Translations on Ice
Victor Nikiforov was the best jumper in the world, well-used to leaping blind and landing clean in ways no one could match. Falling was for other people. Stumbling was not acceptable. It had been a long time since the wind had been knocked out of him so thoroughly.
The start of "what comes after" the canon series.
Now with banquet shenanigans!
- Part 1 of Translations on Ice
This was not the tale of the seductress, or the playboy. It was blind infatuation and an ingenue. A ridiculous suitor throwing himself at the feet of someone who has forgotten him, not out of malice, but out of circumstance. It was Victor poking fun at himself, and the audience actually laughing with him. And then, the beginning of love anyway, something real and foolish and true.
Every jump was technically perfect. But more, they punctuated the story, and the beats of his skates, his hips, his arms, sank into the music as if they could not possibly fall anywhere else.
“You got that from me,” Yuuri didn’t say aloud, but the words were on his lips. “You got your Eros from me.”
Victor finished, not with a sly look and lifted head, but with his hands on his heart, looking across the arena at the tiny phone where he knew Yuuri watched.
“If I could run to you from here, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Yuuri said softly.
Yuuri really wants to surprise Victor for his birthday, but there's a bit of a scheduling issue.
- Part 2 of Translations on Ice
“When we’re done watching this, I want you to kiss me more.”
“They’re going to want to feed us dinner,” Yuuri said. “And I'm hungry.”
Victor glanced up at him. “You’ll just have to be dessert, then.”
Yuuri felt a rush of heat tingle through him. “Me?”
“Or I could be your dessert. Either way.”
Someone REALLY wanted Yuuri back in Japan after the gala performance at the Russian Nationals.
- Part 3 of Translations on Ice
Victor stood, watching Yuuri as he climbed into the tub. “You take my breath away.”
Yuuri looked around, confused, and then sank down into the hot water.
“The lines of your muscles as you move,” Victor explained, taking off his own shirt. “The curve of your ass. Your neck. Your shoulders. The tiny silver lines on your sides. The way your hair has a mind of its own.” He pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. “The way your cheeks turn pink and I don’t know if it’s because of the bath or because we’re naked or because I’m saying nice things about you.”
He stepped into the tub, and drifted over to wrap himself loosely around Yuuri. “The fact that I get to do this and you don’t pull away. It’s amazing I still breathe at all.”
-- Yuuri and Victor come back to Japan to a flurry of media and sponsorship offers, in time for the Japan on Ice exhibition.
Now with more bubbles!
Covers the time between arriving in Japan and getting back to Russia after Nationals.
- Part 4 of Translations on Ice
Moving is always a little strange. Moving to a possibly hostile country while training hard and preparing for a wedding in less than three weeks? Might not be the best idea they've ever had, but it's better than the alternatives.
Victor looked around and said, “I think I want to go home now.”
“I thought we were going to spend some time in the ballet studio?” Yuuri asked.
“Only if I can kiss you somewhere,” Victor said.
“God, gross,” Yuri said, coming up behind them. “Get a broom closet.”
Victor turned to Yuri, seized his shoulders, gave him a peck on each cheek and said, “You’re brilliant, Yurochka.”
“Gah, fuck off. Ugh, no, on second thought… Just… GO. Minako is expecting you though. And Lilia. Both of them.” Yuri sighed. “You all deserve each other."
Finished! Chapter 1 is story/series notes because I'm Wordy McWorderson.
Please read the whole series, these stories are deeply connected to each other.
- Part 5 of Translations on Ice
Yuri Plisetsky hits puberty. Puberty hits back.
Post season one, this story is a companion to the other stories in the series, and fleshes out details that the Yuuri and Victor POV misses.
The wedding was every bit the romantic shitshow Yuri had expected it to be. The audience was small, but the magazine people had managed to pull out every bit of dramatic whimsy possible for something done on such short notice.
There was a fucking ice swan.
“There’s a fucking ice swan,” Yuri muttered to Otabek, as they waited in the rink for the ceremony to start.
Complete! This should be read alongside parts 4 and 5 of the series.
- Part 6 of Translations on Ice
Of all the blows puberty had dealt him, Yuri thought, this was definitely the cruelest. His debut year was supposed to be glorious, not some flash in the pan and then too tall to even function.
I can’t believe they’re not going to let me compete.
The ice felt fine under his skates. The nagging pain that had been so wearing and terrifying was almost completely gone. The adrenaline of the argument fueled him around the rink, the cut of the blade strong, decisive. He turned, feeling the ice, then went into a spin, feeling his balance.
Fuck them all.
They were all watching him, so he slowed a little as he approached the rail. “See, I’m fucking fine. I can skate. You just watch me.”
Our crew goes to Ostrava for the European Championships. Nothing quite goes as planned.
(This work is part of a series which strongly relies on what has gone before.)
- Part 7 of Translations on Ice
It's January of 2018, our crew is in New York for publicity, and the Olympic team list for Russia just came out. Victor's name isn't on it, despite a decisive win at Russian Nationals.
If there's anything that pisses Yuri Plisetsky off more than losing, it's not having a chance to beat his rivals on the ice. And if there's anything worse than his mentor retiring, it's his mentor being snubbed by the Russian Figure Skating Federation.
He's spent too much time fighting to get back on his feet to take this lying down.
(Three vigniettes: One centered on Yuri, one centered on Victor and Yuuri, and the answer to a question.)
- Part 8 of Translations on Ice
Mila has been struggling with the move to Hasetsu. Sara has been struggling with her brother. Things come to a head after 2018 Worlds.
Sara grinned. “What, no, ‘Sorry, I’m straight’?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” Mila said, leaning over one of her legs.
“Never?” Sara asked.
“Have you, really?” Mila asked.
Sara shrugged. “My brother has done a fair job of convincing me that most men are terrible, partly by example, and I’m really, really done with him running interference on my social life. I don’t think it will occur to him if I’m getting friendly with girls that there’s anything more to it.”
“Yeah, but are you actually attracted to girls?” Mila asked.
Sara blushed, looked around, and then gave a very small nod when it became clear that Michele had been distracted by Emil.
Mila blinked, and then smiled. “Good for you.”
--(excerpt from Transition: The Leap)
- Part 9 of Translations on Ice