#he needs to do a photoshoot with the hat off and WITHOUT STRAIGHTENING - he's been straightening his hair his whole career pls stop

[kingsandbastardz]

ok for ppl who are into languages! Here's a couple interesting clips:

This is a promo clip from an episode of 田间的少年 (Youth In The Field) where Xiao Shunyao reads poetry in one of the Qinghai dialects (And fails to teach his fellow castmates).

I think he's translating on the fly and I have no idea which dialect it is. According some searching the internets, like the rest of china, the region has a whole bunch of dialects and of the major ones, there are 2 branches -- turkish and tibetan. And of those two there are sinicized versions + additional offshoots?

Here's a link to Bilibili where some dude from Qinghai University is chattering to his audience. (Is it the same one XSY is an alumnus of?) To my untrained ears, it sounds like he's either speaking the same dialect or something similar. [X]

XSY clearly has significantly clearer diction because he's been trained to do so - and he's reading poetry. Also he's apparently still fluent enough he can translate very quickly into mandarin, which -- for anyone who's had to do live translation, it's a real skill! It's really easy for your brain to get words tangled together and suddenly you're dropping half a word in one language, and the other half in another and then everyone is confused.

There's a clip somewhere from back in his MIC days where he's live translating to english for the group's choreographer who was American. Imo english isn't... ah... his strongest language, but the fact he can communicate well enough to translate live so someone can at least get the gist of what's going on = pretty fantastic.

Honestly, envious. I don't think there is a single language I know that I can speak well without sounding like a mealy-mouthed weasel. LMAO.

Anyway, here's some airport photos of him leaving Hengdian after wrapping up Shui Long Yin shooting.

[airi-p4]

Love in the sky

I wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers LBSC Sprint challenge - Meet cute week event and, once again, I got carried away and broke all the rules. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Prompt: Sitting next to each other on the plane.

Summary: Marinette is going to NY on an international flight for the first time. What she doesn’t know is that the one seated next to her is the popular new band Kitty Section’s guitarist: Luka Couffaine.

Thank you @livrever for checking it for me 💙

AO3

______________________________________

Marinette rushed through the aisle of the plane. She couldn’t believe she almost missed it! her first international trip to the US! Stupid alarm! Of course she was tired. She was so nervous she couldn’t sleep all night… until 5AM… and the plane departed at 10AM… and obviously she had to oversleep. *sigh*

Running, tripping and spinning on her feet, she finally searched for her seat. 38B - aisle seat. Her pink polka dotted suitcase was heavy, but thanks to the cabin attendant she could finally put it inside the overhead bin, while her backpack rested under the seat in front of her. All set, she let her weight fall on the seat at last and let out a deep breath as she fastened her seatbelt.

The doors of the plane closed, and the PA message started: Welcome on board… Security instructions… Marinette wasn’t listening. Her legs were uncontrollably shaking, and her fingers were fidgeting with the laces of her hoodie.

Those nerves and stress couldn’t be healthy.

She examined her surroundings, and, next to her, someone was sleeping. Someone, who appeared to be a young man, with a sleeping eye mask and a face mask on, messy blue hair showing under a knit hat and a blanket covering his body. Overall, it didn't give much more information about her plane's seat neighbor. Not wanting to wake him up, she focused on the rest of the passengers instead. Why were all of them so quiet when she felt her heart could burst out of her chest anytime?

The plane started its runaway and Marinette closed her eyes tightly when it raised from the lane. Once in the air, she started breathing again, but her heart was still beating fast.

"First time on a plane?" a masculine voice beside her asked.

She turned to her side, and looked at the person seated next to her. His eye mask was over his head now, and she could see his blue eyes clearly, while his blue bangs partly covered his eyebrows.

“Y- yes!” she squeaked.

“You’re making me nervous too. Calm down, it’s going to be ok” he assured.

“I- I know!" She said, but her body wasn’t obeying. “I’m sorry...”

The young man sighed. “Look, I’ve been on a plane many times. It’s safe. Why don’t you try to sleep? It’s going to be a long flight.”

“I- I can’t! I’m too nervous! I’ve never traveled alone before, plus my career depends on this trip! I can’t stay calm!”

“Why don’t you try listening to some music, then? It always helps me relax” the young man offered her a sympathetic look.

“Music…?” she blinked. ‘It could work’.

She plugged the earphones and put them in her ears. Then, she scrolled through the music programs on the touch screen in front of her. Classical music? For some reason, it only made it worse. Country music? Not her style. XY? Hell, no. Her eyes stopped at the name of a fairly new band: “Kitty Section”. She played the video called: “Kitty Section's Paris Live Concert”.

“Good choice” the man next to her said when the title started showing on the screen.

Marinette had heard about the band called Kitty Section. They had featured in most of her favorite magazines after they won Eurovision several months ago, but she wasn't familiar with their music. In less than a minute, she was hooked and forgot completely about her surroundings or her nerves.

“Wow!” she mumbled, mesmerized, and the man next to her let out a snicker.

The music was amazing- the rock vibes, their stage presence, the vocalists’ cuteness and high ranged voice, the accurate and insane drums, the gorgeous purple haired bassist… all of them sounded incredible. But the guitarist… the blue haired guitarist was extraordinary- unbelievably good. Not only talented, but also powerful, charismatic and incredibly handsome.

“They’re good, huh?” The man beside her commented and she nodded. She could tell he was smiling under his face mask. She nodded in agreement.

“I had never heard them properly before but damn- they are incredible” Marinette answered, and he laughed. Her fingers tapped rhythmically, following the beat of the song.  “But…" she continued, observing. "I think they could do better. There’s a margin of improvement,” she said with judging eyes.

“Oh, really? How?” The blue-eyed man asked, curious, resting his elbow on the arm rest to get a closer look.

“The costumes,” Marinette pointed out. Then, she reached her backpack under her feet and took out a sketchbook and a pen and started drawing. “The outfits could be improved if they added this, and this” she signaled. “And this-” She kept scribbling while the blue-haired man observed and listened to her suggestions. “And ta-da! Wouldn’t they look even better if they were like this?” She proudly showed him her designs, only to realize she was being embarrassing towards a stranger. “Ah, sorry- I got carried away…” She apologized. But the man took the sketchbook in his hands.

“Let me see,” he said, and she saw how his eyes examined every detail of her drawings. She gulped nervously. It felt like her skills were being tested. But the man took his face mask off and smiled. “Wow, that’s impressive. Fresh, charismatic, unique- and perfectly according to the band's style. I love them" he returned her the sketchbook. "You’re very talented. Are you famous? Do you take commissions?” He asked, and she looked at him speechless.

“I- I’m still a no-one… Is it really impressive?” She looked at him and blushed at the compliment.

“Yes, I think so. What would you do with this outfit?” He asked, showing him a photo of the same band on his smartphone. Her inspiration overflowed as she kept drawing and explaining her ideas. They kept discussing costumes and visual aspects of the band and chatted comfortably for a long time.

"I think Rose should go with something more… daring, bolder. She looks innocent but she's fierce inside. Of course, cuteness is her main trait, so I think she should combine both" she explained, coloring her design with colored pencils. "I think something like this would be perfect for her" she showed him her sketchbook and he was impressed. “As for Juleka-” She continued, turning to a blank page. “She’s so beautiful. I wish she didn’t cover her face so much, even if the mystery look is really attractive too…" She stopped drawing for a moment to admire the bassist on the screen. "Gosh- She's so gorgeous! I wish I was that beautiful” she commented.

“I think you’re even more beautiful than her, you know?” The blue-haired man casually said, and she shyly blushed with a 'no way' frantic arms movements. “What about the guitarist?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile.

“Luka Couffaine? OH LORD SHOW MERCY- Have you seen him? And his eyeliner? It should be ILLEGAL to be this HOT” She said, convinced.

“Hmmm… So you like him, huh?” He teased, his smile widening.

“Who doesn’t, really?” She shrugged. “He’s literally the SEXIEST man alive. His eye contact with the camera could kill! Oh, and whenever he gets shirtless on stage or photoshoots? GOD- I almost get a nosebleed EVERY FREAKING TIME! He's TOO DAMN HOT" She fanned herself at the image. "Don’t you agree?" She asked and he blinked twice. "You like him too, right? You have so many photos of them in your phone! I bet he’s making you question your sexuality too, like he does with all my friends! How could anyone resist those blue eyes and his manly features, his soft looking blue hair and- his tattoos..." She looked away from her seat neighbor's blue piercing eyes, and focused at the smartphone screen again, to a close-up photo of Kitty Section’s guitarist. "How did you get these close-up casual photos...?” she asked, and then she noticed the tattoo on his neck. She looked back and forth at the man seated next to her and the one in the picture. ‘It couldn't be, right…?’ And at that moment, when he had a knowing smile on his face- one she knew too well-, she realized who he was seated next to on the plane. Her eyes opened as big as plates and she overheated. He was smirking amusingly at her reaction. “You- You- You are-? Lu-Lu-Luk- It can’t be…”

He nodded to confirm her suspicions and her jaw fell to the floor. “Hi. I think I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Luka. But I think you already know that. It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckled, straightening his hand for a handshake.

“Oh God, kill me now...” She mumbled, sinking on the table. Luka snickered.

“What’s your name?”

“Ma-Ma-Marinette… I mean- Marinette!” She felt his eyes on her and panicked. “Excuse me- I- I need a moment... This- This is too much- Oh My God...” She stood up and rushed to the end of the plane, not without tripping twice on her way there.

________________________

While Marinette was gone, the two ladies in front of Luka and Marinette’s seats turned to Luka. “Having fun?” They smirked, knowingly. He was chuckling, having real trouble to keep his laugh from escaping.

“Oh, God, Yes. This is so much fun." He wiped the tears that were forming on his eyes. "I think I’ve found our potential new costume designer” he continued laughing under his nose.

“Only that? I think there’s more...” Juleka smirked, and Rose giggled in agreement by her side. He couldn't deny it: his sister was totally right.

Behind Luka's seat, Kitty Section's drummer, Ivan and his girlfriend Mylene had been enjoying the show the blue-eyed pair had been giving. It was definitely more entertaining than any movie. It would have been perfect if they had popcorn to accompany their fortunate first row seats to the hilarious show. They also approved Marinette's designs.

Luka took the chance Marinette wasn't there to freely stand up, go talk to their managers and stretch his legs for a bit.

_________________________

Back at the end of the plane, Marinette drank some juice and moved to the bathroom. She was panicking in front of the mirror, talking to herself.

“OH. MY. GOD. I’m seated next to Luka Couffaine! For at least… 5 hours more!? And I just called him hot! And- And- he said I’m beautiful and talented! And- Oh my God, he asked me for commissions, right? This can’t be real- I-" her feet wiggled uncontrollably and she let out a long squeak. "Ahh… Calm down, Marinette! He’s human- A sexy human, but still human! He’s famous but very friendly, kind and nice. And fun! It’s going to be alright. Just- Avoid his eyes. That’s it. It’s dangerous. Don’t fall in love. You’re not a teenager anymore, you’re over that stage, right? Only a few hours more. You can do it. I CAN DO IT!” She convinced herself with a confident nod and returned to her seat, only to find Luka was gone.

She looked for him from her seat, at her surroundings, but he was nowhere to be found. She sighed in both relief and sadness as she seated.

For some reason, she was missing him. Which was stupid, considering they had just met! But his company was certainly enjoyable... And, moreover, it was FUN. More than she ever remembered having. And not only because she was passionate about fashion or music. It had to do with his aura, his personality, his gentle manners- just... Luka.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a moment” A voice said from in front of her. “My brother is stupid, but he’s a decent person. Treat him well” The purple haired lady winked, beside a petit blond lady.

“Jul-!” She covered her mouth with her hands to stop herself from yelling her name. “And Rose-!?” 'Oh, no! They might have heard what I said too!' She panicked again and the ladies giggled amused.

“Ignore my sister and her girlfriend” Luka returned, and her face flustered when she noticed how tall and well built he was (not that she didn't know that, but it hit differently in first person). “Can I get back to my seat?” He politely asked, pointing at the window seat.

“Ah-! Yes! Of course!” She stood up so suddenly she tripped and fell on Luka’s chest. She immediately moved away in embarrassment, falling back instead, and Luka had to hold her again to avoid her imminent fall. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you ok?” He asked in concern, and she shyly nodded. Luka reluctantly let go of her and returned to his seat and Marinette settled back to hers.

Wait- Was that a blush on his face?

“Here” Luka offered her an envelope. “I don’t know what your plans in NY are but, here’s a VIP pass to our concert next Sunday. There’s also our contact card inside. I want you to consider the idea of working for us. Your costumes are impressive. We discussed it, and we want you in our team” Marinette had no words- totally speechless. Could she be this lucky? “What do you say?” Luka asked with a hopeful tender smile that made her weak.

“I- I’ll think about it. And- Oh God- I’ll totally be there for your concert” She blushed and Luka smiled kindly at her. Suddenly, she started searching inside her backpack, and took out a business card she offered him. “This is my contact. I- I have a fashion event next Monday. I would love you to come, if you can make it. Send me an email and I’ll get you some passes”

“Wow! That's impressive. I'll try to make it. Thank you, Marinette”

Marinette could hear her heart beating faster. No looking in his eyes, dammit. They kept talking for a while, enjoying their time together until they fell asleep out of exhaustion, Marinette’s head resting on Luka’s shoulder. He woke up earlier than her, but didn’t have the heart to wake her up until lunchtime. She looked like she really needed that rest.

When he left half of his lunch untouched, Marinette scolded him. “You have to eat! You’re too thin! Those abs and arms need consistency! Proteins!” She pointed at a photo of him shirtless and flustered again in embarrassment in realization. “Ah-”

Gosh- it really was fun, Luka thought, chucking. It was hard not to laugh out loud. Everything flowed so naturally it was unbelievable.

Damn. He didn’t want the plane to ever land.

“Marinette” he called, during their coffee time, and she looked back at him, redness still on her cheeks. “The plane will land soon but- Even if you don’t accept our offer… Is it possible for us to meet again? Out of business? Like this?”

Marinette flustered at his implications. “Do- Do you mean-?”

“A date. Would you go on a date with me, Marinette? Or just as friends, if you prefer. I like you, and I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun with anyone else” He took Marinette’s pen and one of his ‘Kitty Section’ contact cards and wrote something behind it. “These are my personal telephone number and email. We'll be in NY until Friday next week. It would make me very happy if you contact me, whenever you prefer, anytime” He said, securing the card in her hands.

Marinette blushed, looked at the card with glowing eyes, and then at his honest loving stare. Was it even possible that the man everyone was gushing about was asking her out? But this had nothing to do with his stage persona. Luka was someone she more than enjoyed spending time with. Naturally, quietly, assuring… She had no doubts about her answer.  

“I want to meet you again, too” she stated, and wrote her personal number under his wristband. “I’m free on Wednesday” she shyly smiled, and his smile widened.

“Wednesday is it, then. I'll manage to find the time. Just for you." He smiled happily and only then she realized how deep she had fallen.

Ah- she hadn't wanted to fall in love. What a way to fail her own determination… But she couldn't complain, not at all.

And he felt the same way.

Luka and Marinette's hands locked together, and they lost themselves in each other’s eyes, smiling at each other.

“Why don’t you kiss her already, dumbass?” Juleka called, and Marinette blushed. “He won’t kiss you if you don’t give him proper permission, you know? He’s very considerate despite his looks. Tell him already”

“Jules… Why don’t you mind your business and make out with Rose instead?” He shushed his sister and Rose giggled, embracing Juleka. Luka returned his attention to Marinette. “Sorry about that”

“It’s ok… I-” She started, looking at his thin lips. “Will you kiss me if I want to? Because I think I do...”

“You do?” he asked, and she shyly nodded and he smiled softly, making her heart flutter.

She closed her eyes and he leaned closer to give her a sweet kiss on her cheek. She pouted a little, in disappointment, but he told her that, if she really wanted to kiss him, that would be the perfect excuse to meet him again and make it more special, like a beautiful lady like her deserved. Marinette understood his reasoning and agreed with it, despite the slight disappointment she felt she would have to wait a few days to get the chance to kiss him. Nevertheless, both of them happily smiled while their fingers remained interlaced, chatting and enjoying their time together the rest of the flight, until the plane landed and they had to unavoidably say their farewells.

“Thank you for everything, Luka. I forgot how scared I was of planes thanks to you and- I’ll see you soon?”

“I really hope so. I still owe you something, right?" He winked and she blushed happily. Luka gave her a final discreet and quick kiss on her knuckles. "Gosh- I miss you already...” He added, and Marinette felt the urge to cry. She dropped her bag to hold him in a needed embrace. He gladly reciprocated her gesture. Despite neither wanting to separate, they forced themselves to. "I hope I see you soon, Marinette"

"Me too, Luka…" she wiped her tears and waved, as the band started walking away.

When the arrivals doors opened and all the camera flashes blinded her, she understood why Kitty Section members always wore sunglasses in airports. They were more popular than she could have expected. She understood why he had refused to kiss her outside of the plane, but he still saluted her before disappearing in the multitude of fans and paparazzis.

On the other side, Sabrina, Audrey Bourgeois’ assistant, waited for her. She had almost forgotten about her own business. But now, she found the motivation she had lacked. If she was willing to be with Luka, she had to become the best. She wanted to make a name of herself, more than ever. And her meeting with Luka certainly boosted her confidence.

Unexpectedly, her trip to NY had already become one of her most memorable experiences yet. And it had just started! She couldn't wait to spend the rest of the week in the city.

[n3rdlif343va]

Chasing Gold Zine Promo Ficlet #1

Below is the first in a series of ficlets leading up to my story in the amazing @yoichasinggoldzine!! I am honored to be a part of this zine with so many incredible writers!

My story is an AU where Yuuri and Victor are retired Olympic athletes, who now coach Paralympic athletes. Our story starts here and will continue with other ficlets, the conclusion of the story will be my piece for the zine! I am very excited to hear what everyone thinks of this story! (You can also follow the series on Ao3: Every Ending Brings a Beginning )

Chatter filled the studio, half-bathed in the bright light while the other half was cloaked in dimness. The back drop was blinding in its pale blue hue interrupted only by fake tree stumps and piles of fake snow. People mulled around setting cameras and discussing angles as Victor stood next to the makeshift dressing rooms, arms crossed watching the familiar chaos unfold. Years of photoshoots had made this experience boring and repetitive, but there was more of a reason to be excited now. A person he was patiently waiting to gain a glimpse of from across the room.

As if waiting on a cue, Chris stepped to Victor’s side. They had become best friends as teens and had been sharing the woes of coaching over the last four years. Victor made a name for himself as a gold-medaling triathlete, retiring to coach a single paratriathlon athlete, while Chris collected his golds as an Olympic athlete turned coach in Paralympic archery and also in the delicate art of torturing his best friend. “These outfits leave very little to the imagination.” Chris’s quip came with a nudge to Victor’s side and a knowing smirk as another man stepped into view on the other side of the outlandish back dropout. “Very little…” Chris snickered, wiggling his eyebrows despite Victor’s inability to look anywhere else.

The red velvet shorts trimmed in white puffs of fluffy cotton looked obscene even on Victor’s slender hips. On Yuuri Katsuki, however, the same red shorts were a sight crafted by the gods. Biting his tongue to hold back a whistle, Victor glanced pitifully in Chris’s direction. Before he could begin another round of worshipping the heavenly ass of Coach Katsuki, his words were cut off by a series of angry curses escaping from behind the curtain of the popup dressing room. Trying to hide his amusement, Victor looked over his shoulder. “Are you okay in there, Yuri?” Another stream of Russian accented curse words made Victor chuckle, turning to step toward his athlete.

Shoving the curtain back, Yuri glared at his coach. “Are you kidding me? What sadist decided these outfits make any kind of sense?” Continuing to yank at the lower hem of his shorts, Yuri glowered across the room toward the photographers. “Don’t even get me started on the stupid hat!” Yuri threw his hat at Victor’s chest, looking ready for a fight when Victor shook his head, stepping into Yuri’s space and fixing the hat over his blond locks. “Why is this Christmas themed?” Yuri spat, shoving Victor away from him, “Christmas isn’t for months!” He stumbled slightly, hand flying to his prosthetic leg as he swatted out at Victor. He didn’t need pity or help, and he conveyed this sentiment through a sharp grind of his teeth and an even sharper growl.

“The calendars are to raise money for the Paralympics, Yuri,” Victor stepped back, watching Yuri adjust his prosthetic with the ever-present scowl that his athlete always wore. Even before the accident, Yuri Plisetsky was borderline terrifying in his intensity. Following the loss of his leg, that intensity had swollen to levels that most refused to tolerate. Except for Victor, who had offered his services as Yuri’s coach and had never backed down through the worst of Yuri’s tantrums and the most devastating of his breakdowns. They were a team, despite how many times Yuri tried to pretend they weren’t. “This is important, you know it is. So grin and bear it, will you?”

With a resigned roll of his eyes, Yuri straightened his back. He shoved his hat further on his head, expression changing back to aggressive as he spotted Minami approaching his own coach. “They’re here?!” Yuri demanded, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled into the side of Victor’s face. “Why am I here with that idiot?”

Taking a patient breath, Victor tore his eyes away from the beautiful face of his longest crush. “Minami is your rival. The photoshoot today is rivals. You and I will pose with Yuuri and Minami. Coach versus coach, athlete versus athlete. And you’ll do it with a smile, or you will be doing laps as soon as we get home.” Flicking the back of Yuri’s ear, Victor pointed toward the closest makeup chair, shoving Yuri toward the anxious looking young woman doomed to apply makeup to the angry kitten’s face.

Once they were alone, Christophe looped an arm over Victor’s shoulders. “Amazing strategy by the way,” Chris unabashedly smirked at the flush taking over Victor’s cheeks. “Pitting Yuri against Minami in the media. A sure-fire way to get your name and your face printed next to Yuuri’s for the world to see.”

“That’s not… I mean… that’s not why… it’s a… happy coincidence?” Victor shrugged as he avoided Chris’s eyes, feeling himself being shaken from side-to-side. If he had somehow, magically, managed to build a rivalry between his athlete and Yuuri’s through a series of well-orchestrated social media interactions, it was definitely in the name of healthy competition and gathering attention to support the Paralympics. It definitely had nothing to do with decade-long crush on the elusive Yuuri Katsuki. Definitely nothing at all.

“Come on, lover boy,” Chris dropped his arm, opting to link his elbow with Victor’s instead. “Let’s go say hi to the competition and your future husband.” Chris’s rich laughter filled the studio as he dragged Victor forward, determinedly ignoring Victor’s embarrassed protests as he attempted to finally throw his best friend into the arms of his future.

“He’s doing it again,” Phichit hissed, pressing his finger into Yuuri’s side and nodding over his own bare shoulder. The excited wiggle of Phichit’s eyebrows made Yuuri seriously consider smacking his friend. Phichit Chulanont was the youngest archery coach in Paralympic history, but he was also the best and worst friend who anyone could ever want. Placing his hands on Yuuri’s elbows, Phichit tried to turn Yuuri’s body to face in the opposite direction, huffing his frustration when Yuuri refused to turn around.

Yuuri’s body was covered in goosebumps where his skin was left bare, only a small portion of his lower half covered by the ridiculously required velvet shorts. Yuuri hated the costume choices, loved the cause, and currently wanted to do nothing more than to murder his best friend.

“Who’s doing what?” Minami inquired, bouncing up to Yuuri’s side with the natural-born enthusiasm that Minami always possessed. Grinning, he modeled his own short shorts for Phichit’s camera, posing with his prosthetic leg extended in a dramatic stretch toward the ceiling. He held the pose while Phichit adjusted the phone angles, humming to reiterate his question.

“Victor is staring at Yuuri again,” Phichit stated, barely getting the last word out before he and Minami burst into giggles as Yuuri buried his head in his hands, a whispered “oh my god” escaping from his covered mouth.

Yuuri knew for a fact that Victor Nikiforov, his longest rival, biggest inspiration, and now fellow coach, was not staring at him. He had competed against Victor for years, never having more than a simple “congratulations” exchanged between them. Still, his menace of a best friend and easily influenced athlete kept the joke alive, pursuing it beyond the brink of Yuuri’s sanity. When the whispered choruses of “Victor loves Yuuri” began, Yuuri attempted to ignore them by staring at the ceiling. His nerves were already shot with the very small amount of clothing covering his body and he didn’t need the added stress of the continued teasing. Finally snapping when Minami trailed into a Japanese version of sitting in a tree, Yuuri smacked his hand against Minami’s shoulder. “We’re not sitting in a tree, we’re not k-i-s-s-i-n-g…” he didn’t finish his argument, the words dying on his tongue as an arm dropped over his bare shoulders.

“Who’s not kissing?” Victor asked. His voice shook as his brain registered the skin to skin contact, resisting the urge to kick Chris in the shins as his best friend winked in his direction. Subtle was not Chris’s forte, and Victor wanted to kill him for it.

“You two,” Phichit said easily, aiming his camera in the direction of Yuuri’s and Victor’s faces. He snapped a picture, flashing it toward Chris with a shared conspirator’s smile.

“Chulanont,” Chris’s eyes lingered over Phichit’s barely-there outfit, tearing his gaze away when Minami cleared his throat. “Where’s your archer?” The question was a poor recovery, Chris still unable to pull his heated look away from Phichit for more than a few seconds. When Phichit nodded over his shoulder, Chris followed the gesture, noting Guang Hong and Leo sitting next to each other in closely pulled together makeup chairs.

“It seems our athletes have a bit of a thing for each other,” Phichit laughed, seeing his young archer giggling into his hands over whatever Leo had said. To the world Guang Hong and Leo were friendly rivals, but their coaches knew better. Shaking his head, Phichit retuned his gaze to Victor and Yuuri. The sly grin pulled at his lips as he reached forward to rob Yuuri of his glasses. “It’ll look better on camera without them, right Victor?”

The brown eyes had blinked in Victor’s direction and he had momentarily forgotten his own name. The problem persisted when his name was called by someone else, demanding his presence along with Yuri, Minami, and Yuuri. Reality came back to him as Yuuri waved a hand in front of his face and Chris’s laughter once again fueled Victor’s embarrassment. “What now?” Victor glanced around, noticing Minami already walking away from their group and Phichit joining in on Chris’s laughter.

“Um, they called us.” Waving a hand toward the piles of fake snow, Yuuri struggled to get the words out. He had barely heard anything that had been said from the moment Victor’s arm had taken its place on his shoulders. Shifting, he felt his hat slide awkwardly on his head, regrettably stepping away from the warmth of Victor’s side to peer in the mirror. The squeak that escaped him when Victor pressed against his shoulder to peer in the same mirror was undignified and left Yuuri blushing as he adjusted the hat in his blurry reflection.

Victor was almost too distracted by Yuuri’s beauty to ignore the way his forehead was exposed in his own Santa hat. Concentrating, he rearranged his hat, muttering under his breath about the size of his own forehead.

“Your forehead isn’t big,” Yuuri mumbled, “you look good. All of you does.” Eyes growing the size of saucers, Yuuri clamped his hand over his mouth, turning on his heel to rush toward the impatient photographer.

A piece of Victor’s heart went with him, as Victor groaned in Chris’s direction. The compliment reminded Victor too closely of a night in the very last athlete’s village that he had ever shared with Yuuri Katsuki. A night that had changed Victor’s life and broken his heart, all at the same time. Sighing, he punched Chris’s shoulder before making his way to the location of his torture for the next hour.

Heat was building across the back of Yuri’s neck as he was repositioned over an artificial tree stump. In competition he wanted to be the focus of everyone’s attention, but under the unnatural heat of the stilted lights and the judgmental stares of his fellow athletes, Yuri felt a sickness curling into his stomach and the scowl slowly creeping back onto his face. The roll of a single bead of sweat down his spine made him shiver, his hands subconsciously flicking down to his leg with a desperate need to tuck it out of sight.

In contrast, Minami’s smile was still bright as he companionably chatted with the woman showing him how to pose. Although his leg and hand had changed in equipment over the years, he was used to their existence and embraced the power they gave him. Signing up for the calendar had been his idea, a chance to support the games he loved so much while showing pride in his body. Once he had given Yuuri his heartfelt speech, his coach had caved. For every ounce of shy in his coach, Minami had an equal amount of boldness, and the combination never ceased to garnish success.

“Alright crew, last set!” Backing away, the photographer once again lifted her camera, lights flashing in time with her directions.

Smile, look at the camera, look imposing, look at each other, stand up, sit down, be a marionette; all of the instructions of the last hour were burning Yuri’s nerve endings and he could feel his patience beginning to splinter. He didn’t want to be on display. He didn’t want his image plastered all over as if he should be someone’s inspiration. He wanted to compete and he wanted to claim the gold medal that was rightfully his, even if it was in a competition he never expected to be a part of. A small growl escaped him as the photographer declared them finished and he immediately dropped his leg behind the tree stump and out of view. Running his hand over his head to pull off the ridiculous hat, Yuri glared as a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Ready to throw down?” Minami joked, shaking Yuri’s shoulder in friendly fashion. “We only have two months left before we head to the games. I’m pumped, how about you?” An offended look flashed over Minami’s face as Yuri whacked his hand away.

“Why are you talking to me? We’re rivals,” Yuri snarled, rolling his shoulders back as he stood. He watched Minami slowly stand, continuing to glare in his rival’s direction.

Minami placed his hands on his hips, cocking his head to peer at Yuri. “Rivals doesn’t mean enemies, Yuri. At least it doesn’t have to.” Nodding in the direction of Leo and Guang Hong, Minami waited until Yuri faced him again. “We can be friends and competitors, there is no rule against that.”

“I have rules against that,” Yuri snapped, taking a step back when he realized that Victor was no longer next to him. “I don’t need friends. I need to win. Even if I have to compete in your games.”

Sucking in a harsh breath, Minami opened and closed his left hand. The metal fingers moved with fluidity and Minami raised his hand slightly into the air. “My games?” he questioned, lowering a quick glance to Yuri’s leg. “True, I grew up different, I could never compete in the same games that Yuuri or Victor did or that you could’ve. But what I do? What we all do…” Minami waved his hand toward the other athletes in the room. “It takes a strength that most people can’t understand. And we inspire those younger than us to have the same strength. As much as you might hate it, you are one of us now. You can continue this us versus them stuff you have in your brain, or you can realize we are all in this together. Rivals or not.” Shaking his head, Minami turned his back on Yuri, walking toward the dressing room with a disappointed droop in his shoulders.

Standing alone, Yuri steeled himself against the emotions rising in his chest. He wasn’t meant to be here, fate had been cruel to him in a way that was unfair. No matter what Minami claimed, Yuri was different, and he refused to let the chip fall from his shoulder because of some bright-haired moron’s quasi-inspirational speech. Clamping his jaw shut, Yuri turned on his heel, stomping toward the dressing him without looking at anyone around him. He would show them. He would show them all.

The wonderful art for this piece was created by @katsukifatale​ who is one of the busiest, sweetest, most supportive, and most talented people I know. Mac, you’re a blessing for this and for everything else you do for me and for this fandom.

[elanorjane]

Picture of Beauty: Rumbelle Funny Face (Ch1/?)

Summary: Fashion house Jefferson-Mills needs inspiration. Photographer Gold believes a librarian he photographed by accident has what it takes. Now it's up to Gold to turn Belle into a model worthy of Paris Fashion Week. Based on the movie Funny Face. Rating: This chapter PG-13 A/N: Unbeta'd. I have no idea whether someone had already written a Rumbelle Funny Face, I was too afraid to look. 

AO3

“I’m so bored I could kill all of you.” Regina Mills stood behind on her desk, perfectly framed by black and white demask curtains.  

Her seven garment men stood in a row in front of her, work boots scuffing the marble floor. Each one held at least two bolts of fabric in various colors and patterns.

Leroy looked down the line of exquisite cloth, “Whatsa matter with ‘em?”

Regina had put in the order herself. She’d okay’d every design detail down to the perfect shade of ultra violet for a lily to be printed on silk charmeuse. Leroy and his men hand dyed and cut patterns to her exact specifications. It was this kind of attention to detail that made Jefferson-Mills one of the emerging premier fashion houses. Now the latest swatches were staring her in the face...and they were hideous. A complete snoozefest.  

"It looks like my grandma’s knitting circle threw up in here. Where's the freshness? Where's the youth? Youth is beauty. I should know, I've been selling that lie for years."

Walter, standing at the end of the line and usually very docile, piped up, "Aren't they what you wanted?"

Regina circled around the desk. Walter swayed on his feet but stayed where he was. She spoke through clenched teeth, "They're exactly what I wanted. But not what I need." She threw her hands up in the direction of the fabrics, “It’s tired. It’s been done.” She stood in front of the blue and tan floral print Walter held, “That’s Chloe Spring 2017,” she dismissed. She took a few steps to her right and stopped at a sheer lilac, “And that’s Valentino Couture 2006.”

Leroy shrugged, "How many more types of fabric can there be?"

Regina gave him a withering glare that Walter and the others slunk away from. She paced back and forth, the men parting to make way. "What's missing? What do I need?" she muttered to herself.

Doc leaned forward, giving the collection an academic eye, “Pink?”

She grimaced, “God no.”

The double doors to her office burst open and Jefferson strode in. "Who's ready for Paris?" he sang in an exaggerated French accent. Everyone spun to look at him and Jefferson came to a standstill, eyes sweeping over the prints that stretched from one end of Regina’s office to the other. "Ugh, hideous!"  

She rolled her eyes, "They're your designs!"

"Really?" he squinted and bent at the waist to better study a linen Doc clutched to his chest. He straightened, shaking his head. "They're hideous."

"I know," she sighed. She tilted her head at them. If she stared at them long enough they might become what they needed.

Regina had discovered Jefferson when he was a single father schlepping away at design school. He was obviously brilliant, but in desperate need of some editing. Underneath the sketches of a madman, his clothes were brilliant and she saw his designs for what they were: dreamy fairytale looks that transported the wearer to anther realm. They could be a turns romantic and street. But he was a classic creative with no business sense. He needed an investor, a partner, to make them luxe. And that's where she came in. She brought order to his madness. Made a cohesive collection editorial enough to put in magazines and made them cost effective enough to put into production. Without her it was all top hats and ascots.  

Speaking of…Jefferson revolved around the men and the bolts of fabric. He wore a long black coat of his own design with steel buttons and gray collar. Everything else he wore was black except for a merlot ascot, his signature accessory. When he shows he pairs it with a top hat, an eccentricity she couldn’t cure him of.  

He pulled the end of his necktie from his shirt, snatching off Leroy’s hat and miming shining his head with it. The workman grumbled and swatted at Jefferson, snatching his hat back and jamming it onto his head. No one was taking this seriously.  

"Jefferson, we need forty two looks for Fashion Week and right now we barely have one!"

He scoffed wandering aimlessly around her office, picking things up at random, "That can't be true, what about the stuff I sent you last week?"

She followed him around her office, “Gold started working on the photos this morning.” She crossed her arms, “But it’s not going to be enough.”  

Jefferson threw himself onto the divan,  "What can I tell you, Regina. I have no inspiration right now! I'm done, I'm kaput!" he threw his arm over his eyes dramatically.  

"Well get inspired now or we're all kaput!"

He deflated, "Regina, you know nothing about the life of an artist or the artistic process."  

She leaned over his head sweetly, “If you want to keep Grace in private school, you will get up off your ass, right now, and design me some winning looks.”

The door to her office opened again and Gold strode in, a folder of photographs in his hand.  

Jefferson craned his neck, "Gold, darling, when are you going to let me dress you?" he called.  

Gold didn’t break his pace to assess his own pristine three piece suit. "And what, Jefferson, is wrong with the way I dress?"

Jefferson vaulted up from the couch, "Nothing, love, absolutely nothing. And that's the problem. Every time I look at you I just want to put you slightly out of skew." He pulled back, assessing him like an auteur. He reached forward as if to adjust Gold’s tie.  

Gold swatted his hand away, "That is one thing I can guarantee you, Jefferson. You will never, ever, see me askew." He turned to Regina, immediately reading her face, “What’s wrong?”  

“We don’t love the looks we sent you. We are lost.”

He tossed the pile of photographs onto her desk, “And I’ve had my time wasted.”  

Regina perched on the edge of her desk and flipped through the prints he’d made from that morning’s photoshoot. The model pouted, thrust, and arched her back in every photo. Not the aesthetic they were going for. “What happened?”

He sighed, “I told her to imagine herself in the Museum of Modern Art. I got Ripley’s Believe It or Not. Get me someone I can work with, Regina, or I quit.”

“No, you don’t. Who else would let you work in a darkroom and develop prints like it’s 1957?” She’d had enough grievances. She stood up and faced all of them. “Now here this. In mere weeks we are supposed to be boarding a plane to France with forty plus looks. Paris Fashion Week happens with or without us and I would prefer not to be a laughing stock!”  She leaned a hand on the photos and turned to Gold. “What do you need to fix this?”

Gold scoffed, “Someone who could keep their overt sexuality in check long enough for me to take a picture of the dress they’re wearing.”

“Sex sells,” she countered.  

“Sex is everywhere,” he replied, disinterested.  

For the first time, Regina’s fiery determination petered out to self-doubt, “Can I have possibly scraped the bottom of the barrel of asking women to feel terrible about their looks?”

“You could make them feel stupid,” Gold suggested.

She was intrigued. After all, she was in the business of making people feel inferior, “How so?”

“Move your focus upstairs.”

She glanced at the ceiling, “The marketing department?”

Gold shook his head, “No, the brain. Find someone with some intelligence. A woman can be beautiful as well as intellectual.”

She thought on that for a minute before shaking her head, “Maybe a different background. We could go on location. Somewhere intellectual. Somewhere with books.”

“A bookstore.” Jefferson offered.

She made a face, “Bookstores don’t exist anymore. A library.” She warmed up to the idea. “Yes, one of those little ones everyone’s always trying to save.”  Regina pointed at Leroy, “What’s the closest podunk town?”  

Leroy already had his phone out and Google Maps up, “Storybrooke.”

[anastralhologram]

Letting out a soft sigh, Rinan straightened up her composure.

                 She was exhausted. She’d been working in this business for a decent while now but she had never felt as tired as she was today. She had been up since two am. She had already recorded two radio interviews, and attended two separate photo-shoots. She sat in the makeup chair, letting everyone work around her. She had her headphones in her ears and let her eyes close. Shamelessly, she was listening to Bastille. Rinan just needed to hear his voice… He was so talented with his writing and she loved listening to the words he used. The only thing that made it better was his beautiful voice. She couldn’t believe how much range and control he had.

                 She could feel some kind of lotion being rubbed all over her skin. She had just finished her third and final shoot for the day, they were in the process of humanizing her again. She knew it was a necessity, but she hated being all made up for these shoots. That was one of the things they wouldn’t let her have her way with. Photoshoots required makeup. Those were the rules of the industry and let’s face it, she was in no position to back talk. They let her have her way with every bit of music she made.

                 It was nearly 7am now. Soon she’d be able to go and sleep for a bit before being hit with another barrage of “things to do” by her manager, Parker. She was proud of what she was accomplishing but boy was it work. She felt a tap on her shoulder and she pulled an earbud from her ear. “We’re all done!” a chipper voice quilled to her. Breathing in deeply and exhaling just as deep, she pushed herself from the tall chair she was in. Her outfit left little to the imagination and she was ready to strip down and get back into some comfy clothes. Heather, the makeup artist of the day, packed up her case and left the changing room the two had been in. Rinan stretched her arms about her head, her other ear bud popping out. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and chucked them onto of the vanity with her music device. She reached behind her back, unclasping the hooks on her bra and letting it slide down her arms. She unzipped the side of her black, skin-tight trousers and squeezed herself out of them. She stood there for a moment, only in her underwear, enjoying the freedom.

                   After that short lived moment of happiness, she found the comfy 501 jeans she had arrived in and slipped those on, grabbing her baggy white tee and pulling her head and arms through. There was a knock at the door. “Your car is waiting for you Miss Astrea!” A voice called from the other side. She scooted up her old school cd player and headed out the door.

                   A few hours later, she was stepping out of a steamy, warm shower. She dried her body off and glanced at her hotel closet, trying to find something low key to where. Her publicist and advertising people had done her right because it seemed like no matter where she went now, someone recognized her. Mostly for the now famous Rolling Stone cover photo. Her album had just released that day and her stomach was just a nervous pit. She decided she’d go out for some coffee to perk herself up. Picking out a pair of black, distressed jeans, she slid into them, having already put her thong on. They were tight and accentuated how thin her legs were. She picked out a black crop top and decided against a bra. She never liked them and since she didn’t have huge breasts, it wasn’t a big deal if she didn’t wear one. The crop top came just above her naval and had short sleeves. She had a big tattoo on her arm that read “365.” It was something she had gotten after she got her English degree a few years back. Just a reminder to try and live every day to its fullest.  Before she had gotten into the shower, she had been watching the weather channel. She had always dreamed of being one of those storm chasers… Deciding she might need something else, something to maybe hide her from potential fans, she settled on a large black hat. Witchy… she thought to herself and laughed a bit. She spritzed a bit of her favourite perfume on, tugged on a pair of booties and made her way out of her sleeping quarters and into the living area. She grabbed some cash off of the table by the door; she was ready to go.

               Oh just look at this fuckin’ line…She thought to herself as she approached the many people who were waiting to have their orders taken. Now that’s not very nice…Rinan scolded herself. She was in her own world when she felt a hand on her skin and a very familiar voice. “Rinan?” She turned on her heel and her eyes went wide, her mouth actually agape. As he laughed aloud and spoke again, she glanced around briefly, not wanting them to draw attention to themselves.  She reached out and grabbed then sleeve to his jacket, leading him to a more secluded area. He followed without hesitation. She stopped once in the hallway and turned to face him again. “What are you doing here?”

                 Okay, now this was getting weird. As she waited for him to respond; he stayed silent, brows raised waiting for her to explain first. “I travel for work. I’m here on business.” She explained. Day wasn’t the only one who could dance around the truth ;) Rinan watched as Dan stared at her. She wasn’t sure why he was being so quiet. Her eyes were on his and it’s like she was lost in them. They seemed different though. Like he knew something she didn’t know. And he didn’t let on either. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and shrugged. “Well, I’m here on business too.” He said shortly, shrugging at her. She nodded, not quite sure what to say. He had given her his number; she hadn’t called him. Surely he wasn’t upset about that. There was a very odd silence between them. It wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t really uncomfortable either. “Excuse me.” A voice spoke. They both turned their heads in unison and realized they were standing right in the middle of the hallway, right in this woman’s way. Dan took a step back and Rinan, without thinking, took a step forward. Forward a bit too far because she could feel Dan’s breath on her lips. The woman made her way by awkwardly and the two of them just stood there, eyes locked. Rinan felt Dan’s hand on her waist, guiding her body into his. She didn’t resist. What was he doing to her? She had never felt so weak. He tilted his head a bit, his eyes gazing down and then back at hers.

             He made a sly comment about her on the cover of Rolling Stone and her eyes were wide again. She playfully pushed his chest, pushing him back from her. He let out the most adorable, heartfelt laugh and she shook her head at him, trying to fight back a smile. “Come on babe, we’ve left my tea behind.” He told her. She looked at him quizzically, but he just took her hand in his and lead her back the way they’d come. By the time they got back to where he’d left his bev, it was gone. “What a waste.” He spoke to himself. “Come on, the queue’s down, I’ll get you another.” She told him, her hand still in his, not realizing. There was something so comfortable and second nature about touching him. They each ordered their drinks and found a table in the corner, far enough away from everyone else who was dining in. As they sipped on their drinks, they talked. He asked her about how long she’d been into music, her inspirations, and how everything was going over all. “Honestly it’s really all overwhelming. I’ve been in the background for so long, I just, I’m not sure how to handle all of this.” She let out a short laugh. “If the album’s even a success. Who knows! Maybe my words are just meant for other people.” She wasn’t finishing for compliments; she was genuinely nervous. She had never doubted herself before but this album was so personal to her. It was the very first part of herself she’d offered to share with the world and she was terrified of rejection.

             He reached over and took one of her hands in his and squeezed. He encouraged her and told her everything a girl could want to hear. Rinan was still reserved though. She was undeniably attracted to Dan, but something in his eyes scared her. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. They talked about a lot of other things and before they knew it, fifteen minutes had turned into an hour. Glancing up, Rinan happened to see a nearby clock. “Looks like I get to be the one who runs out this time.” She said, standing up, letting go of his hand that she was still holding. He stood up with her. “Wait, how long are you in town?” He asked as she turned to leave. Her heart sank and she turned to face him. “Tonight’s my last night. I’m flying out in the morning.”

             He asked if she’d come to his show that night. She paused. He wanted to see her again. She knew she wanted to see him again. Feel him again… Why was she so hesitant? Finally she nodded in agreement and they exchanged information about where it was and how she’d get in. He didn’t mention her not calling him one time. Maybe he didn’t think of her at all? “I’ll see you tonight then.” She didn’t give him any time to say anything else and was off, on her way to another interview. I could just not go… She thought to herself as she walked quick pace down the sidewalk. What the fun in that? She argued with herself.