Dance with the OC above you 💃

 julydreamzzz Yup! The direct link works! Thank you so much!! ❤️

For np please response to this post: LINK

(So none of the links are working for me so Im just gonna wing it and hope for the best.) 

She was being asked to dance with the moon. Or well thats how she interpreted the others relatively kind offer to dance with her. After all his Head resembled that of a cresent moon and Sakura was sure there was a pretty metaphor of which could come out of this but she didn't have many ideas at the moment as she looked at the hand being offered to her. It was a large hand and his offer was rather gracious as she had been standing all by her lonesome most of the night though if one asked her dance teacher they would have said she was doing everyones feet a favor as Sakura had found rather quickly she was rather terrible at keeping a rhythm. 

She stared at the hand of the other a beat longer then was polite before moving her gloved hand onto his outstreched one. "I..That is most kind of you. Thank you I would love to dance with you."

She said softly though her stomach exploded with nerves as she was lead onto the dancefloor. However she found it much easier then she remembered. Following his lead like magic. Peehaps it was some magic. Dancing with the moon. She thought to herself and couldnt help the giggle that escaped. 'What an interesting but lovely concept. ' she thought to herself looking at her dance partner with a smile. Perhaps not all parties were bad having been unable to dance most parties were mostly just boring affairs to her but now it was...well it was a bit fun. She had no clue that really it was her lack of nervousness that was saving her partners toes from a stomping she didnt even know what they were dancing and it didnt matter it was so much fun dipping and twirling she wished it would never end. 

When the dance inevitably came to a stop however her smile was still on her face. "Thank you for the dance...that was lovely." She said with a soft smile in her dance partners direction unable to wipe it off her face for the rest of the night. 

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Sakura had been humming to the classical music she had set on while reading her book on the terrace near Machete. She usually stooped down to help him look for bugs but today she was at a very good part in her novel and really wanted to finish the chapter first however her head poped up when the other spooke to her. "Hmm?" Her little brows furrowed for a moment confused at "Piano music" when she glanced over at the radio and realized he ment classical. Her cheeks heated slightly as she put her book to her mouth in Embrassment. "Whats wrong with classical." She said quietly before putting the book back to it proper place in front of her but no longer reading it her attention on the other man as he stood up saying there weren't any good bugs today. 

She pouted a bit thinking he would leave again rather quickly before smiling when he said he'd stick around a bit longer. "Oh really?" She tried to say nonchalantly though the girl was terrible at being "Nonchalant" as her smile wouldn't go off her face which made the whole "indifferent" approach go out the window because you couldn't be indifferent when you whole face was telling someone you were pleased, Sakura popped a bookmark in the place she was reading and stood up from her seat to walk the few steps over to her tall guest. She looked up at him, as she had to since he was about three feet taller then her. She blinked up at him when he asked about her book and looked down at it as if there was any question he was talking about it. 

"Well...No" she said looking up at him. "They mention dancing but they dont really teach someone how to dance." She said to him. Which makes sense because it would be difficult to get into a romance story if on every other paragraph it was telling you how to do the Waltz. She flushed at that last question. He made no secret he didnt like romance novels but still. "Not all of them are stupid!" She said defensive of her cheesy romance novels, though her face flushed at not knowing how to dance very well huffing at his snarky comment.  "Besides I never said I wanted to be them" she muttered though she did want to be them, hopeless romantic that she was. But even she knew better then to tell him THAT. 

She jumped when he suddently grabbed her wrist he wasnt exactly touchy feely on the best of days so she was suprised he had touched her so suddently. She blinked at him watching his smile with one of her own before she felt him pull her wrist and put it on his shoulder. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing and when it clicked her whole face went bright red and her eyes looked at him in surprise. Was he...was he trying to dance with her? She thought her cheeks could get no brighter but when he asked her to put her arm around his waist she could have sworn she felt her face get even hotter. She did so slowly. Moving an arm around his waist glancing up at him for approval before she let him lead her face against him and turned to the side as she felt them sway. 

She became very aware in that moment that he was of the opposite sex from her and though she had always known that perhaps she had been able to not think about it since he was so different from the men in her life and her storybook heros. Now however, she swore that her heart was beating so loud he would be able to hear it, she did not move away from him despite her sudden shyness though.  After all she knew this was very out of character for him. He had a very rough and edgy persona and she doubted he would be willing to dance with her again as she was sure he just did this on a whim but still. Still...

 It made her smile all the less. She enjoyed his company regardless and would be okay even if they never danced again... but for today She would enjoy this while it lasted. 

(Bengts What can I say? Im a sucker for the cheesy shit. Lol)

spoiled for cheesy garbage .. also i think i wrote a bit? god knows how toyhouse formats this

"Heya Beatrice!" The peppy Tiefling greeted the elder woman. "It was really nice of you to come to the party at the monastery even though you're not a believer! It's nice to see fresh faces around. In the past these parties usually have been like, incredibly stuffy before they started taking advice from the younger members like me on what they can do to perk things up!" She grinned. "While you're here, do you wanna dance? I can teach you how to do some of the Fort Night dances if you'd like! It's this little hunting game that's really popular with the kids around these parts and they have these little dances they made up to go with it." She then devolved into doing a bunch of complicated little dances. "See? Don't these look fun?! I can teach you!" She began to slow down and explain things step by step for the various dances.

You could call it dancing in some crooked way. Leika had to take a step back and bend away from Patience’s fist. That hardly missed her face. She laughed, clenched her own fists and swung it forward as well. Leika gained some ground. Set a few steps forwards but was quickly pushed back.
They’ve been sparring like this for an hour now and it started to tax the Easterling. Her brow frowned and her boots were filled with arena sand.
“Alright truce! Truce,” Leika said. As she could narrowly avoid one of the tiefling-monk’s fists. She smiled brightly at Patience.

“I bet you’re a good dancer,” Leika said. As she slumped down on the wooden-training bench. She rubbed her forehead clean of sweat with a towel. She then thoughtfully held out to her ‘dancing partner’.
“I’ve never seen someone swing their fists like you before,” the Easterling complimented her. “And your feet! They move as quickly as lightning!” Leika said.
She reached for her waterskin and took a big gulp out of it. “I really don’t have a tactic,” she confessed to the monk.
“I just punch,” she clarified. “But I guess you figured out as much,” she added with a laugh.
Leika kicked some of the arena sand up. She instantly regretted it though. As the stuff started to drift. It made her eyes tear up.
“Listen,” she said. Her voice wavering from the sand-in-eyes-tears. “Maybe you can teach me a trick or two! How to,” she paused to make a punching movement in the air. “And the,” she shoved her feet drastically through the sand. (Causing another small sandstorm while she was at it.)
“I can teach you something about guns in return! I’m pretty good with those,” the Easterling said. She even went as far as plucking her gun from her belt and held it out to the religious-monk to inspect.
“That’s my religion,” she said. “Gunpowder and bullets baby.”

--

Leika before she spots Riley be like

Maribelle, however, was not having a good night. One could assume that was the fault of her mentor, who she continously glanced towards, and who only looked back at her with a faint scowl. Nevertheless, reluctantly, she approached the man she had been directed towards. The man who she had on more than one occasion reamed out, and who she only tolerated (if one could even call it that) for his insects. If not for her aforementioned mentor, who more so forced her into such a thing out of the need to maintain respectability -- and to extend an olive branch -- she likely would have stuck to the walls of the establishment and eat whatever hors d'oeuvres she could get her grubby hands on.

It was probably best she didn't do that, though. Her hands were gloved white. It was half for a sense of refinement, if anything of the sort could even be attempted by her, and also because if she was anticipating a dance... It was for the best that neither of them touched sweaty palms. On that note, she suspiciously glanced at Skinner's hand, not breathing a word in that moment. She was sure they would be plump, and disgusting, and damp. Why did men always have such weird hands?

"Mister Fuchs wanted me to see you." she said to Skinner, eyes on his cheek, tone robotic, "He wanted me to dance with you. I don't have my dagger on me right now, so don't worry." That might have been a lie, but she wasn't making a move to pummel him. Yet..?

So, a bit forcefully, a bit hurriedly, she grabbed Skinner's hands. She held back a grimace... And then started to complain.

"I learned how to dance when I was quite young. I assume that's the case for you, being an aristocrat." she droned, carefully side-stepping with the man, "I don't remember if I learned music, though, like the... the harps here... I don't usually care for music, anyway. I don't care for this gathering. I'm only here for appearances' sake, both mine and his. I can't tell if the men or the women are the worst part of this, though."

Maribelle continued to stare at the man's face, though not once did he meet his gaze, as she fell silent. Lost in thought, she not-so-carefully stepped forward too early, her foot ramming clumsily into his. An honest mistake, but the girl winced at the feeling.

She snapped her hands up and away from his, breathing in sharply. "I don't know why I have to do this. You and him can have a grand time for all I care."

With that, she looked back over her shoulder at her mentor, who in return continued to glare at her. Well, that didn't last very long. "I need to clean up." she uttered, "I need to walk."

Maribelle, resisting the urge to thrown down with Salvador

“They used to host parties here. Can you imagine?” Salvador asked. He pressed his hands in his sides. His eyes scanned the empty ball-room. A chandelier hung askew in its chains. So did the curtains. Dust caked the floor. (And occasionally made Salvador’s breathing wheeze and sneeze. If bluefever, poverty, or Roswell’s dumb actions didn’t kill him this dust will do the trick.)
Salvador’s gaze darted through the empty room. “I can’t. It looks like a dump,” he said. Then shook his head. “Bet the food was good.” Another long pause. “The food they’d served here,” he clarified.
“Whatever,” he tried to smother the awkward silence between them. “We need to find what Fuchs sent us to find. Or he will see us hang. Uh, me hanged anyway,” he said. Salvador’s small heels click-clacked on the steps that led to the dancefloor. The dust-clouds were even thicker here and Salvador hid his nose behind his scarf.
“Can you dance?” he asked out of nowhere. Salvador turned around to face Maribelle and raised his brows almost challengingly.
“You’re highborn right? Aristocratic?” Salvador’s eyes darted over Maribelle and lingered a second too long on her dirty/dusty cloak. “Or was.” He kicked up some dust.
“Bet they learned you how to dance before you could even walk properly,” he said. A hint of envy lingered* in his tone. “Bet you’ve seen many parties,” he added.
“I’ve learned how to dance by myself,” he said. “The waltz. The polka,” Salvador continued. He made some tippy-tappy steps with his feet. Which resulted in more dust kicking up and another wheeze.
“How? Doesn’t matter,” he said. He’d learned it with a book called ‘the gentleman’s guide of dancing’, it was no wonder that he didn’t want to admit that out loud.

“Come,” he said. Stretching his arm out awkwardly at the younger girl. “Show me what you can do. I want to know if the Krett-polka differs from the Duruta-Polka.” He wiggled his fingers. If to encourage Maribelle to take his hand.
“And I want to see you fail.” He bluntly admitted. “Cause, I bet that I’m a better dancer than you,” he even dared to add. With a Blanco-facial expression mind you. No smug smile. No wiggling of his eyebrows. This man was stating this outraged claim as if it was a fact. 

*(ty autocorrect for correcting lingered in lingerie the first time I posted this post)

--

Salvador at that radio

[Going off the song Freaks by Surf Curse. Feel free to refer to her as a human if you wanna follow up!!]

The crustaceous canine approached holding a radio with stickers of all sorts. The assorted stickers seemed to relate to the ocean and some permanent marker drawings upon closer inspection. She suddenly grinned revealing her canid teeth. Then proceeded to laugh at the rather stubby man. She crouched down a tad to meet his gaze. She was personally around 5'10, vs Salv seemed to be 4'8.

"Well, aren't you a cute little thing," Marcel said, booping his nose with her finger. Her grin faded into a smile and she set down her radio. Marce pushed a button on the top with a small triangle on it. The paint on the button as worn and scratchy. In fact all of the buttons were. However music still soared and danced within the air.

The tune grungy and loud, but what mattered is that Marcel lived for it. Suddenly, she grabbed Salvador's hand and pulled him in and started dancing. It wasn't anything in particular, more so a mesh of bad dancing, shuffling, and the Charleston. AKA, how you pretty much dance at a concert with someone. Swinging him around and stepping back and forth. 

"Dancing doesn't need to specific!" She said, talking over the music. "Its just gotta be fun my man!" She chuckled. 

"Try it yourself! I wont judge!" With a spin, she threw him to the side and awaited his dance.

__

Follow up mayhaps?

Charlotte was not a social person. She didn't willfully interact with people or spend time with others, much less go to parties; she simply didn't see a reason for it. Her free time was spent more on honing her skills or finding new missions, and maybe even looking at pictures of pugs, but never partying.
So when she found a target would be at a party at a beach, she cursed up and down.
It was dark out, with the only light coming from the bonfire at the center of the beach, and the moonlight reflecting off the lazy waves. Countless people around her age were dancing to the music coming from the speakers, others talking and drinking. She was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. And with her little acting skills, she could only mask it with a cold stare. With how dark it was, maybe she could stay hidden at the edge of this bonfire and pull out her target--
Suddenly, a lobster dog playfully pulled her closer towards the fire, insisting that she shouldn't just stand around during a party. Charlotte insisted she was fine, but Marcel didn't seem convinced. The longer they stayed like this, the more people began looking their way. Unable to get away, Charlotte sighed and... attempted to dance.
Awkward and slow waves of her arms, and the occasional shifting from one foot to the other. The only thing she had going for her was that most of the people here were too drunk to care. She'd probably take a few drinks in herself to forget this moment.
Well. At least Marcel seemed to be having a good time.

They were like two peas in a pod, except they both didn't want to be in that pod. So, after an hour of them both clinging to the walls of the crowded ballroom...

Leading the way cautiously into a quieter part of the estate, Odette uttered to Charlotte, "I'm surprised you're not much of a dancer, considering your surname." She inched closer to the other woman once the door behind them shut with a click, but then hesitated. "Have you ever danced with anyone before? Or know? I could teach you, if you want."

She extended a gloved hand towards the assassin, gently taking her palm in hers. "You can barely hear the music up here, I know, but... I think it's better this way. It's just us. No one else around. I suppose that's more of our style, isn't it?" It was for the best. Affection wasn't her strong suit, but in public? She might as well scream and cry for a scandal to happen. Alas, she steadily rested her other hand over Charlotte's side.

"It's easy." she murmured, "Dances like this are, at least. I'm more of a follower, personally, but you can follow my lead. Just..." As she stepped to the side, nudging Charlotte along with her, she sighed. Or chuckled? It was hard to tell. "Don't step on my foot, alright? Here -- one, two..." With another, slower step to the side, she tried to match the string music playing downstairs, though she tried not to hold the other woman to the same standard.

"A friend of mine, we..." She paused that thought, as she leaned with her, "We dance like this now and then, and it's... it's nice." It's gay. "I think you'll learn how to slow dance quicker -- and more properly -- than she ever did, though."

hopefully i will follow-up?

Trembling feet the poor pyro, gabe, practicly had two left feet. He never knew how to dance bolt tried to help him a few times back at home but he just could never get it right. Now he stands nervous infront of Odette  they started a slow waltz gabe being quite clumsy fell down a few times " ugh!! Im so sorry, I've never been able to dance... " gabe said this with longing in his voice " I've always worked with fire ever since-..." gabe stopped sadness in his eyes " nevermind... but thanks for trying to help me " the pyro smiled put on his gas mask and left the room leaving Odette alone

"It's a waltz," Jan-Paul explained. The golden points of his shoes made soft tap tap tap noises as he moved over the waxed ballroom floor. "You don't need your axe for that," Jan-Paul said. He held the pyro's axe lightly in his hands and his arms outstretched. As if the weapon was oozing with mucus. Jan-Paul set the weapon down. At the far end of his dancefloor and he turned around to face Gabe.
"It's simple really. Even yóu can pick it up. Now give me your hand," Jan-Paul instructed. Impatiently. He held out his hand to the other and restlessly moved his fingers. "Good!" He chirped. Then places his own hand on Gabe's side.
"You need to use your right foot first okay? To step," he vaguely continued. "Forward," Jan-Paul said. As he took a step. "Right."
He stepped lightly to the right and closed the step with his other foot. Dragging poor Gabe into his dance.
"My uncle has told me about you. You like fires, right?" Jan-Paul said. He twitched his ear.
"Back."
The gold merchant gently pulled Gabe a step back. "I mean, isn't arson a crime? My uncle didn't tell me that I needed to tutor an actual crook." Paused. "Or cook." The Easterling laughed about his own joke.
"Left," he instructed. His laughter still audible in his voice. C(r)ook! Void, he was surely the funniest guy in the entire Northern pact.

"Watch your feet!" Jan-Paul said. Snapped back to reality. As the golden points of his brush against the door pyro's boots.
"Don't you even dare to step on my shoes with those... Those…" He nodded at Gabe's boots. "Boatman's shoes! If I find a spatter of mud on mine I'll let you polish them," Jan-Paul warned. While dragging Gabe unexpectedly to the right.
"With whale fat and your own spit."

--

Homies.. Is it homo to want to dance with another man?