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canisalbus · 5 months

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I hope this isn’t unwelcome but here are a few of my personal Vascete modern AU headcanons:

As a child, Vasco was usually voted as a team captain when playing sports with other kids. Not necessarily because of his sporting ability, but rather because of his leadership qualities and general agreeableness and ease with others.

Machete always uses perfect grammar when he texts, but can take a while to respond. Vasco often responds instantly but with less attention to grammar. Machete texts in unbroken paragraphs (when he has a lot to say) but Vasco’s texts come through in small, sporadic flurries.

Machete is very familiar with hospitals, particularly so in his childhood due to his various medical issues. As a result he actually finds their cleanliness, and the politeness of the doctors, comforting. These experiences also made him more patient than he might otherwise have been.

Vasco donates blood and is on an organ donor registry.

Machete always carries hand sanitiser around and is constantly offering it to Vasco, who always carries hand cream around, and is constantly offering it to Machete.

Both are well-versed in music and have refined musical tastes.

Vasco hums wholeheartedly whilst doing the dishes - a chore Machete likes to avoid where possible. Vasco knows this, so he pretends he doesn’t mind doing them.

Machete often has a headache and Vasco’s usual first response to this is to ask Machete if he’s had enough water today. He’s often right.

Vasco scarcely thinks of the other paths his life could have taken. Though he knows pain, he feels very fortunate for all the good he’s been dealt in life, and attributes his good luck mostly to happy accidents. Machete on the other hand has unexpected moments of stark awareness of all the possible forks in his road. It’s a sudden deja vu that creeps up on him when he’s alone, almost as if he can remember all of his and Vasco’s past/ potential lives together. The feeling vanishes just as soon as it arrives.

Hot dang anon I LOVE these. Unwelcome UNWELCOME? You come to my house and present me with thoughtful interpretations of my characters, I feel nourished.

I can definitely see Vasco being a popular choice for a team captain. He's physically active but not ultra sporty, and even though he can get excited and carried away, he's never been that competitive (he's got that 'I just hope both teams have fun' sort of vibe that people tend to like).

The texting bit is terribly cute. Vasco rapid firing message after message vs Machete intermittently slapping half an essay in the chat.

Machete is hypochondriac and his threshold for seeking threatment is low, especially if he's experiencing anything he's not already familiar with. To my understanding Italy has a good quality universal public healthcare, but he typically chooses to go with private sector anyway and has been investing in pricey health insurance for years (probably way more extensive than what is necessary or reasonable).

I also thought of Vasco as a habitual blood donor. He wouldn't like it per se (medical surroundings unnerve him), but I think he might just get a kick out of being a good boy and potentially helping people. (I know gay, bi and msm men used to be banned from donating (or at least severely restricted) but it looks like many countries have revised their criteria significantly in recent years and there's a good chance he'd be eligible these days.)

The hand sanitizer/hand cream combo is so good. It made me chuckle. (Are you a hand sanitizer person or a hand cream person?)

Their respective tastes in music and cinema have more overlap than you might initially think, and they keep aligning closer and closer over time.

Machete wouldn't like doing dishes. Having to touch wet food (weird texture + unhygienic) is bad times all around. But he genuinely enjoys a little bit of vacuuming, dusting, laundry and general tidying and organizing. He doesn't leave that much for Vasco to do, just the occasional visibly messy jobs that squick him out more than he cares to admit.

That's very considerate of him. That's a very considerate thing to do to anyone in general. Dehydration and low blood sugar can really sour your mood and you wouldn't even notice they were the reason you're feeling so bad all of a sudden. (When I'm having a difficult day I try to remember to ask myself whether things are truly collapsing or am I potentially just a little too thirsty and hungry and unaware of it. Usually it's the latter).

Ah yes, Machete and the horrors. Vasco might be aware of the horrors as well, but perhaps he possesses the specific kind of galaxy brain that is near immune to this particular flavor of existential dread.

#sorry for rambling folks it's just really fun when someone has a brain cell that vibrates at the same frequency as yours #I hope you don't mind that I'm more or less accepting these as facts and incorporating them as part of their character #they're so fitting #anonymous #answered #Vasco #Machete #Vaschete lore #modern au #long post

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yoireverse · 7 years

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conference

((hey everybody!!! so excited to see that so many folks are into this au. gosh. i hope you all enjoy this installment!! ♥ if you draw anything for the au, please tag @narootos and @wbtrashking!!)) summary: Otabek and Yuri take a relaxing walk around Barcelona. Their pleasant chatter is cut off by Chris and Phichit suddenly dragging them into a café.

For some reason, Phichit can’t shut up about the year’s power couple, Coach Yuuri Katsuki and his silver-haired student, Victor Nikiforov.

Understandably, this pisses Yuri Plisetsky off.

word count: ~2k rating: teen ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse fic tag | ✮askbox

Hey, Yuri stumbles over the words while he texts, scrunching up his face in annoyance. I know this is kind of weird to ask since we have the free skate tonight, but I was wondering if we could meet up and hang out.

The blonde skater throws his phone to the side as soon as he hits send.

Otabek had just offered to be Yuri’s friend two days ago, and he’s already being a surly weirdo about the whole thing. Yuri has lived and practiced around a handful of loud personalities. His rink mates can be suffocating. He has very little energy for socializing with Victor, Mila, and Georgi after practice is dismissed, so Yuri pouts in his hotel room and stares at the wall.

He’d already spent the early hours of the day cruising through his social media. There’s an infuriating amount of pictures on his Instagram of the Yuri’s Angels account where Yuri has been stuffed into a pair of cat ears or something equally demeaning. Victor and Yuuri are admittedly quiet on Twitter and Facebook, for all that the two of them had been flirting nonstop at dinner the day previous.

Yuri’s rink mate had flashed his gold ring with a huge blush and an even bigger smile. “Yura, look!” Victor hadn’t stopped beaming about the damn thing, and honestly, Yuri just needs a damn break from all of it. He could clear his mind by walking around the city, but this would leave him easily accessible to an ambush by his fans. Yuri rationalizes that he shouldn’t be scared of asking Otabek to hang out.

Otabek is Yuri's friend. Not a rink mate. Not someone to be idolized or to bicker with. Just a friend, who remembered him from days long past, and who Yuri had foolishly tuned out in his memories. Now they have the opportunity to make up for last time. The Kazakh teenager is nothing like Victor - sappy and crass and a bit air-headed. He’s not like Yuuri, who always acts like he’s going to faint if someone stands too close and who fusses over Victor like he’s a baby deer. Mila’s like his annoying older sister, Yakov and Lilia act like nagging parents, and Yuri just wants some quiet time to himself, maybe hanging out at a high altitude and letting the breeze hit his face.

That’s why he sends the text in the first place, but when he doesn’t receive a reply within five minutes, the blonde panics that he has overstepped his boundaries.

When his phone buzzes, it’s been eight minutes since he sent the text and concern flooded his mind. Yuri tentatively picks up his cell and draws in a nervous breath before he reads the message. Once he eventually looks at it, Yuri exhales happily.

Yeah, sounds good. Wanna meet up at the same place we did yesterday?

Yuri hurries to type back his agreement.

Otabek’s motorcycle engine comes to a low hum as he parks and Yuri smiles softly at him, lifting a hand in greeting.

The two of them grab snacks and just walk around the high terraces for an hour. Otabek occasionally points out interesting thing and snaps photos. Yuri switches between walking beside his new friend in comfortable silence and cursing about fans lurking near shops that have affordable t-shirts with animal prints. Otabek casually steps to Yuri’s side when girls get a bit too close, making sure the small Russian teenager is out of sight.

At first, Yuri wants to be pissed about it, because for all of Otabek’s talk of seeing Yuri as a soldier, he’s sure treating Yuri like he’s delicate. After a while, Yuri starts to realize that Otabek looks plenty relaxed, like he knows that Yuri can handle his own business, but he just quietly wants to help, and Yuri grows a little less cautious.

Yuri starts to ramble on and on to Otabek about life with his coach and choreographer, the former prima ballerina. Talking about their fledgling careers leads the blonde into an angry rant, but the Kazakh teenager just nods and smiles, happy to listen.

“You know, fucking Victor Nikiforov,” Yuri rushes to say, his arms flailing about, “He was never bad, y'know? Maybe just uninspired. He never applied himself to the sport as much as he should have. There’s something wrong with his brain. He could’ve…” the blonde trails off for a minute, then huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “That guy. He could’ve been legendary by now, but he had to get his ass kicked by his big softy of a coach.”

“That sounds like a contradiction,” Otabek replies gently, his voice a low timbre.

“What, that his weak ass mentor showed him how things are done?” Yuri kicks a rock on the ground and rolls his eyes. “Fluffy doesn’t take shit from Nikiforov, and he coordinated my SP, too. The dude may look like a happy little airhead, but Fluffy is no joke. If he came back to the competition today, Nikiforov and I would have a run for our money.”

Otabek chuckles. “Sounds like you really admire Yuuri.” His shorter friend looks scandalized, which just makes Otabek laugh harder. “I mean, it’s not to the point of obsession or anything, but it’s obvious that you spend a lot of time with them, even off the ice. Where does Yuuri stay in Saint Petersburg?”

“With Nikiforov, of course,” Yuri answers like this is obvious. “Those idiots live together, eat together - hell, they invite me over to spend time with them in Nikiforov’s cramped-as-shit apartment because they clearly aren’t sick of being draped over each other all the time!!”

The taller teenager hums, digging his hands into his pockets. “That’s nice, Yuri.”

“We’re friends now,” Yuri snappily tells him, his lips quirking upwards. “So Yura is fine.”

“You can call me Beka too, then.”

Otabek listens, smiling and nodding as Yuri melodramatically tells stories of Yakov’s horrid lectures and about his piss-poor coffee-making skills. He tries to warn Yuri when the younger skater nearly walks into the door of a little café, but his words fall on deaf ears. Two people are walking out of the shop with drinks, and luckily, nobody gets splashed.

Four of the year’s Grand Prix finalists happen upon each other in a total coincidence, and all of them have time to burn.

Yuri’s a little disappointed that he can’t just spend his time rambling without being judged any more, but Phichit corrals the teenagers into the store. “C'mon, sit, sit!! We won’t be long.” The Thai man sits across the table from Otabek and Yuri, who are both closed off and a bit skittish. Chris leans way too far over the table as he smiles at them, which just makes the blonde teenager slump even further down into his chair.

Phichit and Chris cradle paper cups and spare a moment to laugh at themselves for coming back inside the store so quickly.

“What brings you guys out this morning?” Phichit beams at the two of them. Otabek shrugs and turns to the blonde.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Just didn’t feel like staying in. Is there some sort of problem with that?”

“So surly,” Chris hums, taking a swig of his drink. “Did the two of you want to get anything?”

“I try not to have coffee too often,” Otabek replies flatly.

“Not interested,” Yuri snarls lowly. “Are we fucking done now?”

“Oh, geez, don’t be so mad.” Phichit laughs patiently. “You guys are still sort of new to the skating scene, and isn’t it sort of fun getting to know each other?”

The two teenagers in his audience are indifferent.

Regardless of their varying levels of interest in becoming friends with the other competitors, (Otabek doesn’t really feel a connection, and Yuri would sooner flick all of them off), when Phichit is not smiling and soft and friendly, he is a bit intimidating. His dark eyes are sharp and focused, and he’s come in second place at handfuls of competitions beside Yuuri, his best friend.

Chris is no slouch, either. He’s been first, second, and third at Worlds, at Europeans, and more. The two men are sharks in the water, and if they say that they’re interested in getting to know Otabek and Yuri, there is absolutely more to the story. Phichit and Chris might act nice now, but they’ll be out for blood in the evening. There’s no harm in catering to their whims while the older men are willing to pretend that all the Grand Prix finalists can all just get along.

“Not really,” Yuri grumbles eventually. “But something tells me you didn’t bother us just to act all sweet. What do you want?”

“I was wondering,” Phichit answers quickly, hands already flying to his phone, “How Yuuri and Victor act when they’re in Saint Petersburg. They can’t possibly be that clingy at practice, can they?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “I told him earlier that Victor Nikiforov is the driving force in their relationship. Victor would cling to anybody warm and willing. He’s never had anybody that close to him, so he’s probably desperate to hold onto that soft little coach of his.”

“Yeah, but Yuuri’s not like that!” Phichit puts his drink down to wag his finger at the Swiss man. Yuri watches them bicker with wide eyes. “No matter how much he cares about Victor, he wouldn’t let Victor hang all over him and be hyper affectionate in public. He’d get too nervous. Anyways, this is where you come in, to enlighten us!” Phichit turns his dark eyes on the long-haired teenager and Yuri jolts in shock.

He sits up just a bit, huffing and blowing hair out of his face. “That’s what you pulled me in here for?” Yuri Plisetsky throws his new friend a dirty pout before sighing and indulging Phichit and Chris. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but the love birds are horrible no matter where they’re at. They bicker about buying new boots and forgetting to pack lunches. They’re gross and I hate them. I avoid them as much as I can.”

Otabek raises an eyebrow, but he refuses to call his friend out. Just twenty minutes ago, Yuri had been talking about having dinner at Victor’s grungy apartment with the couple.

“I told you so,” Chris laughs at Phichit, who is pouting. “So, tell me, is Yuuri going to clean himself up and spoil his younger man silly?”

“Oh god, Yuuri’s too stingy for that,” Phichit comments. “Even if Victor has managed to make him loosen up enough for public kisses and stuff, Yuuri hates to shop. He’d just get annoyed.”

“I bet he would do it for Victor, though,” Chris hums airily. “Love changes people.”

The Thai man sighs, smiling a bit. “I guess so. It’s totally strange to see him like this, but I’m glad Yuuri’s happy.” After a moment, he looks at the scowling teenager and tilts his head with curiosity. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re upset.”

“I am upset,” Yuri says, slamming a fist on the table. After a moment, he stands up and Otabek follows him silently. “I have to hear about those two during my precious off-hours? Get real. Bye!”

Otabek apologetically bows his head to the two of them, maintaining a level head while Yuri stomps out of the café.

Phichit kicks back in his chair with a grin. Chris slaps him lightly on the arm. “You are a bad man,” the Swiss man murmurs.

“You gotta get your kicks when you can,” Phichit replies quickly. “Yuri’s a good kid, underneath all the teen angst. I really did want to talk to him and become better friends.”

“Then don’t tease him.” Chris finishes his drink and stands to exit the shop for the second time. Phichit trails behind, taking a moment to snap one last photo of the two of them together. “You know that he has a hard time. Don’t lie and say that you’ve never read his social media.”

Phichit sticks out his tongue. “Of course I do. That’s why I reached out to him. The little dude could use a few more friends, don’t you think?”

Chris just laughs.

Otabek and Yuri silently walk together until the shorter male is slightly less furious.

Yuri stops in front of a sandwich shop. “Hey, sorry about today.”

The taller boy shakes his head. “It’s okay. I had a good time.”

With a scoff, the blonde asks, “Even with the bullshit in the middle?”

The Kazakh shrugs and smiles. “It was entertaining, at least. If you hadn’t asked me to hang out, I just would’ve been sitting in my hotel, waiting for the time to pass.”

Yuri starts at that. “Oh. Well. I’m glad I could help.” He nervously fidgets with his phone, which is full with frustrated messages from Yakov, asking about his location.

Yuri’s surprised that Victor and Yuuri haven’t started leaving voicemails at this point, because Yuri Plisetsky has been gone without letting them know since eight A.M. It’s twelve-forty-two now.

He supposes that Yuuri’s busy practicing with Victor for the FS skate in the evening, but it’s still strange. “I’m going to grab a sandwich and head out now, yeah?”

“Alright,” Otabek quietly says. The two of them part with a small wave.

Yuri is still a bit pissed about his talk with Phichit and Chris, but overall the day had been pleasant.

He walks back to the hotel with confidence, letting Lilia and Yakov’s fussy words roll off of him.

Before warm ups start, Yuri sends Otabek one last message, having been too nervous to tell the Kazakh in person.

Thanks, Beka.

About twenty minutes later, Otabek replies, Anytime, and Yuri Plisetsky pushes Mila off of him when the girl asks why Yuri is smiling.

#mod: ash #yoi #yuri on ice #reverse au #reverse fic

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raecrossman · 7 years

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Mystery Trip!

By Crabby McSlacker So one might wonder: where the hell did the Crab go? She barely got back to blogging before skipping town yet again, not managing even one meager blog post in the last two weeks. And sorry, this is one of those disjointed rambles accompanied by random photos. Longtime readers may recall this is customary after I come back from a trip having left half my brain cells behind. Anyway, we actually went to a couple of different destinations... These Vagabond Shoes... One of the places where they're always longin' to stray, well it's not all that mysterious, it's New York City. Short visit this time but a blast just the same. While my superachiever spousal unit toiled doing Important Corporate Things, I wandered the modern art museums, roamed the 'hoods, sipped cappuccinos and of course stood in line for obligatory half-price theater tickets. We went to the Carole King one this time, Beautiful, which couldn't have been more fun even if it wasn't exactly Checkov or Kafka or Pinter. (We weren't in the mood for anything disturbing or surreal or angst-provoking, we have the evening news for that). Instead we opted to be blissfully happy, hearing dozens and dozens of old songs we love, and basked in the bubbly afterglow for several days afterwards. But I didn't take any pictures in New York this time. I've been there a lot and already have a bunch.

It's funny, the more I travel and the more ancient I get... the less time I want to spend taking pictures and the more time I want to just immerse myself in the experience of being somewhere. Which would make a lot more sense if one of my favorite hobbies wasn't blogging. But this curious aversion meant I was practically the only one in the whole city not staring either at my phone, or through my phone, every goddamn second. Museums were especially weird, with visitors compulsively taking photos of each painting as though compiling some sort of catalog. Is it really possible to absorb the wonder of it all through a lens? I mean, sure, a photo or two so you remember where you were, but... holy fuck, all those Kandinsky's at the Guggenheim? So powerful in real life, hanging there big and brash and bursting with color and emotion, and I wanted some companionship in Awe, damn it! (I love it when I see others as swept up as I am). But, alas, snatching phones out of people's hands and screaming at them to just enjoy the art... I'm afraid it's frowned upon. So I didn't. It's possible I might have been drinking a few too many cups of coffee during my visit. Oh and I'll mention that I dutifully hit the hotel gym every morning, and just generally walked my ass off, since this is at least theoretically a health and fitness blog. But what about the other destination? It was farther away and I do have a few random photos from it, thanks mostly to The Lobster who is a little more sensible about chronicling our wanderings. Wanna drag this thing out and guess where we went? I don't know why in my mind that makes for a more legitimate blog post than just putting up random photos, but I did it for Hong Kong and several of you figured it out, so what the hell, let the guessing begin. Hint Number One: Fancy-Ass Resort Location It was one of those opulent corporate events meant to reward people who worked hard and accomplished great things. Obviously, I was not one of these folks. I just married my way in. Anyway, it is the sort of destination that has a bunch of high end resorts, not the sort of digs we would have stayed in if we were on our own dime.

Yes, each "room" was a two building villa with its own private pool. A truly spectacular squandering of resources that we took full advantage of.

Nice restaurants on the property with indoor and outdoor seating (at resort-hostage pricepoints, making them the sort we only go to if someone else is paying).

Hint Number Two: Pretty Beaches

Hint Number Three: We Went There Before for an Anniversary and I blogged about it.

Hint Number Four: There were Lots of Iguanas

Not pictured are other strange beasts: one that looked like a rabbit-sized rat, another that was a creepy cross between a racoon and a monkey. And cool-looking giant lizards that ran on their hind legs like miniature dinosaurs.

Hint Number Five: Lots of Activities

Swimming and Snorkeling!

Note: if you look closely you can see the faceprint of the snorkel mask in the photo above, and be assured it was still present at the formal awards dinner that night, making a super-suave impression.

Not pictured but also present for our viewing pleasure: fucking amazing fish of all different colors and sizes, manta rays, squealing kids, sunburnt tourists.

Biking and Kayaking!

I grew to love my trusty 1-speed!

Dork alert! Fellow dorks, here's a hint: when being approached by camera-bearing creatures, be sure to raise your arm in an awkward half-wave to indicate you are not at all threatening.

Eating stupid things just because they were free!

My favorite activity by far.

Hint Number Six: Celebrities for Breakfast!

image: wikimedia commons

Staying at our hotel, eating breakfast just a few tables away from us two mornings in a row, was a prominent sports figure. While she was there she shared her "baby bump" photo via social media. The Lobster was going to pose herself against the exact same background and share her "breakfast bump" (the buffet was massive and delicious) but opted for discretion. So, anyone planning any vacations this summer? Or have a guess about where Crabby and the Lobster went before they stopped in the Big Apple?

Mystery Trip! posted first on your-t1-blog-url

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birbdoge117 · 4 years

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There's something to this.

I can remember once reading an article about blind folk gaining the ability to "see". They were then being shown a series of simple objects and, on sight alone, being asked which one is the cube. They couldn't do it. Their brains didn't understand what "cube" looks like, and it makes perfect sense if you take a moment to think about it.

It's a new stream of information that their brain hadn't learned to process yet. The same thing happens whenever any of us encounters something unknown, whether its processing an entirely new sense, learning a language, trying to figure out what that strange smell is, meeting someone new, or interpreting "Yo. Dis hype, tweeked, fort streamer got his builds on FLEEEEEK!!! *Vanilla Ice Posture(tm)*" (It hurt my brain to write that. Fortnight's still a thing, right?) Your brain will figure it out in time, but until it recognizes the patterns, it's all just so much background noise. And if you don't believe me, treat any major city's properly engineered, organized, and frequently utilized subway system like the well trod paths in your home; you'll end up dizzy, mugged, or on Ka-za-ga-wii(?) street in Chinatown with no cell reception or access to Google and then you'll be truly buggered! (Ask me how I know.)

The second point deals with the concept of treating people in this situation as "normal now". Dear God. Don't do this! They are not now "normal". They will never be "normal". And neither will YOU! (Put DOWN the Haterade! I'll explain!) What this previously, in this case anyway, "deaf" person now has is an augmentation. To whit, they are a perfectly fine, delightful individual who can now see that rabbit that is really far away because they have binoculars now. To a hawk however, that rabbit was perfectly visible the entire time from even further away, and yet you wouldn't consider yourself abnormal.

The same mindset be applied to any other handicap. I, for example, have an involuntary stammer when I think too hard and it is frustrating as hell! Do you think I enjoy being around smooth speaking, poised, and collected individuals when I suddenly have too much thought coming down the pipe and "wuh ba dee ah bah do badammit sorry" and now I'm "that awkward guy"? It sucks! The fun part is, there's not a heck of a lot I can do about it. I can "git gud" at speaking, and usually I'm alright, but trying to focus on "don't garglemesh!" just causes it to happen more frequently. I'm awkward. I accept it. And that's ok. It still sucks, but its ok.

To bring this rambling diatribe back to where I started, I have a very dear friend who has a cochlear implant as in this article and she's had it as long as I've known her (almost 25 years now). She also has the same general speech impediment as me but for a different reason; when you're trying to hear yourself speak, noise cancellation technology is a pain in the ass! But the thing is, she does the same "aww dammit" eye roll she's been doing since she was 8 and I think its adorable. When it happens, in the back of my mind, I think "Aww, I know how that feels. Keep goin! You can do it!" and I would never ask her to see herself as anything other than the wonderful, beautiful, intelligent person she is.

In the immortal words of Pauley Shore "Normal is boring!" And when it comes to people, we should really learn to abandon the concept of a "normal" person. After all, sunsets are a normal event that constantly happens somewhere in the world all the time, and has for billions of years and I still think of them as beautiful.

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