Yuri has always wondered how Victor was like before performances.

It’s his first time seeing Victor warm up before a major competition, and by first time, Yuri means up close, a red and white RU jacket folded over his arm, and not from a painful distance shyly looking over Celestino’s shoulder. 

Just say hi already, Celestino would say in mild irritation, and to which Yuri would answer in a pained groan, over my cold dead body, thank you very much.

“Darling, do you mind?” Victor asks in a gentle, soft tone that is new to Yuri, and that pet name, darling, he’s never been called that before. Victor sits on the matted floor, legs spread almost into a side split, and he’s beckoning Yuri to help him into a stretch.

“Yeah, of course.” Yuri miraculously answers in time because his chest is still feeling as tight as a heart attack at being called darling. He settles in front of Victor and adopts a smaller angle side split. He supports Victor’s position by planting his heels against his ankles and offers his hands forward. Victor slips his hands into Yuri’s wordlessly.

Everything stills for a moment, a mutedness wrapping itself around the two of them, and all that exists and all that matters at that second is the trembling hands Yuri is holding. The quake he is feeling is invisible to the eye but volcanic to the touch–confident outwardly, but scared inwardly. Yuri looks up at Victor, a calm ocean with a destructive undertow.

Are you alright? What can I do? How can I make this better? Yuri’s mouth won’t work, but it seems his eyes do, because Victor’s lips upturns to a small smile.

“Don’t be afraid that I’m afraid, zvyozdochka.” he speaks to him softly, looks at him softly, touches him softly, as if it is Yuri who’s fighting a battle and needs to  be placated. “I feel scared all the time. Just doesn’t look like it.”

Zvyozdochka, little star, that Yuri’s been called often. He softens at the words and lets a wall down, thumbs skating circles onto Victor’s hands. “I never knew that about you.”

“You’re the only one who does.” Victor smiles, “I don’t hold hands with just anybody before going into the ice.”

Yuri chuckles under his breath, pulling Victor forward into the stretch, helping him until his upper body is flush against the floor. Yuri drapes himself over Victor’s back, palms gently running across the fabric of his costume.

“You’ll be great, Vitya.”

re: adulthood is garbage (and so am i)

shysweetthing: This puts you in the top 50% of adults because you’re actually saving.

serpensthesia: I mean, listen, man… priorities. YOI is an immediate need… debt will always be there, so it can wait.

kixboxer: Important Yuri!!! On Ice questions: which one’s the avocado and which one’s the toast.

cocopines: im praying the movie comes out around the time im planning for my japan holiday trip. IF IT IS, LET’S MEET UP

cutthroatpixie: you could eat avocado toast while watching the yuri on ice movie in japan

cafecliche: oh god that’s a good point. time to start saving.

look!!! look. lets all go to japan together.  i will pack us all avocado toast and we can take millennial selfies and all wear shirts that say FUCK DIAMONDS

Here comes your 100% real-life-accurate Victuuri hospital AU 

  • Yuuri is a cardiovascular nurse works in a high turnover, high intensity cardiac surgery/cardiology unit. He works a full time job, 12 hour day/night, 4-5 patients under his wing with every shift, juggles usual day-to-day tasks with stable patients and acute status changes with unstable ones. To say that his job doesn’t help his anxiety is an understatement. It largely exacerbates it. His sweeter, lovelier chronic patients refer to him as Mr. Shaky Hands. His IV pokes can be classified under the higher ends of the Richter Scale. He can also speed walk between rooms like a marathon champ. He’s been pulled aside many a times by a concerned co-worker or clinical educator in hopes of lending a helping hand, or just asking if he’s okay. His shaky ‘yes’ doesn’t convince anybody, but he has five different patients and just about 50 different things to do all at the same time. Patient 3 wants pain medication and patient 4 thinks Yuuri exists to constantly serve his every whim. He really doesn’t have time to say anything other than yes. 
  • Phichit, the ward clerk, makes it a point to ‘sweet’ on him every time he speeds past the main desk (’Take it easy sweetheart!’ he would call while stamping blood work forms, and Yuuri would sigh stressfully, ‘Maybe when the resident finally orders me that metoprolol I’ve been needing five years ago’). Yuuri frequently takes his lunch break with Phichit, and nothing eases the tension from his shoulders than giggling at the many hamster videos Phichit has on his phone. (’Why do you always put your hamsters on your head and shoulders, Phichit?’ ‘Yuuri, that’s–that’s their true purpose. That’s their calling in life.’)
  • Victor is a cardiac ICU doc from upstairs. He is A+ in everybody’s books; the patients adore the ever loving hell out of him, old dementia patients save their sweetest smiles for ‘Doctor Vitya’, and most importantly, the nurses think he’s easy to work with (last point being the most important point–happy nurses, happy ward as they say). He tends to charm the stethoscopes off most people (with the exception of Dr. Yakov, cardiac surgeon extraordinaire, tends to grump away even the heartiest of Victor’s smiles). When code blues are called downstairs he is the first one in, and somehow maintains a calm that even the most anxious patient siphon like atavan. He likes talking to staff. He also likes bringing boxes of dessert to night staff both in the cardiac ICU and ward floors (’Doctor Nice-forov this is a cardiac unit,’ the nurses would chastise jokingly, ‘You should know what these things do to your coronaries.’ Victor would always smile cheekily in response, ‘Well if you don’t want them–’ ‘LEAVE IT.’). He and Mila, another ward nurse from the floor, talk in rapid fire Russian with each other. Many watch in silent awe.
  • The first time Yuuri and Victor meet is more of a fleeting glance than an actual introduction. Room 51 bed 2 blares V-tach on the cardiac monitors and it sends Yuuri careening into the room trying to wake the patient up and checking for a pulse. He digs the heels of his palms and starts CPR until the ICU team takes the lead. Yuuri turns away when he accidentally rams against somebody–he thinks he sees silver hair? But there is a soft hand on his back and a quick whisper of ‘pardon me’ for sure. He would’ve liked to probe further, but somebody from the code blue team orders a shot of amiodarone STAT and Yuuri’s the nearest one to the code cart. Okay Mr. Shaky Hands, just, fucking breathe, he tells himself, hands already failing to keep steady, just BREATHE–
  • Somebody ends up snatching the syringe from his hands with a gruff order for him to move aside, jesus, and Yuuri stumbles to the sidelines, shattered. (The patient ended up almost dying. Yuuri uses his lunch break to cry in the bathroom. Victor listens to the sobbing from where he was leaning on the wall by the bathroom door.)
  • Yuuri steps out of the bathroom, trying to look as normal as possible, when he sees his stethoscope he somehow lost in the shuffle, slung on the bathroom doorknob, a post it on stuck on the bell. He smiles small and pockets the note. (You did great. You were first there and you knew what to do. Those hands may shake, but they saved a life today. Don’t ever forget that. - V.)
  •  When Victor comes back from his own lunch break and into his charting station, there’s a similarly colored post it stuck on his monitor. (Thank you. I needed that. P.S. Normal people don’t stand in bathroom stalls listening to other people do their business. - Y.) Victor feels his mouth grow into an amused grin. Mr. Shaky Hands has a bit of an attitude. Victor realizes he has been full on smiling ear to ear without even noticing it. (I’m done for.)
  • One night shift the ward phone line receives a call from the ICU, and Yuuri, being the one nearest to the desk, answers the phone with dread in his chest (Holy shit why are they calling what do they NEED) and hears a cheery voice he can’t mistake for somebody else’s. (’Hi!’ ‘..Hi..?’ ‘How’re you doing Yuuri?’ ‘I’m.. trying to survive this shift?’ ‘Lovely! Me too!’  ‘.. It’s too middle of the night-y for this kind of energy, Dr. Nikiforov..’ ‘Just Victor, please.’ ‘Okay, but only if you take it down a notch please.’ ‘Please..?’ ‘Please, Victor.’ happy giggle I would love it if you joined me for breakfast tomorrow, please, Yuuri.’ ‘Uh, I’m not at my best during early mornings.’ ‘Then how about dinner?’ ‘Dinner?’ ‘Yes, dinner. Please?’) Yuuri dunks his face against his open palm, wheels in his head turning and turning and turning and turning–”JUST SAY YES” Mila shouts from the other phone, rolling her eyes and mumbling in Russian under her breath. 
  • (’Okay.’)
  • Yuuri hears a big ‘whoop’ from the other line and breaks into one of the truest laughs he’s laughed since working as a nurse, and he thinks to himself, coincidentally, (I’m done for.)

me: i love gentle ocean boy yuri katsuki who loves others so much he ferries everybody else with his waves but keeps his destructive undertows buried deep down to himself and protects everybody else from it

also me: i love smol rage boi yuri plisetsky i could listen to his hell shrieks in both sub and dub and felt like i was hash tag blessed by the universe fucking decimate my hearing bilaterally u punk ass bitc

I stand before you, and tell you ‘I’m home’. Know that I mean it as such: you are my home. Your arms are my foundations. Your eyes the doorways. Your lungs the fireplace. Your ribs my walls. Heaven cannot compare to the sanctuary that is you. So let me come back; let me rest in your heart. I’ve been on the road for too long.
—  n.t.

anonymous asked:

hi!!! you're like one of my absolute fave ppl i follow in yoi fandom and i love all your fic and hc posts and shitposts they're all gr8, and it's so good seeing ppl call out the anti shit (i wasn't bothered abt otayuri but holy shit i think i'm starting to ship it out of spite). anyway, i was wondering if u had any recs of other yoi blogs similar to you? and thank u for being awesome!

hi thank you holy shit!! this message made me feel very WOW AMAZING.  here are some lovely mutuals who all still consistently produce and reblog wonderful YOI content who i have had the pleasure to meet in this fandom. i’m going from the date i followed them newest to latest, if the order seems weird: 

@@actualyuuri @forovnix @door @lovelytitania @cafecliche @taritangeo @exile-wrath @cocopines @lavenderprose @justanxietythings @inknose @bigbigtruck @fireblazie @cutthroatpixie @pearlo @utlaginn @radialarch @winchilsea @kixboxer @idrilka @kitsunec4 @rcmclachlan @lazulisong @kevystel @hellotailor @ladyofthelog

i adore all these people and want to spend my twilight years drinking white wine spritzers with them on the patio of a fandom retirement home while we throw water balloons at kids across the street, they are precious to me and Good People and i will fight in the pit for any of them, please check them out!

saved | listen

Victor breathes, sea salt on his tongue, sand under his feet. 

He blinks away the spray of the ocean from his eyes and sways, taking Yuuri gently along with him. He feels Yuuri stiffen, like he doesn’t have time for this, but Victor smiles and Yuuri melts instantaneously. He places one hand on Yuuri’s waist while the other tries to find the fingers he’s grown to know the fit of against his own.

“There’s no music, dummy.” Yuuri mutters against his neck, his breath a steady and soft pulse against Victor’s skin. Victor can feel the restlessness and anxiety ripple through Yuuri’s chest.

“It doesn’t matter.” Victor murmurs, gently setting his head sideways, gray and black hair splayed together. “I’m going to tell you something.”

Their bare feet score lines onto the sand when Victor says, “Before you, it was hard to breathe.”

The wind sweeps, beating their clothes against their backs.

“I clawed gills into my neck and swallowed sea water to survive.”

“I drowned but not drowned, I lived but not lived. All I can see was sea foam and rising air–and oh, I thought to myself, how I longed to see the sun.”

They sway, and sway, and sway.

“And then you, like a whisper from the divine, broke through the surface and pulled me out.”

“You felt like the heat of a humble fire in the strongest of all winters. You smelled like the earth after being blessed by the rain. You looked like first ray of sunshine breaking through the horizon after a thousand years of darkness.”

“And finally, I think I can breathe again.”

Victor’s fingers lift from Yuuri’s waist, travels north, and cradles his head in his palm. 

“ I want you to know how much I am saved by you. I am saved by you in the past, the present, and the future.”

“And in times you think you are worth nothing, please remember that my being here is because of your being you.”

Yuuri breathes heavily, and Victor knows he’s crying against his shirt and he only pats Yuuri’s head in response. 

“Just, don’t look at me right now,” Yuuri sniffs, “I’ll be fine.”

Victor smiles. “Of course you will.”

A person sleeps. Within those hours, there are five cycles. Each cycle is of a non rapid eye movement sleep and a rapid eye movement sleep. The earlier further subdivided into four light sleep stages before you are able to lucidly dream. Every single dentrite in the cerebral cortex dims itself slightly if not completely, like a city resting from its simplistically patterned trivialities. The body revitalizes itself, forms itself, heals itself in the period of time you let your mind siphon its consciousness away. And for few vivid minutes of dreaming, lives are lived inside resting heads. The next time you wake someone up for mundane purposes, think about how much good things are jerkily screeching down into a sudden halt. Step out, close the door. He can know you love him the next morning.
—  n.t.