#secondary cannon ship (OTP)

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You can go ahead and blame @ruanek & @blonndiec for this shit. SUCK IT UP, BITCHES!

<3 you all. Party in Ten-Forward!

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So, Netflix... you have the chance to do something really fucking epic right now...

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I STG he's fucking gorgeous.

I'd wait for him too.

[lunademarfil]

20th Anniversary [20 Questions] Digimon Adventure.

FEB 14TH: FAVORITE SHIP/OTP

SORATO OF COURSE!

I mean they are my favorite characters and I ship then since I was in elementary school.

I liked the couple back in adventure, honestly I liked Taichi more at the very beginning and then when Yamato started to have a character development and I started to like him better.

I even used to think they were good for each other because "love" "friendship", it used to be like ok I ship them cause they are my favorites but at the end of the 8th chosen child arc I was like wow they do make sense together, I saw them interacting a lot, Sora even tried to save Yamato's life with a stick xD when he almost got chocked by this reaper looking digimon.

I also recall 3 scenes in particular besides the Hikari arc: when Sora is consumed by darkness and yamato helps her (with joe of course, I kind of like that ship too specially on adventure); when Yamato leaves the group and Sora tells him she is sure that he is gonna be ok (she supports him!) And my favorite one when Sora tries to run away from the group and Taichi and Yamato stop her, she explains why she doesn't want to come back, Taichi tease her a little and Yamato says: stop making fun! And then she starts crying, Taichi says what should we do? And Yamato answers: if she want's to cry let her be. That is when I realized how similar they were, both of them are more mature than the rest, they understand and respect each other, not like Taichi, but I don't blame him, he was a kid anyway; I absolutely love how TK kind of tells that he considers Sora like part of his family, she is the one that takes care of TK most of the time and probably he thought of her as a big sister. (Awww)

About 02 theres a lot os Sorato scenes, they are kind of superficial ones but I understand it, it is about the new kids, they are more like secondary characters. This will sound silly (I was still a girl!) When Jun says to Daivis she saw Yamato with other girl and I was like... could it be?! I think I jumped from my chair when I saw that girl was Sora xD I love when Taichi gives her his blessing xD about her being with Yamato, I grew up with the Mexican version witch is like 99% accurate to the japanese one so in that version and the original he says give him the cake Sora, I could be talking a lot honestly but I don't want to just keep repeating the same, so moving on to Tri.

Tri seriously dissapointed me, kind of, but I understand that the ship wars are intense about Taiorato, so I was pleased to see them together, even both running from the same place (maybe teasing that they were on a date?) When he touched her shoulder to make her feel better when she was afraid and having doubts. I obviously loved "Loss" they teased us about them too and I have to admit I love Taiorato, I love those 3 being bffs so I enjoyed it.

I really hope that Kizuna shows more Sorato (I seriously doubt it) but as long as the epilogue is cannon its fine. I have the feeling Im gonna hate the reboot, because Im pretty sure 2 things may happend, they will make Taichi and Sora canon OR no shipping at all, and honestly Digimon adventure is perfect the way it is, I believe is very well written and I love all the main kids, I love their character development, every single one of them grew up being a better self, it is an anime that I will treasure forever and Im gonna watch it with my kids if I have any, it is my favorite anime so far and probably it will be forever : )

I am dissapointed about myself because this Sorato post was superficial and I didnt go deep into the ship, I didnt give an analysis of any sort but I wanted to keep it "simple" (yeah I told myself, karla, make a short post, well that didn't happend!) So yeah, here is a picture of my small Sorato tribute that is part of my Digimon Adventure collection.

Thanks for reading!

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Look, what I'm saying is

Yuuri wins silver.

Victor's hair is...

Yuri wins gold.

Altin means...

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Now for the power point presentation...

[prossima-nebulosa]

Hi again! Same post, but with Sanji as character :D (didn't see there were other asks possible other than fandomsin it xD)

Sure! Thank you again

lool okay now Sanji is the real deal here lol It’s basically a secondary charcter for me lol

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How I feel about this character: I REALLY like him. I loved his arc so much and he was one of those who took a bit to warm up to Luffy but when he did he got so adorable ashjdakgsha

All the people I ship romantically with this character: ???? Like this cutie belongs to Luffy. Also Zoro. I ship Zosan but it’s not my main.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: LUFFY! AND USOPP! I mean the trio Luffy/Usopp/Sanji during Skypiea arc was so fun I loved it!

My unpopular opinion about this character: People are going crazy over him cause of this new arc and I sincerely am avoiding to get in the mess because I believe Sanji was very nice even without all this mayhem

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I don’t know actually, but I believe this thing about Germa 66 was pretty much pointless, but very smooth as well. 

my het ship: Nami/Sanji maybe?

my fem/slash ship: LuSan or Zosan

my OTP: Sanji/Nose-bleeding

my OT3: Sanji/Nami/nose-bleeding

my cross over ship: ????????????? NO IDEA

my kink: Once I read this cute dj with Luf and Sanji and they talked about Sanji’s hands so yeah that’s my kink.

a head cannon fact: Sanji, much like the all crew, cares deeply about his captain and even though he treats him like an idiot he respecta him nonetheless. Oh wait. That’s canon af lol. Also I’m pretty sure Sanji would wake up in the middle of the night only to cook stuff for the crew if they asked him nicely (at least for the girls).

my gender bend: Okama Sanji during is stay in Kamabakka.

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Name your Faves.

tag yourself

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Okay, but hear me out.

They go to see Beka's falcon. Yes. His Falcon. (Delicious, YoI animators. Feed me more.) Because of fucking corse they do. Yuri will not let that pass. He has HAS to see it.

Traditional dress and all that. Very smexy Beka. They all look good, as they do. Love it. Moar.

ANYWAY!

So they also go apple picking, because Almaty + Apples = natch. You go to Almaty, you get apples. It's what you do.

Now, Yuri be smol. So Beka lifts him on his shoulders and they gather apples that way. Very cool. Fun times for all.

Victor is all: o.o 0.0 YUUUuuuuuUUUUUUri!

Yuuri: Seriously? Fine.

Only it's tall assed Victor on Yuuri's shoulder's picking apples. Because of fucking Course it is.

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Head cannon nonsence:

Shit two dork assed teenagers did at the onsen because they are idiots who respect there elders/ actually like Yuuri's parents.

Cleaned the gutters: Otabek cleaned them, Yuri mostly took the bags of stuff to where they needed to go.

Fell asleep on the roof: Victor was getting to Yuri. Otabek wanted to read in peace. He went to the roof. Yuri followed. Sleep happened.

Almost fell off the roof: See previous entry and know that Yuri almost rolled off. Fortunately, Otabek has great reflexes to make up for his lesser dexterity.

Cleaned out the storage room: Everyone else kept getting caught up in sentimental memories. Yuri was for burning it all, so Otabek actually did the sorting. This was great fun. Turns out Yuuri has a lot of old clothes he saved, and they found his poster collection. Victor is delighted.

Change light bulbs: Yuri standing on Otabek's shoulders makes them about teen feet tall-ish. Mari walked along with them. Yuri pulled out old ones, handed it to Otabek, who handed it to Mari. Mari handed Otabek a new light bulb, who handed it to Yuri, who put it in and closed the fixture where ever needed. Otabek's shoulders hurt after the whole onsen was done but wont say a word. Just rolls them a few times.

Dust the high places: Same dynamic as above, only with a feather duster and cloth. Otabek's shoulders need a break, but it's good stamina and weight lifting training.

Clean and polish the Katsuki's car: This was mostly to impress on Yuri how much time vehicle maintenance takes, but they gave the boy a hose and someone to turn it on, and if that someone happens to be very hot dripping wet and about to get vengeance, well that's just a bonus. You know once water gets involved, Victor and Yuuri get in there too because fun times will be had by all.

Accidentally on purpose teach a bunch of seagulls how to terrorize rude tourists for french fries: Look, Otabek is deviously patient, and once Yuri finds that out he will find a way to turn those traits to evil. Like asking Otabek how to get vengeance on someone who was rude to Mrs. Katsuki. Yuri wont stand for it. French fry lured seagulls, Otabek says with a straight face, because of course he does. What's that? Well, you lure seagulls one french fry at a time to the aria where rude tourists usually gather so they are haggard by said avian for food, thus giving them a shuddering terror of the birds every time they have a meal outside. Parking lots near coastal towns will never be the same.

Get told not to lure seagulls with french fries: they are amassing an army and it's starting to scare people.

Climb a lamp post: This is mostly a dare. Until Yuri can't get down. Otabek helps him, but they never speak of how long it took for Yuri to get back to ground level again because he was afraid to let go of the pole until he knew Otabek would catch him. It becomes an inside joke. May or may not be why the Russian skate team keeps trying to get Otabek to catch them. (Only Yuri is allowed this privileged.)

Discover Otabek is an absolute heater when he's asleep: Storms knock power out. Generator needed for fridge and such. It gets cold. Only room with heat? Yuri and Otabek's. Why? Because Otabek fell asleep hours ago, and radiates that pleasant sleepy warm like he was a small fusion star. Woke up wondering why he is surrounded by people laying on him, and questioning if he's allowed to move to go do morning things. Manages to find a way. Thirty minutes latter everyone else wakes up because all that heat dissipated quickly. It's okay. Powers back on a few hours latter.

Figure out exactly how many M&Ms Yuri can fit in his mouth: 37. He drools after that.

Discover Otabek's reading glasses actually make him hotter and that's an absolute fucking sin: look, he's just trying to do his homework, okay? Collage credits don't amass themselves.

Find out Otabek is a math dork: He and Yuri are watching ice skating play backs with Mari. Otabek is writing out equations absently mindedly as they do. When asked: it's the equations of the skaters jumps and spins. He's working out how to improve them per individual skater. For funzies. Yuri is both impressed and disgusted. No one should like math this much. And if they do, they shouldn't help the enemy. Otabek tells Yuri how to get higher on his quad and suddenly this is the best thing ever. Victor hears. Yuuri is impressed. Otabek winds up on the roof again, trying to escape. No, he is not going to school for maths.

Discover Yuri is actually a pretty good cook. Once he gets over the disgust of spots on vegetables, and figures out how to use a knife (thanks for that Mr. Katsuki, JJ is DOOMED), he's very methodical (perfectionist) so while it takes him longer, it turns out right most times.

Scare the living shit out of people: It's the three am five miles out, five miles back jog Otabek dose every day he can. Yuuri finds out and joins him. Makes breakfast taste better, they say. Yuri thinks they are nuts. Not for the running. For three am.

I got more, but honestly, I have so So SO much for these ice babies.

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Okay, Look, I know it's stupid, but... Ever think Yuri watches Ranma 1/2 S1: E14-16 (ice skate martial arts episodes) and just goes: BEKA! pointing at the screen with the biggest grin like: We Have To Try That! Or do you think he sits there snarking at it, but side eyeing Otabek like: If *anyone* could do that, I bet we could. But doesn't say it because he knows Otabek wont throw him with that many rotations simply because Yuri'd wind up slapping into the boards face first in a very coyote fashion and he'd feel bad about it. How much you think Yuri tries to talk him into it anyway when he's high af on cold medicine? Personally, I think when he sees what they do to those blades, they'd need a new T.V.

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Yuuri slept. It was a simple sleep, filled with the thoughts of cold and shink of skates. It danced in his head and let him breathe in gulps of wonderful things. He could sense a tune playing. In his dreams he chased the notes, dancing along the winter scene, laughing, reaching, playing a game of catch me with something that glimmers just out of reach.

He stopped as the world opened up from the ice of the rink to the ice of a lake, lumpy at the edges with sticks and bits of rock, a river flowing towards it feeding the mirror of its surface. The lake was huge, and in the distance someone twirled like a music box ballerina. It was graceful and elegant. He wanted to do that. Eyes wide, he beamed, clapping his hands. Yōsei! A beautiful yōsei was angling towards the ice, hand never touching as it teased the snow from its blades into a swirling arch about its body, twizzling into an arch that lead into a double… a backwards double. This was backwards. Yuuri was confused.

He tilted his head, trying to understand, only for the world to tilt with him. He slipped thrugh the ice, standing on the other side. Through it he could see the yōsei dancing forward now, but it was no longer beautiful. It terrified him. The face was carved ice, translucent without letting him see what lay beyond. Was there anything beyond? There must be, he could see it smile. The teeth were razors, pointed and fanged. It's every breath froze the air, the silver that was its hair made of frost. Even its clothes were mere frost feathers. Only the blades were real, and those were made of the purest cutting edge.

Looking around, Yuuri tried to figure out where he was, why he was thrugh the ice. It had to be a dream. This was the only thing that made sense. Slipping on the silver, Yuuri fixed his stance, careful not to use his toe pick to much, afraid to crack the mirror. As he slid into the shadows, his found the darkness full of nothing.

"Ahi!" he cried, waving his hands as he felt himself stumble. It would be good to have some light. Suddenly illumination began, steady and soft, radiating from his skin. Yuuri spent a good deal of time staring at his hands, trying to figure out what just happened before he remembered he was in a dream. Dreams were not limiting. Raising his head, he tried to see what had tripped him.

A claw was sticking out of the darkness that was the sky. A sky he was skating on. Turning to look from where he'd come, he saw that every strike of his blade had left a little trail of clouds. Trying to touch them, he pushed forward, only for small bursts of light to shine thrugh. Dawn breaking the night. Yuuri paused, something catching his eye. He looked up. The yōsei had stopped. It mirrored his movements now, head turned in his direction, arms twisting when his did, gliding as he pushed himself along.

Blinking, he looked away, looked at his feet. The light shinning from him showed him the thing beneath the ice. A great white dragon, curled, and waiting. It seemed stuck in time, but aware. Awake. Yuuri knelt, placing his hands on the sky. A gold ribbon, words etched in red shot from where he pressed. It arched about him, swirling towards the silver of the mirrored ice above. At the same time, a ribbon, properly mirrored, seemed to try to reach down to him.

Turning his attention back to the dragon, Yuuri saw its eyes move, taking him in. He knew this being. How could he not? Slapping his hands against the sky, he tried to free it. Predictably, it did not work. He tried again anyway, only to hear the hollow echo of the yōsei as it did the same over him. Yuuri paused. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Looking up at that freighting face, teeth shinning with permafrost, Yuuri swallowed hard.

"Okami?" Bright blue. It's eyes that opened to stair down at him were bright blue. Unlike the cold that chilled it's flesh, the yōsei's eyes were longing, sad, self contained as if anything more would risk greater death. Pain beyond understanding. It made his heart hurt.

“Sen-Yomi-Oni-Yomi,” the yōsei said, scales of ice slicking over its skin. It sounded… wrong. It was accented, and haunted. Like it was trying for the words, but wasn't sure.

"No one knows the future, Okami-sama. I will be careful with mine."

The yōsei seemed to reach, a red ribbon trailing from it's wrist. He could almost see the writing. Kanji. It was Kanji, and -

"YUURI!" Mari banged on his door. "GET UP! You'll be late!"

Yuuri jumped out of bed, still reaching for something he thought he should have. By the time he made it thrugh breakfast, he'd forgot about the dream. Somewhere in Russia, a long haired teen woke up unsure of why he was crying.

(The links are starting to pile up. Go to the oldest part to find previous links to the story's beginning!)

part 25, part 26, part 27, part 28, part 29, part 30, part 31, part 32, part 33, part 34

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CHA 3

“When you said I could come along, I didn’t know I would be carrying your gear and moving lights,” Victor groused.

“How else was I supposed to get you in,” Christophe grinned. “It’s not like anyone can just wander on and off the set.”

“Outdoor setting is a location, not a set,” Victor mumbled, trying to be right about something. His morning had been pretty basic. Rise. Skin care, hair care. Two hours - one for each. Beauty is upkeep! Dressing, forty five minutes. One must accessorize properly! His look doesn't just create itself! Then breakfast of a decadent croissant from the most delightful bakery by the apartment, washed down with a vanilla latte`. Christoph washed his pastry down with rooibos, sturing in a touch of honey to sweeten it up. They then got into the Miata and drove. Today’s shoot was for children’s clothes, taking advantage of the whimsical nature of Paris’ many highlights. Wrot iron, the Eiffel Tower, Lurve, streets made of old stone, and niche locations. All within a few blocks of each other whenever possible. 

It was an interesting side of the fashion world. Most were concerned with avant garde, couture, or stage costumes for high end productions. Victor wanted to see his designs out there, making people feel beautiful, special, even on the worst days. He wanted someone to reach into their wardrobe, pull out that one special piece and know the feel of it on their body would get them through the roughest day because they knew they were not only comfortable, but fashionable. There was just something about how the touch of cashmere or the pull of silk could change the way one thinks. But first he had to pay his dues.

Christophe had some of the best assistants twitching lighting, fixing props, lining up markers. Paris itself seemed to adjust to him. Crowds dissipated, birds flew at artful angels, and the sun kissed just the right part of every model. Victor was amazed by the way he managed to walk casually through any scene, clicking his camera until the city noises were overwritten by the sound of another moment being captured in time. They looked over the shots between changes of clothes and models, keeping the children busy so as to avoid boredom and antsy guardians.

The street-wear line was fun, playful, full of youthful vigor. When they changed over to the more elegant, formal designs, the models did too. Dark haired girls with luminous eyes, boys with elegant cuts mocking adult slide backs, slick at the sides and tapered to look upscale. Accessories changed to watches that were less Swatch and more metallic. Some seemed to be casually dressed as tinny ideals, while others were fantastical. Few stood out, being nervous or a little too full of themselves.

Christophe watched the world through his lens, waiting to strike. Victor saw a few potential stars starting to shine, caught in the flair of his lens, but only one seemed to carry that shimmering quality that would take them from childhood through the cruelty of puberty and into adulthood with all their beauty intact. A fairy-like boy, very young and very serious. When asked to turn, he turned. When asked to be whimsical, he stood tall, arms stretched to the sky before doing a jeté with ease. He leaned against a lamp post, the billowing sleeves of his cooler colored shirt, polka dotted with puffs of thread a sheer overlay for the thin undershirt pressed into his thin frame, white shorts cut in an arch at the thigh, white tights tucked into ballet flats. His golden hair picked up the echoes of sunset as he looked towards the Tower. Victor could almost see the fairy wings that were not there. Christophe must have seen it too. He took more pictures of the boy in his many outfits than the others. He just pulled them off better, seeming to look at home in anything they threw at him. The casual play line clothes earlier were tried on him. As he darted about the darkening streets, arms thrown behind him in a playful run, eyes to the sky, his smile just a little melancholic, Victor felt what Christophe saw. Ethereal took a lot of work, but when you came across it naturally, you worked with it until it could do no more.

The boy wore what was asked, changed as many times as needed. He went through hair style after hair style, make-up touches, and did not complain when he received little to no break for four hours of grueling activity. But those smiles. Those melancholic smiles. No filter in the world could make that smile true.

As they were wrapping up for the day, Christoph looked over the stills, picking and choosing with rapid efficiency. As he stretched his aching back, he turned to see how the clean up was going. The boy was crouched down, hand low, a street cat slowly approaching. Quickly he snapped some candids. These would be great for his school portfolio. He didn’t even need a release, as anything he took while working was free game, and since the boy was still wearing the hair and make up style from the last shoot, he figured that counted.

Soon, the boy was picked up. Christophe turned back to the dailies, while Victor stared for a moment. “I could get used to living here,” he sighed as the man in the ass hugging jeans took the boy's hand, leading him to a silver Lexus. Popping his head up, Christophe smiled.

“Ah, Paris! De tels trésors abondent dans la ville de l'amour.”

“I don’t know about l’amour, but definitely… how to say, strast'?” Victor tapped his temple a few times. “Passion!”

“There’s passion and there’s lasciveté. What you have, mon ami, is a need to release.”

Victor raised a brow, his lips twitching into a smile. “You can’t blame me for looking.”

“Can’t I?” Christophe purred.

“Heartless tease.”

_______

CHA 4

They sat together looking over stills, images caressed by just the right amount of light and ones born of miserable reflections captured in lens flares and ill timed background elements. “You could adjust them,” Victor offered quietly.

Christophe looked scandalized. “I will do no such thing. When making some elements it is fine, the amount of adjustment these images will need? Non. When creating art it is never a good idea to bring dishonesty to your piece. The human can tell, even if they don’t know what the lie is.”

Leaning against the wall in the antechamber between his bedroom and the bath, he sighed. “It’s not that hard, right? You have the skill, da?”

“I have the skill, but correcting these is … It’s like seeing a blurry, pixelated Monet and asking a toddler to make it better. You can’t replicate that look of melancholy, the way the sun caught his hair, the way the clothes seemed to float around him. I’m telling you, Vita, that kid is magic. There’s something about him.” Christophe threw himself backwards in his chair, sending both it and him sliding back a few feet. “Something special, and I almost captured it.”

“Comrad, you have so many other images of him. Look, in this one he’s even smiling.”

“It’s plastic, Vita. Can’t you see it? Here.” Christophe pulled himself back towards the computer. “Look at how there is no light in his eyes. Too many teeth, shoulders are tense.”

“You see all that?” Victor looked again, trying to find the signs the photographer noted. To him the child looked happy, well dressed and fed, other children surrounding him just as pleasant and cheerful. He saw children playing a game with chalked out squares and a rock. It seemed like the kind of thing all advertisers ached for. An air of youthful relevance combined with age old money. It practically commanded people to buy what was shown without being too obvious about it. At least not until the company plastered their brand on the page with a massive scrawl across the pleasant scene.

“I do. I see a lot of things through the lens. A lot of very secret things.”

“Voyeur.”

Christophe smiled. “Have you considered using those exceptional skills at flattery on that man with the tight ass?”

Victor blinked, his blue eyes vacant as he tried to recall who Christophe was talking about. When he remembered his cheeks turned pink, his eyes sparkling. “If he shows up again, I just might.”

“Flirt.”

Victor gasped. “You? Call me a flirt?” He grinned. “Flatterer.”

A deep chuckle mingled with the light, airy sounds of laughter as they felt tension leave them with the faint breath of gentle comradery. Finally, Christophe turned from the computer, having saved the files, ready to take them in the next day for approval and printing. “So,” he smiled, deep burr fairly purring the word, “What plans do you have for the evening?”

“Dinner, I suppose. I should work on that desk, and I need to get some more boxes unpacked…” Victor sighed. “I need to put together my start of semester portfolio.”

“Victor! You should already have that completed,” Christophe chided.

“I did, but then I moved, and I didn’t want things ruined, so I …” A vague gesture to the many tubes and flat pack boxes with reinforced edges stacked in various piles gave depth to the weight of the problem. “Now I have to find everything again.”

“Oh, min vän. You start sorting this,” Christophe stood, wiggling his fingers at the daunting task, “and I’ll order something. We can make a night of it.”

Victor’s shoulders dropped as his knees bent back. “Must we?”

“Min kärlek, vi måste. There is no time like last week. Today will have to do.” Slipping through the door to the bathroom, disappearing through another, the tall blond was off, leaving Victor to stare down the many packages wanting his attention.

By the time Christophe returned with lobster bisque, fresh salad, and the crispiest chunks of crackling bread Victor had the privilege to break diet for, he was more than ready for the wine that accompanied it. He’d found several of his more necessary sketches wrinkled by box shift during the move. A few of his fabrics were naked, ripped, or had holes that made it very clear what postal thought of the extra money he’d paid to have them expressed and marked ‘KHRUPKIY’. All those rubbles down the proverbial drain.

“Oh, Victor. These photos. Did you mean for them to be so…” Christophe tried not to wrinkle his nose, he really did. Victor looked over sharply.

“Oh! Oh no! Net! Net, no, no, net, no!” Victor slipped between English and Russian in his frustration. The whole album was sticky, as if someone had spilt a sugar drink, carelessly pushing the package along without a care. His hands found his hairline, tugging great tufts of silver pale locks.  His whole fashion line from his previous collections was represented in those photos. Photos he would need for his classes, for reference, for the memories. “Christophe! Chris, comrade! Can they be saved?”

The Swedish man winced as he tried to unstick a few pages. Looking at the box of supplies they’d found earlier, Christophe rummaged until he found the pressure blade he’d spied earlier. Carefully he cut the picture free of its sheath, only for it to make a puckering, Velcro sound that caused every fiber of his being to shiver in distaste. Catching the pale cheeked face of his friend, his blue eyes so wide with the edge of desperation and hope, Christophe braced himself. Turning the photo to the light, the damage was clear. Colors peeled off, micro tears deformed some of the image. It was coated in what smelled like cola, which was clearly eating into the integrity of the paper. Victor’s throat dropped to his thighs, hands slack at his side. “What am I going to do?”

These photos were useless now. He’d not been able to get the originals, only prints. The photographer he’d worked with had refused to give up his claim, wanting exorbitant amounts of money Victor simply didn’t have. Someone’s carelessness cost him over a fourth of his portfolio.

“Do you still have the clothes?” Christophe asked, looking at the many unpacked boxes.

“I … yes, most of them. Some were sold to pay for my travel.”

“Bien. Here is what we’re going to do…”

cha 1&2

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I like to Head Cannon those simple necklaces Otabek wears are made by his sister during craft and arts time. Something he can tuck under his costumes to remind him of home and how his family love him. Bet she makes one for Yuri too. Or a bracelet or something. They all have matching ones. Sorry, Yuri. Little sis has adopted you. Your stck with them forever now. 💖

(Not like Otabek didn't have the same happen to him once he met the Katsuki's at the onsen. They adopt you for life.)

Can we please get otabek, his sister, and yuri at a park and ota is pushing the two on swings ! Also idk if you have her name but can we call her Angelica !

today i learned that i can’t draw a proper swingset after half an hour of trying

i know you said beka pushing both of them but i don’t know how to draw that i’m so sorry ;o; (also i kinda did gave her a name BUT IDK ANYMORE bc everybody keeps suggesting great names omg)

otabek’s sister (x) (x)

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CHA 5

Christophe knew a lot of people. He knew fashion designers trying to make it, models desperate for a gig, crew looking for anyone to sign off on production work just for the college credit, and he knew how to get them together at a moment's notice. What he couldn’t do was recreate the missing designs. Victor had been absolutely distraught to realize that some of his pieces were positively wrecked by the move, while other less spectacular pieces made it through just fine. In the end, he was left with a set of angora sweaters, slimline slack jeans - or sheans, as he liked to call them - that combined the elegance of high end office wear with the durability of street fabrics, and a single pair of sheer socks he’d made from scraps of a disastrous attempt to make panty hose more fun and less annoying.

It was a frantic week of pulling fabrics, bolt by bolt, from boxes, tubes, and any piece of clothing that had been destroyed, trying to make something new, exciting, something that would not only delight the senses, but bring some whimsy into an otherwise very monotone world. Why everyone thought beige was the be-all, end-all of the last two seasons, he wasn’t sure, but come hell or high water, he’d see this change. “Don’t get me wrong,” he babbled to the man behind the counter, “it’s a fine color. It has its place. But so much? All the time. Non. It’s - how you say?” Victor waved a hand in front of his face, letting his jaw go slack, eyes blank. “Steklyannyy pritsel?”

“Terne?” came a voice rich as clotted cream. “Means dull, boring.”

Victor turned, eyes bright. “Yes! This is the word!” It was the man in the jeans. The delicate blond boy was standing with his hands behind his back by a selection of buttons, looking exceptionally bored. He must have noticed Victor’s flicker of recognition. His eyes were beautiful. Long lashed, blue, wide and earnest. Not just any blue. Cobalt. They caught the light in just such a way… “Hello,” Victor said with his friendliest smile.

“Hello. Sorry, I didn't mean to step in. You just seemed to be a little lost with the language.”

“Oh, yes. It mixes with the others sometimes. Ty govorish' po-russki?”

The man winced. “Not that well, if I’m being honest. Knew someone who spoke it pretty well. Taught me a few phrases, some things here and there.”

“But that’s marvelous! Learning something new is never out of style,” Victor purred. The boy by the buttons huffed, turning his head away. “Your … son?”

“Ah. Yes. He’s supposed to be choosing the buttons to fix his shirt with,” Mr. Cobalt Eyes said with a slight frown. The boy turned slowly towards the display again, grabbing four sets of ladybug shaped novelty buttons, handing them to … Victor really needed to find out who this handsome man was.

“Victor, by the way. Nikiforov.” He made a move to lean on the pile of fabrics being measured and weighed, casual interest in his gaze.

“Trent. Trent Dale.” He put a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Yuri.” The boy stared at Victor, eyes as viridian as the sea. Vivid colors ran in the family, it seemed.

“Nice to meet you, Yuri.” The boy said nothing, clutching the buttons tightly. “He must have his mother’s hair,” Victor added, trying to prolong the conversation. Trent was tall, and handsome in a corporate way. Victor could almost see him dressed in suits, polished shoes gleaming as he stepped from his bedroom, freshly showered, smelling like the promise of sex and money. Yuri frowned, shuffling uncomfortably. Victor realized he had missed something Trent was saying.

“ - it’s okay, though. We get by. Don’t we Yuri?” He shook the boy’s shoulder, jostling a mumbled nonsense out of him.

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s all we can do,” Victor covered smoothly. “Try to get by. So, what happened to the buttons?”

“Oh, that. Small accident. Popped one. It got lost in the shuffle, I suppose. Rather than walk around with one missing, we decided to replace them all. Although, I don’t know about ladybugs. Little out of place, don’t you think?” Trent addressed the last half to Victor, half to Yuri. The boy stiffened, looking at the buttons as if trying to figure out if he wanted to fight about it or not. Victor took pity.

“I think it adds a bit of whimsy to the design. As long as the colors don't clash horribly, it just makes it fun.” Crouching to be more at the boy’s eye level, he shone a smile that bent his lips in at the bow. “What color is the shirt?”

Yuri glanced at Trent who nodded. “It’s black,” Yuri answers in a bite that seemed to cut off the rest of his sentence.

“Is it a dress shirt?” Yuri nodded. “A black dress shirt. Full sleeves? Bit of a wider collar?” The blond’s eyes widened. He shook his head. Another glance at Trent, then he turned back to Victor, swaying towards him just that little bit. “It’s got a mandarin collar, and it’s trimmed in red, Like the cuffs, and it’s long.”

“Is the black very shiny?”

Yuri wrinkled his nose. “No.”

Victor couldn’t tell if that little pout was because he wanted it to be shiny, or if the boy was offended by the very idea. His eyes burned as he looked at the fabrics, then lowered his head to look at the buttons he was clutching. “Well, in that case, ladybug buttons would be perfect. A little pop of color to accentuate what’s already there, and a little childhood wonder. Snakes and snails, yes? Why not some insects too? Particularly when they…” Victor’s mind went blank, searching for the word. “Slivat'sya? Sootvetstvovat'?” he muttered.

“Da. Oni podoydut i ne slishkom bol'shiye…” The words trailed off as Yuri stepped back, biting his lower lip. Victor beamed. “You speak po-russki very well,” he chimed, throwing a glance to Trent as the boy clammed up. “Well…” Standing, Victor looked over his shoulder at the clerk neatly packaging his trims and notions. “If you ever need button advice again…”

“Be hard to ask if I don’t have any way to contact you,” Trent smiled. Those teeth were so white, Victor could have gone blind.

“Oh! Yes.” Snatching one of the store's business cards, he pulled a fabric flower from the display vase, revealing it to be a pen in clever disguise. Jotting down a number with a small winky face holding fingers up in a peace sign, Victor handed it over. “I’ll be busy for a week or two, but I'm free after that.”

Trent looked at the card curiously. “Interesting.” Then those blue, blue eyes glanced at the many bags. “Making something big?”

“Massive,” Victor purred. Then he chuckled. “I’m making my spring collection. Again.”

“You’re a fashion designer?”

“I will be. I’m at PCA.”

Trent gave an impressed little nod, considering Victor. “A hard school to get into.”

“I did my best. I am going to take on the world, one fashion disaster at a time.” He spared Yuri a conspiratorial wink.

“I look forward to seeing it.” Trent’s easy smile almost had Victor walking out of the shop without his copious amount of goods.

____

CHA 6

Victor spent the next three days bent over the kitchen table, back aching, hands smudged, eyes strained as he littered the floor with rejected designs and sketches. He had his originals, but they were old, and while there was something he could draw from them, there was no joy in the way they lingered on old problems, previous mistakes. Instead he pulled the idea of it from the place it originally came. The jumpsuit - that recalled a particular night at a club that ran well into the next morning, having to face down an unforgiving instructor and her brutal, soul crushing constructive criticisms - needed a refit. A modern twist that fit more than the desperate need to not look like he’d been wearing the drink stained clothes from the night before under it. It was giving him problems. Jumpsuits were pretty much fashionable or made you look like a dock worker. It was hair pulling maddening.

“Min vän,” Christophe cooed, sliding a cup of warm tea under Victor’s nose. “This is not good for you. You need to rest. Let your mind recover, gain inspiration.”

“I’ve tried, Chris! I tried,” Victor cried, using the cup to warm his hands. “I just…” His lips drew tight as he threw his feet on the seat of his chair, folding in on himself. Leaning against the wall, Victor closed his eyes. “It’s not working.”

“Okay.” Christophe drew a chair over, sitting close. “Tell me what you were thinking when you created it?”

“I didn’t want to throw up on my presentation, and I wanted to pass.”

Christophe scoffed. “Sure. We all want that. What was really going on?”

Victor searched his mind for a witty segway only to come up flat. Sighing, he set the cup down. “I just wanted to hide. I’d done something stupid,” Christophe’s mock shocked expression withstanding, it felt good to be able to speak about that very strange twenty four hours. “I’d been stressing about finals.”

“As you do.”

“As I do. I needed to get out, clear my head. I let myself get talked into going to the club.”

Christophe shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a little fun.”

“At nine p.m. On a Tuesday. During finals week. The night before my organic harvesting and natural fiber production's economic impact on the future of fashion presentation.”

Christophe winced. “You spent months agonizing over that! The late night calls, the desperate pleas for help researching.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Victor muttered.

“The way you sobbed into your sketches when you couldn’t find drafter blue pencils.”

“The color disappears once ink is overlaid! They’re worth their weight in rubles!”

“Your sudden desire to become an oil rigger to avoid the whole section on soil erosion, and sustainability.”

“It’s a touchy topic.”

“Your inability to admit you were addicted to lattés for a whole month.”

“I didn’t know four a day would make me gain six pounds, okay?!”

“Sure it wasn’t the stress eating?”

Victor shoved him with his foot. “As I was saying!” Christophe smiled into his cup, eyes sparkling. Victor huffed before leaning back against the wall with a little wiggle. “There was this guy, and he was just… so fine. Strong, and firm, and - “ Victor sucked in his bottom lip, biting down on it as he made a little grunting sound.

“Sure sounds like it,” Christophe grinned.

“I thought so… until I woke up to the sound of him talking to someone while I was in his bed.” Christophe winced. “Same old song and dance, da? One night stand, already committed, and torn between tearing through, setting everything aflame, and slinking away, tail between legs.”

“I take it you went with option two?”

“I went with option two.” His head hit the wall when he threw it back. Rubbing the spot, he crossed his legs, sitting up more in the chair. “My clothes were covered in spilled drink and… other things.” Christophe nodded sympathetically. “I needed something to cover it up. I found a jumpsuit in this awful tan color just hanging on the line outside, and took it. I spent the whole rush to campus trying to find things to style it, and just went with using it as part of the presentation. Added a whole bit about how sustainability was good, but it couldn’t be allowed to cover individuality, and sort of…” He made a motion indicating he’d unzipped it from neck to crotch.

“How did that work out for you?”

“I got a pass, so not too bad.”

“I’ll bet you did,” Christophe winked. “Well, as thrilling as that story is, what are you going to do about this?” He motioned to the design. “It’s not too complicated. Pants are a bit much. Maybe shorts?”

Victor sat up. “Shorts. Christophe! You’re a genius!”

“Naturally. Why?”

“Shorts! If I turn the pants into shorts with a roll cuff, side strap buckles to hold them up, they become adjustable, allowing for more range of use. Increase the drop of the collar, add a little extra here so it flaped to the side in open neck mandarin, a-la-militare, add whimsy with the buttons and piping at the edges… a wide belt with a buckle that has shine, little sparkle with the accessories… Look at this!”

Christophe peaked over Victor’s arm to see the sketch produced. “Loose top kitten heeled boots, scrunched socks with pops of color… you know min vän, you may make a fashion designer yet.”

cha 1&2, cha 3&4

[capsensislagamoprh]

Look, I can't be the only one who want's to draw Yuri in high fashion because you know that boy can MODEL ANYTHING.

(Yes I want to draw the others in fashion too, but Yuri got the LOOK.)

[capsensislagamoprh]

Look, when you meet me, and you will, you will receive my Victor as a default. If you get anywhere near my Yuuri, you will get my Yuri in full force. But, oh dear passenger, so help your soul if you ever face off with my Otabek. This is the Star Ship Find Out. I am your captain, Spicy Rabbit. Let's see what adventures await us today.