victuuriwriters

psa for the yoi fandom: russian names & how to use them

Russian guides: masterpost | patronyms | terms of affection | answered asks

I’m going to start by swearing this isn’t me just complaining but a general resource for the Yuri on Ice fandom because I’ve noticed some mistakes in the naming conventions used among the fandom and want to help correct them. Especially in how the fandom treats diminutives. I absolutely love seeing the huge amount of interest in Russian diminutives, etc. in fanart and fics and hopefully this breakdown will help continue that trend and interest and even spur some more ideas in fandom content.

So let’s go through some important details below the cut!

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sassysimoneevans  asked:

YOI Inside Out AU

Cannot resist this!!!

1. Yuuri is the star here and he is sixteen years old, transferring high schools and he is GRADE A terrified.

2. Inside of his brain, we have Phichit (Joy), Chris (Envy), Yuri P. (Anger), Georgi (sadness), and Yuuri (fear) - yes the fear representation inside of Yuuri’s head is his own likeness because, hell, anxiety is basically your own mind trying to sabotage you (just go with me on this lol)

3. First day of school, Yuuri spots Victor. Cue the equivalent of “CUTE BOY! WARNING CUTE BOY!” except it is literally just Phichit and Chris running in circles making their own siren sounds and Yuri screaming about how boys ARE NOT the thing they should be focusing on (“We have hockey tryouts later, get your heads out of your @$$e$!”). And Fear Yuuri is cowering under the desk muttering “please don’t let him see me, please don’t let him see me.” Georgi is draped over the desk lamenting about how alone they are.

4. Victor DEFINITELY sees him. And approaches Yuuri. All five emotions are swooning, except Yuri who is still raging about this “NOT BEING A PRIORITY AND SHUT UP PHICHIT WE ARE SIXTEEN, WE CAN CUSS NOW YOU SUNNY DOUCHE CANOE!” Phichit, Chris, and even Georgi fight over the controls of what Yuuri is going to say so he speaks in random clipped sentences, flushes bright red and runs away. (Fear Yuuri cheers him on for this and Phichit throws a shoe at him)

5. Yuuri tries out for the hockey team and fails miserably through the first half of tryouts, pushing off the ice and fleeing to cry in the hallway. Victor finds him, tells him an animated story about how bad Victor was at his first practice and then promises to buy Yuuri ice cream if he at least comes back until the end. Yuuri let’s Victor pull him back to his feet, and they don’t let go of each other’s hands. Inside of Yuuri’s brain, the emotions are basically having a rave - Chris is doing the cabbage patch, Phichit is doing the running man, Georgi is voguing, Fear Yuuri is spinning around a pole and Yuri is punching a wall (”Nice Kung Fu fighting moves!” Fear Yuuri, who is drunk on new love, yells to Yuri.)

BONUS: Victor’s brain is 5 emotions and they are all walking and talking poodles. Yes, Victor thinks in poodles and every time he sees Yuuri his poodle emotions get so excited they knock everything over with their tails.

since I was talking about languages headcanons, let me share an actual fav of mine: Yuuri actually started studying Russian when he first fell in love with Viktor (’s skating).

A starry eyed little Yuuri, glued to the small bulky television in the living room of the onsen, watching the recording of a young Viktor’s Junior World Championship in Bulgaria, his ponytail whipping around as he twirls and cuts the air in a perfectly executed jump; there’s nothing more Yuuri wants than to be like him, to know what this person made of starlight looks like inside. How can this beautiful angelic boy do what he does, how is it even possible to glide so effortlessly on the unforgiving ice when all Yuuri can do is fall and cry and bruise?

So he starts info dumping, collecting scraps of rare skating magazines, reading article upon article about him and interviews; but then again, there’s only a certain number of them that’s in Japanese, a little more in English, of which Yuuri’s knowledge is still wonky at best. Most of them are in Russian, because you know, Viktor is Russia’s prodigy, so of course. It’s not easy to find them.

Their dial up connection cable whirrs ominously and sucks money and energy, but he doesn’t desist, finds some approximation of a skating fan site with grainy images and pages and pages of minuscule writing, so much it makes his head hurt. Even then, he doesn’t give up. Yuuri is twelve, and stubborn, so he goes to the library and brings home a dictionary, sits down in front of their outdated computer and squints at the screen, flips through the yellowed pages and reads, painstakingly, his vision going fuzzy in between kanji and cyrillic. It’s not the best, but it’s all worth it when one day he realizes he actually can recognize some of the words without even cracking open the ratty dictionary.

When Yuuri is eighteen, he places his heart and dreams in Detroit. He slices himself open and drips red on the pavement of the rink, strips his feet raw and never stops thinking about the force that drives him, locks a wish too big to be contained into the small space between lungs and ribcage. He signs up for a Russian Language course.

When asked, he tells Viktor he had to choose an extra class to take in college. He doesn’t tell him about the little kid hunched over a shitty dictionary at two am begging to know more about his idol (he’ll tell him, a whispered confession in the middle of the night, but now it’s too much, too early). He doesn’t tell him that he knows exactly what he’s doing when he brings a tub of ice cream home and Viktor beams delightedly, exclaims “that’s my favourite!” Yuuri smiles, replies he had a hunch it would be. The old article is clear in his mind, a stolen piece of memory of a Katsuki Yuuri that wanted nothing more than to know exactly what Viktor Nikiforov’s favourite ice cream flavor would be, not knowing there’d be a time where it would become as simple as asking. Viktor laughs, makes grabby hands at it. “I love you,” he sighs wistfully, wrapping his lips around the spoon, and Yuuri flushes, takes a spoonful too, feeling incredulous and warm.

The wish that was trapped inside crawls up his throat and takes off in a huff, no more than a whisper. It has no use now, for it’s fulfilled, at last.

The ice cream tastes better than anything he’s ever had.

(It’s strawberry.)

archiveofourown.org
Yuuri Katsuki: The Puppy Interview - postingpebbles - Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Summary:

Video description: A close-up of figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, sitting on the floor and looking unfairly beautiful in a simple navy blue button-up shirt and black jeans. There’s a different, softer aura surrounding him when he’s off the ice, and the camera takes advantage of his relaxed pose and smiling face. Two poodle puppies are currently climbing over his legs, trying to reach for the ball he has in his hand. And though he glances up at the camera when it pans to him, his attention almost immediately flickers back to the puppies.

“I can’t believe dogs are real,” he whispers, stars in his eyes.

for @forovnix <333

Fine: Victor’s Truth

The greatest lies Victor ever told were only two words. 

“I’m fine,” he snapped at Yakov, shoving up from the ice and ignoring the stinging pain in his hip. His leg felt weak with the memory of the impact, but he skated away from his coach ready to try again. Yakov didn’t care that he was 17 and his body was feeling weirdly clumsy. Yakov cared about perfection and medals. I’m fine, Victor repeated to himself, pushing past exhaustion and the pain of growing. His worth was tied to his skating, so he had no other option. 

“It’s fine,” Victor told the trainer, gritting his teeth against the pain as his ankle was manipulated. A simple miscalculation in step during his ballet class, landed him on the table of the judgmental medic. Setting his expression to neutral, Victor maintained eye contact with the man as pain shot through the deepest parts of Victor’s ankle and into his leg. It’s fine, he repeated to himself. It had to be, his country was counting on him for the Olympics and they would hate him if he couldn’t compete. 

“Looks fine,” Victor spoke casually to the overexcited designer straightening another boring suit jacket over his shoulders. They all wanted to dress him, because Victor was beautiful… and perfect… and the clothes fit him so well… and one hundred other reasons that were nothing more than static to his brain. Looks fine, he whispered to himself, alone in the dressing room looking at his unhappy reflection. Breathing deep, he plastered the smile onto his face, ready to fulfill every expectation that had been heaped upon him. 

“You’re fine,” Victor’s voice shook as he whispered to himself, curling his arms around Makkachin, phone abandoned on the mat behind him. He had whispered the same words to himself in the mirror and again after Yuuri had run away from him. You’re fine, Victor scolded himself, as the tears prickled his eyes as the only sign of his breaking heart. 

“I’ve fine,” Victor shouted, throwing his jacket across the room and sinking to the floor. His chest felt ready to burst and he grabbed fistfuls of his hair as he curled into a ball. Skating wasn’t easy anymore, and his body wasn’t cooperating, and Victor could feel everything slipping away. 

Silently, Yuuri sat beside him, arms circling Victor’s shoulders to pull him into Yuuri’s lap. 

“I’m fine,” Victor hissed with less venom, feeling the emotions welling up to his very edges as he desperately attempted to shove them back down. 

“You’re not,” Yuuri whispered, kissing Victor gently on his temple and wrapping them closer together. As Victor’s body began to shake, the dam releasing on years of trapped and stifled emotions, Yuuri continued to hold him, an anchor steadying Victor in the midst of the emotional storm. 

“I’m not,” Victor sobbed, pressing his face into Yuuri’s thigh and praying he didn’t have to explain anything else. 

The greatest truth Victor had ever spoken was only two words.

lovelytitania  asked:

Prompt: vicchan missing yuuri.

GET YOUR PUPS AND TISSUES FAM CAUSE OH BOY

—————————–

My master is very kind. He was much smaller when I first met him, and I haven’t grown like he has. He loves me all the same and he doesn’t treat me like a runt just because I’m small and I love him a lot.

He’s been sad a lot lately, water leaks from his eyes a lot and I do my best to clean it up for him and it makes him smile so I must be doing something right!

My master has always gone away for most of the day, it makes me sad but his family and all the strangers spoil me, they love to give me treats!

He has a bigger bag than usual now, he found me in it the other day and nothing I did made the water stop or made him smile. Maybe the bag is dangerous? I’ve stayed away from it.

Keep reading

Wanted to take another chance to share @bichiiart‘s absolutely incredible art for my Paralympic AU (which includes Coach Yuuri who coaches Minami and Coach Victor who coaches Yuri). (Also, seriously, how incredible is this art? It is still making my jaw drop!)

Even on my crappiest days, I still love this AU (and I love the art even more!!) 

Please take a chance on this series which you can find here:  Nerd’s Chasing Gold Zine Story

And you can find the playlist for this series here 

Thank you to everyone who has supported this series and I can’t wait to hear what everyone thinks of the zine story!! 

titanic au + “french me like one of your drawn girls“ by @renaissancefic

The Ship of Dreams cuts through the ocean outside but in here, it creaks and sways, buffeted by waves. Yuuri leads the way to the room in the bowels where he’s been staying. Keeping on his toes, he trails his fingertips along the cool metal of the walls, painted pristine cream to give the illusion that, even down here, there is only luxury.

Viktor is close behind Yuuri, less steady on his feet but his eyes as wide as Yuuri’s were when Viktor had showed him into the ballroom—of course, for Viktor it is the squalor and oppressive dinge that are foreign.

“You said you draw.”

“I do draw,” Yuuri says, unable to shake the disbelief—still—that someone like Viktor could possibly be interested in what he does with his life. “It’s only a hobby, though. I’m not very good at it.”

“Do you do portraits?” Viktor asks. He wraps one arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, pulling his arms down from the walls so they can walk side-by-side.

Yuuri acquiesces to Viktor’s touch. “Some, yes. I met some women when I was in Paris who—”

“Oh, I suppose there were a lot of admirers in Paris, lining up for the touch of your brush,” Viktor says. “But you will not talk of your past lovers tonight. Would you draw my portrait?”

“If that’s what you wish,” Yuuri says. He does not tell Viktor that there were no past lovers—only these kisses, hurried moments caught in between social obligations, and a journey that will end when they disembark and inevitably part ways.

He remains silent as they reach his room, a tight space with barely enough room between the sides of the doorframe for two to squeeze through. Yuuri has been keeping the bag containing his pencils, watercolours, and sketchbook under the bed, not out of any anxiety that someone might steal it, but rather that they might find it, and assume he has aspirations above his station.

While Yuuri flips to a clean page in his sketchbook, Viktor makes himself comfortable. It shouldn’t surprise Yuuri that Viktor is the kind of beauty who can look as natural in a cramped metal box as in a ballroom. Yuuri is still looking down, selecting a pencil, as Viktor says, “Where do you want me to pose?”

“On the bed,” Yuuri says, and when he looks up, Viktor is halfway to buck naked, stepping out of his trousers.

“There,” Viktor says. He climbs onto the bed and lies on his side, propping his head up in one hand, elbow cocked at a jaunty angle. “I am ready.”

Yuuri is quite certain that he has never blushed more in his entire life. “You—this is—I’ve never drawn anyone in the nude before.”

“That was the kind of portrait I was referring to,” Viktor says flippantly.

“Very well,” Yuuri says. “I will do as you wish.”

He looks back down at his sketchbook to delay the inevitability of having to look at Viktor’s privates. Very briefly, he considers only drawing Viktor from the waist up, but… where would be the fun in that?

“You mustn’t be shy,” Viktor urges. “Worse things have happened at sea, and heaven knows we can get up to worse in—”

“I will not kid myself into thinking you have any designs on me,” Yuuri says, cutting him off.

Viktor’s face falls, but all too soon his expression turns simultaneously wicked and serious. “I have such designs on  you, Yuuri. First I will have you draw me like one of your French girls, and then I will happily French you until you can no longer walk. What do you say to those designs?”

If Yuuri was blushing before, he would not want to see how he looks now. “I say—” He swallows and forces himself to look up, “—let me design your portrait first, and then we’ll see where the evening takes us.”

anonymous asked:

"Yuuri, when he means business, is almost frightening to be around" - about Yuuri skating.

When Katsuki comes to St Petersburg, Yakov doesn’t think much of it.

He screams at Vitya, nonetheless, because he must be out of his mind to think he can coach and compete at the same time. He doesn’t tell him that in the privacy of his head, he thinks that if someone could do it, it would be him. That’s not necessary. Vitya already knows.

He prepares himself to coach another head, either way, and gazes seriously at Katsuki’s movements, evaluating.

The boy is undeniably good. A little rough at the edges, nerves frazzled, but good.

With a little regret, Yakov thinks he’ll have to start polishing his english again. But Katsuki speaks russian. Accented, but precise, he addresses the world with concentrated eyes and a blush on the bridge of his nose. (When asked, he tells him nervously that he’s taken online classes to learn russian since he was fourteen, and glances at Vitya like that’s something to do with him. Vitya smiles, squeals and tackles him to the ground, like that’s the most heartfelt love declaration he could receive. Later, Yakov learns that it is.)

(ao3)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

55 and yuuri/viktor?

things you said under your breath

yuuri’s pov here

now on ao3

the cutest boy viktor’s ever seen just walked into the literature of peace and social justice class, and half the people in the classroom cannot stop staring at him, including viktor himself.

“oh my god,” viktor breathes. “holy shit.”

the boy’s hair falls messily over his forehead and his eyes, behind big blue-framed glasses, are the color of the hot chocolate viktor’s mother used to make him after skating practice. he’s a little pudgy around the waist and his thighs are thick and strong and viktor has never been so smitten so fast in his life.

out of the corner of his eye he sees christophe grin, delighted, and only then does he realize that the classroom has fallen dead quiet and that the boy is staring at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks. viktor’s own cheeks fill with color when he realizes that he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d thought.

after a moment of apparent indecision in which viktor wishes the floor could swallow him whole, the boy moves forward, gracefully dodging the whispers following him. his face gets redder with each step he takes closer to viktor, and that’s when viktor realizes.

the only empty seat in the classroom is the one next to him.

viktor groans and puts his head down on the table, willing the laminate to cool his overheating face. christophe gives him a conciliatory pat on the back. the professor wrangles the class back to the topic at hand, which is apparently a discussion on the poisonwood bible and the effects of missionary work in africa. viktor barely pays attention with how much effort he puts into not noticing the proximity and warmth of the cute boy next to him.

(the class is long and suffering.)  

cute boy stops him afterward, as everyone else slowly filters out.

“um,” the boy says. he’s rhythmically clenching and unclenching his fists around his notebook, and for a moment viktor hysterically wonders what it would be like to be that notebook, held so closely and reverently to cute boy’s body. 

christophe gives him a look™ and takes his leave as well; viktor knows he’s going to be waiting outside for the juicy details.

“um, i’m…new? to this class? i had to transfer out of brit lit one because of a schedule conflict. i was wondering if you, um, would help me catch up?”

yes,” viktor says, but it comes out a bit strangled so he clears his throat and tries again. “yes, i’d love to.”

cute boy gives him a smile so big it crinkles the corners of his eyes, and viktor falls a little more in love with him. “thank you so much! i’m yuuri by the way. yuuri katsuki.”

“wow!” viktor says, returning yuuri’s smile with one of his own. “viktor nikiforov, at your service. can we exchange numbers? for study purposes i mean.”

yuuri’s smile softens into something small and sweet and he passes his phone to viktor. “mm. for study purposes.”

(”you’re ridiculous,” christophe tells him when he recounts the harrowing first conversation. he’s smiling.

“no chris, i’m in love.”)

send me a number

[my writing | ko-fi]

anonymous asked:

A viktuuri au in which Viktors apartment shower doesn't work and now he's gotta ask his cute neighbor if he can borrow his... They both have crushes on each other and only said like a few words to each other... Take that with what you will.

Sounds adorable! Here we go!!

Yuuri had a cute neighbor. The man was the sort of person who everyone knew and everyone spoke to, in the elevator, by the mailboxes, or in the laundry room. Yuuri’s cute neighbor was the kind of person that made everyone want to know him, including Yuuri.

On Yuuri’s first day in the building, lugging boxes and furniture from the back of the U-Haul, he had practically run his cute neighbor over. He couldn’t see around the large box in his arms and almost tumbled backwards when he collided with something solid. A something that turned out to be the cutest man he had ever seen, who seemed absolutely unconcerned that Yuuri nearly trampled him with a box full of linens.

“Need help?” the friendly voice had floated straight into Yuuri’s heart as the strong arms belonging to it lifted the box from Yuuri’s hands. “Where am I going with this?”

Caught up by the open smile and the beautiful blue eyes, Yuuri could merely manage to open and shut his mouth a few times, before shaking his head. “Um, sorry, 2D.” He waved his hand toward the direction of the open door, forgetting all of his mother’s warnings about strangers in a big city. “You don’t have to do that… I…”

“If I carry it, you can’t hit me with it,” the laugh that followed the statement was full of soft teasing and Yuuri felt himself melting over its appeal. “I’m Victor, by the way, apartment 2A. Looks like we’re neighbors.” Victor dropped the box onto the floor of Yuuri’s kitchen and extended his hand in Yuuri’s direction.

“I… I’m Yuuri!” he spoke too quickly, eagerly grabbing Victor’s hand and shaking it with a little too much force. He blushed, ducking his head toward the floor.

“Nice to meet you, Yuuri. I am sure I will see you around!” Patting Yuuri on the shoulder, Victor grinned. “Welcome to the neighborhood!” With a squeeze to Yuuri’s shoulder, Victor walked out of his front door, leaving Yuuri standing speechless in the middle of his own living room.

That had been the start of Yuuri’s crush. They said hi when passing in the hallway, sometimes exchanged pleasantries whenever Victor’s dog made a mad dash toward Yuuri, begging for attention every single time the dog spotted him. Yuuri secretly loved these moments, but had no idea how to take them any further, always flaking out right before he could suggest joining Victor for his walk or offer to show Victor his finally unpacked apartment. They were destined to be neighbors forever, and Yuuri resigned himself to this fact, no matter how much he hated it.

Until the day that Victor had pounded down his door in a panic. “My water is broken!” Victor exclaimed, sandals on his feet, bathrobe barely closed around his body and clothes draped over his arms. “I am sweaty from walking Makkachin and I need a shower. Can I use yours?”

Yuuri tried to evade his eyes from Victor’s bare chest, concentrating on Makkachin who had happily flung herself into Yuuri’s arms. “Uh, sure?” he said, unsure why he was hesitating. Stepping back from his door, Yuuri pointed down his short hallway. “First door to the left. I can get Makkachin some water to drink, if that’s okay?”

“You’re wonderful, Yuuri, thank you!” Victor threw his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and hugged him tight.

It took all of Yuuri’s self-control not to focus on the warmth that naturally radiated from Victor’s body. Patting Victor on the back, Yuuri found himself laughing nervously. “Would you… um… like to stay for dinner? It’s ok if you have plans, I just thought… maybe it would be hard to cook without water. If you cook, or you know, whatever.” He was rambling and he wanted to kick himself.

“Dinner would be lovely,” Victor let Yuuri go, stepping only a few inches out of Yuuri’s space. “Thank you so much,” his long fingers continued to flex lightly on Yuuri’s biceps, increasing Yuuri’s blush with each gentle press.

“No problem,” Yuuri finally looked up to make eye contact with Victor. “No problem at all.” He felt his heart skip a beat as Victor grinned at him again, releasing his arms to head down the hallway.

Yuuri always says he had a cute neighbor, because that neighbor became his boyfriend and then his live-in boyfriend within a year.

All because Victor was smart enough to pay his friend, Mila, to break his shower and jump start his love life.

Lace and Silk

Victor Nikiforov, international hunk and sex icon, impulse-buys more lingerie than necessary to impress the boy who stole his heart before flying across the globe.

He clearly didn’t think that through.

(Teen And Up Audiences)

The first thing Victor Nikiforov does after buying his ticket to Japan is to go lingerie shopping. He wants to pack only the best underwear as he leaves on his international booty call, and so he wants to make sure he has variety at his disposal.

(”Go with red,” Chris said. “You can’t go wrong with red.” But black looks better on his skin? And Yuuri seems to be more of a cool-tones kind of man – and the vivid fantasy of Yuuri praising his lavender underwear – “how did you know that’s my favorite color?” he’d ask – before them making sweet, passionate love all night until the break of dawn had basically made him decide on getting as many colors as he could get his hands on.)

If he’s getting his ass wrecked by the hottest man on earth, he might as well be wearing the most exquisite piece of underwear while he’s at it. It’s a way of showing Yuuri his admiration and how smitten he is, because he can’t hide how he’d been dreaming of that moment since the banquet, and he’s definitely had the time to plan for it.

It comes to a point where he doesn’t know which one he wants to wear first, and the fact that he impulse-bought a 12-colors selection when his extensive research on Yuuri’s favorite color was inconclusive.

Turns out he doesn’t get the d.

Keep reading on AO3

lost and found (ao3) - written for @estellie for braving through a bad day <3 (the banner was made by her, I’m shook at how cute it is)


One of Viktor’s gold medals has gone missing. Not any gold medal, either—it’s his first Worlds championship in the senior division. Yuuri remembers watching the medal ceremony on the grainy TV back in Hasetsu like it was yesterday.

He could swear that he put it on the coffee table, right next to the TV remote, his phone, and the leftover pizza boxes from last night’s dinner which he had to throw out into the bin downstairs when Makkachin tried to bite them into pieces.

Even the kitchen towel he placed it on is still there!

It’s not on the floor. Not on the couch. Not under the couch. Not on the breakfast bar nor the kitchen counter. Not back in the medal showcase, either.

Shit.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I kno everyone speaks Japanese in the show bc it's a Japanese show, but I've looked through the wiki and I don't think Viktor actually knows Japanese??? It's not listed among his known languages in the trivia section (Russian, English, and French). I couldn't find what languages Yuuri speaks but it's likely he knows English from living in the states, so maybe they communicate through English??? I bet Viktor learns Japanese over time, but I don't think he already knows it at the beginning.

Hey there!!! So, I scoured the net to find both canon and fanon sources. In this interview it’s confirmed that Yuuri and Viktor use English as base language of communication, and they’re both fluent. As you said, though, it’s also confirmed that Viktor’s fluent in Russian, English and French. Nothing is said about Japanese. In that regard, this post is super interesting. I’ll quote some of the tl;dr points here for practical reasons:

  • When Victor speaks Japanese he sounds like a foreigner
  • Victor maybe has rudimentary Japanese skills, but not enough for him to understand or participate in complex discussions. (Example: ep 4, when he has to ask Yuri what everyone is talking about.)
  • Every person Victor has had an in-depth conversation with so far has good English skills.

So, from auditory cues we can tell that Viktor does actually know a little bit of  Japanese, but his conversational skills are stilted at best. He uses English to communicate with Yuuri, Minako, the Nishigoris and other international skaters. I guess he does too with Mari? The funny thing about this is that, while in Hasetsu, people like Yuuri’s parents will most likely speak dialectal Japanese, which is harder to grasp and understand than regular Japanese, much less to learn.

Let’s keep in mind that Viktor already knows cyrillic and the roman alphabet, and has probably been studying English and French since he was 8/9 years old (even younger, if he was home schooled). Nonetheless, the fact that he’s fluent in both is still no small feat. If anything, I’d say he has a knack, or we can call it a talent, at grasping the basics and going with it. So a wild guess, before going to Japan he took like some online courses real quick to learn a general knowledge of it, for example how to ask for the bathroom and directions and food, drilled some useful vocabulary into his head and flew out because he just couldn’t make Katsuki Yuuri wait, now, could he? Once he got there, his skills gradually improved with time and practice. Actually, I really like thinking that he started learning Japanese directly after the banquet because he fell so hard he wanted to shorten the cultural distance between them immediately. (I read a marvelous fic about the whole language topic, I absolutely recommend it, it’s Repeat After Me by queenieofaces)

And now, my hcs on the thing because of course.

Keep reading

yoi: viktuuri reverse bang 2018!!!

hey guys my name is mac (aka @katsukifatale) and i’m bringing @yurionicebigbang back for its second round! whoo hoo!!

what is a bang?

in case you are unfamiliar with the terms, a bang is a fanwork challenge/collaborative project in which an artist and a writer are paired up to create new works for the fandom on a deadline. a reverse bang is a challenge in which art is created first to inspire the fic.

what am i looking for?

artists, writers, graphics makers, cosplayers, etc of any caliber! whether this is your first time participating in a fanwork event or you’re an event veteran, it’s all fine as long as you’re interested in meeting new friends and providing new content for the fandom!

you will be anonymous until artist-writer partnerships are announced so this is a good chance to branch out from the familiar!

what are the responsibilities?

● traditional/digital artists will create a minimum of two works; graphics and cosplayers will create a minimum of four works
● writers will create a fic of a minimum of 5,000 words
● full list of rules here; full faq page here.

what is the schedule?

● artist sign-ups begin january 7
● writer sign-ups begin feb 25
● check-in 1 is april 27
● check-in 2 is may 25
● final projects due june 12
● full schedule here

if you’re interested in joining up, pls consider following @yurionicebigbang or follow the tag #yoibb18 for updates or changes in the schedule! questions? concerns? send ‘em in!

please help spread the word!

anonymous asked:

Hi! I absolutely love your works, especially you’re challenges <3 Could you do a Harry Potter, mafia, soulmate AU?

Thank you, anon!!! And I hope you’re still around to see this as;lkj it’s been a while? I hope you like my take on this fusion! <3 


There’s a rumor that the yakuza have a new weapon.

People say it’s unlike anything anyone has seen, with the speed of a fired bullet and the explosive power of an armored tank. It lights people on fire, a survivor says. Covers them with ice or blasts them into walls. Or, says another, trembling, shaking; or it grabs you from the inside. Twists your spine and leaves you screaming till your throat rubs raw.

“I cannot have the men terrified of some ridiculous myth,” Yakov tells Viktor. A vein throbs in the old Pakhan’s temple as he speaks through gritted teeth. “Go and find out what this so-called ‘weapon’ is.”

So Viktor brings a few men to one of the bars downtown, a yakuza-owned joint. Orders them to break a few bottles and knock the servers round a bit while he lights a cigarette at the bar counter. If it’s one thing the Japanese mafia won’t stand for, it’s having their businesses tampered with, their profit margins ruined. When the men release the staff, allowing them to bolt out of the bar, Viktor knows it won’t be long before the yakuza send in a local boss to deal with him.

Sure enough, a yakuza member steps into the bar ten minutes later, his dark hair slicked back, the vivid colors of a dragon rising up the length of his arm in a billow of clouds. His eyes are hard but his mouth, soft and pink. He’s not dressed in a suit like his associates, and his shirt collar falls tantalizingly open, revealing the fine line of collarbones and just a hint of skin.

But while Viktor is taken by the man’s pretty face and lithe frame, it’s not just his appearance that has Viktor’s lips parting, cigarette falling, forgotten, to the ground.

10, registers the soulmate counter burned into the soft skin of his wrist. Ten steps away from his soulmate. To his soulmate.

And as the yakuza member moves toward him, his eyes widen with each shifting digit.

9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3…

“The kumicho felt you wanted our attention, Mr. Nikiforov,” the man says, a mere three steps away, and Viktor’s eyes dart up to meet his. “And now you have it.”

“Sanada kumicho never takes my calls.” Viktor hears his men coming up behind him, so he breathes in, deep and long. Slows his rabbiting heart before he makes a fool of himself. “This seems like the best way to get my questions answered.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of the man’s mouth. “That’s because a call from you is never good news.” He folds his arms, muscles shifting in a way that makes Viktor’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. “What questions do you have?”

“It would help to know who I’m talking to first,” Viktor says, congratulating himself on keeping his voice steady.

The man tilts his head. “Yuuri,” he says after a moment. “Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, dragging out each syllable, tasting the sweet name on his tongue. He’s rewarded with a blush, slipping soft and pink across Yuuri’s cheeks. Briefly, his gaze flicks to Yuuri’s wrist, wondering if Yuuri, too, has a soulmate counter, one that now blinks a small ‘3’, over and over in faded grey.

But Yuuri shakes his head as if to clear his mind. “Just what do you want to know, Mr. Nikiforov?” he asks.

“There is much talk about a weapon.” Viktor shrugs. “I’d like to know what it is.”

Yuuri blinks, before his face lights up in a smile. “You’re direct. I like that.”

What else do you like is on the tip of Viktor’s tongue, but he bites the words back, swallows it down. Not now, not until their business is settled.

Yuuri is reaching into his pocket now, and the atmosphere grows tense, sounds of restlessness coming from the men. Yakov has the Bratva carry firearms at all times; a safety precaution, he calls it, though Viktor sees it more as a hazard. A great many tragedies could have been avoided if the younger members didn’t have a trigger to pull every time they felt scared. Viktor shoots a glance at the men, eyes narrowed, one palm held in the air. They return the barest of nods, understanding: don’t fire unless told.

And Viktor knows he made the right choice, when Yuuri draws out a… stick. An ordinary piece of wood, as far as Viktor can tell, albeit elegantly carved.

“The weapon you’re asking about,” Yuuri says, without a trace of irony.

It’s one of Viktor’s men who reacts first. “You call that a weapon?” he guffaws, while the rest of the men start to snigger with him. “That’s just a stupid little—”

Finestra.”

Bottles shatter behind the bar, and the men duck, swearing.  

Viktor pushes off the counter, eyes fixed on the Yuuri’s stick. On the end that now glows an unearthly blue. “What did you do?” he breathes.

Yuuri’s own eyes are shining now, and Viktor cannot help but be drawn to the sheer delight dancing in the rich honey-brown. “Now that, I cannot tell you.” His head tilts again then, expression coy. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Oh, where to even begin. Viktor opts for the truth. “You realize you’ve only created more unanswered questions.”

Yuuri nods. “If your men clean up the mess they’ve made, I’d be willing to answer another.”

The same fool who spoke first comes forth a second time. “Who are you to talk to our Avtoritet like that—”

Diffindo.”

Screams echo through the bar as the fool’s belt tears in half, his hands scrambling for his falling trousers, much to the amusement of the others.

Viktor turns back to Yuuri, mouth quirked at the corner. “Doesn’t seem like we have a choice.”

“You’re free to walk away,” Yuuri says, tapping his cheek with the end of his stick.

Or you can ask about my soulmate counter,” says a voice in Viktor’s head that sounds strangely like…

Yuuri is looking up at him through those long lashes now, making his pulse jump faster, higher. Three steps – three steps of separation that Viktor wants to narrow down to a zero. “Clean it up,” he barks at his men in Russian. His voice has gone rough, and he can only hope the men sees it as irritation.

As Yuuri takes two steps closer and leans against the counter next to Viktor—the digits blurring to a ‘1’—Viktor realizes that he already has the answer Yakov is looking for.

The yakuza has a new weapon.

And his name is Yuuri Katsuki.


~*From: AU prompt mix-up challenge*~ | ~*KO-FI*~

sassysimoneevans  asked:

Canon Viktuuri YouTube channel Headcanons 2, plz!

You can find the first set of my Victor’s YouTube channel headcanons here!

Now for the second half - VICTUURI YouTube Channel!

Victor decides to separate his professional YouTube channel (now once again dedicated to clips from interviews and films of practice) and his personal YouTube channel.

Thus “Dog Dads Do Happiness” is born! (Yes, Chris is the first one to make a joke about “happiness” meaning something else. Victor is defiant in his refusal to change the name and Yuuri just shrugs with an amused eye roll while throwing his support behind Victor’s decision.)

The VERY FIRST video is a compilation of Victor’s pictures of Yuuri’s butt, set to this song. Phichit is SO PROUD. (Victor tells Yuuri that there are a lot of booty-themed songs available on the internet and he should feel lucky Victor picked this one. Yuuri responds by telling Victor that he is lucky Yuuri loves him so much).

Most of the videos are tame. Videos of Victor trying to wake Yuuri up in the morning (featuring Yuuri’s hilarious mix of drowsy Japanese, Russian and English curse words and adorable bedhead). Videos of Yuuri giving Makkachin a bath. Generally, showing off their life at home surrounded by happiness.

Victor’s favorite video (and Yuuri’s least favorite) is of Drunk Yuuri standing in their kitchen, his shirtless chest visible over the edge of the counter. It goes like this:

Victor’s voice: “Yuuri are you wearing clothes?”

Yuuri *not looking to the camera, turning toward the fridge and revealing the slightest hint of butt cheek*: “Nope”

Victor’s voice: “What are you doing?”

Yuuri *tosses a box, a gallon of milk, a wooden mixing spoon and a large bowl on the counter*: “Cereal”

Victor’s voice: “But love, that’s a mixing bowl…”

Yuuri *dramatically pouring the entire box of cereal into the bowl*: “Yup”

Victor’s voice: “Can I record you?”

Yuuri *pausing with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth*: “Eating cereal?”

Victor’s voice: “Ye-”

Yuuri: “Or eating my ass?”

*camera rotates to Victor’s face, as Victor mouths “OH MY GOD”* (he is also very obliviously drunk and naked)

The morning after Victor posted the video (”I was drunk, Yuuri! It seemed like a great idea at the time!”), Yuuri makes the mistake of looking at the comments section. Seeing Mari’s handle, he reads the comment out loud. “I’ve convinced Mom that ass is a nickname for a Russian delicacy. You’re welcome.”

Turning bright red, Yuuri snorts, nudging Victor and saying “it kind of is.”

Victor (who was filming the entirety of the “Yuuri reacts to the video of his drunk self”) turns the camera back to himself and once again mouths “OH MY GOD” before looking like he is praying his thank yous to the lord above for the perfection who is Yuuri Katsuki.

love and gelato

Victor’s life consists of three things: taking classes at the local university, figure skating on the weekends, and working at a florist shop downtown. After years upon years of monotony, he’s convinced that nothing can take him by surprise anymore. However, when a new employee begins working at Celestino’s, a gelato shop across the road, Victor’s immediately intrigued. Something about watching “gelato boy” work, or laugh, or dance when he thinks no one is watching ignites emotions within Victor that he thought long buried, and soon enough he finds himself longing to meet the boy behind the counter.

In order to fulfill his wish, Victor begins leaving flowers with flirty notes attached to them outside Celestino’s, knowing gelato boy will find them the next morning. It becomes a routine, another expected part of his day, but what happens when notes written on cups begin appearing in return?

[AO3 Link]

Victor’s never been in love.

Sure, he’s had flings over the years, short, temperate relationships that fizzled out before they really began, but he’s never felt anything close to what all those sappy, romantic songs talk about. No butterflies in the pit of his stomach, no talking on the phone into the early hours of the morning, no pining for someone he can’t have. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been on a second date, and he’s never been on a third.

Ultimately, Victor’s decided that people are simply boring, and that’s the last thing he needs when his life is already an ocean of monotony. Every day is the same, a cycle of going to class, working at Yakov’s Flower Emporium, and skating whenever he’s able. He can wake up in the morning and know exactly what he’s going to do and who he’s going to see. Nothing’s exciting anymore and hasn’t been for a long time. The last thing he needs is a bland romantic life to match, and after years of messy one night stands and unfulfilling coffee dates, Victor’s resigned himself to the fact that for now, at least, he’s better off alone.

But then gelato boy comes along and Victor suddenly finds himself questioning everything.

It was three months ago when Victor saw gelato boy for the first time. He’s fixing the arrangements for the flower shop’s front counter display when he glances up and sees a guy who takes his breath away. The boy is casually standing in Celestino’s, the gelato shop that popped up about a year ago, looking out of place behind the counter. His black hair is unruly, swooping across his forehead and falling in front of a pair of half-rimmed, blue glasses. His hip is cocked out to the side and he’s wringing his hands together, only stopping when Celestino appears from the back room and hands him one of the shop’s obnoxious, lime green aprons to wear. The boy takes it with a devastatingly beautiful smile then loops it over his head, laughing when it catches on his ear.

Adorable, Victor thinks.

He ends up discreetly watching the boy for the rest of his shift. When Yakov asks for a volunteer to water the window boxes, Victor raises his hand before anyone else can get a word in edgewise, because he knows he can sneak glances at the boy while he does it. When he is assigned desk duty, Victor finds himself more entertained by the boy taking notes on gelato flavors than doing his own work. And when he is closing up for the day, Victor nearly burns down the building when he knocks a candle over and sets a pile of business cards on fire, too distracted by the boy swaying his hips to a song Victor can’t hear.

Needless to say, Victor is one-hundred percent smitten, and the following weeks are filled with his pathetic, lovelorn pining. It seems like nobody can escape his bemoaning over “gelato boy,” as they’ve all come to refer to Celestino’s mystery worker. If Victor isn’t talking about gelato boy, then he’s doodling pictures of him on discarded receipts. If he’s not doodling, then he’s making heart eyes at him through the window. And if he’s not making heart eyes, then he’s finding any excuse to work by front desk where he can have clear view of Celestino’s.

It’s ridiculous, enough that his coworkers intervene.

Keep reading

“Yuuri, you’re the old married broad here,” Phichit chuckles, angling the rim of his glass in his direction. From the sides, Guang-Hong and Leo let out a choir whoop, and Seung-gil arches his eyebrows encouragingly.

Yuuri just shakes his head fondly and nips distractedly at the straw of his piña colada. They’re having a boys night, Phichit said, no husbands and boyfriends allowed. Not that anyone actually listened. He can see Guang-Hong and Leo’s linked hands from the other side of the table. The buzz of alcohol is already under his skin, and he almost regrets telling Viktor not to come.

Phichit dips a fry into his cosmopolitan and chews for a little, a knowing smile curving his lips. Like he knows exactly what he’s thinking about. He probably does. “How’s Viktor?”

Yuuri pauses, ponders for a moment. He left Viktor cuddled up on the couch with Makkachin, and the scene was so cozy he almost decided to stay with them. “Well,” he starts, a little embarrassedly “last week he was supposed to buy gas, but instead he bought novelty cookie cutters.”

Seung-gil nods like that’s a perfectly respectable choice to make, but Yuuri doesn’t see it because he’s looking at his clasped hands on the table, a smitten expression painted on his face. “Now everything we eat is shaped like a dinosaur,” he recalls, and laughs a little. Who knew you could literally shape anything.

Phichit whips out his phone just in time to catch him smiling vaguely at his glass, and Viktor gets a video of Yuuri whispering intently “He’s amazing” just before blushing self consciously and sputtering excuses.

The caption is just a row of cookie and drink emojis. The next morning, Viktor calls his legal to include Phichit in his last will.