Lmao got home and the first thing I do is open a package that has some new Rita faceplates

sad team dad (derogatory)

[Image 1 ID: A one-panel comic with white figures on a gray-to-purple gradient. Raven from Tales of Vesperia attempts to emerge from under a sewer cover. Yuri and Estellise stand over him, Estellise hidden partially behind Yuri looking concerned. Yuri looks unimpressed and has one foot on the sewer cover. Raven “speaks” a text post by tumblr user grox that says, “Let me out of this sewer, man I could be your best friend. I could be the best thing thats ever happened to you”]

[Image 2 ID: A discord screenshot captioned “DO NOT FALL FOR THIS DISCORD SCAM!” The screenshot is in a text channel titled “Hot Gamer Girl Room.” The icon of a user named HotGamerGirl has been replaced with cartoon headshots of Judith, and the icon of user MinecraftChungus has been replaced with cartoon headshots of Raven. Judith/HotGamerGirl says, “Do you want a hot gamer girlfriend” to which Raven/MinecraftChungus replies, “Yes, here’s my Banking information: (text obscured with red line).” Judith says, “i just stole all your money” and Raven says, “Ok we get married now?” A discord notification indicates that HotGamerGirl has left the group.]

[Image 3 ID: One-panel comic with white figures on a turquoise-to-dark-grey gradient background. Raven looks smug, and proudly “speaks” a text post from tumblr user youforgivehowgodforgives, saying “women and fish would put aside their differences to beat the living hell out of me.” Yuri can be seen from behind in the foreground, with sweatdrops. In the background, drawn as silhouettes, Judith and a Merman loom over Raven. Judith is cracking her knuckles.]

[Image 4 ID: One-panel comic with white figures on a dark-grey-to-navy-blue gradient background. Raven staggers along with his arms over Judith and Yuri’s shoulders. Raven is drunk and frustrated, with tears in his eyes. Judith and Yuri both look somewhat concerned and exasperated. Raven “speaks” a tweet by twitter user roastmalone_, which says “bars need to do a sad hour with even cheaper drinks and everyone just acts cool if you cry a lil”]

[Image 5 ID: One-panel comic with white figures on a purple gradient background. Raven lies sprawled on the ground with his tongue out but one eye cracked open. Yuri, Karol, Rita, Judith and Flynn stand around him in a semi-circle, looking down at him. Karol and Rita appear upset, and hold onto Yuri’s arms, standing partially behind him. Yuri and Judith look disgusted, with Judith standing with her arms crossed. Flynn has tears in his eyes but looks angry. Raven is “speaking” a post by tumblr user turing-tested, the first part of which says “XP <- me pretending to die” and the second half of which says “;P <- me peeking an eye open to see if ur sad or not”]

Welp. Wedding time. I said I would.

Larry readjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. He was nervous at his first wedding but this was different. The first time, he wasn't really excited. Yes, he loved Sheryl but not in the way he was supposed to. Larry shook his head, he shouldn't think like that. He didn't love Sheryl in the way people wanted him to. While yes, theoretically he could legally marry Rama, he couldn't in practise. He had been considered dead since the sixties and Rama couldn't exactly prove he existed. Still, they were doing it. They were going to get married. Larry couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh. He never thought he'd marry someone he actually wanted to, not just someone he felt like he had to. Keeg flew in, crackling excitedly.

"I know your excited bud...I am too." Larry watched as Keeg happily spun around in his matching suit. Larry was glad Keeg liked his suit as it was a pain in the ass to make. Keeg grabbed Larry's hand and tugged.

"Ok! ok!" Larry finally left his room and followed Keeg downstairs. Rita grinned.

"Oh! Larry, you look perfect!"

"I-I wouldn't say prefect. More like...close enough?"

"I bet Rama would say something very different to that, wouldn't he?" Rita teased.

"Let's just go outside." Larry headed that way before Rita could continue to tease him. Rita chased after him.

"It's almost ready!"

"Almost?"

"Rama."

"He always wears a suit, how is he not ready?"

"Well, he decided on something special for a special day." Rita grinned. Larry looked at her for moment before Keeg grabbed his hand and tugged again. He followed Keeg outside where an arch was set up. It was off-white with marigolds and dahlias decorating it. Larry took a deep breath, let it out, then stood on his side of the arch. Keeg flew down and picked up the pillow that was laid out for him at the beginning of the aisle. On Larry's side, Laura and Rita were waiting. On Rama's side, Cliff and Jane sat. Rita had a yellow sun dress while Laura wore a black cocktail dress. Larry knew that wearing black to a wedding when it wasn't a suit wasn't exactly the best but he was in bandages head to toe so who was he to complain? Cliff and Jane had matching suits on. Vic came out of the house, also in a suit, and got up behind Larry at the arch.

"You're a marriage official?" Larry asked.

"Uh...no. But even if I was, would it matter? It's not legal anyways." The back door opened and everyone looked over. Dorothy stood there in a purple dress holding a basket of flower petals. Dorothy tossed the petals as she came down the aisle before standing on Rama's side of the arch. Larry held his breath. He knew Rama was next. After a moment, Rama stepped out. He was in a white suit with a veil and holding a bouquet of flowers, ones all found in Larry's garden. Larry felt lightheaded as he watched Rama walk down the aisle.

"You look perfect." Rama said, taking up his side of the arch.

"You should look at yourself." Larry mumbled. Rama giggled.

"We are gathered here today for wedding of our good friends Larry and Rama."

Keeg grabbed the pillow and walked down the aisle up to them. The two took the rings.

"Larry, your vows?"

"Rama...I never thought that a day like this would come. I never thought there would be a day where I could just be happy, a day where I could just be me without anyone telling me I'm wrong but that day came when I met you. I know there were times at the beginning where I wasn't the kindest but you put your faith in me and stayed by my side. Without you, I don't know who I would be. Thank you."

"Rama, your vows?"

"L-Larry. I...I know very little about myself but what I do know is that my life was never the same after I met you. We may have started out rocky, but my time with you has been the best. I don't know where I would be without you, maybe I'd be at that fucking bureau. I...I just love you so, so, so much." Rama wiped tears from his eyes.

"Larry, do you take Rama as your husband?"

"I do." Larry put the ring he had on Rama's finger.

"Rama, do you take Larry as your husband?"

"I-I do!" Rama put the ring he had on Larry's finger.

"You may now kiss!" Rama grabbed Larry's face and kissed him with all the passion he wished he did when he kissed Larry the first time. Jane wolf-whistled.

"I now pronounce you Larry and Rama Trainor!" When Rama pulled away from the kiss, Larry put their foreheads together. So who cares if their marriage wasn't real in the eyes of the law? It was real in their eyes and that was more than enough.

[id: two digital drawings of Jet, Rita, and Juno from The Penumbra Podcast as “how to talk with short people” memes. the first has “how to talk with short people” in black text at the top and two grey boxes, the left one captioned  “Yes ✓“ in green and the right one captioned “No X” in red . on the left, Rita and Jet stand at their full heights (4′8″ and 6′8″ respectively) talking normally. on the right, Jet bends his knees and stoops down to talk to Juno (5′4″). Jet smirks and Juno looks angry.

the second image has “how to talk with tall people” in black text at the top and two grey boxes, the left one captioned “No X” in red and the right one captioned “Yes ✓“ in green. on the left, Rita and Jet stand at their full heights talking normally. on the right, Jet stands at his full height while Rita sits on grumpy Juno’s shoulders with her arms spread out. because he is stooped down, their combined height is still shorter than Jet.

Rita is a very short fat black woman with medium-brown skin and hair that is dark at the roots with bright blue afro pigtails. she has freckles and a tooth gap in her front teeth, and is wearing dark blue lipstick, yellow-lensed pink glasses and a pink triangular earring. she is wearing yellow dungarees over a turquoise t-shirt, and has pink socks and blue mary-jane shoes.

Jet is a tall Indigenous man with light brown skin, dark brown eyes, and dark grey hair with a messy fringe and a short ponytail. he has pale veiny scarring on his face and a bit of stubble. he is wearing a brown leather jacket over a dark green shirt, black fingerless gloves, beige cargo pants, a belt with utility pockets attached, and green boots. he has many crisscrossing scars on his fingers.

Juno is a stocky, fat black lady with dark brown skin, bubblegum-pink hair in short locs, messy dark brown stubble, and several scars on his face and hands. his right eye has a purple eyepatch over it and his left is black. he is wearing a purple turtleneck, grey trousers, black boots, and a silver stud earring. /end id]

happy 1 year anniversary to this post (described below). i love this trio

[id: a screenshot of a tumblr post by genderbinaryisforlosers that reads: “good evening if rita sat on juno’s shoulders they still wouldn’t be as tall as jet and that’s just what it is” /end id]

—  SELF PARA,  THE  VOTING.

18th of july, 2021. 

solomon. sol. solomon romero. the first vote was met with confusion, but it quickly turned into a sour anger as the cogs began turning behind dark eyes. the concept had its benefits, and that much he could admit: weed out suspicion, stomp on the snakes. realistically, as his faith had proven, they were all creatures of flaw and vengeance, some tactical geniuses tossed into the mix too; even without a grand plan, accusing him could result in a big target being down, even if only for a night and day. as yet as another vote was cast ( not me this time, but really, rita getting rid of the horsemen right now? ridiculous notion. ), the dominion reevaluated his own accusations, expecting to find his own dose of grudges tarnishing all logic, but he’d been careful enough some minutes ago. as much as he wished to see most of those present sweat, wasting time interrogating the wrong people was almost as criminal as his record. such was the hard balance, which some could say he periodically lost, between heart and head. maybe he would have yelled out the most acidic names, the ones whose scar map he could link to, or the one who came from the very same nest as him. and maybe he would have blamed for war the man he’d already been privately accusing of other kinds of treason, who’d left him accidentally wounded, flesh ripe for war’s infection. but this was also the teaching he’d gained through war and especially through gabrielle, so a tongue was bitten without even thinking about it. 

i could have done it. he gloated in silence, on the fourth accusation. he’d helped gabrielle warden with the aftermath of michaela pinkett’s husband - not that they knew of that, oh how he could imagine their bloodthirst if they did. he’s skilled enough to pull something, if anything given the decades of criminal contacts he could hit up to help with the logistics of such an undertaking. but why would he have come up with such a plan all by himself? it would be ruin to try to take over war and the rest within the same week. if they considered that this was war’s doing, then gabrielle asking him to carry out the plan would lead to an obvious ‘yes’. war’s horsemen complicated things. 

no one heard us. solomon had fought the urge to immediately look at kashvi when his name was first said, two guilty ones being accused just days later. their conversation on friday night replayed on his mind, but it was simply impossible that someone had access to it. was his hunger visible to outsiders too? gabrielle knew of it, but he’d always considered her privileged in how much she knew without him saying. as if he’d had a choice. that too was another delusion. 

he grabbed his own knee hard, where a bruise lived, in order to keep him away from the cliffs hedge in his mind, always so damn close to jumping into the water. it was hard to resist it, as dozens of voices pleaded with him from below the sharp rocks, but he knew that to leap would be a choice with no return. your house is full of spies, they watch you from behind the mirror. should have checked behind the garden wall, someone would be out of sight. your camera footage was edited, you should have zoomed into every corner. kashvi was setting you up. gabrielle was setting you up. this was all a set up. he dug into that bright purple bruise with the same strength he’d used to crush a windpipe. 

solomon romero has been a loyal servant of war for twenty two years. he’s seen two horsemen in his life, he’s seen power shifts, power gaps, fresh and old blood, and yet he’s remained. he’s been a dominion for nearly fourteen years, a current seraphim having been a member of war altogether for less time. and yet he’s remained. a fixture just as stable as prehistoric ruins, and yet just as forgotten, left to blend with the weeds. he could be accused of much over the years, and would accept most of it with a smile, but to imply that he was a disloyal soldier was blasphemous. solomon could attack other horsemen, fuck the truce, fuck their lives and ambitions, fuck hierarchy; but if the story included gabrielle warden, it would be foolish to imagine romero doing anything that would risk her safety or her wishes.

i would have never done this to you. he’d nodded at some accusations, laughed at others, whispered in anger at a few, but those of his fellow war members dug a knife deep between his ribs. his own war accusation was reasonable, something he was certain samir understood too. if he’d been alone with gabrielle, he would have indicted himself, call it a fit of madness or a strategic movement. what he would have never considered doing is point a finger at one of his own. this wasn’t pestilence, scarred with snake bites, nor death, made up of theatrical vengeance. for the first time in over two decades, however, solomon realised that this wasn’t famine either. this wasn’t a family in any sort of way, regardless of how he had been treating it. i’m just staff. he’s surrendered half of his life to an agreement that was meant to continuously evolve, and yet has been stagnant, with no intentions to ever change. astrid, liam, domenico. he couldn’t murder them with his eyes, even if they so did try, but the list was burned into his brain with the most painful of sizzles. those very same eyes did linger on his own seraphim ( temporary leaders, but was it really? ) but they wouldn’t fight for him, not like he would have. as the votes were tallied together into the most worthless of lists, solomon checked all the boxes again. posture straighter, breathing controlled, throat clear. his body betrayed him only once, as he got up and finally looked at kashvi singh - something in the depths seemed stricken with excruciating worry. it was a private look, untraceable the moment it was over and he returned to his best acted self, a ruin that’s more solid than any modern wall. “this is a waste of your time.” he’d mumbled it before, but it was put into clear words as he was taken away with three other ones. it was of no avail, but he made damn sure to say it straight to his own horsemen: the children he’d watched grow up, who’d been angels beneath him, virtues with him, seraphim above him. those he’d protected once, just as he protected gabrielle, or warlock. “this is a stupid waste of your time.” he would have bled london dry before he let other gangs even get near one of his own. he’d do it for the ones he disliked the most, and the ones he loved. the sentiment was not mutual, apparently. 

so much for loyalty. so much for a reward. twenty two years of patiently waiting and patiently hoping led to a locked door and the title of original assassin, which he’d once heard with pride, hung over his forehead like the red light of a target. solomon picked a corner of the east gallery the moment the search was done, sitting on the hardwood floor with crossed arms and eyes ahead, sizing the three prisoner companions with a craving of violence. let the night begin.

OC Profile

Tagged by and the amazing @pheedraws and @fereldanwench, thank you so much ! ♥♥ I think a lot of people already did this or was tagged, but i tag @smilepal @wingdeer @aurorartz and @breezypunk, no pressure of course and sorry if you already did that !

General

Name : Vanessa Rosalina Vergara-Serrano Alias(es) : Vaness', V Gender : Female Age : 27 (as of the events of CP 2077) Birthdate : 16 april 2050 Place of birth : Heywood, Night City Hometown : Heywood, Night City Spoken languages : English (fluent), Spanish (fluent), French (few words) Sexual preference : Bisexual Occupation : Fixer (After CP2077); previously Merc (2076-2077), Waitress Al Coyote Cojo, Escort Girl,few shitty jobs

Appearance

Eye colour : Gold (natural brown) Hair colour : Pink and Purple (natural brown) Height : 5′6″ / 170cm Scars : She is lucky not to have big scars, but she has a lot of small ones all over her body, most come from falls or bullets.

Favourite

Colour : Pink and yellow Hair colour : Blue, Pink Song : Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA Food : Mexican food forever ♥ Drink : Tequila ! And as soft, Carnival Chromanticore

Have They…

Passed university : Never Had sex : Yes Had sex in public : Yes Gotten pregnant : No Kissed a boy : Yes Kissed a girl : Yes Gotten tattoos : Full arms with flowers and skeletons, a butterfly and FUCK on the hands, a flame where "hate" is written above, a quote in homage to his mother under the left breast, a V in the groin, a deck of cards marked FUCK YOU on the right shoulder blade, a garter on the right thigh and triangular patterns on the left thigh ! Gotten piercings : Only ears, had thongue piercing before Been in love : No ... Stayed up for more than 24 hours : Yes

Are They…

A virgin : No A cuddler : Yes, she loves that A kisser : Yes Scared easily : No, apart from some fears and phobias, she knows how to control her fear Jealous easily : No ! Dominant : Yes, in her daily life as sexual (most of the time) Submissive: Not really, except for people with authority over her and whom she respects (like Padre or Mama Welles). And for sex, if someone is more dominant than her. In love : Yes Single : No but yes (open relationship)

Random Questions (TW: Self harm/suicide mention)

Have they harmed themselves : No Thought of suicide : No Attempted suicide : No Wanted to kill someone : Yes, Have/had a job : Yes Have any fears : Afraid of being alone, seeing loved ones die and deep water.

Family (TW: Death)

Sibling(s) : A big sister, Rita who became a nun and named Sister Maria-Guadalupe and a big brother, Mauricio, a Valentino. Parent(s) : Luis Vergara-Mora and Ana Maria Serrano-Vergara, both deceased. Her father was a Valentino, killed in a gunfire a few days after her birth. She only knows him through a few anecdotes, photos and graffiti on the Glen walls. Her mother raised her children with courage and patience, before dying from lung cancer. Children : 0 Significant other : Valentin "V" Lacroix Pet(s) : Nibbles ♥

All Bastards Are Brothers

Just a series of kinda fluffy, kinda angsty one-shots about the brotherly bond between Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. Stories are not connected.

Ao3:

Part 1: Knowin’ My Fate Is To Be With You

Azriel shows up to dinner one night with a hickey, leaving the Inner Circle full of questions. Rhys and Azriel have a heart to heart.

“Az, what's that?"

Mor asked. He traced her glance back to the crook of his neck where, after a moment of thought, he remembered the dark purple bruise given to him only a few hours before. He quickly covered it up with a wisp of shadow and feigned innocence.

"What's what?"

"On your neck there." She pointed at the shadow. "Was that a bruise?"

"There's nothing there."

"Bullshit, move your shadows."

"I don't think I need to, there's nothing there."

"What's going on down here?" Cassian turned to face them. This could only go downhill from here.

"Azriel has a hickey," Mor said, her voice chipper and mocking.

"I do not."

"Then why won't you show me your neck?"

"Why won't you believe me?" He shot back. He was always ready to accept a challenge, and as Mor stuck her tongue out at him, he did the same.

Cassian watched the two curiously before clearing his throat. "You know, Az, before you go all defensive, you should know you're blushing." Shit. That wasn't good. He could feel his face heat up faster than he anticipated. He didn't dare look at Elain, but he felt her heavy gaze. Her very own blush was likely brushing down her pale skin as she watched him get berated for the mark that she left.

"Fine." Azriel removed his shadows and hissed. "It's a hickey."

"I knew it!" Mor cheered loudly, gaining the rest of the attention of the table. He faced Cassian again, who had a feline smirk. "Who?"

He kept his mouth shut. Any name would be a lie—one that Mor would be able to sense—and he wasn't about to bring Elain down with him.

"Second one this week," Cassian said. "I think Azriel has a side piece."

"Second one?" Mor raised an eyebrow at him, and Azriel wanted to cringe at the memory of the training earlier this week. His face felt hot. If he had blushing before, he had to be scarlet by now, especially after Cassian walked over and pointed to the place between Azriel's wings, causing Mor to squeal with delight.

Azriel had chugged the rest of his wine by the time Cassian sat down again and cursed the Mother for his luck.

"Neck and the wings? I didn't know you had it in you, Azzie," Cassian teased. Azriel weaved the shadows around him further, wondering if he should just winnow away at this point.

"How long has this been going on? Do we know her?" Mor asked. "OH! Is it the female who hit on you at Rita's?"

Azriel kept silent, refusing to answer either of his friends' remarks. Though that only seemed to spur them on more.

"Azzie, she was a hot one, no wonder you kept her for yourself," Cassian followed, and Azriel braced himself as the blonde opened her mouth again, but it never came.

"Alright, leave him alone," Rhys intervened. "He's one snigger away from disappearing into the shadows forever."

Cassian and Mor protested, but he only raised another hand.

"You never stop them from mocking me," Cassian mumbled. "That's all I'm saying."

"You make yourself a target, boy." Amren chimed in.

Mor laughed loudly at that, before pouring both of them another glass. Azriel was thankful for the subconscious reaction and the change of subject.

However, he only got a few moments of peace before he felt Rhys's warm presence ask to enter his mind, and despite his better judgment, Azriel let him in.

I'm impressed. Rhys purred into his brain from the other side of the table.

Fuck you.

More like fuck you if we're going with the evidence.

What do you want?

Let's chat tonight. Rhys vacated his mind, though not without leaving in his mind a picture of Azriel's own face, thoroughly red and sheepish, and a mocking laugh. He knew Rhys wouldn't be his savior tonight.

———

Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, so as he knocked on the open door of the study, he pressed his lips together and grimaced.

"You wanted to talk?" Azriel asked.

Rhys nodded, leaning against his desk. "I did, and I do."

Feyre sat next to him, absorbed in a pile of paperwork, and if Azriel was about to have the conversation he thought he was going to have, then he definitely didn't want her there. He sent a pleading look to Rhysand, who, much to his credit, understood. "We'll go out to the balcony."

With a kiss to Feyre's head, his High Lord led him out to the private deck, and the anxiety in Azriel's stomach soared, his shadows swirling around him.

"I'm assuming this is about earlier."

"You're seeing someone," He stated, watching as Azriel nodded. "And I had no idea. You didn't tell any of us, which makes me think that Amren's assessment was true."

"What did Amren say?"

"She muttered something to me about you being the only male she can stand because you hide every aspect of your romances. She was wrong, Az. You've kept them out of the spotlight, but you've never lied about being with them, not like you did tonight. It made me wonder, what makes this one different?" Azriel remained silent, unwilling to answer his brother's question. Luckily, Rhys answered it for him. "I can only think of three reasons why you'd keep the identity of your lover secret."

"I see you've put a lot of thought into this."

"It's not often that you take extra measures with a lover." A valid point. "I want you to be happy, brother, truly, so please don't hide yourself from me—you have a record of doing that, you know. Will you promise me that you won't lie about anything?"

"Will you promise not to tell the others?" Azriel asked him, quietly. "You can tell Feyre, I wouldn't ask you to keep something like this from your mate."

"I swear it on the graves of my mother and sister."

"I won't lie to you then." A fond smile crossed Rhys's face.

"Good, well, I want to make sure this person is worth it, so I'll start by asking, is this secret lover worth putting the strain forward?"

"Yes," was all he could think to say. He didn't trust himself to say anymore. Rhysand's smile got bigger, spilling over into his violet eyes, and Azriel felt himself blush a little once more. Rhys was always the most sentimental out of the three.

"Good. I'm glad they're worth it. Now, I have questions. Number one, you're ashamed of this person."

Azriel looked up in alarm. "Why would I be ashamed?" Cauldron, he would scream it to the entire Night Court that he loved Elain Archeron. The entirety of Prythian if he had to.

"I thought that maybe you had gotten tangled up with someone you shouldn't, like a Spring Court Lady, or a human, or I thought for a long moment, that maybe she wasn't a she after all..." Azriel raised his eyebrow at the last one.

"What?"

"Well, it occurred to me that I didn't know if you took males in bed, and then I started thinking, that if you really hadn't wanted us to know, you could and would hide it very well. I'm not here to judge, but if you say yes, then I feel like this chat will get a little more heartfelt than intended." Rhys rambled on, scratching the back of his neck. Azriel almost pitied him.

"I've never taken a man to bed, Rhys, and I do not plan too."

"Okay, good because I was lousy at talking to Mor about that."

"...and she's not lesser fae either."

"All right then, number two: is this a protective 'She's my mate' scenario?"

"No, I don't think we're mates."

"Are you sure?"

"Most people don't find their mates, Rhys," Azriel reminded him, masking the annoyance in his voice. Just because both he and Cassian found their mates didn't mean they all would.

"True. Number three: she's someone we know. In that case, my only question is how sweet, flower growing Elain is able to bruise an Illyrian."

Azriel gaped at him, demanding. "How?"

"The only person redder than you at dinner, which, by the way, was the highlight of this decade, was dear sweet Elain. Feyre told me that she thought Elain too innocent to hear it. I didn't quite think so."

"Are you going to have this little chat with her also?"

"Oh, I think she'll suffer enough from her own embarrassment than to have me do it again. Besides, you're more fun to torture."

"Can't you go tease Cassian?"

"We both know why I can't do that..." Rhys said candidly, and Azriel didn't dare to be hopeful that Rhys would drop the subject. Rhys's small frown turned into another smile soon after, and Azriel swallowed. "You hardly ever have anything for me to talk about anyway. I need to utilize this situation to its full potential. In fact, after you inform my mate of my win, I'm going to ask her to paint your lovely face...you remember the one?"

Rhys sent the same picture of Azriel's blushed face. Azriel rolled his eyes and spoke. "Shut it, Rhys."

To his surprise, Rhys did, choosing instead to turn towards the railing and look over the glittering lights of Velaris. Azriel did the same and took another sip of his wine.

"When do you think you'll tell everyone else?" Rhys said after a moment.

"Oh, I don't know, I'd rather have tonight fade from their minds before I say anything, though I suppose that's rather optimistic of me."

"I don't think Cassian and Mor will let that go, brother, but you can deal with them."

"Well, then there's always Nesta...And I'd rather not have my cock ripped off of my body."

Rhys cringed. "She's going to be a hard one to convince, my sympathies lie with you."

"My only hope is that she and Cassian can distract each other."

"Again, optimistic."

"True," he said cordially before quickly adding, "But I suppose it's up to Elain, really. She's much more conservative in these matters."

Rhys scoffed, "The irony in that statement. You two are made for each other."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't bullshit me. You do the same exact thing."

"I do not," Azriel insisted, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Az, when's the last time you had a quick fuck?"

"Wh—?" Azriel sputtered. "That's none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a long look before he turned it into a sickening grin. Azriel wanted to slap it off his face. "You were saying?"

"Go fuck yourself," he laughed.

Tag Game: Character Bios

Tagged by @kerrybearodyne ♥ 

General:

Name: Vince Aaron Maddox

Nicknames: V, Viny, Midnight Blue

Gender: Male

Age: 28

Birthdate:  June 4, 2049

Place of Birth/Hometown: was born in Nevada, but live in California. 

Sexual Preference: Pansexual

Occupation: Merc, Joytoy, bartender, stripper. 

Appearance:

Eye colour: Blue

Hire colour: Black dye Blue 

Height: 1.87 ( 6,1 feet)

Scars: Too much, on chest, on back, on face, on shoulders. 

Favorite:

Colour: Blue, black, purple 

Hair colour: Blue

Song: I am the highway by Soundgarden ( Panam and Vince song) 

Food: Junk food, Mexican food, Asian Food, Italian Food. 

Drink: Tequila & Bourbon. 

Have they?

Passed university: No

Had sex: Yes

Had sex in public: Yes X)

Gotten pregnant: No

Kissed a boy: Yes

Kissed a girl: Yes

Gotten tattoos: Yes arms, forearm, legs, back, chest and belly. 

Gotten piercings: ears ( both) nose, cheekbones, left nipple ( I wish in the game ) 

Been in love: Yes

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes during very long road driving when he was a bakker, and sometimes when he is bartender. 

Are they?:

A virgin: Nope

A cuddler: Only with Panam/ Kerry

A kisser: yes

Scared easily: cool blooded guy. excepted whe he sees a cockroach or in the water XD

Jealous easily: Not really. 

Dominant/Submissive: Both. It depend of the partner. 

In love: Absolutely in love with Panam (The star) and Kerry (The sun) 

Single: No ( sorry XD) .

Random Qustions? (TW Self Harm/Suicide Mention):

Have they harmed themselves: A lot

Thought of suicide: Yes

Attempted suicide: Nope. But he almost drowned. 

Wanted to kill someone: Yes

Have/had a job: Yes.

Have any fears: Yes!  

Family?

Sibling(s): A twin sister Venice ( they were very close but Venice left Bakkers to NC before him) and a twin brother Vigo ( He doesn’t know him) . Another twin brother Van but nobody know him. 

Parents: Aaron Maddox    Mother: Kaylee Wilcox (deceased)

Children: 0

Significant other: Panam Palmer, Kerry Eurodyne, Judy Alvarez, Rita Wheeler, Venice Maddox, Joan Joestar [ @diostar9 V] 

Pet(s): Nibble, he used to have a Snake named Pandora whe he was young. 

I tag any who wants to do! 

Chapters: 6/7 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning, blaster shot,... Summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Note: Bold Italic Writing signifies Nureyev speaking Brhamese 

Chapter 6: 

The dim light of the safe house shined supernaturally bright after the darkness outside.  The planetoid revolved slowly, so it would be another day or so before they found themselves back in the sun’s rays.  

Hopefully they would be gone by that time.

Nureyev blinked against the brightness, realizing he cracked a lens during the excursion.  At the moment he was too tired to care.  The Carte Blanch held a spare set or two dozen for just such an occasion.  

No, the only thing he had room to think about was Juno.

Juno, his goddess, was still sleeping on the couch.  Still in the same recovery position that Nureyev had left him in.  

"It's been a- a while - Juno-" he said to the still form.  Juno didn’t stir.  Nureyev hadn’t expected him to.  

All the same, the Thief stumbled over to the Detective and plopped down on the makeshift coffee table.  If he was being honest with himself, and he rarely was, there was something comforting about being this close to his partner again.  

Juno's chest rose and fell with a frantic rhythm and his eye danced under the lid.  Nureyev frowned.  Whatever dream he seemed to be having, it didn’t look to be a good one.  

Nureyev contemplated the wisdom of waking Juno.  If this was their room on the Carte Blanche, he’d have done it already, chasing away the nightmares that plagued him.  He paused, halfway to the pulse point at the lady’s throat.  

The pepper bomb residue still tingled on his skin, it probably wouldn't hurt Juno, goodness knows he was a tough lady- but all the same it would be best to wash up beforehand.

Rita had agreed to message him if she noticed guards near the safe house.  Judging by the live feed she’d sent, the security was still in a frenzy over Nureyev’s earlier theatrics.  That was something, at least.  

He sighed, wilting over his knees.  He should call Vespa.  He should report to the Captain.  He should be securing the safe house.  He should be doing anything other than watching the little dots on the comms screen buzz about his last known location.  

It was some time before Nureyev felt ready to stand again.

The smoke had worked its way into everything.  His hair, skin, clothes, makeup, everything.  This was promising to be a production.

Carefully he shrugged off his coat and set to work in the sink.  A quick glance at the mirror told him what he already knew.  Gone were the knife sharp cat eyes and the carefully contoured cheeks.  Now the coverage was patchy at best and gore splattered at worst.  Nureyev scoured down the grime on his hands and aggressively attacked the makeup streaks.  The water wasn’t working fast enough, each plunge setting him to ache afresh.  Under him, his leg was trembling, threatening to give out at any moment.  

There was nothing for it, he’d just have to shower the stuff off.   It wasn’t like he ever dried off from the earlier river dip anyways.  With an impatient puff of air, he sat himself on the toilet and stripped off boots, socks, corset and shirt.  All of these items have been protected from the worst of the fumes by the long coat.  Not so his trousers.  

At first the icy water activated the chemical residue afresh.  He scrubbed his skin raw with a bar of upscale hotel soap.  Well, the hotel it came from may have been upscale, but the soap itself was as mediocre as any other hotel soap.  He glared at it as though it was it’s fault he was in this mess.  Fresh scrapes and bruises blossomed across his chest and arms.  

The water ran off in muddy brown and rusted red, gradually fading sudsy clear as blood stains and dirt alike were rinsed away.  

Shaking with effort, Nureyev slid down onto the shower stool.  In his impatience, he’d forgotten about the bandage.  

First rule of thieving, Nureyev chastised himself, if you want to stay alive, keep a level head.

Numb fingers struggled with the bandage fastenings.  It was harder to remove the wrappings than it had been to apply them.  He expanded the tear in the leg seam to gain better access, exposing the burn beneath.  The sight churned his stomach, which was something.  He’d never considered himself squeamish.  There was something unsettling about seeing your own flesh distorted in such a fashion….

The angry red of the burn was expected, unpleasant, but expected.  But wasn’t prepared for the purple tinged veins webbing out from the injury or how tight the skin was stretched about it.  

File it away- just file it away.

As soon  as he was out of the shower and re-clothed; Nureyev decided to take Vespa’s advice and down a glass of water.  It repeated on him just as quick and he was left bowed over the sink, coughing and sputtering while his stomach roiled.  His knuckles turned to white over the porcelain as he waited for the nausea to die down.  

Face bare and hair free of product, he could plainly see the high flush on his cheeks and bruised circles under his eyes.  “Oh what are you looking at?” he rasped at his haggard reflection.   He should have known better, did know better.  He’d had enough experience to know when he could and couldn’t keep something down.  

That horrid chill bit deeper into his bones, conspiring with the fire of the injury to make him thoroughly miserable.  

This wasn’t right, he knew.  This wasn’t supposed to be how a blaster shot felt- fresh or no.  Goodness knows he’s had enough of them.  And the purpling veins were down right... unpleasant.

Nureyev sighed, bringing out two glasses of water and a clean cloth ripped in two.

“Juno, love.” Nureyev coaxed, all but collapsing on the tiny coffee table.  He could do this while he slept, but much rather the lady be awake to take his fluids.  “Love-” he coaxed, running his fingers through his curls like he'd wanted to ever since his return.  He was rewarded with a gentle moan and Juno pressing into his hand.  

“Love- You have to drink for me-”

“Don’ feel good.” his voice was so weak, Nureyev tried not to think about what that could mean.  

“I know-” he said, dipping the cloth in the water and bringing it to Juno’s lips, “J-Just take the water from that.”  

Juno pulled away from the cold, hand wrapping around Nureyev’s wrist.  “Naugh’ a child-”

Nureyev chuckled fondly “Drink, or Vespa will have both our heads.”

“Vespa?”

“I d-dare say she isn't too…. pleased at the moment.”

“Wha else ‘s new?” Juno commented, but took the cloth from Nureyev.  He was tentative at first but really started to pull on it, dipping messily back in the cup for more.  

“Slow, if you d-don’t want it repeating on you.” Juno hummed in affirmation.  That would have to do.  

Nureyev took a hit off his own cloth and turned his attention to the injury.  Though the surrounding skin had dried by now, the burn itself was swollen and oozing a clear fluid.  This close and the discoloration to the veins was easy to see.  He didn’t need Vespa to tell him that it had been contaminated.  Didn’t need her to explain that the speed at which the inflammation was spreading was concerning.  Didn’t need her to tell him there was nothing that could be done about it till he returned to the ship.  

File it away.

“Hh-hell, ‘Reyev-” He jumped, twisting to see Juno staring.  His eye was wide, glassy and his parlor was more ashen than before.  

“Lay back love.” Nureyev soothed, gently pushing Juno back.  The Detective collapsed under his gentle touch with a little strangled sound.  “D-don’t look.”  He hadn’t meant for him to see.  The thought of moving to another room, of having to stand another minute, made him sick.  Still, he should have tried harder to spare Juno.  

“It’s- bad-” as distorted as his words were, Nureyev could tell it was a statement, not a question.  

“Nothing that c-can’t be managed.” he shivered.  He almost believed it.  “Have some more water- i-if you can.”  

Nureyev tried to work quickly, using what little remained of the smuggler’s first aid kit to clean the wound and apply burn ointment.  The task was made difficult by clumsy cold hands.  The exercise may prove pointless, but at least nothing else was likely to add to the contamination.  

He should make a report to Buddy, maybe even get some answers as to what was going on with the Carte Blanche.  

Nureyev pursed his lips looking at the comms.  His mind was fuzzy at the edges, from fatigue and stress.  A call with someone who could see through so much of his cover on a good day, was daunting.  

And yet….

“Captain Auranko.” his usual smooth voice was rough and unwieldy.  "I believe it is t-time for a r-report."

"Pete, darling you sound dreadful." Nureyev couldn't tell if she was disappointed or concerned.  Perhaps both.  

"Yes well, a l-lot has... transported."

"Transpired?"

"Quite." He coughed.  "We have e-encountered several….troubles.  The b-box is fine but they are a-aware we are still within the c-city."

"Yes, I've heard something of your predicament Pete.  I assure you we are doing everything we can to collect you."

"When , Captain." He coughed harder, "we are r-running out of the…" he couldn't remember the right word " time- "

There was a pause, voices in the back, urgent and cutting.  He'd lose her- he’d lose her before he’d a chance to get answers, to get help.

"P-please, Captain-"

She sighed, "I'll be frank with you Pete.   Listen closely because we don't have time for questions."

The thief cleared his throat "Of course-"

"Planetoid Xnon is owned by Galactic Stars First Bank.  The entire place is on lockdown after our stunt." There was a strange sound like crunching metal  and Buddy gave a sharp intake of breath.  Shouting something to the Carte Blanche team.  

"They know t-the Carte Blanche is there."  Nureyev commented.  He didn't have to be a detective to put that together.

"Quite."

"Ah." The complicated note of emotion welled up within, there wouldn't be a rescue, they wouldn't be able to get close.  The bank would get them in the end and there would be nothing he could do about it.  Nureyev felt the knot in his throat before he had a chance to file it away.  "S-so we are to be… left b-behind."  Made to follow their pirates deal.  

"And leave two injured crew to fend for themselves against an overgrown bully?  I think not, dear.  Jet and Rita have been coordinating their efforts, we will beat them yet."

"Captain-"

"There is no need to be such a negative man Pete.  We will get back to you.  These bank executives made the mistake of coveting two things that are mine, my crew and my information.  I'm not in the mood for sharing."

Nureyev let out a strangled sort of laugh that was far from his usual chuckle.

"I will transfer you to Vespa, keep us in the loop darling."

"No need f-for the transfer.  T-tell her things are much the s-same on our end.  We will await the next contact."

"Very well, I'll defer to your judgement then Pete.  Buddy out."

Nureyev sagged at the call end.  He'd the distinct feeling like Buddy was withholding something from them.  He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad that ng, so he filed that away for future consideration.

"They kknow 'bout tha ship?"  Juno inquired in the lull.

"It would seem s-so." Nureyev said.  He had no intention of lying to Juno, even in a state like this.

"J-Jet and Rita are on it though."

"Rita-" Juno gave a snort, "almos' feel bad- for-” he gasped “'em- ah-"  His face twisted and he curled tighter on himself.  

“L-love, you should- reset.” he said, scooting himself over so that he was within reach of Juno.  

“You’re ss-switchin’ words- Reyev-” he was looking up at him with that glassy eye.  

“What?”  

“Switching- words-” Juno tried again.  “You’ve been- doin’ it a lot-”

Then it clicked.

“I-" he floundered, " Oh my.  I hadn’t realized-” and he hadn’t.  But now that he was actually thinking about it, he’d been doing it for a while.  His hand drifted up to his traitorous lips.  That was definitely a hit to his professional pride.  It had been a long time since he'd slipped like this; would that only get more common as he got older?  Or....

File it away-

"You're- tired- too-" Juno added, reaching out to put his hand on Nureyev's knee.  It seemed to be meant as a squeeze, but his fingers couldn't quite manage.  He'd likely be unable to work a blaster in this state.

He was defenseless.

Just file it all away-

"It's- alright." Nureyev shrugged delicately.

"No- it's s'not."

Nureyev hummed, wrapping his fingers about Juno's wrist, feeling the pulse point fast and light.  In truth, he would be alright as long as Juno's heart kept beating.

After Juno drifted off once more, Nureyev took to securing the safe house again.  Moving around more than was wise judging by the dizzy spells.  

One eye was on the guard locator Rita sent, another kept on his love.  

Two hours passed, Vespa called, Juno was examined again.  His heart rate was inching up but otherwise, he was much the same.  She didn't know when they'd return.  Nureyev's eyelids itched to close.  He could not rest yet.

He refused.  

To keep awake, he attempted a few mobility exercises.  A near collapse on the second set led him to abandon the attempt.  The movements weren’t hard, per say, but they were deceptively taxing.  One that left him shaking and gasping on the ground.  Forgetting that was a stupid, foolish mistake.  Nureyev was slipping.

The buzzing of an incoming call forced him back to reality.  He’d been dangerously close to nodding off again, lulled into stillness by the mirriorid aches and pains that plagued him.  It was Vespa, goodness, had it really been two hours?  

Her tone held none of it’s usual bite.  If Nureyev didn’t know better, he’d call it concern.   Juno was much the same, fast asleep, curled on his side, face pinched in pain.  Nureyev longed to kiss it away.  As if he was of any use to the Detective now.  

________________________

He patrolled the safehouse again, pausing in front of the crates. They easily outnumbered the pair.  The more Nureyev considered them, the more ominous he found their hidden insides to be.  What if they had listening devices inside?  Cameras?  Drones?  It could also be completely innocuous-

It was reminding him of the old earth thought experiment.  There was a cat in a box, and you didn’t know if the cat was alive or dead until you opened that box.  Until you did, both possibilities remained true at once.  He thought that old earthlings must have been very cruel or cowardly to trap such a creature in the first place and not check on it’s welfare.  In his current state, he related very much to the cat.  

Were the contents of the crate dangerous?  Or harmless?  There was only one way to find out.  

Nureyev pulled up a smaller box for a seat and set a plasma cutter to the side.  Slicing through the synth wood till it hung loose from the hinge left against the floor.  He glanced over at Juno and pulled.  

Tiny vials cascaded from the packing fungus.  Nureyev jumped, jarring his leg and hissing.  It was a far cry from what he’d been expecting.  Cautiously, he reached in and scooped up a tiny glass bottle bearing the legend ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’  

He grabbed another squinting at the label ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’

A brief investigation revealed the entire crate contained the long expired vaccines.  Nureyev stood, dizzied by the sudden motion and moved to the next crate.  This too contained medical devices, two ventilators and their accompanied equipment.  Another crate contained bandages and antiseptic.  Another filled with tiny computerized vital monitors.  Still another was cramped with some sort of scanning tech.  Crate after crate contained specialized medical supplies.  

Nureyev’s chest constricted, wherever these had intended to go, they were meant to save people on the Outer Rim.  Not be left to rot in a forgotten smuggler den.  

Out of morbid curiosity, he snagged a few of the vials for future consideration.  Then sent a picture of the medical equipment to Vespa with a caption “Would these items still be of use?”

There would have been many people on Brahma alone that would have benefited from such equipment.  It was near impossible to get on the war torn Outer Rim.  Frustration bubbled out from some locked file.  In his fatigued state, it was near impossible to hold it back.  

Just then, the Detective stirred.  The file snapped shut and Nureyev hobbled back to his love.  

Something seemed to have changed, even through the brain fog, it was plain to see.

“J-Juno?” Nureyev asked.  

Juno let out a low pained groan, fingers twisting into his stomach. “ ‘Reyev- ” he gasped, his chest stuttering.  “ Nu-reyev- ” he was struggling as if trying to force himself upright.  

“What’s ha-happening love-”

“Hu- hur’s -” he keened.  Nureyev’s blood ran cold, his hands fluttering over the lady.  Unsure whether he should push him back down or help him up.  

“Hurts?  Juno- w-what hurts?”

Juno swayed on his elbow, eye screwed shut.  

“ Love ?”

He looked as though he was going to be sick.  Nureyev pushed a bin under him just in time for him to wretch.  His whole body shook from the force of it, he was left gasping from the strain before it hit him again.  A curdled mass of red splattered against the bottom of the bin.  

Blood

Juno was bleeding on the inside.

Nureyev didn’t wait for him to finish, he called Vespa barely able to keep the panic down.  

“I’m kind of busy thief, if this is about the equi-”

“Juno’s Bleeding !” Nureyev choked out.  

“Whut?”

“Please Vespa- Juno- Juno is-” he groped for the right phrase, “How do you say- internal bleeding-'' the Brahmese slipped out of his mouth before he could think to stop it.  Juno heaved again, dissolving into dry heaves.  Nureyev wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.  “Sick on blood.” he managed at long last.  

“Wait, you're telling me he’s vomiting blood?”

“Yes.”

She swore.

“How d-do I stop it?”

“Ransom-” she sounded tired.  Almost defeated.  He couldn't understand.  There had to be something he could do, anything that he could do.

“Please- I-” he was hyperventilating now, getting dizzy from it.  Juno was shaking in his spare arm, just keeping himself from toppling over.  He couldn't lose him, not like this. “Please-” his voice broke.  

“Whoa, hey!  First Ransom, I’m going to need you to breathe for me!  Sheish!”  He tried, grounding himself with the heat radiating from Juno.  “Okay look, I can’t promise anything right now, but gonna need you to turn on the video feed, I need to see what’s going on.” He did.  

As before he followed her instructions.  Juno seemed to collapse in on himself, curling around his core.  

“Here’s the story Ransom.” Nureyev perked up, trying with all his might to focus on Vespa’s voice.  “He’s in bad shape.” he snorted, he knew that.  “But judging by the color and texture of the blood, it's a slow bleed.  We have the time to get to you.”

“S-so, I am to w-sit in idle the entire time?”

“Your Job, Thief, is the same as before!” she snapped, sounding more like her usual self.  “His heart and brain need blood circulation to elevate his feet.” Nureyev got a box to prop Juno’s feet on and carefully turned him onto his back.  Juno whined at the motion and Vespa swore loudly “Not on his back Thief!  Damn it!  Want him to choke if he ralfs again?!  Keep him on his side, the recovery position.”  Nureyev could kick himself as he hurried to comply, Juno made another piteous sound that tugged at his heart.  “No, it’s not comfortable, but it will improve his chances of survival.”

It was harder than it should have been to move Juno, he was panting by the end, the world swirling “What n-now?”

“If he can keep it down, get water into him.  Mostly just keep him alive until we get there.”

“When will that be- ” he was frustrated, tired.  He wanted answers.  He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage out the headache that had taken residence in his temples.  

“I don’t know what you are playing at Ransom, but I don’t speak Brahmese!”

“Wha- I-” he swallowed, he’d done it again.  Maybe if he just ignored it- “W-when are you coming?”

“Look, we’ll keep you apprised.  And goddamnit, do something about that chill.  I can’t deal with you keeling over on us.  Talk to you next check in.” and she hung up.

He just had to wait it out.

He could do that.  A shiver passed down his spine, clothes scraping over hypersensitive skin.  

He could wait.

________________

It was getting- hard- to concentrate.  Nureyev couldn't patrol the safe house anymore, could scarcely move.  So instead, he was saving what was left of his strength for what was to come.  Whatever that may be.  

The fatigue was crushing and still he kept his eyes open.  He would not leave Juno, not if there was anything he could do about it.  

He squeezed the handle of the blade, the sharp edges of the bare handle digging into his palm.  Over and over he squeezed until it hurt, and backed off, lulling himself into a half hypnotic state.  So long as he could squeeze, he could feel the pain, so long as he felt the pain, he could stay awake.  

It was different from the consuming burn in his leg, the unruly, hungry sort of agony that was far beyond his control.  Far beyond anything he could file away.

The squeezing distracted from it, in a small way.  Any relief was welcome.  

Nureyev bowed over his knees, eyes trained on the comms screen and the blurry dots migrating over the surface of the map.  Squeezing the handle.  Paying no attention to the moisture working it’s way down his wrist.  

It had been- hours- since they last heard from the Carte Blanche.  Hours since he heard a peep out of Juno-  The only way the thief could be sure Juno was alive was the heat rolling off his skin.  

They’ve been abandoned.  

He was sure.

Buddy Auranko had promised that the Carte Blanche would be more than a team, that it would be a family.  He snorted derisively.  He should have taken Juno and run right then and there.  Family’s only ever brought suffering.  

The burn gave a particularly nasty throb, Nureyev jumped, hissing against the onslaught, clutching high over the wound.  How long would they last like this?  

The comms started to beep.  Nureyev glanced down and saw activity on the screen.  The details were lost to him, but what was known was that the guards of Galactic Stars First Bank were on the move.

He wasn’t sure what that could mean, but it couldn’t be good.  

There was a rattling at the door.  Nureyev’s heart plummeted.   Now?  Of all times.  Why couldn't they just leave them alone?  

Someone, or something pounded on the door, a large someone judging by the racket it made, setting Nureyev’s head to pound.  There were voices from the other end.  Nureyev’s mind stretched them into something sinister and ominous.  He straightened his leaden limbs.  Preparing himself.

If they expected him to go out without a fight, then they were sorely mistaken.  

The door was flung open and Nureyev used the last of his strength to launch himself at the intruders.  The blade sung through the air, making contact judging by the grunt.  A large blurry person shouted, staggering away from the knife.  

They weren’t fighting back.  

That was strange.  Not only weren’t they fighting back, but they seemed to be calling out to him-  As though they- recognized him.

It did nothing to soothe his fears.

Nureyev collided painfully with the door jam wheeling around and-

“‘ansom!  Ransom!  We are not a threat!  Ransom!”

He staggered, a familiar figure in a tan overcoat swam before his eyes.  

Nureyev- knew that coat.

“J-Jet?” he asked, bewildered.  How was it possible that they were there?  They’d left them?  Hadn’t they?  Blackness encroached on what was left of his vision.  

“Yes.  We have come to collect you.”

“Oh- Thank the stars- ” and Nureyev knew no more.  

tagged by @southside-forever @whatwouldmickeydo and @gallavictorious thank you lovelies 💕💖💗

name: Rita

single or taken: single and not looking to mingle lol

crushing: only on my mutuals 😘

height: 157 cm (5′1) I am very small

favorite color: red and purple

girl best friend/boy best friend: the position is open at the moment. any takers?

ever wanna get married: nope

want kids: no thank you, you can keep ‘em

snapchat: I barely know what that is

thai zodiac sign: apparently I’m a pisces instead of an aries, which means very little to me 🤷‍♀️

last drink: water

goth, emo or both: neither?

glasses: yes, my eyes have rejected contacts many years ago

makeup: only very rarely nowadays

cat or dog: cat 😺

evil or good: generally good, with a touch of evil to keep things interesting

favorite sport: none of them?? or I guess swimming

favorite animal: cat!!

weird: I’d say so yes

weird fact: I always wear a bra even to bed? I think that’s unusual at least. I’m also always wearing a watch on my left wrist (a small digital one). also wear it to bed. don’t know why. told you I was weird

do you have haters: none that I’m aware of

funny or nah: I try 😁

apple or samsung: samsung, babey. never owned an iphone in my life

smart: I have my moments 😌 but I can also be pretty dumb lol

I’m very late with this and most people have already been tagged, but if anyone wants to do this they’re more than welcome to tag me so I can see their answers!! ❤

Chapter 4: "The Investigation Begins"

"... ..." You start to hear crickets, the wind blowing slightly like several leaves flying around and there she is, waiting for her sitting on that wooden bench putting her hand on the bench to finally be able to give her a hug and say sorry . She finally sits down and they give each other a warm hug that lasts longer than expected. She for a moment she closes her eyes and now she is in an empty place.

"How cold it is here" I say blowing my hands to warm myself, I walk around me and as I walk I see an extremely familiar figure but then the figure is distorted. That aura that I previously believed to be real is now just a whisper in my mind; the sky is wrapped in an extremely clear lilac and with an extremely beautiful dark purple the "sky" of the place while now I am in a dark house

"Who are you? I wait for an answer from the supposed figure but I don't receive any answer." I'm your subconscious "Says the hoarse voice." Look, I know it's not easy to explain but here in dreams everything you think about in the day will be transported at night; anyway you have never had these encounters on a daily basis, my girl, you have always longed to dream of being someone in this life, haven't you? In fact we have all had that thought. "Sweet dreams" At that moment my vision begins to turn black and a whip is heard.

Gah! I look around to make sure everything is in order, I see Roger as always there by my side and I am relieved with that. I grab a pillow and put it in a position between my legs to be more comfortable.

The next day I get up and see the window so that it is okay but everything indicates that today there will be a lot of cloud, which indicates that today it will be very cloudy. I go straight to the bathroom to get ready, take a shower as well as call the one with the furniture. Before she calls I see Adelle there in a deep sleep and lying on her side, she surely couldn't sleep well so she let her sleep and I go straight to the table to call the one with the furniture

"Good morning, ahem who do I like?" Ah, her voice seems like those bank managers it can't be and I don't want to fight with the server. "Good morning, miss, I am Roger Peterson who came 2 days ago to see about the furniture" Well it seems that they are already on their way, sir, the truck will arrive at 12:30 in the afternoon if you like. Perfect. I hang up the call and I already feel a little relieved that they are already on their way.

"Good morning" Someone says and I turn to look and it is her, it seems that she has already recovered the energy necessary to be able to go to work. We have breakfast and get ready to go and let the truckers know that they can accommodate the furniture there and it seems that they accepted that it is the good thing. We got in the car and headed there, I am very excited to know what will happen, I say this is something very serious besides that we should not risk our lives, they know why they would hate us ... they already know how to send us to hell in the future

We entered the place and the entrance is extremely large, which is what I like, there are several sections of subjects such as Mathematics, Literature and Civics in large black letters:

"Oh! Adelle, Roger I'm glad to see you here on time, I expected that from you. "

I greet her and she too, it makes me good to see her arranged with her perfectly combed but slightly disheveled bun, her gray plaid jacket, a short formal dress and her black heels, she says she is going to give us a little tour of the building now teach the climatology department;

While we are walking through the university I think about calling Mr. Mason to thank him for this job offer since this will benefit us, about the pregnancy I do not know what to say but if it is a child I promise to give him the best possible education so that it is not a poor exemplary son, if he is a girl I will also do the same because you know sometimes life can give you unexpected turns.

"Well here is the department of climatology and science can see without compromise." She goes to the address since they called her for something so she leaves us alone for a few minutes:

"Wow, this department is very very big here we can probably investigate" There are several posters, shelves with books but the shelf is medium, We sit on the plastic chairs there; to do our part we take a few books on tropical climates, on rains.

I love to make notes about the phenomena that we always investigate, I remember that one day we left the press open-mouthed about an in-depth scientific explanation about a Ball Lightning, what does this mean? It is a spherical structure that appears when there is an electrical storm, almost two theories (Internal Energy and External Energy) that explain almost antagonistic since almost not much is known about it but what would make perfect sense is that these rays have been brought somehow over power lines.

I write this down taking into account that, if the Mayak-O14 is the same as the ball lightning, something makes the sky turn purple, orange would make sense that it was a kind of artificial magic; what I mean is that an object could be causing all this, I read an article on Raven Brooks and I am realizing that storms are very common here and the weather is very unusual.

"Oh, there they are both, they gave me news that I have to inform them." We turn around at the same time stopping writing and paying attention to the subject.

"Well, I hope you like the News: The Tavish are financing Mayak 0-14 research, with the aim of solving the enigma of this phenomenon"

Well that pleases me but I think- "Don't worry, they only told me about it, they did not say the date of the financing, only the details." For a moment I had been scared since I'm not ready yet, far from it Adelle, let's go. We know that we barely made a move 2 days ago so for now we will be working here at the university.

"Hey Rita, for now we will be working here as well as investigating." Yes, no problem.

We spend a few hours late researching about the weather and natural phenomena so that we can distract ourselves a little bit until it's time to go home ...

PS: Credits to @da-radio-starz for the fanart of Piper!

PatB: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 3

AN: I'm going to take a break from Nova and finish this fic. It's been 2 months since I last updated this anyway. 

AO3 Link

Ch 3: No Lesson Could Teach Me

The Beast's head throbbed like someone was repeatedly bashing his skull in with a hammer. Something cold and wet was wrapped around his right arm, which throbbed even more than his head. His front was exposed to wind and cold, his back against soft leather. 

He swayed from side to side, and a gentle hand pushed his shoulders so he didn’t lean too much in one direction. 

It was a strange touch, gentle and strong and graceful and frightening all at once. He didn't want the mouse touching him. 

Only infants and young children required physical contact. Not someone of his royal station, and certainly not beasts. 

Why save him? The mouse...no, his name was Pinky. It was the only thing he remembered as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Pinky had every right to leave him in the snow to be devoured by wolves or perish from exposure. 

A fitting punishment for all his failures to lift the curse and reclaim his throne.

The muffled clops from Pinky's horse gave way to sharp clacks on stone, sending a fresh wave of pain through the Beast's skull with each harsh sound. 

Then the horse came to a stop. 

The Beast opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself up. They’d arrived at the front doors of the castle. 

“Hello?” Pinky called. The Beast nearly tumbled off the horse in surprise, not expecting his voice to be so close to his ear. “We’re back!” 

An opening widened slightly at the door’s base, and Dot poked her teacup handle outside. Upon seeing them, her eyes lit up. Then she sounded the alarm, and a frenzy quickly arose from the servants as they threw the doors open as wide as they could, uncaring of any snow or debris that would blow into the foyer. 

It wasn’t just the Warners, who huddled together in shock and relief. Among the crowd, he spotted Hello Nurse off to the side, her range of motion highly limited since her harp form was rather heavy. Mindy, a porcelain doll, squealed in delight. Her purple dress was ruffled, skin slightly cracked from her misadventures around the castle. Buttons, her loyal dog turned footstool, made sure she didn’t get too close to the sharp hooves. The Goodfeathers, former pigeons who’d been caught in the curse as they roosted on the castle spires, hovered above everyone as featherdusters. Another footstool with scruffier tassels, Runt, wagged his rear dumbly. Rita, an angelic Christmas ornament, sat on him and surveyed everyone from her perch. Despite having an angel’s halo, robe, and wings, she was flexing her paws like she wanted to claw the Beast herself. 

 There were far too many eyes on the Beast for his liking. They didn’t have to stare. Pinky and the horse were alive, weren’t they? Isn’t that all that mattered? “I’m going back to the West Wing,” the Beast announced. “Don’t disturb me unless the castle’s on fire.” 

“Your arm is wrapped,” Hello Nurse said, like it wasn’t obvious already. Her arms were folded neatly in front, though she matched his glare with her own. “If my area of expertise is needed-”

“It’s not,” the Beast snapped. Hello Nurse was skilled in her trade, but he didn’t require anything except to be left alone. 

He just wanted to barricade himself in the West Wing, and either sleep or ponder a new plan for breaking the curse while ignoring that scornful rose. Because the whole ‘fall in love’ solution obviously wasn’t working, not that he’d ever lend it serious consideration.

“Hello, Hello Nurse!” Pinky waved to her. “Do you know how to treat wolf scratches, by any chance? Beast got clawed pretty badly.” 

The servants went into an uproar at that information. Individual voices were quickly lost in the cacophony, though there was much confusion, worry, and annoyance coloring everyone’s tones.  

“Don’t tell them!” the Beast growled at Pinky. 

Pinky folded his arms. “Zort! Well, it’s not like you were gonna tell them!” 

Though it was a true statement, he didn’t want that reflected back on him by some impudent rodent. 

“I would’ve explained eventually. And next time...” the Beast trailed off as his mind caught up to what Pinky said. “...did you just call me Beast?” 

Beast got clawed pretty badly. 

Pinky had said it so normally. Like it was any other name. 

Was it possible...oh, this was foolish. He knew better than to entertain fantasies. 

He’d lost the ability to read in the third year of the curse. And the year after that, he found it was impossible to invent. He snapped writing utensils with ease, whether by accident or out of frustration. 

If he couldn’t perform those simple tasks, then he didn’t deserve his old name. 

“Sorry. It’s just...um, you told me to call you Beast,” Pinky said. He seemed unsure for some strange reason. “Is that okay?” 

“It’s fine,” the Beast grunted. He wasn’t taking it back now. He was a prince, and princes, even former ones, never went back on their word once spoken. 

In the back, he saw Hello Nurse tap Dot’s rim. Dot leaned over as Hello Nurse whispered something to her. Then Dot pulled back and nodded firmly. Hello Nurse covered her ears.  

“EVERYBODY, QUIET!” 

Dot’s shriek echoed throughout the castle, rivalling his own roars in volume and intensity. It stunned everyone into silence, even Yakko, which was an achievement unto itself. 

The arguing servants stared at her. The only one unaffected was Mindy, who kept trying to touch the ‘pretty horsey’, and was barely being held back by Buttons’ wooden leg. 

“All yours,” Dot said to Hello Nurse. 

“Thank you, Dot,” Hello Nurse said, her voice somewhat unsteady from being so close to the blast radius. "May I remind everyone that there are three beings who are still in the cold, one of whom requires urgent medical attention?" 

"It's not that urgent," the Beast protested, but Hello Nurse ignored him as she organized the servants. 

"Yakko, light the fireplace and warm the room." 

Yakko saluted, a golden cap pulled low over his waxy head like a soldier's helmet. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" he shouted as he rushed away. 

"Wakko, fetch spare clothing and towels from the laundry room. Dot, run to the kitchen and ask Chef Flavio to heat some water, but not boil it." 

Wakko and Dot hurried out of sight, though Wakko quickly waddled back across the room once he realized the laundry room was in the opposite direction. 

“Goodfeathers, gather a cleaning crew and tidy up the entrance hall.” 

“Oi, do we look like maids to you?” Pesto shrieked as Squit and Bobby dragged him away by his dust-covered feathers. 

Before Hello Nurse could assign Rita, Runt, and Buttons to their tasks, a group of brushes and buckets skittered across the courtyard and came to a halt in front of Pinky’s horse, who stepped backwards with a nervous whinny at their sudden appearance. Pinky patted her side to calm her down, and the noises stopped. 

“We’ll take your horse to the stable, monsieur!” one of the brushes piped up. 

“We’ll take really good care of her!” a bucket added. 

Pinky shook his head, though he smiled gently at the disappointed stableboys. “Thanks for the offer, but I can do it myself. I don’t wanna trouble you or anything.” 

The Beast had seen Pinky frightened and defiant, but never smiling. It was strange. Somehow, the smile seemed like the most natural expression for Pinky to have. 

And now his thoughts were going off in a weird direction. The Beast quickly turned away, watching Buttons reluctantly hand off Mindy to a resigned Rita and a delighted Runt under Hello Nurse’s orders. 

“No trouble!” the brush said, and the brushes and buckets hopped in agreement. “None at all!” 

“It’s fine, really! Pharfignewton’s part of the family, so I’ve gotta take care of her,” Pinky said. 

Pharfignewton stomped her front hoof, her ears pinning back. She didn’t seem to agree at all. 

A blast of cold wind reminded the Beast that they were still exposed to the elements, and if they didn’t want to become icicles, they had to get inside now. 

“If I may,” Hello Nurse cut in before the Beast could say anything he’d probably regret later. “Pinky, I know you’re worried about your horse, but the stableboys are well-equipped to take over her care for now. I’d rather you warm up by the fireplace before doing anything else." 

"Well...if it's okay with you, Fig." Pinky carefully crawled up to Pharfignewton's head and down her long muzzle, quietly excusing himself as he passed the Beast. 

Pharfignewton nickered softly, and that seemed to satisfy Pinky. 

Buttons positioned himself on Pharfignewton’s left, digging his wooden legs into the ground as he waited for the Beast to dismount. 

“Move. I’ll walk there myself,” he said to Buttons, who adamantly shook his front end. Or what the Beast thought to be his head. It was hard to tell when the footstool had no visible face. 

And he wasn’t incapacitated. He’d recovered from his fainting spell just fine on the ride back. The offer was nothing more than an insult. 

A sudden bolt of pain traveled up his arm, and he clutched his injury with an agonized growl, almost falling off Pharfignewton in the process. 

“As for you, sir, you shouldn’t walk on your injured arm,” Hello Nurse said. “Unless you’d prefer to limp to your chair.” 

Limping on three limbs was even more humiliating than being carried, especially when Pinky was scrutinizing his every move. Slowly, the Beast slid from the saddle and onto Buttons, surprised that Pharfignewton was willing to bend down to make the transfer easier.

He tried not to think about accidentally cutting Buttons’ cloth with his claws. He didn’t understand how this accursed magic worked. Transforming living beings into inanimate objects made no sense from a scientific standpoint. 

Nor did having one’s insides become stuffing, brass, or wood or anything that didn’t normally belong in one’s body. 

It was somewhat nauseating if he pondered that concept too much. 

Pharfignewton gave Pinky a sloppy lick, and he hugged her nose in return. Then a spare coat rack took Pharfignewton’s reins and led her to the stables, surrounded by the entourage of stableboys. 

The Beast gripped a loose piece of golden trim to keep his balance as Buttons headed inside. The Goodfeathers arrived with the cleaning crew, who quickly set about cleaning all the dead twigs and snow that had accumulated at the entrance. 

Buttons pushed Hello Nurse across the stone floor while Rita and Runt herded Mindy in the direction of the servant’s quarters. Mindy was far too curious for her own good, too young to know her porcelain skin put her in greater danger if she strayed or touched something hot. It was a constant danger with Dot as well, who regularly insisted on keeping cushions laying around in strategic places so she could land safely. No amount of persuasion got through to her, not even from her own brothers. 

Pinky trailed behind Buttons. He still seemed to have trouble navigating the castle by himself. 

There was a loud crash behind them, and Buttons whipped around so fast that the Beast was nearly thrown off. 

“Gentle, Runt!” Rita scolded as Mindy recovered from being pushed too hard into a draconic gargoyle. But she popped up within seconds and giggled about silly puppies, so it wasn’t much of a cause for concern. There weren’t any new cracks on her porcelain. 

Runt whimpered and pawed the ground. “Sorry, Mindy. Bad dog. Definitely a bad dog.” 

Buttons growled a warning to Runt, who pressed himself to the ground in submission. Rita hissed right back as she patted the messy tassels on Runt’s head.  

“Aw, you’re not a bad dog!” Pinky ran over to Runt and embraced his leg. “It was just an accident.” 

“Eh, you ain’t bad. You’re just a klutz,” Rita said, which perked Runt up again. She flicked her paw dismissively. “Kiddo’s fine, Buttons. Take the boss to his brooding chair or something.” 

“It’s a pondering chair,” the Beast corrected. Everyone called it the brooding chair for some insane reason. He didn’t brood. He just used the chair to ponder ideas for breaking the curse. 

Really? You just stare into the flickering embers these days. Where are all your brilliant ideas now?

He really wanted to throw his internal monologue off the West Wing balcony. 

“Whatever you say, boss,” Rita shrugged. She flicked the tassels on Runt’s head, and they corralled Mindy to the servant’s quarters. 

Pinky waved goodbye to them, and Hello Nurse called for him to catch up to Buttons before he was left behind. Pinky barely looked as though his life had been in danger at all. 

Buttons crossed the threshold into the parlor, pushing Hello Nurse into a position between the fireplace and the stuffed armchair where she could easily supervise. 

The fireplace crackled with warm, orange flames. The heat alone was soothing to the Beast’s exhausted mind. Pinky stretched and basked in the warmth. Yakko preened in the attention his hard work received. 

Wakko and Dot stood on a side table next to the armchair. A bowl of warm, steaming water and a stack of towels was next to them. 

And most comforting of all, a wine-red cloak was neatly folded on the armchair’s cushion. Next to it was a pair of black trousers, one of the less ragged pairs he owned. For Pinky, a small, slender dress of fine pink silk laid a few inches away.  

"Change out of those wet clothes first," Hello Nurse advised. 

The armchair was made for humans, not rodents, though Buttons was thankfully the same height as the cushion, so it wasn’t difficult to transfer to an actual inanimate object. 

The Beast gripped the side of the armchair, placing his claws within the clawmarks he’d scored on the object when he became frustrated. 

Ripping away the destroyed remains of the cloak he’d worn during his fight with the wolf, he quickly donned the replacement and secured the collar’s golden clasp below his neck. But he didn’t bother with the pants. 

Maintaining some level of decorum, even with trousers that were too torn for even the best seamstress to repair, was absolutely necessary. 

Hello Nurse gave him a disapproving look, but he ignored it and sank in the back corner of the armchair instead. With his cloak surrounding him and his back pressed against into the corner, he felt more secure.

“Awww, this is a very pretty dress!” Pinky exclaimed, admiring the fine material that was ten times more expensive than whatever house he lived in as a commoner. “Thanks so much, Wakko!” 

Wakko grinned, his pendulum swinging faster at Pinky’s praise. Dot ribbed him playfully with her teacup handle. “Who knew you had an eye for fashion?” she teased. 

“Is it really okay for me to wear this?” Pinky asked. 

“Sure is! That color matches more with your name anyway,” Yakko said. “Unless you want us to start calling you Bluey. Color coordination’s a thing in fashion, right?”

“There’s hope for you after all, Yakko,” Dot said. Yakko held a candle to his chest in mock offense. 

Suddenly, Pinky shimmied out of the waterlogged commoner dress he’d worn since his arrival at the castle. 

And the Beast received a view of gleaming white fur on an exposed body. 

Lean, but with a fair bit of muscle. Slender. Beautiful. 

Desperate for something to do so he didn’t have to watch Pinky put on the dress, the Beast unwrapped the purple cloth around his lower arm, revealing four long scratches. Though the fur was stripped away and left the skin wide open, they weren’t deep. A trickle of blood leaked from one of the scratches, and without thinking, the Beast lapped it away with his tongue. 

It was neither sanitary nor dignified, but the Beast found himself tapping into instincts he usually fought to repress. To his horror, it was becoming more natural to lick his wounds like a creature of the wilderness. He was a prince in name only, no real power or respect behind the title. 

He lost himself in the rhythm for a while, only stopping when he felt something foreign on his arm. 

Pinky’s hand rested on his upper arm, just above his wound. 

Was he crazy? Why would any sane being touch royalty, or a monster, or him? 

Pinky wore the pink dress now, his long sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said, bringing a wet cloth closer to the Beast’s arm. 

The Beast growled and stubbornly turned away from Pinky. Couldn’t this idiotic mouse just let him hang onto even an ounce of his pride? He held his arm out of reach, just so Pinky couldn’t have the satisfaction of getting it. 

It was Pinky’s fault he was injured in the first place. 

But Pinky wasn’t deterred, nearly falling onto the Beast as he reached up and tried to touch the cloth to the scratches. 

“Just hold still!” Pinky said, still not giving up even when the Beast moved his arm to avoid the cloth.

He could deal with this himself! What part of that did Pinky not understand? 

The brief tussle ended when Pinky finally managed to slap the cloth onto the Beast’s arm. Pain instantly shot through him, and he roared out of instinct and fury. 

“THAT HURTS!” he snarled in Pinky’s face.

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much!” Pinky retorted, his blue eyes piercing and intense with anger. 

It was strange. Pinky had cowered before him when they’d met face to face in the tower, and again when he’d been caught in the West Wing. 

But then, Pinky yelled back when he refused to dine with him. So it wasn’t completely out of the question. 

Regardless of what happened in the past, the Beast still needed to come out on top. After all, he was the Master around here. 

“If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened.” The Beast allowed himself a smirk. 

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

“If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away!” Though Pinky’s face was just inches away from the Beast’s fangs, he didn’t flinch. 

And just whose decision was it to break into the one area he’d forbidden? It was a generous rule when the rest of the grounds were open for exploration!

However, he couldn’t completely dismiss that while Pinky broke the rule, he didn’t deserve to be nearly killed twice over it. 

Regardless, he refused to let Pinky win this round. 

“You shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!” the Beast couldn’t resist leaning into Pinky’s space. Point made. It was over. 

“Well, you should learn to control your temper!” Pinky snapped. 

It was one thing to have living inanimate objects say it, many of whom had tempers themselves, but had never caused the destruction he’d dealt over the years.  

Never in his life had he heard an outsider say it. A peasant scolding royalty. A prisoner fighting their captor. A mouse challenging a beast. 

Impressive, but infuriating that he couldn’t refute how his temper caused this entire mess to begin with. 

The Warners tried and failed to stifle their laughter, and it was completely unfair that they were on Pinky’s side. The Beast huffed, placing a paw on his cheek as Pinky grabbed his injured arm again. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t care. 

“Now hold still,” Pinky said. His voice was firm, but also gentle. “This might sting a little.” 

As promised, the wet cloth stung on his arm as Pinky gently ran it over the scratches. The Beast grimaced at the sting of the fabric, and though he succeeded in containing the roar that threatened to build, he couldn’t stop himself from growling at the pain. 

He had a brief moment of respite when Pinky changed the cloth he was using now that he was finished sponging the remaining blood away. The scratches were pink, raw, and painful, but they weren’t bleeding. 

Maybe he should be more cautious this time. Just so Hello Nurse wouldn’t give him grief over his carelessness causing an infection. Or Pinky for that matter. 

Pinky returned with a new cloth. The Beast tensed as Pinky reached for his arm again, not wanting to be touched even though he reminded himself that it was necessary in this situation. After being isolated with nobody but household objects for company, and even before then, when his so-called family shunted him off to a minor province because they didn’t want the evidence of an affair in their palace, physical contact was a concept that was foreign to him entirely. 

“By the way, thank you,” Pinky said, smiling gently at the Beast. “For saving my life.” 

A warmth blossomed in the Beast’s chest, a sensation he couldn’t identify. It was new, but pleasant. 

“You’re welcome,” the Beast replied. That was the proper response to gratitude, right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

But he tried to cooperate as Pinky carefully wrapped the wound with bandages, following Hello Nurse’s instructions to the letter. Pinky deserved that much, at least. 

Pinky didn’t try to cause any unnecessary pain. But worry clearly showed in his eyes when the Beast involuntarily growled and tensed up with each touch. 

“It’s not you,” the Beast grunted, and Pinky's shoulders relaxed. He didn’t want to put up with that strange look much longer. 

“That looks fine, Pinky,” Hello Nurse called as Pinky finished wrapping the bandage around the Beast’s arm. “You did a great job.”

Pinky stepped back and wiped his forehead in relief. 

“His arm looks like a mummy’s,” Wakko not-so-subtly whispered.  

Ignoring the comparison to dead Egyptian royalty, the Beast carefully lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt as much as before. 

Next to him, Pinky carefully picked up the scrap of purple cloth that once served as a crude bandage. The Beast had forgotten about it. But Pinky neatly folded the scrap, tucking the bloodied side inward. He held it close to his body, like it was a precious item. 

He felt an odd twinge of guilt for tossing it aside, though he wasn’t why Pinky was treating it like a valuable painting or fragile heirloom. Maybe peasants just saved every piece of fabric they could. 

Then Pinky yawned, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

The Warners were oddly subdued as well. 

It had been a long and eventful night for everyone, and despite the Beast's exhaustion, his mind was brimming with questions. 

Terrifying questions he didn't want to know the answers to. 

"Children, why don't you escort our guest to his room and go to bed?" Hello Nurse suggested. 

Yakko balked, crossing his candlesticks over his brass chest. "I'm a height-challenged candelabra, not a—Dot! Don't jump from there!" 

Wakko and Dot jumped from the table at the same time, both landing safely on a cushion. Dot pouted. “Oh, but it’s okay for Wakko to jump?” she muttered. 

“He’s not porcelain,” Yakko said as he joined his siblings on the floor. Buttons whined in sympathy.  

“For the last time, I’m not helpless!” Dot hopped out of the parlor, not bothering to wait for her brothers or Pinky.  

“I didn’t say you were! You’re just more prone to chipping easily!” Yakko shouted. He chased after her, only stopping at the doorway when he remembered he was supposed to be an escort. He glanced at Pinky and Wakko. “You coming?” 

“Narf. Okay, I’m coming,” Pinky said, gathering his waterlogged dress and fabric scrap. Carefully, he climbed down the armchair and joined Yakko. Then he turned to everyone in the room. “Thanks, Beast. Thanks, Buttons and Hello Nurse. Good night. Can’t wait to turn in myself.”  

“Good night, Pinky,” Hello Nurse replied. 

Buttons barked. 

Beast nodded awkwardly. He didn’t think Pinky would be wishing him a good night after all he’d done to him. 

Wakko said nothing and happily batted at Buttons’ tassels. 

“Eh, he’ll catch up,” Yakko said, leading Pinky away from the parlor. “We can drop your clothes into the laundry along the way, and we never finished your tour before the boss ran you out, did we? Now if you direct your attention to the flying buttresses over yonder…” 

His usual chatter faded away. 

Maybe someone else should’ve escorted them, just to make sure Yakko didn’t treat Pinky to a whole song and dance routine on Baroque architecture. 

“What do you think he’s gonna turn into?” Wakko asked. 

Poor choice of words, but the Beast reminded himself that it was just an innocent question and not curse related. 

“Hopefully, nothing,” the Beast sighed. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“Go catch up with the others, Wakko,” Hello Nurse said. She opened her arms, and Wakko happily accepted the invitation to hug. They broke apart after a minute, then Wakko turned back to the Beast. 

“It’s okay,” Wakko said. “You’ll break the curse. I know you will.” 

And he scuttled out of the parlor, leaving the Beast before he could explain all the reasons why such innocent faith shouldn’t be placed on him. 

It was just the Beast, Hello Nurse, and Buttons now. And Buttons wasn’t much of a conversationalist. 

“He shouldn’t say those things,” the Beast quietly said, his claws digging into the cushion. 

It was nigh-impossible to break Wakko’s hope, even though plan after plan of breaking the curse failed. Hope was such a terrible burden to bear. 

Hello Nurse met his gaze coolly. “Hope does exist, whether you deny it or not. Pinky gave you a second chance. Maybe it’s time to use the original condition that was laid out for you from the beginning.”  

Love someone and make them love a monster in return. Yes, that made complete sense. 

“You caused a lot of pain, and not just to Pinky,” Hello Nurse said. The Beast wanted to argue that Pinky was recklessly defiant, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that Pinky only wanted to save his father. That Pinky only broke his promise because he feared for his life. That his servants shouldn’t have to suffer for his mistakes. “But he saved you. And we’re grateful that he did.”

Right. Because he was the only one who could break the curse. 

He didn’t deserve a second chance. Hello Nurse wasn’t forthcoming with a satisfactory answer as to why he was given one. 

“I haven’t learned my lesson. That’s not possible. I can’t just...change,” the Beast said. 

He’d been stuck in the same routine of planning and failing for too long. It wasn’t an option. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

With that final statement, Hello Nurse signaled for Buttons to help her out of the parlor and push her to Dr. Scratchy’s room. He was always woefully behind on any developments, mostly because the Warners couldn’t leave him alone long enough for anyone to deliver news. 

But more importantly, if it was possible for someone like him to change, then all he had to do was...try? 

Try to break the curse. Try to reclaim the throne. Always trying, never succeeding. 

Pinky had given him another chance though. Another opportunity. 

And Hello Nurse made sure he knew it. 

“Buttons, stop!” the Beast shouted. It came out harsher than he intended. 

Startled, Buttons stopped pushing Hello Nurse, who simply turned her metallic body as best she could with a harp stuck on her back. 

“I...wanted to thank you both. That’s all. Now leave,” the Beast hastily said. 

Buttons and Hello Nurse just stared at him, and the Beast growled. They didn’t have to act that bewildered about it. 

“Good night,” Hello Nurse smiled once she finally recovered. 

Then they were gone. 

Alone in the parlor, the Beast settled into a comfortable position that wouldn’t aggravate his injury. He touched the bandages on his arm, remembering Pinky’s gentle touch. 

The fireplace burned as he pondered an endless amount of questions, searching for answers that would never come. 

End AN: I'm sorry for excluding everyone's favorite squirrels from the castle staff. Personally, I can't picture Slappy living in a castle. She's perfectly content in her tree with her nephew. I did have an early idea for her and Skippy being transformed into nutcrackers though. They might show up elsewhere though.

Hello Nurse (or a lookalike of her) as a harp was taken from the OG Animaniacs segment The Warners and the Beanstalk, so that's where I pulled her transformed state from. Originally, Rita was going to be a harp, but I decided to change her to a Christmas ornament as a reference to her VA, Bernadette Peters, voicing the Christmas ornament Angelique in BatB Enchanted Christmas.

I imagine the Goodfeathers to look similar to Plumette’s birdlike design in the 2017 live-action, but less graceful and more pigeon-y.

Brain logic: Oh no Pinky is beautiful what’s a logical course of action? Lick my arm? Yes, licking my arm is a good distraction.

Into The Casino Ch14

(Disclaimer: The two songs Hey Pachuco and Sway and the lyrics sung are in NO way mine or my property. They all belong to their rightful owners: One being from the soundtrack from the movie The Mask, and the other performed by Pablo Beltrán Ruiz BUT for this I used the glee version of Sway performed by the glee cast. I used them just for the characters to dance and sing to, the dances performed also have no name and I just made them up but some were inspired by movies. I own NOTHING!! Thanks for reading. If you wanna get a good idea for the first swing dance, watch the dancing part from The Mask at the Cocobongo.) True to Disease's words, he kept a much closer eye on the sulking unicorn for the rest of their stay there. Which wasn't too long. He ate and talked a little more with this Dolly person, but he still snapped his head to her every five to ten minutes and she still sat there. Looking disappointed and bored, but he seemed happy with that. You wouldn't imagine her relief when he finally decided it would be the best time to leave and they were finally able to go home. Lou was..very delighted to see them back home, smile wide and gave an expected look to Disease once Cyber lead the sad looking gal away.

"Well? You didn't let any 'mishaps' happen did you?" Those red eyes narrowed. Disease just waved a hand. "Psh. You kidding me? She didn't find out anything she wanted. Asssk her yourself if ya don't believe me." And he did, but in a casual way not wanting to seem suspicious. Asking questions like: So how was your trip? Was Disease acting in a rude manner? Did anyone touch her?...Did she get to speak with Rita and was the conversation to her liking? She just answered no to most. Always keeping ears back and avoiding eye contact, which he was pretty suspicious of. But he didn't push it too hard. She wasn't acting too different from when they left and she still aloud him near and gave him the same treatment as before, but he still couldn't be too sure. So he asked the question, would you want to go back? And her answer was exactly what he wanted to hear. "...No. It's too loud and reeks of bad choices. I'd rather not get anymore headaches." His smile couldn't have been any bigger and happier. Almost all suspicions thrown out the window...almost. But he could deal with them later. He had more important things to think about, like if he wanted his future garden to have one section of red roses and another for mixed colored roses, or if she should just mix all the different rose bushes together into one multicolored section. My, my the choices were plentiful. But thanks to her little plan, he was on higher alert, he unfortunately couldn't spare Cyber very often, so it was up to Disease to keep an eye on her, and fortunately he didn't object...But it was starting to become obviously suspicious to her when she found him peeping into her doorknobs keyhole, and the next day he had found a wad of gum shoved into it....Dammit Disease! But it was obvious she was al least behaving. But time flies fast when you were doing the same boring routine was it not? So she couldn't really have been surprised one day when Lou of course delivered the same list of usual things to do but asked the question, "By chance, do you know ballroom dancing?" Her purple eyes blinked up at him in surprise as she slowly took the list from him. "Um..Y-Yes? I-It was one of the things my tutor insisted I learn, b-but I haven't done it in years." The taller demon hummed, bringing a hand to his chin. Well this wouldn't do. Not at all, which was exactly why he told her to drop by his main office first thing next morning, he'd have a surprise for her. She only rose a brow in confusion when the plant demon happily walked away from her and down the hallway. Most likely to greet more guests or whatever he did when she wasn't looking-...Unknownst to her, he was meeting Cyber in the back. Meeting with the slug from a few days ago. The back alleys were perfect for this sort of thing. Narrow enough so no one could ambush them, but just the perfect size to dispose of him if things went sour. The man was there alright. With an armful of something wrapped in an old dirty cloth, looked quite old. Once those red eyes hit him the man simply...Dumped them. Literally. The man threw the things to his and Cyber's feet without a care in the world and crossed his arms. ..Lou's smile wavering. He's had some rude dealers before but this man was as patient as a hellhound starving for nearly a month, he almost didn't make a deal with him because of how rude and ungrateful he was. It took everything he had to NOT feed him to his plants or have Cyber cut him down into little pieces, because at the time he was already feeling anxious and annoyed at the situation his little pet decided to put him through, but he held it up pretty well- A small clanging noise brought him back when Cyber nudged the wrapped up things with her foot. It felt hard and with the same foot, she caught the edge of the tarp on it and kicked it off. What was inside...was not what they were expecting. Angelic spears absolutely. But these ones...They looked rather old and worn. Rust creeping up on some of them. Lou rose a brow and gave the man a look. "...Really?" He shrugged. "I never said they were in completely perfect condition. I only said they've worked for as long as I've used them, which was quite a lot. Now do you want them or not?" Lou almost gave a growl but instead calmly looked to Cyber who by then was kneeling down and giving the things a calculating look....One of her hands reached down slowly to poke one of the blade tips. A small burning sound was instant when her fingertip touched one of the dull blades and as a result she instantly pulled back and peered up at him. A wide smile spreading over his features. Perfect. Well almost perfect, but he was sure Midnight could polish these things back to normal. A small price to pay for any angelic weapons he could get his hands on..and speaking of pay. The man was standing there obviously expecting something in return. So with a chuckle Lou reached behind his back and pulled out what he wanted, a small jar full of small round orbs. Lou tossed it to the demon who snatched it and grin that disgusting grin at him. "Pleaser doing business with ya." "Yes, yes. Please leave the premise immediately." Lou narrowed his eyes just as the man turned and began leaving..snapping his fingers, a small green vine came out of the back doorway he was standing in and wrapped itself around the weapons in question, bringing them inside before Lou turned to Cyber. "..Recollect those souls will you? I'm needed back on the floor before someone suspects something." He nodded and began off after the man in the same direction. "And do be quick about it. I wouldn't anyone 'specific' noticing." ****************************************************************************************************** Soon enough the day had come to a close and the familiar jar of souls was sitting on top of his desk as he hummed and happily signed away at a few papers, except maybe a new soul had been added to the collection. Cyber did an excellent job as always, but he couldn't care less about the souls for the moment. Right now he had someone on their way and he was dying to get started on the practice he wanted to do, all he needed was the lucky young lady. A few knocks at the door and a nervous shuffling had gotten his attention. The jar of orbs was easily hidden back into a desk drawer and papers were neatly shuffled in his hands. "Come in, Dear." The door slowly opened and much to his delight, purple eyes blinked back to him in confusion. He geatured to the chair in front of him and she slowly walked in. The door closing with a click behind her. Once her body sat down in the chair he chuckled. "Now. You're probably wondering why you're hear, yes?" She nodded yes. She really was. She didn't think she did anything wrong. The list of chores was always done, the paperwork always organized, and other than yelling at Disease when her eye caught him staring at her, she hadn't done anything wrong or acted in any rude manner. So another thought reached her mind, had he or Disease found out about her meeting with Charles?! Was she in trouble!? Was he gonna throw her out!? ..Or worse?! The guilt knotted up and twisted in her stomach and kept her from saying or doing anything else for the rest of yesterday and didn't let her get a good night's sleep. It took all the nerves she had to not stay under her covers, and maybe because Cyber forced her out, and to never knock let alone come in. But he didn't look mad at all, if anything he looked genuinely happy as he stood up. "As I am aware you're not exactly up to speed with dancing yes?" She nodded as he walked around to her seat with a smile. "Well, we can't have you rusty, as I do intend to have a grand time there, and as a man who appreciates the fine arts, I couldn't just stand by and watch you flail around like Disease on alcohol? No, no." He smile leaned down and his hand quickly went to grab hers. "Which is why you and me are going to practice dancing of course." She didn't know whether to be suddenly more releived or suddenly more horrified. Her? Him? Dancing?! Together?! Her mouth dropping slightly opened and he chuckled, only snapping back to it when he pulled her to her feet. "I-I-...You-..Me-..W-WHAT?!" "You heard me, and I won't take no as an answer." Her stunned body was pulled along as he walked her to the door. Big smile on his face. The nervous feeling in her stomach came back ten times as hard as the sudden seriousness of the situation hit her. He was serious about her dancing, and she hadn't even danced in....What? fifty, sixty years?! But he didn't seem to notice her rising fears as he opened the door and walked her out. She was lead down the hall and up to the another larger part of the building she hadn't been down before, not that she wouldn't have explored if Disease was always on her tail. But she blinked when the doors they passed became slightly bigger and the hallway widened slightly, they were too big to have bedrooms or normal bedrooms. Perhaps one of these was Midnight's lab? Sensing her curiousity he chuckled. "These are places I usually host gatherings or are for my personal entertainment. You'll see soon. Now let's see." He hummed eyeing the doors to the left of the hallway, his free hand reaching up hovering in the air as they passed, and his brow raising. Until he finally stopped her. "Ah! Here we are!" "H-Here where?" He chuckled and let go of her. Not answering as he grabbed both doors and pushed them open. Bright lights overhead lit up and what they shown was an absolute marvel. Polished wooden floors different from the rest of the casino shined up at their owner as he walked along them, almost showing his reflection in the pale tan wood. The walls were just as pretty as the floor she noticed when she leaned her head in, beautiful wall paper showed a painted on scenes of a walk in garden. For all she new perhaps they were famous gardens on the living world long forgotten. A large crystal chandelier was connected to the ceiling but this one was much smaller and styled differently than the giant ones in the casino and lobby. She blinked and looked around. To the far left side was ..Well she guessed it must've been what Cyber told her was a jukebox, it didn't look old though. In fact this jukebox looked as if someone tuned it up to look more advanced, and next to it was something she definitely something she recognized. A record player! It's tuba like horn attatched to it's table body and crack lever were undyeable and so was the giant shelf of records next to them. They must've been for the jukebox and record players. She tilted her head and only looked back to Lou when she heard his footsteps walking somewhere. She blinked and watched curiously as he started towards the two music making machines she was staring at. Tail swishing behind him as his eyes immediately scanned some of the selections all the while humming. Red talons glazing across the thin black disks before stopping and pulling one plain looking record out from one of the middle shelves. "Well? Come in and we shall get started," he motioned for her to come in with one hand as he made his way to the record player. She..reluctantly did as he carefully placed the round disk onto the machine and using his other arm, carefully reached over and began cranking the lever to wind the music box she blinked as the small needle was placed onto the record that had started spinning and a weird tuba noise came out of the giant horn before the small beginnings of violins and a flute made their debut out of it. And she blinked...This just wasn't ballroom music. It was a waltz. And Lou gave a content sigh as he took off his hat, throwing it ontop of the shelf before turning to her. "Now. Why don't we begin with a few simple steps?" Her eyes widened. "W-Wait. N-Now!? B-But I haven't-" "Shush. I told you Im not taking a no to this. If it helps, Just think of this as a small assignment to help ME instead of you practicing. It might help if you pretend you're not." He made a grab for her waist- Which resulted in her flinching and jumping a few feet away. Both pausing and staring at each other for a few moments before he sighed. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "....Look. I completely understand your ...unease with me physically connecting with you, but it would mean a great deal to me if you would participate. ....After all. You DID say you would make it up to me for allowing you visitation to Rita's. And I never forget a promise." Her ears went back in guilt. Oh...Right. She did say that didn't she? So this time when he approached her again she didn't move. Slowly he reached a hand out and she allowed one hand on her hip and one to hold her hand in the typical dancing position, but he felt her tense under his grip for sure...Shakily lifting her hand up..moving it to his shoulder- She flinched slightly when he moved his shoulder closer to make contact with her hand...Ok. She could do this. It was just the two of them, in a close position that she hasn't been in in years and those red eyes and smile was just a couple inches away from her now...She gulped down the lump in her throat- "Who taught you how to dance in the first place?" She flinched and blinked up at him. She just calmly stared and his smile...wasn't like the wide smiles he always gave, instead it was smaller. Still there but it looked genuine. And he looked completely serious and interested in that question. "..U-Uh...M-My old t-tutor and her son did. T-They were very kind to me." He hummed. "Were you nervous then as well?" "Y-Yes. But they always made it fun." "Then why don't you pretend that moment's happening all over again." Her eyes blinked up at him. "Remember the beautiful times. Let it all come back. Can you do that?" She hesitated..But with a big inhale she slowly nodded. "Good." He tilted his head behind him as the music sounded like it would be coming to a close. And he shifted his hold on her, she lightly flinched again but he rolled his eyes. "Oh, relax. Im not going to bite, just follow my lead and you'll be swinging across the floor my dear.~...Just relax." She took in a big intake of air before letting it out, just as the final few violin and drum notes faded from the air. A couple more seconds wnt by before the record playing began repeating the music from the still spinning disk. True to his word. Lou gently began to push her and she also froze up then and there not used to having someone so close direct her body's movements but luckily she didn't trip on herself and forced her hooves to move along with him. Stiffly at first, but her mind forced herself to relax in his hold. Remember her. Remember giggling as a child. Remember the fun you had without your father scolding you for unlady like behavior...Remember the fun. To Lou's slight surprise and the easeness of his own body, she slowly began to relax within his hold. Making it easier for him to guide her and ease her steps. And soon the two of them were stepping in graceful circles across the floor, with her occasionally looking at their feet. It was when he started to lean and dip and little more in their swings when she lightly tensed up again but soon forcefully relaxed herself again. Until he attempted to spin her around, she reacted by giving a yelp and falling onto her knees on the first spin. She froze for a few seconds as the music still played and gave a sigh, giving a small jump when he placed a hand onto her shoulder and gave a smile. "I must say. For someone who hasn't danced for quite a while you did better than I expected." He grabbed her arm gently and lifted her back to her feet. Before repositioning themselves back into the same dancing stance. "Now. Once more from the top. And keep in mind that spins and swings are a part of waltzing, Darling. As are dips, but we'll work on just swaying and spinning for now. Your footwork while clumsy is more graceful than you give credit for." She blinked. Was he- Did he just compliment her or criticize her? Either way it didn't stop them from repeating the same steps as before when the music again restarted. "Remember. Relax. Trust in yourself." She kinda lost track of the amount of times they restarted after the third time, but he seemed genuinely happy to be swinging and reteaching her through the steps almost long forgotten. By the time of their fifteen( yes. HE had been keeping count of exactly how many times she messed up, he couldn't help it. It was in his nature to calculate his partner's moves. Especially after that small surprise she pulled.) restart. It seemed some of those memories were starting to come back as her steps started to become easier and she started to not tense up as much as say two hours ago, but she looked tired. So after he dipped her one last time, with her clutching onto his shoulders before he pulled her back up, he let go of her. She blinked as he reached out to straighten himself giving a snap of his red talons. "You dance devine my dear. But for now we're done." A green vine came out of nowhere wrapped around his top hat, which he graciously took before planting it back on top his head. "But you still need much more practice. I'll let you have the rest of the day off, but prepare yourself for tomorrow. We have less than three weeks, and I intend of making the most of that time." True to his word. Lou kept that promise. The very next day it was right back to it after she got something in her stomach. And again the same results. She still tensed under his hold and still messed up a few steps, once or twice stepping on his foot or god forbid his tail. He barely flinched when this happened but his brow did raise whenever it happened. Which did no good to her because all it did was make her very nervous and thus mess up more. By the fourth day of this he took her aside and tired something different, just swaying in graceful circles without spins or dips, which was much more better but he still felt her body tense and sometimes slightly shaking under him, which he was starting to find unpleasant but not annoying-....Yet. He prided himself on his skills and despite his doubts the two had gained a few steps but not much...Until he talked to Cyber about it all. But all she could offer was a shrug as she watched him shift through papers and stuff on his desk. 'I'll try talkin' to her about it later' was her response and if anyone could figure it out it was Cyber. So he left it in her hands. In the meantime between regular business and 'trying' to get the pony on her feet, he made regular trips to Midnight's lab to see if he could get progress on her fixing up those weapons....It was...Hard for her to do. She had to wear some kind of makeshift mask and gloves to keep any part of the sacred blades from burning or cutting her, and was trying to use any kind of polish and whatever she came up with to restore them to their once perfect state. Slow progress but they were getting there. ...Couldn't say the same for the dancing. Still as stiff and unprogressive as ever. To his dismay. And it was slowly until he noticed a whole week of nothing but barely any progress had passed and he pestered Cyber again for some kind of answer. She looked at him for a couple seconds before shrugging. "Well, whaddya expect? She doesn't like anyone touching her, you make her feel pressured, and she probably suppressed those memories after being chained who knows where for who knows how long. Instead of trying to force her to relax, why not find something about the subject that appeals to her?" It was like a lightbulb had went off in his head. And he smiled. OF COURSE!! Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?! Cyber was definitely a genius at times, and a smile reappeared on his face. So the very next day when she showed up for probably the eighth day, he was grinning ear to ear with a grin of his face compared to her sad and tired look. "Amalfia, my dear. Tell me, what music and dance do you really enjoy?" He asked once he started leading her off again and she blinked surprised at his strange question. Before shaking her head. "It's stupid, and really unlady like-" "Oh hush." He waved his hand. "I don't care if it's square dancing like drunken hill billys. If you enjoy it I want to know what you like. I want to get to know you better." Her eyes blinked surprised up to his face..but she again shook her head. "It's stupid like I said....But I r-really like s-swing?" He blinked back..and laughed, her head tilted curiously at him before his grin became more excited. "My dear little flower.~ You are speaking to someone who has basically mastered that art.~" To his delight. Her eyes lit up. "You..Y-You like swing?" He nodded and a small smile came to her. "And jazz?" He chuckled and nodded again. Delighted to get her attention and a smile on that little face of hers. Those purple eyes lit up like a darn holiday tree. "D-Do you..do you dance to it?" He stopped. Giving her an even bigger smile at the meer question. "My dear." His hand came to settle himself on the door. "I just said I mastered that art. But knowing you also enjoy it..heh. Well we know what we're doing today!" With a push both doors opened and he lead her over to the shelf, when he still tugged onto her arm and she blinked in surprise when he happily gestured to the swing labeled section."You may pick any you like?" "R-Really?," she gaped excitedly. "Yes, but in return. I expect to be able to dance with you to it. No buts. I enjoy a good dance with my dear lady. Deal?" She hesitated. Her father forbad her to even touch another record after he learnt about her tutor teaching her this 'new aged degenerate crap' as he put it and she only ever danced to it with her now most likely deceased friend. ....But your dad's not here a voice whispered. That smile appeared back to her face a bit. She..still had to let him hold her hand but..with swing..most of the moves required barely any contact beyond that. That thought accompanied by the feeling of the swinging jazz bands just a finger tip away...She happily turned to him and nodded yes to his request. In turn he smiled and gestured a hand to the shelf. She didn't hesitate to start looking at the records he presented to her. He patiently waited as she pulled one or two out, glanced over the titles of the songs written on them, before placing them back into place....Eventually she pulled one out near the end if the shelf, flipping it over in her hands, and turned back to look at him. His raised a brow. "Find something you like?" She gave it a nervous look over before handing it to him. He took it and read over the title: Hey Pachuco. With a smile he looked back to her in question. "Are you quite sure? This is fast paced and with your footwork being a bit...out of touch, I wouldn't want you hurting yourself." ...With a slow inhale and exhale, she nodded. "I-I..want to try again. And this time..I wanna do it for myself." He hummed and looked back to it for just a moment. "...Alright just get onto the floor, and don't be surprised by what we're about to do." She nodded and made her way to about the middle of the floor, just as he put the said recording in and began winding the lever up again, he seemed almost excited as he carefully put the needle on and tossed his hat away. Wouldn't be needing that with what he was about to do. The thing coughed a bit of static as he made a few steps before pausing a little ways away from her. She tilted her head when he didn't come any closer but paused when the sound of drums came a beating out and her ears immediately perked at the familiar sound. Lou however was already tapping his feet to the beat of those drums, when they started getting faster he finally bounced a few steps towards her before suddenly sliding and grabbing onto her. Dipping her just as trumpets blasted out of the drum beats. Which caught her completely off guard and making it easy for him to perform the next moves as the song sung out of the thing. When he suddenly brought her back up, one arm around her and one grabbing her arm, and in a tango like motion rocked them from side to side. Her brain still hadn't quite caught up yet and so it was easy for him to just suddenly push her away from him next time all the trumpets sounded at once, before pulling her and ducking under her arm so she was pushed away from him again- Only to have her unsuspecting self be pulled back into his embrace, and be given a small spin. She blinked, brain finally catching up a little but only enough to notice his actual...genuine happy smile- Only for him to expertly pull her back to him with a spin so her back was facing him, and she was made to do an actually cartwheel- Fear spiked in her as she was about to crash into the floor on her side, but that was swiftly dashed when she was again grabbed and half dragged half spun against the floor twice in a circle before being pulled up fast and spun out to where she managed to stay on her legs and finally give a look to him. His body still bouncing to the beat of the drums and trumpets as he gave her a half lidded look..Clearly saying: 'Well? Are you going to pick up the slack?' ..And she was quick to respond with a ...smug smile of her own. Oh! That made something in him feel only slightly challenged. So it was no surprise when the singer of the band finally started playing when he made another slide grab for her- Only for her to completely duck under him and grab his shoulder, turning him around just as the first 'HEY!' from the chorus shouted, he didn't seemed fazed at all as he grabbed her hand and the two came to a tap dance of sorts. Her almost perfectly mimicking him and him raising a brow at her attempts to catch up. The game was on! He brought her into a few more spins and she unexpectedly dodged some of his grabs at her and did some twirls of her own. Until he finally managed to grab her and to her surprise lift her almost onto his shoulder, making her spin in mid air before catching her and pushing her arm's length away again. This time when she was pulled back and made to do another cartwheel however- He caught her mid flip back into her feet and with strength she didn't know he had, he actually hoisted above him in the air. And spun around a few times as he pivoted on his heel, only for her to then be twisted around his body and pulled back up into a standing position. Spun out from him and shakily spin back onto her feet as a drum solo started up. As they beat, she took the moment to push her blonde and white hair from her face and look towards the still slightly bouncing and smiling demon. "...Well? Is that the best you can do?" He held out a hand to her. Fangs flashing. "Impress me!!" She smirked back. A look he hadn't seen on her but was quite interested to see! As her body suddenly began to bounce on it's own from his. And she did. When the trumpets came back, she slide right toward her and she ducked- But this time immediately popped back up and grabbed him. He was slightly surpised when HER of all people spun him back around and grabbed his hand and pulled. He spun out a little bit but immediately regained composure, quickly turning and grabbing her when she slid towards him. Lifting her up and then next to him. As if having the same thoughts, the mirrored the same in place movements with their arms and legs before both spinning, Lou's hand suddenly grabbing her's and taking her for multiple spins around himself. Before stopping and dipping her- Only to suddenly be thrown in the air twirling who knows how many time before falling back into his arms. Twisted around before making a final stop when he was- Oh gosh. Holding her bridal style and dipping her enough to where their faces were inches apart. Making her freeze. Just as the last few notes finally blasted out. Silence rang out as the two of them stared at each other. Her heart was hammering in her ears and her lungs taking quick breaths from her lungs..But him. he just grinned that half lidded studying grin at her...before slowly sitting himself back up and gently placing her back down. Her hooves met the ground with a small tapping sound and she felt wobbly. Smiling plastered on her face and her hand coming to clutch her chest. Lou was also breathing a bit faster from the rush, but was more calm and straightened himself out. until he heard a snort. He rose a brow to her and to his surprise another snort escaped her, and she covered her mouth...Before her eyes closed and a roar of happy laughter escaped her lungs. He stood there for a long moment...Before smiling back triumphantly at her once she finally got ahold of herself enough to look at her. Her face was twisted in a joyous shade of light pink and her eyes twinkled in a way he hadn't seen her do before now. "...Y-Y-You weren't kidding when you said you were a m-m-master at it." Her lungs heaved ad her arms clutched her stomach. " T-That was the most f-fun I've ever had down here!!" With that he gave a chuckle and gave a glance to his red talons. "But of course.~ I wouldn't lie about my skills.~ And if you enjoyed my dancing you should hear me sing-" "You-....You sing?" Her head was tilted at him curiously like a puppy before another smile graced her face. "M-May I see?" He stared at her a moment before humming, hand coming up to tap his chin. "Hm. I suppose so, but if I'm gonna work, then I expect another dance out of you. It's only fair." She happily nodded in agreement to his deal and he hummed in delight. After all, if he was going to sing for her then it was only fair she danced for him. The upbeat swing music was already starting to replay itself on the still spinning machine and the upbeat drums from before began drumming out, until Lou walked over to the record player and pulled the needle back up, effectively stopping the music with a record stopping sound. The machine seemed to stop moving as soon as the plant demon removed the needle. Before, with record delicately in hands, turned back to the shelf humming to himself and carefully slid the large black disk into it's proper place. Amalfia watched curiously as his eyes scanned the piles of records, until shifting back to the swing section.....His red finger pulled one record out near the front, and he curiously peered at the name written on it. It read: Sway. And he made a small 'mm-hm', before turning and placing it onto the machine. The lever cranked just as usually before he turned and with a few long strides made it to her. But unlike the few times before he rose a brow curiously..before giving a bow. She blinked a little caught off guard before catching up and giving a slight curtsy back- Before he pulled her into his form and into the same ballroom style stance as before. She still flinched under his touch, but too his utter delight, her body didn't tense up and she still had that goofball smile on her face. He chuckled as the music finally started up and it was a cha-cha like music with trumpets and at least one violin and cowbell. And he started by leading her across the floor and slightly rocking back and forth, before giving her a spin or two that she DIDN'T fall from this time and was pulled back against him as the music paused for one brief moment- "When marimba rythms start to play dance with me, make me sway.~" When he said 'sway' he really did sway her, but with a half dip so her body came back up and back into standing position and he moved her across the floor in graceful circles again. "Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore.~ Hold me close. Sway me more.~" Again the same half dip sway as he pulled her out arm's length- "Like a flower bending in the breeze, bend with me.~" He quickly pulled her back in with a full dip before pushing her back up with the next sentence. "Sway with ease.~" She. Was....Surprised. Yes. She heard quite a few big names and random men sing, and their voices were just lovely. But Lou's- Maybe it was just the way the walls were echoing his voice or the music accompanying it. Or maybe it was just not hearing anyone sing in the longest time...But coming from a demon with red eyes- His voice was absolutely heavenly, velvety smooth, and it was CLEAR this wasn't his first time singing like this. It had only been a few sentences but he acted like this was everyday living, his posture calm, and not showing the slightest ounce of unease. "When we dance, you have a way with me, stay with me.~'' He brought her back up and ran his red claws gently under her chin making her immediately turn pink as a result, before suddenly pushing her out and leading her in a circle at arm's length. "Sway with me.~ Other dancers may be on the floor. ~ Dear-" She was suddenly brought back in with a spin that put her back against him and he gave her a giant sly smirk before saying the next line. "-But my eyes will see only you.~" She was spun around again to face him with a another graceful circle. "Only you have that magic technique!~ When we sway I go weak!~" She was spun a few times as the trumpets and drums made three hard notes followed by another half second pause which ended her back facing him again. "I can hear the sounds of violins long before it begins.~" He moved from their stilled position by slowly rocking their bodies and slowly rotating them as if in a slow dance. "Make me thrill as you know how.~ Sway me smooth.~ Sway me now.~" Again that same half lidded genuine smile and her heart actually...Jumped? What? Her excitement and fun from the earlier dance, but he couldn't help but internally smirk at her clearly bedazzled eyes and pink cheeks. Oh his sweet little naïve weapon. If only you could see how cute you looked falling into your place on the puzzle. But he was true to his word, as he never turned down a good deal yet. And this one was a great deal. There was a brief pause in his singing with just the upbeat swing playing. During that time he made sure to sway her a few more times, giving the occasional spin, all with a smile on his face. But it was when he finally pulled her back in from a spin and held her against him did her face go from pink to red. "Other dancers may be on the floor.~ Dear.~ But my eyes will see only you.~" He took her for another spin on the word 'you', and kept her spinning as he sang out. "Only you got that magic technique.~ When we sway I go weak!~" The same three hard notes played out and on the last one he brought her back in yet another dip and she felt dizzy. But she wasn't sure if it was from the spinning or the way her head felt like the burning sun. "I can hear the sounds of violins-" He brought her back up into that slow dance swaying and rotating in a small circle. And they stayed like that for a while. "-long before it begins.~ Make me thrill as you know how.~ Sway me smooth.~ Sway me now.~ When marimba rythims start to play, dance with me. Make me sway.~ Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close.~ Sway me more.~" The music completely stopped for a second and so did they. She just heard the beating of her own heart, and his smile and those red eyes stared right at her. "...Like a flower bending in the breeze!~" The trumpets came back on full blast and he pulled her away from him at arm's length. His voice now much louder than before but still not rough. If anything he was putting more passion into this as she was pulled back into him into a dip. "Bend with me!~ Sway with ease!~" At 'sway' he once again swung her around in a half circle before more spinning began. "When we dance, you have a way with me!~ Stay with me!~ Sway with ease!~" At the second 'sway' she was stopped and faced him again. "WHEN THE RYTHM STARTS TO PLAAAAY!!~ HOLD ME CLOSE!!~ MAKE ME SWAAAY!!~" At 'play' he did something different when he suddenly grabbed her leg and pulled it up, making her squeak. But when he sand 'hold me close' he pressed her against him gently, before dipping her at 'sway' again. "LIKE AN OCEAN HUGS THE SHOOORE!!~ HOLD ME CLOSE!!" He brought her up still holding her against him before actually lightly picking her up and twirling her around at the next 'sway'. "SWAY ME MOOORE!! LIKE A FLOWER BENDING IN THE BREEZE!!" She was suddenly again dipped at 'bend'. "BEND WITH MEEE!~ SWAY WITH EASE!!~" At 'sway' her leg was let loose as he simaltaniously swung her back up and his now free hand grabbed onto one of hers. And he pushed her out from him again. "WHEN WE DANCE YOU GOT A WAY WITH MEEE!!~ STAY WITH ME!!~" She was pulled back and spun around. "SWAY WITH MEEEEEEE!!~" She was stopped completely and suddenly pulled back against him just as the very last note was played out. And she was left staring into those red eyes for a few silent few seconds....before he chuckled and slowly let go of her. WIthout him supporting her against him, she wobbled back onto jelly feeling legs and brought her hands up. One pushing the hair from her eyes while the other coming to cup her still warm and red cheek. He however chuckled. ....It was STILL like he hadn't even broken a sweat and simply went to straighten himself up. Humming as he straightened his bow and walked back towards the record player just as the music once again started to replay on loop. The needle was plucked from the record and then said record was removed from the spinning platform, making the machine give the same record stopping sound and completely stop working. Humming as he moved to place it back onto the shelf. Still feeling the happiness of the woman behind him. Before chuckling again. Oh how he loved it when his plans went so smoothly! Midnight doubting his plan all along, but joke's on her now. He snapped his fingers and a random vine brought down his hat as he placed it back onto his head- He froze....Something had just wrapped around him. It was just maybe for two seconds before she flinched back away but it was enough to make all thoughts and body movements stop for a complete few seconds. ...His red eyes blinked and he slowly turned around to be faced with the red faced unicorn. She gave a nervous smile before looking away. "S-S-Sorry. I-I just wanted to t-thank you for t-t-the great time. Y-You s-s-sing beautifully." He still blinked before shaking it off and smiling at the compliment. "It's quite alright my dear. No harm done." His hand came to give a few pats to her shoulder. "And Im so delighted to hear you enjoyed our little session, as did I. After all we've been trying to do that little step for a while." Her face blinked back confused and he chuckled. "Oh my dear. Did you not realize? The same dance we had just done, was the very same waltz you've been tripping over for almost a week now." ......She blinked. That was- They were- THEY SAME WALTZ!? How did she not notice that?!..She must've been too distracted to notice but again slightly jumped when he put his hat on and slung an arm around her. Still chuckling at her pink cheeks. "You did wonderful progress, just as I said you would. And I never lie. But you still need plenty of practice before the big day, but for now. Let us get back to regular work. Shall we?~"

All characters besides Amalfia belongs to @palettepainter

Samantha

In the recent discord chat, @marimancusi​ explained that the Disney team instructed her to use the name “Gale” in Dangerous Secrets for the wind spirit and that Olaf was able to glean that name in Frozen II because water-has-memory. Which led me to remark that if Olaf learned the name Gale from the wind spirit or water, perhaps Samantha was also a name the water or wind were speaking to him and her exact words were “Samantha fan fic - GO!”

So, with vague spoilers for Dangerous Secrets, here is my Samantha story. Thank you as always to @the-spaztic-fantastic​ for beta-ing.

“What am I doing here?”

She looked down at her hands, barely visible in the darkness, startled to see what looked like a rock holding them and giving her a soft pat with moss-heavy hands of its own.

The rock spoke.

“You wanted a blessing.  For your journey.”

She thought, but couldn’t remember where she was going.  With a panic that started to rise and form like the Northern Lights now visible across the sky, she realized that she didn’t even know where she was right now.

Or who she was.

The rock spoke again.  “You were sad.  But you are not sad now.  You will be content.”

She examined herself as the panic glided away along with the brightness of the sky, the Northern Lights gone and the sky dark once more.

She thought the rock was right.  

She was not sad.  

But she was not content either.

She was nothing.  

“I will be content?”

“You will, dearie. Once you finish your journey.”

The rock was leading her away from a clearing and towards the woods.  The Northern Lights flared again and she could see a path there, recently traveled from the looks of the bent branches and crumpled grass.  Had she come this way?

“Go north, to Tautra, and join the sisters.  They are always ready to welcome one like you.”

“Like me? But I don’t…” she considered what to say.  It was strange to talk to a rock and stranger still to ask one for help but since no people were around it seemed like the best choice. “I don’t know my name.  Could you tell me my name?”

“Why, you’re Samantha.  And a beautiful name it is too.  My favorite name for a human though none of them seem to want to use it yet.  But you will.” The rock smiled and patted her knee and she felt a warmth begin there and spread through her whole body, and she suddenly felt able to walk for miles and miles.  

So she did.

She walked with a purpose she didn’t question, and kept away the questions that made the panic start to rise again.  Instead of thinking who am I, what is happening, how far am I going she thought Tautra, sisters, Tautra, sisters.   One word for each step.  Tautra on the right foot.  Sisters on the left.

She walked all night.  As the sun spilled into the sky, the path led to a road and the road led her to a carriage that stopped after it passed her.

“Queen Rita!” the driver shouted.  “She’s missing! Have you seen the queen?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve seen no one.”  She looked down at her dress, covered in mud from her knees on down and her shawl snagged with twigs.  She smoothed at her crown of braids and wondered if Queen Rita had met the living rocks in the woods this night as well.

The driver nodded to her. “Thank you, Miss.  Do you need a ride to town? I’m searching next in Frosta.”

She tilted her head, considering.  Her feet were beginning to feel sore and riding seemed like a more pleasant way to keep moving for a while.  So she said “Yes, please,” and felt in her pockets for a krone.

“No need, Miss,” the driver told her as he opened the door and motioned for her to get in.  

As the carriage bumped and rattled along the mountain path, she took stock of what she knew.

She was traveling to the sisters in Tautra. She had krone in her pocket and well-made shoes on her feet.  Her dirndl might have clues, but she couldn’t read the message in the embroidery if there was any.  The interior of the carriage had intricate rosemaling and it seemed familiar, somehow.  But as her eyes traced the crocuses and roses, the greens and purples and reds, she became lost in the story the flowers were telling and lost hold of the threads she had started to grasp of whatever story she was trying to piece together of herself.

The wheels made a less steady rhythm, but she still chanted Tautra, sisters, Tautra, sisters so she wouldn’t lose hold of that too.

When they arrived in Frosta, the driver let her out and she heard him as he rode away, shouting “Queen Rita! We’re looking for the queen! Have you seen the queen?”

She used her krone to buy a hot bun when the smell of it awakened hunger.  She asked the baker how to get to Tautra.

“Ah! Come to join the sisters? Take your krone back, then, and pray for me when you do. The boat leaves from yonder at half past.” The baker pressed the coin back into her hand and gestured towards a pier where people were unloading and loading goods of all kinds.

Over the squawk of chickens and the clink of large chunks of ice, she inquired about a boat to Tautra. She paid passage and, as the oars hit the water and the sailors grunted with the effort of it, she said Tautra for the right side and sisters for the left, but quietly, because it was becoming clear that talking to oneself was not a normal thing to do.

The stone building reminded her of the rock she had spoken to in the woods and she half expected one of the stones to jump down from the archway and greet her.  But when none did, she knocked on the door and waved to the sailors who were now rowing away from the island of Tautra.

A woman in somber robes and headdress answered the door, friendly crinkles around her eyes and a wooden cross hanging from a leather cord around her neck. “Welcome! Who do we have here?”

“I’m Samantha.  I’m here to join the sisters.” She fiddled with the remaining krone, wondering if she should offer it, or if she should say anything about the rock who had sent her here. But the older woman smiled and opened the door widely.

“Come in then, Samantha, we’re delighted to have you.”

A month or so later, a group of soldiers knocked on the door during midday prayers.  Samantha answered it, now wearing the habit and veil of the sisters and ready to welcome others as she had been welcomed.  But the man at the door was angry and took a step back in surprise when he saw her.

“Rita?” said the man, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

She shook her head. “I’m not Rita.  I’m Samantha.”

His face turned as red as his hair and his shoulders seemed to widen in anger. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rita, but I demand you return to the castle at once!” He stomped his foot and the sword at his side rattled. “You are a Queen!  You have a duty!”

Samantha shook her head. “My duty is to God. And if you seek a queen, you should act like a king.” She turned and closed the door and rejoined the sisters in the garden.

Sometimes she woke with a kulning in her throat, like a sadness that had been strangled.  But the steady work of the day, the prayer, the meditation, the reading, the singing, it kept her from suffocating.

The rock was right.  

She became content.

Watching the Northern Lights tugged at her and sometimes she thought she might even be feeling happy.  She thought she could see the shape of someone there, dancing joyously in the ebb and flow of bright colors against a dark sky.  The love she had for this person was tangible, she could almost feel it on her tongue.  But it slipped away before she had a name for it, so she continued her prayers and before she went back to sleep she spoke Samantha to the wind, praying that the shape of that someone would know that she saw him, would know that she was content to know he was happy.  That her love would carry to him and he would feel it.

Honey: Chapter 2

Just a series of semi-connected one shots that lead for Garfield and Raven falling in love.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Garfield plays with a chain around his neck, looking out at the twinkling skyline of Jump City. The sun is starting to set, weaving brush strokes of purple and yellow between the tall steel buildings. He starts drumming a beat on his thigh.

“...so tomorrow is the big premiere date,” says the woman sitting across from him. He’s deduced that she’s in her mid-sixties from stories she’s shared with him in previous meetings of her own grown children and grandchildren.

“Yeah,” Garfield mumbles, continuing to look out the window. He had a hard time looking at her face. Her eyes were an impossible shade of blue and very hard to read. During their first session he had joked for thirty minutes straight. She had smiled brightly at each one, teeth perfectly straight and blindingly white. Then she asked “So why do you think you joke so often?” and his rehearsed jokes shriveled up in his mouth. That was a year ago, he’s been coming to her bi-weekly ever since.

When she doesn’t say anything for a few moments, Garfield focuses her attention back on her. She’s looking at his hand that’s fiddling with the chain on his neck. He drops it and shuffles in his seat again.

“It was Elastigirl’s,” he says. Irma nods, shrugging to let him know that he doesn’t have to say anymore.

“Who’s coming to the premiere?” she asks.

“Everyone-” he says, then pauses. “‘Cept for Rae. Didn’t want to dress up.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. Irma smirks and nods.

“Terra is going I assume?” Irma asks. Garfield nods.

“Yeah, she’s gonna meet me at the premiere. Titans East gave her the night off. She looked for a dress for months.”

“She’s really proud of you.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t seem excited.”

“No! I am!” Garfield says, his butt rises out of his seat as he rushes to correct her. He plops back down when he notices Irma’s arched brow. 

“I am,” he says again, this time more softly. “Just a little nervous.” 

Irma nods, silently asking him to continue. Garfield runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s my first drama. Up until now casting directors have only casted me in supporting roles for comedies. Mostly as a favor to Nightwing. Or because-” Garfield chuckles but knows Irma would never let him stop the sentence halfway. She looks at him expectantly. “Or, well, because I’m green and the world knows me.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone knows Changeling,” Garfield shakes his head. “No. They know Beast Boy. So they put me in these movies and it’s almost an afterthought. Like Oh cool! That superhero was in that movie for five minutes. What’s funnier or more random than a green guy. But it’s...forgettable.”

“And you’re hoping that this role will be the one that makes people take you seriously.”

“Yeah! I mean, when I started acting, I know people thought it was a superficial thing. Raven rolled her eyes when I told her about my first role. I don’t think she ever got past how giant my ego got when we went to Tokyo and those girls were my fans. But I was younger than and so thirsty for attention.”

“This role is more than that.”

“Exactly!” Garfield exclaims, his body rising out of his seat. He settles down again. It grows silent for a few seconds. “When I was younger, Elastigirl used to show me all these movies from the 50s. I remember watching Roman Holiday and being completely entranced by how beautiful Audrey Hepburn was-” Garfield pauses, playing with his chain again. “But it’s not just the beauty, it was her air. She was a captivating actress.” Garfield thinks of how Rita looked in her own films and smirks to himself. She was equally as mesmerizing but he wasn’t going to bring that up to Irma.

“Why did you bring up Raven specifically?” Irma cuts through his thoughts.

“Huh?” Garfield asks, confused by the random question. 

“You brought up Raven specifically. When you talked about your first role.”

Garfield nods slowly, trying to jump ahead to what Irma was getting at.

“Why does her opinion matter?”

“Well she’s my friend.” Garfield says immediately. Irma nods.

“But you didn’t bring up Cyborg or Starfire. Why’d you bring up Raven?”

Garfield pauses, running a hand through his hair. It’s silent for a couple of minutes.

“I guess...well….everything Raven does and says has weight to it. She’s never said anything just to fill time or space,” Garfield feels his forehead scrunch up in concentration. Irma waits. “She’s just...different than me. I don’t know why her opinion matters. I just...I know that all the words that come out of her mouth are honest. Her delivery is shit sometimes,” Garfield chuckles. “A lot of people think she’s rude. But she really holds no anger towards anyone. She’s-”

“Impartial?” Irma offers. Garfield waits a minute to digest that word and then nods. 

“It just...always feels like she’s right. She weighs all of her thoughts before she settles on an opinion.”

“No one can be right always.” Irma says. Garfield shrugs. Irma hums. 

“So what color dress did Terra settle on?” Irma asks. Garfield laughs.

“It’s green but a completely different shade of green than my skin. We won’t match,” Garfield places a hand over his chest, feigning tragedy. Irma laughs.

“Pity,” she jokes and the session continues.

….

“How was the workout superstar?” Nightwing asks with a wide smile when Garfield bursts into the common room with a towel around his neck.

“Completely worth all the food I’m gonna eat at the premiere,” Garfield says, laughing as Nightwing’s smile falters immediately. Nightwing always harped on keeping track of your protein intake with the team. And the carbs. And the sugar. Garfield wasn’t sure which he had heard from their leader more, “Titans Go!” or “Food is energy!” Garfield kind of just ate what he wanted. He figured out in his late teens that he could just turn into a different animal that would process and digest the food he ate a little differently. It pissed Nightwing off who would have long talks with him about discipline. Garfield laughed with Irma about it all the time.

Garfield spots Raven with her nose in a book and saunters over with a grin.

“Did you hear that Rae? My premiere is tonight,” Garfield says, stepping just a centimeter into her personal space. Raven snaps her book closed.

“I may have overheard it one of the twenty times you’ve brought it up this past week.”

“Really? Twenty?” Garfield asks, rubbing his chin. “Seems like it should be higher. It’s a pretty big film. Lotta big names.” 

“Mmmm and you,” Raven says, opening her book up again. Garfield chuckles. He takes the book out of Raven’s hands and shuts it, making sure he places a finger in it so he can keep her page. Raven glares at him. Garfield hears Irma’s voice screaming “boundaries” in the back of his head. But he doesn’t think he’s pushed her too far just yet. 

“You know we still have a seat saved for you.” Garfield says. Starfire bursts from the kitchen.

“Oh yes friend it would be glorious. I know we could find you a dress if we left right this instant,” Kori says, hands clasped tightly together in front of her. Garfield cringes internally knowing that dress shopping really wouldn’t be the way to convince Raven. 

“You can wear whatever you like,” he amends, feeling as the finger that was holding her book open twitched nervously. Raven makes direct eye contact with Garfield and he feels himself still completely. 

“You know I would have liked to Garfield but I can’t,” Raven says. Garfield feels his body sink a little.

“I get it Rae,” he says, handing her back her book. And he does. Large crowds were still hard for her. Shouting fans, even worse. “But I’m sorry you’ll miss my academy award winning performance,” he jokes. Raven looks at him seriously for a moment, just long enough for Garfield to question whether she thought he was letting the fame go to his head. Then she smirks impishly, reverting her eyes to the text he placed back in her hands.

“You’re a regular Tom Hanks.” Garfield laughs, almost not recognizing the arm that loops around his. 

“My man is better than Tom Hanks. Ooh sweaty,” Terra says, running her hand down Garfield’s arm. He laughs.

“Don’t tell the pap, the gossip magazines would find a way to eat me for it,” Garfield jokes, looking down at his girlfriend. She raises her eyebrow naughtily. Garfield feels his face heat up and looks around at his friends but they’re all too preoccupied to notice Terra’s blatant suggestiveness. 

“I thought you were getting ready at home and then meeting me at the premiere,” Garfield says.

“I decided I’d stop by early. Maybe get ready with Star?” Terra asks loudly enough for Starfire to hear. Kori nearly drops the bowl she was eating out of. She puts it on the table and squeals. Garfield smiles warmly at Terra. It was moments like this that he remembered why they’ve lasted so long. Getting ready with Starfire was an Olympic sport for anyone. The only people who chose to get ready with Starfire were the people who loved her and wanted to see her happy.

“Oh friend! That would be the most delightful!” Then Starfire pauses.

“What’s wrong Star?” Nightwing says, grabbing her hand.

“Well I had scheduled an appointment with my makeup artist and hair stylist for you and I,” Starfire says. Nightwing’s eyes widen so much behind his mask that Garfield has to put his hand over his mouth to cover his smile. He looks at Raven quickly and realizes that she too is on the verge of laughter behind her book. They make eye contact. Garfield’s laugh has quieted down into a soft smile. Raven lowers her book and smirks back. 

“That won’t be necessary Star!” Nightwing says in one breath. Starfire’s face falls a little. Terra chuckles.

“Star I’d love to join you!” Terra says enthusiastically. Garfield sends a big smile Starfire’s way.

“I know you ladies are going to look spectacular,” he says. “I should go grab my suit though,” he finishes, looking at his watch. He plants a hasty kiss on Terra’s cheek and jogs out the common room. 

….

And they did look amazing. Starfire had gone for a shimmering golden dress, her hair falling down her back in loose waves. Cyborg joked that Nightwing had almost choked on his spit when he saw her. Garfield had helped Terra pick out her silk emerald dress so he was less starstruck when he saw her but she looked extra pretty with her hair curled up in a fancy little updo. 

“I have like three hundred pins in my hair,” she had said to him when he helped her out of the limo. He laughed. “Looks nice,” he had said.

They are currently on the red carpet and Garfield’s nerves are shot. He always felt trapped at these things. It’s not that he didn’t love his fans but all at once, it was a little much to handle. He didn’t have it as bad as Raven but he did have millions of potential animals living inside him. All the flashing lights gave him a headache. Everyone spoke so loud too, he had to resist the urge to put his hands over his sensitive ears.  

“Changeling himself!” shouts an interviewer into her microphone. Her skin is almost the same shade of orange as Kori’s. Garfield smiles at her but has to grind his teeth together as his ears ring. He tightens his grip on Terra’s hand. She squeezes back.

“And the beautiful Terra,” the interviewer says, directing her attention to Terra. “You guys are quite the power couple. Are you excited to see the movie?” 

Terra has to move her head back an inch as the microphone is shoved into her personal space. The interviewer is way too energetic. Garfield knew way too much about the business to know that this interviewer wasn’t completely sober right now. This kind of energy was not normal around all these people. Even Starfire got tired at these events.

“Of course I am. I know he’s gonna kill it. Like everything else he does in his life,” Terra says, her excitement much more muted that the woman in front of them. Garfield tries to block out the sensory overload so he can fully experience his gratitude at Terra’s honest words but it’s hard.

“Aww! So sweet!” their interviewer squeals and looks at the cameras with comically wide eyes.

“Changeling! This is your first drama. I’m told the plot doesn’t mention the green skin at all,” the interviewer asks. Garfield nods, immediately feeling like there was a heavy ball rolling around in his head, smacking at the walls of his skull. He pushes himself to answer the question though, feeling its importance even through the pain. 

“Michael was interested in me for this role when he wrote it but he couldn’t get past the green skin at first. I loved the character so much that I was even considering doing CGI to make me look different. But that...wouldn’t be honest. I am...a green man. And anyways all movies involve some suspension of disbelief. So if we can believe that Sandy Bullock is an astronaut then we can believe that I am a regular man...with regular motivations,” Garfield pauses when he says regular man. He always felt like a regular man so telling people to pretend he was a regular man felt cheap. The interviewer nods and if the blank look in her eyes was any indication, Garfield is certain she didn’t register a word he said. He keeps his smile up despite the fiery ball that grows in the pit of his stomach.

“So, do you guys think kids will be in your future?” the interviewer asks. Garfield feels himself take a step back at the blunt question. He shakes his head. She wasn’t even going to pretend to listen to anything he was saying.

“Uh-” he began shaking his head, trying to erase the disbelief off his face.

“Well I certainly want one or two,” Terra says with a chuckle. Garfield looks towards Terra. A flash goes off to the right of them and it makes the jewels in Terra’s hair shine right into his eyes. He closes his eyes.

“Wha-” he starts and Terra turns to him with an eyebrow quirked.

“What?” she asks. In his peripheral as the interviewer moves the microphone closer to the couple and Garfield feels the heat flow from his core into his limbs. He puts one of his hands in his pockets and clenches it. He smiles at the interviewer.

“Well we should be heading in,” he says politely, his smile tight and uncomfortable. “Thank you for your questions.”

Garfield doesn’t listen to the interviewer’s response as he walks hastily into where the movie will be played, dragging Terra along behind him. When they are far enough from inquiring ears Terra rips her hand out of his.

“What was that?” she asks, arms crossed. Garfield blinks a couple times and shakes his head. He senses that Terra’s anger was directed towards him but that couldn’t be right. 

“She asked you if you wanted to have kids with me and you said ‘uh-’,” Terra says, making a dumb face to mimic how he looked when he answered the question. It plucked at Garfield’s nerves like a guitar string.

“Of course I said ‘uh.’ It’s none of her business,” Garfield says, palms lifted to the air as if this was the most obvious thing ever.

“Do you not want to have kids with me?” Terra asks.

“What? Um-” Garfield shakes his head. He still hasn’t been able to quiet his anxiety from being out there with all those flashes of light. 

“Gar why are you hesitating?” Terra asks.

“Terra, I can barely concentrate on my own thoughts. You know how these things are for me,” he says carefully, placing three fingers on his forehead.

“I just feel like that’s something that should come automatically to you. I know I want to have kids with you,” Terra says.

“We haven’t even discussed having kids ourselves, why would I tell a random reporter about something I should be discussing with you.”

“Because you’re excited about our future. Because you want to tell the world,” Terra says, lips twitching in a way that makes the fireball in his stomach explode.

“Terra we don’t even know if I can have kids,” he wants to shout but he doesn’t trust that no one is around. The restraint it takes makes the veins pop out in his neck. Terra takes a step back and looks him up and down.

“I’ll meet you inside,” she says slowly and turns away from him. He sucks his teeth.

“Wait. Terra,” he says, grabbing her hand to stop her but she snatches it away. He groans.

…. 

Garfield settles down in his seat next to Terra fives minutes later. Nightwing, Cyborg and Starfire give him enthusiastic thumbs ups as he walks past them. Terra doesn’t look at him, her shoulders tense. The theater is much quieter than outside of course and Garfield is able to get his bearings. He practices the mindfulness skills that Irma taught him. Closing his eyes, he mentally catalogues what he feels, tastes, smells, and hears. He opens his eyes when he feels a small hand move over his.

“Are you okay?” Terra asks. Her lips are still in a thin line so he knows she’s still angry but she does look genuinely concerned. He nods and puts a hand over her hand. She nods back, takes her hand back and settles into her seat. 

Garfield looks at the empty seat to the right of him that was saved for Raven and feels a confusing tug in his stomach. He doesn’t have time to interpret it though as he hears the announcement for the start of the movie. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach that leaves him digging himself deep into his chair.

…

When the lights slowly start coming back on, Garfield has not felt the weight ease off of him. He took mental notes of the things he could change in his acting as he was watching. The role came out slightly different than he had intended. He’s looking down at his lap and everything is silent, making the weight in his stomach grow so heavy that he is sure he’ll be pulled through the ground at any moment. 

And then he hears something small. Like a phone falling on the floor. And he hears it again. And again. A rhythm. They’re clapping. He looks up at Terra next to him. Her face makeup is smudged and there are tear tracks on her cheeks but she’s looking at him with the most loving smile. He stands up. She puts both her hands on his face.

“Beast Bo-Changeling, that was amazing,” she says, completely in awe. A few late tears slip from her lids. He looks around at the audience who are all looking at him. Cyborg comes behind him and slaps him on the back aggressively.

“I didn’t know you had it in you grass stain!” he booms. Garfield feels himself chuckle but his being feels a little disconnected from his body. He peaks over Terra’s shoulder and Starfire looks about ready to explode. She is practically vibrating. Garfield is sure she’d burst through the ceiling if Nightwing wasn’t holding onto her hand so tightly. Nightwing looks...proud. Something about that makes Garfield’s eyes sting. He knows Nightwing loves him but between the stink ball and the corny jokes, it wasn’t always that Nightwing admired Garfield.

He receives compliments like this from his costars and the Titans as they all begin to trickle out of the theatre to the after party. He has never felt bigger or more humbly blessed in his life. He and Terra are the last people in the theatre. 

“Listen,” she says when Starfire and Nightwing leave. “I’m sorry about what I said before.”

“I know. I am too,” he says, settling back down into his seat. She squeezes his hand.

“I am so beyond proud of you,” she says, and her eyes become glossy with tears. He gives her a closed lip smile and squeezes her hand again. She stands up and shoots him a questioning look when he doesn’t stand up with her. He puts a hand over hers to quiet her worries.

“I just...need to sit here a while. Kinda doesn’t feel real.” Garfield says in a very small voice. Terra smiles, the jewels in her hair twinkling in the low lighting. 

“I get it,” she says, placing a simple kiss on his cheek. “I’ll catch up with Nightwing and Starfire and meet you there, okay?” 

He nods. 

When she leaves the room Garfield feels himself collapse into his chair. He can’t believe he did it. All those long nights. Going to sets at 5 am with injuries from battles with Plasmus. He feels his throat tighten as he plays with his chain.

“She would have been proud of you.”

His head snaps up. Raven is walking towards him in a giant Hanes sweater, rolled up jeans and white sneakers. He stands up quickly.

“How-” he clears his throat. “How long have you been here?”

“Whole movie.”

Garfield gapes at her.

“I phased into the room where the man handles the film and projector. It was quieter there. Didn’t have to worry about the crowd.”

Garfield nods dazedly and sits back down. Raven walks up and gestures to the seat next to him.

“Can I sit?” she asks, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It was your seat.”

“Right,” Raven mumbles and sits in her chair. She draws her knees to her chest. Garfield feels a tightening in his chest about how small and adorable she looks. She could stop the world and yet she could fit her whole body in these tiny chairs.

“You look comfy,” he says, feeling an easy smile slip on his face.

“Well I certainly wasn’t going to wear a dress,” she says. The laughter escapes his lips like bubbles. They sit for a few moments in a comfortable silence looking at the empty screen in front of them.

“She would have been proud of you,” Raven says again and Garfield turns to her with a brow arched. She’s looking at something on his chest. He realizes he’s playing with his chain.

“Rita, I mean.” Raven says, playing with her shoe laces. Garfield feels his whole body still. 

“I know that’s why you do all of this,” Raven says, lifting her hand and waving it around. Garfield fixates on her delicate fingers as they weave through the air. He imagines her magic swimming between her fingers. “For Rita.” Raven finishes and Garfield looks back at her eyes again. He notices she’s not wearing any makeup and yet her skin looks completely smooth and clean.

“She would have loved seeing you do this,” Raven says. “You were like...Gregory Peck.”

Garfield feels a breath escape his lips. “Sorry...just...Roman Holiday was one of Rita’s favorite movies,” he says even though his throat feels weirdly tight and awkward.

“I know.”

“What?”

“Rita and I used to talk,” Raven says, shrugging. Garfield feels himself smiling again despite himself.

“You used to talk?” he asks in disbelief. “To Rita?” Raven crosses her arms, looking slightly peeved. She shrugs.

“Yes...about things.”

“Oh!” Garfield exclaims. Nodding as if Raven had just clarified everything. “You used to talk about things. My bad. Of course you used to talk about things.” He teases, wiggling his fingers whenever he says ‘things.’ 

“Gar…” Raven says, looking him up and down. It is then that he realized how close he’s gotten to her. Definitely closer than she’s allowed before. He hears Irma saying something about “boundaries” in the back of his mind. Still, it takes him a few seconds to put a respectable amount of space between them.

“Are you coming to the after party?” he asks, when the tingling he just felt in his stomach settles down. Raven shoots him a look. He raises his hands.

“Got it.” 

“I’m going to leave now,” she says, standing abruptly and he feels himself standing with her. He’s smiling at her; his cheeks hurt. She looks up at him and bites her lips. Then she smiles. Not one of her smirks but a full smile. It’s enough to make Garfield feel like he needs to sit down again. 

And suddenly he can’t see her face because she’s wrapped him in a tight hug. He feels the breath leave his lungs.

“I’m happy for you.” Her breath manages to find its way through the buttons of his button up and tickles the hair on his chest. He feels his chest expand. 

And suddenly she’s gone, before he can even wrap his arms around her too.

Hi I have a writing promt.

A story that is written from both pov's that shows Draco and Harry falling in love with each other. Little moments together where they fall a bit more in love. Things they do that make the other thing "Wow I'm so in love with him". Ect.

Harry had always been starkly aware of Draco, but it was after the war, in the Wizengamot, when he actually noticed him for the first time.

Draco was sitting next to Pansy Parkinson, holding her hand so tight that he was leaving white marks. Harry got a glimpse of them when Pansy was called to give her testimony.

Then the unthinkable happened. Instead of demurring, which she was allowed to do –was expected by everyone to do, was what every other member of a Death Eater family had done so far– Pansy answered all the prosecutor’s questions. She gave true testimony and denied her parents the imperius defence.

Draco was waiting for her when she came down from the stand. He grabbed her hand and led her away with measured steps so it wouldn’t look like they were running.

 *

The second time Harry noticed Draco like that, as a person rather than as an opponent, was, coincidentally, the first time Draco saw Harry as Harry. Not as a school enemy or a war enemy or The Boy Who Lived or The Saviour Of The Wizarding World. Not even as Harry Potter. He saw Harry as just Harry.

It probably helped that Harry was unrecognizable under a thick layer of soot and grime so Draco didn’t know who he was calling an idiot. Draco also yelled to stop immediately and step back and, miraculously, Harry did. No hesitance.

Not all Death Eater had been arrested and not every awful individual had joined Voldemort, which meant that there were plenty of terrible people out in the world. Someone, Death Eater or not, had attacked Wisteria House. The house where rescued and freed house-elves were hosted.

Draco understood that the house-elves weren’t the goal. They were just the bait, a cheap collateral. The point of the attack was to have someone (maybe Harry, most probably Granger), cross the door quickly, without looking around them, and walk straight into a deathly trap.

Draco saw the trap, called out a warning and Harry listened. He listened to Draco.

Both of them walked away with a different opinion of the other. No one comes out the same from a burning building.

 *

 The third time went like this.

“Occupied.”

“Je- Blimey!”

“Find your own corner in the shadows to hide, Potter. This one is mine.”

“I don’t have time to find another spot.”

“Too bad. W- wait! No, quit it!”

“Scoot over! We can share.”

“No, we can’t. This is my dark spot, go away.”

“Either we share or I make sure they find you too.”

“As if I care. I’m not hiding from your devotees. Go away.”

“It’s Clay Buckthorn.”

“… be quiet, then.”

They hid in there for an hour, talking in whispers and sharing a bottle of butterbeer, while Secretary Buckthorn, the most persistent and insufferable politician to ever crawl out of the Ministry, looked around for a popular face to join his campaign. They were about to leave when in came Rita Skeeter, pressuring Percy Weasley to answer her questions. They watched from the shadows as she pressed and cajoled and he resisted. It was a bit like watching some sort of fight sport, only after ten minutes they weren’t sure who they were supporting.

 *

Harry thought Draco was dating Pansy Parkinson and maybe he still was. Evidently, it was all for show. No need to read so much into it.  

There was this old witch complaining about tradition and values. Nothing no one hadn’t heard before many times. People these days had no respect, it was disgraceful and so on. But then she turned to Dennis Creevey and his boyfriend (some Slytherin kid, Harry didn’t know him), and she asked if their families weren’t ashamed of them. Two men together. They ought to be.

Harry wasn’t sure if she knew about Dennis’ brother or not. It was hard to believe that people could be so deliberately cruel to a stranger. The question stopped him from immediately jumping to her neck. He had been accused of blowing things out or proportion before. And by before, he meant that morning when he called out that rude shopper who cut the line before a goblin.

Meanwhile, Draco rolled his eyes in that magnificent way of his. For someone who acted so proud and proper, Draco had a very expressive face and the rolling of his eyes was a spectacle to behold. He stood from his table, grabbed Theo Nott by the lapels, and kissed him on the mouth long and hard right in the middle of the crowded restaurant. Afterwards he sat down, perfectly composed, and both Theo and him turned to look at the witch like the smuggest pair of snakes in the forest.

The witch left the restaurant soon after. Dennis lost the wretched look on his face and Harry paid the bill on Draco’s table, earning a nod from him on the way out.

*

The day Draco’s heart began to beat a different rhythm was a hot Thursday in summer and someone had tried to kill him.

It wasn’t a particularly well thought attack and Draco took precautions. He wouldn’t have gotten anything worse than an intense headache and maybe some sore muscles. Still, Harry felt the need to push him to the floor and shield him with his body from the sparks and shrapnel falling over them. Harry had stopped the hex in mid-air, which was admittedly impressive. Draco watched the purple rivulets of the failed curse slowly descending around them and wondered if he was in shock. That would be embarrassing. This clumsy attack on his life didn’t deserve any shock.

Harry jumped from him (so nimble!) and chased down the would-be murdered, on foot, like a muggle. He, he just ran down the street, didn’t even cast a spell until he caught up to him and brought him to the floor. Draco was sorry to miss that part, although there were very good pictures on the newspaper the next day. Harry looked amazingly heroic. One of the pictures had him jumping in mid-air.

Draco didn’t know if this was something Harry did for everybody or if it was just for him, nor did he care. His chest and stomach and… other parts, were confused enough about how to feel, and his heart, in particular was beating to a new tune.  

*

So Draco could make moving shadows to play stories and it was amazingly beautiful and Harry loved it, he loved it, and no, it was not the potion talking, he was perfectly sound of mind. St Mungo was about to let him go! But Draco had come visit him and when Harry complained about being dreadfully bored, Draco had put on this absolutely magical spectacle (yes, Harry knew they were both wizards, it was still magical; no, no potion talking, it was an honest opinion). In the end Harry stayed the night, just like the mediwitch had begged him to, and fell asleep with the shadows performing a dance before him.

*

Draco didn’t call it love because he was quite an obstinate young man, but he was at that stage where he would easily admit that he was willing to lay down his life for Harry. He only had trouble with the word, not with the sentiment itself and its manifestation.

They were at the Ministry. It should be a pretty simple and straight-forward process. Go in, Pansy signs the documents, Draco bears witness and signs his own documents, go out. But of course it wouldn’t be so simple. A pretty pureblood witch doing anything against her family was a spectacle. The press wanted photos, people wanted to see it live, and, of course, there was the ever present mob who just wanted to shout awful things. Usually Pansy dealt with the mob by herself, swiftly and with a sting.

But today was different, hence why Draco had informed Pansy he would be accompanying her before she could ask him to. It wasn’t like the day she gave her testimony, but it was close enough. In a way, it was worse. A year ago they had her testimony to think about. Today it was just signing a document. That could hardly distract them from the crowd waiting for them.  

A push. A yelp. A crash. And Harry Potter gallantly preventing a very old wizard from having a huge flower vase fall on top of him. Somehow, Harry didn’t cast protego in time, so he avoided being brained by the vase but was splashed by the water and stood completely drenched in the middle of the Ministry main hall.

Across the mass of curious people and reporters and workers and people who had come to shout awful things, Harry looked at Draco. He gave him A Look. If he had more time, Draco would stop and think of a suitable metaphor for Harry’s eyes, their colour and intensity. But he didn’t, so he grabbed Pansy by the elbow and together they crossed the hall without the crowd noticing. Everyone’s attention was naturally fixed on the way the Saviour of the Wizarding World’s wet clothes clung to his chest.

Afterwards, once he had seen Pansy safely (and discreetly) home, Draco went to find Harry. He was perfectly dry now, but he had a faint scent of flowers around him.

“The rose garden is lovely in June,” Draco said, which should be enough but of course Harry didn’t understand him. Harry was kind, brave, handsome and clever in the most useless way so Draco had to actually explain, with words, that Weasley and Granger must have realize by now the extent of their fame and what it would mean if they married at the Burrow, where anyone could break in. Hence, why Draco mentioned his lovely rose garden where they could get married if they chose to without anyone invading their privacy.

“Hermione’s extended family is muggle.” Harry said, and dear Merlin it was even worse than Draco thought. They were going to pick a muggle place. So not only people breaking in, but a violent attack against the muggles too. Just what you want for a wedding.

“The Malfoy family marries for power, not blood purity.” Draco explained in a whisper. “There is no repello muggletum in our houses.”

“What!?” Harry cried, drawing immediate and sharp attention to them so they had to leave quickly and find a quiet place where Draco explained that Grandmother Imogen –that is, Lucius Malfoy’s mother– was a muggle but, most importantly, a peer of the Realm.

Harry stood in shocked silence for a minute, and after a lot of “whats” and “hows” and “no, really, how could you join Voldemort?” he accepted to at least extend Draco’s offer to the happy couple.  

*

Draco said he didn’t plan on attending the wedding. Just because he was offering his summer house it didn’t mean he expected an invitation. He got one anyway, because Draco had showed them his summer house and two country houses belonging to his muggle cousins and was very careful not to mention Malfoy Manor at any point. Ron appreciated it even more than Hermione.  

He rejected the invitation anyway because he said he much preferred to sit by the gates and send stinging hexes to anyone trying to intrude. It was his one chance to curse people indiscriminately and he didn’t want to waste it.

He showed up later, during the reception, looking handsome and with a pleased smile on his face. He grabbed a glass of champagne, immediately transformed it from a flute to a pompadour without wasting a drop, and sat himself next to Aunt Muriel whom he proceeded to engage in a long and acrid dispute until Ron and Hermione had left. Dear Aunt Muriel didn’t get a chance to insult the bride, or the groom, or any of their families really.

It was right then, while Draco forged a lifelong enemy (her life, not his) by insulting her garden (how did he know so much about flowers), that Harry realized he was in love. He was in love. He was in love. He wanted to be with Draco and insult people together and scandalize prejudiced old bats until they themselves were old bats.

*

Harry picked up a fight with the officiant (to be fair, that comment about the goblins was very unfortunate) and they ended up getting married at a muggle register’s office and Draco was so, so, happy. His family was obviously displeased. Cousin Nerissa said that her fiancée could officiate and was very offended when Fred Weasley said no one wanted to be married by a man named Cuthbert. It was amazing. George Weasley sat next to Cousin George, the baron. Hermione and Ginny Weasley started a fight with the most traditional-minded relatives (from every side). Cousin Audrey came out to the family when she was caught propositioning Luna Lovegood. Pansy Parkinson got engaged to no less than three lords and said they could sort between themselves who got to marry her.

Draco was so in love. It was amazing.