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.
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this game lowkey changed my life. it was something i could attach myself to while being in my really heavy depressive episodes and everything about it just makes me motivated to draw and experiment more with my art, figuring out what i could push with my skills. its similar with pizza tower but it being candy themed is what really sells it for me. ive always been a bit of a sweet tooth (got cavities everywhereee) and also purple-pink are my favorite colors, and my favorite kind of music is ragtime. i used to ride a scooter for most of my childhood. i love evil women. its like tthis game was made for me!!!!
" Mhh... " While he was told Benedict's children have compromised the sanctity of these chambers, he wasn't informed of how BAD it was. Of coarse that information would be withheld from him . . . The IMPORTANT information needed to complete the job. Typical. As long as this pit wasnt TRULY endless, there was hope.
The Lord reaches into his over coat, and pulls out a device in the shape of a pen. But that was a folly by design, for when he pushed the button at its end, it transformed into a tiny HatBot. Black Hat drops the machine down the pit and then looks at a watch on his wrist. He watches as a beeping red light, shown on the interface of the watch, displaying a RAPIDLY changing coordinate. Then it stops. Good, an end to this cavern.
" We only need a small sample. My bot should be able too-- Oh what the FUCK ! " The red dot vanished. A little concerning; Something caused the robot to not be able to be tracked anymore. Destroyed, perhaps ? Was there life in this pit that caused it ? All questions that didn't need to ne answered for Black Hat to send Pizzelle down there.
The two catch a glance. Black Hat notices the little human bracing for a push. " . . . . . " He instead, spawns a portal underneath his feet that DROPPED him from above into the dark crevice. He laughs, of coarse he did, before sinking into his own portal to meet Pizzelle at the bottom.
Coming this far only to stop at this point? No— no, it sounded too easy. Was he being realistic or pessimistic? The line between both was blurry. It was all in the script, going down 'the Very Obvious Pit of Doom' included. Why would they deprive the audience of what's down there— ? They'd be at the edge of their seats right now if they existed.
It's for that reason Pizzelle didn't look up this time. " ...J-just as I thought, yeah. " Just waited for Black Hat to eventually curse, proving him right. " Something... really bad's waiting down there. " Whether it was a monster or something greater didn't matter, he just... knew.
Perhaps that was why he wasn't phased after some time of staring into the darkness.
("C'MON, PRICE, WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!!") Perhaps because this sense of... danger wasn't unfamiliar to him. Sure, no ramps had been set to his feet— ("WE LOSE MONEY THE LONGER YOU STAND THERE!!") —but, regardless, he could hear the director getting progressively heated. The clapperboard was snapped, film was rolling in the back, and people were watching. They were watching.
" ...Fine, fine, I'll just— . " He lifted a foot, clearly intending to take a step forward... off the edge. Willingly. Alas, instead—
—he sank into the ground, having no time to react, nor scream. Even when he was a willing participant he didn't have much of a choice, huh? Way to be cruel, giving him an opportunity only to rip it off him immediately after.
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"oh, no we're okay! sorry if it looked like we were intruding, miss." the young rabbit quickly pipes up upon realising she'd been spotted, both cream and cheese synchronizing in a polite, apologetic bow. was it needed? well no, but she'd been caught staring, quite rudely she might add, it was the least she could do.
"i've just never seen your store before, it caught be a little off guard." the duo leans in a little closer, sensing no hostility, and curiosity once again taking the reins over the girl's better judgement. long drooping ears perk a few seconds later, realisation hitting like a truck. "but i've heard about it! one of my best friends, tails, he came here once a long, long time ago. he had nothing but nice things to say about it." she'd been meaning to visit, but alas, too much sugar was detrimental for someone as young as her.
curiously, cream's head wanders in the direction of the van, chocolate gaze turning moments later. and then, the lightbulb strikes, if it could appear above her head, it certainly would. "the market? i just came from there myself! what're you missing, i could help you get it, it'd be no trouble at all, miss."
" Well aaain'tcha polite little ones! " Like water off a duck's back, she waved her hand at them. " It's no biggie, really~ . " As if Rosette hasn't spotted her fair share of kids pressing their round faces against the parlor's glass windows before, big sparkly eyes marveling at what's inside. She'd never deprive a child of their sense of wonder.
It came with the job. More often than not, children were their main customerbase and those that spread the word to others, which— Gasp! Was the case here!
" The bright little fox, I remember him! " Hard not to when they had such little foot traffic on a daily basis. Smart kid, and their main consumer of mint chocolate chip ice cream too. " ...Oh! " Suddenly, cue a snap! Of her fingers in realization. " You two must be friends with Ames too then! We talk on the phone all the time! " Small world! Well, as small as a community could be, that is. " Well, you can call me Rosey like she does! "
Pulling a single key attacked to a necklace, she left the store and locked the doors with an audible click— " Very observant! " —stuffing it underneath her uniform before turning back to their conversation. " We didn't get our shipping of today, and we have lots of pies to bake later, so the extra pairs of hands would be lovely. They can get really heavy, y'know! "
Juuust a white lie on her part. After all, she could've handled this whole ordeal herself (none of the vendors at the market dared underestimating her anymore), but she'll take any excuse to continue this conversation. Plus, she loves it when kids wanna help out!
The Toads looked at him with disbelief, was he gonna abandon their princess? Puppy eyes started to be the norm for the Toads that weren't panicking for the kidnapping of their princess, Why Mario and Luigi weren't here? Why are they gone? What happened to them? And where is Yoshi?
No matter, the voice of their princess was getting lower and lower as time passes, those sounds to be non existent soon enough, and finally her voice was gone and with that her screams for someone to help her. Or someone to send her some power ups to fight back. But anything. The toads were too cowards to do something, those that aren't the guards were, they weren't made for fighting!
But the high council of the Kingdom was clear. Someone has to go and bring their princess back.
Koopa soldiers trying to push the door open in order to take it, each push stronger than the last one, until finally the doors breaking open to have the Koopas and Goombs marching inside as the Toads guards try to push them off, while the other Toads were only looking at the human, the only other one that was bigger and on their side. But they knew where to go, to Bowser's castle, the princess would be there, so they just have to win a bit more of time and send him there to the castle of Bowser.
(IDIOT, IDIOT, IDIOT— who SAYS that in a time like this?!) He could read the room just fine, everything was getting worse by the minute. (Your hostess is gone, your scooter is out there, and your SLAMMED the door in their faces?!) Sure, it would've been very, very ill-advised to throw themselves at this army without a second thought; this was the safer thing to do.
However, under such bleak circumstances, they were only delaying the inevitable.
SLAM! The doors were struggling to stay closed. SLAM! With each blow, those turtles were getting closer, and closer, to their desired goal. SLAM!! To them.
His teeth clenched tightly, Pizzelle sucked air through them in an attempt to cool his head down. (They didn't see me. I think.) The Toads were talking, a blue one wearing glasses was addressing him, but he couldn't hear anything past his ears ringing. (I could... sneak out and get my scooter back.) They were plotting something, clearly so, and so was he. (All I'd need is...)
" ...Okay. Okay. I get it. " Hastily, he pulled a small notepad and a black pen from his pocket, flipping it open and scribbling something, ripping that page off— " This... is the parlor's phone number, okay? " —and handing it to that Toad. " I-I don't care who does it— just dial it and tell my co-owner, her name is Rosette— that I'll be back late. " How were they going to do that while the castle was under siege? Who knows! It wasn't his problem!
He turned his head at the remainder of the small mushroom army that had gathered there. " ...Here's what you are going to do. " He had his own problems as is.
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When the doors finally gave in, the battlefield spreading to the castle's entrance... the candy maker was gone. It was as if he hadn't ever been there— except that not really. He just stood veeery still against one of the walls next of the door, going completely unnoticed by the armed turtles as they rushed in.
This was it. With his back against the wall, he slid a foot outside and, swiftly, snuck around and out of the main door. Cue a quiet exhale. He was out. Now he just had to pick his scooter off where he'd left it and—
—was that a turtle PLAYING with it?! Oh, that's it, he had enough.
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A really loud WIRRING noise was soon heard at the royal garden as a sudden flash of indigo zoomed across the place, sending leaves and petals alike flying in the process.
Guess he was going to give the dragon chase, alright. Or at least he'd try.
Just... ignore the large, stainless steel pot that had been left upside down by the castle's entrance. Or the fact that it kept rattling as if something was trapped in it. That guy had it coming, actually. Nobody messes with Pizzelle's scooter during work hours.
" 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.
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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.
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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.
