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Some cat!Yuri!!! On Ice memes

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not fair that the cuntiest woman in this world is a muppet (ms. piggy)

#i mean... #they aint wrong #miss piggy

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Christophe Giacometti

Here's Christophe Giacometti from Yuri on Ice!

#yuri on ice #yoi #christophe giacometti

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YOI holds such a special place in my heart ;o;

Pls support me on Patreon if you like my artwork!!

#yuri on ice #yoi #yuri plisetsky #otayuri #otabek altin #otabek x yurio

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It's just a typo, darling. Calm tf down.

(⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

#yuri on ice edit #yuri on ice #yoi #yuri!!! on ice #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #victyuuri

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Delicious.

Victor

November page in my 2020 calendar! 

#yuri on ice #yoi #victor nikiforov

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Sure, baby. 🥹

#yuri on ice edit #yuri on ice #yoi #yuri!!! on ice #yuri plisetsky #otabek altin #otabek x yurio #otayuri

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I am here for petty Victor.

Looking at the trivia part on YOI wiki just for a bit of fun. Ignore me, I’m not doing well in summer, the heat is killing me.

Kenjirou was planned as Yuri’s Planned Design.

Help, Minami is what Yurio was supposed to look like. Yurio was supposed to be an angry chicken nugget.

Georgi is known in Japan as the “pigeon”.

DFJGLJGHJLHKL WHY??

Seung-gil has an extreme aversion (a strong dislike or disinclination) to women and vegetables while he likes meat and dogs

Dislikes women and vegetables. That’s the same category. I hate cabbage and also half of humanity. Where’s that meme. “You’re gay because you love men. I’m gay because I hate women. We’re not the same.”

Seung-gil doesn’t look good in anything, but he wears sportswear when he dresses himself as he basically has no interest in fashion since he’s so devoted to his sport

SDKGHJLSHFGLKFHSLDH “DOESN’T LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING” WHY SO MEAN TO HIM. He didn’t do anything, he just wanted to skate as a rainbow parrot.

He also has many mischievous friends.

This is about Otabek. What does it meannnnn. I wish I could read the source.

According to SNS, Phichit is one of the Three Most Adorable Men’s Figure Skaters in Asia.

The others are Minami and Guang Hong. I love that this is a thing.

The caption on his Instagram post during the credits reads “Reunited with bae”.

This is about Chris. Captioning a post with his cat. I want to know if that’s the cat’s name or if he’s just being ridiculous. Probably just being ridiculous.

Chris is near-sighted. He uses contacts when skating.

See, Yuuri, you don’t have to skate practically blind.

Emil does extreme sports during the off season, which makes his coach nervous.

dhfghdjhghjkfg I did not know this. I love. “I swear to god if you come back with a broken leg–”

It is likely that Celestino has a low alcohol tolerance.

The way this is phrased compared to the image of him passed out on the table with Phichit taking pictures

Toshiya does not know much about figure skating as he is more of a soccer fan.

That’s not an excuse, Toshiya, your son started doing it when he was a child.

On the official site, she is described as “the woman of Yuuri’s dreams”

About Yuuko. I’m. What fgjhghjlfhkjg Even with my interpretation of Yuuri being bi, this is a lot.

According to Mitsurou Kubo, while the staff did their best to portray the appeal of the skaters, they didn’t try very hard with Takeshi. 

GSLJHSLKDGKHJLDH SO MEAN

Mila is seen during the Sochi GPF banquet taking pictures of Yuuri Katsuki pole dancing.

And I want to see her pictures too. We got pictures by others, give me hers too.

Sara’s Instagram is sala-crispino

And I find this now, years after we had the naming discourse.

Michele is ironically described as a virgin.

The “Ironically” is the part that kills me here.

A portion of Michele’s free program is skated by Yuuri Katsuki in the opening credits

Does he deserve the honor? And he was so rude to Yuuri too ( ᓂ︿⁾⁾⁾)

Actually this made me think about Viktor deciding to get back at Mickey for disrespecting Yuuri, and encouraging Yuuri to skate his program just because he’ll do it better. I think Viktor is that kind of petty.

Some part of one of Michele’s skate program “Serenade for Two” have been a part of Yuri Plisetsky’s skate for the opening of anime.

Definitely Viktor’s idea. And Yuri was in on it.

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So wondrous.

for old times' sake ...

#yuri on ice #yoi #yuri plisetsky #otayuri #otabek altin #victor nikiforov #victuuri #otabek x yurio #yuuri katsuki #victor x yuuri

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Art by  utatanenap

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

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いや、ヴィクトルも泣くんだと思って。(Iya, Vikutoru mo naku n da to omotte.)

Since the whole tumblr is weeping for it's long lost lover, I decided to commemorate this day with a little note on this scene.

The thing here is the "mo" - that means "too" and is very often used contextually. We all know Yuri is a crybaby, he basically cries for sport next to skating. Knowing this, what he says here is more like: "I just though you can cry too, that's all."

Yuri is used to himself crying and Victor being the strong one and he's so taken aback by Victor being emotional that his first instinct is not "oh shit, please don't cry", but "wtf, you can cry too?" Little shit.

So... yeah, it ain't much and I will very likely be re-watching Yuri on Ice soon, so I will come up with something more interesting. Later, keep the candles burning.

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YURI!!! on ICE 5th anniversary illustrations.

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Made the worst brownies ever created just now

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Here's the thing about Jareth from Labyrinth right?

He's made up.

That's not necessarily the same thing as not REAL. But he, just like all her friends who show up in her room before her adventure as toys and figurines, exist in relation to her, in response to what she wanted and needed. She told the story and there he was, there he always had been. But she's a teenage girl who doesn't know what she wants yet, and Jareth kind of pays the price.

"but the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and had given her certain powers." He's an archetypal oxymoron. He's both the dastardly baby stealing villain and the royal love interest trying to relieve the heroine's suffering, Cinderella style. He's fucked either way by being both. She doesn't know if SHE wants to be the villain or the heroine until he shows up and then she decides on the heroine, so he has to sneer and menace and challenge but it's too late for him!! it's too late, The King Of The Goblins Had Fallen In Love With the Girl, he's Cinderella's prince too and he has to try, he gives her a poofy dress and takes her to fucking goblin prom, sweeps her around the room like a music box with perfect posture and room for Jesus.

But it doesn't work buddy, it can't work. You're just a story for a teen girl to grow up in, and as the villain you have to be defeated. He's so complex because his tropes contradict themselves, and he doesn't understand why he has to lose when he was only doing the job he was given. In his last scene he is pale as death with shadows under his eyes, backing away and begging for his happy ending with nonsense mishmash promises that belong to both halves of him.

"I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me." I'm sure you are, Jareth. No wonder.

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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.”

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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

#yuri on ice #yoi #yuri plisetsky #otayuri #otabek altin #victor nikiforov #victuuri #otabek x yurio #yuuri katsuki #victor x yuuri #cannon compliant ships #primary cannon victuuri #secondary cannon otayuri (OTP) #WE SAIL THIS SHIP TO THE MOTHER FUCKING STARS! #USS Find Out #I love them your honor #IT NEVER DIES! #YoI fan fiction #YoI AU #Collage AU #christophe giacometti #podium family life #fan fiction #no beta #that's for later

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Look at this adorable Victor, while holding Makkachin, and warning pets not to eat food which is only meant for humans (source).