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harrylee94 · 4 years

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Log Entry XXXXXX - Chapter 4

Summary: A new space station, complete with the most high spec and up to date technology there is to offer, has been set up at the edge of the known universe, a new way point for explorers to keep in contact with the rest of the human race. It has been carefully designed by the best scientists and engineers Earth could offer, and now 7 brave souls are being sent out to ensure everything works perfectly.

However, when Logan wakes from cryosleep from the journey, he is informed that several things are now in need of repair, though everything had been in perfect working condition when the station had been reconstructed before he and his crew had arrived. They will have to solve the problems they’ve been left with before the station is up and running, and yet Logan can’t help but feel he’s done this before…

Relationships: Intrulogical (Remus/Logan)

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Parasites, Remus having an overactive imagination, It’s an Among Us crossover so there will be bad stuff afoot.

A/N: This was so difficult to write, partly because I got a job, but mostly because it was emotionally draining.

For those of you who don’t know, this story is based off of a comic by @fangirltothefullest which I HIGHLY recommend you check them out on the link above! Their art is AMAZING.

Note to everyone before we begin; there will be graphic descriptions of gore, dismemberment, possibly torture, and any other awful things that come with the territory of writing a story in an Among Us universe.

Link to; Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

To read it on AO3 please click here.

Chapter 4: Log Entry #14

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:20 AM

Logan watched Remus as he prepared their breakfast of pesto spaghetti, holding his coffee in hand. He had re-lived this day a dozen times over now, each time a little bit different from the last, but always ending the same; with his death. He had tried to keep people away from the Medbay a few times, but no matter what he did the creatures always found a new host. As far as he knew Roman, Virgil, Patton and Orange had all been in that destructive path, and he had seen what those Things had done to his friends a small handful of times, but never what they looked like before.

He had put off going there himself to see if there was any other ways he could discover more about these beings other than what they could do once they had latched onto their host -- or so he’d been telling himself, as fear wasn’t logical, especially considering all other logic had decided that it didn’t want anything to do with Sanders Station -- but now he knew he would have to do it. He had to see what it was, what they did, and perhaps then he would be able to make a more competent and effective plan to combat them.

He noted Remus giving him a worried look and tried to give him a reassuring smile in return. He had told him, as he had almost every time since the first, and every time Remus would try to comfort him with his presence, though those looks were something that could never be avoided. He was starting to hate them, even though he knew there was nothing more than concern and love behind them.

The familiar bowl slid into place in front of him, fork sticking out of the steaming nest of noodles in the middle, and Remus slid into the seat beside him, digging into his own breakfast. Food was always a distraction, a way for Remus to gather his thoughts, and while this wasn’t his usual comfort food, the way he was eating it implied as much.

“So what are we going to do?” the man asked, mouth full of yellow-green mush.

Logan sighed. “We’re going to do something that will likely end in one, or both, of us becoming the host to some parasitic alien lifeform and use our bodies to murder all of our friends.”

Remus hummed as he continued to eat. “Sounds like fun.”

“No it doesn’t.”

Remus hummed again, swallowed, and took another bite, getting bits of pesto on his cheeks as he slurped up the pasta. “I’ll go in first.”

“Remus-”

“That way you’ll be able to see what it is and what it does.” Remus met his gaze. “If we do both go, then you should at least get as much out of this as possible. Before the restart I mean.”

“I don’t even know if there will even be a ‘restart’ if I do this.”

“But you’re doing it anyway,” he said as he played with his pasta, picking some of it up with his fingers. “You were going to go in there on your own.”

“What?” How did he-? “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I know you, Logan. You would go in there on your own if you didn’t know I’d follow you.”

“You didn’t the first time.”

“I didn’t know the first time,” Remus said and shoved his handful of pasta in his mouth. “Eat up, Logie-Bogie. And don’t even think about not telling me in the future! I know when you’re hiding something from me, and then I’ll hound you like a goblin shark attacking the corpse of a sperm whale that’s rotting and bloated after it’s sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”

While the imagery was slightly obscene, Logan knew he was telling the truth and he sighed. “I hate you.”

“Love you too my adorkable nerd.”

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 7:10 AM

Acting like everything was normal was perhaps one of the most difficult and stressful things Logan had ever done, especially since he knew Janus had noticed that something was wrong almost immediately. Luckily, all the man had done was raise his eyebrow at him in question but had ultimately let the matter drop and everyone had gone off to begin their tasks in peace.

This time, however, Virgil was helping Janus in the Communications room. Within hearing distance of Roman.

Remus had picked up one of the empty fuel containers from storage once everyone had gone their separate ways and was holding it as a make-shift weapon. It would more likely cause a small distraction than do any real damage, but it made the both of them feel safer, if only by a little.

The Medbay was a bright room, the lighting reflecting off of the white walls and bed sheets that slowly came into view as they approached the doorway. Every door had been left open in the Station for a reason that Logan could not fathom. He had wondered previously why this might be but now he was simply grateful for the chance to see into the room before the doors opened.

As they had both expected there was no sign of the aliens; it was simply a well kept medical area with beds on either side of the room, scanners and a supply cupboard. Remus stepped in first, having to push Logan back though as the scientist still didn’t want Remus to be his guinea pig, willing or no.

“Doesn’t look so bad in here,” the moustached man said, crouching down to look under the beds before moving on towards the end. “Bit disappointing they don’t have a proper lab though. Would have been cool to have all the autopsy equipment available. Even some of the old stuff would have been good. Less refined but it gets the job done.”

“That was due to be added later,” Logan noted absentmindedly as he followed slowly behind, eyes darting over every surface. Where were they? What kind of space could they occupy? Were they like an octopus, able to fit through any hole with little limitation, or were they a larger mass? “When the rest of the crew arrives.”

“Weird scanner,” Remus said as he looked at the pad in the corner of the room. Logan had seen designs of it of course, and would probably have been more excited in a more ordinary situation, but as it was it had just become another new piece of information. “I wonder how they would scan people who can’t stand up. That’s ableist, that is.”

“They probably have a handheld one somewhere,” Logan said, eyes landing on the vent covering to his right. “Remus.”

“Hm?” Remus said, turning to him and letting his eyes fall to where he was pointing. “Yeah, I recon that would do it.”

“There’s a few of them around the Station,” Logan said, noting how large it was. While he personally wouldn’t be able to fit through it, and neither would any other human aboard the ship, the evidence he had of what these creatures could do implied at least some mutation ability. “I’ll have to look up the schematics to see where each of them lead and which ones connect.”

“Can you do that on your tablet?” Remus asked, pulling Logan away from the vent by the back of his suit.

“I expect so.” Logan allowed his partner to step in front of him and pulled the device out, knowing Remus would keep an eye on things.

He never looked away from the room for more than a few seconds, but he opened the files on his tablet, huffing in annoyance when he found that what he’d wanted wasn’t there. He was able to connect to the main systems of the Station wirelessly though, and he decided to download all the files that were available for public use. As soon as the schematics were downloaded he opened it, letting the other files download in the background as he looked at the designs.

“This vent is connected to Electronic and Security,” he said, following the lines that had been left. “There are also vents connecting the Upper Engine room and the Reactor, the Lower Engine room and the Reactor, Weapons and Navigation, Shields and Navigation, and the cafeteria, Admin and the hallway between Shields and Navigation.”

“Huh, it’s like this place has been infected with woodworm,” Remus noted. “Do you think if we leave it a bit longer there’ll be even more? Can you imagine that? THe Station falling to pieces because of an infestation of space-worms?”

Logan gave Remus and unimpressed look.

“What?”

He shook his head and looked back at the tablet when it beeped. The download had completed, and it seemed that everything had been… Wait. “Log Entry One?”

Remus glanced at him, curious. “Did the other guys leave a message?”

“No it…” He opened the file and could only stare at it. “I wrote this.”

“... Read it to me?”

“Um, alright,” Logan said and opened the file. “‘ I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this, but I've had this strange feeling all day. I do not usually allow emotions to cloud my judgement in such a way, and I expect it is perhaps a result of my time in stasis, but everything feels, for the lack of a better word, rehearsed. I know that what I am feeling is simply the imbalance of chemicals in my brain, not in small part due to the dream I had, but I still can't seem to part with this feeling. I hope it will pass, but for now I will have to endure it.’” He blinked at the screen a few more times before putting it away. “The station saved it.”

“When did you write that?”

“The second time we arrived.”

“How the fuck does that even work?”

“I don’t know. How does the whole Time Loop work? It’s not something I’ve really looked into!” He’d been a little more focused on trying to keep everyone alive. The science behind this impossible situation came second to survival and getting back to normal in his opinion.

Remus snorted, looking back at the vent again. “At least now you know you can make notes or whatever so you don’t have to remember everything.”

“That would be useful,” Logan had to conceded, “but I can’t do that now. We have to be prepared.”

“Right,” Remus agreed. “Could be a long wait.”

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 9:47 AM

Logan had ended up writing up some notes on the last few days after all, unable to hold his concentration on waiting for an attack he didn’t know when to expect for a prolonged period of time. Remus had been handling it a little easier, but he his attention had started to wane after the first half an hour, and so they took turns on watch after that, Remus getting through the tasks that needed completing while it was his turn to rest.

They had fallen into a content silence after a while, only broken up by short bursts of conversation, but now it had been over two hours since they had first entered the room and both of them were getting antsy.

“You said the first one was around ten thirty,” Remus said as he kicked his legs over the side of the bed he was waiting on, the fuel container in his lap and his chin resting on his hand. He was still watching the vent, but the boredom was obvious.

“Approximately that time, yes,” Logan replied as he finished the last of his notes; there had been many observations he had to get down after all. “I can’t be certain though as I have not had the chance to record that time.”

“Well, it probably means that it’s going to turn up soon,” Remus said, pulling himself up to his feet. “Though it does depend how quick the process is. And if they’re even going to come for us.”

Logan paused in his typing. “What makes you say that?”

“We have been watching the vent almost constantly. That doesn’t give them much of a chance to strike, and I bet they’d want to surprise their victims. Though if there’s two of them and they’re pretty agile then they might just do it anyway. Or maybe they’ve been figuring out a way to trap us in here.”

As horrifying as that last statement was, it was possible. These creatures had to be intelligent otherwise they would not have been able to get away with some of the murders Logan had witnessed. He looked towards the door, trying not to make monsters out of shadows, but when he saw something move he jumped to his feet.

“Remus!” he started, but that was all he got out before the door slammed shut.

"Shit," Remus said, hopping from his seat as well and holding the container ready, but in the moment of distraction the vent had opened.

At first Logan thought it was grey in colour, very similar to the metal of the ground, but then it almost shimmered and he realised that it was more of a camouflage like that of a chameleon. It reminded him of an octopus, limbs like tentacles and they stretched out from the vent, only to congeal into a mass before growing all over again. It was more of a mass of something that shifted and changed as it wanted, but never into any true form.

And then it jumped.

Remus whacked it out of the air with the container, the hollow sound of the plastic echoing through the room as it hit the wall with a wet splat, but it wasn’t phased. If anything it seemed to get angry, if the way it formed sharp pincers seemed to indicate was correct. Remus braced himself again as it bunched up, ready to pounce, and swung once again. This time, however, it caught the container with those pincers, and reached for Remus’s hand.

He dropped it and kicked it away, backing up into Logan who was trying to get the doors open with little success.

“How soon can you get the door open?” he asked, voice barely hiding the panic as the creature started curling around the beds.

“I-I need thirty seconds,” Logan said, frantically typing at his pad.

“I don’t think we have thirty seconds,” Remus breathed, and Logan looked up to see the parasite prepare for its third attack. Logan could see what Remus was about to do, could picture it in his mind’s eye, and when his partner turned his head Logan could see the pain and regret in his gaze. “I love you.”

“Remus, Remus no !” Logan cry, but it was too late.

The creature made contact with Remus’s chest as he rushed forwards, taking it with him as he crashed into the far wall. Logan watched, clutching at his tablet as Remus gasped, his hand holding the spot the parasite had been, but in its place was a hole, torn through the thick fabric of the suit, red staining the edges of the tear.

Logan was frozen, the horror paralysing him as Remus wheezed and coughed, his eyes wide as he stared blankly at the ground. He doubled over with a garbled scream, falling to his knees a moment later as blood seeped into other spots of the suit, the green turning a dark brown. He fell forwards, the screen of his helmet hitting the floor and he rolled to his side, body twitching and tensing as though he were having an attack, the noises from his throat were strangled, choked.

And then he fell still.

Tears had fallen silently down Logan’s cheeks as he’d watched his partner’s, his love’s, his heart’s agony, and still more fell as he watched his stillness. He knew he should have been trying to open the door, knew that the man before him was no longer Remus, but he was stuck.

An agonising minute passed, but as it did threads of matter, dark and sharp, spun themselves around Remus’s body, not unlike that of a silk worm, creating a thin layer that corroded matter, the human shape sagging before filling out again. The blackness of the tread faded into the green of Remus’s suit, his figure clean and whole, as though the last five minutes hadn’t happened, and Logan heard it breathe.

A finger twitched, then a leg, and for a few moments the thing in Remus’s form stretched before pushing itself up onto his feet. It looked down at its stolen hands, curling them experimentally. Then it looked up.

Logan knew that it would look like him, but seeing Remus’s face staring blankly at him was enough to tear him from his stupor, and he tried frantically to turn back to the door.

“Lo-gan,” it said using Remus’s voice, the tone lilting and sing-song. “Oh love of my life. My sweet, bleeding heart.” Hands grasped at his wrists and squeezed, forcing him to release the tablet, which smashed against the ground. “What’s wrong?”

“You… you…” Logan tried, but found the words were almost stuck in his throat.

“Me what?” Not-Remus asked, giving him a sharp smile, mocking and threatening. “You can tell me. You can tell me anything, remember? You trust me.” It pouted. “Don’t you trust me anymore?”

“You’re not Remus.”

The creature stared blankly at him for a few moments before Logan felt something wrap around his arms, his legs, his middle, and he looked down to see that the creature that Remus had become was using its tentacles to hold him in place. He tried to struggle but it was no use.

It grinned.

“You know too much.” It leaned in closer, Logan gasping as his helmet was removed and Not-Remus’s melted away, his lips brushing against Logan’s ear. “You’ll be the perfect host.”

“No,” Logan said, tugging harder at the limbs, but still they wouldn’t budge. “No. No! Let me go !”

Not-Remus tilted his head to the side, giving Logan room to see the vent opening and a second parasite crawled out. Logan squirmed as it came closer, vanishing from his sight for several moments before it crawled into sight on Not-Remus’s shoulder. He tried to turn away, but the Thing used Remus’s hand to hold his jaw open, a tentacle wrapping around his head to hold it steady, and the parasite lunged.

It might have looked slimy, but there was nothing smooth about it as it entered; sharp claws ripped at his tongue, stretching and tearing down his esophagus, piercing every organ along the way. His breath gurgled in his lungs as they began to fill with his own blood, his heart stuttered as it was clawed at and torn, his kidneys were ruptured, he burned as his stomach was sliced open.

And all the while his lover’s face watched on with glee as the agony engulfed him completely.

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 10:03 AM

Logan exhaled, opening his eyes to find Remus stood before him, a smirk on his lips and his hands grasping Logans upper arms to keep him steady as he ensured that his body would function properly. Once he was sure he could hold his own weight he gave Remus a look and he was allowed to stand on his own.

“There are five others on this ship, and they do not belong,” he said, which only made Remus bounce excitedly on the spot.

“I know! We should pull their intestines out through their assholes. Oo! Or maybe we could pull them apart piece by piece! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Logan sighed. He should have expected as much from him. “As long as they end up dead I don’t care.”

Remus giggled and headed towards the vent. “I’ve got Orange!”

“Then I shall find Janus,” Logan said, picking up his tablet with a wrinkled nose. It was cracked beyond repair unfortunately, so he left it on the bed nearby and followed Remus to the vent; he wouldn’t be able to open the door without it after all.

Remus held the hatch open with a flourished bow, allowing Logan to detangle his human form and slip into the airway with ease, creeping through until he reached a new opening.

He stepped back into his human form in the Electrical room and moved past the various beeping and flashing lights on the walls, demanding that someone pay attention to them, heading out into the corridor. The walk to Communications didn’t take too long and Logan soon found himself stood behind Janus as he fiddled with something on the screens, his suit undoubtedly hooked up to the network so he could hear the radio.

The man in yellow only had a few moments to stiffen before Logan sharpened his right arm and shoved it through Janus’s back, pinning him to the desk as he sent furter tendrils out like a web through the rest of the body. He listened impassively to the choked noises of his death, waiting patiently for his heart to stop and his breathing to end before withdrawing his arm and returning his shape to its previous form with no evidence of blood.

Humans were so fragile, and could be so messy when they died. Janus was no different and his body was crumpled at his feet. With barely another glance he turned and left the room, going in search of his next victim.

Roman was in the room next to Communications, working on something under the main walkway. It would have been the perfect opportunity to attack, but he still needed time to recover from his exerting experience; creating a form like he'd just done to dispose of the yellow one was tiring and unusual, and this body wasn't used to it.

He waited, listening to the sounds of tools being used and dropped into tool boxes as his strength returned, pleased that this one knew how to clean up after itself. The sound of tunes from the cartoon show Steven Universe being hummed was less pleasing though, even if it did show that Roman was an adequate singer. It didn’t take too long before he felt he was ready to act though, and he knocked on the wall.

“Roman?”

There was the jangle of something being dropped and the man in red looked out from beneath the walkway.

“Microsoft Nerd!” Roman exclaimed in surprise as he pulled himself out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

"Yes, well, I have found that I am in need of your assistance," Logan replied, giving him a smile. "However, you seem to be busy. I can come back-"

"No! No, it's fine," Roman replied hastily, just as he knew he would, and he started to climb up onto the main path."It's mostly just me wanting to make sure everything's fit for a king." He puffed his chest out a little, probably in order to show pride, but Logan wasn't really paying attention.

"I'm sure it will be the best it can be under your care," he said with a nod. "Are you sure I can pull you away?"

"Positive," Roman said with a grin. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, to be perfectly blunt; it's you."

Roman blinked, his grin slipping. "... Excuse me?"

“Oh not you specifically,” Logan clarified with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “I mean you in general. Humans.”

“I… don’t understand,” Roman said, the corner of his mouth curling. “Is this some sort of a joke?”

Logan hummed, growing tired of the conversation, and struck. He unfurled again, tentacles stretching out and his body splitting into a gaping maw. Roman’s fight or flight reflexes were a little slow, but that only gave Logan more time to hold him. He’d bitten Roman’s head off just as he’d started to scream.

“Roman?”

Logan pulled back into his human form, looking towards where the voice had come from. It must have been Patton or Virgil, who must have been in Navigation together. It wasn’t too far from here, and the sound must have travelled. He should have been quicker.

Dropping Roman’s headless body Logan turned and ran, fleeing from the scene. A few moments later he heard the scream of horror he’d been expecting and the alarm for a meeting blared throughout the halls. It seemed his incompetence might actually help them after all.

Less than five minutes later and he was stood with Remus opposite Virgil and Patton, who were both looking around at the doors in fear.

“Wh-where are the others?” Virgil asked, cheeks gaunt and his body shaking in fear. “They should be here. Where are they?”

“They’ll be here soon,” Patton said, sniffing a little as he wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulder, only for the man in purple to pull away and hunch his shoulders as he curled his arms around himself. “Kiddo?”

“He… His head was…” Virgil gulped, his breathing becoming erratic as he looked between each of them. “It was one of you!”

“Virgil, please-”

“You killed him! You killed everyone !”

Remus chuckled as Virgil started to back away. “You were the one who set off the alarm,” he said, and his chuckles turned into giggles. “You set off the alarm to call everyone here, even though you thought one of us killed everyone?” He was all out laughing now, and even Logan had started looking at him with a frown. “How stupid can you get, Emo?”

“Remus!” Patton said, aghast and looking sickly. “How can you laugh in a situation like this? Your brother is dead!”

Remus continued to laugh to himself for a few moments before he dropped the facade entirely and grinned at them, his teeth sharp and gaze predatory. “Because you’ll be joining them!”

The two remaining humans did not get far before Remus caught them, and Logan helped him paint the walls red with their blood.

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:00 AM

The light of the cryodeck grew steadily brighter, and the hum of the ship was soothing, but Logan couldn’t see it through his tears, couldn’t hear it through his sobs and screams, and he tried desperately to rub the feeling of blood from his skin, scratching at his arms and cheek until something grabbed his wrists.

“Logan! Logan ! It’s okay! It was just a dream!”

Logan froze, choking on a sob as he looked up at Remus -- at his human, beautiful, loving partner with nothing but concern and love in his eyes -- and shot up into his arms.

“That’s it,” Remus soothed rubbing at his back and kissing his temple. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Logan could only cry into Remus’s shirt as the screams of his friends haunted his thoughts.

#fanfiction #sanders sides #among us #sanders side fic #sanders sides among us au #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #orange sanders #tw blood #tw gore #tw character death #time loop #writing

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rainydawgradioblog · 3 years

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a covidsation with mary claire

For the first Covidsation for autumn quarter, here is an interview I did back in May with Mary Claire, my dear friend and one of my favorite local artists. Mary Claire is a singer-songwriter based here in Seattle who makes “sad girl rock” (see: Mitski, Angel Olsen, etc.). I first met them through the DIY scene and was lucky enough to book them at the finale Red Room show, a house venue I used to live at and help run. As evidenced by the picture below taken that very night, seeing Mary Claire play live is a magical, mesmerizing, captivating experience. Often accompanied with minimal, but tonally-rich instrumentals, their powerful and hauntingly stunning voice paired with visceral, poetic lyrics transport you into another realm. I *highly* recommend listening to their album Phantom Limb, which you can find on your streaming platform of choice or you can snag a physical copy at Everyday Music on the Hill like I did! Last month, they also just released an incredible stop-motion music video for their song off PL called “I Don’t Like Drinking”, directed, edited, and animated by Barb Hoffman, which you can find here! Thank you Mary Claire for these thoughtful responses and for creating such vulnerable, beautiful art <3

Lola Gil: Tell me about your project. How has it evolved? Which artists are you most inspired by? How would you describe your sound?

Mary Claire: Hi hi I’m Mary Claire. I was never someone who was playing music since they were a little kiddo, it was something I picked up my senior year of high school. But pretty much everyone in my family has some amazing and weirdly specific aptitude for music, so I think being surrounded by that kind of allowed me to gather an eclectic, personal understanding, appreciation, and internalized feeling for music, so I never really took lessons or anything like that. I enjoyed and still enjoy that from the start, I was okay with the fact that I didn’t know “academic” theory and I just played with what feels and sounds right. And I still do that. So I played around with all those youthful punk feelings and had an angsty band in high school that was not bad for small town Sacramento. I think I learned so much from that and it gave me a flood of unhindered and unhinged confidence for recording, performing, maneuvering stage mechanics and technicalities, etc. Also it introduced me into the world of songwriting that I did for that band and for myself that just immediately poured out of me, which led me to what I’m doing now. I am extremely lyrically-focused and write mostly about lived personal experience that I surrender to and make extremely overly-wordy. I went from a solo act, to a bigger full piece crunchier band, to me and a piano player, back to a solo set, so I’m really just kind of evolving with my resources, the songs I’m currently living in and playing, and with what would bring everything to life most fully.

I’m inspired by everyone, even if I don’t necessarily sound like them or listen to them all the time. Like, my adoration for incredibly angry punk music is what got me started in the creation of my own music, so that foundation will never leave me. Even though I won’t sound like IDLES or Shame or Pissed Jeans, their point of view and their devotion to cramming so many words into one breath is a place I also come from. We execute similar feelings in different ways. And though I currently am not anything like Yves Tumor, King Krule, or FKA Twigs, the layers in their stuff sends me so far. But I think lyrically and melodically, I pull inspiration from and sink most into Mitski, Sasami, Angel Olsen, Palehound, Big Thief, Bella Porter, Darci Phenix, Fiona Apple, Sufjan Stevens, Izumi, and Weyes Blood.

Someone once said my tunes are “sad girl rock” and I think that sticks in a fun, quick way, so that’s what I tell people. But more recently, the stuff on my upcoming album I think is like a sad, fucked up, incredibly fast-paced nursery rhyme book (lol). I’m really excited for this album I wrote, more than anything ever. Also my good friend and twin flame Francis is helping me record it and is giving me a lot of knowledge and challenges and affirmations and inspiration. I owe a lot of this second album’s production and complexity him. There are a lot more people involved in the recording of this one, so it’s a lot fuller in a new and exciting and scary way.

LG: As an artist, how have you been affected by the pandemic? I saw most of your tour you had booked was unfortunately cancelled-- are you planning on rescheduling?

MC: Rescheduling feels so completely beyond me right now, so I am just considering it to be cancelled until things in the world really start to settle down to some degree of safety and responsibility. However, the silver lining in all of this ‘rona stuff is that it has given me a ton of time to recenter myself with my music and devote my own energy into recording and feeling the core of my upcoming album. I think when the world is moving so fast, it’s easy for me to feel like I’m behind, like other people are getting shit done faster and in a more “impressive way”, in a way that matters more or has more inherent value. So when we are all forced to stay at home with ourselves, not only does it remind me that all of those insecurities are completely not real and are in fact a delusion borne from a capitalistic-productivity-equals-artistic-worth-framework, but I also get time to actually enjoy and fine tune what I otherwise might have just thrown out into the ether desperately and prematurely in hopes to be current and up to date and ~with it~.

LG: Have you been working on writing any new tunes? Have you been involved in any other creative projects recently?

MC: When I was recording Phantom Limb, I wrote the majority of my next upcoming album, so while those songs don’t feel incredibly new, there is a ton of stuff I have yet to share and that I am so eager to scream to the world. It feels like some of the stuff I am most proud of making in my entire life.

But since I left for Berlin to study abroad last fall to when I came back to Seattle this January, I really hadn’t written anything new. I think I had been going through a lot of personal and immense change and hard growth that wasn’t particularly inspiring, it just sucked and was intense and necessary, but sometimes all that bad stuff is not something you can just make art out of. Plus I had to just do something totally different and invest and surrender to techno and being a gross city Eurotrash gremlin and let that out cathartically. But recently, I wrote my first super new song in what feels like ages, and I’m so happy. I was afraid maybe I’d forgotten how to do it, but it’s pouring out of me again and I feel like me again. I have also been working a bit back and forth with a friend from the project World Peace. We just keep sending clips back and forth and weaving our separate projects together a bit, which is something I’ve never done and I’m having a ton of fun, especially because our music is so different. Besides that, I have some plans to work with another good friend Izumi after having adored them the moment I moved here.

LG: How have you personally been dealing with the pandemic and the craziness that is 2020? What has your quarantine experience been like so far?

MC: I went home to Sacramento for a month and watched more TV than I had probably in my entire life. It was really good to see my family and siblings who I miss so much. But I came back to Seattle in April and since then have just been spending my days in a limbo of online school weirdness. But I’m so fortunate that I live with so many people who are all so unique, all of whom I feel are my best friends. So I definitely don’t get too bored:)

LG: What music have you been listening to during quarantine? What has been your go-to isolation album?

MC: Okay to be honest, when I begin to think of my next album and what it feels like inside of me, I make one single playlist with like hours and hours of songs on it and it’s the only thing I listen to for like a year. So I’m prone to listening to the same stuff perpetually forever and always, but I think I’ve always sort of been like that. It makes the feeling familiar. But since I’ve felt close to the sounds of my upcoming album for a long while now, I’ve actually pretty much been listening to what is my ~album 3~ inspo playlist, because I already feel that beast growing inside of me. I’m a planner.

Most of the artists on those playlists are the ones I listed above in regards to who I feel are my biggest inspirations. But right when quarantine started though I would pretty much only play Man Alive!, I would just go through the whole thing and then restart immediately. When I was in Sacramento, my family had a rule I could only play it with headphones because it was literally nonstop, that’s just how I consume things; I take a bath in them until I feel every single part of what was made. But other than that, I’ve been bumping Peter Campanelli’s Pesto Baby and crying a lot about it, Darci Phenix’s (my best bud from Sac) Juniper Street which is some of the best songwriting literally ever, and Francis Farmer’s Bruised Fruit which is SO expertly recorded and thought out, I am so lucky he is my friend and wants to record my upcoming album with me.

LG: Arethere any spring shows that you were particularly looking forward to attending that got cancelled?

MC: Pretty much all of them imaginable.

LG: How do you think the Seattle music scene is going to be like post-COVID?

MC: Hopefully, this can recenter us and remind us we’re all really really and truly in this together. It’s up to us to lift each other up and get each other on bills and spread the word and create community for those who need it most and for those whose lives rely on this art. Seattle seems like it is really good at that on a small scale, but once it gets to a little bit larger stage, it’s easy for people to forget where they came from, who supported them, and what should be at the forefront of our radars. I think shedding this cool guy persona and getting back to why this shit is so important and listening to/PROMOTING smaller artists who are making The Best stuff is something everyone could be reminded to do.

LG: In this funky era of social distancing, how do you think artists can support each other during these weird and difficult times? How do you think social media is facilitating and/or inhibiting connection within Seattle’s overall creative community?

MC: I think people’s ability to make what seemed like such an immediate switch to social media music promotion and shows was really amazing. However, it makes me feel a bit hopeless and dystopian and sci-fi in a weird way. That being said, trying to resist the change has only proven to be detrimental to me and kind has come back to kick me in the ass. Like, I should not be turning down opportunities just because livestreams kind of freak me out in how foreign and disconnected they can appear to be. I’m no better than them, and it’s important I think to accept things where they’re at instead of pretending they’re not happening.

That being said, I think everyone has been maneuvering with such grace and empathy and compassion for others in a way that I can really feel, and I hope that sticks around forever.

- Lola Gil

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opalai-pixel-witch · 3 years

Text

War with kittens looks so cute! X3

“I’m glad you liked them!! Yeah, I’m not sure what compelled me to make that one :P Death is to you what Bjørn is to me, it would seem |D”

Yes! ♥ All funny character has a place in my heart :3 ♥ And Death is there along with Folgore from Zatch Bell, the Belchers from Bob´s Burgers, Megamind and Mad from Rabbids Invasión :D

Although he takes up a lot of space actually, PP is the fandom for which I��m creating now ^^

When HH came out, I didn’t expect him to appear “physically”, I expected a mention at least, he was named at the beginning and the end of the game, and that made me happy! X3

After I discover he appeared in Bjorn´s house and I went crazy XD I liked seeing him in his new desing and interacting with Pesto, I like when the characters interacting witk each others

If they make HH or Death 4 Life comics I want see that ^^

“That’s an interesting concept! A heroic antagonist Milky sounds super cool :o Honestly I’m really curious about what Milky’s deal is and I hope we’ll get more info on him in the next game!! And it would be cool if he discovered how the system in Hell really worked and maybe realized that the horsemen really aren’t inherently evil and are just trying to do their jobs (except maybe Famine, his intentions are…debatable >_>)”

I would like to see the rest of Milky´s team for do more things, we have only seen Red Eye (but he´s dead now). I know there´s a girl but I can only guees what she looks like from her voice XD

I came up with this story about the horsemen working in the human world and they bump into people like Milky who want to get rid of them, people who have weapons or objets capable of stopping the paranormal

Milky and his team already know isn´t so easy killing the horsemen like they expect, so now they want to capture and invetigate them, see what they are made of and discover something that can destroy them

So far they have discovered is the holy water burn them and in large quantities, weakens them; sacred objets like gold chains can be used to hold them; and the sacred gold bullets and their own weapons, such as Death´s scythe or War´s guns, can significantly hurt them

“Big fandoms seem to be a blessing and a curse, it would seem o.o I’m more worried about the type of content that might come up if it became more popular, I don’t wanna find any fetishy NSFW fanfiction about it >A> But I’m really happy to hear that you like what I do! To be honest there are times where I feel like I don’t really fit in well with the fandom (like I don’t “belawng” if you will :P) so I’m glad that that’s probably not the case! I enjoy seeing what you make too, as well as talking and sharing headcannons and stuff with you ^_^”

I like to have met you and share these things with you; in fact, if it weren´t for you, I wouldn´t be in this fandom ;)

I´ve been to big fandoms and I don´t make content for them cuz there´s nothing original I can create and, also, post anything in these fandoms is like a suicide :/

In fact I have separated from some ones and I don´t regre it, I like more to make content for a friendly fandom where what is most seen is the importance of the characters in the history and the excitement of meeting new characters ^^

--------

Thank you!! I’m happy to hear you liked that one ^__^ Kittens seem to make everything cuter…even if I’m not so good at drawing them ;;=o=;;

Ah, I see o: I’m not sure if there’s a theme with any of my favorites—the closest connection I could think of would be pure-of-heart characters, like Bjørn and Gonta Gokuhara from Danganronpa V3?? But after them there’s hardly any connection with any of my faves, such as the tough-as-nails Mondo Owada or the vulgar Miu Iruma >_> Then again, I’ve always been disorganized with everything |D

Yeah, I remember the first time I finished the main story and I was super excited to see that there was more I could do after the credits! I was surprised to see Death in Bjørn’s house and watching him and Pesto interact was a lot of fun ^o^ PP’s games are full of surprises it would seem, you have no idea how excited I got when I heard my son’s singing voice ;u;

I agree, that would be amazing! I dunno how likely it’ll be for us to see Bjørn again in the comics (or in any other things after Helheim Hassle) but it would be wonderful to see him in them ;;o;; Of course, I’ll be happy with anything they make! It’s already super cool to see the horsemen up to more stuff, and in that one comic they show in the MS anniversary edition where a demon is giving a tour of Hell I was really happy to see Pesto again ^_^

Oooh, do you think that Red-Eye is one of those two dead guys in the background of War’s introduction? :o Makes me wonder just how far back the creators have been planning…and that’s a really interesting take on what they could be doing! When I think about Milky and his team I think about the show Truth Seekers—I dunno if you’ve seen or heard of that, but basically there’s a guy who investigates the paranormal in his spare time and he’s somehow recruited a few people into his investigations, and eventually they uncover a cult putting some shady nanotech in peoples’ brains. It’s really good in my opinion, but anyhow I like looking at that kind of thing and Milky makes me think of that o.o

Well in that case, I’m glad that I could pique your interest! >u> I admittedly have trouble with feeling like I “belawng” anywhere and keep getting paranoid that I’m just intruding in whatever fandom I join, which makes my hesitation towards making new stuff and trying new things even more of a pain =A=

Honestly I tend to have more fun participating in smaller fandoms because it feels like…there’s more heart put into them, if that makes any sense??? I’m not entirely sure how to word it :P I have yet to run into any crazy fandom discourse so far (knock on wood), but I understand that that’s also a danger when it comes to bigger fandoms ;;o_o;; Regardless, however, I love the PP fandom and I’m really happy to have found a friend to talk to about it!!

#submission #dani

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thehangeddemon · 5 years

Text

The Truth in the Frame || Maximus & Xavier

Maximus: Finally, a radio in the house. The mansion felt whole with music. His master had been generous to allow him a radio in the kitchen. He wouldn't dare ask for a record player in his bedroom, though. Not for some time.

A fresh cigarette was brought to his rose-colored lips, left to dangle while he cleaned the rifles and sang under his breath.

"Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I want to go to bed. I had a little drink about an hour ago, and it went right to my head..."

Xavier: Maximus could've asked for a record player in solid gold and Xavier would've found it for him. He was still very much determined to get his butler to indulge in the finer things in life.

Just like Xavier himself was currently doing by going through every last book in the library and ridding himself of every volume he deemed inferior.

The pile of discards contained more of those wretched obscure novels Eisley had been so obsessed with. The damn things seemed to be multiplying.

Maximus: Hearing a book fall in the library caught his attention. Looking up from the barrel of an antique, looking out towards the hallway as though he could somehow see what was going on from the other side of the dining table.

He disappeared, reappearing in the doorway of the library, hands behind his back to hide his cigarette.

"Are you alright, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier's hair was far too tousled for a man that had simply been going through books but it was a reflection of his frustration.

"Who needs five copies of Lolita!? It's not a rare, priceless work of which precious few copies exist, it was published only last year!"

Maximus: "Are they first editions?" he frowned. Smoke began to appear over his head.

Xavier: "Only one, the rest are copies you could get at any bookshop in the country! In the world even! Did he really need that many tomes devoted to some man fucking a child? Or was it simply because Nabakov is Russian and he was obsessed with Russians?"

He paused his tirade as he noticed and smelled the smoke. "You know, Fairchild, as a former smoker and still occasional smoker and demon with a supernatural sense of smell, there really is no need to hide your habit."

Maximus: Slowly, firmly, his cheek was bitten into, if only to withhold his smile. There was something about his master's rants, and the precious fact that he was not their target, which absolutely humored him to his core.

And the mention of his habit caused him to duck his head, which did nothing but highlight his fought smile.

"M'lord." Thank you. His hands were brought from hiding. "The first editions will be worth money someday. I promise you that. The rest can be kindle."

Xavier: "I can steal a first edition in fifty years and get the money then. For now...." He tossed the book in his hand on the discard pile. "Lucifer deliver me from the Russians. This obsession of his wasn't limited to Nabakov. You see this?"

He pointed to two stacks on the table. "Four copies of War and Peace and six—six!—of Anna Karenina! Why!?"

Maximus: "What was he looking for exactly?" He crossed the library in search of the first editions. Each were placed in a separate pile out of his master's reach.

Xavier: "Meaning? Companionship? Enlightenment? Hell only knows."

Maximus would have to work fast, Xavier was prepared to throw everything into the fireplace.

Maximus: With his master's back turned, the small stack of first editions were brought to his room in a blink, left on his nightstand. He'd returned just as quickly, and set to task collecting everything else. The rest would be for the fire. He'd much rather burn them in the driveway.

"Canapes this evening, or a crown roast? Either way, I'd like to practice mixing martinis."

Xavier: Xavier quit frowning at the bookshelves the moment Maximus mentioned canapés.

“Does canapés mean pastry? Because if so then yes. Yes to the martinis as well.”

Maximus: "I was thinking along the lines of smoked salmon mousse on cucumber and deviled eggs, but - I should have known you would want pastry." His toy soldier smiled towards the fire. His cigarette was brought to his lips to cease such nonsense.

Xavier: “Is both an option or is that pushing my luck?” he asked with a smile.

Maximus: "Whatever you desire I'll give you."

Xavier: “In that case, I would like to put in a request for pastry along with those deviled eggs.”

Maximus: "A vol au vent? Mine are usually lopsided."

Xavier: “There is no wrong way to consume puff pastry.”

Maximus: "Then I shall take care that your belief remains after this evening."

Xavier: “I’m certain it wi—more War and Peace! That’s it we’re destroying the library.”

Maximus: "Come now." The ridiculous pile of books had created a small hill in the hall. He crossed the library with the aim of stealing War and Peace from his master's hands.

"When you told me you wanted Russian literature gone, I had assumed - wrongly - you meant in the Russian language. This is my fault. I'll see to this myself."

Xavier: “I did! That’s exactly what I meant! I thought that’s all there was to this obsession of his! I never would have or could have imagined this!” He gestured wildly with the book. “No wonder he let the mansion fall into such disrepair, he was busy hoarding Tolstoy novels.”

Maximus: "We all have our obsessions. Some more tasteful than others." Gently, he reached around for the book, taking it from his line of sight.

Xavier: He let his butler take the book without argument. “You know those hidden compartments and alcoves he had? Forget supernatural objects, they’re probably full of vodka and nesting dolls.”

Maximus: "We'll find the body of his secret Russian wife eventually," he smiled. An expression which had loosened...somewhat, since his arrival.

Xavier: “Maybe that’s the reason for the obsession. Keep an eye out for remains.”

Maximus: "And scratching, yes. And hidden rooms and runaway vodka."

Xavier: “And the nesting dolls.”

Maximus: His butler ducked his head to conceal how fond his smile was becoming. So far, his master had remained true to his word. While there had been those before him to have made promises, Xavier Atlas had his humanity on his side. Something which, even if subconsciously, had eased some of the tension in his rigid frame.

His cold cigarette was given a glance.

"I should get back to work on the rifles, m'lord. Dinner will be at seven."

Xavier: The reduction in tension hadn't gone unnoticed, but just now all Xavier could think about was the state of this library.

He did see that smile though. That was something cheerful to cling to in the midst of all this madness.

"I'll be down promptly. One of these days perhaps we'll have ourselves a priest hunt. That's something to look forward to."

Maximus: "You're only saying that because Mr. Eisley isn't around to kill again."

Xavier: "And oh, how I wish he was today. I'd bring him back and drown him in dust and Russian novels."

Maximus: Ah. Maximus needed his quick bow and disappearance act. Otherwise, his master would have caught him in a sudden fluttery laugh, one which he expelled in the kitchen.

Xavier: Xavier entertained himself for a few glorious moments with the thought of killing that tasteless hack all over again in a variety of scenarios.

"If only," he said to himself with a wistful sigh before getting back to throwing books on his pile.

Maximus: The guns were returned to their respective stands and mounts. One more polished mark of pride. Another cigarette was ignited. The radio volume was increased to better dampen the sound of his singing. The music of today wasn't nearly as tasteful as the jazz and ragtime behind them.

Xavier: At some point during Xavier's frenzied book throwing, it occurred to him to start a list of all the titles missing from the library that he wanted to add.

In his view, there was a shameful omission of all the British greats. Not to mention the rest of the world. What sort of library didn't have a single copy of Hamlet?

Maximus: Maximus was blissfully unaware of his master's continued frenzy, having assumed he had quelled some of his rage. He was too busy with dinner, singing Chattanooga Choo-Choo to himself in almost full voice, hindered by the cigarette between his lips he refused to put out. Deviled eggs and chicken pesto vol au vents.

They needed a proper garden and chicken coop. The yard had been cleaned, but the house was not yet complete. One item at a time, he reminded himself.

Xavier: Xavier paused his furious scribbling and turned toward the door. Was that Maximus' voice?

He put down his pen and paper and listened intently. He could hear the radio downstairs, the steady sound of a knife hitting a cutting board, the movements of a meal being prepared, and over it all, Maximus. Singing.

Moving as silently as a spirit, he made his way toward the door and poked his head out.

Maximus: His nasally timbre bled into his singing, though somehow clear of rasp otherwise present in the mumbling of songs. He would have kicked himself had he known what his master was doing. Rather, chopped chicken, onions, and butter made it to the heated pan.

Xavier: Xavier had at least some suspicion that that was exactly how his butler would react if he knew he'd been caught singing, so rather than get closer and risk discovery, he stayed where he was. It was...nice, to see Maximus relaxing. Even if it was only in private.

Maximus: A quick check of the time. Not yet for the pastry. The filling was removed from the heat.

Dinner would be on time, as it was every night. He had pulled the pastry from the refrigerator too soon. Only the choicest towering pieces, filled to the brim, were presented at the dining table. A white wine was served alongside in their new crystal.

Xavier: Having indulged himself, Xavier returned to his task, smiling the entire time. That rage over the Russian novel infestation was lessening by the moment.

By the time he went downstairs for dinner he was positively cheerful.

Maximus: His servant stood patiently by the table. He smiled in greeting.

"A successful evening, m'lord?"

Xavier: "Extremely," said Xavier, beaming as he sat and unfolded his napkin on his lap. "The small hill has become a small mountain and I've started a list."

Maximus: "I expect we'll be going to another store soon," he said while pouring the wine.

Xavier: "Probably more than one if the bookshop in town doesn't have all the volumes I require to get the library up to snuff."

Maximus: "Only in English?"

Xavier: "English, French, Spanish, German, and Italian."

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord." The bottle was placed away, and he returned to his standing position.

Xavier: Xavier sampled the wine and gave an approving hum. "Mmm, good choice. And the pastry looks beautiful."

Maximus: Of course these do. "Thank you, m'lord. Just a little patience was required."

Xavier: "Like with many of the worthy things in life." He selected a vol au vent and tasted it, a huge grin immediately breaking out across his face.

Well done, it said.

Maximus: That was...what he wanted to see. Something more than a satisfactory job and making it another night in peace. This was more significant. A smile of a job well done stroked his ego.

Aware of his master's penchant for conversation, he continued. "Which titles are you considering?"

Xavier: Mouth full, Xavier pulled his list from his pocket and offered it before pointing at the nearest chair.

Maximus: Moments like these, despite how many there had been for the past weeks, still rendered him awkward. He took the offered seat without protest and unfolded the list.

"I'm expecting to find Dante Alighieri."

Xavier: Xavier nodded and ate another vol au vent. Of course. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory.

Maximus: "As much as you are straying from Russian anythings, might I make a suggestion?"

Xavier: Another nod. "Anyone but Tolstoy."

Maximus: "Have you heard of Ayn Rand, m'lord?"

Xavier: "I kept getting distracted during The Fountainhead. She does love to ramble on."

Maximus: "He reminds me of you."

Xavier: "Because I live to spite God?"

Maximus: His gaze fell, but only for a moment. "In a Hell filled with Peter Keatings."

Xavier: Xavier gave Maximus a small smile and reached into his pocket for his pen. "Go on then, add the rambling Russian. English translation only."

Maximus: And so he would, writing the title and author in quick fluid cursive.

"What are your thoughts, m'lord, on having a chicken coop?"

Xavier: “As a lover of omelets and chicken Marsala, very favorable.”

Maximus: Excellent. Less shopping in town and efficiency once his garden bore evidence of his labor.

He suddenly felt an urge to play his violin. He wanted to give his master something more than the day-to-day.

"Would you like some more wine?" he asked instead.

Xavier: "Why, yes, thank you. Pour one for yourself and join me."

Maximus: "I...have my dinner in the kitchen, m'lord." Though he would pour an extra glass of wine to comply.

Xavier: "Bring it and have it in the dining room," he said, smile softening a bit.

Maximus: Gently, he sighed. If he didn't know better, he could fool himself into hearing a plea in his master's tone, as though their roles had reversed.

He excused himself, returning with a plate of equally filled...and considerably lopsided pastry, deviled eggs, and filling on toast.

"The illusion is destroyed."

Xavier: "What illusion?" Asked around another blissful mouthful of pastry. "I promise I will try the deviled eggs, I just have an extreme weakness for pastry. Must be the Englishman in me."

Maximus: Then...have a leaning tower of pesto, he offered, slowly taking one of his master's paprika covered eggs. A trade.

Xavier: Leaning perhaps, but perfectly magnificent, as Xavier's face clearly reflected. If he wasn't certain Maximus would turn the color of the paprika on those eggs, Xavier would be raining praise.

Maximus: Maximus contentedly ate in silence. In the supposed safety of the Atlas home, his rigidity of the Plaza lapsed in the form of open-faced sandwich making. Carefully and quietly cutting his deviled eggs to suitable size for two pieces of garlic toast. Having requested a servant dine with him, he might as well eat as he would in private.

"You never cease to surprise me, m'lord." Said after a sip of sauvignon blanc.

Xavier: Xavier thought nothing of Maximus' sandwich making; in fact, he welcomed it. The way he saw things, every small bit of relaxation and comfort from his butler just meant that he was beginning to trust his surroundings--and him--more and more.

He smiled at the comment. "Do I?" he asked, finally trying an egg and humming in approval.

Maximus: "Yes," he said, keeping his head up as he spoke. "Tomorrow, this might be for naught. Tomorrow you might burn everything I possess. You might take back everything you've told me. I've been gullible with you. I've been through the hands of many owners, and still," he shrugged, "and still I'm here, enjoying myself."

Xavier: "I'm glad that you are," he said softly. "I know that it's far too soon to scrub those thoughts from your head, but I am glad you're enjoying yourself. I hope to make that a permanent condition for you."

He took a sip of wine. "What would you say to putting a record player in here?"

Maximus: He would have told any servant that appeared in the summons this exact line.

He had reached for his glass and paused. "A record player? That would...be lovely, m'lord."

Xavier: "I thought so. A grand, beautiful one to fit the room. And one for the sitting room as well."

Maximus: His smile revealed teeth. "Then we must also find you the best records."

Xavier: He smiled back. "Yes we must. Which ones are you fond of?"

Maximus: There he went again.

"I...enjoy...jazz, m'lord, and classical."

Xavier: “Then we shall get your favorites from both genres.”

Maximus: "What do you prefer?"

Xavier: “I’m fond of jazz and classical myself. Especially Tchaikovsky, ironically enough.”

Maximus: "I'm partial to Paganini, Vivaldi, Bazzini...Glenn Miller."

Xavier: “We’ll get them all. I’m rather fond of Glenn Miller myself. Benny Goodman as well.”

Maximus: His smile began to fade. "In New York, you told Mr. Aello you're not musically inclined. Is that true, m'lord?"

Xavier: “As far as playing ability, yes. I tried learning the piano once and was vastly disappointed that I didn’t immediately turn into Chopin.”

Maximus: "No one wants to be Chopin. Not even Chopin."

Xavier: Xavier laughed. “God and the Devil love the man. He played and composed like a piano murdered his entire family.”

Maximus: "Bazzini wanted to prove he was better than Paganini. They either sold their souls or were nephilim."

Xavier: “Seems like Bazzini had a complex. He probably sold his soul.”

Maximus: His servant suddenly ducked his chin and nibbled absently at his dinner.

"Did you...sell your soul?"

Xavier: He shook his head. “Not in the traditional way. My soul was always bound for the pit. There was no need to expedite the process.”

Maximus: "Over revenge?"

Xavier: He nodded. “It’s said that any man who pursues vengeance should dig two graves, one for himself and one for his enemy. I dug many, many graves.”

Maximus: "Was the revenge honorable?" For some reason he was looking for excuses.

Xavier: "To me it was. But as I was the one exacting it, perhaps I'm biased."

Maximus: "Most likely, m'lord, but one day perhaps, I shall hear your reasoning."

Xavier: "Yes, perhaps." And you'll tell me my revenge was a fool's errand, just like my father did.

Maximus: After a moment, he gently added, "Only when you trust me."

Xavier: Xavier smiled softly. “I do already. More than anyone in years. Some things merely need to be worked up to.”

Maximus: "In years? It's been two months."

Xavier: “Indeed. And I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not terribly...social.”

Maximus: "You're settling into a new home."

Xavier: “Even settled, I’ve never been the social type.”

Xavier: “The tailor’s. They’re terribly fussy about being on time for appointments and I’d hate to annoy them. They’re the best in the city.”

Once outside the station, Xavier hailed a taxi and gave the address to the driver in practiced Italian after exchanging cheerful greetings.

Maximus: He remained silent during their brief walk towards the road. He appreciated their surroundings and fresh Mediterranean atmosphere.

In the taxi, with the driver's attention elsewhere, he leaned over. "Your Italian is sharp, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier beamed with what was very obviously pride. “Why thank you, Maximus. It’s a testament to how much time I spend here, purchasing clothing and otherwise.”

Maximus: "I'm sure." He straightened and stared out the window, but not for long. "M'lord, why do you not call me Fairchild now?"

Xavier: That gave Xavier pause. He hadn’t noticed until this very moment that he’d dropped that small formality. How long had it been?

“We’ve been together for a couple of months now. I daresay we’ve gotten to know each other a decent bit. Felt...right. I can always go back, of course, if you prefer.”

Maximus: "I'm...not sure I should have an opinion, m'lord. I know what you are to me, and that is unwavering."

Xavier: “You know you do, and that I value it.” He smiled. “It doesn’t bother you then? That I call you Maximus?”

Maximus: "I... don't know, m'lord. I don't feel offended. If your lordship prefers Maximus, then I have no objections."

Xavier: “I’m glad to hear it. But if you do find you have an objection in the future, whatever it may be, I do hope you’ll tell me. I’d hate to cause you discomfort.”

Maximus: "...You really mean that, don't you?" he gently asked.

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “I do,” he said softly.

Maximus: Something to ponder later. For now, "Do you have a middle name, m'lord?"

Xavier: “I don’t, as a matter of fact. My father didn’t bless me or my brother with one.”

Maximus: "Your brother?" He turned more in his master's direction out of respect.

Xavier: “Indeed. He’s the elder.”

Maximus: "Is he...?"

Xavier: “Dead? Quite. Several years after me.”

Maximus: "I assumed as much. But I mean to ask if he is at all like you."

Xavier: “Only in one sense, and even then in the loosest way. We’re rather polar opposites, have been always.”

Maximus: "An angel, then?" he dared smirk.

Xavier: “In the metaphorical sense, and by the estimation of many, I’m sure,” he said with a chuckle.

Maximus: "I wouldn't have guessed you to be the baby. You carry yourself as an older brother, or only child."

Xavier: “In many ways, ways I will tell you about someday, I was the only child. But only to him. Not to anyone else.”

Maximus: "'Curiouser and curiouser,'" he said to the window.

Xavier: Xavier grinned to himself. “Most things with me tend to be.”

Maximus: "I don't think you're as complicated as all that, m'lord."

Xavier: “Perhaps not. We all like to think we’re more complicated than we actually are. Me, I’m....layered.”

Maximus: He turned his gaze on his master. "You're curious, but complicated?" He was willing to accept punishment for his forwardness.

Xavier: “Curious, complicated, and multi-layered. Like a demonic cake.”

Maximus: "I would like to... politely disagree."

Xavier: “You don’t think I’m a cake?”

Maximus: There was a quiet war being waged against himself, as so often of late, to prevent himself from smiling.

"Hmm." He needed to look away. What beautiful scenery.

Xavier: Xavier laughed and shook his head. “I’ll take that as a no. I’m but a simple rich man.”

Maximus: "You're not simple, m'lord, but you're not complicated as all that. You want things and you take them."

Xavier: “So I’m straightforward if nothing else. Not a bad thing to be, really.”

Maximus: "No. Not at all, m'lord."

Xavier: “I’m glad you also think so,” he said with a smile. With time, he hoped to learn what Maximus was apart from gloriously efficient.

“The shop isn’t far. Another two streets.”

Maximus: "You're missing warm tones in your wardrobe. A set of tails wouldn't hurt either."

Xavier: “I agree. And I suppose I could stand to add in some warmer reds and browns. Can’t wear black all the time.”

Maximus: "No. That's my area, m'lord," he smiled.

Xavier: “And you pull it off marvelously.”

Maximus: "Are you flirting with me, m'lord?" he whispered.

Xavier: “Would it scandalize you if I was?”

Maximus: "I have no reputation in which to tarnish."

Xavier: “In that case, I am flirting with you.” How do you feel about that, Maximus?

Maximus: He felt betrayed. He felt surprised and yet expectant of this moment. He was elated and in mourning.

There were butterflies in his stomach.

"We must find you some friends, m'lord," he managed to smile. It was the only thing he could think to say.

Xavier: “I have friends. Massimo for example.” The tailor whose name was on a sign above the shop they stopped in front of.

Maximus: "A friend with your measurements. Very good, m'lord." The subject seemed dropped for now. He didn't know whether or not he felt relieved.

Xavier: “My thoughts exactly.” Xavier paid the driver and asked him to wait, promising him a big tip at the end of the day.

The driver was more than happy to oblige, even coming around to open the door for them.

Maximus: Very rarely did he wish to know what his masters were thinking. Very rarely, when he could, was it anything worthwhile. The consequences were always severe. With Xavier he felt regret. Moments like this being unable to glimpse were small tortures.

The shop door was held open for his master, eyes forward as usual. His black bowler hat was removed as they stepped through, remaining behind as he had momentarily forgotten he was to participate.

Xavier: “Signore Rossmara!” They were met with Massimo’s booming greeting before they were even all the way through the door.

Despite his short stature and rather broad frame, the tailor looked impeccable. A walking gentleman’s magazine cover with a jovial face and bon vivant spirit.

“Massimo,” Xavier said fondly, allowing himself to be pulled into a hearty handshake. “Are you well? How’s business?”

“Stupendous now that you’re here!” The tailor noticed Maximus. “Who is this? Have you brought me a new client?”

“I have. Massimo, this is my assistant, Mr. Townsend.”

“Why hello, Signore Townsend! Welcome to Massimo’s!”

Maximus: The human was studied during his rough greeting. Maximus became David with a charming smile. He reached for Massimo's hand without prompt.

"Buongiorno. A pleasure to meet you."

Xavier: Maximus’ hand was shaken enthusiastically. “Buongiorno, Signore Townsend, buongiorno! Welcome to my shop! We’re the best tailor in all Milano. Anything you need, we can make for you here. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for today?” His question was addressed to both of them.

“I’d like Mr. Townsend to be fitted for a few suits. One casual, a set of livery, and two formal suits.”

Massimo’s eyes practically gleamed.

Maximus: He dared give his master a look. That was months’ worth of wages he would be refusing from this day forth. Surely, his gaze said everything while Massimo's attention lingered elsewhere.

"Be sure to expand Lord Rossmara's pockets. They seem to be bottomless."

Xavier: Xavier simply smiled back. He had no intention of allowing Maximus to refuse anything, suits or wages. His butler would simply have to put up with being paid and well dressed.

“I thank Our Lord every day for it, Signore Townsend,” Massimo laughed, gesturing for them to follow him.

In short order he had Maximus up on the podium to be measured and had an assistant selecting samples.

Maximus: Having someone other than his master so near kept his entire being on edge. Until the measuring tape fell away, he barely breathed. A glance over his shoulder was directed towards his master. He gauged his reaction to a young male human so near his property.

"Have you found suitable cufflinks, m'lord?" His tone of voice gave nothing away.

Xavier: Xavier could sense Maximus’ discomfort and made sure to stay in his butler’s line of sight. With any luck he’s be able to offer silent reassurance.

Fortunately for all involved, Massimo was the consummate professional; he worked quickly and respectfully and was done in half the time it would have taken a less experienced man.

“I will in due course. Which reminds me, we shall also be looking at ties and accessories, Massimo.”

“Very good, Signore Rossmara, I will have Luciano bring you a varied selection of everything.”

Maximus: His anxiety only lasted as long as his master remained out of sight. Everything from last night to this moment was not at all what he had expected. He'd been too informal for the past month. At some point he was going to be paying the price. He felt as though he were tipping from a narrow window.

"You need a gold pair," he said softly.

Xavier: Both Massimo and his assistant nodded in agreement.

Xavier smiled. “Bring the gold first then, Luciano. I’d hate to disappoint.”

“Si, signore.”

Maximus: "Is that all you need of me at the moment, signore?"

Xavier: Massimo nodded again. “Yes, Signore Townsend, you may step down. The dressing rooms are through that curtain there.” He pointed to the right before taking a handful of hangers with suit jackets and pants on them from Luciano. “These are all casual suits. Please try them on to see how you like them.”

Maximus: "Grazie," he smiled. One last glance to his master before turning his back to them. He preferred the monochromatic outfits. Gravitated towards black, gray, and dark green, which were hung separately from the rest. Only the gray double-breasted required special touch. A new blazer wouldn't hurt, he thought. I won't be getting it here. Something to look forward to in town once his pockets were heavy. More bowties for his casual workdays, he added to his mental list. This was all a little extravagant, but he wouldn't deny the wishes of his owner.

Xavier: While Maximus dressed, Xavier selected cuff links from the velvet tray Luciano brought for him. Something simple and elegant for the everyday and something more ornate for evening wear. Perhaps two pairs for each.

Meanwhile, Massimo’s attention was on his newest client. “How is everything fitting, signore?” he called to Maximus.

Maximus: "The dark green one is large, but not by an entire size."

Xavier: “Would you like the dark green one? If so, we’ll pin it and set it aside.”

Maximus: "I would, yes. Actually, I think the sleeves on the gray one, here, is slightly too long."

Xavier: “Bene. We shall do the green first and then the gray. Luciano, the pins.” The tailor turned to Xavier. “Have you selected your cuff links, Signore Rossmara?”

Xavier nodded. “I believe so. I await Mr. Townsend’s opinion.”

Maximus: Words which caught his ear sharply. "Nothing too gaudy, m'lord, and I will approve."

Xavier: Xavier laughed. “I wouldn’t think of it. I went for something elegant and understated.”

Maximus: "Is this true, Massimo?"

Xavier: “They’re beautiful choices, Signore Townsend. Very fitting for his lordship.”

Maximus: "Fitting," he echoed. "Please show me, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier waited until Maximus came out of the fitting room and gestured to a small velvet tray containing his choices.

“I await your verdict.”

Maximus: His tie was adjusted for the fifth time as he returned. A set of silver and gold were picked up and inspected as soon as they were within reach.

"These are fitting, yes, but not at all what I would call understated."

Xavier: “Those are the evening ones.” He pointed to another pair. “These are the understated ones, for everyday wear.”

Maximus: "What do you think of these?" A pair of round silver and onyx. "I think these are very suiting."

Xavier: Xavier examined them and nodded in approval. “Agreed. I should find a tie to go with them.”

Maximus: "A black textured tie would pair perfectly." He turned towards the tailor for response.

Xavier: Massimo was already asking Luciano to bring a selection of ties, and bringing another tray laden with cuff links for Maximus to choose from.

Maximus: Nothing ornate or above his station. One set of silver with braided edge, one set of gold bars. His fingers lingered over button shaped mother of pearl, but said nothing.

"It's your turn to be lavished."

Xavier: The lingering was noticed and noted.

“And you as well. It’s time for ties. Select a couple for each suit.”

Maximus: "I can get ties in Paradise. Are you certain, m'lord?" Only for his ears.

Xavier: “I’m certain, Maximus,” Xavier replied just as softly. “No tie in Paradise can compare to the ties here.”

Maximus: "You're too kind." Then he would do as commanded, choosing various textures of black neckties. If insisting, he would stray towards gray and white.

"Now, I must insist you allow the tailor to see to you."

Xavier: Xavier let Maximus choose whatever his heart desired, secretly eyeing a few ties he thought would suit his butler. He’d ask Massimo to set them aside when they got to the dressing room.

Speaking of.

“Yes, of course. We need those warm tones and those tails. Massimo—“

“Yes, Signore Atlas. I’ll pull pieces right away.”

Maximus: "Should I ever know you that well someday," he smiled. "Be sure to put those tails to good work this year. The house will be ready for dinner parties as soon as we settle the remaining furniture."

Xavier: He grinned. “I think you’re well on your way. This very morning you timed breakfast precisely with my awakening.” To him that meant they were well on their way toward establishing the intimacy that came with living under the same roof.

“Once my tails and furniture are in order I should get some friends so I have someone to throw a dinner party for.”

Maximus: His morning breakfast had been an apology for the night before. Still, it had pleased him, and so it would continue.

"Speaking of. I look forward to seeing to the frames today. We must find a suitable artist."

Xavier: “As am I. They’ll be the perfect finishing touch for the drawing room. As far as the artist, we might be able to find an excellent one on this trip. Do you know any good portrait artists, Massimo?”

The tailor hummed while he considered. “Not personally, but I will have Luciano find you a suitable one.”

Maximus: "Molto gentile da parte tua, signore." So rare it was to speak his mother's native tongue.

Xavier: Well now Massimo looked positively delighted. Maximus had officially endeared himself into becoming a top client.

“Of course, signore, of course! Anything for you and Signore Rossmara! Luciano and I will find you the best portrait painter, not just in Milano, but all Italia.”

Maximus: The exclamation jarred him from his guard. Ducked head and smile followed the promise. Gratitude in his third language. A look given to his master from behind his lashes.

Xavier: Xavier was grinning like the cat that got the canary. He just knew coming here was a good idea and there was the proof.

“Your diligence and dedication are much appreciated, Massimo, thank you.”

“You’re too kind, Signore Rossmara, too kind. Ah, here we are.” He accepted some hangers from Luciano. “These are the tails, Signore Rossmara. If you’ll step into the dressing room, please.”

Maximus: Maximus' smile remained well after his master's disappearance into the dressing room. The room felt brighter, wider than when they had stepped inside. Days like today reminded him of Crawford. The tall, lanky man too old for this world. A man too quiet for his own good. A benevolent master, most of the time. He dared miss him.

His thoughts swam away from him, his eyes somewhere far away when Atlas returned.

Xavier: "What do you think?" Xavier asked as he emerged from the dressing room and stopped in front of the mirror, turning this way and that to study his reflection. "They'll need adjusting of course."

Luciano always had to pull stops a size to big and trousers that were too short; Xavier's height and shoulders always demanded adjustments.

Maximus: "I should have tried my hand at clothing years ago. I doubt I'd be trusted by the next-" The smile was more sheepish than honest.

Xavier: "Well you're certainly trusted now." He did a turn. "Do I pass muster?"

Maximus: "Not with those trousers, m'lord."

Xavier: “Offend? Not at all. It doesn’t surprise me, either. I know I’m relatively young by demonic standards.”

Maximus: "I don't think by much. I'm...young, too."

Xavier: “Probably by a decent bit. I died in 1935.”

Maximus: "I..." he swallowed, "it was 1899." He was grateful for the waiter. Barolo and ossobucco for himself, ordered after Atlas.

Xavier: Xavier chose the house white and the tortellini and a risotto for them for share.

“About ten years before I was born,” he said thoughtfully. “And look at us now. Two young demons about to enjoy some exquisite food in Milan.”

Maximus: "I believe you're my youngest master," he smiled, one of his more honest. "Among other things, I'm not afraid to say."

Xavier: “An honor indeed,” he said with a grin.

Maximus: "You can be so brazen."

Xavier: “It’s definitely been said before.”

He gave their waiter a nod of thanks when their wine was brought over. “I’ve made a whole life out of it.”

Maximus: "Do you ever regret not hiring a human? A vampire?" Today had gone so well, broken so many rules given by himself and others. He dared laugh at the absurdity. "I'm going to wake up tomorrow at the Crawford house."

Xavier: “Vampire? Lucifer, save us all.” Xavier shook his head and sipped his wine. “Vampires are too involved in their own affairs and humans require too much explanation. I made the ideal choice and got the ideal candidate, and the only place you’ll be waking up is your own bed.”

Maximus: "Right, because..." He began picking at his fingers underneath the table. A new little tick. He could scarcely hear the bustling of Milanese over his own clamoring negativity. His thoughts had been etched with every new master. Too much for Atlas to carve away at once.

"I'm grateful, truly."

Xavier: As much as he’d like to carve away all those dreadful thoughts at once, he was quite satisfied chipping away a bit at a time. “And I’m grateful to you for setting my house to such terrific order.”

Maximus: The next exhale straightened his spine. He was relaxed, despite his proper appearance.

"I look forward to your first dinner party. The house is something to be proud of."

Xavier: “It certainly is. You’ll have to help me scrounge up some guests.”

Maximus: "The most prominent figures in Paradise." Of course. "Establish an unforgettable rapport."

Xavier: “Not to sound arrogant but I believe I am the most prominent figure in Paradise.”

Maximus: "It wouldn't hurt to have connections. The road ahead isn't clear."

Xavier: “I suppose not, although I am tempted to exist beneath a veil of mystery.”

Maximus: "If something were to happen to me, I'd rather burn knowing you'll have options."

Xavier: Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.

“I suppose I could invite the less prominent but moderately well-off citizens of Paradise for a dinner party.”

Maximus: A well-reached smile. "Very good, m'lord. That's the spirit."

Xavier: “I’m sure the whole town has been dying to know what has become of Damien Eisley’s neglected mansion.”

Maximus: "Your updates will upset a few, but we'll turn them around."

Xavier: “Only those with no taste will be upset.”

Maximus: "You're impeccable, m'lord?" A brave tease with crinkling around his eyes.

Xavier: Xavier grinned into his wine glass. “Undoubtedly.”

Maximus: "I will not argue. Neither as servant nor assistant."

Xavier: He laughed softly. “Jolly good then. We shall be impeccable together thanks to Massimo.”

Maximus: Just as casually, said with well-considered ease, "Will your father be proud of your progress?"

Xavier: “Who’s to say,” he said with a shrug. “The man is inscrutable. I usually take his silence as approval.”

Maximus: "Is a lot of your relationship a guessing game?" Today, with a tingle down his spine, he would not apologize. Just to see.

Xavier: “For the most part. I gave up asking him questions, he never gives straight answers. Like all ancient beings I suppose.”

Maximus: "They want us to figure out the puzzle for ourselves. Either that, or their language restricted what is commonplace today."

Xavier: “With him it’s the former I think. He loves riddles, it’s exhausting.”

Maximus: "I appreciate the silence. It's its own riddle."

Xavier: “I’d rather the silence to be perfectly frank. Leaves more room for interpretation and gives more leeway. If I do something he isn’t pleased with he has to live with it in a way, because he never told me not to.”

He smiled again. “He loves his riddles, I love my loopholes.”

Maximus: "I prefer silence to riddles I know I will fail to interpret. Sabotaged from their first syllable for a passive thrill of seeing me fail and punished."

Now his eyes fell. "Forgive me. I'm - I'm being - I forget myself and it's unlike me. I swear."

Xavier: “I got a fair bit of those myself when I was on the rack. As if he needed more excuses to torment me.”

Like so many times before, Xavier’s expression softened. “I have nothing to forgive. You’re free to speak your mind with me.”

Maximus: "When you say that, m'lord, understand why you are unlike my former masters."

Xavier: He nodded. “I know I am,” he said softly. “In more ways than I probably know.”

Maximus: "It goes to everyone's head." His voice would not carry over the mortal city hum, but enough weight for a demon's ear.

Xavier: “Most everyone doesn’t have their humanity intact.” Sometimes he even thought it was heightened. There were days he just felt too fucking human.

Maximus: "But that-" He leaned away, silent as their plates were placed in front of them like silent offerings. Their waiter bowed and turned away, as though fully aware of his interruption.

Xavier: “I love European waitstaff,” he said after the waiter had been thanked and had moved away. “They’re so aware.”

Maximus: This time, his smile was more familiar, more sterile. His attention would fall upon his meal.

Xavier: Xavier knew that smile all too well. That was Maximus’ butler smile. Still lovely, but not as lovely as his very rare genuine smiles.

“Trying to predict the future is a fool’s errand but I can say with some confidence that the only thing that has gone to my head is my prowess for theft.”

Maximus: "In the past two months, I've only witnessed this prowess once, m'lord. Are you sure?"

Xavier: “We’ve been preoccupied,” he said, giving Maximus a quick, charming grin. “But be assured I’ll be taking advantage of any opportunity that presents itself.”

Maximus: "Just as soon as I can find someone with an agenda against me?" His master's smile had coaxed a more favorable expression, one more teasing and relaxed.

Xavier: Xavier grinned widely. So Maximus had noticed Xavier's Robin Hood-esque defense of his honor. "Precisely. All agendas against you will be met with thieving force."

Maximus: Of course he had, though he'd seen the gesture merely as an excuse to snatch essentials for the mansion. "Well, you've brought this half-breed home. There will be no prejudice here."

Xavier: "There certainly will not. And if you see any, tell me and it will be dealt with swiftly."

Maximus: "I'm used to it, m'lord."

Xavier: "So am I. All the more reason not to let it stand."

Maximus: "No one will belittle you. Your demeanor is too regal."

Xavier: "It should be, I bought myself a viscountcy. I'm an honest to goodness lord."

Maximus: Maximus tried to conceal his smile with a sip of wine.

Xavier: He could try as hard as he wanted, but Xavier caught it nonetheless. "That would also annoy my stepmother. Something else to cling to."

Maximus: "She's long gone. She can't hurt you anymore." He was still too young. Just allowing things to fly from his mouth without thinking. He debated on apologizing, but waited for his master's reaction.

Xavier: Xavier smiled wistfully and toasted the air. "Thank God and the Devil for that, too. Long may she and my father stay on the rack."

Maximus: No punishment? How much was he allowed to get away with?

"Have you seen them? There?"

Xavier: "I've seen him. He went first so I had more time to look. Haven't found her yet. Until I do I'll content myself with dancing on her grave."

Maximus: "Could she be a wraith? Or...moved on already?"

Xavier: "Old hag is too stubborn to move on peacefully. She'll cling out of pure spite and consider herself a martyr for being sent to the pit."

Maximus: "I could find out for you, m'lord. If you really want to know the truth."

Xavier: "Perhaps in due time. I rather like the thought of her being tormented for tens of hundreds of years before I find her and she has to watch me watch her be ripped to shreds." Another wistful smile. "Warms my little black heart."

Maximus: "Are you concerned that is not the case?"

Xavier: "Not particularly. If it is, lovely. If not, I also like the thought of dragging her there myself."

Maximus: "Is that possible?"

Xavier: "I don't see why it couldn't be. If something is tying her to this mortal coil it wouldn't be terribly difficult to sever the connection."

Maximus: "Oh. I thought you meant from - from Heaven."

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. "Oh no, my dear, no. The hag isn't getting up there."

Maximus: Just a playful banter, but still he enjoyed being called dear. 'Be a dear' was the most he'd ever been given.

Another moment of vulnerability stolen by the waiter. This time, he was grateful.

Xavier: He'd scarcely noticed the slip, but now that those gates had been opened the endearment would no doubt be making regular appearances.

"Ah, glorious. Grazie," he told the waiter, inhaling deeply. "Bless the Italians."

Maximus: "Careful, you'll burn me," he smiled.

Xavier: His smile was met with a laugh, which in turn was followed by a blissful sigh at the first mouthful of food.

Maximus: His meal swelled his thoughts with memories of his mother's cooking. Sweet sentimentality through rose tinted lens. His manners were dropped long enough to mop his plate with bread. Even then, done so with elegant fingers. Not a drop spilt.

"Thank you, m'lord. For everything today."

Xavier: Maximus wasn't alone in his temporary lack of manners; it would've been criminal to waste a single bit of sauce or of the lovely bread on the table.

"You're more than welcome, Maximus. Happy to do it."

Maximus: "I'm looking forward to seeing to the frames. It feels overdue."

Xavier: "It does. Perhaps I've been avoiding thinking about the matter. Two months on and something about Aello still unsettles me."

Maximus: "He was probably harmless. No more a threat than we were to him."

Xavier: "There's threats and there's threats. I'm not entirely certain he's human."

Maximus: "Neither do I, but we don't slaughter everyone."

Xavier: "True enough, and we won't. We'll just enjoy the frames and avoid him."

Maximus: "Then are you ready, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier took a deep breath and nodded. "I am indeed. Unto the breach."

Maximus: The fabric was gathered and tucked under his arm. They reappeared somewhere in California sans an unforgiving sky and unwelcoming stench. His handkerchief was returned to his nose without mention. This had become his routine.

Xavier: The stench was as familiar as the layout of Milan in Xavier’s mind, only a million times less pleasant. He missed it already.

“Disgraceful,” he sighed.

Maximus: "M'lord?" More nasally than usual in an attempt to conceal his bleeding.

Xavier: "I fail to see what benefit is derived from our kind smelling like sulfur. We already have black eyes. Surely that's enough identification."

Maximus: "This is meant to be a punishment, in every sense of the word."

Xavier: "More of an annoyance than a punishment in my view."

Maximus: The piece of cloth was folded onto itself and tucked away. He would rather bleed than leave his master sullied. This had long ago been deemed his duty by Shore, and no demon in his place had ever questioned his generosity.

Xavier: Assuming Maximus had put his handkerchief away because it was too stained, Xavier offered his own. "Let us set this fabric somewhere safe and get on with the frame inspection."

Maximus: "Oh. No, thank you. I couldn't." Though he'd yet to realize a fresh bead of blood had begun its trickle downward.

"Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "You could." He gestured at his butler's nose. "You're still bleeding, take it."

Maximus: He wouldn't deny him twice, as much as he wanted to. A quiet thank you uttered as he took the ivory cloth and placed it to his nose.

Xavier: Xavier gave an approving nod. “Excellent. Now.” He looked around. “Should we walk or see to a taxi?”

Maximus: "I wouldn't mind the walk, m'lord. We've been in taxis all day."

Xavier: “Very true. In that case, allow me to help you with the fabric.”

Maximus: "I can't allow that, m'lord. I'm alright."

Xavier: “I insist. We’ve a bit of a walk ahead.”

Maximus: "You'll scuff your clothes."

Xavier: “Scuffs can be removed.”

Maximus: "Why must you argue with me?" Asked gently, of course.

Xavier: “It’s what I do,” he said with a smile, carefully taking half the fabric.

Maximus: The fabric was reluctantly released. His servant had no clue as to the blush, softest shade of pink, flush to his cheeks. As though this were submission for something far more intimate.

Xavier: Maximus might have been unaware of it, but Xavier certainly was not. No comment was made, but he silently committed it to memory, savoring every detail and nuance it brought to Maximus’ face. Such beautiful, delicate features his butler had.

“Very good,” he said softly, starting down the road and waiting for Maximus to fall into step beside him.

Maximus: Beside yes, but always by a half-step, just barely from eyeshot. A ghost meant to open doors and take coats from shoulders, to serve tea and renew plates as if from nowhere.

As they approached the warehouse, his butler appeared by the door.

Xavier: A ghost Xavier intended to make more corporeal. One of these days Maximus would comfortably walk by his side from place to place with scarcely a second thought; Xavier was determined to make it so.

He smiled and nodded in thanks as he stepped through the door and into the main office of his shipping warehouse. He exchanged a brief greeting with the middle-aged man at the desk, who'd immediately stood to attention.

"I should have two crates waiting for me, Greaves."

"Yes, your lordship, from New York. Sender Aello?"

Xavier nodded. "Those are the ones, yes. Where are they?"

"Finch put them in the secure holding room beside your office."

"Thank you, Greaves. Keep an eye on this fabric and mind you, don't let it get stained. It'll be the drapes in my drawing room before much longer."

Greaves nodded and relieved both of them from their burden. "Yes, your lordship."

"By the by, this is Townsend, my new assistant. Treat him as you would me."

Another nod from Greaves. "Yes, your lordship. Welcome, Mr. Townsend."

Maximus: A warehouse if ever there was one, but belonging to Xavier Atlas somehow made the ceilings higher, and the air crisp as though he were still outside in the December wind.

Greaves seemed well kept, despite his long years. Human, just as his master had said. Had they any idea of their employer?

His false name jerked his thoughts, and that which followed put a rod in his spine.

David Townsend, tall in posture and steady hands on his hat, bowed his head. The most polite smile one could muster without teeth followed without word.

Xavier: Greaves' tidiness and mannerisms reflected the way Xavier ran his business. The warehouse was large and busy, and though there was the buzz of conversation and occasional roar of bawdy laughter, every employee was dressed smartly and moved efficiently. This was a tight ship and Xavier was enormously proud of it.

Greaves handed them off to the aforementioned Finch, a much younger and scrawnier man with a cigarette between his lips and a Midwestern accent. He filled Xavier in on the goings on as they moved through the warehouse, dodging dockers and weaving between crates.

"Shipment's here, your lordship sir." Finch stopped in front of a heavy metal door. "Two crates, two frames, both unopened just like you said."

"Thank you, Finch. That will be all."

Maximus: They were followed behind, listening to every detail. Of the man downstairs complaining about his wife. To the man by his side laughing at his misfortune in marriage. He could hear the clatter of crates to which their destination remained in queue. The sound of large, tired trucks beyond the warehouse. Always, his master's voice above it all as though whispered nose-to-ear.

He waited for Finch to leave the room, for the door to close and muffle their surroundings. He placed his hat on the desk, along with his gloves. He continued without word towards the nearest crate.

Xavier: "Wait a moment, Maximus." Xavier eyed the crates. They seemed innocuous enough. Still...

"Can you feel anything? Smell anything? A strange energy signature, the traces of a spell?"

Maximus: His servant turned, his smile unlike that given to his employers. A playful, silent note, with a finger brought to his lips. Let me work, his eyes said. To mollify, he reached for the smaller crate first. The box was placed on top of the other, opened with brute strength.

Xavier: Xavier smiled and nodded, stepping back to let Maximus do whatever it was he was going to do but not dropping his guard. He almost expected Aello himself to pop out of one of those crates.

The crate opened and Xavier tensed, ready to defend Maximus and himself.

Maximus: That would have been nothing if not entertaining. A fat, jolly man with rosy cheeks stuffed into a child-size crate would have been unforgettable. He still wasn't sure what it was he had initially done to catch the salesman's attention. Whatever the case, the smaller frame was unearthed from the paper pulp. No burning, freezing, no sudden shock to his system. Nothing but wood and bits of metal long ago replacing thick twine.

The frame was set aside and studied much the same as it had in October. Beautiful, as expected, but unassuming.

The first crate was set aside. Onto the next.

Xavier: Like the crate it had just been in, the frame looked innocuous. Lovely and ornate and innocuous. A close inspection still had to be made but so far so good.

Maximus: It's larger twin was pulled in the same fashion and leaned against it's crate. This time, he kneeled in front of it, inspected as close as he could manage for tiny scribbled spells or hidden drops of blood.

Xavier: Xavier dared step closer. He still didn't feel any strange energy signatures but they weren't always present. Something sinister could still be lurking.

While Maximus studied the frames, he took it upon himself to study the crates themselves. It wasn't always the thing inside the box that held the nasty surprise; just as often it was the box.

Maximus: Pale fingers gently glided along the edge of the frame, feeling grooves or scratches. It was then he nicked his middle finger. The smallest prick with the tiniest bead of blood. So inconsequential, in his quiet thoughts, not to disturb his master. His hand carefully fell to his side, out of his master's sight.

Xavier: However tiny, they were demons. Their sense of smell was as sharp as any shark, and Xavier didn't need to be a mile away to smell that tiny metallic trace in the air.

"Did you cut yourself?" he asked suddenly, whipping around.

Maximus: Deer in headlights. His servant stared for a moment, caught completely off guard.

Xavier: "Let me see."

Maximus: He could not tell him no. He was eternally bound to obey. His hand, reluctantly, was presented palm-side up. The tiny scratch was barely inflamed, as though arguing to heal.

Xavier: Xavier gently took Maximus' hand and brought it closer to examine the cut. "Did the frame do this or a piece of the crate?" he asked as he began to heal it.

Maximus: "A shard of wood behind the frame." His eyes never left their hands.

Xavier: That was the next order of business then. He'd see to it only after Maximus' hand was set to rights and he'd made sure that the cut hadn't had any other effect on his butler.

Maximus: No obvious effect. Still calm, pale, and rigid. "It was most likely nothing, m'lord."

Xavier: "We can't be too careful, Maximus. Many a spell can be done with demon blood and this is a brilliant and stealthy way to get some."

Time to inspect the back of the frame.

Maximus: Everything about the frame spoke of simultaneous age and care. Long ago someone had taken the time to sand, paint, varnish, with consideration of every dip and hill of craftsmanship. The shard did not belong, as though someone had been careless with something so expensive.

Xavier: The shard did not indeed belong. As though by design. After all, why take such care with every aspect of the frame and leave they one imperfection untouched and unattended to.

He went to the door and stuck his head out. “Finch!”

The man appeared in moments. “Yes, your lordship sir?”

“Bring me some pliers and sandpaper.”

“Right away, your lordship.”

Maximus: "I can pull it apart myself," he called to his master's back.

Xavier: “Precautions, my dear. We must take them all.”

Maximus: There it was again. He tried not to think too deeply on his pet name. Still, his thoughts lingered while staring a hole into the large frame.

Xavier: Finch returned with the requested pliers and sandpaper, with a pair of gloves thrown in for good measure.

Xavier nodded as he took everything. "Thank you, Finch. The crate remnants will be going into the incinerator. Sooner rather than later, please."

"Yes, your lordship sir."

Once Finch had moved away, Xavier put on the gloves and turned the frame so the backside was facing him. Any inscriptions? Any sigils?

Maximus: Nothing of note. Only the single splinter of wood, as though it had fallen against a sharp corner.

Maximus slowly shifted to the side, giving his master room.

"I can remove it."

Xavier: "Don't trouble yourself, Maximus. Much as I love these frames I don't trust them one bit." He carefully removed the shard from the frame and braced for calamity.

If none came, he'd begin sanding down the location where it had been, along with any spots of Maximus' blood.

Maximus: "Then why did you purchase them, m'lord?" Yes, there was humor in his tone, but Atlas was looking away.

Xavier: Maximus would be able to hear the smile in Xavier's voice. "Because they really are nice frames. And they would look lovely in my house."

Maximus: There was no drop or blood to speak of. Once the shard was removed, it seemed the frame had always existed with a smooth, almost perfect dip the length of a small fingernail.

Xavier: Xavier squinted at the frame. This was a magical object. He didn't know exactly how or exactly what it did, but he was almost certain it was an artifact.

"When we return to Paradise, remind me to purchase some sort of print at the frame shop. Two, in fact. One for each frame. We're going to do a little experiment."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." He wouldn't question what that would be at this time. He would find out be tonight.

"Shall I take us home?"

Xavier: "How's your energy? We can still take the train or hire a car."

Maximus: "I'll be fine. I swear. I just need to gather the fabrics."

Xavier: "Then let's go collect them from Greaves."

Maximus: "M'lord." Fabrics over one arm, held very carefully. The frames were hung from his other. This he would refuse, given how often they had traveled already. He wanted his master comfortable at his own expense. They would return to the mansion in one piece. Another bloody nose, standing in the middle of the drawing room.

Xavier: “Thank you for getting us back in once piece. How do you feel?”

Maximus: "Exhausted of nosebleeds, but I'm well."

Xavier: “Nothing odd around the site of your cut?”

Maximus: He looked to his hand. "No, m'lord." None that he could see.

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Very good. But if you start feeling strange or notice something amiss, tell me immediately.”

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord," a response he was forced to give. Should he obey, he did not yet know if he could avoid.

Xavier: “Promise?”

Maximus: "I - Yes, m'lord." What he wanted to say verses what was spoken was quietly concealed in his eyes.

Xavier: His eyes were telling Maximus to go ahead and speak his mind.

Maximus: He turned away. "This frame for which room, m'lord?"

Xavier: “The larger one for this room,” he said softly. “The smaller for the library.”

Maximus: Then without word, he took the smaller frame in hand, bowed, and walked away.

Xavier: Xavier waited until he heard Maximus’ footsteps on the stairs before he sighed softly. He only hoped Maximus kept to his promise.

Maximus: He felt a little ridiculous. The frame had simply scuffed on its travel across the United States. There was no great mystery here. The only mystery was why Xavier was more worried than he was.

Xavier. That was the first time he'd ever thought of him by his first name. He was losing his senses. He'd never warmly regarded any owner, with perhaps the smallest exception of Crawford. He was property, a tool, a plaything one would pick up and put down at leisure.

The frame was secured onto the wall near one of the great shelves. His thoughts swam in memories, too fogged to pay attention to his task. In the middle of the library he stood, allowing himself a moment to find a clearing from his mind. There was a name for this, surely, but he did not know. He could not move, only exist.

Deep breath. He'd found his way out.

The frame was perfectly center. This was the smaller one, was it not? It seemed taller than when he had unearthed it from the crate.

Xavier: Whether the frame had been scuffed en route to the warehouse mattered precious little to Xavier's paranoia; it was far more concerned with the man who had done the sending.

That Aello was not human--or was a human with magic--was all but a certainty in his mind. Ordinary humans didn't have the kind of aura, that kind of energy. They'd settled and parted on decent terms (Xavier made sure of that) but still the suspicion remained. His paranoia had served him very well for the past several decades and he saw no need to start doubting it now simply because Aello was a jolly old man.

If it turned out he was worrying for nothing, all the better. If not, then he was prepared.

Xavier heaved a long sigh. He needed a drink. "Maximus?" he called.

Maximus: His servant appeared in an instant. The light pouring through the windows made him appear paler than usual.

"M'lord?"

Xavier: ......He second-thought that drink.

"Let's put the kettle on. We've traveled many miles today, we've earned a cup of tea."

Maximus: Assent with a bow. This time he would use his legs and walk to the kitchen. Some bread and butter would be added to the tea tray as well. A wave of calm seemed to have washed over him since the library.

Xavier: While Maximus put together the tea service, Xavier started a fire for them. The days were getting colder and colder and shorter and shorter, making even this palatial manor house feel cozy and warm.

All that was missing was the record player he still needed to find.

Maximus: What they did have was radio, and in the absence of radio, there was Maximus' voice, quietly singing in Italian while waiting for water to boil.

Xavier: To Xavier, that was just as good as any record he could play. And like nearly every other time Maximus had sung over the past two months, Xavier snuck closer to listen.

Maximus: Despite his hearing, he was not in tune with the house this evening. There was no need for such caution as to listen to every groan and sigh of the floors and corridors. Sweet love songs passed his lips without concern, switching into the more easily spoken French as the kettle whistled.

Xavier: That was something to be thankful for. Still, Xavier didn't want to push his luck and get even closer than he already was, no matter how much he wanted to see the expression on Maximus' face as he sang. He could hear and admire his butler just fine through the wall. Such a beautiful voice and kept so private. He hoped the day would come when it wouldn't be.

He'd wait until the last possible second to make his way back to the drawing room.

Maximus: Wherever his master had wondered throughout the house, his servant would find him, tray in hands. His disposition was composed. No different from the everyday taciturn behavior, with the exception of his eyes. One might call them sedated.

The tray was placed on a table.

"I don't suppose you're famished," he finally said, "but I brought a little something."

Xavier: Xavier gave Maximus a warm smile in greeting. “No Englishman ever said no to food with their tea. Especially when it’s bread.”

Maximus: "It's missing fried clams and sauce. Perhaps tomorrow."

Xavier: “I shall look forward to that. Make me all your Louisiana specialties.”

Maximus: "That's what I'm for, m'lord."

Xavier: You're so much more than that, he thought to himself. He would've said it aloud, but he had a feeling Maximus wasn't quite ready to hear it.

"Until then, sit and have a cup of tea with me. You've earned it."

Maximus: He'd learned not to attempt to argue. A quick lesson of just two months. Only after making his master's cup of tea did he take to a seat near the tray.

November 8, 2019

Xavier: Xavier was glad the lesson had stuck; his next goal was for Maximus to just automatically pour himself a cup or make a plate or sit down of his own free will. Slow and steady.

"How does the frame look in the library?"

Maximus: "As though it should have always been there," he said gently to his cup.

Xavier: "Then it was the correct choice."

Maximus: "Master Atlas." Two words equally delicate, as though barely lifted from his tongue.

Xavier: "Yes, Maximus?" he said softly.

Maximus: The demon blinked, brow furrowed enough to wrinkle. "I don't know."

Xavier: "Is something bothering you?"

Maximus: "No. I just suddenly needed to say your name."

Xavier: He gave Maximus a gentle smile. "You can say it as often as you like."

Maximus: Maximus swallowed and sat his cup aside. "I didn't mean to." His eyes had taken on a daydreamt state.

Xavier: "That's all right, Maximus. I don't mind."

Maximus: "I'm going to...clean now, m'lord. I need -" what was he about to say? That would have been awful. Where was his mind now? "Excuse me." His cup was returned to the tray and abandoned. With brisk stride he removed himself from the room.

Xavier: Xavier's brow furrowed. What had just happened?

He cast a glance at the empty frame. Perhaps....

He set his own cup down and followed after Maximus.

Maximus: He was humming, seemingly without shame, a Chick Bullock song. Breathy lyrics uttered from red wine lips as he headed towards the library. His shoulders slacked from lack of tension. Ungloved fingers gently caressed the banister as he ascended.

Xavier: The furrowed brow became a full-on frown. Maximus was humming? Out in the open? Where Xavier could easily hear?

Something wasn't right.

He waited until his butler reached the landing and turned before starting up the stairs himself.

Maximus: A handful of leather-bound books were pulled from their shelves, thumbed, and set aside. Papers were stacked neatly and put away. Pillows refluffed and returned. The books, written in French, were then gathered in his arm. Center of the room he paused, staring off into space. The demon blinked, looked to his arm and shivered as though shaking off the cold. These were books he had wanted to read since his master brought them home. He couldn't read them all at once. Three of the four were returned.

Xavier: Xavier couldn't quite decide whether he was more fascinated or concerned. Maximus helping himself to books in the library wasn't a shock; Xavier had told him he was free to do so. The...ease about him was definitely noteworthy, however. Usually it seemed like his butler never fully allowed himself to relax, and here he was, relaxed.

What actually concerned him was the moment when Maximus paused and shivered and looked at his arm. Was that the same side the cut had been on?

Maximus: His shiver had begun with his right side, the side which had been pierced by the frame. The bewilderment on his servant's features had been towards his insatiable inclination. With the books returned, he turned towards the door, paused directly in front of the frame. The literature in his hands, a hardback treasure gifted to the world by a woman, was hugged to his chest.

Xavier: "I knew it," Xavier muttered to himself, stepping into his butler's line of sight. His paranoia continued to serve him well.

"Maximus." His tone was light and gentle. Casual even. "We're going to pop into town for a bit. There are some things I need."

Maximus: His butler's posture straightened with a violent jerk, nearly dropped the book from his chest. It was as though he had been struck.

"I can get them for you, m'lord."

Xavier: He smiled. "That's quite all right, I fancy a drive. We could both use a break from our usual form of travel. We can bring the fabric to the shop while we're there."

Maximus: He glanced behind, as though expecting someone to be there. Perhaps the fabric, even. "Will we make it in time? Most stores will be closing soon."

Xavier: "We should, yes. If we don't then that's no bother for us, now is it?" His voice had remained gentle, his smile soft, and reassuring. "Come."

Maximus: "No, it's no bother, but I'd hate for you to be disappointed." His eyes closed, berating himself for all of two seconds. "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "I doubt very much that I will be. We have plenty of time." All is well. Just come to me and away from the frame.

Once Maximus had joined him, Xavier waited until his butler started down the hall before he closed and telepathically locked the library door.

Downstairs, the drawing room door was also locking itself. A simple precaution.

He led them to garage and into the car, keeping a close eye on Maximus as they started down the road.

Maximus: As usual, Maximus opened the passenger side door for his master. Being the one and only servant of the house, he'd quickly grown accustomed to playing every role in one. His surprise was mild when his master refused him.

The fabric had been placed in the backseat. During the drive, he stared out the window, hands in his lap, perfectly quiet.

Xavier: No outward signs of distress. Good. That meant whatever was happening wasn't causing pain.

Time for some tests.

"I was thinking we could stop by the ice cream parlor as well. It's been ages since I had any. What's your favorite flavor?"

Maximus: His servant looked on, nonchalant. "I don't have a favorite."

Xavier: “Perhaps I should buy several for you to see if we can find one.”

Maximus: "That's just frivolous, m'lord."

Xavier: “Frivolity makes life more fun. Let’s also get a cake.”

Maximus: "I can bake you one better than those in town."

Xavier: Xavier grinned. “Can you indeed? What’s your best recipe?”

Maximus: "Praline...with joconde sponge. It's the only one I know, so it's perfect."

Xavier: “In that case, we’ll get you all the ingredients you need. And a cake pan, as I don’t think we have one.”

Maximus: "What do you think I've made your elaborate English pies in?"

Xavier: “Ah, yes,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you must be getting tired of making so much pastry.”

Maximus: "My arms are strong from the effort. You enjoy my cooking. I can't complain about that."

Xavier: Xavier smiled to himself. He was beginning to see the effects. "I do enjoy your cooking, very much. I also enjoy sharing it with you."

Maximus: "It won't last, m'lord." His eyes closed again. "I ask for your forgiveness. I'm behaving most inappropriately."

Xavier: "No, Maximus, you're not behaving inappropriately. This is simply the result of the spell."

Maximus: "I thought previous masters were paranoid."

Xavier: "My paranoia has borne fruit. The frame seems to be lowering all your inhibitions and making you speak your mind."

Maximus: "How do you..."

Xavier: "You're answering all my questions without a filter and you can't seem to stop yourself."

Maximus: "I..." He closed his mouth. Indeed, he was about to say something else. Let's try again. "When did you know?"

Xavier: "You dashed out of the room like you were on fire, kept staring off into space, and gave the frame on the wall a strange look while shivering and looked at the arm you cut."

Maximus: "You followed me?" That's all he heard.

Xavier: "Yes. You never dash anywhere like you're on fire. You walk or hasten in a composed manner."

Maximus: "I didn't...dash. I walked...briskly."

Xavier: "For you, that's a dash."

Maximus: "I couldn't be in the room with you."

Xavier: "Because you kept wanting to say things and couldn't stop yourself?"

Maximus: His eyes remained closed. "I felt human again, but...I was better composed as a child. It made no sense."

Xavier: "It's the frame," he said softly. "Remember how I said that all sorts of spells can be done with blood? It took yours and had this effect on you."

Maximus: "When this is over I - anyway you see fit to punish me, I won't...I accept."

Xavier: "Darling, why would I punish you for something that isn't your fault? You didn't inscribe the frame with a spell and intentionally cut yourself with it."

Maximus: "I wish you would and just get it over with." His hands clutched to white knuckles. "I'm sorry."

Xavier: "Maximus, stop apologizing. I'm not going to punish you. I have no desire to punish you and no plans to punish you."

Maximus: "Please, just once so I can breathe."

Xavier: “I don’t want to punish you. I have absolutely zero desire or intention. I know you keep bracing for it and expecting it but it isn’t going to come.”

Maximus: "You're not the first demon to make that promise, master."

Xavier: “I’m sure I’m not. But I’m the first that plans to keep it.”

Maximus: "You're going to hurt more than anyone before you."

Xavier: "I sincerely hope I don't," he said softly. "I don't want to hurt you, Maximus."

Maximus: "Please forget everything I've said today when this is over."

Xavier: "I'll forget everything but your promise for fried clams and sauce." He offered a small smile.

Maximus: And all without having to open his eyes. He was grateful he'd been allowed.

"Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s get this frame situation sorted.”

Maximus: "What are you going to do?"

Xavier: “I’m going to try a simple cleansing spell. Ancient Roman in origin. I need salt, spelt, and sage.”

Maximus: "So you are going to hurt me."

Xavier: "Oh no, not for you. For the frame, to get rid of the spell."

Maximus: We don't know what that might do to me. A thought he just managed to keep to himself. "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: Indeed they did not. Xavier hoped that cleansing the spell from the frame would break its effect on Maximus but there was no way to be sure. Unless...

"There is another option. I could contact Aello."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." There was no way around an argument.

Xavier: "How do you feel? Physically?"

Maximus: With a full understanding of his predicament, he managed to swallow his words.

"Several ways."

Xavier: "Could you tell me? I wouldn't pry, but I need to understand what's happening to you so I can try to understand the spell."

Maximus: "I beg you, please don't demand of me."

Xavier: Xavier sighed softly. "Very well. Can I at least ask if you are in pain?"

Maximus: "No pain, m'lord."

Xavier: He nodded. At least there was that.

"Very well. We'll drop off the fabric and get the items I need and I suppose we'll see how to proceed from there."

Maximus: "If you'll allow me, I can find a way to deal with this myself. I am at fault."

Xavier: "Darling, I really wish you would stop blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault. You were inspecting the frames because I suspected they were enchanted somehow."

Maximus: "I shouldn't have regarded him at all. It wasn't my place. I am not darling."

Xavier: "You had no reason not to regard him. When we walked into his shop, we thought he was simply another shopkeeper. We must have interacted with a dozen shopkeepers over the past couple of months, no reason to suspect anything amiss."

Maximus: "But he didn't look at you the way he looked at me. It was me, m'lord."

Xavier: "He did the looking, Maximus, not you. His fixation, his strange attention. You did as I asked and stayed behind me. You didn't instigate this."

Maximus: "I -" Both fists cracked under the strain of his clench. They always look. It's always initiated by others. I cannot have a year of peace. I know this. What do I do? What do my eyes say that I cannot conceal? What am I constantly doing wrong? What did Mays see?

"Your confidence in me knows no bounds."

Xavier: "No, it doesn't." Said with complete conviction and no hesitation. "Our bond means your loyalty has been given to me. It also means mine has been given to you. You're part of my household. I will defend you, I will answer for you, and I will see you provided for."

Maximus: "Did you mean this pact when you created my summons?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. "I didn't anticipate it, no. That the bond would beget loyalty I knew. The rest of it? It's because it's you."

Maximus: "I don't deserve it."

Xavier: "And I don't deserve a beautiful estate and an enviable art collection and wardrobe. But I have all of that anyway."

Maximus: He could control this, so long as he kept his grip. If he clenched enough to bleed, then he could keep silent. The town was within sight.

Xavier: Within sight and quickly getting closer. Should he stop talking or try to diffuse or distract?

"If we're very lucky, there could be a time limit on the spell's efficacy. I wonder if transporting the frames out of the house would help. I could make actual copies of them and keep the enchanted originals in the warehouse."

Maximus: "I think we should call him. I want to know why, and what's to come of this. Or see to him."

His fingers released, revealing rows of crescent blood.

Xavier: "Seeing him might be asking for trouble. We'll find a phone box and give him a call."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "I won't tell him the spell is affecting you. I'll tell him it's affecting a member of my household staff. I learned long ago not to provide details unless explicitly asked for them."

Maximus: "He'll know," he said, forcing himself to heal. In doing so, a wave of calm washed over him. He felt the tension release from his muscles of their own accord.

Xavier: "Perhaps, perhaps not. For all he knows I have a full accompaniment of maids, footmen, and hall boys."

Maximus: Without word, Maximus disappeared from the moving vehicle. Appearing on the side of the road next to the small, lonesome post office.

Xavier: He should've been surprised, but considering what he had guessed about the spell--and what Maximus had admitted--his butler's disappearance came as no shock. He could only imagine what Maximus was stopping himself from saying.

The car was parked and Xavier soon joined his butler. "Would you like to listen in on the call or would you rather stay out here?"

Maximus: A cigarette rested between his lips as His Lordship made his approach. He faced away as he apologized.

"I shall do whatever you think is best, m'lord," said softly, a gust of smoke with each word.

Xavier: “I’m asking what you want. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, I should say. You’ve had a long day.”

Maximus: "I want many things. I want to say your name and I want - I want to finish this cigarette and forget today."

Xavier: Xavier nodded and tried to offer what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Finish your cigarette. I'm going to go make this call and hope it bears fruit."

Maximus: Yes, Xavier, he thought. He turned his back on him entirely, taking a long, agonizingly slow drag in the hopes of burning his lungs.

Xavier: It wouldn't be held against him. This was turning into a very, very strange day.

Xavier excused himself and stepped into the booth, closing the door behind him. He called the long-distance operator and asked to be put through to Aello's shop, simultaneously hoping the man would answer and dreading that he would.

Maximus: The line connected after two to rings. The silence which followed, however brief, swelled with an aura of anticipation. The voice on the other line was no less grand and humored as it had been in October.

"Rossmara, how fortunate to receive you."

Xavier: The greeting gave Xavier pause. He hadn't given Aello the name Rossmara. He'd given him his vessel's name. Deidrich.

"Good evening, Mr. Aello," he said evenly. "Should I venture to guess that you've been expecting my call?"

Maximus: "You may venture much! It might all bear fruit. At any rate, I am very pleased to hear from you."

Xavier: "I wish I could say I'm calling under pleasant circumstances, Mr. Aello. I have a bone to pick with you."

Maximus: "You make it sound so unpleasant. I hear it in your tone. Quite sour. Though such matters should be discussed face-to-face, you and the young master might have qualms. I promise you there would be none. Would you prefer Rossmara, Deidrich, or Atlas?"

Xavier: "Well, I must confess that I am quite sour, whatever you see fit to call me. I would prefer to know why a legitimate purchase from what I assume to be a legitimate business has resulted in the maiming of one of my members of staff."

Maximus: "Maim? Maim?!" A full-bodied laughter crackled the line. "Heavens no! No, he is quite safe."

Xavier: "I'm afraid to disagree. Blood has been spilled absent cause, Mr. Aello."

Maximus: "Only in being unfathomable to you is it absent anything. I promise it was just a drop. A drop of knowledge beneficial to the both of us. I needed to know his structure."

Xavier: "May I ask why? Have we committed some offense against you, in this life or a past one?"

Maximus: "Offense? My good demon, there is no offense made! Only in regard to the creatures that wound the little doll without releasing the key."

Xavier: "Am I to understand that you contrived to steal blood in order to help?"

Maximus: "As I previously stated, I wished to understand his structure. His aura was covered in brambles he did not intentionally grow, from a single vine planted years ago. I had to see his unguarded underbelly. I'm so very glad I did. Do forgive me, but I believe I can give him, what shall we call it...a more suitable forever home, should you allow me to just take him off your hands. I have been looking for such man for what feels like a millennium."

Xavier: "Well, Mr. Aello, you're going to have to continue your search for a while longer. He is not a frame or some other commodity that is for sale and I am not going to part with him. He is under my care and begging your pardon, I think he is in the most suitable home he can be in. What's more, he is currently in distress and I would very much appreciate your insights into how I might relieve it."

Maximus: "As we are begging pardons, I must ask one of you. Everything has a price, and despite your fairness for buying full price, you are a demon with another demon under your thumb. Surely, it would be of no great effort to find yourself another."

Xavier: "It's not a matter of effort, Mr. Aello, it's a matter of loyalty and principle. Shocking, I know."

Maximus: "How much is he worth to you? Substantial comfort? Riches? What about pain? How much are you willing to sacrifice to keep him? Everything has a price. Name his worth and I shall concede."

Xavier: Xavier's jaw clenched. He looked to the man outside, suddenly struck with how much he had come to mean in a mere two months.

"Not everything, Mr. Aello," he said softly. "How much would it cost me for you to leave us alone? To leave him alone?"

Maximus: A rumbling hum. "Do you like him this way? Honest? Have you heard a venomous word from his lips?"

Xavier: "He did not choose to be this way. He is not comfortable this way. I was not exaggerating when I said he was distressed, nor was I being facetious when I asked you how I might relieve it."

Maximus: "I am giving you the release, should you answer my question. There is no need for all of that, Your Lordship."

Xavier: "I like him the way he is, not the way the spell is making him be." As much as he wanted Maximus to be more open and comfortable around him, Xavier had no intention of forcing it and he didn't care to see someone else forcing it. He owed Maximus more than to have someone change him on a whim. He didn't want someone to change him, he liked his butler precisely the way he was, absent artifice or embellishments.

Can you hear that in his voice, Mr. Aello?

Maximus: A long calm silence followed. "And the unkind word? Has there been one?"

Xavier: "No, there has not."

Maximus: "Truth without spite. Truth gentle and sweet like nectar. One day you will realize you cannot keep him to breast. When that day comes, it is my sincere hope you remember the name Aello. Have him drink from honeysuckle. Place your thumb to his forehead, and his underbelly shall be armored once more."

Xavier: Xavier heaved a long, silent breath of relief. "I do not know how much you know of me, Mr. Aello, but if there's one thing I'm proficient at in this life, it's holding the things that matter to breast. I thank you for your assistance."

Maximus: "I do it for Master Fairchild, my good demon. I will take a knee for now, but this will not be my final hello and goodbye. To your health and good fortune." Only a moment later did the line sever.

Xavier: "So do I," Xavier murmured to himself once the line disconnected. "So do I."

He took a moment to compose himself and rejoined Maximus, face all smiles. "You'll soon be feeling like yourself, Maximus."

Maximus: His servant was well into his second cigarette. His master's presence was enough cause to stamp the ember on the pavement.

"May I ask what happened?"

Xavier: "I asked him for help and he gave it to me."

Maximus: "But...But why...?"

Xavier: "Why did he do it or why did he help?"

Maximus: His posture, though correct, lacked a little something in the shoulders. "Both, please."

Xavier: Xavier found and held Maximus’ gaze. “He wanted to take you for himself and when I refused to give you over he relented and told me how to break the spell.”

Maximus: "Take me, m'lord? I'm nobody. Nobody to notice like that."

Xavier: “It would seem that you are.”

Maximus: "I...I'm sorry. It was my fault, as I said."

Xavier: “You can’t be faulted for existing, and I won’t fault you for existing.”

Maximus: "You're not a demon."

Xavier: “Then I really would like that whole sulfur business to come to an end.” Dare he hope for a smile?

Maximus: Rather than a smile, he closed his eyes. Nothing so harsh as though in self-beration. It was as though he'd been kissed on the cheek.

Xavier: Too soon for hope. Tomorrow was another day.

“Come. We must procure some honeysuckle.”

Maximus: "This was a fae if ever one were to craft a spell."

Xavier: “Couldn’t have said it better myself. It’s rather disarming to have my aliases known.”

Maximus: "He knew you?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded and led the way back to the car. "Yes. When he first answered me called me Rossmara, and later on he asked if I preferred to be called Atlas, Rossmara, or Deidrich."

Maximus: "Everything he does is based on truth, from the moment we met him."

Xavier: "Including his spell." He telepathically opened both their doors. No humans around to see at the moment.

Maximus: "There's honeysuckle at home. If you would prefer to go home, I will drive the car back, m'lord."

Xavier: "Ah, very good. Then we've only to stop at the fabric shop." And he would be driving.

Maximus: "I take that as a no, then." He made his way around to the passenger's side.

Xavier: "Tomorrow everything can return to normal. Today, let me look after you."

Maximus: He resorted to biting his tongue. Stop making me feel wanted.

"As you wish, Lord Atlas."

Xavier: "Thank you. Off we go, then."

They managed to arrive at the shop just before the owner was set to close, and even then they were only granted entry because the woman knew theirs was a big, high paying job.

Xavier handed over the fabric, money, and his requirements in short order and they were soon on their way back home.

Maximus: Maximus resorted to standing outside. He felt so inappropriate and useless. How they could return to what they were after his appalling behavior he didn't know. A decision needed to be made, one which forced the childhood habit of biting his thumbnail and hugging himself. He was vulnerable, and his reputation forever tarnished.

Back in the car, he stared out his window.

"Just after the gate, the honeysuckle is that way," he gestured.

Xavier: Xavier looked in the direction Maximus indicated and nodded.

Before they got to that, there was something he needed to say.

"Do you remember," he began softly, "what you asked me that afternoon we had tea at the Plaza?"

Maximus: Moistened lips parted, a gentle utterance of yes. Of course he remembered that afternoon. "But things are different now, aren't they?"

Xavier: "No, they aren't." He brought the car to a stop and turned to Maximus. "Aello thought he could offer me something in exchange for you. He asked me to name my price because he assumed I was like many of our brethren, absent principle and consumed by greed. So I told him what I'm about to tell you."

Only when he was certain Maximus was listening did he continue. "You are not a commodity to me. You are not something to be traded or sold. I told you that you were mine and you are mine. I will not allow someone to try to undermine our bond, remove you from your home, or hurt you on a whim. Not Aello, not anyone."

Maximus: When the car came to a halt, his anticipation spiked and plummeted, and again when his master turned to face him. An unpleasant knot had formed on the back of his neck from the stress. His mind and body could not come to an agreement.

For once in their brief history, he felt the difference in their ages. He was his first; he could not blame the demon for his gracious ignorance.

"When you were handed that scrap of paper, you were given the promise of a slave. No matter how beguiling your words, you know. I am yours. You will not allow anyone else to have what belongs to you. Your kindness has its limitations. You can't even set me free, had you a mind to. I would be given to someone else in less than an hour. No matter the gesture, you will always be master."

Whether it was Aello's intention or not, he had given Maximus a shallow form of his expectation. One way or another, he knew Xavier Atlas would hurt him. His altruism was an affliction.

"I'm going to get out now, m'lord," he whispered.

Xavier: He could strangle that bleeding Fae. He still had a mind to. Veiled threats didn’t sit well with him and that’s what Aello truly was.

“I don’t know how much honeysuckle we’ll need,” he responded softly. “I’ll grab a bunch. The spell won’t take more than a few moments.”

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord." The door was shut gently behind him.

Xavier: Sighing, Xavier went to park the car before going in search of honeysuckle, mildly annoyed at himself for not asking how much.

There was precious little nectar in each flower so....surely a bouquet would do. If more was needed he’d bring every last flower back to the house.

Maximus: Maximus remained in the woods on the grounds. He'd found a bush covered in pale pink honeysuckle and felt no inclination to move. His master would find him eventually.

Xavier: Xavier had gotten to know the woods surrounding his estate rather well since they'd been here and found Maximus rather quickly. He was eager to be done with this.

"Maximus?" he called softly to announce his presence.

Maximus: His servant turned, a tiny flower pinched between his fingers. "The day started out so well," he said softly. "With all things considered."

Xavier: "It did. You'll like Massimo's work. He only gives his best, even more so when it's someone he likes."

Maximus: He had nothing to say in regard to Massimo. His impulse told him to offer the flower to his master, and so he did.

Xavier: Xavier accepted it, and offered the bouquet in return. "You have to drink the nectar while I say an incantation." He paused for a beat. "It requires that I touch you."

Maximus: "You don't have to seek permission," he said without thinking. At this point he just accepted his fate while he knew it to last.

Xavier: He didn't respond verbally, but his look very clearly said 'yes I do'.

"I have to press my thumb to your forehead. It will only take a few moments."

Maximus: For everything this spell forced from his quiet thoughts and untouched impulses, looking at a tiny pink flower and deciding it to be edible had not crossed his mind. He closed his eyes. Without apology, the honeysuckle was placed on his tongue. Bitter petals and a sweet surprise.

Xavier: "Keep eating them until I finish. Just to be safe."

With greater care than he could remember doing anything, Xavier pressed his thumb to Maximus' forehead and began the incantation.

"Truth without spite," he murmured. "Truth gentle and sweet like nectar."

Maximus: Those were the words meant to be said during this spell? Had the spell been designed that way, or was this meant to reflect himself? Eyes opened, looking at his master with confusion. He...had nothing to say. His compulsion to embarrass himself had dissipated.

Xavier: The confusion caught him off guard. "Are you all right? Did it work?"

Maximus: "What does that even mean, m'lord?" asked quietly.

Xavier: "The incantation?"

Maximus: For some reason the words upset him. They were too syrupy in his regard.

He realized he had yet to speak.

"It's over."

Xavier: Shoulders he hadn't noticed were tense relaxed. "Good. Excellent. That's the incantation Aello gave me. I didn't question it."

Maximus: While the man in front of him began to square his own.

He couldn't let go of their words. Gentle and sweet like nectar. Was that supposed to be him?

"Then I shall not either," he lied.

Xavier: "If you find the effects are only temporary or more present themselves, tell me immediately. I wouldn't put it past that blasted Fae to continue to play games."

Maximus: His expression had lost its mellow. The same gaze just shy of his master's eyes. "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "Even the tiniest thing amiss. Now that I know doing so won't hurt you, I'll cleanse the frames tomorrow and see about having a telephone put in."

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. Shall I get started on dinner?" Perhaps his appetite had reappeared since their ordeal.

Xavier: "Yes, thank you." He needed a meal, a drink, and a long brood.

Maximus: With a quick little bow, he turned and headed towards the house.

Xavier: Xavier waited until Maximus had disappeared inside before letting out a long sigh. How was it only dinner time? The day had felt eternal.

Then again, unwanted and insidious Fae magic tended to do that.

"And we're meant to be the demons," he muttered, heading up to the library to begin his drinking and brooding.

Maximus: The menu was an uncomplicated three course meal. Bourbon stout French onion soup with beef consommé, Louisiana beef stew served in bread bowl, a single serving apricot gelatin salad. A bold red wine would be poured from his left, without word or prompt. A subtle white for dessert. His toy soldier had returned to customary form. Sober, sharp features and immaculate dress; white gloves included. If offered to join, he would say he was replete from taste testing. Eyes forward, quiet in his corner of the room.

Xavier: Xavier wanted nothing more than to have his household returned to normal, so of course Maximus would be invited to join him. He still held hope that one day his butler would simply sit at the table without prompt or invitation, but just now with Maximus' refusal that hope felt very small.

"Maximus," he said at last, looking up from his stew. "Please sit down. You don't have to eat if you don't want to or speak to me or even look at me, but please sit down."

Maximus: I'd rather not, he wanted to say, but refused. Quietly, instead, he took the furthest seat at the table. Fingers laced together and rested in front of him on the table.

Xavier: Having expected Maximus to politely decline once more, it was a pleasant surprise that he'd actually sat. Perhaps things weren't quite so hopeless.

And perhaps his optimism was due to the wine selection and hearty food. Impossible to tell at the moment.

"Splendid work," he said softly. "Everything is delicious."

Maximus: "Thank you, m'lord," said just as softly.

Xavier: "There's a delivery coming tomorrow from Bordeaux. Six cases of wine, four red, two white. I've already settled the bill."

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. I'll see to it."

Xavier: "We'll go to the post office tomorrow morning and inquire about getting a telephone put in. Perhaps two, one for each end of the house. Perhaps the library and the butler's pantry?"

Maximus: Again, "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "I would also like to finally see to the record players and radios and a television set for my sitting room. Would you like one?"

Maximus: "I have my radio, m'lord. Thank you."

Xavier: "I meant a television set."

Maximus: "I mean I am content."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "Very well."

Maximus: Maximus subtly gestured to his plate, asking without words if he was finished with his main course.

Xavier: He nodded again. Yes, he was finished.

Maximus: Then dinner would be traded for dessert, and without having to be told, he returned to his seat, as he supposed his master would desire.

Xavier: It was an inkling of what he desired, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Maximus was thanked and complimented again, for the dessert and the wine selection.

Maximus: "Do you like movies, m'lord?" A question to break the silence.

Xavier: Another pleasant surprise.

"I do, yes. Very much."

Maximus: "When we were in town, I saw a poster for Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

Xavier: His interest piqued, and it showed. "Did you indeed? Is it playing now or sometime soon?"

Maximus: "This weekend, m'lord. Would you like for me to get you a ticket?"

Xavier: "Yes, if you get two."

Maximus: "Oh..."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. His offer was on the table and he wouldn't elaborate. If Maximus agreed to come then splendid, they'd have a nice evening at the pictures. If not, no pictures and no harm done.

Maximus: "Saturday afternoon, m'lord?" he eventually conceded.

Xavier: At last, a soft smile. "Saturday afternoon sounds lovely."

Maximus: "Very good...m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier nodded again, much more cheerful as he finished his dessert.

#The Truth in the Frame chapter #maximusfairchild

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junkpoetic · 3 years

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Six

The next morning, Elliot was a bit ornery about what we should do for the day. He didn’t seem to want to get out of bed and grab breakfast, so I met Juno in Quincy Market at a place called Neptune’s Café. The walls were painted cold blue; however the atmosphere was warm. I left

“Why are you so intrigued by my name?” She asked.

“I don’t know, it’s a good name, I like it.”

“You’ve never asked me where I am from.”

“Yes, I did, Winnipeg.” I replied.

“No, I was born there, I am from Jersey, I am actually going there soon.”

“How soon?” I asked accidentally.

“How soon is now?” she smirked.

“I love that song! But aren’t you from where you are born?”

“Not necessarily.” She arranged her thoughts in her head before continuing. “I live in Boston. I am from Jersey. I was born in Winnipeg.”

“Okay, so where you’re from, is where you grew up?”

“I guess it changes. If I were on vacation and a stranger asked me where I am from, I would say Boston, because Jersey is irrelevant to them.”

“So… if you asked me where I am from, I should tell you where I live now, not where I am from?” I teased.

“I haven’t asked where you are from?”

I thought about it. “I don’t believe so.”

“Am I a stranger?” She asked.

“You are not.” I replied.

“Where are you from?”

I laughed. “I don’t know anymore; I am so fucking confused.”

“Places are just places right?” She smiled.

“What’re you going to do in Jersey?”

“I planned a surf weekend with friends. They might come here instead though. It depends on the weather.”

“Surfing in October?” I thought she was kidding.

“Prominent breaks man, the best waves all year. Not to mention the ocean is empty, so all the waves are mine.”

Curiouser. “So, you’re a surfer?”

She slowly inhaled a sip of coffee. “I don’t know, I like to surf. What constitutes being a surfer?” She said coyishly.

“I always assumed the act of surfing?” I replied.

She raised the question. “So… if you kill one person, you’re a murderer?”

“It depends on if it was murder…” I replied.

“If you kill three people and by pure happenstance all of the killings are done the same way to people with the same profile, are you automatically a serial killer?” She was on a roll. There was no stopping her.

“Hmmm, I am not sure. I guess it depends on the connotation.”

“So, if my intent is to become a serial killer when I grow up, the first few kills would be in training? Then once I hit a number, I get my serial killer certificate… however, if I just happen to accidentally kill three similar looking people, the kills are considered null, and I am not a serial killer?”

I tented my hands and stabbed my chin with my fingers lightly. “Yes, I think we’ve nailed it down.”

She laughed. “Yes, I am a surfer.”

“Epic.” I smiled.

I learned a lot more about Juno Rafferty that morning. Eventually Elliot met up with us, and then Madeline did too. It’s funny I have known of Madeline for such a long time, yet I know nothing about her other than her nickname she acquired somewhere in her youth from being known for enjoying a cocaine high. She may have only done it once and I have defined her by it. She seemed to be very successful, she owned her own internet clothing company, and lived in a large flat on Newbury. It goes along with what Juno said about one thing defining you being untrue. Imagine if our youth defined our entire lives? Imagine if we could never climb out of it? I had to laugh though, here I was with Juno, who’s name literally means youth, and here she was defining me. There are some days I like being inside my head, stuck, like we were on the rooftop, today was one of those days.

Elliot was very intrigued by surfing in October. So much so that he was looking for spots nearby. He’d never even surfed but always wanted to at least try it. All the years we’d been coming here, it was always summer, the beaches were overcrowded, and the waves sucked. Juno explained that if you can surf the north Atlantic coast, you can surf anywhere.

We had two days left on trip and things felt a little awkward now knowing Elliot’s fate, and though he was vague when I asked what kind of cancer, it was still very sobering knowledge. Like anyone, I held out hope that maybe a mistake was made somewhere. Maybe they mixed up his chart. Maybe he was just too dehydrated and out of shape on marathon day. I kept putting all these thoughts in a blender and spinning them around my head. Adding to it with every new thought, or glimmer of hope.

After breakfast Juno and Madeline went about their separate ways. Elliot was fixated on his phone searching for surf spots. Whenever he got something in his head, he had to live it out. I loved that about him. He had the confidence to do really anything. If I mentioned skydiving, we would probably be on a plane this afternoon. Instead, we spent the afternoon in a surf shop that Juno recommended called Motion Surf.

Lorelei Zimmerman had the curliest blonde hair. She was named after Marilyn Monroe’s character in the fifties movie “Gentleman Prefer Blondes”. She had never seen the movie, but she liked that the origin of her name derived from Marilyn Monroe. She was in her early thirties, probably the same age as Juno, or close to it. She had a welcoming soul, and she took the time to explain surfing to Elliot and I, two guys amid their forties, who had absolutely zero clue about it. She spent her youth surfing in Australia, it was in her blood, she studied abroad in Boston where she met her now husband Rami and they put their roots down in here. The way she spoke of Australia, I could tell she missed it dearly.

“Catching an unbroken wave is one of the most difficult things to learn as a novice.” She explained that patience and persistence would pay off because the feeling of dropping in on a green wave for the first time is an out of body experience. She reflected on her first green wave as if she had just ridden it into shore. Elliot handed her his credit card and told her to get us everything we’d need to surf and since we were leaving in a few days, he told her to teach us as fast as she could. She laughed and began talking about the four stages of waves and how to approach them.

“The first stage is a lump in the water, and basically impossible to catch. The second stage is the delicate sweet spot and hitting it right is essential. This is where you begin paddling into it. In the third stage is when the wave breaks onto your back. The wave is broken in the last stage and now white water. Positioning is everything when trying to predict when the wave will break.”

Elliot was listening so intently as she spoke. Her accented words were becoming glued to the inside of his mind.

“You want to be about five meters out from where the waves are breaking. Look for the lumps in the horizon that look like stage A waves. Once you pick a wave paddle with it matching the speed of the wave. Matching the speed is difficult because there is no force pulling you forward. Once you have proper paddling strokes and your body is centered on the board, gravity arrives. Keep your head down low over the nose of the board as you’re lifting up on the wave. Gravity becomes your best friend once you’re in position. When you feel confident on the wave, you’ll know when you feel it, that’s when you pop up. Never hesitate to pop up.”

She popped up on a surfboard on the carpet showing us the proper ways.

“Don’t go out too far, it’s such a common mistake new surfers make. See where other surfers are and follow their lead.”

She helped us pick out surfboards, and then even waxed them for us. Elliot’s board had a drawing of a guy on it that looked like he was vomiting a rainbow. It looks much better than it sounds. He said that specific board spoke to him as if it were the chosen one. I just nodded my head and said OKAY. My board had a skull on it with a snake crawling through the mouth and up through the eye of it. It was colored with the most beautiful blues and greens. The first wetsuit Elliot tried on was too tight leaving little to the imagination. It was hilarious watching Lorelei try not to look down at his forty-six-year-old package. He was almost flaunting it, but he kept a straight face.

Lorelei said she’d be happy to meet up this weekend at Nauset Beach to help us get our feet wet, no pun intended. Her words not mine. We agreed to stay through the weekend, because well, Elliot was now obsessed with wanting to surf… in Boston, in October. It’s also weird how long ago the marathon felt … fucking time.

We kept it pretty low key later that night. We went to an Italian restaurant called Giacomo’s on the north end and ordered the works. It was our favorite spot to eat whenever we came into town. Italian food tastes worlds better in October than it does in June. Maybe we’ve been doing it wrong the entire time. Elliot ordered as if it were his last meal. King prawns, calamari, manicotti, some sort of pasta with scallops too. He ate every god damn bite and then washed it down with a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Amarone. I was full just watching him eat as I snacked on bruschetta drizzled in the freshest olive oil. I also had the caprese salad with pesto along with a seafood linguini. Everything tasted so damn good I almost wished it was our last meal.

“You really think we can pull off surfing?” I said tossing my napkin onto my plate.

“We’re going to god damn try.” He said still chewing whatever it was he was chewing.

“Always an adventure.” I said feeling a bit sentimental.

“Still can’t believe I couldn’t finish the marathon…”

“But you did…”

“In a way.” He said modestly. “I wasn’t going to tell you by the way.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I am dying.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I haven’t even told Louise.”

“Are you kidding?” I almost choked on a cherry tomato.

The waitress interrupted and Elliot ordered us an entire key lime pie for dessert, and I must be honest, I didn’t think I could fit another calorie in my body. When they put it in front of us it was still smoking from the freezer and God dammit when I sunk my teeth into that tangy ice cold vanilla and key lime pie all down to that glazed graham cracker crust I saw my life flash before me in a montage both bittersweet and beautiful from the time Elliot and I were kids in the street playing baseball and drinking lemonade, all the way up to the rooftop last night with Juno Rafferty and attempting to feel up every single one of the shiver bumps on her tight cold skin. All the good, the bad, and the ugly, in that same fucking blender that I call my mind that just spins constantly like a cyclone vomiting rainbows among other things less attractive.

After dinner we walked out into the rainy night and up and down the streets in the north end. We bought cigars and smoked them on a sidewalk outside of an all-night café before catching a cab back to the hotel and calling it a night.

“Today was a good day.” Elliot said before we parted ways for the night.

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shytiff · 3 years

Text

June Small Wins

1 - ecmocard meeting with ppl from aussie to learn to sort out data. Felt better after the meeting cause i didnt feel like doing anything before. Got two season deli box cake from dapur cokelat for nessa. Videocalled w her and ren.

2 - dr eva chatted and gave things to do. I also need to make intern log for dr retha. I just cant bring myself to start. Finally mustered the courage. Im not the type of person for wfh. At least in this house. Finished reading love or hate. I rly felt like shit at night.

3 - started reading positively yours. Had no will to do anything

4 - some more sending spss work for dr eva. weekdays with no “outside work” rly render me useless in functioning. a vegetable

5 - iluni webinar. Lost my attention during electrolyte and fluid stuff. tried to cook ribeye steak lmao (meat from @/fridaymeatshop). Its too chewy and leathery. But its not too welldone. And at least it tastes good. Went to depok by krl. its quite quick since krl arrived just after im at poris and duri. went ahead of silvi devi. satpam on the lobby wont open the access hhhh (i dont have one. i dunno why. mom said she cant find it although we supposedly have 2). but my mood improved once im upstairs. we prepped a bit of deco. conversed in the dark so not to make racheel suspicious. surprisee. had truffle belly chicken cheese for dinner. the cheese was not to cheesy, its more of a gentle taste. mushroom tastes better. we watched sweet and sour from my mobile data. surprisingly, its not that much of data. slept at like 12-1ish

6 - the electric token went out in the morning. we went for a walk in ui. the PLK man across of st ui forbade us from going in. ugh. but it was rly empty. so we went from barel. its empty on the library. there was a dog that walked along with us. talked a bit in front of the lake. went back. i got 2 moon chicken (the basic flavor and not the wings) and spicy jumeokbap. the jumeokbap was nothing like what i had in korea. like the seaweed’s taste doesnt come out that much, and its not that flavorful/savory. the one in korea its good even by itself. went back to jkt nebeng reza silvi with devi. originally planned to go to flavola, but my head kinda hurts, so i finished my moon chicken at the mushola and asked juan to pick me up. still feel healthy and normal after going and staying out, so i started reading a book abt handwriting analysis lmaoo. fell asleep. tried several attempts to figure out my bpjs number and turns out the best there is to respond is BPJS’ twitter. the problem was solved under 5 mins.

7 - woke up, fell asleep again. Adita told me that i might be interviewed today for the ipd intern but theres no info. Did the registration stuff for my bpjs. Registered for npwp. Watched bts x na pd

8 - off to RSF. its audit day today. hiks to phonecall follow up work. i did not do anything inaco related, i just sat there and did dr dafsah’s excel. dr vera bought me pecel ayam hehe yay. went to como park to meet up with indah regen. tried ricotta pizza from pizza place (33k). the cheese is cheese but not that typical cheesy (?) coupled with mushroom. i had to add sauce to withstand the last bites (still kinda full). tried other’s as well, pesto and mushroom. pesto had the most taste. while waiting for doggo to arrive, we bought gelato (S: 35k). apparently their special flavor was ricotta lmao. tried green tea (bitter, which i like) and peanut butter + caramel, which makes you feel thirsty. watched the doggos from the sidelines. after maghrib we went to 1/15. ordered ice mocha (50k). the chocolate taste stood out more. not gonna order again lol. the staff initially recommended pandan flavor. took grab to gbk station to go home.

9 - rsf. second audit day. i hate it here lmao. im not even paid for my time here. excused myself to eat. turns out mbak Ai bought hokben. i almost forgot thanking her since i felt hungry with a bit of headache. talked a bit with dr retha regarding changes of assistant (since internship is soon). went back and immediately laid down in bed. mom bought pizza so thats what i ate for dinner. fell asleep (i can feel it. my face will get consequences)

10 - cant bring myself to do anything. i reread painter of the night lmao. seungho is a prick. inhun is also a prick (a greedy one). ate arirang bone marrow. put the egg-seasoning mixture to the pan since im not confident enough to just pour boiling water into the bowl. felt surprisingly full. went to sbux. green tea latte as usual. but turns out tumblr 50% promo only applies to sbux member. so i had to pay 40k for my green tea latte. at least i got to feel good from outside vibes. did some follow up for INACO patients.

11 - went to rm rsf. Took lots of photos of RM. I was given rujak by the rm staff lmaoo so cute. Didnt do any entry afterwards lmao i just laid down

12 - breakfast is paldo jjajangmen and egg. It tasted like soy. Its good but not in a micin way. Its quite fulfilling. Had some of the beef slices by putting it in a buttered pan (is it pan fried? Grilled? Idk). Had banana and brownies together (makes it rly good). Did a bit of clires work. I drank sbux's caramel macchiato but yall my stomach cant handle it lmao. It hurts so much that i even got a headache. So i just laid down in bed

13 - had arirang again loll. Inserted the egg to the pan still, but quicker this time. Its too salty today. Maybe its not enough water. I was eating it while googling how to remove excess sodium. Ate the rest of beef slices (shared with bros ofc) and mixed some with moms fried rice. Ate banana brownies again. Felt soooo full. Did some clires work accompanied by sbux matcha

14 - i felt like shit this morning. Watched leahs vid. Listened to her podcast while having bfast. I walked from moms car to bougenville while still feeling like shit. It slowly gets better afterwards, thankfully. Did some clires and follow up. Went to gandy steak in dr retha's car (which had anesthesiology textbook inside). Tried aus sirloin steak. The bread tasted ok. The garlic bread also ok. The mashed potato was so so (the one in depok was more creamy and smooth). The steak was good, especially the fat part, the sauce so so. Honestly that depok steak had more value for money compared to this, i think. Nebeng dr rara and husband to busway station. Arrived in ar and i immediately showered, such wow 👏👏

15 - today is no rsf day aka self made wfh day. Moms getting vaccinated today. I just lazed. And read kanej fics

16 - off to rsf. Took care of rm stuff. Tried social affair's croffle since i was so curious (60k [10k tip]). The nutella and cinnamon sugar one. Its crunchy and a bit crumbly inside, but not as fragile as croissant. Its quite fulfilling too. But its basically flour batter variations. (thats what mom would say). randomly chatted racheel and we ended up taking a walk and a bit of jog citra 6 (with my sneakon regular shoes). My left tendon was screaming lol. Picked up by juan who surprisingly effortlessly found the address at night.

17 - mbak aan chatted me today to go to rscm. Met prof murdani at pesc and he gave me ppt assigment for 13:30 THAT DAY. Finished it unsatisfyingly (i wish i couldve done more). Lunch was free bebek bkb yay thankyou Prof c: (he even asked what did i ate) took care of legalisir stuff. Went home by tj. Drank matcha w vsoy and i somehow was not sleepy after maghrib. I also changed my desj layout. Maybe it kinda works to separate my spaces

18 - arrived at rscm at 8-ish. sent updated thibbun nabawi ppt. literature search. and then somehow its 14:30. went to SCI w ara wani rasyid. tried bandeng nyonya, oyster, salmon, cumi lada garam (its crazy good among all the good tasting food wtff), shrimp and pocai telor (veggie stuff). dessert was thailand cassava. spent about 190k. went back by TJ. had wudu at pulomas and prayed ashar on the bus lol. i passed out after playing w my phone lmaoo

19 - spent almost the whole day just sleeping and eating. finally showered in the afternoon. had matcha vsoy latte after maghrib and with enough day sleeping, i did presentation outline. at like 1/2 am i initially planned to sleep but my eyes still have plenty of watts. so i read hold me tight. slept at like 4/5 am

20 - woke up at 9. off to om dokter’s house to ask for healthy letter. we talked almost the entire time im there lol. before u know it mom and dad’s done talking with grandma. om dokter shared some of his experiences in the past. and he said something about making your choice and living with it, and it will all have a meaning even if you might initially agonize about it. girl i was holding back tears. here he was talking about choices, something i never rly talk about at my house. im getting teary just typing this. he talked about it in a way that sounds simple, even though i agonized abt internship choices and sometimes avoid thinking about it. it rly rly was a new experience. i dont rly talk about “choices” with my parents. so hearing how to go through options in life from a person i can relate to regarding this med stuff is. i feel like i would have loved it if i can hear his wisdom earlier. i dont talk with him much if my parents are around bcs they will just meddle and say stuff that wreck my peace. they dont rly know what im going through but can be very opinionated. this peaceful one on one talk rly made me feel relieved and reassured. and i was today years old when i found out he initially wanted to be a psychiatrist. he would have been a great psychiatrist. i feel like we have some understanding thats left unsaid. like he knows how my parents are like. he would probably understand why i dont talk with him much at AR. after what feels super quick, we went back to AR. registered for STR. searched some literature for the topics that Prof is the moderator of. powered by matcha energy

21 - rscm as usual. the Prof did not come. lunch was bread i brought from home. waited for mom to pick me up at kfc so i bought pukis kfc. its like properly made pukis and not the street seller made ones. the chocolate one was good since the toppings generous. felt a bit feverish? like my body felt warm. fell asleep and then suddenly its 6 am in the morning.

22 - Prof still did not came. had amart’s ayam penyet jamur for lunch. turns out juan bought ayam geprek gendut for dinner. night time is diarrhea time lmaooooo. did not feel sleepy at AR but i skipped shower again lmao,,,,,,,, and then suddenly its morning again

23 - jajan from sisterfield today. tried their carrot cake and kopi susu gula aren. the carrot cake has that carrot texture. its different. the icing was fresh cream cheese that made the cake taste good. the coffee made my stomach ache a bit. it has that subtle chocolatey taste. fell asleep again. third time’s the charm (of 1x/day face wash). woke up at 3 am planning to sleep but i ended up washing my face. turns out atikah was still awake due to AZ fever.

24 - this is the bestest sleep i had in this week (?) had a dream about going to bandung and the car falling to water. forgot my headset today. can finally meet prof Mur. talked abt inaco stuff w agassi. reread komugi meruem lmaoo. felll asleep. somehow had the misfortune of hearing dad’s hurtful words to mom. i want to fall asleep again but its difficuly. i went through stages of pent up anger, some sort of selfishness (i will go out from jakarta for internship), amazement to mom, and... (continue 2moro)

25 - lunch was dori rice from kanprim thanks to rasyid’s jastip. watched bts’ butter norebang lolll :(((. arrived at AR the fastest ive been. mom came to me right before maghrib and summed some stuff dad said yesterday. she handled it in a trivial way. like she was unaffected. and that somehow helped me too. stuck around in the dining room for a while after maghrib. talked about internship w mom. i left some chance for dad to yap yap abt whatever related to internship (thankfully songs were full volume through my wireless headset) while im inhaling through my matcha latte. i wont write what he said bcs its lowkey super embarrassing. thank the gods for wireless speakers.

26 - did not do anything productive today. Had arirang salted egg for bfast (wont repurchase). Had the meat cubes i bought online and its rly good. Ran with racil at citra 6. The tendon in my left feet hurt lol. Gmeet with ara et al to discuss internship review

27 - lazed. Wanted to start my day early but couldnt bring myself to. Binge watched twoset videos. Did clires stuff. 1 more RM to wait from IRMIK. No gastro intern work this weekend aaaa im starting to panic.

28 - juan came along otw to rscm. Talked about iship otw. brought tons of stuff to eat, including matcha latte, but i was unable to finish it lol. Discussed research budgeting w Prof. Didnt do anything in home. Starting to panic with my ppt progress.

29 - discussed budgeting revision. Prof thought abt little details i didnt even consider. Didnt do anything while at ar anjengggg

30 - prof did not come to dept today. Listemed to agassi rambling abt intern stuff. Immediately opened my laptop in ar. Watched two set. Played marapets lmaooo i finally managed to gather 3 au for shop pricer. But still didnot wash my face 👁️👄🤦‍♀️ maybe bcs i hate doing what people tells me to do (re: shower due to covid scare). Had a nightmare abt being in a car ride alone w dad and it was rly rly awkward

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darkwing-katy · 7 years

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Second Chance - Part Seven

Well hello everyone! It’s been quite some time since I updated, but as I’ve said before, I have no intention of not finishing this. I doubt I’ll be able to update every week, especially since I’m moving to Florida in a month and I’m slowly packing/applying for jobs/trying to spend time with all my Missouri peeps. I will finish this fic, though. It’ll happen. (Probably not for a bit since I’ve apparently chosen to go with a slow burn. Way to go, Kate.) Thank you to everyone who’s been commenting and liking and messaging me! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming chapters!

Special thanks go to @sannvers for beta-ing and my housemate Anna, who doesn’t have a tumblr but still deserves to be recognized (she’s the one who sat me down and made me draw a plot map for this story so I’d know exactly where I need to go when I write each chunk).

Title: Second Chance

Pairing: Eventual Gaston x Fem!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 10,378 (holy guacamole that’s a lot)

Summary: You try to stop Gaston from shooting the Beast and falling to his death, but you arrive too late to save him. As you sit there, sobbing, the Enchantress offers you a second chance to save him.

Tagging: @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @hobbithorse19@leah5684 @princessbelgoof @captainskyline @theoncergames @geeky-girl-394@were-allstoriesinthe-end084 @brooke-supernatural16 @certainasthesvn@jordyhaley @superlokidwholock @smilesnjh @prongspower @bitchingqueenoferebor@scarletdarkholme @hemmingbaes @bae-kage @areuslow @lovelylpevensie@uknwwhttheysayboutthecrzy1s @moonbeams-and-pie @17gnomes-in-a-trenchcoat@superwholockedrosx @panda-reads-stuff @ultimatetrashlord @elenawrit@the7thsilence @blackxthexbeast @rainwing-galaxy @arkhamsnight @imoyu-trashblog @martapetrovic @ciaprincess @juggernaut-jones @admerxin13@fangirlx26 @epicfallenismine @izzymaria1994 @loveablelulu13 @malfoy-milkovich-royalty @kylorenlover15 @banana-cat @withouthannah @stone0502 @shiroyuki18 @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag @lainris @withouthannah @banana-cat @samaxraph99 @honey-badger-dont-give-a @daisiesflower @afairytaledream @flufycorn384

Previous Chapter

The next morning saw you awake just as the sun was beginning its ascent. You watched the sky change from navy to a pale yellow to a gold that matched the accents of your room. As the gold deepened into an orange that formed around the blinding sun, you rose from your position at the window and dressed for the day. You pulled your hair up into a messy bun and tied it tightly. Then you rummaged through your satchel until you’d found the recipes that you’d discovered yesterday.

Today is a day to cook.

It was odd—you never truly liked to cook, though you didn’t complain about it. Yet here you were, looking forward to it. It was amazing how living in a castle had changed your outlook on chores.

You glanced back at the sun, which had fully risen above the horizon. With a contented sigh at the sight, you turned and left your room and made your way to the kitchen. As you made your way through the hall to the stairs, you kept stumbling over nothing. Then, when you reached the staircase, you bumped into the bannister.

Obviously, you were not quite awake yet.

Once you reached the surprisingly empty kitchen, you examined the recipes. One was for a delicious meat pastie (you loved those handheld pies), another for a stew, and the third for a pastry dessert. You tucked the recipe for the stew into your pocket; you wouldn’t need that one today.

Okay, so first off, I need to make the puff paste. Fun.

Your eyes scanned the kitchen, searching for any obvious ingredients. You found flour and salt easily. It took a little longer to find a jar of fat. Once you’d gathered those ingredients together, you grabbed a bucket and began to search for a pump of some sort. You found it (apparently princes could have pumps built into their castles if they so chose) and filled the bucket with fresh water. You set the bucket down next to the other ingredients and stood for a moment, hands on your hips, staring at them.

It’s been so long since I’ve made a pastie…

“Alright. Let’s get started.”

You grabbed a bowl and mixed water, salt, and flour together until they made a sticky dough, which you then kneaded on a countertop that you sprinkled with flour. Slowly but firmly, you pressed your knuckles into the dough, working the flour into it and getting it less sticky. As you worked, the servants of the castle began to file in. You smiled at them before returning to your kneading.

After the dough was done, you set it aside and began rolling out the fat. A strand of hair fell from the messy bun into your eyes.

“What are you doing, dearie?” you heard Mrs. Potts ask from somewhere behind you.

“Making a pastie and possibly a dessert,” you replied, shaking your head to clear the hair. It worked for a moment before it fell right back over your eyes, prompting a ‘hmmph’ from you.

Mrs. Potts chuckled. “I imagine it’s quite odd to have other people doing all your work for you, especially if you’re used to working in the village.”

You allowed yourself a short pause to look at her while you replied. “Yeah, no offense, but it’s a little boring.”

Mrs. Potts gave a full laugh at your words, which made you smile. “None taken, dear. You just do what you want. Don’t let an old woman like me stop you.” She gave you a wink before turning to go to a cupboard, which she opened to reveal dozens and dozens of teacups.

You used the back of your hand to push your hair back up and resumed rolling, soon adding the dough underneath the fat and folding and rolling them together. It took a little over an hour to make your first batch of puff paste, after which you took a short break to drink some tea. Then it was back to work, which meant chopping meat and vegetables to add to the pastie. As you sliced your way through vegetables and mutton alike, you found yourself indulging in a familiar habit: daydreaming.

It was easy to imagine yourself doing this exact same thing in a small home. Right now, you pictured your own cottage, although there were subtle changes: a bearskin decorated the wooden floor, a new quilt rested upon a finely crafted (and also new) wooden chair in a corner, and there was a set of small antlers adorning the fireplace mantel. You could almost smell the fire that was burning, filling your home with the delicious scent of burning wood.

In your fantasy, you were wearing the same dress, but you had in an apron of your own rather than one you’d borrowed from one of the servants. You sprinkled salt and pepper onto the chopped meat and veggies and set them aside, returning to the dough, which you cut into a wide circle.

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist as you began lining a ceramic pot with the dough. “That looks absolutely delicious.”

You grinned, both in the fictional setting and in reality. “Is that what you think? Feel free to have some. You know, before it’s actually baked and everything.”

Gaston (because of course that’s who you were married to in this) chuckled. “Don’t tempt me. I’m starving.” You felt him rest his head against the top of yours. “Since I’ve been out hunting and doing all the hard work.”

You scoffed and turned to face him, your bodies now separated by a few centimeters. “You think cooking isn’t hard? Is that what I’m hearing?”

He smirked. “I cooked for myself in the war all the time. It’s not that difficult.”

You stepped out of his grasp, maneuvering around him and giving him a push forwards. He bumped into the counter and gave you a perplexed look. “Fine. You can make the pie, then, and I’ll go hunting.”

Gaston leaned against the counter, his hands getting covered with flour. “And if I can successfully make a pie, what do I get?”

You began to walk away, taking care to sway your hips. “My undying amazement that the great hunter is a master chef as well.”

“What is the meaning of this?!”

The abrupt and loud voice made you jump, shattering your fictional bliss. You felt heat shoot up your face as you placed a hand on your chest and worked on catching your breath.

“Mademoiselle, this is entirely inappropriate! You are a guest here; you should not be working in the kitchen!”

You spun around to see an older man decked out in elaborate gold clothing that established his superiority over the other servants—the majordomo of the castle. He was staring at you, hands on his waist which made him look as if he was puffing up to scare you into obedience.

“I’m sorry, Monsieur…?”

“Cogsworth, at your service.” He gave a small bow, but he was still obviously angered at your presence.

“Ah. Well, good morning, Monsieur Cogsworth.” You gave him a little curtsy. “I woke up this morning and wanted to make a few treats for today.” You gave him your most winning smile. “I’ve been spending a lot of time doing nothing, you see, and I’m not used to that. I wanted to do something.”

“Ahhh, Cogsworth, let the girl do as she wants!”

Both you and the majordomo turned to see that several other servants had gathered around the kitchen to watch the scene. You spotted Mrs. Potts’s face amongst them, and she smiled at you. The servant who had spoken sauntered through the kitchen and threw an arm around Cogsworth’s shoulders. He glanced at you and winked. “She is a guest! We should not be stopping her from doing whatever it is she enjoys doing.”

“But-but-but it’s not customary for a guest to spend time in the kitchen!” Cogsworth spluttered, shoving the man’s arm off and glaring at him.

The other man shrugged. “Would you stop her if she was Belle?”

Cogsworth’s face turned a deep pink. “Well, no, but that's—”

“Then why must you dissuade her friend, who is not only a guest, but an honored guest?” He gestured towards you. “Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten you name, mademoiselle.” He grinned at you.

You couldn’t help but be charmed by his easygoing demeanor. “(Y/N),” you replied with a smile.

He gave you another wink. “What a lovely name! I am Lumière, maître d of this castle. Please forgive my friend here.” He nodded his head towards Cogsworth, who’s face was growing more and more red by the second. “He tends to get angry when the normal routines are interrupted, but he’ll get over it.” Lumière spun away from Cogsworth and towards you, peering over your shoulder to see what you were making. “Why, mademoiselle, is that a pastie I see?”

“Yes, it is!” you replied, suddenly wondering if the cooks were also in the crowd of servants and were spotting all the flaws in your meager meal. Oh well. I’m not a professional by any means, you thought, giving yourself a mental shrug. “It’s my grandmama’s recipe. I woke up this morning and I really wanted to try cooking for the first time in a while.”

“I think that’s wonderful, dearie,” Mrs. Potts said, walking up to your side. You smiled at her. She smiled gently back, then glanced back at the other servants who were still watching. “Alright, what’s everybody standing about for? We’ve all got work to do!” She nodded at you as well, giving you the sign to continue with what you were doing.

Right away, everyone began to bustle about, and the kitchen was soon filled with the sounds of people chattering, pots clanging, and stoves being fired up. Lumière nudged your shoulder with his elbow, grinning cheekily.

“See, mademoiselle? All is well! You are a guest here, and you may do whatever you please. Don’t worry about that old spoilsport!”

“A-hem. That old spoilsport is still right behind you, you charismatic buffoon.”

You stifled a laugh. The old man was actually pouting at Lumière. You’d never expected to see such an expression on his aged and mustached face, but there it was. Lumière took a step back and threw his arm around Cogsworth’s shoulder once more. “Ahh, Cogsworth, learn to have a little fun. Not everything has to go as normal.” He turned the majordomo around and started leading him away. “Why, Belle interrupted our daily routine when she came to the castle, did she not? And did you complain?”

“Yes, yes I did—,”

“Oh, hush now, we needn’t get into all the details…”

You snorted before returning to your pastie, only to notice Chip was now standing by you, staring at the uncooked veggies and meat resting on the dough. “Good morning, Chip,” you said with a smile.

He gave you the largest grin you’d seen from him yet. “Good morning, (Y/N)! I was wondering…” His smile faded and he leaned in close, as if suddenly struck with shyness. You thought it was adorable the way his eyes darted around and how he’d gone from acting like a child to being more respectful. “I asked Mama but she said I needed to ask you…would I be okay if I helped you cook for a while?” His voice grew softer as he added, “Please? I really, really don’t wanna do laundry today.”

The desperation in his eyes only added to his cuteness. How could you refuse such a sweet boy? “Of course you can, Chip!”

Upon receiving the answer he’d hoped for, Chip immediately returned to his normal, upbeat self, beaming at you. “Yes! Thank you so much, (Y/N)!” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them before looking back at the food. “So…what do we do now?”

You laughed. It looked like you were going to have an entertaining morning for sure.

You were a little later than usual with your breakfast for Gaston, but you managed to make an excuse for Chip to leave your side while you did so. You were still smiling as you walked up the stairs—he was a sweet boy, filled to the brim with curiosity about your cooking as well as other aspects of your life. He’d asked non-stop questions about Villenueve, which you’d gladly answered to the best of your abilities, and at one point there’d been a flour explosion, so you were covered in the stuff.

“Someone’s had a busy morning,” Gaston commented when you arrived at the door.

“You could say that,” you replied, opening the door and stepping in. “I can’t stay for too long now—we’ve got a couple pasties in the oven and I’m not sure how much attention Chip is giving to them.”

Gaston rose slowly from his seated position and stretched before taking the tray from you. “I don’t suppose I can request one of those for lunch?” he asked while examining the food. He grabbed a few grapes and, while balancing the tray on one hand, began to toss them into his mouth.

Show-off, you thought. He saw you watching him, which earned a smirk, then he held up a grape.

“Want one?”

Giddy from the morning’s fun, you gave a playful shrug and nodded. Gaston popped the grape into his mouth and set the tray down, this time picking up the bunch of grapes rather than a mere handful. However, instead of simply offering another grape to you, he took a few steps back. “Catch,” was all he said.

You barely registered the single word before a grape was thrown at you, bouncing off your forehead. “What?” you asked, more to give yourself time to process what he was doing than because you hadn’t heard him.

“Catch!” he repeated, still with that stupidly handsome smirk plastered on his face. He threw another grape.

This time you were better prepared. Your hand reached up and snagged the small fruit from the air, earning a tut-tut from the imprisoned man. “What?” you demanded, this time out of confusion.

“Don’t use your hands.” His green eyes glittered with mischief. “Anyone can catch things with their hands. Impress me.”

Alright, then. You felt a smirk emerging on your face at his challenging (and slightly commanding) tone. Challenge accepted.

He threw another grape, which you tried to catch with your mouth but failed. Three more followed, and Gaston was getting more and more amused at your failures while you got more and more frustrated.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). I expected better of you. You’re making me waste precious grapes here.” He chucked another, which landed on your head and fell to the ground.

You were seriously tempted to just pick up all the dirtied fruits and start hurling them at him. You were fairly certain he was throwing them all in a way so they’d hit different parts of your face, purposefully embarrassing you. Not this time, you mentally snarled.

He threw the fruit, and this time, your eyes managed to stay on it. You took a step backwards, tipped your head back, and the small grape actually landed in your mouth. Your eyes widened at your unexpected triumph, and you threw your arms up in the air, lifting your head back up so Gaston could see that you’d succeeded.

“Ahh, took you long enough,” he said, grinning.

A flare of annoyance surged in you. That’s it? That’s all he has to say? “What!” you exclaimed through your teeth. He shrugged in response. You ate the grape quickly so you could continue expressing your annoyance. “That’s all you have to say? No, ‘You did it’, no ‘Good job’?” You bent down to gather the fallen grapes. “Not even a ‘I knew you could do it if you tried hard enough’?” You began pelting him with them, stepping closer and closer as you spoke. “What. A. Rude. Thing. To. Say!” Each word was punctuated with a grape. Gaston managed to duck the first two, but as you got closer he had no choice but to let the grapes hit him. You threw the final grape at his face, which he avoided by tipping his head down so that it hit his hair instead. Your ammunition now spent, he started to laugh, a deep belly laugh, one you’d never heard from him, even prior to his imprisonment.

You couldn’t help but be pulled along with a laugh of your own. This entire situation was ridiculous! Never in all of your life had you imagined you’d be standing in a prison cell, throwing grapes at a handsome but boorish war captain!

Gaston’s face, flushed with humor, was suddenly quite close to yours. While the rest of his body radiated laughter, his eyes, now boring into yours, had something else in them. You couldn’t help but stare, even as you felt your own humor start to die down. He was standing so close to you, close enough that he could easily pull you into an embrace if he wanted. And to be quite honest, you weren’t sure if you’d resist that much.

In fact, now that you were aware of it, you wanted him to do just that. You wanted to feel his strong arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his body pressed firmly against yours. You wanted to place your arms around him, to feel that muscular back again. You could even go so far as to say you wanted him to press his lips to your own, to tangle his hands in your (h/c) hair while you tangled yours in his.

He’s getting closer! you realized with a small burst of panic. As much as you wanted all of that to happen, you were terrified of following through. What if he was using you? What if this was all an act? What if LeFou had been wrong in his assumption that Gaston might actually care for you?

You took a step back. “I-I have to go. The food. Burned. I have—” You took another step back, breaking eye contact, “—it could be burning. Chip. Uhm, right.” Your face was burning, but you couldn’t do anything about that. You turned around, trying very hard not to sprint as you rushed to the door. “I’ll be—I’ll be back later. After burning. I mean, after the food burns. After the food is not burned. I’ll be back.”

Why are you still talking? you screamed at yourself. Just stop already! You passed through the door and it slammed shut, making you jump. “Sorry!” you practically shouted before fleeing down the stairs.

Once you’d reached the bottom, you leaned against the wall to give yourself time to calm. It wouldn’t do to be returning to the kitchen with a face as red as a ripe tomato. As you took deep, calming breaths, you mentally berated yourself.

Well, that went smoothly, (Y/N). Surely he knows of your affections now, if he didn’t already! Why do you have to be so obvious? Why can’t you just act normal for once? As your heart rate slowed, your thoughts sped up. He’s probably going to mention this when I bring lunch. Or tonight. Or even tomorrow—he could bring this up at anytime and I’ll just get flustered again and, oh, damn, what have I done? Why did I think this was a good idea?

“(Y/N)?” you heard Chip call, startling you from your internal monologue. You sucked in a breath and exhaled.

Okay, (Y/N). Chip is looking for you. You have to remain calm. The last thing you need is an inquisitive 10-year-old noticing that you’re acting odd. You closed your eyes and repeated your breathing exercise a few more times. Your face felt like it was cooling, so you deemed yourself ready. Just act normal. Go finish cooking. It will be okay.

“(Y/N)!” It sounded like Chip was getting farther away.

You opened your eyes and stepped out of the doorway. “I’m coming!” you called back as you walked down the grand staircase.

I can do this.

Two more flour wars (and their subsequent clean-ups) later, you and Chip had finished for the day. You were content with what the two of you had created—even the head chef had offered to show you how to make other pasties and desserts. You’d agreed to the idea, but only if Chip could be your sous-chef. He’d brightened so much at that declaration and ran off to tell his mother, leaving you to bring lunch to Gaston. You were dreading it, but it had to be done.

You grabbed two of the three pasties you’d made, leaving the third for Chip to enjoy later. You didn’t get grapes this time, but instead grabbed a few oranges along with bread and cheese.

When you finally got to the cell, Gaston was sitting in the open doorway, his back against the wall on your right and his left leg tapping the opened wall across from him. His right leg was bent up, with his arm resting on it as he turned the page of Hamlet.

You were struck by the sight of him sitting there, reading, the summer sunlight basking him in a warm glow. Seeing him doing something so unlike him was more attractive than you’d imagined (and you’d imagined something similar to this quite a lot).

He didn’t act as if he’d heard you, although he must have. You tried to be quiet as you entered the cell, wanting to prolong the sight of the great hunter actually reading. Oh, wait until I tell Belle about this.

“Is Hamlet mad?” Gaston asked after a few minutes of silence.

You shook your head. “No. He’s pretending to be mad in order to hide his plots for vengeance.”

“I cannot deny the brilliance of his actions.”

It’s happening. Gaston is having a conversation about a book. Belle’s not going to believe this. “What’s happening now?” you asked, slowly walking over to him. He set the book aside, folding his hands over his stomach and looking up at you.

“I believe he’s at a funeral of some sort?” His eyebrows lifted slightly, as if asking for confirmation.

You wracked your brain to figure out whose funeral it must be. “Oh, Ophelia’s?”

He frowned as he thought, then gave a small nod. “She’s the one who was in love with him, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. Her brother…” he chuckled lowly. “Her brother is not happy at the moment.”

You shrugged. “Most people aren’t after someone drives their sibling to suicide.”

Gaston pulled his leg back and turned so that both legs were now dangling over the edge of the open door. He looked over his shoulder at you and motioned for you to join him. “Come, come sit.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

He snorted, insulted. “And why not?” You gave no answer. He glanced down at the stairs below and grinned. Damn that smile. “I won’t push you, I promise.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to just believe you?” you replied, setting the tray down and placing your hands on your hips.

He laughed at your sardonic words. “You don’t trust me? Still?”

“And why should I, after everything?”

Gaston scooted himself back around, facing you fully. “Really? You want to know why you can trust my word?”

Why do I have a bad feeling about this? You stood firm despite the sudden butterflies that erupted in your stomach. He was still staring at you, that familiar cockiness radiating from him. He knew the answer, and he wanted you to figure it out. You thought about it for a moment before waving a hand vaguely towards the door. “Is it because you haven’t tried to escape?”

He scoffed. “No, although that is a good reason.” He rose from his seated position and dusted his pants off. “Haven’t you noticed anything about me?” He gestured to himself.

Your eyes scanned his body for some sort of clue, but while you appreciated the excuse he’d given you to examine him (those pants were very form-fitting, indeed), you had no idea what he was talking about. Even the bruise on his face was fading. “Besides your overconfident attitude and the lack of poof in your hair?” you replied sarcastically.

His hand automatically went to his hair, earning a smirk from you and a frown from him. He shook it off, though, and took a few steps towards you. “Look closer.” His grin was almost mocking now. “I don’t mind.”

You refused to give in to his bait. “Gaston, just tell me,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

His sneer grew, and he leaned in close. “You’re not as observant as you think, (Y/N),” he whispered, his warm breath making you shiver. You had no doubt that he noticed, but you kept your expression stoic. With an air of disappointment at your refusal to play along with his flirtations, he stepped back. “Stubble,” he replied, giving a brisk wave to his chin.

Your eyes looked to his face before widening in realization. How could I have been so stupid? “You have stubble,” you said softly.

Gaston slowly bent down and reached into his boot. You watched as he pulled out a slim knife, protected from his calf by a leather sheath.

He could’ve used that at anytime to threaten me into letting him out—and then he could’ve used that as a means to escape the castle. Your eyes wandered from the knife to his face and back to the knife. So why didn’t he?

“I have to say, I’m surprised at you, (Y/N). I’ve been in here for what, four, five days now?” Gaston slid the knife out of the sheath as he spoke, and you couldn’t help the minnow of nervousness that swam into your stomach at the sight. “You’ve spent some time with me each day, and you never once noticed that I didn’t have a beard beginning to grow.” He began to swing the knife around in his hand. The sunlight glinted off the edge, making you flinch. He noticed your uncomfortableness and stopped swinging it. “Normally, I wouldn’t care that much. But I wanted to see if you’d notice.”

“Obviously I don’t pay that much attention,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. He heard you, though, and frowned.

“Obviously not.” He studied the knife for a moment, then returned his gaze to you. Something in his green eyes gave you a bad feeling. “Hold up that orange.”

You blinked. “What?” you asked dumbly.

He grinned. “The orange. Hold it up for me.”

The bad feeling expanded. “Why?” you asked, drawing out the word.

“Please?” The look he gave you shifted from mischievous to childlike.

“Well, since you said ‘please’…” You had a sneaking suspicion of why he was asking, but you so rarely heard him say ‘please’ that you were willing to play along. If he’s doing what I think he’s doing…then who’s more of a fool—him for doing it or me for letting him? You grabbed the orange and tossed it up in the air a few times.

“Excellent. Now go to that way.” He pointed, and you sighed but walked to the opposite end of the cell as directed. “Put the orange on your head.”

“WHAT?” you shrieked. “I am not letting you throw a dagger at my head!”

Gaston scoffed. “I won’t hit you.”

You imitated his scoff mockingly. “Somehow, that’s not reassuring,” you hissed.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). Consider it an example of trust.” The knife was spinning lazily again. He was clearly an expert when it came to weapons, but that didn’t mean he could throw a damned knife at you!

You glared at him in the hopes that he’d back down, but he simply continued to play with the knife and watch you. You both stood that way, neither backing down. Finally—

“Why not?”

“Are you whining about this?” You held the orange out in your hand, away from your body. “This is an orange. It’s small and round and you want me to put it on my head so you can throw a knife at it in the pretense of a crazy trust exercise that is, in actuality, just an attempt to prove your masculinity and arrogance and I, for one, am not—”

Faster than your eye could see, Gaston flicked his wrist, and the weight of the orange disappeared from your hand. You heard a thump! as the fruit hit the wall and another as it fell to the floor. You gaped at your now-empty hand for a few seconds, long enough to allow your disbelief and shock to turn into fury. When you turned your glare back to Gaston, he was smirking…until you rushed at him, fully intending to kick him in the shin and maybe punch him again. At the sight of you racing towards him with murder in your eyes, he dropped the sheath and held up his hands in a defensive position.

“Now, (Y/N), remember what happened the last time you hit me—ow!”

One shin kicked, one more to go. You started hitting his shoulder repeatedly, knowing it wasn’t doing any damage but making you feel better nonetheless. Gaston flinched and took a step back, which made you step forward. He took two more steps away from you, but you followed suit, and a full-on chase began.

Of course, it wasn’t like there was a lot of running space in the cell, and Gaston didn’t seem to be concerned about your desire for vengeance. In fact, he seemed more amused than annoyed. He was laughing at you as you continued to attack his shoulder. “(Y/N)—(Y/N), there’s no need for tha—(Y/N), it was funny, I don’t see why you’re so—ow, that actually hurt!—there’s no reason to be so angry at me!”

You finally ceased, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff. Gaston took one look at you and began to full-on laugh again, which almost made you start hitting him again. You spun around and prepared to stalk out, but your eyes landed on the orange that was on the ground, the knife solidly embedded in it. You picked it up and slid the knife out. For a moment, you contemplated throwing it at Gaston. Bet he wouldn’t think it’s funny if it was him. However, knowing your luck, you’d probably just miss and he’d make fun of you for it.

Which was why you simply dropped the knife into your skirt pocket and continued on your way out, leaving both meat pasties for Gaston to eat. You heard Gaston move behind you.

“(Y/N), where are you going? And that’s my knife; you can’t just take it.”

You exited the cell and slammed the door shut before Gaston could stop you. He frowned at your coldness. “(Y/N), I don’t understand,” he whined, placing both hands on the barred door and leaning his forehead on against it.

Don’t answer him. If he can’t figure out what he did wrong, that’s his problem, you thought, turning away from him.

“Can I at least have my knife back?”

You ignored him as you stomped back down the stairs.

Contrary to your outside actions, you weren’t truly as mad as you wanted Gaston to think you were. Yes, you hoped he’d realize that it was not appropriate in any way to randomly throw a knife at anyone, but you were impressed with his skill level. Impressed and intrigued and a little aroused, if you were being completely honest with yourself. You found yourself wondering—could he teach you to do that?

Now that would be interesting.

“(Y/N), just the woman I was looking for!” Adam announced, running up from a hallway and clasping your shoulder. You looked at the prince. He was wearing a green vest over his white shirt, but had on no overcoat, which seemed a little unusual for the regal man. An air of jitteriness hovered around him, but his grip on you was as warm as ever.

“Is everything alright?” you asked tentatively.

He smiled at you, but the corners of his mouth twitched several times, as if he was having a difficult time keeping calm. “Yes. Quite so. Perhaps as good as it could ever be.” He removed his hand and clapped both hands behind his back. “Would you mind walking with me for a moment?”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded.

Together, the two of you made your way outside. “How are you today?” Adam asked as you exited the castle and walked down the steps.

“I’m well. Made a couple of pasties this morning.”

“Yes, I recall Cogsworth mentioning something along the lines of that when he gave me a report on the castle this morning.” Adam grinned. “He was rather petulant about the whole situation.”

You gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry?”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize!” You passed the first group of hedges and waved at a servant who was trimming them. “Cogsworth is a wonderful man. He just gets a bit…”

“Cantankerous? Persnickety? Grumpy?” you supplied with a smile.

Adam laughed. “All of those and more,” he agreed. “But I’m told Lumière jumped to your rescue.”

“More like danced, but yes, something like that.” You tried to keep your gaze on the prince, feeling like it would be rude not to look at him while speaking, but you hadn’t walked the castle grounds before. You’d ridden through it on horseback multiple times, but this was the first chance you’d had to really examine it.

Whether Adam noticed or not, he didn’t seem to find your lack of attention offensive. “And how is our friend?”

It took you a moment to realize he meant Gaston. “Oh, he’s…as well as can be, I suppose.” You thought back to the dagger incident and suddenly remembered it was still in your pocket. Whoops.

“Not giving you any trouble, I hope?”

“What? Oh, no, not aside from neverending flirtatious remarks.”

“Good, good.” You walked in silence for a little bit. You enjoyed the silence, using it to breathe in the fresh summer air and to marvel at how green the topiary was. And the castle grounds were simply huge! There so many fountains everywhere!

You both went to the left, towards the nearest fountain. “Where’s Belle?” you asked, abruptly realizing that your best friend and Adam’s other half was nowhere to be seen.

Adam looked up to the castle behind him. “She’s in the library, doing research for an invention idea she has.” He returned his gaze to you, and once again, you sensed the air of nervousness that hovered around him. “She’ll be in there for another couple of hours, I warrant. Which is just enough time to discuss something of utmost importance with you.”

You pointed to yourself. “Me?” you repeated, confused.

He nodded. “Yes, you.” His eyes darted around, as if ensuring that nobody else was within earshot, before he lowered his voice. “You see, today I finally received a very important package.”

You leaned closer to him, playing along with his secretiveness. “And that was?”

He put a finger to his lips, then reached into his pants pocket and procured a small wooden box. He opened it slowly, and the sight of the ring inside made you gasp. It was beautiful—the gold band was made to look like a flower stem that blossomed into a rose. Within the rose petals was a diamond, small and sparkling in the sunlight.

You looked at the prince, eyes big and mouth wide open. “Is that—” you whispered before stopping, the joy of what this meant working its way through you.

Adam nodded happily, reminding you of Chip’s reaction that morning to being allowed to help you cook. You covered your mouth in an attempt to hold back a squeal of excitement. “When?” you managed to squeak.

Adam glanced back at the castle. “This evening, I hope.” He closed the box and returned it to his pocket. “I had it commissioned almost immediately after becoming human again. It was just today finished and delivered here.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m happy for you both.” You looked towards the castle before sitting on the marble ledge of the fountain. “I’m assuming you’ve already talked with Maurice about it?”

Adam sat next to you and folded his hands together. “Yes. We spoke when he came to the castle a few days ago. I honestly expected him to refuse after what I did to him, but he gave me his blessing eagerly. ‘You make her happy,’ were his exact words.” He sighed, and you noticed that his foot had begun tapping the ground. “Do you think she’ll say yes?” he asked softly.

For a moment, you saw how truly worried he was that Belle might refuse his proposal. Not only was his foot tapping, but his eyes kept going back and forth between the ground and the castle, and the longer you went without responding, the more his thumbs began to fiddle. On the outside, he looked like a prince, but he was just a man. A man who was in love and feared that he might lose it.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, hoping that it was okay to touch him so casually. He stilled at your touch. “Do you know how worried she was for you when the mob was coming here?” You spoke quietly, hoping that whatever you were about to say would be what he needed to hear. “She was terrified, and that made her determined. She left me behind because she wanted—no, she needed—to get to you and make sure you were safe. And then she saw you get shot, and it broke her heart.” You tried to recall the way she’d explained her tale to you all those days ago, when you were both in the ballroom. “She loves you, Adam. It’s in her eyes when she looks at you, in her smile when she sees you, in the way she talks and laughs and playfully bickers with you.” You smiled. “She’ll say yes.”

Adam’s entire demeanor changed at your words, with him seeming to light up from the inside. His foot stopped tapping and he sat up straight. You withdrew your hand, knowing you’d said the right thing. “I made her a book,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’ve been keeping a sort of diary since the day we were saved, and I turned it into a book for her.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” You dipped your fingers into the fountain water and swirled them around, relishing the coolness against your skin. Your bruises were almost gone by now. “But why are you telling me all this? It’s not as if you need my approval to marry her or anything.”

“You’re Belle’s friend. You’re important to her, and that makes you important to me.” You could hear the sincerity in his tone, giving you a rush of warmth. “I don’t need your approval, but I would like it nonetheless.”

You lifted your hand out of the water and flicked them to get stray droplets off. “Well, not that you need it or anything, but I can say with complete certainty that you have my approval.” You grinned at the man, who jumped up and extended a hand to you.

“Excellent! Can you be by the roses by 7 o’clock?”

You accepted his hand and allowed him to pull you up. “Of course!”

While his nervousness was gone, he still had a frantic energy about him. “Excellent!” he repeated. “I’ll have to tell Lumière to prepare a special dinner for tonight, and I need the rose petals, and (Y/N), I need you to keep Belle occupied until I come for her. Can you do that?”

You gave him a mock salute. “You can count on me!” He released your hand, which you then punched forward triumphantly. “To the library!” you declared, running that direction. Adam snorted (a rather un-princely sound) at your enthusiasm.

“Don’t tell her!” he called after you.

“I won’t!” you shouted back.

Belle’s getting married! She’s actually getting married! Well, she has to say ‘yes’ first, but she will. And then she’s getting married! But I can’t tell her. I have to be calm.

“(Y/N)? Why are you skipping up the stairs? What are you so happy about?”

You froze at the sight of Belle, a large book in hand. “Oh, Belle! I didn’t see you there!” You grabbed her arm and started to lead her back towards the library. “Come on, let’s get you a book.”

“I already have one.” She held up the thick novel.

“Oh, that thing? You’ll have it done in an hour. You need a thicker book!”

“It’s over a thousand pages long…”

Oh, this was going to be a challenge.

You managed to keep Belle occupied, though you’d been correct in your thoughts that it would prove to be difficult. You’d caught her up on Gaston (with the exception of telling her about the knife incident—more for Gaston’s protection than hers; she wouldn’t take too kindly to the news that he’d thrown a knife at her best friend, after all), including his apparent reading of Hamlet. Then she’d helped you pick out another book (Macbeth) that you could subtly leave in the cell in case he was bored enough to keep reading.

Mrs. Potts had brought some tea and toast at one point while you were both reading, and given you the news that Mr. Potts had arrived at the castle and asked to move in with them. The two of you were overjoyed at this announcement and hugged the older woman, who left to go help him unpack. Belle offered to help, but both you and Mrs. Potts insisted that she needn’t.

Then Belle had wanted to grab something from her room, but you convinced her she didn’t need it. She’d also asked where Adam was and tried to go searching for him, but you managed to bring up the subject of her latest inventions and successfully distracted her.

Was Belle suspicious of your obvious attempts to keep her in the library? Probably. But you had a job and by God, you were going to do it.

Finally, finally, around quarter-past six, Adam came to the library, arms clasped behind his back. You let out a sigh of relief, which he noticed. He raised a blonde eyebrow towards you, and you tilted your head towards Belle and scrunched your face to convey just how appreciative he’d better be of keeping his soon-to-be fiancé confined without revealing anything. His eyes twinkled at your exasperation, which earned an eye-roll from you.

“Belle, I have something for you,” Adam began. Belle uncrossed her legs in order to stand from her chair, but he handed her a package.

You started sneaking your way out of the library, using Belle’s curiosity as a distraction. You heard the paper crinkle and Belle’s gasp when she saw it was a book. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “But why?”

“Turn the page and read it,” Adam encouraged her.

There was a soft rustle as Belle turned a page. “Once upon a time, in the hidden heart of France, a handsome young prince lived in a beautiful castle. Is that you?”

Adam chuckled. “Keep reading.”

You slowed your walking, curious to hear the rest of the book.

“Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was selfish and unkind. He taxed the village to fill his castle with the most beautiful objects, and his parties with the most beautiful people. Then, one night, an unexpected intruder arrived at the castle, seeking shelter from the bitter storm. As a gift, she offered the prince a single rose.” She paused, then laughed, “Is that supposed to be a rose?”

As Adam muttered something about how being a prince doesn’t mean you’re an artist, you had an epiphany. This must be how he got turned into a Beast. It’s Adam’s story.

Evidently, Belle realized that too. Her laughter stopped, and her reading slowed, though her voice was steady. “Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince turned the woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. When he dismissed her again, the old woman’s outward appearance melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.” She paused, giving you time to imagine Agathe appearing before Adam the way she’d appeared before you.

“The prince begged her for forgiveness. But it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who loved there.”

You slipped out of the library then, feeling like staying any longer was intruding. So that’s what happened, you thought with a frown. I’ve always wondered exactly how he got cursed. And why did Agathe punish the servants as well? It wasn’t their fault if he was selfish.

You were so lost in thought that it seemed like mere minutes before you’d reached the roses. No one else was there, so you sat down on a stone bench next to a tree and allowed yourself a moment to breathe in the evening air. The smell of roses mixed in with the occasional scent of the water from the nearby fountain every time the wind blew. The world is quiet here, you found yourself thinking as you examined your surroundings. Your eyes wandered from the stone archways that resided around you to the castle, and you found yourself looking at the bridge where you’d rescued Gaston. You stared at the bridge, then allowed your eyes to move to the tower that he was currently being held in. Can he see me? you wondered, squinting. You could see nothing through the open doors and windows—it was too far.

You began humming to yourself as you continued to watch the tower. It was a song your mother had taught you when describing a ball she’d gone to and showing you how to dance. “Nous n’irons plus a bois, les lauriers sont coupés. La belle que voila, la laiss’rons nous danser?” You pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around them. “Entrez dans la danse, voyez comme on danse. Sautez, dansz, embrassez qui vous voudrez…”

You sang your way through quite a few lullabies as you waited. Finally, you heard someone running towards you. You jumped off the bench and tried to find a place to hide, assuming it was Belle. Before you could, however, Adam emerged. You had enough time to notice he was now wearing the matching jacket to his vest, which made him look quite handsome.

“(Y/N)! You’re here!”

“Yes?” you replied uncertainly, suddenly wondering if you’d misheard his instructions.

He grinned, his face one of boyish delight. “She should be on her way in about ten minutes.” He pulled the ring box out of his jacket pocket and examined it, as if to make sure he hadn’t lost it. “How have you been? Was it difficult keeping her occupied?”

“Yes. Yes, it was. I’m certain she knew something was up. She’s quite clever, you know.”

“It’s one of my favorite things about her,” he replied in a loving tone. You smiled.

“So is the book you gave her your story?”

“Yes, essentially. I attempted to illustrate it as well, but…” he gave a sheepish shrug, “I’m not as talented in drawing as Belle or her father, I’m afraid.”

You laughed. “How bad is it?”

He gave you an embarrassed look. “Fairly horrendous,” was his response.

You laughed again. Adam’s cheeks flushed, but he maintained his princely atmosphere. “I’ll have to examine them later, then.”

“I’m sure you will,” he grumbled, but you could tell he was joking.

You decided to spare him further teasing (for now, at least) and pointed to an archway that was behind you. “I’m going to hide, then.”

“Yes, please do.”

You rolled your eyes and went behind the smaller stone wall. It was just big enough for you to hide behind if you crouched; it was too thin for you to stand behind. You kept your ears peeled for the sound of Belle’s approach, occasionally peering at Adam. As you both waited for Belle, Adam plucked a rose from a bush near him. He pulled out the ring and, after a moment of hesitation, pulled the navy ribbon holding his hair back out, which he then used to tie the ring to the rose.

That’s beautiful, you thought. And to think, this all happened because of a flower.

“Adam?” Belle called, snapping you and Adam to attention. You ducked, but covertly peeked at the prince. She entered the small clearing, the book still in hand.

“Belle.” He took a few steps towards her, his hair falling forwards to frame his face. She watched him, curious, but you saw the realization occurring in her brown eyes. She knew what was happening.

Adam continued. “So now you know what happened to me. How I was the one who had it all. How I was cursed. How I fell into despair and became reclusive, bitter.” He indicated the roses around them, glowing in the orange of the now-setting sun. “A rose served as my damnation…and as my salvation.” He took another step towards her, nearly close enough to embrace her.

You felt yourself blushing at the intimacy of this moment. You knew neither of them minded, but still…it felt like you were intruding.

“You stood up to me. You saved my life.”

When did that happen? You wondered.

“You showed me how to be better, and you made me want to change. I wanted to change for you because…” he swallowed thickly. “Because I love you. And I don’t want to be without you. Your wit, your stubbornness, your compassion and warmth—I love everything about you. I love you, Belle, and I know you don’t need a man to take care of you. You’re quite capable of doing that yourself.”

You covered your mouth to stifle your laugh. He’s got that right.

“But if you’d let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you’ve made me.” Adam held out the rose, kneeling as he offered it to her. “Belle…will you marry me?”

Belle didn’t even take the rose before she threw the book aside and jumped on him, effectively knocking him to the ground, and kissed him. You felt your face grow redder at the passion in her actions. When they finally broke apart, she was repeating one word tearfully over and over again. “Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

You turned away as they began kissing again, but stopped when you heard Adam call your name.

“(Y/N), you can come out now!”

Belle made a sound of surprise. “(Y/N)?” she exclaimed, turning towards you as you emerged from behind the wall. Her eyebrows creased in thought, then, “You were in on this! That’s why you were keeping me in the library!”

You grinned at her. “Yeeep,” you drawled, popping the ‘p’. She shook her head at you, but the huge smile on her face let you know she wasn’t mad in any way. She rushed to you and enveloped you in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I didn’t do anything,” you whispered back, feeling your own tears start to fall. “It was all Adam. I just helped a little.”

The two of you broke apart with a giggle, which gave Adam the chance to offer Belle the rose once more. She took the flower and untied the blue ribbon that wrapped around it, which allowed her to take the ring off the stem and slip it onto her finger. “It’s perfect,” she declared, looking from her hand to her fiancé and you. Happy tears trickled down her face.

You threw your arms up. “My best friend is getting married!” you announced jubilantly, your voice cracking a little.

“Yes, yes, I am!” Belle agreed, once again wrapping you in a hug. You saw Adam grinning at the sight of you two and motioned for him to join in. He did so, which, for some reason, made both you and Belle start laughing again. He started laughing as well, and by the time the three of you separated, your cheeks were pink from laughing so hard. Belle wrapped her arm around his waist and gave him a quick peck on the lips before turning to you. “(Y/N), will you be my maid of honor?” she asked.

You thought your face was going to split in half from how huge your grin was. “Yes! Of course! Definitely!” Apparently one word wasn’t enough to express your agreement to such a crucial role. “Absolutely! Positively! Unequivocally! Yes!” You and Belle hugged for the third time in less than fifteen minutes.

When you’d finally pulled apart, Adam held out both of his arms to you. “Well then, shall we eat? I’ve a special meal planned for tonight.”

You and Belle made eye contact and started giggling again, earning an eyeroll from Adam. You took Adam’s right arm (making sure to grab the dropped book) while she took his left, and together, the three of you made your way back to the castle, the sunset behind you lighting your path with gold.

Indeed, it was a special meal, at least, for you and Belle. There was lamb and roasted chicken and beef ragout and cheese soufflé and by God, were you full by the time you’d all finished eating. Lumière had opened a few of their best bottles of champagne, and Adam had invited the whole castle in a toast to his and Belle’s engagement. To both your and Belle’s pleasant surprise, Maurice had been there at the table, waiting when you all returned. It seemed that Adam had planned this moment out far more than you’d been aware.

There had been much discussion in regards to the upcoming nuptials, which meant that you weren’t able to bring Gaston his dinner until later than usual. You tried to hurry up the stairs whilst keeping all the food on the tray, knowing that he was probably fairly hungry by now.

When you reached the cell, you saw that he was sitting down at the open door, his legs dangling over the edge. For a brief and panicked moment, you thought he might jump as you entered the cell, that he’d been waiting specifically for your return in order to maximize the emotional damage that would surely follow.

He didn’t, though. He simply sat there, staring out the open window, and waited for you to join him. You were tentative about sitting down next to him, but after an internal debate, you slowly sat down next to him and let your legs dangle over the edge.

You genuinely expected him to make some sort of comment regarding your lateness. At the very least, you thought he’d immediately grab the tray and start eating. He did neither, earning a mental frown from you. You decided to be the one to incite conversation rather than wait for him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you said, watching him carefully for any acknowledgment. He gave none, prompting you to try again. “We had a long dinner, but I managed to get you some variety this time. There’s lamb, ragout, even a few pastries.”

Still nothing.

Starting to get a little bit concerned now, you thought.

“Gaston? Are you okay?” You lifted one hand to set on his shoulder, then pulled it back when you saw his lack of reaction. Instead, you placed your hand on the floor next to the tray. Yes, now I’m a little more concerned.

You followed his unwavering gaze to the darkened courtyard. Your eyes adapted soon enough, and you could pinpoint the location of the earlier proposal. You stared at that spot. It was so tiny from here, yet that didn’t make it unidentifiable. Your eyes moved from there to the fountains, the water shimmering in the pale moonlight. The stars shone bright above the castle, and you could make out a few familiar constellations. It’s beautiful, you thought, a temporary peace coming over you.

“I thought I could make her happy,” came a soft mutter from the man on your right, drawing your attention.

“Hmm?”

Gaston continued to look outside as he spoke. “Belle. I did everything in my power to make her mine. But instead, she falls for another man.” His shoulders slumped as he let loose a sigh. “She wouldn’t marry me, but she’ll marry him.”

You felt your eyebrows crease in confusion. How on earth did he know about the proposal? Surely he couldn’t have seen what was happening from this far away!

“I saw it, (Y/N). I saw it all.”

So much for that. “But you can barely see where it happened from here!”

He scoffed, but it felt half-hearted. “I’m the greatest hunter around for a reason.” He nodded his head slightly towards the courtyard. “I recognized your dress when you went out, and then I saw the prince and Belle. I didn’t need to hear to know why she was reacting like that.” As he spoke, his tone grew bitter. “Not to mention I heard the whole castle cheering downstairs.”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond to this. It was clear that he was upset, and while you sympathized, you also felt like he was seeking pity, which you had no intention of granting.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he added, lifting his chin to see the stars. “Of course the woman I love would choose someone else.”

Alright, that’s enough of that. “You didn’t love her,” you replied with a hint of frustration. Gaston finally deigned to look at you, his green eyes duller than you’d ever seen them. “She was a challenge, the only woman who dared to say ‘no’ to you. That’s the only reason you wanted her.” You locked eyes with him, willing him to realize you were speaking the truth. He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “Admit it, Gaston. Belle was nothing more than a prize to be won, something you could use to stroke your ego with if you succeeded.” You crossed your arms and twisted so that you were leaning against the wall, although your legs still hung over the edge.

He didn’t even have to decency to act offended by your harsh words; he just continued to stare at you with that blank look in his eyes.

“Perhaps,” was his only reply.

You raised an eyebrow, daring him to say more.

With a deep sigh that turned into a yawn, he mimicked your position. There was silence between the two of you as you sat there, watching each other. You were still confused by his lack of appetite and made a mental resolution to just leave the food there when you left for the night. Which needed to be rather soon—you’d gotten up early today and were feeling drowsy after all the excitement. We need to let Villenueve know tomorrow, and that’ll be loads of fun. And then there’s officially inviting people, planning the decorations, the dresses, the jackets and the meals. Oh, maybe I can see how LeFou’s doing with asking everyone how they feel about Gaston. Yes, I need to make time for that somehow…

“Not the only girl.”

“What?” you asked, your mind still caught up in listing everything that needed to be done tomorrow.

“Belle’s not the only girl with the gall to stand up to me,” he repeated, giving you a pointed look. “You interrupted me nearly every time I was with her.”

The corner of your mouth twitched when you saw a spark of something returning to his eyes. He seemed to be waking up from whatever self-pitying mood he’d been in. Good. I wasn’t planning on putting up with that for long.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” You tilted your head at him, thinking back on all the various times you’d intervened. Remembering them made you smile to yourself. “It’s the duty of a best friend to prevent unsolicited romantic advances.”

“Is it?” His voice had faded back to the melancholy tone that you were unused to.

Somehow you sensed that any further conversation would continue in this stilted manner, and you, tired as you were, felt no need to remain there when you could be getting rested for the coming day. You rose and dusted yourself off before turning to leave.

“Must you?”

Is he asking me to stay again? You hesitated. Why would he ask me to stay if he wasn’t planning on talking?

Maybe he just wants company, the other voice, the one that usually encouraged your darker thoughts, reasoned. He’s lonely. And there are lots of things you can do in each other’s company…

Yet when you looked at him, you felt no flirtatious overtures coming from him. It was a stark contrast to the cocky Gaston you’d grown used to, and whether it was due to his loss of Belle or to tiredness, it was unsettling. You were surprised to find that you actually missed his bold attitude. You missed the banter, the sly comments, the intense looks you shared. In such a short period of time, he’d changed so much from the man who’d thrown a knife at you that afternoon.

“Get some sleep,” you encouraged quietly as you walked away. You took a moment to set down Macbeth on the stool by the door in case he wanted to read. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He didn’t reply but resumed staring outside, looking up at the stars. You frowned at his back. Maybe LeFou will know how to cheer him up. I’ll ask him tomorrow.

Now you just had to wait until then.

#second chance #gaston #gaston x reader #gaston imagine #kate writes #beauty and the beast #batb

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tebbyclinic11 · 6 years

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Pesto-y Roasted Vegetables Make Rent Week Bearable

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Pesto-y Roasted Vegetables Make Rent Week Bearable

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I used to live with a dude named Chris Fenimore. I moved into my first apartment in New York City with him as a roommate, and although Feni—that’s what we call him—no longer lives with me, I’m still shacked up in the same spot. A few months ago, I found his banged-up record player in the back of my closet, something that Feni left behind when he moved out, and I decided to finally show it some love. Since then, I’ve spent entirely too much money on records and have quickly fallen into the labor-intensive habit of searching through the cheap bins at Manhattan’s most suspect record purveyors. To be honest, I love it. But the lesson here is that things left laying around still have value, whether those things are found in your closet, the dollar crates at a record store, or deep in the vegetable bin of your refrigerator.

16 Philadelphia Cheesesteaks in 12 Hours. Which Is the Best?

In fact, the stuff in your fridge is probably more valuable than whatever’s hanging with the gym socks in the bottom of your closet. The odds and ends in your fridge are edible! Records, sadly, are not. So when it comes to Rent Week, you should be looking at the rogue carrots, beets, alliums, and other vegetal delinquents in your fridge as potential dinner options. Especially once you know how to roast the hell out of them, toss them in a rough pesto, and serve them over grains.

That’s right. This Rent Week recipe is a grain bowl. Surprise! I like grain bowls! I’m a millennial! I’ve been told that grain bowls come with the territory. So smash the play button on this playlist filled with tunes from the early ’70s (inspired by the cheap bins at the record store and totally free of charge) and get ready to be resourceful. Just like your parents always wanted.

To start, we roast some vegetables in an oven set to 425°. Like I said, the exact makeup of your vegetable mix depends on what’s in the fridge, but you should make sure you have at least one bunch of carrots (preferably mixed in color) with the greens still attached on the top, one kind of allium (I prefer about 5 shallots), and two of the following vegetables that have some kind of heft to them: 1 head of broccoli, 1 bunch of broccolini, 1 head of cauliflower, 5 beets, 2 sweet potatoes, or 2 cups of Brussels sprouts all work.

Photo by Chelsie Craig

The colors, Duke!

We want to do minimal work to the vegetables before they go in the oven. Remove the greens from the top of the carrots off and save them. Peel the outer layer off of your alliums. If they happen to be shallots, slice them in half. If it’s a white onion, slide it into quarters and separate the layers. Beets can be sliced in half, once the greens are discarded. Basically, you want everything to be about the same size, so it roasts at a similar rate.

Dump the cleaned and chopped vegetables on a sheet pan and toss them with a drizzle of olive oil. Season the whole tray with some kosher salt. That’s all you need. Fat and salt. The good stuff.

Once those go in, we start our grains. I’m not going to pressure you into anything. There are a bunch of ways to cook rice and grains. I want you to do what you think is right. Maybe it’s steaming some white rice like this. Maybe it’s cooking some farro or Healthyish grains like this. Or maybe it’s mixing half white rice and half mixed grains in your rice cooker. Whichever way you chose, use 3 cups of the dry stuff. (Having leftover grains is always useful.)

While the vegetables and the grains cook, take the carrot tops and roughly chop them, so you have about 1 cup carrot greens (tightly packed). BTW, we’re making a pesto with carrot tops, which are 100% edible, as well as tasty. This is Rent Week: We should be using every bit of food we can! (If you don’t have any carrot tops, a mix of herbs like parsley, dill, basil, and/or cilantro will work.) Mix the chopped carrot tops, ⅓ cup roughly chopped nuts (whatever you have on hand that aren’t peanuts), ½ cup olive oil, and ¼ cup white wine vinegar. Mix them together, and season with a few pinches of kosher salt.

The vegetables will be finished before the grains. Take them out when they are tender and crispy, with some solid color across the lot. This will take between 20 and 30 minutes, but pay attention to how they look and feel more than you do the timer. Let the vegetables cool, and slice the carrots into thirds. Roasted vegetables don’t need to be hot to be delicious. We’ll serve these at room temperature.

Pour the pesto over your vegetables and toss them to coat. If you went wild with the amount of veggies, and they look a little dry, feel free to add another glug of olive oil, white wine vinegar, and another pinch of salt to make sure the pesto covers more surface area.

Photo by Chelsie Craig

Dinner. Is. Served.

And then you grab a bowl, scoop some rice or grains, and plop a big ol’ heap of vegetables on top. This dish isn’t about beautiful plating or artistic presentation. This is about using what you have to make sure you go to bed with a belly full of food—food that you enjoyed eating.

The roasted vegetable bowl is the same as my record player. The built-in speakers are shit. The needle needs to be replaced. There’s dust lodged into places it will never exit. It’s not the world’s sexiest record player, but it does what matters: It plays music. It makes me happy. Just like a pesto-y bowl of rice and roasted vegetables.

Not into vegetables at the moment? Fine. Let’s do chicken thighs.

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Surveys #431-432

two biggins’ in one, beware the long post.

Do you own any Funko Pop! figurines? No. How many cats and dogs have you had as pets in your lifetime? I couldn't possibly count the cats. A lot. We've had I wanna say eight dogs through my entire life. Can your mom and/or dad play any instruments, or how about anyone else in your family? No. My older sister played the clarinet in school, though. Have you ever colored in an adult coloring book as a stress reliever? I have, but they don't really affect my stress level. Can you crack crab legs without a tool? UGH EW I hate crab legs. So mushy and just... ew. I don't think I've tried to without a tool. How many light sources are in the room you’re in? Excluding the natural light out my windows, three. What’s your favorite thing to put on bagels? Just your usual cream cheese. Who’s your favorite director? Tim Burton. I love his style. Bats: cute or gross? Bats are SO goddamn cute. What was the last really intense pain you felt? I had a sudden pain in my chest the other day that scared me quite a bit. Would you rather vacation by a beach or a lake? A lake, for sure. How would you feel about traveling abroad alone? I'd be way too lonely. What is your father's middle name? John. Where did your last kiss take place? The airport. Which movie villain do you find the most terrifying? Probably Jason. A masked guy just casually pursuing you with a knife is horrifying to me. If you married your favorite celebrity what would your last name be? Fischbach alskdfla;wer;lkwera;wle Do you stick your tongue out often in pictures? No. Which one of your family members are you closest to? My ma. Would you rather have name brand shoes or name brand clothes? Shoes. It's very important for them to be comfy for me. Are you a good liar? Yes. :x Are you proud of your parents? Yeah. If you could get backstage tickets to ANY concert - which would you pick? If Mom was with me, Metallica. She would actually fucking die if she met them. Like she cried and laughed with joy when she found out about the concert in Raleigh some years ago, and we thought we were going to go, but yeah, money. Which is better: orange or grape soda? Orange cream soda. Grape soda is so gross. Was the last thing you ate hot or cold? It was room temperature. Who was the last person in your house who isn’t family? Our landlord/family friend. I think. What color was the last swimsuit you wore? Black. Can you remember the last song you listened to? I'm listening to "Thoughts & Prayers" by Motionless In White right now. Have you ever been dumped really harshly? Ha, that is a colossal understatement... Can you do a back flip, or anything else of that sort? Definitely not. I couldn't even do stuff like that as a kid. Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? No. What happened to cause you to feel that way about them? ^ Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Computer, for sure. Do you have a job, and if so, where do you work? No. If not, do you want one? Not right now. I want to focus on the gym and getting in shape. Do any medical afflictions run in your family? A whole lot. What’s your favorite Mexican dish? Shrimp quesadillas. Or rice with cheese sauce. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yeah, hockey and baseball. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? I'm actually conflicted on this right now. I use tampons, but there are reasons I don't really like them and am considering something else. Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? Not me myself, but Mom has. What months were you and your siblings born in? My two immediate sisters were born in April and June. What did you have for dinner last night? Uhhhhh... I want to say I had a chicken pesto bowl? Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? No, that sounds so uncomfortable. Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? No. I don't care about that anymore. Has your town ever flooded? Oh, for sure. Hurricane Floyd from when I was... I wanna say two or three WRECKED my area. Have you ever played at the McDonald’s play place? Yeah. That was a blast as a kiddo. Have you ever taken a picture of snow? Yeah. Do you cry easily? Very. Are you happy with where you live? No. The suburbs suck. I miss living in the country so much. Do people ever mistake you for being a different race? No. Do you hate the last person you kissed? No, she's my best friend in the whole world. What genre is your favorite movie? I actually don't know what it's considered? It's a kids movie, though. Who was the last person you were in a car with? My mom. Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? My permit picture is fucking hideous. When was the last time somebody hit on you? *shrug* Was the last person you met a male or female? A guy - my personal trainer. What brand is your underwear? I'm in my pjs, and only a madman would wear underwear to bed. What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? Just the rolls, really, lol. I'm not a big fan of Thanksgiving foods at all. Do you have a TV in your room? No, because I don't watch TV. Are any of your electronics charging right now? My laptop always is, though I know you shouldn't do that. I need to charge my phone, too. What was the last video game you played? Video game, not computer, I want to say uh... The Legend of Spyro: Dawn of the Dragon? What’s the biggest promise someone’s ever made to you? Did they keep it? To never leave me. He didn't. Google, Bing, or Yahoo? Google. What was the last song you had on repeat? The song I mentioned earlier. Who is your favorite person to watch on YouTube? Markiplier. :') How many college degrees do you want? It'd be nice to have a Bachelor's in SOMETHING, but I'm not returning to school. Three tries was enough money down the drain. Can you wink? Yeah. Do you own any jerseys? No. Have you ever tried to snort Pixie Stix as a child, or even an adult? Uh, no. Do you like going to baby showers? Do you go only for the cake? No. The last time Jason and I hung out in any capacity was his brother's wife's baby shower, and it's a bad memory. As well, it just reminds me of what I once wanted with him. I'll go to them and be okay, but definitely not thrilled. Has there ever been a time in your life, you felt sexually undecided? Yes, especially in the I want to say 8th grade. I had an inescapable crisis that literally lasted a whole week (or maybe more) forcing myself to believe I was straight, despite already showing but denying bisexual attractions. I was religious back then, so believed if I wasn't straight, I'd go to Hell. Then I came out as bisexual in uhhhh... 2018 I wanna say, and that was a long examination of my feelings. It felt like a massive weight off my shoulders when I accepted it. I felt legit happy. Do you think tattoos and piercings are sexy on the opposite sex? ugggghhhhh yes Do people ever ask you to do things they’re too short to accomplish? No. What color are the headphones you have at this moment in time? My earbuds are pink and white. Ever choked severely on something during lunch at your school? No. Do you eat more vegetables or fruits? What’s your favorite fruit/veggie? Fruits, for sure. My fave is strawberries. What would you say is the color of your favorite bra? I have a pink and black lacy one that is super cute, but it's too small for me right now. It just stays in my drawer. Is anyone in your family a firefighter? Who is it anyway? No. What do you usually buy when you go to the dollar store? If I'm stopping there for a snack (which is usually the only time we stop by one), I tend to get a honeybun. Ever peed in the pool? Be honest! No, that is so gross. When you’re older, what kind of house do you want to live in? I want a medium-sized house that's semi-isolated in the woods. I'd love a nice path to walk down and take photos, a catio for Roman or whatever cat I may have in the future... stuff like that. I need lots of nature. Where do you want to get married? In some sort of gothic building, though I'm sure that would be a WILDLY expensive venue, so I doubt that'll happen. Realistically, either in the woods or even a massive flower garden. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yes. What is your favorite childhood TV show? Pokemon. Honestly, do you like school? No, I didn't. Last thing that made you cry? PTSD. Honestly, are you keeping a big secret right now? No big secrets, no. Last person you took a walk with? Sara, years ago. Have you ever liked someone who didn’t like you back? Oh, have I... Who was the last person to actually pick you up in the air? Probably Jason, honestly. Does any part of your body hurt? My non-existent abs are killing me from exercising yesterday. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to change a regret what would you do? While it's tempting, hand me the cash. Can you keep a secret? Absolutely. You tell me a secret, you can guarantee I'll be keeping it between you and me. Your favorite romantic movie? The Notebook. How do you feel about Valentine’s Day? I honestly like it. I love the aesthetic of it, and I know people say "well you should celebrate love every day," and while that's right, what's so wrong about nationally designating a specific day to appreciate it? I think it's a very cute holiday. Who was the last person you took a picture with? My sister Katie. Do your jeans have rips, tears, and holes in them? I haven't worn jeans in yeeeeaaaarrrrssss. When I did though, I loved jeans like that, especially for skinny jeans. Do you celebrate 420?No. Have you ever kicked a vending machine? No. How do you eat Oreos? I prefer to just dip them in milk. If that's unavailable, I separate the two parts, eat the cream, and then the two cookies. Do you wear your shoes in the house? No. Would you survive in prison? Absofuckinglutely not. It's dark, but just to be entirely honest, I'd probably find a way to kill myself. Ever been to Georgia? I've been through it. Do you get your hair cut every month? Not every month, no. It needs a trim right now badly, though.

Current relationship in detail. I'm single and should be. If you were kicked out of your house, who would you call/go to? My dad. List things you spend money on in an average week. Nothing. Rate each of your sexual partners (if any) from 1-10. He was honestly a 10 lmao like I don't have a lot of experience at all, but yeah. Post the last FB group/page that you joined. I actually don't remember because I've been on break from Facebook for around a month. Would you parents be mad if you were in a relationship? No... Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you? I'm sure he has. He dated someone right after me for like... eight months or something? Is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to? I think that's very obvious by now. What board games are you good at? Idk, I don't really enjoy board games. Is there a sport/hobby you keep thinking about taking up, but that you’ve never quite gotten around to starting? Definitely no sports, but I've been wanting to get back into video editing. I just... haven't, even though I have the software. Do you think pranks like egging/toilet-papering someone's house are funny or immature? They're incredibly immature. I see zero humor in them. Do you think “sleeve tattoos” are a good idea? They're hot as fuck, man. Is there anything in particular that your parents argue about? What? I'll just say they're divorced for good reasons. Do you ever actually read the “Terms and Services” when you sign up for websites and such? No. If you have a handheld games console (a DS or GameBoy, for example), how often do you use it? Almost never. Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for, what do you say? Realistically, I wouldn't answer because I don't answer numbers I don't recognize. Hypothetically, if I knew it was him, I'd probably say something along the lines of, "Hey J, are you okay?", because something must be seriously wrong if he wants to talk to me of all people. If your best friend was kicked out, would your parents let him/her live with you? Mom absolutely would. Are you afraid of falling in love? I'm terrified of it. Is there anybody you wish you could be with right now? I wish I didn't. Have you ever kissed someone & wished you didn’t? Yes: Tyler. Did you get kissed last night? Haven't been kissed in years. Do you enjoy going through a carwash? Bring out the rainbow soap and it's hype lmao. How did you get most of your scars? My cat, ha ha. He sometimes plays way too rough, and I just scar very easily. Ever had to take an inkblot test? Yes, when I went to a psychologist. Have you ever been in trouble for something you honestly didn’t do? Maybe? Have you ever seriously slapped someone in anger? My sister as a kid on her arm. Safe to say I got in trouble for it. What/who woke you up this morning? Just my body. Who was the last person to be in your bedroom besides you? Mom. What’s one of your locked text messages? da;lsd;fakwer I have one locked from Sara that says something like, "You are so beautiful." I cried. Have you ever finished a game of Monopoly? I think? Jason and I used to play the digital one you could download on the PS3. Is there anyone you know who’s in any way paralyzed? No. I mean, I know of a girl who went to my school who was paralyzed from the waist down in an accident, but I didn't/don't know her personally. She was a MASSIVE deal in my education community. Like you would see "prayers for (name)" on school and church signs. The truth all comes out when someone is drunk, true? Usually true. I sometimes think back on the one time Jason was drunk, and he just told me in the most adoring voice, "I love you, Brittany." It's painful as fuck to remember. I really do wonder if he meant it, given this was in the later half of our relationship. When was the last time you felt disappointed in yourself? Constantly. How about feeling disappointed in someone else? I dunno. For you, do you commonly feel more jealousy or envy? I definitely experience envy more often. Do you rely on the heads/tails flipping of a coin sometimes for decisions? No. Do you have any specific chores you do around the house? I'm supposed to empty the dishwasher in particular. For you, does comfort or fashion come first in dressing? Comfort, 100%. Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other? No. Do you like Laffy Taffy? I do. That sounds pretty good right about now. Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners? Electric. Are your biceps at all noticeable? Yeah, no. Have you ever seen a walrus? Yeah, at SeaWorld as a kid. Did you ever have one of those Easy Bake ovens as a kid? Yeah. My little sister in particular was obsessed. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. From inside of your house, how many doors lead outside? Two. Are there a lot of trees in your yard? No. :/ I miss that. Have you ever liked someone that treated you like crap? No. Have a best friend? Yeah. :') Does it bother you when your best friend does stuff without you? That is so childish. Everyone needs space sometimes. But to answer the question, considering she lives many states away from me, obviously not. Is there a secret you’ve never told your parents? Yes. Does anyone hate you? I wouldn't at all be surprised if Jason does. Colleen might, but I really don't give a shit if she does. What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? The way I spoke to Jason after the breakup. If only I could take those letters back. Do you remember important dates? I am VERY bad at dates, doesn't matter how important they are. What’s some lyrics from a song that means a lot to you? "For such a little thing, you sure are in your own way" from a Mother Mother song. Who gives the best advice? Sara. Who do you usually see in your dreams? :) Jason is nearly a permanent fixture. Jeez, I'm bringing him up a lot in this one. I'm surprised my PTSD isn't dragging me into a pit for it. What type of cake did you last eat? Uhhh I wanna say double chocolate? Mom got two slices from the store for me and herself a long time ago. How many of your friends are gay or bisexual? A large number. I don't feel like counting. What’s your favorite type of sandwich? Just your usual peanut butter and jelly. When was the last time someone asked you out? Did you accept or decline? Years ago by Girt. I accepted. Do you like The Offspring? Sure, I like a handful of their songs. One pillow or two? I sleep with two. Do you like Mad Libs? Sure, they can be funny. Are you suicidal? Well damn, just throw that in there. Anyway, no. I'll admit I've had very brief, passive thoughts very rarely as of the late, just wondering if there really is a point to me being here, but I'm not actively suicidal at all rn. Where do your grandparents live? They're dead. When alive though, they lived in Florida and Michigan. Do you cut yourself? And this one? No, I haven't in many years. What is your pet’s name? Roman and Venus. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I'd love to visit. Aren’t babies overrated? "Overrated" is definitely the wrong word... I don't particularly find a lot of babies cute and I don't want my own, but they're not overrated. Have a built-in pool in your backyard? Never have. Ever won yourself a stuffed animal? Yeah. Ever had someone else win you a stuffed animal? Yes. Ever been to a circus? No. I wouldn't set foot into one. Ever shot animals? I never, ever could. Do you consider yourself intelligent? I USED to. I think I'm dumb as shit now. School knowledge did not latch onto me well, I guess. Have you ever run away from home? Yes. It was so overdramatic. I came back hours later because I had my phone and Mom texted me threatening to call the cops. Do you put family first, friends, relationships, school, or something else? I will never put my mental health behind anything/one again. What’s something you’ve stood up for in the past? When Colleen and I were friends in middle school, we both spoke before the class in absolute disgust at how our classmates were treating our poor substitute teacher. Colleen had AT them, while I was more tame about it but still wanted to bash into their heads that they were all being absolute trash to the poor man. What’s something you worked extremely hard to get? My mental wellbeing. Granted, I'm not exactly "well" now, but once upon a time I was living in the deepest ocean trench as far as depression goes. Are you satisfied with your body image? Hell no. I really, really, really hope loyally going to the gym will help me with that. Have you ever been labeled negatively or otherwise been called something extremely derogatory? Not that I know of. Have you ever seriously taken advantage of someone or been taken advantage of? No. Have you ever been seriously ill? Mentally, immensely. Physically, not really. I've had some nasty stomach bugs, but nothing truly severe. Have you ever befriended a former enemy? Ha, it's funny, I used to hate Jason's first ex/heartbreak for how badly she hurt him. Like she could've been falling off the face of the earth with only me to save her, and I'd let her keep falling. I hated her. Yet now we're Facebook friends and comment on each other's stuff like it's nothing, ha ha. She reached out to me a few years ago to apologize for high school stuff (she also hated me for Juan - her ex or something along those lines - being interested in me instead of her), we chatted a bit, and now I think she's great. If you’re not religious, would you ever pray as a last resort? If you are religious, do you often pray for other people? I don't pray anymore. That's all I'll say to keep this from becoming potentially very offensive. Have you ever dated someone, then after you dated they came out of the closet or switched (for lack of a better word) sexual orientation? I'm pretty sure my middle school boyfriend Aaron is gay, but I'm not certain. He vanished from Facebook a long time ago. Has a boy/girl ever walked a ridiculous distance just to see you? How about vice versa? I tried doing that the night of the breakup. By car, I know it was a seven-minute drive, but walking there, never mind at night, was ludicrous. I only didn't manage because after a few minutes, Mom came after me and kept cutting me off with the car. When was the last time you felt really uncomfortable? Right now. My abs REALLY hurt, and I'm also cramping like a motherfucker after not having a period for 3+ months because of TMS therapy. I'm still pissed about how it had a physical effect on me, but didn't mentally do what it was meant to. Is there anything that your mom is really known for as to how she is as a person? She is very, very loving and lives to help others. Who have you been talking to the most today? Nobody, really. I've spoken with Mom obviously, but for the most part, today's been quiet. Are you nosy? I can be pretty damn nosy, yes. What’s the meanest thing you have done to a friend? Consistently flirted with her boyfriend behind her back. I was 12, okay? If your ex called you crying, what would it most likely be about? THE ex, I have no idea. I don't know what's going on in his life, besides his mother dying quite a few months ago, but I don't see why he'd contact me about that. Who was the best kisser out of all the people you have kissed? Jason. Have you ever been told that you have an annoying laugh? No, but I think I do.

#survey #surveys #random questions

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