#oc koko

[atomic-insomnia]

For the potential AU question, how about a Victorian AU, you know with balls, fancy big outfits and all, an 80s AU aaand a post apocalyptic AU. I gave you 3 so that you can choose :3.

thanks!

i will probably come back for the 80's and post-apocalyptic au's, but i actually drew a victorian au a long time ago but never uploaded it! it was inspired by the sort of dark/gothic/melodrama victoriana like sweeney todd, crimson peak, penny dreadful etc

-this takes place vaguely in "london," not the real place but the grimy, perpetually overcast, singing and dancing jack-the-ripper style place of sweeney todd & the like. everyone has magic powers, often of the sort that has terrible cost to their own health & sanity the more they use it

like these , with nothing "normal" in between

Amelia contacts real ghosts through her crystal ball (containing the skull of a mysterious someone...) which act according to her orders, so that it looks to anyone else like she's moving things through telekinesis or learning things about other people's activities through extra-sensory perception; she's started hearing the ghosts all the time even when she's not intentionally calling them up.

makoto paints pictures which affect the real world, either predicting future events or being able to paint an object and then just reach into the picture and take it out as a real object; she's working on painting life-like animals and people and trying to turn them into real living creatures which is slowly turning her into a sort of doctor frankenstein mad scientist (except, an artist instead of a scientist).

rolls royceton acts like a rich swell but can transform into a huge monstrous creature like the hulk/jekyll and hyde; he intentionally does it to fight/threaten people so as to build territory for his gang but it's started happening out of his control.

vinny was supposed to be executed for theft...and it didn't work; he's essentially a zombie that is still thinking and feeling and doesn't understand it at all but is too scared of dying for real to try to "fix" it.

-various murder mysteries happen through magic or strange dramatic circumstances (no one gets shot with a regular gun for normal murder reasons; it's always some rare poisoned dagger or bizarre curse or something), which amelia & co solve (or technically solve, by getting someone to reveal what's happening)

-a lot of the world revolves around the powers people have & what that means for people of different social classes or genders or ethnicities--a wealthy girl who can blow people up with her mind wouldn't do such a rude thing in society, it's unladylike! a street urchin who can heal people with their hands is probably just using that as an excuse to pick pockets, you know how those people are... as a result, a lot of those murder mysteries are something ironic, like a kindly old grandma whose cookies force people to mind their manners or else be poisoned because manners matter more to her than murder. it's the sort of place where if someone jumped off a bridge, everyone else would judge them like an olympic diving competition

-the characters first meet at a masquerade ball all wearing masks and different clothes, where a murderer is hiding by changing costumes. there should be an exploration through the crypts of an ancient cursed church, a mysterious carnival full of actual magic and deadly games, a theater with a ghost directing (and possessing) the living actors to have the Perfect Performance(TM), twisting back alleys where you could find anything (literally anything) for sale or might get murdered or simply disappear; gothic-steampunk-esque vibes...

-this has gotten more grim than the request implied haha, but i think there's an element of a group of selfish, sometimes callous people coming together in a found-family way and realizing that they want to be better than that and eventually either working to be better people or tragically failing because the terrible things they've done in the past have come back to haunt them. like most of the story would be somewhere between horror and dark comedy, but the final act would actually be life or death for the main characters

[goblinbugthing]

@blue-jester *gives ayalor the lil fella* it’s dangerous to go alone.

[atomic-insomnia]

headcanon tag game

tell me some things in your world/from your characters that have changed or will change over time

anything like “she used to be scared of magic but has grown to not just use it but enjoy it” or “the country used to use gold coins but after the death of the last king they’ve gone back to bartering” or anything that hasn’t stayed the same, even if it’s in the backstory/future

[artistic-flower-gurl]

Meet two of my Kirby ocs/fankids, Jade and Koko!

They're kaabii(my interpretation of Meta and Kirby's species)twins and they're my Magolor's adoptive kiddos!

Magolor had found them during his time in the Dream Kingdom. He was closing shop one day when he saw a mysterious figure leaving a basket by the gem apple tree. When he called out to the figure and got out of his shoppe, the figure quickly left, disappearing like they were never there in the first place.

When he inspected the basket, he found two little baby kaabii. They couldn't have been more than three weeks old. He also found a note, presumably by the figure who was probably their biological mother. It told whoever found them to take care of the children like they were their own, as she couldn't do so herself. There was no name to trace back. Just these two infant kaabii, alone and with no one. Like he once was.

At first, Magolor didn't want to take them in because he didn't see himself as a worthy father, but after no one took them in and he got too attached, he decided he'd take care of them.

These two actually managed to snap Magolor out of the depressive period he had been in since the Epilogue and gave him motivation to get back to Popstar and give them the life they deserved.

Of course, these two both took traits from Magolor as they grew up. Jade took his brains and interest in history, and Koko took his slyness, mischief and interest in magic.

I'd love to yap more about these two, but I'm probably reaching the word limit or something, lol- ^^'

If you want to know more, I'll gladly tell! :D

[atomic-insomnia]

OC-tober Day 27:  Anniversary

One year after she left home, Amelia wired her sister for the first time.

At Nash’s she broke a dollar bill into nickels and dimes so she could send a telegram back home.  Bus fare would’ve been cheaper but like hell would she show up in person to that house.

Matilda met with her at their old local library, and for a while they managed to have a nice conversation.   In that year her mother had been sent to a sanatorium because her visions kept getting worse and Matilda couldn’t care for her alone anymore.  She gave Amelia the address.  Amelia didn’t visit.

One year after she’d met Koko for the first time, Amelia found herself walking in the rain, having fought with her again and wondering if it was even worth it to make up again.

Over the months they’d moved in together, worked together in Koko’s studio, gone to cafes and gallery openings together.  And Koko had never missed a chance to say, “Is that the choice you want to make?” or “I’m sure your work is fine.  It’s just not the right fit for this collection.”  Koko never outright tried to stop her from doing anything.  She just never supported anything she did.

And to be fair, Amelia had never enjoyed staying in one place too long.  Once she knew too much about someone she wanted to move on to someone else.

One year after meeting Rolls...well.  She’d see if she made it that far.

[atomic-insomnia]

OC-tober Day 26:  Carve

When the world didn’t want to leave space for you, you had to carve out your own niche.

The speakeasies and secret clubs popping up catered to the crowd that couldn’t fit in anywhere else, and the places themselves squeezed into the gaps the legitimate businesses left behind.  It was in her new favorite, the Corvus Club behind a laundromat in the Bowery, that Amelia first met Koko.

The room smelled like laundry soap and grain alcohol and barely gave room for the bartender to mix his bottles of whatever-it-was with sweet syrupy fruit juice to cover the flavor.  An upright piano crowded between the narrow side-wall and the plank of wood serving as the bar, and sometimes they even had a real piano player.

Amelia liked it because nobody bothered with real names and she always found herself laughing until she cried with some new group of nobodies who’d claim they were too good for the latest celebrity gossip while spilling all the details from memory.  She’s danced with occult aficionados who thought her seances must be the bee’s knees, kissed communists on the cheek as they left in the dawn to head back to college, swapped falsified phone numbers with fellows who claimed to work for the government but would let her off the hook if she called them.

That night a white college boy with a ‘Marcus Garvey for President’ button pinned on his vest thudded on the piano keys like he could beat a decent tune out of them, and a petite dark-haired woman in a tailored suit put out her cigarette on the last G key.  As she turned around with a sneer and also a monocle on her face Amelia recognized that she didn’t recognize her, and decided to change that.

The shaky old drunk--easily pushing thirty-- she’d been flapping gums with rattled off all the ways the end is nigh, claiming, “Mark my words, Marie!  The world is ending!” as she stood.

“The world’s always ending, Clarence,” Amelia said, finishing her drink.  And she sauntered over to take a look at that monocle.

The other woman, Asian, bored, and with hair so perfectly shellacked she had to make every man in there jealous, sized Amelia up the instant she stood.  Before Amelia could offer, she pointed to the empty glass and said, “Looking for another drink?”

“I’m looking for whatever trouble I can get,” Amelia said with a slow smile.

The other returned it, said, “...Well, I’m sure we can find some together.  Want to get out of here?”

Not really, but she didn’t have any particular attachment either.  As Amelia grabbed her hat with one hand she offered the other to shake.  “Marie.”

“Mack,” said Koko with a wink, and they left together arm in arm.

[atomic-insomnia]

OC-tober Day 2:  Glass

No matter what she added, the portrait Koko claimed to be of ‘herself’ refused to work with her.

The face in the small hand mirror she used for reference didn’t match the one on the canvas at all, but that had been intentional--this painting wasn’t all the way Cubist, but she’d wanted to lean into the piecemeal, angular look with its bright, chunky colors.

Except now she couldn’t even recognize the similarities--her square jaw in real life became a curve looping up to her chin in the paint, her tan skin had been turned into pale pink with gray triangular shadows, her black helmet hair blended into the painting’s black background in a way that seemed like the wall behind her had taken a bite off the top of her head.  The nose became a blob of first white, then gray, then red, now brown from too many different pigments; the one eye she’d managed to draw looked more and more like a fish’s vacant stare as she stared back.  She didn’t even want to try scribbling on a mouth right now.

When she’d first slapped color onto canvas the excitement not just of creating but of finding out what she’d create had kept her energized better than coffee could, but now at four in the morning all she saw was a mess.

With a frustrated growl she dropped the hand mirror onto the easel’s shelf, or at least, that’s where she’d aimed--but it fell to the studio’s concrete floor instead, spiderwebbing with cracks.

“Great!  Wonderful!”  Her neighbors all thought she was a madwoman anyway, shouting to herself wouldn’t change much.  As she picked up the mirror a large chunk of shattered glass fell right through, out of the back.

Uncareful in her frustration she picked it up too with her bare fingers and jabbed it into the canvas, right in the ugly smear of a nose.

She caught a glimpse of her scowling face in the fractured hand-glass, smudged with paint and reflected in pieces from different angles--and another angle, glinting off her own failed self-portrait.

Wait...maybe--

The paint had to be thick to show up against the black she’d already laid down, but another head floated in on the corner, this one scowling to rival the real Koko.  A third crowded against the original, not quite covering the whole thing but giving the sense of double vision.  Where the back of that hydra-like head would be, she put another face, this one in profile…

The glass, she dragged down and opened a cut through the painting, folded it back and stuck it in place.  And maybe a ragged edge here, not across her shoulder but above it, like a Glasgow grin in the darkness…  And maybe, if she could punch out a few more of these glittering shards of mirror, she’d get out the paste--yeah, this one fit almost perfectly over the eye--no, it looked better across from it, in place of the other--

A taxi’s horn snapped her out of creative flow, and she realized it not only was light out, it had been for quite a while.

Her hand mirror was never going to recover.

But--supposing the paste dried in place, maybe she should lay the canvas flat--she had a good feeling about Self Portrait of The Artist, Koko S.

[smollcatart]

When you ruin the scene bc you love your gf so much