#it's literally a painting you'd see in like a museum

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

FINALY ITS DONE ITS DOND HERE SHE IS HERE SHE IS IN HER 6 HOURS RENDERING

TADAAAAAAA HAPPY VERY LATE BIRTHDAY SHEEEPPPP

Aaaaaaaaaaa *passed out*

Thank you so much sheep! For everything!

Hello Bones! ♡

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BONES OH MY GOODNESS??????? THIS IS INSANE!?! THANK YOU SO MUCH ♡♡♡♡♡♡

I WAS NOT EXPECTING A MUSEUM WORTHY PAINTING OF LYDIA??? LIKE THIS IS SO GOOD AND MUST HAVE TAKEN SO MUCH TIME??? THANK YOU SO SO MUCH ♡♡♡ THIS IS SUCH A WONDERFUL GIFT!!! ♡♡♡♡♡ 🥺🥺🥺

[inkskinned]

for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.

i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.

in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.

the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.

i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.

i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.

i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.

the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.

when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.

we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Hello!

I am an aspiring author who struggles with accurately portraying historical clothing, and I stumbled across your blog while searching for photographs and information on late 19th century/USA Gilded Age fashion. From the research I've seen compiled across books/the internet, the clothing of the upper class from that area is very well documented in paintings, garment catalogues, photographs, museums, etc....but finding information on what the day-to-day wear of normal people was like is proving much more difficult. Since you seem to be knowledgeable in the subject of historical clothing in this approximate time period, I was wondering if you knew about any good resources to learn more about what people who couldn't afford to follow upper class trends were wearing in the general era as well as any general information around these items.

If it helps, I'm focused on eastern and southeastern United States farming/small railroad town/mountain mining/gulf coast wetland communities, but even just more general resources about what sort of clothing that the average poor person during the Gilded Age wore would be greatly helpful. I've been able to find a few photographs here and there, but these probably aren't an accurate depiction of a persons' 'day-to-day' wear, and I also haven't found much on how women learned to sew homemade clothes, what garments if any would have been bought, where people in rural areas would have sourced their cloth, what undergarments were like, how work shoes were made & aquired, ect.

Please feel free to ignore this if it isn't something you're interested in answering as I'm sure you get a lot of asks, but I'd greatly appreciate it if you have any pointers!

So here's the thing about 19th-century clothing:

in many ways, it's the same all the way down

now, that's a serious generalization. is a farm wife in Colorado going to be wearing the same thing as a Vanderbilt re: materials, fit, and up-to-the-minute trendiness? obviously not. but because so much of what people wore back then has only survived to the present day in our formalwear- long skirts, suits, etc. -we tend to have difficulty recognizing ordinary or "casual" clothing from that period. I also sometimes call this Ballgownification, from the tendency to label literally every pretty Victorian dress a Ball Gown (even on museum websites, at times). Even work clothing can consist of things you wouldn't expect to be work clothing- yes, they sometimes worked in skirts that are long by modern standards, or starched shirts and suspenders. Occupational "crap job clothes" existed, but sometimes we can't recognize even that because of modern conventions.

A wealthy lady wore a lot of two-piece dresses. Her maid wore a lot of two-piece dresses. The trailblazing lady doctor working at the hospital down the road from her house wore a lot of two-piece dresses. The factory worker who made the machine lace the maid used to trim her church dress wore a lot of two-piece dresses. The teenage daughter of the farm family that raised the cows that supplied the city where all those people lived wore a lot of- you get the idea. The FORMAT was very similar across most of American and British society; the variations tended to come in fabrics, trims, fit precision, and how frequently styles would be updated.

Having fewer outfits would be common the further down the social ladder you went, but people still tried to have as much underwear as possible- undergarments wicked up sweat and having clean ones every day was considered crucial for cleanliness. You also would see things changing more slowly- not at a snail's pace, but it might end up being a few years behind the sort of thing you'd see at Newport in the summer, so to speak. Underwear was easier to make oneself than precisely cut and fitted outer garments for adults (usually professionally made for all but the poorest of the poor for a long time- dressmakers and tailors catering to working-class clientele did exist), but that also began to be mass-produced sooner than outer clothing. So depending on the specific location, social status, and era, you might see that sort of thing and children's clothing homemade more often than anything else. Around the 1890s it became more common to purchase dresses and suits ready-made from catalogues like Sears-Roebuck, in the States, though it still hadn't outpaced professional tailoring and dressmaking yet. Work shoes came from dedicated cobblers, and even if you lived in isolated areas, VERY few people in the US and UK wove their own fabric. Most got it from the nearest store on trips to town, or took apart older garments they already had to hand and reused the cloth for that.

I guess the biggest thing I want to emphasize is that, to modern eyes, it can be very hard to tell who is rich and who is anywhere from upper-working-class to middling in Gilded Age photographs. Because just like nowadays a custodial worker and Kim Kardashian might both wear jeans and a t-shirt, the outfit format was the same for much of society.

Candid photography can be great for this sort of thing:

Flower-sellers in London's Covent Garden, 1877. Note that the hat on the far right woman is only a few years out-of-date; she may have gotten it new at the time or from a secondhand clothing market, which were quite popular on both sides of the Atlantic.

Also London, turn of the 20th century.

A family in Denver, Colorado, c. early 1890s.

Train passengers, Atlanta, Georgia, probably 1890s.

Hope this helps!

[lixzey]

The Unknown Number

A/N: ignore the time stamps 😆 i know, i know, but it's literally 2am when i edited this and i can't edit the time 😔

warnings: none? just that reader is italian and a lil bit of peach dissing [if you know, you know]

You were bored.

You were sitting alone in your hotel room, plans foiled by a stormy day, waiting for some miracle to happen. You were supposed to enjoy a beautiful day in New York; you had just arrived last night from Italy for a three-week vacation in America. You have planned this trip for so long. Originally,  your best friend Hailey was supposed to come along, but her family needed to go to Germany to visit her sick grandmother. Hailey had urged you to go on with the trip, practically forcing you to go to the airport and live your dream—the American dream you've been dreaming of since you were a little girl—and just enjoy, even without her.

You agreed, of course. You've been dreaming of coming to New York ever since you were eight; you weren't going to pass off the opportunity to fly to the place where your mother came from. Your mother left when you were eight—she died of cancer. As a little girl, you'd listen excitedly when your mother told you stories about her hometown. She painted such a vivid picture of New York City that you felt like you knew it like the back of your hand, even though you'd never been there. And now, here you were, sitting in a hotel room with nothing to do.

As you stared out the rain-streaked window, you sighed, feeling sorry for yourself and wishing Hailey was there with you. This was not how you had envisioned starting your vacation in the big city. You had been looking forward to exploring Central Park, visiting museums, and trying out all the famous New York food with Hailey. It just wasn’t the same without her. 

You took a deep breath, grabbing your phone from the nightstand beside you and deciding to scroll on Instagram to ease your boredom. As you mindlessly scrolled through your feed, something caught your eye—an advertisement for Wonka.

“Oh, I almost forgot about this,” you muttered to yourself, tapping twice on the post.

You have been a fan of Timothée Chalamet for less than a year. Hailey had been the one who introduced you to the young actor, and to your surprise, you were the same age as him. The first movie of his you’ve ever watched was Little Women, and you've loved him ever since.

You've been obsessing over his films like Dune and The King, loving every shot of him and admiring his beauty and talent. When you watched the trailer for Wonka, it was surreal to see him in such an unserious manner. Singing and dreaming about chocolate in his infamous purple coat.  

Continuing to scroll down your feed, you began seeing more of him, fan interactions, the red carpet, and movie promos. God, he's beautiful, you thought, moving to screenshot every photo you scrolled by. Mindlessly switching to Tiktok, where you see numerous edits of Tim on his premieres looking absolutely stunning in his colorful suits, left you imagining what else would be peeking under his jacket.

 “Is there anything you won't do for fashion?”

“Oh man, yeah, do it for the fashion.”

I’d do anything for you, all for you. You thought as you kept on scrolling some more to see character edits, ship edits—which you hated—thrist edits, and so much more that you couldn’t save anymore because you were running low on storage.

You sighed, closing the app, tossing your phone to the side, and plopping on the bed. This isn’t the American dream. You were supposed to be out, exploring New York, getting a sense of nostalgia from all of the stories your mother had told you years ago. But no, you were stuck in a hotel, scrolling through all of your social media feeds. God knows how many times you’ve scrolled through instagram and tiktok. You should be walking down Fifth Avenue, shopping and taking in the sights, eating hotdogs and pizzas as you walk through Central Park—maybe even running into a celebrity, hopefully Timothée Chalamet—not just stuck inside your hotel room moping.

What I’d give to have a moment with Timmy. 

Personally, you’d give the whole world just one minute with him. But you can’t help but wonder: What would any of Timmy’s fans give to just have one moment with him? Probably the same as you, but every person is different.

You grabbed your phone again, opening Instagram. As soon as the app opened, Timothée’s newest post greeted you.

He looked so effortlessly handsome, and it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You wished to be in Kylie Jenner’s place, but you could never be her. You’re just this plain girl that he would never even take a second glance at. You didn’t have a famous family, you didn’t have tons of fans, you didn’t have a successful makeup brand, and it’s sure as hell that you didn’t have a model body and a perfect face. You’re just a normal Italian girl with flaws. You had a belly, stretch marks, dark bags under your eyes from staying up late, cellulite, big arms, and acne scars from your youth. You were far from the girls he’d ever want. But you still love him nonetheless, even if you could only love him from afar. 

Tapping on his profile, you clicked on the message button. It was the only thing you could do—message him every once in a while. You wondered how many girls would freak out if Timothée Chalamet messaged them. It was a long shot, but if it ever happened to you, it was sure as fuck that you’d be either crying of happiness or faint. There’s no in-between, honestly. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. 

Text random numbers and pretend to be Timothée Chalamet. 

It was a bad idea, sure, but when have you ever thought before doing shit? It’s only some harmless fun, right? You knew if you asked Hailey, she’d support you; no questions asked. So, there isn’t anyone else who’d tell you it’s a bad idea.

You opened your IMessage app, deciding to go with your stupid idea. 

“Here goes nothing.” you muttered, typing in the number Hailey gave.

You laid on your stomach, typing in a random greeting message, stifling your laughter before tapping the send button. “Sent.”

You couldn't stop laughing, you were honestly enjoying this even though it was wrong to catfish people. You were bored, this was the only thing that gave you smiles as the storm outside raged on.

You tried to stop laughing so you could type in a message for your next prank victim, failing miserably. You tossed your phone to the side, clutching your stomach as you let all of your laughter out of your body. It was absolutely funny to see people’s reactions, knowing all too well that you aren’t the real Timothée, and just riding along with your shit.

After a few minutes of laughing, you finally regained your composure. “Alright, onto the next.”

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @lilmaymayy @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

[coff33andb00ks]

capture you - GR

summary: let me stay right here just a moment longer, the picture is so clear, please, let this last forever word count: 1k pairing: george russell x photographer!reader (lilli. it's lilli) warnings: just pure fluff a.n.: part two of my I need Lilli to have an amazing birthday series! this is once again for @maxlarens note: painting i describe (badly) is The Day Dream by Dante Rossetti <one of my favorite romanticism pantings>

He always used to see the camera first. It was his first sign that you were around. Then, as time passed, as he grew accustomed to you, he would see the flash of your hair out the corner of his eye and then the camera. He isn't sure when, exactly, but now he notices your perfume before he sees you.

He can smell it now as he chats with Mick and Lewis, and as Mick comments on tires George darts his eyes to his left for a split second. You're there, across the garage, your ever-present camera raised, and he knows he can relax now.

You watch him through the viewfinder, feeling voyeuristic even though it's literally your job. It's not your fault that he's so photogenic. The camera always focuses on him, and the rest of the team has given up teasing you for having more photos of George than anyone else.

Which is silly, because you make sure to take just as many photos of Lewis as you do George.

When you can.

If possible.

If you remember, which you never do.

You blink and he's in front of you. And, because you can, you snap a possibly unflattering photo of him – spoiler alert: it isn't – and lower the camera with a smile.

"We're still on tomorrow, right?" he asks.

You nod. "I've already reserved the passes."

His lips twitch into a fine line for a millisecond. He hates when you spend money on the outings you take together. Not due to some primal he-man must provide for woman instinct, but because—

"Goodness, Lilli, won't you let me spoil you?"

"You can buy me dinner," you say, smiling.

The fine line is gone, replaced by the smile you know and love. The one that makes his eyes crinkle and his rarely seen dimples appear. "Alright."

The rest of the day is hectic and then becomes chaotic, and for the first race weekend in nearly a year you have more photos of Lewis than George. You're gutted for him, for having to retire early at his home race, but you're so happy for Lewis. And George is too – chuffed to bits honestly. You're swept up in the celebrations and are nursing a small hangover in the morning when you climb into the helicopter for the brief ride to London.

George's hand covers yours, but he doesn't say anything, and you smile weakly, staring at your knees to keep your stomach settled. He used to tease you about your nerves when flying, now he offers quiet support.

You love that about him.

The museum is hushed and you stand in awe despite visiting it several times before.

George looks on, a fond smile that you don't notice pulling at his lips. He's been here once or twice before. Not with you, so this is new. He's used to seeing you always in motion, always bouncing and twisting and twirling to get the perfect shot. Even away from the job you're his hummingbird, flitting from one thing to another with boundless energy, leaving traces of ethereal beauty in your wake. But now you're still, your breath hushed as though too harsh an inhale would disturb the masterpieces that surround you.

There's a reverence in each step you take, a gentleness to every movement that he rarely sees. You're not there to look but to view, to study, to learn, to share thoughts. In a respectful murmur you read each placard and in each word he hears your passion for each piece you view together.

He could watch you like this all the days of his life. He wishes you'd brought your camera, wishes he'd thought to bring his.

Wishes he could freeze time so you could study every hall, every corner, every detail in every painting and sculpture while he studied you.

He can't, but he does take out his phone to take a photo of you. Chin tipped up, staring at a painting, your eyes sweeping slowly, and he can see the corner of your mouth tipped up. He doesn't check to make sure the photo comes out – doesn't matter, it'll never encapsulate how he feels in this moment – and lowers his phone.

You're staring at the painting like he stares at you.

George wonders if his love and admiration is so obvious to onlookers. Wonders if the painting – a woman in green, sitting beneath a tree – knows how lucky it is to have your gaze.

He reads the placard. The artist's name is slightly familiar, but—

"He was in love with her," you say, hushed and soft.

George lifts his eyes to the painting. "Was he?"

"They were having an affair, I think. But look at the way the tree shelters her, almost like a secret spot. And the use of green? It evokes a peacefulness, so she may have quieted his mind." You tip your head to study the painting some more. "I think the honeysuckle represented love in Victorian times, and she's holding some."

He takes in each detail as you describe it, the painting coming more to life. "Do you think she loved him? Or vice versa?"

"I like to think it was mutual," you murmur. "I hope she realized how beautiful she was to him."

You stand in silence for several moments before he speaks again.

"I wish I had the talent to capture my love in such a way that people will see it over a hundred years from now."

"Does love need to be broadcast?" you ask softly.

His hand slides over yours and you both sigh as your fingers interlock. "No, I suppose it doesn't," he whispers. "But it would be nice, wouldn’t it, for others to see the object of your adoration as you see it?"

"I don't need a painting, George." You look at him and he turns to look at you.

"I would give you the world if you'd let me, Lilli" he whispers.

"You already do," you promise.

[prazinos]

Athánati Omorfiá

Series Part One → Part Two !

Rating : G (Pure Fluff) Future chapters may have explicit content.

Summary : Eddie Munson, tour guide for the British museum in London, is passionate about his work, and is infatuated with an ancient statue called 'The Beauty Of Stéphanos'. But what will happen when he crosses paths with a man who looks exactly like the statue he is so enamoured by?

Eddie's a tour guide at The British Museum.

He didn't think it would be a long term thing, but he found out he really likes history and he's actually pretty good at it.

So here he is, hair in a bun and wearing a black jumper, looking more sophisticated than usual. Showing a group around for a tour.

And you know Eddie, as soon as somebody starts talking about something he's really interested in, he's spewing out as much information as he can. So you can imagine his reaction when a boy asks

'Um, why is this man in a lot of the paintings, mister?'

Eddie beams at the little boy with large framed glasses.

'Well, this man was named Stéphanos. He was a human like you and I but, he was gorgeous, I mean really; you saw this man and you would have immediately fallen in love with him--if you'd please follow me--here is a statue dedicated to him. The artist said that the Gods came to him in a dream stating that a statue would be made of Stéphanos' Eddie spoke.

'Was he prettier than Aphrodite?' the same boy asked.

'No, nobody is prettier than Aphrodite, but it's believed that she gave him his gift of beauty' Eddie stated

After a long tour, and quite a few more questions about Stéphanos, Eddie was back at the statue of Stéphanos; just admiring him. Eddie had quite the fascination with him, he truly was gorgeous. I mean, his soft looking hair, broad shoulders and soft eyes. The moles dotted on his face and neck.

'You really like him don't you' a voice spoke from behind Eddie.

Eddie laughed, 'yeah, he truly was gorgeous' he said, not turning around to face the man.

'I like him too, he's close with the Gods you know' the voice spoke again.

'I mean yeah that's the theory'

'I don't believe it's a theory'. With that Eddie turned around to face the man; but his breath was caught in his throat, the man in front of him looked exactly like the paintings. Down to the moles he admired so much.

'I'm Steve'

Eddie seriously couldn't believe it. He had to be dreaming, right?

Maybe he's just a doppelgänger. But why would he say he's close to the Gods? Why not, he was close with the Gods.

'Do you have a name or are you just going to stare at me?' Steve asked, grasping his bookbag, almost nervously.

'I-yeah I do-have a name' Eddie practically whispered.

Steve chuckled, 'do I get to know your name? Or are you really into being the mysterious hot guy'

'You think I'm hot?' Eddie gasped. The man, who looks exactly like Stéphanos, the man who was wanted by all, including some Gods thinks that Eddie, Eddie! Is hot?

Steve blushed, looking around the museum, avoiding Eddie's eyes before laughing airily

'I mean yeah, I don't see why that's a big surprise to you' Steve said

'Well I mean you literally look exactly like the guy that everybody was in love with during ancient Greece' Eddie babbled.

Steve looked behind him, looking at the large statue, almost...nostalgically? Eddie couldn't make it out. Before Steve head turned back to Eddie.

'Only during ancient Greece?' Steve questioned amusedly.

'I mean-no of course not, you're hot, super hot-I mean, wait no-'

'Relax, I was fucking with you' Steve laughed loudly, Eddie listening as his laugh echoes against the walls of the museum.

Eddie looked down at his watch, 4:45pm. Shit. Almost closing time but he wants to keep talking to Steve. Maybe he can give Steve his number; is that too soon? No. Yes. No. Maybe? Oh what if Eddie gave Steve his business card? Shit, Eddie doesn't have a business card.

'Shit, I gotta go my friend is having a baby shower for her cat' Steve said looking at his phone.

'Her new cat?' Eddie chuckled

'She's...weird. Her and her girlfriend got a cat yesterday and so they're throwing it a baby shower'

'That is...'

'Weird?'

'in a good way, yeah' Eddie finished.

The two chuckled before the intercom crackled and an old soft voice spoke

'The museum will be closing in ten minutes, I repeat, the the museum will be closing in ten minutes!'

'We should-'

'yeah' Steve finished

'Wanna walk out together?' Eddie asked

'Yes!' Steve said, rather quickly 'I mean, yeah sounds good'

Eddie chuckled at Steve's flushed face

'Well I've just got to grab my backpack, you're welcome to come with' Eddie smiled. To which Steve nodded.

As Steve entered Eddie's office, he was shocked at the décor. Eddie didn't seem like the kind of guy for his office to be practically covered in metal band posters. I mean, he just thought he really liked the colour black, and that he just liked his hair long.

No, Eddie was a metalhead. And God, did Steve have a thing for metalheads.

'Alright, we can head out now' Eddie said, bringing Steve out of his horny thoughts.

Steve nodded before briskly walking out the door.

As they walked down the steps Steve turned to Eddie, noticing his backpack that was covered in pins and patches from metal bands.

'I'm going this way' Steve said pointing to the right.

'Oh, I'm going this way' Eddie said pointing to the left.

'You know, I really like the museum' Steve smiled awkwardly

Eddie pulled the bun out of his hair, smiling at Steve, 'So I'll be seeing you more often?' Eddie questioned

'definitely' Steve answered, handing a slip of paper to Eddie.

As Steve walked away Eddie looked at the piece of paper,

020 *** *** ~Steve <3

Holy shit.

Holy Shit.

Eddie got his number.

Eddie got his number.

Eddie stared at the phone number, red creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

He nearly dropped his phone pulling it out, and immediately punched in the number into his contacts.

Eddie wouldn't message him until he got home yet, didn't want to seem too desperate to talk to Steve, though, he clearly was.

Hey it's Eddie from the museum 5:47pm

Oh hi! I've been waiting for you to message :) 5:52pm

So...how's the cat baby shower? 5:54pm

It's interesting to say the least, do baby showers do name reveals? 5:55pm

I think so? I've never been to a baby shower before 5:55pm

They named him Succulent 5:56pm

Succulent? 5:57pm

My friends, their entire apartment is full of plants, so naturally they needed to name their cat Succulent 5:58pm

Oh yeah, of course. Makes total sense now 5:59pm

Haha :) 6:00pm

Eddie smiled at his phone, who still says haha in text messages these days?

He knew it would seem awkward for now but when he (hopefully) got to know Steve better, the conversations would flow smoother and be less awkward.

But he couldn't stop smiling, even as his cheeks started to hurt.

After he finally calmed down, Eddie pulled out his laptop from his backpack and immediately started doing more research on Stéphanos; he couldn't help but blush at some of the images depicting a statue of Stéphanos in a tunic that barely covered his torso, giving a delicious interesting sight of Stéphanos' abs, and now Eddie couldn't stop thinking about if Steve had abs

Stéphanos, believed to be born sometime in 540 B.C - 560...Multiple theories saying he was the son of Aphrodite or blessed by Aphrodite...The Greek Gods loved him...Some stories stating his beauty was a blessing and a curse...Born with beauty, but cursed to spend eternity searching for his soulmate.

Jesus, Stéphanos had it rough.

But there was no way that Steve was Stéphanos right? It's all mythology, it's called Greek Mythology for a reason, right?

AN : Yk I'm actually really excited about this series. I don't know how much attention it will gather but maybe it'll gather quite a bit.

When I figure out Ao3 properly I'll upload this to there as well

lmk what y'all think, it's a wee short but future chapters will be longer.

I also am gonna try uploading a new chapter every Saturday AEDT time, maybe earlier if I get really into it.

(everybody that requests to be in the tag list will be added lmao)

BYE BOZOS!!

[johaerys-writes]

What’s your favorite piece of art? One you’d travel to see or experience?

Oooh man what a tough question. I really love art and I go to museums and galleries as often as I can but the moment this question hit my inbox I drew a massive blank LOL there are several artists and artworks that I love and that I've either already travelled to see or would gladly do so. But like, if you're asking about my TOP favourites, those that I would literally CRY or something if I ever saw up close, then I would have to be boring and predictable and answer that it's something Patrochilles related haha. And of course I can't just choose one, so you're getting a small selection 😊

Achilles bids farewell to Briseis, Roman Fresco

You'd better trust and believe I'd travel to Naples just so I could see this fresco irl 😭🙏 This Patroclus lives in my brain rent free

The Ambassadors of Agamemnon in the tent of Achilles, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

Another huge favourite (I hope Tumblr doesn't flag me for this LOL). I love how soft and sensual the forms and lines are here, also look how cunty my boy Patroclus looks in this, absolutely love that for him ����

Patrocle, Jacques-Louis David

I really have no words for this one, I've spent hours looking at it 🥹

The Education of Achilles, James Barry

I always really love art of Achilles in his younger years, and there are several paintings of him with Chiron but this has to be my favourite. A lot of the other paintings show Chiron teaching Achilles how to fight, but I love how the lyre is at the center of this one.

Achilles and the Body of Patroclus, Nikolai Ge

Another scene beloved by painters-- there are many renditions of Achilles lamenting the death of Patroclus but I really love how quiet and intimate this one is.

Achilles Binding Patroclus' Wounds, Sosias Painter

No post about fave patchilles art could ever be complete without this one. Every single detail on this makes me insane (from beardless twink Achilles to bearded twunk Patroclus, the details on the armour, the dicks out, the slutty skirts, INSANE I tell you), I could go on about it forever but this is already getting long so I think I'll cap it here LOL

[javaghoul]

TG At The Art Gallery

Today I went to an art gallery. It was crap. Enjoy these hcs.

Touka doesn't understand why humans' are seemingly obsessed with painting naked bodies. It's weird.

Akira thinks visiting art galleries are a waste of time and money.

Shuu is in his element. Loves guessing the artists' mindset whilst they were creating the piece. Uses fancy words to describe the styles. Literally cocks his head to the side when considering a painting.

Urie loves the old master's hall. Loves the dark, gloomy ones.

You won't find Amon in an art gallery by choice. He grimaces at any painting with a subtle - or not - religious undertone.

Suzuya would enjoy any interactive display or exhibit. The problem is, he'd try and "interact" with ALL the exhibits. Keep him away from the breakables.

The only way you'll get Yomo in an art gallery is convincing him that there's a REALLY good coffee shop there, and even then he is skeptical. Thinks all the paintings look the same, doesn't get the meaning behind the modern art, and generally feels out of place and uncomfortable. Bitches about the coffee too.

Having an eye for detail and being able to see the hidden meaning in the meaning, Eto and her dad would both be able to pick out the pieces created by ghouls. That's one thing they have in common, I guess.

I can totally see Nishiki going to art galleries and museums; he'll pretend he thinks they're boring but secretly it'll be his jam.

The character I'd like to see at an art gallery is Naki. I dunno how on earth you'd persuade him to go, but expect unfiltered, honest, and hilarious critiques of the art work:

"What is this fucking shit?"

"Why have they all got their tits out?"

"It's crap and I'm bored"

"It's a pile of garbage not art"

And he ain't wrong.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Meeting And Dating Thor Odinson Would Include:

Meeting And Dating Thor Odinson Would Include:

Thor Odinson X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Loki (Mentioned), Frigga (Mentioned), Heimdall (Mentioned), Tony (Mentioned) Reader's friends (Mentioned), and The Warriors Three (Mentioned)

WC: 1,175

Warnings: Mentions of fighting (brief), cute stuff, baby angst, and fluff

You met Thor in a very unconventional way. 

In fact, you met him quite literally by accident. You were walking home from a cafe with your friends when someone bumped into you. You tripped over yourself, and in your haste to regain control, you ended up on the floor. When you looked up, you saw him looking at you with a slightly panicked expression. Your face must have said it all because he offered you his hand. You accepted his offer, and he helped you stand. 

He was quick to apologize, saying that he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he had failed to notice you. You actually didn't mind at all, the person before you was Thor, after all, an Avenger. His kind words put a smile on your face. He then asked if you'd like to join him for coffee. You smiled again and agreed. How could you say no to the Norse God? That's how you found yourself sitting across from each other at a small table in a cafe. It was pretty nice. You didn’t even care that that was your second coffee of that day.

Unsurprisingly, Thor was a charmer, retelling his great adventures with the Warriors Three and his brother, Loki You laughed along with his stories. You couldn't help but be enamored with the man in front of you. The god had bright blue eyes that seemed to glow and a handsome smile.

It wasn't long until you went on another date, and another, and another…

Expect Thor to tell you more stories of his quests. Ones with the warriors, Loki, and He enjoys your laughter as he tells you about the times they've gotten into trouble. You're always fascinated by their antics. Your laugh is so contagious, Thor can't help but laugh too.

You help him with technology. Helping him with the toaster or how to use the tv remotes.

Thor loves taking selfies with you, posting them to his social media with your help. Literally more than half of his phone is full of pictures of the two of you.

You, 90% of the time, go to cafes for your dates, and Thor always gets a coffee and lemon scone.

Thor takes you to Asgard the first chance he gets. He has a constant bright smile on his face as he introduces you to his mother and brother.

His mother, Frigga, loves you. Welcome to the family.

Heimdall thinks you are a great match for his friend. He sees how happy you make Thor. He approves.

You always think of Thor when it thunders outside.

On quiet days, you and Thor sit together and read. Most of the time though, Thor asks you to read to him as he rests his head on your lap. He finds your voice soothing.

You like to take him to art museums. Taking him to see some of your favorite paintings. 

Thor is prince charming. Always taking care of you whenever possible. It makes you happy, knowing that someone cares so much for you.

Stealing his clothes, mostly the t-shirts he wears when he's not saving the world. Thor does notice when they are missing, in fact, he leaves them out in the open in hope of you finding them and stealing them from him. He does think you look better in them than he does.

After you move into the tower with him, you and Thor take turns pranking Tony. Moving his tools when he's gone, reprogramming his ACDC music to classical through JARVIS, and getting everybody in the tower to call him ‘Pony’ for an entire day. 

You and Thor play Just Dance together, and it really turned into a competition. Thor is surprisingly really good at dancing, which makes you pretty jealous. But, quickly your dance jealousies subside when you see Thor dance in those jeans.

Sometimes, at night when you both can't sleep, Thor would turn on some soft music, taking you in his arms and leading you into a gentle sway. Closing your eyes, you held each other close, as the world just fell away.

Thor is a cuddler. He'd cuddle with anyone, but with you, he's a full-on raging cuddle monster. There isn't a night where he isn’t cuddling you. Either he’s spooning you from behind or literally on top of you, his head resting on your stomach.

He does snore, you don't mind. It helps remind you that he's there.

Will thunder and lightning if he's angry. If someone is rude to you and makes you cry, the skies will darken and the weatherman will get confused. 

Now, you don't fight or argue a lot, but when you do, you're heated in a fight one moment, and the next either apologizing to one another or in a passionate kiss. Either way, it ends quickly, you never fight for long. You and Thor never want to go to bed angry.

Thor watches in bated breath as you wrap your hand around the handle of the hammer. He throws his arms up in the air as he jumps out of his seat with glee. Wrapping you up in his arms, he spins you around. 

"I told you Y/N was worthy!"

Thor's not too much of a fan of PDA, but if someone tries to steal you away, he's not afraid to show them that you are his. 

Huge into hand holding.

And hand kisses.

When he's called off for a mission, Thor always says goodbye. Taking you in his arms as he takes in your scent, memorizing it for when he was away. Pressing a kiss to your forehead before promising to be back soon.

He will use your shampoo. Gotta keep that hair looking fine. And it reminds him of you.

Thor surprises you with little gifts and trinkets from Asgard and any other planet or realm. Leaving them somewhere random in your room. 

Will get you anything you desire. You say your favorite brush broke, he's off to get you another. Your favorite shirt ripped? He's finding a sewing kit and learning how to sew just for you. You pass a cute animal on the street? He's coming back with your new pet. He'd do anything for you.

A lot of terms of endearment. Like, my love, dear, darling, etc. And, on occasion, baby.

Thor is a huge fan of board games. He loves playing Monopoly. He always plays as the dog. though, you did teach him the game Twister.

There are two types of mornings for you two, 1) Waking up and not feeling like getting out of bed until later. Your head resting on Tho's chest and his arms wrapped around you as he hums an old Asgardian song. 2) Waking up with him bringing you breakfast in bed. Laughing as he sneaks a piece of bacon off your plate.

Thor plans to spend the rest of his days with you. He wants you to know how happy you make him, and how much he loves you.

[willowser]

NOOO UR MAKING ME SO SAD one day he doesn’t come back and so u decide to move on and then he comes back literally YEARS later and sees u w a new man and his heart is BROKEN im so sad omfg

OMG. CRYING.

you run into him on the street, just as you did the first time.

you've married a decently wealthy man, one with enough money that you're free to pour all your time into painting and you do quite well, are able to sell them and host them in small museums and general markets during the week. you've moved, to be with your new husband, so you're no longer in your small village of drunks and thieves, and you're quite happy with the life you've built around you.

it's full of art and curiosity: your husband buys you a brand new telescope from a different country, top of the line. it's bigger than your old one and it takes you longer to figure out the dials and knobs, but when you do — the views you get are breathtaking. you paint what you find, all the shapes you discover in the constellations. very rarely is the sea your muse, these days; all those works became sad and unfinished, dark portraits of a ship far out in the distance that never sailed any closer, no many how many times you painted it.

the necklace lies at the bottom of your first jewelry box, chain broken from when you'd ripped it off and tried to throw it into a tide just as furious as you had been — but it never left your clenched fist.

it's not your painting he comes across, but someone else's star-map. for sale, at the local market, and you've stopped to enjoy the work the artist has done, chatting with them about what you've found when another customer wanders up beside you and says,

"'sea goddess', hmm," a hand reaches around you, too close for your liking, to pick up a reimagined constellation on display. "heard the woman it's named for is more beautiful than all the seven seas in the middle of a hurricane."

the artist frowns, because it's his piece, but indulges the customer anyway. "and what woman would that be?"

and your blood runs cold at the sound of your name, slowly turning to peer around you shoulder, to take in the figure that's uttered it. bigger than you remember, and darker, hair tied back in a tidier bun than usual. in his grip in his weathered hat, torn and nearly destroyed; a testament to the voyage he's had, maybe. and when he raises one hand in a soft wave, the flat of his palm is exposed, the pendant from your necklace in fading ink at its center.

kirishima is older now, as are you, with more scars along his nose and under his jaw, a jagged one across his neck that has tears stinging your eyes. but despite his edges — the smile on his face is soft, sad, and the light in his vibrant eyes hardly flickers as he takes in you and all your changes. as if he's been extinguished for quite some time, and only just now burning again.

"i never stopped lookin'," he murmurs suddenly, uncaring of the merchant as he dares to edge closer to you. his skin smells sharp and clean like aftershave, though the shadows on his face linger. "took a long time for me to find you."

and you feel like his violent sea, his crashing waves; despite the tears that track your cheeks, you remain stone-faced, trying to tide back the rage — the hurricane you want to be. "me?" you whisper, incensed. "to find me?"

his face falls and his eyes slip to the floor, ashamed, but he still tries, stepping further into you when he speaks again. "i know, didn't mean it like that. but i—" one hand gently rests on your elbow, while the other finds your own and you jump, startled and angry at how forward thinks he can be after all this time and yet — you let his rough fingers brush over yours, over the short silk gloves covering your skin. "i did search for you, i wanted to come home. i was always gonna come home—"

"don't—" you hiss, but he doesn't let you go far, following through the step you take back from him. on purpose, you think he pushes his palm into your fingers, as if wants you to feel the mark he still wears for you. "home? how dare you—"

"i know, 'm sorry," he whispers, so close that you can see the freckles on the bridge of his nose and the golden stars in his eyes and the desperation in the lines of his face. "i'm sorry, i'll always be—"

"darling?"

you pull away from him in no time, wiping a gloved hand over your cheeks before turning to face your husband who stands only feet from you, holding a new lens for your telescope. his eyes jump back and forth between you and kirishima, but you give him no longer to consider what he sees.

"yes, excuse me. let's go." you slip out of range when kirishima backs up a step, started probably, at the title and the arm your loop through your husband's. only once does he try to turn back to the figure, as still as a dead man, but you tighten your grip on him and don't look back.

[theeminentlyimpractical]

☄️🌞🌼🧞‍♂️ -from goodoldfashionednightingale!

@goodoldfashionednightingale ❤️❤️❤️

☄️foreign language you'd like to learn?

not so much learn as get back to some semblance of fluency - Spanish. also my kingdom to be able to pronounce literally any french correctly.

🌞dream job?

I miss archives, tbh. I thought I would end up in a museum of some sort. but ngl I’m happy where I am now, despite the circumstances. I realized I wanted to be somewhere with a real world effect the first time I looked up disused steam tunnels during my assistantship in library school and then saw the spray paint marking out those tunnels on the way home. it wasn’t big or flashy but. I did that!! there was tangible evidence of research I did! and that’s how I’ve felt since. I don’t mind being a cog in the machine as long as the machine works.

🌼go-to comfort food?

either kraft mac n cheese, but only the kind that comes in shapes (tastes better I swear), or spaghettios

🧞‍♂️what’s something you’re excited for?

I’m finally doing THINGS post lockdown. music! shows! seeing the authorman himself and staying in a house full of fandom degens with @dinkabell-art et al next month. St. Vincent show in September. Macbeth with @thesherrinfordfacility in October and being able to screech at each other in real time instead of through text and voice notes

[littlemissmanga]

Greetings! I'm here for the advertised matchmaking service (this seems so fun, I'm excited)

Moon:

I am an introvert. Grey rainy days are my favorite. Running water. Books! Give me all the books. Binge-watching TV shows. I have a dry sense of humor, I am sarcastic. Literal. I follow plans or instructions, not create things. Loyal. Blue and grey, no primary colors. INFJ, if any of that even applies anymore. I love pottery that is imperfect. A vacation of museums and landmarks is much more my speed than partying or beach going.

I also am above average height for a woman, plus size, dark hair and eyes. Casual is my preferred style, I prefer my feet bare, and my hair is always worn up. I think comfort matters most with clothes, comfy materials or cuts only please.

Spending my time reading, fics or books, is likely what I am doing at any given point. I'm trying out cross stitch! Walks by a creek would be fun too.

Dislike: too much noise, my migraines can't stand it. And if we can't have a meaningful conversation about things, that would not work for me. I love to ask questions and pose scenarios and talk about things. I'm curious and like to learn.

thank you, eagerly awaiting - 🌑

Yen Ori'ken's Valentine's Day Matchmaker Services

Yen: Greetings! I'm so glad you decided to join in the fun, @moonwrecked!

For your Valentine's Day match, I believe you'd best be paired with ...

Clone Trooper Dogma of the 501st Legion.

Dogma may not be as outwardly charismatic as his 501st brothers, but his charm will make itself known. He also appreciates the pleasure of a quiet day pursuing intellectual hobbies. He's also an avid reader, though his interest skew toward nonfiction, and I anticipate the two of you enjoying a lovely day reading, sharing quiet space together.

Dogma, as his name implies, also appreciates order and structure, though he isn't as rigid as he seems while on-duty. This means he's a direct communicator - no questioning or second guessing where his head is at, ever. He's also not one for small talk, so the combination naturally leads to more interesting and meaningful communication.

Imperfect pottery is an interesting thing to note as a like, but that is a large part of why I think you and Dogma would match well. It's something that would interest him, as well. More as a curiosity at first but I think he'd come to admire your appreciation and ability to see the value and beauty in it.

For your Valentine's Day date, I think the two of you would enjoy one of those online Master Classes - something you can do at home, so no pressure but still follow the guidance of an industry expert. There are classes for painting, cooking, pottery, even kinsugi - the art of repairing broken pottery.

I hope you enjoy your date with Dogma, and thank you again for writing in!

[mothunmuted]

idea for an "art installation": a big-box chain of "museums".

a bunch of suburban locations, with the exact same layout, the exact same "exhibitions" (which change once or twice a year), the exact same replicas on display.

hell, the "museum" is also the gift shop. you could literally buy the "painting" off the wall and they'll take it down and put it in a bag for you ... and immediately roll out another replica to take its place.

(though they absolutely just ... have a gift shop, too, with the exact same gift shop tat you'd expect.)

maybe they charge some token amount as "admission"? a buck to pay for the ink they stamp on the back of your hand. maybe that isn't even required to get in. it's all just theatre.

I'll be honest: I hate this! It feels vulgar! —but I also feel like it would be so, so fascinating to see how people engage with it.

[toomuchracket]

me omg

my birthdays just gone, and i just rhink he would be so excited to share your birthday with you. like he has been planning for the last year on how to make it even better than the last

oh i hope you had a lovely birthday! mine is at the end of this month lol

if ross is home for your birthday - though i'm CONVINCED he'd fly you out to wherever he was to celebrate if it fell during tour - he's spoiling you, full stop. he's so attentive to you anyway, but for like a month before your birthday he's taking note of everything you offhandedly mention you want to do or try or somewhere you'd like to go. i think you and ross are a very domestic, lowkey couple, so you wouldn't want a huge party every year, but if it's a milestone birthday ross puts his foot down and organises a birthday bash for you (nothing too crazy, just a party in a cool venue with all of your friends and family).

but let's talk about regular bdays at home. your actual birthday i think would be really busy, because everyone loves you and wants to see you lol, but ross still finds the time in the morning to wake you up in a VERY nice way ;) before making you coffee and bringing you your gift. it's always perfect, thoughtful, something you'd either mentioned you wanted, or that ross caught you gazing at lovingly online/in a shop but you never bought. and you're always baffled like "this is so spot on how do u do it" and ross just winks and shrugs before giggling. god he's so cute. anyway, i think the morning would involve you guys seeing family for brunch, then you and ross would spend the rest of the day doing something together - he pulls out the list of everything you said you wanted to do and you get to choose whatever thing you feel like on that particular day. maybe you go to a museum (i did this for my birthday last year it was so fun!) or the zoo or pottery painting (literally my dream thing to do with ross actually)... whatever activity you want, you'll do. although i think there's been at least a couple of times when ross has made it a surprise - he's bought tickets for a matinee of a musical you wanted to see, or just for any sort of event happening on the afternoon of your birthday that he knows you'll love. after that, you'll go for dinner - something kinda fancy but not pretentious, i think, because it's ross and he likes treating you but will not tolerate chefs "taking the piss" lol - and then you'll either meet some of your friends and the boys and their girlies for drinks, or they'll come over for a chill drinking sesh in your house and make you open the (you'd say overly generous, they all say otherwise) gifts they bought you. and ross is buzzing about like a wee bee making sure everyone's got a drink and some snacks, before he brings out the birthday cake he's made you (ross is a secret baker i will hear nothing on the contrary). and you're a little tipsy and grinning so widely in candlelight as your friends sing happy birthday to you in several different keys at once (george and matty get into a tiny argument about what key they both thought everyone was going to sing in, which only stops when you literally shove a piece of cake at each of them), and ross just watches you and gets overwhelmed by how much he loves you. then after everyone leaves, you drag ross upstairs and thank him properly for the lovely day, which really just ends up with him continuing to treat you lmao, before you snuggle up and go to sleep just totally content <3

[bluepoodle7]

#Saban #Pinocchio #TheAdventuresofPinocchio #Anime #Figures #AnimeModel

Thinking about this Saban The Adventures of Pinocchio figure and how well detailed this is. I might check out this anime. Seems like something you see in the Walmart bargain bin for like $5 dollars. I like his design and reminds me of MortisFox's art style for Pinocchio. There is even a Miitopia Mii of the lad and I would put him in my team. There's a plush of this lad too and that's pretty cool.

Apparently the figure came out in Oct. 2008 and Japan is getting a Blueray DVD.

I like this figure but you have to paint it yourself or maybe commission someone who is good at painting figures.

Gives me gachapon figure vibes.

Images not mine but links are there.

Anime Model Pinocchio 樫の木モック Kashi no... - Super Robot Museum | Facebook

Facebook

Facebook

I've tried make Mokku from Kashi No Ki Mokku ( Aka Anime Pinocchio) because why not : Miitopia (reddit.com)

Pinocchio: The Series - Wikipedia

Nakajima seisakusho oak tree mock standard size so... | Trampt Library

樫の木モック | Sumally

Anime Model Pinocchio 樫の木モック Kashi no Ki Mokku - Resin Kit by SRM ! | eBay

Plush puppet Poupee Plush THE NEW EVENTS OF PINOCCHIO Banpresto 27 cm | eBay

Oak Tree Mock / Oak Tree Mock Statue / Domestic Anime & Comics / Earth Defense Force Secret Base Headquarters - Movies, American comics, games Figures, Goods, T-shirts (mamegyorai.jp)

TC Entertainment Reveals ‘Kashi no Ki Mokku’ Blu-ray Anime Box Set Cover | The Fandom Post

Tatsunoko Pro Collection Oak Tree Mock Painted Finished Statue -amiami.jp-Amiami Online Main Store-

Learn Japanese by playing games! Gain exp points, level up, and get ranked! (japaneseclass.jp)

【Rakuten Ichiba】Oak Tree Mock 【Memories Anime Library Vol. 109】 [Blu-ray]: Gold Map Rakuten Ichiba Store

【楽天市場】全巻セット【送料無料】【中古】DVD▼樫の木モック セレクション(3枚セット)1、2、3▽レンタル落ち：遊ＩＮＧ浜町店 (rakuten.co.jp)

MASAMI SUDA AL ROMA CARTOON FESTIVAL (REVIU') - TOKYOTIGER

Think Mokku think! You think that setting yourself on fire to keep yourself from freezing is a good idea? YOU'RE MADE OF WOOD! YOU'D DIE! How many times I have to remind you that you're an idiot and you need my magic to get literally anything done! You dumb pinehead! And I'm your mom for God's sake. : Thinkmarkthink (reddit.com)

[ovydka]

I see you've been making a lot of OC art/posts recently, and they seem really interesting from what you've shared so far, so I was wondering if (or where) I can learn more about them? (No pressure if you're not done with their stories yet, but if there's anything you'd like to share, I'd be interested to hear it!)

hi!!! so theres no place to learn more because i havent worked out most of the story and worldbuilding in a concrete way yet but heres some basic info and fun facts i can give yall now:

it takes place in 1980's soviet lithuania in a secret research facility with the security of a missile launch base (like literally because im basing most of the security around the cold war museum in lithuania)

most of the stuff surrounding the facility is like an absurdist satire on soviet nomenclature, bureaucracy and compartmentalization

the scientists are all divided into departments and are blindly following orders from the higher-ups without having much of a clue on what sort of man-made horror theyre creating

the facility is made up on one normal ground floor and a ridiculous amount of underground floors that hold more important creations and departments the deeper it goes. going any deeper than is allowed by your higher-ups is ridiculously difficult (its sorta like trying to get into the castle in "the castle" by kafka)

the archivist character is based on an unhinged man in my town that looks and acts like jesus and everyone calls (town name)'s jesus. his personality is wildly different, i just based his appearance on him because ive been looking for a reason to paint our jesus for years now

most of the main characters are queer! (a lesbian couple thats had their shit together since uni and a messy gay couple that just met a few years ago and figured out their feeling even later)

also fun fact lina and arvydas are sibling! arvydas is older by 2-3 years

you can also listen to the character playlists ive made for the main 4 on spotify! its music that reminds me of them, not music they would listen to lol (although most of them would fuck with the smiths if they managed to get some of their music)

it would take me 5 business days to explain their characters so this is easier at the moment lol

https://open.spotify.com/user/yk3m3jq9flenwmnvp6mi3xd5h?si=hs44pnADR5uKKDgie8HueQ

(i hope this link works but if it doesnt, just look up ovydka and you should technically find me)

anyways thank you for asking, ive been waiting for an excuse to infodump about my ocs for a while now :D