clenches my fist. here's a pathetic lady.
Another thread by Fizz?
You've guessed it. Your oc shares a nice cup of tea/coffee/warm beverage with the character above them.
Do they spill the tea? Do they spit in each other's mugs? Share biscuits? Go wild, go stupid, as it is tea time binches!
Rules are simple:
- You don't have to describe every movement,sip, but put some afford in it. 3 sentences minimum.
- Please no NSFW or violent stuff. If you really want to go dark please black it out. Like this!
- You can post again after 2 replies, or if 12 hours have passed.
- Please fill in your claim in22hours. I'll try to send you a reminder after ±10 h. We want to keep the game flowing! If you fail to do so your post getsskipped.
Examples:
Character 1: Oh boy i'm first
Character 2: God, you have an awful taste in tea dear. Mint tea? Are you for real. Jeez.
Character 3: I don't think I have any sugar but I got some sweeteners. I know those aren't the same as sugar but.. It's sweet. Hence the name haha.
Want to order some overpriced coffee instead? Click this link
first poster gets a freebie.
Character 1: Oh boy i'm first
Character 2: God, you have an awful taste in tea dear. Mint tea? Are you for real. Jeez.
Character 3: I don't think I have any sugar but I got some sweeteners. I know those aren't the same as sugar but.. It's sweet. Hence the name haha.
Want to order some overpriced coffee instead? Click this link
first poster gets a freebie.
Tea and card games… Card games and tea? No matter how you looked at the situation, it was a bizarre one.
Roswell leaned in his chair, as his fingers waded through his cards. It was a low risk, low reward kind of game.
“We draink a lot av coffee back home. In Starqbreek. But 'ere up north. We only got tea,” Roswell said. He let out his breath.
“Oi’m sorry oi canny offer any coffee,” he said.
He threw a few of his cards, backside down, on the table. 2 tenths. Mmm. Not bad.
“We both know teas are less.. Superior to coffee,” he said. Making a hand gesture at his friend. “Yer turn,” he said.
Roswell whistled when he saw the other’s cards. He shoved his broken white, tea cup aside to admire the other’s hand. “Guess yer won dis round.” The thief leaned back in his chair. He recollected the cards and started to shuffle them.
All of this, while their despised tea was getting colder and colder.
Roswell quickly divided the cards between the two of them. Took a sip. Before looking at his hand. He grimaced.
Not much.
“Oi mean, me mum. She made de greatest coffee,” Roswell said. Leaning further back in his chair. He placed his feet against the table to even look more ‘relaxed’. But he was far, far from relaxed.
This game was going awfully bad for him and the thing Roswell despised most (besides lukewarm tea) was losing. Even to a friend. Scrap that. Especially to a friend! He’d lost their mount-race a while back already and Roswell wasn’t planning on losing again.
“She alwus used de finest beans,” he declared while his hand reached for his boot. Wait… His other made a dismissive gesture. Showing his friend the friendliest of smile.
“Mum alwus send me an' me bother ter fetch dem. Dem beans. On de market, near our family house.”
He plucked a card from his boot and traded it quickly with one he’d been helding. That’s.. That’s cheating!
But Roswell acted like nothing had happened. “Yer knows ‘ow it goes. Yer fetch some beans once, yer ‘ave to fetch them everytoime mum wanted to impress some wealthy guest.” Cant relate Roswell.
“Alroi! Show me yer ‘and yer, steppe devil yer,” he said. A lot more confident then before. He even removed his foot (kicking off his cup of tea.) and leaned forward over the table. Totally assured of his victory. What a nasty bugger Roswell was.
--
EYEPATCH TRAIN eyepatch train, I LOVE beck
Oh boy, Roswell didn’t like the fact that the room didn't had any windows.
The thief’s lone eye darted to the small living room. He had never been inside a mine, but Roswell could imagine that a mine would feel similar to this. Dark, cramped and a lack of windows. For a brief second his gaze paused on the wall with weapons. Pikes, bows. He swallowed unease.
All the thief had to offer was a long curved dagger. A kram. More a thieves-tool than an actual weapon.
“Yer got quite de weapon collection ‘u?” he asked Beck. Raising his voice to drown out the clicking of talons. “Bows,” click, “ and long knives,” clak, “ and such,” the thief said. Making an extra gesture at her wall. Just to drive his point home.
“Oi tried to shoot a bow once,” he told her. He folded his colder hands together and squeezed them, trying to regain some warmth in his fingers, as he continued. “Ain’t a success. Almost lost me other peaker,” he half-joked.
“Nah, its foine,” he told the other party. He smiled at her, but his grin had a sharp edge too it. “ Oi’m of course easy to overlook,” Roswell said. Spreading his arms, almost mimicking the wingspan of an actual krō.
“I’m just a low 1.93 in meters. Easy to miss.”
He eyed her while drinking. Making sure whatever the Draakfol had served him wasn’t poisoned. (Yes he was paranoid like that).
“Foine,” he breathed. Before taking a sip himself.
Void!
Did that taste good. It tasted like.. Winter, like glühwein and stewed pine nuts. With the fresh hint of salt and pineapple. Roswell could feel the color returning on his cheeks. His fingers softly shook from the warmth. The old crook set up straight. He blinked a couple times, for taking another sip. And another.
“Oi’m not a tea person,” Roswell confessed in between sips. “But, dis,” he gestured at his own mug. Then shook his head.
“It’s delicious. Oi’d half expected yer to intoxicate me. But,” he frowned. “Oi’m glad yer didn’t.”
How about a simple ‘thank you’ though Ros?
"Here we go, a chamomile for you..." Matcha began, placing a cup down next to Walker. After he paused to turn to Smithson, he twitched his whiskers and maintained his smile while he placed down a second cup.
"...and an piping hot Shou Puerh for you."
Upon completing his sentence, Matcha glanced behind him. After he finished staring behind him, Matcha held his hands behind his back. He returned his gaze to Smithson and Walker, flashing a grin at the two.
"Business isn't quite as booming in the evening, isn't it? I think you two chose a good spot—ehm, ma'am, is something wrong?" Matcha abruptly interrupted himself, allowing his cheery demeanor to falter after scanning Walker's expression.
"Ah, well, I'll let you be. Before I go, may I offer you two some complimentary desserts? First, I need to make sure that any of you don't have an allergy to chocolate or grapes. Some of our clients are deathly allergic; this is only a safety precaution." Upon completing his sentence, Matcha twitched his ears. He paused to pull his notebook out of his apron, pausing to feel around before pulling out a pen. After he paused to scribble down a note, Matcha tilted his head up.
"Alrighty, I'll be back in a moment. Enjoy your teas, sir, ma'am."
"There are countless types of teas in the world, yet each one is different from the other." The empty seat besides Diluvi now held a man in black and blue, with an unusual lamp for a head. In his hands were a saucer and a small cup of tea. "Even teas made from the same bag are different from the other. Perhaps to many they seem the same, but to a keen eye they are different. Just like with keys." He turned his head to face her. "Unique and different, they open the doors that divide us. Sometimes what's behind those doors are things we appreciate and adore, and sometimes they fill us pain and sorrow. However, if we keep going forward there will always be another door waiting."
He disappeared within the blink of an eye, the only proof of his existence being the cup resting on the chair.
"Just what door will you open?" his voice echoed.
Ellie looked over at the man over her tea cup. The delicate white china with the rose decoration shining in the sun. She had started setting up two place settings when she got ready for tea time one for herself and one for her sporadic guest who sometimes appeared during tea time. She smiled to herself the tea coming up in wafts of delicious smelling steam. She made the tea herself and each batch had a different flavor slightly different everytime but always enjoyable. She set her tea cup down carefully. Trying not even to let a clink sound out less she spook the man and he dissapear like a frightened deer. She smiled to herself.
"Its nice to see you again." She said honestly. She never really saw anyone besides the creatures in her garden and so she held on to any outside interaction she got and her sporadic tea times with Lan were always the closet thing she got to real contact with another living being that wasnt a mystical creature. She dare not say she wanted him to visit more often for fear if she did he would stop turning up at all. He was a careful sort that Ellie had realized when they first met. She glanced out towards the flowers near the pound as she talked glancing at him only from the corners of her eye. "I think. Sometimes we dont have a choice about the doors we open. " Ellie started picking up again from where there conversation had left off last time. "Sometimes we have choices we can make about what door we open but sometimes a door opens for us and we just have no other option but to go through. I believe some of it is our choice and some has to do more with luck and the hand we've been delt." She blushed a bit glancing back at him. "Thats just what I think though."
Tortellini was erratically rolling in her spot, rubbing her cheeks in the miniature pile of catnip on the ground. She was perfectly content with this, albeit her friskiness beginning to grow. However, the catnip party was put to an abrupt halt as soon as Tortellini heard a giggle sounding from one of the women. Right then, Tortellini decided that she would rather be more invested in the tea party going on.
As soon as the tripod got back on her feet with difficulty, Tortellini darted towards the table, slowing down upon arriving underneath it. The feline let out a series of trills before standing on her hind legs and planting her lone front paw on top of Rochester's lap.
"Yang? Ya-ang?" Tortellini squeaked in the midst of her trilling, pushing her hind feet upwards so that she could nudge her head out from underneath the table. The feline rubbed her muzzle against the woman's fingers, occasionally scraping her tongue against them. Eventually, Tortellini decided that she wanted more love. The cat continued to stare at Rochester, hopping in place in a repetitive manner until she eventually threw herself on top of the elder party's lap.
Upon finding that she successfully clambered on Rochester's lap, Tortellini planted her front paw and amputated nub on the table surface. While her pupils dilated, Tortellini craned her head closer to the cup in front of her, sniffing at the tea before deciding to bite at the handle of the china. Tortellini found a win-win situation: she gets loves and she gets a new toy.
Ah yes, a continuation of the angsty dinner party. Spoiled for possible length, as well as mentions of emotional abuse/neglect.
Well, this was fucking awkward. He had to process a way to reply to everything that Beatrice had said, especially since it wasn’t really what most of the situation was. She was under the impression that he was being controlled by his mother, but… Pewter was basically out of his life, and he only rarely got texts or phone calls from her, much less actually see her in person. What was a good way to say ‘I’m depressed because of my own bad decisions, also I haven’t seen my mother in person since my father’s funeral earlier this year’? Well, either way, he left for a moment to grab his comfort blanket, because damn, did he need it right now, and then started pouring some tea from the pitcher in the fridge for himself and his not-moms since they did seem to want some… Well, he was trying to, anyway. His shaky hands caused him to spill a fuck ton of it while trying to pour it, then even more as he transported it to the tables, all while swearing under his breath. Essential tremor is fun, kids!
After he was done pouring tea and cleaning up the mess he made, he returned to the table and wrapped his blanket around himself, once again poking at his food. It was getting kind of cold now, but he finally cut off another piece of steak and ate it, then grabbed his cup and sipped it. After a few moments, he finally said, “Uh… I appreciate your concern, but… My mother doesn’t have as much of a role in my life as you think. Even if I did want to talk to her, she doesn’t want me getting attached to her like I was as a child, so I rarely ever hear from, much less see, her. I can think of like… A single time I actually saw her in person since I’ve graduated college, and that was at my father’s funeral. She did check up on me sometimes during college, but it’s been… Two years since then? I think? I don’t know. I’m losing time. I did want to make her proud back then, and still kind of do, but it doesn’t matter since I’ve seen her a singular time since college. Hell, her call about you all was the first time she’s talked to me since the funeral. In a way, it’s the same way as it was when I was a kid, except she can’t see my comfort items and take them away from me, or judge my music and style choices. Not like either of those matter at all now, because I’m hesitant to get a new one of the comfort item I loved the most because stupid judgement shit, and I don’t think I’m going emo again like I did in college.” He went silent for another few moments, took another sip of his tea, and then finished off his rant with a hush, “Oh, and about my job… It is giving me stress, and it is that bad. The issue is, though, I can’t just quit and get a new job, there’s a lot of… Other issues that make that near impossible. That’s all I can really say about it without putting all three of us at risk.”