#thinking about potential yuri is ruining my brain

[periciles]

Me

[thedispatched]

Idk why on the laptop there’s a character limit but not the phone 😒 it’s so much easier on the laptop but I will make this work.

But I’m on Twitter and this popped up from someone I followed about the fanbar closing and what was wrong with it. I don't read Chinese unfortunately because I was terrible at studying lol so I cannot say that the translation is 100% correct but I feel like the gist of it is understood.

https:// twitter. com/miki19100263/status/1432177919275589634

I put some spaces between the link cause Idk how Tumblr accepts them. Again if ppl really want the truth and for this shit to make sense I feel like they can look at ALL information including this and just not the really loud blogs or posts that seem to have labeled guilty because from what I see those are the ones getting the most attention and traction. And again if people are so quick to believe everything that is said maybe you can believe this too.

I read from somewhere a long while ten would get some comments but not to the amount lucas gets. My brain is fried. But I liked that ten and yy got to be on yuri’s cooking show. I know she’s from the same company but the interactions were cute and you could see how shy and starstruck they were lol like hey they can interact with ppl outside the nct circle. a part of me also feels like because they aren’t Korean it might be idk a bit harder for booking them on more Korean programming. You can correct me! Off the top of my head I can think of yuqi who is Chinese doing this series in korea last year/this year but she was also casted on KR so idk if that played a role.

I echo the choosing sides without knowing everything. the hardest part is that if someone doubts any parts of the victim you are immediately labeled an asshole and called out for the reasons victims don’t come forward because no one believes them. Everyone just keeps repeating victims are important and that they rather believe a victim instead of accidentally defend a potential sa/r-pist because it’s damaging to the victim and their mental health. But do these people ever think too about what if he really didn’t do this yet everyone is calling him to be removed and condemning him for sa. That shit is dangerous on someone’s life! And then it’s yeah of course you don’t believe the victim because of this person that’s being accused. No, just stop. Do people understand how terrible it is to be accused of something and found guilty without all the facts? I’m not just picking whoever is guilty or not. I just want all the information! I’m not defending him and I’m not saying who is guilty or innocent but what the mass of people on social media becoming a terrifying mob is going about this is stupid and all wrong because I’m seeing too much excitement and laughter from some people which is disturbing.

I went off . that first sentence you typed set me off

if anyone wants to read the tweet anon linked

first, if i came off as someone who believes he's guilty, i apologize as that wasn't my intention. the original post i made wasn't reflecting my opinion, just stuff i found talking about how c-ent works, what's going on on weibo, and all that.

i, personally, just want information before blindly "choosing" a side and am open to whatever information anyone can provide. i have seen lots of my faves get their lives ruin by false rumors and i hate for it to happen to more people.

but like i said before, based on all the info i've seen on how c-ent works, it'd be hard for him to come back even if he is innocent. (also genuinely curious as to how you can even prove you’re innocent in situations like these as it'd be pretty tough).

sm does need to say something though as leaving this open ended will not do them any favors, staying silent is escalating the situation, and people remember things for a long time.

second, thank you for the information regarding lucas bar. i'm going to say that if this is true (as we don't know if any proof/info is true), i wouldn't be entirely surprised as i've seen similar things happen before. i feel really sorry for lucas if his cbar was that way and i hope if a new cbar comes out their intentions are for him and not themselves. (i'll make an edit and link the tweet in my post)

third, honestly i never understood how some kpop stans can say 'support the victim' but the moment it's about their faves they think the victims are lying. kpop stans can be so hypocritical it's sickening.

and yes, i do worry about this could be affecting him. people need to be more careful on what they say and do as we don't know what's true and what isn't. (some people also need to be respectful to each other. the shit i see on twt is....)

a large portion on stan twitter in general is mob mentality/jumping on bandwagon hate and it's one of the reasons why i hate it there. especially those who know nothing about the situation but insist on opening their mouths 😐

fourth, ten and yy on yuri's cooking show was so cute 🥺i really wanna see them (wayv) on more stuff and interact with people outside of nct. i'm excited to see that on we became a family.

i, personally do think because they aren't korean it would be harder to get them booked on k-shows. i feel like foreigners mostly get on when it fits the concept or if the company pushes it. i say that based on all the variety shows i watched.

the person i got the lucas getting casted on keep running from said yuqi too so i assume she was recommended by sk producers as well but i'm not familiar with her so i can't say for sure.

i hope i addressed everything~

[erinlasgalen]

I should post my Yuri on Ice fics too ~

I realized this today lol.

Sooo, enjoy one of the fics I wrote back when the anime  was still ongoing xD

This is who I am, just follow me!    

After the disastrous party, Yuuri eats pirojki, gets kidnapped in the dead of night by a 15 year old secret fan, gets lost in snow, sings a popular (among skaters) song and acquires a new nickname. Not necessarily in that order.

–

It was snowing heavily in Moscow, coating everything and anything in a white blanket. It almost looked like the Earth itself was falling asleep under the lull of the crescent moon that was sparkling with a sneaky glint. It was 4 in the morning and the streets were as quiet as a mother who put her baby to sleep after hours of lulling…

Not even a single murmur could be heard.

“NOOUUUUU!”

Well, except for that unholy hoarse scream that could have woken up the whole neighborhood, that is, if they weren’t walking by the secluded highway that looked like the main setting for a horror movie scene with all the snow around.

What would have looked like an angry grandfather dragging his drunken grandson home for punishment for fooling around with young maidens, was actually a figure skating coach/trainee pair that had gotten a bit lost (not without the immense help from said trainee ) after the party they had disappeared from hours ago.

“I don’t waaaaant t’do another interview”, slurred the younger one, trying to get away from his mentor as fiercely as a drunken kitten, or a piggy, some might say.

Now this boy – well, MAN, was Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s top figure skater, who always qualified for the finals of every championship there was and always lost spectacularly to everyone. Getting the last place was like his special karma or something. As if he was cursed to always qualify and fail for the whole world to see and laugh.

Nerves, they sure can get to you…scary! Get a grip, Katsuki-san!

Currently, he was cold, wet (partly, his feet were soaked through due to lousy old boots that needed to be changed ASAP!), hungry, and still quite drunk.

“Like hell you don’t!” growled the older man, tightening his vice grip on the boy and dramatically dragging him along the vast nothingness that was Russian Snowfall in the dead of night, or morning.

Whatever.

Now this charming eyebrow (yes he has extremely weird eyebrows that actually grow like that! Talk about hawk eyes…maybe all Italians have unique facial features?) man, was muttering profanities under his breath in a mix of broken English, flawless sexy Italian and extremely weird Japanese ( as if he learned it from watching anime … who the hell talks like that?)

“Not after what you pulled off today at the party! You were supposed to be serious and calm and collected, someone who can deal with anything!” he ranted, pace intensifying along with the force of his grip. Yuuri whimpered. And to think it was him who convinced the heartbroken skater to come to that party…

This man, well, in Yuuri’s eyes a demon currently, was his coach de la italiano, Celestino Cialdini, or “Ciaociao” for short and fluffy. Mind you, the nickname absolutely did NOT come from Phichit’s family dog, King, who coincidentally happened to be a chowchow. Not at all.  He was strict, always to the point and very hard to deal with at times. Also his eyebrows were distracting. And his eyes. The whole image always screamed ‘Lock-on, I am a predator, I’ll eat you alive’. Well, unless you fed him spaghetti or something.

“-..ked, well nearly naked! What was going through that idiot brain of yours at that time? Eh? Eeeeh? Not to mention the pole dancing! Why was there a pole anyways? Who brings a pole to a formal afterparty!!!“

Ah, it seems we got sidetracked a little, let’s get back to our merry duo now, shall we?

“What was that?!” roared the man, ponytail swishing back and forth with the speed they were gaining. It seemed that Yuuri had mumbled a small reply to that rhetorical question, trying to keep his balance and free himself at the same time while stumbling around in knee deep snow.  Luck was on their side or they both would have faceplanted long ago had it been deadly ice.

They would have made charming snow angels! Or devils…

“I said, t’was Chris…”

“Ah, yes”, a snort. “The sparkly eyelashes from Switzerland. Are they all like that? Their men are more feminine than their women!”

Yuuri’s eyes unfocused, remembering a certain Russian skater and their dance. He opened his mouth to say something, probably resembling an "Oh, Victor~” but was cut off with a harsh tug to the middle of the street.

“And you are still not getting off the interview! Come on we need to get a ride! WE are going back to the hotel, YOU are getting some sleep and in the morning YOU and your FABULOUS FLAMENCO self will be giving an interview. And don’t you DARE dodge questions!”

Yuuri gave his best (he practiced on his own sister!) puppy eyes. But of course his coach was immune.

Italians, I say…

Ciaociao narrowed his eagle eyes and grunted, “And no, I will NOT be answering anything in your stead.”

“Bu..but it’s 4! Like, morning 4! Super late night em..early 4!!!”, the whining intensified. “We’re never going t’ find a taxi or ANY car anyways! Can we just…um, you know, just a, uh…”

Well, that really was a problem. Quite a big one, it seemed, I mean, even the angry coach went silent and loosened his grip somewhat, eyes downcast, trying to think of a solution. With both their phones long dead (Celestino’s really WAS dead, as it took a nice long swim during the party in the resident wine pitcher, screen flickering pathetically a few times before dying in the blood of grapes…Yuuri had gone all “Make us free, na splash, kasametta..” at that time, hands together in a silent prayer to the now dead device) it was pretty much impossible to contact anyone or anything.

Why didn’t they keep pagers around anymore?

Yuuri tried to use this momentum to get away. With mysterious ninja-like skills out of nowhere (most probably from all the champagne), he disengaged all his captive limbs and turned to make a beeline to hell knows where, when a beep resonated through the emptiness and an astonishingly white light came right on his frozen face, momentarily blinding him. A screech was heard and a car appeared milliseconds after the light, making an eyebrow raising U-turn and stopping right beside them in a well done drift.

Chris would have approved of it with a low whistle.

The snow whirlwind the driver brought with himself settled down to reveal an old, blue Zaporojets.

A  window rolled down with a little screech along with the layer of snow gathered on it and an enormous furry scarf poked itself outside to greet them.

A few silent minutes they were all blinking at each other, during which it became evident that the ’scarf’ was  actually a human head, wrapped exquisitely in  a white, red and blue patterned  scarf (patriot much?). A small patch of what looked like straw at first was actually hair, the color a magnificent shade of noodles from Yuuri’s beloved katsudon! The only visible part that could be attributed to a human was a sharp, distinctly Russian nose, angry red from the cold and his eyes, a unique blend of grey and green. Those eyes were staring Yuuri down, seizing him.

Yuuri gulped audibly.

Celestino’s left eyebrow started lowering.

“If you need a taxi, I can take you wherever you need to go”, the unknown ‘straw’ spoke up, his sharp, rough English cutting the air like a knife.

Yuuri gulped and took a step back, suddenly becoming keenly aware that they were in the middle of nowhere, without their phones, in the dead of night with their passports in their pockets to top it…

And it was snowing almost as much as Phitchit had shed dandruff from his head that one time when he used the wrong shampoo in Detroit!

“We’ll take that offer, young man! Take us to Aerostar Hotel!”

The stranger grinned so wide that one could see it even with all the mummy scarf wrapping.

Yuuri whimpered once more, dreading the ride.

And dreadful it was, as Yuuri was chewed out by Celestino again and again. And the fact that their stranger Russian driver was right THERE, listening to it all was the worst.

“No, I will not do the interview! I don’t want to talk to the cameras or the people! I don’t want to talk to anyone!” huffed the Japanese, slumping in a defeated lump in the backseat, his drunkedness still evident in the slight ‘whoosh’  his hands were making in the air. “You wanted me to have fun, right? Riiiiight! Well I did, it was my way of loosening up! So WHAT?”

“So what!” the coach took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what! If someone leaks those photos and videos, you are done for! All those years skating and you STILL don’t have a sponsor! There were potential candidates there! Yet you went and ruined it all!”

“What photos? Someone was taking photos?”

A barely audible snort escaped the silent driver. The two in the back ignored him completely.

But the boy kept his eyes trained on the mirror, watching and silently making his own bizarre deductions.

He really should be keeping his eyes on the road though, not to mention BOTH hands on the wheel…

“Yuuri..”

“Ciaociao, pleeeease. I’ll figure something out about the whole sponsorship thing, just..”,he sighed, dejected. “Let me be tomorrow. I really can’t take any reporters, especially after Vicchan..”

His voice broke at the end.

“Let’s just go to the airport! I’ll fly back to Japan, you deal with press!” He sat up with a vigor and gently tapped straw driver’s back. “Please take us to Sheremetyevo, please!”

A hand yanked him back rather sharply.

“Don’t you dare, young man! Straight to the hotel and that’s it!”

“I am NOT doing that interview, Celestino!”

“Oh yes you are! You’re not a Japanese maiden in distress, nor am I chivalrous enough to grant your drunken ass any request! It’s fina-..” His words formed a surprised ‘aaaaaa’ as the engine grunted, screeched like a wet cat and finally came to a stop.“..ah?”

“Wha…whats going on?” demanded the man. Yuuri was looking back and forth, discreetly smelling the air for any kind of weird pre-explosion smoke or something. The grin on his face was a little unnerving though.

The blondie shrugged, turning the key in the ignition a few times in a futile attempt to make it work again.

“Brat!”

“Um…right! We’re gona have to push…” the boy said, already getting out of the car. “It’ll go back up once we give it a little nudge".

The cold air hit Yuuri and he snapped out whatever evil horror trance he had gotten himself into. As he opened the door to get out as well, the blonde snapped it close with a leer. “We need some weight to be inside, you stay, piggy. Mr. Ciaobrows, you come push from the back.”

Yuuri snorted at the nickname, then burst into full blown laughter, not even bothering to smother his guffaws.

Celestino threw his a dirty glare and heavily shuffled out, leaving an almost crying Yuuri inside.

Merrily, they pushed the car in the snow, the Italian old man pushing from the back, the blonde youth pushing right beside the front seat, the door open. Step by step, the vehicle inched forward. Then just as Celestino was starting to feel the burn of muscles in his arms, the blonde hopped into the front seat, with the agility of a tiger, turned the key, bringing the dead engine back to life and the car sped away, leaving the poor coach to scream after them incredulously.

Funny thing was, Yuuri himself was screaming as well.

“Oh shut it!”, yelled the boy, snapping the door shut and turning around to face the Japanese. Yuuri snapped his mouth shut in sheer bewilderment from the death glare (he had to work on it, it looked too cute to be scary) the child was giving him. Yes child.

Somewhere in the process of all this he had unwrapped his scarf. Now it hung low on his neck, exposing his youthful features to the one and only passenger. He was incredibly cute. Women would swoon at his mare glance in the future. Honestly, Russians…

Dimly, Yuuri noted that this he was probably around 17 years old, if not younger. And this child had just kidnapped him.

Cute.

And weird. And scary. And I’m never going to see Kaa-san and Mari nee-chan again!

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Yuuri asked.

“Wh..where are we going?”

“What do you mean where? The airport of course!”

“Ah, of course! Wait who decided that?” He stared at the mirror, trying to be intimidating. Somewhere at the back of his mind he made a note that lighter colored eyes were automatically more intimidating. Right…

“What do you mean who? Yuri, of course!”

Yuuri put a hand to his heart, “I did NOT!”

The teen swung around to face him, one hand still on the wheel.

“Who the hell said anything about YOU, piggy? I said Yuri did, Yuri!”

“Ah…watch the road, please?”

He got an angry huff as a reply.

This kid was precious…like a cinnamon roll.

“So, Yuri who again? Decided, I mean, that we are going to the airport?”

“Plisetsky, remember that! Yuri Plisetsky did!”

“And..who is Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Me!”

“Oh….”

They spend a few more minutes in silence.

“Celestino is alone out there, in the cold, we really should go back. Yuri-cha~n, stop playing around.”

The car came to a halt, making Yuuri collide with the back of the front seat. While he was nursing his nose, the boy fully faced him, nearly hanging off the seat. His expression was a mix between anger, guilt and admiration.

This baffled the skater to silence.

“You wanted to go back to your Japan, right? If we go back now, you’ll have to do that interview! Right?!”

“Yuri-cha-..”

“Stop! Don’t call me Yuri-chan!”

“Yurio then?”

“Wha? NO, no no no!” the blonde reached towards his almost namesake, hands posed as if to strangle him.

“Yurio, he is-..”

“Evil, manipulating, heartless, eyebrow man! The perfect villain! Besides, I actually messaged the taxi center for a car. He will have a ride anyways. What do you say?!”

Yuuri considered it for a minute, finger nearly in his mouth from his thinking pose. Yuri the Smaller raised a perfect eyebrow at the all too familiar gesture a certain playboy had.

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

“Uuun, Okay!!!”

When the old radio croaked to life, Yuuri was in the front, and the boys were munching on some pirojki and having a nice, pleasant chat about this and that (“how old are you Yurio?” “Don’t call me..- uh whatever! I’m fifteen!” “Fif….teen. Ah. I see. WHO THE HELL LET YOU DRIVE? DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?” “IF YOU YELL, PIGGY, I YELL TOO! And no, of course I don’t!  But my grandpa lets me drive for practice! I’m goo~d, right? Right?”).

The old player was ignored mostly, until a certain song popped up.

Yuuri started humming almost on autopilot.

“Taaaam, tam pam, paaam, and the starry sky, spreading above~…”

Yuri glanced at him, eyes wide and staring.  The Japanese skated grinned. “I love this song. Actually all the skaters my age  and younger adore it.”

“Really”, Yuri inquired in a slightly disbelieving voice. “No one in my class knows it..like no one! But I really like it! My uncle hates it though…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. No one in my course knows it either, besides me and my roommate Phichit! But he’s a skater, so it’s kind of …Yeah.”, he trailed off, tapping his foot to the beat. “None of the older skaters like it though. Chris always ‘stage vomits’ when he hears it and Victor…ah..”

Yuri smiles mischievously and nods. Yuuri taps his foot, Smallish Yuri taps his fingers on the wheel. On an signal none of them even agreed on, they both started.

“I can rule the world,  JJ, just follow me, I will break the walls, now look at me”, they sing/scream simultaneously, each pointing to themselves like over washed drama queens. “..also be the blind side of the enemy, this is who I am, just remember me..”

Yuuri sprawls himself on the blonde’s lap like a cat not even thinking that this child was actually driving. Yuri glances at him, face flushed from the adrenaline rush and sheer happiness of being able to sing his favorite song with someone who actually knew the lyrics.

“I’M THE KING JJ, NO ONE DEFEATS ME, THIS IS WHO I AM BABY, just follow me..-”

Yuuri raises his hands up like a conductor, while Yuri fake-longingly stares out of the window, eyes downcast.

“..just follow me off the ground”, they sing softly, then burst in a  fit of giggles.

In case you are wondering, no, they didn’t crash on the way, yes, they reached the airport, yes, a certain phone was put to charge and bombarded with missed call messages from a certain coach who seemed to be back in the hotel already, no, Yuuri didn’t return to him, yes, indeed he actually left for Japan, of course not before giving his almost namesake a hug and a promise to sing together again in the dead on night.

Wonderful memories, right?

In case you were also wondering, yes, Yuuri did forget everything after the 9 hour beauty sleep he got on the plane.

Shame…

Well, don’t worry, in a few month those two will see each other once more, when Yuri follows his wayward uncle on his quest of self-discovery ( really, for a man who should be settling down with a  family, self-discovery at his age? Pathetic!), love and inspiration to Japan.

More specifically, for a certain piggy who could hit all the highest notes like a pro in his most favourite song of his most hated singer/skater.

Honestly, JJ should go to hell.

But, maybe record a few songs before that…

Omake:

The car was safely parked in the garage and Yuri Plisetski was munching on the remaining potato bun. “Yuuri is interesting.”, he mused out to the wide sky. “It’s a shame he butchered the performance. Though, the choreography sucked so much.. ugh. But, I’m glad i got to see him!”. He chuckled and took another big bite. Yuuri was his idol, that one and only skater he admired. And it was all because he saw that performance, back when Yuuri was 12. His very first one, and, well the only one he won. Since then Little Yuri followed his namesake’s every move. He even has a photo collection in his phone.

With a password, so no one snoops. A certain silverette no one, that is.

“Well Victor sucks. Still don’t get how that idiot didn’t even recognize .. uh, idiot, stupid Victor!”, he ranted, stuffing the rest of the pirojok in his mouth in one go.  Yeah his uncle ( in reality he adored him probably as much as Yuuri) was an airhead, the biggest idiot the world could have.

Wiping his slightly greasy hands on his jeans like any teenage brat would, he huffed, rolled his shoulders and went on to undertake new mission - sneaking home unnoticed.

“YURI PLISETSKIY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!”

“Uhh..”

[ballhog007-blog]

The Punk Trinity & The Spirit of A Punk Rawk Show

MxPx: The Spring Fever Tour - VA Beach at Peabody's on 3/23/1999

 I remember this day very well. Me and a pair of friends jumped in the car, after leaving basketball practice early, on a school night to make the 4 ½ hour trek to Virginia Beach. Like an ant fighting to escape the devouring beam of a magnifying glass, we were out of that town. We were leaving everything behind, at least for the night. At the halfway point, we stop, because we finally found the nerve and a payphone, to call our folks and ask if we could go to the MxPx concert. We hadn’t thought this scheme through. There we were, already halfway there, calling our parents explaining who MxPx was. My friend’s dad said, “What’s an MxPx?” They didn’t know we were already 150 miles away and we didn’t care. Because there was zero chance we were turning back. We were ready to face the consequences. We were men, on our first mission…well, one that mattered anyways. Ramifications be damned! Besides, MxPx was worth it, to all of us.

To my surprise, my parents were okay with it, if I made it to school on time and stayed there for all the classes the next day. My friends weren't so lucky. Their parents could be heard uttering phrases like, “Absolutely not!” and “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Then screaming, “Come home now or this will be the last thing you do,” once they learned that we were in fact already halfway to freedom. We were determined to complete our mission come hell or highwater. Needless to say, they were grounded for eternity.

 We made it just in time. The opening band “Shades Apart” had just taken stage. We wore the bright red “X” that emblazoned our hand with pride, nothing could ruin this night. There was no cell phone to turn off, to ignore the endless stream of would be calls from our folks. There was no texting the girlfriends. All we had was the moment and we were living it. The only thing I had to commemorate the occasion was a wind up, disposable camera that held 24 shots.

 By the time MxPx came on we were already drenched in sweat, but far from spent. Our lust for the moment fueled our teenage lifeforce which pumped the pistons that powered our punk rock brains. We were jam-packed with potential and kinetic energy, that was about to explode on everyone like an atom bomb. Mike belted out the opening four lines of Cold and All Alone:

 “I know I'm mean but I'm real sorry

I didn't mean to make you cry

I feel so bad by then it's too late

You're hurt, I'm mad, is this goodbye?”

I can remember, it seemed like an eternity passed as Mike sang those lines. Once they were accomplished, Yuri started in on the snare roll which climaxed into his signature ultra-fast punk beat, with an almost angry strum of his guitar, Tom became the ring leader of this circus. My friends and I exploded with emotions of joy, freedom, and happiness. We made it!! There we were jumping as high as we could and singing at the top of our lungs. In all the excitement, we barely noticed that everyone, without exception was doing the exact same thing. Could it be that they were experiencing the same emotions that we were? Could they be temporary, teenage runaways also? We were all breathing the same air. We were feeling the same vibe. For almost 2 hours this behavior continued. We were family. We were unified, if only for 2 hours. To define that moment would be impossible.

The ride home was silent. Maybe, they were realizing that the fun was about end as we neared the parental zone, but I believe our 3-pound brains were attempting to process what we had just witnessed, yet none of us could. They dropped me off at school to get my car as they drove to what seemed like, their final judgement. It was 4:30 in the morning by this time, I laid in the parking lot and waited for the sun to rise for the first time in long time. Yes, I had stayed up all night before, but this time was different. Eventually, the sun came up and I went on my way. We all made it to school. It was a while before I got to hang out with my buddies, because their parents were stark raving mad.

 Later, many years later we got together and talked about this night, we agreed the story must be told. A few more years passed before I received the news that both of my friends had passed away. The news, of course, floored me. This moment, a twinkle in time is a memory that can never be taken away. Again years passed…recently I heard MxPx’s self-titled album and remembered our promise to share the recollections of that night. 

Hope you enjoyed the shared memory.

[erinlasgalen]

This is who I am, just follow me!

“Wh..where are we going?” “What do you mean where? The airport of course!” “Ah, of course! Wait who decided that?” “What do you mean who? Yuri, of course!” “Yuri, um who again? Decided, I mean, that we are going to the airport?” “Plisetsky, remember that! Yuri Plisetsky did!” “And..who is Yuri Plisetsky?” “Me!” “Oh….”

Or, the one where after the disastrous party, Yuuri eats pirojki, gets kidnapped in the dead of night by a 15 year old secret fan, gets lost in snow, sings a popular (among skaters) song and acquires a new nickname. Not necessarily in that order.

It was snowing heavily in Moscow, coating everything and anything in a white blanket. It almost looked like the Earth itself was falling asleep under the lull of the crescent moon that was sparkling with a sneaky glint. It was 4 in the morning and the streets were as quiet as a mother who put her baby to sleep after hours of lulling...

Not even a single murmur could be heard.

“NOOUUUUU!”

Well, except for that unholy hoarse scream that could have woken up the whole neighborhood, that is, if they weren’t walking by the secluded highway that looked like the main setting for a horror movie scene with all the snow around.

What would have looked like an angry grandfather dragging his drunken grandson home for punishment for fooling around with young maidens, was actually a figure skating coach/trainee pair that had gotten a bit lost (not without the immense help from said trainee ) after the party they had disappeared from hours ago.

“I don’t waaaaant t’do another interview”, slurred the younger one, trying to get away from his mentor as fiercely as a drunken kitten, or a piggy, some might say.

Now this boy – well, MAN, was Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s top figure skater, who always qualified for the finals of every championship there was and always lost spectacularly to everyone. Getting the last place was like his special karma or something. As if he was cursed to always qualify and fail for the whole world to see and laugh.

Nerves, they sure can get to you…scary! Get a grip, Katsuki-san!

Currently, he was cold, wet (partly, his feet were soaked through due to lousy old boots that needed to be changed ASAP!), hungry, and still quite drunk.

“Like hell you don’t!” growled the older man, tightening his vice grip on the boy and dramatically dragging him along the vast nothingness that was Russian Snowfall in the dead of night, or morning.

Whatever.

Now this charming eyebrow (yes he has extremely weird eyebrows that actually grow like that! Talk about hawk eyes…maybe all Italians have unique facial features?) man, was muttering profanities under his breath in a mix of broken English, flawless sexy Italian and extremely weird Japanese ( as if he learned it from watching anime ... who the hell talks like that?)

“Not after what you pulled off today at the party! You were supposed to be serious and calm and collected, someone who can deal with anything!” he ranted, pace intensifying along with the force of his grip. Yuuri whimpered. And to think it was him who convinced the heartbroken skater to come to that party…

This man, well, in Yuuri's eyes a demon currently, was his coach de la italiano, Celestino Cialdini, or “Ciaociao” for short and fluffy. Mind you, the nickname absolutely did NOT come from Phichit’s family dog, King, who coincidentally happened to be a chowchow. Not at all.  He was strict, always to the point and very hard to deal with at times. Also his eyebrows were distracting. And his eyes. The whole image always screamed ‘Lock-on, I am a predator, I’ll eat you alive’. Well, unless you fed him spaghetti or something.

“-..ked, well nearly naked! What was going through that idiot brain of yours at that time? Eh? Eeeeh? Not to mention the pole dancing! Why was there a pole anyways? Who brings a pole to a formal afterparty!!!"

Ah, it seems we got sidetracked a little, let’s get back to our merry duo now, shall we?

“What was that?!” roared the man, ponytail swishing back and forth with the speed they were gaining. It seemed that Yuuri had mumbled a small reply to that rhetorical question, trying to keep his balance and free himself at the same time while stumbling around in knee deep snow.  Luck was on their side or they both would have faceplanted long ago had it been deadly ice.

They would have made charming snow angels! Or devils…

“I said, t’was Chris…”

“Ah, yes”, a snort. “The sparkly eyelashes from Switzerland. Are they all like that? Their men are more feminine than their women!”

Yuuri's eyes unfocused, remembering a certain Russian skater and their dance. He opened his mouth to say something, probably resembling an "Oh, Victor~" but was cut off with a harsh tug to the middle of the street.

“And you are still not getting off the interview! Come on we need to get a ride! WE are going back to the hotel, YOU are getting some sleep and in the morning YOU and your FABULOUS FLAMENCO self will be giving an interview. And don’t you DARE dodge questions!”

Yuuri gave his best (he practiced on his own sister!) puppy eyes. But of course his coach was immune.

Italians, I say…

Ciaociao narrowed his eagle eyes and grunted, “And no, I will NOT be answering anything in your stead.”

“Bu..but it’s 4! Like, morning 4! Super late night em..early 4!!!”, the whining intensified. “We’re never going t’ find a taxi or ANY car anyways! Can we just…um, you know, just a, uh…”

Well, that really was a problem. Quite a big one, it seemed, I mean, even the angry coach went silent and loosened his grip somewhat, eyes downcast, trying to think of a solution. With both their phones long dead (Celestino’s really WAS dead, as it took a nice long swim during the party in the resident wine pitcher, screen flickering pathetically a few times before dying in the blood of grapes…Yuuri had gone all "Make us free, na splash, kasametta.." at that time, hands together in a silent prayer to the now dead device) it was pretty much impossible to contact anyone or anything.

Why didn’t they keep pagers around anymore?

Yuuri tried to use this momentum to get away. With mysterious ninja-like skills out of nowhere (most probably from all the champagne), he disengaged all his captive limbs and turned to make a beeline to hell knows where, when a beep resonated through the emptiness and an astonishingly white light came right on his frozen face, momentarily blinding him. A screech was heard and a car appeared milliseconds after the light, making an eyebrow raising U-turn and stopping right beside them in a well done drift.

Chris would have approved of it with a low whistle.

The snow whirlwind the driver brought with himself settled down to reveal an old, blue Zaporojets.

A window rolled down with a little screech along with the layer of snow gathered on it and an enormous furry scarf poked itself outside to greet them.

A few silent minutes they were all blinking at each other, during which it became evident that the ’scarf’ was  actually a human head, wrapped exquisitely in  a white, red and blue patterned  scarf (patriot much?). A small patch of what looked like straw at first was actually hair, the color a magnificent shade of noodles from Yuuri’s beloved katsudon! The only visible part that could be attributed to a human was a sharp, distinctly Russian nose, angry red from the cold and his eyes, a unique blend of grey and green. Those eyes were staring Yuuri down, seizing him.

Yuuri gulped audibly.

Celestino’s left eyebrow started lowering.

“If you need a taxi, I can take you wherever you need to go”, the unknown ‘straw’ spoke up, his sharp, rough English cutting the air like a knife.

Yuuri gulped and took a step back, suddenly becoming keenly aware that they were in the middle of nowhere, without their phones, in the dead of night with their passports in their pockets to top it…

And it was snowing almost as much as Phitchit had shed dandruff from his head that one time when he used the wrong shampoo in Detroit!

“We’ll take that offer, young man! Take us to Aerostar Hotel!”

The stranger grinned so wide that one could see it even with all the mummy scarf wrapping.

Yuuri whimpered once more, dreading the ride.

And dreadful it was, as Yuuri was chewed out by Celestino again and again. And the fact that their stranger Russian driver was right THERE, listening to it all was the worst.

“No, I will not do the interview! I don’t want to talk to the cameras or the people! I don’t want to talk to anyone!” huffed the Japanese, slumping in a defeated lump in the backseat, his drunkedness still evident in the slight ‘whoosh’  his hands were making in the air. “You wanted me to have fun, right? Riiiiight! Well I did, it was my way of loosening up! So WHAT?”

“So what!” the coach took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what! If someone leaks those photos and videos, you are done for! All those years skating and you STILL don’t have a sponsor! There were potential candidates there! Yet you went and ruined it all!”

“What photos? Someone was taking photos?”

A barely audible snort escaped the silent driver. The two in the back ignored him completely.

But the boy kept his eyes trained on the mirror, watching and silently making his own bizarre deductions.

He really should be keeping his eyes on the road though, not to mention BOTH hands on the wheel…

“Yuuri..”

“Ciaociao, pleeeease. I’ll figure something out about the whole sponsorship thing, just..”,he sighed, dejected. “Let me be tomorrow. I really can’t take any reporters, especially after Vicchan..”

His voice broke at the end.

“Let’s just go to the airport! I’ll fly back to Japan, you deal with press!” He sat up with a vigor and gently tapped straw driver’s back. “Please take us to Sheremetyevo, please!”

A hand yanked him back rather sharply.

“Don’t you dare, young man! Straight to the hotel and that’s it!”

“I am NOT doing that interview, Celestino!”

“Oh yes you are! You’re not a Japanese maiden in distress, nor am I chivalrous enough to grant your drunken ass any request! It’s fina-..” His words formed a surprised ‘aaaaaa’ as the engine grunted, screeched like a wet cat and finally came to a stop."..ah?"

“Wha…whats going on?” demanded the man. Yuuri was looking back and forth, discreetly smelling the air for any kind of weird pre-explosion smoke or something. The grin on his face was a little unnerving though.

The blondie shrugged, turning the key in the ignition a few times in a futile attempt to make it work again.

“Brat!”

“Um…right! We’re gona have to push…” the boy said, already getting out of the car. “It’ll go back up once we give it a little nudge".

The cold air hit Yuuri and he snapped out whatever evil horror trance he had gotten himself into. As he opened the door to get out as well, the blonde snapped it close with a leer. “We need some weight to be inside, you stay, piggy. Mr. Ciaobrows, you come push from the back.”

Yuuri snorted at the nickname, then burst into full blown laughter, not even bothering to smother his guffaws.

Celestino threw his a dirty glare and heavily shuffled out, leaving an almost crying Yuuri inside.

Merrily, they pushed the car in the snow, the Italian old man pushing from the back, the blonde youth pushing right beside the front seat, the door open. Step by step, the vehicle inched forward. Then just as Celestino was starting to feel the burn of muscles in his arms, the blonde hopped into the front seat, with the agility of a tiger, turned the key, bringing the dead engine back to life and the car sped away, leaving the poor coach to scream after them incredulously.

Funny thing was, Yuuri himself was screaming as well.

“Oh shut it!”, yelled the boy, snapping the door shut and turning around to face the Japanese. Yuuri snapped his mouth shut in sheer bewilderment from the death glare (he had to work on it, it looked too cute to be scary) the child was giving him. Yes child.

Somewhere in the process of all this he had unwrapped his scarf. Now it hung low on his neck, exposing his youthful features to the one and only passenger. He was incredibly cute. Women would swoon at his mare glance in the future. Honestly, Russians...

Dimly, Yuuri noted that this he was probably around 17 years old, if not younger. And this child had just kidnapped him.

Cute.

And weird. And scary. And I’m never going to see Kaa-san and Mari nee-chan again!

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Yuuri asked.

“Wh..where are we going?”

“What do you mean where? The airport of course!”

“Ah, of course! Wait who decided that?” He stared at the mirror, trying to be intimidating. Somewhere at the back of his mind he made a note that lighter colored eyes were automatically more intimidating. Right…

“What do you mean who? Yuri, of course!”

Yuuri put a hand to his heart, “I did NOT!”

The teen swung around to face him, one hand still on the wheel.

“Who the hell said anything about YOU, piggy? I said Yuri did, Yuri!”

“Ah…watch the road, please?”

He got an angry huff as a reply.

This kid was precious…like a cinnamon roll.

“So, Yuri who again? Decided, I mean, that we are going to the airport?”

“Plisetsky, remember that! Yuri Plisetsky did!”

“And..who is Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Me!”

“Oh….”

They spend a few more minutes in silence.

“Celestino is alone out there, in the cold, we really should go back. Yuri-cha~n, stop playing around.”

The car came to a halt, making Yuuri collide with the back of the front seat. While he was nursing his nose, the boy fully faced him, nearly hanging off the seat. His expression was a mix between anger, guilt and admiration.

This baffled the skater to silence.

“You wanted to go back to your Japan, right? If we go back now, you’ll have to do that interview! Right?!”

“Yuri-cha-..”

“Stop! Don’t call me Yuri-chan!”

“Yurio then?”

“Wha? NO, no no no!” the blonde reached towards his almost namesake, hands posed as if to strangle him.

“Yurio, he is-..”

“Evil, manipulating, heartless, eyebrow man! The perfect villain! Besides, I actually messaged the taxi center for a car. He will have a ride anyways. What do you say?!”

Yuuri considered it for a minute, finger nearly in his mouth from his thinking pose. Yuri the Smaller raised a perfect eyebrow at the all too familiar gesture a certain playboy had.

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

“Uuun, Okay!!!”

When the old radio croaked to life, Yuuri was in the front, and the boys were munching on some pirojki and having a nice, pleasant chat about this and that (“how old are you Yurio?” “Don’t call me..- uh whatever! I’m fifteen!” “Fif….teen. Ah. I see. WHO THE HELL LET YOU DRIVE? DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?” “IF YOU YELL, PIGGY, I YELL TOO! And no, of course I don’t!  But my grandpa lets me drive for practice! I’m goo~d, right? Right?”).

The old player was ignored mostly, until a certain song popped up.

Yuuri started humming almost on autopilot.

“Taaaam, tam pam, paaam, and the starry sky, spreading above~…”

Yuri glanced at him, eyes wide and staring.  The Japanese skated grinned. “I love this song. Actually all the skaters my age  and younger adore it.”

“Really”, Yuri inquired in a slightly disbelieving voice. “No one in my class knows it..like no one! But I really like it! My uncle hates it though…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. No one in my course knows it either, besides me and my roommate Phichit! But he’s a skater, so it’s kind of …Yeah.”, he trailed off, tapping his foot to the beat. “None of the older skaters like it though. Chris always ‘stage vomits’ when he hears it and Victor…ah..”

Yuri smiles mischievously and nods. Yuuri taps his foot, Smallish Yuri taps his fingers on the wheel. On an signal none of them even agreed on, they both started.

“I can rule the world, JJ, just follow me, I will break the walls, now look at me”, they sing/scream simultaneously, each pointing to themselves like over washed drama queens. “..also be the blind side of the enemy, this is who I am, just remember me..”

Yuuri sprawls himself on the blonde’s lap like a cat not even thinking that this child was actually driving. Yuri glances at him, face flushed from the adrenaline rush and sheer happiness of being able to sing his favorite song with someone who actually knew the lyrics.

“I’M THE KING JJ, NO ONE DEFEATS ME, THIS IS WHO I AM BABY, just follow me..-”

Yuuri raises his hands up like a conductor, while Yuri fake-longingly stares out of the window, eyes downcast.

“..just follow me off the ground”, they sing softly, then burst in a  fit of giggles.

In case you are wondering, no, they didn’t crash on the way, yes, they reached the airport, yes, a certain phone was put to charge and bombarded with missed call messages from a certain coach who seemed to be back in the hotel already, no, Yuuri didn’t return to him, yes, indeed he actually left for Japan, of course not before giving his almost namesake a hug and a promise to sing together again in the dead on night.

Wonderful memories, right?

In case you were also wondering, yes, Yuuri did forget everything after the 9 hour beauty sleep he got on the plane.

Shame…

Well, don’t worry, in a few month those two will see each other once more, when Yuri follows his wayward uncle on his quest of self-discovery ( really, for a man who should be settling down with a  family, self-discovery at his age? Pathetic!), love and inspiration to Japan.

More specifically, for a certain piggy who could hit all the highest notes like a pro in his most favourite song of his most hated singer/skater.

Honestly, JJ should go to hell.

But, maybe record a few songs before that…

Omake:

The car was safely parked in the garage and Yuri Plisetski was munching on the remaining potato bun. "Yuuri is interesting.", he mused out to the wide sky. "It's a shame he butchered the performance. Though, the choreography sucked so much.. ugh. But, I'm glad i got to see him!". He chuckled and took another big bite. Yuuri was his idol, that one and only skater he admired. And it was all because he saw that performance, back when Yuuri was 12. His very first one, and, well the only one he won. Since then Little Yuri followed his namesake's every move. He even has a photo collection in his phone.

With a password, so no one snoops. A certain silverette no one, that is.

"Well Victor sucks. Still don't get how that idiot didn't even recognize .. uh, idiot, stupid Victor!", he ranted, stuffing the rest of the pirojok in his mouth in one go.  Yeah his uncle ( in reality he adored him probably as much as Yuuri) was an airhead, the biggest idiot the world could have.

Wiping his slightly greasy hands on his jeans like any teenage brat would, he huffed, rolled his shoulders and went on to undertake new mission - sneaking home unnoticed.

"YURI PLISETSKIY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!"

"Uhh.."