i love detroit

2

Phichit might be the biggest Victuuri shipper, but there’s no way he’s going to let Victor whisk his best friend off to Russia before a few rounds of merciless teasing.


Phichit: And then he started crying! I can’t believe he felt threatened over that. It’s like he forgot he’s the one you’re choosing to marry!

Yuuri: Ha ha…Victor can be a bit extra sometimes.

Phichit: Yes, he is. You two are made for each other.

Yuuri: ?

10

PHICHIT-CENTRIC YOI COMIC???

Because I love this child and he needs more love, especially his relationship with Yuuri ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

While Phichit is an incredibly friendly lovable cinnamon roll, he won’t stand for anything threatening his best friend Yuuri, even if the threat happens to be someone Yuuri loves. Yuuri clearly adores the Victor he knows now (just as much as he idolized the distant figure in the past), but Phichit won’t forget how much Victor hurt Yuuri in the past, unintentional or not.

I headcanon that on top of being a skilled figure skater, Phichit is an academic genius who skipped grades and entered college in Detroit super early where he met Yuuri, which explains their long acquaintance despite the age difference. He is very, VERY protective of Yuuri. I’ll put up a more detailed headcanon post later (and if there’s interest, possibly prequel comic of pre-YOI anime Detroit college days).

Also, extra:

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Don’t Stop Us Now

@softkent ‘s 14 Days of Love fic-a-thon, day 6: ruined surprises!

It all started because Katya decided to have mercy on Eric and let him take morning classes this semester. WGSS120 was an amazing class, Professor Atley had the coolest stories about how postwar industrialization led to compulsive female domesticity, and his seatmate wasn’t the worst thing to see at 9:30 AM every Tuesday and Thursday. He would have almost been dreamy if he had the slightest knack for small talk. As it was, Eric didn’t even have a name to go on, just intent blue eyes and an ass that even the baggiest of shorts couldn’t mask.

One day, Eric decided to drop a hospitality bomb on the guy and see if he could coax a response out of him. They were both consistently early to class, so Eric budgeted ten minutes for a brief chat before class started and turned to Cute Guy with a winning smile on his face.

“So how about that reading, huh? I thought it was fascinating how cake mix became a prestige thing- everyone in my family bakes, and I don’t think we’ve used a box mix in forty years.”

“Yeah,” the guy said, “I think it had something to do with the scientific advancements they made in food preservation for the troops. Shelf stabilization wouldn’t have been nearly as achievable in earlier years.”

Miraculously, once you got onto a clear subject, Cute Guy was actually a decent conversationalist. Eric found himself losing track of time as they dissected last night’s chapters of Marling.

“And the American National Exhibition anecdote!” he giggled. “Who can even tell the difference between Russian and American Coke?”

“I bet it’s easier with all of the Soviet Union breathing down your back. ‘Da, cola of Mother Russia is vkusno!’”

“Nice accent,” Eric told Cute Guy.

“Really? Thanks, I’ll have to tell Geno. He’s always knocking my Russian. He’s, uh, a friend of my dad’s, and we both play hockey.”

“So that’s what your weird doodles are? Hockey plays?”

“Yeah, I’m captain of the hockey team here. We’re not half bad, if I say so myself.”

“Wow,” Eric enthused, “you must be a pretty good skater, then.”

“Yeah, I guess. I could teach you sometime, if you want. I’m Jack, by the way,’ Cute Guy said.

Keep reading

I do love you. I still love you.
I will never tell you that, though. There’s no use. Our time is over. Telling myself this is most difficult when I see you. When you speak to me. When I see you at that bar neither of us
gave up since our break up or the corner gas station. I hate how small this town is. I love you though.

You’re still so sweet to me. You say hello, with that smile that could melt thin air. Your eyes still look at me the same. Or is it that I only still choose to look at them the same? My heart beats out of my chest, if you looked hard enough you’d see it. You say hello, then we have a short conversation. But my heart knows no boundaries. My words are homesick and miss you being their home. I love you and my heart can’t keep secrets. So when we say goodbye, there’s nothing more my heart wants than to grab your hand and tell you I love you. I miss my lips on your forehead before you’d leave. Remember that?

I can’t say I love you. But I can’t say goodbye.
So instead I cope with this by using any other three word phrase. See you later, take care now, until next time. It’s saying it, without saying it. Those three words, each word replacing the ones I wish I could still use. I’m getting better at it. I’m getting better at loving you from afar.

You looked beautiful tonight,
You were never one to wear white. You’d always wear black. At least with me. You’ve curled your hair in a way I’ve never seen before. A bit more messy, good messy. You looked so alive. I’m glad we’re both still in this small town I hate, running into each other every now and then. Because you make me feel alive too.

“Until next time.”
—  Those Three Words // a.m.g.

Imagine in Detroit though, where Phichit is part of all the social groups around where they train and Yuri joins the less social ones and one of them is a ballroom dancing group and every week when he comes back from practice, Yuri gets all excited about what he has learnt that evening and he ends up grabbing Phichit’s hand and holding him by the waist, showing him how to dance and Phichit just smiles, going along with it because it’s not often Yuri comes out of his shell and finds himself falling deeper and deeper into a platonic love with his best friend. I am literally in love with their friendship and imagine them doing everything together (fightme)