#so shanks wears the feather as an earring out in the open

[blackholesun321]

how many bird like instincts do they have in the wings!au? like was shanks dancing around like a goof when he wanted to impress mihawk early in the courtship? or did he only bring shiny things cuz thats a bird thing and also they are PIRATES like come on bringing shiny things is an overlap in courtships so they gotta do that one

Another ask to add the collection. mmmm yes this shall go into the pile.

I'm all for instincts, maybe even imprinting being more pronounced in this world than ours. Adoptions are not just accepted but expected, and parental and protective instincts are stronger. Perhaps everyone has Talon-like claws for preening and a better grasp. When instincts are high, people may chirp, coo, hiss, or rumble at each other. I'm guessing children are more prone to making noises involuntarily. On more than one occasion, Shanks has been known to call at Mihawk when drunk. It's hilarious how red his face gets, especially if Mihawk calls back.

But yes shiny is a given big shiny little shiny all the shiny! I already have the head canon that Mihawk’s necklace was a gift from Shanks in this au that just means it has a double meaning.

Shanks totally trying to act calm and collected and failing: so I found this cool knife necklace that looks like a cross.. do you want it

Mihawk who is the gaudiest person on the planet and wants the necklace more then god: this is.. acceptable 

Shanks: I mean if you don’t like I can always-

Mihawk: no its mine now I’ll wear it forever

Mihawk has so many rare coins, Shanks found rocks, and jewelry, and soft clothes; he's practically drowning in them. He, of course, is not immune to the pull of giving shiny things to his flock, so he starts giving Shanks weapons taken from his fallen enemies, gems he happened to find, and, Oh, here's a few million Berri silks I bought on a whim. And then it hits him – he's courting Red-Haired Shanks. Shanks, on the other hand, just thinks he's integrating Mihawk into his flock. It's cool; he's done this plenty of times before. But see captain goes and steals an earring worn by a Celestial Dragon because he thinks Mihawk would like it, it isn't just integrating! (Benn is so done; he needs a raise... and more booze, and an even bigger raise – he can't keep dealing with his captain's love life; it's giving him grey hair.)

Maybe less dancing around like an idiot (though that would be funny as hell) and more subtle things, like fluffing up your feathers when someone you like is near or stretching them out doing feather flaps to show off how strong they are. Perhaps dancing is a big part of the culture, but more in a human style, with wing movements worked in. Maybe every culture has their different ideas of dances and what they mean maybe some are more reserved about it maybe some are more open, different cultures, each have a different type of marital dance some involving feathers, some involving beautiful dress, even some involving fire.  sometimes is gendered. Sometimes it isn’t… Oh, flying dancing! Like eagles! Two or more partners fly perfectly in sync and then embrace one another, kiss, and do the dive. A fall locked in an embrace, certain that your partner and you can be so in sync that you can leave the clasp at the exact same time! Its practically means to everyone and sundry that your married if you do it correctly, and don’t like die. Though it has mostly fallen out of fashion with in the blues the only ones who still do it is those individuals who are super traditional and or brave enough or grand-line pirates. Sometimes it can happen on accident though start flying with your partner start mimicking there motions next thing you know instinct takes over and your doing a swan dive off a cliff. Most of time this doesn’t happen but it has and it can.

The dive of Mihawk and Shanks happened at the weirdest, craziest, but very 'them' time. They were both fending off a bunch of marines who'd decided to take them on after one of their many duels, thinking they'd be weaker. They were wrong, very wrong, and now two very pissed-off pirates are slaughtering them. It's not that easy; there's probably a vice admiral or two there, but Mihawk and Shanks are still obviously winning the battle. Eventually, it becomes an aerial brawl, and both of them slowly become more and more  in sync with one another, one heart, one body, four wings, and two swords. Mihawk thrusts, Shanks blocks, Shanks parries, Mihawk ducks. It's a deadly dance, all their own, created in seconds from years of dueling, fighting, and knowing each other backwards and forwards. They fight and they dance, and they win. Then comes the adrenaline high, the after-rush of battle. Covered in blood, sweat, and wounds, practically delirious with blood loss, they embrace, they kiss, and they dive off a fucking cliff. They manage to catch themselves before they hit the ocean, of course, but immediately both of them are torn into by Ben, for getting yourselves almost fucking killed. Gods and devils, congratulations on getting married, but fucking never ever do that shit again.

[chromatic-lamina]

doohickeys—lawbin brotp fanfic

This is not dark, but it’s an excerpt from a very dark multi-chaptered fic, so I won’t link. My AO3 profile can be found in the header of this page though. This has canon-verse elements, but is divergent. It’s post-canon. Law’s at a safe house where Robin, some revolutionaries, and others, are planning. He’s recovering from captivity and had his earrings removed while imprisoned. 

They’ve just been returned and he’s wearing them once again. Doflamingo’s free in this verse, but only features in this excerpt in passing. T-rated. Light humour and LawRobin banter after the cut? I hope.

"They're back," Robin said, taking a seat next to Law on the bench seat at one of the communal tables in the house. Koala and Sabo pored over maps, etched out routes, took calls from Revolutionaries underground, from one another.

Law looked up from the paper he was reading, a smile she hadn't seen for a long while across his face. A quiet thing.

Doflamingo was not beyond lying. He made a career out of it, but the barbarity he publicly passed off as Law's just deserts and as proof of Doflamingo's own immaculate character were enough to let her know Law had gone through worse than the feathered bastard detailed.  Humans made her sick.

"My crew's here?"

"Ha, not yet.” She sipped her coffee and tapped the back of her earlobe. "All your pretty things are back in their rightful place."

When Shanks and Benn had brought in his bedraggled self he was worse for wear. At least he was conscious this time, though he probably would’ve preferred to have been knocked out. Then again, Law liked control. Of course. Robin understood.  

It wasn't comfortable to see him bruised and marked, and the ugly new tattoo, but the lack of earrings rattled her the most. Even rousing from a bed-rumpled nap, they'd offset his cranky just-woken face. Usually she didn't pay the hoops much mind, but it was wrong to see him without them. Almost as if Doflamingo or whoever had shaved off his goatee or scrubbed him free of ink. 

Law returned to his paper, turned the page.

He ran a finger along a column outlining Tony-ya's latest medical breakthrough. His tanuki friend was amazing.

"Your clothes don't look bad but they're not really you," Robin said, assessing him with a frown, gaze dropping to his hand. Some of his ink seemed coloured in. Law continued to read. "It's why I'm so happy that you're sporting your primitive body modification trinkets again."

"My doohickeys."

"Your thingamajigs."

Law had a tiny dimple, an indentation, when he smiled. It usually passed off as a wrinkle, a blemish, vexation. It twitched.

"That's why I hoped my crew was back."

"They have a supply of captain-only clothes?"

"In a way."

"Why's it only you that gets the chance to be cool?"

"Saves on the laundry." Law licked his thumb and turned the page. Luffy and Ussop grinned out at him. He closed the paper, folded it, and pushed it to the centre of the table. Turned to Robin. "I'm honoured you'd consider me cooler than Bepo."

"Let's not get carried away."

Law slumped. "Yeah. No-one's cooler than Bepo." How could he compete?

He extended his arm. Ah, he was open to that. Robin moved in and felt his pulse beating strongly under his skin, his blood skating about. It was a relief.

She hugged him so he had to fight for breath.

"Put away your extra arms, Nico-ya."

She did but not her actual arms.

"Hug me back, you bastard." Her hair shone as blue-black as his own under the bald light of the meeting room.

"You've got me pinned."

She released her arms and re-established them once she felt his own arms around her. His grip was firmer than she expected and he rested his head on her own. His breath was steady, and pain rose along with that which floated away.

"Oi, oi! What would Franky say?" Sabo called out, glancing up from the compass he stilt-walked across the map in front of him.

"Don't sweat it, bro," Franky called from an adjacent room. "Law and I are in an open relationship."

"You brought my boyfriend here?" Law laughed into Robin's hair. "And then hugged me in front of him?" Words for her only. She didn't say anything. Just squeezed him tighter. Stupid surgeon. 

I’d put this excerpt at a T-rating, but the actual story is a definite E-rating with a lot of trigger warnings. Hope this moment of warmth came across though. Thanks for reading.

[huilian]

Character: Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

Summary:  One person's hobby can quickly be the entire family's business, especially with a family like this (aka, Cass's adventures with ballet featuring her relationship with her siblings and Steph)

***

It’s rare that Cass would willingly sit in front of a laptop for an extended period of time for something that is not a case. It’s even rarer that her schedule would coincide with Tim’s enough to allow them to be sitting in front of their laptops together. (Well, separately, but in the same room at the same time. So, close enough to being together.)

It’s only because Tim has been expecting it for a few minutes now that the sound of a laptop being slammed closed doesn’t startle him. Tim looks up to find Cass putting her head into her hands while saying, “Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This… this damned website!” Cass all but shouts. “How am I supposed to know which shoes fit me best if I haven’t worn them ever? I’m reading your website to figure that out!”

“Umm… Cass?” Tim is now confused. Very confused. “Can you backtrack a little? What shoes?”

“Ballet shoes!”

“I thought you have them already? What shoes have you been wearing to class then?” Cass has been taking dance classes for months now. She must have ballet shoes, there’s little to no chance of her doing all those classes barefooted. Tim knows that ballet requires special shoes, which is about 50% of his current knowledge about ballet.

“Not those shoes. These are the… the… the pointe shoes!”

Tim is now even more confused. “So? There you go. The shoes you’re looking for are those pointe shoes.”

“No! There’re different kinds of them!”

“Huh?”

“Different brands and models and years and… and the endless modifications!”

“Okay.” Tim raises his hands placatingly. This sounds like an information problem, which he can help with. “Can I maybe, you know, look at the website? Maybe I can help?”

Cass slides her laptop to Tim. Tim closes his own laptop, then opens Cass’. Fifteen tabs greet him from the screens of Cass’s laptop. Tim sees that this is not the only window opened, and is then greeted with another three windows, each having tabs ranging from ten to thirty. Huh. It’s usually Tim who has that problem, opening too many tabs and windows and finding himself trapped in an information hellhole before he looks up to find that he has spent the entire day reading about the probabilities of oak tree getting struck by lightning.

Thankfully, that same thing has prepared Tim for this day. He quickly skims about every other tab. About a quarter of them is measuring tips, half of them are blogs with fitting and choosing tips, some are lists of pros and cons, and the rest are catalogs.

“Are all of these for choosing pointe shoes, Cass?”

“Yes,” Cass grits out.

“I… I never knew there are so many brands of pointe shoes.”

“Exactly! How am I supposed to choose if there’s so many of them!”

Tim, armed with his years of experience of sorting through bullshit on the internet, finds the most promising blog article titled ‘How To Choose Your Pointe Shoes: Guide to Getting the Best Shoes’ and starts to read.

“It says to go for a professional fitting? Maybe we should do that.” Cass makes a sound of protest. “I can start researching, but it’ll take ages and I’m not sure I’ll get it right. I’m pretty sure that poor pointe shoes fitting causes injuries, Cass. When do you need it anyway?”

Cass mumbles something. Tim, whose attention is now partially reading the section titled ‘Shank Strength’ and wondering what on earth a shank even is, doesn’t catch it at first. Then, the connecting nerves between his ears and his brain rebooted, and Tim screeches out, “Tomorrow? Yeah, no. We’re going to a professional fitting right now.”

“Ugh.”

“Cass,” Tim says, drawing out the syllable.

“Ugh.”

“Come on.”

“Ugh.”

“You’re seriously gonna make me read all of this before tomorrow? Have some mercy, Cass,” Tim teases. But seriously, he doesn’t want to have to read all of it in the short time-frame he has. He can do it, but then he’s gonna skip dinner and forgoes sleep and rest entirely and he just got Alfred to stop hounding him to go to sleep after his latest incident . He doesn’t want to have to do it again.

“You’re gonna do it anyway.” He is, but still. It’s the thought that counts. “Fine. It can’t be worse than comparing the box length of Grishko and Bloch.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

“Do you know where?”

Tim freezes. “Shit.” Now he still has to research the fitter in Gotham, and vet the places, and do all sorts of things he was hoping to not have to do by going to a fitter. Damn it.

Cass, being the absolute horrible sister that she is, just laughed at him.

“It’s your shoes, Cass! You do it!”

“No. You read about it. It’s your project now,” Cass smiles triumphantly.

“You are the worst.”

“I am the best.”

***

Jason only comes to the Manor to return Alfred’s pans, swear to god. There’s about half a dozen of Alfred’s pans (because even though it’s Bruce’s money that bought them, they are Alfred’s pans) in his latest apartment, and it’s getting ridiculous. Maybe take a book or two from the library while he’s there, because even with all of Bruce’s fault, he still keeps the library well-stocked with Jason’s favourite books.

So how come that leads to him being dragged by Cass to the Cave?

“Cass. Cass, please,” he tries.

Cass’ response is only to drag him even faster. How a girl half his size has the strength to drag him down the Cave’s stairs, Jason doesn’t know.

“Cass.”

“You said you don’t have anything else to do today. So you can do this.”

“Well, Cass, I-”

“It’ll be fun. You only have to sit. You can even read the entire time.”

“What if-”

“Alfred agrees.”

Jason sighs. “I doubt this is what he meant when he told you to go somewhere else to practice, Cass.”

“I asked him. He agrees.”

Jason sighs again. The problem is, she did ask Alfred, and Alfred did agree. Though why Cass chose to ask Alfred for permission to use Jason as a living, human barre for her ballet practice after Alfred banished her from using the kitchen countertop is a mystery. Maybe she thinks that Jason is not going to protest if Alfred said yes?

“Why me? You can have literally anyone to be your personal barre, Cass.”

“You are the right height.”

There’s nothing to say to that, is there? What’s Jason going to do, argue that he is not the right height? He doesn’t even know how high a ballet barre should be. Besides, Cass is right. Alfred already said yes, and he even went so far as expressing his delight in seeing Jason interacting with his siblings outside of their ‘nighttime activities’. So there’s that. There’s no arguing with Alfred when he had given out his verdict like that.

They arrive at the Cave, and then Cass drags Jason towards the empty space somewhere in between the sparring mats and the computer. Then, she lets Jason’s arm go, which should be enough of an opening for Jason to escape, but Jason knows what Cass can do. She’ll just catch him and drag him back. Jason accepts his fate and stays put even when Cass leaves his side to in search of a chair. Cass finds one, then drags it over, and then says, “Sit.”

Jason, who knows that this girl can easily force him to sit, sits. Cass smiles and nods her approval. She scrolls down on her phone for a while, and then music fils the Cave via the speaker system Bruce installed. Jason allows himself a small shake of the head. It’s just like Bruce to install a speaker system and then let it go to waste by preferring to brood in silence.

Cass puts her hand on Jason’s shoulder, and starts dancing. The hand is feather-light throughout her first combination, and Jason knows enough about ballet to know that this meant Cass doesn’t particularly need a barre to do the movements.

But. Well. It’s not half bad, watching his sister dance in between reading his book. That, coupled with the knowledge that Alfred is somewhere upstairs, most definitely preparing Jason’s favorite foods, made Jason relax.

“Stop moving!” Oh. Jason relaxing meant that his shoulder is now not in the same place it was before.

Jason smiles and says, “Sorry, sorry,” surprising himself that he actually meant the apology.

***

“Cass? Are you there?” Cass had promised to teach Steph a new throw today, but she’s not in the Cave, so Steph is now up in Wayne Manor, hoping she’ll find Cass in her room. “Cass? You promised to show me that throw, remember?”

Steph hears movement from inside Cass’ room, so she opens the door, considering Cass to be well and truly notified of her presence by her hollering in the hallway, only to be greeted with the sight of Cass with surgical tape and cotton balls in her hands. Steph goes to full-alert mode immediately, because anything or anyone that can get Cass to be hurt is a huge threat.

(Steph still hasn’t forgotten about Lady Shiva.)

“Cass, are you alright?” Steph says.

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you hurt? Do I need to call Alfred? Or dr. Thompkins?”

“I’m fine, Steph,” Cass’ voice is calm, but Steph has seen her take a bullet and still talks in the same calm voice as she is using now, so that is not an accurate meter to gauge Cass’ wellbeing.

“You’re holding bandages, Cass. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. Watch out for the bucket.”

“Bucket? What bucket?”

“That bucket,” Cass points to her right.

“Why do you need a bucket?” Steph pauses, then the implication of a bucket in Cass’ bedroom hits her. “Are you sick as well?”

“No, it’s for my toes.”

Toes? What? “Okay, back up. Your toes?”

“Ballet.” Oh. Oh . Now that Steph is no longer worried that Cass is going to bleed out, she realizes that Cass is not putting on the tapes, but pulling it off. Oh, again. “Can you push the bucket here?”

Steph pushes the bucket, which Steph now notices is filled with ice, towards Cass with her foot. Cass puts her feet inside, groaning all the way.

“Ballet?” Steph asks. It seems weird that something so innocent can make Cassandra Cain react this extensively. But again, Steph has long learned not to underestimate anything.

“Ballet,” Cass answers.

“Is it the pointe shoes thing? I’ve read about it somewhere. That’s why I don’t want to go into ballet,” Steph says, lifting up a towel that’s next to Cass and replacing its position.

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?” Steph puts her head on Cass’ shoulders, looking up a while to check whether or not this is okay.

“Yes,” Cass says, both as an answer for Steph’s question and Steph’s unspoken question.

“Can you still teach me that throw?”

“Yes. Give me a few minutes.”

“Okay.” They sit in silence for a while, until Steph suddenly has a thought. “Is it weird that you can take bullets without flinching, but groans at this, or is it just me?”

Cass hums. “It’s a different kind of pain. Never had it before. Not prepared for it.”

“Okay, but is it weird, or is it just me?”

“It’s weird.”

“Are you ready to teach me that throw now?”

“Sure.” Cass pulls out her feet and motions for the towel. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because of this.”

Steph hands her the towel, and says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

Dick is walking down the hallways of the Manor when he hears Cass swearing from inside a bathroom. Normally, that wouldn’t be a cause of alarm, but since the only reason he’s at the Manor today is because Cass has a ballet recital and everyone is going to go watch it, Dick calls out, “Cass? Is there something wrong?”

“No!” Cass’ voice replies. “Yes! No! I don’t know!”

Okay, that warrants further investigation. “Can I come in?”

Cass makes an affirmative sound, so Dick opens the door, just in time to see Cass putting on false eyelashes in a truly dangerous fashion. As in, almost putting it straight into her eyes. Yeah, something is wrong.

Of course, the false eyelashes do not stick the way it’s supposed to, because Cass is not putting it on properly. Cass swears, again, and picks up the fallen eyelashes from the sink. Dick has seen enough.

“Do you know how to put those on?” Dick says.

“No! Why do they keep falling down? I’m doing it exactly the way they told me to!”

Dick takes a look to the false eyelashes on Cass’ hands, then to Cass’ eyes. “It’s too long for your eyelids, Cass.” Dick frowns. It has been a while since he has to handle false eyelashes. “At least, I think that’s why they keep falling down.”

Cass, who has been furiously dabbing glue to the false eyelashes, looks up to him with wide eyes. “You know how to do this?”

“I mean… I guess, yeah? My mom used to put this on for performances. She would let me help, sometimes.”

“You know how to do this!”

Dick takes a look at Cass’ hopeful face, then says, “Do you want me to do it for you?”

“ Please .”

“It’s been a while since I’ve put this on on anybody. It’s not going to be perfect.”

“ I don’t care . Just put it on.”

“Okay, then. Do you have scissors?”

Cass looks at him, and scrunchs her nose as she says, “No.”

“I’ll get one. Do you want to…,” Dick searches his memory for the times he helped his mom put on false eyelashes, “...clean the glue from the eyelashes? Too much glue will make it stick less, if I’m not wrong.”

“How come too much glue makes it stick less ?”

“I think it’ll make it stiff or something. My mom always cleans the glue off before putting it on. You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” Dick says, but Cass is already picking off the dried glue from the false eyelashes.

When he returns with scissors that’s suitable enough ( not the kitchen scissors, Master Dick), Cass is already sitting down on the toilet.

“Are you still sure about this? I’m not sure I can do a good job, Cass.”

“You will not be worse than me,” Cass says, which, considering she almost poked her eye out trying to put it on, Dick is inclined to (grudgingly) agree.

“Alright. Close your eyes.”

Cass obediently closes her eyes. Dick picks up the false eyelashes from the sink and starts to measure it to Cass’ eyes.

“You did this a lot,” Cass says.

“What? Make-up?”

Cass hums. “ Stage make-up.”

“Oh. I guess, yeah, back at the circus. I didn’t have to put on false eyelashes, though.” Dick dabs on the glue to the eyelashes and starts to gently place it to Cass’ eyelids. “But everything else, yeah. Can you open your eyes?”

Cass opens her eyes, and that makes it clear that one of the ends is misplaced. Dick makes a motion for her to close her eyes again.

“Can you do the rest of my make-up too?” Cass says while Dick is pulling down the misplaced end.

Dick stops, surveys the state of Cass’ face, noting the base already on and the mostly done eye make-up, then says, “You just need some blush and lipstick, and you’re done.”

“Do it anyway.”

Dick exhales out a small laugh. “Fine, little sister. Is there anything else I can do for you, oh most talented princess?”

Cass’s response is to stick out her tongue.

“Don’t do that! You’ll make it harder for the lipstick to stay on!”

Cass opens one eye (one that’s not the one Dick is working on now, thank god) and locks eyes with Dick as she proceeds to lick her entire lip. Dick should be annoyed, but he just laughs harder.

***

Damian watches his sister dance in the exercise room. Not the practice and training space down in the Cave, but in the exercise room upstairs that Father remade to be a dance floor with floor-to-ceiling mirrors after too many incidents of pointe shoes flying in the Cave. Cassandra is truly a master of her body, and watching her do this, a very different use of her body than fighting, is mesmerizing. Damian has watched Cassandra’s dancing before, of course, the entire family went out to watch Cassandra’s recital, but that was with make-up and costume and stage-lights. This, just Cassandra with her leotard and tights in the bare room, is somehow a purer and more hypnotizing version.

It has been brought to Damian’s attention that he should do more moving sketches. Damian reviewed his drawings and concluded that that suggestion has value. He has been drawing more still-life lately, and it would be well to branch out from it. So here he is, debating whether or not to ask Cassandra to allow him to sketch her in her practice.

Damian is tempted to just start drawing, but Richard had said to ask for permission before drawing anyone after Damian had just started sketching his brother’s acrobatics practice. Before Damian can decide on anything though, Cassandra notices him and beckons him over.

“Cain,” Damian greets.

Cassandra tilts her head.

Well, now or never, Damian supposes. With her body-language reading capabilities, Cassandra might already know what Damian is there to do and is simply waiting him out. “May I sketch your dancing?”

Cassandra smiles. “Of course, little brother.” And without waiting for further clarification, she simply moves backward enough to not kick Damian with her dancing and starts where she left off. Damian, perplexed but satisfied enough not to make a fuss, sits down on the wooden floor and opens his sketchbook. He has never sketched a person dancing ballet before, and this is a welcome challenge.

As if she knows what is going on, Cassandra switches her routine, moving to a slower piece with lots of holds and balances, all without losing her graceful movements. It is infinitely easier to sketch this routine, especially with Damian never drawing ballet movements before.

Damian doesn’t say anything. He has a feeling that his sister already knows his appreciation for the change. Why be redundant and say it?

It’s a surprisingly pleasant way to spend an afternoon, especially when Cassandra grows tired of watching Damian sketch and drags him into joining her in a routine. He protests at first, only to give in eventually. And if he ends the session with laughter, well, nobody has to know.

(And if he plans on giving Cassandra a painting of her dancing sometime in the future, well, nobody has to know that either.)

[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

[sunstone-wra]

Chaos at Skyhorn

((I’ve had this milling about in my head for a while but I can’t help myself and I’ve started to develop my Highmountain tauren. A precious cinnamon roll balance/resto druid moose girl. But don’t worry, Bear will keep her safe.

This takes places more so at the beginning of Legion. Where Bear, Tamatala and her son Maskamato head to Highmountain to help the natives there stop the demons.

Maskamato belongs to @flynneware))

Thunderous bellows echoed through the valley as vile green fell bolts rained from the sky. The fire balls slamming into the ground, causing craters to throw out debris and destroying huts. The highmountain tauren and their allies clashed hard with the demons that tried to over run their camp. Blood stained the snow and bodies started to liter the ground.

It was chaos and confusion that ran wide spread to those unfamiliar with combat. One young female highmountain did her best to help her Skyhorn tribe fight back, but she lacked experience. Her hooves scrambled into the ground as she threw her staff up to stop a felhound from biting her in the face. It’s teeth grinding on the wood as she tried to stave it off.

A bolt of fel hit the ground next to her, spraying her with rock and snow but also knocking over a huge eagle totem. The massive totem smashed the demon and missed the tauren by mere inches. She gasped as demon blood sprayed all over her fawn colored fur, blinking she looked up. “Thank you S-Skyfather.” She stammered as she got up. Her staff broken she grabbed a fallen brave’s spear and turned just in time to see a huge felguard crawling from the hole made by the fel ball of fire.

She was stunned in fear and awe as the behemoth gripped his massive axe and opened his maw to roar at her. Suddenly a screech touched her ears and her faithful small eagle flew in and slammed his talons into the felguards face. He was tiny compared to this foe but this never stopped the bird before. “Doli!” She cried as the demon flung his arm in shock and pain from having his face clawed, his arm and flat side of the axe hitting the young female.

The highmountain flew and bounced in the snow like a ragdoll, rolling and dropping her spear. Dazed she only heard a sharp screech then bones crunching followed by a roar. She looked up, dazed, to see the felguard barreling towards her and again she froze in fear.

Everything was in slow motion as dirt flew up from each step, his armor bouncing with each forceful stomp, then a golden hammer spinning through the air and slamming into the felguard’s chest. He staggered and bellowed again only to have a holy spear erupt from the ground and cut him up his stomach and chest.

The light was so brilliant that the girl shielded her eyes, then another roar came from beside her. At first she thought is was a bear but it was a huge armored tauren. Hooves slammed to a stop in front of the girl, red cape draping over the girls legs. He raised his massive sword to the sky and a shaft of sunlight hit it, the holy light from An’she’s gaze filling the tauren with an aura that flowed through his body and crackled to the ground.

Her wounds started to heal in the consecrated place but the demon bellowed in pain as he leaned down and slammed into her savior. But the bull stood strong, his hooves sliding in the dirt as he used his sword to shield himself. The girl yelped and covered her head but she couldn’t take her eyes off this bull. No! She was mistaken! This was no bull!

The female Sunwalker roared again and slung her sword into the demon, knocking him back. Wielding the massive red and gold steel sword with one hand. She whirled around and jumped as she slammed the sword deep into the demons shoulder, breaking the spaulders he wore.

He slammed his axe down on the woman but she blocked with her sword, then her hidden left arm shot out from her cape and another hammer flew from her fingertips, it’s holy light blinding as it hit the felguard in the chest again. Fel blood sizzling like acid as An’shes light burned it’s skin.

The tauren kicked the demon in the knee, knocking him down and she used her body to throw him on his back. With a swift move the plunged her sword into the demons neck, roaring as green fel blood sprayed all over her dark armor and nearly white face. With a twist she severed the head and the enemy fell limp.

But she spent no time in this victory as she wheeled around to see an Eredar rushing towards the fallen girl. “Behind you!” She said as her hidden arm shot out once more to throw another golden hammer at the foe. The girl looked and yelped as she flung her hands out, summoning roots to entangle the enemy. While ensnared she clambered to her feet, only to fall out of severe pain. When she looked up again her savior was clashing blades with the eredar.

The two exchanged blows, the eredar cutting away from the roots and swinging her blade into the tauren’s with a loud clang. Although the tauren towered over her she was skilled enough to keep up with the fast blows. Both danced as each summoned fel and holy magic to wear the other down.

Something called to the girl as she sat on the ground and then she held her hands aloft. “Skyfather give me the strength to help her!” She said as she felt energy swell within her. Her hands glowed a white blue light and her fingers trembled as the power grew. Grew until she could not contain it. A beam of astral light boomed from the sky and slammed down into the eredar, making her yell in pain. The girl shot her hand out again and curled her fingers an another boom hit the enemy, this time burning them deeply.

This was enough to push the odds in the taurens favor and the savior body slammed the eredar and upper cut her sword, sending the female eredar’s head soaring. Tail aggressively swaying the holy warrior stepped back and looked around. But the battle was dying down, the cliffs littered with bodies of allies and demons alike. She turned to the young female and walked to her as she looked around to make sure if was safe.

She took a rag from her hip and wiped her face off, although this mostly just smeared the fel blood into her fur more. “Are you alright?” Her voice deep and soft although clearly feminine said. “Y-yes bu-but my leg…” She said finally looking at it. There was a deep gash and her blood pooled on the ground around her, staining her torn robes. She yelped and jolted in fear as the savior slammed her sword into the ground beside them. “Shhh easy now. Let me look.” Her hidden arm came out again to tenderly hold up her shank to eye the injury better. A holy golden white light pulsed from her hands as the bleeding stopped and the wound stopped aching so terribly. “I can do no more till I get you to a proper healer.” She said looking up, her lavender eyes looking to the girl.

Even in this darkness of cloudy skies surrounded by death and blood, the saviors hair was like golden wheat tussling in the wind and for a fleeting moment the girl thought of her mother. She smiled as the women scooped her up like a mother with a child. “Sorry about the gore.” She said and the girl smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay. My robes are ruin..ed… DOLI!” She shrieked.

There on the ground in a pool of blood, crushed like a pine cone under hoof was her beloved eagle. She cried his name again but the savior would not let her go. Sobbing the girl buried her head into the savior’s neck, the elder holding her like a mother with a child. Cooing softly. “It gave it’s life for you.” She said as the girl sobbed. But nothing the savior said would ease the pain the girl was feeling for her lost companion.

She was left in one of the only standing huts to be healed. Her wound mended, sewn together and wrapped. Sitting curled in a ball with hands wrapped around herself as tears still trickled down her face.

“My mother asked me to check on you…” A deep voice calmly said as she suddenly was aware of a shadow beside her. This time it really was a bull, his blue eyes looking into her green. His ebon pelt was also stained with fel but still had a shine to it. The white around his face make his eyes that much more striking. She’d never seen such a handsome bull and it made her freeze. Her cheeks turning red under her fawn colored fur as she just stared at him. An Awkward silence fell between them and he cleared his throat.

“Are you… alright now?” She blushed deeper and quickly nodded but said nothing as she looked at his one broken horn. “Why do you do this to all the ladies?” A teasing woman’s voice said beside him. The girl looked up to see another tauren, this one also black, but hers was painted with white warpaint. A wolf skin covering all but the smirk on her muzzle. She was leaned against a pole with her arms crossed. The male dead panned and turned to scowl at the other female. “Shut up, Tama.” He barked at her gruffly.

She smiled but the banter went no further as the savior walked in. The girl looked over and even in the dark tent it was as if there was a glow about her. “How is she?” She said. The one called Tama said nothing but neither did the young bull. He stammered, still feeling the awkward moment. “She hasn’t spoken.” Tama finally spoke up, a warning glare from the bull possibly telling her to say no more.

But she didn’t need to. The savior looked at the young bull and back at the girl, and her deep red cheeks. “Ah… I see.” She cooed and gave a loving motherly gaze at the boy. He rolled his eyes and stood up. “I’ll be outside…”

“Thank you, Maska.” The woman said as the two left the hut. She knelt by the girl and tenderly took her hands and placed a hand full of golden eagle feathers in them. The girl gripped them and tears streamed down her face as she held them to her heart. “They would be beautiful and keep his spirit with you if you braided them into your hair.” The girl nodded and sniffled.

“He was all I had left… since my parents passed... “ The savior deeply frowned and choked on her words as she looked at the young highmountain. Her antlers were still small though she braided the base with red leather and beads. To the girls surprise the woman curled next to her, wrapping her arm around her. Holding her as a mother would comfort a child. Her scent smelled of pine and fresh rain and gave her peace.

“My name is Skamato Sunstone. But most call me Bear. That was my son, Maskamato and his friend Tamatala.” The savior said. The girl nodded and wiped her tears. “Makkito Whitetalon.” Bear nodded. “Of the Skyhorn Tribe?” Makkito nodded. “Thank you… for saving me, Bear.”

Bear chuckled, something soft and gentle as she tussled the girls mane. “Of course. You stick with me, you’ll be alright.” Makkito smiled and laid her head on Bear’s shoulder.

[serensama]

Pass the happy along! When you get this reply with five things that make you happy then pass it along to the first 10 people in your activity

AHHHHHHH JACKIE @illneverrecover you make me happpppy too TTTT___TTTTJust for you baby cakes! What makes me happy? The thought of the RFA being caught singing/dancing when they thought they were alone. 

1. Yoosung: He was cleaning his apartment before she came over because he wanted everything to be perfect for their first weekend together. He had opened up all the windows and his front door to let out any smells that may have festered from his months of his LOLOL hermit lifestyle. He had put in his earphones and was singing along to that new K-pop girl band that MC was so obsessed with- he had to admit their songs were super catchy… so catchy that he was busting out the moves he had seen from their videos as he dusted around the room… until he turned around to see a wide eyed, slack jawed MC- her overnight bag sliding off her shoulder slowly in its agonising descent to the ground. “M-MC! I didn’t hear you come in!” “No… I gathered that… but… Yoosung- I could hear from down the street!” Yoosung wanted to die, he thought about shanking himself with his feather duster for a minute or two… “… You sounded really good! You didn’t tell me you could sing Honey!” Ahhhh crisis averted. 

2. Zen: He had promised his co-star to help her out with her dance moves- she was new to the industry and still so stiff and nervous, her actions looked forced and strange. So, being the kind guy he was and wanting to insure the success of the play, Zen took it upon himself to learn her choreography as well as his so he could act out the role and give her some pointers. The woman was a vixen, a lady of the night who could have anybody she wanted- she danced with passion and raw charisma. He strutted about the living room in their apartment on the balls of his feet as if he were wearing heels, his hips swaying smoothly as he sashayed his way across the the floor. A quick dip in his back had his ass in the air, his hands on his thighs as he twerked fearlessly to the music in his head- his keen memory able to play back the score of the scene… clapping? Who was clapping? MC had walked in from grocery shopping to find her boyfriend in his track pants and shirtless, twerking like his life depended on it. Running his hands up and down his body like he was sex on legs… well… he was she supposed. “MC!” he cried as he stood up, wiping the sweat off his face with his palm. “Uh… Hi Honey…” “How was it? Did it look good? Did I look like a hot, sensual girl that could have anyone she wanted?” “Yes… yes you did”“Would it be enough to have you Jagi?” “I…”“Should I dance again… just so we can make sure?”“Yes. Yes you should. But lose the pants” 

3. Jaehee: She didn’t have the best voice, she knew that- but when she was alone she could pretend she was up on stage with Zen, singing and dancing with her friend. She had thought she was alone as she washed the dishes at the back of the coffee shop. She had the tap hose in one hand and a plate in the other- the hose her microphone and the plate her co-star- Jaehee in near tears as she sang of her heartbreak and how she grew strong and how she would never be hurt by the plate ever again… “You could just smash it. Kill the bastard. I promise I won’t tell a soul.” “MC! I… I thought you went home! I was just-”“You were just being damn adorable.”“I.. uh, thank you.”“Why didn’t you enter any theatre clubs or plays when you were younger?” “Because I’m god awful at it?” “That hasn’t stopped anyone before.”“MC!” “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! You should totally perform that with Zen next time you see him, he’d totally freak out and love it-”“You think so? Truly?”“Truly.” 4. Jumin: Jumin didn’t sing and he certainly didn’t dance unless absolutely necessary- the ridiculous lessons growing up were more than enough for one lifetime. However, as he held his daughter in his arms, her bright smile and twinkling eyes gazing up at him- his feet were already moving before he knew what he was doing. One two three… One two three.. One two three…. Ahhh my precious girl, let me be the only man to dance with you like this… Jumin had started to hum distractedly as he danced around the room with his child, one of her small fists enclosed by his much larger one, her chubby arm waggling in the air as he held it up like a proper partner would. So graceful already- of course a child of mine and MC would be nothing less than perfect… 

“Do you mind if I cut in?”Jumin whirled around to see MC watching the scene play out before her, a wide smile spread across her face. “I’m not sure MC, I’ve promised every dance with her… she might get upset”“Hmmm well then… do you think you handle two women in your arms, Mr Han?”Jumin chuckled as he wrapped his arm around his wife, the other still holding his daughter steadfastly against him. “Well.. seeing as they’re the most beautiful women in the world- I will have to make an exception.” 5. Saeyoung: He was working again, tinkering away in the garage making a new toy and nothing made him work better than a good song. Or in this case… a whole playlist of head banging music- so loud that the neighbours were beginning to complain. So loud that he couldn’t hear Saeran’s pounding on the wall to let him sleep in peace. So loud that he didn’t hear MC open the door and watch as her foolish fiance jumped about the room, flinging his head back and forth so much his glasses flew off and landed near her feet. Only then did Saeyoung look up. “Ah… MC… you’ve uh… caught me amidst my fine, very complicated and delicate process of-”“Slacking off.”“… Well… yes.”“I understand why Vanderwood threatened to taser you so often.” “Care to join me in my slacking off?”“…. Obviously.” 6. Saeran: He was all alone- he had made sure of it. Saeyoung was at Yoosung’s and MC was shopping with Jaehee… he could finally let it out. Opening his wardrobe he took out a large black case… and pulled out his guitar. It was nothing fancy, just something that he happened on at a garage sale on one of his walks. He had been teaching himself how to play whenever he could, whenever he was alone- he couldn’t bear the idea of Saeyoung fawning over every wrong note he played and MC- well, he just didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of the woman he loved. He was getting pretty damn good too… so good he had lost himself to the sound of his voice and the melody his fingers created with every pluck and strum of the guitar. “W-wow!” “Shit! M-MC! What are you… why are you… how much did you hear?”“Well that depends-”“On what?”“Which answer would make you less angry at me?”“Im not angry just… embarrassed I guess.”“Why?! You’re amazing!”“I am?”“You are!”“Hey MC-”“Mmm?”“Wanna see what else these fingers can pluck and strum?”7. V: They had decided to go shopping and of course, they managed to find themselves in his favourite record store. MC had wandered off to talk to the manager as he rifled through the well catalogued music. He was humming along to the song playing in the store before he knew it, his head bopping along to the familiar tune, his toes tapping to the beat. MC had turned to see her man bent over, his tall lean figure minutely rocking back and forth to the song. She shook her head and excused herself, walking up to him and stopping just short of him, watching as he continued his unwitting song and dance for the customers of the store. “Baby… if you wanted to dance so badly we could have gone out tonight,” she joked hoping to snap him back to his sense. Standing up, beaming from ear to ear- V gently placed his carefully chosen records to the side and instead took her by the hand. With a small tug she was firmly tucked in his arms as they swayed in the middle of the store. “V- everyone’s watching!” “As they should whenever a beautiful woman is dancing.”“But why are we dancing?”“Do you want to stop?”“…. No.”“Then we won’t.” 

Needless to say, MC was sure to purchase the record that was playing… it would make for a great first dance if when they ever got married.