#lucaby

Once from a dream.

I was mainly just drawing Rocky, but drawing men is boring as hell, so I drew one of my favorite OCs from the community: Lola from @plutopools (Yes, it was a good reason to draw a pretty woman being pretty).

A short story written as part of an art trade with @blogplutocrat featuring Lola de Luca and Rocky Rickaby. This was written as a short companion piece to her Lucaby comic, set during the transition between summer and autumn, inspired by an old, Danish lullaby Sensommervise. Hence the title. Anyhow, hope you Lucaby fans like this one!

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In the glow of the midday sun, the yellowing leaves on the trees almost looked like tongues of fire, dancing off the branches as they swayed in the wind. As Lola plucked steel strings, the clear, bright tunes emanated from the resonating chamber inside her trusty, white six-string. Each note rang out into the still warm autumn air.

A few people were out and about today, though not many were paying attention to the golden feline with the white guitar. And she liked it that way. She was seated on the grass of Forest Park where she could overlook the nearby lake.

Eyes closed, Lola’s left hand traveled up and down along the neck of the guitar, fingers gripping the fret board as she plucked with the fingers on her right hand. She was so used to playing, she didn’t even need to look to know where she was gripping by now. It was all muscle memory at this point.

She was playing an old-world tune, one of the ones she’d learned to play when she was younger. However, now she had the skill to pluck more than one string at a time. Utilizing all her fingers, Lola could work four strings at once or in rapid succession, the deeper bass strings complimenting the higher ones beautifully.

Clad in a thin, pastel green summer dress, Lola had taken to sitting on her brown jacket, using it as a makeshift blanket. Autumn was here, though it was still early. The sun still beamed down upon St. Louis enough to make it warm enough to go outside without warm clothes. The lawn was still vibrantly green, blades of grass swaying in the breeze, like a miniature ocean with tiny waves.

Opening her bright blue eyes, Lola took in the beautiful idyllic scene before her; Forest Park in autumn was as picture perfect as an illustration in an old fairytale book. As she played, a rose-tinted scene unfolded before her eyes, as vivid as any dream she might have at night. Lola’s fingers never stopped playing as she beheld a little girl and a little boy standing on the bridge that crossed the lake.

Though no boats sailed on the lake in the present, Lola pictured those as well. She could picture them from memory, see them floating on by, rowed by couples, while the kids above watched them. The gray tabby boy was dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and a pair of blue denim pants held up by suspenders. Even these many years later, Lola could clearly picture the broken seams along the sides of his pants legs. She could similarly picture the wear and tear to the knees from many hours of being outside, running wild, tumbling and crawling around. The little girl, she wore a frilly, little summer dress, white as the clouds that floated overhead. Well, safe for those unsightly grass stains around her knees. Oh, her nonna was not going to like that one bit…

“Oh, look, look – down there!” Lola smiled as she pictured the two of them leaving the bridge, hurrying down to the water’s edge. She could see the boy’s bare, gray- and beige-furred feet sinking into the soft ground where water plants were sprouting. Lola remembered how many insects were around on that day. Dragonflies were patrolling, mosquitoes were lazily bobbing along in the air and water striders were skating across the surface of the lake.

“Rocky, what are you doing?” the little girl called to the gray tabby as he peered out into the water.

“Look, you see that fish? The one right there? Bet you I can grab it!” Present-day Lola chuckled as a cool stray breeze reminded her of getting splashed as Rocky lunged forward, reaching for the fish, but accidentally submerging himself in the process. And of course, doing so without managing to catch the fish with his tiny hands.

“Awww, rats… that would’ve made an excellent meal too,” those had been the words Rocky had sputtered out once he got himself back on dry land. His gray, striped fur clung to his lean form, as did his soaked clothes. The golden-furred little girl giggled as she looked at her drenched friend. Their blue eyes met and they laughed together, leaving the lake behind.

Lola came to a halt with her song, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, those deep blue eyes settled on the very lawn in front of the St. Louis Art Museum. The very same lawn where Rocky had spent his time drying off with her under the intense summer sun, while they were gazing at what few clouds were in the sky.

As Lola put her guitar down by her side, the golden cornicello attached to her guitar dangled to and fro, glimmering in the sunlight like a spark. Leaning back, Lola placed her bright golden hands down into the soft grass, each blade bending under her weight. She cast her blue gaze upwards at the equally blue sky, watching the clouds above, just as she and Rocky had on that day.

She tried to think back on it, tried to imagine what a ten year old Rocky might have to say about the clouds she could see now. Large, fluffy shapes that floated high above her… One looked almost like a bird with a wide, seemingly flat form in a very… very vague wing-like silhouette. Maybe it was more of a kite-shape…

Lola imagined Rocky might call it pancake shaped. That’s what he did for all the clouds that had shapes that were too vague back then. She chuckled. Even if they weren’t round, he’d try and describe what might have happened to them; one could have been dropped on the floor, another chewed on, another cut to pieces.

Somehow, it always came back to pancakes with Rocky.

Stretching her back, Lola tossed her voluminous, golden locks around slightly, getting them out of her face. Another stray breeze caught her hair, the wind current streaming through each strand of it like an invisible comb. It was such a pleasant feeling, especially paired with the wind gracing her bright, furred face. It carried a faint scent of ripe berries from somewhere within the park, the kind she and Rocky might have picked back in the day. Oh, she’d shared many a summer around here, both with and without Rocky. Her most vivid memories always seemed to center around the energetic, gray tabby, however.

She reached for her guitar yet again.

Lola resumed her melancholic plucking as she remembered other summers with her childhood friend. As was sometimes the case, this childhood friendship had lasted into their teens – lasted and grown.

It was also here in Forest Park that they’d shared more adolescent memories together. Walking together along the lake shore, they’d even been among the couples that sailed in the small rowing boats here. As Lola’s blue eyes looked back at the lake, she could remember one time in particular…

Rocky sailing her across the lake during an afternoon, the sun low in the sky, the fireflies out and about, frogs singing; it was the perfect romantic scene, especially for two teens who still had their own sort of idealized version of romance in mind.

Rocky had always had a flair for the dramatic, for theatrics and for poetry. Lola could effortlessly picture herself in a boat, seated in front, facing Rocky who insisted on standing up, using the paddle as if he were steering a gondola. It was something Rocky had seemed to insist on, given Lola’s Italian heritage, even if it wasn’t quite the ideal type of boat or paddle for it. But who was Lola to deny her boyfriend’s efforts to impress her?

And of course, no such boat ride would be complete without Rocky reciting poetry at her. And although the ride was slightly bumpy, at the very least Rocky hadn’t taken a dive in the lake on that night.

Just as the rose-tinted mental image of the two in a boat faded, so did the music from Lola’s guitar. She released the fret board as she felt her throat tighten slightly as she pictured her memory being torn up by the wind and made to dissolve in the air. Lola watched as the wind drew patterns on the surface of the dark water, like a rippling blanket where she had envisioned her and Rocky in a boat.

Her time with Rocky was the happiest time Lola could recall, but they hadn’t been together for long before he left town – and by extension left her. She hadn’t known what was happening at the time, nor had Rocky explained anything to Lola before he’d essentially disappeared.

When he first left, it almost felt like a betrayal, even if he had told her he was going to. The reality of not having him around had hit her rather hard. He was a manic sort of presence that made her life brighter, more exciting. Not many would put up with Rocky’s antics, but Lola had. She’d stuck it out and gladly stuck with him through it all. At least until he left.

Though Lola had no way of contacting him, she had received his letters. He’d sent her pictures, drawings, recollections, even what seemed like diary entries. Lola hadn’t know how hard things were for Rocky at the time.

The letters she received were a reminder that he hadn’t forgotten her, a reassuring thought, even if she herself had no way of reaching him. She had received very few letters that were sent from the same location; Rocky had seemingly been constantly on the move. Every last letter from him was kept in a special box, which she had hidden away under her bed; her father had never been too fond of Rocky, to put it mildly. When Lola and Rocky were little, he used to excuse his unorthodox tendencies as being a byproduct of his age. As Rocky and Lola got older and started dating, however, things got… complicated.

Though Rocky certainly matured, like Lola and their peers, he didn’t outgrow many of his habits that Lola’s father had overlooked when he was younger. He might have even found them amusing at one point. However, when Rocky seemed like he’d never lose that manic, unpredictable edge, it was more often than not too much for Lola’s father to stomach. She and Rocky spent much time away from the de Luca home – far easier to get away with seeing Rocky that way.

Though Rocky did turn out to be rather harmless, at least as far as most fathers were concerned, it never changed Lola’s father’s mind about the young tabby. He did seem to take great pleasure in loudly discussing Rocky flaws at the dinner table when it was just him, Lola and Lola’s nonna around. He’d used quite colorful language, both in English and Italian to describe “that Rickaby boy.” As mean-spirited as much of her father’s commentary had been, Lola never dared speak up to defend Rocky. However, saying that Rocky had “spaghetti arms” was one of the few things he’d said that she had told Rocky about. The term had since become somewhat of an inside joke between the two. They had laughed about that many a time.

Bringing the memories to an end with a single strum of her guitar, Lola let the open chord ring out till it faded, carried away by the breeze. Looking up at the sky, Lola once more gazed upon the clouds, before she got to her feet. Right hand firmly holding her trusty six-string, Lola’s free hand reached for her jacket, draping it over her left shoulder, like a cloak.

She cast one last look at the dark lake water, before she turned to walk along the park towards the exit. She’d best get home and get ready for tonight. She had a gig to attend.

The golden-furred feline’s fluffy tail swayed behind her as the wind picked up ever so slightly. It was still a gentle caress for now, but Lola had a feeling a storm might be blowing in. The brown jacket she had draped around her billowed slightly as she walked. It wasn't unlike her lonely walks after Rocky’s departure, except a gentle autumn breeze like the ones she felt now would have felt like a cold monsoon to her back then. The world had seemed so dull, lonely, quiet.

She had forgiven him, especially now that he was back and she knew why he left. But a decade ago, suddenly losing him had hurt her badly. She’d take lonely walks in Forest Park, reminiscing, trying to feel close to Rocky, despite him being many miles away. The memories they’d made together remained so vivid and clear to her, and Lola knew that Rocky too remembered them fondly.

Lola also knew she ought to bring Rocky along next time she visited the park; it likely wouldn’t be long until it’d be too cold for a little picnic. A picnic did sound good; her, Rocky, an obscene amount of pancakes, watermelon… Just the thought made Lola’s mouth water, but she did her best to push the thought from her mind. She ought to enjoy more watermelon soon, while they were still available to her…

Stepping through the gates to Forest Park felt like crossing over into a different realm. Leaving the green grass, the golden leaves and the beautiful flowers, Lola stepped into a monochromatic world of cobblestone, bricks and concrete. The earthy tones of her brown jacket and pastel green dress stuck out here, like a random tree sprouting out of the sidewalk.

The scent of the city likewise wasn’t one she was as fond of. Especially when compared to the scent of flowers, nature and ripe berries that the wind carried in the park.

It was also as if noise was much more prevalent here; cars driving to and fro on the road and people on the sidewalk seemed more talkative and noisy than in the park. Lola walked with purpose at a brisk pace. Though she hadn’t brought a strap for her guitar, she wished she could put it on and play as she walked. Songs were bouncing around in her head; songs she’d come up with, songs Rocky had suggested to her, and tonight’s set list for the house band she was now part of with Rocky.

Thankfully, Lola’s apartment wasn’t too far. When she made it there, she made her way up the stairs in the hall, after she greeted her landlady, who was on her way out. Lola did her best to be polite, even holding the door for her and everything. She was in hot water with her for bringing Rocky around to her place when she really shouldn’t. It wasn’t decent for a woman to bring a man home like that. That and it was also against the rules around here to bring a man home.

Ascending the steps, Lola felt as though she were climbing the steps to heaven itself, knowing what most likely awaited her in her apartment. As it turned out, her door was unlocked. To most, this might be an alarming thing to be greeted by, but to Lola, it made her heart soar. As she turned the knob, an all too familiar, sweet, hearty scent greeted her.

DAWW thank you so much, love! also sure, i can do that :D

thank you so much for the ask <3 you have a good day yourself!

these are my more recent drawings. i still really love how this came out. its so beautiful as a standee

this is by far my favorite painting i've ever done. i need to touch up on the lighting but besides that, i love it.

i made this for my streams, and i was attempting to replicate the concept drawings that tracy did. i still think this has great shape language.

this is also by far my favorite moonstrings piece. if i could go back and adjust it, i'd only fix rocky's arm and lola's hair

i also adore how i drew these two goobers

some honorable mentions:

fun fact: this was my first ever painting of lola. i made the canvas absolutely massive so it look me weeks to finish it. i'd like to redraw it one day

this was for when i had my merch shop up. i don't plan on making merch anymore

oh boy. rough.

rowan is pretty frustrated with his family as an adult. he's happy but is also disappointed in his father. rocky doesn't work in gangs anymore but he still works dangerously which scares rowan, as he's getting significantly older. he also came to the realization that rocky isn't the cool travelling musician that he thought he was, and is actually pretty incompetent. now that rowan is an adult, rocky has more free time to make up for the 20 years of tomfoolery he missed out on. lola works at home teaching children guitar. she still has physical health issues but she's a lot better. rowan checks up on his parents regularly; also to see if they're still okay financially. they're fine, but rowan worries a lot. he's tough on his dad but it comes from a place of love. he just wants his parents to be okay in his absence.