#unnamed road festival
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Curious about what every blurb on the CritRole Oracle of the Moon Instagram filter is but don't want to sit there rolling it until you get all of them? Well, I did that for you! Below, the cards are each listed as upright (blue label), then reverse (yellow label), and their names are all bolded. Couple of notes as well. This deck is currently and newly for sale in the Critical Role shop.
The Anvil: To forge. To strengthen. To gather what is needed. The Sword: To wield. A show of might.
The Eye: Divine inspiration. Contemplation. Higher realms. The Hand: Practicality. Labour. The mortal plane.
Moon: A glamour. A beautiful story the truth wears. An illusion. Mirror: A reveal. A bitter truth. Something hiding in the shadows.
Spark: Something is responsible for this. Maybe you, maybe some asshole. Blaze: Sometimes there are consequences. Sometimes they hurt.
Jewel: Wealth. Desire. The thing you want most. Thief: What you seek is not where you think it is, and it may be a tricky quest.
Dawn: There's always hope. And the darkness leads to light.... Death: I mean this basically means death, ok? But that's not necessarily a bad thing! (In the booklet for the deck itself, "Dawn" reads: "There's always hope. And the darkness leads to light. New beginnings.")
The Crone: Experience. Perspective. Maybe like, really long arms. The Maiden: Youth. Innocence. Exuberance. Cupcakes. (It is "The Hag" in-game rather than "The Crone".)
Tavern: Respect. A meeting. Negotiation. Lust: Desire. Indulgence (Depicts the Gentleman, by Molly.)
Joy: Play. Delight. Dance. Festivity. Poetry. Song. Chaos: Chance. A cacophony. Things may have gotten out of hand. (Depicts Jester.)
Love: It binds us, it frees us. What else needs be said? Temple: Consecration. Healing. Awe and reverence. (Depicts Yasha.)
The Fool: The actor. The hero. Cleverness. The Soldier: Authority. Submission. Rigidity. (Depicts Molly, by Molly.)
Dream: The future. Infinite possibility. The unknowable. History: The past. Calamity. Immutable.
Sacrifice: Payment. The fulfillment of a debt. That which is owed. Hunger: Unfulfilled need. An act of survival.
Growth: Life. Blossoming. Of the earth. To plant. Spring and Summer. Rot: Entropy. Things fall apart. To reap. Autumn and Winter. (Depicts Caduceus.)
Bond: Trust. Brotherhood. An oath. A sense of belonging. Betrayer: Deceit. Self-destruction. Weakness. Fear. Loneliness.
Home: Family. Familiarity. A beginning or ending. Traveler: The open road. An unexpected encounter. A stranger.
The Judge: Justice. Righteous authority. Metallic. The Tyrant: Avarice. Tyranny. Chromatic.
The Sky: Safe passage. Uninterrupted vision. The Sea: The lurking danger. Unclear and hostile depths. (Depicts Fjord, Fjord is upwards at "The Sky" and apparently Uk'otoa, then unnamed to Molly, is upwards at "The Sea".)
The Book: Fact. Preparation. Forthrightness. The Rumor: Guile. Wisdom. Improvisation. (Depicts Beau, she's depicted twice in the style of a playing card and upwards on both sides.)
Tinker: Technology. Science. Progress. Discovery. Magician: Magic, beyond mortal understanding. (Depicts Veth as Nott and Caleb.)
Also, for fun, the wiki has an article for the deck as it exists in-game, if you're curious about that.
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so I cracked open my document for worldbuilding/writing for the first time in forever today
and I realized that I can worldbuild to infinity, but I can't actually write the story to save my life. So, in an attempt to get me motivated to write the thing, here's some information on the dominant religion in my world.
Worships a pantheon of gods and spirits. The main difference between the two is that gods can be replaced, but spirits cannot.
Spirits are the embodiments of abstract concepts, while gods are more like people with supreme power over a concrete object.
Sometimes humans mash together similar gods and spirits, as seen with how Krunin and Brin got mistaken for the same person, but some are distinct enough, like the fearfully unnamed spirit of death and Rylai
Society sees the daytime sky as more in tune with the earth, even having a myth about how the daytime sky protects the earth from the vast expanse of the universe. Hence why Fyrian’s title is “God of the earthly sky” The night sky is seen as more tied to the universe at large, since you can see all of the stars at night.
The story goes that both Greavi, Astrapulli, and Fyrian worked together to create humanity, with Astrapulli going on to take the roll of being the one to guide humanity on the road to advancements, Fyrian being Humanity’s protector and Greavi being the great provider.
Astrapulli and Fyrian are often worshiped together in a duality or balance capacity, especially in the leviathan kingdom. It’s actually half the reason the Leviathan Kingdom’s capital of Crenan was established.
The gods are worshiped in daily life at their specific shrines. People will go there and pray and leave offerings towards a god.
Not everyone regularly worships every god, but each god and goddess has their own holidays that are upheld
It might seem weird that there hasn’t been much mythical drift across time and various disruptive historical events, however the explanation of this is two-fold. First, the gods are actually real, and have made several appearances throughout history and prehistory and in every country, thus leaving humanity to make a more concrete mythical lore. Secondly, Yvine Ojan spent a lot of time codifying the myths from all across the continent, creating a relatively solid canon for the gods, and it’s only been slightly over a hundred years since she did that, thus not giving the myths much time to drift
Gods, and some spirits
Empyria-Goddess of music
Patron goddess of the L’norinette family
Constantly at war with Greavi for reasons forgotten by mortals
An'Tuska- Spirit of precipitation
Has a rivalry with Fyrian
Iapert-goddess of the sea
Merudi- God of wealth
There Is a week-long festival in the Ojalana empire that ends in a massive public ball hosted by the palace. This event, Called Deviti week attracts many tourists
Patron of the Ojalana Empire
Works closely with the spirits of plenty and deficit
Myrcid- goddess of justice and fair rule
Patron Goddess of the Ojalana Empire
Astrapulli- God of the universal sky
His left eye is the moon- which is also inhabited by Herun, the spirit of moonlight
Co-creator of humanity
Fyrian- God of the earthly sky
His right eye is the sun- inhabited by the spirit of sunlight, Degras
Co-creator of humanity
Greavi- Goddess of the natural world
Co-creator of humanity
Krunin- god of the eternal flame
Commonly depicted as a war god, representing the undying loyalty and determination of soldiers, as well as the destruction of war. In actuality he is a god of immortality and fire as his epithet would suggest, war is actually controlled by the spirit brin-who is close friends with Krunin.
Pynis (pie-nis)- Goddess of rocks and earth
Rylai (ree-ly)- god of living spirits
Has control over the souls of all living and dead creatures (including plants)
The spirit of death
Goes unnamed out of fear that writing the spirit’s name will call it to them.
It incites a soul’s journey to the beyond-place, which hosts the true kingdom of Rylai
#worldbuilding#fantasy#religion#hints of mythology#building religions and cults are my favorite thing
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Number 5 with a Bullet - May
read on AO3 | tumblr masterpost
older!rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader/unnamed OC
a multimedia diary fic
An unnamed diary writer working at a record label meets retired rockstar Eddie Munson when he's hired as the producer for an upcoming band's first album. Despite the 20+ year age gap and Eddie's checkered past, the chemistry between them is instant and they fall for each other alarmingly fast. But their budding romance can't stay private forever. Will she be able to handle the pressure of being a rockstar's girlfriend? Can multiple-divorcé Eddie finally make a relationship last? And what will the record company, the tabloids, and Eddie's semi-estranged adult children have to say about it?
general contents/warnings for this fic: angst, fluff, smut (MDNI), 20+ year age gap, past substance abuse issues, past sex work, multiple kinks
no specific warnings for these entries
810 words
@rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires @toxicanonymity @hersweetrevenge @cordelium dm me or reply to this post to be added to my tag list 💕
transcript below the cut
20 May
Work has been so fucking boring lately. Festival season is in full swing and all the bands being out on the road means nobody is in the studio. I have a dull couple of months ahead of me. Most of the year it’s extremely fun, but studio manager summers suck.
And this is my fifth one! Fuck, I’ve been doing this a long time. Might be at the point where I should start angling for a promotion or something. I’ll bring it up to Rina. She’s climbed almost all the way to the top of the ladder – they announced a couple weeks ago she’s going to be the new director of A+R. I’m not sure what my options for moving up really are, but I know if Rina’s director she’ll have my back.
Seems like pretty much any job title would get me more interesting summers than this. Most of my coworkers and most of my non-work friends are gone somewhere doing something. A lot of them are on tour too, playing or managing or doing lights. The ones that aren’t are renting a beach house or living in Europe for a few months. The label offices are a ghost town and so is my calendar.
Maybe I’ll use some of my vacation time, take advantage of my connections to actually go to a festival for once. I already missed Coachella but that doesn’t bother me at all, that’s not the kind of festival I want. I think I’ll look for something much smaller, more curated, more niche, and NOT in California. A little east coast trip sounds so nice.
22 May
I didn’t even get a chance to look for a small east coast fest before I decided I’m staying home this summer. The best email I’ve ever gotten in my entire fucking life was waiting for me when I got back from lunch.
There’s the band, Apologetic Weapons. I’m friends with the members, especially the bassist, Nicky (we went on one date – no spark but we’ve been buddies ever since). I’ve been going to their shows since their second or third gig. I remember the first night I saw them, getting in my car and opening my work email immediately. Rina had been on the discovery team for a while by then and I was like keep an eye on these guys. All they had at the time was an instagram with ONE post.
Then last year they did a self-release that was so fucking good. I sent that to Rina too, and she said they were already negotiating a deal. I fucking called it! I couldn’t be happier for them, they’re gonna be fucking huge. The email was a request to book them studio time.
It’s so dope, it’s my first time working with a band I've followed since the beginning! But that’s not even all of it…
THE PRODUCER IS GONNA BE EDDIE FUCKING MUNSON!
Holy shit!!!!! When I read the email my jaw was on the fucking floor.
Corroded Coffin is like, everything to me. They were my first favorite band, Mom used to play them in the car for me all the time. I got sent home to change in school so many times for my collection of “inappropriate” CC t-shirts. I fucking cried when Eddie announced that he was retiring because I only got to see them twice 🙁 But I heard these rumors that he got his GED and went to college for audio engineering. Can you imagine sitting in a fucking college lecture and THE Eddie Munson asks to borrow a pen?? Anyway, I guess this means the rumors are true!
I respect that a lot. He’s been a megastar for like, 30 some odd years and plenty of other artists get into production with no formal training or anything, but he still put in the work. He seems like a pretty decent guy, unlike some of his peers. It’s such a low bar to just like, not hit your wife, not fuck around with underage girls, and not say stupid shit about minorities, but these old fuckers keep tripping over it anyway. Not Eddie tho. He’s far from perfect – substance abuse, arrests, car accidents, four ex-wives, all those pictures and videos that leaked – but he’s been out of the headlines for years, and I’ve never heard any industry people say anything bad about him.
And the man himself is aging like a fine wine. He’s always been stupidly beautiful, but in recent pictures his iconic hair is salt and pepper, and he’s got these deep crows feet and lines on his forehead. Somehow it all works to make him even hotter. I can’t believe I get to meet him and work adjacent to him. This summer is actually gonna be so fun.
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My BOI
This is kinda old now but @daeva-agas mentioned way back on discord that Nobunaga let normies have weapons and they could defend themselves so things were surprisingly safe, especially on busy roads (ye olde highways)
I made this comic from the idea and ended up coming up with a pack of OCs, 2/3 of which are still unnamed lol
My BOY Kinkurō/Kinkurou (I never fixed his name on his little infographic lol) works selling noodles during festivals and as a cook at the restaurant I made for my OCs called the Thunderdome, and yes, fights do break out regularly there (I based it loosely off the meme of fights breaking out at Waffle House, which also means that other bg characters check the Thunderdome to see how dangerous it is outside. If Kinkurō ain't cookin', might be best to keep indoors)
Might be a sweet place to meet an LI too bad they're not warlords lol
#ikesen#ikemen sengoku#my art#ikesen oc#ocs#kinkurou#kinkuro#kinkurō#yes i am tagging him with all 3 variations pf his name because aint no way ima remember which ones i ever use for anything
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Notes for A Matter of Duty - Chapter 11 - Protector from afar
I'm back and fully caught up with 4.0! Help, I've got Neuvillette brain rot, and I'm going feral over every crumb of additional House of the Hearth content.
Thanks again to the fantastic PancakeBeast for beta reading! Also thanks to the Hidden Akasha Records Genshin fanworks Discord for helping with all my weird questions, listening to my rambles, and hosting writing sprints.
Notes and references:
I'm using actual NPCs whenever I can. Reina made a brief appearance at a festival event once in game and had one line, but still! She exists! A lot of OCs in this fic are original characters because they won't be around (dead/out of Inazuma/etc) by the time the game starts, or there's not an extant NPC who fits the role. A couple unnamed side characters in earlier chapters are also NPCs in game (e.g. the guy from the bathhouse last chapter - any guesses?). It's a little tricky because the story is set 9 years before the game, so I have to remember that all the NPCs in game would have been 9 years younger, and that rules out a lot of options.
Drought does actually increase the complexity of flavor with tea, supposedly because the tea grows more slowly with less water, and thus has a chance to develop more flavor.
In the early Edo period (and into the late Edo period in some cases), if you were a performer for the masses (as opposed to for the nobles as with noh theater), you were understood to also be available for sex to the right buyer. Kabuki actor = sex worker. Dancer = sex worker (and early Kabuki was also more dance than acting). Even some shrine maidens doing performance = sex worker (maiden as in unmarried, not maiden as in chaste).
I'm taking some Genshin-style liberties and blending a bit of early Edo period kabuki (where everyone played the opposite gender and kabuki was inherently queer) with some later-period kabuki (when it got a little more formalized and more acting-focused, and also male-actor-only for a variety of crappy reasons). The Inazuma kabuki is not purely sex worker advertisement (which was something of the case in early kabuki: dances and prostitute-purchasing skits to show off the options and actors), it has some actual acting and scripted plays rather than just disconnected dancing and skits. But it's mostly sex worker advertisement, and it hasn't become gender segregated to the same degree, especially since the Raiden Shogunate doesn't emphasize class separation to the same degree as the Tokugawa Shogunate that it's based on.
The clapping at the end of the performance is tejime, a kind of ceremonial rhythmic hand-clapping to conclude special events.
Shrines and temples had their own playhouses, called Miyaji-shibai. They were under the jurisdiction of superintendents of the temples and shrines (e.g. Yae Miko and maybe the Yashiro Commission) rather than the other categories of playhouses, which were under the jurisdiction of city magistrates (Kanjou Commission and possibly Yashiro Commission depending on how one wants to define it).
Here's a fun Twitter thread overview of Kabuki and prostitution.
There were almost certainly more inns at Inazuma City than are portrayed in game. It's 9 years before the game started, the inn and theater could have burnt down or shut down for any number of reasons before the Traveler arrived.
I used Ayato to walk the path from the edge of Hanamizaka where I've set the kabuki theater, down the road to the river ford to Chinju Forest, and all the way up to the Kamisato Estate. It took 12 in-game hours. Then I jogged him back down it, which took closer to 2.5 in-game hours. If you add in the jog to Tenshukaku, it takes 5 hours total. So I have decided the Kamisatos have horses, because otherwise Ayato has a commute of anywhere from 5 to 12 hours. A horse probably brings it down to 3, minimum. (Needless to say, I now understand why Ayato's gone from the estate for days or weeks at a time. I would sleep in town too if I had a 3+ hour commute.)
This one's a thorough but highly readable overview of the history of Kabuki theatre with a focus on prostitution and gender/sex roles: Birk, Sara K., "Sex, androgyny, prostitution and the development of onnagata roles in Kabuki theatre" (2006). Graduate Student Theses, Dissertations, & Professional Papers. 3537.
Super useful and had information I couldn't find in the various online resources I was reading: Nakane, C., Totman, C., & Masakatsu, G. (1997). Kabuki and its social background. In Tokugawa Japan: The Social and economic antecedents of modern Japan (pp. 192–292). essay, Univ. of Tokyo Press.
This one's fabulous; it's a translation of a text from 1687. The introduction is fascinating context, the first half of the stories are all samurai m/m love stories, and the second half are all kabuki theater m/m love stories which was super helpful for getting context (such as the average cost of a night with a kabuki actor-prostitute). (Also, content warning for age gaps and references to sex with minors, a norm of the time.) Ihara, Saikaku, and Paul Gordon Schalow. The Great Mirror of Male Love. Stanford University Press, 1990.
This book details specific plays, and provides cultural context and history for each of them. Really useful read when trying to figure out what Inazuman kabuki might look like. Crandall, David, and Kesako Matsui. Kabuki, a Mirror of Japan: Ten Plays That Offer a Glimpse into Evolving Sensibilities. Japan Publishing Industry Foundation for Culture, 2019.
Life of the courtesans in Japan's floating world: An interesting read, if somewhat pearl-clutching in tone at times.
Summary of the fic itself with content warnings, tags, etc so you can decide if you want to read it or not before you click on the link.
A Matter of Duty https://archiveofourown.org/works/47604337?view_full_work=true
A year after the death of Ayato and Ayaka's parents, the clan succession is contested from within and without. Kamisato Ayato will do anything—anything—to ensure the safety of his family and the stability of his clan.
But powerful supporters come at an unimaginable price. When Ayato's own sacrifices aren't enough, he is forced to involve Thoma in a web of intrigue and exploitation that will push them to the breaking points of their bodies, their minds, and their very hearts.
or: Kushiel's Dart meets Genshin Impact in a quick-scorch-to-slow-burn romantic drama of court intrigue, sexual politics, and sacrifice.
Note: Mind the tags. More specific content warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter, and the story tags will be updated as needed. All characters in sex scenes are adults.
Rating: Explicit. It's porn with plot. Porn as a vehicle for plot, or plot as a vehicle for porn, you can interpret it either way. (I prefer: porn and plot as a vehicle for ~feels~)
Tags that I'm not actually turning into tags here, but it gives you an idea of what you're in for: Kamisato Ayato/Thoma (Genshin Impact), dubious consent but not between Ayato and Thoma, slow burn, sex ed, first time, self-sacrifice, humiliation, exhibitionism, oral sex, anal sex, bdsm, bad bdsm etiquette, rough sex, breath play, impact play, bondage, service kink, abuse, sadism, codependency, shame, guilt, jealousy, possessiveness, trauma, ptsd, dissociation, political sex work, or sex work for political maneuvering, or political survival sex work if that’s a thing, exploitation, blackmail, political machinations, political intrigue, no aftercare, maybe someday some aftercare, hurt/comfort, mostly hurt for a long time but eventually comfort, oblivious disaster gays, for such socially savvy people they are terrible at personal relationships, dominant Ayato, submissive Thoma, top Ayato, bottom Thoma, Ayato is incredibly parentified, Thoma has no sense of self-preservation, self-sacrifice isn't a contest but don't tell Ayato and Thoma that, it's like the snipe-the-check game at restaurants but with sex and politics, Kushiel's Impact, no really this was in my drafts for the longest time as Kusheline Thomato Fic, everyone's an adult in this timeline except Ayaka, she gets protected at all costs, original characters out of necessity, finding appropriate existing Inazuma npcs for some of these roles was impossible
Full fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47604337?view_full_work=true
Chapter 11 - Protector from afar: Ayato navigates a web of family intrigue. Thoma follows Yae Miko's clues into the kabuki theater to find a mentor.
Chapter contains: Family politics, guilt/shame attempts, discussion of sex work, implied sex work.
#amod#a matter of duty#genshin fanfic#kamisato ayato#thoma#ayato x thoma#ayathoma#thomato#genshin impact#pre-canon#my writing#hisashi#shuumatsuban#reina#inazuma
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this is babygar. young jgar & lamb.. theyve been adventuring for a little bit, known each other a smidge. theyre on watch on a job together and just hangin out. 1.9ish k
nature is loud. nightfall just means new music. sheltered in a small copse just off the road, j'gar sits with his back against a wagon wheel and admires the sound. crickets and cicadas and chatterbugs, each chirping their own recognizable chorus. it sounds like back home, like walking back from town with his family after one of any dozen of festivals with his heart warmer than summer, like staying up late nearly half out the window to read by moonlight. insects themselves don't live for long but the instinct does; there's that almost-butterfly feeling in his bones, a weird sort of comfort that these are the same sounds his momma heard growing up in the valley, same sounds her momma and every other iteration before him heard. he's looking at the same full moon and listening to the same bugsong as back in lunan, and that.
well, it's bittersweet tonight, but bittersweet don't mean not good. it's good. like a pink clay balm, it settles some itch that he knows has been growing under the skin for a while. if he closes his eyes, he can pretend he's out in the field with ruva while he talks about constellations and star stories.
but he's on a job, and ruva is not here. the stray fireflies that wander in, lost from the honeysuckle vines and windy fields, are familiar but new to him. the starlight through cracks in the canopy is unnameable.
j'gar takes a deep breath.
he scans the woods in front of him again. with the full moon drenching everything in thin silver, it isn't hard to see. finer details blur and jumble, but the core is still unmistakeable. the horses are quiet standing side by side, kept in a small makeshift corral. that's a good sign. no smell or sense to frighten them means nothing to worry about. nothing moves beyond leaves in the soft breeze, almost like blessing between the sticky heat of summer. the insect chatter drones unchanged. nothing to disturb it, nothing to break it to silence like a warning.
j'gar twists at the waist, one hip pressed to the dirt, and peeks under the cart. there's a thin shape leaning against it. "lamb, you see anythin'?" he whispers loudly.
"nothing but trees," lamb returns.
"nothin' over here neither. you know how much time we got left 'fore we can wake up what's-his-name?"
lamb's silhouette shifts a fraction. "a few hours," they say.
"damn."
j'gar turns back to his side with a half-hearted sigh. watch is boring. it's easy money at least, some rich guy - a wannabe politician what with his accent but lack of official guards - asking for hired help to make sure he travels safely through the boondocks. hardly feels like honest work, but the money from his last job is down to a few copper and that ain't enough for more than a day or two's room and board at any inn. he don't have to do nothing but stay up late and scan the horizon like a starving hawk, and by the time they reach the next town, his pockets will be plenty replenished. free travel, even.
still, there's something kinda funny. sitting crosslegged, j'gar props an elbow in the meat of his thigh and his cheek on his hand. this is the third job he's handled with lamb. fifth time they've run into each other. half of those, something went wrong. that job in munelle, playing hired hands to protect a shipment of wine until lamb asked a few pointed questions and the courrier flew off the handle (j'gar still isn't sure on the details there, too busy dodging to pay attention); vanerbrook was crooked from the start too, apparently, trying to find a missing mother and child when she had rushed out by the skin of her teeth and this man just weren't going to let her go easy; with ravet, it wasn't even the job but the inn, owners using a combination of magic and sleight of hand to rob folks blind in their sleep.
like lamb spells trouble. a bad omen, but a pretty one. if he were superstitious, he might be worried.
at least they're a familiar face. he'll take that. she says hi when she notices him, stops by his table if they're at the same bar. not quite a friend but not a stranger neither. another liminal space, personhood abandoned in the rush.
insectsong drones on as he stares blankly at a patch of dirt. he hums a vague tune to himself in response. the air smells warm and wet with summer, lifted up by leaflitter, fresh growth, and honeysuckle. too hot for a fire, it stays dark beyond fireflies and the full moon, and that's fine. it's enough to see by. he thinks about taking his shirt off to sleep, but he might just have to sweat.
"hey," comes a soft voice from behind him. something touches his hip.
j'gar startles without a sound, snaps away from the cart and pivots to face it in one smooth motion. his hand claps primed to the pommel of his axe, and.
it's lamb.
lamb, lying on his stomach in the shadowed dirt under the cart, looks at him with wide eyes. her hand stays in the air where it was, where it tapped him for attention. her eyes reflect starlight, color washed away to shiny silver.
the adrenaline collapses with him; j'gar drops the held position for a comfortable slump. "shit-hell, lamb, you scared the fuck outta me," he hisses quietly.
"sorry," lamb says, ears drooped sheepishly. "i didn't mean to. i thought we had talked so. um. sorry."
"s'fine, i just needa minute for my heart to settle. woof."
"want a cookie?" offers lamb hopefully.
"what, you got cookies under there? nevermind, don't needa ask me twice, i'm comin' in."
lamb shuffles back at an angle to make room, disappearing into the dark under the wagon. j'gar crawls forward and flattens to his stomach, squinting to see better; propped up on their elbows, lamb lies halfway under, a small cloth between their arms. it smells buttery, a little floral. distinct enough that it cuts through the wood, sweat, and dirt. he's not hungry but his stomach flips.
he pulls himself to mirror lamb. like this, they can both see out the other side, can still maintain some semblance of a watch.
not that j'gar pays much attention. nothing is going to happen. travel has been uneventful and bland thus far. his attention latches onto lamb eagerly. they're hard to see in the dark but j'gar knows them well enough he can fill in the blanks: messy brown hair, soft brown eyes cracked with amber, and the faintest hint of freckles. their eyes catch with the moon, harder to read but friendly nonetheless. the laced front of his shirt is casually, comfortably halfway undone.
he's not hard to look at. much more interesting than the trees.
j'gar smiles distractedly, half crooked. it widens when lamb returns it. "so what kinda cookies ya got?" he asks.
"lavender thyme shortbreads," lamb says.
"don't think i ever had one'a those," j'gar says, reaching out to take one. "not a chocolate chip fan? i do like a good oatmeal cookie. that's probably my favorite, really. back in lunan, everybody goes to the shed barn an' they make a real good fried sage blossom but i don' think they done nothin' with herb cookies like that. oh, they do gotta herb bread though, but tha's just okay."
"the chocolate at spinner's gorge wasn't exactly high quality. i usually like chocolate."
"just not spinner's chocolate," says j'gar. he cracks the cookie in half, florals light on his tongue. "oh, shit, this ain't bad. you got this in spinner? i guess i'on't really got money to be spendin' on pastries, really, so maybe all'a spinner's got good shit."
"no, i had plenty of bad pastries there," lamb says, nudging the cloth and its contents closer to him, "but these were decent. are you looking for jobs in kaszka?"
"i mean, i look for jobs everywhere. just seemed like there weren't much left in uwlbern. i figured might be time to try a big city, y'know? you know. you from up that way, or somethin'. not from any'a these backwoods villages."
lamb almost looks embarrassed, ducking their head and mumbling grass between their fingers. "you wouldn't be wrong. kaszka can be a lot, though. you know cities have pickpockets," he says.
"i got a good eye on me," j'gar says around a mouthful of cookie.
"how many scrapes have i pulled you out of?"
"that ain't fair," he complains, goodnatured. "none'a those jobs we been on were out there wavin' red flags. they was just borin' scutwork, an' iunno how you seen through what you seen through, lamby. better eye than me, for sure."
"you're too willing to take people at their word," lamb says, not unkindly. there's something almost wistful about it, curling wry at the edges. "people aren't as good as you want them to be."
"i mean, sure, but most folk only got their word an' if i don' take 'em for it, where's that leave me?"
"safer," says lamb, "usually."
j'gar grins and takes another cookie. "i been takin' you for your word, should i not be?" he teases.
"you've taken more than my word."
"lamby," j'gar says, playfully scandalized. his face warms, but it's dark and stupidly hot anyway. he swats at her shoulder. "you taken more than my word way more than me. gettin' cocky on me jus' 'cause i rolled over once?"
ducking their head, lamb laughs, quiet. there's a sleepy sort of fondness plain on their face like this, half-obscured in shadow. like between the dark and the hour, their guard's down and they're something more like a friend than a friendly stranger. a person, if only briefly.
j'gar's heart aches. he thinks about home. thinks about lunan, and everyone he left behind, and all the people he hasn't seen in a handful of years. thinks about all the people he has, and how he don't mean nothing to them beyond a tool, a solution, a quick fix to some problem they can't handle. no connection, no care. he's as nameless and faceless as anyone, meaningless and useful in the same breath, and lamb - and everyone - is in the same stupid boat.
it's funny in a sad sort of way. lying on his stomach under some rich fuck's carriage eating cookies and joking about one night stands with someone he barely knows, and that's what means something.
ah, well. he's lonely.
"shut up. which way you headed after we get to kaszka, tough guy?" j'gar says, poking lamb's arm.
lamb bats his hand away, sticking out her tongue. "haven't decided yet. i was just in kaszka recently. not much for me there," she says.
"whatcha goin' back for then?"
"there's a good- bread i miss," he says. his eyes flicker, hesitant. "nothing fancy. it's just- sweet."
j'gar gasps exaggeratedly. "you like somethin' not fancy? hon, you down here in the dirt eatin' lavender, what's so special about this bread an' where can i try it?"
lamb lets out a little self-conscious laugh, bowing their head to his shoulder. "how about you come with me when we get there?"
"it's a date, lamby."
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A Guide to the OCs of Leda Verse (mostly for my own amusement because I was trained to make reference tools) presented in order of appearance (with ratings because why not)
Blue Toby- The guy Eddy took out with a crowbar and still limps to this day. Gets a few mentions throughout. (1/10, never appears on screen, but is probably a dick).
The Terrible Roommate- Lucius' unnamed roommate and ex, who became the not fun kind of drug dealer. (1/10, very awful and did not earn a name. But did help Lucius and Pete move in together.)
The Barista, Who Knows What He Did - Jim's unseen nemesis. (10/10, I love this joke unreasonably and no, we will never know what he did. HE KNOWS.)
Craft Lady at the Folk Festival- Trying to flirt unsuccessfully with Oluwande while Jim gets a drink. (2/10, based on an actual encounter at a festival, very annoying, but points for helping along the conversation. No name earned.)
Dolly Boodhari- Oluwande's mom, collector of many things, and all around sweetheart. (9/10, would be a 10, but sometimes her existence makes Jim a little sad which is not her fault and yet...)
Ada Boodhari- Oluwande's oldest sister who works in finance, has a crappy boss, now has Sweeney's sister as a pet, and collects bee themed items. (10/10, get a sister-in-law who will paint a room with you)
Zuri Boodhari- Oluwande's older, but not oldest sister. Married to Mark and has two kids, does medical billing. (5/10, not yet developed, but she's filling out the space along with her family, thank you for your service Zuri.)
The Boy Who Tried to Make Alma Kiss a Worm - Miserable little shit that causes Eddy to instruct Alma in the fine art of punching your problems away. Returns un-credited as the asshole making fun of Ingrid. (-1/10 for obvious reasons.)
Carnival Owner- Waxed mustache, too much cologne and a racist prick. John and Pete blow up his spot by literally blowing up his caravan. (-5/10, will never earn a name, terrible person, moved the action along, but at what cost?)
Zipper- Buttons' former lover, who left him for a younger man and crops back up to be a dick on their road trip. Smells like stale cigarettes. (1/10, good pun name, awful person. Good day, sir...I said good day! )
Sympathtic Woman with Cat Ears and Tight Corset at the Ren Faire- Listen, she appeared for one line, does not speak, but she gives Izzy an understanding look over his jealousy issue and I bet she's got a great backstory. In fact, I'm going to give her a name right now: Peony Lane. (4/10, too brief to go higher, but a good 'un).
The Lady Blacksmith- Sharpens Izzy's knife at the Ren Faire and has amazing biceps. Might make another brief appearance, so I will withhold naming her here, but she deserves one. (4/0, same as above.)
Jonah Hands- Izzy's older brother, deceased. Mentioned several times in passing and described as a violent charismatic guy that likes Johnny Cash. Will likely crop up again at some point. (4/10, don't want to hang, but I am curious about him.)
Faith Callahan - She's got her own story, spin off aus etc, doesn't really need her own summary here. (9/10, point deducted for being dead.)
Beth-Faith's lukewarm friend, who does attempt to get closer, but only when Faith gets into the same classes again. (3/10, make an effort, come on.)
Brittany Cartwright- Faith's former friend turned bully because she had some repressed feelings to work out. Returns as an grown up guidance counselor at Charlie and Alma's school, married to the English teacher. (7/10, gets a whole unseen redemption arc, but the unseen makes it hard to get fully on board).
Brandon- Proto-Eddy for Izzy, does not do the job very well and is forgotten about as soon as Izzy leaves school. (1/10, he's a menace and does not get a redemption arc.)
Faith's Parents- Bad all around. Abusive, cold, and basically killed her. (-1/10)
Delilah 'Delly' Norris nee Hands- Izzy's younger sister, described as a gremlin until Izzy reconciles with her later. Generally irritable and exhausted because she has a toddler and the Hands genetics. (8/10, another off screen arc that probably won't get pulled into focus, but she's doing the most she can with what she was given and didn't need to kill anyone to get there, Izzy.)
Sweeney- Izzy's cat. Furry knife pile (11/10 cause kitten.)
Ingrid Watts- Alma's first and best friend. Shy, bullied, but comes out of her shell to become a kickass vocalist. Loves vintage punk. (9/10, first real fully conceived OC of the series, actually. In that she has an entire personality and hangs out in and out of the story for the rest of the series.)
Owen Grant- Alma's second friend, desperately wants a band, keeps the band going and when the band finally dies, will probably start another band. Has dated Ingrid on and off for years, briefly dated Alma and Shawna too. (7/10, want to flush him out more, but his day has not yet arrived).
Felix Cardosa- Alma's first boyfriend...also Charlie's first boyfriend! Star pitcher, devoted lover, and apparently Bonnet catnip. (9/10 one point deducted for bagging siblings without remorse, c'mon man.)
Aaron Hands- Izzy's younger brother, missionary and all around misogynistic jerk. (1/10, awful.)
Thomas Norris- Delly's husband, fire fighter, appears to be a decent father and husband. (5/10, enigma, but seems fine.)
Deborah, Rachel and Leah- Izzy's squad of cousins that move as a unit. (5/10, perfectly cromulent humans)
Saul 'Da' Hands- Izzy's father. Abusive twatwaffle. (-1/10, necessary to the plot, but unnecessary to the world)
Thomas Norris- Delly's husband, fire fighter, appears to be a decent father and husband. (5/10, enigma, but seems fine.)
Dylan 'Pickle' Norris- Izzy's niece and personality is mostly 'toddler' at the moment. (8/10 cause she comes in like a wrecking ball).
Shelia Kissamee- Unseen drag queen, who tattles about the Swede's summer adventures, but it works out. (4/10, don't rat out the Swede, even if it worked out!
Rita Zebrowski- Read's unofficial foster mother, kicked Read out of the house when Read turned on the gang, but has since tried to rebuild the relationship (5/10, that's a big hurt to come back from, but Read is a very forgiving person.)
Alex 'Zee' Zeborwski- Rita's ex-husband and slightly better than the rest of Read's former gang, but still not great. (2/10)
Jacob Lewis - Real estate agent and charismatic head of Read's former gang. Sadist. (-1/10, inveigling kids in your evil scheme? You get to hang out with Hornigold in hell)
The Ballet Teacher- Brief moment, but big impact on Read's life. (5/10, really mostly just selling her class, but the outcome was good)
Amir Shariq- Charlie's best friend, room mate and once fling. A great swimmer in his own right, pre-med student, supportive and class A dude. (10/10, did not plan for him and he really grew throughout the writing in to a fun, complete person, definitely will appear around the edges of other stories)
David 'Coach' Hoffman- Has coached college swim for twenty years and knows Charlie has a lot of potential. Hates the football coach. (7/10, watching out for the guys, but kind of gruff about it. which Charlie likes for Charlie reasons.)
Chase- Swim teammate of Charlie's, freshman. Well meaning, but easily confused. (4/10, will buy anything)
Phillip Toulouse- Rival swimmer, apparently an asshole. I don't actually know anything about him, but he seems like a tool (2/10, do better, sir.)
#leda house and the kraken verse#OCs#the army#i started this list thinking it'd be a fun exercise#but uh...it's hella long huh?#let me know if I missed someone and I'll edit
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LUCKY STIFF
1988
Lucky Stiff is a musical by Stephen Flaherty with book and lyrics by Lynn Ahrens based upon the 1983 book The Man Who Broke the Bank in Monte Carlo by Michael Butterworth.
It was the first produced collaboration between Flaherty and Ahrens, who went on to great success with Ragtime (1998), Once on This Island (1990), Seussical (2000) and other hit shows.
The musical takes place in England, Atlantic City and Monte Carlo. The time is now, or very recently.
Downtrodden English shoe salesman Harry receives the unexpected news that he has inherited a fortune from his late Uncle Anthony, on the condition that he takes Anthony’s dead body on a special trip to Monte Carlo. If Harry fails, the money will go to the Universal Dog Home of Brooklyn. However, also hot on the tail of Uncle Anthony’s money is Rita, Anthony’s lover with whom he embezzled $6 million behind her husband’s back. And hot on Rita’s trail is her brother Vinnie, who has been blamed for the crime.
‘LUCKY’ PRODUCTION HISTORY
Lucky Stiff was created and first performed off-Broadway Playwrights Horizons in April 1988, winning the Richard Rodgers Award. The show starred Stephen Stout, Julie White, Stuart Zagnit and Mary Testa.
The musical was next produced at Maryland’s Olney Theatre in May 1989, starring Evan Pappas, winning the 1990 Helen Hayes Award for Best Musical.
A 1994 studio cast recording included Pappas, Judy Blazer, Testa, Jason Graae, Debbie Shapiro Gravitte, Paul Kandel and Patrick Quinn.
In 1994, the musical had its British debut in the midlands, and in 1997 it had a West End production starring Frances Ruffelle, Paul Baker, and Tracie Bennett.
In October 2003, it was presented as part of York Theatre's Musicals in Mufti concert series, starring Zagnit, Testa, Malcolm Gets, and Janet Metz.
A feature film version of Lucky Stiff premiered at the 2014 Montreal World Film Festival. It stars Dominic Marsh, Don Amendolia, Nikki M. James, Jason Alexande, Mary Birdsong, and Dennis Farina.
THE ATLANTIC CITY CONNECTION
In a prologue, the chorus sets the scene in a song titled “Something Funny’s Going On”:
ALL (sung): Something funny’s going on
And it isn’t very pretty.
This is how it all began,
With the murder of a man.
Bang!
RITA shoots HARRY (spoken): Oops!
ALL (sung): In Atlantic City, New Jersey.
After opening scenes set in England, the action shifts to Atlantic City, New Jersey, home of Rita LaPorta, whose late husband was manager of an (unnamed) Atlantic City casino.
SOLICITOR to HARRY: “Due to an unfortunate accident, your Uncle, Mr. Tony Hendon of Atlantic City, New Jersey, has passed on. Apparently, casino managers do quite well in Atlantic City, New Jersey. In US dollars, Mr. Witherspoon, a currency I find highly distasteful, your Uncle left you...six millions dollars!”
Rita is presented as the typical New Jersey Italian-American mob wife in the style of Carmella Soprano in “The Sopranos” or Angela DeMarco in Married to the Mob. Rita is extremely nearsighted, but luckily, her brother Vinny Di Ruzzio is an optometrist at Atlantic City Optometry.
VINNIE to a PATIENT: “Is this your first visit to Atlantic City Optometry, Mr. Loomis?”
A production at University of Southern Oregon included a poster for the business. The poster gives the address as Baltic Avenue in Atlantic City. The real road was immortalized in the game Monopoly! Since it is the cheapest property on the board, we can assume Vinny’s practice is not exactly catering to an upscale cliental.
Rita barges into her brother’s office brandishing a newspaper. In the film version, the newspaper masthead reads Atlantic City Bugle. This is a fictional newspaper. Atlantic City Press was (and is) the newspaper of record in the shore town.
Rita enlists her brother’s help in tracking down the heart-shaped box of diamonds she stole. Off they go to the south of France, leaving Atlantic City behind. The city by the sea is mentioned again during the play’s climactic ending.
RITA, pointing a gun at ANNABEL: “Where is that heart-shaped box?”
ANNABEL: “It’s...it’s in Atlantic City!”
DEAD UNCLE TONY, confessing: “I knew that bullet that killed Luigi was meant for me. I owed the guy. So I came up with a plan, fast. I planted my own obituary in the Atlantic City papers so people would think I was dead.”
‘LUCKY’ / AC NJ TRIVIA
Atlantic City was not included in the original book, which is set exclusively in Europe. It was the innovation of Lynn Ahrens to ground the show in the United States before moving the action to the Continent. Las Vegas being further afield, Atlantic City it was!
Flaherty and Ahrens returned to Atlantic City as a setting in Ragtime. Click here to read about it!
The film cast includes several prominent actors from New Jersey: Jason Alexander (Livingston) and Nikki James (Summit), as well as Don Amendolia (Woodbury), Mary Birdsong (Long Beach Island), and Wesley Taylor (Elizabeth). Stage performers from New Jersey include Stuart Zagnit (New Brunswick) and Judy Blazer (Dover).
Although Lucky Stiff has not to date been performed on Broadway, it has had several New Jersey community, college, and high school productions.
The first time the musical was heard at the Dramatists Guild workshop, the authors were told to start again from scratch. The original piece wasn't funny enough or silly enough. Stephen Flaherty says that there are basically two completely different scores for for the show; before, and after the workshop. Annie Golden played Annabelle in the workshop.
Ahrens found her copy of Butterworth's novel at sale of old books from the Pierpont Morgan Library. Interestingly, the Morgan Library figures prominently in the climax of Ragtime, another F&A musical.
The character of Annabelle Glick was originally named Annabelle Smith.
The song "Times Like This" was written to replace another song called "I Wouldn't Waste My Time" that was deemed too sad. The song "Times Like This" is featured on Christiane Noll's album A Broadway Love Story.
#Lucky Stiff#atlantiic city#Lynn Ahrens#Flaherty and Ahrens#Musical#Off-Broadway#Nikki James#jason alexander#monte carlo#New Jersey
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Ink roached infestation didst derive within mice elf
Ink roached infestation didst derive within mice elf
Minor emendations to following
just posted verse
oversight to correct dissatisfaction,
yours truly I do curse
ah... methinks if hands of time
can be made to go in reverse
a more exemplary version
to appease acclaimed unnamed wordsmith
cause he feels alarmed
crafting poem worse
than ChatGPT artificial intelligence
app can write
will find him superfluous.
Thus writer of these words
forever mus lee experiencing
craving to eat cheese,
a milk product
eternally preserved within
annals, chronicles, epistles,
et cetera of human civilization
and it's discontents
analogous viz ode (old)
as time itself and lustressly
buttressed on a Grecian Ode frieze
linkedin to Sosibios Vase inductees.
Carp diem bespeaks moment to seize,
whether above memorialized chaste lovers
or emblematic, iconic and opportunistic
actresses Thelma and Louise
the 90's film of female rage
an adventure road drama
caper they did stage,
but aforementioned seminal wage
courtesy Rameses II
begat robust lineage
synonymous with sturdy anchorage,
whereby said prolific breeder
endowed legions of sons and daughter
to carry on heritage.
Nothing but gridlock traffic
(far as thee eye could see)
heading east on Schuylkill Expressway
(oxymoronic name for quickest route
into Greek translation
center city of brotherly love,
albeit Philadelphia),
yet this papa promised eldest daughter
then freshly minted University
of Pennsylvania graduate
hoping to make amends
prior to first born heading
of into blue, ...er rather green,
asper legal tender beyond
without doubt experiencing more
financial security than yours truly,
whose penurious crisis
tantamount to being self ostracized
within luxe MainLine,
where one percent flaunt their wealth
disparage dirt poor
festive folks like this sir
meaning husband, his spouse
plus attendant two biological kin
reinforcing feeling inferior,
among those earning or
inheriting fistfulls of moolah,
said offspring also lodged opprobrium
citing slovenly housekeeping
amidst generations (Zison heirlooms)
housed within residence
at 1148 Greentree Lane
yielding barely ample space
our family of four analogous
to sardines in a tin packed to the gills,
which pennilessness exacerbated
since neither mama
nor papa (me) worked
reasons squarely triangulated
linkedin to mental illness
asper myself –
unsung hero of tom tom club
chronic anxiety, panic attacks
with concomitant courtesy benefits;
adrenaline maddeningly coursing thru veins
palms sweating profusely, racing heart
irritable bowels syndrome, nausea, vertigo...
physiological symptoms
played offal, nasty, malicious
cruel version of
knick knack paddy whack...
with these lovely bones
severely disabled me to function
academia, employment, socialization...
imperiled satisfactory existence
learning, working, commingling
felt like butchered bovine
at slaughterhouse five.
Bonhomie within new riders
on the purple sage foo fighting
beastie boy here
in short air supply,
an evanescent understatement,
now impossible mission to recoup
sabotaged, jackbooted, atrophied....
blissful happy go lucky little boy
blessedly energetic innately
nervousness found
yours truly tensing up,
manifesting cringing pose
no matter parents lenient,
though father soulfully
bellowed stern rebukes
perhaps interpreting paternal rejection
sole son less gifted prowess with smarts
in short, no weigh,
shape, or form, a polymath
cultivated, habituated, ossified
once playful quirky little rascal
set tilled under veritable weathered
sedimentary stagnancy for peat sakes
psyche got bogged down
into impermeable metamorphic
igneous hardrock.
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I`m making a zine about my adventures in receiving an eviction!
On 4/3/23 my roommate in 903 who was once my friend, has attempted or has already succeeded in attempting to evict me, individually from our shared living space with with 2 other roommates.
I have 30 days to live my truth. I have 30 days before I am possibly evicted.
In that time, I am fueling my art with this stress, sadness and betrayal, by documenting, journaling and ultimately pointing out hypocrisy of sharing a living space with a chaotic roommate through the shared visual medium that is the ZINE. (*a zine is a mini magaZINE) My goal is to document and illustrate my apparent silent struggle living with my very messy, selfish, inconsistent and messy roommate who will be unnamed since since moving into this place in August of 2022. I will be illustrating this blog with comedy, poetry, prose, and the visual medium granted by the internet.
There is humor, there is pain, and ultimately proof that no good deed goes unpunished. Will I get retaliated against? Probably; living with a bully who intentionally chooses not to comprehend, and ignore your pain isn't easy and honestly never has been especially as a person of color who has faced adversity. Standing up to a bully who is punches down is a hard road filled with pain, discomfort, and awkwardness. Its not easy, and the existence and the creation of the blog is proof itself that I'm only another human facing adversity.
Hypothetically its possible, I could be the big jerkface this entire time and this zine may take things too far and thus negating or nullifying all chances of not being evicted. All I ask that you have a open mind and a open heart.
I do not want or need donations or financial assistance.
I do not need housing assistance.
but I will take unsolicited advice, comments and suggestions.
So grab your tea, grab your snacks, relax, enjoy my pain living with the ultimate Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss.
If you`re interested in a physical copy of the completed zine please feel free to stop by the Tucson Zine Festival on April 15 or ask for Raj if you're interested.
P.S. 903, if you`re reading this, yeah even though you suck A LOT; I wish you well. Just please stop hurting the people you live with, the people you work with, and your future patients. It's never too late to find assistance with your pain, vices, and your demons. Healers need healing too :)
P.P.S. The characters and events depicted in this blog are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual celebrities is purely coincidental.
#zine#housing#art#poetry#prose#student#living#problems#comics#graphic novels#internet#meme#demons#cringe#humor#dude#blog#Tucson#trigger warning#living with a bully#university#ife#adventures in eviction
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Juillet 2018, Unnamed Road Festival
#unnamedroadfestival#unnamed road festival#Teamwork#quinson#party#life#friend#night#france#festival#music#nature#free#body#color#red#taztaz
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Once Upon a Fantasy
Invitation to The Mystic Dance hosted by @little-butterfly-writes here
This was so much fun to do! Thank you for having me :3 I started writing and the story just took on a life of its own resulting in my longest piece yet ^^;
I know I don’t usually write OCs, but this story centers around Vanderwood and my CMC Ao (though Saeyoung also features a bit). The setting is supposed to be in an older time, but I have no sense of history’s fashions, technologies, and music, so please just consider this either a fantasy world or some hodgepodged amalgamation of decades/centuries
Hope you enjoy! ^ w ^
Lengthened shadows flickered about the fringes of paper, the glow of lantern flame warm yet small in the dawn of night. Said paper was of fine quality but wanting in splendor next to the companion twould respond. The clinking of metal nib against glass dotted silence, followed by the soft scratch of pen on the paper’s surface.
Dear Mister Vanderwood,
the letter began, each character drawn slow and exact, crafted with as much precision their writer could muster. Before her leaned a slate, smudged with chalk and the scribbles of drafted note from which she now copied. Ao much preferred the flow of ink on parchment to the drag of chalk on rock, but paper cost a pretty penny and could not be wasted on the idle ramblings of initial thoughts, so the slate had done until she knew precisely what she would write. She only wished she knew where to send her letters instead of waiting for Saeyoung to take and deliver them; but no matter, such were simply the ways of the rich, she supposed.
Glancing at the box upon her shelf, she wondered when she might receive another letter from the gentleman.
~*~
He came the week the invitations were delivered. Town abuzz and bursting with excitement for the Mint Palace Ball, Ao had nary a hope she might see Saeyoung’s companion once more before the festivities began, yet he had appeared at her door in lieu of his friend.
“Saeyoung’s busy with the dance, then?” Ao questioned, pouring two cups of coffee. “Couldn’t escape with you?”
“He’s under extra watch after sneaking away too many times.” Vanderwood responded.
Ao flinched, had it been her fault? Vanderwood must have noticed for-
“He likes to skip his tasks to play with the town’s strays,” he explained, sipping from the cup she handed him. Ao smiled, where once Vanderwood had hesitated to drink, now he waited no longer.
Taking her own sip, Ao mulled over Vanderwood’s recent tidings. Saeyoung would be unable to visit until after the dance -her cats would be displeased at that for he always brought them delightful treats- and she would be unable to send any letters. A shame, but she understood and selfish she should not be. Not now, for if Saeyoung was busy, then surely her guest must also be, yet he was spending time here, with her.
“Vanderwood,” she began, trying to keep her tone light, “is it really ok to be here? Surely, you must be busy, too.”
At this he grinned, and for the briefest of moments, Ao felt her heart stop.
“Whose work do you think Saeyoung is doing?”
She blinked, answer unexpected. Then, slowly, his words sunk in and Ao, too, began to smile. Then giggle. Then could not help but laugh alongside him, tears dotting the corners of their eyes. Through Vanderwood’s letters and his own boasts, Ao knew that Saeyoung -their energetic, brilliant, rapscallion of a friend- had a habit of absconding to destinations unnamed and, though she knew not what it might be, forcing Vanderwood to do their work instead. How appropriate, then, that Vanderwood act in kind for the busiest event of the year. They both knew Saeyoung would not learn his lesson.
As the laughter lulled and soft silence settled betwixt them, Ao could not help but admire her friend- the ease of his countenance; his acceptance of her “tiny beasts” pawing at his sides -creatures she and Saeyoung adored but he was not particularly fond; the divide between his conversations both oral and written -the former dictated by necessity, the latter far more relaxed. Upon their first meeting, Ao had found Vanderwood to be terse and intimidating, despite Saeyoung’s introduction, but through months of correspondence, she had grown to know him -far more verbose in letter- and thought him endearing. She feared not the silence amongst them anymore.
It was he who spoke first.
“Will you be going to the dance?” His voice startled her, causing her to jump, and he hid his smile behind the rim of his cup.
“Pardon?”
“The Mystic Dance at the Mint Palace, will you be attending?”
Ao paused before responding. She supposed she should, the whole town would be off, the food was sure to be delicious, and she might even perchance to see her two friends; however, people were different in the eyes of society, and she wondered if the night might end what little relations they currently had. An event open to all, free of status on paper, did not mean such conventions would be adhered to in practice. Looking at Vanderwood, though, she shook head of such notions; he and Saeyoung would not do such, and to think as so would despair their reputation. She smiled at him.
“I will if you teach me to dance.”
~*~
The counts had been easy; the closeness, movement, and posture, not so much. Vanderwood had come several times since his last visit, true to his promise of being her instructor, and Ao might have felt bad were it not for the heat flaming her cheeks whenever she recalled Saeyoung’s laughter at her miserable attempts at turning during their last visit (how he escaped, she knew not, only that she pitied the poor soul waiting on him). She would learn, she’d vowed, if only out of spite.
Determined not to become a spectacle again, Ao’s evenings had been filled with enough practice that her head was now constantly counting off 3s, her shoulders held a dull ache, and the furniture had been misplaced for days. Yet as Vanderwood now led her around the room, she had not glanced at her feet and had only stepped on his once. Maybe twice. Alright, three times, but in her defense, she had tripped! Or so she insisted to Saeyoung, whose rapid applause came the moment they separated.
“Marvelous, indeed! Would have thought you a different lass!” He teased.
Ao stuck her tongue at him, and Saeyoung leaned against his friend, arm draped across his forehead. “Forsooth, Mary, our lady doth wound me!”
Vanderwood sighed at their antics, yet his smile betrayed his amusement.
“Perhaps you’d care to dance with the lady?” He gestured to Ao; brow quirked.
“And risk my toes?” Saeyoung gasped, “I’d never!”
“Saeyoung Choi!” Ao shouted, attempting to stomp on his shoes. “You absolute heathen!” She missed and the two began a chase about the room, jerking knees and squashing stones, until Saeyoung ran back towards Vanderwood.
“Help me, Vandy!” He cried. “A demon gives chase!” His attempt to hide was thwarted by Vanderwood’s arms surrounding his own and holding him in place, grin stretched across his face. Saeyoung gasped in mock betrayal -twisting to get out- before slumping forwards and extending a foot in defeat. A firm press upon the top of his shoe and Saeyoung was freed, rejoining his friends’ sides to complete an afternoon of mirth and merriment.
~*~
Laughter echoed down the streets as people clapped and cheered -fiddlers skipped along the cobblestone roads whilst onlooking peddlers tapped rhythms with the boxes of their wares. Shops were closing, but with the dawning of the ball in a few days’ time, taverns opened early, seeking to make coin from their many guests. In town, nary a room twas available at any inn, yet still the folk kept coming.
Parading after the fiddlers, people poured into the streets, bouncing with the beats as they sashayed along towards open spaces. All this Ao and Vanderwood had witnessed through her windows yet remained inside. Now, rocking upon her heels, Ao grabbed Vanderwood’s hand, tugging him towards the door and the festivities beyond.
Initially, Vanderwood had no intention of participating in such jovialities -his latest letter from the week prior apologizing for his previous and most likely continued absence- but Saeyoung had pulled him from his desk, knocked upon Ao’s door, thrust him at her, and vanished within the throngs of people scurrying about. Graciously, she had offered him welcome and rest in her abode, but Vanderwood had caught her gaze frequently flit to the outside merriment. Having arrived unannounced, it would not have done to kept her from whatever plans she may have had, or so he told himself. Truthfully, he, too, wished to join the crowds -the carefree and lively spirits of the townsfolk were always a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of High Society. As Ao sternly told her cats to mind the house and behave, before pulling him with her into the party beyond; however, he wondered if perhaps that were not his only reasoning.
*
It was not his only reasoning, Vanderwood realized, watching his friend dance about, the fires illuminating her smile as a new tune picked up. He saw her beam when her eyes met his own, then beckon him over, but he shook his head, lifting his goblet. She rolled her eyes and huffed at him, yet quick as her smile had fallen, it returned, and she twirled around once more.
Vanderwood took a swig of drink, attempting to ignore the beat which seemed to thrum louder now in his chest. He should rest while he could -Ao would soon drag him out to join her, of that, he was sure.
*
True to form, she had sought him out after a few more songs had pass, laughing as she spun and planted her feet firmly in front of him.
“Mary Vanderwood!” She panted, grin undermining her admonishment. “One does not simply turn down an invitation to dance!” Vanderwood merely watched as she struggled to regain her breath.
“Drink?” He offered at last, holding out his cup as the notes of a new song began. He chuckled when Ao frowned at him before downing its contents.
“Well,” she sighed, “one song can wait.” Then, as though realizing what she had just done, stammered a “thank you” and handed back his cup.
When the music began anew, Ao tugged Vanderwood towards the crowd of dancers, weaving betwixt the bystanders, pattering along seemingly as though she had missed not a beat of song. And as she kicked up her skirts and twirled about, pulling him deeper in with her, Vanderwood was glad the fire’s glow concealed his cheeks’ blush.
~*~
Well, tonight was the night. Donning the dress before her, Ao prayed it would be nice enough -what little remnants of her wages she had after necessities and paper, she had saved for the fabric to sew a proper, formal dress. Though simple in design and decoration, the dress fit her well and complemented her complexion -vibrant red to catch the eye, with a silhouette that tapered in towards her waist before flowing out about her once more. Practicing a few steps, Ao found she rather liked the way it fanned around her when she spun.
Against her neck sat not pearls, but a ring -a memento of family long gone- and she gripped it tight, wishing for all to go well. Drawing her cloak about her, invitation in hand, Ao left for a fate unknown.
~*~
Ao blinked once. Twice. Pinched her hand and -ow! - this was real. The gentleman before her -noble of birth, correspondent of the treasured letters she kept within the box upon her shelf, beloved friend- stood now with hand outstretched and crown atop silken, brown locks. He chuckled at her reaction.
“Well?” He asked, nudging her hand. “I believe one does not simply turn down an invitation to dance.”
Timidly, Ao placed her hand in Vanderwood’s, and he pulled her closer -left hand closing around hers, right palm tucked against her back- before leading her about the floor.
“You never told me!” She hissed, gaze flickering to his crown before eyeing those around them. He laughed, a familiar sound in so foreign an environment.
“You never asked.”
Ao frowned, about to retort when they spun and she tripped, stepping on his foot. For a moment, they both froze. Then, slowly, they giggled, chuckled, laughed, roared -voices filling the room, and their eyes with tears. Vanderwood took Ao’s hand once more and continued leading her around the space, and for the first time that day, she relaxed.
And if Saeyoung saw the pink that tinged both their cheeks? No, no he did not.
#mysme#mystic messenger#Vanderwood#mint palace ball#the mystic dance#saeyoung choi#whoo we broke 2k!!! :D#ao is a commoner and vanderwood the king if that needs clarification#oc#vandy may be ooc but he's king and yolo
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Lucky Kentucky ch. 1
Chapter 2
Hello there, this is my new Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.
⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.
Your name didn’t matter, at least not so far as you could tell. They called you Kentucky, sometimes if they felt cheeky, Bluegrass. You liked it, the first band that gave you that name was some shitty college band out of Detroit. They were convinced they were gonna be the next Led Zepplin. They called it quits three years later, a good old fashioned Rock n’ Roll suicide, booze, women, and drugs. The finer things always gets the best amateurs. However, their lead singer had a way with words, he came up with the nickname. He also wrote a beautiful song about a girl named Kentucky, who he just couldn’t swing, some big named country superstar sang the song and the last you’d heard he had been writing for the best of the best since. This earned you your title, Lucky Kentucky. A bit on the nose for your taste, but it made perfect sense. You kept following the music, you went to a band in L.A., the day you left, they signed a record deal with Sony. The next was a little English girl and her backing band, her first tour of England with you landed her a tour of the US faster than they could say ‘Burbon.’
You are what is known in the music business as a road manager, so far as you could tell, this was the job you were born to do. You made schedules, you supplied booze and other artifacts, you got hotels, paid off paparazzi, packed busses, and shoved half out of their mind rock stars on to stages in more countries than you could count, you couldn’t imagine any better life. You were the best of the best, you were who the record company called when everyone else had given up. You were a fixer, and an incredibly talented one at that. You had a gift for taking a mediocre side show band, and turning them into headliners.
So when you got the call from Tony and Pepper that you had to fix The Howling Comandos, you were shocked. They were big time, nothing like your usual fixer upper opener that you could make insta stars. They certainly weren’t your crowd, but you always had a problem saying no to Pepper, Tony’s company manager. Tony was a talented mixer, and a gifted album technician. So when he started his own label, it blew up pretty quickly. The comandos were the first band he signed. They had won Album of the Year their first Grammy season without even batting an eyelash. So once business started booming, Pepper took over the paper work, and Tony did what he did best, Fucking around with a mixing board. You had met them when you started working with Natasha and the Widows, a Blondie style punk outfit. They had a pension for eating men alive. Eventually, it got in the way of their success, so you stepped in and saved the band from total destruction. You and the starks had been thick as theives since.
“Tony, you mean to tell me, that the Commandos, the biggest artists of the decade, need my help?” You scoffed down the line, checking the Widows out of the last hotel of their tour with Greta Van Fleet.
“Yes Bluegrass, I do. Barnes is going through some existential heart break shit ‘cause ole bitch called of the wedding, and fucked the Guitarist of their opener. He’s been all drugs, booze, and sappy shit since, and someone’s gotta get the mother fucker back on stage. I’m Loosing money here Kentucky, something’s gotta give.” Tony sounded livid, there were very few times where Tony was as frazzled as this, so you knew it was serious.
“Alright, but I have conditions.” You sighed, you thought you could hear the sound of Pepper weeping tears of joy, but you couldn’t be sure. “I want the Widows to open, I’m not done with them yet Stark they’ve got some potential that still needs to be tapped. I want Frankie on security, I want Wanda for wardrobe and makeup, I want Vision for my techie, and I’m taking Peter as my Head roadie.” It was a big ask, but if you were doing this, you were gonna need the best possible team.
“Jeez woman, rob the treasure chest would yah? You want all of them? You just asked me for the entire roster. They’re on other tours! I can’t just- HEY! Woman don’t you-“ you heard a slap and an ow, and suddenly you were with the one and only Pepper Potts- Stark.
“Kentucky? You have a deal. You can have the Allstars in three months, everyone’s tours should be wrapping up, that puts you just in time for festival season. You up to it?” Pepper sounded like someone had just kicked her puppy. So you knew, you were the only one that could save the day.
“Virginia? Count me in. Give me the three months to plan and connect with the team and I’ll make sure James Barnes makes it onto that bus.” You could practically taste her relief through the receiver. What had you just signed up for.
————————————————————————
You’d done it. Six months, 7 bus rentals, 75 hotels, 107 plane rides, 20 festivals, 95 shows, 89 cities, and roughly 200 people later, you had managed to construct the American leg of one of the biggest and longest tours you had ever seen. All it took was two months, and 23 bottles of Jack Daniels, and you had done it. Now all you had to do was meet the band, and have your first tour meeting.
You had never been so nervous to meet a group of men in your life. Normally, these meetings we’re pretty laid back and informal. Lots of getting to know you, and goofing off. This time, you were in charge of a multi-million dollar tour that could make or break the band of the decades d ruin your career. No pressure. Needless to say, you were fairly nervous.
You were relieved upon arrival that the first people to make it in were the people who seemed to be the most reliable. Vision and Wanda were quietly whispering  to eachother in the corner as always, their hands gently intertwined as they surveyed the rest of their new subjects. Frankie was standing off in another corner looking like an immovable brick wall. His sunglasses firmly in place on his nose, looking scary as always. Peter was off with the widows flirting with their drummer. You didn’t think it would end well, seeing as MJ was a bit of a hot head, and Peter was akward and nerdy, but to your surprise, they seemed to be getting along swimmingly. Natasha and Carol were staring at a book full of something, if you had to guess, it would be song lyrics of some variety, and to your shock and absolute awe, Peggy had saddled up to Steve Rogers. Steve was the guitarist of the Commandos, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her company. Tony and Pepper were chatting with Clint and Sam the drummer and bassist of the Commandos, and Bruce Banner, your newly appointed second hand. James Barnes was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, well, good to see that most of you have arrived early!” You smirked walking to the head of the table with your big box of tour folders, Peter moving instantly to help you. “If I have not yet made your acquaintance, I am Kentucky, just Kentucky, you may call me Bluegrass or Lucky, but I will always prefer Kentucky. It has come to my immediate attention, that you sorry suckers were in need of a fantastic road manager, and here I am.” You survey the room as you spoke taking into account every face that you could see in the room and making sure everyone was following. “Now, where is James?”
————Some unnamed bar across town ————
Bucky’s head pounded. Wether it was from the booze or the pounding music he had no clue, but he could tell that it was far too early to be in this booth.
“You really went for it last night Barnes,” Bucky looks for the source of the voice to find that, Luke Cage, owner of the best bar in LA, was unloading boxes of tequila into his storage cabinets under the bar. “You shouldn’t have either, you’re late for your tour meeting.”
Bucky absorbed the information, and felt it melt out of his brain as if it were nothing more than an irritating ear worm. “How do you know about that?” He sighed running a hand down his face and slowly standing to grab his leather jacket.
“It’s sharpied onto your arm,” Luke chuckled pointing to Bucky’s right arm in just about the only clean space someone could fine. “Steve came in and did it last night before giving about a hundred dollars to let you sleep it off in that booth.”
“Of course he did,” Bucky scoffed, “the punk never knew when to leave well enough alone.” Bucky quickly slipped his sunglasses over his aching eyes, as he watched Luke slide a cup of coffee across the bar. “Goodbye Luke, your bar is the only thing I’m gonna miss about this town.”
“Goodbye Bucky, the free live music, and the fantastic tips are all I’m going to miss about you boys. I’ll tell Jess you said hello.” And with that final fond farewell, Bucky left Luke’s bar for the last time before he was trapped in a tour bus for six months.
The drive to Stark Records was as second nature to him as tying his shoes. He easily glided in between cars, making record time to his place of employment. He parked his bike next to a slot that occupied the sweetest little red corvette he’s seen in a good while. The tune in the reference catches his brain and he starts to whistle the chorus, wishing the artist formerly known as Prince was still around. He walked past Sharon, the desk clerk, giving her his customary wink and a smirk, stealing a sucker out of her candy dish and wandering into the meeting.
That’s when he saw her, the hottest piece of ass this side of the sunset strip. She looked powerful, she looked commanding, she was covered in tattoos and wearing the best looking little black number. She was saying his name. “Where is James?”
“Right here sweet thing, I hope I’m not too late to the party, I’d hate to miss anything that came out of that pretty little mouth.” Boy was it pretty, the full lips covered in a red shade that he could only seem to imagine smeared all over her moth as she panted his name.
“Ah, yes there he is. Hello, James. Just in time to-”
“James is my dad sugar, I’m sure we can think of something a little more clever for you to-”
“Alright then Junior if you don’t mind, I’m trying to conduct a meeting, and I will not be letting a drunken moron interupt my carefully planned work flow.”
Bucky’s jaw snapped shut as the people around him, some friends and some strangers, laughed at the clever lady’s little barb.
“Alright then, as I was saying, I’m here to help. I believe in the Peter Grant method of representation. The you-have-a-venue-you-want-it-filled-I-have-just-the-band-sixty-forty method.” She said, flipping her hair into a simple bun on the top of her head, which Bucky couldn’t find more attractive if he tried, “I have made hotel arrangements for every show, I have made bus arrangements, I have planned for added shows, and delayed dates. I have brought you the best opener I have, the best artists, roadies, security, and technicians I could scrape together, and most importantly, I have given you my time and my trust. I can make your touring life as easy and as simple as humanly possible, or I could ruin it. However, all I want is to get you out there, grinding again, reminding your fans the reason they love you. All you have to do, is let me work, and focus on the music. Can we do that?”
“Doll? I like the way you think.”
“Junior? It’s gonna be a long fucking six months.”
#music#musicians#rockstar!au#rockstar#rockstar!bucky#bucky fluff#bucky imagine#bucky au#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes#winter solider x you#winter solider fanfiction#steve rodgers#sam willson#tony stark#natasha romonova#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#avengers au
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I wasn’t tagged in this, but I think it’s a neat concept, so here it is for anyone who’s interested.
Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!
All links to the stories can be found Here or in my bio: DRHPaints on AO3
1.) Sitting in the cramped waiting room bedecked with blue and white chevron wallpaper, Barry’s foot bounced and his fingers twiddled on his thick thigh as he held the clipboard atop his lap. Dual Relationship-Barry Berkman/OFC
2.) Padding down the hall in boxers and an ancient Woodland Rock Festival shirt, Bill sleepily scratched a large hand over his pasty belly pudge, yawning. Cup Of T-Bill RPF/Transmasc OC
3.) "BRING ME THE PRISONER!” The Hand That Feeds-Unnamed King-Queen/Transmasc OC
4.) Spreadsheets. Undercover Office Naughty-Mr. Anderson/OFC
5.) Newspaper crinkling beneath his knees, Pete peered around the filthy walls, habitually ticking his tiny bowtie before removing the strip of fabric to tuck in the pocket of his wool suit. Road To Glory-Pete Reynolds/OMCs
6.) Barry didn’t want to think about earlier that night. Touch Me, Not Feel Me-Barry Berkman/OFC
7.) Sipping his water and bobbing awkwardly to the classic rock music overhead, Bill couldn’t help but rifle through a half dozen ‘what do you get when you put a roomful of comedy writers together for a birthday party’ jokes before he realized everyone else present likely did the same. Give It To Me Right-Bill Hader RPF/OFC
8.) Licking her lips and limbs swimming in her slumber, Lily’s eyelids fluttered open and she screamed. Work Is Never Over-The Alan/OFC
9.) Silverburst Les Paul Custom slung across one shoulder, Conan leaned into the microphone. Disciples Of Boston- Conan O'Brien/OFC
10.) Pressurized doors closing behind, Leila wove through the knot of bodies with downcast eyes and a polite smile until she could claim a space, grabbing the bar overhead in preparation for the journey to Boston. Riding The T-Eric Pearson (Conan O'Brien character)/OFC
11.) Heel of his boot rattlesnaking across the floor tile, Robbie sat on the bench, big hands splaying and clenching over the knees of his tight black jeans as he glanced at the doors to the courtroom for he-didn’t-know-which-time. Sprung-Robbie Wheadlan/OFC
12.) Hauling in far too many groceries at once, Nadine scoffed when her phone rang, shifting the loops bearing a bag of fruit to her other hand and answering the unfamiliar number without looking. Renew-Bill Hader RPF/OFC
13.) Knocking, Bill hurriedly adjusted the hem of his navy hoodie and smoothed a large hand over his chestnut hair, fingers rattling atop his thick thigh as he heard shuffling from inside. Fornication Plea!-Bill Hader/Conan O'Brien RPF/OFC
14.) Beer bottle clattering to the ground before his tan boot hit the asphalt, Clark winced, shielding himself from the harsh afternoon Chicago sunlight with a wide palm as he stumbled into Binny’s for the fourth time that week. Lip Service-Clark Honus/OFC
15.) Rifling through the files, Avery scoffed, wondering which incompetent asshat around the 99th precinct put the cases in an order she couldn’t begin to discern, when the creak of the evidence room door caused her to turn. Meticulous Misdemeanors-Seth Dozerman/OFC, Officer Slater/OFC
16.) Knock three times on the door. Location Is Everything-Parker Gail/Partners of Multiple Genders
17.) Sitting in the circle, Milo shifted uncomfortably in his chair, suppressing a yawn. Be Your Fire When You're Cold-Milo Dean/OMC
18.) Thanking Danny as he handed him a fresh pint, Tom sighed, looking at the rest of the ‘Getting Over It Gang’ surrounding their table at Sawdust Murphy’s. Reunion-Tom McDougall/OFC
19.) Just stare straight ahead. Fall From Grace-Barry Berkman/OFC
20.) Keys jingling in the lock, Vivvy skipped to the door, silk robe failing to conceal her fuschia lingerie before she slammed full body into Declan, peppering pink puckers over his cheeks as she bounced up and down with glee. Sugarpie, Honeybunch-Little Vivvy/Transmasc OC
I didn't notice any particular trends, but I find 'Spreadsheets' amusing. Sentences in italics indicate internal monologue. My favorite is #20. I couldn't help myself. I love my gorgeous wife Vivvy with my whole heart and seeing her happy brings me endless joy.
The brilliant and beautiful @martymcdie88mph chose #11. And I love her even more now than I thought possible, as I wrote this Robbie fic for her as a surprise.
Apologies, I don't know many other fic writers to tag. But please feel free to participate!
#bill hader#thirsty for haderade#fan fiction#ao3 fanfic#minors dni#fan fic first lines#barry berkman#barry block#hbo barry#barry hbo#saturday night live#documentary now!#doc now#pete reynolds#the alan#conan o'brien#conan obrien#ginger smokeshow#robbie wheadlan#clark honus#gentle and soft: the story of the blue jean committee#the eye doesn't lie#seth dozerman#dozerman#officer slater#little vivvy#tom mcdougall#milo dean#parker gail#sandy passage
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Ayyy nobody asked for my Hollow Knight OCs but here they are! These are my children and I love them greatly
Questions about them are encouraged,, please I am desperate hghdhGKJHS
Short descriptions of each below!
ALRIGHt let’s get this show on the road
General - So, this all takes place in an underdeveloped kingdom far off from Hallownest. The kingdom is stilled unnamed, but it follows a Deck of Cards motif because I’m basic and I like it leave me alone.
The kingdom is split into four factions, and each ruler governs their segment differently.
Pestilence - (silverfish) If this were to be its own game in the Hollow Knight series, Pest would be the playable character. He’s a sort of anti-hero protag with only his self-interests in mind! Generally a bastard. Very snarky, sarcastic, and isolated from other bugs. Vagabond thief, travels through different kingdoms just to pillage and ransack. Used to travel alongside Westin until the latter succumbed to Infection whilst the two were in Hallownest; Pest was forced to leave him behind and carry on alone, unknowing that West would be saved. Now, Pest finds himself in this weird four-part kingdom, and lands in deep shit as he has to sort out all the monarch’s problems.
Westin - (earwig) Westin is a good boy! Granted, he’s still a former thief with only his interests in mind, BUT he’s a better boy than Pest is! He’s just an excitable man that’s happy to be here, ready to get into fistfights with the locals. May or may not have had a major crush on Pest but you didn’t hear that from me!
Anyway, at some point this idiot willingly takes on the Infection, believing it would strengthen him (think Traitor Lord). This backfires horribly and he goes feral. Luckily for him, he’s rescued by an unnamed bee lady, who was holding onto a buncha infected bugs in hopes that someone would find a cure for them. Ghost does their thing and the Radiance is oof’d, West is free, and he RUNS to try and find Pest again!! They gotta reunite!!
King of Hearts - (purple emperor butterfly) The King of Hearts is a fun-loving party animal that’s here for a good time and not a long time
His kingdom is a constant festival! Always partying, always going haywire! Basically, you go here if you just wanna get drunk and get into fights while having a grand old time of it. The King himself often hosts sparring matches for fun, and more often then not will HOP right into the fray and start fighting for himself. Because his sense of self-preservation is nonexistent!
Just an extremely flamboyant man that calls you “darling” and “love” while he shanks you in the fighting pit and explodes a party popper
King of Clubs - (emperor scorpion) While the Heart’s kingdom sees fighting as something jolly and fun, the Club kingdom takes it very seriously. In fact, strength is the deciding factor in a bug’s rank. If you’re strong, you’re essentially a “noble” of the kingdom. If you’re weak, you’re outta luck and living on the streets. Riches really have no purpose in this kingdom, because if anyone is stronger than you, they’ll just kill you for it and that’s how it’ll be.
The King himself is a stoic big boy who comes across as big, scary and tough (it certainly helps that he’s thrice the size of everyone else)... but in reality, he ended up in this spot on accident. He keeps up the gruff façade but he just really wants to settle down somewhere safe and quiet and be a dad. big sweetheart lowkey is what I’m saying
Queen of Diamonds - (emperor dragonfly) As a stark contrast to the last to, the Queen of Diamonds is all about keeping everything PERFECT. She’s a strict perfectionist, keeping her castle SPOTLESS and TIDY, there better not be a SINGLE spec of dust or she’s going to lose her mind. She’s arguably the most mature (remaining) leader, and her economy is flourishing compared to the prior two. She’s basically like the tired angry mom having to deal with two toddlers
But she’s also extremely pretentious, talks to everyone with a condescending tone, and has that haughty noblewoman voice you’ve probably heard in like those victorian-era movies/shows
She also has a secret relationship with one of her servants but I’ll never tell
(Former) Queen of Spades - (emperor moth) Sad moth hours.
The Queen of Spades originally belonged to the moth tribe in Hallownest, believing solely and totally in the Radiance’s divine light. When her peers turned away from the Radiance to follow the Pale King, she was outraged, gathering up a few other loyal moths and taking off to form her own kingdom.
She succeeded, building this kingdom all on her own. She eventually received some help from other bugs, and that’s when the kingdom split into four.
All was fine until the Radiance turned infectious, leaving the Spade kingdom to collapse under the affliction in the same way that Hallownest did. The other three segments blocked themselves off entirely, so it wouldn’t spread any further than the Spade kingdom.
The Queen was the only survivor. The other monarchs refuse to acknowledge her, seeing as she brought this on herself. She completely agrees with them. Now, the former Queen is forever sulking in the rubble of her destroyed kingdom, wholly depressed and just waiting for death to claim her.
AaaANd that’s all! There’s some other minor characters (lovebug officer/knight and her worried husband, the Diamond Queen’s secret lover, bee lady) but I haven’tt gotten around to drawin’ their refs yet.
It is what it is! Thank u for reading this nonsense goodbye
#clamart#OCs#Hollow knight#hollow knight ocs#hollow knight oc#bug ocs#moth oc#original characters#tw swearing#hk ocs#please ask me about my kids#i'm begging
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