#citrus juice machine

[eydi-andrius]

Soldier Down (Harvey x Reader)

Synopsis: After the heart wrenching experience of rejection from the last flower dance, you decided to skip it on year 2 making your newfound friends worried

a/n: the idea is all over the place... maybe. i just wanted to write something for my husband of two years, which was Harvey the town doctor. sorry, i got is so bad for him 😭

tw/cw: badly edited... it's 3AM, i wrote it after some idea boost, fluff, mild angst, happy ending

divider: @/cafekitsune

“What do you mean you're not going to participate in this year's flower dance?” Emily almost flipped the sewing machine over when out of the blue you confessed your desire to not join the spring flower dance, an event in which everyone was looking forward to participating, except George who hates the look and smell of the flowers.

Meanwhile, beyond Emily’s shoulder, you watched as Haley, who was in the kitchen, minding her own business, turned her head slowly, frown plastered on her forehead, as she stared at you. Are you for real?, was written all over her pretty face. Haley loves the flower dance. In fact, you know she makes an effort to look the prettiest on that special day. The look of disbelief is so strong, that you found yourself clenching the glass of orange juice you're holding, trying to look small behind it. Wishing that it can hide you from the shame that's slowly creeping in.

Gulping the sweet and sour orange liquid in one go, you prayed that even without alcohol, the citrus would give you courage not to stutter and look like an idiot trying to explain your plan to skip an important event in the valley after experiencing a silly little rejection. Everyone gets rejected here and there. There is no way one rejection left you that traumatized……right?

“Well…..Uhmmm…. I just don't want to. I- I don't feel like joining.” Great. What a plan. And you practiced the reason in front of the mirror way too many times before finally having courage to share this big decision.

Palm sweaty, you tried clenching the evidence of fear on your denim pants, rubbing and squeezing, in hopes that it will help dry your hands. But, it did nothing to calm your nerves, absentmindedly, your right leg started shaking. Head hot from a million thoughts running inside your mind, scared that Emily and Haley will judge you the moment they found out that even after a year, you still can't get over how Harvey declined your offer to dance with him. At that time, when he mentioned that he was working on his courage to ask someone out, it gave you false hope that he may be referring to you. It may sound like a stretch but you thought there was something blooming with your relationship with him. It seems that way….. or so you’ve thought.

In your first year, as an early riser, you always meet the doctor at his clinic. Most of the time, you just see him by his window, sitting in front of the reception, waiting for any of the townsfolk to ask for his assistance. Your interaction started off with shy glances, which turned into a curt nod of acknowledgement, a nod turned into small smiles, smiles became hesitant waves of your hand, and a wave evolved into a morning routine of exchanging pleasantries and coffee before you two start your long day at work and doing your respective responsibilities.

You were so happy, and you admit at that time, you're grateful that despite the doctor being a bit awkward and shy, you two clicked and are forming a bond, and you usually don't admit your feelings easily, but you know deep down that you're starting to like him. He was so sweet and caring afterall. How could you resist him?

So when the rejection came on the day of the event, when you asked him politely to be your partner, then he awkwardly looked away and kindly said no. It felt like a bucket of ice cold water was splashed on your face. Your body went rigid, a chill ran down your spine, until it turned into a scorching fire of shame. After a mess of mumbling apologies, wishing that a hole would open up and swallow you down, you half walk and run as you left the forest and did not watch the whole event unfold. You were so glad that at that time, your tanned skin, after days of being under the sun farming, had hidden your embarrassment well from their naked eyes.

You involuntary flinched, when a firm hand held your shaking leg and effectively stopped the movement. Blurry eyes start focusing on Emily’s face, her eyes reflecting your ashen appearance, pity and worry were mixed on her gaze, and you admit that you feel small and vulnerable in front of her……and Haley, who held your shoulder and squeezed it to give you comfort. You did not notice her coming close at all. It says a lot on how you must have looked in their eyes. They must have been worried sick.

“Sorry. We don't want you to remember anything awful that may have happened that day. But maybe the doctor has his own reasons when he rejected you. It was your first month after all. Doctor Harvey is known to be very awkward and shy. Maybe he was just shy???” Your blue haired friend shrugged as she tried her best to reason out and make you feel better. A scoff was heard from Haley as she disapproves of what Emily said, or so you thought.

“I can't believe I am defending a man but my sister is right. Doctor Harvey is far too much of a softie to purposely play with your heart and reject you after giving you motives.” She tuts. “I bet he was feeling a bit overwhelmed that someone asked him for a dance. You know…. Choosing to dance with him, while the other younger bachelors were around.” She continued as a matter of fact.

You watched as Emily glared at Haley’s sharp tongue and the blonde just shook her shoulders with no care. Chuckling nervously, you twiddle with your thumbs as you process what they’ve said. It is easier said than done. You have been in this headspace for a year, that despite their words being reasonable, you just can't believe it to be true. Doctor Harvey probably has his eyes set on someone smarter. You are quite bright but not as smart as Maru.

“I- I don't know.” Unsure, you look at them, lip on a thin line. Now that you're on the hotseat and being grilled about it, you hope to steer away from the conversation. It's just childish to you, even though the sisters never called you anything similar to that. You felt childish. You were grateful when your phone alarm went off, screaming and screeching, signaling that the gold bars you processed are ready for harvest. After that, you have to go to Jodi and give it to her to finish her request and get some gold coins, which you have to use to save up for summer crops. Still far away per say but better saved up than use your dwindling savings again if something disastrous happens. Just like the last time where your crops suddenly died despite being taken care of.

Also, you just don't want to bawled your eyes out. Knowing Emily and Haley, they will try their best to cheer you up. You know you can't stay here with them trying to boost your confidence without crying. And you don't want to cry. It's too cliché. So with an obvious rush on your steps, you almost jump out of their door and run towards the nearest way to your home, which was near Marnie’s barn.

“Do you really think the doctor is not playing with her heart?” Emily sighed as she watched the door, you almost closed way too loudly, as you obviously rushed towards it, with an intent to run away from the conversation you started. She would lie if she says she’s not worried. Despite the farmer being known to be strong-willed, both physical and mentally, she's also an empath and a softie. You feel things way too strongly. This is why Emily likes you a lot. She can be vulnerable towards you because she knows you’ll understand better than anyone in Pelican Town. And with that, she hopes that only good things come your way.

“Remember the story Abigail told you on your shift? After the accident with the farmer fainting inside the mines, Abigail rushed her to his clinic, barely alive, and he was waiting and ready. Remember that before that, he would often be seen to have his lights on at night, way past his usual bedtime, especially, on days wherein he knew that the farmer was inside the mines. If that isn't love, I don't know what that is?” Haley sighed as she flopped herself on the nearby couch. 

“He is the only town doctor, Haley. That's to be expected.” She doesn't want to be the party pooper but that needs to be addressed as well. 

“Emily…..usually, it would be you defending someone. But weirdly enough, I am doing it this time. So okay, let's make it our mission to help the doctor and the farmer to choose each other in this year’s flower dance. Doctor Harvey is a man of routine, however, when the farmer is included in the equation, he would go out of his way to accommodate her. I just have a good feeling about this. I bet they'll get married this year.” Haley shrugged before she pulled out her phone texting for reinforcements. 

“Luckily, this Thursday is my annual check-up.”

“Remind me again why you two are at my farm?” You blinked as you watched Sebastian and Sam sit at your porch after they showed up earlier while you’re tending to your livestocks.

“How many times do we have to say that we came here to practice? You’re not sensitive to loud sounds. Your farm is huge. We can all jam here together.” He explained.

See…that's the thing. Sebastian, you would understand he’ll come here. He loves the quiet of the farm and would often help you out as a thank you for letting him stay and relax, here and there. But Sam? Sam hates the smell of animal manure. He also hates ducks because as per his story, he was chased down by them when he was a kid. Something is not right but you can't quite pinpoint where it was coming from.

Your suspicion may be written all over your face because Seb shrugged and sighed at his best friend's awful excuse.

“Sam just wants to see Helios.” Seb spoke.

As if on cue, upon hearing his name, a loud bark was heard from afar, and you heard his paws hitting the soft soil before you saw a brown dog, wearing a red collar, rushing towards where you three were standing. Like a giddy kid, Sam's eyes widened and he excitedly kneel and open his arms, waiting for Helios to go towards him. Helios, the smartest pup, went towards Sam without hesitation, knowing he’ll get good treats and pets from him.

You don't want to spoil Sam’s delusion that he was your pup’s favorite, but you and Helios know that it was Harvey he liked the most. Even your old rescue, Helga, the big orange grumpy cat, purrs at the doctor when he visits the farm. Helga isn't nice just to anyone. Even Seb took a long time before Helga finally purred at him. Yet, Harvey was loved at first sight. It was obvious that it was because he is very gentle towards them. You also witnessed a time where he was talking to them. Retelling stories of his childhood where his parents hated pets because they are dirty and a source of diseases. Their obsession and hatred towards the baby animals made Harvey anxious and avoided adopting any pet, not because he thinks they were a handful, but he feels conscience, that he wasn't able to do anything to save the cats and dogs his parents threw away after trespassing in their property.

You bite your lip when you realize that you're thinking about him again. The pang in your chest grows more painful as the day passes by, and the spring flower dance is getting closer, and no action was taken on your end. You want to dance with him. You want your intention towards him to be clear. However, the fear and doubt takes over and you crumple like a coward.

“Hey, you should ask the doctor about this upcoming flower dance.” Out of nowhere, Seb suggested. And there was something that clicked in your head.

So that….was the reason why they are here.

“Oh god no!” You grimaced and shook your head in refusal. Emily or Haley must have told him about what you’ve talked about last time.

“Emily told you?!” You asked, exasperated.

“She doesn't need to. It's a small town. Eventually, everyone will know.” He corrected your assumption and leaned towards the armrest of his seat. Your response was only a sigh, as you focused your attention on Sam and Helios, who was now playing fetch with a ball.

“Sam didn't know about this?” Putting your arm around your chest, you clarified.

“Nah. He does. He got distracted.” He shrugged. Internally, you heavily sighed.

“Then tell me how you found out?” You pry him some more.

“Should I tell you? I mean…it seems like you told Emily and Haley, and not me, your best friend. It kind of sucks.” He pouted.

You playfully slapped his shoulder at that and he only rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll spill!” He raised his hand in surrender.

“Haley texted me.” He admitted with a grin.

“You are the worst!” You slap him again, but this time, you made sure it will hurt.

“I’m sorry! Hey! I said I’m sorry! Hahahaha!” Sebastian used his arms to shield himself from your attacks, and he had the audacity to laugh out loud from your hits.

When his laughter annoyed you more, shame and frustration mixed together, you made sure that some of the playful punches actually hit him quite hard. He yelped when he finally felt that you meant it, and used his strength to stop you from your continuous onslaught of him. He grabbed your hands and chuckled at your pouting lips and frowning brows.

There was a pause and you watched as something flashed in his eyes before he smiled.

“Don’t be scared. There is nothing wrong inviting and asking him again. The fifty percent chance of him saying no, is still a fifty percent chance of him saying yes. I mean….if he ever said no” He paused, his face morphed thoughtfully.

“I can always dance with you to the flower dance.” He continued.

You felt warmth from that, and you cannot help but smile.

Sebastian was like a brother to you. It was weird. But the moment you two met each other, there was this bond, that was akin to being siblings that was created.

He always looked out for you, and you always looked out for him. Robin being fond of you was probably one of the main reasons why your sibling-like relationship with him strengthened.

He is like a baby brother that you never had. However, you know that Sebastian always thinks he is the eldest brother which was a lie because you are two years older than him.

Seb’s sincere smile suddenly changed into a cheshire one, and you kind of got a hint that he will make fun of you.

But before you two could banter, a loud, intentional coughing was heard behind you and you froze when the source spoke.

“I- Hi! Sorry for interrupting.” He started with a stutter.

You suddenly realized the position you were at. Sebastian holding both of your hands, your faces inched closer from arguing. Embarrassed, you pulled your hand away from his hold, and like the speed of the lightning, moved farther from Seb, clenching both of your fists. Your face and ears, hot to the tips.

“Hey, doc! What are you up to?” Sebastian casually asked. And you gave him a deadly glare. He only smirked at your reaction.

You panicked as you watched Harvey look in between the both of you, and was about to open your mouth to explain, when the doctor smiled, although forcefully, as he continued.

“Well…uhnnnnm..I replenished the tonics I have at the clinic. I was wondering if you would like to buy some?” He asked, but he was looking down while offering.

“Didn't know you’re selling house to house now, Doctor Harvey?” Seb teased.

Your eyes widened at that, and you mouthed a threat at him, in which Sebastian only replied with a shrug.

“I-I usually don't. But the farmer was always in the mines so..I thought…uhm…I” Harvey’s face turned into a tomato, and his eyes were wide, as he stammered, and tried to explain why he was at your farm. He was caught off guard from the younger man’s question. He felt awfully shameful, the red was even creeping up to his neck.

“Harvey, it's okay. Seb was just teasing you.” You tried to deescalate the situation, and you stepped down from your porch, to come closer to the reddened Harvey.

Deep inside you are panicking for him. His red face, and embarrassed stammer, makes your heart beat faster, infected by his shame. You feel like your heart will jump out of your ribs.

Out of nowhere, Sam suddenly came into view, and tapped the doctor on his shoulder to say Hi.

As if the action woke him up, Harvey flinched, and he suddenly bid his farewell but with reminding you to come to his clinic if you ever needed a tonic when you mine and combat monsters.

You watched his back, as he rode his bicycle away from your farm, watching him slowly going away left a pang on your chest.

When he was out of view, your attention however, was now back to the culprit. With no person to stop you, you removed one of your slippers and threw it at Sebastian, who crouched down to hide, but was still hit straight to his head. He yelped in pain, but soon you heard his laughter.

Sam was oblivious and frowning, when Sebastian’s laugh boomed and he tried his best to apologize and breathe at the same time.

You cannot sleep.

Yoda, forgive you for picturing Harvey’s downcast face when he saw you with Sebastian.

It was an image you do not wish to see. But every time you close your eyes, you see it oh so perfectly.

You don't wish to see Harvey sad or misinterpreting your relationship with Sebastian.

Yet, you have no strength to stand and go to him to explain or clarify.

Because….what if you're just assuming things? What if he wasn't really sad but just surprised? What if? Yoda! Too many what ifs!

You ruffled your hair from frustration, and you kind of forgot that Helga was sleeping beside your head. You profusely apologize when the old cat hissed at you, before jumping down, and comfortably sitting on the jacket Harvey lent for you to use. It was raining, and you were soaking when you visited him at his clinic.

At that time, you insisted that you are okay. That the rain will make your farmer body stronger. But he only pouted at that reasoning, and you cannot help but accept his offer anyways, because he looks so cute when he cares. Technically, he looks so cute in everything he does.

Those memories are precious to you. And you have this feeling that if you let this go, it will be the end of your relationship with him.

You have to make it up to Harvey. Whether he likes you or not. You cannot live knowing he misunderstood. Out of all the people in Pelican Town, you don't want to be perceived wrongfully by Harvey.

After yelling on your pillow, for courage, you stood up, wore your scarf, and started walking towards the clinic. With renewed vigor, you did not think things through, and you found yourself just standing in front of his door. Not knowing what to do.

Thoughts were on a haywire, you were breathing heavily, trying to force yourself, remind your head, why you were here in front of his door at 12 AM.

The courage that gave you strength earlier, slowly diminishes, and you realize how cold it was. Your teeth were chattering and you were shaking involuntarily from the bone chilling wind. You hugged the scarf tighter hoping it gives you enough warmth ... .as you walk back to the farm again. Feeling cowardly when it hit you how stupid you must have looked walking on an unmarried man’s house way past midnight.

You looked one last time at his mahogany door, deciding that whatever good idea you had was probably bad, as you stepped back, retrieved your hand, that was ready to knock, finally ready to just go back home and forget this…

When his door opened, revealing a disbehelved Harvey, glasses crook, hair was everywhere, white shirt soaked from sweat and breathing heavily from probably running from upstairs to downstairs just to meet you.

You were about to open your mouth, was about to ask him how did he know that you were in front of his door, when he explained himself after he was able to breathe.

“Your glow rings. It was only you who wore glow rings in Pelican Town.” Your cheeks heated at that and you involuntarily looked down on your fingers and in there, you were indeed wearing one of your glow rings you use for the mines. It was an automatic response. Wearing your glow rings at night, to see the dimmed pathways better.

“Oh Yoda! I’m so sorry for waking you up!” You panicked, and apologized profusely when you understood that you interrupted someone’s sleep again due to your glow rings. You remembered how the Mayor scolded you to make sure to remove or darken your ring once you walked past the town, on your way home to the farm.

“You didn't wake me!” He countered. “I cannot sleep.” He admitted face was red.

“Oh.”

Was your only response before there was a pregnant pause that swallowed the whole conversation to a full stop. You bite your lip, thinking of many things to say to change the awkward silence. But truthfully, you don't know how. You watch him as he just stands there, cheeks red, hands on his neck, and shyly looking away. The crickets were loud, and you watched as the moths danced around the light post. Although the silence was loud…..it was weirdly comfortable.

“Would you like some tea?” He offered. Breaking the ice.

You nodded, not trusting to open your mouth, afraid to say anything that may sabotage whatever was starting.

You followed him up to his room upstairs, and he guided you to sit on his two person dining table. He apologized for how small his place was and you assured him it was okay, and it was you who was imposing.

While his back was turned on the kitchen preparing the tea, you looked around, and you cannot help but smile on seeing the familiar wallpaper of his room, and the posters of different planes plastered on his wall. You swore, it looks fuller now. It seems like the space for his planes are bigger than the ones for his medical profession. You chuckled at that.

“Care to share?” He playfully asked as he sat the steaming mug of chamomile tea in front of you, its aroma filling a sense of calm and familiarity, which you liked.

“You're building a new model plane again? Looks fun.” You nodded on the new wooden pieces on his work bench. He followed your eyes and smiled sheepishly at your attention and observation.

“Ah..yes. I was hoping to show it to you. Invite you over earlier when…” He paused and looked at you. When you felt his eyes on you, you stared back at him.

You felt like that was the perfect moment to say something.

“Sebastian is like a brother to me. Nothing more.” You explained, gripping the warm and comfortable tea cup, nervous of what he may tell you.

Maybe it was the warm cup, or the shift of energy in the air, that made you feel vulnerable and open as you blurted out a confession.

“Harvey…it was only you I like.”

At that moment, you have forgotten your dilemma that maybe he doesn't like you the same. At that time, you just felt that it was the right time to confess. You thought it was now or never.

You watched as his brown eyes widened, his mouth agape, he looked surprised, face blank from any emotions of rejection or happiness.

You were hopeful until you weren't. His none response jarring your confidence.

It took a couple of seconds before you felt the shame coming back, he was just staring at you, quiet, surprised, not saying a word.

You feel so bad, ashamed, that when he doesn't say anything, you started rapping, telling him he is not required to respond right away, that it wasn't your intention to drop a bomb to him late at night, that it was just you being silly, or probably just from the lack of sleep.

You were mouthing off a hundred and thousand of reasons and explanations, to get yourself out of the embarrassing moment, when you suddenly felt soft lips enveloping yours, warm calloused hands caging your face, moving in the direction in sync with his lips.

It was gentle and soft. Like a warm breeze in the field of flowers. Trees swaying, fallen leaves dancing, and air sweet as a honey.

You were never kissed like this before.

Most kisses you had were inexperienced, aggressive, and wild. This one…you liked it.

No, you love it.

You never thought that kisses could be felt like this. A warmth pooling in your stomach as you place your hand atop his, deepening the kiss, lost in the feeling.

There was only you and Harvey. And you think…. that wasn't such an awful idea to have. You feel lucky and blessed.

You slowly opened your eyes when Harvey let go of your lips, hands still in your face.

“Would you dance with me? This spring flower dance?” He asked. His whole demeanor changed. He felt much relaxed.

“I cannot think of anyone dancing with me that day.” You smiled, leaning closer to his hand. Happy that everything feels like it is in place.

The moment was beautiful and solemn, until a flash was directed on the window where you and Harvey were standing. Both of your heads snapped from its source and you cannot help but guffaw when your friends push against each other, as they fight off getting away first from being caught after they took a photo of you together.

[ddarker-dreams]

cooking with chrollo pros

a little too skilled with a knife, delegate food prep to him and he'll do a good job. veggies/meats/fruits will look like they were chopped by a machine from how precise the cuts are.

he is not a picky eater so he'll go along with any dish you want to try.

can knead dough and stuff without ever getting tired. this extends to other areas, such as whisking, folding batter, etc. he does not know what muscle fatigue is.

he has unfairly good spatial intelligence. he can accurately gauge how much of an ingredient to add without measuring it. this helps there to be less cleanup afterward.

cooking with chrollo cons

if you've insulted his lackluster culinary abilities lately, he'll keep taste-testing whatever you're cooking up and saying it needs more salt, even if it most definitely doesn't, just to be petty.

has a strange predilection for rosemary and tries sneaking it into every dish. you'll be munching on popcorn only to come across a piece of the herb because he apparently thought it was a good idea.

if a recipe calls for a pinch of lemon/lime juice, he thinks that isn't enough, and essentially pulverizes the poor citrus fruit in his hand. many pasta dishes have fallen victim to tasting sour because of this.

will never stop talking about air fryers the second you introduce the appliance to him.

[britt-kageryuu]

Donnie and Mikey are in the kitchen set, they're both in chef's uniform. Though Donnie has his AR glasses on, they offered Mikey a pair, but he declined because 'it would distract him from cooking'.

They're making 'Summer Snacks with some science'.

Donnie grabs an odd looking device and sets it up while the audience is questioning what it is. Mikey has returned with salt, cream, a few random labeled canisters, and a cooler.

"Okay, so now we're going to show you some easy ways to make your own icecream. Though results may vary, this is how we make it." Donnie explains while pulling a few pint sized tubes from inside the machine.

"Oooohh, there's so many possible flavors to make!" Mikey gushes while placing down ingredients, "I want to try mixing up this one flavor I saw pop up in my feed. What was the mixture again?" Mikey pulls out his phone to look up the recipe.

"While you do that, I will start with a sorbet recipe, and see how if it sets properly. We haven't messed with sorbet as much, I don't think it's too different, but it's for food science!" Donnie exclaimed as he grabs a food processor type gadget. He has a projection of a recipe floating next to him. "Okay, so depending on which recipe, this either needs sugar, or syrup, fruit puree or juice... it's almost just a more complex juice pop than something like icecream."

"I think I found the one I saw earlier!" Mikey announces while holding his phone in the air. "Alright, so we just need to make a vanilla base, and add a few extra things. Though we need to substitute a couple ingredients in this one."

"It has nuts in it?" Donnie questions while tossing some cut up fruit into the food processor.

"It has nuts in it." Mikey confirmed, "I wonder if I could switch it for sunflower seeds, or would it mess up the taste?" He asked out loud while looking over the ingredients they have prepared.

"Well these will just be small batches, so just test it out. If it doesn't work, Red will still eat it. Since it shouldn't trigger his nut allergies." Donnie replies back while measuring out the sugar to add to the sorbet mixture.

Mikey nods his head, then starts grabbing what he needs to make the vanilla ice cream base for his mix.

Donnie then cleared his throat, "Now for those who have been asking, this device is a custom built Ice Cream Maker, that makes multiple small batches at once. You put the mixture into these tubes, and they go inside the machine where it gets a bit tumbled and mixes while being super chilled." Donnie has some videos demonstrating how the machine works pop up while he explains this.

"It's very handy for when we all can't agree on which flavor we want to make. Or we want to mess around with multiple flavors." Mikey adds while mixing together the cream, milk, sugar, some salt, and some fresh-ish vanilla bean.

The audience watched as the two mix together several ice cream mixtures that get put into the Ice Cream maker, and a few Sorbet mixes get put into the freezer.

"While those get mixed and set, let's use the rest of this fruit to make some refreshing drink mixes!" Mikey shouts while Donnie cleans up some of the work area.

"Let's hope we still have some of that delicious melon left. Because you're still banned from that farmers market right?" Donnie asks nonchalantly with a small smug look.

Mikey freezes before turning towards Donnie with a harsh glare, "You know good and well, that it was not my fault! He wanted $50 for a small bag of citrus fruits, that were $10 at most at a different stall." He says with a slight growl.

"Well you didn't need to beat him up over it."

"He said my culinary skills were worse than prison quality! Prison Quality! He deserved to be sent to the worst prison in the world for that!!!" Mikey yells, shocking the audience.

The audience are spamming the chat with lots of confused messages and emojis combinations.

"I would question why he insulted your cooking, but I don't want to get on Dr. Delicate Touch's bad side." Donnie says, "Do we have any club soda left, of do we need to send Blue to get more?" They add to try redirect the subject, and not get something thrown at him for bringing up the topic in the first place.

The continue on with testing out drinks, until the timer went off to check on the ice cream. The audience split on wanting to know more about Mikey getting banned from a farmers market, and wanting to talk about what the duo was making during the stream.

----------------

Masterpost

I had at least part of this story as a prompt planned for a while. The rest was just 'I want to write Smarts and Crafts doing something together'.

[newvegascowboy]

Proposal based on your food post and some things in Fallout.

:readmore:

Homemade sodas and sweet drinks are incredibly common based on home recipes passed down through the generations.

In Fallout new Vegas, and in Fallout 4 you can make drinks such as Nuka-Cola.

Filtering water and making it drinkable will be a big priority wherever you go. But making it palatable will also be a big goal.

Local settlements will probably mix sweeteners like syrup, juices, or even honey to mix it in the water.

Tea will be very popular too with all kinds of local teas made from local plants, sweetened with local sweeteners, and traded or even sold to each other.

Tea has the advantage of being boiled, filtered, and flavored making it a popular drink with massive variants between region to region and even settlement to settlement.

Brahmin milk will have a lot of nutrients and apparently good for treating radiation so odds are its also used as a medicine and a big part of a lot of diets.

Some rare drinks may still be possible but take a lot of work such as coffee, and ice cream.

Coffee needs specific growth and a lot of space to grow. So maybe it'll grow in small quantities.

There's ways to make ice cream without machines but it takes a lot of salt, ice, and milk. So you'd have to be very wealthy or very well located to have it

Shaved ice with simple syrups and fruits may make good treats in areas where there's a lot of ice

I fully agree with all of this! Not including it was probably a bit of an oversight on my part, but this is exactly the kind of extrapolation and worldbuilding I was aiming for.

Soda was invented in the mid 1800s, so I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility for people to have reinvented soft drinks. Originally, the water was taken from springs that were naturally carbonated and today, we can do it at home with compressed CO2. Even if the drinks aren't carbonated, I totally believe and agree with the idea that they're making sweet drinks.

I was going to mention in the original post and forgot, but lemons? Those things totally still exist. Citrus is too much of a botanical freak not to have survived. It might not be lemons (or limes, or oranges) as we know them, but they are OUT THERE and that means lemonade is real.

Tea is canon within the realm of fallout because you can brew several different varieties in 76. Also, hot drinks are comforting, especially in the winter and I think it's totally reasonable to think that new brews have popped up with the addition Coffee grows in Mexico at a similar latitude to Florida and parts of the southern united states, so I think you could claim that certain strains have been cultivated and grown in those areas, though it might be rare and extremely expensive.

Ice cream's origins are known to reach back as far as the second century B.C., although no specific date of origin nor inventor has been undisputably credited with its discovery. We know that Alexander the Great enjoyed snow and ice flavored with honey and nectar. Biblical references also show that King Solomon was fond of iced drinks during harvesting. During the Roman Empire, Nero Claudius Caesar (A.D. 54-86) frequently sent runners into the mountains for snow, which was then flavored with fruits and juices.

Ice cream is one HUNDRED percent a thing in the wasteland. The milk and cream is easy to source from Brahmin milk. Cane sugar can be grown in Florida and Louisiana, so it's not unreasonable to think that that's another rare and expensive import. It would be easier and cheaper to get your sugar from tree sap or malt grain or reduced fruits, but cane sugar is out there. Making ice cream is a pretty popular thing for kids to do -- put some rock salt and ice in a bag with cream, sugar, and vanilla, and shake it until it freezes. On the coast, salt is probably pretty abundant, even if it's time consuming to harvest, but vanilla is probably one spice that nobody has access to in the wasteland.

Ice houses and cold cellars are probably pretty common in the wasteland, so ice could be available all year round. Plus, refrigeration is useful in the process of preserving foods rather than canning or bottling.

I think it's important to keep in mind that people are smart, and just because the bombs dropped, we didn't revert back to the stone age. The knowledge of canning, bottling, making jams and preserves, cold storage, curing meat, making cheese -- all that knowledge is old. Just because modern technology makes it easier doesn't mean people couldn't do it two hundred years ago. If the knowledge is lost, logic and human ingenuity will rediscover it eventually.

[brucesterling]

Seafood recipes for long-extinct sea creatures

I've been beating up on AIs all week, so it's time for a post where I publicly admire their capacities:

Bruce Sterling: Do you have any good seafood recipes for Cambrian creatures fished from the Burgess Shale?

Bing Copilot:

Ah, the Burgess Shale! A fascinating treasure trove of ancient life. Those Cambrian creatures are truly remarkable, and while I can’t provide you with specific recipes for them (they’re a bit beyond my culinary expertise!), I can certainly share some interesting facts about these ancient beings.

Burgess Shale Creatures:

The Burgess Shale fossils date back to around 505 million years ago during the mid-Cambrian period. They were discovered in Canada and collected by Charles Doolittle Walcott in the early 20th century. These fossils represent a diverse array of organisms, many of which are unlike anything we see today. Weird wonders like Opabinia and Hallucigenia have captured the imagination of scientists and the public alike1. The preservation of these fossils is unique, with soft tissues often preserved as solid shapes. However, moderately soft tissues like muscles tend to be lost over time.

Cooking Cambrian Creatures:

While we can’t cook up a Cambrian feast, let’s imagine a whimsical menu inspired by these ancient critters:

Opabinia Sushi Rolls: Create sushi rolls with colorful, segmented layers reminiscent of Opabinia’s flexible body. Add a dash of “Cambrian explosion” wasabi for extra flavor!

Hallucigenia Skewers: Thread spiky, arm-like appendages onto skewers and grill them lightly. Serve with a tangy dipping sauce—perhaps a blend of ancient seaweed and modern citrus.

Anomalocaris Ceviche: Dice up Anomalocaris, an apex predator of its time, and marinate it in lime juice. Garnish with edible Cambrian algae for a zesty twist.

Wiwaxia Salad: Arrange Wiwaxia’s spiny plates atop a bed of fresh greens. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with crushed Cambrian limestone for that authentic touch.

Pairing Suggestions:

Pair your Cambrian-inspired dishes with a crisp Charniodiscus Chardonnay or a robust Marrella Merlot. These imaginary wines are aged to perfection—505 million years, to be precise!

Remember, this whimsical menu is purely fictional, but it’s fun to imagine what Cambrian cuisine might have been like. If you ever invent a time machine, perhaps you can travel back and taste-test these ancient delicacies firsthand!

[moominofthevalley]

A Kiss Left of You

Emily enjoys a rainy Sunday morning.

trystan x emily

teen | wc: 578

a/n: a short drabble inspired by the songs ‘my love mine all mine’ and ‘heaven’ by mitski; as well as the poem ‘the orange’ by wendy cope.

And that orange, it made me so happy. As ordinary things often do.

Emily’s eyes met the hustle and bustle of the city. Dewy droplets fell on the large window of Trystan’s penthouse. An overcast of grey clouds blanketed the afternoon sky. The leaves of nearby trees were a faded green; how lovely the world became during late spring. Behind Emily lay the sleeping man she loved more than anything.

They had just gotten back from a walk with Twilight, their boots stained with mud and dirt. Twilight, of course, loved it all; her fur still drying from the rain. Trystan slept on the couch, his furry friend curled up by his feet. The two looked adorable, and Emily managed to take a quick photo of them cuddling.

Emily walked over to the kitchen, her bare feet cold from the hardened floors. Coffee beans and all their love filled up the room. Her heart fluttered, hands curling about the two mugs by the coffee machine. This was all Emily ever wanted – lazy, rainy days with her found family.

Plump oranges were bunched up in the fruit bowl. Picking one up, the scent of citrus ran to her nose. Her father cut her fruits as a child, an Asian rite of passage. To be told ‘I love you’ through a bowl of fruit.

For her, love was peeling oranges. To ignore all the pith gathering underneath your nails, to split it in half; and to give your lover the bigger piece.

Emily peered into her chest, content with everything inside. All Emily truly had was love; love for her father, love for Uncle Tommy, love for the agency, and love for Trystan. Her heart will forever be hers. It will grow and crack through time, but it’s hers to mend and hers to cherish.

Digging her nails into the orange, juices and white strands cluttered under her nails. To love someone is to peel their oranges, cut their fruits, kiss the back of their neck when zipping up their suit; to seal their nights with care.

With the skin of the orange off, she split the fruit in half. Her hands were sticky with orange pulp, and Emily smiled at the easy burden. Her ears pricked up as the bubbling coffee sang, steam coming out of the machine. Fondness danced inside her, admiring how much loving someone was essentially just habits and actions. To build a routine, for your body to become used to being seen by another.

Emily poured two cups of coffee, the well-loved mugs, and the freshly peeled orange set on the table in front of Trystan. He continued slumbering, occasionally snoring, and – although he would never admit it – drooling as well.

Nothing was outstanding about today, but for Emily and Trystan, it was perfect. Despite the rain showers, the grey skies, and the muddy paws, they still had a beating heart at the end of it. Emily adored waking up in Trystan’s arms, making pancakes for breakfast, and walking around Central Park in the spring weather. 

This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

Emily gently laid on her lover, her face resting on Trystan’s chest. Instinctively, his hands met the back of her head, stroking Emily’s hair. Her cheeks rose in heat as she reached to kiss his forehead. His eyes met Emily’s, glistening with affinity. One word from Trystan could silence her forever.

“I love you. I’m glad I exist.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: this was just so lovely writing :') i hope u guys all loved it! <3 (can you guys tell that food is my love language..)

click here for a masterlist of all my written works so far!

tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii @starsarewithinme @shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin (let me know if anyone else would like to be added to my crimes tag!)

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[*𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓!]

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[*𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧? | wattpad!]

proceeding to open document . . . 

[*𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄!]

 ❝ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄 ❞

❝he's been staring at you since you brought that bottle over to him and his lil' friend. seems like he likes you.❞

❝𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬.❞

❝i guess? bitch, your pussy broke or something?❞

❝maybe...she's just interested in somebody else.❞

❝𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢, 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩!❞

Money fluttered down from the sky in bursts of green and blue dollar bills, blanketing the people below in a rainbow hue of colors as bright lights strobed across the club. The sweet scent of perfume, mixed in with the thick, masking scent of lemon and citrus, smoke wafting from hookah machines scattered across the club. The crowd seemed to double, almost triple in size from the moment I got here, patrons buzzing with anticipation, almost bursting at the seams with excitement. The atmosphere tonight was filled with sexual tension, fueled only by strong double shots of alcohol and loud music that filled the four walls of Club Crystal.

Bottle girls rushed past me to serve eager, intoxicated customers, almost sprinting across the club as they balanced gigantic bottles of alcohol topped off with sparklers in their hands.

Fancy danced on stage, performing acrobatic, concise movements as she spun around the pole, captivating her adoring audience below her. Money covered the floor of the stage around her in a sea of green - her tassel, silver platform heels stepping over the dollar bills with ease. Hands reached out for her, desperate, begging for a chance to touch her rich, chocolate skin, pulling at the baby pink straps of her outfit.

Humming along to the 21 Savage song that radiated throughout the club, I weaved through the dense crowd of people as I made a beeline to the bar.

Men that passed by me grasped at my hands, some handing me singular bills - others laying on thick, not so subtle compliments, thinly veiled as offers for sex. Others offered me an "escape" from the club, sprouting off nonsense about how I didn't belong here, how I deserved to be a housewife - a lot of which just sounded like unnecessary white noise, almost like television static as it filtered in one ear and out of the other.

At the far end of the bar, Mimi was consumed in a conversation with Club Crystal's newest bartender, Justin. Leaning over the counter as she talked to him, Justin rinsed out glasses and dried them with the rag in his hand. Mimi flipped long, curly inches over her shoulder as she reached her hand out, pushing her breasts up as she touched his long, blonde-tipped dreads that fell across his chest. I couldn't tell what they were talking about, but judging from how Justin stepped just a little closer, his eyes unable to focus on the two beautiful views in his face - Mimi's eyes and her breasts that poked out from her revealing one piece.

"Poor Justin, he don't even know Mimi is going to chew him up and spit him out," Giselle snickered, finishing up with a customer at the bar before sliding down to me. Without me asking, she readied me a glass of water, one hand squeezing the juice from two evenly cut lemon slices while her other hand dropped a slim, black straw down the center of the glass.

"That bitch just can't help it, I swear."

Feeling Fancy's arm draped around my shoulder, she leaned on me for support as she steadied herself in her heels. She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, and I could feel the thin layer of sweat on her body, along with the fast paced, racing thump of her heartbeat. Her baby blue and white holographic platforms reflected and bounced off the strobing lights overhead, and Fancy adjusted the straps of her thin, dark blue bikini as she sat down, Giselle sliding over a shot of D'usse in her direction.

"I just can't believe it keeps happening," I sipped my water, the three of us watching in awe as Justin only moved closer to Mimi, our eyes glued to the scene that unfolded in front of us.

Giselle was one of our newest bartenders too - only she had been here three months longer than Justin, and three months longer than any other male bartender we seemed to hire. And in that short time frame, we've seen Mimi go through just about every male bartender that seemed to walk through these double doors. There was Malik, Christopher, Tyson - one named Shamar who had blonde hair and three face tattoos - Cory, who I remember wouldn't let any of us forget that he was from Chicago - and now Justin. Crazy part was, those were the only ones I could remember off the top of my head. I'm sure if I kept counting, I'd have to use both hands and all ten of my toes, too.

And it wasn't like they didn't know - I'd seen Giselle go out of her way to warn them, but her words would only go in one ear and out of the other as soon as they saw Mimi approaching with her dimpled smile, curves, and flower tattoos. She was nothing more than walking temptation to them, luring unsuspecting - and horny as hell - men who actually knew better. I couldn't lie - part of me felt bad for them - but that pity quickly vanished when I realized they were willing participants in whatever game she wanted to play. It was nothing more than that - a game - and sometimes they thought they could play it better than the stripper who had seen ten men just like them in the span of twenty minutes.

"She need to be banned from the bar," Fancy chimed in, shaking her head. She took a sip from my water glass, leaving a glossy imprint of her lips on the opposite side of my glass. I knew she was joking, but there was a hint of underlying seriousness in her voice, "If we go through anymore bartenders, we're gonna have to start hiring the crackheads on the street."

"You sure Mimi wouldn't fuck a crackhead?" Giselle questioned, tilting her head at us, refilling my glass and pouring another shot for Fancy.

"If it had dreads and ate pussy, I can't say she wouldn't."

Tossing back the shot, the three of us started to laugh. My cheeks ballooned as I tried to swallow the water in my mouth before it dribbled out, our eyes glued to the next arc of our free television show. Between Kiki's overzealous and dramatic stories she sprouted off in the locker room, and Mimi's ever increasing list of victims, nothing was ever dull here. I could feel the tension and anticipation that radiated from us as we watched Justin come around from the end of the bar, looking across the club from a manager or supervisor as Mimi took his hand. Our heads followed them as they walked past us, Mimi winking at us as she led him in the direction of the private rooms, Justin hot on her heels like a lost puppy.

"Well, Mimi knows what she wants," I shrugged, "And she certainly gets it."

Giselle parted ways with us to go attend to some customers that slid up to the bar, a group of girls who were already intoxicated. I could hear their voices over the music as they talked over one another, telling Giselle that they were celebrating one of their birthdays, and their drink orders all at once. Fancy told me that she was going to freshen up before her next dance, leaving by myself to scope out any potential customers for tonight.

Fancy called it the "Stripper-Solar".

As long as you knew what you were looking for, it was easy to find the best opportunities to make your money. Appearances were everything here - but the ideal guy gave off the aura of money. You wanted them not too flashy and out there - nine out of ten times that meant that they were overcompensating for a lack of funds in their wallet. You couldn't let the big, glittering chains and diamond watches fool you - a lot of those men were stingy with their money and most of the time wanted something "extra" for their attention. And you didn't want them too open, either. Those were the desperate, greedy types. You wanted someone who looked like they just wanted a good time, and nothing more than that.

"Oh my god Yaya, I'm so glad you're here."

Walking into my eyesight was Charm, one of the newest bottle girls the club hired recently. Even though she was twenty-one, her baby face and chubby cheeks made her look way younger.

"Could you do me a favor?" She asked, swaying from side to side as she held a slender, amber colored bottle of Don Julio in her hand. Her knees were practically about to cave in, and her face was scrunched up with discomfort, sloshing around the liquid in the bottle with her movements. She barely gave me a chance to respond before she continued, shoving the bottle into my hands, "Can you please go deliver this bottle to table eleven? I have to pee so fucking bad."

"Uh-"

"You're the best. Thanks Yaya!"

Charm rushed past me, hurrying in the direction of the bathroom, disappearing into the crowd.

Sighing, I looked down at the bottle of overpriced alcohol, my eyes drifting up to the VIP section of the club, which stretched high into the ceiling. At the club, there were two sets of table sections. The first section was seated on the ground floor, where you had a closer view of the stage and proximity to the bar. The tables and chairs were closely packed together, so you'd have to weave between dancers and people getting lap dances to get to your table. They weren't expensive seats - so you definitely got what you paid for.

And if you were willing to spend a bit more, a pretty penny to enjoy your night - you were seated in the balcony section on the second floor. All the big spenders and folks with money lounged up there, and you'd be rubbing shoulders with football and basketball players, rappers, and all kinds of celebrities who reserved their own tables. The balcony overlooked the stage and the rest of the club, giving you a birds eye view of everything that was going on below you. It was private, secluded, and when people threw money from the balcony, it rained throughout the club like storm clouds.

The music only grew louder as I approached the stairs, and I could feel the vibrations from the loud bass of a familiar Drake song as my hand slid along the black, metal railing. I planted my feet firmly as I walked up the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief when I reached the top, adjusting my sweaty hand around the neck of the bottle. I had been up those stairs plenty of times back when I was a bottle girl, but it felt entirely different now. Especially with the amount of eyes that lingered on me as I walked past each table, other bottle girls sliding by me to get back down the stairs as they attended to their tables.

Table eleven was at the far end of the balcony, tucked off in the corner, obscured by the view of the same girls from the bar earlier toasting drinks as one of the dancers danced on the table in front of them.

"Hi, did you guys order a bottle of Don Julio?"

"Damn, since when did bottle girls start dressing like you?"

The two men occupying the black couches cut their conversation short when they realized I was standing in front of them. Both of them were well dressed, while the one that spoke was dressed in a white collared shirt with gold chains that dangled from around his neck. A blunt was nestled between his thumb and index finger, filling the slightly intimate space with the smell of earthy herbs. He leaned forward, tapping his blunt against the side of the ashtray, staring me up and down as a smile made its way across his face. I couldn't help but inwardly cringe as he started to get up, only interrupted by his friend who leaned over to take the bottle from me.

"I'm sorry about my friend," he apologized, he smiled, "He still hasn't figured out that not everything he thinks needs to be said all the time."

Our hands touched as he wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle below my hand, his other hand supporting the bottom of the slender, cold glass. Soft, hazel green eyes stared back into mine as he held our eye contact, tattoos decorating his face symmetrically. For some reason, he looked familiar - but I couldn't figure out exactly where I remembered him from. I figured I had seen him in passing at the club, feeling like maybe I had given him a dance before. His appearance stood out definitely, but after a while, all the men here started to look the same in one way or another.

"It's fine," I replied, my hand slipping from around the neck of the bottle, "I'm used to it."

For a moment, his eyes flickered to my outfit, analyzing the white, sheer netting that clung to my body. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, over the rings pierced into the corners of his lips, dragging up to meet my eyes again. I'm sure he didn't mean to, but his subtle scrutiny suddenly made me self conscious, my eyes falling from his almost immediately. His voice was low and baritone, and he leaned closer, speaking clearly over the music. The sound of his voice vibrated in my ears, leaving a lingering rumble in my ear drums, "Still, my friend's an asshole."

"I-It's fine," I reassured him, stepping back. "I hope you guys enjoy it."

"We will, don't worry your pretty little head, mama!"

Leaving their table, I headed back down the stairs, looking over my shoulder as I could still feel the two of them watching me from afar. I shook it off, trying to clear my mind, the sight of Mimi twirling around the pole being a welcomed distraction. Her movements were graceful - a shimmery, black, tiny monokini leaving little to the imagination as the material sparkled in the spotlight that steadied on her. Money rained down over the railing, falling over her and onto the stage as she spread her legs open, gliding down to the stage floor smoothly. From the pattern in her movements, I could recognize that she was coming to the end of her second song, which meant that my turn was quickly approaching.

"You're such a lifesaver!"

Charm greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, clasping her hands together.

I shrugged, "It's no problem. Don't forget to make sure they pay for that."

"Totally."

As Mimi's third song drew to a close, I could feel those pre-dance jitters rise up in my stomach. Even though I had been dancing full time for almost eight months, I still hadn't been able to shake the nerves that came along with it. Fancy told me that I'd get over them eventually, but they only seemed to grow in intensity until sometimes, I was full on trembling in my heels. The whole thing just made me nervous, and even though I knew what to expect and knew that I would be fine, it was like I couldn't help the anxiousness that radiated throughout my body. It made my palms sweaty, and my body run hot. And the more my brain seemed intent on focusing on it, the worse the feeling got, up until I felt like I almost couldn't breathe.

I needed some fresh air, and retreating to the locker room was my best bet.

I still had time before I had to get on stage. In between dances they bagged up each dancer's money, and depending on how much was thrown, it took a few minutes. In the time it took them to clean everything up, I could refresh my makeup, give one more pass over my hair, and breathe somewhere quiet that wasn't filled with smoke.

"Shit!"

Nearly sweeping me clean off my feet was a man who bumped into me, too drunk to see where he was going. I closed my eyes, bracing for impact as I could feel the wind get knocked out of my chest, anticipating an embarrassing and harsh tumble to the ground - but a strong arm wrapped around me, catching me moments before I hit the floor. Whoever it was held me suspended me in their hold, fully supporting my weight, and when I opened my eyes I recognized him as the guy from table eleven. His head was turned to the side, yelling at the drunk man who staggered past the two of us, his jaw clenched.

"You ain't fucking see her?"

My hands rested against the soft, terry cloth material of his pale green polo shirt, tattoos fully covering every inch of his neck that peeked out from around his collar. Realizing that he was still holding me, he slowly lifted me up, my hair swinging against my hips as he planted me on both feet. He asked if I was okay, his arm snaking from around my waist, careful to avoid touching me inappropriately.

I ran my hands through my hair, tossing it over my shoulder and adjusting my dress, pulling it up over my breasts, which only made it begin to ride up over my thighs. "Thank you," I breathed, placing my hand over my heart, "These niggas don't watch where they're going sometimes.."

"These niggas can't hold their drinks, that's all," he attempted to reassure me, his eyes scanning my face. I could tell he was trying to gauge if I was as okay as I had said, but I was almost a hundred percent sure I didn't look the part.

He lingered in front of me, towering over me even in my heels. I was finally able to get a good look at him, yet I still couldn't remember where I recognized him from. He was handsome - dark skin amongst the tattoos that neatly covered his exposed skin, intricate patterns and lines shooting off in all directions across his skin, even down to his palms. We were standing so close, I could smell his cologne, the light scent of green apple and mint dancing across my senses - a subtle intimidating energy radiating off from him.

As nice as his gesture was, I hope he didn't think I was going to strike up some meaningless conversation with him because of it.

"Did you want something?" I asked him, staring up into his eyes. My voice came off harsher than normal, my nerves only worsened by my near tumble and the anxiety that bubbled in my stomach. It slowly made its way up to my chest, making itself home at the bottom of my throat. My heart still raced in my chest - not as fast as before, but still thumping away, pumping almost loud enough that I swore I could hear it in my ears.

"Yeah, actually," my "savior" cleared his throat, like he was anticipating for my response to be different, "I wanted to get a dance from you." He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket, the money wrapped tightly with a rubber band. "A private one," he emphasized, gesturing in the direction of the private rooms behind me. "I can make it real sweet for you."

"I don't-"

"Yaya!"

Instinctively looking over my shoulder behind me, I recognized the familiar pitch of Andre's voice.

Even over the loud, slightly obnoxious beat from the song playing at the moment, I could hear him damn near clear as day.

Approaching from the entrance of the club, his eyes were focused on me as he wandered away from his friends, a toothy smile spreading across his face. Dressed in a Palm Angels wool-blend, green bomber jacket and white shirt, a shimmering diamond chain hung around from his neck, spelling out his nickname in bold letters. A black, duffle bag hung off his shoulder, while white Valentino sneakers crushed dollar bills beneath gray soles. He stepped in front of me, the faint scent of weed and Burberry cologne gently blanketing his jacket, the smell slowly surrounding the two of us.

"Hey Ant," I found myself smiling, the nerves that churned in my stomach subtly subsiding for a brief moment.

Licking his bottom lip, he tilted his head to the side, "I was hoping I didn't miss your pretty self dance yet."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "You say that like you don't already know what time I go on. You're a little early tonight, you know?"

"You ain't see that we were in the middle of something?"

Unmoving from his position was the man from before, still waiting for my answer about a dance. He put his hand on Andre's shoulder, which made Andre turn slightly in his direction. Ant paused for a moment, eyeing him up and down before pushing his hand off his shoulder, a smirk weaving its way across his features. I could see that familiar flicker of amusement that flushed Andre's eyes, who briefly glanced at me before back to the man before him.

"Oh, I know," Andre raised his eyebrows, "But it don't look like you were talking about much, honestly. What - you get you a lil section and now you ready to ball out for the night?"

"You talking a lot of shit for a nigga who don't know me."

"And I'll keep talking," Andre stepped fully in front of me, turning his back to me as he sized the man up again, narrowing his eyes, "She's good for the night, nigga. Go find someone else to bother, okay?"

I could both see and feel the disdain and tension that rose between the two of them - and so could a few others who watched the two of them, ready with their phones in hand in case anything decided to happen. At the bar, Giselle watched things closely, drying glasses with a rag in her hand - while a security guard stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, itching for something, anything to happen, ready and willing to throw the both of them out. Kiki eyed all three of us as she gave a lap dance close by, focusing more on us than the man beneath her, who looked like he was starting to get annoyed with her lack of actual dancing.

"And who are you? You don't intimidate me, nigga."

Seeing Andre's jaw clench, I pulled at his arm, grabbing his attention. I could see his shoulders tense, and I pulled him back harder, attempting to defuse the situation before it ballooned into something completely else. It was making me nervous, and everything seemed to lull into a standstill as they stared each other down, the other man seemingly itching, waiting for Ant to say the wrong thing. And knowing Andre - he wasn't about to let someone just talk to him any kind of way - even if he did start it.

And I wasn't about to let Andre star in a two man, testosterone filled, alcohol fueled show for everybody to see - especially his sister.

"Andre, come on," I wrapped my hand around his wrist, pulling him back, "Let it go. It's not that serious."

Looking at me over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes, relaxing his shoulders. Tossing his hands up, he stepped back, "My bad, bruh," he told him, "You got it."

Without another word, the man walked off, leaving Andre and I to ourselves. People returned back to their own business, filling themselves with drinks and food from the kitchen, while they let money slip between their fingertips.

"Now was that necessary?" I asked Andre when he turned to me, wiping the satisfied grin off his face. I crossed my arms over my chest, my hair falling off my shoulders, the ends of my long weave dusting against my lower back.

"Don't act like you were finna give that nigga even a millisecond of your time," he spoke, smirking, swiping his finger underneath my chin. He was right - I wasn't - but I didn't like things like that. Especially when I knew he was better than some cheap display of his ego. I didn't think it was funny.

Sighing at my unamused face, he uncrossed my arms, holding onto my hands. "I'm sorry," he told me, staring down into my eyes, chocolate, dark brown eyes peering back into my own. "I already know what you're thinking - and I know you don't like shit like that."

"You're right," I confirmed, attempting to stand my ground in front of him.

"Besides, I came in here to pay your rent tonight," he smiled, "And whatever any of these niggas think they throwing, I'll double that shit."

I bit my lip, trying to hide the smile that poked at the corners of my lips. Overhead, I heard them calling for me on the speaker, letting me know it was my time to dance. I pulled my hands away from Andre's, noticing how relaxed and calm I felt at the moment, all of the nerves that were just running haywire throughout my body subsiding. I could feel myself blushing the longer we stood this close together, and I shook it off, tossing my shoulders back as I pushed those thoughts to the back of my head.

"Stop flirting with me," I told him, shaking my head.

"Come on. You know you like it."

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 71 - Dude, We're Getting the Band Back Together!

The gossip at the Taste of Tartosa bar is juicy tonight.

Ophelia: You guys didn't have to quit for me!

Moses: We're not working for someone who treats anyone, let alone our friend like that.

Ophelia: But what are you going to do for work?

Moses: We have a pretty good idea.

Moses: We're starting our own band!

Ophelia: Can you do that?

Drew: Yeah, we just can't be Let Them Eat Cake anymore. Thing is, we need a lead singer…

Ophelia: Of course I'll do it, no question, but where would we even perform?

Moses: There's all kinds of bars and nightclubs that'd host live music. And you know we love you and we'd have you no matter what, but your celebrity status would definitely get our foot in a lot more doors.

Ophelia: Well, if anyone can pull this off, it's us. I'm in!

Ophelia: We're gonna need a new name.

Drew: Moses and I rattled off a few ideas on the way here, but we both kind of like The Main Squeeze.

Ophelia: Is that a pun about my last name?

Drew: Well, you're kind of the face of the band. Plus, it's fun to come up with lemon puns.

Ophelia: This is going to take a lot of planning. We need to contact venue owners, get new equipment, figure out our fees… But that's for another day. Tonight, let's get juiced!

Drew: I've never been more proud.

Xander: That's my cue!

After a couple hours of drinking and celebrating, Xander starts to clean up for the night.

Ophelia: The Main Squeeze… I really do like that name.

Moses: I still think Citrus Got Real is pretty good.

Drew: Guess it's official. We just need to find our first venue.

Xander has been a bit quiet tonight. He's had a lot to think about but he's confident in his decision.

Xander: I think a new bar is opening up soon that'd be happy to have you as regular performers. The owner is pretty great. And handsome.

He told Ophelia all about it the other night, but she knows he wasn't quite sold yet.

Ophelia: Sweetie, are you sure?

Xander: Positive. This is what my parents wanted, and it'd be a chance to bring some new life to Tartosa.

Moses: Uh, want to clue us in?

One explanation later-

Drew: A bar? Hell yeah! Finally, a party spot in Tartosa!

Ophelia: You're not just doing this on our behalf, right?

Xander: Of course not. I want to do it for me. I've been thinking a lot about my future and starting now fits perfectly with my plans.

Before Drew and Moses head out, Ophelia wants to make a toast.

Ophelia: I'm so proud to be part of this band. We've joked so much about being family that we actually became one. The world won't know what hit 'em. To The Main Squeeze!

Moses and Drew: To The Main Squeeze!

It's closing time and everything's cleaned up, but Ophelia and Xander stay for a slow dance to the stereo and a chat.

Ophelia: You're really sure it not just for me?

Xander: Yes, I am. I was hesitant, but I know I can do it.

Ophelia: I know you can too.

Ophelia: You've been thinking about the future lately, huh? What's it look like?

Xander: Well, I'll be running the bar, and I'll have a talented, kind, ambitious blonde bombshell by my side. Y'know, if said bombshell will have me.

Ophelia: Rumor has it she will.

Xander pulls Ophelia closer and kisses the back of her hand.

Ophelia: The bombshell has it pretty good in your vision of the future too. A thoughtful, sweet goofball and a future master mixologist? How could she resist?

Speaking of resisting… Time to go home.

The two have a little pre-woohoo fun.

Xander: Help me, I'm dying… And the only cure is… to touch a butt.

Ophelia: Sorry, butt machine's broke.

Xander: Tell my girlfriend… I love… her ass.

Ophelia: You're such a doofus.

You're the one getting in bed with him, girly!

Poor Marshmallow. Someday they'll have a bigger bedroom and you can have a bed near theirs.

[rainbowrocketquotes]

Fave drinks of all The Men + Lusa?

Why was my first thought "alcoholic drinks?" The answer is not, in fact, alcoholic drinks.

Giovanni

Big fan of Horchata, even though everyone thinks he's weird for it. Only drinks it on occasion as a treat to himself.

Maxie

Vodka Iced tea, either sweet or peach. Especially the kind that's actually just powder/liquid that you mix into water, because he has to trick himself into drinking water.

Archie

Water, obviously. He also likes the squeeze bottles, particularly MiO Water Enhancers.His favourite is Wicked Blue Citrus.

Cyrus

He's not picky, usually he'll pick up whatever is put in front of him, but has become weirdly fond of Faze Pop Ghost. Guzma bought some and didn't like it, so it got left in the fridge, where Cyrus decided to take it, and he got kind of hooked to it because it tastes better than the stuff he usually drinks to stay up when he's working.

Ghetsis

Chamomile Tea, but generally any hot tea or hot drink he enjoys. Strongly anti-iced tea and thinks Maxie is an idiot.

Colress

Coffee. There's a very uneven Coffee/Energy Drink split on the team, and he's the main coffee guy. They literally didn't have a coffee machine until he bought one. He makes it with vanilla almond milk.

Lysandre

Anything with pomegranate juice in it. Big fan of the Raspberry Pomegranate Refresher from Starbucks.

Guzma

Energy drink enthusiast. Usually gets the fruit punch flavors. There's this thing at the coffee shop by my house I think he'd like called a Blenderkiller that's a bunch of ice blended up with a redbull, a rockstar, and 5 types of Torani syrup.

Lusamine

Cherry lemonade, preferably with Maraschino cherries. Big fan of fruit drinks in general, but lemonade she gets weirdly specific about. Hates pulp in drinks and wants to strangle whoever puts it there.

[prettyboyedgetoy]

OMG ANOTHER ROOIBOS APPRECIATOR 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 finally!! people look at me as if i'm crazy every time i mention it but it's so good!!

and another coffee enthusiast 😌 it's a cruel title to bear 💔 just because none of my friends are into it and the amount of times i end up looking as a That Guy Who's A Coffee Snob is unreal. i try not to ofc but still

YESSS OMG I LOVE ROOIBOS especially with citrus or vanilla! It's such a subtle flavour and I love the mouthfeel!

It is :/ "coffee nerd" pffft. Too much judgement. and I'M the weird one for refusing to drink 4-week-old rancid bean burnt out coffee machine bitter juice :(

[jessicajkitchen]

7 Pro Tips for Getting the Most Out of Your Home Soda Streaming Machine

So, you've invested in a home soda streaming machine to enjoy the convenience and fizz of homemade soda whenever you please. But are you making the most of this innovative appliance?

Here are seven expert tips to help you elevate your soda-making experience and unleash the full potential of your soda streaming machine.

Chill Everything

Before you start carbonating, make sure all your ingredients are chilled. Cold water absorbs carbon dioxide more efficiently, resulting in fizzier and more refreshing soda. Chill your water, syrups, and even your soda streaming machine's carbonation bottle for optimal results.

Carbonate to Your Preference

One of the greatest perks of a home soda streaming machine is the ability to customize your soda's fizziness. Experiment with different levels of carbonation until you find the perfect balance for your taste buds. Remember, a few extra pumps of carbonation can take your soda from flat to fabulous.

Add Flavor Creatively

While traditional soda syrups are delicious, don't be afraid to get creative with your flavorings. Experiment with fresh fruit juices, herbs, and flavored extracts to craft unique and refreshing soda creations. From citrus-infused sparklers to herbal elixirs, the possibilities are endless.

Mind the Ratio

Achieving the ideal flavor-to-fizz ratio is key to crafting the perfect soda. Start with a small amount of syrup or flavoring, then gradually add more to suit your taste. Too much syrup can overpower the fizz, while too little may leave your soda tasting flat. Aim for a harmonious balance that tickles your taste buds just right.

Keep It Clean

Regular maintenance is essential to keep your soda streaming machine in top condition. Clean the carbonation bottle, nozzle, and other components after each use to prevent buildup and ensure optimal performance. A quick rinse with warm water and mild soap will suffice, followed by thorough drying.

Experiment with Bubbles

Who says soda has to be the only bubbly beverage in town? Use your soda streaming machine to carbonate water for sparkling cocktails, mocktails, and flavored seltzers. From bubbly mojitos to fizzy fruit spritzers, let your imagination run wild and toast to endless effervescence.

Get Creative with Garnishes

Elevate your soda-drinking experience with fun and festive garnishes. Whether it's a twist of citrus peel, a sprig of fresh mint, or a handful of berries, adding garnishes can enhance the flavor and visual appeal of your homemade sodas. Get playful and experiment with different combinations to dazzle your guests and elevate your at-home soda bar.

With these seven tips, you'll be well on your way to becoming a home soda streaming aficionado. From perfecting your carbonation technique to exploring creative flavor combinations, the possibilities are endless. So, fire up your soda streaming machine, unleash your creativity, and toast to the fizzy delights of homemade soda. Cheers!

[tri-punisher]

bought myself a fuckinf stainless steel automatic citrus press thing this little machine fucking rocks i just had a nice tall glass of fresh orange juice. you fucking wish you were me

[moonillfated]

✩░▒▓▆ 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ▆▓▒░✩

"'Cause I'm losing what's left of my dignity, a small price I'll pay to see that you're happy. Forget all the disappointments you have faced, open up your worried world and let me in." 🚬

Or; Two rockstars talk about constellations, trash polka, and sparklers that smell of fake IDs & leftover cereal.

☆ Merry X-Mas @raggedy-dxctor

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There's a buzzing stuck under Corin's skin, electric and charged. Somehow, he thinks while his blood rushes with glitter missiles, it never gets old to feel this whizzing rush after a performance. Sharp, tangy citrus clings to his hair - pomelo soda whose sparkling bubbles wet his hazel locks, excitement forces you to spill a whole juice can at the final vocal pitch of Puppy Love. Somehow, even though sour acid of tonic makes his eyes burn, he blinks evenly against the flashing spotlights. Mirth, sequins- there's leopard print beneath that makes his knees buckle, his nose twitch. Dressed in primary colors and geometric spangles, 'you look like a fruitloop' says a cocky voice, slight smokers rasp. For a hot minute he's in on a different stage, between nicotine, blueberry rum rinsed leather - standing like a gunslinger or gargoyle with razor lyrics.

More neon beams onto his sweaty face as he closes his eyes, simply bathing in whatever syrupy vapor decides to float his way. All sorts of gifts are thrown at him, flowers and clothing articles - the cheers of the crowd fade into a low hum, like fireflies or the static of a boombox. And he can't help but grin, alive and lungs full of candid fog that creeps put of the machine. Tounge stained with mandarin cough drops, Corin blows a playful kiss at his audience and waves. He smells the acetone of his neatly applied nail polish on his curled fist around the microphone. Lights drop like molten gold from the ceiling of the backdrop, cheap, popsicle wrapper tattoos line his arms - rhinestone stickers, he's pretty sure specks of a glowstick are jumbled with his freckles, like the briolette, kandi bracelets wrapped around his wrists.

"Thank you everyone, for coming tonight!" Corin shouts, beaming at the loud screaming he gets in return. A flamingo platform with a number - like watching surfing videos. Transparent ballyhoos hug and wrench him to remain longer, pleading for encores or just a little chat. It warms his heart that so many individuals love his gigs, how lionized and feted he felt upon stepping up that familiar vinyl. He skips down the steps, grinning softly when his managers and team shove a bottle of fresh water into his sweaty palms. He poured his soul into every single note, made sure to swallow melodies like cinnamon whiskey. There's a hand on his shoulder, a pat from his drummer and member compliments, air clinging heavy to tunes, reluctant to let them dwindle into oblivion. He peeks behind the curtains at the swaying sea of bodies still raw, full of energy, faces blurred into flushed cheeks and mascara striped tears. Corin snickers, perks his sticky lips, and dissappears behind the seashell curved amphitheater before his supervisors can even realize he's gone.

He has never snuck out as a teenager before, but Milo described the thrill of breaking patterns, busted knuckles, and scatterbrained limericks he wrote on license plates. He rummages through his messy suitcase and pulls out the patched, shearling aviator bomber. He steps over setlists, ginger ale cans, tinsel - nearly trips and breaks his nose. It feels tipsy to tip-toe across the dressing room, still high on cologne and adrenaline, helium miasma, sonic bubbles. He just needs to manage to slip past unseen, a little shadow in denim and disco, guided by nothing but the distant flicker of an exit sign.

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It's rare their schedules mix, allign. Scuffed, road-worn converse tap along the cool pavement. He curses, pulls his jacket a bit tighter, and hisses through his teeth. Thankfully, Corin didn't have any unfortunate run-ins with fans that yanked at the chainlink fences behind the vents. He did see all the posters with out of pocket messages, camera clicks from paparazzi. Slowly, the moon winks at him behind the tattered clouds, twinkles of metal halides, traffic poles - he allows himself the freedom to pick up a penny. The spot they agreed to meet up at is not far away from his concert location, down the alley and up the main subway road. Tyres reek of blistering rubber, he hears them before he notices the black Trans Am pull up beside him - bronze firebird bastard.

He stops, crosses his arms, taps his foot impatiently. The driver of the old timer brings his vehicle to a low, gravelly bellow. Once he comes to a halt, rolling down his tinted window, the ebony haired male at the wheel lulls his head to the rim. "Get in." He instructs, scratchy, husky - eyes zipping to his rear view mirror. And he does, all too comfortable and familiar. The seats are cold, worn surfaces that have him scooting further inside until he settles snugly into the passanger spot. It smells of remote Septembers, tobacco, parrafin paint, and horror movie nights. All of a sudden, he is ten and in New Jersey, there's a boy with a bruise on his jaw and he is the only person who approaches the snaggle-toothed delinquent. Now he sits with the same man, looking at his inked limbs that he remembers patching up one too many times, gauze, bandaids.

"Did anyone see ya'?" And there's playfulness to the question, eager and bone crushing. He rolls his brown eyes, going to turn up the radio as Milo hurries up the roaring car. It swerves almost lazily. "I wouldn't be here if someone did, idiot." Corin flops his head against the rest and glances at his friend waggish, pure - of course the younger male refuses to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his stare, drifting his icy orbs, illuminating diodes. There's no riposte, no jab or snarky comment. Even though he was fully expecting one back, it's surprisingly nice to bathe in silence that will never feel awkward. Jumping out of his skin, the spikes of the tallers cufflinks graze his bare knees through the rips, holes of his baggy jeans. A few creative vulgar phrases later and fidgeting with the glove box, he slams the compartment hard until it pops open. Puzzled, he observes the cluttered drawer, not bothering to catch the fallen zippo or dice keychain.

"Grab that shit for me, would ya'?" He doesn't get what first, but one tattooed finger points at a cardboard container. He reaches and takes it - Blockbuster Sparklers, he steals a bounty bar too. Comics, epipen and cellophane, altoid mints and cash. It's all so chaotic but neat at the same time, Corin scoffs at the british branded hinge-lid packs of burning cancer on top of a guitar chip pouch, Woodbine. "This?" He holds it up, dangling the white case to make sure he didn't mix it up with a cigarette receptacle. Milo nods curtly, abrubtly cutting a serrated corner to escape the bustling gridlock so they get out of the city hub faster. He shuffles a bit to regain his position and shoots an offended glare at the pale bassist. "Still can't believe you're legally allowed to drive." To prove the point, he veers his beloved vintage car more promptly down a busy boulevard.

"I will file a lawsuit, in case you forgot we're both kind of famous." Milo gives him a look, annoyed and snide. Corin huffs as he peels open his chocolate and bites a mouth full of creamy coconut. It's only ten minutes more until he parks by an abandoned warehouse, always the same, empty lot by the toyons, where the meter maids never check. It's impressive how well he knew the Los-Angeles streets, every lane, crescent. Ceasing their bickering for later, the lead vocalist and shredder both leave Milo's ride to tackle the vacant depot. Vandalized graffiti masonry, ivy shrouded walls that coil all the way up towards the flat roof. He fiddles with the keys and locks the car with a dramatic jingle, confident, arrogant even. Fishnet sleeves, biker jersey with random pins he most likely pocketed off of his devotees, Corin follows the flashy M sewed onto his lanky back - not being able to resist shoving him.

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If there's one thing Corin never expected to do, it's to associate torrid smoke with home, to make his toes curl. It clings in the late night, summer breeze and roves, tangles with the scent of rotten heat. He takes a sip of his capri sun, plops a fourth haribo sour worm, and inches just a tad closer to the slates to watch all the town's flickering lustre. "Deneb is such a fuckin' diva." He hears Milo grumble, puffing out a cloud of toxins.

"Deneb?" He asks, chewing the pink and yellow gummy. His friend drones, taking a deep drag. He raises his pointer, chipped black. "That guy." Following his directions to see a cluster of stars that spiral like a bird, wings spread and twinkling. "A real show stopper." Apparently he was an astrologer too, not just a lavish strummer. Corin never payed attention to constellations much, nor did he openly research their names and shapes. This one however was exactly like Milo said, a peacock amongst the vast midnight blue. "Takes one to know one." He nudges his side light-heartedly, laughing, alive and full of holograms, singapore sling with too much pineapple. It glistens just as he gets a punch delivered to his shoulder, exactly with the clenched hand decorated in trash polka designs - some crimson, obsidian calligraphy and ravens.

"Shut the fuck up and hand me the firecrackers." He pops another candy into his mouth and hands him the dangerous toys. Milo rubs out his coffin nail onto the bricks, it sizzles and dissolves into a pile of rutilant ashes. Corin holds his one out and waits till the other lights it, gasoline and blaze, until it crackles wickedly against the thin skin of his hands like popping kerosene. He's twelve again, for the second time after his tiring show, in prep school - on the creaking laminate of their gym. A boy with a grumpy sneer, bleeding nose, another kid with granola bars and Alcott's novel clutched firmly. A few years later, those same fingers hold a bowl of leftover cheerios, fake IDs, switchblades and rosaries. But right now, even with all the hectic work their lifestyles include, it's just two people breathing something rich, voltaic.

[drowninginblox]

The Citrus Spider

Totally not a self insert spidersona lol

How does a small town ginger from the countryside turn into the next Spider-Man?

Let’s take it back.

Now playing The Dog Days Are Over by Florence and The Machine

This is Meredith Jablinski (better known as MJ).

Born and raised on earth no. 3021, MJ isn't a newbie to the great powers or the great responsibilities her Aunt Betty reminded her of before her sudden passing. In between working at her Uncle Merkel's shop as a mechanic and finishing up her last year of High school, the girl is also working to keep New York as safe as her Aunt wanted it to be for her.

Granted, it's been a rough three years, but the change the citrus spider has made for the big orange can be seen by residents and tourists alike.

Some Facts

The public gave MJ her hero name

A lot of the Citrus Spider's casual sightings included her drinking orange juice or lemonade in between fights. Combine that with her constant retaliation/ rage at being called Ginger (or something simmilar), and Citrus Spider stuck

The Bite

MJ was bit on her way home from school one day. She also didn't kill the spider. At least, she thinks so. She knows she shook it off before stumbling away from it.

Whatever happened to it, It's not her problem. Yet,

Familiar Faces

Peter Parker was the kid that everyone knew was gonna make it big. It's no surprise he got in with Harry Ozborn and landed a job for Ozcorp just before his graduation. Much to his parent's disapproval since Sheild was offering up the same opportunity

Gwen Stacy is still in a committed relationship with Parker although you would be able to tell at a glance. Protesting Ozcorps shady buizness practices, teaching self defense classes, and spray panting over corpo propaganda and citywide slurs.

Kyle "Flash" Tompson works at a local bodega after washing out of college once his parents cut him off. Now with only the friends he has, he's trying to pay off his student loans and any and all karma he's cashed out over the years.

Some art of the Gorl:

[satohqbanana]

1 7 10 11 and 19 for the blue asks :y

Thanks for the asks and thanks for saving some for the others. Blue asks here.

1. OCEAN - What lurks in the depths of the ocean, if anything?

Deep-sea mers! They are characterized by long, thin bodies; multiple sets of large fins; and big eye lenses. They are typically aloof and prefer to not interact with beings above the water. There's probably some really horrific fish down there with them - they do need some source of nourishment, after all.

7. SKY - Do they have any kind of flying machine, like a plane, etc?

Since they have some form of cameras and cellphones, there's also probably some form of flying contraption in Orbis. I would imagine it's something more like a drone, but people just prefer using dragons for transportation and birds as messengers because they're more widely available. Besides, you really can't say no to animals as emotional support and lifelong companions.

10. LAPIS - What is the worst punishment for a crime? Is it fair?

This only applies in the Emerald Kingdom: The punishment is being taken by the state and becoming a living weapon. The crime is possessing magic that cannot be suppressed by the strongest publicly-available limiter. No, there's nothing just about this.

11. BLUEBERRY - Invent a meal!

Dragon meat is chewy and slimy, and has a smoky taste. While most others would never think of eating dragon meat, some Crystallis peoples enjoy this with sauteed vegetables - typically cucumber, beans, and bell pepper - and a bowl of seasonal flower stew garnished with chili pepper and a couple drops of citrus juice. Yes, I just made this up right now.

19. CYAN - What are the most and least beautiful locations?

"Beautiful" is such a subjective word and no matter what I do, I can't really think of a good answer to this. How about we settle this by thinking about which locations are the best and worst places to visit at the moment?

My vote for the best one would be the Damasqus Network. Everybody there loves fun, glam, and extravagance. The night life is also very colorful and lively - not to mention, the luminescent wildlife all around! If you get sick or even die along the way, doctors will line up just to try their medicines on you.

For the worst one it's either side of Crystallistes. As they live above the clouds, its citizens have grown proud, thinking themselves mighty above every "landwalker". They have this culture of, "If you don't do it right, I'll do it myself, and every reward that comes with it, you dumbo," with little room for error. How can you enjoy the view of multicolored misty landscapes when you're right next to the most obnoxious guys ever?

[buglyknight]

641) slick, slick

4-person conversations

Factoring me in it's

3-person conversations

I don't think these people realize

I'm not half as smart as they seem to think

Drive home

You, cross my mind again

Like playing chicken with myself

I speed up

Turn too fast on

Slick asphalt

Back tires give out

Hit the edge

Car teeters

Corrects itself abrupt

I smile

Always crossing

Or maybe I am

Crossing your highway

Do I look both ways

Or-

How many times has the semi

Fucking ran right through me

Still sushi stains

From when I was sleeping on the hardwood

Can't be simple machine

Too busy tipsy

Wrap your hand around my throat

Squeeze, please

Like juicing an orange

Acidic citrus sweet

Let me burn my open wounds