#zib lackadaisy

[lackingdaisies]

misadventures in flirting ft. zib and mordecai

[riddlebites]

Hey I loved your Mordecai drawing!! Can you draw the orange drunken cat (Zib) next?

[lackaroses]

I just think Zib needs his own moodboard too!🎷

Here you go! Sorry for taking a while to respond.

I was working on animation, but my animation software just wouldn’t stop lagging so I had to stop and used this as a way to cool off steam (fuck you flipaclip)

Requests are open!

[proib2]

I found this gem on Twitter

[a-haunting-memory]

Hi, I really love your writing, they are so cute! I was hoping if you could write some romantic headcanons regarding Zib? The scenario is the reader (gender neutral) is in the same boat as Zib, where the reader was also in a on and off relationship, and their ex ended up marrying someone else. How would this relationship play out?

Thank you, I'm glad you do. :)

While you were hanging out at the lackadaisy you took quite the liking in the speakeasy's band. Somehow (you don't even know how) the band became your friend group. One evening, while you were ranting about life, the band picked up a similarity between you and Zib. They started teasing you about how similar ~you two pitiful, poor souls~ are. Your curiosity piqued and you decided to ask him about it.

At first he wasn't very eager to talk about his personal stuff with you, but after you got a bit closer to him and bought him a few loads of drinks, he started to open up to you.

Both of you were surprised to hear you've been through very similar stuff.

You wouldn't talk about it as if it was an idle, basic saturday chat, no... Zib wouldn't be so neutral/nonchalant talking about something he's been trying to run away from all these years. He'd have to be in his dramatic, miserable mood and you'd have to have some privacy.

Okay so first of all, it wouldn't be that easy for both of you to jump right into a relationship. He's been hurt too many times and I know he flirts a lot, but it's a 'no strings attached' situation. If anything, this would look like a situationship... "New person, same old mistakes" ;P

Yet somewhere in the back of his mind he had a foolish hope that since you had once found yourself in a similar situation to him, you would simply, out of pity, not cause him the same pain again, because you knew how awful this feels.

He knows that if he gets into a relationship, the breakup will hurt more than if there was nothing between you. Is the pain worth it? Perhaps with you it will be different...

You have to reassure him it's not just a game to you and that you are sure of what you're doing. Just be patient with him and you'll get there someday.

After you put a label on your relationship he'd be slightly less stressed about you leaving suddenly.

You have quite a few things to work on, but I'm sure if you two talk properly you're gonna find some way to fix your souls.

Zib might not be a lot, but he's there if there's anything you want to talk about. Especially late at night, when your mind feels a little too heavy, he'll calmly listen to you and once you're done talking he'll add a few thoughts of his. Even if most of your conversations start at one specific topic you've talked through so many times, you never really run out of words to say, you never get bored, each conversation somehow finds its way to another topic and another...

You also like to sit in (comfortable) silence and say nothing, basking in each other's warmth and presence, hoping in silence that you've finally found your internal peace.

Just for your own sake don't break each other's hearts, please.

[miles-crow]

Wizard of Oz/ Wicked/ Lackadaisy Doodle Dump ˚ ༘♡ 📗⋆｡˚ ❀

Ozma and Sawhorse concepts, 'cause I finished 'Ozma of Oz' recently <3 (I miss Jack)

Concept for fanfiction,,, maybe??? Ignore the anatomy smh

... and yEs. Fiyercrow with boob straw window.

That one time I turned my bard into a Munchkin 😔

Vinegar & lil' comic featuring my oc Giuseppe that I totally didn't forget to post

I'm very busy this week with both personal stuff & commissions, but I SEE all your Tumblr requests and I LOVE them all.

First one in line is Polish Scarecrow. He's half baked at the moment. Just like third bunch of My Wicked Pony AU :') yeah... too many ideas, too little time

[abysskis]

zib

[tomboy420]

Hi there! This is my first time asking for an x reader ever lol I don't know if Iam doing this well-

Anyways.

Could I ask for a Rocky Rickaby x reader where the reader is a 18-19 years old foreigner girl (idk if my request can be very specific but... could I ask her to be Tunisian? Iam tunisian and i never see xreaders with some ;-; so her main languages would be french and arabic tho she is fluent in english) that just moved from Saint Louis to study art (cartoon/animation)?

I would like a liddol something on their first meeting (heres a plot idea ive had):

Rocky could be busking on the streets (he already joined the Lackadaisy but ig they put him out for a break lmao) And the reader couldve been carrying looads of heavy art supplies (sketchbooks beigger than herself and stuff) and dropped a bottle of paint next to him and he helps her carry some of her stuff as she goes home and they get to know eachother and stuff 👁👁(HAHA we can see i've been thinking about it- inspired by some recent experience ive had).

If you'd like you can write a few more stuff about, idk habits they developed (maybe reader passes by the street where he is sometimes and brings him pastries... they could chill, him playing, her doing life sketches... he could become her muse... i imagine they'd really hit it off, the reader being an artistic, passionate, giddy , very sweet and empathetic soul and Rocky reminding her of her childhood self and truly understanding and seeing through him and his happy mask. Maybe she could become someone he could rely on and, golly, even be calm with!! Sorry iam getting ahead of myself.... )

Uhm.

Anyways!

Sorry again for this long ass text haha!!! And i hope you have a nice day♡

A new friend

~~

T.W: a bit of angst on some parts. Mentions of racism, mentions of naysayers, mentions of Rocky being lonely. Let me know if I missed any!

~~

W.C: 3,654

~~

A/n: I'M SO SORRY!!!! I FEEL HORRIBLE! You were my FIRST ask, and I'm SORRY it took 4 months to finally finish it! I kept getting writers block for this and plain ol’ procrastination played a part as well… I genuinely can’t put to words how bad I feel.

~~~

Most people doubted you, saying it was foolish for a woman like you to dream of being a cartoonist, some even going so far as saying it was impossible, all because “Have you ever heard of a Tunisian girl drawing for a living?” 

Well, you proved all your doubters wrong.

You had gotten the job of your dreams in St. Louis.

Of course, it was difficult leaving your home. You were scared of the possibilities that could happen. One was that you wouldn’t have been accepted and moved to St. Louis for no purpose at all; another fear was that everyone would have judged you for being Tunisian, even being scared of that being the reason for you not being accepted in the industry; you weren’t ashamed for being Tunisian, not at all. You were just aware of how some people would react to it. So you worked hard, harder than you’ve ever. And were determined to be an animator. When it came to cartoons, they helped you as a way to escape reality. Every time you felt blue —or any other negative emotion— you would draw; it helped you through bumpy roads in your life, and you were willing to do it as a living. 

Maybe the cartoons would help other people as well, or maybe not. You weren’t sure. 

But that didn’t stop you from applying for the job and doing what you loved. You cherished cartoons, so you just needed to figure out the outcome independently. Like a puzzle, you wouldn’t have ever known how it would turn out unless you unraveled it yourself.

~~~

You were busy drawing concept art for a new project for your job at home when the tip of your pencil suddenly chipped. You let out a frustrated grunt and went to get your pencil sharpener but soon realized you were running low on supplies. You decided to go and buy a little more that afternoon just to get it out of the way.

You, admittedly, had bought more than you needed.

You just kept seeing what you liked and couldn’t help but buy it. So what if you had a moment of weakness? 

What was that saying? The more the merrier? It sure described this situation in your opinion.

~~~

Rocky was headed back to the Lackadaisy after having taken care of some business Miss M informed him to do. He was walking down the streets of Mississippi when he saw a young dame, either the same age or a little younger than him, holding a load of brown bags that looked as if on the verge of falling, spilling everything from inside. Her ears were down, her face cringed, and her back curved from the weight. She looked both ways of the road as best as she could while holding the heavy bags, then walked across. When she had finally crossed the street, she dropped a small glass bottle of red paint, luckily not breaking nor spilling, but she didn’t seem to notice, so Rocky did the gentleman thing and grabbed it for her. “Excuse me, miss! I believe you may have accidentally left your red paint behind!” he shouted.

You turn, having just heard someone shout, and see a male staring back at you. He looked to be around your age. He was a sight for sore eyes. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He looked beaten; black eye, scruffled-up outfit, bruised and battered like he just got hit by a bus. What on Earth happened to him that made him look like this? He wore blue pants, doused in dirt, a white —or the tale tell signs of white, some spots lighter than others— Undershirt with the sleeves tucked on his elbows, with spenders, the stripe on his right over his shoulder, and the stripe on his left hanging off his shoulder, making him look more unhinged; and a torn orange tie, hanging loosely over his neck and surprisingly still attached. You were baffled, but you didn’t have time to say something because —by the time you finished your thought process— he was already toward you, handing out a small glass bottle of paint you didn’t know you had dropped. “O-oh! Uh- Thank you! I didn’t feel it fall. I’m more focused on trying to balance all these bags, heh. Uhh… Do you mind putting it back for me?” You asked, gesturing your head to all the bags. “Absolutely! How could I not help such a gentlewoman as yourself!… Speaking of helping, should I offer some assistance? If so, I’m here to offer!” The beaten male said. “Oh yes, of course! That would be much appreciated.” You said. He took half of what you were carrying, and you both walked together, him tailing beside you. “Rocky!” He shouted, “I’m sorry?”

“I’m Rocky!” He said again, 

“Oh, well, I’m (Y/n). If I may ask, why is it you look like you got hit by a… bus?” You asked, having a bus being the only comparison you could think of. Rocky visibly tensed up, probably caught off guard by your question. “Because I… did get hit by a bus?” He said in a tone even he was aware was either wearily or questionly. 

But from your worried expression, you bought it,

“Oh my, really!? A-are you sure it is the best idea to be helping me instead of getting to a hospital!?” You exclaimed, “Oh, no, I’m perfectly fine! There is no need for doctors! I’ve been through worse! And see? I hold these up perfectly fine as well!” He yelled back, gesturing towards the bags with his head while holding it up a little more to demonstrate his words. Hearing Rocky say he’s been through worse did not make it any better; therefore, the horrified face you gave him, but then Rocky gave you a desperate look as if he didn’t want to talk about it. You hesitated but ultimately decided to do as he asked.

After that, you both fell into awkward silence. Until eventually, Rocky spoke.

“Where are you from?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where did you live before here?” Rocky inquired.

“…I lived in Tunisia.” You said skeptically. You’ve dealt with your fair share of people not liking you just by your ethnicity. Some people would judge just by your tiny accent, let alone telling them you used to live in Tunisia. But you lightened up after Rocky grinned from ear to ear, “That’s remarkable! If I may ask, if you lived there your whole life, why don’t you have an accent? I mean, I can tell you have a small one. What language do you speak!? Tell me everything that’s like over there!” You chuckled happily at his enthusiasm, joyful and relieved that he wasn’t like those sorts. And at his reaction that looked as if a child was told of a new candy store. You started telling him what Tunisia was like and what you did for a career. Even demonstrated the languages you spoke by saying small sentences for him in Arabic and French; he even told you some things about him. Eventually, after you got to your apartment, Rocky helped put the bags down, but then he looked at a mounted clock on the wall and yelped. Startled, you ask what’s wrong. Rocky quickly said he’d forgotten he still had work and was late, then scrambled out, leaving you with a confused face.

You walked towards the front door and closed it. 

You were going to miss your new friend. Hopefully, if you ever see him again, he’ll look more… less injured. You turned around to walk towards your desk but saw a receipt on the floor.

You crouched down and grabbed it, then observed it. It was from a place called Little Daisy’s Café. You recognized the title. You had eaten there once before, but you knew the cash receipt wasn’t yours. It had to be Rocky’s because he just ran out of your flat; it would make sense if it had flown out of his pocket. You didn’t know where he lived or where he worked, so you thought maybe if you visited the Café often, you would eventually see him again. If Rocky had been there once, he’d probably be there again. 

You weren’t sure if you would see Rocky again, so maybe this would help come upon him again. 

You had a delightful time talking with him; —you don’t know what exactly— but something about Rocky pulled you towards him. The dramatic way he spoke, the animated way he demonstrated, the skip of his walks, and his wacky and childish personality. Perhaps it was from a lack of friends that you wanted to see him so badly, but you were working hard, so friends weren’t a big priority. You did obviously interact with others, but mostly the people at your work, and they weren’t friends. They were just co-workers; plus, it wasn't the same. You wanted to be with someone and actually have fun. To laugh and enjoy the banter, like you did with Rocky. Was that so much to ask? Not to you, it wasn’t. You could be selfish sometimes; heck, you moved out of your home country just to follow your dreams; who says friends shouldn’t be on the list? You were just too busy most of the time, that was it.

~~~

It was the next day. You had awoken earlier than usual that day so you could have more time. You were walking to Little Daisy’s Café Like you had planned the day before. It took a bit of asking around and taking familiar turns you vaguely remembered —having only been there once and that being an accident because you were just walking around and exploring St. Louis— but you eventually found it. You stood right in front of the door, looking at the side where the window was with a text that read Little Daisy’s Café. As you stepped into the bakery, the smell of freshly baked goods enveloped you, enticing your senses and causing your stomach to rumble. The sweet notes of cinnamon mingled with the rich scent of chocolate, while hints of buttery pastries wafted through the air, each fragrance more irresistible than the last. There were people there, eating away at whatever they ordered, some talking and mingling while others just read whatever book they had, which you had little to no care of what the titles were. You went up to the front, waiting for someone to appear, and not too long after, a girl —not much older than you— came from a door you assumed to be the kitchen. “Hello! And welcome to Little Daisy’s Café!‘See anything you like?” she said in a chipper voice. Her fur was brown in coloration, with yellow eyes and dark brown hair styled in a bob. She wore a dress that had cuffs where the neck was with a drooping bow tied nicely in it. You peered up at the chalkboards above, reading through the lists of freshly made goodies they had. Eventually, you found what you liked and told the girl, walking towards whatever available table caught your eye. Waiting, you looked around the place, taking in the environment, when suddenly you heard the bell above the entrance chime. Naturally, you turned your attention to the glass door and saw a familiar face.

It was Rocky.

You’d anticipated right.

A slight smile formed on your lips. You didn’t expect it so soon, though. You thought it would’ve taken at least a couple more visits. He looked in much better shape than he had yesterday. No longer was he as beaten, but he still had a few bruises you could see; you noticed his outfit was much nicer and now completed. —his blue pants were now neat and clean, his undershirt, from what you could see, was completely white, and his orange tie was as good as new, but what was new was a large blue jacket and matching fedora had adorned him.— Rocky walked up to the cashier, talking merrily to her about whatever, while you stayed and observed him, now second guessing if you should walk up to him, afraid he might find you creepy. But you sucked it up and mustered the courage to speak to him. You waited until Rocky ambled from the cashier girl and sat at one of the booths. You stood up from your seat and trekked towards the blue-suited man, “صباح الخير يا روكي! كيف حالك؟ هل تتذكرني؟ منذ الأمس.” You reminded, in Arabic; wanting to give it more familiarity. He looked at you with wide eyes, ears suddenly down and flat, but then beamed immediately, ears going straight up, noticing it was you. “(Y/n)! How are you? So nice to see you again! How did you know I was here?” Rocky asked very cheerfully even as he had no clue what you had said. You chuckled, “I found a receipt on my floor and figured it was yours. I recognized the name, so I assumed you would’ve been here again.” you said, shrugging. “Well, I was about to get some pancakes, but while you’re here, I would love to chat with you more while we dine in!” The blue-suited man said optimisticly. You agreed with the same enthusiasm Rocky had, then sat across from him and gabbed. —Even after the food came, you still conversed— You both talked and talked and talked, but after you two finished, you decided you should leave before you were late for work and bid adieu to Rocky and strolled out with a big closed-lip smile.

~~~

After all of that, you visited often at Little Daisy’s Café. You were even recognized as a regular since you primarily talked to Rocky. The cashier girl —you knew as Ivy after a couple of visits— engaged with you in conversations. Then eventually, she offered you a miniature thing that of a card symbol of clubs and whispered for you to meet her back at the Café. After finding what you think was called Lackadaisy, with Ivy by your side, you were star-struck and completely in awe when you saw the hidden, grand space, even if everything inside seemed a little depressing. You chatted with the people you were introduced to by Ivy, and you found them quite lovely. Surprisingly, Rocky wasn’t there, but as you suddenly reminded yourself of Rocky, you asked about him. When they told you the work he held at Lackadaisy and what he did, you were worried, not exactly like the idea of him risking his life for a few drinks. But at the same time, it explained why Rocky looked so… ruffled up in the first meeting. Eventually, as you’re still down there, Rocky made his presence known as he walked through the large doors, humming a tune. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you and stopped humming whatever song was in his head, his eyes wide as he was surprised to see you in the speakeasy. “(Y/n)?” He asked. “Rocky! C'est un plaisir de vous voir!” You said in French as you walked toward the blue-suited man, a big smile evident on your face. It became a habit to speak in your other languages when around Rocky. Seeing how his face beamed from hearing it. You thought it was cute, thinking he looked like a child being shown a brand-new toy. “How did you find the Lackadaisy?” He questioned again, “Ivy showed me this place! It truly is wonderful. And the people here are justpleasant! Why hadn’t you shown me yet?” You happily inquired.

Rocky did not know how to respond, not wanting to bluntly tell the truth. “Well… I didn’t know if I could trust you…” He said as his face scrunched up, worried you might take offense. 

But you didn’t.

You smiled softly at Rocky, “I understand. You can’t trust many with this sort of secret, but I assure you, you can trust me. It’s very much an exquisite facility.” You spoke gently at Rocky. He softened at your reassurance, happy he could trust you. The other noticed something off with Rocky; how his tail flicked when he saw you, how his ears twitched from the sound of your voice, and how his eyes dilated as he looked at you. The same reaction came from you as well, but more subtle. Although the responses were obvious, none of them said anything of it.

As time passed, everyone grew accustomed to you, some even befriending you. You truly loved it at the Lackadaisy, usually just chatting with everyone, then leaving when it was time for your departure.

Today was like any other. After work, you go visit the Lackadaisy, chat and chat and chat until you declare your leave, Rocky tagging along sometimes. This was one of those times. Rocky asked you if he could walk you home, and with a smile, you said yes.

After walking together for several minutes, you both finally made it to your humble abode, “May you permission me inside?” Asked Rocky, ears leaning back slightly. “Of course. How many times do I have to tell you, you can follow me whenever, Rocky?” You asked with a giggle. You shuffled through your keys until you finally found the right one and unlocked your door. You both ambled inside, you immediately saunter toward your desk and started drawing while Rocky sat on your couch with a book he picked up from your bookshelf, making himself at home. You couldn’t help but stare at him, admiring that he found comfort in your residence. It wasn’t the first time you thought of it, but now —for any odd reason— you had the confidence to ask him, “Rocky, is it fine if I draw you?” He seemed taken aback by your question, his attention abandoning the book and eyes wide as he looked at you; he appeared as if he was in disbelief that you bothered to ask at all. You repeated yourself after Rocky didn’t respond, to which he frantically nodded and gave his consent.

Both of you were seated at your dinner table, Rocky posed, and you hunched over your notebook. You drew every detail of him you saw in your style, making sure you didn’t miss anything. He was beginning to stiffen after a period of sitting and not moving a hair. You felt terrible making him stay like that, but couldn’t help but find it amusing. His face was scrunched up like a child who couldn’t decide the topping for their ice cream or what toy to pick out in the aisle. But he was doing a better job at sitting still than you initially thought he would. You honestly could stay like that. Relishing in the comfortable silence between you, the gramophone played a calming tune. Rocky was someone you found comfort in. Something you realized not long after meeting him. He was an ocean of solace and nostalgia; Rocky’s charm always made you laugh, and his childish behavior brought back merry memories of the past. You cherished him more than you could ever say.

You dropped your pen once you were completed, a big grin adoring your face as you shouted, “لقد اكتمل!” and immediately gave it to Rocky. He clasped your sketchbook and took a good look at your illustration. You veered around the table to be at his side to ogle at your work, proud of how amazingly detailed it was. You then steered your attention to Rocky. Only to be met with a frown, arched eyebrows on his face, and flat ears. 

An expression you’d never seen Rocky uphold.

“Rocky, what’s wrong? Is something the matter, is it the sketch?” You asked, worried that your drawing may have triggered something or that it was just horrendous. “Blasphemy! Of course, it’s not the drawing! It is an extraordinary piece of craftwork that should be hung in museums all across the orb and farther… It’s just… It’s me. And not a soul has done anything of this sort before… for me.” He looked woefully on the floor with his ears down during the last sentence, as if —if he’d done pitifully enough— the floor would swallow him up.

Rocky unexpectedly felt the pressure of somebody against his back as arms were wrapped around his neck. Leaning forward slightly as a way to leave the abrupt feeling. Rocky realized you were hugging him. Rocky reached a hand to gently grab your arm and held it, closing his eyes, wanting to relish this moment of comfort. —despite still being bewildered.— Rocky never had anybody try and comfort him in a moment of blue. Usually, he would be looked down upon the few times he showed it.

“You are a greater worth than you realize, Rocky. And I hope you’ll soon realize that.” You held him a bit closer as an emphasis to your words.

You remained like that for what felt like a while. Rocky relished this as if it would be his last moment of solace, —(It won’t)— and you huddled against him from his back.

“I’m fine now, (Y/n). You can let go.” Rocky said reluctantly, not wanting this moment to be cut short. But he knew the both of you couldn’t stay like that for the remainder of the night. He’d have to put a stop to it eventually. As you let go of him and stepped back, Rocky turned around. He looked at your eyes and smiled, but it was different than his usual ones. 

It was the softest and gentlest smile Rocky had ever adorned in your time knowing him.

“Thank you,” Rocky said in the most genuine way he could muster. You smile sweetly at him, your head tilted to the side slightly, “هل تريدني أن أرسم المزيد من القطع الفنية لك؟”

~~~

A/n: Thank you for reading this! I believe there are misuses of punctuation and/or misplacements, so please point them out! And thank you to the Anon for the ask, and —again— I’m VERY sorry for the long wait! I hope this is to your liking! I know I went a little rogue a bit, but I ONLY did that so it can go with the story!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!