spiky-berry21

Latest Posts by spiky-berry21

Thanks for the tag @ehhhh-119 !

I'm honestly not surprised

Tagging: @gentlelass @realbouru @rudnitskaia @themissingrainfallkingdom @akosisab and @sundaesatmidnight !

Consider yourself tagged if you are reading this:

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz (How Fandom Would See You If You Were A Fictional Character)

Thank you for the tag @machiavellli !

Thank you very much for the tags @gentlelass and @realbouru !

I've had many more smaller hyper fixations over the duration of the time I've been obsessed with Lackadaisy, but it's one of the only ones that has really... stuck with me.

Anyway, I shall nominate: @sundaesatmidnight @akosisab @rudnitskaia @ahhhh-118 @kablamoo7 @mivanti03 and @annlytical (only if you want to 😊)

cute thing im coming up with

this picrew of yourself and your current hyperfixation !!

no pressure tags @pearlzier @julesssyy @reidsfavoritegirl @whitney23317 @willowsblanket @flowercrownsandtrauma @rottenletter

Okay but like,

Why am I lowkey starting to head cannon Angel's voice claim as Roxie Hart (Renée Zellweger) from Chicago (2002), like

I know in the movie Roxie doesn't have a Boston accent, but I think it just sounds like her, idk. And I can imagine Angel singing her own little cover of the song 'Roxie' somewhere down the line of her music career. But make it... 'Angel'.

As always, have a fantabulous day/night!

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[OC X CANON APPRECIATION POST! 🩷✨]

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE AND SUPPORT OC X CANON!!

Reblog to kill it faster

Happy birthday to Ace! 🥳🥳🥳

Guess who's birtday it is today?

Ace would have been 119 by 2024 and only two years away from surpassing god. Though unlikely, in my heart he is trucking along today continuously baffling Christendom by continuing to live.

I’m not very experienced with animation and i have a tendency to brute force my way through a problem instead of looking up a tutorial lol, but I’m pretty happy with this. The secondary motion in the ears and neckerchief are a bit janky but the tail sway I’m pretty proud of. As well as the anticipation before the yank on the calender.

I also simplified his design a little bit. As much as i love it, the fur pattern can be difficult to track so i left out the spots on his arms and tail. The face stayed the same though as its what most important.

And of course tumblr crunched the quality to hell so heres a little boogie gif with better quality

REMEMBER THAT POST WITH CINDERELLA WHERE HER DRESS CHANGES TO THE COLOR OF YOUR BLOG?

THIS ONE DOES IT TOO!!

I found a bunch more!!

x

Lackadogs: Maeve

A sketch of our dear Mae-mae as a Lacka-dog, or more specifically, a Saluki.

As always, have a Splendacious day/night!

Lacka-oc's part 4!

Hannah Kesser belongs to @airenrts

Rosemary Cabrero belongs to @blood-n-gold

Alexandra "Riff Raff" Delucci belongs to @cats0naut

And, Halina Dabrowski belongs to @wpk12art

As always, have a pulchritudinous day/night!

Alright, a revamp of this woman’s character bio is what I promised, and a revamp of this woman’s character bio is what I’m giving you! This is far less in Lackadaisy’s canon style than the previous one I made and more conforming to my own, and I like it just that way. Hope you’ll like it too 💓!

Ace fanart collage

Made this initially as a wallpaper for my computer. Thank you @akosisab, @rudnitskaia, @spiky-berry21, @aghostnamedcalamity, @tohot4u and zzanimazz for the awesome art. I LOVE YOU GUYS!

Edit: got some more art right after i posted this so i updated it a little

Angelique : Expressions

(got bored, made this to compensate for my boredom)

Thank you for tagging me @yanci-indigo @gentlelass @sundaesatmidnight 😌

1. I speak some French, mostly from random Duolingo lessons.

2. I have read the entirety of the Wings of Fire series. My favourite book being either The darkness of dragons or The Hive queen, my favourite character being Cricket, and my favourite tribe being the Sandwings.

3. I have a collection of old coins that I have stashed away, my two oldest ones being from the 1920s.

Tagging: @realbouru @themissingrainfallkingdom @akosisab @echotheartist @poppy1moon and anyone else willing to participate ✨

Oh, and before I forget... Comment ça va?

If you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it the last five blogs in your notifs. Anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog <3

/nf :]

Ahhh yippee!!

1. I am just barely shorter than 5ft

2. I once almost drank a spider

3. When I was little spiders really liked me. Like I’d find daddy long legs climbing up my arms a lot as a kid and there were two that made a nest near my bed and I felt like it’d be rude to take it down so I just. Didn’t

@nerd-cat-rambles @thehermitavatar @wildernezz @ariadne-wild @dnbrainrot pspsps

Benjamin Heller ✨

yayyyy mutuals hiiiiiiiii reblog if you love your mutualssssssss hiii mutuals

SMMMMOKIN'

Oh GREAT, Mask Flynns' on the loose!!!!

Took awhile, but the last of the trio is finally finished! I present to you:

Transcription (due to the trend endlessly blurry images):

Born: 14th of February, 1901

Boston, Massachusetts

Born to Marie and Philip Caradine. Angelique, or ‘Angel’ as she calls herself nowadays, had had a fairly normal upbringing in the early years leading up to 1912. Well... If you discounted the gang her family were associated with.

Being the youngest of the Caradine siblings, she was coddled and babied by her older siblings and parents. Often told by her relatives that she had a wonderful voice. Though, not all was happy in the Caradine household. As a week after her eleventh birthday, her brothers and father would be massacred in an unseen ambush by a rival gang over a turf of land. Forcing her remaining family into a miserable ten years of poverty.

From that point on, Angelique would use the only thing she was ever good at to help her family from falling to famine. That being her voice. Singing for small crowds in the streets, and when she got older, on the stage in dance halls, or really any place that would have her. Whilst her two remaining siblings, Remy and Dotty, would take turns collecting the payments and performing alongside her. That was most likely how she got scouted. Eventually it became a career for her as she reached her early twenties, and at the age of twenty-one, she would leave behind the house she and her family had bought in Tennessee. Travelling around the southern half of America for a few years or so, before moving to St. Louis, Missouri, due to her newfound employment at the ‘Hotel Maribel’. Sure, she lives in a dingy little hotel room on the outskirts of St. Louis. But as long as she kept on moving, things would surely come her way eventually... Right?

Aside from singing her heart out on stage, Angel has shown to be quite proficient in dance. Commonly incorporating a slice of choreography into her performances whenever the moment arises. She has also shown to be quite skilled in the art of gossip, making it all the more chaotic due to her rather sociable nature. And the fact that when you get her to start, you can’t get her to stop. In addition to being the queen of smack-talk, it is relatively unknown to most cats that she speaks a small bit of French. Mostly due to her mother’s French ancestry. Oh, and if you were wondering, yes she does have an accent. She just likes to suppress it.

As always, have a magnifique day/night! 😘

Hello, Tracy. I've took this day as an opportunity to just tell you an amazing birthday, your webcomic has brought so much joy to my depression and since the first day i found out my life just went so much better. I hope you are doing absolutely wonderful, a single reminder you are probably my favorite human at this day. Happy birthday, Mrs.Butler! <3

That's terribly kind. Thank you! It means the world to hear that it brought someone a little bit of joy. ❤❤

🌚 - Miss Misery - 🌝

A Lackadaisy fanfic by GentleLass

Prelude

It was a splendid morning. Wind gently blew, leaves slowly swayed and the sun shone up in the Italian sky. A wonderfully blue sky, that wonderful sky underneath which Marjorie had grown up and that she had loved so much. Just like she had oh so loved the green and blooming prairies, among which she now ran, happy, thoughtless as ever, without a worry in the world. She was just a five-year-old, her dress was but a white lace, and the only accessory she was forced to drag along herself were her golden eyes that perfectly reflected the fervent sun of her motherland. No shoes, corsets, girdles, bows or hats to hinder and weighten her movement. She was free, absolutely free to run and jump and sme and play, by her own rules. And indeed she ran and laughed in the flowers, sprinting like bats out of hell. To her right, a flock of swallows crossed the soft clouds, returning after a long winter to flee from another; to her left, hares jumped fast towards North, almost as if challenging her to a race. And Marjorie of all people certainly wouldn’t have backed from a challenge, so she started running towards their direction, faster and faster. But the closer she got, the more the sound of their jumps became loud, louder, loudest, deafening. Until she got so close she started to feel the ground shaking underneath her feet to the rythm of their furious jumping…

… the Ford Model T roughly steered again thanks to the rough driving of Nicodeme, and the dream ended. Marjorie returned to her 30 something years of age (you don’t ask that to a lady!) , she returned to the corset that was twisting her guts along the cars’ brusque movements, to the shoes that squished her feet and to the skirts hindering her movement. The sky, as blue as it had been, turned grey and threatening, and the clouds returned to thicken into dark hoards of smoke. The sound of footsteps on grass was replaced by squealing and derailing of wheels on wet mud, and the girl’s laugh were soon covered by the flurry of water. Ah, Missouri. The land of humidity and swamps and just… wet.

Wet, Marjorie thought with a grimace of displeasure. That wouldn’t get along well with her heels, if not for the length of them, then the cost. She didn’t do that often - no, not wearing costly shoes in the least likely of occasions, that’s something she always did, if only for some twisted form of sadomasochism, subconscious and mostly unknown even to herself, but very evidently much explored - I meant, grimacing. Changing expressions, or just emoting. Her mind and soul weren’t empty, just… mostly unknown, as said, and as such she knew her looks where the easiest way to get her own - ‘with a smile you’ll get to the world’s heart when you yourself don’t even own one’, her father used to say. And she took those words to her… whatever is it that beats inside her chest (Marjorie drunkenly laughed “Bolero’s the only percussion inside me!” more than once), wearing a smile like you wear an accessory, an accessory like any other, interchangeable, replaceable, and most of all, material and meaningless when it came down to what truly matters. And indeed, when she thought nobody could see her she let it down like it mattered nothing to her, because it didn’t. When she thought nobody could see her… Marjorie snapped her gaze in a violent way that clashed with the fluffy fluttering of eyelashes, immediately baring her fangs as if out of instinct - whether a violent one or something else, it’s up to you to decide: the smile of Marjorie Ford can be as much that sewed shut of a doll, as it can be that cackling and threatening of a hyena. She smiled, and for a second she believed that the person who could see the smile would think the same thing and smile back, too, and the interaction would be just that easy and would go down just that smoothly. Just two people politely smiling at each other, no commitment, just smiling for the sake of smiling.

But alas, it couldn’t. We don’t always get what we want, much to Marjorie’s dismay. The eyes that looked at her now were anything but polite; they didn’t have the sparkle of amusement and kindness that should accompany a smile, they were cold. They were unyielding. They were all that were Marjorie’s own and more, but they didn’t match hers. She saw it. She knew he was seeing it too. She felt it. He didn’t smile back. He didn’t. His face remained a mask of pure indifference. It seemed to mock her, mocking her with its icy, hard eyes, mocking her as his lips never curved into a smile. The smile that was so obviously forced on her own lips froze, and it faded reluctantly, slowly, trembling, and the collapse was much more natural and spontaneous than the raise of it. Mocking her, mocking her, mocking her with his lips that never rose from the stern line - no, no Sir, with those serious and even respectable looks, the ostentatious diligence he dedicated to his work, the spontainety of his frown, while she was constantly fooled by her own decievment and the illusion of beauty surrounding it, and it made her angry. And anger’s the ugliest feeling of them all, and Marjorie’s supposed to be the most beautiful of them all, because what else did she have to offer? No friends, no family, no prospects. Certainly not a husband. She was alone with her feelings and desires. No friends, no family, no prospects. That’s how it is, isn’t it? You’re alone, Marjorie, and alone you stay - the truth that is so deeply engraved deep inside your bones, like iron bars of a rib-cage around… whatever it is that beats inside your chest (“Samba and Rumba!”). So Marjorie smiled and it felt like a sneer instead, but she didn’t stop smiling. She kept the expression frozen as the car’s brakes screamed in surprise and the tires screeched and the wheels hit the ground, until the other person fell for it, or just got tired of watching her, and looked away.

Tired of her, tired of her, tired of her— —no, NOT again. It’s just not worth so much worry. Marjorie took a big breath, realising she had been holding it all the while, and sighed. Rolling her eyes and abandoning her head against the window, and letting the usual numbness overtake her, her natural state of mind just as vague, and dull, and bleak as the view outside opaqued by the rain.

Boredom is the most sublime of all feelings, as it afflicts only those with a sensible and refined soul, too selective to be swayed by small flashes of petty emotion.

Souls that inevitably end up disheartening and brutalising: out of boredom, in fact, one can commit actions that are vile and dangerous, or degrading and not very sensible. Marjorie knew a bit too much of it for comfort, on both accounts. She knew too much of the evils caused by human greed and the pleasures provided by selfishness. She knew enough, really. Enough to know she has no reason to expect anything better from life, enough to know that she has no need for any better, and the world will provide her everything, and everything only if there is no resistance on her part.

That’s why she didn’t say anything when she recieved that hard, and frankly uncalled for, stare, from the man sitting as distantly from her as he could in the relatively crampled space of the Ford Model T, just as intent as she was in drowning out the cackling and growling voices of the two hijackers on the front seats.

And to think he could have even made for an acceptable partner in crime, at least compared to those other two… animals… currently fighting for the steering the wheel… if only hadn’t he been so… so…

So Heller.

The bland interest aroused by Mordecai’s manner waned in a matter of seconds as Marjorie’s probing eyes lingered on the strict and austere mien, observing with a certain disgust the blatant disdain and unpleasant disposition he shamelessly displayed against all manner of common courtesy and efficiency in work interaction.

Not that she minded him being rude in the slightest; he was, after all, a fellow employee, and therefore beneath contempt, for the sake of her own making things easier and less committed for herself if anything. No. No, it was because she could see, she knew - the glint in the other’s eyes, the stiffness of his posture and the rigidness of his features, the scowl he bestowed upon her after the first glance, after the first few sentences - this man didn’t like her. At all. No, he probably disdained her as much as she disdained him, in fact. And she didn’t like it - Marjorie didn’t like the taste of her own medicine, but yet again, nobody does. That was something completely beyond her control, a reason more to not like it.

But also a reason to ignore it: again, this game was just not worth the candle. It doesn’t mean anything, because it never does. It was was a game. Life is just a game. A game of pretend and lies, a game she played over and over and over again, trying to fill her stomach with a fake satisfaction and a fake smile, hoping that it might fool someone into giving her whatever it is would actually satisfy her - what exactly, not even she knew.

WOAHHH hey there!!! I’m just publishing this prelude to my Lackadaisy fanfic - Miss Misery - here, because I frankly can’t be bothered to learn how to properly operate AO3. AS ALWAYS I lingered a little *too much* on whatever it is that is happening inside this madwoman’s head… I hope it isn’t too boring, and I swear I’m trying to put a little more action into the other chapters. Hope it gave a little insight into this PUZZLE of a woman’s thought process behind her chaotic and seemingly irrational way of acting and aroused your interest to soon read more.

Comments and constructive critique are more than welcome!

Hispanic lackadaisy oc anybody??!! 🇲🇽🖤

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH, CALLI'S FIRST FANART! Thank you so so much, she looks spectacular in your style along with the other oc's!

Have a wonderful rest of your day/night! 😘😘😘

50 Followers! Part 2: Traditional Edition

Sketch

Y'all have really cool OCs fr🐐🐐🐐

Ernest Stanley - @kablamoo7

Lucille Carlton - @randomgirldraws

Marianne Villanueva - @ahhhh-118

Luc Rossi - @tohot4u

Åse "Ace" Olaug Årud - @acesandocs

Calliope "Calli" Cairns - @spiky-berry21

Cassie - @funfairsundaes

Aisling "Ash" Mayfield - @annlytical

Second Lacka-oc finished!

(Transcription for any who find the image too blurry):

Born: November 27th, 1903

Salem, Massachusetts

Maeve Midwinter, the proprietor (and solitary worker) of a cosy little bookstore in downtown St. Louis. The epitome of a pristine and upstanding citizen, she carries herself with utmost pride. Serving her community like the very legal citizen she is.

Well... Aside from her random bursts of uncontrollable rage. But she will assure you it was just the amount of caffeine she had in her coffee that morning, "It's nothing, I assure you!". But besides that, Maeve has devoted her life to her books, the few things in life she finds worth her time. That, and the fact that she chooses to associate with what her mother would call the scum of the earth, supplying speakeasies with a portion of illegally made wine. Though perhaps being a supplier certainly has its... Perks. For example, getting to know the charming Australian bootlegger working for the infamous Marigold gang. Who she seems to have taken quite the liking to.

Among the pleasantness of her small bookshop on the corner, this gentlewoman enjoys listening to the ambience of her many records on her gramaphone. Coupled with the oh so calming turn of a book page when nobody is around. Loving all fashion with ruffles and jewels to them, she collects anything even remotely shiny she can get her little mitts on. As well as being an avid lover of dark humour, and strawberry flavoured macarons.

Very happy to have Maeve's character card done, I find her to be the more ostentatious of the three given her... wealthier upbringing.

As always, have a dazzling rest of your day/night! 😘

Calliope: Recollection

(a poorly drawn mini-comic inspired by a recent convo between yours truly and @ahhhh-118, enjoy!)

Translation:

Cairns family homestead, 1917...

Adeline: Calliope?... Where are you going with that shovel?

Calliope: just gonna go withdraw some money, mum.

Calliope (in mind): just a little money...

A few years earlier...

Robert: Oi, Calli! Where yah goin'?

Calliope: Goin' down to feed the sheep, why?

Callum: *narrows eyes in suspicion*

Robert: You've only got a few more bucks in your allowance, so.yah betta make it count.

Calliope: Yessir!

Calliope (in present mind): *sigh*

Calliope (still in present mind): It's just to keep us fed... I promise I'll pay you back... Someday

For context, this follows an eighteen year old Calliope (aka, when she still had long hair) whose mother approaches her about where she's going. Calliope responds that she's going to withdraw money, but doesn't tell her that she's withdrawing money from the secret stash of money Calli and her brothers had stolen from banks and buried out on their families property (they come from a family of cattle farmers). Calli reminisces to herself about only taking a little, before we're thrown back to a fifteen year old Calli with her two older brothers Robert and Callum. Robert asks Calli where she's going and she responds with lie, of which her brothers catch onto. Robert replying with what he knows she's actually going to do, and says to use the rest of what she has in her 'allowance' wisely. As to make it even they had divided up their loot. Calli salutes him with her shovel before we cut to eighteen year old Calli thinking to herself, this time about how she would pay back her brothers the money she took from them to be able to feed her and her mother while they were away fighting in the great war. If they ever did come home, that is...

Woo, that was a doozy! Sorry for making the post so long 😅, there was just too much info I wanted to stuff in. Thank you so very much to the people that read this far!

With that in mind, have a splendiferous day/night!

Thank you very much! 😁

Thought of a question without any rhyme or reason whatsoever, but how would the Mulligan's fare individually on a sports reality show (if you could call it that), ala American ninja warrior?

Y'know, that's something I never thought about for the Mulligans, kudos! I'll say on their behalf that overall, the three would put up a good effort, though I have my doubts about all three of them reaching the finals. But individually;

Desmond: Despite the initial crowd reactions, Des would definitely put up a suprising show of fast and fluid parkour at the start, being that he has a good amount of leg strength from his years of ardent running, with some arm strength to help him with any climbing he may encounter. Though, the high intensity of the course towards the end would be his downfall, especially with that jumping-ladder-thingamajig, if that's still a part of the course.

Edward: Eddie here would be considered more a man of strength, not of agility. I can see him getting a good start as well, though because of his mass, getting through the majority of the course would be incredibly difficult for him to endure, without a doubt. Just imagine a novice bodybuilder trying to parkour, and you'd get Edward.

Flynn: Of the three, Flynn likely has the best chance of beating the course, granted he gets enough training beforehand. Not to say he'd win in a heartbeat, but his overall physique and energy would be great tools for managing the types of obstacles provided, especially the monkey bars and the final vertical climb.

Hopefully this answers your question, thank you so much for asking! 😄🥷

Thank you @sundaesatmidnight for the tag!

1. Poison - Bell Biv Devoe

2. Fire - That handsome devil

3. Hai yorokonde - Kocchi no kento

4. Greek tragedy - The Wombats

5. Looking out for you - Joy again

@ahhhh-118 @gentlelass @acesandocs @realbouru @rudnitskaia @roto-a @aghostnamedcalamity @theunfunctionjunction @akosisab @derpiestdonuts @mothgutzxd @masterpie321 @omletch and @echotheartist !

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (positivity is cool)🎶

Wow..

1. Hayloft II (smashup) - Mother Mother

2. Taste - Skz

3. ITEM - Skz

4. Over you - idk

5. Breakin' dishes - Rihanna

@atlasprefects

@boiling-potato

@xenniboii

@yum-zlurplie

@alinorianddrago

@sayuri-does-skits

@devillemon085

@nia1sworld

@violetstellas-blog

@n0vatsu

Awwww, he's adorable ❤️❤️❤️

💜 Another of my Lackadaisy ocs 💜

🍀 This is Cassie’s little brother 🐰

AHAHAHAGUSJFZTUXBH- *cough cough* pardon me. Just finished Calli's little character poster after... Multiple hours, and here it is!

Transcription (so sorry for the blurriness 😭):

Born: December 6th, 1899

Murray bridge, South Australia

Born and raised on the murky expanse of the Murray river, Calliope was always one for life on her family's cattle farm. And, undenounced to her parents, the life of a small-time bank robber in the latter half of her teenage years. Considered more wayward and rebellious the older she got, it came as a shock to her when her elder brothers, and father, were enlisted in the armed forces to fight in the great war. Leaving only her and her mother to take care of the farm for the years they were away. And by circumstances of a tragic heartbreak, Calliope left her homeland and became a stowaway on a cargo ship heading for the distant lands of the Americas. In the hopes of finding an opportunity to build a new life for herself.

Though as they always say, old habits die hard. With the young Australian lass getting recruited for little pay in the esteemed Marigold gang. Now both a well-known patron, and a long-time bootlegger. Nothing, and she means nothing, is getting in the way of her current life. Or... That's what she thinks at least.

Living a congenial life on the wooden panels and planks of the Marigold room's backstage area, and being mostly forgotten about by a certain Marigold night manager. Calliope enjoys a plethora of... Interesting activities. Those including: Precarious automobile operating, wrangling with almost any cattle you put in front of her, mending household appliances, and dutifully using a shotgun. Her weapon of choice.

Woo! Thank you for reading all that (if you did), Maeve and Angel are going to be here (hopefully) soon. Feel free to ask any questions!

As always, have a magnificent day/night! 😘

Thought I'd share some pictures of my cat Ace Winston (yes that is his name), aka my pfp. Because why not?

As always, have a spectacular day/night! 😘

Just out of curiosity, would y'all like to see a Murder on the Orient express inspired fic... But make it a Lackadaisy au??? With a possible x reader plotline???!

As always, have a spectacular day/night! 😘