Rose’s whatnow

Honestly one of my favourite underrated Bismuth moments. Never fails to make me chuckle, along with the “You think it’s hot now?”/”Yeah. Like an oven.” exchange. Becomes really sad once you think about it for more than 5 seconds, just like all the Haha Aliens Don’t Get Human Reproduction bits from Three Gems and a Baby. They do try, though, bless them.

Look at this. So precious.

Positivity is not only for the future. Positivity is must also exist at this very moment, and each and every one that is still yet to come.
—  Nicole Addison @thepowerwithin

anonymous asked:

Idk if you accept HC ideas but I love your writing sooo what do you think Yuuri and Victor are like when they win gold? Like would they be the crying type, the singing the anthem loudly type, the man of steel type....

I do accept HC ideas! I love them, so hit me up. I think both of them have had multiple reactions, especially because both have been competitive for so long. ANYWAY here have one particular occasion

Yuuri is definitely the crying type, and he knows it. That’s why when he watches Vitya cry, slow and proud, as he stands on the podium at his return to the ice, he finds himself surprised. Or, well, he should be. Viktor hasn’t cried, not in over ten years of medaling– just ascended the podium with a smile and diplomatic wave, Russian prince that he was.

But this free program was Viktor’s equivalent of Yuuri on Ice, so maybe Yuuri’s not surprised at all.

“I won,” Viktor seems to realize, when he approaches Yuuri, who’s managed to end up at the ice’s exit. “I skated, just me, and I won.” No story of playboys or Italian men, longing for a lover, little pieces of Viktor tailored to fit into beautiful, sad stories. Just an expression raw and bold: the story of Viktor Nikiforov. 

Yuuri kisses him. “You were, how do I say it… amazing!”

Viktor makes a face. “Mocked! On this, the day of my return to the ice–”

“Shhhh,” Yuuri laughs, wrapping an arm around him and turning. There’s the press, attention-starved and failing to appear patient. “I’ve never seen you skate like that,” he says quietly. “It was breathtaking.”

“I’m a man in love,” is Viktor’s simple reply. Then there are press conferences to attend– even Yuuri has his shoulder caught by an astute reporter, who finds him in the crowd despite his glasses and sweater. Yuuri doesn’t know how they keep managing to recognize him– he looked far different, taking Gold at Worlds.

“You’re Katsuki Yuuri, yes?” Fiance of Viktor Nikiforov, yes. “Is it emotional, watching your fiance and coach skate for you?” 

Yuuri shakes his head. “That skate wasn’t for me,” he says, and for once, he’s not being self-deprecating. It wasn’t for Yuuri, wasn’t for Yakov, wasn’t for Chris, wasn’t even for Russia. Viktor, exposed on the ice. “He skated for himself.”