#Teacake answers

[merinomeri]

I heard through the grapevine (Kateh) that you gave- I mean that Yamcha canonically ended up happy with a family and I'm curious :3

YEAH!!!

See, it started back as a joke when I played Xenoverse 2 for the first time. After playing with a different character, I wanted to challenge myself and make a character that only used Yamcha's moveset. This was how Dulze was born.

She's named after "dulce de leche," and their first son, Letch, is also! They later have a daughter named Deeji who's named after "darjeeling tea," which connects back to Yamcha's name!

Dulze is a pre-school teacher who has a background of coming from a pretentious martial arts family. She's very strict and tired but just wants the best for her family and their weird friends. She gossips with Puar all the time.

Letch is a babey. He's 6! Suffers from a fear of women like his dad used to in DB, but, mom's aren't women so that doesn't count. Sisters also aren't women. He's really shy and easily scared but a good soft boy. He loves baseball!

Deeji is...well. She's 3 1/2. She likes to have extremely detailed tea parties, make specific arts and crafts, and befriend gods and other deities. She's scarily stoic and doesn't emote much for a child, but she loves her dad more than anything in all the galaxies. NO ONE is cooler than her dad and she will defend this with all the stubbornness a toddler has.

Here's an old doodle of them!

[aeruia]

⌕. WIND BREAKER

⟳. I LIKE YOUR. . .

. . . doing the bird test theory on them which is pointing something weird about them !

character/s : umemiya hajime , sakura haruka , nirei akihiko , suo hayato , kiryu mitsuki , togame jo .

warning/s : none but if there’s one lmk

note : babe, wake up aeruia just posted! /j also thank yew for 100 followers >< i’m still thinking on what to do,, everytime i write reqs i feel like my writings don’t incline at the request 🙁

꒰ the request 𖦹 wbk masterlist 𖦹 masterlist ꒱

umemiya hajime — 127 words

you were visiting the rooftop which led to umemiya clinging into you like a koala. his arms wrapped around your shoulder. his face close to yours seeing his facial structure more, which made you notice the scar on his eyebrow.

lifting your hand up as you trace the scar with your index finger gently. “ i like your scar here.. it’s cute. ” you murmur enough for him to hear as he smiled. “ really? ” he said which caught you by surprise that he heard what you said well, obviously you made it loud enough for him to hear but you didn’t think he would listen. you nodded your head as you both stayed in your place for a while as you told him about how cool his scar looked.

sakura haruka — 105 words

people find his two toned hair weird and how his eyes are two different colors so he was surprised when you point it out and telling him how good it looks. “ ahh.. i don’t get why people don’t like your hair and eyes i mean look at you! you’re literally so pretty. ” you explained sighing as you watch him eat. sakura who’s still not used to compliments going his way, he thinks you're joking but when he looks at you all he can see was genuineness.

he blinked away, huffing before he muttered a thank you as you laughed before patting him on the head.

nirei akihiko — 104 words

he was writing and checking the contents of his notebook while you are sitting across with him. your chin resting in your palm as you admire him. “ you look so cute with your freckles. ” you said not even bother by the fact he can hear it and he won’t respond since he was too focused on writing.

nirei who was too focused on writing — stopped. he looked at you with wide eyes as he smiled. “ you really think so? hehe, thank you. ” he answered which made you blink before giving him a flying kiss which made his heart beat faster before continuing to write.

suo hayato — 108 words

“ your eyepatch, it really suits you! ” placing a paperbag on the table which made suo glance at it before glancing back at you with a smile. “ are you only realizing it now? ” he asks which made you shake your head.

he takes the paper bag off the table as he looks at what’s inside. “ i always see you with that eyepatch and i like it. ” you said as he takes out the teacakes you brought for him. “ really? come here. ” you walked up to him, you didn’t get the chance to ask why as he just made you sit beside him. “ tell me how much you like it. ”

kiryu mitsuki — 107 words

you’re sitting on his lap while he plays on his phone with his earphones on. you don’t mind it — liking the way you two are just quiet which makes it peaceful as you take quick glances at him. everything about him looks so pretty.

you can’t help but giggle to yourself while you wrap your arms around him as you catch the smell of the perfume he’s using. “ i like the smell of your perfume. what did you use? ” you expected it to be unanswered yet he replied to you saying it was your favorite. you looked away for a moment before nodding, relaxing on his lap.

togame jo — 101 words

“ i really love the way you talk. ” you blurted suddenly, resting your elbow on the table as you rest your chin on your hand. if anybody walks in with the two of you talking they can probably see hearts on your eyes.

togame smirked raising an eyebrow as he leaned back on his chair. “ oh? why do you love it? ” he asked as you blinked in surprise, smiling gently at him. togame didn’t expect you to actually talk about it. the longer you talk about it, the more his heart melts at how adorable you look while explaining it to him.

date posted : 082424

[thethirdromana]

You have done cheeses. How about dessert.

Ooh, good idea.

See, the thing about Victorian food is that a lot of it sounds pretty unappealing from the vantage point of the 21st century. There were a lot of overboiled vegetables and stodgy meals designed to get you through winters with no central heating.

But Victorian desserts? Much more reliably delicious. So I can restrict myself to the desserts that these characters might actually have eaten. No tiramisu (1960s) or banoffee pie (1971).

Starting off with an easy one, RM Renfield is the traditional Scottish fruit slice (which I already highlighted in my food guide to Dracula) known as flies graveyard. I'm going to trust that one doesn't need any additional exploration.

Lucy Westenra is light (literally: "Lucy" means light), pretty, and appealing to small children. OK, admittedly the eater-eaten relationship goes the other way around with the small children vs Lucy-as-dessert, but I think it still works. She's a bombe glacée, a spherical ice-cream dessert that first appeared on restaurant menus in the 1880s.

I had a fun browse through Dutch desserts before I found the perfect one for Abraham van Helsing. He's the old man of the story, but he's still a little bit spicy and a little bit divisive - much like anise, which flavours Dutch oudewijvenkoek, or old wives' cake.

For Quincey Morris, there could only be one option. He's from Texas, y'all, he is obviously peach cobbler.

Continuing with the suitors, the obvious answer for Arthur Holmwood would be a dessert associated with wealth and privilege - perhaps Eton Mess, traditionally served at the annual cricket match between Eton and Harrow Schools, and first mentioned in print in 1893. But Eton Mess is a light, sweet, inconsequential sort of dessert and that just doesn't seem right for Arthur. Instead, I'd associate him with a rich, indulgent, traditional, solid plum pudding.

Jack Seward is in some ways the most modern of the suitors. Also the most highly strung. He's cherries jubilee, a brand-new dessert in 1897 as it was (probably) created that year for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. It's full of liqueur (suitably for Jack, who's full of chloral) and it gets flambéed at the table.

I have to admit that I struggled with Jonathan Harker. Maybe I just love him too much to caricature him, you know? But what I came down is that he needed to be a beloved treat, available on menus across the UK, not wildly expensive, not wildly luxurious. And also, Jonathan goes through a lot of trials and drinks a lot of tea in this novel. Jonathan is a toasted teacake.

As for Mina Harker née Murray, it seemed appropriate that she should be a similar sort of dessert to her husband. So he's a bun with dried fruit and she's a bread with dried fruit. Specifically, she's an Irish soda bread (since Murray is an Irish surname) that is known either as Spotted Dog or - more suitably for Mina - railway cake.

[quibbs126]

I am curious about the three new dragon ships in your inbox (and your current fankid list as a whole! Would you share them with the us?

I mean, I can tell you the three I mentioned, but as for the whole list

That’s uh

That’s kind of a long list

I mean I’ll do it though. Under the cut at least

But to answer your first question, the three dragon ships were

Lotus Dragon/Rambutan

Sea Fairy/Longan Dragon

Lychee Dragon/Stardust

As for the rest of my “requested but haven’t finished yet”, we have

Red Velvet/Crunchy Chip (Blackout)

Twizzly Gummy/Currant Cream (Gooseberry but looking to change)

Mint Choco/Rockstar (Mint Toothpaste, may be tweaked)

Pomegranate/Affogato (Pomegranate Sundae)

Dark Cacao/Affogato (Dark Cream)

Cherry Blossom/Herb (Myrtle)

Latte/Eclair (Beignet, but I think I was going to change it?)

Cherry Blossom/Black Raisin (Grape Vine)

Clotted Cream/Black Raisin (Scotch Bun)

Macaron/Cinnamon (Snickerdoodle)

Licorice/Capsaicin (Star Anise)

Popcorn/Banana (Banana Chip)

Kumiho/Crunchy Chip (Mallow Fudge)

Hollyberry/Pitaya Dragon (Red Pitaya)

Scorpion/Prune Juice (Juniper Berry, but looking to change)

Pizza/String Gummy (String Cheese)

Note on that last one, it’s a double, and I completed the first one months ago, that being Croissant/Roguefort (Beaufort), but I’m unable to show him bc it’s a double

Tea Knight/Vampire, though I’m strongly considering striking that one. I considered it because I assumed that the anon assumed Vampire was immortal and actually closer to Tea Knight’s age, but I now feel like that’s not much of an excuse

Peach/Banana (Pink Banana)

Milk/Purple Yam (Ube Ice Cream)

Red Velvet/Dark Choco (Cocoa Powder, also Strawberry Choco, we’ll see who I make first)

Clover/Carol (Pine Needle, maybe change to Fir?)

Captain Ice/Almond (Tortoni)

Pomegranate/Hydrangea (Spider Lily)

Kumiho/Snake Fruit (Ambrosia)

Abyss Monarch/Dino-Sour (Gummy Shark)

Wind Archer/Fire Spirit (Smoke Watcher)

Abyss Monarch/Black Pearl (Deep Turquoise)

Baguette/Coffee Candy (Coffee Bun)

Golden Cheese/Ananas Dragon (Golden Kiwi)

Truffle/Almond (Black Walnut, might change)

Longan Dragon/Pure Vanilla (Langsat)

Moonlight/Dark Cacao (Midnight Choco)

Red Velvet/Licorice (Black Velvet)

Almond/Latte (Almond Milk)

Blackberry/Adventurer (Blackberry Scone)

Red Velvet/Earl Grey (Teacake)

Herb/Currant Cream (Blackcurrant)

Shining Glitter/Herb (Bouquet)

Herb/Black Lemonade (Mint Lemonade)

Licorice/Royal Margarine (Butterscotch)

Dark Choco/Fire Flower (Choco Cosmos)

Electric Eel/Box Jellyfish (Blue Bottle, but it has to be changed now)

Ninja/Sakura (Mochi)

Burnt Cheese/Black Raisin (Raisin Bun)

Black Pearl/Frost Queen (Sugar Pearl)

Mocha Ray/Starfruit (Espresso Romano)

Raspberry/Chili Pepper (Raspberry Chipotle)

Financier/Pistachio (Florentine)

Milk/Black Raisin (Sweet Milk)

Blue Lily/Bellflower (Canterbury Bell)

Aquamarine/Herb (Sea Kelp)

Dark Enchantress/Timekeeper (Day Lily)

Espresso/Latte (Dalgona)

Starfruit/Stardust (Starflower)

Prune Juice/Capsaicin/Kouign Amann (Bloody Mary)

Black Pearl/Oyster (Pearl Oyster)

Raspberry Mousse/Rose (Raspberry Rose)

Longan Dragon/Dark Enchantress

Wildberry/Chili Pepper (Spiceberry)

Moonlight/Matcha (Moon Drop, but I’m not sure on it)

Matcha/Sea Fairy (Green Tea)

Kumiho/Werewolf

Raspberry/Caramel Arrow

Coffee Candy/Cherry Ball (Cherry Candy)

Golden Cheese/Pure Vanilla/Corpse Flower (Baklava Cheesecake)

Licorice/Black Raisin (Grape Licorice)

Roguefort/Pastel Meringue (Mascarpone)

Stardust/Cream Unicorn (Unicorn Ice Cream)

White Lily/Pomegranate (Amaranth)

Dark Cacao/Frost Queen (Hoarfrost)

Affogato/Cream Unicorn (Coffee Pavlova)

Fig/Cotton Candy (Candy Fig)

Custard III parent (Custard Sauce)

Cream Puff/Walnut (Pecan Pie)

Timekeeper/Longan

Dark Choco/Clotted Cream (Ganache)

Affogato/Sweet Cream (Bitter Cream)

Dark Cacao parent (still working on the new names)

Sandwich/Hero (White Tomato)

Shadow Milk/Moonlight

Shadow Milk/Cinnamon

Choco Ball/Cream Ball

Goblin/Pimento Cheese

Energy Drink/Jelly Sludge

Electric Eel/Lamprey (Moray Eel)

Royal Margarine/Grey Heron

String Gummy/Brunsgiver

Captain Caviar/Rocky Wolf

Shadow Milk/Lychee Dragon (Lychee Boba)

Cream Unicorn/Choco Ball (Cosmic Brownie)

Energy Drink/Ninja (Rice Milk)

Peeled Carrot/Host

Pastel Meringue/Popping Candy (Meringue Pop)

DJ/Pink Choco (Choco Blast)

Werewolf/Crowberry

Kumiho & Vagabond parent

Cappuccino/Truffle (Reishi)

Cocoa/Black Pearl (Cocoa Bomb)

Matcha/Baneberry (Teaberry)

Affogato/Licorice

Rye/Black Raisin (Raisin Swirl)

Cinnamon/Blackberry Tart (Cinnamon Tart)

Raspberry/Bumbleberry (Razzleberry)

Shining Glitter/Stardust (Shining Star)

Kumiho/Cherry Blossom (Mallow)

Tiger Lily/Pomegranate (Açaí Berry)

Rye/Hero (Graham Cracker)

Dark Choco/Sour Butter (Butter Fudge)

Dark Choco/Pastry (Violet Creams)

Crimson Coral/Stardust (Star Sapphire)

Eclair/Adventurer (Shortbread)

Licorice/Caramel Arrow (Swirl Taffy)

Mala Sauce/Bellflower (Horseradish)

The three listed above

Dark Choco alone

Espresso/Eclair (Coffee Cream)

Mala Sauce/Timekeeper

Frilled Jellyfish/Mystic Flour

Twizzly Gummy/Mozzarella

And I think that’s all of them. Unless I missed one that came in my inbox today

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

let's settle an age old debate

I tried to group the locationally similar terms but if you choose an answer with multiple options on it but only say one of the options then let me know in the notes!

Reblogs for a bigger sample size I wanna confuse some Americans and cause drama between Brits.

[herba-mysticas]

Who would be the first to find out? Would they seem him transform, compare body language between forms, or jsut have a hunch?

Would his pokemon know? If they don't, what is their relation to wolf avren?

Is this an au with a lot of poke hybrids, or is he a one-of-a-kind anomaly?

AAAAA HELLO TEACAKE thank u for the questions!!!!!

First to find out: the player character, while travelling w Arven for the titan quest!! Though if you wanna get technical about it, the professors Do Also Know. It's probably a lot of connecting two and two. Arven stopped showing up to school around about the same time as rumours started spreading of a monster in mesagoza. He's been camping in the paldean wilderness to try and draw less attention to himself. In an rp w a pal, we had the player character discover his empty tent in the middle of the night, only for arven to return in the early morning, looking dishevelled.

His pokemon know, but for the most part he keeps them in their pokeballs. Rascal (mabosstiff) has known ever since arven was a kid, and was a main protective force throughout his life. He would be there to protect and calm him when he transformed. When Rascal got sick, that was the first time arven discovered he'd gone on a "rampage", and the rumours started spreading. I don't think he initially knows it was Rascal who was keeping him from running wild.

Pokemon hybrids aren't common in this au but arven definitely isn't alone!! And not all of it comes from the same source. In Arven's case, he initially believed it to be caused by terastal energy exposure from a young age, but later he finds out about a paradox lycanroc who was summoned through the time machine and attacked him as a child. Its bites had the ability to curse humans. This lycanroc was mentioned in the scar/vio book and is the source of the term "lycanthropy" in this au!! Other causes can be things like divine intervention (Arceus pointed at someone and decided they were gonna be part pokemon), genetics, various environmental factors, basically using the logic of "humans are adjacent to pokemon and sometimes the wires get crossed". Another hybrid in this au is Hassel, who (and this hc was also provided by a friend) is part dragonite, as part of his noble lineage that is mentioned in the game. At some point in the au arven is able to confide in hassel about his situation, so at least he has one supportive adult in his life.

Ty sm for the ask I am having a lot of fun answering questions >:333

[fateinthestars]

Star-Crossed Myth Fluffbruary Fanfic May Catch-up (19th Feb Prompt): Water Feature (Teorus/MC)

Title: Water Feature

Fandom: Star-Crossed Myth

Genre: Fluff

Rating: T

Pairing: Teorus/MC (MC’s name left blank so you can fill it in with whatever you wish in your head)

Word Count: 1,005

Written for Prompt: February 19 : tea cakes | flood | feature for @fluffbruary

A/N: I hope this is fluffy enough ^^;; Teorus and MC helping out a kid in the park.

February 19th: Water Feature (Teorus/MC)

Teorus smiled brightly as he bit into the teacake with cheese and butter in the middle, relaxing on the park bench he and ___ were sitting on. “I’m glad you bought these today,” he murmured softly. “It makes up for this morning.”

“Work been hard today huh?” ___ asked him with slight concern.

The other swallowed his mouthful of food and looked at her with a slightly upset expression. “No not that! Though I…” he frowned, glancing to the side. “I suppose Hue was rather irritated when -” he cut off, forcing a smile back onto his face. “Never mind that. I was talking about Ikky.”

___ smiled back at him. “Aren’t you two friends?”

“Yes but that doesn’t mean he won’t take things too far with me as well.”

“Are you okay?”

Teorus relaxed into a proper smile at that question and closed his eyes. “I’m with you, I’m more than okay. Nothing could spoil this wonderful evening.”

As if on cue, it suddenly started to rain.

As the other glared at the sky in displeasure, ___ tried her hardest not to start laughing. “It’s fine, Teo, you can take us somewhere else.”

Nodding, Teorus went to teleport them both back to the mansion when they were interrupted by a yell. He frowned. “What was that?”

___ scanned the area a little. “Teo the lake! Look, it's starting to flood the park!”

“Huh? Why would someone yell just because of a bit of water?”

Instead of answering that, ___ grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the direction of where they’d heard the yell from.

As they approached the lake they were confronted by a teenage girl looking worriedly at what was presumably her younger brother: There was a small stretch of water between them, the fence around the lake behind the boy.

Teorus frowned. “That’s not much water, he could just step over it!”

The girl looked at him, startled at someone else speaking suddenly. She sighed heavily. “My brother’s scared of water but wanted to feed the ducks. He wants to go home because of the rain but he won’t come to me because of the newly formed pond and he won't let me step over it to pick him up in case I splash the water at him. But if he doesn’t move…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Teorus replied, relaxing into a reassuring smile. “I hate to see a lady in distress. We’ll help you.”

“... How?” She asked, her voice concerned but hopeful.

Smiling, Teorus looked towards the young boy. “How’d you like to see a magic trick?”

“I… the only magic trick I’d like to see is this water out of the way!” The boy snapped back.

___ squeezed Teorus’ hand to stop him snapping at the boy, aware of his often low tolerance for children.

However, Teorus simply smiled at him. “Done!” He snapped his fingers and the new pond that had started to form instead formed an archway as though it was some sort of impressive new water feature, high enough in the air for it not to be near the kid.

The boy’s eyes widened and he looked at it for a moment with shock before his sister called out to him. Shaking away his surprise he quickly ran under the water and leapt at her, hugging her tightly. Holding him close in reassurance, she looked to Teorus and ___ with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Teorus reassured with a smile of his own.

___ moved over to them a little, looking at the boy as he glanced hesitantly up. “You know,” she said softly, “water isn’t that scary is it? I mean look at the beautiful archway it is making now.”

The boy looked at the feature Teorus had created again. “How did you do that anyway?” he asked Teorus.

“Well…”

“A magician can’t reveal his secrets!” ___ hastily interrupted him, not trusting Teorus to not actually just tell the two of them a truth. “It spoils the mystery, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” the boy muttered. Moving away from his sister, he hesitantly reached out to touch the water. It ran over his hand but kept its shape. He then looked up at the still falling rain. “I suppose water is interesting… can you show me some more things to do with water?” He asked.

Teorus frowned, but before he could either agree to spend more time with them or point out that he was on a date with ___ and they should be going, the sister spoke up instead.

“Why don’t we go home? I can show you more stuff to do with water, alright?” She suggested to her brother.

“... Okay,” he replied, moving back over to her. 

They both waved to Teorus and ___ as they headed off.

Once they were out of sight, ___ turned back to Teorus and hugged him. “Thank you for helping them.”

“Of course,” Teorus muttered. “Though I don’t much like our date getting interrupted just cos some kid can’t deal with a bit of water.”

“Teo,” ___ sighed. As she was about to try and talk to him about his latest comment, she suddenly frowned as she thought of something. “You know… when I tried to reassure him about the water, that worked quicker than I thought it would… in fact I wasn’t sure it would even help…”

Teorus smiled brightly at that point. “That’s cos he was already wanting to get over his fear.”

“... You granted a wish,” ___ realised. 

“You did most of the work by getting him over to the water I’d  moved,” Teorus argued.

___ shook her head, then pulled him into a kiss. “You really are sweet, Teo.”

“Shall we head back to the mansion?” Teorus asked. “I might not be scared of water but we are getting rather wet. I had enough of that this morning!”

Stifling a laugh, ___ nodded with a bright smile. “Alright, but first you best put that water down before anyone else sees it!”

[sadfruittheatre]

Loss and Lots of Retcons: The Current State of Affairs and Moving Forward

So, now that things have begun to calm down, I want to talk a little bit more about various retcons and what's going to change, both in terms of this blog and the timeline. This is also a to-do list for me, because I have hella ADHD and get very overwhelmed without some kind of game plan.

So, to get the big thing out of the way, several characters are no longer going to exist and will have never existed. You're going to see the things on this list and go "woah, wait a minute! aren't all these guys like, super important to a bunch of things!?" and the answer is yes, but sometimes things happen in real life that affect the plot and that is just a potential consequence of working in collaboration with other people.

So, the casualties are:

Mara

Flann

Veroa

Kuroza (Fish)

Anzu

Carma and Kone

It's a lot of characters unfortunately, but we still have plenty left.

Cayenne

Bragi

Aneas

Tomor

Eugene

Mirin

Coulie

Dulze

Deeji

Letch

Mille

Mento

The character pages will be updated accordingly.

There will also be some new characters introduced in conjunction to the plot things that have been happening in the background, but I will not be elaborating on all that yet until I iron out this other stuff. But know that I am definitely looking forward to introducing you to these guys and their lovely creators!

But Kateh, I hear you ask, how are you going to have concurrent plot things going on when you have to retcon like, everything??? Well, you see, I'm basically doing my best to keep the overall trajectories of my OCs as close to the same as possible in broad strokes, even if there are different characters involved or some things just didn't happen anymore. Some characters are honestly completely unaffected by this (like Aneas, who wins by staying in his lane and loving his wife). Other characters, namely Bragi, and to a lesser degree, Tomor, need a lot of work done to fix the damage.

As for the art and writing I've uploaded, much of it is probably going to be taken down, because I don't feel comfortable having art up of characters I no longer have the rights to use for a continuity that no longer exists. Some things can be edited in small ways, and if I can salvage it, I will; plenty of other things will stay up, though the context for them is largely going to have to be rewritten to fit the new continuity. I'm definitely bummed that so much of this entire project has to be gutted, but I'm hoping to be able to slowly rebuild things going forward. Honestly not sure if it would be easier to delete and start over, but I'll try to fix things as they are before I do all that.

I do actually have some establishing comics in the works to get us all adjusted to the new vibes, so we can at least look forward to that!

Now, let's talk plot and characters. We've talked a lot about what's lost, but here's what remains.

Now, while there are still a lot of minor details to work out, the broad strokes are as follows:

Bragi's still being sent to Conton City to atone for his stinky boy crimes. However, the big difference now is that for better immersion in the mortal culture, he's staying with a host family, the already overcrowded teacakes house with Dulze and Yamcha. Deeji is his new best friend. #DeejiSupremacy

He's still going to slowly get his shit together until he's forced to confront Aneas and they reconcile. Details are still hella fuzzy as to how that goes down but Aneas and Coulie (and Eugene) remain largely unchanged. Still happily married. #FlowerBudsSupremacy

A lot of the stuff with Mento probably still happened, though the context of Mirin's existence and what led up to Mento's death is gonna have to change wildly to accommodate it. Bragi's existential crisis will definitely have to be adjusted.

The Anzu shit? Didn't happen. Bragi likely remains unstabbed, unless we find another context to stab him in. With that in mind, he's probably going to revert back to his pre-vest design because like, the whole reason for that is because he got stabbed. At least his godtube channel remains alive and shitty. Coulie can still systematically dislike all of his videos.

At the most recent point in the timeline, Bragi's at least a little more willing to open up to people he trusts because Kuroza/Fish isn't there anymore to fuck it up for him by being weird about his trauma. He's still got some trust and vulnerability issues tho.

Tomor needs an overhaul at least in terms of his own trajectory. Part of this is due to the plot things I'm sitting on, part of it is because he lost his comedic foil in the form of Fish. He will definitely continue to cause problems on purpose tho, probably with New!Mento.

The Mento with Mirin goop in her brain is still very much a thing btw. She's so silly and I love her. #MentoSupremacy

Some of this stuff is still subject to change, and whatever does change likely won't be as detailed as it used to be, but we're doing what we can. It's a hot mess right now and it's gonna take a lot of time to fix it, so uh, thanks for bearing with me 👍

[rou-luxe]

thinking about harrison

I always try to tell the truth to the best of my ability but I have definitely told some small lies to get out of trouble (irl) and many times these alibis are watertight. I answer rather naturally (no shock, no increased heartbeat, with a straight face, etc.) so would he be able to tell at all? 😭😭

then my habit of not giving a straight answer. I like to get more information before making a decision, so he'd probably be frustrated.

or I forgot whether I did something or not so technically I'm telling the truth

"did you eat one of the teacakes that I left on the table?"

"I don't remember"

🤡🤡 well then!! maybe my bad short term memory is actually handy in some way!!

[regicidal-defenestration]

[inklores]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐒.

pairing: henry!sherlock holmes x fem!oc

summary: sherlock holmes needs to find his intrepid little sister. clara bedi wants to keep his sharp nose off her trail. (word count: 3.1k)

content contains: fluff, sherlock being bad with women, slight strangers to lovers but they're both smart idiots

author's note: made originally for a class assignment but i'm too proud of it to keep it hidden away in my google docs!! enjoy

FUMES OF SMOKE lifting from the corners of his lips, he thumbed the lapis silk tie the pamphlet was bound by. The rhythmic movement was a rehearsed habit of his, charting keen thoughts that were falling into place.

Tea in the Parlor

Magazine of Modern Womanhood

25 April 1884

“A Problem With No Name. I’ve first heard that uttered so solemnly beneath the breath of a mother amid other mothers over the scent of teacakes and the English brew that her hands had surely processed the week before. Another cried. As your humble magazine writer, there have been women beyond our teatime who had answers to my questions. Those who sort matchsticks in factories, who raise children, who nurse other children. Those who live in the fine estates of Westminster, lodging houses along Greater London, and flats bordering Whitechapel, all have the same problem. The groping truths to their lamentations, brought into light when the children were away and their husbands attended to important business over a glass of sherry at their gentleman’s clubs,—”

Something more than a scoff and less than a laugh escaped Holmes.

“—were provoking. Just what was this nameless problem? A whisper that refuses to be said. The bond of pain, of womanhood, of the searing feeling that something great shall arrive to our fair England.”

— C.E. Babbington.

“Mr. Holmes, I hope you’re not mistaking me as someone with whom you are at odds with.”

Clara wore burgundy today.

Or indigo to a sharp eye, moreso if she sat in the dusky shade rather than by the window where sunlight was allowed to stream through the frosted glass tiles. The heat of the afternoon, Clara could tolerate. The brisk cold, the musk of tobacco, pomade, and fine English leather that filled her office—all mingling together to create one scent that floated around the man who stood in front of her— she virtually could not.

Well, “office” may have been a playful nudge to her ego. It was more of a closet with a pen, a hook to hang her coat when there was a chill, a canister of her favorite tea matched with her precious teapot, and a small sideboard that she used to stash her extra paper. Clara had spent enough time in that little closet to learn its quirks and commodities. The shutters would not close in blustery weather unless they were bound by a scarf. The gentleman who would take his Saturday morning coffee and eggs always found something to guffaw about in the newspaper. Clara knew because she could hear the fervor of his chortles from one story up. The fifth floorboard from the door creaked with the slightest movement and she had garnered the will to purchase a rug that softened footsteps over the parquet.

Now if only she could purchase a rug to wrap around the man filling her tiny corner with the fumes of… man.

A tall man. Haughty by the way he stood. He looked strong and sturdy, weaned on the finest food money could buy. Clara wondered if he teethed on crumpets and caviar as a baby. His clothing may have been picked to feign oneness with the people of England, but she noticed a grain on his breasted black coat. His crisp white shirt boasted no wrinkle, cinched around his neck by a silk ascot the color of charcoal. Chestnut curls spilled across his head—sharing no unified form—and fighting to be free of the pomade that gleamed in the dimness of the lamplight. She imagined an artless tumble of locks when he was nose-deep in a case. An errant strand fell over his brow, softening his countenance where his tone failed to.

“Have you anticipated me, Miss Bedi?”

It was Clara’s mistake for stopping short of her movements. Her fingers froze on the handle of her teapot and it was then she realized the incriminating ink stains that blotched her bronzed fingers.

She did not. He knew that. He likely knew what she had for breakfast as well. Hence the cloying pride that laced his query.

A tickle caught in her throat and she swallowed tightly to preserve her pride as she arched a dark brow. “No, I have not, but I applaud your effort. Nobody contemplates and makes a theater out of their face quite like you.”

Looking up from the tea she was pouring, Clara barely caught the indignant twitch in his face, even as his mountainous posture was unrelenting. For a man who was presumed to be discreet, he was quite eye-catching.

He dropped his gaze down to the lonely armchair and side table Clara would enjoy her tea in. It was the one perpetually surrounded by her basket of stained pen tips and folded newspapers— Clara had the habit of saving old prints—bits of thread, scraps of silk in cooler hues, linen from occasional embroiders, and stacks of books from Edith that never make it back to the shelf, being moved around constantly on the empty promise of being read to completion.

It was a detective’s heaven.

“The name ‘Holmes’ is beginning to mean quite a deal in this country,” her eyebrows slanted, copper eyes filled with constellations, “and do you think I would be in my position if I did not know?”

“Precisely why you flinched when I used your name and not your pen name.” His voice was rich as a fine velvet she let her hands graze over at a textile stand, but detached. “Deceit. To hide the plain truth, just as frills and elegant coifs do. Yes, it may dress you like a powder puff—” she parted her lips in protest but his eyes glimmered like opals, he was clearly not done—“but the man holding the pen is entirely different. In that…”

Her grip on her teacup could not get any tighter, for one tremor to rattle the porcelain would have him arriving quicker to the deduction he savored for last.

“He is not a man at all, is he?”

She watched in bated, almost nonexistent, breath—wondering how quickly she could get her hands on the cake spade lying unfashionably by the crumbs of a Dundee cake she had scarfed down the night before—as he fished a blue silk tie that bookmarked the yellowed book she just realized he held.

“How does a C.E. Babbington become… the elusive Clara Eashwar Bedi?”

A wave of cold took her from head to toe. If Clara wasn’t gripping the edge of her desk, knuckles quickly whitening, she was sure her knees would’ve given out. She stared down at the pretty silk tie, and then at the folded pamphlet he slid over the varnished surface, the black ink script almost snickering at her in mockery.

His words came as fluidly as water, uttered with a stone-cold expression she figured was his mask for his famous deductions.

“Four separate purchases of pens and paper from three different vendors.”

Spreading her tracks. No writer who desired anonymity would so foolishly expose herself by making a reputation with one seller.

He was studying her closet-office now. A satin kerchief protected his hand as he chose a stained pen to scrutinize. “Bills from Whitechapel. Cheaper ink—a shadowy writer such as yourself would not earn her dues to spend carelessly on finer supplies than supper for the night. Or silk ties to make her mark. To create a name.”

Cheaper ink bleeds easier. Her fingers, a blatant victim.

“Bedi.” He tasted her last name on his tongue for a moment, eyebrows pinched as if he was trying to paint a map in his acute mind. “When did your father leave India?”

Her throat was dry but she swallowed down her apprehension and managed out, “Fifteen years ago.”

“Does he work on the docks?”

“Worked.”

A flash of humanity lightened his eyes and the man of a chilly, pragmatic acumen faltered. “Apologies.”

The sound that tumbled from Clara’s lips could only be described as something between a shaking sigh and an aggravated grumble. “What is it you want, Mr. Holmes?”

“You write for the Magazine of Modern Womanhood,” he continued, making Clara bite back an exhausted groan. “Yet you affect a pseudonym. Why?”

“I don’t write for the magazine, I write alongside it,” Clara mumbled. Why was she entertaining him? “I don’t have the means to print my pieces independently— as you so cleverly deduced by my purchases of ink.”

“Your pieces… and other submissions, I’d bet.”

“Are you a betting man?” She lifted a brow curiously, daring him to stop this frivolous quadrille of tongues and get to the point.

“A cipher with the fingerprints of my sister was published in the personal advertisements column of your magazine, The Pall Mall Gazette, and The Journal of Dress Reform. It’s our mother’s interest she hopes to attract and with the choice of your publication, she has a good start.”

“God, there’s more of you?” she asked, feigning horror. “Is the world ready for that?”

(But where the name Mycroft Holmes was etched in cold stone and proud, old money, she had the sense the name Sherlock meant something else. Something whisper quiet like a dusty novel on crumpled velvet. Elegant with solitude.)

Sherlock took a step forward, his fingers still thumbing the fraying corner of the book. “Have you any idea where she might be?” He tilted his head. “I’m afraid our mutual acquaintance Edith had more to say of my “ostrich-like” nature than my sister.”

Clara couldn’t help the kick in her voice as she responded, “Appropriate.”

He smiled at her, a Private Investigator brand of Smile that Clara knew well enough from the numerous times a constable had approached the magazine for its inflammatory words, and which only deserved a Young Journalist Smile.

But what he said snagged her attention as well as a good story. Eudoria’s daughter. Little Enola. 

Edith had mentioned her once or twice. Clara might have seen a glimpse of a little brown-headed girl with quick feet, dashing about Ferndell Hall when ladies of a particular ilk huddled around a table, bearing swords on their tongues and determination in their hearts. Clara typically stood behind her bolder friend, Edith, clutching a pen that barely made a scratch against her worn pocketbook. She knew little for the illustrious Sherlock Holmes to knock on her door… but little was more than enough to be cunningly dissected and deduced by him.

“Enola’s missing?” she asked slowly, hoping to stall but Sherlock Holmes was not a man for idle chatter. Her head shook in a disappointing, deceiving refusal. “I’m sorry, but I have the faintest idea as to where she’s gone and why.”

“I find that highly improbable,” said Holmes in a tone that suggested he too was done with this waltz. “You’re protective of your name, or, names —”

“And what will you do if I use your name, Mr. Holmes?” Clara countered rigidly, her heart leaping into her throat. “Loudly? With proper dictation? Letting everyone know your business more than you’d like?”

“Then you’d also find yourself and Edith in a very difficult position, one that I’ve made clear to her and will to you if I must,” Sherlock warned, dropping his voice to a decibel that made a chill rattle her spine. A hint of vague frustration was tangled within his dull humor. 

Clara stilled, watching as he turned over the book and leafed through toward the back cover. Stuffed in the spine was a folded napkin and he paired it with the newspaper clipping for her viewing displeasure. Wrinkled and white and stamped with the crumbs of a pastry, her eyes were naturally drawn to the hasty scrawl in ink:

“C.E.B.

Matter of Bill —

Tea Rooms”

The same dismayed expression from when he dissected her alter ego took ahold of her face once more, even if she tried to disguise it by a clench of her jaw. 

“Macaroons could do with some attention but Edith has enough to worry about,” said Holmes. “She’ll notice the missing book from her seditious collection but not the message hidden inside— a message written to Babbington, who I understand is an intrepid young woman, so I’m sure you’re aware of what the proper connections can do for a man.” The distant, icy blue of his eyes warmed. “I asked of your father— a man who likely worked too hard for too little a reward and you, his daughter, silently fighting in favor of a bill that will help the men and women like him.”

“My,” Clara gasped, “Mr. Holmes, I didn’t take you for a man of politics.”

The stray little curl swished across his brow as he shook his head. “Oh, I’m far from it.”

She hummed curiously. “Then, what do you fancy? People? Poetry? Probably not. It’s your cases that keep you warm at night, which is why you hunt your own sister in blind circles like a dog chasing his tail.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice, “If Edith tells you nothing, I will say even less. Trust your sister… and the future. Good day, Mr. Holmes.”

She made to go around him, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered as she did, until a bleak and dare she say, concerned mutter caught her ear.

“She’s a child.”

“By my understanding, you’ve abandoned her once, Mr. Holmes. In the pursuit of where your mind takes you and little of your heart,” Clara said, more sharply than was her wont. 

“I beg your pardon.”

The anger in his voice flared like a bleeding heart. A man who was a fire next to gunpowder, ready to speak his mind and snatch the rug beneath a pair of unsuspecting feet. She could loathe him for being so perceptive and intelligent, yet plainly missing the changes of the world. But that tone… He was no longer a brilliant mind or a pleasantly distant man. He was a brother who wanted to know where his sister was.

And if there was ever a case that Sherlock Holmes would encounter, it would leave no secrets he could not crack.

Clara turned around, stained fingers toying with each other, teeth worrying her lower lip to a reddening bruise. Amusement danced in her eyes, quenching the frustration that twisted his sharply cut features.

“You have it,” she admitted after a pause, cheeks growing warm. “Because I’m a woman who believes in second chances… and the calling of her heart rather than her mind. And a desolate, hopeless bachelor tugs at that heart, I’m afraid.”

Sherlock’s face contorted incrementally, the corners of his lips curling up just a tad. It was not a smile. Another part of her would have thought so but not the smart part. Still, it was an odd expression that made Clara think it was gracious.

“I’m not aware of such a reputation.” Fond.

“Figures,” she sighed, eliciting a huff of laughter from him. The sound was enough to make her face crack with a smile. “Enola’s sixteen. And if she’s anything like her mother and brother, she won’t go down with a fight nor will she be drawn away from it. And the real fight is coming. I advise you to start there.”

He squinted at her. Then at the napkin. Then at the clipping signed by C.E. Babbington. The fight.

“A problem with no name,” he murmured.

“It has a name, Mr. Holmes. Whether it will be spoken is decided by men like you and your older brother,” she added, rightly hopeful. “Perhaps that will change.”

Silence settled comfortably between them until the pounding of her heart became too loud for her ears to bear. She cleared her throat and pulled the knob to her door, returning her gaze to Sherlock.

“Until next time, Mr. Holmes.” She smiled. “I hope your game finds its feet. My best to your sister.”

He tilted his chin in an understanding nod, hand pressing against the curly blue tie that still sat next to his evidence, her pamphlet. To her surprise, he waited. One hand disappeared in the flap of his jacket and came out holding a fine black pen shot with gold trimming. To a man like Holmes, it was a pen to write some very useful reckonings of the mind but to Clara, it looked more valuable than what she earned in a week. It clinked as he set it on her desk, accompanied by that slight, mysterious smile.

“Trust a bill won’t be made,” Sherlock assured, amused as he approached her. He extended the blue ribbon to her.

“And a secret will be kept,” she enforced, fixing him with a look as she curled her fingers over the forbidden silk tie, folding it into his palm.

His hand was cold, callused like the reward of cracking cases. Yet it managed to send a surge of heat swirling in her chest, akin to lightning crossing a black sky.

(And did she intend the other thing she did too? The split-second brush of her fingertips over his palm and the way the ball of his throat was disturbed by a tight swallow. Savoring the softness of the lapis silk strand against his pale flesh and her copper skin.)

He lingered by the doorframe for more than a second. Sherlock looked at her— perhaps a more bewitching case with the narrowest twists and the sharpest of turns. A shadow of a smile graced his prim lips and he let out a delectable, ruminative hum. “Is that a promise I would be foolish to break, Miss Babbington?”

“Indeed it is, Mr. Holmes.” She watched him depart, a puzzling black figure who had more to his voice than what he decided to speak. 

“Oh, on the subject of hearts…”

Sherlock paused and turned around. He studied the meticulous way she swept her indigo skirt behind her and made him wait until she finally, painstakingly met his gaze. Only then she made him realize how beholden he was to her unfinished prose.

“While surely hopeless for a… perspicacious man with such a baffling pigheadedness,” Clara murmured, smiling lopsidedly, “do keep yours open.”

Before he left with another curt, reserved nod, Sherlock ruminated on her words. Her tone— he barely noticed the way he wondered how all of her other pretty, printed words would sound if they were turned from ink to… to… that voice.

No… she was not a case. She was a quandary. An unsolved riddle that he cracked with the full assumption that the winning hand was in his, only to turn over his cards and see that it was she who had the royal flush.

What fresh hell was this?

[roseofcards90]

Golden, paper, shampoo

HIYA BESTIE :3 THANK UUUU

Golden: favorite stationary product?

Answered here!

Paper: favorite children's book?

I assume this means singular because if it was series, I would give a different answer but OKAY THIS IS LIKE EXTREMELY OBSCURE BUT there was one book I read back in elementary school called Saturdays and Teacakes:

And it was literally just about a kid making teacakes at his grandma's house but the reason why I remember it so fondly is because we actually did make teacakes in class together when we read the book! We also had a day where each kid brought in a food from their own culture, and I think a kid brought teacakes lol so it just stuck in my mind as a memory tbh…those teacakes were so good ngl djfjfkfkfk

Other favorites I like include Matilda (more so the film than the book but I like the book too!), Stellaluna, The Rainbow Fish, and the A-Z Mysteries and Magic Tree House books series

If we're talking about book series tho then A Series of Unfortunate Events is still my top favorite of all time and that’s like a whole other bag of worms I could go on a rant on but yeah

Shampoo: favorite scent?

Answered here!

[scorchieart]

Hi! I hope it's not too late but may I request Chevalier/ 7/ Comfort/ 2nd POV pelase?

Characters: Chevalier Michel, F!Reader

POV: 2nd person Genre: Comfort

Prompt #7: “Don't worry about winning. Worry about coming home.”

Wordcount: 1295

A/N: Ripping off the bandage quick with this one. I had two VERY different ideas for this prompt, but today we're going with a young Chevalier and a young reader set in the story event when Chevalier was supposed to attend a tea party with his brothers and the children of the nobility... but it didn't go so well. Thank you for the request!

You tucked the ends of your tulle skirt into the cuffs of your socks after they slipped out for the sixth time. The dress you wore was pretty, polished, and poofy, none of which was particularly pragmatic for your spontaneous stealth mission. As you spread your puffy-sock-covered legs across the luxurious rug in what you assumed was a study, you wondered how long it would take before someone noticed you were missing, when the sound of the door opening stiffened your limbs.

The velvet armchair you’d chosen as your hiding place was excellent for concealing your uncooperative skirt, but impractical for reconnaissance. Keeping as still as possible, you counted the seconds in your mind until the door shut again, and nearly stood to check that the coast was clear until the sound of footsteps froze you in your spot again.

The game’s up, you thought, patting your dress free from the dust and lint that accumulated over the morning. You would have to answer for slipping away, yes, but the least you could do was look presentable in your confession.

You craned your neck toward the door to catch a glimpse of your discoverer, fully expecting whoever it was to be visible even from your limited view, but found no one. 

How strange. Those footsteps were definitely coming from inside the room, and there’s no way anyone could conceal themself so quickly upon entering. Why, you had squeezed yourself into all the nooks and crannies before deciding upon the chair as your best option. The poofy skirt severely limited your options, so what of an adult twice your size? No, the only logical explanation was that this someone had been in this room before.

You repositioned yourself so that you were crouching, the skirt slipping out from your socks again, and popped your head over the armrest. Sure enough, there was nobody standing in the doorway, or by the window, or in front of the bookshelf, or at the desk, or next to the fireplace. But there was someone sitting in the armchair. A young boy with striking light hair and furrowed brows, looking straight down at you with his shining blue eyes.

You wanted to scream, but the moment you opened your mouth a hand roughly covered it and pushed you back down to sit. Then there was a thud as the boy landed beside you and crouched behind the chair.

“Mmguhmma!” you said from behind his hand, which you hoped would be interpreted as “Who are you?” or “Let me go!” or even “Go find your own hiding place, you boorish cur!” but the boy only scowled and brought the pointer finger of his free hand to his lips. 

Something about the way he faced you ticked you off the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he so seamlessly entered the room and cornered you, or how he effortlessly took control even though you’d been here first, or his stare that seemed to freeze and pierce deeper through your skull with every passing second. Regardless of what it was you wanted out, and you raised your arms to push him away when voices from the hall stopped you.

“I think he went through here,” said one voice.

“Don’t pull a muscle, I’ll bet he’s gone to the library,” sighed a second. “Oh, why did we get stuck with finding him? I wanted to spend my afternoon eating teacakes, not chasing down beasts!”

“Remember, you’re on duty,” warned the first voice. “You’re not supposed to be eating.”

“I’m not supposed to be hunting down Prince Chevalier either. I think I deserve a reward,” huffed the second.

Your arms dropped limply to your sides as you stared back at the boy. Was this the Prince Chevalier? The peerless prodigy who memorized libraries, commanded armies, and dominated Rhodolite’s elite?

“He’s only a child,” said the first voice, sounding less assured with each word.

“He’s no normal child,” said the second. “You’re still new here, but when it comes to Prince Chevalier, you never want to get involved. You saw what happened in the garden, even his own flesh and blood can’t bear to be around him.”

“They’re only children, too! None of them even looked remotely interested in the tea party. Why did all those counts and dukes have to drag their children into their messed up politics?”

“It’s all a game to them, the world of the nobles. They’ll use their own kin as pawns to get even the tiniest bit ahead, because that’s how you play and that’s how you win. But when it comes to those noble beasts you don’t worry about winning. You worry about coming home.”

The room grew cold the longer Chevalier’s stared on you, and your jaw began to tremble. You wished you could at least turn away, but his grip never loosened as the conversation wore on, and his eyes never wavered from yours.

“It’s not right,” the first voice said after a long pause. “It’s just not right.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think’s right or wrong. We just do our job and pray we don’t cross the wrong path. The sooner you learn, the better,” said the second voice.

“Well, we still have to find him,” said the first.

“Don’t pull a muscle, the party’ll last all afternoon.”

It wasn’t until the footsteps completely died away that Chevalier finally released his hold on you, and as soon as he did, you quickly crawled backward, ripping the tulle in your haste, until you collided hard with the bookshelf, your chest galloping up and down like a sprinting horse. 

“If you’re going to cry, get it over with and go back outside,” Chevalier said sharply as he stood. The immense relief you felt when his eyes finally left yours was immeasurable, but as easily as the dread trickled away, sorrow was quick to take its place.

“What happened at the party?” you asked.

“If you weren’t hiding, you would know,” he said.

“I’m not h-hiding!” you stammered, getting to your feet. “I only got lost!”

“So lost that your first words when someone found you were ‘Go find your own hiding place, you boorish cur’?”

Your face grew hot. So hot that even Chevalier’s returned wintry stare couldn’t cool your flaming cheeks. “You startled me,” you said.

“You mean terrified. They all do,” he said.

“No— you don’t terrify me, Prince Chevalier!” you said quickly. 

“They always lie, too.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then I will direct you back to the party and we can go our separate ways.”

Your lips trembled as he stood by the door and folded his arms. You wanted to crawl back behind the armchair and sink into the dark velvet, but you felt certain his eyes would pierce through the fabric undeterred no matter what. You stared at the ground, grabbing fistfulls of your skirt.

“I can’t go out there. My dress is ruined,” you said, not believing your own flimsy excuse. 

“Only torn. It can be easily mended,” he said. “A simple overhand or running stitch will suffice. There is a sewing kit in that desk.”

“But I don’t know how to sew,” you said.

“There are books in the library with pictures,” he said impatiently.

“Will you show me?”

“Haven’t I helped you enough?”

“Yes, so let me help you back.”

Chevalier’s brows furrowed, though unlike when he first found you, this time was out of confusion.

“Those people said they’ll be looking for you in the library, right? Tell me which shelf the books are, and I’ll bring them back here and we can fix my dress,” you said.

“And exactly how does that help me?” he asked.

“Because you don’t want to be alone as much as I don’t want to go out there," you said. "You came into this room knowing someone was here, right?”

When I attend social gatherings I didn't want to go to, I pass the time looking at the other guests and wondering who else didn't want to be there.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[izzy-b-hands]

hi holden! 🎵 🍪 🙃 and 💎

Ella!! Thank u for asking 🫂🫂❤️❤️❤️

🎵: Last song you listened to?

Make It Rain by Avatar (shame on me for not realising I'd missed the release of two previously vinyl only songs!! They're both p good!)

🍪: If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

*Ideally, I'd like to be one of my faves, but idk if that would be accurate to me or not ajsndjfng

Something like the orange and anise Russian teacake cookies my grandma used to make, or her lemon cookies (with actual lil sugared bits of lemon peel in them!)

*apologies for this answer, I am stoned and hungry and miss my grandma's cookies so I'm biased lmaooo

🙃: What's a weird fact that you know?

The suckers on octopus tentacles have the ability to perceive taste!

I may have found out abt this via research for a steddyhands tentacle cock fic, and I have to say it opened up so many more avenues for where this fic can go aksndjfnf

💎: What's your most prized possession?

That's a hard choice!! Honestly, it's probably something like my first plushie, Chocolate Chip, or the portrait of Nisha Housemate had made for me, or my playbill from a play Con was in (that Housemate also got for me!)

[dnangelic]

okay as a confectioner who ISN'T trying to cook and eat him: what are... dark's (and dai's) favorite candy flavors...?

@mielmoto

the nice thing about having a muse that is in some fundamental aspects 'nothing' and therefore accepts everything is that they also enjoy basically anything they can get their hands on. the bad thing is i have almost no idea how to answer this question outside of that alskdjadkjfkj but i'll try!

i can say right away that they do prefer soft and light over anything like, say, hard-candies or tough taffy/licorice, and they're USED to the more euro-jp cafe type sweet stuff thanks to azumano being the way it is, so for example things like pastry-puffs and macarons, brownies, cookies, very small cakes, chocolate croissants, icecream+anything similar (popsicles, sherbet, gelato, shaved ice,) or puddings with a lot of stuff on top of it, their two 'preferred' categories, if i had to land them, would always be largely in the chocolate and baking categories as opposed to the more western-ish (american?) stuff like cola-candy or even konpeito, (i know konpeito specifically is portuguese don't @ me,) stuff that's more on the side of just 'pure crystalized sugar' because sometimes it tastes cheap and dark and dai, as spoiled rich kid tastebud-bearers despite everything, can taste that.

daisuke loves fresh fruit, (and so does wiz, who he most definitely will be semi-obligated to share with,) so anything involving that, like fruit tarts or strawberry shortcake (or even a nice raspberry ganache inside of a chocolate) is also going to get him reaching. given that he grew up with his grandpa i'm also positive he has a huge spot for the more traditional teacakes and ricecakes, any kind! he'll be very nice to the old grannies and grandpas who sell dango sticks for 100 yen on the street jdkfjkg.

i'm only adding this in bc u bring up dark but dark's tastes too are wholly dependent on daisuke, which is legitimately the only reason why he cares to have anything sweet in the first place, apart from the potential for vibes(tm) and intimacy - eating for him is always, always always always a chore and something he feels he doesn't actively deserve to do or enjoy compared to his host, so if he does indulge in something it's going to be extremely small, (like a Single Piece of chocolate) and/or it's going to be focused on him being fed or him feeding someone. he's here for the act, the intimacy of eating itself, not the taste or the food whatsoever usually!!

but if i had to tldr for them both i'd really just go with chocolate or strawberry. you can't really go wrong with those in japan. DKJFJGJK give them a box of meltykiss!! its perfect for them!!!

[fellowshipofthenoodles]

darwin spinning in his grave at these creatures

Every time I see this picture it sends me into hysterics because truly

[id: ask picture is a brown crested gecko with the caption “I may be stupid but I’m stupid” and answer picture is our Teacake, a cream crested gecko, resting on a hand]