yurionart

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Art by  utatanenap

Posted with Permission (reprint/edit and/or commercial use prohibited)

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They are the same person change my mind 😤

(( also I just started posting art on twitter !))

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Amazing video from On Ice Persepectives of Yuzuru’s Parisienne Walkways practice for the Skate Canada gala!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by On Ice Perspectives ❄️🎥 (@oniceperspectives) on Nov 2, 2019 at 8:53am PDT

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All That We Hold of Heaven: I/II

My @viktuuriangstbang fic is now live!!! Not the most highkey angst, but I hope you guys are in the mood for touch-starved, emotional angels. Art by the amazing @pawkaray will be coming in the next (and final) part, but for now…

Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice Rating: T Description:

Falling—the act of it, the emotion of it—means a lot of different things to different people.

For Yuuri, it means everything.

Excerpt:

Yuuri’s onyx-black feathers shimmer in the moonlight like jewels, shifting and changing with an opalescent rainbow across the dark. Anyone who’s caught sight of him in his natural form says that he’s gorgeous, a sight that even mortals, in their finite memory and lives, could never forget.

Yuuri wishes he could rip them out.

Pluck the darkness from his wings one by one, then tear the feathers interwoven into his hair, and the delicate down that runs down along his arms and backside. Bare himself, bleeding and raw but clean.

But they would only grow back.

His shame mars him, crawls through him in itching guilt that pokes through his skin to show everyone that there is no place for him.

There is a Heaven for the angels that haven’t destroyed themselves and all they’ve loved like Yuuri has. But Hell is a lie. There is no home for him on any plane of existence. There is no family, there are no friends. It’s been centuries since anyone’s tried to find him, and that’s fine by Yuuri.

(Except… when it isn’t. Which is always. It eats through his hollow bones, a constant chant of alone and forgotten.)

The night is icy. It’s not typical of this area at this time of year, but Yuuri doesn’t flee indoors like he would have if his feathers were white. It isn’t that he doesn’t feel the cold, he just puts up with it. He’d like to pretend that it’s because it’s another part of his punishment, but the truth is, the real punishment would be going inside.

And he can’t. He won’t. There’s no one out here to judge his choices except Yuuri himself, and he’s suffered for years. So many years that he doesn’t even know how long it’s been anymore. It’s… exhausting, but he deserves it. He knows he does.

Even if sometimes he doesn’t entirely understand it.

So Yuuri doesn’t move. He hasn’t moved in days. He would have gathered dust, if it weren’t for the wind and snow collecting around him. He used to worry about perceptive passersby seeing him, noticing his wings and knowing exactly what he is, but most aren’t going to notice a thing on the rooftop of the onsen. At most they’ll think they see a crow out of the corner of their eye. And it’s best that a bird is all they see. It’s been a long time since a mortal could perceive him without him trying to be seen, but last time it lead to him fleeing and abandoning his post until the lifetime of that human ended. He shouldn’t even talk to them if they notice.

(Even if he wants them to know him. He wants to scream and shout and be a part of something, anything. But he traded that away a long time ago.)

Keep Reading on AO3!

Read the Final Part on Patreon!

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Resplendent: Chapter Thirty-Seven [FINAL CHAPTER!!!]

Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice Rating: Teen (for many swears, and minor violence) Description:

Yuuri is the God of Death and Lord of the Underworld, and has established and maintained a tentative peace after a long war with the gods of the Overworld. He thought he’d been doing an okay job, but apparently it wasn’t enough, just like everything he tries to do. Now the Lord of the Overworld demands Yuuri marry one of their gods as proof of each side’s commitment. All in all, it might not be such a bad situation—Yuuri’s always admired Victor, the God of Spring, from a distance.

Problem is, Victor would rather have Yuuri dead than stay his husband. In fact, Victor would just like Yuuri dead in general.

AKA the weird Hades and Persephone retelling (not Greek world building tho) that I couldn’t help but writing.

Excerpt:

Yuuri sprints from the kitchen, feet moving so fast that he nearly falls as he tries to take turns. Yuuko calls out after him, but she doesn’t know, she can’t understand. The thing about the trickling of spring into the Underworld is that it’s something that a god needs to have an affinity with life to really feel and understand.

Something that Yuuri shouldn’t have.

Makkachin runs alongside Yuuri, barking whenever she thinks that Yuuri’s taking too long to round a corner or get down a hall.

It’s not his fault that this house is so much like a maze.

The two of them barrel out of the front door, and Yuuri pauses for one instant to stare at the cherry tree.

It almost seems to be glowing brighter now, a soft pink haze reflecting off the pools and filling the night air with a soft, floral scent. It could be reacting to Spring—the season or the person—but that’s not something for Yuuri to question right this very second.

He turns and runs along the side of the house, Makka not waiting as she sprints ahead. She’s come outside with him alone dozens of times, and they have old habits worn into them from it. She knows exactly where Yuuri’s going.

Keep Reading on AO3!

Read the soft, epilogue-ish ficlet on Patreon!

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a little less conversation and a little more touch my body

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this is exactly how he told chris about yuuri

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You know, there was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov sat down with his very first costume designer and explained exactly what he wanted his outfit to look like. And there was a time in which said costume designer explained that all of those ideas were great. They’d just have to push the neckline a little further, maybe replace a bit of the fabric with mesh.“You have the most beautiful skin, darling,” she’d said. “It’s what people want to see.”

There was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov got his very first PR specialist and was taught the ins and outs of flirting with the cameras. He learned exactly when to be sweet, when to be silent, when to be sexy. And in the end, he learned how to give people exactly what they wanted.

There was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov was asked if he had a girlfriend. And he’d laughed, twirled his hair around his finger. “Of course not,” he’d said, wearing signature smile number five. “But I have a boyfriend.”

Technically he didn’t have a boyfriend, but the look on the PR lady’s face had been priceless.

He hadn’t really been ready for all the questions that came after, but he’d answered them anyway. He’d laughed. He’d smiled. He’d made a few jokes, thrown in an innuendo or two for good measure.

There was a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov became a playboy, and though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it was, the headlines had spoken for themselves.

There was also a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov became an adult, and though he hadn’t necessarily been of age, the headlines had spoken for themselves.

So had the interview questions.

So had the sponsors.

There was probably a time in which a slightly-less-younger Victor Nikiforov had regretted it all, in which he realized just how far he’d gone, in which he realized that he couldn’t go back.

And there was probably a time in which a fourteen-year-old Yuri Plisetsky looked at a much-older Victor Nikiforov, determination etched in his eyes, ready to skate Eros with everything he had.

And there was probably a moment in which Victor realized it wasn’t even a choice. Of course, someone would push Yuri down that road eventually, someone probably already had.

But that someone would not be Victor Nikiforov.

It would never be Victor Nikiforov, and Yuri would skate Agape.

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but a clean browsing history is a dirty browsing history, Chris

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I CAN’T EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS TWO BOYS MY GOD, I JUST CAN’T

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LIVING for new official art (Especially of Otabek)!!

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@briochy made this adorable art of Ash, Eiji, Yut-Lung, and Sing! 

Thank you so much, friend! Please commission her, she’s wonderful as an artist + person! 

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history maker now has an official music video!! ♥

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finale.

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I need merch with this on

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Vitya’s baby pics