CANDYMCKER • An Independent, Selective, Mutuals Only, extremely Canon Divergent, Construct Era-inspired RP blog for Pizzelle from Sugary Spire. OC, Duplicate & Crossover friendly, and no knowledge needed to interact! Candied by Hammy (21+). Low-to-sporadic activity due to work/mental health reasons.
" It's true, jawbreakers used to be much larger. Not just because for children everything is larger by default—
—i-it's just... they explode under the right circumstances and it forced manufacturers to shrink them in size to prevent greater damages. " If you're hoping for him to elaborate, he isn't going to. " One lawsuit was enough. " He knows the power such knowledge holds quiiite too well.
HAMMY'S POSTING. It's been a couple of days since the newsletter and level teasers got posted and I stg I can't get over Pizzelle getting caught up and JANKED by Marshmallow Dog's leash when you get the dog race trophy in Chocoa Café.
This is someone who's never had a dog and it shows, that scream was warranted.
does anyone else get really anxious when the cashier hands you change and you’re hurriedly putting it away in your wallet so that the next customer in line can proceed or is that just me
The silent treatment
you might be thinking, 'oh, this is the counter to words of affirmation!' well you'd be WRONG. this is the opposite of gift giving buuut the same principle applies. it means you just cut people that you don't like off, you don't respond to compliments, or nice things from them. maybe a side eye... but yeeaahh
" Sure, we can do that. " Footsteps could be heard making their way through the hallway. " Easier than looking for parking this late. " A couple of hours had passed; and while the festivities had quieted down while they were tidying up for the day, it wasn't over juuust yet. It was clear the overall mood at the parlor was at an all-time high for once. " Or taking a— "
" —huh? " That is, until Pizzelle spotted a dim light coming from his workshop.
How... strange. Yet again. He didn't remember turning the light on his desk earlier.
Poking his head around the doorway, he encountered a peculiar scene: his scooter, which should've been leaning against the wall by the back door (as he usually leaves it), have had its kickstand pulled out and been pulled to the middle of the room. And while that should've been odd enough, a new headlight had been attached between the handlebars and steering column; hence the light visible from the hallway. No, he didn't have a headlight two hours ago.
...Reeeally strange, indeed. Someone had taken the time to get a headlight, paint the outer case the same shade of indigo as the scooter and, while he wasn't present, snuck into the workshop and attached it; leaving no trace on their way out.
Although this should've been sliiightly disturbing— " Oh... my Gosh. " —Pizzelle couldn't help but feel... giddy over this discovery. " You two shouldn't have! "
Even if he would've been fine receiving no gifts (comes with not remembering your birthday is coming up), he could always do with long-time investments like this one. Rosette and Sugarbun had even taken the time to find to spray-paint it— why'd he complain?!
The candy maker couldn't keep his hands still as he approached the scooter, ready to fiddle with the lamp and figure out the way it worked— " 'Shouldn't have' what, hun? " —not hearing Rosette's voice from the front of the store. " At least he sounds happy~ . " To say that he was elated would be an understatement.
Once he got close, however, he noticed that the headlight was tilted... downwards, casting a sort of spotlight on the ground. Not just the ground, though, but something now in front of his boots. Slowly, his eyes followed this so-called trail only to see... his calendar? The bottom half of his calendar, to be more precise, the part he'd rip off at the end every month. It was bent in half, as in to hide the top part.
It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, really; just a generic picture that came with the calendar after it was given to him as an gift for making a large stock purchase the year before. Alas, this should've clued him in.
When he picked it up, and straightened it out, he saw it: the new picture on top— which he SNAPPED closed immediately. Shoved it behind the one shelf he had in the room like a bad memory even.
Well, now he knew who had stolen his calendar the week before. And who had set all of this up. And who had just blasted his retinas without warning. He... was going to need a new one after this, that's for sure.
@thousandmarch • Going willingly through a mirror into a completely different place is… an experience. One that he probably would prefer to avoid in the future, but the small package in his hands is there for a reason, and he's willing to put up with a bit of anxiety for his…
... f-friend? Can they consider each other friends at that point? Mh.
What awaited the chef at the other side were wooden walls. Purple, monotonous, reminiscent of the brick walls fortifying the Tower even; except covered by countless frames and art pieces everywhere he looked. Very reminiscent, indeed, of a certain narcissistic red bell pepper. The space, however, was far, far bigger than he must've anticipated. This wasn't someone's private art studio, but a fully-fledged art gallery.
The mirror had... worked. For someone that looked so much like The Noise, the candy maker hadn't made that story up; which was a can of worms in itself.
Although the place was different, it was just as empty as the Tower's many floors. No visitors admiring the work, no artist and author of said work on sight (not like he was missed, most of those paintings contained the strange man's face after all) just... him and his thoughts for the most part. That is—
" I... wouldn't? Call them 'dogs'? " —until he heard it. " They look like dogs as much as they look like marshmallows, I guess, but that doesn't mean they aren't just marshmallows. " A familiar voice; not very loud, but it echoed through the gallery.
" Hmm. " A second voice then followed, its tone playful and lighthearted. " I don't knooow, hun, you might be splitting haaairs~ . "
At least, one thing was for certain— " Wh-what do y— ? I-I would know! " —they were nearby. " Those things would've caused me to break into hives by now if they... w-were dogs. " Peppino could see a door nearby, perhaps leading to another part of the exhibition, hear the sound of footsteps on stairs. " ...M-my skin looks fine, right? " And, perhaps as anticipated—
A-anyway. Peppino doesn't move much far from the mirror, just enough to catch a glimpse of Pizzelle at the first occasion and wave at him. Just a little silent "hi" from afar, before pointing at the package, and leaving it on a nearby table. Another wave, and he's quick to return through the mirror. From personal experience, he imagines that Pizzelle will need a bit more time before they can just… casually talk. But perhaps they're close enough already for a little present?
—Pizzelle set a foot out of the doorway and froze, his shoulders becoming very, very stiff. Blink, blink. Standing incredulously, he swore he'd just made eye contact with—
" ...Did you realize they're dogs? " —never mind, cue two mittens coming from behind him and setting on his shoulders firmly.
By the high-pitched scream that followed, one would think he'd seen someone die right in front of him. Thankfully, he didn't jump, not this time. Otherwise, he would've hit his head on the doorframe.
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Should Pizzelle look at the package, he will find a very simple box for food, with a envelope on top of it. The handwriting - Peppino's handwriting - is a little trembling, Italian words and mistakes with a strike on them and the translation or correction right after, often mispelled, but pretty easy to read and clear overall. It is not a long message: " I heard its tuo you birtday? Non so I dont know ow pipol know in the tower, bat but i found a oven. I cant make sueets well, but I can do salty dishes savori dishes. Hope you like! Appy birtday!… if you like you birtday! Sorry for de the misteks!! "
A hand steadily kept his glasses on his face (one of the temples had broken off and he had no way to fix it at the time) while the other held the sheet of paper up, eyes going through its contents silently. He could hear Rosette fiddling with the box, Marble most likely hovering over it as well. Not like he was checking on them.
It was strange— receiving a hand-written letter again, that is. Far gone were the days where a humble pile of opened envelopes addressed to him always sat by his dressing room mirror; yet this was similar in a... weird way. Not like he'd ever call this "fan-mail", this was far more personal. There was a mirror, after all; and a package had been left beside it. Once everything one receives in the mail are bills and mass-printed advertisements, a small note like this one was—
" Ohhh, these look great!! " —maaaybe he should check on Rosette and Marble.
Inside the box, Pizzelle will find five pretzels, all quite big and perfectly cooked, still warm from the oven. Each of them can probably count as a full meal for him, and Peppino had thought that he might have exaggerated a little - but... well, that was something that could be eaten anywhere and anytime, and perhaps it would be good to get some energies back. Just a little something to help him through the day.
" Ho-ly. " That's it. That was all he could muster when he turned around and leaned to look into the box now in her arms. That letter had skipped on... some crucial details. Like the fact that these things, these pretzels, were almost just as big as their heads! Not very tall, sure, but they made a hefty box nonetheless.
" I know, whoever baked these is a veeery talented person! " Even the Croakolate beside her had been left looking mesmerized by what probably were some of the very first salty things he had ever come across in his life. " And what does that letter say? Did they sign it? "
" ...O-oh, yeah, that, uh— " He was clutching it alongside his glasses, right. How silly of him. " —it said this is a... birthday present? " Bringing his other hand under his hat, he held the note up. " For me? I don't know how that's even possible but— . " Before he could go on a tangent (and he would've, the connotations around that package warranted it) a loud gasp! interjected, causing his body to freeze.
" Already?! " Seeing the box fly off! the woman's hands form the surprise, Marble was quick to jump! into action, catching it as it came down. He might not have made a sound, but he still let out of sigh of relief. " Aww, I knew I should've prepared something in advance! " She said this while bringing both hands to her hips, not very pleased at such circumstances.
By the way time was distorted inside the Spire, he hadn't been keeping track of the date. Every hour they were trapped there was a day the parlor remained closed. He couldn't even remember the day he came across the place, let alone how close to his own birthday it was. Actually, how in the world did anyone, ANYONE in such a place know about it? Let alone anyone in the next timeline over? See why he didn't bother? This was all a massive can of worms!
That didn't stop Rosette from bringing a hand to her chin, though, talking to herself for a moment. " Maaaybe, if I asked Mr. Painter for one of his rooms veeery nicely, we could— . "
" No, no, nononono— i-it's fiiine, it's— " Now he was the one setting his hands on her shoulders. He was pushing thirty (well, more like he was thirty now), birthdays weren't as much of a deal anymore (well, they hadn't been to him for many years now), but he'd never say it outright. Instead: " —it'd... it'd be preeetty bad if we let all these pretzels go cold, right? " His head turned to the frog.
He had this look that screamed 'help me get us out of this situation or you will NOT get single a bite out of those', and he meant every implied word. " ...Right, Marble? "
The frog couldn't have looked any more outraged at such a threat if he tried... for an instant, that is, just while Rosette wasn't looking in his direction. The moment she did, his expression changed, nodding his head in (albeit forced) agreement, package still in his clutches. He was willing to declare a truce... this once. It wasn't like Marble had much of an understanding of human traditions anyways.
There was a long hm, hazelnut eyes alternating between the two for a moment. She didn't looked too convinced at first, but— " Fiiine, sounds like it's two against ooone. " —it ended with her exaggeratedly rolling her eyes and lowering his hands with her own. " BUT— " There was emphasis in her voice as she looked at the candy maker in the eye (which put him slightly on edge). " —we're going to ask Mr. Painter for his best paper later. " One of her hands went up just to point downwards. " You are going to reply to that letter you got, right hun? "
" I'd be hoping for a 'thank you very much with a cherry on top' if I were them, at least! "
Eyebrow rose at this. No "later date" propositions, no last-minute attempts at setting something up; all she wanted was to thank Peppino for the gesture? His letter might not have include a signature at the bottom; but if he hadn't just left that box by the mirror and bounced it had to be for a reason, right? Or maybe, most likely, he did not need a reason to be nice.
For someone that looked identical to Pizzano, the chef's actions weren't backhanded.
" ...Sure, I— I can write a response. " A beat. " And, y-y'know, you could also add to it if you— . "
" MARBLE, give those back! " Oh, oh, she was letting go of him okay, rushing to get the package off the frog's hands. " You can't have the first bite— your name isn't on them! " Or trying to, at least. It was as if they were playing tug of war with it, and neither of them was willing to let go.
He... should do something about this, shouldn't he? It'd be tragic if such a gift were to go to waste and he'd have to make something up in his letter.
HAMMY'S POSTING. Yeah that newsletter is great and all, Floor 3 is really looking up to be my favorite floor in the entire game (it has Dance Off and Sting Operation after all), but look at my girlypop enjoying some hot cocoa, omg. 🥺 Smashing the table for her... They made her so cutie in Chocoa Cafe.
HAMMY'S POSTING. I wasn't planning to post more after last night but, you know, I was really scared to read my activity after I say I had 74 notes? But it turns out it's 90% my boyfriend (he couldn't scroll down my blog without an account so he made one) and @thousandmarch competing to be my #1 Post Enjoyer and I'm overwhelmed?? But in an okay way?? I think??
HAMMY'S POSTING. Yeah, I'm alive. TL;DR: there's a non-zero chance I'm suffering from (undiagnosed) OCD and I had a terrible episode where I proved my intrusive thoughts right by posting. It made my spiraling worse, and being here was adding to it, so I took a very sudden break from being online in general. I'm very sorry about that; I love this blog and you guys but I've been at my worst since March and I've been struggling to keep my act together lately.
Except for the subtle, constant buzzing coming from his scooter, the road back to the parlor was quiet. Far were the busy and almost-blinding streets from downtown NYC, with the endless line of streetlights that, one after the other, had now lighted up as its sole reminder. Everything after that was endless woodland surrounding a much less frequented road than the highway that had made it that way.
Nothing out of the ordinary up to this point; it was all part of Pizzelle's delivery-heavy routine. This feeling of monotony came to an abrupt end, however, when the parlor came into view—
—and it was pitch black inside. Why were the lights off? Why did the door sign say they were 'CLOSED'? The sky might have been a dark shade of blue, the clouds black, but it was nowhere near closing time.
It was... strange. And that feeling of strangeness only became the more prevalent as he rode his scooter to the back and went through his workshop. He did so very quietly, like a teenager sneaking back into the house after breaking curfew. It was... quiet (not as quiet because of his boots, perhaps), as if the store was... empty. He could feel the dread bubbling up inside him already.
Had he, somehow, lost track of time and made it back hours later than he thought? It was the only possibility of the Non-Catastrophic category that crossed his mind while he made his way through the corridor and to the area behind the counter. Not like it helped heart slow down. Holding his breath, fingers carefully traced the wall to his left for the light switch and, with a silent click—
" SURPRIIISE!! "
" O-OHMYGOSH!! " —he jumped a good three feet into the air from the shock, not keeling over afterwards, but putting his hands on his knees instead.
It got a chuckle out of Rosette before she blew into one of those cheap, colorful noise makers. " Goootcha~ . " The party toy almost touched his nose, that's how close she'd been standing by the doorway. " I knew you wouldn't see it coming! "
" See— " Deep breaths, deep breaths. " —see what?! " It was like he'd seen a pink ghost, he looked just as pale as one. " I-I thought something had happened while I was gone— pleeease don't do that again, Rosette... " He really, really has never liked surprises and it shows. Huff. Much less when they jump to his face.
" Now that's silly! It wouldn't be a surprise party without the surprise! "
Pause. The corners of his hat seemingly perked up at that. " ...What party—? O-oookay, okay, okay!! " Rosette didn't let him finish, instead grabbing the sides of his shoulders and pushing him to a booth where Sugarbun was already seated; his eyebrows rising once she noticed... well, everything.
There was an assortment of various baked goods and sweets all over the table, some drinks, and a gift sitting in the middle. Rectangular in shape, wrapped in very colorful paper and topped with a white bow for contrast. Everything was decorated—
" Ta-daaa! " —and the two girls couldn't have looked any more proud of it if they tried. " OH— ! " Though Rosette was quick to drop the act, turning to the table to grab the gift and hand it to him. " Here, here— you should open this first! "
" Uh— " He was, to say the least, taken aback by all of this. He stared at it like he'd just been handed a Rubrics cube. " —y-you sure I... can? I wouldn't wanna— . "
" Of COURSE!! Who else but you? " Both stared at him with excitement in their eyes. Did they want his feedback, or— ? Pizzelle glanced at them for a moment before returning to look at it, this... thing. Judging by the shape, and the fact it wasn't too heavy, it could be a...
No, that'd make no sense. If what Sugarbun said the week before was true, Poochie wasn't going to like such a 'boring' gift. It had to be something else.
Still, if they insisted. He couldn't say he wasn't curious.
He was careful when unwrapping it, starting by tearing the tape off and working his way from there. It was clear Rosette wrapped it, the paper looked pristine in spite of the marks where it'd been folded. Something her mother taught her, she had told him that before. What surprised him, though—
" Weeell? " —was the gift itself. " We were in need of one by now. " Like he anticipated, it was a book— no, a photo album. Repurposed and turned into a scrapbook (he could see bits and pieces sticking out from in-between the paces), it was just like the ones they had back at their apartment. One of her mittens came into his field of vision, pinching the corner of the cover and flipping it open— " I hooope you don't mind I grabbed some of your photos, tho'~ . " —revealing the contents of the first page: pictures he'd taken almost a decade ago, when he first bought the parlor. It wasn't as good as the ones she takes. He looked... rough.
Every step of the restoration of the building, the day he finally opened the store, a copy of the receipt of his very first business transaction (he remembered it well, she was a Canadian tourist driving through all the States and it only worked out because he knew some French), various receipts of things he bought for the parlor; so on and so forth.
" Ohhh look! " After several pages, she stopped to point at a particular picture. " I still remember the mess I left in the kitchen that day— " It was a close-up she'd taken of the kitchen table, with a plate of... donuts on top of it. " —I still don't know I messed the recipe up! " To be more precise, jelly-filled donuts. With the hole in them. " And you offered me coffee for these— sooo sweet. " Yeah, he remembered that day quiiite too well too. That was when he fell for her. He simply didn't have the heart to tell her she'd mixed the recipes up.
Expired tickets to that one club she likes going to every Saturday; a cutout from a copy of the very first lease they signed together; another from when she became a co-owner of the parlor— there were so, so, sooo many photos. Each accompanied by a date and line-long descriptions in Rosette's handwriting, as well as various other cuts of paper and things related to those events. One could argue it was a work of art—
—a work of art for... him of all people.
" Ooobviously it's not finished. " Crafting photo albums was a tradition was an important tradition in Rosette's family. " I only had one week to make it, and Poochums couldn't get me a copy of Sugarbun's paperwork in time— buuut most of it is here! " With every new generation, every new addition, more and more albums, more memories, are made; and they all carried... meaning. " I even saved a page for today! Can't say I'm not well-prepared... Ma' would be crying tears of joy if she saw this! "
For a gift, it was a lot. " ...Hun? " It was only dawning on him now. " It's been me talking non-stop— are you okay? " Like a suitcase about to explode, its hinges struggling to stay together, it wasn't easy to unpack how much this album meant to them. " You weren't expecting something in particular, were you? " Damn, had he been holding his breath all this time? " Do you... like it? "
He really hadn't said... anything all this time, his expression hard to read. Blank.
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He could feel the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. He just had to— he had to laugh. " Ohhh my Gosh! " Tear up? Cry? " I-I can't believe I'm this much of an idiot! " No, just— just genuinely laugh. And he couldn't stop, almost dropping the album even— thank God he didn't.
" I completely forgot my birthday was coming up— MY birthday! " For once, it was funny. " I write it for paperwork all the time— what is wrong with me?! " For once, nothing was wrong; something had just slipped his mind.
" I knew it! " Rosette jumped immediately, crossing her arms as she glanced at the bunny rabbit. " It wasn't 'almost' as if he didn't know— he didn't know! "
Yet she couldn't help but giggle herself. " You're always sooo funny! " Just a misunderstanding after another— it was like something straight out of a TV show! " I sure hope you didn't think these weren't for you either— " She gestured at the table; and yes, she had baked those god forsaken donuts again. " —because I ain't selling them tomorrow! " She made them for every special occasion, down to their imperfections.
Those donuts were an inside joke between them at this point. If any third parties saw them, they wouldn't get it. " No— no you aren't. " However, appearances aside, they tasted very good. " But I'd watch out if I were you, because with me around you might not get to eat any either. "
" Aww you~ ! " They did... mean a lot to each other, didn't they? It all boiled down to that in the end.
HAMMY'S POSTING. I'm going to hit the hay now, but since it's already past 12Am here IT'S PIZZELLE'S BIRTHDAY!! YAY!! Happy Fourth Anniversary to the 2022 Demo, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you!! 💙
I'll write the post I've been planning since last week after work, but if anyone were to wanna mail him a pipebomb or something feel free! If I get anything I'll reply to it afterwards (ya'll can tell I've never done anything like this before).
It was the same day— night. Same night. Most of the lights were off, all stock had been put away, not a speck of dust on sight... and yet Pizzelle seemed restless while he was doing one last checkup on his scooter before heading home for the night.
When he picked on a small glimpse of lilac from the corner of his eye, long fluffy ears coming into frame— (...Maybe she saw it?) —a thought crossed his mind. Very awkwardly so, he poked his head through his workshop's door when he saw the bunny rabbit pass by. " H-heeey Sugarbun, sorry to bother you but— " (How... do I put this?) " —my... calendar didn't end up in the trash somehow, did it? " It'd been her turn to take the trash out that day, it was worth asking. " I... don't know hooow, but it vanished from the workshop while I was out on deliveries and— " He tittered between words. " —III'm in a bit of a pickle now... " A beat. " Something's happening on the 14th and I don't know what it is— it's bad. "
It was embarrassing, really. Someone who always handles the schedule rundowns every morning couldn't remember this particular date, for some reason.
the task seemed simple enough. Sugarbun simply had to keep a secret, to not key in Pizzelle on what's brewing - it wasn't long until the aforementioned day after all. but as fate would have it in comes the chime of his voice. something that startles the plush in a small twitch; who just finished wrapping up chores themselves.
Sugarbun watches the other with big, owlish eyes. putting on their best act to feign confusion. just one of those instances where her natural poker face comes into clutch. the answer that comes is natural as ever, albeit it rare for the rabbit to use her voice compared to letting their actions talk.
“no, I didn't see it.” it's flat, soft && to the point. not to mention holding honesty considering she had no clue what happened to it. Sugarbun can only assume Rosette tucked it away to secure this element of surprise. with that it should be as simple as going about her own business. but..
he seemed awfully anxious about it. it wouldn't hurt to make something up on the spot, a white lie until things fall in place. “Rosette seems excited, she wouldn't tell me anything about it.” although flat in tone, something about the way the rabbit chooses her words seems like an attempt to lighten the weight.“but.. I think I overheard something about Miss Smoochie and a party. if I had to guess, it might be related.”
" Oh, Sugaaar~ ! " The plush could pick up on Rosette's melodiously chipper tone of voice from the other side of the room— and there she was! Emerging from the door leading to the back of the parlor. " Would you mind doing me a— " She lifted an index finger, though it wasn't very noticeable from under her baking mittens. " —little favor? " She didn't wait for Sugarbun's response, instead walking to her. " A special mission juuust for you. Ready? " Then, gently, she lifted one of her long ears and whispered: " If he asks you anything, aaanything about it, don't let Hunbun know I'm preparing something for his birthday. " With that, she let go, taking a step back.
" You can do that for me, right? " Peppy as she looked, she couldn't help but clasping her hands together. " It's almost as if he doesn't know what day's coming~ . "
the call of their name gets the rabbit to perk, head swiveling towards the source as big eyes intently watch the other. Sugarbun had been in the middle of dusting - a little preemptive cleaning that they do before sweeping. the rabbit had froze mid use of a duster when Rosette called, now withdrawing as they politely await what for their task.
the plush can be rather fickle when it comes to contact. especially when her instinctual reflex involved kicking away anyone so careless, obviously Rosette && Pizzelle were those small exceptions however - the former being a lot more touchy. she loved it though. after all, their first meeting was nothing but hugs && affectionate words. the lift of their ear gets a subtle twitch, tuning in on nothing but her voice.
a birthday! she's never celebrated a birthday yet.. how exciting. the way Sugarbun stares with a little tilt of the head is almost like an excited 'really??' nose now twitching like crazy.
ah, right; they're getting a little distracted now. mustn't forget to answer! the plush nods eagerly && makes soft little honks as they clutch the duster closer, what a special task. she'll do her very best!!
