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@daphneholmes​

“Daphne!” Tony sung as he raced up the stairs and down the hall. He was too excited to slow down, tripping once over a pile of laundry he hadn’t bothered to put away, and twice more over his own feet, until he landed at Daphne’s bedroom door. He gave a courteous knock and waited for about two seconds before growing too impatient.

“I have a surprise,” Tony said as he pushed the door open a crack and peeked his head in. “Also, I need a favor.”

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“Paint me like one of your french girls,” Tony replied, not hesitating to take a seat. “Get it? ‘Cause you’re painting on me? And everyone is fuckin’ French around here?” He chuckled at his own joke.

“Just don’t get paint on my clothes.” He motioned to the Frenchman costume he’d ordered online. “They’re the finest silks that France had to offer. Actually--” he glanced around, as if about to share a forbidden secret, only to lean over and whisper, “I think the Dubois might be a little jealous… Or they’re pissed and are gonna off me. Hard to tell with them.”

“ hey, you — shh, shut up, just sit in the chair. let me test this out on you. it’s not gonna hurt or anythin’. ” mouth half full of a beignet and yorick panting beside her, adora leaned over the table at her little booth to call out to the nearest person. she’d finally set up the new airbrush machine. new, as in amazon had literally just delivered it earlier this morning. 

“ i mean, unless i fuck up. but i won’t. proooomise. i just wanna have some fun with it before five kids in a row ask for a fairy or tiger stripes, or whatever the fuck it is kids want these days. ”

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“Nah, don’t think so. The only guns I use are... Finger guns.”

“C’mon, big boy. Get on up here and show me how it’s done.”

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daphneholmes:

Daphne was a fan of anything that involved children. With a childlike soul herself and an intense need to help others, children always seemed the easiest to insist in her mind. Her love for children was fueled, of course, by the fact that her roommate was a kindergarten teacher. 

And a proud one at that. Daphne could see why. She knew the work Tony had put into getting the kids in his class ready to take on the waltz in front of the whole town and despite a few bumps that were absolutely explainable (considering, of course, that they were children), they were doing rather well. 

“They’re absolutely doll! I just wanna bring them all home with me,” She whined softly. “But I imagine the house will probably start to feel a bit smaller if I do. And Sheriff Perroneau might give me a hard time after he has to deal with all the amber alerts.” 

“Daphne!” He greeted her warmly -- and a little too loudly too, but Tony hardly noticed the shut up looks he got anymore (they tended to lose effect after some odd thirty years). “I’m so glad you made it. Granted, we do live together, and you would have faced some serious repercussions if you hadn’t.” He gave her his stern teacher look for a moment before breaking out into a smile.

Tony’s eyes turned back to the children, who were finishing up the Waltz, and choked down a laugh at her next comment. “Use your inside voice,” he said, not using his inside voice at all. “Not everyone shares our sense of humor, so you probably shouldn’t talk about fuckin’ amber alerts around a large group of children. I don’t want you to tarnish my shining reputation.” He shook his head. “And people think I have baby fever.”

the waltz

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annette-delacroix:

The founder’s festival was… trying. To say the least. Annette’s sociability ended when she left work, and faking the warm, polite demeanor that got her such glowing reviews with tiger moms and senior citizens for four days straight was not her idea of a good time. Skipping wasn’t an option, and being both a ‘descendant’ of one of the founding families, and the doctor of over a third of the town, meant that everyone seemed to want to stop and chit chat. (One would think, being raised in court as she was, she would find small talk less tedious, and yet.)

Frankly, the cultural showcase was the worst of it all- from the tacky costumes, the ‘educational’ historical exhibits that ranged from vaguely to wildly incorrect, and the absolutely mortifying reenactments. It also tended to be crawling with children; the likes of which Annette couldn’t stand to be around in anything other than a medical setting- for a variety of reasons.

So, it was only with the thinnest layer of forced politeness and charm that Annette turned to smile at Tony- a foolish young man who had once been a snot nosed little kid around town, talking endlessly of childish things. It seemed to her that he had never really grown out of the habit. She wasn’t one to get attached- he wouldn’t be the first human she’d watched be born, (or in Tony’s case, adopted) live, and die without much emotional investment- but she found him occasionally amusing.

Nodding, she hummed in agreement. “They certainly are enthusiastic if nothing else, aren’t they? You must be very proud.”

It was only after the dance ended that Tony turned to face Annette. It had been some time since they’d seen eachother, but she looked the same as always. In fact, for some reason, Tony couldn’t remember her ever looking different. But people around Cendre Hollow were like that -- they didn’t change, and neither did the town -- it was something in the air. Or maybe the swamp. Either way, Tony made a mental note to ask what anti-aging cream she used.

“Annette,” he greeted with a toothy grin and a small wave. “I would shake your hand, but considering I’m a teacher and have probably contracted cooties from all those boogers--” he motioned to the children, “--Well, I wouldn’t want the town doc calling in sick.”

The cheesy joke was followed by an even cheesier chuckle, and then and emphatic nod. “They are very enthusiastic. And it comes from the heart -- that’s what’s so great about kids, y’know? They don’t overthink things. Hell, they don’t even think at all half the time. It’s fuckin’ inspirational.” He paused and looked her over. “Is that what got you to come over? The enthusiasm? Or maybe you just missed your favorite patient.”

the waltz

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serena-mantovani:

The atmosphere around her certainly was homey. It wasn’t Italy’s refined homeliness, but she could see the appeal for others. Her vacation that she planned months ago had been canceled at the request of her father. Now she was stuck in a small town that seemed to be celebrating their origins without knowing their origins. Or at least that was how most of the people acted. She’d already scouted out who she’d be watching out for and who she’d planned on avoiding. 

To everyone she was still a random tourist, a socialite looking for a hideaway. As Serena’s gaze fell on a couple of the booths set up, it was a perfect hideaway place. Music had begun to play and she followed the gazes of everyone else towards the square. Children began to dance around, she assumed there was supposed to be routine but none of them kept it. 

Walking further through the crowd for a better view, Serena’s eyes caught onto one particularly excited watcher. Not a parent considering he wasn’t taking any photos. Based on the pride he held in his eyes, and the ordinary tint to them, he was human and most likely their teacher. Still, having to blend in with the townspeople, she played her part as he spoke up. “They certainly aren’t from the same mother.” Her smirk tilted the edges of her mouth slightly, “Are you their teacher?” 

Even as the stranger replied, Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away from the children; he refused to miss a single second. He tapped his foot to the rhythm and gave an encouraging nod to a few particularly nervous students. It took every fiber of his being to resist calling out, “you’re doing great, sweetie!” Instead, he managed to settle for not-so-subtlety mouthing it.

In fact, the kindergartners were actually doing terribly, but Tony was blind to it. With his eyes still glued to the performers, he nodded. “The proudest damn teacher on this side of the Mississippi.” It wasn’t until the dance ended, and they announced a brief intermission, that Tony looked at the woman he was speaking to.

“I’m glad everyone agrees that they’re brilliant,” he said with a widespread smile as a small handful of parents clapped. “They were amazing. Deserve a goddamn place on Dancing With The Stars. They could teach celebrities a thing or two. They always teach me a thing or two, y’know? It sounds cliche but I learn more from them then they do for me.”

His rambling always proved impressive stamina -- how could anyone hold their breath for that long? -- but this time, he stopped himself. “Forgot to introduce myself. Get a lil’ carried away sometimes. I’m Tony,” he finished, holding his hand out to shake.

the waltz

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the waltz

Tony checked his phone for the twentieth time. It was finally three p.m. He scanned over the kindergartners clustered around him, most of whom were whispering amongst themselves and fidgeting nervously. After taking count to assure that they were all there, Tony crouched down and clapped twice to catch their attention.

“Alright kiddos,” he began as the children turned to face him. “I know a lot of you are nervous, but there’s no reason to be, okay? You’ve practiced hard and you’re gonna do great. No matter what happens, I’ll be a proud teacher.” Tony grinned broadly and gave a thumbs up. “Now go out there, do your best, and let’s show the first-graders who’s boss!”

At his final words, the kindergartners stumbled out into the town square. Tony snuck around the side and took a seat on a hay bale, watching intently as the music began to play and his students fumbled to grab hands. None of them were synchronized; they were all waltzing around offbeat and tripping over one another’s feet. One student fell, but he bounced right back up. Tony felt a surge of pride.

“Aren’t they amazing?” He whispered to the unfortunate soul sitting next to him (Tony had an annoying habit of talking through everything). “Look at ‘em -- look at those little fuckin’ monsters. Those are my kids. Aren’t they great?”

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