#Real Sugar Drink Review

[bluepoodle7]

#MountainDew #MountainDewOverdrive#RealSugarDrinkReview #MountainDew #MountainDewReview

I tried the Mountain Dew Overdrive real sugar version and it was pretty good.

This is Casey's exclusive Mountain Dew flavor.

This drink had a light store brand mango tropical fruit punch taste and was smooth while lightly fizzy in texture.

I don't really drink the real sugar drinks that often unless it's new or new to me that interest me or limited edition that I might never see again.

This was lightly sweet to me which makes me think the mountain dew company could make a zero sugar version.

I wish there was a zero-sugar version of this soda since diet fruit punch sodas are very hard to find but do exists.

I would drink this again but in small doses and maybe mix with other juices or drinks.

I want to try the other exclusive mountain dews.

Got at Casey's gas station.

[nnnneeev]

(all) obey me characters with gn!mc who gets immersed in doing something that they forgot to eat their meal

Lucifer

"...good grief”

will constantly remind you to eat your meals. have you forgotten that you’re human?

gives you a stern lecture about the bad effects of skipping meals. i hope you learned your lesson now

if you still forget, he might just have to use his last resort..

that’s right, he’ll prepare you your meal himself. no you cannot reject it. he needs to witness you eating it with his own two eyes

Mammon

"what do you mean you forgot?”

a bit clueless but then he remembered that constantly skipping meals are bad for humans

what if you passed out from hunger??!

gives you cup noodles. well, it’s better than nothing!

you’re not allowed to complain. that’s all he's got right now. promises to treat you something better next time

Levi

"Well I haven’t eaten anything since morning.”

he knows the feeling. he’d also get immersed in gaming that he constantly loose track of the time

even though there’s snacks lying around his room..

maybe you can both share these rainbow pizza together?

cheers to the team ‘woops i forgot to eat again’

Satan

“Eating proper meals are vital for a human to survive.”

invites you to a cafe. you need to wind down for a bit and eat something

better late than eat nothing at all

suggests you to try the pomodoro method

makes you something to drink as well. it’s not much but aside from eating, you also need to stay hydrated

Asmo

"WHAT?! Oh no, hon. We’re going to hell’s kitchen RIGHT NOW!”

seriously? how could you forget? you’re not on a diet, are you?

nuh-uh. you’re not going to skip your meal. not on his watch

oh you often lose track of the time? how about he spoon feeds you instead? <3

skipping meals is bad for your skin, darling. make sure you don’t forget now, okay?

Beel

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

boy will make it his sworn duty to always remind you to eat

worries about you. he can’t even imagine what would it feel like to skip meals

will pick you up in your room every dinner time

he knows what you’re doing right now is important, but eating to replenish your strength is also important, y’know?

Belphie

“..is that so?”

will order something if you like. cooking is too bothersome

lets you do your own thing

but if you’re still constantly forgetting it, he’s gonna pull his youngest brother card on you

tries to catch your attention/clings on you like a koala. will not let you go until you come down to the dining hall with him

Diavolo

“Aren’t humans supposed to eat at least three times a day?”

ohhh so humans tend to forget something important like this, i see i see

Will ask barbatos to prepare you something. eat up!

proposes to do your works together. in that way, missing your meals would be impossible

reviews what the stuff you’re working on is all about (despite his tight schedule). maybe he can do something to lessen your workload

Barbatos

"Oh dear, that’s no good. You should take care of yourself more often.”

will cook for you, that’s a given

the food he made is nutritionally balanced; calculated to perfection to make up with the energy you lost

pairs it with tea. it will help you relax

keeps a mental note to himself about this habit of yours

Luke

"You should at least eat something, you know?!”

scolds you for not taking care of yourself

will deliver you cookies to snack on after you ate your meal

‘Solomon said that eating sugar gives you energy... so i prepared this for you!’

will also leave some cute motivational notes together with the sweets

Simeon

"You forgot...? I see. I’ll bring you something so stay put, okay?”

makes you his signature BLT sandwich

sandwiches are great snack when working on something that requires a lot of focus

he’s made sure to add extra servings of your favorite sides

leaves it on your table and will check on you from time to time 

Solomon

"Stay right there. I’ll whip something up for you real quick.” “Solomon, you really don’t have to...” “No, I insist. I promise you’re gonna like this.”

it’s a great opportunity for him to try this new and improved recipe of his

sorry it’s too late to stop him now. you’ll just have to prepare for the worst..

got too enthusiastic in cooking that he already blew the kitchen up three times

just.. ignore those explosions and focus on what you’re doing

Thirteen

"I have some leftovers here. Not sure if you’ll like it, but it’s still better than whatever that damned sorcerer has to offer”

your name’s not on the list so she’s not that worried that you’ll die from hunger

but you’re still human. aren’t you supposed to eat something at least?

there’s a shop that just opened recently. wanna go check it out? yea just forget whatever you were doing earlier. let’s have fun instead!

her treat since she’s the one who invited you to go with her

Raphael

"We have plenty of leftovers from last night. Solomon made it so I’m sure it tastes amazing.”

no? well, how about an apple?

will keep an eye on you from a distance

you were too focused that you didn’t even notice someone leaving snacks on your desk (or maybe it’s just because he’s too stealthy)

sometimes it’s a cupcake, oftentimes it’s an unidentified matter

Mephisto

“Are humans really this careless? Just what will Lord Diavolo say I let a human like you collapse from hunger?

mc think of what will happen to diavolo’s reputation if a human got sick because they’re not eating well

you’re not doing this on purpose, are you? ..no? are humans really like this?

brace yourself because you’re about to get the fanciest, most expensive-looking full-course meal you’ll ever get

prepared by his personal chef ofc. consider yourself lucky

[writinggoesgreen]

I see a lot of people writing various sex work AUs who maybe don't have very much exposure to the industry outside of popular media, which has traditionally not represented it with respect or accuracy. This is something I can speak about at length from a real life perspective, so I've tried to break it down into some managable chunks!!

Disclaimer: This is not a 'how to' guide, nor should it be used as one, nor is it meant to be a suggestion to enter the sex industry. There are often very real safety issues in being a sex worker. If you are considering, please research thoroughly into advice, community programs and local charities before you do so.

At it's core, sex work refers to the labour that someone does while working in the sex industry. This covers all manner of jobs, but particularly FSSWs (full service sex work - the act of exchanging sex for money), pornstars, cam workers, strippers, dominatrixes, phone sex operators, and sugar babies. Although their experiences will differ, people of all gender and sexual identities will work in these rolls.

I do not have the experience required to give a thorough breakdown of how all these industries work and I implore you to research them properly before writing them.

FSSW takes place in a variety of ways - I'll go over online and street-based here, as I have never worked in a brothel and frankly, don't quite understand how it works.

Online: Many workers set up a profile on an online platform, or utilise social media to advertise. They will display their prices, their 'dos and don'ts' list, and some pictures. Clients will then contact you. Platforms specifically for this, like AdultWork, often have a rating system that allow people to leave reviews for both workers and clients, to minimise risk.

Street-Based: This is probably the system more people imagine when they think of FSSW, in which workers will hang around in popular areas for escorts (some cities have areas famous for this, but depending on legality, this can be better or worse for safety) and pick up customers there. Sometimes they return to either the worker's home, or the client's, a hotel room, or use a car or public toilet.

Strip clubs my beloved. Stripping works very differently in different places, so this is based on my experience working in clubs in the UK.

Stage Work: Not all clubs have huge stages and tall poles for routines. Your character doesn't have to be a professional grade dancer to work in a club like this. If the club has a poll, you will likely be expected to go on it at least once a night, but think of this like 'advertising'.

Tipping: Tipping culture is going to vary anywhere in the world - in the UK, where we don't have low denomination bank notes, no one is throwing singles at you on stage. It's also very variable, sometimes you might pull £300 in tips in a night, others, you might pull nothing at all. It depends on the people.

Dances: Many clubs work on a tiered system for dances, particularly where workers aren't making money on tips on the floor. My club worked on a 'private dance' and 'VIP dance' system, where private dances were shorter and less expensive, usually one on one, and VIP dances are longer, often in a more private room, and sometimes come with things like a drink. You can keep someone in a dance for longer than they paid for if they give you more money. Different clubs work differently in terms of taking a cut - some, you pay a percentage of what you earn in a night, others have a 'house fee', which is a set payment (that might be higher on weekends) that essentially works as 'renting out space' in the club to work as a private contractor.

Outfits: The clothes you wear will also vary hugely on where you live. In the UK, different counties have different laws regarding how much skin you can show in the 'open bar' area, so you might have to wear a gown, which are often long, to cover your butt, but with a slit up the skirt, and low cut. In other places, you can wear underwear, but not show your nipples unless if a private room. I've known dancers also wear bikinis. Almost all dancers will wear Pleasers or a similar brand of stripper shoe, which are specially designed to be worn for long periods of time. The toes of the shoe is also used to 'clack' the dance floor (make a loud noise when it hits it) so you can make an audible impact when you do a knee drop from a pole or other similar moves.

Sites: Camwork is, obviously, pretty much exclusively online. Most workers that I know work from home, and use either a hosting website like MyFreeCams, or advertise privately on social media for Skype shows. Hosting sites will take a cut of your profits, as these payments are all online. Some, it's a set percentage of your earnings. Others, like MFC, encourage you to do 'private shows' as they take a lower percentage of your money than, for example, a tip given in a free show.

Tiers: Every site I've used has multiple tiers: 'free room' is quite literally a chatroom where you can advertise and chat to people to try and convince them to tip you or 'take you private'. Then, you have group shows, where you have a non public chatroom that clients pay to watch, but other people can join in if they pay. Then, private rooms are where you are one on one with someone. Some sites will not allow you to be nude in a free room, as not all of them require membership - and thus age verification - to chat.

Levels: 'Levels' in how sex workers describe what they are willing to do in a chat room - for example, a character might have a 'higher level' in a private room than a group one because they will earn more money that way. More money = more to look at. This can be the difference between showing nudity, and using toys.

Camwork is, in my personal experience, the most varied form of work. Some clients will want your character to just chat to them, some will ignore anything they say and simply wait for them to 'show them the goods' etc. There are also camshows with 'specialties', and these are as varied as the human sexual experience: sitting in the bath, to cleaning the house and ignoring the chat.

Phone sex lines work in a similar manner to camwork, in the sense that some workers choose to host their profile and number on an industry site, and others advertise privately. Some things to keep in mind:

Hosting on a site will often create a barrier between the client and the worker, protecting their privacy, and meaning they often won't carry a second phone. Those who advertise privately often will.

The variety of kinks and preferences your character will come across on phone sex lines are also as varied as they are in cam work - every kind of fetish imaginable, and often with no prior discussion. Plan for their surprise in those instances.

Is your story taking place in a universe where sex work is legal? Is it criminalised, legalised, or decriminalised?

Is your character 'out' to friends, family etc?

Workers talk to each other. Unless your character is new to the industry, they will likely have a community, even a small one, that they exchange information about safety and opportunities with. This might be within a club, a brothel, or a local area.

Here is a list of prompts for sex work AUs that do not rely on sex worker falls in love with client. I cannot stress enough how this is not a common occurance. The relationship is transactional, and quite often, based on mutually ignored lies. I'm not saying it doesn't happen or can't work in a way that is healthy, I'm just saying, in my experience, whores tend to love, fuck, and marry other whores before they do civs. I love a cliche as much as the next guy, but stretch outside the box on this one, trust me. Note: As always, I have tried to write these to leave them open to romantic or platonic dynamics, and comedy, tradegy, or romantic storylines. Go hog wild, experiment.

Character A works in politics, and has gone to several charity galas where they have noticed various different collegues entering with the same person. Character B, an escort who has been hired by several prominent politicians, notices that they have been clocked.

Character A is working as a cam model to put themselves through college while desperetly coming up with increasingly ridiculous lies to cover the noises coming from their room to their dormmates.

At a popular strip club in [INSERT CITY], Character A is put in charge of showing Character B the ropes.

Character A and Character B, two FSSWs who have never worked together, agree to work a double with a long term client. They go out for coffee afterwards.

Working a pole dance studio during the day and a strip club in the evenings, Character A bumps into one of their students in the bar.

After a rough breakup, Character A calls a phone sex line on a particularly lonely evening. Character B, their long time friend, recognises the number when they call.

Character A and Character B both work in the strip club, but no one knows they are married.

[ghoul-foolery]

Riata - The Ghoul x Lucy MacLean

-

Two times the Ghoul used his lasso to wrangle Lucy MacLean, and one time she actually liked it.

No Smut, only kisses.

-

Lucy was thirsty. Very thirsty. So thirsty that it was overwhelming. So thirsty that it became real dang difficult to think of much else despite how desperately she tried to keep her mind busy. If she wasn’t being held hostage by a dastardly noseless man (she was), and still in the vault (she wasn’t), she would be able to commit herself to a number of things to keep her troubled mind occupied. She could go train; do her gymnastics, or her fighting, or go to shooting practice. She’d be able to brush up on the latest chapters being covered by the MacLean family book club, or prepare a lesson plan for an upcoming history class. Without her typical go-to’s, she had taken to mentally reciting lines from her favorite movies but it was getting harder and harder to focus. What should have been the opening lines from The Man and His Dog turned into her reviewing the symptoms of dehydration.

Dry mouth (check). Trembling (goodness, her hands wouldn’t stop quaking). Thirst (she was so thirsty). Her captor, the awful, awful man, made a bit of a game out of her predicament. He would mosey to a stop near decrepit, poisoned water sources and taunt Lucy.

“Bet yer thirsty, huh, sugar?” he’d drawl. “All this water and not a single drop for the poor little vaultie to drink.”

On some occasions he would go out of his way to splash the water source around. The ripples broke the greasy stagnation, made the water look a little less putrid, and more palatable. Sometimes the Pip-Boy’s Geiger counter would join in on the torment with a poignant click, click, click. On one occasion it prompted the undead-looking cowboy to release an alarming cackle that would have been befitting a movie villain. Dastardly, indeed.

The click, click, clicking, the endless taunting, and the relentless sun were a most formidable tag team and Lucy found her resolve breaking far sooner than she had expected. The water looked more like waste product than it did actual liquid. It was a puddle nestled in a questionable container, tucked away in the middle of some dilapidated buildings. She lamented not drinking from a broken toilet three stops ago. That water at least looked somewhat clean. Her knees gave way, nearly collapsing into the sand before she dipped trembling hands into the water and took big greedy gulps. It tasted sour and acrid; nothing like water. It left an oily coating in her throat that made her gag. Lucy swallowed down the sensation, desperate to keep it down.

Out of her periphery, the man had stooped down beside her. He looked disgustingly smug as Lucy met his eyes. He was alarmingly proficient with baiting her into getting angry, and getting her to take verbal snipes at him. Thankfully this particular back-and-forth was brief, as the noseless man was swept away in a coughing fit. During their travels, he had been incredibly stalwart in his management of her. He hadn’t let his guard down once; not even when he went to relieve himself – and to be honest, good for him, because Lucy had been more than prepared to make a grand escape attempt the second she heard his fly unzip. The coughing overtook her captor, dragging him into a hacking, drooling mess. His guard was finally down and Lucy made a run for it.

By the time she reached the end of the block of destroyed houses she could still hear him wheezing for air. She took a hard turn down another sand-packed street, and performed a hood-slide just like the ones she had seen in some of her dad’s movies.

But then she saw the ditch; the fudging massive hole in the ground where there should have been more buildings, maybe a city, maybe people. It was a void in the earth and the sheer force of shock she felt upon seeing it slowed her progress to a complete stop. That’s when the rope appeared, dropping clean over her head before cinching up tight at her waist. Lucy didn’t even have enough time to be properly perplexed before she was yanked off her feet and tumbling butt over tea kettle through the sand.

Desperation kicked in. Lucy had been a good hostage. Though she admittedly could have tried harder at being amicable, she had been polite. She addressed him as sir when she spoke to him, and thanked him the one time he had let her go to relieve herself. All in all, this situation withstanding, she had been a dang good hostage – but not any more. His gnarled, mottled hands ended up near her face, one of the fingers dipping into her mouth as she screamed and struggled against the tight lasso. In a fit of rage, Lucy bit down with every ounce of force she could muster. She tasted salt, grainy sand, and then her mouth flooded with a wave of hot copper.

Lucy MacLean had bitten off her assailant’s finger. Beyond the surprise at her own ferocity, she expected him to lash out and maybe finally kill her but her captor didn’t even hint at the pain. If anything, he said something that could have maybe been praise…?

He still cut off her pointer finger, though.

//

The Mojave was hell on earth.

If Lucy could turn back time to when she was at the Santa Monica observatory, right to the exact moment when the Ghoul said, “You comin’?” she would make sure that she said no. Heck, she would make sure to say fuck no. There had been enough chasing down Hank MacLean to last her an entire lifetime. Quite frankly, her father wasn’t the man she had thought he was and chasing him across the desert just made her dislike him all the more. The only highlight to the excursion was that Lucy and Ghoul were on the same team; she wasn’t a hostage and the Ghoul had prepared for the journey. They had food and water, but they were forced to adhere to strict rationing. While they were able to hunt and forage for food, the nights they didn’t manage to find something were lean, and the thirst was constant.

On one day in particular, a handful of days into their trip, when the sun was at its zenith and being particularly brutal, Lucy’s throat started to chafe. There wasn’t enough moisture in her mouth to swallow and soothe the ache but out of habit she kept trying. It left her throat feeling grittier than sandpaper. After one particular attempt to swallow down the pain she nearly choked when it felt as if her throat had stopped working. Her pace slowed almost to a stop and her hand moved to cup her jugular.

Marching diligently a few feet away, the Ghoul whistled to get her attention just before tossing a small stone in her direction. Lucy managed to catch it, but only just barely. It was smaller than her palm, and close to the size of the old hard candy that Betty used to give the kids in the vault. The stone was brilliantly white on the edges with pockets and grooves tinged an earthy brown. This particular excursion with the Ghoul was significantly less hostile. The first couple of days were awkward, and strained, but Lucy soon grew comfortable in his presence. He was still a bit too rough-and tumble, and a little too prone to anger, but he had grown far more patient with her. The ghoul still liked to push her buttons though, getting a fair bit of amusement with getting her worked up. So when he tossed the rock at her, she was almost completely positive he had done it to see her flinch. Just as she was priming herself to make an exaggerated show of rolling her eyes and throwing it back at him, the Ghoul tossed a similarly size stone into his mouth.

“Go on,” he said, the rock tucked into his cheek. “It’ll help. Just mind those perdy teeth’a yers, princess.”

Though Lucy was skeptical, she plopped the pebble on to her dry tongue. It tasted like nothing at first, and then she began to salivate. It was salty, with tinges of something earthy, and carrying the grit of the Mojave sand. Groaning in relief, Lucy gulped down the precious moisture as it pooled in her mouth. The ache in her throat received a modicum of sweet relief.

“It stops workin’ after a while,” he continued on, giving her a sidelong glance. “Doesn’t do much for dehydration but it stops ya from breathing through your mouth.”

“Thank you so much,” Lucy said in earnest. She mustered enough energy to send him a thankful smile. “Where did you learn that?”

“Ol’ trick I learned back in boot camp.” After a beat of silence he added, “Don’t choke. Don’t think I won’t eat you if you die out here.”

Boot camp. Did that mean he had been with the Brotherhood of Steel? She knew better than to ask outright. The personal questions were usually what got him annoyed the fastest.

Lucy tucked the rock into her cheek, feeling the stone clack against her teeth. “One of these days I’m going to ask you everything I want to know about you, and you’re going to give me answers.”

“Sure, I’ll letcha know.”

“You will not.”

“No,” he agreed on a huffed breath, a small twitch of his lips belying his amusement. “I will not.”

“Because you like arguing, and getting a rise out of people?”

“People? Nah, sweetheart. Only you.”

They fell into a mutual silence, trudging onward through the sea of sand. The Ghoul was right. The pebble stopped assisting with saliva production maybe an hour later. The grating thirst returned, and it returned with a vengeance. If she could go back she would say no. If she could go back, she would return to her vault and have a luxurious shower and a hot meal. If she could go back—

There was a structure jutting out of the sand in the not-so-far distance. It shifted and flagged under the waves of the beating sun, but Lucy was almost completely sure she could make out the jutting slab of tin on the roof.

“Holy moly,” she rasped, slowing. “You see that?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Can…” she didn’t like asking the Ghoul for favors. Didn’t like the idea of him seeing her as a weak link, but she was desperate for a break. “Can we stop there for the night?”

The ghoul had already changed trajectory, picking up his pace as he said,“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Lucy tailed him, matching his pace and feeling a fresh kick of energy when they grew close enough to the shed to determine that it wasn’t just a mirage. She got a little ahead of herself then. A little ahead of him, too. Once it was confirmed that the structure was real she moved to a jog, and then an all out run. They found shade. They found shelter for the night. Through her excitement, and the sound of her own rampant breathing, Lucy could hear the Ghoul call out to her.

“Easy, darlin’. Let’s check it out first.”

While she could process that she had heard his voice, her sun-fried mind was unable to properly process the words. Running through the sand made her legs burn, her mouth was watering with exertion. They could have a fire for the night, a properly cooked meal! She could make out the shape of a door against the old wooden structure, and could see the way that sand had built up over the bottom of the frame.

The Ghoul called out again, his voice sharper, “Goddammit, Vaultie, slow down!”

But still, Lucy ran. When she reached the shack she stuttered to an uneven stop, reaching for the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled for all she was worth. The door resisted under the weight of built up sand, and so she pulled harder, throwing her weight into pulling the door open.

A bone-chilling hiss shot out from the shack, followed by something guttural and shrill. Something lunged from the dark of the shack,

“LUCY!”

All she could do was stare, even as she acknowledged the danger before her. Lucy was off balance after fighting with the door, and her mind couldn’t quite work out whether to right herself or make a run for it. The creature that emerged from the darkness was human once. It had been like the Ghoul once. The feral ghoul was much more gaunt than the others she had seen. Its bony fingers looked too much like claws, and the skin of its face was long gone, exposing skull and teeth. And she could do nothing else but watch as it came at her with both. Lucy closed her eyes as she braced for impact – and then something wrapped tight around her ribs, and she was being yanked backwards.

Lucy fell into the burning sand in a heap, her cry of surprise being washed out by the abrupt sound of a single gunshot. When she opened her eyes the dead feral ghoul was at her feet.

“Fucking hell, Lucy–”

“—I’m sorry—“

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

“—I just—“

“Just tryin’ t’get yerself killed?!”

“—no, no—“

The Ghoul drew breath to continue berating her but the wind suddenly vanished from his sails. His shoulders deflated. He closed his eyes, and huffed, “Fuck, girl.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, squinting up at him. The sand was far too hot to be laying in, but she was almost afraid to move. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking–”

She expected a short, angry rebuttal but all he did was cast a look about the desert. Then he looked at the dead feral. He gave a tug to the rope, it cinched tighter, digging into her skin and probably bruising. He moved past her and into the shack for a moment, then returned, holstering his weapon.

“Get in there and sit the fuck down,” he ordered.

They stayed in the shack for two nights before setting out again.

//

Upon getting to the other side of the Mojave, the Ghoul and Lucy ran face first into the wasteland’s golden rule: thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. Their trail had gone cold a month or two ago, and the duo had ended up involving themselves in an insurmountable amount of bullshit. The only real plus side was that there were more than enough caps coming their way, and it afforded them luxuries that Lucy once took for granted. They were able to secure room lodgings for days-long stays. They were able to afford bathing accommodations, warm food, and mostly clean water. Having a few creature comforts seemed to pull the Ghoul out of his perpetual state of fight-or-fight, but he seemed to grow even more protective of his vaultie.

Whenever they purchased lodgings they shared a room. The one time Lucy offered to buy a second room for a couple of nights he had adamantly refused. Despite having several meal options - different types, different locales - they still took every single one of their meals together. Some of their evenings felt downright domestic, and that suited Lucy just fine. The only problem was that the remnants of Nevada itched at her curiosities. Lucy wanted to go to the casinos to see, and play the games. Lucy wanted to learn the card game everyone and their sister was playing. Lucy wanted to go to the bar and try her first drink, she wanted to have dinner in the old restaurants and experience the community they were staying in. The Ghoul was very staunchly opposed, but Lucy couldn’t hold it against him. The area was apparently flush with slavers, and he obviously didn’t want to take any chances before they managed to figure out the next step in their journey…

But sometimes Lucy’s curiosity ran a little too rampant… Which was why she snuck out of their hotel room when the Ghoul was taking a bath.

The Ghoul had very begrudgingly agreed to treat Lucy to dinner down in the hotel restaurant. Lucy was jittery with excitement. During some of their more recent jobs she had found a lovely baby blue floral sundress, and she had been looking for a reason to wear it the second she tucked it away in her pack. Dinner would be the perfect opportunity. Lucy took her turn in the bathroom to get gussied up. She got washed and managed to coax a couple of lazy curls into her hair.

When she was finished, she exited the bathroom. The dress was a little worn, but it fit well. It tucked in close at the waist with a flattering boat neck. It was just a shame that she couldn’t find better shoes, and had to stick with her clunky worn traveling boots. The accessories were limited to her pistol and holster. The Ghoul gave her a brief once over, then pushed past her with a terse, “Gimme a minute.”

Lucy gave him maybe two minutes before she wrote him a note telling him that she would be waiting at the bar. After making it down the rickety stairs Lucy took the quickest of detours to the hotel’s game room. There were a couple of people milling about, sitting at slot machines and idly pushing buttons. She took in all of the colorful lights, the ringing bells, and the strange synthetic music, and then she went straight to the bar located in the restaurant area. The place was probably brilliant, once. Decked out in rich reds and opulent golds that had faded poorly.

Perching on one of the many vacant stools surrounding the bar, Lucy offered up her friendliest smile at the bartender and ordered a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla. The woman had a kind face, but tired eyes. She set the bottle in front of Lucy, letting her keep the cap. The dining tables around the bar were sporadically filled, some people nursing drinks, others nursing plates of food. There was a little disappointment. She was expecting lively chatter and community, the room felt more like a ghost town. That is until the stool on her right became occupied despite the rest of the bar being open.

“This seat taken?” The man asked. He was rough-looking, with scars scattering up and down his neck and chin. He had dark short cropped hair and was adorned in miss matched armor. Despite his mean appearance, Lucy decided that his voice was kind.

She greeted him with a polite smile as she joked, “I guess it is now!”

There was no problem with sharing in some company until her date for the evening appeared, but the man’s friendly demeanor only put her on guard. The questions he asked were gently prying, asking where she was going and where she came from. Lucy politely skirted, silently acknowledging that there was a time not too long ago that she would have answered with a too open honesty. The Ghoul was to thank for her ability to acknowledge that even innocent questions could lead to dangerous ends.

But then in a matter of minutes her guard was down, because the man had pulled out a deck of playing cards, and had pulled the bartender in for a game of Caravan. Noticing Lucy’s interest, he offered to teach her how to play. Of course she accepted. The Ghoul was taking a while anyway, so what was the harm? The man and the bartender took turns explaining the set up, and then they dealt the cards. Lucy wasn’t sure when the man’s arm draped over her shoulder, and she wasn’t sure when the man had started sitting so close, but that was how the Ghoul found them.

“Well,” he said by way of greeting. His slow drawling voice immediately set Lucy on high alert. “Isn’t this just fuckin’ cozy?”

Lucy and her card partner glanced back. He snorted, “Easy, man. Plenty of other seats to choose from.”

The Ghoul shifted, kicking one of the legs of the stool. “That’s awfully funny, ‘cause I think I want this seat right here.”

There was danger in the Ghoul’s voice, an underlying threat. Sometimes it seemed like he leaned into the molasses in his voice to keep people off guard. Like if he let his accent thicken and his voice move a little slower then people wouldn’t anticipate just how explosive his next move would be. Lucy cleared her throat, placing her cards face down. No one needed to die over something so mundane.

“Thank you both so much for trying to teach me, but I do believe I’m late for a dinner date with my friend here.” She turned on her stool and went to dismount just before the man grabbed her arm.

“You don’t have to go anywhere just because this ghoul doesn’t have any fucking manners—“

The Ghoul’s gloved hand shot out faster than lightning. He palmed the stranger’s head and slammed it down into the surface of the bar. It was done with so much force that the cards jumped and scattered. The stranger’s drink toppled and the glass shattered. The bartender back pedaled, holding her hands up in surrender though she looked deeply amused. Lucy hopped down from her seat and got between the Ghoul and the man before the violence escalated even further. As the man wailed his pain, curling in on himself and grasping his head, Lucy placed her hands on the Ghoul’s chest and gave him a gentle push backward.

“Hey,” she said earnestly. “Hey let’s go, huh? We can grab something to eat and go sit outside, or back to the room?”

“Fuck you, you fucking ghoul!” The man raged. “You fucking piece of shit—“

“You promised me dinner, remember? Come on, ignore him,” Lucy said softly, trying to keep her voice low and gentle. The Ghoul’s eyes lowered to Lucy. “Let’s go get something to eEEEEAT—“ in a move that was just as fast as his assault on the man, Lucy MacLean was picked up and tossed over the Ghoul’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then he did a sharp pivot and marched away. “Hey! Hey, put me down!”

“Hush.”

“No! This isn’t fair!”

She griped and complained their whole way back to their room, and the Ghoul let her. He did not put her down again until they were in their room and the door was shut.

“What the fudge—“ no, no this time she needed the big guns. “What the fuck was that about? There was nothing happening, nothing untoward. They were just showing me a card game while I waited—“ he was moving across the room towards his bed where he kept his things, his back to her as she raged. “— and then you come in and just attack him?”

“He was sittin’ awfully goddamn close to just be showin’ you a game’a cards.”

“And that’s a crime?”

The Ghoul’s back was still facing her, but he had stopped rummaging through his pack. His posture straightened, but he did not look back towards her.

“And if he wanted somethin’ more from you, vaultie?”

“That—that isn’t a crime either! Now. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going back downstairs.” She turned on her heel. She fumbled with the lock and pushed the door open. “Look, I don’t want to fight okay—“ she started into the hall just as that gosh dang honda knot dropped over her shoulders. It snapped shut at her waist and she was pulled backward. It wasn’t enough to send her careening to the ground, this wasn’t the violent wrangling she had received in the past, but it was enough to make Lucy stumble. For a moment she thought she was for sure going to land on her butt, but the Ghoul was suddenly behind her. She tumbled into his body and he secured her there with an arm around her waist. The door slammed shut and then she was being spun around, pushed up against it. “Sir—!” Lucy barely had the chance to process that there was a big gloved hand at her throat before the Ghoul was kissing her.

This kiss wasn’t like the kisses that she had shared with her former husband. Those had been a little sloppy with her nervousness, and felt a little cold. Probably because that jerk Monty was planning to kill her. This kiss wasn’t like the sweet, chaste kisses she had shared with Maximus. The man was inexperienced but he tried in earnest; but there was just no time to learn and no time to teach.

This kiss was consuming. This kiss was claiming. This kiss was sensual in a way that Lucy had never experienced. The Ghoul took his time with her, kissing deep but all silken and slow. Gripping at the lapels of his duster, Lucy sighed. She would have leaned in closer if it weren’t for the hand at her throat. He squeezed just enough to make her head throb in time with her pulse, squeezing just enough to hold her at the Ghoul's mercy. Aching heat pooled at her center as his tongue stoked against hers in a motion mimicking sex. Slow, dragging. A silky inward thrust, paired with a lazy withdrawal. In and out, taking his time with her. He withdrew suddenly, marking his departure with a harsh nip to her lower lip. The grip at her throat loosened and she came back to herself in a rush.

“Ho—“ Lucy licked her lips, her eyes fluttering open. “Holy moly.”

“You don’t wanna fight,” the Ghoul said, his voice husky and low. His free hand reached to push her bangs away from her eyes. “So you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to let some fuckin’ asshole get that close to you again. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yep.”

Another nip — sharp and painful — quickly chased by a suckle at the afflicted sight, a swipe of the tongue. Criminy, it was good.

“And you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to leave this goddamn room without me again.”

“Uh-huh.”

The palm at her throat vanished entirely, and his hands dipped to loosen the rope at her waist. He didn’t back away, keeping close and forcing her arms up so he could guide the lasso up over her chest, past her head— and then her wrists were pinned up against the door, pulled together by the rope, and secured by his hand. Lucy practically melted into a puddle of goo, becoming pliant and willing. It would appear that she was deeply interested in a partner who was dominant. How interesting. How good to know.

Lucy swallowed hard, then whispered, “But, um, maybe you should kiss me again, though? Just to make real dang sure I won’t argue… ” The ‘please’ hung on her lips.

The Ghoul’s mouth quirked slowly. “You want me to shut you up?” The hold on her wrists got a little firmer. He dragged his mouth over her jaw, then down along her neck. “I could shut you up good and proper, darlin’.”

Lucy’s mouth watered, she hummed her interest.

“But you’ve been bitchin' about me takin’ you to dinner, so we oughtta do that first.”

The Ghoul moved away from her in a blink, abandoning her near the door and directing his attention to re-wrapping his rope. Lucy blinked, trying to properly process what had just occurred. He tossed a glance in her direction, his eyes assessing her with barely hidden amusement. “You ready?”

Still breathless, a little confused, and way too darn warm, Lucy replied, “Okey-dokie.”

[seat-safety-switch]

Although it is very clichéd, drinking out of a human skull mug at work gets a lot of messages across. For one thing, it shows that you are serious. It also shows that you’re going to spend a lot of time drinking coffee, because a human skull is very hard to drink out of, and it can only hold a little bit of coffee at a time, because human skulls are not designed to hold coffee. Which is why I primarily drink either high-test aircraft cleaning spirits and fruity, sugar-heavy cocktails. Sure makes the Monday planning meetings go a little faster, and no one’s the wiser, unless I fuck up and include one of those little cocktail umbrellas.

Mugs are actually a surprisingly significant part of my life. Once, a long time ago, I had the perfect mug. The handle fit my hand very well – snugly, but far enough away from the barrel that I didn’t burn my knuckles. There was a little lip. It didn’t wobble when I put it down on an uneven table, or workbench, or desk. Then, I left it in the communal office dishwasher, and some asshole stole it.

This thief – and make no mistake, their felonious intent is communicated thoroughly – didn’t just misplace the mug. They didn’t carry it back to their desk, realize it wasn’t one of “the office’s” mugs, and return it to be washed. One, two days, even a week... I could deal with that. It was gone for months upon months. Soon, I had lost all hope of seeing it again in the cleaned-mugs cupboard or even the grotty sink full of coworker leavings.

I considered asking around about it, but to admit that level of vulnerability at work would have compromised my position. Not because I was powerful. No, because I was and am the weird asshole who doesn’t do any work. As long as I didn’t raise too much of a fuss, they couldn’t be bothered to figure out who would be responsible for firing me. In fact, my line manager had perished in a motorcycle racing accident several years ago, and I just intercepted my own performance-review paperwork when HR put it on his desk and signed it myself. To draw attention to my precarious existence by making a stink about a coffee mug would mean that I would finally have to stop playing Counter-Strike and shopping for car parts all day. And then I’d have to get a real job.

So, I let that mug go. Maybe one day, it’ll turn up again. I make sure to attend all the going-away parties on the other part of the floor, and even on the adjacent floors, just in case the thief who ruined my life lived in a different department. In the meantime, I have a stupid human skull mug. It doesn’t fit in the dishwasher, and no thief will want to wash it by hand and then steal it, not when there’s a Garfield lead-cadmium one from the 70s in there too.

[nietp]

Everyone and their mother is doing energy drink reviews these days but they all look laughable to me. They're out here reviewing RedBull and Crazy Tiger Lemon like we're in 2018.... aren't you ashamed to post such basic stuff? What are you doing? We're way past that. You look stupid. Anyway. It's been a while... Let me show you my sexy selection.

Carabao Energy Drink: interesting because it goes back to the very origin of energy drinks: Thailand! The first energy drink was created in Thailand in 1975, and was then adapted to create RedBull. So thank you for that. Carabao is the most popular energy drink in Thailand after RedBull. God we're learning so much today! The can size is cute, however it tastes extremely sweet and sour, and is not carbonated at all which was kind of unsettling. Interesting experience though, it's a completely different taste palette from western energy drinks imo. I drank 2 cans and felt nothing, as usual! 3/5 stars.

Onto the next one for a widely different story!

Freez Mix Energy Dragon: I forgot to take a pic but believe me, we did buy that stupid thing. First of all, these drinks are packaged like beer bottles as a 6-pack, which I should have been suspicious of. I found out at the cash register that the 6-pack costs 10€ but by then it was too late, and luckily the cashier was also drinking an orange RedBull so when she saw my face fall at the price, she joked about RedBull being even more expensive instead of making fun of me, so I knew I was in a safe space for idiots and alpha males. So basically when it comes to the taste....it's bad? I'm so sorry for being a hater but this is just not good and not what I expect from an energy drink. Luckily for the Freez Mix company, before I'm a hater, I'm also an intellectual and a scientist, so I looked up their website to understand their intent and creative process. This wasn't hard to do, because on the bottle right nex to the cap was a QR code that said "Scan the QR code to open the bottle safely!". I was like... Do you think I'm stupid? I need a QR code to do what now? And then I opened the bottle and spilled the drink all over myself. This drink is carbonated to the high heavens. So we scanned the code, which links you to a stupid YouTube video where they show how to open the bottle, and they opened it normally just like I did, but they're just full of lies because their drink didn't spill all over. Anyway! So we also checked their website and found out they're really trying to create a line of fancy drinks that will look good at parties where everyone drinks alcohol but you don't. So this is why this energy drink has like a beer fursona. And tastes like shit non-alcoholic beer mixed with energy drink. I also found out that's it's called Dragon because it's supposed to be dragonfruit flavoured? I wouldn't have guessed. To me it tastes too bitter to be an energy drink, but it's not like it's a jägerbomb either. This drink just hasn't found itself yet. It's on a journey. Unfortunately, I needed to be on a journey too since we bought 6 of these, so I had to learn to like the taste, and the fact that every single bottle spills everywhere no matter how you open it. Possibly so you can chug it at frat parties like a real beer? I don't think that would make you very popular. 2/5 stars, this drink was all over the place.

Bang Energy Drink Candy Apple Crisp: so this one sent me in a bit of a crisis. Not much to say about it, but avid readers will remember that I once reviewed a personal favourite, Monster Energy Ultra Paradise, and said that it tasted like the green apple artificial flavour. However, this Bang is now supposed to taste exactly like that but with sugar candy on top. However², I don't see how you can make a drink that already usually tastes fully of sugar taste like more sugar. So this just tastes like energy drink with an artificial apple flavour, but NOT as much as the Monster one that isn't supposed to taste like that at all. Life is complicated. I just feel like this Bang is a travesty of something I love and cherish. 2/5 stars, the flavour was okay but -3 taken for the disrespect of my loved ones.

[laulo821]

do you have thoughts on hersheys/american chocolate

to be frank i don't know what "american chocolate" reeeaaally means. like. do kitkats and mars and twix and stuff count? they're not chocolate per se, more like chocolate fingers. but if those are included, yea all that shablang is good but arguably more for the filling than for the chocolate itself (but since they're so common maybe they're france/europe-made and if so they definitely taste differently than real usamerican ones)

also i am not the best one to answer this kind of question cuz i have a very low sugar tolerance, i'm not a chocolate bar addict and i'm not a snacker in general at all. so yknow!! maybe biased answer!!

now to the taste test.

i have gone to three different superstores, a sweets-specialised store and a usamerican-specialised store and this is the only type of hershey's i could find so very limited choice here (arguably since it's not a plain chocolate i'd argue the test is null and void but let's carry on regardless)

(+ reese's cup cuz it's very usamerican, it's not very common and i never had one before. although it belongs to the chocolate finger kind of sweets)

the reese's cup is genuinely a horrible, awful snack. i'll be completely honest and had "mini reese's cups" before this test (i'm writing this live btw) and i was very close to just spit it all out because of how disgusting it was to me. and it happened again with the big ones lmao, albeit they were more balanced. by the second cup it's a bit enjoyable but it's really not . good. milk chocolate + peanut butter is Not It (never had peanut butter before so maybe it's solely because of the pb). plus it's sooooo sugary. i'm not gonna sleep tonight after this. i feel like i drank a cup of monster energy drink but there's no caffeine so it's not even worth it

now the hershey's – i took a square of black chocolate for cooking before hand to remember the taste of my usual chocolate (i don't like black chocolate but still. For Reference i had to). soooo. it's good. i like milk chocolate so it's very nice and the crunchy of the biscuit is cool, i like crunchy things. the milk chocolate feels very similar to the white chocolate i'm used to, albeit more sugary maybe. hard to tell with the biscuit. taste wise it's good. however the squares are very little (height-wise) compared to my usual chocolate bars so it's very unsatisfying hunger-wise, a feeling which i don't have AT ALL with my usual chocolate bars (4 squares and i'm usually "ok that's enough chocolate") so i understand better how you can just eat that stuff up until your cupboard is empty

so anyways. that's my review for that particular type of hershey's lmao. would eat again. i'd rather buy a snickers instead though. if i ever encounter regular hershey's i'll do an update i guess. but the reese's cups can fuck right off

[bluepoodle7]

#MountainDew #MountainDewBajaPointBreakPunch#RealSugarDrinkReview #MountainDew #MountainDewReview

I tried the Mountain Dew Baja Point Break Punch real sugar version and it was pretty good.

This drink had a light store brand fruit punch taste and was smooth while lightly fizzy in texture.

I don't really drink the real sugar drinks that often unless it's new or new to me that interest me or limited edition that I might never see again.

This was lightly sweet to me which makes me think the mountain dew company could make a zero sugar version.

I wish there was a zero-sugar version of this soda since diet fruit punch sodas are very hard to find.

I would drink this again but in small doses and maybe mix with other juices or drinks.

I want to try the other exclusive mountain dews.

Got at Walmart.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Okay bestie hear me out ….. I’m literally a genius btw okay so I been thinking and like hear me out (this is a long one I’m so sorry I’m in dumb horny himbo mode rn)

Steve rogers landed a brand deal with Coke with special edition red white and blue cans with a picture of him on the front each label with 4 or 5 different versions of the same label just him in different poses. After the events of endgame when getting his affairs in order so he can properly retire the title of captain America and give it to Sam , his brand deal is something that needs to be taken care of. New contracts are signed and old ones are reviewed and with little difficulty he’s able to prematurely end his contract. The problem is there’s a warehouse filled with Steve’s captain America branded coke products. And as efforts not to waste any when liquidating Steve gets sent a pretty large portion of the overstock, As in a giant pallet shows up and his and Bucky’s front door each month for like 6 months filled with glass bottles, plastic bottles , cans , etc.. The problem is as a result of not having sweets for a pretty damn long time Bucky is addicted to sugar so when Steve comes home from one of his last few trips to tie up loose ends making his retirement official. And sees Bucky in their bedroom through the crack of the door soda cans flooding both nightstands and in the center of the bed is Bucky swollen mumbling to himself he’s gonna pop while still drinking more soda pitching a tent while doing so and …. Anyways I’m sure you could probably take that and run with it and write much better than I could but I’m just a whore for soda bloated Bucky and Steve being sensitive to words like pop, burst , explode (obv not in a literal sense just more as vocal additives)

I CAN HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR.

JESUS CHRIST.

This. I love this. This hits so many spots. Just, yes.

It starts basically as soon as Bucky is back in the future and is at least a little bit of himself - it being the incessant munching on candy. Bucky had a sweet tooth back in the day, too, but of all the things HYDRA did to him, they also must’ve done something to mess with his taste buds because his sweet tooth is unsatiable now. He preferred sweets before, but now he’s obsessed with sweets. Candy. Ice cream. Soda pop. Pastries. Even sweet dishes of real, not fake snacks or desserts, like orange chicken or teriyaki flavored… anything, really.

If it’s sweet, he’ll eat it.

It’s a conversation Steve and Bucky have had too many times where Steve watches Bucky snack on sugar after dinner before bed until his own stomach is turning; he doesn’t understand how Bucky can deal with that much sweetness-

"You're gonna rot your teeth, Buck," Steve tells him.

The light of the TV flickers over Bucky’s (admittedly softer, softer than he was in Romania) frame. He’s clothed in his pajamas, nice and relaxed. "Nn, 'm not!" Bucky says around a mouthful of sticky toffy, "'m'uh supersoldier-" he mumbles as if Steve could forget "-my teeth can't rot!"

“I don’t know… you might be pushing it, Buck,” Steve says, giving him shit because it’s their nature. Not because he really means it. He doesn’t actually want Bucky to stop eating sweets. Bucky deserves to have whatever the hell he wants. Steve is more than weak for his boyfriend. Still. It’s a lot.

And still… he might rot his teeth. You never know. Stranger things have happened in their lives.

Bucky just shrugs and moves his metal arm from where it was laying across his soft middle to pick at the toffy now stuck between his teeth.

Steve sighs, pretending to be put out.

Warning for stucky belly kink, obviously. Also, including bloating, dirty talk about popping/bursting without it actually happening, etc.

That’s as far as that conversation ever gets with Steve teasing Bucky for his sugar addiction, though. Nothing much comes of it until… the closer Steve gets to really, actually being retired the more and more Bucky is having sweets (and the softer he’s getting (which Steve doesn’t mind, not at all)). Now it’s the same amount of candy plus more of the fucking soda that Steve wishes he never let Tony talk him into. The money goes to good causes, Steve’s seen the contracts with his own eyes, but it never gets easier to see himself in full uniform across the side of a Coke can. A propaganda pawn. Again. At least it’s for a good cause this time. Charity money.

Although, as he moves over toward total retirement, Coke is trying to get rid of the outdated cans. Steve is sure customers wouldn’t mind having the “old” Cap on their bottles for a little longer, but still, he’ll take it. Whatever he can do to help the world welcome Sam. It’s a good thing. He isn’t Cap anymore. Sam is. And you know what…

Steve should convince Sam to do it.

That’d be funny.

Steve shakes his head, pulling himself out of the idea of pranking Sam to spot the latest pallet of soda they’ve been delivered out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t turn to look at it. He wants to go inside. He does not want to inspect the pallet to see how much soda pop they have left still. More than they’ll ever drink. Correction. Way more than Steve will ever drink because Bucky is a whole different beast. Bucky’s sweet tooth is a whole different beast.

Steve walks through the front door without looking back.

“Buck?” Steve calls into their seemingly empty home. It’s early evening. Bucky surely hasn’t gone to bed yet. Could he have? Steve walks farther into their dim house, through the extry way, and into the living room. He stops in his tracks.

Huh.

There’s a good amount of those stupid Captain America Coke cans and bottles littering the coffee table. And by a good amount, Steve means there’s enough of them to cover the whole surface. The whole coffee table. Some of them are standing upright in neat rows and others have clearly fallen over, causing chaos in the same way dominos do. The coffee table is a sea of soda containers. Plus, there are even more bottles and cans lying empty and abandoned on the floor. And there are even more bottles and cans on the couch. Some of the bottles are glass and some are plastic; some are individual bottles and a few are 2-liter sharing-sized bottles. There are aluminum cans everywhere, too.

All of the containers are empty. Together, they would have - when full - held more than enough pop for anyone, no matter the side of the person’s sweet tooth.

Steve raises an eyebrow. It’s a lot.

He steps forward a little and ends up kicking a can. It crashes into more cans and bottles a few inches away.

Jesus.

It’s. a. lot. of. soda.

The amount of which only cumulatively grows as Steve follows the trail of glass bottles and plastic bottles and aluminum cans. They lead out from the living room toward the bedroom like a strange, gluttonous trail of rose petals.

With every new can or bottle or whatever fucking container, Steve’s heart races faster in his chest, and his imagination does another and another backflip. What is going to be waiting for him at the end of this trail? He almost can’t imagine it. There’s too much to imagine. Too much soda.

Before Steve even walks through the crack between the bedroom door and the doorframe, he knows Bucky is inside. He doesn’t see him - he hears him. From within the bedroom, Bucky releases a loud, deep burp that ends in a moan. The moan is so pleased and satisfied sounding with just the hint of too-much, too-good agony that Steve feels himself chub up in his pants. He knows that sound. He’s heard it plenty; he’s caused it plenty. Heat rises to his cheeks.

Before he slips through the crack in the door, Steve pauses to really imagine what Bucky will look like. Looking at the discarded bottles and cans all around his feet… it feels like there’s enough soda gone missing to fill a bathtub or more. Maybe even a bathtub and a few kiddie pools. Steve knows Bucky’s body well. Soft and plush. His fingers twitch just thinking about touching his padded frame. Luscious with sweet fat. The serum has done its best to keep him from getting stretch marks, but a few have slipped through… on his chubby belly and hips. The image of what Bucky’s body might look like after having so much soda poured into it… it’s too much for Steve. Heat hits him over the back of the head. What is waiting for him? What does he look like? How many more empty bottles are littering their bedroom?

Fuck.

Steve’s dick twitches.

How many more full bottles are in their bedroom?

Steve trembles in place when the sounds of Bucky’s gulping finally filters back into his ears. Getting past the thundering arousal in his head.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Uurp. Ah!

The sound of his chugging and ending belch and satisfied gasp assaults Steve. Jesus.

It gets better, though.

Impossibly, it gets better.

Steve’s still standing outside their bedroom when Bucky must finish his latest bottle, tossing it aside only for it to knock into other bottles and cans, tumbling against each other with that all too recognizable sound of empty plastic and aluminum colliding.

Steve can’t stand it.

He barges into the room as fast as he can.

And there he is.

There he is.

Bucky is lying back in a careless, completely indulgent fashion. He’s reclined against a pile of pillows, with pure pleasure written across his face - his expression is dopey enough that it looks like he’s been chugging beers rather than sodas. Like he’s managed to get himself drunk. He probably is drunk, Steve realizes, all that sugar making him go out of his mind. Bucky doesn’t react to Steve at first. He just keeps lying there. His eyes are so heavily lidded that they are barely, barely open at all. He’s not paying enough attention to see what’s in front of him. All he cares about is touching himself and grabbing another. His flesh and blood hand is rubbing his impossibly round gut. It sticks out in front of him like a cartoon. It doesn’t look real. It’s so round. It’s a fucking done. The few stretch marks on his sides are stretched taut and they look angry with how red they are. He looks like he might pop if he isn’t careful - Steve whimpers at his own thought. Bucky doesn’t pay him any mind. He keeps rubbing himself, letting out all these sounds. Sighs. Moans. More burps. And over it all, those sounds of pleasure, Steve swears he can hear the sound of all that pop fizzing inside him from the other side of the room. All that carbonation must be so bubbly and sloshy inside him - if he’s even got any of it left inside of him, when Bucky burps again Steve considers how long he’s been at this and how much he’s clearly making room for more… it’s probably all gone flat in there. That huge gut. How else would he have fit so much inside him?

Steve shivers.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s other hand is not rubbing his gut (even though it looks like he could use another hand), his metal hand is blindly feeling around for more.

More soda.

He finds more. This bottle is a 2-liter. He cracks it open and starts chugging like it’s nothing, like he’s still thirsty, and Steve moans in tandem with him. Bucky’s moan is muffled by the flow of soda going down his throat. So it’s mostly Steve’s sound in the quiet room. His moan gets Bucky’s attention. He can tell from the way he blossoms - he knows he’s being watched now and he’s putting on a fucking show. Always a slut for showing off. He doesn’t just keep rubbing his swelling gut, he caresses it now. Plus, he squirms a little, trying to arch his back and spread his legs, but it doesn’t do anything for him - his belly is so heavy that his back is already as arched as it can be, pulled forward by the weight. And his legs can’t get any farther apart, they were already making all the room possible for his swollen gut. His body is already doing everything it can to make sure Bucky can get more inside him.

More. More. More.

Steve is pulled like a magnet to Bucky. He makes it through the litter around their bed and crawls up onto the mattress. Before he’s even touching Bucky, he can feel the heat coming off of him. His poor skin is so red. He’s so sweaty. He’s so full. He’s trembling and clearly can’t stop it. It’s pushed his limits. He’s really fucking pushed his limits. And he’s still pushing. Still gulping. Still swelling. Fucking Christ. It makes Steve so hard. The gluttony. The need he has to get everything he can. Pure greed.

It’s impossibly fucking hot.

And it just gets hotter when Bucky is done.

His moan is almost a wail when he finally, finally is done, and he drops the bottle. He must be so full. He looks so full. Overfull. His lips are wet with drool and some overflowed pop, dripping down his fat chin. His pink, pink tongue laps at the mess, trying to clean himself up a little as he pants heavily. It doesn’t work. He’s still a mess. He can’t catch his breath. Steve can hear it. He can hear the way his body is fighting to keep all of that sweet, sugary liquid inside him, sloshing and bubbling and gurgling, and he can hear how much Bucky’s lung capacity has been reduced. His gut is taking up all the space in his body and stretching his body even bigger. So. full.

“‘M gonna-” Bucky heaves in a breath between his whimpered words, sweating “-pop.”

Steve’s hands shake violently where they hover over the bright red, hot skin of his globe-shaped gut. Steve wants to touch him more than anything. But he can’t. He can’t. Bucky is too much.

Steve whimpers, too.

“I…” Bucky struggles, rocking just a little bit from side to side, his heavy, full body wobbling. God. He looks massive. Like he’s trying to turn himself into a sphere and has gotten impressively close. “I really…” he whines, “ohhh, I really think ‘m gonna burst,” Bucky forces out, barely able to breathe, let alone talk. He’s so full. He moans. “F-full. Shit. I’m s’full.”

“Weren’t you full like a fucking hour ago?” Steve’s mouth is dry, staring at him. Vibrating in place.

He can’t take this.

He lays a hand on that gut.

Then, immediately follows the first with his second hand.

It-

It feels like heaven.

Steve can feel Bucky’s poor, poor, stretched abs trying to keep his body together. Twitching. He can feel the soda pop too - fizzing inside him. He’s feverish and glistening with sweat.

He’s overworked.

“Oh, oh, ohh,” Bucky moans with every exhale. His gut sloshes with heavy breaths. Steve can hear and feel it. Bucky’s eyes have rolled to the back of his head. His hands are over the top of Steve’s now, making sure his hands stay pressed to his gut. He can hardly keep himself together, so he needs Steve’s help. “Steeeve,” he whines.

“What-what do you want me to do? I-” Steve pauses, dizzy, “I didn’t inflate you with soda.” Just at the word ‘soda’ Bucky lets go of an agonized but hungry moan. Steve’s dick twitches. “You did, Buck,” Steve insists, pressing just a tiny bit on Bucky’s belly, impossibly tight but still liquid, sloshing around in him.

“Uunnngh,” Bucky makes a needy sound, out of breath.

“You, God, you got yourself so fucking full-”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky moans.

“-That you’re about to…” he can’t say it. There’s something about it. Something about how greedy Bucky has to be to drink so much that he thinks it’s about to be over for him, that Steve can’t give voice to. It turns him on too much to say. God, he’s so hard. He can't think. There are so many other things he can say… swollen. Full. Bloated. Fat. Heavy. Round. Big. Fucking insanely massive… but he can’t. Not that.

It’s a good thing Bucky has no such reservations.

“‘M gonna pop,” he cries out, “I’m, ‘m gonna burst, Stevie. I don’t- I don’t, oh, God, I dunno how I got it all in me. I just-” he whines, “I was just so thirsty. And it tastes so good. I can’t help myself around sugaaar! You shouldn’t’ve left me alone with it! What am I supposed to do but drink it!? Now ‘m gonna explode, oh, God, ohh, fuck ‘m gonna explode... s’ all your fault!”

Steve-

There’s no elegant way to say it.

Steve just comes in his pants. Entirely untouched.

Bucky can’t just say shit like that. That he’s gonna burst. He’s gonna pop. He’s gonna explode. He can’t control himself - he’s too gluttonous, too greedy - and now he’s gotten too big. Too big to handle. Too swollen. Unable to take the pressure inside. Unable to be so full.

So. full.

It’s too much for Steve, he shivers and shakes through his orgasm, whimpering, “you’re so big, s’ tight, gonna fuckin’ explode. You’re so big. You’re gonna pop. Burst. Gonna-” until he’s done.

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Whomst Reviews: Ghost Doctor

(For those of you Kdrama Tumblrites who haven’t seen this masterpiece yet)

So you know how you watched an episode of Gray’s Anatomy and thought, this would be better if it was gayer and had more ghosts?

Have I got the show for YOU

Episode 1 Recap:

Once upon a time, there was a grumpy introvert heart surgeon named Cha Youngmin. He’s out here in his fancy little suits existing day to day for his work, being That Bitch to everyone to avoid feeling things, just him and his sugar glider son Man Du against the world.

Enter: one (1) naive but pure-hearted rich boy twink named Go Seungtak who loves drinking fancy coffee, showering people with gifts, taking naps, and avoiding real responsibility due to trauma-related anxiety and depression issues (so this is my drama debut tbh)

Necessarily, they clash! Bc Seungtak is the hospital foundation heir, his grandfather has decided that in order to manage the hospital, Seungtak should become a surgeon instead of using his MBA to manage things (not quite following the logic here but sure), and Youngmin, as an esteemed (if disliked) surgeon and all-around girlboss, does Not Like That.

Seungtak immediately falls in love becomes fascinated with Youngmin’s personality and impressed by his skills, and follows him around like the puppy-brained little shit he is. 

Unfortunately, as Youngmin simultaneously decides to make “tormenting Seungtak” his whole personality, this leads to a sad Puppy being first humiliated during a surgery then exiled to ER work. Mondays, bro. 

It’s the first warning we see that Youngmin can allow his emotions to sway his judgment (you know, that thing he bitches at everyone about doing? yeah), because:

1.) he let a first-year resident help with an operation on his first day at work,

2.) he immediately jumps to conclusions and publicly berates that resident for failures instead of assessing what went wrong, and

3.) he’s assigned as Seungtak’s mentor but jettisons him asap the next day after Seungtak witnesses him arguing with his ex (more on her in a sec)

It’s hard to say what would have become of the pair if not for a series of unfortunate and premeditated events brought to us by Hospital Mean Girl Han Seungwon and Corporate Asshat Jang Minho, and liberally edited by Bitch-Ass-Liar An Taehyeon. 

The grandpa-style chairman of a corporation thingy goes in for surgery that Youngmin is initially reluctant to try, as it has a low chance of success and would not give him much more time. We see multiple times that Youngmin will give up on a risky patient rather than spend extra money for what he assumes/judges to be futile efforts. However! Then his ex SeJin shows up, and surprise she’s the daughter of said chairman, who left Korea and now works in Seattle as a neurosurgeon at Seattle Grace Hospital

Having researched her dad’s condition, she doesn’t want Youngmin to do the surgery either; so naturally, Youngmin decides to do the surgery. 

This is ultimately what sets everything else into motion. The chairman’s surgery is an initial success, but then Youngmin gets a text from SeJin and leaves his resting  patient behind (we are told that a surgeon is supposed to stay and monitor the patient until they wake up).

Next thing we know, Youngmin has been in an accident:( and he’s having an out of body experience. We are talking full Patrick Swayze here. He gets rushed to his own hospital.

Who’s available in the ER to assess the patient? Yep, Youngmin’s played himself here, because Seungtak is on duty. Ghost Youngmin screams a lot at people who can’t hear him, realizes that he can’t touch anything in the physical world and thus can’t save himself with his ghost body, and cycles through stages of grief like he’s doing the Tour de France. Oops. 

After assessment, Seungtak takes him to the ER so some surgeon can perform a cardiac tamponade surgery—except the surgeons aren’t answering their phones. Like, none of them. What the hell is going on in this hospital??

So then our brave little toaster Takkie decides to pick up the scalpel himself, despite being visibly panicked. Youngmin, an eternal micromanager, automatically reaches to correct Seungtak’s grip and possesses him instead. 

We end the episode with Youngmin doing surgery on himself??

[themsource]

Fransweek '23 - Day 1

Theme: Sweet Gesture Rating: T Pairing: UT Sans/Frisk Word Count: 1,015

Woot! Another year another @fransweek! Cross-posted to Ao3 here. Les' go! XD

Frisk was tired.

Always so tired, utterly exhausted.

Between her job as an ambassador and her new living situation with Sans she was practically dead on her feet before she even rolled out of bed in the morning.

Not to be misleading, she did love living with Sans. It'd taken long negotiations and almost two years of dating to convince the skeleton to move in with her, to leave his brother to live on his own and to trust that Frisk wasn't going anywhere and that the relationship was all or nothing—the long run destined for the wedding aisle eventually. Frisk would never give up what she had now; late night cuddles, movie marathons with hilarious commentary, and the joy of simply being in his presence for as long as she wanted when she pleased.

But Sans was a slob.

What she had once thought was only a long running joke between the brothers turned out to be a very real situation.

Sans had socks, many, scattered everywhere, constantly. Frisk hadn't seen him change his socks once, but he apparently did it often enough that there were literal piles now that lined an imaginary pathway in their room from door to bed.

And the wrappers—countless burger wrappers and chip bags, empty soda bottles and cans, dotted their house across countertops and flooring no different from a garbage dump.

She didn't mind cleaning. Frisk had no issue whatsoever making the house tidy and presentable…when she could.

However, more often than not she was laden with heavy workloads of paperwork and bills to review, propositions and exchanges to approve or deny.

That on top of cleaning just…

Killed her inside.

Sometimes it'd feel as if she was alone and expected to do everything without help. Like everyone only existed to take advantage of her.

Which wasn't fair to think.

Sans worked just as much as she did, in fact he had multiple jobs, occasionally twice or three times a day! How he managed that without going insane bewildered her. She could barely manage a decent night of rest with just one.

So when she woke up that morning and saw what minor cleaning she'd done had been erased overnight, she didn't say anything.

Just stared.

Blankly.

"mornin' babe."

Frisk was so tired she didn't have the energy to acknowledge Sans' greeting.

His smile dipped with concern, the hand holding his mug lowing as he watched her from his spot on the couch. "frisk?"

She simply turned and headed into the kitchen directly to the coffee machine.

As she was mixing in her sugar and taking a sip she felt a hand on her lower back. Looked over into two worriedly creased sockets.

"is something wrong?"

It was a traitorous thought. One she couldn't contain because she was simply too worn out and depleted.

"I wish you'd try."

Sans' sockets widened.

"I know it's not fair. You're probably way more tired than I am at the end of the day, and I shouldn't expect it of you. It's just hard sometimes."

He looked completely lost but she didn't register it.

"I'm tired…Sans…" She gestured around them, at the mess. "It's hard."

'I can't do it all, I feel broken' was what she didn't say.

Sighing, she downed the last of her drink that she knew would do nothing for her because for some reason she was cursed with a caffeine immunity, and leaned over to plant a kiss on the side of his skull as she sat her cup in the sink.

"I'll be late tonight. I have a meeting with the prime minister of France about allowing citizenship for monsters. Love you."

Sans looked ready to say something but stayed mute as Frisk reached for her briefcase, shrugged on her coat, and headed right out the door.

It wasn't till she reached the embassy that Frisk realized she was still in her pajamas.

Thank god for her assistant Marcy and the spare suit she kept for her.

The day went.

Just went.

Frisk saw by the paperwork she was stapling together that she'd succeeded in the conference with the prime minister but wasn't able to recall what exactly the details were. She'd have to read the packet over later if she was able. She must've looked terrible too because Marcy knocked on her door and gave her the same concerned look that Sans had.

"Day's over." She whispered. "Would you like me to give you a ride home?"

The thought was appreciated but Frisk didn't think she'd be able to fit into the Mini Roadster the eight foot slime monster drove. Not without inconveniencing them both by having to part way sink into the monster's body for space.

She didn't want to feel like a burden.

"It's alright. I'll call an uber."

Marcy stared at her, chewing her lip, before reluctantly nodding. "Alright. Goodnight Miss Dreemurr."

…How bad did she look?

Frisk wondered if she'd only won out with the prime minister because the man had felt bad for her.

Fatigue made her eyes droop and turned her light headed. It took a strong amount of concentration to gently slide the papers into her bag and close it.

A blur.

She opened the app, glanced at the passing buildings, tipped the driver, opened her front door dreading and hoping a smell hadn't started to form—

Frisk froze in the kitchen.

Slapped awake, eyes wide, she peered at the sink as if it was about to sprout legs and walk away.

"...Sans?" She drawled.

The counters were clear, whitened, bleached clean. The tiles looked much the same, shattered splinters of ceramic from a broken plate that she'd noticed that morning, vanished.

He shouted back. "hey babe!"

Still registering.

"You did the dishes?" Frisk asked gobsmacked.

"yep!" Sans' call echoed.

Frisk stepped into the living room.

It was spotless.

"You cleaned the house!?"

"yep!"

She wobbled over to the couch and collapsed on his chest.

"I love you."

"love you too babe."

He kissed her forehead as he continued to flip through the television channels.

[twin-skelletons]

What is Adrian's weakness?

Adrian approaches everything from a ‘the end justifies the means’ mentality. He acknowledges that the ISSP is corrupt but separates himself because he’s using the information he learns while he’s on duty to eliminate syndicate members while he’s off duty – ultimately a net positive for society. In reality, he isn’t different from his corrupt coworkers, working the system to benefit himself and his twisted sense of justice. Questioning his morality is a luxury he never could afford.

Does Adrian drink coffee or tea? Why?

Not to play into cop stereotypes, but Adrian prefers coffee. He takes it toothachingly sweet with tons of milk and sugar since his dad did the same. His coworkers joke that he’s not a real detective until he can take his coffee black. His trademark response is to smile and shrug: “I guess I’ll never be a real detective then.”

How does Adrian feel about Vicious and Vincent?

With a particular hatred for Red Eye dealers, Adrian originally trained to be a narcotics detective before ultimately being assigned to homicide. Because of this, he’s familiar with Vicious and the Red Dragon Syndicate. While Adrian has yet to find an opportunity to eliminate Vicious, he continues to collect intelligence on the syndicate member and keeps him at the top of his list of targets.

Adrian only became aware of Vincent after the events of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. When he returned to Mars after working a joint case on Ganymede, Adrian reviewed Vincent’s case file and learned about the Bebop crew’s involvement from Jet. While he condemns the Mars Army’s use of human experimentation and nanorobotics, he also lacks sympathy toward Vincent for killing civilians indiscriminately rather than taking revenge specifically on those who wronged him.

Does Adrian know what Vicious did to Gren?

Adrian was familiar with Gren due to his involvement in the Red Eye trade. He wasn’t much of a priority to Adrian considering Gren’s dealing was inconsistent and out of the miserable hellhole that was Callisto. By the time he even considers hunting him down, Gren is already dead. He learns more about Gren from a conversation with Faye during one of their periodic hustles. After getting drunk off of cocktails bought by Adrian’s winnings, Faye talks about the night she met Gren and he can piece together the rest.

A note from the author: All questions were shared on the @bebopcrew server.

[bowel-glitch-blog]

Faygo: Grape (Review)

note: Myles didn't get around to buying this flavour last week, so he'll be editing this tomorrow to include his opinions!

(our ratings & experiences)

Flavour Accuracy

Myles: 20/20 Roni: 19/20 Average Rating: 19.5/20

It's pretty much the perfect combination of that sickly sweet artificial grape flavour and the flavour of actual grape juice. Even if I were evaluating the accuracy of the 'grape'-ness of either definition, I think it'd score high on both. Only reason I'm not giving it a perfect score is because it tastes just barely a bit too sweet.

Now THIS is what Faygo should taste like. Unlike all the other Faygo flavors reviewed so far (which all taste like an elephant's piss overloaded with sugar), this drink precisely simulates the taste of grapes while still tasting the way a soda should. It's almost as if the grapes that were used to make the natural and artificial flavoring of this drink came from Dionysus himself.

Health Concern

Myles: 10/20 Roni: 3/20 Average Rating: 6.5/20

It tastes pretty fine in terms of 'is this killing me', but after checking the back of the bottle... Wow. Faygo had to count this bottle as 2 servings instead of one because the sugar content is 164% of the recommended daily sugar value. 164% isn't even real. How did we accidentally go from the lowest sugar content in the first week to an absurdly high one??? And we started on cotton candy?! The only reason this isn't at 1 again is because my body felt completely fine after drinking the whole bottle.

I probably should be concerned since this is an American drink with the sugar content and all the artificial elements to match, but I guess it's the flavor of the beverage that dispells most of my concerns since it actually tastes good. Then again, that sugar content of 82 grams does seem pretty concerning...

Color Appeal

Myles: 12/20 Roni: 13/20 Average Rating: 12.5/20

Looks pitch black at first glance, but it's actually a dark grey-purple colour that you can really only see if you shake the bottle. I like purple, but I feel pretty average about this drink's colour. It matches the flavour well and it's certainly not unappealing, but I feel like they could've done better with it. Maybe a slightly more vibrant purple would bring up my score for this.

If I'm being honest, the colors of the label are more appealing to me than the color of the actual drink. But it's this near pitch-black color with purple tones here and there that reminds me of Ribena so it's all good with me.

Overall Enjoyment

Myles: 20/20 Roni: 18/20 Average Rating: 19/20

It's pretty good! If I hadn't checked the back, I feel like my enjoyment would be a 19 or 20 out of 20. They hit all the marks with this flavour and the drink had an interesting enough flavour profile that I didn't get sick of the taste. This is a good time to mention that neither Myles nor I are affected by sugar (i.e., we don't get 'sugar highs' or 'sugar crashes'), so that factor isn't involved in any of our rankings.

Unless there is another flavor out there that can make me change my mind, this is the best Faygo flavor out there in my eyes. If it's there on the drink shelf at EzyMart, I'm taking it. It makes me wish that the other flavors were this accurate to their name.

Re-drinkability

Myles: 20/20 Roni: 17/20 Average Rating: 18.5/20

The only reason my score is knocked down is because of the sugar content written on the back of this thing. I actually really like the drink as-is, and I'd get it pretty often if it wasn't so detrimental to my health! Same feeling as Pineapple, but better. Another side note is that this flavour is sold out everywhere in our main city except for one store location. Could be a sign that Grape Faygo is actually good!

Would I drink this again? Absolutely. This isn't even the first time I've had this particular flavor before. I chose this flavor for this review knowing it would be a relief from the tongue-incinerating experiences that were cotton candy and pineapple. I can only hope the other flavors that we are yet to review in the future are as enjoyable as this.

Summary

Myles’ Rating: 82/100 Roni’s Rating: 70/100 Average Rating: 76/100

Grade: B

[hologramcowboy]

So I decided to look up the Family Business brewery Jensen owns and noticed several things lacking. I apologize for the longer ask but I wanted to see what your thoughts on all this are, as it seems to line up with the fact Jensen's image is a bit allover the place (not really authentic and unique like he was when he was younger), and seems like this translates with how his brewery is being run. 1) I noticed that their menu doesn't really have any standout items, merely pizza joint type food. Every restaurant I've ever dined in had some kind of standout food item or a "signature dish" if you will. As of today, if I were to place an order online all they have are pizzas including a build your own, salted pretzels, a couple salads, and cinnamon sugar pretzels and chocolate chip cookies for desserts. Seriously, where are the pies, cheese burgers, and other SPN influenced food items on their menu? Oh and they need to fix the inconsistency for their hours of operation between their online ordering site and what their website says are their hours for take-outs and such... 2) I did some research for the top rated breweries in Austin and noticed something curious. The Family Business brewery (which was not on any of these kinds of lists) is open only 4 days of the week, yet most of the top rated breweries in Austin are open either 6 or 7 days of the week. I remember in one interview more recently Jensen admitted that they were struggling from the COVID shutdowns and implied they are somewhat struggling still. I did some reading and learned that some restaurants choose to stay closed on Mondays due to lower traffic and therefore potentially costing more to stay open than staying closed. So being closed on Monday with this in mind I can understand, but why also Tuesday and Wednesday? They also are open from 3 to 9 Thursdays and Fridays and 12 to 9 on Saturday and Sunday. Are they hurting for cash so much they can't afford to stay open the other 3 days of the week, or are these people allergic to the idea of working a 40 hour work week? Unless Danneel and crew are using Jensen's name to lure in customers and essentially getting rich off Jensen's back barely putting in any hours to show for it... 3) Based on the photos I've seen of their merchandise, inside of the brewery, etc. I see nothing related to SPN even though this brewery's very name is SPN-related. If I were to walk into this place tomorrow with no knowledge of who owns the place, I would have no idea Jensen Ackles owns the bar nor would I know the influence or story of how the brewery came to be (and the name too). If Jensen's name and SPN career is supposed to drive traffic to their brewery, why does the menu, decor and merchandise they sell not reflect this at all? Literally nothing stands out about this place, it looks like a "normal" brewery or bar to me honestly. The image, the decor, the merchandise, the menu, even the outside of this place, nothing about it would pull me in to walk in and eat and drink. Where's the uniqueness, the authenticity, the story?

There's no uniqueness and targetted branding because Jensen started this venture as an easy cash cow. He could have created exclusive experiences for people and made a name for himself but instead he just invested as little money, effort, planning and energy as possible and relied on his name to draw people in. Thatis a very, very poor business strategy.

As for the pizza, as someone who has quite a few friends with deep Italian roots, please let's not call that pizza. Real pizza is a whole different universe and experience and I highly recommend ordering from an authentic Italian restaurant instead.

The food in general takes a long time to reach the customer and that's an extremely bad customer experience, one of many, just check out the reviews and how poorly FBBC answers them without actually resolving the quality side of their attitude OR services. His business is struggling because instead of honoring customers he is all about himself and not focusing on delivering value but rather on what he can easily take with the least money and effort invested.

I 150% with you, he could have created a legacy brand but that would have required quality and soul, something he seems to sadly lack as he is unable to touch upon authenticity.

[btsgotjams27]

This review is going to be half in real time and half after I finished reading.

Damn that first meeting in the bar started out so awkward! LOL They were just skirting around the elephant in the room with all this small talk. They can't ask the questions they really want to ask. But let's be real, how can you ask the "important" questions to your ex without seeming like you're still hung up on them? Once they started to joke about the drinking it felt a bit more natural. And even their goodbye felt a little less awkward.

I love these lines: "The real question was—did he want to be with you again after all this time? The answer was yes—it has always been yes. You’re it. You’ve ruined him—it will always be you." It's totally believable for JK. He spent his youth pining for her. And then he had her. And then he lost her. So how can he possibly ever get over her when he's spent the majority of his life loving her?

Ugh, that executive was a pig! I feel bad that her business trip was a bust. She stirred up all these feelings for JK again for nothing. Plus now without that job, what will she do when she goes back to Korea for work?

Even them going back to his place was a bit awkward. I think you nailed that aspect of them seeing each other again. It had to be awkward at first, but then as they remember how to be comfortable around each other again, that's when it should get more natural. You segued into that comfort sweet spot really well in both scenes.

Ohhh!!!!! And there it is! “No girlfriend or anything?” She decided to break the ice! I definitely like that you had her do it. I mean, she's the one who broke up with him, she should be the one to initiate the line of hard questions.

“Yeah, I had to stay in, just in case an old lady needed me.” LOL So he purposely stayed home in hopes that she'd call him. I love that! That's adorable. He would have been crushed all over again if she didn't call him.

"Should you just be completely honest and bare your soul? You were halfway there. Maybe it was time to grow up and just say what the fuck you wanted." Yes!!! Finally!! An actual honest conversation between the two of them.

I loved everything about how they reunited. Their conversation was perfect! I'm so happy she was finally honest with him about her feelings. I loved the ring scene because it gave him the opportunity to express his feelings to her too. The kiss scene was hot too. I liked how they started slow, but then she'd had enough with the teasing. I'm happy that she took the initiative on the important things. She really needed to prove how much she wanted him. If she let him take the initiative, there wouldn't have been much growth from her. It had to come from her.

I love what you did with my word pick! It was perfect, and it had a bit of humor in it too! Exactly what I needed out of this chapter. And I'm pretty sure if you look at your word list, you can figure out which word I picked. I mentioned it a few times to you, and it was really the main thing I needed to see in this chapter.

Erica, you know this already, but I *always* look forward to your reviews/thoughts 💖

Let's be real - JK is a 'boy with luv' and no one will ever compare to his first love.

😭 the entertainment industry is filled with sharks, and I just know amurica must be swimming with them. Do you think she'd let JK be her sugar daddy? 😂 He might get a kick out of it.

HAHA--it *had* to be awkward!! they couldn't just pick up right where they left off, not that quickly anyway. they had to ease their way into it. It's always the initial convo that is weird, and I hoped I played into it well w/ their dialogue.

The question of having a significant other was definitely the first thing on their minds! oc didn't want to cross boundaries if he was seeing anyone--so she had to be the first one to say it lol.

I think JK really meant it as a joke since he's not really a party kinda guy. It's not mentioned anywhere, but he's a homebody (and maybe secretly wanted oc to call).

Ah, I'm so glad you liked it! I was so nervous bc I had written/read over it so many times that I almost wanted to scrap it and start over, but I'm glad I stuck with what I had.

There definitely needed to be some light-hearted moments with all the heavy conversations going on 😂

As always, thank you for reading, and now we head toward more happy chapters. 💖

[stardewremixed]

The bachelors and bachelorettes in a coffee shop (if Stardew had one... maybe the Starbean?)

...Sebastian sucking down mugs of coffee like an IV in the back corner with a moody expression and a laptop while he fixes the WiFi again. The password should NOT be password, you morons!

...Sam eating three muffins, bouncing around on a sugar high, wondering if it's too early for Cola, and signing the band up for open mic night.

...Harvey quietly sipping his usual, smiling at the little heart the barista drew on his to-go cup, as he enjoys his granola and nonfat yogurt while reading the paper.

...Abigail slurping a white mocha as she balances her books between her chin and arms, rushing out the door. She is so late for class again.

...Penny popping in briefly for her chai tea latte before she meets Jas and Vincent for lessons. While waiting for her beverage, she idly browses the books and games shelf, adding titles to her mental list.

...Haley wants something over-the-top. Tall, half-caf, nonfat milk, light on the whip... no make that no whip, caramel macchiato. She taps her long manicured nails on the counter impatiently as she has to repeat her order.

Shane drinks coffee black. And jokes 'like my soul,' as he shuffles out the door with yet another hangover on his way to work.

Emily is a no caffeine tea drinker. She prefers a real cup, even if she is on the go. She says hello to everyone with a bright smile, compliments the barista's hair, admires the cashier's jewelry, and straightens the artwork on display. It was just a touch crooked. She leaves an enormous tip.

Elliott doesn't venture outside until mid-morning. Does life even exist before noon? He meanders to the shop, stopping to admire a brightly colored bird or the pretty pebbles in the river. He orders a tiny cup of espresso to perk up as he takes his coffee outside to sketch and scribble.

Alex doesn't drink coffee. He drinks energy drinks. But he will swing by and pick up an order for his grandparents. He winks at the cashier and flirts with the barista a bit. Grabs a protein bar off the counter and engages with Emily about healthy diet briefly before returning home with his goodies.

Maru would be up before dawn, fiddling with her projects before work. She would pop into the coffee shop right before her shift to order a French press and chocolate croissant to munch on while reviewing patient charts.

Leah would prefer to grind her own beans. She would order a bag of hazelnut coffee once a week at the shop on a midday break. After saying hello to Elliott, maybe even teasing him a little about his aversion to mornings, she would return to work at her cabin. Not before brewing a nutty cup of coffee and enjoying a few moments on her porch.