#3.) oil painter

[maieste]

don’t bite

[naedsart]

wyll

oil on canvas

30cm x 40cm

original and prints available

[eurydia]

Raphael, Archdevil Supreme Oil on canvas pad, 8x10" details and process below lovely ref by @crimsoncrocuta

This non-canon outfit for Raph is one of my favorites! I love drawing him in it 💜 The frilled collar isn't in the original but I like to paint it in. It feels incomplete without it. I drew inspiration from Singer-Sargent, one of my major art influences. I'm self-taught and have studied his works for years, but this is the first time I've attempted his technique with oils (I was intimidated 😅). But I'm glad I tried because I learned a lot! I can only upload one video which is the process, but on my Instagram you can also watch: some tape removal, varnishing, and me adding the highlights for his eyes.

Process

Mr. Wincott has seen the wip of this! very happy and grateful :D

[artsychiitos]

Doing an oil painting of Astarion Ancunin

I started sketching and doing the underpainting back in April. I was so stressed out with everything that was going on in my life at the time and BG3 was my brand of escapism. Honestly, I'd been planning to paint my favorite vampy boy for quite some time but April became the perfect timing.

I discovered this game last September and in that time I convinced family to buy me a new editing desktop... that juuuust so happened to be a powerhouse and could handle this gaming experience on ultra...

Let's just say that my simping over this man cost me right at $1k last year and I never actually romanced him...which was my whole "why" behind the new computer and buying the game lol

Aside from me having a "type", Astarion is a wonderfully chaotic and well written character and I look forward to one day choosing him over Gale. Right now though, he honestly just needs a friend, ya know?

I'll be showing an update to this paining once my gaming channel (yeah I have one of those lol) reaches 10 subs... so if you love BG3 and fanart/my art style, consider giving me a follow! Can't wait to share the next stages of this painting with y'all!

Game Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3vPtSbPLtx0Z99hmeT1wtQ

[pryntery-moved]

Someone asked what Yusuke, Haru, and Makoto's living situation is like in the (meme) roommate au

... Yeah

(context: I made a P5R post-game roommates au and the room assignment is:

(though I changed Haru, Makoto, and Yusuke's location to near Ueno park)

Genuinely curious if anyone's interested in hearing more abt this au? It's eating my brain

[redskysailor]

Anyways. Autistic people reblog with your most specific special interest. Mine is Myles Pinkney's wizard paintings specifically idgaf about his other stuff (it's all gorgeous but I'm obsessed with his wizards specifically)

[tothechaos]

fun fact i occasionally venture into abstract art territory while still ultimately maintaining a semi-representational and figurative approach

[archiveofcanvas]

Michael Andrews, Painter at Work, oil on canvas, 25.4 x 29.8 cm, 10 x 11 3/4 in

[ovydka]

doubt

30×40cm, oil on canvas.

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

Hi love! I hope you are doing well ☺️

If possible could I request a Aemond X reader? Maybe something where he takes notice of a hobby reader likes and surprises them with something related to it?

Piece de Resistance

Pairing: Aemond x Wife Reader

Summary: Aemond stumbles upon your love for the arts, painting, drawing, sketching, and the like. <3

Warnings: none I don't think, Aemond being a cute and supportive husband. a good moment of domesticity :)

AN: Hello! I absolutely love this request! I hope I did it justice haha. Thank you so much for submitting it! The picture is from Pinterest! It's St Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne.

It wasn’t often you got a moment to yourself nowadays. With your husband acting as Prince Regent in his brother’s absence, you and he both were kept rather busy. Him with the Small Council and issues of the realm, you with the petty social gossipings and happenings of the Court. So rare moments of peace and quiet like this were highly coveted.

Your marital chambers echoed with emptiness as you entered and looked around. The curtains you had chosen fluttered in the breeze. Aemond had not wanted them, but ultimately he conceded, never being able to say no to you. 

He must be in a Small Council meeting, you thought. Or perhaps training with Ser Criston, letting off some steam. Your husband seemed to have an ever-constant knot of stress in his shoulders and neck. You’d tried to massage it out many a time, but it never seemed to budge, or it ended in a much different sort of activity –

Under your armoire, lay a dusty, maroon-red box. You bent down, moving to pull it out of its little hiding spot. You had snuck it under there after you had moved into Aemond’s chambers. The day after your wedding. Aemond had insisted that you move to his quarters as soon as possible. He didn’t like being separated from you more than necessary. If he could, he would have you seated on his lap in Small Council meetings or even when he sat on the Iron Throne. But alas, that was a touch too far, and people would talk. As they always do –

Your husband was kind and dotting, if not overprotective and possessive of you. You had known one another since you were children. Your house and family coming to visit the Court, your mother and the dowager Queen had been friends since their youth. They had hoped that you and Aemond would get along well, and you did, famously so. When he had lost his eye, you had come to the Red Keep, to offer him comfort and company. You had never left after that. 

Your fingertips graze over the top of the box, as you rest it on top of your bed sheets. Leaving an empty trail in their wake. The lock lay rusted and golden on the front, pulling a small key from the pocket of your skirt, you unlock it. A small, soft resounding click bounced off the walls. As you gingerly opened the lid, the stale smell of linseed oil filled your nostrils. Small metal tubes of colorful paint lay untouched in the box. Clean bristles and dirty brush handles scattered about, small rolls of blank canvas. All of which lay, unmoved, unbothered, from the last time you had used them. 

When you were little, you had complained to your mother once about the bore of your lessons. For your tenth name day, she had brought in a painter from Highgarden to tutor you. He had taught you how to mix colors and paint the prettiest flowers. As you grew older, he taught you more complicated things, like ladies in bushy skirts, and golden dragons in the sky. An odd prophecy of your future.

Taking some basic colors, red, blue, yellow, and white, some brushes, and a small roll of canvas, you set up shop at your dressing table. For the time being, altering it into a makeshift desk. Deciding to paint what you knew best, you began to sketch out a dragon among roses, with some charcoal that you had borrowed from Aemond.

He wouldn’t miss it, you thought. He had a small goblet full of charcoal and quills, hiding amongst the piles of books and scrolls on the table. Which he used to plot his war games, or occasionally take dinner with you. When you both grew tired of his family and their bickering. 

The dragon began to take form on the canvas, it looked slightly like Vhagar, large, old, and wrinkly. Her age showing in her face and eyes. Around her, you drew roses, peonies, daffodils, lavender, a great colorful bouquet. Once you had begun mixing the paints, on a makeshift pallet made of spare parchment paper. The other sounds of the world seemed to fade away, the monotony of the act being therapeutic. A much-desired mindless activity in the middle of the war you all found yourself in. You would never voice this to anyone, but it was silly to you. The hubris and hypocrisy of your husband's family was vast and great, and deadly at the worst. The blood of the dragon ran thick and hot, volatile and dangerous. 

You had become so absorbed in your work that you hadn’t heard the door open, the faint call of your name. Lost on the wind perhaps. Aemond stood, leaning a shoulder against the door frame, a small smile playing at his lips, watching you, intently. He knew and had seen you become absorbed like this in a book or some piece of writing, but he had never seen you do this before. Paint.

The colorful oils stain your fingertips and wedge themselves beneath your nails. The same stale smell of the linseed oil met his nostrils.

 An odd sort of smell, he thought. He crept a bit closer, as close as possible not yet wanting you to know he was there. He silently rested his sword on the bed, the sheets muffling any noise it may have made. You were humming softly to yourself. An old hymn your mother used to sing to you. 

As he crept closer, Aemond could make out the picture you were working on. The colors came to life before his eyes, the eyes of his dragon staring back at him. 

“Gevie (beautiful)” He muttered, under his breath.

Startled, you jumped a bit, smudging one of the petals on the peony you were working on. “Shit” you breathed out.

“Aemond, Husband, I had not heard you come in!” You stand, turning to face him, stepping in front of your work as if to hide it.

Aemond chuckled a bit, noticing the pink tinge to your cheeks, embarrassed at being caught. He lifted an eyebrow, and gestured to the painting behind you, 

“May I see it?” He asked, his gaze meeting your own. After a slight pause, you stepped aside. Aemond walked past you, placing a loving hand on your waist, holding you to him slightly. Aemond has developed a habit of always having a hand on you, as if scared you were going to be snatched away, stolen from him. 

Again, he muttered a “Gevie” under his breath. He turned to look at you, your face twisted in anticipation of what he may think. You had hidden the hobby from him not out of malice, but rather out of embarrassment. Other ladies and some lords of the court had mentioned that painting was a poor man's job and that someone of “noble blood” needn’t concern themselves with such silly things. You had been worried that he would have agreed with them, not liking it. 

“I didn’t know you painted. This is lovely,” The hand on your waist moved to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind your ear, it had fallen loose from your braids. 

“I was afraid you would disapprove –” 

“Why on earth would I disapprove my love? This is beautiful, you have a talent”. Your cheeks turned impossibly more pink at his praise and approval. 

“Actually, I would like it very much if you were to paint something on my sword. Vhagar perhaps –” He trailed off thinking, “Or maybe the seas or those flowers are quite lovely too–” You had placed a finger over his lips, laughing. Aemond stopped talking, kissing the digit instead. 

“Yes husband, I would love nothing more,” Your smile matched Aemond’s from before. 

“I would like to show it off–” He murmured against your finger, kissing it again. You moved your hand to his cheek, cupping it lovingly. This small moment of domestic bliss was needed, for the both of you. 

“Well then, go and fetch it, and I shall get to work,” With the excitement of a little boy, your husband retrieved his sword from the bed, unsheathing it, placing it on the desk in front of you. The previous painting moved to the windowsill, to dry. Aemond pulled up a chair, sitting beside you. 

He rested his elbow on the corner of the table, chin in palm. The only free spot on the table, not littered with paints and brushes. You began to work, and he watched you, with nothing but love and admiration in his eye. He could sit here, happily, forever, watching you work, with the setting sun twinkling on the ocean water outside of the windows. Your delicate hands painted the hard metal of his sword. He would let you paint the whole damn keep if it made you happy. And now, with the conqueror's crown resting upon his brow, maybe he would –

Tag List:

@helaenaluvr  @anukulee   @stuckinaf4nfiction

@darylandbethfanforever9

[nuge]

one more thing. the oil run wasn’t a miracle. it wasn’t.

it was the fucking will of mcdrai and the team. it was the belief that the whole team shared even during the blood sweat and tears of being a 2-9-1 basement team losing against the sharks. it was the lowest of lows firing of a beloved coach. it was the belief that they could come back and give a huge fuck you to the people who doubted them. it was our baby goalie stu who was thrown into the #1 goalie position in his second official full year. it was hiring coach knobs, someone who has never head coached an nhl team but has an education degree from the university of alberta. it was the thigh taps to each other when down 4-0 against carolina. it was the 5-0 win against the caps and save against ovechkin. it was the bringing ourselves back from the fucking dead. it was the plunger and the painter. it was the 16 game win run. it was the 13 year tenured forever young ‘coach’s favourite’ nuge becoming a dad and choosing to stay in edm his whole career. it was brown finally scoring a goal. it was little boy ben stelter, the reason why our captain is more open with the media. it was joey moss. it was gene principe and his floor glizzy or his cbj canon reaction or his ‘we love gene!’. it was our 50 goal scorer. it was our penalty kill. it was our power play. it was wearing pride tape even when it isn’t our pride night. it was toad but honestly could be anyone. it was toad and luigi. it was playing games on the plane and letting your goalie win. it was realizing our team needed a sports psychologist and getting one. it was the whole city surviving the decade of darkness to this moment. it was the full canadian match up. it was having our back up goalie play his first stanley cup playoff game and winning it. it was being counted out before game 1 was even played. it was having former team players showing up on screen or in the crowd because they loved the team so much. it was defending darnell (and his ass). it was the western conference champs. it was making it into the finals. it was 3-0 with our backs up against the wall. it was our team dragging them back to alberta. it was then 3-3 with hope. it was breaking records, again and again and again and again on the backs of the two greatest players in the world who were playing stitched together with duct tape and bound together under pressure and prayers. it was connor. it was leon. it was the whole fucking team.

it was the edmonton oilers.

so no, it was not a miracle.

[maieste]

entanglement

[naedsart]

astarion

oil on canvas

30cm x 40cm

available

[tremendouslybeautifulsimz]

Black Oil Paintings Vol. 3

Details:

100% My Mesh

31 New Meshes

Search [TBZ] For Easy Find

Credits:

Blender 3.6

Substance Painter

Sims 4 Studio

Pinterest

𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝, 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝟎𝟖.𝟐𝟐.𝟐𝟒

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

Do Not Share My Content (Always Free After 2-3 Weeks)

Recolors Allowed Do Not Include My Mesh

Do Not Use/Altar My Mesh To Make Your Own Content

DO NOT CONVERT TO ANY OTHER GAMES

Do NOT Share IN Discords, Facebook Groups or Give Away In CC Folders.

STOP PUTTING MY CONTENT IN FOLDERS AND PUTTING THEM BEHIND A PAYPALL

IF THERE ARE ANY ISSUES PLEASE BE SURE TO LET ME KNOW VIA MY IG DMS!!!!

IF YOU USE ANY OF MY CC PLEASE TAG ME ON IG I WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT

[simmerkate]

Art Studio Set

Hey :) I hope you enjoy the latest addition to your Sims 4 creative journey.

Introducing the Art Studio Set, a perfect blend of functionality and aesthetics for your Sims 4 artistic endeavors. Transform your Sims' spaces into a haven of inspiration with carefully crafted decor items that bring the essence of an authentic art studio to life.

This set includes:

Painter's Table

Painter's Stool (functional)

Work-in-Progress Art Pieces

Canon Printer

Kneadable Eraser

Sketch Pencils

Packaging Boxes

Set of 3 Standing Canvases

Oil Paint Tubes

Brushes and Brush Pot

Wooden Palette Messy with Paint

Elevate your Sims' artistic experience with this thoughtfully curated collection. Please note that all items are decor except for the functional Painter's Stool and Painter's Table. As always, be mindful of high-poly CC usage on lower-end PCs to ensure a seamless gameplay experience.

Don't miss the public release on the 9th of February! For more updates and sneak peeks, follow me on Instagram @SimmerKatex. Happy simming!

Follow me on insta @SimmerKatex

Public Release - 9th of February Patreon (xx) ad-free

[thunderstruck9]

Michael Andrews (British, 1928-1995), Portrait of Victor Willing at the Seaside, 1967. Oil on board, 9 3/8 x 9 3/8 in.

Victor Willing (1928-1988) was a British painter. He was married to Portuguese artist Paula Rego.