#butlerofthemansion

[unto-myself-together]

The Perfect Moment

@inkandfeatherdusters

The paper crinkled, and the crackling noise was close to jarring in the otherwise quiet room. 

Nell laid there, lounging across his perfectly placed piles; the self-same piles that he had hoofed and hollered at her for lounging across in the first place. 

By all rights, whatever that had encompassed Victor’s attention must have distracted him to the point where he no longer knew she was there.  To be fair, though, she made no noise, and he couldn’t possibly see her anymore as she was directly behind him, staring at the back of his cushy looking seat. 

Out of sight, out of mind. 

The idea that he had forgotten about her was both a blessing and a curse. For although he was no longer berating her for her careless treatment of his fabulous papers full of who-knows-what written on them, he was also ignoring her. 

Her hands clenched tighter around the yard stick that she had been using earlier as a convenient way to beat out the dust from the curtains, and a wicked smirk overcame her face.

It was still there. 

The hole. 

The hole that she had painstakingly chiseled into the back of his chair yesterday morning, small enough for it to apparently escape his notice but wide enough...

...for a yard stick.

She lifted it up level and wiggled it through, slowly and surely, feeling around from when it finally made it all the way.   Her hand stayed before it touched him; she wanted to have the ultimate effect.  

After all, she had created that hole for this express purpose, and wanted to savor every second.  

So, with a deep breath, and still that wicked grin, she jammed the stick right through the hole, knowing full well it was going to stick him

Right. In. His. Ass.

[milo-made-this]

//silently slips back onto my old rp blog to maybe update it a little because it's been nine months since I've touched it

[asktheghosthost]

"I should have never trusted you."

“She’s fine!” Beau set Hannah back into her crib. “She just got a little bump on the noggin, that’s all.”

[asktheghosthost]

Happy birthday, dearest bestest boo buddy! Have your favorite host painted in his favorite beverage (no, not wine from the cellar). 

Hope he likes his Earl Grey strong.

Myrr: I love this so much! Thank you! It looks like a children's book illustration. It's so wonderful! Thank you!

[asktheghosthost]

I'm desperate for the "muse a works in muse b's favorite restaurant". That one sounds absolutely adorable.

College AU! Wheee!

“Every Friday night, you always choose this place,” Dorian mumbled, following behind his cousin. He slipped through the glass door before it swung shut, giving it only the gentlest nudge with his elbow to keep it open a second longer. “The food’s not great. I don’t get it. It’s a college town. Look at all the taverns we got!”

Beau turned to glare at him. “A. The Friday dinner is my choice, so what I say, goes. B. They give a student discount, and you seem to always forget…” He curled his fingers into quotes. “… your wallet, so I’m not paying for expensive meals. C. …” He came to an abrupt stop at the Hostess’ podium. “Hi…” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Um, two. As… as usual.”

Dorian gave him a side-eye stare. “And that’s our C.”

[asktheghosthost]

"Don't cry for me" (either of them works)

Dorian walked up behind Victor, put his chin on Victor’s shoulder, his arms around his waist, and stood like that against him for a while. It was always surreal, seeing his own headstone, lovely though it was. Dorian actually didn’t go into the cemetery often. His search for his husband was what brought him to that part of the property.

“Vicky…” He let out a gusty sigh. “It’s so gloomy here. It’s just a cold rock with an even colder body underneath of it. Please…” He tugged on him. “Let’s go back inside and sit by the fire. There’s no reason to be out here. It’s a dreadful place.” He nuzzled away some of Victor’s tears. “I’m here, not… under all of that dirt or in that musty old box or even in that slab of stone.”

[asktheghosthost]

-insert bubble bath symbol here-

Dorian didn’t budge from his position. Arms draped over the sides of the tub, head lazily back, all he did was open one eye in mild annoyance. Then seeing who it was, he grinned. “Vicky! Why don’t you join me? The water’s great.” He patted the surface. “Always room for one more.” He waggled his brows.

((And then they got stuck knee to knee and someone got his back jammed against the faucet, because let’s face it, that’s exactly what would happen.))

[asktheghosthost]

Ya know when cats sometimes stick their paws under some door? Do you do that sometimes

“Erm…”

*WIBBLY-WOBBLY, SPOOKY-WOOKY FLASH BACK EFFECT *

As Caitlin Taylor made her post dusting rounds, a strange shape on the floor caught her eye. It was wriggling by the door to the Ghost Relations Department. Scowling, she called out, “Leota, you need to reign in your creepies and crawlies and serpents!” A closer look, though, yielded that it was merely a rope.

A very familiar, tatty ended rope.

“Beau…” She crouched down. “What are you doing?”

There was a brief moment of embarrassed silence. Then: “Can you bring me a cup of Earl Grey and a glass of milk? Please?”

She huffed. “Oh, all right. But next time, just ask, like a normal… Nevermind. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

The rope was still there, though. After a second’s thought, she gripped it and gave it a sharp yank. There was a THUD and an “Oof!” as the door shook on the impact.

As she was walking away, he called out, “Thank you, dearest-deadest!”

*WOBBLY-WIBBLY, WOOKY-SPOOKY FLASH FORWARD EFFECT*

“Not exactly.”

((Caitlin Taylor used with permission from @butlerofthemansion ))