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chevalierene · 5 years

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The PRxPRince Experience

It’s been nearly five months so it’s high time I finally wrote up my review ^^; In April of this year I had the pleasure to see Machida Nanoka’s directorial debut show, PRxPRince. This show was also the first solo lead for Snow Troupe’s Towaki Sea (Hitoko). As this was the first bow hall show I have seen the theatre is much smaller than the Grand Theatres with no balcony and holds a little over 500 people.

The intimacy of the show is doubled with the cast of 30 people who all get to shine during the show. There are enough additional scenes for everyone in the cast to play important roles and it also showcases a lot of the younger actresses as well.

All bias aside, PRxPRince is a fantastic show and is possibly my favorite Takarazuka show that I have seen yet. With the combined powers of Machida sensei’s writing and Hitoko’s sensual charm onstage they somehow created a show that is both very fun and extremely lethal. Before the show premiered just from the interviews it was evident that Machida sensei knew exactly what she was doing. She had been a fan of Takarazuka for a number of years and it shows in the final result.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

The show opens with the three ministers of Pecchieno, the Genovia-like country in which the story takes place, who are trying to figure out a way to get the country out of financial difficulties. Caspar (Kanou Yuuri) and Elias (Ichika Ao) have very different views on how to go about this dilemma with Caspar being very old-fashioned and Elias being a Millennial and very social media savvy. Damian (Yume Maoto) is kind of the moderator between them and the one who ends up suggesting the ultimate way to solve the country’s issues (which will be revealed later on).

The next scene is a PR campaign video that introduces Victor (Hitoko), the oldest prince of Pecchieno as well as his two younger brothers, Valentin (Aya Ouka) and Valtteri (Ayami Sera). The opening song “Welcome to Pecchieno” is one of the catchiest songs in the show and gets reprised later on, inevitably becoming an earworm for anyone who hears it. What should be noted about the opening is that Victor’s glasses are removed before the start of the PR campaign video so Hitoko’s blue contact lenses and smooth blonde hair are on full display. And it is truly devastating! (Sidenote: I had no idea that the intro song actually introduces the rest of the cast who come onstage briefly until my last time seeing the show because I had my opera glasses focused on Hitoko for the other 6).

The next time we see Victor he is dressed in a parka, tennis shoes, a lab coat, and has large round glasses and messy hair. Victor is the leader of a group of scientists whose goal it is to find a solution to the polluting problems from the neighboring country (though this plotline might have changed since the director’s talk cause there was probably something I missed but I tried my best to follow along with the laboratory scenes). Elle (Jun Hana) is one of the scientists who really likes Victor and Victor really likes her. They are very adorable and awkward together. They are also both incredibly intelligent. Elle is seen as very smart but also fierce and is not one you want to mess with (she does Karate poses).

During another PR campaign tactic the princes are literally being mobbed by fangirls (listed as Fangirl 1-6 in the program) in order to promote tourism. At one point during a struggle Victor’s glasses fall off and he falls to the ground. He then emits a very unsumire moan. Suddenly, the lights change to a vivid bright green and music starts. Victor lifts up his head but his entire demeanor has changed. It is revealed during this song that this is in fact Christopher and he is searching for his goddess. The awkward prince Victor is replaced by Christopher, a very handsome, cocky, and aggressive version who makes every girl around him fall to the ground in delight. This reveal was so secret during the press for PRxPRince before I saw the show that I knew that Hitoko would be both extremely kawaii and extremely ikemen but I didn’t realize that Victor would change into a completely different person!

Through a flashback scene told by Alice (Sahana Mako), the family’s nurse, it is revealed that because Victor was just TOO BEAUTIFUL and maids had to flee the room because they just couldn’t handle it, a hypnotist is brought in to put a spell on Victor that allows his ikemen side to stay hidden when he has the glasses on. However, the side effect is that when the glasses get removed his ikemen side is so extra and over the top that he is literally a completely different person. In the show there are two songs that feature Victor and his Shadow which is the other side of him. The Shadow (Houka Haruna) is distant for the first song and represents Christopher behind him in the background. The second song is started by Christopher and the Shadow comes out wearing glasses. In the middle of the song the Shadow puts the glasses on Christopher. When he turns around he is once again Victor. The glasses are then removed completely and they have a duet dance together. The transitions from one to the other are incredible and it shows off Hitoko’s acting skills in the best possible way. It isn’t just the glasses that make the change. As Victor, Hitoko speaks and sings in a higher register that is closer to her natural speaking voice, she stutters more, her posture is often bent forward, has more outbursts and exclamations and is also portrayed as very sensitive. As Christopher, Hitoko is in full dangerous otokoyaku-killing mode; her speaking and singing voice is deeper, her posture is straight, she is more confident, aggressive, and controlling. Christopher also speaks in a very old-fashioned way and gives off an air as otherworldly in many ways. Another neat thing is that Victor addresses himself as “Boku” and addresses Elle as “Elle-san”. Christopher uses “Ore” when referring to himself and just says “Elle”.

Elle faces a crisis at one point when Christopher tries to make a move and she slaps him. She immediately panics when she thinks that she has hurt Victor though and tries to figure out what happened to her sweet awkward boyfriend. Her and Victor sing a duet towards the audience in separate rooms. The song is later reprised after Victor admits that he likes Elle and they sing it to each other in a very tender moment. Jun Hana has a very Disney princess vibe to her which is exemplified whenever she’s around Hitoko who has an equally Disney prince vibe. They are characters who could literally be in a shoujo manga. While Jun Hana does not have the strongest singing voice per se, she makes it work here.

Victor’s brothers, Valentin and Valterri are also rather amusing to watch. I was very surprised at how much I enjoyed watching Aya’s performance as Valentin. She was VERY extra. Valentin is a true narcissist and has long flowing locks. He also tends to play with the ends of his hair and is the MOST dramatic person I have ever seen. He pines after a girl he once knew called Diana and throughout the show tries to pursue a girl of the same name played by Seina Nozomi who he’s convinced is the same one he once loved. Valterri is the youngest brother and is obsessed with working out. He’s very impulsive and doesn’t really think things through which gets him in trouble later on (Victor and Valentin silently scold him at one point which is funny since both of them are using big gestures on the side of the stage while other characters are talking). He is also head over heels in love with Marie (Irodori Michiru), the sister of the rival country’s ruler, Queen Lily (Ai Sumire). Ayami Sera did a really good job at playing the bratty younger brother who just wants to have fun. This was probably her biggest role to date so far too so she got to show off her singing as well.

Speaking of Ai Sumire I need to talk about her because she was one of the most phenomenal parts of this show! She is portrayed as a campy villain with a very extra evil laugh. But DANG the girl has the most powerful voice and even gets the only vocal song in the finale! Catch me singing “IKEMEN! I-KE-MEN!” constantly. Lily is almost always surrounded by her posse made up of Rose (Shouno Chio) who is more or less her secretary who always carries an iPad with her to let Queen Lily know about the latest thing that their neighboring country is up to and Garrett (Kiraha Reo) who is Lily’s erm...really hot boytoy/bodyguard? What was quite surprising for me the first time I saw it was that Garrett does not speak AT ALL in the show. He whispers behind his hands to Lily but other than that he is completely silent and yet, the way that Kiraha (Kari) presents herself onstage even without saying a word is mesmerizing to watch. She just emits the most brooding otokoyaku energy that is mostly reserved for kuroenbis in revues. Garrett smokes, casually checks his watch, and performs a tango with Lily and I cannot stop LOOKING AT HIM ONSTAGE! Even when other characters are talking onstage if Garrett is there (save for when Victor is present) my eyes would float over to him just to watch him stare into the ether and make the slowest and most deliberate of gestures.

Of course, no true royal comedy would happen without the king and queen themselves. King Anselm (Souno Haruto) and Queen Beatrice (Maisaki Rin) are the parents of the V3 (the campaign name for the three hot princes). King Anselm is very attached to everything he owns especially his expensive collection of various artifacts. Queen Beatrice is just trying to have a nice time and wants everyone to be happy again. They are also IMMENSELY in love and get very lovey-dovey in front of their boys who are all grossed out by their displays of affection. Given that the two actresses are also classmates they play off of each other really well and have a very nice relationship that is enhanced through that. They play an important role to the story and Maisaki Rin (Hime) even gets a moment of adlibbing.

One of the great things about PRxPRince was actually the amount of adlibs that were included with each performance. There are several moments in the script where adlibs occur for each performance, similar in the way of the adlibs in shows like Lupin III and Bakumatsu Taiyouden occur. Even though you can tell these adlibs are planned out somewhat in advance it’s nice to see the actresses work with things that are also on the spot sometimes since not everything is completely planned out. Some were funnier than others but that’s all part of the fun of the show and just finding a good balance with the audience. Personally I loved the adlibs even though I couldn’t understand some of them sometimes. Other things that were adlibbed were little gestures here and there that the characters would do that were different with each performance. One of my favorites was watching Kari scold Michiru at one point and one performance Kari leaned over Michiru so much that Michiru’s tiara had bounced back onto her head as she came up. The adlibs definitely made each performance I saw unique and lots of fun especially when the show was in the middle of Japan’s naming for the new era and suddenly 平成 (Heisei) and 令和 (Reiwa) adlibs were added to the mix.

As the ministers figure out the next part in the V3 PR campaign Damian suggests that they host a ball in order to find eligible matches for the princes. A lot of stuff goes down in Act 2 during the ball including Marie showing off her pet bug to literally everyone within range, Elle finding said bug and actually communicating with it, Garrett and Rose playing musical instruments, Valentin doing a slow baywatch walk, and Victor expressing his true feelings towards Elle. At the very end of the show Victor and Elle actually go into the audience to do high-touches with those lucky to be on the aisle seats (alas, I was not one of them). One of the best moments was from the final performance when Top Stars Nozomi Fuuto and Maya Kiho were in the audience and I was able to see Hitoko shake both of their hands in a very sincere gesture since she was so happy both of them could make it to the show.

I talked a bit about the music before but OH MY GOD this show’s music is incredible! It’s very catchy and pleasing to the ear. A lot of the songs are slightly reminiscent of older Takarazuka shows but are also not too old-fashioned sounding. A lot of brass and strings are used in the songs which is very enjoyable. The finale takes it one step further though and incorporates electric guitar.

Yes, I am going to spend an entire paragraph just on the finale because it deserves to be talked about. After the happy ending of the show intense rock music is played as the curtain rises to three figures: Ai Sumire, Kari, and Shouno Chio. A rock version of “Lily’s Song” is played and it is THE BEST THING EVER! After my first viewing I always looked forward to the finale because it starts off super strong and doesn’t disappoint. Ai Sumire is the only one who gets to sing in the finale which is appropriate considering her voice is amazing and is one of the best singers in Yukigumi imo (Daikiho aside, of course). After the villainous trio have their number Hitoko sneakily walks onstage to stand on a platform. She is dressed in a dark blue coat with gold trim and a silk wine red shirt on beneath it. Her blonde wig stays on for the entire time. An instrumental rendition of “Two souls” is played as she descends the stairs, dancing fluidly and gracefully like a swan and takes front and center. The “fuu!” that emits from her lips is enough to make the audience shatter into 1000 pieces. They have fallen under their prince’s spell with the lure of Hitoko’s sanpakugan (this was so effective I was unable to watch this part of the finale with the opera glasses because it was THAT powerful). The rest of the otokoyaku join her shortly afterwards in a dance which evolves into an instrumental “Diana” as Hitoko takes off to change into her next costume while Ayana leads. After the otokoyaku dance they scatter and the musumeyaku all appear in lovely pink dresses. Hitoko has changed into a Prince Charming white military uniform and dances in the center, surrounded by beautiful women, which honestly, the dream. A shift in the music starts and one by one the ladies leave the stage until there is one remaining. But even SHE isn’t the goddess that our prince seeks. Jun Hana makes her way onto a small platform in a gold ball gown similar in style to Belle’s from Beauty and the Beast. When Hitoko turns around and sees her it’s like a wave of happiness rolls through them both and they have a classic waltz set to an instrumental version of “Someday My Prince Will Come” from Snow-White and the Seven Dwarfs. It is canonically one of the purest moments in the entire show even though the entire time I watched it I prayed that Hitoko would not trip over Jun Hana’s massive ballgown. The only mishap I saw was on the first day when while twirling Jun Hana to the side she slipped ever so slightly but managed to catch herself gracefully. After their intimate dance they exit together and the curtain call rolls.

This show brought together so many hearts and it was so refreshing to see Yukigumi do a comedy bow hall since it has not been done since the early 2000s. I love this show more than I have loved any Takarazuka show and I feel blessed that I was able to see it live as many times as I did and to be able to share this wonderful experience with others.

#PRxPRince #Yukigumi #Takarazuka #Towaki Sea #Jun Hana #review #Omg this took forever to write up #Congrats if you made it to the end of my rambling #This show means the world to me so thank you for reading

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louciferish · 6 years

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@antarespromise Thanks for the fun prompt! I hope you enjoy my response :)

Victor wakes to the growl of his phone vibrating itself across the nightstand. He cracks his eyes just wide enough to see and slaps at it, stopping it before it jolts itself right off the edge, then peers at the caller information.

He’s greeted by a familiar picture of Christophe, winking and blowing a kiss to the camera.

The temptation to throw his phone is real, but it could be important. Technically Chris is meant to be ensuing that Victor gets paid soon. He thumbs to accept the call and presses the phone to his ear.

“Morning,” he mutters.

“I saw a picture of you on Facebook,” Chris says.

Silence stretches around them as Victor blinks up at his white ceiling, uncomprehending. “You woke me up for this? I hate to tell you, but there are lots of pictures of me on Facebook. You put some of them there.”

“No,” Chris says, sounding delighted. “They don’t know its you yet, but it is. You’ve gone viral.”

“What?”

Victor sits up abruptly and slips from the bed. The concrete floor is so cold it almost burns his feet, and he feels out his slippers with his toes before wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. Makkachin raises her head when he stands and leaps off the bed follow him into the living room.

Where did he last see the computer? His desk is covered in crumpled tubes of oil paint and trays of watercolors, and the coffee table is dominated by his most recent canvas, still drying. He pauses to look at the work again.

It’s a mess. He’ll tell Chris to burn it.

The silvery corner of his laptop protrudes from beneath the canvas, and Victor pulls it out. He drops onto the sofa and opens up Facebook as Makka curls against his hip.

“What am I looking for here?” He asks Chris. “My own name?”

“No. The internet has dubbed you ‘Good-Looking Foreigner’.”

Typing that into the search bar brings up an extensive feed of posts and photos. Victor immediately spots the picture in question. It has tens of thousands of reactions piled up beneath it and hundreds of comments that he knows not to read.

He’s facing toward the photographer but staring past them into the distance. His chin rests on one hand, while the other is holding his favorite blue pencil to a sketch pad spread out in front of him. He’s clearly unaware that he’s being photographed, caught in a quiet moment with his lips parted and his hair spilling artlessly over half his face.

The scenery behind him is a blur of brown and black as his face is featured with intense clarity. It’s a lovely photo. It’s also incredibly disorienting.

When was this taken? Nothing about it seems familiar. What little he can make out of the background looks nothing like the Starbucks by his apartment where he sometimes sketches.

He scrolls further in the feed, past comments declaring he’s “not that good-looking” and news stories in a vast array of languages. It seems the internet has already outed the photographer.

The interview is in Japanese, so Victor can’t parse the words, but Yuuri Katsuki looks startled behind his thick, blue-framed glasses, flushed and stammering in his responses. He’s clearly overwhelmed by the sudden flurry of attention. Victor can sympathize.

It does help put the photo in context, though. Victor had only been in Japan a few days - a brief stop on a whirlwind tour in search of inspiration. He’d come up empty, but that explains why the scenery around him is unfamiliar.

Curious, he opens a new tab and types the photographer’s name into Google. A portfolio page pops up, and he clicks on it.

He expected the photos to be good, given the quality of the first one, but finds himself sucking in a breath as he scrolls through the display - sparkling midnight cityscapes, soft lavender mountains framing wandering deer, and ragged-eared stray cats squinting on garden walls dominate the portfolio. None of the pictures are of people, not even in the background.

He clicks back to the original photo of himself. It feels narcissistic to stare at his own face, but the photographer’s talent has brought out details he’d never notice from a simple mirror. Through this stranger’s lens, Victor is vulnerable in miniscule - the supple shadows on his skin, the peach and white of his fingernails, the smudge of graphite highlighting his cheekbone.

“Well, what do you think?” Chris asks. Victor jumps. He’d forgotten Chris was still on the phone, waiting for Victor’s response. “The internet will find you eventually, but we can get ahead of it, maybe use this to market your art. How should we handle it?”

He clicks the artist bio link on the portfolio page. Yuuri Katsuki’s self-portrait is captured in a mirror reflection, a mess of dark hair and the edge of a clean-shaven cheek, mostly obscured by the bulk of his camera.

Victor surprises himself when he replies. “I want to meet him,” he tells Chris. “I need to talk to Yuuri Katsuki.”

#yuri on ice #yoi fic #victuuri #victor nikiforov #yuri on ice fanfiction #my fanfiction #tumblr follower prompts #antarespromise

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youremarvelous · 6 years

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I dont think it's in your prompt list, but if you're willing to give it a go-- Yuuri coming home from out of town, finding their house in a flurry of crayons and colored paper, with Victor and their daughter asleep in the bedroom.

Sure, honey! I love writing parental victuuri. I hope you enjoy it!

“Okay—” Yuuri stops outside the TSA line, turns to face Viktor—“so pick-up is at 1—”

“But leave early in case of traffic.”

“And—”

“And bring her a snack to eat because she always gets cranky if she falls asleep on the car ride home before having one.”

Yuuri’s opens his mouth, then closes it again with a slight nod, exhales audibly. “You’ve got it covered.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Viktor smiles, stroking Yuuri’s cheek with his thumb.

“Right,” Yuuri flushes. He sneaks his arms under Viktor’s blush pink sport coat, hugs him so tight he can feel Viktor’s heartbeat fluttering against his cheek. “I’ll miss your coffee.”

Viktor pets the back of Yuuri’s head. “They’ll have coffee at the hotel, dove.”

“Mm,” Yuuri hums. “It’s not the same. Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Hey—” Viktor crooks a finger under Yuuri’s chin, tilts his head up so their eyes meet—“it’s just two days. You’ll nail your photoshoot, have a nice, uninterrupted night of sleep, enjoy some subpar coffee—”

Yuuri snorts.

—“and you’ll be home with me and Anechka before you know it.”

“I won’t be able to sleep without your snoring.”

Viktor presses his lips to Yuuri’s forehead, the side of his nose, pauses over his mouth—“I trust you’ll manage—” before kissing him there.

Yuuri isn’t so sure, but he lets his arguments fall away for the moment, singed from his brain by the heat of Viktor’s lips satin-soft against his, the taste of Viktor’s favorite peppered cinnamon black tea on his tongue.

He waves Viktor one last goodbye from the other side of security, manages not to cry until he’s long out of view, safely locked in a bathroom stall near his gate. The truth is no amount of planning could ever adequately prepare him for the inevitable anxiety surge of his first weekend spent away from his daughter.

“It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Yuuri had whisper-cried to his Mom weeks earlier. He was home alone, crammed in the corner of the pantry between boxes of noodles and long-expired baby formula out of an ingrained impulse to hide the truth, even if only from himself. “But some nights he snores louder than the baby cries.”

For her part, Hiroko listened patiently, offering hums of understanding, the occasional, “I’m sure Vicchan knows Anna-chan can’t use the blender on her own,” over any real concrete advice. She knows as well as Yuuri, the only way for him to get over his fear of leaving Anna is to force himself to do it and prove to the hair-trigger, threat-seeking anxiety klaxons in his brain that nothing bad will happen because of it.

All the reason in the world doesn’t stop him from huddling over his laptop as soon as he makes it to the hotel room after the flight, torn between the blissful refuge of not knowing and his heart-rending terror of it.

“Yurik!” Viktor finally answers after Yuuri’s third time calling. Yuuri had already typed 1-1-2 on his phone after the second. He quickly clears it with trembling fingers. “How was your flight, my heart?”

“Fine.” Yuuri tries to scan the background, for the first time in the history of his crush, cursing Viktor’s perfect genetics for the breadth of his muscular shoulders. “Um, so…where’s Anna-chan?” He asks, totally shattering any poorly-constructed illusion of nonchalance.

“Hmm?” Viktor purses his lips. He looks adorably cute—forehead pleated, eyes unbearably blue in the laptop light. Yuuri would appreciate it more if his heart wasn’t pushing its way into his throat. “It’s naptime.”

Which, yeah, Yuuri does a quick time conversion in his head. It is. He’s an idiot.

“Oh, right. That’s right. Sorry.”

“Have you gone anywhere fun?”

Yuuri’s a shitty liar. He doesn’t even have to open his mouth before Viktor’s tilting his head, mouth turning down at the corners.

“Yuuri,” he scolds, stretching out the vowels.

Yuuri swallows down a comment about how nowhere is fun if Viktor and Anna aren’t there. It’s not true, anyway.

Probably.

Or at least, saying so would worry Viktor.

“I’ll go now,” Yuuri says instead. “Call me if something happens?”

“I’ll call you even when it doesn’t,” Viktor assures him. “I love you, please try to rela—enjoy yourself,” he carefully amends.

Yuuri tells him he loves him, too, that he’ll try. He slips in his earbuds after ending the call, tries to recall the choreography to his old routines while he walks around the city, eating up time before he has to leave for his sponsor meeting.

Work helps him get things off his mind a little. At least, until they politely ask about his life as a husband and father for the biographical blurb they’re including with the photoshoot. “It’s the most fulfilling accomplishment of my life,” Yuuri says, which is a true statement, if a well-practiced one.

“Does it worry you to be away for the weekend?”

Yuuri laughs, the sound of it skipping off the walls—stilted and unnaturally loud. “Not at all.”

His pocket buzzes. It’s a photo of Anna shirtless in their backyard, crouched in a mud puddle in her blue, poodle-printed wellies. The cuteness of which manages to distract the interviewer from Yuuri’s fingers drumming an aimless rhythm on his knee, his foot bouncing under the desk.

“Fed, bathed, and tickled,” Viktor reports over Facetime later that evening. “How was the meeting?”

“What? Oh, fine,” Yuuri answers distractedly. His image is blurred, distorted by the faint intermittent tremble wracking the knee on which the laptop is propped. “Did Anna go down okay?”

“Yes, dear,” Viktor smiles politely. ‘Stop fixating’ in code.

Yuuri manages to book himself an earlier flight the next morning. “So I wouldn’t have to miss your coffee,” Yuuri mentally practices himself explaining to Viktor. There’s no point saying that he couldn’t sleep in a crumbless, stainless bed, bereft of clingy dogs and even clingier husbands. Viktor will be able to ascertain as much from his lank hair, the purple bruises under each eye.

He probably expects it, anyway, and not just because Viktor himself has pulled the same move no less than five times in the three years since Anna was born. They know each other too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

When Yuuri arrives home—by taxi because he doesn’t want to wake anyone before 5 am—the house is dark and silent. A good thing, logically, but a terrifying thing to the irrational corner of his brain that insists it’s because he has yet to replace the batteries on the carbon monoxide detector since it went out last week and they’ve suffocated in their sleep.

He forgets about the potential poisoning when his head bumps something thin and fluttery in the threshold of the kitchen and living room. He backs up, squints at the obstruction through the dark before flicking on the light. A homemade “welcome home” banner emerges from the dark, rainbow letters written in Viktor’s careful script, decorated with scribbles of yellow and brown circles with legs that Yuuri knows from experience are meant to be happy suns and playful puppies.

Yuuri covers his mouth with his hand, tears stinging his eyes. He can see the paper scraps and crayons still littering the kitchen table, walks over to find a family portrait—a tall rectangle of green and a slightly shorter oval of blue, holding the hands of a purple triangle. There’s also a pink crayon with a deep, conspicuous bite mark, but Yuuri chooses to ignore it for the moment.

He wanders quietly to the bedroom, peeks in to find the centers of his world snuggled together on the bed, a tangle of limbs and dogs and stuffed animals. Yuuri shuffles to Anna’s side. He combs her tangled hair out of her face and kisses her temple, gently pushes away a dog to pull the covers up to her chin.

He makes his way to the other side of the bed next, runs his fingers through Viktor’s hair, brushes the pad of his thumb over his eyebrow until Viktor blinks up at him groggily.

“You’re home.”

Yuuri bows to kiss him. Viktor isn’t expecting it and their lips meet awkwardly—crookedly. It’s exactly perfect in that it isn’t at all. “Sorry I didn’t trust you.”

Viktor takes Yuuri by the wrist, pulls him into the narrow space between him and their daughter. “It’s okay,” he whispers, voice sleep-rasped and low. “You just wanted to make it home for the coffee, right?”

Yuuri hides a breathy, relieved laugh into Viktor’s chest. “Something like that.”

my yoi drabbles | kofi ♡

#yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #victuuri #yoi drabble #my writing #prompt fill

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xyloophones · 6 years

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excuse the mess it made

i guess?? a tentative part 2 to the gay mixtape au with @thecookiemonster77 which literally started from a shitpost. i hope yall are happy

Against his better judgement, Yuuri calls the station again the next day.

He doesn’t plan to, it’s just–– well, Viktor was very cute in psych today. And he kept glancing back at Yuuri and giving him little endearing half-waves while their professor droned on about child brain development and, wow, he has the prettiest eyes and––

Listen, Yuuri never claimed to be a functional gay.

He’s been thinking about his call all day, flipping between feeling mortified and wanting to melt into the floor with happiness. Talking to Viktor yesterday, even briefly, was the highlight of his day. The way that Viktor had said Yuuri’s name, his voice all low and sweet and wow––

Again. Not very functional.

Half-way through his usual stretches, Yuuri decides that he can’t possibly embarrass himself anymore than he already has. He picks up the phone.

“And that was Get You by Daniel Caesar, featuring Kali Uchis. Another one for the playlist… and it seems like we already have a caller! I hope it’s Yu–– uh, I mean, I hope they have some unique things to say! Hello, caller!”

“Um,” Yuuri squeaks, “h-hi, again. It’s Yuuri from yesterday.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaims, loud enough that Yuuri worries he blew out his mic. “Hi! Hello, welcome back! I was hoping you’d call again!”

“Oh?” Yuuri can’t help it. Something in his chest blooms, his heart thumping a hopeful melody. He cradles his phone against his cheek. “That’s–– I wasn’t sure if it was okay to call again….”

“You can call me anytime,” Viktor sighs. There’s the sound of someone clearing their throat in the background and Viktor amends, “I mean at the station. You can call me anytime, here at the station.”

“Airtime, Vitya!” Someone in the background shouts. Viktor huffs.

“Take your lunch break, Yakov, I’m having a conversation. Anyway, Yuuri, did you call for any particular reason?”

“Um, you mentioned a playlist earlier? Is that the one for your Mystery Boy?”

Something crashes at the station.

“O-Oh, that playlist, yeah that’s… for him. If you–– or anyone!–– could, um, help me come up with songs for my Mystery Boy, that would be great. Yes.”

Viktor’s voice pitches up awkwardly at the end. Yuuri hopes he isn’t making him uncomfortable by asking.

“Well, I have some recommendations if you’d like me to––”

“Please! Any advice you would have would be greatly appreciated, specifically any advice that you’d say would personally work if say hypothetically someone were to try to woo you specifically. Any personal favorite songs would be great!”

“Ah, okay? Give me a second.” Yuuri delicately ignores the slight manic edge to Viktor’s voice. Wow, he must really like this guy if he’s this desperate for advice, from Yuuri of all people. Yuuri crosses the studio and bends over to sort through his bag, pulling out a battered blue notebook. “I love music a lot, so I have a couple of songs to recommend.”

“Oh?”

Yuuri hums quietly, thumbing through the pages of his notebook to find the list he’d written down earlier. “Yeah, I’m a dance major so I listen to a lot of music in a lot of different genres. It’s one of the reasons I love your show so much. You play such a wide range of songs.”

“You l-love my show?”

“I’m a big fan.” Yuuri catches sight of himself in the mirrored studio walls. He’s blushing bright pink. “Um, anyway, Think Bout You by Frank Ocean is a good song for the playlist. Frank Ocean has a bunch of other great songs, too.”

“I know! I love him! That’s funny, I was just thinking about adding this song in.”

“I guess you could say we’re on the same wavelength.”

“Wave––did you–– Yuuri, was that a pun? On sound waves?”

“I know, I know,” Yuuri chuckles, “Sorry, that was awful.”

“It was perfect,” Viktor breathes out. “You’re perfect.”

Yuuri doesn’t really know how to respond to that besides helplessly, looking out the window towards the blocky radio station building. Over the radio, a door slams. Viktor swears in Russian.

“Is everything okay?”

There are muffled sounds of a scuffle and some unintelligible yelling. Yuuri hears someone shout “you’re cutting into my airtime!” Eventually, Viktor comes back, sounding out of breath and irritated.

“I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to cut this short. Someone can’t wait his turn.”

“Your time slot ended 8 minutes ago and you have 15 backed-up calls,” Someone in the background grumbles.

“That’s it for the Stammi Vicino show today, but–– Yuuri?”

“Hmm?”

“Call back tomorrow?”

Yuuri grins. “Definitely.”

#prompt #gay mixtape au #partner in gay crime #there ive done it and yall can stop @ ing me #im kidding this was pretty fun n im like in luv w this au #wish me luck i have a midterm in like 4 hours and yet here i am #anyway #i stan frank ocean #chanel is a bi anthem and ill fight anyone who says otherwise

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words-are-like-colors · 6 years

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64 Sensory Prompts -- Answered

Inspired by 64 Sensory Prompts (___) is inspired by ** personal __ original works

1) Watching a meteor shower: (Bakugo Katsuki) Eyes sparkling, he stared up at the sky in awe. It looked dangerous, heated, and violent, yet beautiful. The majority of the rocks explode in the air like fireworks, but with reds and oranges instead of blues and greens. Bigger rocks plugged down but either exploded or disappeared from sight as they hurtled towards the ground. He was staring in astonishment as his friend walked over and clapped his hand on his shoulder, saying that he had never seen this look of amplitude on his face before. It was all fascinating, these rocks from space, outer-fucking-space, were coming down to their planet out of all of the infinite other places they could go. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he will never forget it. 2) Digging your fingers into the fresh dirt: (Sawamura Eijun) You are digging with a shovel, pulling the dirt from the ground in weak pulls. Your mother gives you a patient smile, telling you that it takes a bit of effort but its worth it in the end. Some time passes and you get impatient; the shovel is too hard to use and your arms are getting sore. So, as any little child would do, you get on your hands and knees and start to scoop the dirt from the hole like a dog. Hands pass over each other in vigorous motions as you try to open the hole up more. Your mother notices this after a moment and pulls you back with a sigh. There is not much to punish on, your hands are covered with dirt, which would happen anyways, and the hole was dug well so she waved it off. Within the next month, the most beautiful flowers bloom from the hole that was made.

3) Snow being shoved down the back of your coat: (Yuuri and Phichit) Screaming and flailing he goes as his best friend cackles in the background. The pair were having a peaceful walk in the park when the friend suddenly yanks down his hoodie just to shove snow down his back. His back is prickling with cold-wet sensations as the snow instantly started to melt and roll down his back, leaving a trail of wet skin and clothes. Out of slight anger, he whips around with snow he snatched up from the ground and chucked it at his friend, not even caring to make a snowball out of it. His friend continues to laugh and laugh, only shutting up when snow is shoved down his jacket as well.

5) Trying to walk on ice:** The schoolyard was covered in ice. I watched as people slipped and slid over the icy snow as they had the time of their lives, laughing and bring the cold air joy. My friend that I had been making snow forts with the days prior was absent, sick probably, so I had to find a new thing to do. I glance over to the side to see a few more friends sliding down a mini snow slide onto the ice-covered pavement. I don't remember why I had it but I was clutching a small orange cat stuffie to my chest as I started to walk over. The pavement between the makeshift slide and myself was covered in a thin layer of ice. One step, two, three step, four, five step, PHEMP; I fell and landed on my butt. This isn't as much as a surprise as it was a regular act, seeing that the winters here are cold. Later that day, after lunch and recess, I notice that my cat stuffie's paw had been ripped upon impact.

6) Walking through the woods: (Kiribaku) Walking through the forest gives a place to clear your head, so that is just what he is doing. Within him was so much built up anger that he needed somewhere remote just to scream and explode, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Sometimes he does not even end up blowing up before he goes home, he just finds a cliff to sit to gaze out over the mountain on. Here in the forest, there is nothing except vibrant leaves and silent animals. The first time he told his friend about where he goes more weekends, he received a look of shock until he stiffly explained that sometimes he just needs space from the overwhelming world and that being out on the cliff helps give him perceptive of the world.

Today, he had brought that very friend. No one, not even his family was invited to see his escape but with this friend, he felt the same around him as he felt when wandering the forest. This friend lets him clear his head and has his body relax until he feels like venerable jelly. He will never regret bringing him with. 8) The way cold glass fogs when you press your hand against it:** It reminds me of my childhood. Sitting on the bus on the way to school. Pulling gloves off to press a warm hand against the cold glass, ignoring the sharp pricks for the cool sensation. The bus is cold but I am warm, the fog around my hand speaks that as I withdraw. Seeing this reminds me of Harry Potter when Ron has his hand on the train window when the dementor floats in with its demonic aura. Sometimes looking out the chilly bus window lets my thoughts wander into this area of mystery. As a child, just this creation of fog seems like a mystery in itself, and it still seems this way when you grow up when you learn why this is happening but still the mystery remains in what else this reaction can procure. 11) Blood at the corner of your mouth:** Most would see this prompt and think of fighting but honestly, to me its the most mundane thing in the world: a split lip caused by picking. Fingers work at the split, picking and pulling until the skin is removed, little by little until it bleeds and you are satisfied. This is no self-harm, that should be said upfront, just a thing that happens when your mind wanders and your hands finds something to do without your promoting. When you finally bleed, your tongue instantly jumps to it, tasting the foreign substance and labeling the copper taste as blood. Your mom may tell you to stop it since it could get worse and rip more, but your hands ignore this and you go back to this when in thought. Soon enough you find it painful and you stop, but you should have stopped when your mother warned. There's a constant strain on the corner of your lips as it attempts to heal. Talking and laughing and especially yawning is bothersome; every time you perform this action it pulls at the spot until it opens back up and your tongue instantly jumps back to it. One day, you forget you even had the cut in the first place and you move on, sometimes your hands going back to that place or wander on to pick at something different. 12) Cloying sweetness on the back of your tongue:** "Cake, everyone loves cake!" is from a line of a famous movie but you sometimes beg to differ. The cake from your grandma's favorite bakery is sicking sweet and you can't help but grimace at the first bite. It would be rude to say no to the cake, but it was absolutely atrocious and you cannot bear to eat anymore. You flash your mom a guilty look and she understands instantly, since she is probably thinking the same exact thing., so she takes your remaining cake. Your grandmother doesn't seem to notice or care so you get up from the table to fill your glass up to rid of the taste. It is only hours later that you finally forget the taste and move on with your day. 15) The taste of salt on the tip of your tongue:** He seemed to be suffocating. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. The original reason for crying was too far gone as his mind kept supplying him with more and more evidence on why he was unworthy. He doesn’t remember licking the tears off of his lips but suddenly he tasted salt and somehow that made him cry harder. Everything seemed to be crashing down upon his shoulders as he internally screamed for release. Even crying seemed like a reason to cry more. Crying is something toddlers do right? Shouldn’t he be looked at like a toddler then? A crying, annoying, insolent little toddler who can’t do nothing for himself, it seems. He goes asleep that night with salt on his lips and thoughts of pain 19) Satin in candlelight: (Akafuri) He woke up in the dead of night. Shadows were dancing across his walls, the trees outside his window causing the shadows to look like long grasping fingers, inching closer and closer to grab the man in the bed. But, he did not react to the shadows. He watched them for a minute, wondering if this could be some sign or just boring reality. Of course, it ended up being boring reality so he got up from his bed. Despite its thin apprentice, the black satin robe gave him some warmth as he dawned it. ‘People are much more interesting than shadows’ he thought as he lit the candle that sat upon his nightstand. His secret lover was sleeping a few floors below and seeing that he was a person and his lover, he decided to go pay him a visit. The floors and stairs creaked as he stepped upon them but he paid no mind to it if anyone was awake other than him at this hour would be a miracle. As he approaches his lover’s room, he opened the door without hesitation. There he was, sleeping on his bed, curled up in the sheets shaking like a small puppy in the night air. It hurt him to see the man he cared for cold and weak, but he was unable to supply him with any material warmth since his father would blame him for stealing and send him away. So he walks in silently, places the candle on the night table, and unties his robe. His lover slowly blinked up at him as he woke up, his expression conveying curiously yet gratefulness as the robe was draped over him. 20) Reflections in glass:__ It was like an overlay. No matter how many hours a day he spent clicking and scrolling on his computer trying to edit and recreate photos could match what a real overlay looked like. He gazed at the window, watching his coworkers run around the office through the reflection in the glass. He tried to ignore the reflection of his own bored and tired face but it was vividly there. Behind him and his coworkers and outside the window was a view of the busy streets of the inner city. Outsiders may see this as a new, wondrous place but to him, it was the same day in and day out; cars zoom past just to go nowhere. people stroll past just to see no one, life creeps past just to end in nothing. Bored, trapped, he felt as he kept gazing, unfocusing and refocusing on the reflections until he got bored of that as well. 'maybe a change in scenery will help...' he thought lonesomely. 22) Neon lights at 1.30am:__ Laughter echoed throughout the deserted parking lot. According to the time on my phone, it was evident that we had been roaming the streets for a few hours now and currently it was 1:30 in the morning. Typically we would be sleeping or using our phones in bed at this sorta of an hour but tonight was a special night: we were free; we were free from school, parents, and life itself. This night we had decided to live how we wanted to for one whole day before going back to normal. A few of the group had left to either do more enjoyable things or something wrong, probably illegal by the glint in their eyes. I stepped out of the main group for a moment to take a breather and embrace the night air. The last of my soda tingled in my throat as I drank it before disposing of the can. Of course, a few of us had decided to get hand drinks but me? I rather make my own fun than being boosted but something other than. As I dropped the can into the trash bucket, I noticed a bar across the street that was emitting music loud enough to be heard. For a moment I watched as the people inside danced with wide smiles across their faces. While I was so drawn to this scene, I did not notice my best friend-crush approach me until he tapped my shoulder. I yelped of course before turning to him. What I saw was beautiful. His face was lit up blue and red from the nearest neon sign and he was bearing a soft smile and even kinder eyes. At this moment, a wild urge overtook me so I gave in and reached my hand out to him saying: "If you ever wanna join me, baby, I'll be dancing in the dark." [inspired by Dancing in the Dark by Imagine Dragons] 26) The smell of Cologne/Perfume on warm skin: (This was an original work but now I dedicate it to a special someone :P just yeet the cologne part dwai) The first thing that comes to mind is that of my face pressed against my love’s neck. I press kiss after kiss, roaming the warm skin with my lips and fingers as I plot the points of love across his expansive map. The cologne just makes the experience heightened. The smell intoxicates me; the scent is familiar and that I can only label by my lover’s name. My mind spins as I want more and more of the person before me, a person filled with comfort and warmth. Eyes hooded, mind fogged, I searched for more skin to kiss. 27) The musty smell of an abandoned home: (Hinata and Yachi) She glanced at her partner to see that he was shaking in fright. Their friends had pranked them to go into the abandoned, mysterious house that sat in the middle of the woods. She had managed to get the door open when he had screamed and started to shake. Typically her friends called her the scaredy cat but when he was so frightened by even a fly, she had to step forward to protect him. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into the house. The flashlight revealed that it was a standard home; living room in the front, kitchen to the side, and bedrooms upstairs. It should be noted that they were the first two ever to go inside, so everything still sat where they were placed years ago. Other than the darkness and bleakness of the house, the thing that most hit her was the smell: it seemed to clog her nose with all of the dust and particles that had not normally been flushed out of the house. She sneezed loudly just to receive another scream from the boy. 31) the cool, sharp smell of the first frost: (Todoroki family) This was expected. Her little brother was finally gaining his powers. She laid awake most nights, wondering how their father would treat him once his powers take. The hair itself showed a perfect split of powers but only time could tell what would actually happen. Her little brother ran into her room one night, tripping over his small socked feet as he tried to be careful of the dark surrounds even in his panic. He nearly crashed into her bed if it was not for her turning on her lamp. Mismatched eyes were filled with tears and for a second she was confused on why until her eyes drifted down to see his fist covered in a thin layer of frost. Her fears stood corrected, he had obtained both of the quirks; the fire was not visibly present but it wouldn't be surprising if it suddenly out lashed. But, enough with their fathers, she had a small crying little boy clearly afraid of what was happening to him. She grabbed her blanket from the bed and knelt down before him before wrapping his hand in the hem of the blanket before he got frostbite. That night, they fell asleep night to each other but her dreams were plagued by visions of flames and hatred. 32) The smell of blood: (Akafuri) His lover sat before him, his hands shaking as he held up a bundle of flowers. It was perplexing to see pure white roses since he had only read of them in storybooks. Where did he find these? He raised his hand to touch one of the pure roses when movement caught the edge of his eye. His lover raised his hand before curling it up in a fist. Raising an eyebrow, he went to fistbump instead as he was taught but before their fists could connect, blood started to drip from the fist. Instincts told him to grab the hand, open it up and tend the wounds but no, the piercing laughter that broke out from his lover's lips made his body stop and mind freeze. Blood dripped down upon the bundles of roses, staining them red as he laughed and laughed and cried out that while love is pure, it is also painful. The crackling went on and on and on.. and on.. and on... and... His eyes snapped open. Breathing harshly he sat up in his bed, pulling and grasping the blankets before him. The cursed laughter filled his ears and the smell of blood tickled his nose. 33) The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade: (Miyusawa) The knife hit the cutting board with dull thumps and I sliced through the celery sticks. For the most part, the house was quiet other than the sounds of the birds chirping out back and Slider, the dog, snoring peacefully in his bed. It was just a lazy Sunday morning. The pan sizzled and popped as I dropped the sticks in among the other vegetables and meat, the smells of my favorite breakfast making me smile softly. After stirring the contents a bit, I reached up and brushed my fingers across the bruises on my neck, not minding the soreness that much opposes to their appearance. Not much could be done about that so I go back to cooking; chopping up onions is the next step. As I started to slice through the onion, soft fingertips were felt on my shoulder blade. I did not jump like expected, just sighed lightly as my lover pressed kisses to my shoulders before wrapping his arms around me. I would never jump at his touch anymore, I would just lean in and feel loved. 34) The feel of fingers brushing together by accident:__ Brushing against him was the easiest thing. Seeing that I often hug him and sit against him it would be reasonable to think that I would not notice a simple brush of knuckles but no, I notice every time. Every time we go for the plates at the same time, every time he passed me a glass, every time he-- heh, not all of the touches where accidents to be honest, just purposeful reaches to touch. I couldn't help but smile at his sleepy grin as we twine our fingers together before pulling apart just to let him boop my nose and pull at my fingers. Those touches are wonderful but also are the small ones. The accidental bumps where fingers meet and warm spreads throughout from the single point of contact. I want to grab his hand fully and press a lingering kiss to his lips, to get closer and closer making the simple brush seem meaningless. But no, I do not get the kiss but that is okay; feeling the small touches and seeing his happy smile is enough to keep my heart singing and mind buzzing.

39) Stepping on something squishy: (Sawamura Eijun) Someday, God will pay, he thought as he glared down at his foot. Stepping in dog turd was not a way he wanted to start his first day of work or any day in fact. It was disgusting— if it were not for it being the poop but purely the sensation he still will be grossed out. Even now, he can already hear his coworkers’ laugher as he walks in with smelly, brown shoes. For a moment he cursed the pet owner for leaving the poo before he realizes it was his own ignorance for stepping into it on accident. Sighing again, he started to walk, hoping numbly that he would find a shoe store or a bathroom on the way to his new office. 46) The waver in a person’s voice when they’re stressed:** "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know." He repeated, the words coming out waver and waver as he continued. Eyes stared at him. He couldn't tell if it was one person watching or thousand just that it was overwhelming and stressful and all he wanted was /out/. He did not know the answer, why are they pressuring them? Why are they being this way? Why do they not care that every part of them is screaming for escape but just the idea of being hurt is enough to make him stay? Why, why, why? He is scared, so scared inside. Apparently, he is not allowed to be wrong; apparently, he is not allowed to be hurt and in pain; apparently, he is not allowed to be scared, like any normal child. But there they are before him, looking at him with a neutral face, unforgiving and hard look in their eye. His repeating falls silent as tears finally spill and he is choking on his own sadness, sad that only not knowing one thing can turn out so painful. 49) Trying to pull on clothes with damp skin Trying to pull off damp clothing:** Taking off wet clothing for most people meant they had just trudged through a snowstorm and were having the worst day and were struggling to find dry clothing but for me? It meant happiness-- but then again, once most people reach a certain age that does not take care of children take snow for granted. Unlike those people, I walk into my house with a huge grin on my face, not giving a care in the world that the floor was getting covered in snow. The snow boots I wore gave me blisters with turned into scars but I did not care about that either. But what I did care about was getting warm. Running upstairs I grabbing a fresh pair of clothing before heading into the bathroom. Letting out a sigh, I try my best to pull off my soaked shirt just to get it stuck on my head. Laugh, have fun with that imagery, but yes, almost every single time. Luckily enough I get it off without help and that in itself is a workout. So within all of this, the important lesson that should be noted is that whenever you go out into the snow, make sure you are prepared for the endgame struggle. 53) The relief of fatalistic recklessness:__ "Fate rules all." This was the topic of the paper he was set to write. He did not understand why his professor assigned them just a simple sentence that could turn into the most complicated thing in the world. Fate was always a heated topic among every living person on the planet; no one goes each day wondering if things happen by free will or predetermined events. Religion and culture are heavy on these topics but he much rather put those to the side for the last resort option. He does not understand the looks of peace and relief that some of his friends wear as they do some of the most reckless things with their lives and just say "no matter what I do there is already a set plan for me". He wants to argue with them up and down and give reasons why that was not true but like anyone else, everyone has their own beliefs. If they want to believe that their lives are already set courses, then be it, there is no trouble in trying to get the best for yourself... Hours later, he sits back in his seat and sighs. His fingers tired from rapidly typing keys as his runs them over his face to try to rid of the sore eyes. Yawning, he grabs his glass before glancing at his paper one last time before turning in for bed, and at this, he realized that all he wrote was about the argument of the topic and what he thought about it. Maybe he will get a great grade when turning it in or not, that is fate to decide. 56) Someone accepting the bad parts of you without judging:** Someone very important to me once told me, “If you act like yourself, everyone will be much happier, including yourself.” The statement in itself is somewhat blunt but the impact it had on me was huge. It meant that I could be unapologetically me, all of the good and all of the bad and that no one will think horribly of me. Of course, there’s a lot of people that will but around my closest friends, that meant they accepted me for who I am. Telling someone your pains and anxieties and all the while your wondering when they will leave and abandon you for you being you is painful, but just as you are trying to swallow back your tears, there’s that special someone who takes you by the hand and tells you that everything is gonna be alright and that just because sometimes about you are dark doesn’t mean that you are not the light. 57) Brown iodine stains on skin: (my mother) It is painful to watch. Yes, what had happened to her was painful but the situation she had to come back to was more painful to watch. Although we still sometimes laugh at the horrific sandwich incident, the rest of the situation was not funny. A couple of weeks before she had gotten surgery on her wrist and hand, rendering her without her right hand (although she was ambidextrous), and today she was finally pulling the bandages off. Surgery and medical operations always make me feel queasy inside but before she wrapped her hand up in new bandages, I noticed orange-brown iodine stains covering her hand. She noticed the look on my face and said not to worry, that it will fade away soon enough. I knew there was nothing to worry; in the past, she had gone through knee surgery, GBS (which is a thousand stories in itself, lucky to have her here still) and broken foot so something like this is nothing to be extremely worried about. If she could get through what happened before, she can get through this, and she did! I am lucky and proud of her healing and attentiveness to get herself to be better, physically at least... the painful part about watching the post-surgery at home was the utter lack of caring by my father. It was basically nothing, no offers, no taking charge-- he basically put more on her than usual. It was painful to watch her suffer mentally to all of this, so I had to take a step forward myself and help her. 58) Rust red dirt: (Shiro and OC Violet) Sometimes when he wakes up, he forgets where he is. Most days he is expecting to wake up at home in his bed next to his beautiful wife and to go downstairs and give his children forehead kisses good morning. He only realizes that he is not at home is when the flashes of lights from nearby control panels catch his eyes and that the bedding below him was stiffer than any mattress he would purchase. Groaning he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Every day here makes him miss home more. He is starting to miss the smallest of things; he misses the sound of tussling sheets, he misses the taste of sweet soda, he misses the feel of fingers on his cheek, he misses the smell of freshly cooked steak, he missed the sight of the annoying, awful ad on Tv that he actually likes since it makes his wife laugh every time. He misses his home. Standing, he walks over to the nearest porthole and stares out. The only thing he was met with was miles and miles of red rust dirt and rocks as big as houses, and behind it was a beautiful view of space that he was slowly starting to hate. If he knew he would be his homesick up on Mars, he would have never signed that contract. 59) the creak of leather: (please forgive me, be glad I’m sharing this at least): Leather gloves are intoxicating. Leather fingerless gloves are the prime. He runs his hand down your arm. Your breath jumps, eyes fixated on his hand as your nerves start to buzz from the simulation. When he does this, you get two sensations: the drag of fingertips and the soft pull of leather, both creating this incredible feeling. You pull his hand to your lips as you press a kiss to his palm and breathe in the succulent smell of leather; an earthy, sweet and raw smell you breathe and you don’t want him to stop touching. You gasp and shift as he continues to touch, rolling his hands over soft plains of skin. You pay no mind to the rest of him, just his hands. 62) Fingertips smudged in blue ink:** Notes, notes, notes. A constant stream of words and drawings on paper makes your eyes sore as you continue to write. The pen you are using flows across the page; each letter and word from this pen becomes more and more sloppy as time rolls on. As you yawn and go to turn the next book page, your hand slips and you accidentally press your fingers into the wet ink. You don't notice this at first and continue to go turn the page. Minutes or hours later you notice that there's blue ink smudged on your fingertips and palm, and all you can do it try to scrub it out or shrugged, because who has not had a day when they accidentally have ink on their hands. It is evidence of hard work after all!

#sensory prompts #Mini Random Writings #prompts #fanfic: mine

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lavenderprose · 7 years

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An abridged list of Yuuri’s favorite Viktor Nikiforov Photoshoots

(Who am I kidding. They’re all his favorites. These are just some of them.)

Viktor is eighteen. It’s the shoot for SKATE that he did after the Turin Olympics. He’s standing in front of the Hermitage, wearing an open parka and a sweater underneath, tight jeans and high boots. The sweater’s folk art-style pattern would be ugly on anybody who isn’t Viktor Nikiforov. His hair is still long, still flies out for what seemed like a mile behind him. His medal is around his neck. He stares down the camera, feet planted, face determined--a man who has just reached the top of the world and plans to stay there. It was one of the first pieces of Viktor merchandise that Yuuri purposefully bought for himself--Viktor’s face looked out at him from the magazine rack in a Kiosk in a train station in Fukuoka and he couldn’t help himself. For a long time, Yuuri thought that the Hermitage background must have been photoshopped in. He thought this, in fact, until Viktor found the magazine in one of the Boxes Under Yuuri’s Bed and informed him that he vividly remembers that photoshoot because it was done at three in the morning during one of the coldest nights on Saint Petersburg record.

“The only thing they photoshopped is my lips, because I’m pretty sure they’d already turned blue.”

When Yuuri is thirteen and hasn’t yet realized that the term “I want to be above Viktor Nikiforov” can have two meanings and he means it both ways, his favorite Viktor photoshoot is attached to an interview that he did about volunteering at a poodle rescue. The image is of Viktor with his hair all frantically knotted up on top of his head, kept in place by five different rubber bands and a lot of hope. His shirt is lime green and bears the logo and name of the rescue organization in question, which Yuuri has been reliably informed is some Russian pun that is the equivalent of something like “PAWSOME POODLE RUFFSCUE.” He is surrounded by a litter of puppies which the description below the photo informs readers are all named after Russian pop stars. He’s busy making faces at the two closest to him and doesn’t notice two others who are paws-and-head first inside a massive bag of puppy chow behind his back. Yuuri still makes involuntary cooing noises whenever he’s shown this image without prior warning.

The Versace photoshoot Viktor did for the Swimwear/Summer 2013 collection. It’s on a beach. His hair is salted and his eyes are the same exact color as the ocean behind him. He’s on his knees. One hand is planted firm in the sand, behind him gripping a half-handful. The other is on the waistband of his jeans, pulling them down to reveal his hip and a Versace swimsuit. His iliac furrow is stark; the hair below his bellybutton is neat and dark blond. His eyes are half-lidded. He’s shirtless. His nipples are hard. Someone has artfully misted him with water to make it look like sweat, or maybe sea-breeze. Even Viktor telling him that this particular photo was actually done in a studio, on a pile of sand with a beach umbrella stuck in it (And also that the reason his eyes are half-shut is because the fans kept blowing sand into them) cannot ruin this image for Yuuri.

(”Oh, the pages of this magazine are stuck together!” says Viktor, when he finds it in a Box Under Yuuri’s Bed. “AHHHHH,” Yuuri responds. “AHHHH!”)

A beautiful and melancholy Annie Leibovitz shoot. It’s natural light done in a wash of blue, and Viktor is looking towards the camera with his chin resting on his hand. He’s laying on a bed, or maybe a couch, and it’s foreshortened to where his face is in focus but the rest of his body is just a hazy line until one sees the blurry form of his bare feet just barely in frame. The sweater he’s wearing is large and looks warm. His hair isn’t as styled as it usually is, and one can actually see the darker blonde low-lights that usually get lost in that blinding sea of platinum. His gaze is pensive, maybe even a little lost. The camera is so close to his face that one could count every eyelash if they had the inclination. It’s beautiful, and made something ache inside Yuuri that he’d never actually realized was part of him.

(”We weren’t even supposed to shoot that day,” Viktor told him once. “She met me in my hotel room a few weeks before it was supposed to happen and she just happened to have her camera with her. We were discussing...I can’t even remember now. Schedules, maybe. I had a headache and I asked her if she minded if I laid down. She said no, she didn’t mind. She asked me if I minded if she took a few pictures and I said I didn’t. She sent me that picture a few days later and I knew it had to be that one.” “You look so sad,” Yuuri whispered, their faces inches apart. So close that Yuuri could count every eyelash if he wanted to. “I think I was,” said Viktor, and Yuuri kissed him.)

A photo that is actually part of a larger spread done in the follow-up to the Sochi Olympics, focusing on Viktor and his prospects with the home-team advantage. He’s crouching down on the ice, forearms stretched out over his knees to keep himself balanced on his blades. He’s looking at something off-camera, attentive, eyes striking. His shirt has a cropped hem, rising up over the jacket he has wrapped around his waist and playing at the line of his spine. His gloves are fingerless. His hair is a little long and it’s pinned back choppily at the crown of his head. The line of his collarbone is exquisite.

A unedited photo that wasn’t supposed to make it out into the world but did, accidentally, because some intern momentarily posted it as the header image for an online interview. It was saved to many, many hard drives in the ten minutes it was up. Yuuri, who has an alert for Viktor’s name set on his phone, dropped it into a snowbank when he opened it. The image isn’t really anything remarkable--a shot of Viktor taken from above, laying with his legs crossed a the ankles and smiling. He’s done many shots like it, some even in that exact same pose, and there would be nothing special about it (Except that it’s Viktor Nikiforov--they’re all special to Yuuri) if it weren’t for the fact that wardrobe obviously put Viktor in a pair of jeans that were either one size too small or had been poorly tailored.

Or, Yuuri later finds out, were suffering from the fact that Viktor forgot to wear underwear that day. “Yuuri actually got down on his knees and thanked God,” Phichit tells Viktor, very drunk at a party years later. “I DROPPED MY PHONE, PHICHIT. I WAS LOOKING FOR MY PHONE.” “HIS DICK,” Phichit continues, in a bad imitation of Yuuri’s voice and accent. “HIS DICK, PHICHIT. HE’S CIRCUMCISED.”

Viktor, delighted: I always knew something good would come of Dickgate 2014!

#Victuuri #YOI #Yuuri Katsuki #Viktor Nikiforov #Maggie's Headcanons

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datunicornoli · 6 years

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Livi Facts!

Rules/Guidelines~ tag ten followers you’d like to get to know better! I got tagged by @yuuris-piano (link to tumblr because I don’t know if I actually tag the people: https://yuuris-piano.tumblr.com ). Thanks Joey.

Gender: Female (Genderfluid?)

Star Sign: Cancer.

Height: 5’8, 5’9

Sexuality: Bisexual

What image do you have as a wallpaper?: Lock screen: It says ‘How Lucky We Are To Be Alive Right Now’ with a pink, light blue, and light purple background. Home screen: The bisexual flag with the Hufflepuff insignia.

Ever had a crush on a teacher?: No, but I have a friend who does. All I’m gonna say about it.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?: Probably in college as a waitress who writes on the side.

Coolest Halloween Costume: I was Little Red Riding Hood and the reason it was the coolest was because I made it out of exclusively stuff in my closet. I was very proud.

Favorite 90s show: Full House

Last Kiss: Probably two weeks ago. My SO was tired as heck after choir practice and just kisses my cheek. Does cheek count? Imma count it.

Ever been stood up?: Nope

Ever been to Vegas?: No, but I want to go one day.

Favorite pair of shoes?: My black sneakers that I’ve been wearing for almost two years. They somehow still fit.

Favorite fruit: Apple

Favorite Books: I don’t read so much anymore, but definitely any Rick Riordan book. Don’t make me choose pppllleeeaaassseee!!

Stupidest thing I’ve ever done: This was my best moment and my stupidest moment to this date. I was in class with a friend who just got his portable charger from someone who needed it because their IPad was almost dead. The person had used up the rest of the battery, so my friend had none left to use. An idiot jerk kid asked my friend, “What’s the point of having a portable charger if it isn’t charged?” I asked him, “What’s the point of having a brain if you don’t use it?” I was targeted for at least a week…

FRICK I DON’T HAVE TEN PEOPLE WHO I FEEL LIKE I’M ALLOWED TO ASK! I’ll just ask as many people as I can. Imma just message all of them because I can’t tell if I actually tag them or not. @heartless-fairy @the-emo-nextdoor If you guys don’t wanna do it it’s cool.

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lazuliblade · 6 years

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A brief gust of cold air washes over me before I hear the click of the front door closing. Victor must be back from the store-- was I really sitting here that long? I twist around to see him hanging up his coat and scarf on that ridiculous (but admittedly useful) coat-rack-chair. “Yuuri, tadaima!”

“Okaeri,” I grin up at him as he passes the couch to the kitchen with a few bags weighing his arms, ruffling my hair on the way. “Makkachin...?” “Napping in the bedroom.” I let the soft rustling of groceries and opening of cabinets lull me back into thinking. An hour-and-a-half ago I had curled up on the couch deciding to look through old photos in my gallery, but ended up stopping at the first picture that filled the screen. It was taken the day before at the park-- a simple but well-framed picture of Victor smiling at me when I asked if I could take a photo to replace my old phone background. The lighting was particularly good yesterday evening, which meant every dark eyelash and every enchanting shade of blue in his iris was captured. However, what shines brightest in the single shot isn’t the glimmer in his eye or the light refracting in the strands of his silver hair.

What captures the eye is definitely his smile.

“Have you not moved since I left for the store? What are you doing there -- playing a game?”

Victor plops down in the space in front of me and proceeds to twist and scooch backwards into the space between my legs, ducking under my arms and nestling his head under my chin so I look at my phone with those soft strands smooth against my throat. The lingering scent of vanilla and mint tickles my nose. (“There’s a new fragrance in the line, Yuuri! I’m buying it. It’s sugary warm and a refreshing cool -- which isn’t as common of a scent profile as you would think. And a little known secret, Yuuri: if you don’t like how a shampoo or conditioner smells on you, just give it to Yurio -- he surprisingly doesn’t care about how shampoo smells as long as it gets him clean, is free, and is ‘the good shit.’ I think between Milla and I he never has to buy his own hair care products.”)

“Yuuri?” A touch to my arm breaks me out of my reverie. “Ah.... no, I was looking at pictures.” No duh, Yuuri, he can see the picture on the screen-- “I didn’t have a chance to see how the ones yesterday turned out, and I wanted to look back on my days in Detroit too. But I got distracted.”

“Hmmm? I really distract you so much?”

“Oh shush.” I dig my chin into his hair, earning a stilted yelp. “I was just thinking about you.” This time he stays silent, shifting in my arms and tilting his head slightly, likely sensing I have more to say but need a moment to weave thoughts into words.

“Your smile here.” I trace the heart shape on the screen. Once, twice. “I think the last time I saw one in media pictures that was kind of like this was in your second or third year in Seniors. Later on you’d have this smile sometimes in your online posts, when you posed with Makkachin, but they weren’t very common and I think a lot of people wrote it off as the gooey smile of a pet-owner completely fond of their long-time friend.” A breath ghosts across my clavicle. “Is that so?” “Your photogenic smile for the camera is really impressive, by the way. Mine is all wobbly around the corners. Phichit was always trying to get me to practice it in the mirror with him, but I was never very good and figured I wouldn’t need it so much since I wasn’t that popular.”

“...not popular my--”

“Mmm, but anyway, I was thinking that I really like this smile. It’s cute.” Victor jerks and nearly slams his skull on my chin. “...Cute?” he asks as if it’s a foreign word and he can’t make heads-or-tails of it. “Adorable,” I affirm, patting his hair.

He twists around completely to look me in the eye, a light pink blush covering his cheeks. “I was expecting something like ‘breathtaking’ or ‘handsome’ or ‘heart-clenching.’ I haven’t been called cute in ages. At least, not outside of a ‘he’s so cute I want to date him’ sort of way.”

“Well, it is heart-clenching. But in a ‘gyu’ kind of way. You know, like ‘kyuun!’” Victor gives me the most confused face. Hmm. “That feeling when your heart gives a tug because something is so precious? I love this smile best. Your whole face shifts -- you get these cute wrinkles next to your eyes, and you cheeks raise up, and sometimes you get this nice blush that goes to your ears-- like that!”

“How about we talk about something else....” he mutters with his head tucked back under my chin and face squished against my neck. I can’t help chuckling at the picture this must make. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. It really embarrasses you that much?” “Mmm, not really, but... being called cute by someone as cute as you, somehow--!” He tries to grasp for more, but then sighs in defeat. I can’t help hugging him closer and we settle into an easy silence, looking at the photo still on the screen. “...Reminds me of when my mom used to gush about it,” he says in a soft voice. “I’d been wondering about that. Do you get your smile from your moth-- or well, your father, then?” “My mother’s mom -- my maternal grandmother. I have a couple of pictures in an album somewhere where we’re standing side-by-side smiling. It’s pretty uncanny, actually. I don’t remember much about her, but I hear she was kind to everyone with whom she crossed paths. Little things like giving encouragement to kids first learning to ride a bike, and handing out flowers to couples who dropped by her shop. Apparently as a teen I looked like the spitting image of her when she was young.”

I trace the heart shape on the screen again. Once, twice. “Your heart is so big that it can’t help bleeding into the shape of your smile too.”

Victor twists in my arms again and turns his head up. “Yuuri, you’re going to kill me,” he informs me in a deadpan voice. “You can’t just say these sappy things out of nowhere when you’re usually so reserved in expressing your affection through words.” His mouth forms a small pout. Adorable.

“Well you kill me on a daily basis with your comments, and we both know immunity isn’t possible, so let me have this secret weapon,” I bargain. I can see the mirth in his eyes, the light coming in from the window causing the brilliant blue to resemble a clear sky. His pout trembles, holds for a second more, and then shatters to form my favorite heart.

“Only because of you, Yuuri.”

A moment later I snap a picture of the both of us laying there. Victor with his heart-shaped smile and lingering blush, cozy in my arms, and myself with my nose buried in his hair, a matching blush on my cheeks and a smile peeking out. Definitely setting this one as my new phone background.

#yuri on ice #vityaweek2017 #ficlet #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #yoi #victuuri #yuri!!! on ice #day 1 heart prompt #i wrote a thing #trying out first person POV

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liquidatia · 6 years

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YOI: Gotham AU - Mad Love

In which our favorite silver-haired man is the terrifying Gotham criminal known as the Joker and Yuuri is the new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum.

Yuuri is a new grad and just started his job at Arkham a few months ago. However, he’s still struggling to pay the bills, rent, and his student loans, and with his background in dance, he secretly dances at a nightclub under the name Eros to foot the bill.

He’s having morning tea during his session with Mila (or Poison Ivy as most Gotham citizens know her as) when there’s a commotion. Batman (Yurio) brings in the Clown Prince himself, whose hysterical laughter bounces off the bleached walls of the facility. By the time lunch comes around, Yuuri has heard that he’s already nearly choked a doctor to death with his handcuffs, broke a nurse’s nose by headbutting her in the face, made one psychiatrist cry, and taunted another psychiatrist into lunging at him. Yuuri escorts Mila to the cafeteria as the two usually eat lunch together so that the other prisoners don’t bother her. Their routine, however, is interrupted when the new resident saunters in and makes himself at home right next to Yuuri. The Joker takes to taunting him and calling him piggy, seemingly enjoying watching him squirm. He then decides to tell Yuuri a joke which Yuuri reluctantly plays along with until the Joker dumps his water bottle on his head as the punchline. Taking off his glasses and pushing his dripping hair back, burning brown eyes clash against blue. It’s precisely that unexpected fire that has Joker surprised and laughing as he’s being escorted out. Just when he thought he could catch a break, Celestino calls him up stating that the Joker requested for Yuuri specifically and won’t talk to anyone else. They are both nervous about it, but Yuuri decides to take him on as a patient.

His first session with the Joker is not what Yuuri was expecting. His first order of business was to try to get a name from him since there is no civilian name on the registry. Joker merely deflects by flirting and using humor. Waving that off, Yuuri gives him his name, which Joker savors on his tongue. He traces his hand down Yuuri’s arm and takes a gentle hold of his hand and his chin, and that is how Yuuri knocked down his chair and scrambled to the other side of the room. Joker innocently asks why he’s running away, though there’s that familiar taunting in his question. He then states that they should get to know each other more. He first asks about Yuuri’s past lovers, which Yuuri adamantly avoids, which leads Joker on a tangent about all his past lovers. When Yuuri asks about the authenticity of these stories, Joker admits they’re not true.

“Isn’t that what you want? An interesting story to crack? Maybe write a book about it, I won’t tell. So what do you want me to be? A tortured soul? A psychopath? A victim of past abuse maybe?”

“I just want you to be yourself.”

“... Viktor.”

“What?”

“Call me Viktor.”

Weeks go by and Viktor is an established and terrifying presence at Arkham. It happens one night when Yuuri is dancing at his night job that he spots a familiar head of silver hair from across the room, and to his horror, those blue eyes notice the faltering dancer and they make eye contact. Before Yuuri can escape, Viktor hunts him down and traps him in the back.

“You’re just full of surprises, lyublyu.”

“How are you here?”

“You have to know the right people, but I’m glad that you’re finally seeing the situation for what it is.”

“If you can get out, why don’t you just leave?”

“In a grey world with no fun, I finally found something interesting.”

“And when I’m no longer interesting?”

“Do you really want to know?”

During his session with Mila, the redhead can tell something is bothering him.

“He terrifies me. I don’t know how I can face him.”

“Don’t come with me to lunch today. He’ll probably be waiting for you.”

“But what about you?”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. Go out and treat yourself to something nice for a change.”

Yuuri leaves for lunch and comes back to find a rose on his desk addressed to Eros from “V” which leaves him completely shaken.

Yuuri requests that Celestino get another psychiatrist for Viktor’s case. Without giving too much information, Yuuri gives the excuse that Viktor is getting too comfortable with him and that it doesn’t make him feel comfortable or safe as it can easily turn into an unhealthy obsession. Yuuri hopes that this change will get Viktor’s attention off him for a while.

After his session with Georgi, Yuuri hears a commotion coming from Viktor’s holding room. Doctors, nurses, and guards are struggling to restrain him, a psychiatrist is bleeding out on the ground, and Viktor is laughing hysterically with blood painting his marred smile. Before he can retreat, Viktor’s gaze nails him to the spot.

“Unhealthy obsession, huh? A bit late for that, lyublyu. I’ll have no one else.”

Yuuri decides not to show up for his shift at the club, refusing to be Viktor’s marionette. The next day, Viktor is visibly grumpy.

“You weren’t at the club last night.”

“No, but I see you memorized my work schedule.”

“I was a bit upset that you didn’t show, but I suppose it’s okay now that you don’t work there anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your boss wanted me to drop off this pink slip to you, which is perfect since you’ll be performing at the Iceberg Lounge tonight. Better show up darling or else everyone will know your little secret. What will people think when they find out little Yuuri can be so lewd?”

“I hate you.”

“There’s the fire I love. Stay close to me. Never try to leave me again.”

Yuuri decides to get revenge the only way he knows how. He dresses sinfully with his hair slicked back, a pair of killer heels, and a bit of red lipstick. Viktor gives him a wolfish smile when their eyes meet, but Yuuri purposely turns away. He dances, but not for him. He focuses on others, he flirts with others, and he can feel Viktor’s eyes burn into him as he settles on another client’s lap.

“You want me to dance? I’ll make you regret sharing me.”

@satbiym

#yoi #yuri on ice #viktuuri #gotham au #au #prompt #joker #harley quinn #mad love

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droewyn · 6 years

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Give Me a Reason (7/11)

February, 2015

“Hair of the dog, mon ange?” Lounging on the bed nude, relaxed, and disgustingly unhungover, Christophe tipped an open bottle of Grey Goose toward Victor. The store name on the price sticker was written in Cyrillic, and was quite familiar.

“You went through my luggage?” Mock outrage would not have been possible before the painkillers, water, and hot shower. It would probably have been more convincing after two or three cups of tea. “I brought that for your birthday.”

Chris smiled sweetly, showing off his dimples. “And today it is my birthday. What a wonderful surprise; I’m touched by your thoughtfulness.”

Victor shook his head, unable to contain a fond chuckle at his friend’s antics. “This is why I don’t wrap your gifts,” he said. “It would be a pointless gesture.”

“If you did, the customs officials would only make you unwrap them again at the airport,” Chris pointed out.

“True enough. What time is it?”

Christophe checked his phone. “We’ve more than enough time for breakfast before the men’s free.”

“Wonderful.” Hopefully a full stomach would chase away the remaining aftereffects of the prior evening. Chris had insisted on dragging Victor out on an impromptu club crawl of every gay hotspot in Bern. It was fun for as long as they were together, but the crowd on the dance floor invariably separated them, and whether he was recognized or not, Victor was never left unpartnered for long. Dancing led to grinding, and then to drink offers that were far less awkward to accept than to turn down. Next was more dancing if he was lucky, and shouted pick-up lines and attempts at small talk if he wasn’t. Chris eventually appeared to rescue him, but not before the Sharpies materialized. By the end of the night, Victor had been covered in scribbled names and phone numbers, not one of which he could match with a face if he cared enough to try. The marker had scrubbed away in the shower with the aid of some hand sanitizer. The three different colors of glitter turning his skin into a teenage vampire fantasy were more stubborn. “Shall I make you some birthday blini?”

Chris appeared to consider the idea. “Why not?” he decided finally. “I’ve been wanting to remodel my kitchen, and you burning it down will give me the excuse that I need.”

Victor gasped as Christophe’s lips twisted into a smirk. “That happened once!” he protested hotly. “More than three years ago! I’ll have you know that I’ve improved since then.”

“Like a fine wine, darling, but whatever does that have to do with your cooking?”

In the end, Chris was the one to make the pancakes, preferring the texture of true crepes to the egginess of blini. His honor on the line, Victor produced both a cream cheese sauce and a berry reduction for toppings. The mimosas were a joint effort, Christophe declaring that they paired far better with sweet crepes than Bloody Marys did, the latter made with natal day vodka or no. Settling into the comfort of Chris’ leather sofa, the two men solemnly clinked their champagne flutes together in a silent toast.

“Mon dieu, you have improved.” Having dipped the tip of a spoon into one of the serving bowls for a taste, Chris was now enthusiastically dolloping both red and white sauces onto his plate. “To what do we owe this miracle?” His face turned thoughtful. “Or, should I say, to whom?”

Victor flushed. “You know I’ve been watching a lot of American television lately,” he began evasively.

“Entirely on your own initiative, of course.” Chris wasn’t having any of it. He’d been teasing Victor about Lukewarm Mess a lot over the past year, ever since noticing that Victor suddenly seemed to be glued to his phone whenever they met at competitions. He had jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion, labeling Mess and Victor’s correspondence a long-distance romance instead of the comfortable friendship that it actually was. Of course, if Victor had told Chris the nature of the chat channel, rather than letting him form his own assumptions…

No. There were things that Victor couldn’t say out loud, not even to his closest friend. He didn’t think that he could face the disappointment in Christophe’s eyes – or, worse, the sympathy.

He sighed in defeat. “All right. My friend Mess and I,” he emphasized the word, “have been watching an instructional cooking show called Good Eats together. His parents run a bed-and-breakfast,” or something like one; Mess had always been rather vague on the subject of his family business. And his family in general. Having no taste for hypocrisy, and holding personal secrets of his own, Victor never pressed, “and he started helping in the kitchen when he was five.”

“Ah. So when he learned that you actually eat those revolting nutri-meals the sports dietitians try to inflict on us…”

“He was shocked and appalled and took immediate responsibility for remedying the situation, yes.” Victor smiled at the memory. There had been exclamation points. The phrase ‘Purina Human Chow’, accompanied by a slew of kaomojis. And descriptions of various meals that Mess and his roommate liked to cook, so loving that they had verged on pornographic.

“And the result?”

He shrugged. “I’ve started making real food for myself on rest days, sometimes. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cooking enough to want to do it after a full day of practice, and I’m not exactly creative in the kitchen, but I can follow a recipe just fine. Yuri says that my stroganoff isn’t completely disgusting, which is high praise coming from him.”

Christophe’s eyes were comically wide. “Marry that man,” he breathed. “Marry him quickly, before he escapes.”

“We live on opposite sides of the world. We’ve never even met.” The opportunity had been there a few months ago, and not only had Victor well and truly blown it, he’d nearly destroyed his and Mess’ friendship in the process. But Chris didn’t need to know any of that, either.

“All the better. Ensnare him before he knows what he’s getting into.”

Victor was saved from further prodding into his nonexistent love life by his phone alarm, alerting them to the beginning of the men’s singles coverage. Chris turned on the TV, and the familiar sight of Mokdong Ice Rink illuminated the screen. A pair of commentators preened for the camera as they discussed the history of the Four Continents Championship and the year’s host city, Seoul. In the background, the first group of skaters was warming up.

The woman promised a ‘hot time on the ice’, which prompted her male counterpart to chuckle as though she’d said something both witty and original. Victor winced. “Isn’t there a raw feed we could watch instead?” he asked plaintively.

“Not for a competition that Switzerland isn’t invited to,” Chris said. “Besides, Florian and Sarah really are quite knowledgeable once the actual skating starts.” Now the announcers were trading cold weather puns back and forth. Victor had first heard every single one of them while he was still in Novices. “They’re national treasures, really.”

“Then by all means, lock them away in a secret vault under armed guard.”

Chris tsked at him. “Someone’s ready for more alcohol.”

By the time the drinks were poured – and, in Victor’s case, immediately slammed back and poured again – the warmups had finished and the skating begun.

Watching others perform was never easy for Victor. It was impossible to lose himself in another’s program when some part of him was always watching with a champion’s eye, analyzing every edge and gesture. If he were the one dancing, he’d change the jump composition so, and the choreography thusly. Victor tended to think of that critical little voice as his Inner Yakov, and it had only grown louder and less forgiving over the years.

If he’d hoped that he could manage to silence it given enough vodka, it turned out that he was very much mistaken.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped at the screen. The current skater was part of the second group, or was it the third? The half-empty glass in front of Victor was definitely his fifth. “That idiot needs to go home and skate nothing but figures until he learns his left from his right.”

At first Chris had been delighted with his friend’s scathing remarks, but as time went on and Victor’s tongue stayed sharp enough to cut, glee faded into something between horror and awe.

“A fitting tribute to the bombast of Wagner,” Victor declared of another performance. “Pity he’s actually trying to dance the Sugarplum Fairy.”

Not even the medal contenders were spared. Hometown favorite Seung-gil Lee’s program earned wondering amazement that technology had advanced far enough to allow robots to compete against humans. JJ Leroy was branded a little lost hockey player whose goalie probably missed him.

“Unless he is the goalie,” Victor continued, warming to his subject. “He certainly skates like he’s used to being stuck in a ten-foot box for hours on end.”

A dark-haired figure in blue took position. “Disney called; they want Prince Charming’s wardrobe back,” Victor sneered. But then the music started, melancholy synthed-harpsichord and violin, joined by the breathy velvet of Freddie Mercury’s vocals. The man – Yuuri Katsuki -- started to dance. And Victor found his mouth snapping shut.

It was far from perfect. The jump composition was unambitious – safe, Inner Yakov whispered snidely – and even then Katsuki was struggling with his landings. But his spins and transitions were solid, and his footwork was… exquisite. Better than mine, Victor thought, and for once Inner Yakov didn’t disagree. But all of that was background noise. Katsuki’s musicality had always been his greatest strength; when he moved, he appeared to shape the music rather than allowing it to direct his body. This skate was no different. Or rather, it was different, because Victor couldn’t recall ever seeing him dance a conversation before.

Who wants to live forever, the music asked. Do I? Katsuki’s body wondered in return. Should I? Why should I?

Give me a reason to want to.

Neither Freddie nor Katsuki seemed to have an answer to that.

His eyes were stinging. When was the last time that Victor had thought, really thought about his own reasons? He’d made it a daily habit, just as Mess had suggested so long ago, until the process was as automatic as the rest of his morning routine. Wake up, brush teeth, apply face mask, walk Makkachin, come up with some sort of motivation to keep putting one foot in front of the other for another day, go home and get ready to skate. What had his reason even been that morning? Oh. Right. Watching Four Continents with Chris. And how’s that working out for me? Drunk, in a foul mood, and getting looks from Chris like he’s worried I’m about to go for his throat.

What a way to celebrate his best friend’s birthday.

Despairing. Lost. On the edge of surrender, the song had one final, hesitant, suggestion. Love. What about loving forever?

A heart-wrenching pause, the words either too late or not enough to reach the despondent skater. But then Katsuki’s head snapped up, and he exploded into motion. Twizzles, spins, a three-jump combo that nobody had any business attempting so late in a program, but nailed with textbook precision and a resolve so fierce that it burned. Suddenly, after all of his searching, Katsuki had his answer. His reason. His forever. The music – and performance -- ended in triumph, two hands clutched against a heaving chest, newfound love held fast to his heart.

I wish someone would skate like that for me.

And wasn’t that thought just the most surprising thing?

“Nothing to say, mon coeur?” Chris was looking at him curiously. On the screen, Katsuki took his bows, a broad grin splitting his face. Someone tossed a plush dog on the ice that looked rather similar to the toy Makkachins that Victor was usually showered with. The skater collected it on his way to the kiss and cry, where he crushed it against his chest while waiting for his scores.

What was there to say? That Victor had been struggling to answer that very same question since the moment he’d realized that sleepwalking through life wasn’t normal? That he’d somehow managed to trade all of his human emotions for gold medals, but couldn’t remember making the bargain? That the one person he wanted so badly to trust, the one he came closest to unburdening himself completely with, didn’t know Makkachin’s name, or even that she was a poodle? Because when Lukewarm Mess had asked to see pictures of KingElsa’s baby, as both a friend and fellow dog-lover inevitably would, Victor had panicked? What kind of pathetic person needed to use their elderly neighbor’s Samoyed as a catfish? Did it even count as catfishing if he wasn’t actually misrepresenting himself… except, oh wait, he was doing that, too.

When exactly did Victor become as big of a dick as his public persona?

He muttered something in response to Chris, and was immediately asked to repeat it. “I said his jumps could use some work,” Victor said again, barely louder the second time. “And I should send his coach my costume designer’s card. That generic getup didn’t support Katsuki’s performance at all.”

Chris blinked at him, his eyes taking on a contemplative gleam that Victor wasn’t sure he liked. “Really? How interesting.”

There were only a handful of skaters left after that. Once the dust had settled, Cao Bin topped the podium, his famous stoicism giving way to tears when China’s anthem began to play. To Bin’s right, a young powerhouse from Kazakhstan stood straight and proud, a hero who had been granted his just reward. And to Bin’s left…

Yuuri Katsuki looked composed at first glance, but his gaze was unfocused and there was color riding high in his cheeks. A soft, almost disbelieving smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and one hand kept creeping up to brush his medal with reverent fingers. And at one point, although the camera was panning away to focus on Bin, Victor could have sworn that he saw the bronze medalist surreptitiously pinch his own forearm.

Adorable.

“See something you like?” Chris purred, and Victor flushed. Had he honestly just said that out loud? “I’ve been trying to get you and my darling Yuuri in the same room for simply ages, but the dearest pain au cannelle always refuses me.”

“Really?” A senior skater who wasn’t frothing at the mouth at the chance to be introduced to Victor Nikiforov? Now that was interesting. “Do you know why?” The likeliest explanation was that Katsuki was uncomfortable with Chris and wanted to limit contact with him. It was a shame, but very few skaters looked past the over-the-top flirting to see the genuinely good man behind it. Although, wouldn’t they have to be on at least friendly terms for Chris to extend the offer in the first place? Chris would never abuse Victor’s trust by acting as a go-between to strangers, and a friendship would certainly explain the English pet names. Christophe might shower a room full of acquaintances with French endearments until the words lost all meaning, but he had very few dearests or darlings. So why, then?

Something of Victor’s interest must have shown on his face, because Chris had gone from mischievous to downright predatory. “Alas, but my sweet Yuuri is shy,” he murmured sadly. “Do you know how long it took to get him to stop calling me ‘Giacometti-san’? Most of Juniors, and he never looked up to me the way he does you.”

Oh. It was like being doused in cold water. Of course there was nothing different about Katsuki; of course he was a fan. He was simply too timid to act when given an opportunity. Victor had always known he’d been an influence on the Japanese skater; there had been echoes of his own skating in Katsuki’s performances for as far back as Victor had watched them. Nothing overt, probably nothing that was ever deliberately inserted, but always present. Victor should have realized what that would mean before…

Before what? Before I fell for a pair of sad eyes and a routine that I thought was speaking to me? He’s a performer, no more genuine than I am. He couldn’t understand how I feel, and if he did he wouldn’t care. Because he’s my fan, and at best I’m nothing more than a goalpost to him. At worst? Victor had read the fanfiction. He knew what sort of person read it. Wrote it.

“Well, don’t push the poor boy’s boundaries on my account,” he said with a careless shrug. “I only thought it was cute to see someone so excited to finish in third.”

Chris blinked at him, nonplussed. He obviously hadn’t expected such a non-reaction, but when Victor just smiled blandly at him he sighed, and dropped the suggestion. “Ah well, you know what they say; silver is bitter, wishing it were gold, but bronze is simply happy for a place to stand.”

“Is that how you feel?” Victor was off-balance. Off-balance and drunk, that was the only explanation for the too-honest question that spilled from his lips, too soft and raw to be taken as anything other than the plea that it was. Already rattled, Christophe stared at him in shock, his mouth falling open. Victor knew with a sinking feeling that it was probably a futile effort, but he forced his mouth to twist into an amused smirk anyway. “Because I’m afraid I can’t go easy on you simply to spare your feelings.”

Chris clearly didn’t believe a word of it. “Victor—“ Whatever he was planning on saying next was interrupted by his phone, which loudly declared that it was too sexy for various articles of clothing as it started vibrating across the table. Chris glanced at the display. “It’s Josef,” he said, frowning. “I can—“

“Take it,” Victor was still grinning, not knowing what else to do. “It’s probably important.”

Another hesitation coupled with a long, searching glance, and Chris thumbed the green icon to accept the call. Victor looked away, ostensibly to give his friend some privacy. The fake smile slid off his face like the lie that it was, leaving something blank and empty in its place. Victor’s French was good, and Josef tended to shout into phones; the coach was calling about a last minute interview request, a magazine article with a photo spread.

Something that might get Victor off the hook, at least for a little while.

“Non,” Christophe was shaking his head. “Pas aujourd'hui. Nous fêtons mon anniversaire, et—“

“Il va le faire!” Victor called out, loud enough for Josef to hear. “Il va le faire! Je l'aurai prêt dans vingt minutes!”

Chris glared at him. “Un moment, Josef,” he said into the phone, then slapped his finger over the microphone. “Victor—“

“It’s a good opportunity,” he said, cutting Chris short. “You shouldn’t pass up a chance at exposure just because I drank a little too much and got maudlin.”

“You need to brush up on your English.” His voice was low, upset. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘honest.”

Victor winced. “Look,” he tried again, “just go—“

“Absolutely n—“

“Please? I don’t want to wreck this for you. Besides, I need some time to…“ Sober up. Muster some defenses. Run for the consulate. Or, better yet, the airport. “…get my head back in order.”

“And we’ll talk when I get back.” Chris still looked worried, but he’d started considering the idea. Good.

“Of course.”

Green-gold eyes measured him for a moment longer. Victor did his best not to shrink from the concern in them. “Answer me one thing first.”

Was he being too eager? Not eager enough? Damn it, Victor couldn’t think. “Anything,” he said.

“When was the last time you were happy?”

His mouth opened. Closed again. “I…” he began. Stopped.

“Oh, Vitya.” And then Chris was hugging him. Warm, strong arms wrapped around him, one hand still holding the muted mobile. Chris smelled like spiced amber, and maybe it was weak, but Victor’s self-control had drowned itself hours ago. His pride put up a feeble protest, but the worst had already happened, hadn’t it? His mask had finally slipped, and someone had seen inside. He hugged Chris back, burying his face in his shoulder.

“You really want me to leave you like this?” Chris murmured. Victor nodded without pulling away. “You’re sure?”

“Please.” Victor’s voice cracked on the word. “I just need some space. Some time. I just need…”

Christophe’s arms tightened around his shoulders. “All right, darling,” he said finally, his voice thick. “All right.” One last squeeze, and he released Victor to hold the phone against his ear.

“Josef? Pardon.” Chris hurried into his bedroom, the door closing behind him. Victor sank back into the couch and closed his eyes, tucking his knees up under his chin. He could hear the faint sounds of rushed dressing and Chris’ replies to his coach, and did his best to tune them out. He felt sick to his stomach. Exhausted. Empty. So very empty. Was this a panic attack? It wasn’t anything like Mess’ descriptions, but then Mess always seemed to feel everything, so an excess of emotion made sense for him. For a hollow person like Victor, maybe this numb sort of dread was as close as he could get.

What did Mess say that he did when he got lost in his own head? Victor couldn’t remember. Counting breaths, maybe?

Can’t hurt, I suppose. All right. One… two…

Long moments passed, and then there were gentle fingers in his hair. He opened his eyes.

“Here.” Chris was pressing an object into Victor’s hands. He blinked at it for a second before recognizing it as his laptop. “I know you want to be by yourself for a while, but don’t be alone. Talk to your friends.”

“Chris…” Victor knew that he should be feeling something. Gratitude. Affection. Shame, even. And maybe there was a tiny glow of emotion stirring beneath the haze of alcohol and numbness. It wasn’t enough. “I… I will. Thank you.”

“I am not happy about this.” Chris was still moving, now clattering around in his kitchen. He emerged carrying a glass of water and a plate piled high with cheese, fruit, and crackers. He set them down on the coffee table in front of Victor. “Eat something while I’m gone. And drink.”

Victor eyed the platter. The cheeses were supposed to be for later, for what should have been a happy evening. Reminding himself that he was ruining Chris’ birthday hurt, but the pain was better than nothingness. “I won’t be able to properly appreciate the Bregaglia.” It was a feeble joke, and neither of them smiled at it.

“Eat it anyway.”

“Oui, maman.”

Chris was fussing over him now, delaying his departure. “And call if you need me. For anything.”

“I will.”

Christophe shook his head. His smile was sad, and all too knowing. “No, you won’t,” he said softly.

“Probably not,” Victor agreed.

Then there was a brief press of lips against Victor’s forehead, and Chris left.

The bottles were gone, put away while Victor was lost in his fog. He didn’t think Chris would go so far as to hide them from him, but it would be humiliating to be proven wrong, so he decided not to check. The snacks in front of him looked revolting, and the glass full of nothing but water was mocking him.

I should go out, he thought. Get some air. Get away… He could walk along the Aare, feed the ducks some of those crackers. Maybe take some selfies under the Child-Eater fountain or do some other touristy thing that he and Chris always joked about but never actually did.

Or he could go farther. It wouldn’t be the first time Victor changed flight arrangements on a whim, and it would hardly be the last. Chris might be upset – don’t lie to yourself, Vitya. Chris will be furious – but he was responsible. Responsible, and nowhere near as impulsive as Victor. He wouldn’t hop on a plane this close to Worlds, and Victor would have time to get his shit together, come up with an excuse—

His phone chirped an incoming text alert. It had barely been five minutes since Chris had left; he couldn’t have arrived at the venue yet. Sure enough, when Victor tapped the notification bar more out of habit than actual curiosity, the photo Christophe had sent him showed an empty leather bucket seat. Or almost empty. A very familiar red leather booklet emblazoned with Russia’s double-headed eagle was prominent in the image, resting proudly on top of…

That devious Swiss bastard.

There were no emojis that could possibly express the level of outrage that Victor needed for his reply.

MY SHOES??!?!?!?

Bonjour, mon coeur! How is your online sweetheart?

YOU STOLE. MY SHOES.

And your passport. I *have* met you before, darling.

Now be a good boy and stay put, and I’ll see you when I get home.

I could stretch out your Ferragamos for you…

And risk blisters this close to Worlds? Be my guest.

I’ll buy a new pair or three with my gold medal winnings.

…Damn it. Outmaneuvered by an overgrown Alpine moppet. If word got out, he would never hear the end of it. Well. Never let it be said that Victor Nikiforov didn’t know how to cope with defeat.

I hope the camera adds thirty pounds to your ass.

He sighed, and reached for his laptop.

* Joined channel #therapycouchfort

* Topic is ‘Happy Half-Off-Chocolate Day Eve!’

* Set by SockPuppet on Feb 14 10:39:02 2015

StandardDeviation: hey king

KingElsa: Hello.

KingElsa: Where is everyone?

SockPuppet: Mess is conferencing for business again

StandardDeviation: i haven’t seen mess today

KingElsa: I don’t just come her e to talk to Lukewarm Mess you know.

StandardDeviation: of course not

SockPuppet: You just keep telling yourself that

StandardDeviation: you also come here to talk ABOUT mess.

KingElsa: …

StandardDeviation: it only stings because its true <3

* Peaches_and_Dream has joined #therapycouchfort

Peaches_and_Dream: Hello, boy and girls! Isn’t it a lovely day to be alive?

StandardDeviation: hey peaches

Peaches_and_Dream: ( ❁ ´ ▽ ` ❁ )* ✲ ﾟ *

SockPuppet: Someone’s getting laid…

* lukewarm_mess has joined #therapycouchfort

Peaches_and_Dream: Close, only even better!

SockPuppet: What could be better than getting laid?

Peaches_and_Dream: Mess

Peaches_and_Dream: And

Peaches_and_Dream: I

lukewarm_mess: peach no

Peaches_and_Dream: Received some very prestigious awards tonight!

lukewarm_mess: it’s not necessary to tell everyone

StandardDeviation: congrats you two

SockPuppet: !!! Wtg!

lukewarm_mess: nobody even cares outside of our industry

lukewarm_mess: pls don’t make a fuss

Peaches_and_Dream: Says the man whose numbers were THIRD

Peaches_and_Dream: In almost the entire world

StandardDeviation: that’s really impressive mess

lukewarm_mess: hardly the entire world

Peaches_and_Dream: 6/7 of it

lukewarm_mess: you’re counting antarctica??

SockPuppet: Don’t downplay your achievements, mess

SockPuppet: If you were recognized, it was for a reason

Peaches_and_Dream: ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ *fistbumps Socks*

StandardDeviation: what did you win peach

Peaches_and_Dream: I came in fifth! Which isn’t actually an award category or anything but still. Top five!

Peaches_and_Dream: The high scorers had better watch their backs. I’m coming for them next!

StandardDeviation: you sound so competitive lol

Peaches_and_Dream: It’s a competitive field

Peaches_and_Dream: Practically an olympic sport, really

lukewarm_mess: PEACH

lukewarm_mess: can we change the subject now

StandardDeviation: *pokes king to see if he’s dead*

StandardDeviation: *poke*

StandardDevation: *poooooooooooooooooooke*

SockPuppet: That’s enough

KingElsa: I’m not dead.

lukewarm_mess: hi king

SockPuppet: We were teasing him a little bit and he’s been quiet since. Sorry if we overstepped, King

KingElsa: Hi Mess.

KingElsa: It’s not you guys.

lukewarm_mess: bad day?

KingElsa: You could say that

KingElsa: I accidentally let slip to a friend that I’m…

Peaches_and_Dream: …gay? (͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

KingElsa: :P

KingElsa: Not always as happy as I act

StandardDeviation: accidentally or “accidentally”

*lukewarm_mess>> {{{hugs}}}

KingElsa: Definitely unintentional

SockPuppet: How did they take it

/msg lukewarm_mess: Thanks <3

Peaches_and_Dream: I’m sure if it’s a good friend he’s concerned about you

KingElsa: he had to go out for a work thing, but he wants to talk when he gets back.

*lukewarm_mess>> i know you’re upset but i can’t help but think this is a good thing

KingElsa: I’d rather run away than face him.

*lukewarm_mess>> you know how i feel about you not having a rl support base

SockPuppet: Running away is a bad idea

lukewarm_mess: don’t run away

/msg lukewarm_mess: The way he looked at me hurt.

/msg lukewarm_mess: I don’t want to be pitoeid

/msg lukewarm_mess: pitied*

*lukewarm_mess>> now i know you’re upset

KingElsa: I…. um. can’t.

*lukewarm_mess>> if you’re making typos

StandardDeviation: ???

/msg lukewarm_mess: Hush, you. Do you even know what the shift key is for??

lukewarm_mess: sure, symbols and emojis :P

KingElsa: He kind of took my shoes and passport with him when he left.

Peaches_and_Dream: OMFG my kind of friend!

StandardDeviation: :O

lukewarm_mess: did you have to tell everyone that

lukewarm_mess: you’ll give peach ideas

SockPuppet: I’m glad you have a friend who cares about you, King

Peaches_and_Dream: Because keeping you inside the apartment is always such a problem, Mess ( ￢ _ ￢ )

Peaches_and_Dream: King ask your dude if he has any solutions for getting people to come out of their room

KingElsa: I wish he cared a little less, to be honest.

StandardDeviation: really? harsh

*lukewarm_mess>> you don’t mean that

KingElsa: No… I guess I don’t mean it. I’m glad he cares. Mostly.

KingElsa: I just wish he didn’t have to?

StandardDeviation: are you wishing for neurotypicality or not to need other people

StandardDeviation: because while we’re at it i wiould like a pony

KingElsa: …I’m being an ass, aren’t I

lukewarm_mess: no

Peaches_and_Dream: A bit

KingElsa: …

Peaches_and_Dream: Okay, serious talk now so pay attention

SockPuppet: This should be good.

Peaches_and_Dream: You seem to me like one of those people who needs to act untouchable in public. It’s even in your screen name. And you’ve mentioned being in a position of high visibility before

KingElsa: Yes…

Peaches_and_Dream: Where does the line between the public you and private you begin? And which side of that line does your friend stand on? Or any of the other people in your life?

KingElsa: That’s the problem. I’m not sure there *is* a line anymore.

KingElsa: If ther eever was.

Peaches_and_Dream: So there’s no one in the world you can turn to? Nobody who can call you out on your bullshit?

KingElsa: You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that right now >.>

Peaches_and_Dream: I’m on the internet, I don’t count. Even if I knew who you were irl, we’re not friends. We’re certainly not close.

KingElsa: True.

Peaches_and_Dream: So my question stands.

KingElsa: My co

KingElsa: boss*

KingElsa: I guess

Peaches_and_Dream: But he’s work, so he’s part of your public life

KingElsa: So is Chris.

KingElsa: My friend, I mean. I met him through work.

Peaches_and_Dream: And did the relationship stay there?

KingElsa: No.

KingElsa: Well. It’s complicated.

KingElsa: We’re rivals as well as friends, so…

Peaches_and_Dream: Do you think he’d take advantage of you professionally if he thought you were vulnerable?

KingElsa: No.

KingElsa: He’s not like that. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.

Peaches_and_Dream: So he’s someone you feel you can trust?

KingElsa: I don’t want to be a bother to him.

Peaches_and_Dream: That’s not what I asked.

*lukewarm_mess>> Are you okay with this?

KingElsa: …Yes. I can trust Chris.

Peaches_and_Dream: But you don’t want to bother him. Because he’ll stop being your friend if you’re an annoyance to him?

KingElsa: I toldy ou he’s not like that!

lukewarm_mess: peach, that’s enough

Peaches_and_Dream: I believe you. So why don’t you want to bother Chris with your feelings, then?

KingElsa: …

KingElsa: Because I don’t’ want him to see me as we3ak

SockPuppet: OK TIME OUT PEOPLE

KingElsa: I have been on top since I was sixteen yoeuars osld and since I was sixteen I have understoond that if others are oging to look up to me I hvae to be someone that is worhty of being looked up to. I can’t slip I can’t fall I can’t crack because If i do I will let someone donw. I can’t show weakness becausew i can’t BE weka.

SockPuppet: Peach you are overstepping boundaries like woah

Peaches_and_Dream: You’re allowed to be human, King

SockPuppet: BUT I’m hesitant to bounce you because I think you’re acting out of good intentions

KingElsa: says a SALSEMAN who has NO DIEA what I go throu

Peaches_and_Dream: You’d be surprised. We have a lot more in common than you might think

SockPuppet: ENOUGH

KingElsa: you don’t eve n blong here you aren’t even depressd

SockPuppet: THE NEXT PERSON WHO TYPES ANYTHING IS GETTING A THREE DAY KICKBAN

The stark line of text brought Victor up short. What was he doing? He was flinging insults at a college student, that was what he was doing. A college student who had never spoken to him with anything other than kindness, even if it often came paired with a healthy dose of mischief. One who certainly didn’t need to be treated like an enemy or an obstacle.

SockPuppet: Take a deep breath and calm down, both of you

Calm. He’d been calm. Or numb, at least. When did the deadness change into anger? And why? Because Mess' roommate was right; Peaches was just a name on a screen, no more real or relevant to Victor Nikiforov than someone he passed on the street while walking Makkachin. Nothing he said – typed! – should be able to affect Victor in the slightest. Unless…

*lukewarm_mess>> i’m so sorry

*lukewarm_mess>> i don’t know why he’s pushing you like this

*lukewarm_mess>> are you okay

Those three short private messages pulled something like a smile from Victor’s lips. Trust Mess to obey the letter of the law while doing what he thought was right behind the scenes.

He started tapping out a reply PM to reassure his friend that he was okay. Stopped. Decided, for once, to tell the truth.

/msg lukewarm_mess: no

/msg lukewarm_mess: I don’t think that I am okay

/msg lukewarm_mess: but I also don’t think that’s entirely Peach’s fault

SockPuppet: Now then.

SockPuppet: Before our safe space devolved into a school playground, I was trying to say that I thought the ideas that Peaches brought up might be worth discussing

*lukewarm_mess>> hmm. in that case…

*lukewarm_mess>> i seem to remember telling you about shoving a girl off my lap in a hospital waiting room full of people

SockPuppet: IF King was open to discussing them. He did not consent to an intervention.

*lukewarm_mess>> what was it you said to me?

SockPuppet: And now there has been bad behavior on both sides.

/msg lukewarm_mess: …

*lukewarm_mess>> (¬_¬;)

SockPuppet: So here’s what we’re going to do:

/msg lukewarm_mess: okay, okay

SockPuppet: KingElsa will decide whether Peaches_and_Dream crossed a line.

/msg lukewarm_mess: I told you that anxiety is a liar,

/msg lukewarm_mess: and that literally nobody with half a brain thinks that your’e weak

SockPuppet: If he did, then Peach will get a 3-day ban for being invasive

/msg lukewarm_mess: and that it’s okay to accept help when you need it

SockPuppet: and King will get a 1-day ban for ad hominem attacks

*lukewarm_mess>> so… and i ask this with love… can you take the advice that you dish out?

/msg lukewarm_mess: I also distinctly remember telling you that the little cow deserved to be dumped on her ass for tryig to take advangate of a coworker’s injury to put the moves ony ou.

SockPuppet: OR, and guess which option I prefer, King agrees to forgive your transgression, you both shake virtual hands or give internet hugs or whatever, and either decide to continue the conversation in a controlled and CIVIL manner or change the subject.

*lukewarm_mess>> not relevant

*lukewarm_mess> also she was not trying to put the moves on me

SockPuppet: I imagine there are a great number of sportsball games going on that we could be discussing instead

/msg lukewarm_mess: I guess I do have at least one person who can call me out on my shit

lukewarm_mess: BITE ME

SockPuppet: I

StandardDeviation: lolwut

lukewarm_mess: omg that was supposed to be a pm i’m so sorry

/msg lukewarm_mess: To me? D: D: D:

*lukewarm_mess>> nonono omg (/> / ᗣ / </ /)

Peaches_and_Dream: I only suggested we could discuss the results of the figure skating championships

lukewarm_mess: ψ (▼ へ ▼ メ) ~ → PEACH

SockPuppet: I CAN STILL KICKBAN YOU ALL

SockPuppet: A CHANNEL OF SILENT PERFECTION IS WITHIN MY GRASP

SockPuppet: DON’T THINK THAT I WON’T DO IT

/msg lukewarm_mess: Don’t like figure skating?

/msg lukewarm_mess: Or… secret fan?? (͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

*lukewarm_mess>> no changing the subject!

/msg lukewarm_mess: spoilsport

KingElsa: Um. Can I have the floor?

SockPuppet: You may.

KingElsa: So, um. I’m not exactly happy about being blindsided by this convo

KingElsa: but but as Socks said I also said some things atha I shouldn’t have

KingElsa: And I probably should hae said somethign earlier but I’m actually pretty drunk right now

*lukewarm_mess>> omg

KingElsa: so it’s an even wo2rse time than usual to try and call me out

*lukewarm_mess>> peach just spit out matcha through his nose

/msg lukewarm_mess: does it make me a horrible person if i find that a little satisfyring?

KingElsa: So if it’s up to me Id’ rather just channel my namesake and let it go

*lukewarm_mess>> haha no, i think that’s a healthy reaction to peach

Peaches_and_Dream: Oh shit, sorry king. I would never have jumped on you like that if I’d known you weren’t at 100%

SockPuppet: You shouldn’t have “jumped” on him at all. >.>

Peaches_and_Dream: yeah no, that’s fair. Fuck though. Sorry.

KingElsa: I’ll… think about hwat you said. later. But I will think about i8t

Peaches_and_Dream: ^^

StandardDeviation: hey socks, would you feel better if you kicked us all?

lukewarm_mess: ??

SockPuppet: You… have my attention.

StandardDeviation: and then we can all come back and start over fresh

Peaches_and_Dream: I… don’t actually hate that idea

KingElsa: I’ve been kicked out of finer establishements than this one *sniffs*

SockPuppet: This pleases me. Okay, then. Take five, children. Eat or go look out a window or something.

*Disconnected from #therapycouchfort (Quit: Kicked by SockPuppet)

To be continued...

#original conten #i have committed fanfiction #chat au #therapycouchfort #yuri on ice #victor nikiforov #christophe giacometti #katsuki yuuri #phichit chulanont #victuuri

4 notes · View notes

sinkingorswimming · 7 years

Note

I'm absolutely terrible at prompts (aren't all writers?!) but I would love to see you write about a time in Taker that Yuuri was unintentionally super soft and romantic and it totally destroyed Victor in a good way. I'm in a sappy mood for some reason!

Sorry it took me a few days, but your wish is my command.This is between the Press Conference and Beijing 1.

The weather is still mild, not yet so chilly at night that heavy coats or clothing are necessary, but it is a beach town and so the wind comes over the waves kind of ruining the peace.

Yuuri’s been working hard since the Press Conference, but tomorrow’s a rest day. Minako cut his ballet time short because of an office party having rented her bar for the night.

So Yuuri is at loose ends.

Loose ends these days usually mean an extended soak in the onsen followed by him and Victor fucking a few times until sleep takes over. He doesn’t mind those nights—far from it, in fact—but he’d rather do something less expected.

Yuuri sits on a stool in the Yu-Topia kitchen while his mom preps for the evening rush. Broth boils on the stove in a giant pot, and the smell of oil hangs in the air, permeating the room. “Mom?”

“Yes?” she asks absently as she gets a whole salmon out of the fridge. She sets to work with precision filleting and de-boning it for the night’s sashimi special. Yuuri can do it as well, naturally. He considers maybe one day showing off for Victor.

“Do we have a basket? Or old blankets?”

“Basket…” His mom replies as she runs her hand down the fish. She grimaces a third of it down, grabbing the tweezers. Out comes three pin bones. “The ones for Hanami?”

“Yeah!” Yuuri says.

“Hm, they should be in the storage room we let Yurio sleep in,” she says after a thought or two. “Do you need them?”

“Well, one,” Yuuri says. “Thanks!”

He hops off the stool and heads to the room in question. It’s attached to the room that’s come to be his and Victor’s, though Victor isn’t there. He slides the door open and right to his left is a giant, fancy-but-has-seen-better-days basket made of white wicker with green and white gingham lining.

He grabs it along with a thick blanket, folding it and putting it on its bottom. Then he calls the place he always called in high school for Hanami with the Nishigoris, the last time being when Yuu-chan was pregnant and almost bursting, and he places the order. He borrows Victor’s bike, grabbing the stuff when it’s ready, and rides it back to Yu-Topia.

Victor reappears at this point, Makkachin at his heels. “Yuuri,” he says warmly.

Yuuri gives him a smile. “Hey, I got us something. Will you come with me?”

Curiosity dominates Victor’s expression. “Of course.”

“Grab a jacket,” Yuuri says as he zips up his own tight. Victor puts on his gray puffy jacket he wears during practice, and Makkachin follows them. The basket is looped over Yuuri’s arm as they end up at the beach, the spot from three months ago where Yuuri learned he could let down his walls for Victor.

He spreads out the blanket and puts the rest in the middle—a Hanami party package with karaage, bento full of makizushi and tamago, takoyaki which is one of Victor’s favorites, a variety of mochi flavors, and sake.

Makkachin boofs and chases in the background as Victor watches Yuuri set up their spread. He sits on his knees, looking up at him. The sun begins to dip low on the horizon, blue skies turning a golden hue with fading stripes of pink and purple. Yuuri blushes and clears his throat. “Sit.”

Victor does. “What’s all this?”

“Normally, a hanami party is for sakura viewings in the spring,” Yuuri explains. “But I thought….you and I could stargaze here at the beach.”

Victor swallows, looking a bit thrown. Yuuri smiles.

“Sit,” Yuuri emphasizes like Victor is a stubborn puppy.

Victor sits. They grab their chopsticks and begin to eat. It’s a comfortable silence that stretches, and Victor and Yuuri both feed Makkachin bits of the fried chicken. When the food is gone, Victor helps Yuuri clear the dishes, putting them into the basket.

The sky darkens further, stars making themselves known high above. Victor and Yuuri sit, leaning back on their hands. Victor’s left is close enough to Yuuri’s right, he reaches out and strokes his pinky over his knuckles. Victor’s eyes widen and he gives Yuuri a glance.

Yuuri smiles. “I missed them,” he says as he looks skyward. “Detroit is so busy with so many lights—you can’t see them. Here it’s dark enough that it makes a good difference.”

“Which ones are which?” Victor asks, leaning towards him.

Yuuri leans close as well, and they look at each other for a moment before he points to one bright star. “You see that grouping of five that look like a couple of mountain peaks?”

“Mmm,” Victor says.

“Cassiopeia,” Yuuri names it. “And that one over that way? It’s kind of a person-shape? That’s Andromeda.”

He names a few more that are visible without a telescope while Victor hangs on his every word. When he’s out of knowledge, he takes Victor’s hand, holding it while his thumb traces the vein leading to his heart.

It’s too dark to tell if Victor’s blushing or not, but he clears his throat regardless as he looks into Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri leans in for a long, soft kiss with one hand wrapped around the nape of Victor’s neck. His fingers run through the short hairs there, and Yuuri wonders what it would have been like to kiss Victor before the haircut. It doesn’t matter, really, since he gets to kiss Victor in the here and now whenever he feels the urge.

He pushes just the slightest bit and Victor ends up on his back with Yuuri pressed into his chest. He doesn’t intend for it to go beyond this, as it’s a public beach and the entire town knows who he is, but still…it’s nice to kiss Victor out under the stars as if they’re at the ends of the Earth.

Victor’s hands pull Yuuri close by the belt loops on his jeans, and Yuuri pauses to set his glasses aside. There’s a complex look on Victor’s face, mostly affectionate but also a little stunned. “Lapochka.”

Victor brushes the hair off Yuuri’s forehead as he smiles down at him. “Mhm?”

Yuuri makes a point to kiss Victor’s mouth lest he be unable to answer. He chooses instead to kiss his cheekbone a couple of times. Victor grips Yuuri tighter like he thinks a strong wind can carry him away.

Victor doesn’t speak, instead moving so their lips meet again. Kissing him this time is like a snowfall—it’s soft and lush, the world is silent in a way that rings of purity—and Yuuri loves him so much he dare not disturb things.

When the kissing slows to a stop, Victor looks at Yuuri like he’s why the sun rises and sets. Yuuri blushes and waits.

Words don’t come, Victor instead kissing him again. They lose track of time, too wrapped up in each other to make sense of the cooling air and change in the light above, but then the sun rises and a dishevelled, kiss-struck Victor rasps, “We never went home.”

They didn’t, and they didn’t have sex either. They really just made out for hours like middle school kids left alone with a door closed for the first time. “Oops.”

Makkachin boofs from the end of the blanket. Yuuri chuffs an embarrased laugh as he sits back on his heels. Victor is slow to rise off his back, and in the early morning light Yuuri sees the flush on his face. His hair’s a huge disaster, too, probably from Yuuri’s hands, and his eyes are glassy like he doesn’t know how to feel.

“Come on, we better get back,” Yuuri says around another laugh.

Victor just nods with that same stunned look, taking the basket from Yuuri to carry it home.

Too bad the inn work begins so early—they might have made back it unnoticed. As it stands, Yuuri doesn’t see the smile on his mother’s face when she notices they go into Victor’s room together.

#cause i'm a taker cause i'm a giver it's only nature #dommi's fic #victuuri #victor x yuuri #miracuu romansuu #hiroko katsuki

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