Author's Note: Hey everyone! I updated on time this week :) This chapter has 2 Zuko sections and 2 Katara sections. I wrote them a while ago and didn't want to add unnecessary stuff to fill out the chaps, so we just have double this week. I hope you like it!

By the way, did anyone catch the "Mulan" reference in the last chapter? ;)

Disclaimer: i don't own avatar pls dont sue me

Zuko waited just inside the ballroom doors, still as a pillar, dying to scratch an itch at the base of his collar. Toph stood across from him, head drooping as if she had fallen asleep. She'd been busy the past few days trying to find more information about whoever was threatening the royal family, but she hadn't had much luck. Zuko wouldn't have been surprised to see dark purple bags under all the eye makeup she was wearing. Her dress, light blue and form-fitting, revealed how much she was slouching. And he was fairly certain she'd busted the bottoms out of her shoes so she could "see." Even though Zuko could appreciate how nice she looked in her fancy get-up, it just didn't look right, like the gown hung wrong on her body. He wondered if she had ever even worn a gown before.

But he wasn't one to talk. He knew he like a seal-fish out of water. Back in Sokka's room, he had helped the Prince squeeze into the ugliest set of robes he had ever seen. When Zuko suggested he wear something a little humbler, Sokka had rolled his eyes dismissively.

"You wouldn't know, being from the Fire Nation," he spat derisively, "but this is the pinnacle of Southern Empire fashion."

Then he had thrown a pair of black pants and navy blue robes at Zuko's face, claiming they were "ratty old scraps" that didn't fit him anymore, but seemed to fit Zuko just fine considering he was larger than Sokka in practically every way.

Even though the ensemble fit pretty well, it was awfully constricting, and this was all Zuko could think about as he stood by the doors, fidgeting. All of his clothing in the Fire Nation had been tailor-made to accomodate his bending; it was easy to move in. This formal wear was constructed to make him look good. Even though it was blue. Personally, Zuko preferred red. And although his rehearsals with Katara had helped with his dancing, he knew it would be hard to move without ripping something.

Zuko's head snapped to attention when the doors to the ballroom opened and the Emperor and Empress walked through, arm-in-arm. He had to admit: they looked royal. The Empress eyed the staff kindly, obviously relieved nothing had gone awry since she left the ballroom. The chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings were lit, the candles casting a brilliant glow on the ice walls. The floor was smooth and patterns of fire reflected against it, dancing. The Emperor was his usual uptight self, but his eyes kept darting over to his wife with an uncharastically warm look. Zuko's Uncle had always said that a strong, beautiful woman could melt the coldest of hearts and turn the foolish wise.

As soon as his gaze landed on the next couple entering the room, Zuko knew with overwhelming certainty that his Uncle had been right.

Katara practically floated across the threshold, her hand resting lightly on her brother's forearm. Her face was stoic, eyes straight ahead—the only indications that she was less than pleased with her partner.

But Agni, she was breathtaking.

Her hair was piled like vines on top of her head, cheeks and chest dusted with gold, eyes outlined in dark kohl. Her dress molded graciously to her curves and Zuko wanted to profusely thank whoever had made the gown. Frozen to the spot by the sight of her, Zuko almost didn't notice Toph step forward to trail behind the two of them.

"Sparky!" she hissed, immediately snapping Zuko out of his trance. He fell in step with the procession, walking a few paces behind the Prince, who, Zuko was pleased to see, looked even more uncomfortable than Zuko did in his formal wear. The six of them, plus two servants for the Emperor and Empress, made their way to the center of the room where they bowed to one another and separated. The crowd followed them and dispersed, filling the high ceilings and wide walls with polite chatter. The servants began to circle the party, trays of food and drink in their hands, offered to the nobles.

Jin, moving to a small group of men in the corner, caught Zuko's eye and grinned. She looked pretty in a simple blue and black dress that he had called "beautiful" before when Orchard had prompted him to compliment her up in the servant's quarters.

"Well, what do you think?" Orchard had asked, spinning around so her dress flared out. Zuko had laughed and told her it made her look like a Unagi horn, which she didn't appreciate. Then she had directed his attention to Jin, who was standing off to the side, blushing unnaturally red (which he later realized was because of the makeup).

"And what about Jin? She made her dress all by herself."

Zuko swallowed uncomfortably. The dress was well-made, and she did look pretty, but he didn't want to lead her on. But then her smile faltered, and a tinge of panic creeped into her eyes, and Zuko figured it couldn't hurt to pay her a compliment.

"It's a beautiful dress. You look beautiful, Jin," he said, which restored her smile and made her blush even more fiercely.

Now in the ballroom Zuko smiled back at her, glad she wasn't angry that he couldn't help the other servants. But he grudgingly had a job to do. He trailed Sokka as he made his way around the room, already in full-flirt mode. He paused to casually chat with three young ladies, one of whom kept shooting Zuko coy glances. He turned around, hoping to avoid further awkwardness, and almost ran right into Katara.

They both exclaimed, and he instinctively grabbed her upper arms to keep both of them from falling. She looked at his hands then up at him through her eyelashes, which looked even longer than they had before, and he felt his face flush.

"Sorry, your Highness."

She pursed her lips at her formal title, but must have realized its necessity. If anyone heard him using her first name, they might think less of her—or worse, get suspicious.

"That's alright. It was my fault," she said, a smile creeping on to her face. They watched each other for a prolonged moment, and Zuko was unsure of what to do next. He was surprised to realize that he wanted to ask her to dance. He couldn't, of course—a royal couldn't be seen dancing with a servant. They had been pushing it earlier just by talking to one another. Also, there was the fact that he hated dancing. But if it was with her, he found he wasn't afraid to make a fool of himself.

Realizing he was still holding her, he dropped his hands. "So, how have you been?" he asked in what he hoped was a cordial, aloof way. As if they hadn't seen each other only a few hours ago.

"Good," she replied, the candlelight flickering in the blue of her eyes. "And you?"

"Pretty good," Zuko said, and then mentally hit himself, because that's the best he could come up with? Pretty good? His mind flashed back to their encounter, how she had looked at him, and her dress—

"Busy, too," he added quickly, sounding more idiotic by the second, grapsing for something—anything—to say to get his mind off of the tempting image lingering there. "You know, with preparations and everything."

"Right, of course," she nodded seriously, but he could see the smile playing on her lips. "I'm sure it took a long time to put this all together."

"Yeah, it did. But your mother did most of the work." She knows that, stupid! She's her mom! Thankfully, Katara chuckled softly and Zuko relaxed. All around them the party was pulsing, the anticipation heightening as couples paired off to dance. A quartet of stringed instruments had arrived after the feast ended and were now playing soft, lively music in the background of the chatter.

Katara looked to her brother. "I see Sokka is doing alright," she deadpanned. Sokka had gathered a modest fan club and was gesticulating wildly. "What do you think he's talking about?"

"Probably the buffalo yak he hunted the other day."

"You mean he was actually able to catch something?"

"Technically yes. I mean, it only had 3 legs, but I'm sure he's conveniently forgotten that detail."

Katara snorted, then laughed, brushing Zuko's shoulder. Zuko bit his upper lip to repress the grin that threatened to break through. But his good mood was short-lived, because he felt someone come up behind him.

"Daughter," the Emperor said, his shadow falling on Zuko's surprised face. "I have a young man here who has asked you for the first dance."

Zuko peeled away from her and stood to the side, head dropped respectfully.

"With all due respect, Father," she said through gritted teeth, "I am not interested in—"

"This is the son of a very influential Northern official, and you will dance with him," her father ordered, learning forward so that he towered over her. Her heart fluttered, remembering their fight so long ago, his words, the distant throbbing of mended ribs.

No way, she wanted to say. She was not in the mood to mingle with people her father thought important, to be used as his pawn. But now was not the time or place. So she lowered her head.

"Yes, Father," she said.

Just as he was about to turn away, his gaze jerked down to her throat. "What is that?" he hissed, and stepped up against her. His hand closed around her mother's necklace, as if to rip it off, and impulsively, she grabbed his fist.

"She gave it to me to wear tonight," she snapped at him. She could feel the muscles in her neck tense, the blood rushing against the veins being squeezed there. Hakoda glared at her hand, then into her eyes, and the skin of his knuckles began to turn white. But then, seeming to realize where they were, he loosened his grip backed away.

"Take it off. Now. Jet cannot see you wearing it, or he might get the wrong impression." That's probably why Mother gave it to me, Katara realized as Hakoda dramatically stormed off.

She noticed Zuko glaring after him with narrowed eyes that seemed to burn with a fire too bright for the dim room. Hakoda returned to a small group near the door and pointed her out to a young man in expensive-looking furs. Katara sighed.

"Take my necklace," she said, facing Zuko.

"Me?" His good eye widened.

It almost made her laugh. Almost. "Yes, you. Don't worry, I'm not proposing or anything. Besides, that's the man's job," she said with a wink. She untied her necklace and his throat moved as she placed the delicate charm in his outstretched hand and folded his fingers over it. "Please take care of it."

He looked into her eyes. "I will."

She pulled away just before someone tapped her shoulder, and she saw Jet, the noble's son, standing behind her.

"Princess Katara." He bowed to her. "You look even more beautiful up close."

"I'm afraid your compliment won't do you any good," Katara said formally as she curtsied. "It's too dark in here for any sincere flattery."

She heard Zuko snicker and held back a grin. Jet's good breeding faltered only for an instant as she saw a grimace take hold of his politely manufactured smile. But then it was back up and he held out a hand. "Shall we?"

Katara allowed the noble's son to lead her to the dance floor. The musicians, seeing their intent, transitioned to a traditional Water Empire dance, which unfortunately meant the two of them had to touch. Jet took the lead and began twirling her in a circle, too fast for the music, making her dizzy. She couldn't get a word in between his outrageous compliments and not-so-subtle bragging about how he was a decorated warrior and had taken down an entire Fire Nation colony on his own. (Which she didn't buy. At all.) She nodded politely and graciously ignored every time he stepped on her feet, which was often.

Soon Sokka joined them with a short Northerner wearing almost as much makeup as he was. Even Zuko accompanied a young woman who looked positively overjoyed to be cast aside by her brother. Zuko grimaced at Katara as the girl began tugging him around the dance floor, and Katara had to stifle a laugh. Evidently, Jet thought she was laughing at one of his jokes, which he had been trying unsuccessfully to tell, and grinned smugly at her.

"Yeah, that one's popular with the ladies. The Earth kingdom girls love my jokes. They say I have an 'earth kingdom sense of humor,' which is funny, because Water Empire girls think I have a water tribe sense of humor."

"Oh really?" commented Katara distantly.

"Yes. I'm quite popular back in the North. In fact, I've been approached by many fathers who have offered their daughters for marriage."

Katara went cold, knowing all too well where this conversation was headed. Jet spun her around once more and squeezed her hands too tightly. "I'm of marrying age, Katara. So are you, I've noticed," he said, looking pointedly down at her gown. She felt at once defiant and ashamed.

"It's Your Highness, Jet. And I'd appreciate it if you looked at my eyes while you talk to me. We're at a very public party, after all." The song was not yet over, but she tried to shrug out of his grasp. His hands tightened even more, imprisoning her.

He smiled pleasantly, but his eyes told a different story. "Come on, Katara. Your father told mine he'd be happy to have me as a son-in-law. I'm the best warrior in the Northern Tribe. I could protect you from that nasty Fire Nation." His head dropped and Katara could feel his breath against her cheek. "Any girl would be lucky to have me."

She couldn't stand any more. She wrenched her hands away and left the floor immediately, praying to Tui and La that he wouldn't follow. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hakoda move as if to run after her, but Kya placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. Katara waved off Toph as she approached.

Any girl. Katara scoffed. She wasn't just any girl. She was a princess, the heir to the Empire throne for spirit's sake!

She would have slammed the ballroom doors shut if it wouldn't have caused more of a commotion. Stalking down the hallway, Katara tried to calm her breathing, taking in the cool palace air and letting her excess energy course out of her and into the ice of the ceilings and walls. The hallway seemed to glow with the power, and at once she felt more at ease.

How dare he make me feel like such a fool! He was just the son of a noble. And a rude one at that. She tried not to think about the fact her father had already given his approval for their marriage. Without talking to her first. She hadn't even met the guy, but her father was all too eager to have them engaged! It was obvious the Northerners did not respect her as future Empress. And now she was certain her father had no intention of letting her assume the position without a man by her side.

She could have bent the whole ocean, she was so angry.

And then she heard footsteps.

"Katara!" a voice called from behind, and she recognized him immediately.

"Zuko, I'm really not in the mood—"

"I know," he interrupted. He skidded to a halt in front of her and and held out a wine jug. "That's why I brought this."

"Spirits, what an asshole," Zuko muttered. A hiccup escaped his throat as he passed the half-empty jug to Katara.

"I know," she sighed, and took a significant drink without so much as a wince. The two of them were sitting on a balcony on the third floor, and she had just re-enacted her whole conversation with Jet in-between gulps of wine.

"And your father wants you to marry that guy?'

"Yup," she said, her lips making a popping sound.

"Asshole."

Katara laughed and Zuko watched as she threw her head back, the moon illuminating the angular planes of her face. They'd been out there for a while and she had long since wiped off her makeup. Zuko thought she looked even more beautiful without it. But he didn't tell her that. He couldn't. It wouldn't do either of them any good.

It was clearer than ever that they couldn't possibly be together. Her father expected her to marry some rich Northern noble who probably had a collection of animal skins and battle weapons decorating his wall. Some kid from the Fire Nation, even if he was a Prince, was the very last person on the planet Katara would be able to, or even want to marry.

Wait, marriage?!

"Zuko, are you okay?" Katara asked, frowning at the sudden choking noise he had made.

He coughed, clearing his throat. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm good."

"Can't hold your alcohol?" she joked, a half-smile tugging at her mouth.

He shot her a look, grabbed the jug from her hand, and took a long drink in defiance. She rolled her eyes at him, and he saw the sadness caused by the uglier memories of that evening slowly fading.

The moon was only half-full, but it still illuminated the entire ocean and glinted off of icebergs bobbing in the distance. The air was crisp. Autumn had arrived in full force, generating storms out in the middle of the sea and breathing a new kind of cold into Zuko's bones. He wasn't used to such weather. It was pretty much always summer in the Fire Nation capital. He longed for the beating sun against his skin; for the trickles of sweat rolling down his forehead from a good practice; for the rosy bloom of sunburn on his nose and cheeks after a week at Ember Island.

Katara would like Ember Island, Zuko thought. The royal family had a private summer residence and always spent at least a few weeks there. They would play sports on the beach, swim in the warm blue waters, go see shows in town.

The bay at Ember Island was said to be one of the cleanest and most beautiful in the entire world, and the caves across the island had hidden natural herbal pools brimming with healing properties. The weather wasn't too hot—you learned to adjust after a while, just like he was learning to adjust here in the South.

Katara leaned back against the pillar. Her face tilted up towards the moon, its light reflecting on her closed eyelids. She was so obliviously content, and in that moment, Zuko couldn't imagine her existing anywhere else. But at the same time, he couldn't imagine himself living in a place where she didn't exist. His head fell back against the wall, a stabbing pain in his chest where his heart sat heavy.

He hadn't even realized he was thinking about marriage, much less a marriage to Katara. It was the wine, he reasoned. And the conversation. If Katara hadn't told him about her potential engagement to Jet, he wouldn't have broached the subject. Of course not.

It made him wonder what his life would look like if—no, when—he returned to the Fire Nation. When he was introduced to his people as the savior of their country, of the whole world. What 'lucky' Fire Nation girl his father would choose for him to spend the rest of his life with. She would probably be the daughter of some rich person or important political figure that he hardly knew.

He closed his eyes and let the still of the night seep into his pores. It was cold, but there was something refreshing and invigorating about it. Music floated through the air from below where the ball was in full swing. Twice they'd heard guards traipsing down the hallway, looking for Katara, but they'd never thought to look on the patio. Water-logged idiots, Zuko had called them in his drunken stupor, and Katara had laughed, even though it wasn't funny at all, and almost blew their cover. Distantly, Zuko hoped Jin wouldn't notice he was gone and report his absence. Toph probably didn't care. The Emperor wasn't going to be happy, but thinking of Katara dancing with that guy—what kind of name was Jet, anyway? —made Zuko sick to his stomach, even moreso than all the alcohol he had drank. He would gladly cross the Emperor to keep Katara away from that creep.

Wait, he thought, a foggy memory suddenly rising to the forefront of his mind. He glanced at Katara, who looked as if she was about to fall asleep. He poked her shoulder. "Katara, did the letter get out okay?" he asked. He felt guilty about breaking the peaceful silence, but he had meant to ask her hours ago.

Her eyelids fluttered. "Oh, that. It went fine! My contact in the village was going to send it out today."

"Thank Spirits," Zuko said, and leaned back on the pillar, relieved.

Katara considered him with narrowed eyes. "You look far too serious, Zuko. I think you need another drink…."

They'd lost the jug somewhere between the second and first floor, although they had emptied it anyway. Katara's chest felt full and fluttery as she and Zuko jogged down the hallway, trying to stifle their giggles. They had almost been caught by the guards who had finally thought to check the balcony, and she had bent a messy hole in the floor of it that deposited them in the second floor stairwell. Although they had managed to evade the guards, the two of them had run all the way around the floor and down the stairs, just in case. Katara squealed as she almost slipped turning the corner, and Zuko shushed her again, though his voice was even louder than hers.

"I'm supposed to be upstairs right now!" he said.

"Me too!"

That made both of them erupt into a new wave of laughter, though Katara wasn't sure why. All she knew was that her head was swimming and her feet were floating and she really wanted to know how soft Zuko's hair was. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to lean against the wall beside her door. He stumbled, running right into it, but still laughed.

Smiling, Katara ran her fingers through his mop of black hair. It was…thicker than she had assumed. And silky. Like polar-dog fur, but black. She wanted a rug made of it.

The thought made her chuckle and Zuko merely looked up at her hand with furrowed eyebrows.

"Uh, Katara? What're you doing?" he slurred.

"You're like a polar-bear dog!"

"I am?"

Katara nodded, covering her mouth with her free hand.

Zuko seemed to consider this, then hiccuped. His eyes went wide. "I totally am!"

"Here," Katara said, grabbing his hand. "Feel mine." Her hair had long since fallen from its bun and cascaded down her shoulders and back. She plopped Zuko's hand on the top of her head and grinned up at him with a toothy smile and squinty eyes. She felt his fingers poke at her skull for only a second before they stilled. She opened her eyes.

He was looking at her like…well, she couldn't think of the word off the top of her head. But all of a sudden she didn't feel so lightheaded. In fact, she felt oddly sober.

"Zuko? What is it?"

She saw his throat move and his mouth opened, then closed. His hand dropped to his side at once. "Uh, nothing. It's nothing. I just remembered that I'm supposed to help...um…clean up. That's right. Also, Sokka will probably need me to peel him out of his clothing. His robes are tighter than a…." Zuko frowned, looking for the analogy through the alcohol-induced haze that was only beginning to fade from Katara's mind. "Well, a something."

"Oh. Alright." Katara leaned against her door, the knob pressing into her back, and looked up at him. "So…goodnight, I guess."

"Goodnight."

Neither of them moved. Zuko's hand twitched at his side, but did not stray. Katara could feel her cheeks heating. She didn't know what she expected. The moment had passed. Yet something lingered, some words unspoken, just on the tip of her tongue. She wondered if he felt the same way.

She thought maybe the way his glassy eyes stared into hers indicated he did. But then again, they'd emptied an entire jug of wine only minutes ago, so that could be the reason too.

Her heart dropped when he broke their gaze and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well," he said, then cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

With that, he turned and started towards the stairs, leaving Katara frozen against the door, her eyes stuck on him. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his pants, and one of his pant legs was untucked and hanging lazily over the side of his sealskin boots. She wondered what she looked like now. Maybe her hair was all gross, and that's why he wanted to leave so suddenly. Katara huffed, blowing a stray piece of it out of her eyes, and opened the door.

Way to ruin the mood, Zuko, she complained to herself. But really, what did she expect? It's not like anything could have happened between them. Her hand tightened on the chilled metal of the door knob. She was the Princess; he was a servant. She was Water Empire. He was Fire Nation. It was impossible.

But they could be friends, at least. Katara refused to give that up. If she couldn't have what she wanted, she would take what she could get.

"Katara!" Zuko's voice called out, and she looked up to see him jogging back down the hall. For a split second her heart tensed with unrealistic expectations. Then she saw his hand extended towards her, a piece of ribbon lying in the middle of it.

"I forgot to give this back to you," he said sheepishly and held out her mother's necklace.

"Oh," she said, feeling ashamed at the pathetic fluttering of her heart. "Thanks." He looked from her to the necklace and back again, waiting for her to take it. "Actually, would you mind?" She pointed to her neck. "I can never get the knot right."

Only when she lifted up the mat of hair and pulled it over her shoulder did understanding light his eyes.

"Oh, yeah. Of course."

Katara turned around. She held still as he pulled both ends of the ribbon around her neck, settling the pendant in the dip of her collarbone, and tried to control her breathing as his knuckles brushed against the sensitive skin on the base of her neck.

After a few moments he let out a soft laugh. "Sorry. I got my finger stuck."

A giggle bubbled up in Katara's throat, and she didn't know if it was because of the wine or because of how anxious she felt. "It's not that hard, Zuko."

"You're the one who asked me to do it, remember?" he shot back, but she could hear the smile in his voice. Katara rolled her eyes and repressed the urge to call him an idiot. After all, he wasn't wrong. "There, got it." Katara, feeling the cool absence of his fingers, let her hair fall back down.

"Thank you," she said, and turned. They were much closer than she had anticipated. She could see the faint blush on the pale skin of his exposed chest, even in the dim light of the torches nailed to the walls. Inches away his eyes glowed gold, glassy and alive, and she knew it wasn't just because of the wine. Two of his fingers rose to touch the blue pendant and her chin tilted up, like a reflex. His eyes stayed on the necklace, but she saw his throat move.

"It looks beautiful," he said. "Right."

"Right?" Katara asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

"When you weren't wearing it earlier it looked…I don't know. Wrong. It looks like it's part of you." His eyes moved from the necklace and met hers, the fire in them burning slowly, like hot coals.

"Well," Katara started, "thank you for giving it back to me." She felt embarrassed at how weak her voice sounded, but her throat had gone suddenly, inexplicably dry.

"You're welcome."

Not again, Katara groaned to herself. The dreaded 'you're welcome.' The small flame of hope she had felt kindling in her chest started to flicker, dangerously close to dying. She expected him to look away, step back, run away as fast as he could.

But he didn't.

He pressed closer and she could feel his wrist against her chest, since he was still holding the pendant. And then, with his eyes still burning into her, she felt him trace the ribbon of her necklace up her collarbone to her neck, and then, fingers trembling, touched her chin.

She found herself leaning forward, the tips of his dark hair tickling her forehead, his hot breath against her cheek. His hand lightly cupped her jaw and pulled her to him, and even though she knew it was dangerous, and wrong, and everything that she should not want, she wanted. She really wanted.

His lips hovered in front of hers, close enough to touch, but not to taste, and his breath flowed heavy over her skin, and before she knew what she was doing, Katara pushed herself up on her toes and their lips met.

Everything stopped: her heart, the thundering of blood in her veins, her brain. Overwhelmed by him, she forgot what she was supposed to do next.

She feared Zuko had forgotten as well, as he was motionless, save for the slight shaking of his hand against her face. But then, as if someone had flipped a switch, his hand moved to her neck and pulled her closer, and her body, warm and electric, fell flush against his.

And then he sprung away, his eyes wide. "They're coming."

Katara, eyes still-half lidded, frowned at him. "Who's com—" Mid-sentence she heard the heavy footfalls of the guards and the drunken ramblings of her brother. That snapped her back to reality, no matter how much she wanted to stay in whatever fantasy she'd just been living in.

"You've got to go. Now." She shoved Zuko's chest and he staggered back, still tipsy from the wine.

"But you—"

"No arguing! We'll talk tomorrow. Now go!" At the promise of seeing her tomorrow he smiled and allowed her to push him towards the other staircase. Before he let the door fall shut behind him, he looked back at her, a dopey, intoxicated grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes and gestured for him to leave. Only when the door shut behind him did she retreat into her own room before anyone saw her. Her body was exhausted, but she knew as she undressed and pulled her hair back into its signature braid that she wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight if her mind had anything to say about it.

Endnote: hehehehe I wasn't sure how I was going to end this chapter, so I made it abrupt :) don't worry, you'll get your sin. Just not quite yet! but hey, at least I gave you SOMETHING! 3

ALSO PLEASE MAKE ME FANART I HAVE A GREAT NEED AND I WILL GIVE YOU SHOUTOUT AND LOVE YOU 5EVER