#Arizona Food Manager | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milksuu · 7 months

Text

❀. │GIRL DINNER (O1)│. ❀

❥ prompt: You're hungry. You want food. You want a snack. You just want SOMETHING. You send your HEARTSTEEL boyfriend(s) on a food-run adventure. Let's see what each boy brings back. ❥ content/warnings: sexually suggestive themes, profanity, fluff ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel (aphelios,kayn,ezreal) / f!reader

APHELIOS

sour patch kids and ariZona tea

Aphelios sneaks behind you, and presses the cold can against your neck. He can't help but enjoy how much you pout and whine about it.

He also can't help enjoying every expression you make: the first satisfied sip of your tea, the excitement of opening up the candy bag, and your mouth pursing from the sour taste. Then smiling once the sweetness settles.

But what Aphelios can't help most, is pulling down his mask, and tasting the sugar sparkling your lips. Smiling to himself when you're lost for words, cheeks stained pink, and nervously drawing cute circles against his chest.

It's enough to make him come back for seconds. And when he does, you taste even sweeter than the first. He was planning for a third but...he can wait till later.

Most likely past midnight underneath his sheets. When everyone's asleep but you two. And only he can hear the even sweeter noises you make—just for him. Only for him. Like an exclusive confectionary shop, and he's the only one allowed inside.

Until then, he’ll just savor the moment of watching you enjoy your snacks.

Aphelios likes his sweets. Even though he'll never admit it to anyone. But you're the only exception.

KAYN

flamin' hot fries and cherry coke

Kayn devoted his precocious time to get you something you could obviously get yourself, because he tolerates 'likes' you. (Whatever that means.)

He tosses the chip bag and drink in your lap, and plops down next to you. Pretending not to care whether or not you like his choices. Not his problem if you don't like it. He did you a favor, after all.

But all of that's a lie. He cares, like a lot. More than he wants to admit it. Because he values your opinion. And wants your validation. He scuffs to himself. Like he would ever beg or ask for it. He probably would.

You pause, staring at the snacks without a word. The anticipation is driving him damn near crazy. And if you had to be honest with him…the combo is your total favorite!

You show your appreciation with showering praise, a hug around his neck, and love pats to his hair. He hates it. He fucking loves it.

Kayn doesn't easily show his joy. His happiness at your reaction starts off with a simple smile. Not so commonplace for someone like him. But then it curls into that all infamous smirk of his that only spells trouble.

Kayn was hungry himself. This whole time, didn't you know? Silly (and naive) of you not to have noticed. His gaze devours you till you find yourself caught by his lips. The nips and bites tell you the poor boy is starving. And he deepens the kiss till....

Well, guess your snacks can wait.

EZREAL

happy meal and sprite

Ezreal is excited to give you this happy meal. Why? Well, that's a surprise! And he loves surprising you.

He first covers your eyes and asks you to guess who it is. He does this all the time. You giggle at how silly it is. But you wouldn't want it any other way.

He then presents the box with the famous 'Ta-Da!' reveal.

You absolutely LOVE the happy meal from PoroKing! Not only is the food good, but the box art is always a cute treat to see.

Oh, but that wasn't the best part about it. The surprise was still inside. When you open the box, the toy inside is what makes you absolutely go crazy. It's the limited edition PoroKing keychain!

It's the only one you don't have in the entire collection, and somehow, Ezreal managed to get it for you.

You can't help yourself. You bounce onto his lap, and press your body and lips against his. He really wasn't expecting this much of a reaction! Afraid you might bounce away from how giddy you are, he takes your hips and presses you closer. Closer to the point where…

Looks like there's more than one surprise happening tonight.

#heartsteel #league of legends #LoL #aphelios x reader #kayn x reader #ezreal x reader #part 2 coming soon #heartsteel x reader #x reader #i swear one of these is making it into my heartsteelxreader fanfic

707 notes · View notes

guillotine-drop · 2 months

Text

Rating POSTAL Dudes by how good they smell:

POSTAL - 9/10: I think his habitual reclusion and distrust of the world would probably mean he’s showering constantly, moreso than any other Dude, especially if he thinks there’s a ‘Hate Plague’ going on. I think he smells basic; very simple routine, just enough to make sure he feels clean, so at most he’ll smell like some generic 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo/conditioner, maybe something slightly nicer just for himself (some decent $15 aftershave for that menthol scent and cooling relief).

POSTAL Redux - 3/10: Exact opposite of his original incarnation, this greasy son of a bitch isn’t scared of shit he just wants to throw explosives at ostriches and parades. Barely showers, constantly stinks of stale sweat, old blood, cheap leather and cheaper cologne, punctuated with the scent of burnt gunpowder. Borderline noxious.

POSTAL 2 - 4/10: Smells just as bad as Redux Dude but gets the edge here because every now and then he goes outside and uses the neighbor’s hose to blast himself. Shockingly uses deodorant, still not enough to be perpetually leather and denim clad in the great state of Arizona. Almost constantly reeks of sweat and has the recognizable yet faint scent of stale piss wafting off of him, accompanied by the scent of even staler crack and pungent fast food. Almost pungent enough to drown the rest out. Almost.

POSTAL 3 - 2/10: If you were to raid the wash cart after a double overtime football game, steal every jockstrap in the place, wring the sweat into a bucket, and then bring it all to a boil, you’d have somewhere in the realm of what a clean P3 Dude smells like. On average, however, this man has managed to combine the overwhelming sensory nightmares of cat piss and cheap spray deodorant into an almost lethal concoction, ONLY made breathable by the strange and overpowering smell of gasoline that seems to seep from his pores. Approach with caution and for the love of god: do not bring bleach or matches near this freak.

POSTAL 4: No Regerts - 5/10: Despite looking like he crawled out of a dumpster after a bad divorce or a fantastic honeymoon, P4 Dude is shockingly passable in terms of being able to stand next to him for a prolonged period without gagging or killing him. Having learned the efficacy of not being encased in leather in the desert, he’s managed to bring his pungency down several notches. Still reeks of sweat most of the time, and the smell of burger grease and pepperoni follows him like a specter of death, but the piss scent stopped clinging on as hard. He’s also upgraded from hose showers with no supplies to sink baths with tiny gas station travel soaps. It’s an improvement, trust me.

Brain Damaged - 2/10: Take a look at his living space in the title screen, then watch the game’s cutscenes. Just soak it all in. Now that you’ve done that, you can understand that his rank ass smells exactly as bad as you might think it does. If it can come out of his body, it’s probably soaking some part of him. If you think any of the clothes on him have been washed, you’re wrong. This man smells like if someone firebombed an outhouse and pissed on it to put it out. The best thing for him would be getting blasted with a firehouse and a box of laundry detergent. Please.

The Other Dude - 1-10/10: Entirely depends on how the BD Dude would imagine he smells depending on the situation.

POOSTALL Dude - 6/10: Despite the name, this one actually smells pretty decent. The clearly larger coat with the rolled sleeves implies some level of understanding about how not to smell like swamp ass and sweat soaked leather, and truthfully, he looks like he bathes semi-regularly, a rarity amongst these guys.

POSTAL Doe - 9/10: I admit fully and entirely to my lack of impartiality to this one, but I’m willing to stand by it even if I lose my Stink Judge License: first of all, sleeveless leather trench coat AND a crop top mean less overheat which means less sweat. Second of all, visually cleaner than pretty much any of the dudes which implies some kind of self care regimen. Third, and most importantly, girlstink counts positive. I will not be turning in my badge or my gun.

Movie Dude - 8/10: This may be controversial, but despite the squalor he lives in and the fact that hems a cuckold and that his life sucks and that he can’t get a job and that he’s a loser- I digress. I think Movie Dude is in the top echelons of Dude Stink solely because I think he’d have a breakdown if he smelled bad. This man uses Dr. Teals. He stinks like a mix of eucalyptus and peppermint. If ever there was a Dude who had a skin routine, he still wouldn’t, but he’d definitely think about it one day. I think by the end he gets an extra point just because he gets a little hotter the more deranged he is. Overall very pleasant but I still wouldn’t give him $4.

John Murray - 2/10: Hasselridge seems to have a very… interesting relationship with what is and isn’t normal, so unsurprisingly, Johnny Boy would probably smell pretty rough. Considering how dingy, run down and shitty everything in that town appears to be, I can’t imagine anyone else is smelling like roses either. Just avoid the entire place, not least of all because of the zombie thing.

Shtopor - 0/10: Bad.

Nottem Portant - 5/10: Despite the misanthropy, dollar store Nathan Explosion thing and the absolutely abysmal gameplay, Mr. Hatred is actually extremely middle of the road on stink. Sure, he doesn’t smell great, but shockingly he washes his ass despite the whole ‘death to humanity’ thing. He does get point deduction for not washing his hair though, grease mop motherfucker.

#yeah dude #postal #postal dude #postal redux #postal 2 #postal 3 #postal 4 #postal brain damaged #poostall royale #postal movie #eternal damnation #corkscrew rules #hatred #I stand by most of these. your guess as to which one(s) is the outlier

135 notes · View notes

salembutnotthecat · 4 months

Text

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Four

if you have questions or requests, feel free to ask!

@monthofsick

tw emeto, fever, sickness, scat (in conjuction with emeto)

Meadow slowly opened her eyes to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains. Her bedroom room, filled with dreamcatchers and tapestries, usually felt serene.

However, as she sat up, a wave of queasiness swept over her, a subtle disturbance in the tranquility of her morning.

Her stomach, a knot of uncertainty, made its upset known as she swung her legs out of bed. The wooden floor beneath her feet felt cool, grounding her in the reality of the moment.

It was Friday. Friday meant show night. Friday meant the afternoon shift at the Whiskey Creek Tavern, and then grabbing her guitar and playing music for bar goers for extra tips.

Meadow ran a hand through her hair, one of her feather extensions finally breaking free of her hair. She probably needed to redo it today. Take out the old, put on some new ones.

As she stood before the mirror, the reflection revealed a hint of fatigue in her eyes, contrasting the usual sparkle. Meadow's fingers ran through her hair, attempting to shake off the lingering drowsiness.

In the midst of applying gentle strokes of mascara, a sudden spell of nausea struck, causing her to pause.

The nausea made her nervous. It always did. She immediately went into her bathroom, and she was sure an hour passed that she was waiting for the wave of vomit that never came.

The nausea passed. Meadow took a deep breath, willing the discomfort away. She had her windows open, it was spring time and the wildflowers in her yard were freshly in bloom. The scents that Meadow usually welcomed, the flowers and the early morning dew, that were usually so comforting were almost too much for her.

Random spells of nausea continued to tease, leaving Meadow to navigate the morning with subtle panic. She hated vomiting, it scared her.

As she put in some new feather extensions, there were a few dry heaves, each one making the panic worse, which probably did her upset stomach no favors.

She got dressed. Her usually flowy top, her colorful skirt, her floral corset. She put on a few bracelets. She tried to just act like she was feeling totally normal.

As Meadow joined April, Allie, and Arizona for lunch, the familiar scent of homemade dishes filled the air. The restaurant was one of Meadow’s favorites, a small family owned restaurant. It was Meadow’s favorite place when she moved to town.

But today the thought of walking in made her want to throw up. Her stomach felt worse, she was sure because of the anxiety, and the mere thought of putting anything in her stomach made her want to lose it.

"Meadow, sweetheart, you seem a bit off today. Everything okay?" April said at some point.

Meadow, usually bubbly and full of life, managed a faint smile, attempting to reassure April. "Yeah, just a bit tired, you know? I was out late in the field, inspiration strikes at the worst time. Nothing to worry about."

However, April's maternal instincts kicked in, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Meadow, quieter than usual, picked at her food.

"Sugar, you gotta eat something,” April said, “Its going to be busy tonight, you know how Fridays are.”

“Right,” Meadow said, forcing a chuckle, “I was just zoning out. Sorry.”

Meadow started to eat then. Her stubbornness and disdain for people worrying about her outweighed her queasiness. She started eating more than she probably should, a silent message that she was perfectly fine. Each bite felt like a deliberate effort, the flavors blending with the lingering queasiness that still clung to her. But she continued to eat the food she had.

This was going to be a long night…

The atmosphere at Whiskey Creek Tavern buzzed with the lively energy of patrons and the soulful tunes drifting from the stage. Meadow always started the night by taking orders and delivering plates with her usual charm. However, it felt so impossible to maintain.

As the evening unfolded, Meadow began to feel a mounting discomfort in her stomach. The eclectic mix of dishes she had consumed earlier now seemed to swirl uncomfortably within her. The tight embrace of her corset felt constricting, adding to her unease.

April, perceptive as ever, noticed the subtle shift in Meadow's demeanor. "Sugar, do you need a break?" she suggested, concern etched across her face.

Meadow, determined not to let on, flashed a reassuring smile. "No, April, I'm good. Just a bit tired, that's all."

As she continued to navigate the crowded tavern, the queasiness intensified. The lively chatter around her seemed to blur, and Meadow struggled to focus on her tasks. A conflict brewed within her – an internal debate between the fear of admitting she wasn't well and the growing urgency to find relief.

The sensation intensified, leaving Meadow torn between the need to dash to the bathroom and the fear of attracting attention. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake her, but she fought to keep it at bay.

"April, could you handle the next few tables for me?" Meadow requested, attempting to maintain composure.

April, sensing something amiss, nodded understandingly. "Of course, sweetheart. Take a break if you need to."

Meadow, now feeling the pressure of her corset against her abdomen, excused herself and hurried toward the restroom. The dimly lit corridor provided a momentary refuge, and she took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising discomfort. The struggle continued, a silent battle between her desire to appear unfazed and the growing urgency within.

In the dimly lit restroom of Whiskey Creek Tavern, Meadow leaned against the sink. She could feel her corset seemed to press too hard on her stomach, like she tied it too tight.

As she stood there, Meadow's mind added to her suffering by reminding her of everything she ate earlier. She could almost taste it all over again. The queasiness escalated into a painful reality, and a sudden urgency sent her rushing to the stall.

She pulled down her skirt. Almost immediately she could feel liquid rushing out of her.

The tightness of the corset felt unforgiving. She pressed her hands against her stomach, which sent more out of her.

Every wave made her want to gag. Her throat felt tight, like she was going to puke.

After what felt like an eternity, Meadow emerged from the stall, her complexion paler than before. She washed her hands, avoiding her reflection in the mirror, not wanting to confront the vulnerability etched on her face.

She splashed cold water on her face. She took a deep breath.

The stage at Whiskey Creek Tavern awaited Meadow, her guitar resting against her as she prepared to share her music with the eager audience. The vibrant lights cast a warm glow, and the hum of anticipation filled the air. Meadow, however, felt the familiar waves of discomfort intensify as she took her place under the spotlight.

This was truly Meadow’s favorite thing. She loved getting up here, performing. It was entertaining and most of the time, the people were so nice.

But the weight of her guitar on her stomach, once a familiar comfort, made her feel worse. And moving around as she always did was making her feel like she would lose it one way or another.

The crowd, absorbed in the music, remained oblivious to Meadow's internal battle. With each note, the queasiness intensified, threatening to overshadow the magic of her performance.

She felt her corset digging into her stomach. Meadow knew what was going to happen. The discomfort was low. She felt sweat on her forehead, on her back, as the moments ticked by, her corset felt tighter and her top felt suffocating.

She finished half her set. Maybe she could split it. She could wrap up this half, give someone else a go, maybe step outside a moment to collect herself, and go from there.

That’s what she did. Pulling Houston on stage, letting him do his set. She didn’t hesitate to basically run off.

“Meadow?” Allie is behind her.

The tightness of the corset felt unbearable now, every step intensifying the discomfort. She thought about taking it off, maybe, but she also didn’t want to set it down and forget it or something.

"I just need a moment," Meadow managed to whisper, though her breaths came in shallow gasps.

She stumbled towards the exit, the cool night air promising relief. The world outside the tavern embraced her with a gentle breeze, but the queasiness persisted.

The plan was to catch her breath, but the discomfort had other plans. Meadow rushed towards the restroom, a desperate urgency propelling her forward. The door closed behind her, muffling the distant sounds of the lively tavern.

Alone in the dimly lit restroom, she felt the corset tightening like a vice, her stomach in revolt. She immediately sat on the toilet, in the stall.

The first wave of diarrhea offered a brief reprieve, but Meadow's relief was short-lived. The discomfort lingered, morphing into an ominous prelude. She clutched her stomach, beads of sweat now forming a sheen on her forehead. The once vibrant tie-dye skirt seemed to mock her, a casualty of the evening's ordeal.

Pressing her hands to her stomach, more burning liquid shot out of her. It was horrible. She could feel the way the liquid cascaded out of her. Every cramp in her stomach was a precursor toward

Just as Meadow thought she might be able to gather herself, a sudden surge of nausea overwhelmed her. Panicking, she covered her mouth with her hand, desperately trying to suppress the rising tide of sickness. The corset felt like a cruel accomplice, constricting her further.

Unable to hold back any longer, the contents of her stomach erupted through her hand, catching on the vibrant skirt below. The bathroom became a cacophony of distress as the dual assault continued. Meadow, torn between the toilet and the mess she had unintentionally created, felt the vulnerability of the moment consume her.

Allie, sensing something was terribly wrong, knocked on the restroom door. "Meadow, are you okay?" she called, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Meadow, gasping for breath, couldn't muster a response. The eclectic sounds of the tavern seemed to blur with the retching, creating a surreal symphony of distress within the confines of the restroom. The vibrant spirit that had graced the stage now grappled with the harsh reality of her own physical limits.

As the bathroom door creaked open, Allie's eyes widened at the scene before her. The air carried the acrid scent of vomit, and her concern deepened as she saw Meadow's struggle.

"Meadow, sugar, what's happening?" Allie asked, rushing to her side. The tie-dye skirt, once vibrant, was now stained, a visual testament to the ordeal unfolding.

Meadow, still caught in the grip of her body's rebellion, could only manage a feeble gesture toward the mess she had unintentionally created.

The vomit, once held back by Meadow's desperate attempts, now flowed more copiously, intermingling with the occasional rounds of diarrhea. It seemed like her body was staging a simultaneous revolt from both ends.

Allie sighed, stepping over the mess to stand beside Meadow, rubbing her back.

“Sugar why are you-“ Allie started to ask, but hearing the gurgle of Meadow’s stomach followed by something splattering in the toilet, her question was answered.

"Hold on, Meadow," she said as her eyes fell on the strings of Meadow’s corset, "Sometimes, you need to get it all out to start feeling better."

Understanding that Meadow needed help, Allie got to work. Gently, she began to tighten the corset, untying it and pulling the strings tighter and tighter. The tighter the strings were, the more Meadow would puke up or send out the other end. Tightening the corset was not only providing support but also applying a controlled pressure that prompted Meadow's stomach to force out more.

Through the haze of discomfort, Allie's touch revealed something more alarming. As her hands brushed against Meadow's skin, she sensed an elevated warmth, indicating a fever. Concern etched across her face, Allie continued to tighten the corset, doing her best to provide comfort amid the distress.

The ordeal seemed to stretch on, the bathroom now a battleground between Meadow's body and the determined efforts of her makeshift caretaker.

Allie, a pillar of support, stayed by Meadow's side, silently hoping that this tumultuous symphony of discomfort would soon reach its resolution.

“Get it out sugar,” Allie said, “We can clean this mess in a bit, alright?”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #scat tw #scat cw #food poisoning tw #food poisoning cw #novemetober rescheduled #novemetober 2023

25 notes · View notes

12timetraveler · 10 months

Text

Long post incoming. A couple pictures at the bottom but more photos to come I promise. Posting under the read more just so y'all don't have to deal with scrolling the whole thing.

Tombstone Redemption was a lot of fun and a lot of stress.

On the first day my friends and I decided to spend the day exploring and having fun and save the actor stuff for the second day. Mostly it was just exploring shops, finding all the red dead special items we wanted to buy, and just people watching. It was quite hot but we managed to keep cool for most of it and enjoy the town.

I ran into one Hosea cosplayer who was super sweet and seemed very excited to see Bessie. That was a big highlight I saw him a number of times throughout the weekend and he always made me smile. He seemed a little shy so I didn't get to talk to him too much which was a shame because he seemed so sweet. But I didn't want to push it and make him uncomfortable.

On day two I woke up early and got dressed and left the hotel around 9:30am to go line up for the autograph session. I expected it would take a couple hours but I did not realize just how long it would take.

11 hours.

I was in line. In the Arizona heat, for 11 fucking hours. Sometimes in shade, sometimes not.

The line stretched down the road and around the corner and around the lot of an abandoned motel. The autograph session didn't officially start until 11am. So already I was lining up an hour and a half early and I was so far back it was insane.

There were also people who hadn't gotten their autos the day before who had passes to get them first, and that held up the line quite a bit.

But I was determined. And honestly I still thought we'd be in line for maybe a couple hours. Oh how wrong I was.

Within about 5 hours we had only moved up maybe a third of the length of the line (honestly that is probably generous.) We started taking shifts out in the sun, the others going into one of the nearby restaurants to drink water and eat a little food.

Some time after noon I started feeling off. I was just not right. It's kind of hard to explain but I just was so tired, a little dizzy, a little nauseous. Just off. Nothing notably concerning but just not right. Assumed it was just heat and lack of sleep.

But I also began having panic attacks because I was starting to worry I'd never get to the front of the line. That I'd never get to meet Curzon (or any of the others but at this point if I only got to see Curzon I'd be happy.)

I'd calm down from the panic attack and then I'd start feeling off, then I'd get back into my head and start another panic attack, then I'd calm down and feel wrong again. It was a bit of a cycle.

After a time I finally asked my friend to wave down one of the paramedics that were passing out water because it occurred to me I have a history of high blood pressure and I was feeling some of the symptoms of my bp rising. My friend's dad walked me over to the paramedics who took me into the ambulance and checked me over.

My BP was the highest I've ever seen it. Something like 198/128. Not ideal.

The paramedics kept me in the air-conditioned ambulance to keep an eye on me and make sure I was okay. My BP went down pretty easily in the ambulance and I started feeling better. I just needed to get out of a sun, away from the lines, somewhere cool to just calm down and cool down. So I went back out to the line, though I was told very firmly to stay in the shade. So I wasn't really in line so much as I was standing in a shaded spot near the line just chilling with whoever was taking a shade break.

The line started making some progress, we finally moved into a shaded area, and I rejoined my friends in line. I was feeling optimistic that we'd get through the autos before the Q&A, which we had tickets for.

But then the line seemed to stop once again. And with the door leading into the saloon where the autograph session was being held in sight, they halted the line and told everyone they'd be back after the panel. Some of our line friends saved our spot in line, and we headed to the panel.

It was nice to sit down, though the hall the panel was held in had no AC so it was toasty. The actors were delightful, very humble and sweet and funny. Curzon hardly said a word, as per usual from him. But I did get to stand up and ask my question, which I directed at Curzon, and he gave a very sweet answer about how he loved filming the intimate moments he had with others in camp, like Dutch. (Video to come of this)

The panel ended and the actors filed out of the building first, walking down the isle and giving high fives to those they passed. Curzon was a little distracted, but my friend and I called out his name to ask for a high five. He stopped. Grabbed my hand in both of his, and kissed my hand, giving me a little smile as he continued out.

Well I of course melted into my seat, falling over on my friend and absolutely losing my shit. Ben seemed amused by this and gave me a little pat on the shoulder as he passed (which unfortunately was my only interaction with him at this con 😭)

I lost my mind. I can still feel Curzon's hands clutching mine, can see him so clearly leaning down and lifting my hand to his lips and giving me just a sweet little kiss on my hand, giving me a little squeeze before letting me go and continuing on. Just thinking about it now makes me want to absolutely sob.

After that the actors got on their trolly to get back to the saloon. So we hurried out to get back to the line.

And we waited probably another 30 minutes, maybe more, before we finally got in.

I started in Bens line but my friend needed to leave and we wanted to meet Curzon together so we jumped over to his line. He was so sweet to her, joking with her dad and giving her big smiles. He asked permission before wrapping his arm around her, which was very sweet, and we took some pictures and he gave her a hug, and then she had to leave.

Now it was just me standing there staring at the man who has been the center of my hyper fixation for two+ years at this point. I was a stammering, stumbling mess as I told him how much Hosea meant to me. How many friends I've made because of the character, how much I love the character. He asked what I liked most about Hosea and I told him it was Hoseas wit and cunning, as well as his kindness after everything he's gone through. (I was definitely too shy and flustered to say it was because I think Hosea is incredibly handsome). He asked me to go tell "the big guy" that, since he never listens (he was referring to Dutch).

I bashfully told him that if he couldn't tell, I was dressed as Bessie. He let out a little scoff and nodded like it was obvious, which made me smile (it was probably obvious from the picture I was carrying as a prop and the giant print I had him sign, but I kind of like to think maybe he'd heard rumors of the silly lady dressed as his wife. Or maybe he saw my Instagram posts idk.) He wasn't rude about it at all, just a little amused huff and a smile.

I had him sign a few things, and he took so much time and care to sign them all. Finally it was time for the picture.

I will post my pictures once I get home and can get them on my laptop. I'm not... Horribly thrilled with them. I was using my nice DSLR camera and maybe I should have just used my cellphone. The lighting in the saloon was terrible and my face is positively glowing with sweat. But hopefully a little editing will help. God I hope so.

He was very sweet, pulling me close for the picture. He liked to say "outlaws for life," to help people relax and smile more.

After the picture we talked a little bit more, I can't even completely remember entirely about what. I discussed a little server I have with some friends where we basically just moon over Hosea. He asked where I was from and I told him. Apparently he has some connections to Utah (I won't go to into it, but he's out this way quite often apparently. Man likes to travel.). Finally we started wrapping things up as folks started lining up behind me to see him. He asked me if he could give me a hug which I of course said yes to. He pulled me into a big, tight hug, and we probably spent like 15-20 seconds just squeezing each other tighter and tighter. He didn't loosen his grip until I did, and when we stepped back he said something like "I could feel all your energy in that hug."

We said our goodbyes and I moved on to get out of his way.

After that I floated around to a few of the other tables, but I could feel myself really fading now that I'd seen Curzon. I went and saw Rob Bogue (Red Harlow). He was an absolute sweetheart, and his handler (the person who you pay for autos and stuff) asked if I'd ever play a remaster/remake/re-anything of revolver. I told him absolutely and that I'd actually tried to get my hands on revolver before the con.

After him I went and saw Sam (Mary-Beth). She was a ray of sunshine. So sweet and chatty and just happy to see folks. Her handler gave me some water and they let me kind of hang out at the table for a bit (I was sweating more and more and after I admitted I had been in the ambulance for a bit they were super worried for me). She was in love with my dress and had me do a little twirl so she could see it better.

Then I went to see Kaili (Susan). I didn't get a picture with her but she had no line so we just chatted. I told her about the guinea pigs, particularly our sweet Susan. Then we gossiped about Curzon a little which was fun. They're buddies and she seemed so happy to see someone who loves Curzon/Hosea so much. Then she asked for a hug and I love hugs so I was all for it.

I was about to head out when I spotted Mick and I knew I had to go see him, plus he took card and I was out of cash. He was so funny oh my god you guys. I introduced myself and we chatted a little. He grabbed my fan and started fanning me and was like "MaryJane I'm your biggest fan!" Then he had me open my parasol so we could take a picture under it XD he made me laugh during the picture and it's honestly such a cute shot. He was just so sweet and funny I loved chatting with him.

At this point I knew I was just done. I hadn't gotten to meet so many of the people I was excited for. Not Ben or Peter or Alex, Jo, Gabriel (ugh my heart I wanted to meet him so bad), Steve not to mention Rob himself. Ugh I missed so many of them that I'm so sad about. But I knew I needed to just go back to the hotel and breathe, shower, relax. Plus, money. 😅

So even after the day going so long, basic spending all day in line in the desert sun, having to sit in the ambulance, having many panic attacks, and only eating one meal, ugh today was still heaven. Just for those last couple hours interacting with Curzon. He seriously was so sweet and genuine and made me feel so special. And that hug was one of the best things I've felt in a long time. God I needed that. He gives great hugs. 100/10 would recommend. And he smelled so nice and clean, no overwhelming cologne or anything, just crisp and clean. God I could have stayed in that hug forever but I didn't want to hold up the line.

All-in-all, today ended up being very good. Absolutely nothing went like I expected but it was still an absolutely incredible experience. I just wish I hadn't frozen up so much, and that I'd been able to find the words to express just how much Hosea means to me. Because I definitely didn't do it justice.

But at least I didn't cry in front of him like I thought I would. Now I'm just laying on my air mattress listening to sweet music and thinking over it all, making sure I get it all written down before any of it slips my mind. There are things I'd do again if I could but honestly I'm so happy with how the day went, and the convention went.

#tombstone redemption #curzon dobell #convention #hosea matthews #Bessie Matthews cosplay #cosplay

39 notes · View notes

autisticempathydaemon · 10 months

Note

If you're still doing the matchups 👁

Rn I'm fixated on Twist the knife by that handsome devil but I obsess over a new song every week

My enneagram type is 4 (apparently) and I'm an infp

I love video essays. Basically anything Kennie JD makes is delectable

My childhood imaginary friend was literally just pinkie pie and rainbow dash I'm not kidding

Go to way to fall asleep is either warm milk with honey and lavender or nothing at all. I pass out when the universe allows me to

I would like my legal name to be either Sojourner (Journey)or Cupid.

Favorite video is either Caelum's sleep aid, Guy's reverse comfort sick audio, or the one where Ollie got his listener to eat after hearing they didn't eat lunch

Vega does nothing for me I don't get it 💔💔

I know every mlp episode up to season 5 by heart

Out of all the guys, I'd say I'm platonically attracted to either Cam or Brachium

Go to rambling topic for me is mythology but nine times outta ten it's gonna be Greek mythology and how much modern interpretations of Hades and Persephone PISS ME OFF/LH

Go to gas station snack is green tea Arizona (or pink lemonade) with Pringles

My favorite playlist rn is my lovecore playlist. It's very important to me

Idk it's not really a guilty pleasure but I like playing pastel girl it's cute and simple💕

Extra shit: my favorite color is pink, I'm an Aquarius, favorite animals are cats and bunnies, I love sweets and spicy food and I currently need more room on my bed for more plushies

Type Fours and INFPs are defined as thoughtful, sensitive, creative masterminds with whole worlds inside their heads. That makes you a great match with our one and only dreamwalking boy, Elliott.

Like, literally, you two could share the creative worlds in your heads; that’s what y’all as a pair is so cool. He’d love crafting pink, fluffy places for you, always striving to make them more realistic and fun and innovative. I know you’re also an artist, so Elliott could bring your drawings to life in dreams. Who needs references or models when you have a top notch dreamwalker as a boyfriend?

Overall, your relationship would be just so cute. Elliott’s friends to lovers shaped, so I can imagine him having absorbed your MLP knowledge, if he hasn’t seen it, through pure osmosis. He always has little pops of bright, “girlier” colors: tie dye shirts you bought him, pink hair ties on his wrist, a pink beanie he stole from you and never gave back. You go out to eat together, and you laugh when he’s a spicy food wimp because he never managed to build a tolerance.

Song:

Now, baby, I believe this is real/ So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back/ We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach/ Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets/ I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece/ I'm complete

This isn’t That Handsome Devil, it’s nowhere close, but I will not apologize, okay. Your submission is giving cute, it’s giving girly pop, it’s giving bubblegum. I go where the words lead me, and they are leading me to the cheesy Katy Perry classic bop about dreams and falling in love that Elliott, without a doubt, as a creature of taste, knows all the words to.

Runner-Ups:

Okay, so Sam is a runner-up because it’s basically canon he wears the same, cowboy shit all the time, and I think your colors and style would be a cute contrast to his. Regulus is a runner-up, my favorite one, because you could spin him as the Hades to your Persephone any which way, and I WILL.

note: rant to me anytime about Hades and Persephone I love Greek mythology shit tell me how you feel about Hadestown

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

24 notes · View notes

ellejellehell · 10 months

Text

Fresh Air Trip Journal

I have gone out to the park to help relax and to get more in touch with what is real and to watch over my sister and her friends. This is an adventure I am prepared to go

Outfit Is really simple, although this is my first time out fully girlmoding in a skirt so it is a lot of fun. That and stockings. and a black woman's tank top seems sick to show off my tattoos. Oh! My shoes are also important I don't know if they're rare or not but I got them limited edition at a vans store in like 2013. You may also be able to catch sight of blue floral undertakings.

I haven't really done much and there is construction so it is a bit Loud but I am really enjoying myself.

Watermelon flavor Arizona is by far my favorite out of all of the brands. it just hits just right especially with a bit of THC in your system. It is Ambrosia of the gods, up there with girlcum. (Author's note: previous horniness was ironic)

This is probably the best face pic I got all day and I think it really works with this top. Enough of a smoulder to be a dommy mommy? I am fundamentally unsure.

Also rainbow fruit on a stick is wholesome and based. Food is immediately better when eaten off of a stake. Fight me. You'll lose. I have a stake.

Also surprise swan at the end just for people who managed to get the whole way through.

35 notes · View notes

inthefallofasparrow · 1 year

Text

... Months earlier, Steinbart had been eating prison food and trying to red-pill other inmates. Now he was hobnobbing at a film premiere backstage with Republican Party officials. And while his speech at the premiere turned out to be unremarkable—he told me later that the event’s organizers told him not to mention QAnon—the fact that he was even able to make it onstage at all was unbelievable.

Steinbart’s compound had failed, but in a way, he had found something even better. Thanks to Republican leaders’ willingness to accommodate QAnon and treat it as a legitimate faction of the party, Steinbart, an obvious grifter and charlatan who specialized in sucking vulnerable people dry to support his own delusions, would be treated like a credible political figure. He had even managed to insinuate himself into the team handling the Arizona ballot recount, becoming one of the audit’s staffers shortly after his release from jail.

#qanon #cult #republican #gop

44 notes · View notes

disparition · 1 year

Text

Still Life 1

I am at a cafe that I first started coming to in the late 90’s. Over half of my life ago. Dana Street Roasting Company in Mountain View, California. It has been decades since I could call myself a regular. I don’t know who anyone here is except for Nick, the owner, and no one here knows who I am - not even Nick, though maybe he once did, a little bit. When I started coming here, when I actually was a regular, the place was called Jumpin Java. Nick still owned it then, the name change came about when he bought a roaster and started selling beans. In the old days, everyone who worked here was a punk who had moved from Austin Texas or somewhere close by, the was a group of five or six of them. The main figure among them was a guy named Aaron who managed the place. He wore tattoos from Wilson’s Illuminatus! Trilogy, constantly played loud industrial music in the cafe, and led the Texas punks. If you were sitting outside and he came out and hung with you for five minutes while taking a smoke break it felt like a great privelege, like being chosen for something. Like most people I knew in Mountain View, he has long since left, first for Arizona, and now I believe he lives in Washington. It was a lively place, for a small boring town like Mountain View, often hard to get a seat unless you knew someone who’s table you could join, and there was a little stage with live jazz and folk bands playing from Thursdays to Sundays, three tables outside for smokers, and also a whole alley where people hung out. There were two other main cafes in Mountain View in those days - Red Rocks and Cuppa Joe’s - which also had decent crowds and live music on the weekends. Also two corporate cafes further up Castro Street, a Starbucks and a Peet’s, but I’m not counting those. Also a branch of a local bagel chain, a fake French bakery, two good pho places, a ramen place, several Indian restaurants with good lunch buffet deals - one of which, Sue’s, also featured a gallery of art by the owner. Also several good dim sum places, a handful of American style Chinese food places, a couple of bars I was too young to have much interest in, a large Chinese grocery store, an excellent taqueria called Los Charros (for the food, but also there was a bartender working there with a famous mustache), a hippy ice cream shop, a small Hong Kong style bakery with great pork rolls, and a number of acupuncture and herbal medecine shops. If you were to sit at a table outside the cafe and look towards Castro street, you’d see an herb shop, an attorney’s office, a small real estate office, and then on the corner there’s Easy Food Company, a Chinese convenience store that sold a wide range of imported goods from snack foods to liqueurs to statues, where I used to buy Parliament Lights for $2.50 a pack.

This town has been through many drastic changes. The above description applies to when I was in my late teens and early twenties. When I came to the downtown area as a young child, it was different, like it came from a different era. Appliance stores that looked like they were from the 50’s, wooden boardwalks on the sidewalks, a weird fake “old west” vibe. But I didn’t spend much time here as a child so I don’t know much more about it beyond that superficial impression.

Now it is over two decades later since the time I describe in the first paragraph. The three tables are still here outside the cafe, and I’m sitting at one of them. But the inside is a jumble of upside down chairs, plastic milk crates, burlap sacks of coffee beans and burlap sacks of burlap sacks. There is nowhere to sit, no music playing, no schedule of upcoming live bands, and nowhere for any bands to play or set up anyway. But the outside part of the cafe is unchanged, and when I look towards Castro street I see the herb shop, the attorney’s office, the real estate place, and Easy Food Company, which still sells a wide range of imported Chinese goods from snack foods to liqueurs to statues and they probably still sell Parliament Lights too, though I’ve long since quit and I doubt they are $2.50 a pack.

Beyond Easy Food, Castro Street itself, is where the most drastic change has occurred. The most obvious change of course is due to the pandemic. Once busy with cars, the street has been blocked off up at California Ave all the way down to the train station, which means about five blocks of it are pedestrian only, and the restaurants and cafes have spilled out into the street. This happened back in 2020, and a number of neighborhing towns did the same. Some of those, like Palo Alto, have reversed course and opened their downtown areas back up to traffic. But in Mountain View this seems to be a more permanent situation, and personally I think it’s a drastic improvement. On evenings and weekends Castro street fills up with families eating at the many restaurants that now have tables in the middle of the street and there are musicians performing on street corners. But if you come here on a weekday morning there are few people around and the lack of cars provides a peaceful atmosphere.

The other massive change is due to the growth of the tech industry, but this is a change that has occurred in waves, again and again, over the course of my life. The phrase “Silicon Valley” is often used in the media and discourse as a shorthand term for the computer/internet/technology business regardless of location, but also Silicon Valley is a physical place, it’s the Santa Clara Valley, and Mountain View is very much in the heart of it. The growth of this industry brings influxes of people - people from all over, but mainly from other parts of the US, from China, and from India and other South Asian countries. My own family came from Massachusetts in the early 80’s. This was of course several decades before Google, Facebook, Twitter, etc. came into being. The main tech companies in those days were Sun, Hewlett-Packard, Apple still a fledgling but very quickly growing. In those days it felt more concentrated down in San Jose, Santa Clara, Sunnyvale, towns where you’d see these huge corporate “office parks”. By the time I left for college there was another “tech boom” with a different suite of companies, this time around the internet. The age of Yahoo, Hotmail, Geocities, the personal web page, the AltaVista search. I wasn’t in the Bay Area at the time, and what I heard was that it changed a lot and then changed back. It was a bubble that burst. But it was to be one of several. There was another, later growth of the industry around a new set of internet companies - the ones we are dealing with now. Google in particular probably had more of an effect on Mountain View than most, when they set up a massive campus here. Now as I write this, any random person I see on the street in this town or a neighboring town has a good chance of either being an employee of one of those massive tech companies, or of being someone who was recently laid off by one of them.

In terms of this town, and my place in it, the change is both bad and good. The inequality gap has grown wider, and personally there is no way I could afford to live here now, unless my fortunes were to drastically change. I only come to this area a few times a year, when visiting my wife’s family, who are the only people I still know in this part of the Bay. All of the wonderful types of food that I describe in the first paragraph are here, and more, if not the exact same places. Los Charros is now called La Espuala, but the menu is the same, even if the guy with the mustache no longer works there. There are many good Indian restaurants, though they no longer offer cheap lunch buffets. Red Rocks, one of the other independent cafes, is also still around and even has an open mic night once a week, and more places to sit than Dana Street - but their coffee just isn’t as good. Some of the places are the same - one of the pho places that I used to go to on lunch breaks when I was a telemarketer is still here, and still looks the same. A lot of the other places are essentially just more expensive or “prestige branded” versions of the places that were here before, and there are a lot more of them, and even if I can’t afford to live here I can at least, sometimes, afford eating here, and in fact after I finish writing here I’m going to go to the Hong Kong bakery to get a pork roll.

During the time while I was writing this, someone came and joined me at the table to do some work on a laptop. After some time they mentioned that they “used to come here a long time ago” and I thought it was so odd that I was writing about the exact same subject, and wondered if this was someone I used to know. But further conversation revealed that by “a long time ago” they meant 2012, while I was thinking of the previous century.

If you’ve read all this, for whatever reason: this isn’t a story or a polemic. There’s no point to it. Just writing for the sake of writing, background without a foreground.

#mountain view #california #still life #background #writing #bay area

23 notes · View notes

aaafoodhandleronline · 1 year

Text

Ansi Food Manager Certification Online

Visit AAA Food Handler to earn Ansi Food Manager Certification Online. Our Food manager certification provides managers with in-depth knowledge of proper food safety practices for use in their facilities.

For details, visit the website.

#Arizona Food Manager #Food Handler Arizona #Food Manager New Mexico

0 notes

fieriframes · 10 months

Text

[KITCHEN MANAGER CHAD BURNETT. TIGERS ARE, TIGERS ARE. WE USE 1/3 POUND ALL ARIZONA BEEF.]

#s03e08 real deal fast food #guy fieri #guyfieri #diners drive-ins and dives #kitchen manager chad burnett.#1/3 pound #arizona beef #tigers

3 notes · View notes

averagepsychouser · 4 months

Note

Talk about zephyr pretty please she sounds super duper uber cool

Holy shit…. Oh my goodness….

Zephyr is my original courier (named after a Red Hot Chili Peppers song) who I have dedicated 22175 words worth of time to (and soon more). The fic is about a third done.

Minor warning for mentions of violence, s/a, and slavery. nothing graphic though. You have been warned.

Her basic story goes like this.

After helping Caesar’s Legion to take over New Vegas (the reasons for which consists mostly of greed) she decides to mope around the Lucky 38 most of the day. After a couple of months a small group of legionaries are like “you’re married now.”

Lets back up a little. Vulpes Inculta had begun a relationship with an NCR colonel to get access to important information for the war against the NCR. They had children closer to the second battle, and once Hoover Dam had been won he was like “surprise, I’m actually a Frumentarius and our relationship has been a lie.” Gets promoted, shipped off the kids, “married” her (now that he is promoted he is in control of the majority of the Strip, and so has the option to marry) and continues to live like that for a little while. About a month before he purchases the rights to marrying Zephyr, his wife tries to poison him by putting cleaning supplies in his food. He has her tongue cut off and sends her away.

Back to Zephyr, she finds out she has been married to Vulpes Inculta. She doesn’t particularly like him, but he might be more forthcoming with information on what happened to her friends now (spoiler alert, most of them are dead). The marriage is a relatively peaceful one, as far as relationships in the Legion can go (no s/a, I’m a firm believer that Vulpes has no “need” to assault someone because he is a spy and infiltrator and can engage in profligate activities whenever. There is a small amount of domestic abuse but Vulpes is cautious of Zephyr and never bruises her) the marriage is mostly just a bid for even more power on Vulpes’s part. At some point Zephyr learns about Vulpes’s past wife, but that’s more important in the story than in this explanation. She also receives a Fixer perscription due to her smoking addiction, and Inculta absolutely abhors smoking.

Everything comes to a head when one night Zephyr cooks Vulpes dinner. Although it was extremely unusual for Zephyr to cook (Vulpes only cooked food for himself after the poisoning attempt) Vulpes decides “hey, wow, look at that, she’s finally becoming a good wife.” He does not know it, but she has spiked the wine. He drinks a glass and it is enough to affect him. She leads him to the bed where she sits on his stomach and eats him alive.

After spending a couple of nights in the apartment with Inculta’s corpse in the bathtub she decides to escape on a night with no moon out, disguising herself as a vexillarius (asshole’s coyote hat) she makes her way out to the wasteland. Here’s where things get a bit tricky.

She knows that Boone is defending Jacobstown and slaughtering legionaries that get too close, so she heads there, is discovered, and I cannot figure out what happens next. Her and Boone definitely have a conversation since they used to be friends, and I’m leaning towards Zephyr trying to get him to kill her and him saying the equivalent of “you made your bed, lay in it.” So that’s all I have so far.

There’s also a few things I didn’t mention, like Arcade’s death and glasses, Veronica’s death, Raul and Cass’s disappearance, how Boone managed to keep living, the Arizona wives, the tiny statue of Juno Vulpes slipped to Zephyr unbeknownst to her, Vulpes being promoted because he’s actually going to be replaced soon, et cetera. But that’s pretty much Zephyr’s active story! She also has a very lengthy backstory.

#fallout new vegas #fallout nv #courier six #caesar’s legion #vulpes inculta #fnv vulpes #courier zephyr #fonv #fonv oc #courier oc #courier 6 oc #fallout fic

5 notes · View notes

rumbelleshowdown · 1 year

Text

Author: Lucretia Victrix

Prompts: Dance, fire, gold, heal. Lady of the lake. Car trip.

Group: F

Belle swears that she can see the air start to shimmer with heat as they cross the border into Arizona. The mid-afternoon sun drenches the desert in gold, causing the dunes to glow and sparkle. It would be a beautiful sight if she were in the mood to appreciate it, but she isn’t.

Her eyes are instead drawn to the service station flickering on the horizon in the desert haze and then back down to the fuel gage which warns her that they’re almost out of gas. Again.

She takes the first exit that leads her to the service station and moves to gently shake her traveling companion awake with one hand.

“Hey, wake up, love. We’re almost to a service station. Can you get us some food and things while I fill up the tank?” she asks him.

Robert Gold blinks at her, still half-asleep. He drove straight through the previous night as they couldn’t afford to stop anywhere, and he’s paying for it now, but he nods and answers her in a tired rumble. “Yes, of course. Where are we?”

“Arizona,” she answers. “Almost to the border.”

“Good, good.” He sits up straighter in the passenger seat of the Cadillac, considerably worse for wear after the long voyage but still going. “No one will follow us there. We’ll be able to start over.”

Belle nods as they pull into the service station, but her blue eyes are troubled. “Do you think it was right…what we did?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “The world is a better place without Gary Aston.”

This does not entirely assuage her conscience, but she appreciates his certainty even if he’s faking it for her sake. What’s done is done now, and the only path yet available to them is the one they’re on.

On that cheerful note, Belle parks the car, and they both get out, but not before Belle sees Gold slip something silver and threatening into his pocket.

“Robert,” she hisses. “Why did you put that in your pocket? We’re trying to keep a low profile.”

Either he doesn’t hear her or he’s pretending not to because Gold makes his way into the station—a dusty old shack of a building—and leaves Belle to fill up the gas tank which she does, trying not to worry about what she thinks she saw.

She rubs her eyes with one hand with the other still on the pump. She can see her partner through the station’s windows. Okay, he’s going up to the cashier. That’s fine. Just buy us some food and leave, she begs silently.

Gold pulls the pistol out of his pocket and points it at the girl behind the counter.

“Fuck,” she whispers, glancing frantically between the gas tank and her idiot partner currently holding up the service station. Should she intervene? Well, she shouldn’t just leave the gas pumping—she could start a fire.

She blinks hard, hoping desperately she’s imagining the gun in Gold’s hand. She isn’t. She also isn’t imagining the rifle the girl behind the counter just produced from somewhere. Now she’s afraid for both their lives.

Gold strikes first—but not with the pistol. Instead, he whacks the girl with his cane, startling her so much that she drops the rifle. He seizes the opportunity to fill his pockets with snacks and heads for the door.

She’s so busy watching him make his way back to her, obviously pleased with himself, practically dancing, that she almost misses the pump turning off as the tank finishes filling. She hurriedly puts it back and glares at him.

“What were you thi—”

Bang! Bang!

The cashier is back up, and she managed to retrieve her gun.

“We should go,” Gold says.

“You think so?!” Belle says, scrambling back into the car.

Her lover is hot on her heels, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door, but not before the cashier gets off another shot. Bang!

Belle floors it. “I hope you got enough food for a while,” she shouts over the screech of the tires, “because we’re not stopping until we reach the border after that little stunt.”

“Believe me—” His voice sounds strained. “I’m perfectly in favor of that.”

The Cadillac is pushing one hundred miles per hour as they speed down the highway, but she risks a glance to her right.

“Oh my god. Did she shoot you?” Her hands shake on the wheel.

“Don’t worry. She only got my bad leg. I was hardly using it anyway.”

“That’s not funny!” she cries. “Put some pressure on it! I can’t have you bleeding out!”

“I am. I don’t intend to die here,” he says, his brown eyes gleaming. “I have too much to live for.”

She’s trying to keep her eyes on the road, but she can feel the heat of his gaze. She knows he means her. Thank God there’s no one else on the road because her foot is all the way on the gas pedal.

“We’re going to find you a doctor,” she says in a shaky voice. “Just hold on for a few more hours. Try to rest.”

“Don’t concern yourself with that, Belle. It will heal on its own.”

“It’s a gunshot wound, Robert!”

“It was a clean shot. Passed right through.” He gives her a crooked grin, and her heart is full of so much love and worry that it could burst. “It’s not a fatal wound. There’s no need to send me to Avalon just yet, my lady.”

“Appealing to my love of Arthurian legend won’t save you from my wrath. I’m no more the Lady of the Lake than you are King Arthur.”

“Which character would I be then? I’m afraid I’m not as familiar with the ins and outs of the stories as you are.”

“You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” She wants to kiss the smirk off his lips.

“A little,” she replies. “Keep talking. We’ll make it to the border yet.”

#rumbelle showdown #round one #rumbelle fic #lucretia victrix

20 notes · View notes

lockandkeyhyena · 1 year

Note

Sorry in advance for the long block of text here… Ive been seeing your ocs all over my feed and now im obsessed!!! Hope you do not mind answering my 5000 questions!! . ~ What was Hercules like as a wee lad?… For the sake of science if you stuck him in a room with 6 other children, what would he do..? would he have any notable / unusual habits compared to the others….? ~ If Hercules could wish for anything ever in the world what would he wish for. Also whats the most expensive thing hes ever bought! ~ Does he have any consistent quirks/stims…? Any silly gestures or quotes ? ~ What do you think an average day would be like for him ? What does he usually eat ? … Hows his morning / evening routines? Is it basic or extensive? Do you think hed be the type to take an hour long candle-lit shower and bathe himself in 50 creams lotions perfumes … or does he just dip and go ? ~ What is his house like…? Does he have his own or is it a family home / did he inherent it. Do you have any idea what it would look like ? What does his own personal room look like ? does he enjoy keeping/collecting anything in particular , or is he a minimalist

Okay now for the sake of science and connecting to Hercules psychologically I must know how he would react to the following scenarios: ~ If he one day woke up in a 4x4 cage in the middle of the Arizona desert what would be do? … ~ If he was walking around one day and suddenly the government said his city was gonna be nuked in 10 MINUTES what would he do? … ~ If he went to walmart and saw a child throwing a tantrum over toys what would he do? …. ~ If he was sitting around and a cute little kitty or puppy came up to him and wanted food and pets really badly what would be do? … ~ if he was going on about his day and, bare with me now, was firsthand witness to the oppa homeless style tumblr text post scenario, in real life, what would he do? That is all .... Thank you for your time homie of tumblr nation

please DO NOT apologise these sorts of questions and character analysis things are the stuff i LIVE for. strap in folks its gonna be a long one gonna answer these in bulletpoint form maybe a drawing or two scattered throughout!

~ Hercules was,, uhhh,,,,, Not that similar to other children and that fact only exacerbated as he got older. At his mentally healthiest he probably would’ve gotten a lot of ‘wow you’re so mature for your age!’s from adults. Growing up being completely desensitised to violence and in a relatively loving but still very fucked up environment will do that to you.

In regards to sticking him in a room with a bunch of other children and seeing what happens- he actually went to kindergarten! Titan was surprisingly firm that he have as regular of an education and upbringing possible for the kid of a mafia boss. She…. half-managed.

In regards to your thought experiment, here are some drawings from his time at kindergarten when he was at his least traumatised!

~ If he could wish for anything. This is an amazing question- what do you give the man who thinks he has everything he wants? He’d probably wish for whatever problem in the moment that was stumping him to be fixed (gang relations, nosy detectives, etc). Personally I think he should wish for some therapy but thats just me.

In regards to money, he’s really not that extravagant a spender (leave that to Titan) and his quarters are rather modest, the most he’s ever spent on things are probably gifts for his mother lol.

~ Oh BOY does he have stims- he taps. He’ll rhythmically tap his cane on the floor, tap his feet, twitch his tail and tap his nails against the nearest surface. He usually does this when he’s impatient or bored and it’s Not a good sound to hear when in a meeting with him. Though he tends to do this unconsciously and will usually stop if he notices and is in the company of other people (he thinks its unprofessional).

~ Like I said above, he’s really not super into decadence, he thinks extravagance and showy displays of wealth are tacky and unnecessary. His morning routine is probably something along the lines of wake up at 8am, take an ice cold shower, get dressed, eat breakfast (homecooked meals only. He’s a surprisingly good cook), check up on his finances, go do all the things he needs to do for the day, come back home and go to sleep. Very important note is that he wears those cartoon blue and white striped pyjamas.

~ DESPITE not being into overt displays of wealth, he does in fact live in a giant fuck off victorian mcmansion that he inherited from his mother. He doesn’t even use half of it and spends all his time in the house either sleeping or holed up in his study.

His study is a mess btw. Papers everywhere, needs to be swept. He’s very embarrassed about it but since he only ever uses it for all-nighters he never has any time to clean or organise it. His bedroom is immaculately tidy with only a few personal effects and the rest of the house aside from the essentials and a few guest rooms is covered in a fine layer of dust.

okay and here are his reactions to some hypothetical scenarios!

~ Cage in the desert. Okay so his thought process would probably go something like this;

Step one. Don’t panic. Evaluate the time of day through the position of the sun. Scan memories from last night to check for any gaps or places he could have been drugged.

Step two. Go down through his list of enemies and try and figure out who was most likely to have done this.

Step three. Do not panic. Felines can survive for three days without water. It likely hasn’t been more than half a day since he was kidnapped and Leroy will have been alerted to his disappearance and is likely looking for him now.

Step four. Do. Not. Panic. Stay put and attempt to look for weaknesses in the cage, if none can be found stay put and don’t waste your energy. Prepare to drink your own piss if things get bad. Also prepare snarky retort for when Leroy finds you.

~ Nuke scenario. Probably try very hard not to panic and follow his emergency evacuation plan of the city and try to get as far away as possible with his friends most valuable employees.

~ Child tantrum. Depending on the age of the child he might just straight up flash a gun at them to try and get them to shut up. He wasn’t this whiny as a kid- what’s their problem?

~ Very cute animal begging for attention. If alone, the most logical course of action is to acquiesce to its’ demands and give it a pat. It doesn’t take away attention from the task at hand will get it to stop making annoying noises. If he’s with other people he would ask them to give it attention to get it to stop bothering him.

~ Oppa homeless style. He would slowly back away, go home, get out a bottle of his strongest liquor and re-evaluate what he’s doing with his life. Too bad oppa homeless style doesn’t exist in the canon of sadboycats 😔

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE QUESTIONS and apologies for the absolute wall of text in response. These kitties have been eating up my brain.

#seriously ppl sending asks take notes this is how you do it this made my day i love thinking abt these sorts of questions #yeen art #ocs #hercules beetle #yeen rambles #sadboycats #long post

23 notes · View notes