Commission for Aleisha (@kawaiialeisha), Gifted by Blue (@ilovethecolorblue)
Once again, Blue here has asked me to make a tune for Aleisha to place alongside a looping animation of Aleisha's character, Mori Moonlet. I saw that animation and immediately said, "Okay, but what if I made a small part of it match with the snapping, and made it swingy?"
I admit I am rusty and have little to no music theory knowledge, but hey! It's fun to make something.
This is my 62nd creation. This is for Mori Moonlet. Clear and not at all muffled through the TV's speakers, a moon appears on air. Microphone in hand and snapping his fingers as a steady metronome, the music features (an attempt) at a slow swinging 6/8 rhythm, piano, and some bass. Perhaps the piano is reminiscent of his familiar theme.
Toast here asked me to make a tune for their Welcome Home OC, Dandy Leon, and the lovable Wally Darling. A sort of love song, if you will. Add on top of that an idea for a written scene between the two and you have this!
(Also I'm eating up your comments in Discord, please know that /pos)
This is my 29th creation. This is for Dandy Leon and Wally Darling. A song of spring, being in bloom, and many references to Dandy's Delights (for this is a tune with Dandy in it!). The goobers are waltzing in the garden and having fun little stumbles, but they're enjoying themselves because the world is in bloom.
Summary: Wally wants to paint someone to day. But who should he paint? Barnaby suggests to him, "Why not Dandy?"
Word Count: ~2.8k words
TW: None
Author’s Note: Enjoy! Also on AO3 as a gift.
One day, Wally Darling woke up and decided that he was going to paint today.
If someone were to ask him why, like his best friend did when the large blue pooch stopped by the painter’s sentient house, he couldn’t explain it. “I just want to paint today, Barnaby,” Wally said in his signature monotonous voice. He pocketed some of his paintbrushes and tubes of acrylic paint in the pockets of his blue cardigan as he added, “I have a problem, though.”
“Eh? What’s botherin’ my lil’ apple today?” Barnaby B. Beagle asked as he leaned against Home’s outer walls. The dark blue ear closest to the front door perked up as he joked, “Ain’t it too early to feel gray? I thought that was Frank’s job!” The dog howled in laughter, then in mock pain as Home lightly smacked him with his door. “Alright, alright! I get it Home!”
Wally laughed a quiet little “Ha ha ha,” even though he didn’t quite get what was funny about the joke. The few times he had asked Barnaby to explain a joke to him, his best friend had groaned and placed a paw over his snout.
“A joke ain’t funny if I hafta explain it,” he had said, “but for you, lil’ buddy, fine. I will.” Barnaby had patted his shoulder to show that he meant no ill will with his tone, but that night and for the next few ones, Wally had tried and failed to squash the thought that he might’ve ruined his best friend’s jokes forever.
“Home, I get it. No makin’ fun of the sourpuss– Home!” Barnaby let out a few more laughs, then thumped at his chest twice as he cleared his throat. “Lil’ buddy, ya said ya had a problem?”
“Oh, yes. I have a problem.” Wally wordlessly gave Barnaby a blank canvas, then his folded wooden easel. The former was off white and lightly textured, while the latter was light brown with splatters of miscellaneous colors. The hinges were squeaky with use and no longer smelled of wood but instead, it smelled faintly of chemicals from the paints he used.
It was bad for him, according to Frank and Poppy, but he found it comforting. Could something that was bad also be comforting? He would have to ask someone about it.
But, that was for later. Another problem for later.
“I don’t know what to paint,” Wally said as he grabbed his palette, stepped outside, and closed the door. He craned his neck up, took a few steps away from his taller friend, then craned his neck a little less. “I don’t feel like painting red apples. But I like painting red apples. I don’t feel like painting you, but I like painting you too.” He fiddled with one of his paintbrushes, running the clean bristles over his fingers as he asked, “What should I do, Barnaby?”
“Well, gee Walls.” Barnaby furrowed his brow as he exhaled through his nose. “How’s about ya paint one of your neighbors?”
“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Wally paused stroking his fingertips with the paintbrush bristles, then resumed as another problem made itself apparent. “But who? Who should I paint today Barnaby?”
“Well, you can’t paint me! You said you didn’t wanna.”
“I still love you Barnaby.”
“Yeah, love ya too.” Barnaby started to thump his foot on the ground, quietly letting out a low growl as he thought. “Who have ya painted?”
“I’ve painted you, Barnaby. I’ve painted Julie, and I’ve painted Frank. I’ve painted Sally, and I’ve painted Poppy. I’ve painted Eddie, and I’ve painted Howdy.” Wally counted off each neighbor on each of his fingers, and he was left with one finger left standing. “I’ve tried to paint Home, but Home is very large and requires a lot of time. I will finish Home’s portrait soon.”
Home creaked an apology.
“It’s okay Home.”
“Huh. How about ya paint one of our other neighbors?” Barnaby asked. “How’s about that one with the sunflowers in their yard? Dandy?”
“Dandy?” Wally stopped brushing his fingertips as the name bounced around his head, trying to attach itself to a face. Sunflowers in their yard…green…brown hat…flowers. But not Julie’s type of flowers. Julie’s flowers were loud and vibrant, brave and running towards what she loved. Flowers attached to Dandy’s name were bright, yes, but they were gentle. They curled away from harsh words and they bloomed in the quiet moments.
The painter gasped. “Oh! Yes! I should paint Dandy!” Almost at once, the floodgates in his brain opened. Ideas flooded his mind, breaking through darkness with shades of green and yellow and red. He almost wished that he was as big as Barnaby so he could walk further with each step. His plans of painting couldn’t wait!
Barnaby let out a howl of laughter and gestured to the main road with a jerk of his head. “C’mon lil’ apple. Let go get your sunflower’s portrait painted.”
“My sunflower?” Wally asked as the pair started on the journey to the gardener’s house. “Barnaby, the sunflowers belong to Dandy. And I will be painting Dandy, not their sunflowers.”
The blue dog snickered. “Alright lil’ buddy.”
Wally didn’t understand that joke either.
The sun shone down on the pair of best friends as they approached the earthy-colored house. Even from a distance, the yellow flowers stood tall towards the sun, almost greeting them with how they were turned towards them. Some were lightly tied to wooden stakes, but they still looked healthy.
Standing next to the sunflowers was a puppet with green felt, short and fluffy brown hair, and squarish glasses on their face. The sleeves of their brown cardigan were partially rolled up as they inspected some of the leaves of the sunflowers, their face deep in concentration as their mouth moved slightly with words that were too quiet to hear.
“Heya Dandy!” Barnaby barked out as the distance between the puppets started to close.
Dandy jumped and looked up from their work. Their eyes widened and they scrambled to dust off their clothes, roll down their sleeves, and step out of the thick of their sunflowers. “Wally! Barnaby!” they called back. “What can I do for y’all?”
“Funny, they called your name first Walls,” Barnaby murmured.
“That was supposed to be funny?” Wally asked.
“Eh.” Barnaby shrugged and turned his attention back to Dandy. “Wally here wants to paint ya.”
Wally watched as Dandy’s gaze rapidly turned to him, hovered for a moment too long, then turned back to his best friend. “Me?” the gardener asked as they pointed to themself. Their gaze turned back to Wally as they repeated, “You want to paint me?”
“Yes,” Wally breathed. “I want to paint you, Dandy.”
“I — ” The gardener's hands started to wave dismissively as their eyes dropped to the ground. “I don’t think I’m good enough to be painted! I’m a mess, and I have dirt on my hands. My hair is messy, and I have to send some flowers to Howdy’s — ”
With one swift motion, Barnaby unfolded Wally’s easel and placed it down nearby. He then patted Dandy’s head and chuckled at the yelp of surprise the gardener let out. “Re-lax Dandy. Walls here ain’t gonna eat cha alive!”
Wally’s fingers tightened around his cardigan for a brief moment. His eyes itched.
Not today. Not today.
Barnaby placed the blank canvas down on the empty easel and patted Wally on the shoulder before he bid the two shorter puppets farewell and walked away. “Peace out ‘n have fun! I’ll be at Howdy’s if ya need me!”
Wally waved goodbye to the blue dog, then turned his attention back to Dandy. “I will be painting you soon, neighbor.”
“Wally,” Dandy murmured. They kept looking at the ground, their voice even quieter than when Barnaby was there. Their brows were furrowed slightly and their mouth was pressed together in a thin line. “You don’t have to paint me. I think there are better neighbors to paint than lil’ ol’ me,” they chuckled. At the last half of their sentence, they sounded a bit like Eddie.
“I want to,” Wally countered. “I really do want to paint you.” He started to take out some of the acrylic tubes and laid them on the excess wood of the easel. He untwisted some of the caps to loosen them up, then carefully squeezed a bit of paint onto his palette one at a time. A bit of black and white in the corner for mixing, then green here and yellow there. Blue as well, and brown was very important.
“I woke up today and wanted to paint,” he confessed. “But I didn’t want to paint red apples or Barnaby, even though I love both red apples and Barnaby very much. Oh, thank you Dandy.”
The gardener blushed as they helped screw the caps of the paints back on. “I can getcha a cup of water for your paints. And a stool, if you want one.”
“A stool for the paint water would be nice, thank you.”
As Dandy hurriedly walked inside their house, Wally made it his mission to stare at the blank canvas with a paintbrush in one hand and his palette in the other. He had the subject, and he had the colors. He had the idea, no matter how faint it was. But now that he was here, with his subject nearby and with his colors laid out, the idea was rapidly vanishing.
His grip on the paintbrush tightened. The pose. How should Dandy pose? And any objects? Should they be holding anything in their hands? How much of Dandy should he paint?
He wanted to paint today, that he knew. But why was it so hard to paint?
“ —lly? Wally?”
The pompadoured puppet let in a sharp inhale of air and turned towards the voice.
Dandy gasped in return, backing away slightly. They bumped against the stool where an old cup filled with water sat, and they cried out to catch it as it wobbled precariously. “Golly! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Wally said. He found his voice again — again; he was losing it…what year was it? — and forced himself to take a slow, calm breath. “I still want to paint you, Dandy. But, I’m having trouble imagining how I want to paint you.”
“Paint me however you want Wally, and I’m sure it’ll look nice.” Dandy’s gaze alternated between him and the ground, and their felt still showed hints of a blush. Pinkish, maybe red.
Like apples.
Wally slowly raised his paintbrush and started to circle it in midair, pretending that the ends of the brush were covered in red paint. He brushed an imaginary stroke upwards to make a stem, then two smooth lines to make a leaf. He liked apples. Those were the first things he painted.
What did Dandy like?
“Oh!” he gasped. “Dandy, can I paint you with sunflowers?”
“Sunflowers?” Dandy repeated. “The tall ones or the ones I picked earlier for Howdy’s?”
Wally paused. He looked at the sunflowers that towered above their heads nearby. Instead of looking friendly, they now looked intimidating. “I want to paint you with the sunflowers closer to your face.”
“My face? Oh, you’re going to paint my face?” Dandy’s hands waved, though not as erratically as Julie. “Can’t I hide behind my sunflowers? I’m a mess like I said and the sunflowers are more beautiful than I am and — ”
“Dandy.”
Dandy stopped.
“I think my neighbors look beautiful on my canvas because I paint what I see.” Wally’s smile widened as he added, “And I think the painting I want to do with you and your sunflowers will be beautiful too.”
If Dandy’s face could turn into a pretty red apple, it would. The gardener sputtered something before they stumbled away and stumbled back with a large bouquet of sunflowers in their hands. Dozens of yellow petals shone outwards, almost giving Sally a challenger for the brightest one in the neighborhood. In their centers, hundreds of seeds created a dark contrast.
In the middle of it all, Dandy’s face was buried in it.
Wally didn’t mind so much. He needed to paint the sunflowers first.
So began the long and slow process of mixing colors to create the right shade, then applying them onto the canvas in gentle strokes. The petals were abstract shapes at first, radiating from a circle of darkness in the center. As Wally switched brushes and added details, the sunflowers gained personality. Individual petals started to differentiate, and someone could pluck out the seeds if they wished to.
He dipped the brush in the murky paint water and started on the puppet. He looked around the canvas and saw Dandy’s face still buried in the sunflowers.
That was no good.
He placed the paintbrush on the stool and slowly approached them. “Dandy. Could you lift your face up please? I need to paint it.”
Dandy hesitantly complied, but most of their face was still covered by yellow petals. “The sunflowers are more beautiful,” they faintly insisted. “They’re in bloom.”
“You are in bloom too,” Wally said. Despite his brush hand smelling slightly of paint, he reached out and cupped his hand against Dandy’s cheek. He gently lifted their warm face up and out of the sunflowers and said, “You are in bloom, Dandy. Like the sunflowers, and the apple blossoms.
“I woke up and wanted to paint today. I wanted to paint, and you are in bloom. Why should I not paint a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and the neighbor that grew them?”
A long, palpable pause stretched out between the two. Wally wondered if he made a mistake with this. He knew that Frank didn’t like to be touched very often, so what if Dandy was the same?
Then, Dandy slowly smiled. Their smile radiated through the sunflowers, and for a second, Wally thought that the gardener was the most pretty flower he’d seen.
His own smile widened and he withdrew his hand. “This…this is the most! I will paint this now!” He swiftly came back to his canvas and started mixing the right shade of green. The portrait slowly came together. First the general shape, then the details. The highlights came last. A few broad strokes for a blue sky, and…!
“Dandy, it’s done.” Wally placed each used paintbrush into the murky paint water, one by one as he waited for the subject of his painting to shuffle around the easel to look at his work.
On the canvas, were dozens of sunflowers arranged in a strong bouquet intermixed with delicate petals. The sunflowers themselves were made of strokes of yellow and circles of black, highlighted by elegant lines that made each detail pop. In the middle of it all, was a puppet whose smile was the centerpiece of the painting. Eyes slightly squinted shut from how wide they were smiling, a hint of red on their cheeks, and hands that held the entire bouquet together by their stems.
A gasp followed by a squeal of joy. Hand waving and heel bouncing briskly followed, alongside quiet bursts of “It’s so beautiful!” and “The detail on the sunflowers!”
Wally watched Dandy go through several levels of joy and awe, and the semi-permanent smile on his face softened. His partially-lidded eyes took in the small details: brown eyes that sparkled at the work of art on the canvas; the little yellow flower on their hat that never wilted; gentle flowers that reached towards the sun, fingers curling around the drops of light and holding it close.
Quiet.
“Do you want to keep it?”
“I…I shouldn’t.” The light was escaping from their fingertips.
Did he do that?
“I insist. I would be honored if you took it.” Wally gingerly took the still-drying painting and held it out towards Dandy. “I want you to have it.”
Dandy’s mouth pressed into a thin line as they looked down at the ground for a moment, then thrust the sunflowers in front of them. “Take these. I’d feel bad if you didn't have something in return. I can always get more for Howdy, it’s not a big deal.”
The next minutes were spent juggling an exchange; between trying not to touch any paint on the canvas and not dropping any sunflowers on the ground, the two spent an excessive amount of time trying to give each other the items. In the end, Dandy was left holding their portrait and Wally had a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.
Dandy lightly bounced inside their house, and Wally was left outside with a sunny-smelling bundle of flowers counteracting against the chemical scent of his acrylics. He buried his face within the flowers and deeply inhaled. Between strong whiffs of paint, he breathed in drops of sunlight.
“The most,” he exhaled. “These are the most.”
For the next several days, anyone who peeked in the window of Home could catch a glimpse of a vase filled with cut sunflowers. They were perky and alive, and it certainly complimented a fresh red apple that always sat next to the vase for as long as the sunflowers lived.
Commission for Diana (@dianacoreexe) and Aleisha (@kawaiialeisha), Gifted by Blue (@ilovethecolorblue)
Blue here asked me to make a tune for Aleisha and Diana (oh, and happy birthday Diana!), specifically for their OCs' future child, Lilac! Mori and Starii eventually get their own child, a little girl named Lilac. Their own alien moon.
This is my 42nd creation. This is for Lilac, Starii and Mori's future daughter. As this is a lullaby for an infant, this features a waltzy feel in 3/4 time, soft piano and glass harmonica, glockenspiel, and a dash of stardust.
Kewkies here asked me to write a little scene about her Welcome Home OC, Sabrina Spool, and the neighborhood's famous painter, Wally Darling. There weren't a lot of requirements nor requests for this piece by Kewkies, and the idea and general plot came to me when out and about.
Enjoy this written piece!
Stitch Some Time For Yourself
14 May 2024 — 29 May 2024
Summary: Sabrina, the neighborhood's resident seamstress, suddenly finds herself under a time crunch to make costumes for Sally's upcoming play. How does she deal with the pressure?
Word Count: ~3.1k words
TW: None
Author’s Note: Enjoy! Also on AO3 as a gift.
Sabrina Spool was Home’s resident tailor. Seamstress sounded more elegant to her, but she wasn’t fussy over the details of her job’s name. No, her fussiness instead came over the details of her job. What was it that carpenters said?
Measure twice, cut once.
For Sabrina, not only did she measure twice — sometimes thrice — and cut once, she stretched sheets of fabric between her hands and made calculations in her head. Would this fabric stretch enough to accommodate her customer’s body type, or would she have to allot extra fabric to make up for it? What type of fabric would the customer want; cotton for comfort and breathability, or perhaps silk for the texture and smooth feel?
And don’t get started with her about colors!
While she preferred darker shades herself, she knew that everyone had their favorite colors and patterns to wear. The colors and patterns, when stitched together in just the right size and paired with the right clothes, made the ideal outfit.
Yes, that was what she was fussy over.
Sabrina loved her job, now don’t get her wrong. Nothing can really quite match the exhilaration that she got when someone’s eyes lit up after seeing her work, nor the warmth that filled her body from words of praise once her customer tried on the article of clothing she made for them.
Well, there were quite a few things, she supposed. A good hug or a gift as her payment, for one thing. A large, sweet watermelon or a tart green apple. Her morning ritual with Llyod, as annoying as he was.
And a certain, little puppet of the neighborhood: Wally Darling. He loved apples with just as much — quite possibly more — gusto as she does. His half-lidded eyes and blue, swirled pompadour were part of the charm that drew so many towards him, Sabrina included. From his hands burst painted portraits of still life and of his neighbors that he loved so dearly. And when he pressed those hands against his mouth? A blown kiss with a monotonous “Mwah!”
Oh, even now Sabrina wondered how the two of them managed to get together! It was all so new, like an apple that just ripened to optimal sweetness. If she thought about it too hard, she may accidentally poke herself while sewing.
What have they done already?
They’ve held hands — Wally’s small gasp of “Oh! You’re holding my hand!” made her grin to no end when her mind wandered to it. They’ve certainly spent time together, enough to consider them dates (to her).
But what else can they do?
Knocks on the front door beckoned her out of her thoughts. She turned away from her sewing machine and paused. “Llyod, I swear if you locked yourself out again — !”
“Mailman! Eddie Dear here!”
At the kind southern accent, the vampiric seamstress turned off her sewing machine and hurried to the front door. She turned the doorknob, then opened the door so only a slender crack was visible. Bright sunlight poured through and she squinted outside with a small wince. Beyond flashes of color and small floaters in her vision, she could catch glimpses of the portly mailman waiting for her with bundles of wrapped packages in his arms.
After a few minutes of acclimating herself to the sunlight, she fully opened the door. “‘Ello Eddie,” she greeted him.
“Howdy Miss Spool.”
“Please, call me Sabrina.”
Eddie sputtered. “Sabrina! Apologies Miss Sp– Sabrina.”
Sabrina chuckled and lightly shook her head. All predictable Eddie. “Do you have any mail for me?”
“Ah, well…” Eddie jutted his chin towards the bundles in his arms. “Cloth orders for ya. Howdy was particular ‘bout these gettin’ to ya in one piece.” He shifted the packages and Sabrina took the cue to take them in her arms.
She knew what was inside: lengths of dark cloth, a few dozen sewing needles for her machine and for her hands, and several spools of thread. Still, her eyes widened and she mumbled “Huh” as she took the wrapped packages. They were heavier than she expected.
“Oh, ‘n Sally wanted to give this to ya,” Eddie said as he placed an envelope on top of the packages. “She said it was important, ‘n to read it ‘a-sap’. Whatever that means?”
Sabrina blinked a few times at the envelope, and at Eddie’s words. “I will do that Eddie. Thank you.”
Eddie tipped his hat and took a few steps backwards before he turned on the balls of his feet to head off towards his next delivery.
Sabrina would’ve waved goodbye to him, but her hands were full.
She closed the front door with a bump of her hip and maneuvered back to her room with the caution and grace of a dancer who was paired with someone who never danced before. Her feet knew where to step in her dim house, and she could nudge open doors with ease. But the packages in her arms caused her center of gravity to be located somewhere else, so her elegant movements were hindered. Twice, she dangerously tipped too far and nearly caused any number of packages to slide out of her grip and onto the floor.
In the comfort of her workroom, she ditched her ungraceful packages gently onto the floor and shook out her arms. She shut her door and lowered the lights down, letting the dimness of the room calm her senses once again. She knew that most of the neighborhood preferred a warm sunny day for one reason or another: Frank found sunny days to be optimal for insect observations, while Julie enjoyed making games that made everyone scratch their heads at the rules but at least no furniture would be broken by the end of it.
Sabrina, on the other hand, preferred the night and overcast waking hours. She was aware that this might feed into the fact that she — and Llyod, but this wasn’t about him — were more vampiric than their neighbors, but no one commented much about it nowadays, so she assumed that no one really cared anymore.
She unwrapped her packages and placed the contents where they belonged, taking extra care to not misplace her new batch of needles. She already lost too many to the cracks of her house and carpet. Even when she does her customary sweep of her workroom with a magnet (also from Howdy’s), at least one needle would surprise her when walking barefoot.
Then again, sometimes they would surprise Llyod.
But she couldn’t have any stray needles surprise any of her customers. That would lower her customer service for sure.
Sabrina’s eyes glanced over the letter Sally wrote for her. The playwright’s circular handwriting on the envelope said “To: Sabirella”, and underneath it said “Read ASAP” almost as if Sally didn’t trust Eddie to remember to tell Sabrina to do so.
Sabrina’s nose wrinkled at the elongated version of her name, but she’s long gotten used to the fallen star’s quirks. “Please, it’s Sabrina,” she murmured to herself as she opened the envelope and read the letter inside. For everything that Sally was, at least she was trying to understand what did and didn’t work when trying to communicate with Sabrina. The star’s bright aura — literally and figuratively — drained Sabrina’s energy quicker than she could drain fruit of its juice.
Dearest Sabirella,
I’m sure that you remember my request for your work last month. I remember it like it was yesterday: I, Sally Starlet, gracing you with my presence to craft costumes for my upcoming petrifying play. I can still see your eyes squinting and widening as I slipped you the list of costumes I required.
Now, I know that I said that I’d give you as much time as possible.
Darling, that’s changed.
I need what you have as best as you can by the end of this week. It’s a shame, but I will settle for simplified designs if that is what will work. Your payment will still be front row seats to the play where I’ll be featuring your costumes.
I’ll be expecting the gothic garbs soon.
Sincerely,
Sally
Sabrina paused. She read the letter again. Once more for good measure.
The letter’s edges started to crumple as the seamstress’s fingers gripped the paper with more force than necessary. “A week?” she whispered. “I thought I had two weeks. You– Sally!”
Almost as if the star herself was here instead of the letter in her place, flourishing her hands and beaming from her rays, the vampire felt her energy drain. Her pep and love towards her work left her and was replaced with only a burning annoyance.
“By the end of this week? And simplified?” she hissed. “When I had plenty of plans to give only the best?” She slammed the letter down onto her work desk, causing the items on top to rattle and move slightly from the force. “Do you know how difficult it is to have to rework this?”
Sabrina huffed and pulled out her sketches. She viciously grabbed a pencil and was ready to violently scribble out the costumes she had yet to start. She could already feel the lead of the pencil tear through the paper, tearing her plans into nothing but black graphite and ripped paper.
She paused.
She breathed in, and out.
She let out a sharp sigh and threw the pencil down onto her table. “Simplified. End of this week.” She snapped her mouth shut and went about her work.
The days ticked down. Sabrina spent them all in her dim workroom with only the rhythmic whirr and hum of her sewing machine filling the silence. Multiple times, she poked herself with the needles, but not once did those pokes lead way to any larger injuries.
Lloyd quickly learned to not walk in without knocking, or to not even bother trying at all. The first time he had tried, Sabrina had abruptly stood up and slammed the door on him. His fingers had gotten caught in between the door and the frame.
In hindsight, she was sorry. She would’ve apologized if she had enough time, but that was what she was low on. She was low on time and patience, and she let everyone who interacted with her know.
She got her work done though. She projected as much mercy as she could towards her work, but even those couldn’t escape her wrath when the stitches couldn’t work just the way she wanted them to, or when the colors were just a little bit off. She probably sounded like a madwoman, yelling at the clothes to just fit together better. Several times, she threw the shabbiest of her works onto the floor and stared at them with a look that could kill.
She got her work done. That was what was important.
She got her work done. It was simplified and not as fancy as she imagined, but she got her work done.
Still, she yearned to add some of the additions that she had imagined. The fluffy flowers and the drapes on the shoulders. The cape and ruffles.
On the night before Sally was supposed to pick up the costumes, Sabrina was certain that she hadn’t left the house in forever. She could hear her sewing machine in her sleep, even though she was certain that she turned it off and unplugged it. She could feel the fabrics underneath her fingers and she could feel every stitch that she was certain was misplaced.
She was proud of her work, but at the same time, she wanted to take them all and rip them apart. Start over again. Do it better. Make what she imagined in her head come to life in front of her.
A knock on her door.
She didn’t have the energy to answer it.
Her door creaked open. “Sabrina,” Lloyd called. “Your aim better be good so you don’t hit your actual guest.”
Sabrina opened her mouth to retort, but words had been failing her lately. Still, a whole different reason as to why she said nothing was revealed to her as the guest turned out to not be Llyod but instead —
“Hello Sabrina,” a quiet, monotonous voice said. It echoed throughout the vampire’s workroom and cut through the sewing machine’s constant noise.
She looked up from her work, but she didn’t turn around. Oh, just when she was almost done, she was hallucinating.
Quietly, two sets of footsteps entered. Several thumps as multiple objects were placed on a free portion of her work desk, then one set of footsteps left. The one that left was heavier and larger, less graceful.
The one that stayed was smaller and quieter. There was a certain way that this one walked.
Sabrina turned off her sewing machine.
“Hello Sabrina,” Wally said. “I got you some fruit from Howdy’s. Llyod was also there, and he helped me carry the watermelon back.”
Watermelon. The vampire had cut herself off from her favorite fruit halfway through her work last week, before she even got Sally’s letter. Convinced herself that she would get it when she was done, as a treat.
“And I carried the apples.” Sabrina heard Wally shuffle closer to her work desk, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him poke a finger at one of the green apples. He hummed and added, “I don’t understand why you like green apples. Red ones are better to me. But you like apples, so I think the color doesn’t matter too much.” He turned his head to look at her as he nudged one of the apples closer.
Sabrina took one of the green apples in her hand. It was unblemished and smelled perfectly ripe. Howdy’s bodega only contained things that he deemed were of a certain quality to sell. So obviously this fruit was perfect.
It was even more perfect as she pushed her chair away from her work desk, brought it up to her mouth, and sank her fangs into the fruit. She easily pierced through the skin and flesh of the apple, and the juice was sweet and tart.
She almost forgot that there was a watermelon there as she dove after all the apples gifted to her, drinking all the juice until the fruit was nothing more than dried skin and disgusting flesh. Then Wally nudged the large green and striped fruit towards her and she dove after that as well.
Sabrina was a clean drinker when she fed from fruit. She performed the actions with a lady-like poise and prevented as much juice from spilling as possible.
But after she’s deprived herself of her favorite fruits for a while? Add on top of that how she had been stressed from the moon and back, and she threw her finesse out the window. Juice spilled from her mouth and onto her skirt, but she didn’t pay any attention to it until the watermelon was a water-less-melon.
“Sabrina,” Wally said as Sabrina wiped her mouth. “I haven’t seen you for over a week.” He tilted his head and blinked once. He never really blinked much when around his neighbors, and much less around his close friends. He seldom blinked around Sabrina, as if each blink was a full day away from the vampire.
Sabrina looked away. She could’ve pulled her chair forwards and continue working. But her hands were a bit sticky from apple and watermelon juice, and she would hate to ruin the clothes. So she avoided his gaze and fiddled with her fingers.
“Sabrina,” Wally repeated. “I heard from Sally that her play will be tomorrow instead. I know that you’re making her costumes. Have you been taking breaks?” He leaned against her and breathed out a little “Oh!” when she wrapped an arm around him. He went limp and hummed, content with the touch.
“I have to finish this.” Sabrina’s voice came out softer than she expected, with more force than she expected. Talking had become difficult the closer the deadline was, until she could no longer bear to. “I have to finish this.”
“You look almost done.”
“But — ”
“I think Sally would not mind if you gave her something simple.”
“I would mind.”
Wally hummed. “I think your work always looks nice. Something simple made from your hands is always nice. It also feels nice to wear. I like wearing the cardigan you made for me, and I think it makes me look handsome.”
Sabrina chuckled and softly shook her head. “You’re always handsome, my candy apple.” When he laughed that soft, monotonous laugh that Sabrina loved so dearly, she gently squeezed him and leaned over to give him a small kiss on the cheek.
Wally’s semi-permanent smile widened, causing the edges of his eyes to crinkle. “Oh! You are very sweet Sabrina.” He reached towards her face and brushed a thumb against her cheek, his dark eyes looking deeply into her own. “You’re very, very sweet,” he whispered.
One moment, the two of them were staring into each other’s eyes. The next moment, in Sabrina’s opinion, was very sweet and very soft.
She realized, only then, that she forgot one thing when trying to remember what the two have done already since becoming an official couple. Maybe because it was a bit unorthodox, seeing how it was only brought up once then never again. She had made hints towards it, but he never picked up on them. It was only when she had asked him directly did he realize what she was asking. No wonder he didn’t pick up on it; he thought she was being friendly still, just in a different manner.
So when the two parted, it was soft and sweet. Sabrina lightly pinched his cheeks and cooed about how lovely it was. Wally leaned into the touch and softly shut his eyes.
That was the longest break Sabrina took where she wasn’t sleeping or eating. The two simply lingered in each other’s presence, asking about the day and the week. The dried fruit was discarded and Sabrina’s hands were cleaned of the spilled juice.
Wally stayed for a little longer while she worked. He was hypnotized by the sewing machine and his hands stroked some of the fabric as Sabrina fed it into the machine.
All the fuzz in her mind cleared and her work became less muddled and misshapen. They were already good.
And the next evening, when she sat in the front row to Sally’s gloomy gothic play and watched the actors glide upon the stage with her garbs on display, it didn’t really matter how much the play went sideways.
She was just glad that she could do what she enjoys.
Kewkies here asked me via kicking down my door as Big Bird (you know, that GIF) to make a tune for her Welcome Home OC, Sabrina Spool. This vampiric seamstress is here to be in the dark and creepy moment, and she'd be happy if you'd like to come along with her. If all goes well, you may end up with a new style by the end of it!
We ended up with two version of her song: an original, and a slower remix.
This is my 31st creation. This is for Sabrina Spool. A song that drones of the dark, but these moments aren't the dark ones at all. They may just be hiding something new.
Featuring hurdy-gurdy (I had to figure this out, but a combination of droning strings and another layer of strings atop that can do the trick!), cello, and pipe organ, this also features an ode to the elegant and the weird.
And as per Kewkie's request, they asked for an experimental version of Sabrina's tune. After some fiddling, we came up with this!
This is my 32nd creation. Featuring everything kicked down an octave, some sort of high bell, and slower tempo (70 BPM here instead of the original's 92 BPM), this is Sabrina's dirge. She's deep in the musings of the dark here...or perhaps she's just making a style that no one has seen before.
