#NeighborlyNotes

[angelfoodcake222]

So, I've seen a lot of self-inserts & OCs as stylists, seamstresses & the like, but not a lot of other jobs 🤔. I can't decide what job to give my "The Lesser of Two Evils" [Y/N], so y'all can take your pick here. If I hadn't listed anything or you think a different job would suit you, please comment the career of your choosing below. Please be respectful.

A/N: No, being a character's wife/husband/spouse does not count as a job.

These are all of the useful ones I can think of & what Tumblr will let me post at the moment. Some of these would be an instant route to angst, I know it, but some dark stuff could be hiding in most of these too.

Likes are nice, comments are appreciated, but reblogs are better. Thank you!

[angelfoodcake222]

💌 💛 Xanthophilia 💛 💌

Xanthophilia: the love of the color yellow.

Gif by @bee-stim

Tw[Trigger warning]: you goofed, bad/decent poetry, fluff, scopophobia, (possible) head injury, simp stuff. Enjoy.

🌕The story starts with a 3rd person's view peering past the window leading into a puppet's (most likely Y/N's) office as they frantically &/or cartoonishly searches for the note they thought they had put away to revise it into a less sappy, mawkish, schmaltzy confession of their feelings for the star of the show in favor of writing as more of a note to show their appreciation for his appearance in the shows, offering to design his next suit to fit his seemingly snazzy essence. Maybe something in a fetchingly robust red?

🌕Wally gets a note [accidentally] sent by his semi-new neighbor, Y/N the stylist/seamstress, after it gets mixed up with other things in their messy home office.

🌕When he opens the pristine red heart stamped, white envelope he finds something to the effects of a love letter complete with a lightly perfumed (not intentionally, just cast off from when you were getting dressed near your desk & the episode you were written into called for you & Wally to be near each other)piece of salmon pink paper filled with rich blue ink scribbles that open with "To My Most Darling, Fabulous Neighbor," before he stood stock still beside his open window to read on. His unblinking eyes read this (or something like it):

I cannot help but swoon when I see you wearing any one of my designs. It makes my little heart throng when I see you happily going about your life with the clothes I tailored for you & how your honeybee fleece makes it look as though you were the sun himself put into a tangible form. An incarnation of bright, beautifully blue-topped chef-d'oeuvre Pablo Picasso, Peter D. Jaquish, or even Leonardo da Vince could so much as dream of bringing to spontaneous life. Andy Warhol hasn't a prayer in recreating the honorific hues you iconically carry with your pools of opalescent snowfall glistening like freshly fallen snow with a pair of priceless black pearls that bring an incomprehensible level of depths to them.

If your lulling voice & genteel demeanor were not enough, your eyes draw me further & deeper into these profound feelings I've been pushing down for countless convoluted reasons that I cannot put into words. I hope to make a garb that finally brings worthy wearability to your form & its near-otherworldly resplendence. Possibly make you a line of Red Deliciousness & Pink Ladies for myself, if it's not too much, of course. Maybe swap makeup & hair tips or you could show me how you do such majestic work in such brief windows before the cameras come on.

With love & awaiting skill, Y/N.

🌕Wally is stuck in place, rereading the besotted epistolary in his hands as the words take him some time to grasp. He even asked home to pass him the dictionary from the top of his bookshelf to translate many of the words just to boil it down to its writer being, for lack of better words, "wally, wally, blood & dolly" for him.

🌕He sat in his plush chair, rereading the confession with a new understanding of what Y/N had composed, now transcribed to his understanding.

🌕He barely heard the frantic knocking upon Home's door & Home rocking his chair to snap him out of the hypnosis.

🌕When he does pull through & opens the door, there stood Barnaby with an excited yet curious look on his face.

🌕While Barnaby was getting a hot dog from Howdy with Eddie & Frank picking out ingredients for something related to jelly, Y/N skids in & make a B-line for Eddie, asking if he had delivered any mail from their house to Home that day.

🌕Eddie checks his notes & confirms their hectic question, noting the "very pretty thing holding it shut so nicely" that he could not bear to stuff it into his bag, therefore packing it mindfully in hand to Wally's dwelling.

🌕Y/N's face turns a few shades darker before they fall back into the apple display & causing everyone concern, especially Julie & Poppy who had just walked in not even a split second before it happened.

🌕Barnaby ran to Home, grabbed Wally & brought him to Howdy's where everyone else gathered to check on their friend laying amongst the ripe red fruit scattered about, especially Poppy who told everyone to step back & give the stylist/tailor some room while she tended to them.

🌕He thought back to the letter he had tucked into his cardigan pocket instinctively while Barnaby dashed him to the store & reflected on the decadent words you utilized in writing such a thing. This was followed by him piecing together what had happened.

🌕He, Poppy & Barnaby helped Y/N back to their home & tucked them into bed.

🌕Barnaby & Poppy went all about their neighbor's home looking for things to ease their probable headache after their fall while Wally sits at the same-sized puppet's bedside, quietly watching them rest their lovely, lettered mind. Unable to push that poem from his mind.

🌕While Poppy tended to Y/N's head & Barnaby grabbed some additional pillows from their closet, Wally continued to watch you (a character trait the two bigger puppets were used to, so they didn't notice it.

💛He had never fallen so hard before & he doubts he ever will for anyone else ever again.

[angelfoodcake222]

Here it is!!! Enjoy~!

TW [Trigger Warning]: talk of murder, metamorphic depictions & descriptions, scopophobia, scopophilia, fictophilia, paraphilia, & xanthophilia.

What were you doing!? This was insane! You, a member of the handy crew & doubled as puppet repair member (the shortest member, coming in at ~4'10"), were kneeling before Home, the dwelling, no, temple, of the Wally Darling. If it weren't for your seething respiratory distress, teary eyes & overall frazzled appearance, you'd be wholly serviceable to the feat of visiting the puppet you spent the most time maintaining after slipping past security for a late-night chat (as you didn't have a phone nor the privacy to take a call thanks to horrid bunkmates), though, tonight was a slight abnormality.

With a groggy creak of Home's door, there stood the 3' puppet himself, in the fleece. You were vastly relieved when he stepped out in his PJs & robe, not going bare; combined with the unstyled streams of berry blue hair hanging over one side of his canary-hued visage, casting a seemingly impenetrable umbra over the other half which highlighted the lone, unblinking eye in a near-mythical way. You couldn't help but gander a bit more than usual.

The pool of opal, dotted by a lustrous black pearl, glittered in the pale highlights set to synthesize moonlight as if there was no ceiling to the studio [It was so late that the camera crew clocked out until early that upcoming morning, but that didn't stop the current ennead of people from hunting you down like a pack of rabid wolves]. His bright yellow fleece seemed bolder in the soft lighting. Fluffier, even. Your mind blinked back to the moment.

How did you come to be here & why are those nine people pestering you with such lethal intent? Simple. People are horrible beings that seek pure destruction upon anything & anyone. "Anyone" being you after you reported appalling mishandling of studio property, mainly the puppets, to your leading boss. Now, the perpetrators wanted your head on a stick to handle you the way they did with the main cast, leaving you no choice but to flee to the one place you somehow knew they wouldn't look in; Darling's dim doorstep.

The moment your eyes met, without a single word mustered, he knew full & well what you came for. Sanctuary, asylum. He had heard what you did & he was grateful for your heroic deed, yet saddened by the fact that a good deed needed to be punished. It took you a fair moment or two to squeeze into Home after wringing yourself through the front door, but once you did, you were shocked.

In place of the cozy, homey scene depicted in nearly every episode of the show you helped with from day one & ground zero, there was nothing but a massive pool of viscous, tangible blackness. You spot Darling standing just ahead of you, holding a ball of ick before it recasts into a Red Delicious apple sitting almost weightlessly in the male's sunny yellow hands, somehow untainted by the sticky darkness that clung to you in favor of him. He shifts his focus from the fruit to you.

Disembodied music gradually picked up in the background just barely audible enough for you to pick up Elvis Presley's "Burning Love" overlapping "Suspicious Minds". Suiting, though eerie given the pitch & slowed pace it's been pitched to. Strange. It almost sounds romantic in such tones. The split-second thought was snipped off by your current view of your bowing, virtually crawling, perspective.

Darling extends the 'fruit' to you as the gloom seemed to become denser around you, leaving your dominant hand mobile. You didn't need it though, as Darling held the smooth escape to your lips before speaking quietly, not skimming the intensity others feared & cringed from though you felt as if you were sinking into the scene & his dreamy eyes.

"One bite." He calmly conversed, lulling your hand to instinctively move to mirror his on the opposite side of the carmine-hued clept. "One bite, dear Y/N, then you can stay here with me & away from those who wish you harm." His other hand came to cover yours with a gentle gaze deepening into something you weren't sure you'd ever seen from anyone, especially him. Distant arguments of where to search next went unnoticed by you, but not by Darling as he carefully cruised the object of your palpable anticipation to your lip.

"Just. One. Tiny. Bite~."

The soothing voice deepened & faded following a crisp crunch, leaving you floating before being laid into a plush respite. Burning soon engulfed your body, flesh, muscle & all other human-based traits were seared away as numbness washed over your agonizing form's reconstruction. That numbness is overthrown by a sudden fullness filling your heart & soul to an almost supernatural breadth.

At moments like this, one's mind reflects on the perspicuity they had learned in life. For example, it is said that constantly choosing the lesser of two evils is still choosing evil. Wise words to live by, if only you weren't such a fool for him & he, you. He has felt that way about you for such a long time.

Done! This was thrown together in my spare time but it came out pretty well. Pt. 2/? might come out if this one gets some traction. Have a good day/night!

[angelfoodcake222]

Okay. Time for a question that I'd love the answer or an explanation to: Why is everyone liking & reblogging my Thank You posts, phobia idea & feline Wally HC way more than the things I actually took a fair chunk of time to write & put more planning into?

Did my writing just not hit the right cord?

Is my diction or writing style off-putting?

Please tell me something; I'm so confused...