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bats-and-the-birds · 2 hours

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I am thinking about the batkids and their rooms at the manor.

When Dick was first brought to the manor, Alfred put wooden letters that spelled out his name on the outside of the door to his room. He wanted the boy to feel like he belonged, and denoting the room as his seemed like the best way. At first, they spelled out "Richard", and were painted in red, green, and yellow -- the colors that his parents had worn for their circus act, that didn't have any other meaning yet. Dick pried them off the door and threw them away. He didn't want to accept that this was permanent yet. There were new letters on the door a few days later, blue this time, and spelling out "Dick" instead. Those letters got pried off much the same and shoved in a drawer, and they didn't get put back until a year later. He was too short to put them in the same place, so they ended up crooked, and Alfred found it too endearing to fix.

When he left the manor years later, he considered ripping the letters off the door and throwing them in the foyer on his way out. But he left them, and there they remained, crooked as ever.

Jason got his own letters when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. He helped Alfred put them up on his bedroom door, standing on a step stool to make sure they got in the right place. His were evenly spaced and neatly aligned, and he refused to tell anyone that he cried over them that night. He'd spent months wondering if he'd ever live up to his predecessor, not just as Robin, but in the family as well. And now he had his own letters, just like Dick's, and they weren't going anywhere.

And they didn't. Even after he died. Bruce and Alfred both considered taking the name down to make walking past that empty room less painful, but in the end, they didn't dare touch the letters, just like they didn't touch anything else in the room. Years later, Jason would sneak into the manor through his old bedroom window and find his school uniforms still hanging in the closet, his textbooks on his desk, an open novel on his nightstand, and, of course, the letters still on the door, more of an epitaph than the one on his actual tombstone.

Tim fought for his name on a bedroom door. It took a while, but he trained, and he learned, and he forced himself into the role that he knew he could fill. Part of him thought that no matter how good and useful he made himself as Robin, he'd never really fill the role that the two before him did. He thought there might not be room for him after Jason's death, but he did it. He was older than the other two when Alfred finally put the letters up on his door, but he did it.

Later, when he left in search of Bruce, he didn't think for a second of taking his name down off his door. He'd earned it.

Damian's name got put up practically as soon as he got to the manor. He didn't think much of having his name on a door. If anything, it irked him a bit, being lumped in with the others, but it would have annoyed him more if he didn't get his own name. For a while, his name on the door, marking it as his from the hallway, was the only reason you could tell it wasn't the guest room that it had previously been. He had no photographs, had arrived with no personal affects.

That changed, eventually. As he gained friends, he also gained photos of them. He put up sketches and watercolor paintings of his animals. A dog bed got put on the floor for Titus. But the letters had been there from the beginning, and he grew to appreciate them eventually. His room, with the name on the door, was safe, and he liked it there.

Cass's letters showed up without much fanfare. They were simply there when she exited her room one day. "Cassandra" in black wooden letters that matched all of her new siblings'. She ran her fingers over them with reverence. She'd never been allowed to leave a mark before. Her life was predicated on being a shadow, but there was her name, in big letters, somewhere where other people could see it.

Steph had a room. She didn't want to admit it, but when she crashed at the manor, it was always in the same room. Her name was put up, and she took it down, and it was put up again, and she took it down again until it became something of a game between her and Alfred. If Steph was staying at the manor and Alfred didn't find a wooden S in a random cupboard, then have to search the house for the rest of her name, then he knew she was in a bad mood, and he usually made her favorite cookies and left them outside of the door with her name still firmly in place.

Duke's letters were waiting for him when he moved in. His name in bright yellow letters that matched his suit already in place. Of course it was, it's tradition at this point, and he's part of the family now. He had bounced around for a while now, and the letters on his door made him feel...calmer. It was a sense of permanence, and one he could learn to enjoy.

Barbara didn't need a room. She had her own room, in her own house, but Alfred still offered to mark out a space for her. She declined. When she did stay over, it was either in the cave or Dick's room, she didn't need her own. Still, that didn't mean her mark wasn't left somewhere. There was a study downstairs with a desk that she sometimes did her homework on as a child if she was staying over for the night. Now, the desk held a computer that was wired into the Batcomputer's network, a photo of her and her father, and, of course, tiny wooden letters affixed to the side that spelled out 'Barbara'.

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anulithots · 8 months

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Life is short, they said, so live it to the fullest, enjoy every moment, never regret a thing, and end it full of happy memories.

How could it be that simple?

My life cycled, all that happiness, meant to be spread out over the course of my life, concentrated itself into short bursts. It was wonderous, to love something and everything so much that it hurt. Surely, this was that sort of magic I felt in fiction, or in those rare moments where I actually see - usually outside and when there's trees around.

It left. Happiness so strong and I gripped it as tight as I could, clung to it as it thinned and stretched and strained, before it was too much, and I let go.

My hands were raw, throbbing, (clutching happiness really does a number on your internal world), yet that pain didn't compare to the void. The nothingness, churning at the base of neck, sparking, sending ripples down my spine.

Before the numbness, the nothing that weighed so heavy on my head, which didn't work so well anymore.

It didn't make any sense, all the wonders were still there, everything I should be enjoying is still there, where's the happiness?

(Wasting time, wasting life, I'll never get this back again, what a waste, I should be doing something, I should be happy, happy, happy and life only goes downhill because when you're adult you have too many responsibilities to be happy so I needed to be happy now and I wasn't and that was so strange because children were supposed to be happy, happy, happy.)

And thus begins the journey to try and fix myself - because nothing with the outside world was wrong - and maybe if I'm right, if I'm like the happy ones, then it'll be like the stories, I'll give myself a happy ending.

Weird, it appears that other's happy endings involves being scheduled and productive and having achievements and waking up early and there's nothing about what to do when your brain isn't doing simple, simple things.

Weird, I wanted to play outside more, I wanted to bring my siblings and play forest games like we used to, I wanted to make fairy gardens and paint watercolor leaves and learn biology and write fanficition about it and watch anime and stay up very very late to watch the moon and find patchworks of mosses and clovers and take pictures of them, perhaps put captions along them, I wanted to make stickers and make a thousand pom-poms with googly eyes and give them to strangers and write poetry and be a witch and write an epic story and stare at the clouds for hours, doing absolutely nothing. THAT'S what I had trouble doing, that's what you're supposed to show me how to do, to make me happy all the time so I can do the things I love and never feel off ever again.

But I feel off and wrong, for so so long and it's... weird.

Because there's a weird world in my head, and a weird way it makes me see the world, especially since I've stopped trying to give myself a happy ending.

I've let myself, wander, not clinging to that happiness, and it's... quite freeing, actually, when I don't need to be happy to live my life.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled words #creative writing #take care of yourself #self help #personal growth #self improvement #did not help #me at least #if it helps you #then that's cool #good luck #dear wanderer

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goron-king-darunia · 2 years

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Eggtober 12 Avocado Toast (Featuring Tomato and, of course, Fried Egg.) Clip Studio Paint, Gouache Brush, Dry Gouache Brush, Airbrush (for the barely visible bread texture) and Freckle Pen (for the pepper.) 20 colors, 1 hour 30 minutes. Took a little longer on this one because I spent an inordinate amount of time lovingly rendering the tomato that I knew no one was going to get to see in the final product. (Don’t worry, I saved it to another layer since @quezify said last time that he appreciated the peek behind the curtain.) This was another request by a friend. I must say, I wake up every day excited to choose an egg from the many options I have available and just... have fun putting it down on (digital) paper. I’ve got some yammering about that, but since I’m already going to post a “behind the scenes” under the cut, I’ll shove the musings down there too. As always, big thanks to the Egg Master Supreme, @quezify for organizing this. It’s wonderful to see so many people getting into art again or branching out and drawing eggs for the first time, all because one zany dude said to Tumblr “You know what? Let’s paint eggs for a month.” And enough of us said “Hell yeah” that I get to see so many different styles and mediums. Loving every moment of it!

(Art first, because LOOK AT THOSE TOMATOES! I love how they came out, I want to shove them in my mouth! AAAH!) Now for the rambling musings. I’m starting to get really comfortable with the gouache brush, a tool which I previously never used, and I’m also getting more comfortable with art in general. My usual process from childhood, when I did much more art, was to slap down pencil work on real life sheets of paper, line it in pen or photograph/scan it and upload it to my computer to line with the pen tool, and then just do everything with pen for bright, solid colors. Most of my other techniques were one off flukes, like the fire I did in my icon’s background. And my newer process, as an adult who just started learning Clip Studio Paint, was fairly similar. (I just started with CSP recently because it came free with my newest tablet and my old standard, Photoshop Elements [I dunno the version, 7 maybe?], was too old and would resize on my new rig so all the buttons were SO GODDAMN SMALL it was a pain to use.) The only difference is that, as an adult who’s home more often than not, I skipped the paper. Sketch, linework with the pen tool, then color under the line art with pen. Or, for a certain other project, I color under the line art with the watercolor brush. I’ve always wanted to try gouache because I’ve seen it worked with IRL and it’s got such pretty results! Opaque like acrylics and oils but flows like watercolor. I suppose it never occurred to me to look for it in the toolset. The last time I even used brushes meant to represent real media before CSP was when Corel Painter was a thing and I had it with my very first drawing tablet. And even then I didn’t use it often. I mostly used the watercolors because that was my favored medium IRL. But I quickly started to prefer Photoshop Elements which also came with my first tablet. And slowly I stopped using anything resembling traditional mediums. But I figured, hey, Eggtober is already a time for me to learn some new tricks and get some practice in, watercolor will look too translucent and it has a paper texture to it that I’m not sure I want. Let’s see if this thing has Gouache. And it did. And now it’s my favorite brush. The way it blends naturally, the ease of pressure controls so the opacity is easy to alter stroke by stroke. It feels like laying down real paints. Once I got used to how it behaved it just... clicked. So yeah, now that I know how to work with it and now that I had the brain explosion necessary to figure out my new process of laying down the darkest colors first and working my way up, it was all too easy to go “Oh. I like laying down these colors. And instead of trying to predict where I’m going to put the avocado, I’m just going to draw the full tomatoes for fun and practice and then figure out the avocado slice placement.” And then I spent roughly 45 minutes just... adding detail to tomatoes. Because it was a genuine joy and I was smiling the whole time and I could just look at those juicy tomatoes forever. So yeah, I know I say it every time, but I for real owe quezify everything for giving me a reason to pick up a new tool and learn and just have fun with it. Kicking my depression’s ass, my ADHD’s ass, my artblock’s ass, and my (lack of) motivation’s ass, all with the power of “Egg fun, draw egg.”

#Eggtober 2022 #Eggtober 12 #Fried Egg #Avocado Toast #Tomatoes #my art #I'm just having so much fun with art #For these last 12 days I've fallen into a world where depression doesn't exist and COVID isn't floating around outside #For the last 12 days I've lived in a magical world that's just egg #no bad things #no sadness #just egg #I love Eggtober

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dogueteeth · 2 months

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WIP in My Heart It's Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @silvery-bluish & @glitchy-npc ! Most of my art wips aren't safe to put on tumblr so here ya go, have some writing WIPs! One for each of you!

Abstract Memory

Synopsis: Ricardo finds an art folder Daniel never shared with him... and the title is Isa. He probably shouldn't look through it, but curiousity killed the Ortega.

Could these actually be Isa's works? Ricardo can't see it in Daniel to create something so dark and unfocused. ‘I like painting because it's calming,’ he'd said, ‘I like painting beautiful things because it makes me happy.’ Almost always pastel, when he creates watercolors. Pastel or, more increasingly, vibrant, neon colors, especially when Ricardo catches him creating memories of Isa. Ricardo himself makes sure he's never low in stock on Bismuth Orange. But then again, Isa is no artist. Let alone a watercolor artist capable of creating abstract paintings like these. Not that Danny hasn't tried to teach them, but they did far better with anything that didn't involve a paintbrush or multiple colors. They still have 'the world's ugliest piss-green sunrise' held on a magnet on the fridge. Ricardo glances over to it a few paces away from the living room, lips quirking into the smallest of smiles, and stares back at the unsettling masterpiece in front of him. Ok, theory one ruled out. He flips the page again. When in doubt, dig for more clues.

5 Camels///10 White Horses

Synopsis: Puppetstuck Caesar and Mortum talk in the wake of their breakup.

TW: implied self-harm, cigarette burn

Life doesn't even afford him the small mercies. The first drag is like choking on a lungful of charcoal, and his eyes burn as he sputters and tries to force the breath back into his lungs. Damn. Has this body never smoked before? “There are better ways to relax, mon cher– mon amie.” The correction doesn’t go unnoticed. It stings worse than the cinders on his wrist as he douses the cig. Mortum’s frown is loud even without telepathy but that’s not his problem. Not his body. Maybe that’s the problem, actually. Mortum probably wouldn’t care if he did it with his own wrist, thin and skeletal and pockmarked with cigarette burns. Brutus– Ace’s body is flawless, and he shouldn’t stain it with his habits. At least the burn feels the same; that’s what matters right now. Grounding. Finding an anchor to keep the kite from getting swept in the wind, pain to sanity. “Sorry, forgot,” he murmurs, dropping the cigarette to stomp out the rest of the cinders on the pavement. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t scar him.”

#fhr #sidestep #writing wip #wip not wednesday

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sims-half-crazy · 10 months

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Lena didn't say anything for another week. She wanted to make sure. She honestly didn't know how Gordon was going to take the news of another baby. She wasn't sure she was sure how she was taking the news. They were bursting at the seams of their apartment as it was, and now with another baby they were definitely going to be crowded. She invited him out for a walk. They did this quite frequently as they both enjoyed staying trim, and the exercise helped her hypertension and alleviated his migraines. They left Frank in charge, but told him that Norman should be going down soon, and all he needed to do was read him a story and tuck him in.

The strolled along the tree lined sidewalk in contented silence. They walked towards the grocer and a Fitz Motor Car dealer as the sun set the sky ablaze with hues of violet and tangerine. "You know, when the sky looks as colorful as this it reminds me of all the sunsets over the bay in Springhaven. It really was a beautiful place to grow up. My father took steps to keep it beautiful, and I appreciate that now."

"I don't remember anything of my homeland, but I remember my mother telling me about times during the night when the sky would be painted in blues and greens. Almost like someone was painting it with watercolors. I wish I could have seen it, but Mother told me about it so often that I can imagine it." Gordon loved it when she spoke of her family and history. Her voice took on a lilt to it that made him want to listen to her forever. "My mother would be at a loss of words to see the world now. She'd be muttering about all these horseless carriages. I wish she could have met you and the boys."

"I wish you'd been able to meet my parents, as well. They would've loved you from the start. They'd probably have loved you so well that you would've turned and run away. They had a habit of enveloping people into their sphere and once you were there, you were stuck. They were good, decent people though. They cared about many things. My last favorite memory of them is when they came all the way down here to help me after Evie left. My mother was this force of gentle stubbornness that would leave you completely incapable of saying no to anything she suggested or did. My father was a great speaker and he would talk to you like he'd known you your whole life. They came in and helped me with the twins. I think about them often, and it's eased the pain of losing Everett. I imagine them looking after him for us."

"I think about him often, too. I look at Norman, especially after he's destroyed something again, and ask Everett to curb his wildness. Sometimes Norman calms right down or he'll stop what he's doing and just play quietly. I always thank Everett for his helping hand. I know it sounds silly, but it makes me feel better. I wonder if he'll help with the new one?" A new Fitz Deluxe Deuce Coupe sat in the window behind them. The shiny paint and glimmering chrome distracted Gordon for a moment as he realized what she'd said.

"New one? Lena? Are you? Are we? Again?!" Gordon put his hand on his head in slightly exaggerated surprise. He'd suspected because Lena had been a little fuller in certain favorite areas of his, but he wasn't about to say anything. He liked to remain alive, after all.

"Yes, I'm certain now. I've known for a little while, but was still trying to figure out how I felt. I think I'm happy but we're going to have to find a new place to live. We can't fit another person in our current place." She turned fully towards and placed her hands on his chest, fiddling with his lapels. He loved that she still did that. He put his arms around her, public sidewalk be damned.

"Oh sweetheart!" Gordon was so exuberant that he pulled her in for a kiss. "I do believe, I know a place that's just gone up for sale," he said as he turned them around back towards their building. "It's the redbrick flat just down the road there. The bottom flat has just come on the market. Josiah mentioned it when I saw him last at the barbershop. I'll make an inquiry tomorrow."

#Gosnoll Ancestry #ts4 decades challenge #sims4 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #decades challenge #sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #simerican #GA Gen 4 #Gordon Gosnoll #Lena Lewandowski #GA 1930s

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adenev · 2 years

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Some of my fave Will Byers headcanons :)

🎨 Pulls the: “I can’t believe you’re dating my sister” card with Mike

🎨 Sometimes puts hot sauce on food and then jokes that it keeps the mind flayer away

🎨 Apologizes to inanimate objects when bumping into them

🎨 Wouldn’t eat anything animal shaped growing up because he didn’t wanna hurt them

🎨 Hates the number seven because that’s what he rolled the night he went missing

🎨 Knows how to sew

🎨 Favorite Disney movie is Peter Pan. Close second is Bambi

🎨 Keeps a small snack on him at all times, in fear of getting trapped in the upside down again

🎨 Mixes up his paint water and drinking water a little too often

🎨 Still loves playing games like hide and seek but is too scared to as if anyone wants to play with him

🎨

🎨 Has to sleep with a stuffed animal. Also a night light.

🎨 Will was paired up with one of El’s bullies (specifically the guy with the sun glasses) for the only project where they couldn’t choose their partners. He comes to the Byers house and works with Will in his room. Sees that will has both a stuffed animal and a night light and gets heavily picked on for it. He also sees the picture of him and Mike on his bedside table but doesn’t say anything about it. He knows what Will Byers is.

🎨 Believed in the tooth fairy and Santa longer than the other kids, and his friends made sure to keep it that way

🎨 A hypochondriac and a germaphobe since leaving the upside down. Constantly worried if there are still slugs in him

🎨 Believes in fairies

🎨 Puts a dot on his ceiling for every bad dream he has and now his ceiling looks like the night sky

🎨 Falls asleep at inconvenient times. A very sleepy boy, if you will.

🎨 One time he was proud of his report card grades and brought it up over dinner and Lonnie complained that he should be bringing home awards for sports instead and it just turned into a huge argument between him and Joyce so will never brought up his accomplishments again unless someone asked him

🎨 Knows about hellfire but doesn’t bring it up because he thinks they wanted to play dnd just not with him

🎨 Talks to his stuffed animal

🎨 Studio Ghibli stan

🎨 Cat lover but they make him nervous. He’s afraid to pet them cause he’s afraid even cats won’t like him :(

🎨 Cries every year on his birthday

🎨 Spills almost everything. When he was little he was only allowed cups with lids on them

🎨 A Knick knack enthusiast

🎨 he gets eaten by bugs SO BAD the entire summer he’s covered in bug bites, even when he’s just outside for five minutes, his mom says it’s because he’s so sweet

🎨 watercolor is his main medium

🎨 when he paints he lines his brushes up from most to least favorite

🎨 when he has a bad week, he’ll sleep in his moms bed sometimes

🎨 Favorite seasons are fall and spring because he can wear sweaters with shorts

🎨 “I saw this and got it for you” and has money set aside specifically so he can do this for his friends

🎨 Has a really high pain tolerance. When the group gets matching dnd tattoos, he just chuckles under the needle

🎨 age regresses sometimes to work though his trauma

🎨 Deeply resonates with Rapunzel from tangled

🎨 Checks his temperature religiously, afraid he’ll be the right temperature for the mind flayer again

#stranger things #Stranger things headcanons #will byers #will byers headcanons #will byers is gay #stranger things season 5 #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4

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repost-this-image · 2 years

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Tips For Aspiring Artists

I'm not an expert by any means, but here are some things I've figured out that I wish someone had told me sooner. 1 - 6 are for traditional artists, but the other tips work for digital artists as well.

Get artist-quality supplies. Crayola is nice, but Crayola costs less than artist-quality supplies for the same reason that Barbie's Dream House costs less than a real house: It's for kids to play around with. By all means feel free to practice with Crayola for now, but start saving up for the real thing. You may have to buy markers one or two at a time as you have funds, or ask a friend or family member to buy you that awesome paint set for your next birthday or whatever. Trust me, once you see and feel the difference, you will never go back. It is night and day.

Buy an artists' pen set if you're using traditional media. You know why professionally-inked art looks so good? Because they use a variety of line thicknesses. You know the easiest way to make that happen consistently? A set of artist's pens in varying thicknesses. This is a good set at a reasonable price, and the ink is phenomenal (read that description--your average writing pen doesn't have those qualities). I am not sponsored by Sakura; this is just the first really good pen set I ever bought and it's served me well.

India ink dries waterproof. Let me repeat that: India ink dries waterproof. It's also not alcohol-soluble, which means it's great for working with water- or alcohol-based markers or watercolor paints/pencils. Just make sure your ink has time to dry before you add color!

Prismacolor, Copic, and Spectrum Noir markers are REFILLABLE. This is why they cost more than the store brand. You are expected to keep the marker casing and buy a bottle of ink in a color you're running out of, and a set of spare nibs for when your marker nibs wear out. This is cheaper than buying all new markers, plus you're gonna run out of one or two of your favorite colors way before the rest and you'll be happy to have that ink on hand. These markers are meant for the long haul, and by George they're gonna make sure you can keep using them for the long haul.

Use the right paper for your tools. Sketch paper is great for pencils and some paints, but horrible for everything else. Marker pads are perfect for alcohol markers, but expensive. (I use white cardstock because of how expensive actual marker paper is. Gold leaf is less expensive per square inch.) Watercolor paper has a rough surface that isn't good for charcoal work but has the perfect amount of "tooth" for watercolor paints and pencils, and is thick enough not to pucker the way regular paper does when wet.

Painters, learn about gesso, thinners, and extenders. These items can make your time painting much happier, especially if you work with acrylics on fine details (like, say, doll customization).

Don't overwork yourself. If you're gonna do a marathon art session, set a timer for one hour. At the end of the hour, STOP. Put your supplies down. Get up and stretch your legs and do some wrist exercises. Then reset your timer and start working on your art again. You do not want to end up with carpal tunnel or chronic wrist pain by the age of 25 because you pushed yourself too hard.

Warm up before you start an art session. Nothing fancy--just get out a piece of regular paper and a pencil, and make some loop-de-loops, zigzags, and doodles for 5-10 minutes to loosen your hands up so you can get them to make the shapes you want.

Learn how to practice drawing That Thing You Suck At Drawing. Let's say you suck at hands, and you want to get better. Find a lot of photos of hands in various positions, shown from various angles. Study the way the light hits them. Trace the photos to get a feel for the shapes. Then and only then does it make sense to start trying to draw them freehand. Always refer back to the original photos, NOT to your earlier drawings, so you're less likely to repeat mistakes from your drawings.

Don't be ashamed to use tools that feel like cheating. Real, professional artists use rulers (or the straight-line tool in an art program) and compasses (or the circle program) and stencils (or the stamp tool) all the time. I hear people say things like "You're so talented--I can't even draw a straight line!" You know who can draw a perfectly straight line without help? NO ONE. Tools are there to help you. Use them. There is no special reward for doing things the hard way or Suffering For Your Art. It isn't morally better or a more "pure" form of artistry; it's just harder.

Break the thing you're drawing down into lines and shapes. You know those sketch layers in Photoshop, or those rough pencil marks in traditional art, or the perspective lines in a scene? Artists are basically using sketch time to plot out the general shapes and structures of their subject before fleshing it out more and making it look all pretty and polished. Everything you look at is basically made of lines, shapes, and regions of color. With time and practice, you get better and quicker at doing the sketching part. But you never really outgrow it.

#art reference #art tips #doll customization #traditional art help #digital art help

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ritaovo · 3 days

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Some introduction to the final project: (copied from email)

I want to create a larger space based on the development of Project 1, which will include my favorite art style and certain concepts about exploring my inner self that I have shown in class. It will be a "static space that represents the pain and despair of that time." This concept also comes from the animation I like, which is designed to concretize a human being into a "witch" after despairing of something that only means something to himself - anyway this concept is not important. In short, I like to borrow its idea of expressing content with a centralized concept.

In this design I will use Styly and Blender as well as 3d scanning, and possibly some other 3d software as auxiliary tools. I started with realistic drawings as a base, then put them into blender and turned them into three-dimensional models with the sculpting tool, preserving the texture of the original paper and watercolor paint without destroying its structure. Beyond that I would build this space with the concept of building a "house" because it could mean an inner "me" living here. I didn't intend to use real photos and wanted to make it a space that had nothing to do with reality.

I think one of the challenges I may face is that a lot of content needs to be hand-painted before being placed. So far, I have some materials and they are still being updated continuously. I think I can reuse some materials by copying in the later stage to fill the space. Another challenge may be to sculpt the scanned models later. I have tried some sculpting before, but they are not very effective. I plan to fill the prototypes with some fluffy toilet paper during the scanning to make them as large as possible for later production on the computer.

Reference art style: Source work: Madoka Magica (2014) mentioned above

In addition, in order to better explain, I put some prototypes I have drawn and some reference materials in the attachment. The choice of background music and scene style are basically fixed, but that is the attempt in Styly. (Regarding the lack of music last time, this time I will try to browse through it myself to make sure the background music works before Posting.

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project1939 · 7 months

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Day 87- Film: Moulin Rouge

Release date: December 23rd, 1952.

Studio: Romulus Films

Genre: Drama

Director: John Huston

Producer: John and James Woolf

Actors: Jose Ferrer, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Suzanne Flon, Colette Marchand

Plot Summary: This is a snapshot of the life of famous French artist Toulouse-Lautrec. We see him grow up crippled, hang around Paris’ seedy nighttime haunts, work as an artist, and drink to numb the pain of being disabled.

My Rating (out of five stars): *** ½

This is another film that falls into the “mixed” category for me. There are some things I really liked about it, and some things that just didn’t work. I don’t know that I would wholeheartedly recommend seeing it, but it’s worth seeing if you have some interest in Toulouse-Lautrec or Paris of the 1890s.

The Good:

The art. We see a lot of Toulouse-Lautrec's artworks- finished works, things in progress, and lots of shots of him looking at things that inspired him. We even get moments of the people in some of his paintings and drawings coming to life. That was my favorite part of the film.

The color. Supposedly Housten wanted the film to look like Toulouse-Lautrec directed it, and he was very specific in his use of color. This is technically Technicolor, but you might easily not guess it. The brightness of the normal colors was dimmed down and there was often almost a watercolor feel to it. I prefer the more vivid bright Technicolor, but I really liked this in the context of this film.

The effects to make Ferrer look much shorter generally worked. Obviously there was no CGI back then, but the film did pretty well, considering all the constraints of the era.

The overhanging sense of tragedy and despair. This wasn’t a film that tried to romanticize his life- for the most part (we’ll get to that!). The despair contrasted well with the life and vivacity in his work.

There was some glimpse of the reality of his lifestyle. We never directly hear that one of the women he is around is a prostitute, but it’s hard not to infer it.

Some witticisms in the script. There were lots of good quips and snappy comebacks that I found enjoyable.

It looked more modern than nearly any film I’ve seen so far from 1952. If you had showed me a clip out of context, I would probably guess it was from the mid to late 1960s. The color looked a lot like later versions, and the subject matter was more adult in a lot of ways as well.

The Bad:

Zsa Zsa and lip synching! I’ve never really understood Gabor’s appeal at all, and I found her annoying in this. Then add in the atrocious and obvious lip-synching, and I hated it. I wanted to fast forward through all her singing scenes.

I didn’t always like Ferrer’s portrayal. He played it really guarded and kind of emotionally blank at times. Sometimes this worked, given Toulouse-Lautrec's need for self-protection, but sometimes I wished he showed more emotion. This was true for a lot of his line delivery as well.

His mother in the film was younger than he was! It was crazy. They also didn’t seem to know how to properly age the actress who played her. Instead of going for wrinkles, they seemed to decide, “Let’s make her skin more and more grey! Put more circles under her eyes! She should look like a zombie!” It didn’t work, and it was distracting.

The way they tried to make it all about women. Most films- especially of this era- base everything around a love story. Toulouse-Lautrec didn’t have a “normal” romantic life, given his deformity, and it felt like the film was just shoving women at him to try and make his love life more traditional in the biography sense. Couldn’t they make the film more about other areas of his life?

The romance? I’m not sure if Myriamme Hyam really existed, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t. It just wasn’t believable. I didn’t buy it in the movie, and I wouldn’t buy it in real life either. The actors also didn’t have much chemistry, I felt.

Some of the fictionalizing tried to put too nice of a bow on things. Of course, there were no obvious prostitutes, and we never hear about the syphilis he had that contributed to his death. Did he really find out just before he died that his art was going to hang in the Louvre? And did his father openly admit he was wrong about his son’s work? Some of it seemed a little too rosy.

#project1952 #1952 #project1952 day 87 #100 films of 1952

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heroestales · 8 months

Text

Continued

Anakin Skywalker. It had to be Anakin Skywalker. Why else did the force lift around him like a kriffing sign? Even if it didn't make sense, she could see the pieces of their faces in his. The bridge of his nose like her brother's boyish one and the upturn of her mouth. For the first time, she had looked at someone and saw the map of herself. Sure, Padme looked similar to her, but she had no force signature to run along her soul like a warm blanket or a piece of sandpaper. This was something she had felt before. yet, the brunette could feel cold starlight over cold tendrils of despair and longing. Luke had said he was saved in his death. 'tell your sister that you were right' ran around her head on an average day. Had Vader known the day he had tortured her and blown up the only father that she had ever known? After all, Luke had lost his hand similarly. Luke's mournful look over the spasming hand still lingered for her. It hurt emotionally and physically. Leia was hard headed, but she believed in redemption. She wanted to imagine being the child of a man capable of good. Ben Kenobi wouldn't have surrounded or loved someone completely evil. Yet, the flickers of Bail Organa stabbed her heart like a vibroblade. If he was Anakin and not vader, was she right to fear? To look down on him the way that others did Han. it was confusion. Terror. Longing. A family. She had Padme here who had found her and kept her safe. the memory of how small she felt under the imposing height of Vader. It was vaguely comical to the Skywalker Organa girl thinking that this must have come from his genes. Unless whoever he had convinced to sire a baby as a jedi was a giant. Could he feel it over the bond they were creating? The way her heart leapt at the cage of her chest. Hope was Luke's thing. Boldness with forethought and aggression felt more her brand. Why were those eyes zeroed in on her? The watercolor of Luke's orbs. Maybe it was the missing of him and Han and the rebels that made her dare to dream. The loneliness a cold kiss of its own. Had the force brought her here to kill her at the hands of a handsome sinner who had created her? Or made some sort of clone? The force had always had a crappy sense of humor. Luke had given her the smallest of lessons. It was a painting of hot shadows bathing behind her eyes. Aggression was her usual response here. But the pain and confusion bled into a shock that felt like a cacophonist symphony. When the world of the festival had gone away, the last thing she expected was to be in the arms of what must be a ghost. it had to be a force ghost. Like Ben. Had to be. But Ben had never hugged the twins again. Never pulled them in. She had to have more info. Couldn't scream. Besides, what if this was Vader and he went after Padme? Surely, her Senatorial hero had been despatched by the empire all those years ago. Brown eyes felt heavy as they fluttered. It felt like safety in another life before her mind connected. The face that flickered. An angel or devil. No. Ask questions. A slight flinch shook her body. Not that she wanted to anger him or or put anyone else in danger.Breathe. Though it felt good to be held by someone familiar. There was no hope of grabbing her blaster at this angle. Okay was not a word for her at the moment. Han Solo would be necessary. He'd anger her or worry her into her usually snarling snorlac arrogant self. This place could be too much. "I- I don't know." its less sure than she has ever sounded. The broken girl hidden under general and princess making itself known. "You- You reminded me of someone." That was an understatement. How could this light be anything else?

@desastreorcalamite

#musings: leia organa #aesthetic: space princess #// I am so sleepy so I hope this isn't the worst though it made me so excited

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monster-fricker · 2 years

Text

Part 3: Forest All His Own

Male Orc (He/Him pronouns) x Female Human Reader (She/Her pronouns) - SFW Chapter, but will eventually be NSFW

- TW wound and blood mention (again, nothing explicit). This one is a little shorter. We're starting to get fluffy and flirty, friends. -

If the birds chirping outside your window were any indication, you awoke in the morning. You were still in pain, but had adjusted to it well enough, and got out of bed. You thought about changing into the clothes in your bag, but they were dirty, mud-stained from being thrown on the ground. Instead, you put on another oversized shirt, clean and smelling the way Galaak did, like bonfire and earth. He must have laid it out for you while you slept. It made you smile. You certainly couldn't manage his trousers, nor did he give you any, so you settled for your least offensive pair, frantically swiping off brush and soil. You felt self-conscious for a moment, though you weren't sure why. Maybe you were sure, though it would take a knife at your throat to admit it. You smoothed your hair, for the first time in a long time, and opened the door.

At your feet, a small heap of cloth rested on the floor. It was red and tied sloppily with twine. A gift? You hesitated before picking it up and undoing the knot, unwrapping with caution. There it was: your dagger. It had been cleaned and sparkled like new under the lantern flames. He must have went back and found it! You let out a sob. Pressing the dagger to your chest like it was a stuffed doll, you immediately ran to the kitchen, ignoring the sting of your wounds, elated and prepared to thank Galaak until your voice went hoarse.

However, you stopped in your tracks when you saw him. He sat at the table, eyes closed and shirtless. His abdomen had fresh lacerations across it, a few bandages barely covering them, and the rest of the bandages still clutched in his hand.

"Galaak!" you screamed, "What's happened to you?"

This made his eye snap open and he let out an angry growl before realizing it was you. He gave you a weak smile. "Did you like your gift, little one?"

The realization came all at once, overwhelmed you. Suddenly you were on your knees in front of him crying, inspecting his wounds through tears. He hadn't simply found the dagger. Of course he hadn't. He had done something much more foolish.

"Galaak, you didn't have to do this! You could have been killed!" You flung yourself upright, grabbing a rag and the first water pitcher you found, then returned to your original position. You began cleaning the blood and grime from his torso. He winced. "Why would you do that? You're an idiot!"

He cocked his eyebrow and stared at you inquisitively. You realized perhaps he may not have expected you to touch him in such a way, but you didn't care. He let out a chuckle, then winced again. "A thanks would have surely sufficed."

You scowled. "A thanks? I wouldn't have been thankful if you had ended up dead."

"I've cheated death my fair share of times. Those weaklings certainly wouldn't have been the exception." He tried laughing again, but it was interrupted by a growl of pain. His voice began to trail off. "There were more of them than I expected, I'll admit..."

You had a million questions, but you didn't respond. You focused on washing him, dipping the rag in water and erasing the mess with long, gentle strokes. His chest rose and fell with each breath. You secretly admired his body while you worked, let your hands linger on the chiseled lines of his muscles, pretending like you hadn't noticed his nipples harden or the way his exhalation grew heavier as you moved lower. You took pleasure in watching his flesh turn back to that vibrant green with a few, slow swipes. He was a forest all his own, you thought. A watercolor painting. When you reached the waistband of his trousers, Galaak purred. He shifted uncomfortably. So did you.

You grabbed the bandages and motioned for him to stand. He obliged and you stood in front of him, close, too close. Your thighs burned, something inside you ached, and your cheeks flushed. It was difficult reaching your arms around his thick body to wrap his torso entirely. In fact, it would have been easier if he had done it himself, but he offered no help and you wouldn't have allowed it anyway. If he listened hard enough, you wondered if he'd be able to hear your heart beating. You wondered if his was beating the same way.

Once it was finished, you both remained there, wordless and breathless, close, too close. It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. You could have stayed there forever.

Finally, Galaak spoke. "You never answered my question."

"What question was that?" you asked, still dazed.

"Did you like your gift?"

You looked up at him. His eye was heavy lidded, that lopsided smile growing.

"Of course I did." Without second thought, you hugged him tightly, then pulled back to meet his gaze once more.

He had an expression you couldn't identify. "I'm glad, little one. Or should I call you little nurse now?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Sit. Let me make you breakfast. Being a fool surely works up an appetite."

His smile turned into a toothy grin. "Little chef too."

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

#monster bf #orc #orcs #orc bf #orc boyfriend #orc love #monster boyfriend #monster lover #orc x reader #orc x human #terato #monster x human #monster x reader #long post

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lyukablau · 3 years

Text

Chuuya’s reactions when he found out your vent book.

A/N: Hii everyone, it’s Lyuka! This is the second fic in my new blog. Again, if you see any grammar errors or spelling mistakes please let me know! I’m still new to this kind of writing😊. I have decided that I’ll do first five headcanon (or more if I see it necessary) to get use to it and will do one shot and scenarios after that.

Type: Headcanon, fluff and comfort.

WARNING: mental illness.

You and Chuuya have dating for a long time, since he joined the Port Mafia and you appeared after him one month.

Mori saw how close you guys are and how effective you and Chuuya bring for him and organization, he decided let you paired with him after Dazai left the Mafia.

Chuuya knows every, single, things about you. What you like, what you don’t like, knows your favorite ice cream flavor, knows what you need immediately just by your expression and knows how much you love him and you know how much he loves you.

He also knows that you love drawing. Sometimes he saw you draw in your sketch book and always bring that book with you.

But he have noticed one thing recently about it.

You don’t own any painting supplies. No watercolor, brush or palette. He didn’t see any pencil use for sketch like the other artist he see in internet.

At first he though that you have your own drawing style that don’t need any of them, just a black ink pen is enough for you. If it that so, he will buy you the prettiest and best quality black pen for you. Until that day.

It was the time when both of you doing paper works in Chuuya’s office, the thing that you and him hates so much.

“I’m done! Now I’ll give this for boss, I’ll be back soon!”

“Okay, doll. I’m almost done too and then we can go home together. Sound good?”

“Perfect”

Then you left the room with folder in your hand. Chuuya smiled at your cute form and back to his work.

Chuuya roses his hand to the take the coffee cup but accidentally hit the folders mountain felt to the ground, made the floor messy.

He groaned with annoying face, sighed heavily and kneel down to pick them up.

Just then, his eyes met the book open at a random page, and open his eyes wide when he saw how terrify the page is.

It is your drawing book. He pick up the book, read and look every single things that you drew. There are some small faces, bleeding eyes, lean bodies, red marks running along human wrist and many sentences that he sure is what your mind thinking.

At that moment, he felt hurt and regrets. Why didn’t he noticed this sooner? If he did, you won’t be this hurt and stress. He should have asked, he should have had eyes on your more often.

“Chuu! I’m back. Are you...”

Your sentence stop when you saw him read your vent book and hold it tightly. His eyes gazed with your scaring expression, but none of them are express anger towards you.

“Y/N, what is this?”

His voice filled with angry and pain, and you know that you can’t hide it anymore.

You told him everything, that you have depression and anxiety, but you don’t want to tell him because you scared he will leaves you and hates you.

Chuuya put the book on the table then slowly walked toward your crying form, hugged you tightly and rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry, love. I should have known. I should be there when you depressed, and I should have noticed that you in pain”

“It’s not your fault Chuuya. It’s my fault for hide it from you”

“No love, you don’t have to apologize”

You want to say something but you stay silent instead. Chuuya wiped your tears with his thumbs, kissed your forehead softly and told you to sit down, waiting him clean the messy floor.

After that, Chuuya take your vent book and won’t let you touch it ever again. It will trigger you every time you see it and he don’t want to see you in pain.

He will do anything for you, he also encourage you to meet the therapist, but he won’t force you if you don’t want.

He will extremely careful when you feeling down, he won’t talk much (although inside him really want to) and just hugs you, whisper nothing in your ears and won’t leave your side until you feel better.

He will do his best to keep you safe and make you happy, and he won’t leave you or stop loving you, ever.

(Phew! That was long, I was considered that this should be in scenarios instead but I hope you don’t mind with headcanon. I’m still new to this and need time to get use to it. I’m very appreciate if you reblog and like this post. It helps me gain motivative to writing🤗)

#chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader fluff #Mental health #BSD x reader fluff #Btw I study psychology and I'm good at it

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arvandus · 3 years

Note

Heyo, could I request #25, Shigaraki and fluff? Congrats on 500!!!!!!

This is my first time writing for Shigaraki, and I must say I totally enjoyed it once I got the rhythm/mood for the scene. I hope you like it! (I also hope you’re still around to see this, since this request was done via anon back in March)

Pairing: Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1707

Warnings: None; just fluffy, soft shiggy

25. “Stay.”

The night sky is heavy with clouds, their thick underbellies colored a sickly greyish brown from the pollution of city lights. You can smell the moisture in the air as you and Shigaraki walk down the now empty streets. Most of the city is asleep now, with only the occasional nocturn passing by – nightshift workers, bar hoppers, seedy dealers. But no matter who passes by, they always steer clear of the two of you. Shigaraki has that effect on people, his presence triggering people’s basic survival instincts that are buried deep in their subconscious.

He doesn’t have that effect on you, though, at least not anymore. It isn’t to say that you don’t recognize his power or his brutality, but you know that you would never be a target of it. With Shigaraki, you are safe. There’s an unspoken alliance between you, built over shared experiences and mutual respect. And it is through this unusual comradery that you’ve grown to understand Shigaraki and, in secret, grown to like him.

He doesn’t know about that last part, though. And you certainly aren’t going to tell him any time soon.

The clouds above deliver on their promise with a sudden crack of thunder that takes you by surprise, followed by an immediate downpour of heavy, thick droplets that immediately soak into your clothes, matting them to your skin. It roars around you, gusts of wind whipping up walls of rain that yank your drenched clothes around your body.

“Shit.” Shigaraki growls. He doesn’t even bother to try to cover himself from the storm, instead letting nature beat itself against him fruitlessly as he stands still as a stone.

Your eyes quickly search for a safe space. You spot a closed store front with an awning over the entrance, a red neon “CLOSED” sign beckoning you to safety with each flicker.

“This way.” You shout over the rain. You hook your arm with his and lead him to the covered space with a run. He doesn’t fight you as your feet splash through the wet puddles already forming on the broken sidewalk, and you pray you don’t slip on the slick concrete, bringing Shigaraki down with you.

Once you’re safe under the awning, you look at Shigaraki and burst into laughter. He is drenched from head to toe, his messy locks lying flat and heavy with water as small rivulets run down his cheeks and his nose. His mouth is pulled into a frown as he looks down at you with annoyance.

“Why are you laughing?” he grumbles. His voice is nearly lost to the drumming of the rain on the metal above you, but you see the words on his chapped lips.

“I mean, look at us...” you giggle. “It’s pretty funny. We’re completely soaked, like two drenched, angry cats.”

“I’d hardly consider that funny.” He replies. The sourness of his tone only makes you giggle harder as you struggle to compose yourself.

“Sometimes, Shig, you just have to savor the moment for what it is.” You explain as you watch the rain fall. “We can’t change it, so we might as well find the humor in it.”

You look back at him, expecting to your eyes to lock with his, only to find find him staring down at your hand – the hand that is still curled around his arm, your fingers nestled into the crook of his elbow.

“Oh,” you exclaim as you relinquish your grip. “Um, sorry.”

He looks up at you finally and you freeze, expecting to see anger in his ruby depths at your audacity. Instead, you find only confusion – raw and strangely innocent in its genuineness. That almost scares you more than his anger because you can’t explain it, you can’t understand its source or what it means. All you do know is that you feel like his eyes are somehow unlocking your own defenses, his blood-red gaze sinking deeper and deeper into you until you have to avert your eyes before he discovers what lies beneath.

Shigaraki doesn’t give so much as a noncommittal grunt to your rushed apology as you look away. Silence falls like a blanket, suffocating and warm, and your heart flutters like a moth as you bask in Shigaraki’s presence. You watch the sheets of rain come down, glittering drops dancing in the pull and ebb of the wind that beats against your pant legs. As you watch quietly, your fingers curl together as the memory of the feel of Shigaraki’s arm lingers on your fingertips.

You don’t know if he’s watching the rain the same as you, or if his eyes are elsewhere – tracing the curves of your profile or watching your clenched hands that were clinging to him so comfortably just moments before. You resist the urge to look at him again out of fear of getting caught, even though you swear you can still feel his eyes on you. But eventually the two of you fall into a shared calmness – a small, peaceful haven in a wild, violent world. The storm fades to a gentler rain after a couple of minutes pass, and it’s in that moment that time seems to slow down. It’s like standing inside a watercolor painting, the bright colors of the neon signs and streetlights reflecting off the rivers of water racing across the pavement. They mix and blend into a sea of colors as the raindrops sparkle in the lamplight like diamonds. Let your vision blur just enough, and it’s as if you’re in the center of the universe, floating amongst the stars and nebulas, and you and Shigaraki are two celestial bodies locked in orbit around each other, pulled together yet still achingly separate in a perfect balance of gravity.

The rain stops as suddenly as it came, bringing with it a numb silence before the tinkling sound of water returns to your years. It sounds like bells. There are the small bells that ring like windchimes as water drips through the trees, bouncing from leaf to leaf to finally land on the tops of cars and trash can lids. There are the heavy bells that sound a gong, big fat drops that fall from the rooftop architecture to resound on the awning above your heads. And there’s all the other sounds in between – the passing hum of the occasional car, their tires kicking up oil-slicked spray from the black streets; the rivers flooding down into the rain gutters that sit like wide, open mouths drinking thirstily; the soft gust of wind that makes the signs swing on creaky hinges. It’s beauty in every sense of the word, every detail perfect in its own way.

You want to stay here, to linger with Shigaraki and savor the quiet beauty that’s spread out before you. But the chill is soaking into your bones now, your fingertips icy numb. You inhale a deep breath of cold, wet air and let out a sigh as your breath fogs the space in front of you. “Looks like it’s over, for now...” you say. “We should get going.”

You take a step forward. But before you can duck out from beneath the now-dripping sun shade, a finger hooks with yours, halting your escape.

“Stay.” The word falls softly from his lips, barely audible.

You turn to look at him, your eyes wide, mouth parted. A rogue droplet of rainwater rolls down your cheek before catching in the corner of your mouth. You lick at it, taking it in on your tongue and Shigaraki is watching, his ruby eyes nearly black in the night.

He gives a gentle tug with his pinky and you follow his lead, closing the gap between you as you rejoin him. The corners of his mouth no longer pull into a frown or even a grin – instead they hold the slightest hint of a curve, barely noticeable unless you’re standing as close to him as you are. It adds a softness to his features that you’d never seen before. And his eyes... they’ve gone from hard-cut gems to liquid pools, his brow free of the usual stress lines and his lids relaxed as he looks down at you. The thumb of his free hand comes up to brush against your lower lip and you inhale at the feel of his calloused touch – a touch so destructive and yet, in this moment, so tender.

“Wh...what are you doing?” you whisper.

“Savoring the moment.” He replies.

You swallow the lump in your throat – surely it must be your heart, trying to escape with its newfound wings – and close your eyes, falling deeper into the sensation of his touch on your sensitive skin. Time freezes and you’re stuck in this moment hanging in blissful limbo. Surely, you’d wanted. You’d wanted, but never actually thought, never hoped, not even for the slightest moment...

You hear the rustle of his jacket and time springs forward again, bringing with it the softest brush of his lips against yours. They’re chapped and scarred, a rough, imperfect offering of himself. His lips move with inexperience dressed in uncertainty, but you accept it gratefully, your body leaning into the kiss, your lips sharing in the slow dance with his own.

Just as your free hand finds itself on the line of his jaw, the wet strands of his hair tickling the back of your palm, he pulls away slightly, breaking the kiss. He stares at you with a tender gaze and for the first time you feel a peacefulness emanating from him that wasn’t there before. It mirrors the quiet evening surrounding you, a calm that can only be felt when its existence is put in contrast to the storm the came before it.

You smile at him softly as you move your position to stand next to him. With your pinkies still linked, you rest your head on his shoulder and watch as the rain begins to fall again. Shigaraki is like the storm - a hurricane of rage and pain that takes no prisoners, yet beautiful in his destructive force. But for now.... for now, you’re both sitting in his center, in the eye where the air is still and the skies are clear, and you see a different kind of beauty, a beauty that you weren't sure existed in him. And you know that as long as you stay by his side, you’re safe.

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #Shigaraki x Reader #tomura x y/n #shigaraki x you #soft shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #Shigaraki

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ssephicuss · 3 years

Text

Date ideas with the obey my boys

I'm feeling kinda sad right now so I'm gonna post these date ideas I've had in my notes for forever ^^

Lucifer

Wine tasting

Well he gives off big mum energy so yeah

It's classy, it's elegant and I think it suits him well

Tipsy lucifer is affectionate lucifer

Origami/crafts

I feel like that he really enjoys making those little paper cranes, it's theraputic and they look nice

He's really good it at, teaching MC how to do origami would boost his ego a tonne, especially if MC has no idea how to do paper crafts

He would do the thing where he puts his hand on top of MC's and shows them how to fold the paper

Really it's just an excuse to try to fluster MC

Mammon

Drive in movie

Mammon for sure gives off drive in movie vibes, the kind where it's an old black and white horror flick

Tries to wrap his arm around MC, acting all suave

MC notices and leans into him, gets him all flustered

Mammon is notoriously bad with horror flicks, he tries to be all brave but hides behind MC for a good portion of the movie

Plus drive in movies aren't the most expensive dates either

Photoshoot

Now unlike the horror movie, he is in his element

He teaches MC how to pose for photos

They take plenty of matching outfit pictures together

No one knows, but he keeps a small passport sized photo of MC from their modeling session in his wallet

Whenever he's sad, he takes it out and gives it a quick kiss, always brightens up his day

Leviathan

Arcade games

He would love to take out his henry to the arcade

He's a seasoned cranesanity user, so he's in his element

If MC wants a specific prize from an arcade machine, you best believe he is going to get it

Will not stop until he gets it

May end up spending all his grimm on that machine

Actually loves those dancing arcade games, if you pick an anime op, he's already won

Go karting

Okay but this is totally his vibe

He would LOVE THIS

He's really tall so his knees would be really high up but he's having a great time

Gets super competitive with this, gets pouty if he loses, but after a quick kiss, he's fine

He'd want the pink go kart, it reminds him of ruri-chan

Satan

Botanical gardens

He would love this so much

It's nice and warm, the flowers are in bloom

He would take MC to a bench that's surrounded by rose bushes and such

It's a great place for him to talk to MC

He holds MC's hand and brushes his thumb over their knuckles, eagerly listening to whatever MC he's to say

He loves the scenery, but he loves being with MC even more

He would have prepared a picnic, with cute small sandwiches and fruit (cat shaped cus cute)

Art museum

He is a connesure of the arts

He loves looking into art history, any knowledge behind the painting and he's interested

He's an absolute art nerd and I love him for it

If he comes across a painting that he knows a lot about, he will go on a tangent about it

He'll apologise for talking so much (didn't want to be a bother), but MC assures him that they enjoyed hearing him speak

MC let's him nerd out as much as he wants for the rest of the date

Asmodeus

Thrifting

Asmo loves a good thirft shop

Sure he loves to splash out on his clothes and appearance in general

But he loves the joy of finding that perfect item of clothing, the one that you just can't find anywhere else

He'd find a bunch of items, and he'd do a little diy project with MC, tailoring their thrifted finds

He loves a good vintage moment

Mini golf

Okay hear me out here

I really think that asmo would like mini golf

One of the very aesthetic mini golf courses

He would stop at every course to take photos for his devilgram page

He would find you two the cutest golfing outfits possible

He loves how cute and dainty everything is

After the golfing, he and MC would stop at a cute little cafe for smoothies and gossiping chatting

Beelzebub

Now I'm a big beel stan and I don't like how his whole personality is just food

Hiking

He would love to take MC out hiking

He loves swing the sights, atop hike trails where the scenery is beautiful

He would help carry MC if they couldn't keep up

Just loves being with MC, loves every minute he spends with them

They talk, talk about silly things, stories from the human world, stories of the brothers and their mischief

MC gets tired after, so Beel carries them down on his back

Paining date

I feel like a relaxing watercolor painting date would be nice

He doesn't seem like the type to paint, but I love the idea of this big hulking guy, painting a cute dainty river

He really is a sweet guy, he decides that he wants to paint a landscape of MC's favourite season

He isn't the best at it, but MC can tell he put his heart and soul into that painting

Belphegor

Movie marathon

He would have a movie marathon up in the attic with MC

Pillows and blankets strewn everywhere, to make it as comfortable as possible

Would probably watch a series of sorts

Maybe harry potter, and laugh at how the human world portrayed magic

Would end up falling asleep curled up with MC in their huddle of blankets

Lego building

This one came to me a little randomly

But MC would get one if those big lego sets to do together

He would probably grumble a bit in the beginning

But after they started, he would become more interested and would actually want to finish it

While MC is looking for a certain piece, he would snipe they instructions away from them, and would only give them back after a kiss on the cheek

This happens multiple times

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #headcanons #om! hc #om!#obey me brothers #otome games #otome #otome boys #this has been sitting in my notes for ages and i think its deserves to see the light of day #jessi-headcanons

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obeymeluv · 4 years

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Signs they Love You

Back for my 1 post a week to prove school hasn’t totally killed me! When I get a semester break, I’ll post more often. In the mean time, feel free to leave me chats or PMs for stuff you want to see! :) Something nice and sappy for an okay Saturday

These turned out really long so I only did Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan. I have to get back to studying :/. Maybe I’ll have part 2 next week?

Lucifer

You wouldn’t be able to notice it because his pride wouldn’t allow you to. One of the brothers (or, to Lucifer’s extreme mortification, Lord Diavolo) would have to tell you

He’s not sure if it’s just the appreciation of you not being as totally chaotic as his brothers or genuine human naivete that has somehow worn off on him, but he loves you

Will be outed by sappy, soft stares that last 2 seconds too long.

Asmo and Satan are the first to notice and he LOATHES that

If he’s tasked with waking you up that morning, his knock will be firm but his voice will be gentle. Almost persuasive or commiserating

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by school workload, he may have a private conference with the teacher and grant you a minor extension. Will you know it was him? No. Is he happy to see you brighten up and refill with hope just a bit? Definitely. Is it worth the teasing from Lord Diavolo? ...Sure.

If he responds to texts in the wee hours of the morning when he’s still pouring over paperwork, he likes you.

Anyone who knows him can see how his eyes soften when someone else talks about you. There’s a fond slowness to his actions, how he glides his hand imperceptibly over his chest as if to feel where that emotion is coming from. Boy is whipped.

Should Lord Diavolo invite him out for a meeting, he will bring you back something small. Something he thought you’d like. Beel is upset. Levi yells “SIMP!” from the second floor and prepares for Armageddon.

Actually reminds you about assignments if you’re not already up on it yourself. Your success is his joy.

Is very keen on if/when you burn the candle too long and has a sixth sense for bad sleeping habits. Will put you on a stricter schedule for your own health

It may take almost all of the brothers to do it (or just help from Diavolo) but if he gets drunk on Demonus you’re getting a whole BOOK about why he likes you. He almost charms your memory away but everyone practically dog-piles on him not to because he needs to deal with his feelings.

You’re the only one he won’t chase out of his study when he’s doing paperwork. He’ll even set up a little fire if you like the fireplace.

How he confesses: tries to take you on a fancy date to Ristorante Six. Does not know that Lord Diavolo and Barbatos know about this (damn time-travelling butler!) and basically crash the date just to encourage him. Just long enough to encourage him.

Kind of an, “So you chose this idea, Lucifer? Admirable! I’m sure your date will be amazing! Enjoy your evening!” as Diavolo walks back to his table.

Does Lucifer deny it? Look and see how red his face is. If you’re really not sure, ask Diavolo. He will gladly yell, “I cannot lie!” across the restaurant.

Mammon

For all his talk, when he really, really decides he likes you, he doesn’t know what to say.

He can console himself with how obvious it is and how you made the best choice, but he has to show it! What to do?

Mammon’s kind of confused about it because he doesn’t really change how he behaves. You didn’t catch on already?! C’mon, human!

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Do an interview with Majolish?

His first tactic is to just be around you. Be subtle, and maybe cuddle a bit more than usual. Things to show he’s kittenish and at your mercy. Comfortable with you.

You don’t seem to be getting the hint so he throws the net a little wider by trying to find things you like or that you’ve been talking about. They mysteriously show up at your door.

It sends the others on a gossip train about who your admire could be and when they list off everyone BUT him, he wants to slam his head on the table.

Feeling tired? Coffee! Backpack heavy? Silly human, the BEST man can help you with that, OBVIOUSLY! Mammon jumps at the chance to do any little thing for you because he cares. His actions always speak louder than words.

Feeling kind of defeated and embarrassed, Mammon will go talk to the flock of crows that meander around the House of Lamentation’s yard when he really needs them.

For the next few days you’re accosted in the nicest way, birds chirping at you and dropping off various shiny things

You collect them, finally showing them to Mammon and he’s embarrassed that his representative animal has taken to courting you on his behalf.

He calls them to him, embarrassed and ready to rant or fall into the ground never to be seen again, when they start talking. Repeating all the things he’s practiced saying.

“Hey baby,”, “Hey human,” “Love you!”, “Silly! Silly!”, “Dummy, no, dummy!”, “My human.”

It’s broken and confusing, six or seven bird children cawing in your face and bobbing, but you get it.

Levi

Levi’s not the best at expressing himself but it counts, right? As much as he hates to admit he’s some kind of shy tsundere, you know what that is, right? He doesn’t have to say it?

Yes. Yes he does. His brothers are getting too chummy with you and you don’t understand his signals. Time for Plan B.

If you get invited to stand in line for a midnight release, he hopes you take it. Then it’s just you two hanging out in line? What’s this? He brought snacks? Totally not for the two of you BUT you an have some if you’re hungry. It’s whatever

When he’s not doing boss raids and playing with online friends, he’ll ask if you want to play something with him. A Player 1 needs a Player 2, you know?

I headcanon that Levi knows how to play some unusual instruments like the kalimba or a real ocarina. I could see him making you a song on one of those. Or just playing it because you inspire him. He’s very good with a harp and will play it when he’s in the mood.

Boy also likes to draw and paint. Especially loves watercolors. Would it be weird if he gave you a painting of you as a mermaid? Just you and the ocean. Beautiful.

Was there a really cute plush or knickknack you liked? Levi has his ways, regardless of how rare or limited edition it is. It will be yours.

He has a hard time understanding a passing comment of interest versus a genuine want because he genuinely wants everything he’s interested in, so if you hear a whisper about him almost securing something, stop and look it up. Make sure it’s not super expensive!!

Probably outed by Belphegor, who feels like Levi’s broadcasting all of his stress, frustration, and hope through his dreams. (”His dreams are weird. Just different ways of asking them out, and if he messes up it restarts like a simulation. My brain hurts.” he says to Beel)

You’re allowed to come into his super-restricted bedroom haven when everything’s too much. It’s very exclusive since the Mammon incident. Be happy.

Might go swimming in his big tank and pick a seashell or rock to make a necklace out of. He hopes you like it.

If he’s not outed by Belphie, some of his online friends made a game demo they wanted him to try. They specified it was two player so he asked you to join in. While he’s in the middle of bragging about how he knows people, knows developers, he totally misses the dating-sim like dialogue and the big reveal.

Doesn’t really kick in until he realize the characters look like you two. You’re busy saying ‘Yes’ to “Do you like me?” as Levi absolutely threatens to rip them apart six ways to Sunday. Almost in full demon mode, too.

Everything falls out of his brain and quiets in his throat when he realizes the characters are kissing and ‘THEY SAID YES!’ flashes on the screen.

“Y-You like me?”

“Yep.”

It was that easy all along. Levi thinks he’s going to faint.

Satan

Becomes aware of it pretty quick but ignores it for a looong time

Is it rude or foolish of him to assume you would also like him back?

Run away into books. A solid plan. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue

Oh, but it is an issue when you fall asleep after a mutual day of reading, forced in by bad weather. He finds his heart fluttering in a painful squeeze as he quietly whispers all the things he dare not say when you’re awake

It’s nervous poetry, and it’s beautiful

Satan tries to get himself back on track, to focus on reading, and he gets frustrated when he’s stuck on the same page almost an hour later

When you’re on the brain he just can’t do anything else

How does one show their affection? He’s swimming in books for a new reason now, as voracious as ever

He brews you a pot of Melancholy Coffee and is a bit disappointed you don’t know the meaning behind the bitterness. Wants to break the pot when Lucifer jokes about how it tastes exceptionally bitter to him as well.

Okay, so coffee didn’t work. What else do people do when they show their affections?

Asmo suggests a ‘not a date’ date and Satan sighs inside. Sounds like a lot of work and effort. It’s not that you’re not worth it, but he has a feeling that everyone will know and look at him the whole time.

Tries anyways. You guys go to a beautiful nature conservatory and take a tour of the plants and some indigenous animals

You’re starting to realize it now, he can tell. Satan tries to answer your question without saying it while you’re at school. You walk together, he offers to carry some of your books, and always requests that he be your project partner

Nearly there. If there was a single defining moment for him, he’d want it to be classic. He shows up at your door with a rose and asks you to go on a moonlit walk.

Mammon’s poking fun about how cheesy and cliche it is, Asmo’s gearing up to shut Mammon’s stupid mouth, and Satan just whisks you out the door with an aggravated sigh.

No matter what side of the house you’re on, Asmo throws up the biggest, gaudiest handmade sign that’s like ‘CUTEST COUPLE! 10/10!’

#Obey me!#Obey me x reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Levi x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Satan x Reader

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