the blobbers!

on the set of Beat Bobby Flay

blobber looks at me and asks, “chef, what’s your signature dish?”

i take a deep breath and holler, “knucklesandwich!” and i just deck him in the mouth. he goes down hard. the studio audience screams in celebration. alex guarnaschelli stands and shakes my hand.

i look into the camera and kiss my knuckles. “i just beat bobby flay.”

The Blue Room

The Blue Room

I’ve had this AU in my brain for awhile, thinking of making it a VERY short story. Here’s part 1


It’s a cool and damp night, the kind that makes Vegeta want to go out and cause some mischief. He can’t help but feel his fingers itch with the promise of beating someone bloody and raw until they beg for his mercy. But tonight, he’s feeling a bit lucky. And all he wants is to do is head on down to The Blue Room and cuddle up with a few glasses of whisky and sleep under the thick blanket of jazz. Tonight, he doesn’t want to be a shadow waiting at the end of the alley. Tonight, he wants to pretend that he’s a regular fellow with nothing better to do on a Saturday night.

He’s heard good things from the shore of South City since The Blue Room opened. ‘The best jazz this side of the ocean!’ has rang in his ears more times than he can count, so he decides to head on down and see what the buzz is about. He’s even found his best suit; a sharp number that is known to make the ladies croon in delight and the men move out of his way. It makes him feel powerful, and Vegeta never objects to feeling like a king.

The pale blue lights welcome him as he steps through the doors, the room smoky in a haze of secrets and sex. A smooth piano rift transports him to another place and time, and he looks over to the musician with compliments. He recognizes him immediately. Raditz’s brother. The man who was either too dumb or too smart to join his older brother in one of the most ruthless gangs in the area. Kakarot, if he’s not mistaken. He looks towards Vegeta and nods in understanding, showing that he recognizes him too.

Vegeta turns his head and steps towards the circular bar, sitting quaintly against the deep blue walls of the room. Coconut trees flash in and out behind the bartender, inviting anyone with a strong enough appetite for the dark liquors inside. He takes a stool and scoots up, leaning against the countertop.

“What’ll it be, mister?” The bartender looks like a young boy, Vegeta thinks. But if he’s old enough to sell him a drink without getting the law involved, he won’t complain.

“I’ll start with a Tom Collins,” he demands huskily, fishing in his coat pocket for his wallet, “And make it a double.”

“You got it, mister.” The barteneder’s head is shiny enough that Vegeta can see Kakarot glaring at him from behind. He’s probably wondering if he’ll be up to no good in his establishment. Vegeta smirks; he’s always up to no good.

“Is it your first time here?” The bartender pours the concoction in a glass and slides it over to Vegeta, leaving a trail of spirits in its wake. Vegeta ignores him and presses his mouth to the rim, letting the liquid burn his tongue with delight. The bartender is unperturbed by his mannerisms and keeps talking. “I haven’t seen you around these parts before. You sure picked a special night to visit.”

Vegeta looks up at him, the question why swimming in his eyes like barracudas. He takes another long sip of his drink, resisting the urge to throw the glass against the wall and demand silence. The bartender gets it and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Vegeta notices for the first time that he doesn’t seem to have a nose.

“Well, it’s her night, after all. The crème de la crème, the dame of South City, the Belle of the ball-”

“Who?” Vegeta asks impatiently. Surely if such a woman existed, he would have ran into her by now. After all, the shores of this city belong to him, and he knows every footprint that marks the sands.

“Oh, wow, you are new,” the man shakes his head, wiping away the mess on the counter. “Everyone knows that she’s the gem of this dump. That’s why we’re so busy tonight especially. Well, you may have come here with ignorance, but you’ll definitely know her name by the time she leaves.”

Vegeta straddles the line of curiosity and not giving a damn. How many little starlets come here to make something of themselves, only to wind up in some drug induced stupor and begging him for a fix? He’s heard this tale before, and he doubts that whoever she is will have an effect on him like the blobbering idiot before him.

That is, until the lights dim down.

In the darkness, Vegeta can taste the lust of the men who’ve clutched their seats a little tighter, turning to the stage and pressing their hands in their tight suits. The smoke from their cigarettes choked him as soon as he entered, but now he’s seeing more ashtrays being passed around and more butts being dumped. “She’s coming out,” the bartender says, licking his lips and abandoning his job. Vegeta looks over his shoulder as a single light illuminates the stage, showcasing a curvy silhouette behind a sheer curtain.

Whistles parade around the room, the men reminding him of a hungry pack of wolves ready to gobble this dame up. He’s disgusted by them, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the sheer curtain and the woman behind it. She’s bent over and running her hands up her shapely legs and he feels his groin twitch as she glides over her thighs. Just as she’s almost in a standing position again, the curtain slides to the left, revealing the most beautiful creature he’s ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes on.

Kakarot’s fingers produce a milky string of chords at the piano, a smoke little riff that she’s switching her hips to seductively. He doesn’t notice it, but he’s turned fully around in his chair, completely under her trance. Her hair is the color of the waters of South City, and he doesn’t need to be close to the stage to see the sparkle of her sapphire eyes. Her lips pout into red pillows and she walks towards the mic, a silver little number hugging her figure deliciously. She opens her mouth to speak and he’s already about to sink into the floor.

Her eyes run over the crowd and she smiles. She’s like a little kitten who’s begging to lap up milk, and he’s about to run to the store to get her some. She croons over the piano notes, her voice as soft and sultry as she is.

I’ve got my eyes on a man. A strong kind of man. He’s the kind to leave me under his spell.

It’s almost like she’s purring, this exotic little kitten, with every syllable that escapes her lips.

I want to touch him and see. Will he be good to me? Or leave me to wilt, I can’t tell.

“What’s her name?” He asks the bartender with urgency. His mouth is salivating and he drinks more of his liquor to stop himself from drooling.

He’s like whisky and smoke. If I’m not careful, I’ll choke. But mama didn’t teach me well.

“Bulma,” the bartender says her name like it’s oxygen, and Vegeta plays with it over his tongue. He likes the way it smooths out his mouth like marble.

I wonder what he’ll do. When I tell him the truth. How I’m completely under his spell.

She shimmies her shoulders and rolls her hips smoothly, earning a mixture of applause and whistles from the crowd. She’s walking down the stage, singing and flirting with the men who’ve moved their seats, giving her a center aisle.

A center aisle that is leading directly towards him.

She notices him sitting against the bar, his demeanor quiet unlike the chaos around him. She’s interested, he can tell. She further proves this by walking towards him slowly, making each step her own show. Vegeta can’t take his eyes away from her thick hips or the sparkling fabric. Everything about her screams of an orgasm.

He’s too hot for the touch. But I need him so much. Oh, boy, what’s a lady to do?

She’s getting close enough that he can taste whatever perfume she’s doused herself in for the night. Her blue curls are electric, like lightning in the middle of a rain storm, and they bounce against her shoulders as she approaches. He runs his eyes up to her breasts. Even through the material of her dress, they look like the softest satin he’s never touched.

Is he ready for me?

She runs a finger in between the cutout of her dress, lightly touching her breasts, and he can feel the goosebumps on his own chest.

Is it possible? Can it be?

She’s close enough to reach out and touch him, and she takes his hand and curls it around her back, making him push her in between his legs. She looks down on him and smiles, running her fingers through his hair. Vegeta is trapped. He knows she can smell the desire pouring from his skin. Her fingers are like the skin of ghosts, and he shivers every time they touch his skin. She runs one finger across his lips and leans in close, and he can taste the peppermint that she most recently ate.

That I’ve got him under my spell, too.

Before she turns and leaves, she squeezes his hand, slowly removing her warm thighs from his own. He wants to squeeze her in his legs and taste her skin, see if the kitten is as good as she smells. Instead, he’s cruelly exposed to the smoke of the bar again, and he can only watch her plump behind sashay back to the stage, finding other saps to toy with. He bites down his lips in jealousy; she shouldn’t be touching anyone else but him. How could she want to anyways?

She looks at him again over her shoulder before she steps up the stage and smiles challengingly. He thinks to himself that she’s either the smartest woman alive or the dumbest to look at him like that. His cock twitches with his wild imagination. He finishes his drink as she finishes her song, the sheer curtain covering her again.

Vegeta vows, with absolute certainty, that he will have her by the end of the night.


Like I said, a very short story of only 3-4 parts, and I’ll probably only post this on Tumblr for the time being.

an update on ur blobber

hi guys,

i’m not sure if any of u care enough to notice (lol) my little bit of absence from the blog lately but i feel i owe u all an apology. there have been a lot of big, dramatic and sudden changes in my life (mostly career) lately and unfortunately this has caused the blob to take a bit of a backseat.

for those of u still sticking with me - THANK YOU. i promise the gold dig is not going anywhere. i’m just in a moment of a lot of change. it’s ALL for the better and life is feeling great but it’s breaking my heart that i havent been able to give this blog (and by extension all of you) the attention that youve grown accustomed to and that i LOVE giving.

i love u all. i love this blog. thank you for everything you have given and done for me i am forever indebted and grateful to every one of u!!!!


xxxxxxxx zoe

p.s. if you wanna keep up w me and my life i am now working in music festival production (which has been my goal for a really long time!!!) and ive been gram storying all the ones ive been working (shouts to all ya’ll who kept up w me at coachellas and stagecoach) so if you’re interested in keeping up w me as a person @notzoe on the gram!!!!


I haven’t done it in a long time! And today we all need to put a little (extra) love in our hearts❤

• Reblog this
• And add a nice comment about the blobber you reblogged from😊

{even if you don’t ship karamel you’re more than welcome!}


I was tagged by: @ayat-the-aquarius thank you OG

I tag: @lazodiacale @holyhayle @venusianvirgo @th3-z0diac @tauro-la-sol @gemini-loverxxx @fvckgvbby @ayyries @yikes-cancer

if i were a month, i’d be: January

if i were a day of the week, i’d be: Wednesday

if i were a planet, i’d be: venus

if i were a sea animal, i’d be: a blobber fish

if i were a god/goddess, i’d be: Hecate

if i were a piece of furniture, i’d be: a sofa

if I were a gemstone, i’d be: amethyst

if i were a flower, i’d be: rose

if i were a kind of weather, i’d be: rain with sunshine

if i were a color, i’d be: red

if i were an emotion, i’d be: joy

if i were a fruit, i’d be: strawberries

if i were a sound, i’d be: christmas carols

if i were an element, i’d be: earth

if i were a place, i’d be: home

if i were a mythological creature, i’d be: demi god

if i were a taste, i’d be: bittersweet

if i were a scent, i’d be: smell of new cologne

if i were an object, i’d be: a Harry Potter book

if i were a body part, i’d be: femur

If i were a song i’d be: gosh i dont know??? Maybe ‘heart out’ by 1975 or ‘single’ by the Neighborhood??

if i were a pair of shoes, i’d be: nike airs


I don’t   d  o    r  o  m  a  n  c  e  …
Anastasia, what are you   d  o  i  n  g    t  o    m  e  ?