#I... figured y'all in the tickling community would like something new from me

[nikki-tine]

do not perceive me /////

(ft. @xsunnysoftx's own Doctor Kia Lockhart in the foreground,,)

[izcana]

Tommy and the Newt Pt. 6

Be Our Guest - Animated: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afzmwAKUppU&ab_channel=disneysongsnet Film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KedA_rkor0s&ab_channel=MichelleHernandez

***

Thomas, after who knows how long later, peered up from the pillow his face was smushed in beforehand.

"I'm sorry," Teresa said as soon as she saw his teary face. She seemed genuinely distressed about him being upset, his puffy eyes and sniffles. "I truly atone for him. Newt is...rather complex...He gets into these great big mood swings, you see..."

Thomas snorted under his breath. "You shouldn't apologise for him. He should be apologising to you. Mood swings aren't excuses for his behaviour." Who did this beast think he was? Locking people in his dungeons, forcing them to dine with him, while they suffer through the longing for home. Or maybe that was just him. Thomas figured it was time to divert to a different topic. It didn't do him good to speak ill of his new host (some host he was). "What happened here? Why can you all –––"

"Talk?" Teresa completed for him. Thomas jumped back when the doors of the wardrobe opened. "I –––"

She was just about to stammer out something when there was timid a knock on the door. Thomas gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "I SAID NO!" He shrieked. He hoped whoever that was on the other side of the door was startled.

Startled they were, indeed. "Uh...sweetheart?" An older woman, one with a melodious, deep voice called. "It's not Newt, can you open the door, please?"

Teresa's head perked up at the voice. "It's Chancellor Paige, you should open the door."

Thomas listened to her, and before he could register anything, a tray with a teapot and cup neatly balanced on it was trailing in. "I'm sorry about just now," the older woman – no, "Chancellor Paige", who Thomas identified to be the teacup, said. Surprisingly, he was no longer shocked at the utilities and furniture that could talk. As regarding her apology, Thomas said nothing, but he hoped he could communicate with his eyes he was sorry, too. He never meant to cause them trouble with who seemed to be their master.

"Hey there!" the small teacup cried, wiggling from side to side. Thomas noticed the small flaw on the otherwise perfect floral-etched cup – a small chip near the handle. He could also see eyes and a small mouth, and what seemed to be a rosy tint to the kid's cheeks. From the sound of his voice, he couldn't have been more than 12. "You're pretty!"

"Chuck," Chancellor Paige reprimanded. "Settle down." She tipped her nozzle to the boy (Chuck, she called him) and he giggled when the hot stream of water hit the insides of the porcelain. A transparent drop splayed out of the chip and landed on Thomas. "Mind your manners, please. Introduce yourself."

From first glance, Chancellor Paige (he still didn't know her first name...or was 'Paige' her first name?) was not someone to be crossed. She was obviously a stern woman, and if her melodious, toned, and slightly raspy voice was anything to go by, she was probably in her 40s-50s. "I'm Chuck Paige!" Chuck grinned, his rosy cheeks tinting even brighter. If Thomas had to guess, he'd say Chuck was shy.

"Take a drink, Hon," Chancellor Paige (who's signature Thomas knew was not Paige) said, raising her nozzle slightly towards Chuck's direction.

Thomas picked up Chuck carefully, worried he'd hurt the kid. Porcelain was fragile, after all. Chuck giggled. "It tickles!"

"I'm Ava Paige," the woman continued. "Chuck here is my son."

"I'm Minho and this shuck-face here is Gally." Thomas jumped back; he hadn't noticed the candle holder and clock that were standing close to his feet.

"Who are you calling a shuck-face, shuck-face?" The one called Gally taunted. "You're the shuck-face!"

"What's a 'shuck-face'?" Thomas asked quickly, directing the attention of the fighting mantlepieces to him. It was rather comical: a gold ornament clock and a bronze, rusted torch holder fighting, waving their appendages around madly. He was very worried that one of the still-burning candlesticks on Minho's (supposed) "arm" was going to catch on fire.

"A shuck-face is what Minho is!" The one who called himself Gally yelled furiously, his cheeks border lining on a botchy red.

"Ah...ignore him," Minho smirked cheekily, and Thomas smiled back shyly in response. "We made up the term stuck as furniture and common items. A shuck-face is an insulting term to someone, but we usually use it as a joke. A joke, Gally."

Gally's dangerously purple shade gradually faded to metallic gold along with the rest of his body. "Shut up, Minho!"

"Now, now, boys?" Ava purred dangerously. "Let's be polite to each other, shall we?" She gave Thomas a warm smile. "They're always like that, bickering back and forth." She smiled fondly. Thomas knew she was referring to the two boys, who both had the telltale deep voice from after puberty, but still acted like kids. It made him wonder: how old were these people, these poor souls that were stuck as items because of the selfish beast?

"Anyway..." Minho whistled, not paying Gally the slightest. "Aren't you hungry? You said you weren't, but..."

"I am terribly hungry," Thomas admitted. Even his own voice sounded tiny to himself. "But...I didn't want to dine with him."

Gally snorted, and Thomas thought he could see a smudge of a kind person beneath his tough exterior. "Understandable. The rest of use told him to be polite but he didn't listen. I seem to remember him promising to make you blush and then threatening to smash your door down. Did you blush?" The feather duster in the corner, whom Thomas had just noticed, snickered loudly. The rest followed, and although Ava reproached them, her heart didn't seem in it.

"I didn't," Thomas played along. "Teresa can prove it."

"He was flushed," Teresa pitched in. "But I suspect that was from anger and sadness, not embarrassment or love."

"Oooh, I love being threatened!" Thomas rolled his eyes, and everyone laughed along heartily. His heart ached. Was this how the beast – Newt, used to be like?

"I'm Sonya," the colourful feather duster said, blinking at the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. "I was wondering if you want to go eat something since you're hungry? We have tonnes of food..."

"I-I'm not s-sure," Thomas stammered. This had to be a trick...wasn't it? "Didn't Newt say I couldn't eat?"

Minho and Gally both scoffed in sync. Even the upright Ava snickered, and Chuck scrunched up his nose. Did he miss something? "Don't worry about Newt," Sonya said, letting out a snicker. "He's all bark and no bite. He wouldn't actually starve you to death. Besides, you're our guest, not our prisoner!"

"Well, I am a prisoner," Thomas barked, but he followed her out the open doorway without complaint.

"Wait!" Teresa called after him. "You have to be appropriately dressed!"

Thomas shrugged. No one would be watching him except for these people, and they had already seen him debauched. What does it matter? "Why? Who cares?"

"I do!" Teresa cried, and Thomas had a distinct recognition of a three-year-old him staring up at his mum defiantly. "You have to look pretty to go to dinner!"

"Not that he's not already pretty," Minho said. "I'm just telling the truth, man. I'm not really interested but anyone with eyes would say the same; you are somebody blessed with an aesthetically pleasing face, okay?" He clarified after Thomas shot him an incredulous look.

Whether or not Thomas agreed was not a matter, as everyone else seemed to be in agreement, and before he knew it, he was being pushed by Minho and Gally to Teresa's direction. "Come in!" Teresa yelled directly into his ear, making him wince. "I'll give you a makeover!"

He stepped into the wardrobe body obediently, not that there was anything else he could do. "Hmmm...we were expecting a girl so I have mostly dresses here, but I could tailor some into suits if you –––" Thomas thought about it. Could he wear a dress? It's been so long...the only thing he wore similar to a dress after his mum passed was a nightgown.

"Oh, actually..." He trailed off. "I'd like a dress, please, but no ball gowns."

"Huh," Teresa mused. "Your body frame is about the same as a girl's and I think you could pull off a dress very neatly..." Everything in the wardrobe started to fly around quickly, making Thomas head spin as his eyes tried to keep up with the rapidly shifting items inside the closet.

"Try this one?" Teresa implored, and a violet dress landed in front of him. It was a deep violet, and the belt twinkled with a ring of star-like diamonds, or so it seemed. the veil around Thomas' waist reached to his knee and the skirt portion of the dress flared out dramatically around the leg area. Thomas stripped of his cotton wear and slipped on the dress. It had a silky feel around his skin, and the feeling of the fabric around his hips was perfect.

"You look beautiful!" Teresa gushed.

Thomas looked at his shoulders and groaned. "You put me in a strapless top?"

Teresa opted to ignore him.

––––––––––––––––––––––

"I'm telling you, shank," Minho reassured the boy again. "You look brilliant."

"Are you sure?" He stuttered. "I haven't worn a dress s-since I...I was 10." Minho didn't push on the subject; Thomas would part with it when he deemed it safe to.

"Yes!" Gally huffed and panted as he sprinted (as fast as he could as a clock, that was) down the stone stairs. Evidently, he was also tired of Thomas' whining.

"Okay, fine!" Thomas agreed, putting his hands up. "No need to yell!"

******

"Because you are our guest..." Minho began, his candles raised high.

"The castle's staff presents you with...YOUR DINNER!"

******

"That...was...AWESOME!" Thomas declared, flopping back onto his chair lazily. "Y'all are amazing cooks!"

"It was all Sonya and Chancellor Paige," Gally said honestly. "We just danced around and annoyed them."

"Please, do pay my thanks to Ava and Sonya," Thomas smiled. The violet fabric of his gown was starting to slip off his shoulders, revealing more than one mole. If Newt was here, Minho reckoned he'd be swooning. Or as capable of swooning as Newt is, anyway.

––––––––––––––––––––––

Thomas was climbing up the stairs. Specifically, the stairs to the West Wing. Yes, "the West Wing" as in the one Newt told him not to visit. Ava had told him to go to bed and the others retired to their respective room, trusting Thomas to see himself back to his room without a hitch. They may have undermined his underlying curiosity, though. He was going to get behind the secrets and magic of this eerie castle.

He reached the telltale arch of a wing and he peeked inside cautiously, treading his steps softly as to not arouse anyone who may be around, specifically the Beast. Thomas walked around, marvelling at the paintings and the beautiful, intricate carvings on the wall deciphering a maiden doing her washing. Thomas ran his fingers through the dark stone lit up by moonlight, and traced over the face of the woman.

She looked happy.

He followed the design until it ended, and it led him to a king-size bed with unmade covers. Thomas assumed that was where Newt slept. Beside the bed, there stood a glowing rose in a glass case. The rose had all but 5 petals fallen, the rest shrivelled up at the bottom of the casing. He leaned forward, as if entranced, to touch the casing that surrounded the blood-red rose which glowed like the sun, the moon, and all the stars together.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" A furious shout from behind him caused him to almost knock over the container. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU COULD HAVE DONE?"

"No," Thomas cried, having the urge to curl up into a small ball and hide from the beast's scratchy roar. "I-I'm s-sorry."

"GET OUT!" He demanded furiously, and Thomas, with the energy pent up in his legs, ran.

He sprinted down the nearest pathway and didn't look back.

***

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X