#sprout sews

[antidotesprout]

Just about ready to head to their new homes!! Thanks to everyone for your patience, I'm currently working to finish up sketch thank you cards!

[alilbabysprout]

fellow crafty people !! here is a gentle reminder to get started on your hand made christmas gifts if you plan on making any this year <3

[jazzeria]

A lil update on my lil blankie: more signs of wear in the construction, flaws are showing themselves, and the fabrics are breaking in (some nicely, some are wearing).

3 Jan 2025

So by now, Lil Blankie is about 7 weeks old and has been washed about 5 times.

I sleep with the blanket every night. Sometimes I cover my head and eyes as I sleep. Sometimes I wear it like a cape around my shoulders as I go about my business in the home. Every second day or so, I spend several minutes just snuggling it for the sheer joy of it--and also for science, of course.

But increasingly, there's a sense of... Well, it's less lighthearted than it used to be. I can see and feel Lil Blankie ageing and wearing down--recording it makes me even more aware of it. I'm feeling the entropy.

But also, that was kinda the point of this project: to prepare for repairing my (much larger, and much more emotionally significant) childhood blankie by testing various fabrics, practising the skills required, and, perhaps, becoming comfortable with the idea of wear and repair.

...

The flannel pilling is becoming more noticeable. I'm not sure if this is just because I'm more conscious of it, or if it's actually getting appreciably worse. Hard to say at this point.

The Essex cotton-linen continues to break in beautifully, becoming more and more pliable. The texture is still coarse however.

I'm really enjoying this lovely criss-cross crinkle!

The Sprout Woven is softening beautifully, too. I'm starting to see some wear, but I think it's a good thing: little raised fibres like you'd see on flannel. I can see why this is sometimes used for quilting! I think it's gonna be cuddly and squishy and just generally really nice for snuggling!

The Japanese wovens haven't changed much since last time: they still have a "crispness" that hasn't washed out: a bit stiff, and about as coarse as before. I wonder if they will soften before they wear out?

The only exception is, where the Japanese wovens are backed by the thinnest quilting cottons, there is some kind of transferrence of the quilting cotton's pliability, through to this side... I can't tell if this is purely a psychological phenomenon, or an empirically objective quality. It might be the Japanese woven slipping slightly against the smooth quilting cotton.

In any case, they still have a slightly coarse texture, which I'm attributing to the weave (perhaps a slub in the yarns, or just a coarser weave), and they've developed a criss-cross crinkle as well.

A small patch of the pale blue-purple woven had a tear that I noticed during construction, and patched with fusible stabiliser on the wrong side. The stabiliser quickly wore off (second or third wash?) and the tear began fraying. But I don't think it's grown any larger. I'll have to remember to measure it in future posts.

The Japanese print (which I've since learned is a heavier 220 gsm cotton) continues to break in beautifully. While it's not as cuddly as Sprout Woven, or as smooth as quilting cottons, it feels... "sturdy" and "reliable". I really really want some house pants made from this fabric! But I could imagine a long-cherished blanket being made from it, too.

Here's some shots of the tear I noticed last time. I think it's grown a little since the last post.

On the triangle side (which was made using various quilting cottons)...

In general, all these cottons have softened up beautifully. I think they're at peak softness right now: the most pliable, before they start to fuzz and wear out. So I guess I need to record how long before they fuzz and wear out.

The thinnest cottons, I think they're more appropriately described as "lawn": about 95 gsm, thin enough I can see my hand through, very smooth. For the purposes of these posts, I'll consider them a sub-set of "quilting cottons".

Here's my favourite wrinkly triangle (incorrectly sized during cutting, and stretched/squished to make the triangle points fit together nicely):

When I search for the softest quilting cotton, the order is still:

lawns, when backed by flannel

any quilting cotton, when backed by flannel

the rest, except:

the black-and-colours floral print, especially when backed by Essex linen

When I run my hand over the triangle side, it just feels lovely and squishy all over. I can especially tell when I'm touching lawn backed by flannel, because of how smooth the lawn's surface is. But anything backed by flannel also feels quite lovely.

I can also tell when I touch the black-and-colours floral print (not the black-and-white floral print), especially when it's backed by Essex. This quilting cotton is subtly-but-noticeably coarser than any of the others. I have no idea why, but I can just tell that it is. This fabric came in the same pack as the black-and-white print, which I think also feels very slightly coarser than the other prints?...but I don't think it's as coarse as the black-and-colours print. ... This could be entirely subjective, however.

Some shots to show the lovely drape of these cottons:

I love that my imperfect sewing made this side pucker and crinkle; and I'm extra glad I decided to quilt along the triangle seams (the diagonal ones, anyway) for the larger areas of un-sewn surfaces on this side.

I'm so happy I decided to make this lil blankie.

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

... I mean, come on. They're the "Huggy Leos." Somebody had to do it.

(Plushies based on Poptart and Sprout, from @intotheelliwoods's 2 Arms Left)

[mic-check-stims]

Sprout board for anon

X-X-X X-X X-X-X

[hihomeghere]

Salt and Pepper | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 1.4k Summary : Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray. I saw a post on here about Arthur with salt and pepper hair and I couldn’t stop myself hehe. Warnings/Tags : talk about death, getting old, Arthur loves his wife, no tb, Arthur and reader own a house, mention of past gang members, cursing, lots of fluff, self deprecation on Arthur’s side, bullets, mention of weight gain (in a positive way)

“Godamn ugly bastard.” Arthur huffed, his gaze piercing as he looked into the mirror. He hadn’t meant to have himself a pity party this morning. In fact he was feeling quite fine this morning before looking in the small bathroom mirror. Waking up next to you always puts a spring in his step. Especially when he’s waking up in a real bed, underneath a soft quilt that you happened to sew in some free time. Mismatched patches and all, it was his favorite thing in the small home you two shared. Hell, you were becoming quite domestic ever since the house was completed.

But he wasn’t exactly expecting to find gray hair sprouting from his hairline. He wasn’t that old, was he?

“Jesus.” He sighed, inspecting further he realized it wasn’t one or two gray hairs, it was almost twenty. Hidden under his longer than normal locks after forgoing a haircut for the last couple weeks. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed them, especially with how much you loved to run your fingers through his hair. Although, he loved it just as much, maybe even more.

God, he needed to get rid of these before you saw them. He was sure you had some tweezers around here somewhere. He opened up your drawer, rifling around for your tweezers. Bingo. His hands gripped the small piece of metal, a triumphant smile on his face.

It was only once he looked back up into the mirror, determined to fix this issue before you woke up, that he noticed you padding into the bathroom. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Mornin’.” You hummed, laying your cheek against his bicep, smiling sweetly at him through the mirror.

“Mornin’.” He said, clearing his throat.

“What do you need those for?” You asked, eyeing the tweezers in his hand. Caught red handed, he tried coming up with some excuse.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He said, giving you his signature smile, kissing your forehead. He slipped the tweezers into his pocket for safe keeping, at least until he had a free moment without you around. After all those years on the run and he could come up with nothing, Hosea would have been so disappointed in his lack of an answer. He swore he could hear the old man chastising him now.

“For a former outlaw you sure are an awful liar.” You tutted, shaking your head, slipping your fingers into his pocket and pulling out the tweezers.

“Well it ain’t my fault,” He huffed playfully, “Could never get nothin’ past you anyway.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You removed your hands from around his waist, leaning back on the sink as you looked up at him.

“Spill.” You said raising an eyebrow, your arms crossed over your chest.

Knowing he’d been caught, Arthur hung his head, a low sigh leaving his lips.

“It’s just-“ He cursed, turning to look away from you, “Well I’m goin’ gray.” He admitted, not meeting your eyes.

“And?” You asked in such a nonchalant manner.

“And?” He asked looking up at you, his brows furrowed.

“So you have some gray hairs.” You said with a shrug, “You’re acting like the damn world is ending.” You chuckled softly, a smile tugging on your lips.

“Well-“ Arthur sighed, pursing his lips, he didn’t want to be vain but damn it, it did feel like the world was ending.

“Honey.” You said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Ain’t nothing wrong with some gray hairs.” You said, shaking your head, looking so goddamn patient as always. What he did in a past life to deserve you he would never know, he definitely didn’t deserve you in this one. You smiled, running your thumb over his couple day old stubble. He couldn’t help but sigh softly, leaning into your touch.

“Just makes me feel old ‘s all.” He shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Arthur.” You said softly, he opened his eyes. His bright azure pools looking into yours. “Getting old means we’re still alive.” You said pointedly, not missing the way your fingers trailed lightly down his chest.

He sighed softly, anyone who said he was the most like Hosea had obviously never had a one on one conversation with you. You had shared the same dry wit along with being just as wise as the old man. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were more closely related than just being adopted by him as a kid.

As your hand settled over his heart, he couldn’t help but remember a time when you didn’t have this place. When his next breath had been an undeserved blessing. When you and Charles had pulled his broken body off that godforsaken mountain. You were right, he should be grateful for these gray hairs and new lines on his face. Should be grateful that he made it this far out west with you, where the air was dryer and slowly his lungs didn’t hurt as bad with each breath.

If anything he should be grateful that you’re here, here in this house. The house that he built specifically for you. That you’re not buried six feet under like most of the fellow gang members. That you didn’t catch a bullet like Lenny or Sean, how he wished they could have had the chance to grown old. Even as mouthy as Sean was, the poor bastard didn’t deserve that. Lenny was just a boy, foolish enough to be sucked in by Dutch’s silver tongue. He shook his head trying to clear any thoughts of the past.

God, along with the fact that somehow both of you still happen to be standing, the fact that you chose to stand by him after everything you went through makes his head swim. You could have left him at any point, hell he had begged you to leave after his death sentence. And yet, here you were.

“Guess you’re right.” He said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Course I am.” You teased, a smile spreading across your face. You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. He accepted your silent invitation, pressing his lips against yours. So soft and warm and inviting. He could feel you smile against his lips. That small smile warmed him from the inside out, nearly making his toes curl.

Jesus, he was lucky. More than lucky, he still couldn’t figure out how he had tricked you into marrying him. He wanted to be the best version of himself for you, he had made a promise to try every day to be a better man for you. You shouldn’t be tied down to a miserable old fool like himself.

As if you could read his mind, which he often suspected you could, your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Besides,” You began as you pulled away, “I like the salt and pepper look.” Arthur scoffed, shaking his head.

“Really?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Really.” You nodded, running your hand through his hair. “Think you get more handsome every day.” If anyone was getting prettier every day it was you. Your hair was longer, cascading down your shoulders in waves. No longer tied up in a tight braid or bun. You looked relaxed, at peace. You became softer once you both settled into your new lifestyle. Not just emotionally, although you still had that fire which had first drawn him towards you, like a moth to a flame. You were physically softer, your harsh edges smoothing out as you started to eat and sleep better. Your curves became more prominent, and he certainly didn’t mind having more to hold onto late at night.

Maybe you truly did feel the same about him. He had never known you to lie. A blush settled on his cheeks at the thought. He shook his head, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“Yeah, alright darlin’.” He says taking your face in his hands, kissing you again before you had the chance to embarrass him further.

Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad if you had someone to grow old with.

[bakubonez]

Sunday or dan heng x reader plsplspls

So down bad for these men

It doesn't matter what, i just need to kiss them and worship them so bad istg

Dan Heng x GN!reader || fluff

Summary: Dan Heng isn’t a fan of Sunday seemingly taking a shine to you. Jealousy sews its propaganda into his mind, and he needs a little bit of reassurance.

A/N: sorry for the shade I throw at Sunday thru out this, I’m still mad at him for not coming home 😇 I love Dan Heng he’s my baby

Dan Heng wasn’t the type of person to get jealous. Not easily, anyway. He was quite secure in his relationship, and he trusted you wholeheartedly to not take advantage of that. So far, you hadn’t given him a reason to retract his trust in you, and you didn’t have any plans to change that any time soon.

…Though, when a new handsome bachelor joined the express, it was difficult for Dan Heng to keep the seedlings of jealousy sewn into his heart from sprouting.

No, it wasn’t Caelus—he was far too busy being stupid to really catch your eye. No, no, the mild threat that had Dan Heng’s feathers ruffled was Sunday. Pun intended.

Initially when Sunday joined the express, he hadn’t been welcomed with open arms. After everything that had taken place on Penacony, the only person that was even remotely kind to him was Pom-Pom. And Shush, but Shush was nice to everyone so he doesn’t count right now.

Despite the rough start, Sunday had started to try to weasel his way into the little family that resided on the train. Dan Heng’s main concern was Sunday’s interest in you.

He’d occasionally catch you and Sunday chatting about new entries in the data bank, or chatting over a drink in the party car. Dan Heng knew you wouldn’t cheat—you wouldn’t stoop so low. Especially not with that… that… feathered creature. Regardless, the portions of time that you spent on Sunday when you could have been spending them with Dan Heng irked him a little bit. Just a little bit.

And, while he didn’t want to bring it up, you had noticed a very minute change in Dan Heng. Not a bad one, necessarily, but a change regardless. He started to seem a bit clingier. From keeping you in bed to hold you for longer or going as far as to hug you against him around the others, especially Sunday, you had picked up on his changed demeanour. He was still as loving and level-headed as always, just a tad bit more demanding.

With him resting his head on your chest, eyes closed but not asleep quite yet, you opt to bring it up. You wouldn’t prod too hard if he didn’t want to talk about it—after all, maybe he had just subconsciously started yearning for you more. But, you’d try to figure out what was going on regardless.

“You okay?” You ask carefully, twirling his layered hair around your fingers idly.

“Mmh?” he mumbles, face still buried against your shirt.

You take his inconclusive response as an invitation to go on.

“You just seem a little bit different recently. Not-not like a bad different, just…” you trail off.

Dan Heng shifts to look up at you, striking eyes meeting your own as you speak. “I am fine,” he assures you. “I don’t like Sunday.”

“What?”

“What?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you ask, a little bit bewildered by his declaration. You weren’t Sunday’s biggest fan either, but you didn’t mind at least being polite to him.

Dan Heng mumbled to himself non-committally, a very faint red tinging his ears.

Well, now you’re both confused. You’re trying to decode his grumbling, and he’s trying to put his feelings into words without sounding like an idiot.

“I don’t… I don’t think I like how much time you spend with Sunday,” he said finally, drawing you out of your thoughts and allowing you both to return to the conversation you were trying to have before the two of you were knocked off balance by Dan Heng.

“Oh,” you say foolishly, not really sure what to say to that. “You’re jealous of Sunday? Of all people?”

“No.”

“Yeahhh, I think you might be.”

“No.”

It brings a very faint smile to your lips, finally being able to figure out the root of Dan Heng’s influx of affection. Its also nice to know that he values your time together so much. Though, it does tempt you to giggle at the fact that Dan Heng thought there was any chance that you’d favour Sunday over him.

You lean forward to press a kiss to the top of Dan Heng’s head, and he seems to automatically relax at the touch.

“It’s okay. You aren’t in any competition with him,” you say, voice soft. “My time with you takes priority. If you don’t want Sunday stealing it, that’s perfectly fine by me.”

Dan Heng makes a little contented noise, the jealousy that had been lashing about in his head finally quieting. Deep down, he did know that you’d say something like that. He knew you’d choose him over Sunday. He just wanted the little bit of reassurance.

He hoped you’d always be around to give it to him.

[modcroissant]

Tamed Twisteds Au thoughts

- Sprout & Cosmo really likes to make breakfast for the others but due to their loss of their baking skills, it usually ends with the two asking Boxten to help

- Boxten is really sleep deprived because he either; gets waked up by a twisted who had a nightmare or he's working overtime (Poppy scolds him in the latter)

- Poppy would occasionally leave little gifts for Flutter at her bedroom door as an apology but never actually let her know it was her

- Poppy's bedroom is filled with Shelly merch, one plushie is even on her bed

- Shrimpo's room is next to Boxten's due to him being the only one the shrimp tolerates

- Poppy knows how to sew and make clothes, the reason most of the twisteds didn't get any new clothes to replace their ichor stained one is due to the lack of fabric laying around in Gardenview

- Connie likes to prank Looey a lot, it was at some point Looey himself just got used to it

- Toodles likes having tea parties with Teagan and Rodger, though Rodger is not exactly present most of the time (if Teagan could speak, she would be scolding him)

- Astro would occasionally check on Boxten in the middle of the night, Boxten gets scared no matter how many times it happened

- RnD likes poems, though the two couldn't read them as well as they did so either Boxten or Poppy would read it for them

- Tisha had tried cleaning the ichor off of both her tissue and dress multiple times, gave up after a while

- Due to the Main Twisteds (besides Pebble) having loud footsteps, Boxten & Poppy would get huge heart attacks when they hear them

- Glisten had tried to cover up the cracks on his mirror face, only giving up after his countless attempts failed

- Goob and Scraps likes drawing a lot; Goob always show his drawings to Boxten who kept the drawings on the board in his room

- Gigi has a huge hoard of items, Poppy tried cleaning it out before and it did not go well

- Vee still tries to continue her little game show, having fake puppets as her contestants (Poppy made the puppets)

- Shelly needs to be given affection at least five times a day

- Boxten gets bitten often so he covers as much as he could to hide the bite marks

- Poppy hates herself after both the Flutter and Pebble incident, feeling like a monster for both hurting one of her friends and unable to save Boxten in time for him to not get hurt (Boxten makes sure she knows that she's still a good friend, just morally grey)

- Connie & Looey keeps an eye on the twisteds, especially ones that are still sort of aggressive (Flutter, Toodles & Pebble)

That's all, have skateboarding Astro

[somepsychopomp]

A Fair Contest

So a little bit ago I drafted an idea for an AU where, instead of the golden apple saying 'to the fairest' it says 'to the most amorous king'

And instead of the ladies fighting over the apple, it's Zeus & Poseidon. In order to determine who exactly is the superior lover (and king + who gets bragging rights), the two brothers select one (un)fortunate mortal that both of them shall take to bed...

and the judge they select for their little contest is none other than Odysseus.

(Takes place pre-Trojan War. In fact there's basically no Trojan War to begin with. Also Odysseus is betrothed but not yet married to Penelope)

Consider this chapter 1 of this fic. I really hope I can finish it because I stayed up to almost 4 am writing this, which is amazing because I've been dealing with a major cold and writers block for a while now

Word Count: approx. 4400

There's no smut yet but I do confess to giving Ody a bubble butt. Also in a world where Ruthlessness never happened/is yet to happen... Poseidon has a thing for strong thighs & is absolutely smitten with Odysseus

Also in my head, I'm imagining Neal's character designs but I think I've kept it vague enough for now that you can imagine whatever designs you like

+++

The wedding had been a most splendid sight, with revelry among both men and gods. The small mortal king, Peleus, was of course honored to host such a wide variety of the gods and have them witness his union with the divine Thetis. Zeus gave the couple his own blessing and permitted Dionysus to pour out his strongest wine for the occasion. 

Well into the night, the attendees danced to a tireless band and feasted upon the finest foods available. Gods mingled with mortals, some sneaking off with a young maiden or cupbearer for some more illicit fun. 

All was going well until the first beam of daylight shone upon a pedestal that no guest noticed before, where a golden apple awaited. 

Curious onlookers clustered around it, wondering where it could have come from. The mortals believed the apple to be made of real gold, thinking it was a lavish wedding gift. The gods were equally mystified, knowing that something so perfect and beautiful could only be given by one of their own. Hera pursed her lips at the sight of it. 

The king of the gods made his way to the center of the crowd, the other guests parting for him with their eyes averted in deference. He regarded the apple with mild curiosity, having a treasury greater than all of Greece’s wealth upon Olympus. A ribbon was tied neatly to the apple’s stem with a message embroidered upon it. 

“To the most amorous king.”

Zeus chuckled at the oddity of this little present and moved to take the apple. 

Only for another hand to grab it at the very same moment. 

The two gods stared at each other. 

“What do you think you’re doing, dear brother?” Zeus asked, the smile falling from his face. 

Poseidon rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Taking my prize.”

“You?” Zeus said, his voice dripping with outrage, “You dare defy your king like this?”

Poseidon’s voice turned sharp and cold. “I am lord of the seas! The gift doesn’t say ‘to the king of the skies’, now does it? No, you read it yourself.”

The mortal guests, including King Peleus, began to make their quick exit from the venue. Some of the lesser gods were also making their sneaky escape, fearing the worst was about to come. 

Hera approached her husband and wrapped her arms around his own, “Darling, it’s just an apple. If you want one, I’ve got a whole orchard full.”

It was true that Gaea, the very earth itself, gave Hera a grove of enchanted apple trees as her wedding gift. The trees were immune to all illnesses and sprouted fruit of pure gold all year round. In all likelihood, this very apple was stolen from the Queen’s orchard.

The god-king’s most favorite child appeared at his other side in an attempt to soothe his growing rage, “Father, listen to Queen Hera. This is a trick meant to sew discord, nothing more.”

Zeus ignored his daughter Athena as if she weren’t there. 

“Let it go, my love.” Hera said, “After all, why have one apple when you could have hundreds?”

Zeus gave her a sharp look, his golden eyes burning with a harsh, radiant glow. The queen of the gods was so taken aback that she shrunk away under the weight of his glare. Zeus said, “I am the god of judgement! No matter how trivial of a token it is, I will not let my brother take what does not rightfully belong to him!” 

Poseidon threw his head back and laughed, not one to be daunted, “Oh, is that so? And how will you prove that it doesn’t belong to me, hm?”

He tossed the golden apple into the air, catching it in his other hand. Zeus bared his teeth and snatched Poseidon’s wrist, unwilling to let elder brother even hold the thing. 

It was now apparent to all the remaining gods what this was really about. 

Neither king would secede when their pride and egos were in jeopardy. For either of them, letting the other take the apple now, after they’ve already started bickering, would mean admitting they were the more feeble lord, a less competent lover. And such a slight against their reputations would never stand. 

“Ahem,” a voice said. 

A lovely woman with flawless bare skin for all the world to admire, a translucent shawl draped around her arms and roses in her pale tresses, stepped forward. 

Zeus barely spared her a glance. “What is it, Aphrodite?”

She smiled, though not without a hint of mischief in her eyes, “I think I have the solution to this little conflict of ours, one that will minimize any substantial damage to our family… or the known world.”

Zeus inclined his head in interest. Poseidon gave the goddess his ear, as well. Zeus let go of his brother and the sea god set the apple down. 

Athena bit her lower lip, knowing that Aphrodite’s schemes were almost never more than just that: schemes. Games to amuse herself with. She had something else in mind. 

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A large, circular mirror gilded in silver and gold appeared in the air behind her. The surface rippled the same way a pond did when met with rainfall. 

A beautiful young maiden with a long braid of black hair tended to her garden. The image rippled and was replaced with what was clearly a princess being dressed for the day by her servants. Again, the image shifted and showed a handsome young man in a short chiton as he shepherded his flock of sheep. 

Aphrodite said, “Now, I’m sure you two could spend eternity bickering back and forth, boasting of your skills and past conquests, but as the goddess of love myself… why not have more of a practical examination?”

The two brothers exchanged a look, coming to the same conclusion. 

“You want us to share a lover?” Poseidon asked. 

Zeus added, “And have them decide?”

Aphrodite winked and gave them a cheerful smile. “Well, what do you say? There’s no shortage of pretty boys or girls across the land. Come, take your pick!”

Zeus stroked his beard, a few sparks crackling across his fingertips. Poseidon crossed his arms in contemplation. 

“Father, Uncle!” Athena said, trying to catch their attention, “This is madness, can you not see?”

But neither god answered her. Athena was in disbelief. 

All this over a golden apple that neither needed or really wanted. This was all about their reputations as accomplished lovers, which they shouldn’t even have considering they were both married men. 

And Aphrodite, it was clear she was only doing this to make a story out of it, the way she and her son Eros loved to couple mortals together, only to break them apart. No doubt some terrible fate will befall the chosen victim, no matter who they named the superior lover. 

In Athena’s mind, she could only imagine the loser of this game casting some bitter curse upon the poor mortal as revenge. But that was the fun of it for some gods, to see the doomed fate of some poor soul after getting mixed up with the divine. 

Behind Zeus’ back, Hera threw her hands into the air before storming off, summoning her chariot pulled by winged horses to return her to Olympus. 

Athena threw a disappointed look at Aphrodite before leaving as well, deciding to go where her counsel would be appreciated. 

+++

By mid-morning, Odysseus’ back and brow were already covered in sweat as he endeavored to finish the roof over his wedding bed before an unfortunate rain could sully his hard work below. 

The house he was raised in was perfectly fine, but with all the servants and guards on top of his family, it was not the largest of castles. It was also an old thing in constant need of repairs. Odysseus always envisioned a proper palace atop Ithaca’s mountains, one where his own family could grow large and have plenty of space to themselves. 

So, before the eve of his wedding, he endeavored to complete the house of his dreams for his new wife to enjoy. He started with their olive tree, a living symbol of his devotion to his betrothed. Odysseus labored day and night to carve part of it into one of the four posts for his wedding bed, taking extreme caution to not cut away so much that the tree would die. 

The largest bough of the olive tree would overlook one of their windows, with a perfect view of the vast ocean beyond it. Odysseus already carved the other three bed posts and constructed the frame, but there was always more work to do. As the common larborers constructed the foundation and walls for the other rooms in the palace, Odysseus went to work constructing the roof for his bedroom. 

With a sizable living tree in such close proximity to his quarters, he trusted no one but himself to complete the project without damaging it. 

Taking up hammer and nails, hauling wood and stone, and fitting everything into place almost entirely on his own was unusual for a king. Odysseus knew this, but the labor brought him joy like no other. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, imagining opening the door for the very first time as a married man. He would carry Penelope to their wedding bed, built entirely by his hand, and spend the rest of his life with her. 

Focus, he told himself. 

For now, Penelope still dwelled in her natal homeland of Sparta. As soon as her new home was completed, she would set sail for Ithaca.  

Odysseus wiped the sweat from his brow as the sun beat its rays upon his back. Maybe it was foolish to fear the coming rainfall, but he could see the grayish clouds on the horizon.

By midday, he was hopeful he could have the roof finished by nightfall. As Odysseus dropped from one of the wooden rafters into his nearly-complete bedroom, his tunic must have caught on a nail or perhaps a large splinter. He heard the sharp tearing of fabric and grumbled at the gash across his front. One of the room’s alcoves had some of his clothes, since he didn’t have time yet to build the chests or wardrobe. 

Thinking better of a tunic, Odysseus merely replaced it with a rectangular length of cloth fastened at the waist. It was something his mother wove, a lovely shade of blue to match the sea, embroidered with red and white thread. 

From somewhere nearby, he heard the familiar clicking of an owl’s beak coming to greet him. He smiled and turned around, draping his tunic over his arm as his mentor approached him in the form of a brown and white speckled owl. She sank her talons into his arm and flapped her wings as if in outrage. 

He let her perch on the alcove’s lip as he fasted a leather pauldron to his left shoulder. She hopped back on and Odysseus could feel her talons clench and unclench even through the tough leather. 

“What troubles you, Athena?” Odysseus asked. 

He set out through the bedroom’s heavy oak doors, finding himself in a long hallway that was finished, but not yet furnished or cleaned. 

She spoke into his mind, Sometimes, I wish I could belong to any other family but my own. 

Odysseus chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear.”

While he loved his parents and sister dearly, he knew that Athena often butted heads with her siblings and uncle. 

Odysseus counted the windows that still needed shutters and curtains, along with the patches in the roof that had yet to be filled in. Farther along, the great hall where they would entertain guests was still only a skeleton. Only half of the supporting beams and columns were installed and the whole place reeked of sweating men. 

Athena paid the laborers no mind as the citizens of Ithaca bowed for their king as he walked by. 

You know I’m not one for gossip, but I fear something terrible is about to strike the land. 

“Is that so?” Odysseus asked, his smile dropping. 

Yes, a terrible tragedy yet to come in the form of my Uncle Poseidon and my father. 

A servant approached Odysseus with a serving platter. He took a cup of water and drank deeply, and snatched a small bowl of olives before going on his way. 

“They’re angry with us?” Odysseus asked, fearing what this might mean for his people.

No, Athena said, accepting an olive and biting into the tender flesh with her sharp beak, Not quite, but their egos are yet again showing themselves. If you find unusual weather patterns in the next few days, pay them no mind. 

“Ah, I see.”

In truth, he didn’t understand Athena at all. But she seemed in the mood to vent about her personal feelings and seeing as she didn’t do so often, Odysseus was careful to listen. 

Athena clacked her beak in irritation. Odysseus bit into his own olive as he felt a sharp nibble on his ear before she started combing through his damp hair. She must’ve found something in his hair, a bit of dust or a wood chip, because he could feel her tugging at him. 

How goes construction on the new palace?

“Every day, I can see the way it’s growing.”

Odysseus passed by a group of men sitting in a loose circle, taking swigs from a water skin as they fanned themselves. One caught sight of Odysseus and they all scrambled to their feet. 

Odysseus held out a hand to put them at ease, “Catch your breath if you must. A tired man is more prone to making mistakes, and I will not have any in my new house.”

The men all sighed in relief and went back to their break, waving goodbye as he continued onward. Athena cooed to show her approval in his decision. He thought her mood was improving, but not a moment later, she said, I just can’t believe them sometimes. 

“Oh?”

Odysseus thought Athena said her piece already. She clicked his beak right in his ear. 

You would think that the god of law and order would have some sense in his head. But no! Apparently my mother Metis still possesses it. If only Father would listen to her, if not me.

Odysseus said nothing, having never heard Athena speak like this before, especially about her father. He thought it best to remain silent; perhaps Athena could complain about Zeus without punishment, but he knew far better. 

Athena clicked her beak with a different sense of urgency and Odysseus gave her another olive. She held it in one foot while balancing on the other, dropping the pit when she was finished devouring the flesh. 

“You seem awfully worked up,” Odysseus said, “Anything I can do to lift your burdens?”

Athena shook her head. No, I’m afraid this is something that no one man can solve, as frustrating as it might sound. 

He crossed the central courtyard and approached the war room, one of the few nearly-complete parts of the palace, where his chief architects and advisors were waiting to update him on their progress. 

Though Odysseus was primarily trained in the art of war, he was also well-versed in song and poetry, history, oratory, and arithmetic, all courtesy of Athena. He wasn’t an expert in architecture yet, but he had his own hand in designing the layout of the palace. 

“Good day, my friends.” Odysseus said, parting the curtains that served as a makeshift door until the palace was fitted with proper ones. 

One of his elder advisors squinted at Athena upon his shoulder. “My liege?”

Before they could go over any potential issues in the construction or their budgetary concerns, Odysseus wandered over to the window and let Athena take off. She disappeared through the trees, though he knew he’d see her again soon.

+++

Despite the fact the sun was about to set and the two godly kings had been bickering all day long, Aphrodite hadn’t lost her patience yet. In fact, she was even reveling in her task at hand. 

They moved their business to her abode on Olympus, where her many mirrors were put to good use. Zeus and Poseidon scoured the lands for a suitable judge to measure their sexual prowess, each of them interested in different aspects of what made up a potential lover. 

Zeus was pleased with just about any pretty face that breathed, but Poseidon was a bit pickier with appearances. He didn’t want his maidens or young men to be too skinny, and he seemed to have a preference for those with strong legs. Aphrodite could certainly work within those bounds. 

At the same time, Poseidon was more open to sharing a lover with some previous sexual experience, thinking it’d make the whole process easier. Zeus wrinkled his nose at the idea and insisted he wanted someone “new”, not wanting to muck about after some vastly lesser mortal man had his way with their chosen judge. 

Aphrodite agreed that was a good point, so instead of letting the two kings squabble, she put her talents as a matchmaker to good use. After a brief consultation, she put together a list of minimum requirements that satisfied both gods. 

One, their shared lover had to be attractive, preferably with appealing legs. 

Two, they had to be virginal. 

Three, they all agreed that the mortal should come from high standards, so some form of royalty. They could be a princess or a prince, or even someone lesser than that, but anyone of a noble bloodline would be preferable to a random maiden. Of course, both kings had their fair share of peasant-girl chasing, but for such an important competition, Aphrodite understood their concerns well. 

And lastly, the judge should be someone intelligent. Someone who wouldn’t buckle under the pressure of their assigned task and would be able to use not just their body, but logic to determine the true and indisputable winner. 

No doubt each god had their plans to bribe the judge, but who wouldn’t?

If it was Aphrodite competing for the apple, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a few tricks of her own. An idiot might be easy to bribe, but that also meant they’d be easy for the competition to bribe as well. To each of the male gods, an intelligent lover would certainly be able to recognize a superior bribe.

“Sadly, your stipulations exclude Helen of Sparta,” Aphrodite said, waving away the image of Helen in her largest mirror, “She’s had children by now, though she’s still quite lovely.”

Poseidon made a noncommittal sound, as if he might reconsider, but Zeus urged Aphrodite to move onto the next candidate with a flick of his wrist. The two of them sat before her best mirror, looking almost comical in her rose-colored, dove-ingrained armchairs. 

They went through a few more potential candidates, including Penelope of Sparta and Ctimene of Ithaca. Neither god was very impressed by her choices, but just as Aphrodite was about to move onto the next candidate, Poseidon held out a hand. 

“Wait a moment,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “Who is that in the back?”

“Oh?” Aphrodite asked. She returned to the image of Ctimene. She was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, her veil fluttering in her wake as her handmaidens walked with her. They seemed to be exiting some great ruin, but on closer inspection, the gods could see men at work. They were building a great palace, it seemed. 

Well, great by the standards of mortals. 

Behind Ctimene, a bare-chested young man held out a hand and seemed to be directing a group of others. Aphrodite’s mirror rippled and showed them the young man in greater detail, leaving young Ctimene out entirely. 

“Oh,” Zeus said. 

Aphrodite concealed her eager smile, more thrilled than ever at this sudden twist. She examined the young man’s features, including the sharp angles of his nose, his dense locks of dark brown hair, and his high cheekbones. He bore a striking resemblance to Ctimene. As the goddess of love, there were a few other details Aphrodite could parse out just by looking at him, but she would conceal her thoughts for now. 

She said, “Why, that would be none other than King Odysseus of Ithaca!” 

Though the young ruler was about the same height as his sister, he was no slight-of-frame weakling. His broad shoulders complimented his strong chest and arms, certainly the build of a warrior. His stomach was a flat plain and below his garments, well muscled thighs teased them almost playfully. 

A pale scar ran along the inside of one of his thighs, but it only added to his character. Though Poseidon maintained his interest, Zeus scoffed. 

“King, you say?” Zeus nudged his brother, “You know what that means.”

Poseidon was still appraising Odysseus’ thighs, “Plenty of whores in and out of his bed?”

“Actually!” Aphrodite said, clapping her hands, “You’ll be beyond pleased to know that young Odysseus here… is virginal.”

Now that had both gods’ attention. The King of the Gods seemed incredulous.

“How old is he?” Zeus asked. 

“Twenty years, my dearest king.”

“And he’s still a virgin?” Poseidon asked, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “Why? Is he stupid?”

Aphrodite giggled behind her hand, “He’s determined to save himself for marriage, like a maiden! But it can’t be helped. I do believe he’s Athena’s pupil, after all. And I’m sure she holds him to what she perceives as a high standard.”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, “Whatever the case may be, he’s remained celibate thus far. Perfectly ripe and ready to be plucked, if you would.”

The gods of the sea and sky shared a look. 

Zeus said, “Show us more.”

Aphrodite was more than happy to do exactly that. She waved her hand and the stationary image of Odysseus began to move. There was no sound to accompany the vision, but all three of them remained silent as they watched Odysseus work. 

He carried multiple rucksacks full of supplies up the spiral staircases of his house while other laborers stopped to eat their dinner. He seemed more than intent to get somewhere, not stopping until he came across a large bedroom with the roof still letting in sunlight in a few patches. Interestingly, while the bed was large and well made, it lacked a mattress or rug thrown over the rungs. Perhaps that would come later. 

Odysseus hopped out the window, seemingly ignorant to the fact there was a steep drop right below him, as he grabbed hold of a tree bough and climbed into the roof. It looked like he was intent on using every last bit of sunlight to his advantage as he finished laying out the clay shingles. 

The sweat across his body glistened like stardust as the sky above him glowed with the most beautiful shades of red and gold. He put his strong body to use by covering the few bare patches of his rooftop, stopping only to retrieve a shallow clay bowl from his pack, filling it with oil and floating a wick on top before igniting his lamp to give him a bit more light. 

Zeus snapped his fingers. In an instant, Hermes was fluttering at his side. 

“Yes, Father?”

Without taking his eyes off of Odysseus, Zeus said, “Contact Helios. Tell him to wait a while longer before dusk arrives.”

Hermes spared Odysseus a brief glance before nodding and flying off. Though the mortal didn’t seem to notice, the sun did indeed stop setting. 

Odysseus set down his hammer to dab his sweat-soaked face with a rag. He was tiring now, but intent on finishing his job if the determined look in his eyes was any indication. 

Poseidon held up one hand and curled a finger toward himself. 

The hammer that Odysseus just set down began sliding toward the edge of the roof. 

“Brother…” Zeus warned. 

Poseidon said, “Trust me.”

Odysseus snatched the hammer before it could fall, but found himself quite close to the edge now. 

Poseidon cupped his hands around his mouth and blew softly. A wind coming off Ithaca’s coast kicked up, carrying the salty scent of the ocean with it. As Odysseus stood with his hammer, he raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden gust of wind that ruffled his hair and clothing. 

Aphrodite’s eyes widened, instantly recognizing the game Poseidon was playing. She added her own flare as well, using just the slightest twirl of her finger to undo the belt holding young Odysseus’ garments in place. 

The poor young king seemed baffled by his sudden misfortune, moving swiftly to capture his garment before the wind could steal it away. Aphrodite froze the image without being told to do so, but she was quite proud of her timing. 

Odysseus stood in all his mortal splendor, revealing his tan skin scarred by past adventures. He was healthy, with the body of an athlete and his arm outstretched to better display the toned muscles under his skin.  

“What a surprise!” Aphrodite said with mirth, tracing her finger along the surface of the mirror, “Look at his little dimples!” 

Indeed, a twin set of dimples rested over his lower back, no longer concealed by his clothing. But that was not all. Some men were cursed to be rather flat in their rear, leaving them looking awkward or incomplete at times, but Aphrodite was equally pleased that Odysseus had something worth looking at below his dimples. In addition to the well-defined muscles in his shoulders and back, he sported the most grabbable bottom. 

If Odysseus was not doomed to be the plaything between kings, Aphrodite might have been tempted to take him for herself. 

She held out her hands as if Odysseus was nothing more than an exotic animal on display. Poseidon was leaning forward in his chair, his head tilted with interest. Zeus, too, seemed sold at last. His golden eyes sparkled more brightly than usual as he traced over the little king’s backside. He ran his tongue over his teeth. 

Aphrodite smiled, “So, my dears… what do you say? Is Odysseus of Ithaca to be your judge?”

...

Read an excerpt of Chapter 2 here!

[pukefactory]

OH. OH OKAY SO LIKE. YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN?? ? GOOD. I HAVE DANDYS WORLD REQUEST. IF YOU WANT TO CAN YOU PLEASE DO SHELLVISON (shelly x vee) X TOON READER. READER WHO IS AN AIRHEAD. DUMB. HEAD EMPTY. OH. OHHHH YEAAAHHHH. PLEASE AND THANK YOU. I AM NERVOUS. THANK YOU

Pfft- this seemed like a super cute prompt, so I went ahead and scribbled some things down Hope you enjoy, Anon!

*.｡✱ LEMON, LIME, LOBOTOMY ✱*.｡

» Summary: A compilation of headcannons featuring Shelly and Vee with a dumb toon reader.

» Character(s): Shelly (Dandy’s World), Vee (Dandy’s World)

» Paring(s): Shellvison (Shelly x Vee)

» Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

» Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

➜ The other toons can’t decide whether you were built with ichor to be intentionally foolish or if it’s simply a malfunction, but it’s clear you’re a bit of an airhead. Somehow, though, Shelly and Vee grew increasingly fascinated with you the more time they spent in your company. Shelly found your absentmindedness amusing and oddly endearing. Vee, on the other hand, initially thought you were a bit of a dunce but soon came to enjoy teaching you and hearing your scattered, offbeat responses. Against all odds, they decided to invite you into their romantic relationship. You’re not quite sure how you managed to win them over, but somehow, you did.

➜ Shelly loves teaching you everything about paleontology. She often goes on lengthy rambles, reading historical texts aloud to you. Although you rarely understand what she’s talking about, and anything you manage to retain for more than a few seconds is usually forgotten by the next day, Shelly appreciates that you’re listening and making an effort to stay engaged. For her, that’s more than enough.

➜ Vee takes a more hands-on approach, trying to embed trivia—both trivial and important—into your memory. Despite her repeated efforts, nothing ever seems to stick. However, she finds your absurd answers to her questions incredibly amusing, so at the very least, she’s thoroughly entertained.

➜ When the three of you are together, they prefer to engage in simple, relaxing activities with you. Things like lounging in bed, taking short strolls around Gardenview, or chatting about anything that comes to mind. Occasionally, you watch Vee rehearse for her shows or see Shelly learning to sew with Sprout. You’d much rather observe the girls doing their own things than risk embarrassing yourself in front of them. Shelly makes an effort to keep you entertained while she sews, and Vee simply enjoys having you nearby as she brainstorms questions for her game show.

➜ Your airheaded nature often makes you clumsy. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve accidentally broken Shelly and Vee’s belongings, and so have they. Microphones, stage props, digging tools—you’ve managed to damage them all. Vee does her best to stay composed but quickly becomes frustrated and firmly tells you not to touch anything. Shelly, on the other hand, lets you down more gently, preferring that you simply watch and listen rather than attempt to help.

➜ Every now and then, you attempt to make something special for them, like cookies shaped like dinosaurs or microphones. However, since you have no idea how to use an oven, they always turn out either undercooked or burnt. Shelly will take a tiny bite to spare your feelings, while Vee politely declines in the kindest way possible. Sprout and Cosmo often offer to help, but you always insist that you’ve got it under control.

➜ You often struggle with staying focused, finding it difficult to concentrate on tasks for long periods, especially if you’re not particularly skilled at or fully understanding the activity. Shelly and Vee try to support you by encouraging you to write down your thoughts to organize and express yourself. Though they’re sometimes baffled by how unusual your ideas can be, Shelly offers reassurance while Vee helps you improve your spelling to keep you engaged and distracted.

[mahkotakev]

i couldn't find the picture but this was based on sprout and shelly's conversation with her saying she knows how to sew 🫡🫡

i headcannon that she helps the others with their torn clothes hehe 🤭🤭

[antidotesprout]

🖤🤍Mini Plush Set Giveaway🤍🖤

GIVEAWAY HAS BEEN CONCLUDED

I'll be giving the pictured submas mini plush set away! Entry period will last from the time of this posting until 9/2/2023 at 10 PM US CST (that's GMT-6)! The winner will be announced the following day, 9/3 👍

Giveaway Rules:

To enter, leave a reply/comment on this post

Everyone is limited to one entry

Winner will be chosen via a random number generator (I'll be putting everyone who enters on a numbered list to assign numbers)

Must be over 18

Keep messaging open at least around the time of the drawing so I can let you know if you've won!

My intention with this project was to give fans the opportunity to have plushes of our lil guys even if they can't sew or afford $500 a pair from scalpers on ebay, so this give away is world wide (barring any restrictions shipping from the us).

Share with your fellow fans to spread the love! 🖤🤍

If you don't want to take a chance and would rather purchase them straight away I will be posting sets up for sale. Follow me if you want updates regarding when those are made available! (Likely next week at some point)

[dandysworldhcs]

gigi has stolen a ton of old items the toon handlers left behind and hands them out when she thinks someone might need it

dandys toon handler liked puns, now finn owns twenty seven pun books

astros toon handler liked tea, now teagan has a book of tea combos

vees toon handler liked cleaning a lot, now tisha has a huge collection of cleaning supplies from the outside

shellys toon handler liked sewing, which is why shelly knows how to sew! ( brightney got a sewing book from gigi and brightney taught shelly )

sprouts toon handler liked collecting coins! ( gigi has the book full of the coins and shows it off )

hii can i be cannibal anon

this specific genre of gigi headcanon SAVE MEEEE

[jazzeria]

A lil update on my lil blankie: I'm starting to see signs of wear in the construction (piecing), flaws are showing themselves, and the fabrics continue to break in (some more nicely than others).

13 Jan 2025

At this point, Lil Blankie is about 8 weeks old, and has been washed about 6 times.

I sleep with the blanket every night. Sometimes it covers my head and eyes when I sleep. Sometimes I wear it like a cape around my shoulders as I go about my business in the home. Every other day or so, I spend several minutes just snuggling it for the sheer joy of it--and also for science, of course.

Increasingly, as I try to objectively measure and record this blanket's destruction (or more euphemistically: its wear), I feel the emotional weight of it. I'm feeling the entropy. Different fabrics will wear at different rates, reaching their optimal softness at different times, for different durations, and degrading from then on, before ultimately requiring repair.

But also, that was kinda the point of this project: to prepare for repairing my (much larger, and much more emotionally significant) childhood blankie by testing various fabrics, practising the skills required, and, perhaps, becoming comfortable with the idea of wear and repair.

So!

The past two reports have focused a lot on the fabrics, but this time, I wanted to focus on the stitching. It might also be because this is the first time I've noticed the patchwork stitching (sewing the pieces of fabric together, not the quilting) become visible in new places.

For the piecing, I used a pink/salmon coloured thread.

(I probably also did it backwards: using a thicker thread for the piecing, and a finer thread for the quilting. While I can pretend I did this on purpose so I could tell when the piecing started to fail, it's honestly because I didn't own much variety of thread when I started, so I used what I had, when I had it.)

These little pink dots are new--I think. It's entirely possible I've just missed them until now.

It's not a nice thought, to think that Lil Blankie is coming apart at the seams.

I also wanted to record now some flaws that I hadn't recorded before.

When I made the triangle side, I didn't plan it well. The edges of the pieced triangles were not straight, and needed some half-triangles (right-triangles, instead of equilateral) at the edges.

The easiest way to include these edge pieces is to....have attached them during row contruction, and not try to attach them at the very end. If I had included them during row construction, the triangle points would have lay much neater.

So, I had to fudge it, and I got extremely imperfect points:

I think I also hand-stitched some of these points, when the seams got too complex for the machine.

Anyway, I wanted to at least mention them now.

There's also a bit of fraying of this light blue botanical print, where it joins the darker navy solid:

On the triangle side, seams were usually pressed to one side, but this seam, I pressed open instead. (Probably it was because of the complicated joins.)

I'm not sure if the open seam led to this fraying.

It might also just be that I favoured this corner when pinning the cape about my shoulders:

I like having the flannel against my neck, so I wear it with the rectangle side against my skin. And being right-handed, I pin the right side over the left with a safety pin. This means there will be asymmetrical wear: two corners will get more (or at least, different) wear from the other two.

In fact, that is where I'm seeing these signs of wear: in those two corners.

Feeling the entropy.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A little snippet of "A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues" Part 15

A.N.: I'll have this finished after I complete one more fic for another fandom by the end of this month if not sooner!

Celeste left the house early the day after bringing Gadreel home with her.

Curiosity got the better of her, so she pulled out her bicycle from the sewing room. Gadreel sat dormant in his statue-state in the far corner where she made space for him. She offered him a pile of blankets to make a pallet on the floor, but he only squatted on his haunches and she watched his skin harden into stone at the first light of dawn.

He looked just as terrifying as a hunk of rock as he did as a living breathing being. She tapped his shoulder to test the hardness of his transformation. A small bud looking like the tip of a twig sprouted from his wing-less shoulder. She shuddered to think she had a gargoyle as a roommate.

Heat rested around the crown of her locs and swept around her in lazy hot drafts as she rode to the church. She had to see for herself what became of the remains of Father Mbenga.

She dropped her foot on the sidewalk, halting her bike.

The church looked normal.

The roof was covered in a dark blue tarp with roofing materials stacked neatly. She stared at the doors, tempted to walk over and open them. No…it was better to pretend she knew nothing. There were no police, no caution tape to keep spectators away…nothing.  Perhaps Micah’s contacts cleaned up any evidence of vampires and gargoyle’s scuffling.

She spent the day pedaling around Jackson Square watching buskers, fortune tellers, jugglers, and random street performers entertain tourists. Celeste tried to mentally align her life with the new world she had to function in once more. She was going to be a mother. In order to save her child she had to kill Terry. An eight foot gargoyle told her a fantastical creation story that she believed. Regular humans enjoyed their day all around her not knowing that horrors surrounded them the moment the sun went down.

But she was safe.

She touched her stomach.

The baby kept her safe. Gadreel kept her safe, even with its injuries.

It? They?

The gargoyle technically wasn’t a male without gendered body parts that humans were used to. Calling him a him felt okay because it had a deep voice associated with masculinity to her ears.

“Alright Strawberry, your mother has to figure shit out,” she murmured.

A fifty-ish looking Black woman with fluffy, newly-dyed auburn hair shuffled a deck of tarot cards in front of a portable table and empty folding chair. A small whiteboard with red marking listed her prices and types of readings. What stood out to her was a Vodou veve drawn with orange chalk decorating the cement next to the table. It looked like two sideways crosses with upside down hearts and squiggly lines. Celeste recognized the same marking from the window of a little storefront on Rampart that sold oils, candles, and charms.

“You look like you need a quick reading, young lady,” the woman said.

 “I need more than a reading.”

“A consultation then?”

“I need to find someone.”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

The woman spread the five-inch high blue cards out in a half circle on her covered table.

“Not here, though. Can I make an appointment for later?” Celeste asked.

“Sure.”

The woman handed her a gold card.

Madame Patrice Varte.

“Thank you,” Celeste said.

She pushed her bike away and pocketed the card.

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[sinsmockingbird]

SUCCUBUS!COQUELIC | Event

PAIRING: Coquelic x Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, NSFW, Sub!Reader, Dom!Character, Succubus!Coquelic, Human!Reader, Monster Fucking, Lingerie, Cunnilingus

AUTHORS NOTE: Finally the first part is here! Enjoy a relatively mild monster fucking fic to ease us into the event. Note; Reader is one of Coquelic's concubine.

IT WASN'T uncommon for Coquelic to return to the Garden quite... hungry. You've learned by this point to always be ready for her when she returns, knowing just how much she's craving some delicious essence.

Making sure that her room was tidy and that everything was set correctly, you moved your hands down your body to fix up the revealing lingerie you were wearing, into place. Then you glanced into the mirror inside her room and made sure your hair was neat (it wouldn't be in a little bit).

After making sure you looked good, you glanced over at the clock and noted that you only had a few minutes left. So quickly you settled yourself onto Coquelic's bed and laid down, but not before tossing some rose petals around you and making sure that the lingerie was revealing more than it already was before settling down and waiting.

And you didn't have to wait long.

When a portal opened up in the room, your heart quickly began to rapidly hammer in your chest. You watched as Coquelic came storming through, a scowl adorning her beautiful face. You noted the dark red horns sprouting and curving from her head, red wings briefly fluttering in aggravation, and then finally the slender tail swishing back and forth behind her.

You watched as Coquelic froze as soon as her eyes landed on you, slowly blinking them a few times before a wide grin spread across her lips as her eyes looked you over. "My my, what's this, my little rosebud?"

"U-Uhm, a gift... a gift for you," You answered, feeling your face flush red as you felt her eyes trailing over every inch of your body. "I- I thought you would be h-hungry upon your return."

"Hm, you thought correctly. As always," Coquelic mused as she moved towards you and crawled onto the bed, her tail swishing back and forth behind her in a tantalizing way. "You'll still let me do anything to you, correct?"

"C-Correct," You meekly nodded your head, obediently moving to lay flat on the bed on your back, allowing her to straddle your waist.

"Mm, good," Coquelic licked her her lips in hunger, before diving down towards you.

You gasped as her lips crashed against yours, your teeth hitting against each other as she shoved her tongue into your mouth. You put up no fight, surrendering yourself to Coquelic, moaning at the feeling of her long tongue snake out and swipe across every inch, before almost shoving itself down your throat. You choked for a moment as she stuck her tongue momentarily down your throat, before gasping for air as she pulled away.

She left open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, slowly but surely moving down your body, not caring how messy her kisses were, because currently all she wanted was you. She wanted to use you to her heart's content until you were nothing but moans. She wanted to feast on you, because she was in dire hunger for your taste.

Coquelic taked her fingers across your pretty lingerie, before grabbing them and tearing them off your body. As much as she loved to see you, her little concubine dressed so prettily in something so revealing, it was blocking too much of your pretty skin. And she just couldn't have that.

"C-Coco!" You whined as she forced your legs wide apart after tossing your torn lingerie somewhere behind her.

"What?" Coquelic asked, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow, before noticing the pout on your face, and she glanced behind her at the heap of your lingerie on the ground, making her let out a laugh. "Don't fret, rosebud, I'll have one of the other concubines remake it for you."

"Okay..." You mumbled, still frowning. You had spent a great amount of time learning from Garofano on how to sew that, so it kinda hurt that Coquelic could so easily tear it apart without a care.

"Attention on me, rosebud." Coquelic demanded, nipping a bit roughly at your inner thigh, making you gasp and quickly look at her. "Good girl."

Your face flushes red as Coquelic begins to pepper your inner thighs in kisses, moving closer and closer to your dripping cunt. You whine for her, and with a small laugh, she moves her face to where you want her. She blows air on it first, watching it clench and drop more slick, making her lick her lips.

"My, such a pretty cunt..." Coquelic muses, sighing dreamily as she gazes at your hole. You flush red at her prolonged staring, subconsciously beginning to close your legs around her head.

Eyes flashing red, Coquelic's tail wraps tightly around one of your legs, forcefully pulling it back while she she pins your other with her hand, making sure you can't move them an inch. "Now now, don't be misbehaving."

"M'sorry!" You quickly apologize, moving to spread your legs wider for her (not that you could anymore) and lifting your hips slightly up as you presented your cunt for her.

"Good girl." Coquelic purred, softening her grip on you as she moves her head back in between your legs.

You let out a whine of pleasure as soon as Coquelic flicked her tongue across your dripping folds. She smirked and began to teasingly drag her tongue slowly past your lower lips, wiggling it about and making your walls clench around it tightly.

"Mmmm Coco..!" You whimpered at her teasing, pouting once again and staring down at her pleadingly, silently begging her to just give you her tongue.

Coquelic let out a breathy laugh, wanting to tease you further, but the ache of hunger in her stomach made her decide to give in. She shoved the rest of her tongue into your cunt, the pointed tip flicking against every inch it could get a taste of. The rest of her tongue wiggled around inside you, coating itself in your delicious juices.

She let out a pleased moan at the taste of you, her eyes rolling back in her head. She could feel her hunger ache more, needing your cum flooding her mouth. So, without much warning, she began to fuck her tongue in and out of your needy cunt.

You threw your head back, a silent scream leaving your mouth as you felt Coquelic's tongue thrusting in and out with such intensity you'd think it was her strap if you closed your eyes. Your hands flew down to her head, grabbing fistfuls of her hair into them.

You tugged her head closer, thighs trying to enclose around her head and keep her in place, but her tail tightened around your one leg again, keeping it firmly in place while her one hand did as well. You whined at the feeling but you didn't dare fight, instead letting your legs stay spread.

"Taste so good..." Coquelic moaned, the sound of her voice sending vibrations through you, making you jerk slightly, causing her to laugh.

She snaked her free hand up between your legs, settling it above your pussy. She pressed her thumb against your aching clit, putting pressure onto it and rubbing it slightly, immediately making you cry out of how good it felt. She rubbed it more as she continued her relentless pace of her tongue.

You could feel the coil in your gut beginning to tighten more and worsen, making tears spring to your eyes. It was becoming too much, and Coquelic knew that. But she was desperate for your taste so she only went faster and harder.

"C-Cumming!" You gasp out through moans before arching your back off the bed, shoving Coquelic's head farther between your thighs as you reach your peak.

Coquelic lets out a whine as you begin cumming, flooding her mouth. She held your spasming body down onto the bed, while diving her tongue deep into you, trying to drink up every last bit of your juices. She could feel relief flood her system as your taste soothes her aching hunger.

When she was satisfied, she slowly moved her head away from between your legs, licking her lips and chin that were drenched in your essence. You whimpered at the sight, and cowered under her lustful gaze. Her eyes were glowing more red, and you knew she wasn't completely satisfied just yet. She wasn't done using you for her own relief just yet.

ENDING NOTES: Anyone wane to get feasted on by Succubus!Coquelic?