come_sailaway | October Catch-All

Entry tags:

October Catch-All

Who: Max & OPEN
What: Covering Max's reactions to the Tiamat Plot & also Recovery after + lighter stuff for mid-month as desired
When: Thru October
Where: All over, stated in prompts
Warning: Discussion of trauma and death in reaction to the Valdis/Tiamat plot. I can tone it down if needed, please just ask

Timeline For My Own Sanity (Hope this helps!)

Late Sep. 30 Valdis is killed by Harvey
Early Oct. 1 Cass Notifies Max
Probably Oct. 2 Max in kitchen keeping busy talks with Grace
Early Oct. 3 Max Finds out Tiamat rose instead of Valdis
Immediately After Oct. 3 Daisy Comforts Max First
Oct. 3 in the morning, Ash is Killed. Three Days Later Ash texts Max he's back alive
A nebulous amount of time later, Erin texts to tell Max Valdis is Alive!

Keeping Busy In The Kitchen Oct. 2
Valdis was killed. There's nothing he can do about it. All he can do is wait and hope. Right now, there's only one way he knows how to cope with such feelings of helplessness. Baking.

Find him from morning until night in the kitchen surrounded by macarons of every shape, color, and size he can possibly think of. Macarons are her favorite. Their favorite. He wants enough to be able to shower her in them the moment she's awake again.

His eyes are red and his nose is raw from wiping away tears all night, but right now his expression is hollow and determinedly blank. He won't let himself contaminate his work with more tears. He won't...

Oct. 3- End of Tiamat [Cw: Heavy depression, hygiene/health neglect, disordered eating, alcoholism/drugs]
The only thing that was keeping him from breaking down completely was the hope of seeing Valdis again in three days. But now... the worst possible thing has come to pass. Valdis's body woke, but it wasn't her. It wasn't her...

Baking isn't enough to keep him glued together now. He's crumbling under the fear that he'll never see the woman he loves again. And even worse, that her body is being puppeted to commit such heinous and unforgivable acts. Ash... oh, Ash...

He can barely bring himself to get out of bed to face the new days. He hasn't gotten up to exercise even once this week. The usual 5 o'clock shadow his chin sports is turning into a full patchy beard because he hasn't bothered to shave, let alone gell back his wild curly hair. He hasn't put much care into his appearance at all, wearing his Crew pajamas almost all day, or otherwise wearing his gym shorts and T-shirts despite not doing any workouts. His appetite has gone the same way as his fashion sense. Not even the desperate rumbling of hunger in his belly is enough to persuade him to do much more than drink some juice without prompting.

Occasionally, he can be spotted out of his cabin moping around in the library, the hot tub, or, more likely, the bars. At a time like this, that new weed selection in the cigarette machine is starting to look attractive, even if he doesn't smoke. Oddly, the one place he can't be found right now is the kitchen. That's how you know it's Bad.

Post Tiamat Plot - Cooking Lessons
Now that things are finally back to the way they should be, he can breathe. It's almost like he came back alive the moment Valdis did. His passion for cooking has come flooding back to him so fiercely he can barely contain it. He feels a sudden need to share in his joy. So, he does something he's been thinking about for a long time.

All around the ship, new flyers have gone up (and, yes, they have brail translations too):
Cooking lessons! Group sessions from 1:00-3:00 every Friday. All skill levels welcome. Offered by Max Maximum. Private lessons also available, contact Max directly to schedule Hope to see you there!

On that Friday, Max will be in the kitchen around noon to prep for his very first time teaching an actual class. He's nervous but also excited. He doesn't know what level everyone might be, so he's decided today's lesson will be something simple but still rewarding. He's going to teach everyone how to make homemade chicken noodle soup, including cooking the raw chicken, making the broth, and the noodles. There's a little bit of everything. It should be a good baseline. At least, he hops so. Never know with this crew, they might still manage to set something on fire.

"Welcome! Come on in. Go ahead and grab an apron and go to one of the stations. We'll get started when we have a full group." Said aprons are courtesy of the Spirit Tommy Bahama.

(ooc: You are welcome to treat this like a mingle as well, make fun of each other's fuck-ups, or whatever. Also, I'm happy to write a prompt for private lessons upon request. FYI, if you miss this one, I plan to repeat the prompt again in future months!)

Pillow Pit!!
Later in the month, Max finally remembers to go pick up the mail he had waiting for him at Sundries. There isn't a box, but rather a letter that describes a new feature at the spa and a key to open it. He is now the proud facilitator of a new pillow pit.

Catch him on his way there, so excited he can't stop himself from running. He'll wave at you and beckon to follow, "Come with me, I got a new surprise!"

He didn't really know what to expect but he has to say the decore is really... something.

"Wow..."

But that won't dissuade him from doing a fearless bellyflop right into the pillows. "Oh, fuck, it's so soft. God, I might never leave..."

This is his new favorite nap space now. He makes a point of coming in here almost daily to catch some 'zzz' while hoping maybe someone else will want to cuddle with him. It will be especially nice when that next excursion starts and he needs somewhere to go to seek comfort since he really can't bring himself to go on this one. Anyone else is always welcome to join.

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"I could probably eat garbage and be okay." He hasn't tested his theory that he could chug drain cleaner, but he's pretty sure that his stomach would process glass at this point.

"Uh.. I mean I've cut onions before. Is there some secret special way that makes your eyes not water? Cuz that would be awesome."

"You could, but you won't need to if you keep working at this." Seriously, don't eat garbage. We can do better.

"There's a few tips I can give you, actually. First, you can try freezing them for just a little but before you cut them. But you have to not forget about them in there for too long," Which... you know... might not be the best solution here. "Personally, I find it quicker and easier to just make sure my knife is as sharp and clean as it can possibly be. The less surface area of the onion you cut, the less it releases those nasty enzymes at you. Also, don't rub your eyes while you do it. That just makes it worse."

It's the only super power he thinks he has. Let him have his garbage eating.

"... If you freeze them long enough can you just shatter them? Because that seems like you can work smarter not harder." He's imagining throwing onions against concrete pavement in Montana winters, which are substantially colder than freezers get. "Alright okay, but here we've just got sharp knives and hand washing. I got this."

At least he knows how to peel the onion's papery skin off before starting to slice - which is probably better than most people he knows.

"Uh...no. Freezers don't really get that cold. Not the cooking kind." That would freeze all the flavor right out of the food. Freezer burn, yuck!

"I like the confidence. You do got this. Now, watch what I do. I'll show you the safest way to cut one." Max slices the head off his onion, leaving the root. Then, he cuts it in half. Only then does he pick the papery skin off. Because it's much easier now.

"So, you want to leave the root on because it keeps the onion together while you slice it lengthwise. And you cut it in half and do one half at a time because that keeps it from rolling away. Now, you see how I'm gripping the onion? It feels awkward at first, but this keeps your fingers out of the way of the blade. Let me see you try it."

"Aight Sensei Max." This is like food magic to Pratt, and he watches and follows along. There's a good chance he'll forget this tomorrow, but right now he's real good at taking orders, even if they're about chopping food.

"Chicks dig scars but not these kinds huh?" He grins as he follows suit, chopping his onion into pretty even little cubes. He's a good student, or a good lackey depending on how one looks at it. "Is the kitchen here cuz of you? Like did you open up something from Sundries and got hit in the head by a Home Depot catalog and then a kitchen constructed itself?"

"You know, I have some memories of living in Japan for a year, actually? You could say I had a baking sensei at the shop I worked at there." Sure, it happened in a memory that didn't actually exist but it felt real enough.

"Not these kinds, no," Max says with comical solemnity. "The scar has to come with a cool story. Slipping while cutting an onion isn't that cool of a story." There's no way this advice could possibly go wrong, right?

"Because of me? I don't think so... I'm pretty sure Darcy would fight me for the rights if I tried to claim it was."

"I think I watched that anime." He smirks. It was probably a hentai actually.

"Wait Darcy can cook? Really? I did not expect that at all."

Max isn't here to judge. Besides, that smirk is really cute.

"You didn't know Darcy can cook?" How did Pratt miss that? "Darcy's pretty much on the same level as me. You're missing out if you haven't asked for any of his food yet. Tell him to make you a crepe. You won't be sorry."

Darcy can die in a fire for all Pratt cares which is probably why he missed that.

"Yeah I'll pass. I barely know what a crepe is anyway." he scowls as he scoops his little cubes of onion into a bowl. Look at his fancy mise en place, he's halfway there already. Then he brightens up, "'Sides, you're cuter to watch cook anyway."

Hm. Max is socially aware enough to catch that scowl. Guess those two don't get along so well. That's sad... But, he's learned enough to know to leave it alone, at least. Can't mend every bridge.

"Aw, you think I'm cute?" He bats his eyelashes. Like, duh, he knows he's cute. He's being so cute right now just to prove it.

"I bet you'd rather have gnocchi anyway. That's pasta made out of mashed potatoes."

"You know you are," said just as cutely.

But then his eyes go wide, "Wait that's a thing? Are you fucking with me right now?"

"I swear I'm not. That's a real thing." You know what? It's only Pratt that's here so... "Why don't I change the lesson plan up a little and show you? Those work just as well in soup as regular noodles."

"Dude where has mashed potato pasta been my whole life. The only not pasta pasta we got was made of cauliflower and tasted like sadness."

His grin gets even bigger, "Hey you can change the lesson plan up to whatever you want. I'm trying to get a good grade here - so I'll do anything."

"Oh, no. That whole cauliflower substitution craze was so sad. I tried it myself to see if it was worth it and... no. No, it wasn't." It's one thing to cook vegetarian with purpose, that's great, but trying to save calories by substituting that instead of just watching portion sizes and being mindful sucks the joy right out of life. Eat the damn potato.

"I can't believe I never thought to teach you this sooner." In retrospect, it seems like such a no-brainer.

"You're not getting a grade on this. I'm not accredited so we are strictly pass/fail here. And unless you blow the deep fryer up like Skulduggery did by putting ice or water in it, you'll probably pass."

Oh yes he is stoked about potato pasta And probably gonna eat way too much of it.

"Uhhh. Wait he did what? Even I know that." Because he only paid attention in those mandatory fire safety classed because someone ~~Sharky~~ was probably going to do some dumb shit like try and explode a fire extinguisher and he didn't want to blow himself up too when he gets called out for that since there's no fire department in Hope County. "Why would he blow up a deep fryer? Can he even eat?"

Max will be making a note to stress portion control in the next lesson.

"I'm glad you do know that." Glad and... honestly kind of surprised. Good surprised.

"He did it on the other ship that time when they all signed up to go on the death excursion. Remember the really bad music? He said it was because he couldn't drown but he, um, he caught himself and Watson in the blast and made both their bones rain down in the kitchen HERE while I was in it." So, yeah, he's still kind of mad about it.

"Dude." For a second that's all he can muster, and honestly it covers all the various reactions he's having right now. "He blew it up so hard he crossed over realities?"

"I... yeah. Yeah, I guess he did." No one thoroughly explained to Max what was really going on so for all he knows that's exactly what happened.

"That's probably why Friday was really against helping me get the deep fryer installed here in the first place. She hates fire hazards. She probably doesn't like me very much because of it. But, come on, how else am I supposed to make toasted ravioli the right way?"

Pratt is sure having a time here today, first there's pasta made of potatoes and now, "You deep fried ravioli??"

If his hands weren't covered in potato goop and onion juice he'd hug Max right now. And it would only be his fourth or fifth hug of his entire year and a half here so that's a big deal.

"I think she knows you're not dumb enough to light the kitchen on fire. And Skulduggery doesn't have skin so he doesn't really need to worry about fire." He gallantly resists making the joke about bone broth here.

"You can, yeah. It's something they invented in St. Louis, Missouri but it's starting to catch on now. They call them 'toasted ravs.' I can make you some with just cheese. You bread them, deep fry them, and dunk them in marinara sauce." Pratt better believe Max is going to make him some now.

"I hope so. I do my best to make sure everyone knows how to properly put out a grease fire and stuff like that, just in case. Sometimes I worry that she might be jealous since she doesn't have a mouth."

"Am I allowed to confess my undying love for you on our first cooking lesson?" Because he absolutely will and he means it. He is the most stereotypical country man in existence and the way to his heart (and everything else) is through his stomach. The fact that he can eat literal garbage is irrelevant here.

Pratt furrows his brow as he thinks because he's vaguely remembering, "I think she does have one. Someone...Rita? Maybe? Told me they'd seen it. Or maybe it was Ava. But there was something about it being horrible, probably because she's made of dirt."

He's forgetting the part where it was described as "a lamprey in a Junji Ito novel".

"If it's because of my cooking, then yes, absolutely. I love you too, man." He means that very much. Pratt is a good friend to him.

"Wait. What? Friday is made out of dirt?"

"Dirt and uh.. rocks. Or bones. Something like that. And then has a skin covering and blood. The Captain made her out of magic and random stuff." He almost thinks it was teeth or something, but that seems really macabre.

"I've never asked her about it it seems sorta rude to saunter up and be like: sup, so how's the dirt today?"

"Wow. That uh... yeah, probably would be rude to just say to her." This information does nothing to lessen Max's general fear of the woman. If anything, it reinforces his instinct to stay very far away from her.

"Okay, let's get back to the cooking stuff before I lose my appetite, huh?"

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October Catch-All

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how do you feel about fading from here?