#upshuring

@upshuring​ : ❛ ooh, someone’s in trouble. it’s me. i don’t know why i did that. ❜

          💸 ║ ❛   ————— There  was  nothing  but  INNOCENT  intentions  when  Lance  decided  to  drive  to  the  grocery  store  with   his  FERRARI.  He  surely  loves  this  car  more  than  anything  else,  a  feeling  a  lot  of  people  don’t  understand.  So  if  he’s  got  all  the  love  for  this  machine,  he’s  in  desperate  need  to  show  it  off  whenever  he  can.  And  it  pisses  people  off.  Which  leads  to  even  more  ENJOYMENT.  Him  being  the  one  pissed   off  during  this  situation  is  rare  though.  Yet  MILES  manages  it  flawlessly  right  now.  Lance  is  aware  that  the  other  hasn’t  noticed  him  as  he  was  doing  what  he  was  doing.  But  Lance  was  watching  all  the  time.  

          What  exactly  he  was  watching ?   ——Miles,  a  grown  man,  drawing  SOMETHING  on  the  car’s  (  shamefully  )  dusty  hood  with  his  fingers.  Lance  doesn’t  even  care  what  he’s  drawing  on  it  with  his  greasy  fingers.  All  he  sees  is  that  he  ONCE  drives  around  in  a  dirty  car  and  he  immediately  gets  an  undeserving  treatment.  Unfair.  Only  a  sharp  whistle  escaping  Lance’s  lips  to  draw  attention  makes  Miles  interrupt  his... FUN.  And  instead  of  apologizing,  there  is  a  weak  attempt  to  turn  this  situation  into  a  little  joke.  Well,  he  does  look  like  a  CLOWN,  but  Lance  isn’t  laughing.  Not  even  smiling.  Only  a  mean  glare  is  given.

         ❝   You  enjoying  yourself ?   ❞  he  asks,  reaching  inside  his  pocket  to  get  the  keys  while  holding  two  bottles  of  Gin  in  the  other  hand.  When  he  grabs  it,  he  holds  it  in  his  hand  and  looks  at  it  for  a  moment.  No  HESITATION,  though.  The  key  attached  to  a  key chain  is  THROWN  right  at  the  other,  hoping  to  hit  a  more  vulnerable  spot.    ❝   Get  the  fuck  away  from  my  car !   ❞

"-so after I give the butler my coat and walk into the main hall, it turns out everyone was dead! Like... the whole time! My boss was hanging from the chandelier, and the entire mansion was descending into 'the sea of madness' or something? Lots of monsters and reanimated corpses kept popping up and trying to kill me, and by the time the sun rose, i'd killed an Elder God, but also become an Elder God?

So, anyway, I'm trapped in a perpetual time-loop of arriving at the mansion and going through the night's events, forever and ever, to keep the Elder God, which is also me, from escaping and feeding the world to an even bigger Elder God. What have you been up to?"

                       he  makes  a  funny  sort  of  laugh  around  his  cigarette,  but  he  actually  shuts  up  for  a  beat  —  focus  turned  to  preventing  the  sudden  blaze  in  his  face.  not  many  could  successfully  give  him  a  taste  of  his  own  medicine,  but  miles  had  a  way  of  knocking  him  for  a  loop  like  that,  every  so  often.        ❝   sure,  bet  you  say  that  to  all  of  ‘em.   ❞    the  voice  of  a  silky  but  jaded  starlet  is  what  comes  out  of  his  mouth.  he  perches  upright,  crossing  a  leg  and  turning  his  cigarette  daintily  like  audrey  hepburn  might  have  in  breakfast  at  tiffany’s.

@upshuring

      “Sure I’ve tried it! You’d be surprised what morning meetings are like around here... lots of motivational speeches, the fuzzy feel good ones that make you forget how your wife left you. Something like that. Those things are made for people like him...”

Trager gestures to the disheveled and panicked looking patient coming up on the left, his arms swinging pathetically off the gurney already... trying to take a swipe at them and beg for release or whatever the hell--

“The kind of schmucks who split their pants during that morning kumbaya session.”

Swiveling to the side to avoid toothless over there, his frail hands still trying to claw at his skin as he passes, the surgeon moves the wheelchair (his main concern strapped into it) with him, scooting it to the right. “Ope! Just missed the drool puddle. Eh-heh. See? I’m doing you a favor, buddy. You don’t wanna walk down this hallway. Ole’ Rick can just pull all the hard work, eh?”

      The wheelchair squeaks as he pushes it, standing out against the cries and moans of agony, one wheel looking like it might pop right off at any moment. So much for cutting those corners, eh? Richard scoffs at the flowy dresses comment, chest rattling as he laughs. “I like your thinking. Something more slim fit, ya know? But maybe I can work it. Anyways, I know-- Well, I didn’t but, I almost promised you a private room... that just isn’t in the cards right now champ so you’re gonna have to rough it with the others in ward 3. That alright?” He doesn’t wait for any sort of reply before rambling on, a little more enthusiasm now. “Great! That’s the spirit.” The former executive claps him on the shoulder.

subject  line :    ok  starting  small -  since  he  cooks  a  lot,  does  he  grow  his  own  kitchen  herbs  for  it ?  how's  he  generally  with  plants ?  does  something  living  but  nonthreatening  -  and  especially  with  how  they  dampen  noise  and  the  outside  world  -  help  him  calm ? from :  @upshuring​

    it’s  something  he’s  dabbled  in,  with  regards  to  growing  his  own  herbs.  a  few  times  he’s  tried  the  old  “ keep  the  stems  in  water ”  trick  but  he  tends  to  forget  things  like  that  especially  if  he’s  busy.  and  he  really  doesn’t  tend  to  cook  too  much,  famously  all  of  his  coworkers  at  the  riv  are  always  commenting  on  how  skinny  he  is.  and  probably  without  like  a  reason  to  cook  ( guests,  time  constraints,  occasions )  he  opts  out  for  simple  meals  if  he  cooks  for  himself  at  all.  

Botanical Headcanons; (Still Accepting)

forget - me - not :   has your muse ever forgotten something that is or was important to them ?   are they afraid of forgetting things like that ?  

[She tries not to, but yes. Memory of her life before forming the heretics is spotty; she remembers all the big traumas clear as day, but day to day life is mostly a blur. There was a time when it worried her, but she's accepted that maybe it's for the best. She's very much made peace with leaving the past, and the person she used to be, behind.]

lavender :   how easy is it to gain your muse’s trust ?  once their trust is broken ,   how might one go about mending it ?  

[She loves easily but doesn't trust easily. She doesn't like to be vulnerable so she rarely puts herself in a position where she's relying on anyone else. It's not that she thinks the people she loves would intentionally harm her or betray her; just that she's been taking care of herself all these years and she knows she has to be able to rely on herself at the end of the day. Giving up control isn't an option.

She's not much for forgiveness. If someone intentionally harms or betrays her, they don't get a second chance.]

oak :   who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?  

     HER KNOWLEDGE of human history is not wide, but Stalin does ring a bell in the back of her head. Not a loud bell, but it is a bell anyway. Somehow, her small understanding of what he is saying (not all of it. Some words remain unknown to her and will be material for other questions, for another day) makes his words funnier to her. She does not go as far as laughing, yet her lips do curve slightly upwards.