This has nothing to do w/ anything and I know people have talked about it before BUT I want to as well. Usually my metas tend to be angsty af and then end on a hopeful note, and this will probably be no exception. But anyway, a delve into Victor’s love of fairytales!
I can recall on 2 occasions Victor specifically comparing Yuuri to a fairytale.
Which may not seem like a lot but we have 12 episodes and if something is pointed out twice in a story, it has some amount of significance. Anyway, I just think it’s so damn cute that Victor considers Yuuri prince-like. Even the visuals and story of On Love: Eros is like a fairytale!
We go on about how extra Victor is (and he 200% is…that 50s pink cadillac tho) but I wanna here more about how much of a true romantic Victor is.
This entire thing is like an hc-palooza courtesy of me. Here we go!
I like to think of a little Victor, watching all these fairytale movies–Disney or otherwise–and dreaming of one day finding a prince of his own.
A 12 year old Victor with his first real crush, staring at a pretty boy with darker hair and kind eyes in one of his classes or at the rink. Victor thought he had found his prince, until one day the affection faded and his mind focused on other things.
A teenage Victor, going through various relationships like others would go through clothing. He’s a busy young man after all, and no one seems to want to look beyond the Victor Nikiforov on screen, one the ice, and actually date him. Victor starts to wonder if there is a prince out there for him.
Victor as a young adult, still a romantic at heart, but has pretty much entirely lost hope on finding his true love. No one sticks around, and he hasn’t found anyone he cares deeply enough about to chase. Victor’s lonely, to put it simply. He sits up at night sometimes, and watches all those fairytales from when he was a child. Victor smiles sadly at the end of them all, and dreams of a prince of his own.
And Victor in his late 20s, as we see him pre-series. He’s frosted with depression and loneliness; the never-ending cold discs of metal, the isolation from other skaters, people kissing up to him left and right. Everything is predictable. He’s running out of motivation, out of ideas. Victor knows people only want him as what they see when he performs. It’s a saddening thought, that Victor is not lovable as himself. Some people were not meant to find a true love, he supposes.
Until one night, a night we all know well.
The Sochi GPF banquet. Victor is intrigued by this attractive man flitting through the room, clearly intoxicated, but with this charming energy no one can resist. Not even Yuri Plisestky, himself pulled into a dance with Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki.
Victor manages to escape from his sponsors to laugh and point and take pictures from the sidelines. Yuuri whirls past him and the way the light shines on his hair and eyes makes Victor’s breath catch and his heart skip.
Victor watches as Yuuri dances with Chris–and wow, is that a show and a half. Yuuri strides over to Victor and holds him in place, hips shaking and Victor can only stare on in wonder. This beautiful, energetic, charming young man is staring up at him, like he’s the only person in the room. Victor can’t understand Japanese, but that doesn’t matter–what matters is the warmth of Yuuri’s body, the sparkle of his eyes, and the earnestly fond tone he speaks with. Victor’s heart is beating out of his chest and he can’t imagine this moment getting better until-
Be my coach, Victor!
Victor’s face flushes with a little gasp and he can’t find it in himself to refuse the request or the next dance they share together.
As Victor laughs spins and smiles like he hasn’t since child, looking at Yuuri all the while, he can feel it in his chest.
A prince. A prince is with him!
And oh, when Yuuri dips him low, the lights above framing his face and hair like a halo, Victor knows that his prince has finally come for him.
People in the real world always say, when something terrible happens, that the sadness and loss and aching pain of the heart will ‘lessen as time passes,’ but it isn’t true. Sorrow and loss are constant, but if we all had to go through our whole lives carrying them the whole time, we wouldn’t be able to stand it. The sadness would paralyze us. So in the end we just pack it into bags and find somewhere to leave it.
Fredrik Backman, My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry
Imagine living in a city where there are no monuments, no buildings from before 1970, no proof that you had grandparents or parents, no history at all. Wouldn’t that make you feel like you were just a passing fad, that you could be blown away like leaves?… for any community to feel substantial and able to change without losing themselves, a history is absolutely crucial.
Emma Donoghue, talking about LGBT history and LGBT historical fiction
You know when you’re reading a reallllllly long book series and you keep joking that it’ll never end and you will be enslaved forever and then it ends and you’re like WAIT STOP COME BACK I DIDN’T MEAN IT