming Holiday season you can join the YOI Secret Santa gift exchange, to make Christmas a little extra special for all your following YOI fans! It will of course results in a lot of wonderful new YOI stories, art and other creations that’ll will enrich the fandom even more ;)

SIGN UPS ARE NOW OPEN!

How it works:

You MUST have a Tumblr or AO3

Sign up with what you want to make ( e.g. fic or fanvideo)

Also list what you’d like to receive (e.g. gifsets, drawings)

Add which characters and pairings you like to receive (e.g. Victuuri, Otayuri)

List some of your likes (e.g. Soulmate AU, Fantasy AU)

List which dislikes and you don’t want to receive or make (e.g. Daddy kink, Angst)

Sign ups are done via a google form

SIGN UP DEADLINE: Friday NOVEMBER 8TH After that assignments will be send out to everyone by email on November 9th/10th, and then you’ll have around three weeks to make gifts for the person assigned to you ^_^

»» Read the guidelines here ««

»» Sign Up here! ««

GIFT SUBMISSION DEADLINE: SUNDAY DECEMBER 1TH (no specific time, just submit on that Sunday or any day prior to that!)

On Christmas Eve/Day (24th/25th) all the gifts will be posted for everyone! Then on the 28th and after you’re are of course free to post the gifts you made to your own Tumblr or any other site ^_^

If you still have questions, don’t hesitate to send an ask!

So what are you waiting for? Sign up now!

Also please help signal boost this post, by re-blogging it, would be much appreciated <3

[yoificfinder]

Beloved fic finder, ao3 magician supreme, I desperately need to find a otayuri fic that I read like 4 years ago and was too stupid to bookmark. It's a magical realism detective au. Yuri is like the lead magic detective, and he's kindof grouchy and jaded. Otabek is literally just a normal guy who gets caught up in some wacky magic missing persons cases. I think the whole plot was that some evil people were experimenting on normies to try and forcibly make them magic? Otabek maybe got magic-ified, idk something happens that makes him a secret special boy. It was such a magnificant fic, finished and everything if I remember right! But I cannot find her for the life of me, my white whale :(

If you would be so kind as to take a crack at it, I'd be eternally grateful!

I hope my lovely followers can help!

----

Update: Is it Fiat Nox by NyxNuit [E, 132K]

Otabek pauses, “So…you’re a wizard?"

“Call me a wizard again and I’ll turn you into a rat.”

Yuri gets a lot more than he bargained for when he and his Unit investigate a series of strange murders.

When Otabek is the unwitting mundane victim of a magical crime, he does his best to get on with his life. Instead, he gets saddled with a foul-mouthed, junk-food-eating Warlock.

Thanks for the help, @alexseanchai! 💙