#teatime☕

[pennotfound]

Maybe as a writing prompt: dnf going on road trip and their car breakes down

Started writing the drabble for this one and almost 1500 words later I was done (totally surprised - I've been a little blocked and didn't think I had it in me!) Thanks for the prompt Tea, this was really fun to write!

what a road trip

chapter 1 - paved with memories

DNF, friends to lovers, road trips, car problems, idiots in love, 1475 words, rated Teen

Read on ao3 here!

[cinnameownsweet-archive]

catnap

taglist: @dmclr @elysiasdear @maddieinheaven @vanyasomnia. taglist form!

[lonely-jimmy]

Teatime ☕

[lukacrestcent]

Teatime! ☕🫖

(and Feluka mentioned)

[th0rnback]

FoM: unused snippet - Tea time

Confession time: 🫠 I have so many snippets that never made it into FoM because most of it was domestic fluff with nowhere to go (and I totally wrote them to soothe myself after just giving Ed a shitty time) OR just alternative routes I wrote up.

I do this with so many fics its probably why writing takes long.

But yeah… Have some [unedited] Tea time since I'm back on shift for 4 nights tomorrow.

[Set during Ed’s time settling in @ Riza’s apartment during the Gray Man case]

⬇️🫖☕⬇️

Routine was ingrained into Edward.

Being under Archer’s regimented command had made it a necessity. The endless cycle of orders, travel, chaos—assignments that spanned the breadth of Amestris—always circling back to New Optain. It was a rhythm, a loop, relentless in its precision. And Edward, as much as he bristled against the structure, found something oddly comforting in it. A consistency in the repetition. A dull, familiar hum beneath the Kimblee brand style of chaos.

Even the mindless polishing of his boots had turned into a soothing ritual. Born of necessity to avoid a harsh scolding from his superior, but eventually twisted into something meditative. A task that allowed his brain to go quiet while mismatched hands moved on autopilot. Still, it wasn’t the kind of routine he ever would have chosen for himself.

Living with Lieutenant Hawkeye had opened an entirely new realm of routine. One gentler. Mundane, even. But in that mundanity was something tender. Intimate. A first taste of domesticity.

It was long, measured walks with Black Hayate before and after work—no matter the weather. Giving the pup a small treat before leaving the apartment became as natural as tightening his laces. Boots came off at the door, neatly tucked against the wall, his own set of looking silly and small next to Riza’s. Dinner was shared, even if rushed or made from leftovers. Those humble meals—thrown together from cold rice or bits of meat—tasted better than the hardtack or slop he managed to eat when on the road with Kimblee.

Then came the nudge toward the bathroom; a quiet insistence from Riza, subtle but unwavering, where a steaming bath would be waiting with sweet suds and not caustic bar soap. On top of all that, there was laundry days and other tasks that he was sure other twelve-year-olds would sneer or grumble over, but he didn’t.  Nope.

This slow pile of routines that grounded Edward in ways he hadn't known he needed, like…tea.

Edward couldn’t remember ever drinking tea before being here. If he had, it was lost in the amnesiac haze. But now? Now, tea in the evening was a ritual.

It wasn’t grand or ceremonial. It started small—just something Riza did without thinking. But Edward had begun hovering in the tiny kitchen, slowly edging closer and closer, always drawn by the faint clink of spoons and the soft whistle of the kettle. Like now, he stood there as she prepared the leaves, his metal and flesh fingers curled on the counter, nestled so near her side that she had absentmindedly tucked him under his arm like the mama birds in the trees did with their chicks…

Three mugs clinked softly as they were set down on the counter by Roy.

The Colonel had arrived shortly after dinner and had yet to leave, not that Ed minded. Like most evenings, Roy appeared at Riza’s apartment, claiming it was for the sake of “reviewing paperwork,” as it didn’t seem to matter if they were in the thick of a serial killer investigation—his hand-cramping pile of reports followed him. Tonight, there was no paperwork. Just a grumpy reason to escape the sound of Maes Hughes's endless stream of chatting to his wife Gracia, hiking up Roy's phone bill.

Although, if Edward was honest, he had an inkling Roy was forever giving flimsy reasons to be here.

Edward's eyes drifted to the trio of mugs now lined up. Normally, it was just two mugs, but with Roy’s presence, came a mildly altered routine of teatime. The first mug looked like a miniature tankard—ceramic, sturdy, with an irregular glaze of black-to-blue ink splatters. The second was far more refined, bone-white with delicate blue swirls and soft pink blossoms hand-painted across its surface. The third was pale gray, round and squat, speckled with warm yellow. Ed scowled at it instinctively.

Riza, who’d noticed immediately, slid the gray-yellow speckled mug away with the ease of someone fluent in silent communication.

Roy’s brow lifted, amused. “What did I miss?”

“I don’t drink from that one,” Ed said without looking at him, as if the idea was absurd.

“Edward’s rather taken with the failed attempt I made at pottery class with Rebecca,” Riza said, opening the tea tin with a casual grace. “Middle shelf. Red.’’

“The wonky one,” Ed clarified helpfully, pointing with his automail finger toward a mug tucked at the back of the shelf—a red one, oddly shaped, a little too lopsided and thick around the middle like it had sagged in the kiln. “S’the best one.”

Having a preference felt surreal and made his tummy flip in the best sort of way.

A small, twitchy paranoid part of Ed expected to be given a glare or be dismissed. Instead, Roy let out a snort and retrieved the misshapen mug.

“Naturally,” was Roy’s drawled remark.

Ed gave a nod, satisfied that the routine was reestablished correctly, and settled into the quiet comfort of the moment. He missed the knowing glance of affection exchanged above his head—Riza’s soft smile met Roy’s lopsided one, the kind of silent exchange that came with long-standing familiarity and a shared softness they didn’t need to put into words.

Edward, for his part, was too busy watching Riza's hands.

The boy always did during this part of the evening. There was something calming about the ritual of watching Riza make tea or putter around the tiny kitchen —the way she worked without hurry, her movements precise and growing steadily familiar . She measured the tea, tapping the leaves into the strainer, snapping the lid shut with a gentle click. It was a blend she’d served him every evening since the first night he’d been welcomed into her home with Black Hayate embedding fur into his uniform.

Chamomile and passionflower with a few additional things she added during the process.

The Sharpshooter once told him the pairing was supposed to ease restlessness and invite sleep. It never really worked. Not for him.

But Ed never said anything. The taste was nice enough and the scent alone was akin to a balm. Event he routine itself -  the boiling water, ceramic clinks and peaceful scents – was soothing after a long day.  He watched her like she was preparing some kind of magical potion or an alchemical solution of some sort…

Like the act of steeping tea could transmute the day’s weight into something lighter.

Finally, she poured the soft, golden tea into each mug. No milk. Edward watched her add a spoonful of honey to hers and Roy's, and pushed himself up onto his toes to see her stir it in. Then, as she spooned a generous dollop of honey into Ed’s, he dropped back onto the flats of his feet. Fingers twitching and waiting the what would follow, he watched her add another spoonful, unaware of the happy hum that escaped him.

“And the kid gets two spoonfuls of honey, why?” Roy asked, his voice soft, almost too casual.

If Ed didn’t know better, he’d swear there was a touch of jealousy in his voice.

Riza didn’t miss a beat. “Edward could use a little extra sweetness.”

Roy leaned his elbow on the counter, his tone smug “Ah. Or is it because I’m sweet enough already, right? I always suspected you —”

“Because you don’t need extra honey,” she cut in, dry as the desert.

Roy blinked, affronted. “Why does that sound suspiciously like an insult?”

Riza said nothing, her silence loaded and expertly delivered. Ed bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the grin tugging at his mouth. He still had trouble reading decent people—figuring out if kindness was real or some kind of trap—but this... This was the Colonel and the Lieutenant’s strange sort of banter and affection. Familiar and gentle. A rhythm they unconsciously danced to.

“I’m in perfect shape,” Roy added, mildly affronted.

“I didn’t say otherwise,” Riza replied, voice laced with amusement as she stirred in that second spoonful into Edward’s tea.

Edward could practically hear Rebecca Catalina in his head—sharp-tongued and unfiltered— and always seeking to tease Roy mercilessly. She’d have pounced on that moment without hesitation, no doubt reminding Roy that circle was, technically, a shape. Not that Roy was out of shape. Not, really. He was broad-shouldered, barrel-chested and thick through the chest and arms with muscle despite not moving much from behind his desk.  

Roy was stocky sturdy and, dare Ed admit it, felt safe.

Regardless, the big felt a ticklish laugh curl in his throat. Edward swallowed it down, turning his head just enough to not be seen, using Riza’s arm as a shelter. Before the conversation could continue, routine continued as it always did and – like clockwork - Riza pulled the spoon from his mug while the honey still clung to it.

She held it aloft without looking in silent invitation, waiting.

And, like the many times before during evening tea, Ed gently plucked it from her hand and popped the spoon into his mouth. The warmth of honey bloomed on his tongue, and for a heartbeat—for one small, perfect moment—it felt like the world didn’t feel like it was collapsing beneath him.

[yuki-oto-art]

☕ Teatime Lysithea 🍪

[mortifiedmouse]

☕ Teatime in the Library 📚

[kafkaoftherubble]

Fire Emblem Three Houses 5th Anniversary Asks!

The premise is simple.

If you were a character in FE3H...

⏫: What weapon/skill do you think you'll be proficient in? (Max 3)

⭐: What weapon/skill do you think you have hidden talent in? (Max 3)

⏬: What weapon/skill do you think you will suck at? (Max 3)

⤴: Who are the characters do you think you can achieve A+ or S-level support ending? (No limit!)

💬: Byleth has to attain certain proficiencies to poach students to their house. But what more could they have also done if they want to convince you to join them?

📜: What will your backstory in FE3H probably be? (as briefly as necessary!)

⚔: What will your Crest Weapons/Divine Weapons/Personal Weapons theoretically be? If you like, elaborate on the effects or powers they possess! (Does not need to be FE-mechanism compliant)

📚: Everyone in Three Houses can develop magic even if their proficiency differs. What nature will your magic be? Both faith and reason magic are accepted!

🗺: What will your paralogue be about? If you're sharing it with someone else, who will that be?

☕: What tea should Byleth get for your teatime?

❗: Which chores will you be the most proficient in?

🔅: Where will Byleth most likely find you in the entire monastery?

🗨: Byleth often finds misplaced items and return them to their owner, right? What will your "lost item" be?

🎁: From this list, which gift will increase your support point the most? (Add your own special gift if you have something better!)

✉: What "anonymous" question will you drop in the monastery's secret ask box for Byleth to answer?

🖋: if unpaired, what will your ending in FE3H be?

Reblog and add more questions to this Ask Game if you have some kickass ones, too!

[grox-empire]

Teatime at the galactic core ☕

Steve is like her weird gay uncle :)

[sigyns-drafts]

Wassup! How ya doin? So, I've been looking through your stuff, and honestly, DAMN you write good! If it's not too much, I'd like to request for ROR Buddha, Ares, Hermes, and Jack interacting with or having teatime with Marie Antoinette reader?

After reading her up as to what she was actually like, I'd like to think that after her death, she started leading a more modest lifestyle cause I like the idea of her becoming a cottage core girlie, but still maintaining some level of opulence from her life, like jewelry, or love of sweets.

That'd be all! Wish you the best!

A/N: Hello, I'm doing just fine today and thank you so much for asking and for the compliment!! I'm very passionate about my works and writings. 👀

Glady I will, it's never too much. I hope you're also doing fine and if not, please enjoy what I've got for you. Also did you draw that? It's stunning!!

I absolutely adore this idea you have for Marie Antoinette, 100℅ cottagecore girl!~ <3

Teatime with Marie Antoinette ☕🤍

➩ Marie Antoinette, adorned in a gown of shimmering silk and gold jewelry, sat gracefully at a marble table set with delicate porcelain teacups and dainty pastries. Across from her, sat an empty chair for whoever would want to join her.

And much to the woman's surprise, who was used to being alone in this afterlife because of her past, would be having some company after all, much to her delight!

➩ Reader type: Marie Antoinette!reader with Buddha, Ares, Hermes and Jack the ripper.

⚠: Mentions of past death, murders, past regrets & flashbacks, angst, jacks mommy issues!

Buddha:

The scent of blossoms hung heavy in the air and the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing backdrop to the graceful Marie Antoinette, who found herself seated at a elegantly set tea table.

Opposite her sat Buddha, the enlightened one, who had joined her for tea, albeit for an unconventional reason.

Marie Antoinette, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected guest, regarded Buddha with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Welcome, honored Buddha," she greeted, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Buddha, his serene expression unchanged, offered a gentle smile.

"I have come for the pastries," he replied simply, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"But I am also curious to hear your story, Madame Antoinette."

Marie Antoinette's laughter bubbled forth like a sparkling stream, her mirth contagious in the tranquil garden.

"Well, Buddha," she exclaimed, her eyes dancing with amusement, "you are in luck, for I have plenty of pastries to share, and a story to tell that is as rich as the treats before us."

As they indulged in the delectable pastries, their conversation flowed effortlessly, traversing the realms of history, philosophy, and the intricacies of human nature.

Despite their stark differences in background and beliefs, Marie Antoinette and Buddha found a surprising kinship in their shared appreciation for life's simple pleasures.

Buddha listened intently as Marie Antoinette regaled him with tales of her life as the Queen of France, her voice animated with passion and warmth.

From her extravagant balls and lavish feasts to the tumultuous political landscape that defined her reign, she painted a vivid portrait of a woman caught in the whirlwind of history.

"And what of you, Buddha?" Marie Antoinette inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"What led you to seek enlightenment and transcendence?"

Buddha's expression softened, his gaze turning inward as he reflected on his journey towards enlightenment.

"I sought to understand the nature of suffering and the path to liberation," he explained, his voice serene yet filled with compassion.

"In the pursuit of truth, I found a deeper understanding of the human condition and the interconnectedness of all beings."

Marie Antoinette nodded thoughtfully, her admiration for Buddha's wisdom evident in her eyes.

"A noble quest indeed," she remarked, her voice tinged with respect. "And yet, here we are, bound together by a shared love for pastries and the joy of good company."

Buddha had to let out a small chuckle, "Hah, indeed we are Madame, indeed we are."

Ares:

Marie Antoinette found herself seated at a gracefully adorned tea table, her delicate porcelain cup filled with fragrant brew.

Across from her sat Ares, the formidable god of war, his imposing presence softened by the ambiance of their setting.

Marie greeted Ares with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with charm. "Welcome, Lord Ares," she said graciously, extending a dainty hand in greeting.

"I am delighted to have your company for tea this evening."

Ares, his expression stoic yet tinged with uncertainty, returned the gesture with a curt nod.

He shook her hand as gently as he was able to, afraid to somehow hurt her. His hand was much bigger than hers after all and compared to her, he was a god.

"The pleasure is mine, Madame Antoinette," he replied, his voice gruff yet respectful.

"I must admit, tea is not something I am accustomed to, but I am willing to partake.."

As they settled into their seats, Marie Antoinette poured tea for both herself and Ares, her movements graceful and practiced.

Ares, however, found himself struggling with the delicate intricacies of tea etiquette, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the delicate teacup.

Marie Antoinette let out a small giggle behind her hand as she watched Ares' attempts, finding his earnestness endearing despite his lack of finesse.

"Fear not, Lord Ares," she reassured him, her voice laced with amusement.

"Tea drinking is an art form, but with a bit of guidance, I am certain you will master it in no time."

With patient encouragement, Marie Antoinette guided Ares through the proper technique of holding the teacup, lifting it with elegance, and sipping the tea with refined grace.

Though Ares initially struggled to emulate her poise, he soon found himself growing more accustomed to the ritual, his movements becoming smoother with each attempt.

As they conversed over tea, Marie Antoinette regaled Ares with tales of her life in the royal court of France, her anecdotes punctuated by laughter and animated gestures.

Ares listened intently, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of admiration and bemusement.

"And what of you, Lord Ares?" Marie Antoinette inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"What tales do you have to share from ancient Greece?"

Ares' expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"My tales are not ones of refinement and elegance. They're just not suitable for a fair lady such as you," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of determination in doing the proper thing he thought was best.

Even if it had sparked her curiosity and interest to hear what went out on the battlefield, Marie Antoinette simply just nodded and chuckled in return.

"Whatever you say Ares, if that is what you wish."

Hermes:

Marie Antoinette found herself seated at a beautifully adorned tea table, her porcelain cup filled with delicious warm tea.

Before her stood Hermes, the fleet-footed messenger of the gods, his presence exuding an air of elegance much like her own and efficiency.

Hermes, clad in his customary black suit and carrying a tray laden with delicacies, bowed respectfully before Marie Antoinette.

"Madame Antoinette," he greeted, his voice smooth as silk.

"I have come to attend to your needs as your humble bulter this evening."

Marie Antoinette smiled graciously, her eyes filled with appreciation.

"Oh thank you, Hermes," she replied, her voice soft and filled with a sincere warmth.

"But I would much prefer your company, if you would be so kind."

Hermes hesitated for a moment, unused to be offerd this by someone he saw as a guest to him and the other gods court.

But he found himself unable refuse the request of the gracious lady in front of him.

With a nod of acquiescence, he set down the tray and took a seat opposite Marie Antoinette, his demeanor composed yet curious.

As they began to engage in polite conversation, their words flowing effortlessly between them.

Despite their best efforts to maintain a sense of decorum, a sudden mishap occurred when Marie Antoinette inadvertently knocked over a delicate teacup, causing it to spill it's contents onto the table.

"Pardon me, sir," Marie Antoinette exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"I did not do that on purpose!"

Hermes' expression softened with recognition as he realized the significance of her words.

Those were her last words before she was executed.

"No need to apologize, Madame Antoinette," he replied gently, his voice tinged with sympathy as he took out a napkin from his pocket.

"Its okay for even those of high statuses to make mistakes and be a bit clumsy."

Marie Antoinette nodded but quickly grew quiet, her thoughts drifting back to the events of her mortal life, to the past tumultuous moments leading up to her untimely demise.

Yet, despite the weight of her memories haunting her, she found solace in Hermes' understanding gaze, his silent support a balm to her troubled soul.

"I apologize for my words, Madame Antoinette but I'm being truthful." Hermes spoke once more, his eyes filled with compassion.

"I did not mean to cause you so much distress."

"How did you- doesn't matter.."

Marie Antoinette shook her head, offering him a gentle smile. She wasn't sure how Hermes was able to tell something was off about her.

Was it because he was a divine being or because it was so obvious? Either way it didn't matter.

"It is quite all right, Hermes. You haven't..i just had to remember something." she replied, her voice filled with forgiveness.

"In fact, I am grateful for your understanding. You're right, even I can make mistakes."

"Exactly, now let me clean this up for us so we can continue this splendid tea party, hm~"

Jack the ripper:

In the serene gardens of the afterlife, Marie Antoinette sat gracefully at a finely set tea table, her porcelain cup filled with warm tea, her mind lost in contemplation.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence approaching, and to her surprise, Jack the Ripper emerged from the shadows, his demeanor creepy yet strangely intriguing.

Jack, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, bowed respectfully before Marie Antoinette.

"Madame Antoinette," he greeted, his voice a low murmur, "I hope you do not mind if I join you for tea. After all, who am I to resist such a grand offer?"

Marie Antoinette, though taken aback by the unexpected company, of such a known killer gestured graciously for Jack to take a seat.

"Of course, Monsieur Ripper, who am I to dismiss some company!" she replied, her voice composed yet tinged with curiosity.

"I welcome you, unlike most here.." She sighs, recalling how many had been very cold towards him.

Though who were they to blame for having murdered innocent women.

As they settled into their seats, Marie Antoinette and Jack engaged in polite conversations at first, their words dancing between until it slowly took a deep turn.

Jack, ever the enigma, shared tales of his past, his voice tinged with a mixture of remorse and defiance.

Marie Antoinette listened intently, her heart heavy with empathy for the man shrouded in darkness.

Yet she still had to think about his poor victims and how it could've all been avoided if Jack's mother hadn't snapped, same went for the bearded man himself.

"And what of you, Madame Antoinette?" Jack inquired, his gaze piercing yet strangely gentle.

"How did you find yourself in the halls of the afterlife?"

Marie Antoinette's expression softened as she recounted the events of her mortal life, from her rise as the Queen of France to her tragic demise at the hands of the revolutionaries.

She usually wouldn't have shared such memories with someone, for it haunted her so deeply til this day.

But knowing Jack hadn't been any better than her when he was alive, she felt like she could speak of the trials and tribulations she faced, her voice filled with hidden sorrow.

As their conversation delved deeper into the intricacies of their pasts, Marie Antoinette and Jack found themselves bound by a shared understanding of the burdens they bore.

Even with the vast chasm that separated them in life, they discovered a common thread of humanity that transcended the boundaries of time and circumstance.

Suddenly, amidst their conversation, a faint sound echoed through the garden, the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps.

Marie Antoinette's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see her beloved child, running towards her with arms outstretched.

"Mama!" the child cried, tears streaming down their cheeks, seeking solace in their mother's embrace.

Marie Antoinette's eyes brimmed with tears as she enveloped her child in a warm embrace, her heart overflowing with love for her youngling.

"Oh darling what are you doing here?!"

As she glanced up at Jack, she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, a glimpse of the vulnerability that lurked beneath his hardened exterior.

Jack watched the tender scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing upon his lips. In that moment, he saw himself reflected in the child's tears, a lost soul seeking comfort in the arms of their mother.

"Well aren't they a adorable little one~"

[pennotfound]

Hi Pen! I hope your weekend has been off to a good start and that you are having a nice day! I just got around to watching George's fishing stream and it was so cute I immediately had to draw something for it and I'll post that later today 😊

Looking forward to seeing that later! I'll be out hiking to see frozen waterfalls with my friend so I won't see it until we get back to the cabin tonight. I hope you have a great day! 🌞

[cinnameownsweet-archive]

after the magic show

word count: 402 pairing: lynettoast warnings: none!

summary: lynette spots a curious figure after she and her brother finish their magic show...

"and that concludes our magic show! we'll be performing at the opera eplicese, so go and book your tickets before they're all sold out!" lyney's voice rang across the street, and took a bow with his sister. 

lynette didn't mind the spotlight, but she also didn't like being the centre of attention for too long. it simply took up too much energy. 

she and her brother retreated to the nearby cafe to relax and "recharge", as it were. "I'll be right back, lynette! I'm going to go pick up the magic pockets. I had nearly forgot... stay here, alright?" she nodded, not in the mood for conversation. 

she closed her eyes and began to tune out the world around her, if possible. the streets of Fontaine were always busy, making it hard to get proper rest. after a while, she opened her eyes and spotted an artist. 

they had cat features like her; feline ears and a much fluffier tail. it looked so soft, it could be used as a pillow. they seemed to be sketching the cake in front of them, tongue poking out ever so slightly. 

they were quite pretty, she thought. it's so rare to see someone else with feline features. perhaps she could go up and talk to them? ah, but she wasn't feeling it... if only she could recharge faster. 

"I'm back!" lyney announced his presence, quickly abrupting her focus. "oh, you look tired. shall we head home? I can make you something there." "...sure. let's go."

a few days passed, and she saw that artist again. she had nothing better to do, and for once her energy levels felt alright, so she went to say hi. walking up behind them, they asked "what are you drawing?" and spooked the poor artist halfway to death. 

"ACK! oh my goodness, I'm so sorry-" "no, its alright. i get that sometimes." silence hung in the air for a moment. awkward. 

"your drawing looks very nice..."

"oh, thanks! i might paint it later..." 

"you paint too?"

"yep! do you?"

"no, I've never tried it."

"would you like to? I've got some spare."

"...sure."

they got to know eachother, and began to meet weekly to paint together. after learning about the artist - yinuo's - travels, they became pen pals as well. 

notably, her energy didn't seem to drain much around them. "that's good." she thought to herself. though, she did wonder why.

taglist: @dmclr @elysiasdear @maddieinheaven @vanyasomnia. taglist form!

[dungeonofthedragon]

Teatime in Sigil

Teatime in Sigil is a relaxed scenario for adventures in the City of Doors.

Enjoy teas from across the multiverse 🌟

Tea leaf readings spark future adventure ☕

Meet charming characters such as a waitressing hollyphant and deva tasseomancer 🐝

Get it here for just 59c!

[the-insouciant-scientist]

tea ask game :D! Oolong and matcha ☕!

I'll answer Oolong for Irving, and Matcha for everyone! Oolong: How does your OC decorate their space?

Irving's very maximalist and ostentatious in his decorating! Lots of beautiful fabrics hanging about the place, and lots of shiny little knicknacks and trinkets. She's absolutely the kind of person to see a random little charm or figurine or music box at an antique store and immediately decide it would be perfect on his shelf. Like there's definitely a theme and a cohesiveness to her decorations, but there's also a fair bit of wiggle room on what that entails.

Matcha: What is your OC’s preferred little treat?

Harper - Lemon posset. Bright, sweet, relatively easy to make :-) Phileas - He'd never admit to it but he really likes violet mints Caiomhe - APPLE CAKE apple cake apple cake she grew up around orchards and would kill for some apple cake Irving - Why, anything, as long as it's shared with a friend! (That's a lie there's absolutely bonus points for cherry danishes) Agnes - Mini Victoria sponges or other teatime-esque treats! Ask game from here!

[ashes-of-ailell]

Sorry it took a while for your ask to arrive after reblogging this! I've been busy fighting Those Who Slithered in the Dark

Your prompts are!

⏫, ⤴, 📜, 📚, ☕, ✉

HAVE FUN!!!

Hello!! No worries whatsoever, thank you so much for asking!! :3

⏫ What weapon / skill do you think you'll be proficient in? (Max. 3)

Faith / Bow / Reason for sure!! I don't really like getting up close to attack, but I'd also want to be able to heal those around me if at all possible. I'll fight if I have to, but I'd prefer to just play support.

⤴️ (I don't have that specific arrow emoji) Who are characters that you think you can achieve A+/S level support ending with? (no limit)

Ashe / Bernadetta / Linhardt / Dedue / Annette / Marianne / Hubert / Constance / Hapi / Yuri / Flayn

📜 What will your backstory be?

I'd be from Faerghus probably. I think I'd want to be the son of a florist or merchant of some description based in Fhirdiad. I think I'd have somehow ended up at the School of Sorcery (probably fixated on magic a bit too much and got good at it as an accidental result) and realise I enjoy helping people, so I'd try and get into the Officers Academy. Though some of that might also be a product of financial concerns or other issues.

📚 What nature will your magic be? Both reason and faith are accepted!

I think I'd have a lot of healing/support magic (Heal / Physic / Fortify / Warp) and my offensive magic would be ice based (Fimbulvetr / Blizzard) with some light from the Faith (like Nosferatu / etc)

☕ What tea should Byleth get for your teatime?

I'm not a big fan of tea, but if I had to pick one for the game mechanic's sake, I'd probably go with Ginger Tea, or something sweet.

✉️ What 'anonymous' question will you drop into the guidance box for Byleth to answer?

Oh that's a tough one. Depending on if it's Pre or Post Timeskip, I'd either ask if they can point me in the direction of someone who I can talk to about a book I like, or I'd ask about ways to deal with nerves before a fight.

Thank you so much for asking, this was so much fun to do!! Hope you're having a lovely day! :3