stories from the hummiiverse
Introducing the nuttiest Peanut Butter Cup Duo...
Sweet Beginnings, Sticky Secrets
Sugar City, 1946. The jazz clubs were alive, the streets sticky with caramel, and the mobsters as crooked as a crushed candy cane. The world was rebuilding after the war, but Sugar City’s underbelly was still rotten, thanks to Street Sugar and the syndicates that pushed it. If you weren’t hooked, you were probably part of the problem—or dead.
At the heart of it all was The Sweet Thang’, the city’s last jazz club standing, where music drowned out misery and drinks were served with a side of bad decisions. And tonight, sitting in the shadows of the bar, was Brandy “Bad A$$” Butter Cup, fresh off a war that hadn’t done her any favors.
Sweet Thang jazz club, 1946.
Jazz, Drinks, and Trauma
The saxophonist on stage wailed like his life depended on it, and judging by the shifty caramel goons lurking near the back, it probably did. Brandy leaned against the bar, sipping a decaf espresso martini. Her uniform gleamed with medals, but her dark eyes told a story no one dared ask about.
Timmy, the bartender, placed another drink in front of her, hands shaking. “Here you go, Brandy. On the house. Uh…not planning on smashing anyone tonight, are ya?”
Brandy smirked, her voice as sharp as broken glass. “Only if they deserve it, Timmy. Now get back to work before I decide you do.”
Timmy bolted, and Brandy let the music wash over her. For a moment, she almost felt calm—until a familiar voice cut through the jazz.
“Well, fudge me, if it isn’t Brandy Butter Cup.”
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Peanuts and History
She didn’t even glance up. “If you’re here to serenade me, Smooth, save it. I’m not in the mood for your crooning.”
Peter “Smooth” Peanut slid into the stool beside her, bowler hat tilted just enough to be obnoxious. His suit, sharp as ever, smelled faintly of cologne and ego.
“Aw, come on, Brands. Can’t a guy be happy to see his old partner in crime?”
Brandy’s glare softened just enough to let him know he wasn’t completely unwelcome. Their history ran deep. Back in the roaring ’20s, they’d been inseparable—a tough-as-nails Butter Cup and a smooth-talking Peanut with a knack for trouble. Together, they’d taken on Sugar City’s worst, tearing down rackets and exposing the Sugar Mob’s sweet corruption.
But it all went sour the night Brandy’s sugar-addled mom dragged the mob into their club, leaving destruction and death in her wake. That night had forged an unbreakable bond between Brandy and Peter—and a shared hatred for the city’s sugar-coated underworld.
Mockup of the Sugar Mob's operation in the 1920s.
Back to Business
The door swung open, and a group of mobsters swaggered in, their candy-coated arrogance palpable. Brandy’s grip on her glass tightened. Peter noticed the shift and leaned in. “Don’t do anything crazy.”
Brandy stood, adjusting her uniform. “Crazy’s the only thing I’m good at.”
She approached the leader, a wiry caramel cluster with a smug grin.
“Well, if it isn’t Butter Cup. Heard you were back. You here to play soldier, or are you just passing through?”
Brandy smiled sweetly. “Neither. I’m here to kick your fudge-loving face in.”
Her fist connected with his jaw before he could respond, sending him crashing into a table. The other mobsters scrambled to attack, but Brandy was a one-woman wrecking crew, ducking and weaving with the precision of a war-hardened soldier. Chairs shattered, caramel thugs groaned, and chaos consumed the room.
Peter, never one to let Brandy have all the fun, grabbed a saxophone from the stage and swung it like a bat, taking out a gummy goon. “Sweet dreams,” he quipped, dodging a caramel fist.
Brandy smirked, slamming another mobster into the bar. “You still talk too much, Smooth.”
A Sweet Reckoning
When the dust settled, the mobsters were either unconscious or crawling for the door. Timmy peeked out from behind the bar, trembling. “You two are nuts, you know that?”
Brandy wiped her knuckles clean, a satisfied grin on her face. “Yeah, but this city needs nuts like us.”
Peter adjusted his hat, his smirk returning. “Looks like the Sweet Squad’s back in business.”
Brandy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “Don’t get used to it, Smooth. We’ve got a long road ahead.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Brands.”
And with that, they stepped out into the sticky streets of Sugar City, ready to take on the fudge-fueled chaos once more.
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Tyler, the Founder
Tyler Phillips is the founder/owner of Hummii Snacks.Stay tuned for more updates on when Brandy & Pete may be joining the rest of the POINTS! crew...
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