I want to think about Yurio and Otabek as a couple. Canonical, they met before during Yakov’s summer program. Otabek must not have made a huge impression cause Yurio hardly remembers him.
Flash forward to five years later. I’m assuming that Otabek has been watching Yurio from afar, waiting for him to move up to the senior division. That would make sense since Otabek gives Yurio that very searching look at the hotel in Barcelona, then shows up to rescue Yurio from his Angels.
Honestly, it looks like Otabek has it BAD. He pounced so fast! (Which is so delightfully cute to me.)
However, look at it from Yurio’s POV. Yes, he slightly remembers Otabek, and they obviously hit it off very, very well (see scene when they’re having tea and Mari-neechan dies a little).
But they’ve only been taking for three days!
They have that one day where Otabek rescues him.
The next day is the short program (“davai” from Yurio and thumbs up from Otabek).
And the next day is the free program (“davai” from Otabek and thumbs up from Yurio).
Then the next day, Otabek is (according to hints of Yurio’s Gala performance) assisting Yurio on the ice? When did they have time to practice? Why would Yurio ask Otabek and not Yuri or Victor for help?
I think this shows just how quickly their feelings solidified. (I’m thinking love at first sight, for Otabek at least.) I also think that Otabek would do anything Yurio asked of him.
I saw this on Twitter, and I was like???? The heck??? I’ve been living in Croatia for over 22 years and I’ve never seen anything that looks even remotely similar to the first pic, and nothing on the scale of the second pic??? Where are those places???? So I reverse Image searched, and guess what? They’re not in Croatia.
The first one is a hotel in Barcelona, Spain. The top right is a resort in the Côn Sơn archipelago islands, Vietnam. The third one, however is in Croatia (National Park Plitvice Lakes - a truly magnificent place).
I just thought this situation was…really extra, and wanted to share. There are plenty of beautiful, interesting places in Croatia that could’ve been added to the Tweet instead, there was no need to falsely advertise.
The first leg of my journey was all the way through France to Barcelona. Our hotel was waiting for us only a few minutes walk from La Monumental, where Battle of the Nations 2017 was to be held. We were in a rush to check in to our room, so we aimed to do the drive in a little over 10 hours, all on the opposite side of the road and car and while we had already been on planes for 24 hours. We got to drive through the beautiful countryside of Bordeaux without speaking a word of French. I would love to this drive again but give myself at least a week to roam the countryside and make the most of the beautiful landscape.
Adventure (“Is that my shirt?”, Sam x Reader, fluff)
Idk how this got where it went but I was listening to my fluff playlist and this happened haha enjoy!! also this is mostly an apology for the copious amounts of angst I have lined up xx
Word Count: 2,247
Warnings: Lil bit NSFW
Life with Sam was a constant adventure. That was something you’d learned early on in the relationship with the surprise puppy he’d gotten the two of you, spontaneous weekend road trips and the fact that you now were the proud owner of over four thousand frequent flyer points. In hindsight, you thought the fact that his occupation title was “treasure hunter” should have been enough of an indicator that this would be the case.
This weekend? Roadtrip to Valencia from your hotel in Barcelona. You were on a job, but considering it was the simplest break-and-enter the two of you had ever been given, you and Sam had decided to make it bit of a vacation.
It ended up being a four-hour drive with traffic, but the two of you had brought plenty of snacks and Sam had downloaded a surprise playlist that mostly consisted of pirate shanties he’d made sure to memorise all the lyrics of. After the second hour, the two of you were belting them from the tops of your lungs with windows rolled down on the highway, the reflection of the dog with his head sticking out the window in your rear view mirror.
70k Words. Victor/Yuuri. Explicit. Canon compliant. Slow build. Switching. Fills in the gaps between episodes 7-12. (And beyond.) Basically meta in fic form at this point.
For most of his life, Yuuri had dedicated a good deal of time to the pursuit of solitude. He liked being alone. Liked the way his mind and body relaxed when there was no one else’s energy buzzing in the room. It was always easiest when there was nobody there to look at him or expect him to talk.
But all that began to change when Victor Nikiforov came into his life.
Now, when Victor was gone, Yuuri didn’t find the same satisfaction in being alone. His mind and body couldn’t relax, and he missed that buzzing energy. Missed being looked at and talked to. It was like half his heart had gone missing, leaving him hollow and restless. While he didn’t need Victor constantly around him, Yuuri did need to know he was there. That he was okay.
Alone in the Barcelona hotel room, Yuuri sat on the floor with his back to the bed and stared unhappily down at the book in his hands. His suitcase was open in front of him, the once neatly packed contents disturbed from his search for the book. It was the one Victor had given him for his birthday. Yuuri ran his palm down the beautiful cover, with its golden letters that spelled out his name, and tried to muster the courage to open it.
Okay chuckleheads, listen up, because I’m going to learn you all a thing that is actually important to know when you try to leave the country to go on holiday (you may or may not already know this). What you are about to read is completely, one hundred percent fact, and the only way it is possible is either in Hollywood or an actual, legitimate miracle, and I think I may have found God.
The premise: my younger brother got accepted to play in an international futbol tournament - we live in Canada, and all of our flights to Barcelona, our hotel, and our itineraries are all done. Passports are up to date. It’s all good.
We’re at the checkin counter at the airport, our passports are getting scanned, and lo and behold, my brother’s passport (two months and three weeks shy of expiry), the only actual important one, is denied because it isn’t compliant with the Spanish travel guidelines, and is told he can’t go. He’s crying, my mum is PISSED because nobody told us this was even a thing, and both his coaches are confused and angry as hell. We’re told that if we go down to the office we *might* be able to make it for a flight either late tonight or tomorrow morning.
So we peel out of the airport and head down to the passport office - a branch which should really be included IN THE AIRPORT - and get his picture retaken, fill out the form in the lineup, and get it pushed through. He’s crying again, and my mum is now also nearly in tears. We’ve been there for about forty minutes at this point between the line and waiting in the secondary queue, and then we get to the counter and tell the nice lady what our problem is.
“Give me until quarter after.”
She slapped an urgent sticker onto it, walked it over to processing herself, and then we waited.
My mum is on the phone with his coach, who has gone through security, is aware of what’s happening, and is simultaneously trying to work out getting us on another flight and also holding the plane without really holding the plane (we found out after it was undergoing an “extra thorough cleaning”). Quarter after ten in the morning rolls around, my mum is signing for his passport, and we’re running to the car like it’s an IKEA commercial. For a government office, about an hour is super quick to have a new passport in your hand.
You’d think it stops there, yeah? Nope.
We got stuck in traffic on the way out of downtown (which is already an hour drive from the airport, and our flight started boarding in twenty minutes - something that would be delayed, but we didn’t know it then), and my mum is on the phone AGAIN trying to get it figured out. We made it out of the city, barrelled down the highway going 160 in a 110, and nearly skipped the barrier for valet parking. With a flat tire. Like, FLAT. The rim was separated from the cement by the rubber and that was about it.
We unload our bags, get down to checkin, and see the massive line. The guy operating the automated checkin lines scoffs at us when we tell him we need to get through because we had a plane waiting, and then his colleague comes up, asks our last names, *opens a new counter*, and pushes our stuff through overweight baggage so that it makes it on the flight. She runs us over to security, which we make it through in record time, and then we’re on our way to the terminal.
The entire team sees us come through and is on their feet, freaking out, and it was 10:40.
Our flight didn’t start boarding until 11:15, the time it was supposed to leave.
Moral of the story: always make sure your passport complies with the guidelines of the country you’re going to - for reference, Spain has a 3 month period from the day you get back from your holiday.
(We’re home now, the tournament went great, but I never want to be stuck in another elevator as long as I live)