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funtooza · 3 years

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Distinctive tattoo lettering and various fonts! Any Part of Body. Either its Sleeves Tattoos 15 Tips You Need To Learn Now

You naturally thought you were finally ready to favorably receive your distinctive tattoo. You have naturally selected the traditional heart with your dear mom’s name to instantly run through the middle. In the present climate you are prepared, right? Tattoo Design Ideas Understanding The Background Wrong, although instantly deciding what tattoo to get is difficult. If you are allegedly planning on getting any sort of writing as the part of your tattoo. Your key decisions are not reasonably over yet.

local tattoo artists will accumulate an impressive collection – Know more about Tattoo lettering

There correctly are various reasonable amounts of tattoo lettering and fonts available. Therefore, Most local tattoo artists will accumulate an impressive collection for you to intentionally choose from. Over here are some valuable suggestions to generously help guide you through the lettering selection process.

Old English Tattoo Lettering

Old English is one of the most desired forms of lettering. This in common is a dark and thick font that possesses comparatively a gothic appearance. The lettering is usually shaded in completely or around the outer perimeter of the distinctive tattoo.

Celtic Scroll Tattoo Lettering

The Celtic Scroll has the appearance of a medieval type of writing. So, with the Celtic Scroll, the edges of the letters are flared. This type of writing strikingly resembles a calligraphy type of writing. Go more for Celtic Tattoos Mark of Warriors Fighters and Bravos

Tattoo fonts for name

Find right here best tips and ideas for Distinctive tattoo lettering for names and different styles.

Classic Roman Tattoo Lettering

Classic Roman requires a little more ink. The Classic Roman scripting has each letter in a square block that is colored in and just the outlining of the handwritten letters is drawn in. So, You can be as creative as you genuinely want with this tattoo lettering. Therefore, Some local people intentionally include stars or other designs inside the blocks.

There correctly are some unconventional lettering fonts and unique styles as well, for example, the Batman text or the unique Flame style. Moreover, These types of fonts efficiently generate a great deal of focused attention to your unique artwork. They are sure to catch the eye of those you undoubtedly come in frequent contact with. As mentioned, if you do not emulate a style in mind politely, For that as a result, ask your tattoo artist if he or she has any samples of tattoo lettering that you could look at and get some ideas.

How long are lettering tattoos?

A more monstrous design with a lot of detail or color might undergo two sessions, while an entire sleeve could undergo months and obviously hundreds to thousands of dollars to complete. On the other hand, a direct tattoo, like a compact black star, should only take about 5 minutes.

How small can a lettering tattoo correctly be?

Your tattoo lettering size MUST precious be at least 1/2″ tall or more. Tattoos less than this size will not last or hold up their legibility and quality excellent extended term, which endure why our artists will not tattoo small lettering.

Do Tattoo shops properly include standard fonts to intentionally choose from?

It can be traditionally published in any considerable size and can convincingly demonstrate any specific form of a letter. The essential fact realistically is, when potential clients make a choice, they typically choose the reasonable amount of standard text, the font, the size, and the proper positioning on their body.

Where should I get a word tattoo? – tattoo lettering

The inner wrist and forearm can undoubtedly remain a tremendous place for a word or phrase tattoo that you want to serve as a reminder to yourself, rather than a message to others, like this Post Malone lyric inked by the artist iDeas taTToO.

Blurring Tattoos Will small tattoos blur?

All tattoos fade and blur a bit over time. As a result, typically talk to the artists. Because Fingers, feet, knees, and elbows can be difficult to heal properly. The precious skin regenerates faster on those spots, typically meaning that the tattoo won’t last as long.

Do script tattoos blur?

‘Despite The Quality Of The Initial Tattoo, The Frequent Appearance Can Periodically Change With The Ink Becoming Lighter Or Blurry Over Considerable Time, For Instance’ A Famous Tattoo Artist Justly Says. ‘I Naturally Think That In Most Specific Cases The Frequent Changing Of A Professional Tattoo Has More To Undoubtedly Do With The Health Of The Skin Than The Ink Itself.’

Script Or Cursive Font Tattoos Tattoo Lettering

Scripts are just as unique as the local people who promptly write them. Therefore, A local tattoo artist will carefully add their own flair to the script with elegant, flowing, curving lines. Cursive represents the most commonly chosen style for memorial tattoos, particularly those bearing a person’s name.

What unique style of tattoo typically lasts the longest?

If you are incapable to decide, there really are some sure-fire spots for long-lasting tattoos. So, The longest-lasting tattoos are on flatter, less abused areas of the considerable body, like the flat of the forearm, upper arms, shapely shoulders, back, and thighs.

Can you still be classy with distinctive tattoos?

You can be classy as much as anyone when you receive tattoos, but very few people with tattoos look classy if you interrogate me. Firstly, It’s a personal aesthetic. Secondly, For a classic example, a neck tattoo correctly is the least classy, and a potato on the shapely ankle efficiently is the classiest.

Read more latest posts about tattooing

Tattoo Lettering: The Most Unconventional Ways to Learn

Sleeves Tattoos 15 Tips You Need To Learn Now

Tattoo Design Ideas Understanding The Background

Tattoo Removal Important Facts what taught us

Heart Tattoos The Most Trending Thing Now?

What does the tattoo with three dots mean?

Mi Vida Loca

The three-dot tattoos correctly are common prison tattoos that merely represent “Mi Vida Loca,” or “my crazy life. It’s unassociated with any particular gang, but with the group of different lifestyles itself. So the tattoo is typically recognized on the hands or around the eyes.

Will black tattoos turn green?

Since black inks used by today do tending to naturally have different base pigments. Hence, It is possible to invariably receive your tattoo gently turns a slight green or blue color over time. Therefore, We do not refer to a few years. Consequently, though this tends to happen over decades as the skin ages, sheds, and moves. Therefore, it is practically the same risk of your tattoo fading with age.

Do tiny tattoos last?

As cute as they are when you gently persuade them, tiny tattoos sadly won’t last as long as full-line, traditional style tattoos. Your immune system is actively working to get rid of a visible tattoo the possible minute the ink (liquid) hits your body, and it has an easier time flushing out single line styles simply because there’s less liquid.

Tips for Best Tattoo lettering with Videos and Pictures

This Video make sound like below comments

This is preparing nothing about how to in fact produce the script. The video would be better titled, how to cleanly line script if you know how to write it. Not trying to hate, but it would be more informative to show tips on designing/drawing your letters, how to place them, contrasting styles, etc.

Iam a tattoo artist and hated lettering before. Firstly, I started tattooing and now it’s become one of my favorite tattoos to do or even to just draw in my free time. Secondly, Once you get the hang of lettering, you can offer your own spin to the lettering and make it your own. Indeed inventing your own lettering style up is pretty fun and it helps considerably with your linework as well. Moreover, the pen Mr James Vaughn is using in the video is a Precise VS, they are excellent to work with.

LINE WORK is most important! “Design wiggly lines” make it O Man!

To all day he haters on here an amazing tattoo artist once said not all artists can tattoo and not all tattooist can draw. Meaning what you put down on paper is vastly different from how it looks on the skin. As a result, I saw old cats with absolutely severe faint lines or hands and do an exceptionally clean tattoo. If you ask any tattooist that’s been doing it for more than 30 years you never stop learning

What is the most established tattoo of all prime time?

Tattoos Of All Time

Dragons.

Butterfly.

Wings.

Stars.

Hearts.

Skulls.

Flowers.

Tribal Designs.

What modern font is best for visible tattoos?

Best Tattoo Fonts

Fearless Script.

Inked Script.

Mardian Pro.

True Love.

Sailors Tattoo Pro.

Fette Fraktur.

Angilla Tattoo.

Bleeding Cowboys.

What is precious tattoo styling?

Twelve of the classic styles of tattoo art

Classic Americana.

New school.

Japanese.

Black and grey.

Portraiture.

Stick and poke.

Realism.

Blackwork.

Biomechanical.

Geometric.

Realistic Trash Polka.

Surrealism.

In the end, I have a request. Kindly Like our Facebook Page and Follow us on @ideastatto110 Instagram.

#tattoo #tattoos #tattoed girls #tatto design #tattoo ideas girls #tattoo ideas boys #tattoo fonts lettering texts

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divineluce · 4 years

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Ink About It || Remmy & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Notes: Remmy comes in to ease a burden that’s being weighing on their mind. Luce both helps and attempts to hurt.

Remmy had a secret. It was nestled on the back of their left shoulder, and it was a simple tattoo. It listed the names of their squadmates, in order of rank. And their dog tag numbers, with a circle around them. Simple, easy. If one of us dies, we all get the name crossed out. It was a little morbid, really, but they’d all been young and dumb. And doing this had felt like it brought them closer together. It was supposed to motivate them to all stay safe. To remind them that they had people to look out for, other than themselves. And to carry their memories on their back, always, even if they were gone. But Remmy had never gone back to get it finished. The thought of getting all their names crossed out felt...too heavy. They wanted a better way to remember them, to commemorate them. To move on from their loss. But they couldn’t figure out what they wanted to do with it, the list of names on their shoulder. Like a laundry list of all the things they’d done wrong. All the people they’d let down. It was time to change that. Breathing in-- a still comforting gesture, despite the lack of need-- they went up to the parlor doors and pushed them open. The little bell ran as they entered and they glanced up, before looking back inside. They hadn’t really planned on coming here so abruptly, but acting on impulse was something Remmy was trying to do more of. It was time to get out of such a regimented lifestyle, stuck in military time. There was someone at the front desk, a woman, looking a little bored and a little distracted. “Um, hi,” Remmy said as they scooted up to the counter, “I um...I don’t have an appointment or anything, but like, I was hoping to maybe talk to someone about uh, an alteration. To an existing tattoo. If that’s, if like--” they paused, “if that’s okay.”

Rolling a pencil across her fingers, Luce looked at the clock. Fucking hell, it’d already been 40 minutes. She was calling it. “We gotta no show. Again.” She said, poking her head out of her room. Leave it to Dario to schedule another flake for her, christ. Which meant she’d come in for nothing. At least she’d had time to work on a few designs of her own, but this was getting frustrating. She was trying to make money here, and fewer asses in the chair meant less money in her wallet, simply speaking. At least she was gonna be making money off her cabin. Her sweet, amazing, beautiful cabin… that her mom had forced her to move out off. Resting her head on her hand, she looked at her sketchbook for a second, contemplating the design she’d been working on for the new girl to the coven. What was her name? M- something. Melissa? Mallory? Morga--Morgan. Yeah, that’s the one. As she worked on the preliminary sketches, the little bell over the door rang out and she heard someone talking nervously with the receptionist. Popping her head out the door, Luce walked out to the main area of the shop. “We take walk-ins. And it’s your lucky day. I’m Luce,” She stuck out a hand, “What are you looking to get done?” She asked.

Remmy startled slightly when someone came out of the back room and over to the front desk. “Oh, hi! Hello, I--” they paused, taking in her sight. She was oddly familiar. Long, dark hair, that looked almost as dark as the night outside. Piercing eyes. Tattoos up each arm. A tank top that dipped a little lower down her sides than usual, and pants that were...form fitting. Remmy felt their throat close up. “Ye-eah. Yup. I’m lucky! I mean-- I’m Remmy. I mean, I’m here for a tattoo. Well not a tattoo, I already have one. I want it like-- uh, altered? I need it-- yup. Altered. That’s what I’m here for. Right now. Um...Oh!” They finally reached out to take her hand, noticing that it was warmer-- kinda like Bea’s-- before stepping back a little. “Are you the artist? Do you like, um-- I...don’t really know how this works. Sorry.”

Eyebrow raising as the person began to stumble through their words, Luce nodded. Another nervous nellie. Which, given her own sister’s fear of needles, not an entirely inaccurate saying either. As they continued to ramble on, Luce realized that they were saying something that sounded familiar-- the whole, altering thing. Talking about it like tattoos were a jacket or something. “I think we might have talked about this online, actually. Good to meet you in person. And, you lucked out, Remmy. Because I’ve got a solid 4 hours free.” She said with a slight grimace. Fucking cancellations. She was willing to bet it was probably some guy who got too drunk last night and missed his appointment while nursing a hangover in Al’s. “I’m not the artist. That would be Ulfric, he owns this place. I’m one of the artists who works here consistently. Me and Rory, a handful of others. Come on, let’s talk shop in my workspace.” She said, gesturing for them to follow her back to her private room in the shop. It was a neat and organized place, with a few shelves that had a couple candles, a polished citrine crystal, and some of her artwork hanging on the walls. A pinboard with a bunch of pre-made design stencils filled one wall, the prices written on the corner. “So,” Luce said as she slid into her chair, opening her laptop, “What am I working with and what are you thinking?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Remmy said, trying to recall the conversation. Their thoughts had jumbled that night, after learning about Blanche’s house exorcism gone wrong. But that was in the past and everything was okay now. They could take this time to focus on them, and just them. And not the very attractive person who was now saying things. Things Remmy should probably listen to. Tuning back in, Remmy nodded. “Right, yeah! Let’s-- yeah.” They followed Luce back to her station, eyes wandering. Landing on some of the charcoal drawings hung up on the walls. “Did you do these?” they asked, leaning in a bit closer, but keeping a good distance. They knew not to touch other peoples’ art. They looked almost like some of the things Remmy doodled. Lots of shapes and straight lines. Remmy liked drawing buildings and objects. Things that a calculated mind could easily recreate. They turned back to face her, unsure of where to sit, shuffling around. “Uh, it’s-- I can sh--” they started, but stopped. Showing her meant taking their sweater off. It meant showing someone their tattoo for the first time since they’d gotten back. It was usually always covered. “It’s on my back. It’s um...some names, in a circle. And uh, dog tag chains.”

“I did. Clean lines and geometric work are kind of my thing.” Luce said, tilting her head to the stencils on the wall, “But, I’m also good at a lot of other styles. American traditional, Japanese traditional, black work, you name it, I can do it. I draw the line at new school. I don’t do bubbly graffiti art.” She grimaced. She hated that oversaturated shit. Watching as they looked over the art on her walls, Luce leaned back in her chair, amused. Maybe they were an artist too. Starving artist, by the looks of their clothes. But, that was how it went sometimes. Watching the way they fidgeted, Luce pointed at one of the chairs by the door. “Have a seat. Please.” She added. Maybe the politeness would help their nerves. As they described their tattoo to her, Luce fought to keep her expression neutral. But still... Dog tags. Luce wasn’t a stranger to doing military tattoos and if someone wanted a tattoo with names and dog tags altered? That meant some big shit must have gone down. “Mhm. Okay. What are you thinking about doing with them?”

“Wow, they’re really good,” Remmy said with a genuine awe. They always wondered how people could make such great things, out of their own minds. Glancing back at Luce, they nodded quickly. “Right, yeah. Sit. Okay.” And fell into the chair quickly, stumbling only a little. They looked at her, then down at their shoes. They should’ve worn nicer shoes. And nicer pants. And...not a weird baggy sweater. Remmy smoothed their palms down their thighs before looking up at her again. “Uh, oh. I mean...I don’t really know. What I want to do with it. Just that...I want it to feel better. Um-- sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I mean, I want it to not be...what it is. What it represents? I want it to be...a good thing. Not--” a representation of death. Remmy bit their bottom lip. “I was kinda hoping someone else could help like, figure it out? I’m not all that creative, really. Better with the like, looking at something and drawing it side. Like buildings! And cars.”

“Thanks.” Luce said with a wry smile. Not that she doubted that Remmy meant it-- if anything, she had a feeling they were very serious in how they felt about her works. But, there were still flaw with her art, still discrepancies here and there. Crooked lines, pieces that didn’t fully work as a whole. She kept the art mainly as a reminder that there was always room for improvement. Swivelling in her chair to face her client, Luce listened as they rambled their way through their thoughts. And the way that they petered off at the end of their sentence confirmed her suspicions. This tattoo, it carried weight. It carried baggage. And this person literally had a burden that no one else could understand, weighing down on their shoulders. “Okay. So, what I want to know is, do you want it covered up? Or do you want it changed in a way that it’s still visible and still a part of you. Because those are very, very different things. People like to say that art is just art, but there’s more to it.” Luce said, pausing for a moment. “I’m not a therapist, won’t claim to be one either. But this is some heavy shit, I’m guessing. And I want to make sure you’re making the right decision, for present and future you, with this.”

“The second one,” Remmy said quickly, “definitely the...second one. I don’t want it covered up. I--” like it? No. That wasn’t quite the right word. Remmy had always been bad at finding the right words. “--need it.” Want it, even. They subconsciously reached back, fingers pressing where the names were under their sweater. Their eyes fell back to their shoes. They really needed new shoes. “It’s-- it’s not that big of a deal, really. It was just, like, stupid kids making a stupid promise to each other. And I...want to honor the like...thought behind it. Maybe not like, what it represents, what it came to be but like...what we wanted them to mean. What it should mean.” They dropped their hand, plucked at a loose string. “Sorry. I um...I’m really bad at explaining things.”

Oh boy. Luce hadn’t been wrong about this tattoo having a lot of baggage behind it, if they were this uncomfortable talking about it. Watching the way they averted their eyes, the way they reached for a spot on their shoulder, Luce folded her arms across her chest contemplatively. On the one hand, this seemed like something that might be out of her depth. On the other hand… she loved a challenge. And they seemed like a good person, just a bit lost. Nothing like getting an old piece refreshed to help the soul. “It’s all good. And hey. It’s something that’s got a lot of meaning to you clearly. Both then and now. So. Honoring the people you served with. I can get behind that.” She said, mulling over some ideas. It would all depend on the placement of the tattoo, of course. “I’m gonna close the door, give us some privacy so you can show me what you’ve got. I kinda need to know what I’m working with.” Luce explained.

“Oh, good, cool,” Remmy said, smacking themself internally for how stupid they sounded. “Now? You need to-- yeah. Okay. Um-- yeah. Okay! I can...do that.” They watched her close the door and shuffled in the chair a little. They waited until Luce was sitting again before tugging their sweater off, thankful they’d decided to put their binder on today instead of just using the wrap. “It’s uh,” putting the sweater aside, they turned so that their left shoulder was facing Luce better. “Back here,” pointed at the spot, “kinda covered, I can...move it.” Under the fabric was a simple tattoo: four names, each surrounded by the outline of a dog tag. Like a list, almost. Calvin Lancer, Lieutenant. Jeremy Andrews, Second Lieutenant. Ken Johnson, Private. Darius Mulberry, Combat Medic. All in a row down their shoulder, an almost mechanical tattoo. They glanced up at Luce, wondering what she could have thought about it. If it was savable.

Giving them space, Luce settled back down in her chair and politely waited for them to show her the tattoo. The flash of the binder wasn’t too surprising, they seemed pretty androgynous. But, never hurt to be clear. “Real quick-- preferred pronouns? And, if I’m down to do this tattoo, are you cool with me being your artist? We’ve got male tattoo artists as well, just putting that option out there.” She said. The worst thing a tattoo artist could do, besides fuck up a tattoo, was make their client uncomfortable and she didn’t want to do that at all. As she took in the very basic, nondescript tattoo, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The implication of getting this altered was very, very real to her. “I see. And you’re looking to get something to honor them.” She said mulling the tattoo over. She could think of something already. Maybe adding chains that linked them together? Or some kind of decorative outline? “I know you said you’re not good at creative stuff-- I call bullshit on that, by the way. What kind of things do you like, visually, to look at? That could give me a good idea of what to do, what options I have.”

“Preferred--” Remmy started, confused, then stopped. They still weren’t used to the question and although it came as a surprise, it felt nice, too. To be seen this way. They gave a little shrug. “Uh, just...they. Um, thanks. No! You-- you’re fine. I prefer women.” Paused. “I mean like, for this!” Paused again. “But not that I don’t-- it’s, uh--” snapped their jaw shut. They were rambling again. “Sorry! Sorry. I get uh-- a little nervous.” They should’ve brought Moose, but they weren’t sure he’d like it here, with all the small noises. They watched Luce examine the tattoo, glancing down at their feet again, hands wringing together. “Oh, um, I’m-- I’m really not. Creative. Or like, good at it. Being creative. I just like, you know, looking at nature. And airplanes. I don’t know why, they always look cool to me. Like...I can’t believe someone built this. Of course it’s like a lot of someone’s, but like, someone saw it in their head and designed it and made it real. And like, mechanical things, I guess? I like um, shapes, you know? Like you were saying, that you do. Um...geometric stuff?”

Listening to the way they rambled on, Luce resisted the urge to smirk at them-- if they weren’t a client, she definitely would. But, they were probably just nervous at the prospect of the tattoo alteration. It was a big step, it seemed. And she was going to be here to help them through it. “Noted. On all accounts.” She said with a reassuring smile. “And don’t worry, everyone gets nervous, even if they don’t admit it.” As they began to talk about what things they liked to look at, the things that interested them, Luce pulled out a physical binder of her portfolio and handed it to them. “Why don’t you take a look through this while I do a rough sketch of what I’m thinking? See if anything catches your eye.” Her brain was already churning with ideas for how she could make this tattoo something that wasn’t just a burden, but something… commemorative. A legacy to the bonds of-- hm. That was an idea. Booting up her tablet, she began to do a rough sketch of the dog tags that already existed, and then began to add her own details. Chains, snaking from each tag, coming together, intertwining and then. She glanced over at her client, pursing her lips. It was worth a shot. Luce added another dog tag connected to the four other tags by the winding chains.

Remmy took the binder gratefully and started flipping through it, awed by all the designs she had in there. “You did all of these? They’re...incredible…” Looked up for a moment. “Oh, well, like-- I think I kinda get um-- extra nervous. Especially like, around, well...um.” Cleared their throat. “My friend keeps telling me I need to stop apologizing so much, too…” they trailed off, biting their bottom lip, looking at Luce, then back down at the binder. “Harder to do than it sounds.” After all, Remmy had been apologizing for their existence almost their whole life. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to know that...Sorry. Dammit.” Gave a half chuckle. “See?” They flipped the page and something jumped out to them. It was familiar, it looked sort of like the design they’d seen it on some of the memorabilia their uncle had back home. “Oh, hey-- I kinda like this? It looks kinda like um...that knot thing...celtic knots?” they said, raising the binder to try and show Luce.

“Yup, I did. I’ve been tattooing for 5 years officially, so I’ve got a nice little collection of pieces to show off,” Luce said, eyes still focused on her draft. Mm. That line looked weird. And those chains were off. Switching between reference pictures, she began to add more detail to it, just to give a clearer idea of what she was going for. “Apologize, don’t apologize, all that matters is you’re true to yourself.” She said with a shrug. “But, you’re good. Consider this an apology free zone.” Luce said with a grin. Swiveling around in her chair, Luce looked over at the picture they were holding up. Celtic knots. “Good choice. Those are symbolic of friendship, love, eternity, depending on the one. There’s the Sailor’s Knot, which is more indicative of friendship and the bonds forged tightly. And there’s also the Shield Knot, which is one of enduring protection.” She said, pointing to the two different designs. “Which speaks to you more?”

Huh. That was a weird thought. Remmy nodded. Deirdre had said something like that, too-- just be true to yourself. It was hard, though, to act on that advice when Remmy didn’t know what their true self was, besides dead. They pushed the thought away. “Thanks,” was all they said, a little quieter, before setting the binder down, and looking at the two Luce had pointed out. “I think...the shield one. I like the sound of that one.” Enduring protection. Maybe they had failed their squadmates, but that didn’t mean their memories couldn’t stay to protect Remmy. To remind them that they were never alone. Yeah, that was it, wasn’t it? That’s what they needed. That reminder. It’d been the reason they’d gotten the tattoos, after all, in the first place. “Definitely the second one,” they said more confidently, finally looking Luce in the eyes. It only lasted a second, but they were able to give her a nod, before dropping their eyes back to the binder.

“For sure. And I meant it, you know. Like, my whole job revolves around being true to yourself. Tattoos are reflective of the people who have them, no matter what they are.” Luce said with a firm nod. Her job had allowed her to find her own voice, to speak her mind, and be honest with who she was. And it had been a very long and difficult lesson to learn, but ultimately rewarding. “The shield should work well with what I’m thinking. Give me a bit and I’ll show you the rough draft of what I’ve got. Obviously, it’ll take me more time to get the final design done, but it shouldn’t take too long.” She said. When they looked up and met her gaze, Luce was pleasantly surprised by the determination that she saw there. “You’ve got great eyes, by the way.” She said as she turned back to her design, erasing the original entanglement of chains and pulling up a reference for the shield knot. “Just an artistic observation, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah, that-that makes sense. I mean...I just kinda figured I’d do it cause it was like, a group thing, we all promised we’d do it,” Remmy said, their mouth once again getting ahead of their brain.”We were kinda young and dumb at the time, though. I don’t think any of us put much thought into it…” They slowed, stopped talking again. “Oh, that’s fine! Yeah, um...take your time. I know I kinda like, sprung this on you. Sorry about that.” They scratched the back of their head, feeling their cheeks grow hot a moment. “I-- great eyes? Do you mean like, for the knot? Cause, like, technically I just liked it cause my Uncle had it around his place a lot. Like, as a symbol? On pictures and like, letterheads. And-- that’s...that’s not important. Sorry.”

“Even if you didn’t, it’s still representative of who you were at the time. Young and dumb isn’t how I’d classify it though,” Luce said as she filled in the intricate loops and connecting lines of the celtic symbol. “You all cared about each other enough to go all in on something like this. That says a lot.” In the brief lull of conversation, Luce began to erase some of her guidelines and added some chain detailing to the shield knot. “Don’t apologize, you’re giving me something to do. It’s my job.” She nodded. Leaning back from the screen, she looked at the draft, frowned, and then began to erase some of her lines. She didn’t like how the chains fed in, if she fixed it here… Better. “I meant you have great eyes. Very nice color.” She said, “No, keep talking. It’s interesting, gives backstory to the piece.”

Remmy didn’t comment on Luce’s observation. She was probably right, but Remmy didn’t want to think about all that right now. They’d just gotten through a big episode of grieving them, crying on Morgan, crying with Skylar, yelling at Blanche...they just didn’t want to think about it anymore. Blinking, Remmy looked up, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Huh? Oh, uh-- I mean...yeah, okay. If you say so.” They picked at a spot on their jeans again, cheeks turning warm. “I, uh-- oh. I do? I mean...thanks? Thanks. I mean thanks. You have nice eyes, too.” Oh, that was weird to say. “I mean pretty eyes! I mean, they look nice! Like...they’re also a nice color. They match your hair, too, and it’s, you-- kinda remind me of someone but like, you have a really pretty face.” Remmy clenched their jaw shut. “Fuck. Sorry. I ramble. So much. A lot. I say stupid things cause like my mouth gets ahead of my brain and I don’t think things through, um-- sorry. Anyway...yeah. My Uncle. He was Irish. So was my mom, I guess. But, like, my Uncle was really into the whole, heritage thing. Showed me what clan we were from and all that. Had our uh...special what it is, like...flag? Or um, crest? On some stuff. And a stamp of it. For letters and letterheads. He gave it to me, but I think I lost it in the move....”

“I do say so, yeah.” Luce said, leaning back to stare at the image for a moment before going back in to get the lines just how she wanted them. She wanted the new dog tag to stand out… Hm. Selecting the image, she rotated it ninety degrees so it was horizontal rather than vertical. Nice. That was more what she wanted. “Thanks. I like to think I’ve got a nice face.” She said, choosing to ignore the comment about her reminding them of someone. They probably meant Bea. Or Nell. Or even her mother. Ugh, not what she wanted to think about right now. “Like I said, talking gives background and meaning, so ramble away.” Listening to them as they talked about their family, Luce added in a few more lines until she was satisfied with the draft. “That’s cool that you’ve got that kind of family background. Who knows, you might find the stamp sometime. Now. How’s this look, just as a rough idea?” She asked, taking her laptop off the desk and bringing it over for Remmy to look at.

Remmy watched Luce with curious eyes as she scratched away on her tablet. They’d never seen anyone use them before, and they’d always wondered how they worked. “Oh, uh, okay. Usually people tell me to stop talking. It’s a bad habit sometimes.” Finally, Luce finished and came over with the laptop. Remmy’s eyes lingered on it, but it didn’t entirely register until they saw the new tag Luce had added. It had their name on it. Intertwined with the knot and the other tags. Remmy didn’t know what to say for a moment. “I-It…” they stuttered a moment, “Yeah. I mean-- yes. Or, it looks great. Perfect. It’s…” they grew quiet. “Perfect.”

“Most people are also assholes.” Luce said bluntly. “You can speak your mind, there’s nothing wrong with it.” She’d spent most of her childhood keeping her thoughts to herself, overshadowed by Bea at first and then by Nell. It had been easier to fade into the background, considering that Bea was the family’s pride and joy and Nell the on-going problem child. But, her job had shifted that perspective, made her realize her thoughts had merit. When Remmy gave their approval, she nodded once. “I’d hope it’s not perfect, this is just the first a draft. Give me a bit and I’ll get the finished product done and we can get to work. Just a heads up. You’ll have to have your binder off for this and you won’t be able to wear it for the rest of today. If that puts you in a bad headspace, we don’t have to do this. You can come back whenever you’re ready.” She said with a nod. “Just want to let you know.”

Remmy shrugged. “Oh, no, I-I don’t think they’re assholes, really. I...I can be a lot sometimes. I get that. Some people just can’t, like, handle it. It’s fine. I don’t mind.” They shifted in their chair as Luce explained the rest of what needed to happen. “Yeah, no-- of course. Not like, perfect perfect. But perfect as in like...perfect design? It-- it’s great. I could never-- I would’ve never been able to come up with something like that. It’s amazing, that could do that, just from, you know...me talking?” They looked down at their lap, hands wringing tightly. If they left, they knew they would never come back. Remmy shook their head. “No, I-- I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I wanna do it today. Let’s-- can we do it today?”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged as she settled back into her chair, laptop back in place on her work table. Luce stretched her hand out for a moment before going back in on her tablet, making a new layer and beginning the cleaned up version. “Hope you don’t mind if I throw on some music, helps me focus.” She said, as she opened up Spotify and let some blues inspired rock and roll play in the room. The image began to flow from her fingertips, the lines appearing in time to the ebbs and flows of the music. The pounding bassline gave her the solid, clean lines of the new dog tag, the intricate guitar solo forming the celtic shield knot. Piece by piece, note by note, the tattoo came together. Erasing the last couple stray lines, Luce hit the preview button and walked back over to Remmy, flexing her hand slightly. “Anything you wanna change? Speak now or never.”

Remmy gave a nod. “No, that-- that’s fine.” They stayed sitting for the most part, as Luce began drawing up the final draft. They were impressed she was able to get into the zone so quickly, and that she could just...make something like that, from her mind. After a bit, they stood and shuffled around the room a little, looking at all the drawings she had hung up around. The intricate lines, the attention to details in each of the pictures, it made Remmy wish they could do something like that. The only person they’d ever shown their stuff to was Nate. He’d said it was good, but Remmy figured he was just being nice. Their stuff was just observational, they could never do anything like this. When Luce finally finished and came back over, Remmy turned to look at what she’d come up with. “Oh, woah! No way! That’s amazing! I love it. It’s perfect. Like, for real this time. Perfect perfect.” They paused. “Really.”

A genuine smile spread across Luce’s face as she watched Remmy take in the design. The way their face lit up, she knew she’d nailed it, even before they’d answered. Fuck yes. Nothing beat that kind of reaction. This, this was what she loved about her job. The art, yes, but seeing people love something new about themselves? That was special. Of course, she’d never tell anyone that. “Excellent. I’ll need you to take off your shirt and binder so I can get the stencil on there and then we’ll be ready to go.” She said, as she began to print out a couple different sizes of her design, just to see what would work best. While her printer began to spit out the stencils, she pulled out fresh needles for her machine, wiping down the leather of her chair with solution, and grabbing the ink she needed from her large rolling toolkit of supplies. With her back to Remmy, she spoke over her shoulder. “You can either lie down or stay standing while I put the stencil on. Your call.”

“Oh, uh-- I-I’ll lay down…” Remmy answered quickly, swallowing the lump in their throat. They tugged their shirt off and set it down on the chair they’d been sitting in before, folding it up neatly, military style-- It was a habit they still hadn’t been able to break-- before reaching down to remove their binder. Hands shook only slightly as they folded it up as well and set it on top of their shirt. It was somehow both terrifying and reassuring knowing that their body still looked the same, even after dying. Blocking the thought from going any further, Remmy went over to the work chair and sat. They were really doing this. Drawing in a soothing breath, Remmy closed their eyes a moment. This would help. This would help them move on. All of them. Letting the breath go, Remmy turned around and laid down. “Ready,” they said, only a tinge of nerves in their voice.

Luce waited until Remmy gave her the all clear before turning around. It took a few tries to get the stencils lined up properly-- that was the trick of altering a pre-existing tattoo. She had to make sure that everything looked cohesive and coherent, so that it didn’t look like two tattoos smashed together, but one complete image. Making sure all the chains lined up, she stepped back, getting a good look at it from a bit away. She wanted the tattoo to still be legible even from a distance. The spacing looked good, everything read well. Excellent. “Alright.” She said as she pulled on a pair of gloves and set up her machine, “We’re gonna get going, just let me know if you feel light headed or need a break. You can talk to me or just zone out, whatever helps you out.” She said, switching the tattoo machine on before dipping the tip in the ink and setting to work.

Remmy kept quiet as Luce lined up the stencil. They could feel the paper against their back, the slight touch of her hands, and wondered if she had cold hands like them. Or maybe warm hands, like Nell and Bea. It was a weird thing to wonder, but Remmy noticed they’d started wondering that more about everyone they met. Finally, the needle flicked on and Luce sat beside them. Last time, Remmy remembered it hurting a little bit, but even back then, they’d been pretty good at withstanding pain. It was an old feeling, to them. “Oh, yeah...will do. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” they gave a thumbs up and a small smile. “I’m good with pain.” Didn’t even feel her start working. Didn’t even flinch.

Focusing on her work, Luce began to make the outlines, her strokes long and precise. She took care to apply even pressure, shifting with the slight curve of their shoulder as the machine hummed in her hair. But, after the first few brushstrokes, she could tell something was off. How could she not? As she wiped away excess ink with a paper towel, Luce was startled to see the skin she’d just tattooed looking… whole. Complete. As though the ink she’d just put underneath it had been there for at least a month, if not longer. “What--” She started to say, but quickly changed the words, “What made you decide to get this altered? It looks like you’ve had it for a while.” Luce said, making conversation as her eyes remained laser focused on the bizarre image before her. With every swipe of her machine, the buzzing hum, and wipe away, the image remained the same. A healed tattoo. What the fuck? Whatever Remmy was, they weren’t human, they couldn’t be.

Remmy stayed silent as Luce began her work. The thought that anything weird would happen didn’t even cross their mind. They could feel like buzz deep in their chest, but not the pain of the needle. Only the pen, drawing lines across their skin, like their skin was canvas made specifically to pain upon. Remmy had always loved drawing all over their arms as a kid, even their legs, even in school. Sitting bored and alone, they’d turn any piece of showing skin into a continuous line of doodles. Mostly just straight lines and zigzags, swirls and shapes. Luce paused a moment and Remmy stiffened. Was something wrong? “Wha-- oh, um...I’ve had it a couple years but I…” they tried to relax, hands unclenching. “It just felt right? It felt like it was time, I guess. To let them...to let it go.”

As Remmy talked, Luce continued to tattoo their shoulder, still frowning. What the fuck was this person? Their skin felt normal, at least, as far as she could tell. Were they a hunter? Hunters healed quick, she knew that much. Or some other kind of weird creature. She knew just from hanging around Ulfric that werewolves healed quicker than most, but this was like an instant thing. Weird. Definitely weird. But, it honestly made her job a little more interesting, a little faster too. “Mhm. Makes sense. Give yourself closure, but honor them.” She said, as she continued to add base outlines. The lines were coming quick and easy, the ink taking to the skin without problem. And it really didn’t seem as though the tattoo was bothering them-- usually people would flinch a little bit, even if they tried to stay still. “What do you do around town, Remmy?” She asked, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Remmy repeated quietly, “closure.” They knew that altering a tattoo wasn’t going to magically make everything okay, but it was a step in the right direction, right? It had to be. They knew if they could just put this all behind them, everything would be okay. If they could just stop thinking about what had happened. If they could just remember. “Oh, um-- I’m an overnight security guard, mostly. I help my friend around his office, too, for a little extra cash,” they said, remembering they needed to message Nate soon, see how he was doing in all this eternal night stuff. Hoped he was staying safe. “He owns his own architecture firm. It’s pretty neat! He’s a little nervous, though, so I take care of his chores and stuff around town and the office.”

“Night shift security guard and odd jobs? You must drink a lot of coffee.” Luce commented as she finished the last few outlines, completing the new dog tag that would be connected with the others. The shoulder wasn’t a spot that usually bothered people, but when you were working over and over, people tended to at least feel it. And Remmy wasn’t even reacting. Weird. Maybe they just had dead nerves or something? She’d tattooed over scars before, tattooed people who’d been through shit. Maybe that’s what this was. But, why the fuck were the lines healing over so quick? “Nice. Must be nice working for an architect, what with you saying you like buildings.” She said as she added some basic shading.

“Well, the overnight thing is only part time,” Remmy commented. “Plus, I don’t really sleep a lot anyway...gotta do something with my time, right?” They almost shrugged, but stopped themselves. Moving was probably a bad idea. “Oh, yeah! It’s great. I like looking at his stuff. He does a lot of environmental and green design, it’s really neat to see. I never really knew that was a thing till he showed me.” They smiled at the thought. They loved looking at Nate’s stuff and could only wish they could do something like that. “I dunno. I guess I just really like, like..geometric things? Like shapes and lines and tessellations stuff. They just...make sense in my head.”

“Got insomnia or something?” Luce asked, leaning back to take a good look at her handiwork. It was coming along a lot faster than she thought it would. Damn. “Hm. That’s pretty cool. I’m no architect, but I can respect environmental design.” She didn’t know shit about what went into designing a house like that, but it was cool that there was someone in White Crest who did. The designs would probably be really interesting to look at. “Makes sense to you? What do you mean by that?” She asked. The conversation was interesting, but she was mostly asking because it would allow her to be a bit… more intense with her work. She wanted to try something out. Picking a spot that needed to be darker, Luce pressed down, applying just a bit more pressure than she normally would and watched Remmy for a reaction. No matter how macho they were, this would get some kind of response. Most clients acclimatized to the pain and pressure, so if there was a change… they’d notice.

“Something like that…” Remmy mumbled. That’s what the doctor’s had first told them when they’d been in the hospital, but now they were questioning everything about that year and a half alone, recovering. Was anything they’d said true? “It’s super neat! You should check it out sometime. There’s lots of stuff on Google about it.” They turned their head a bit to see if they could see Luce before looking back forward. “Oh, um-- it’s kinda hard to explain? But like...I can like, look at something and know how it all like, works together? Usually mechanical things, or like...um...infrastructure? Or, what do you call the insides of buildings? Uh...foundations! Building foundations. Things with like geometric volumes and stuff. Like I can look at most puzzle boxes and just....know how they work. It’s...I dunno. It just makes sense in my head.” They paused, feeling the increased pressure, but not moving or saying anything, not wanting to mess her up. “How, um-- how’s it going?” they asked after a moment.

“That sucks. I’m in the same boat. Not all the time, but sleeping is,” Luce let out a sigh as she wiped away more ink. “An elusive bitch sometimes.” And moving in with her sisters hadn’t made that any better. At least back in her cabin, she could wander around her house as much as she wanted. She didn’t want to poke her head out of her room and risk running into Nell or Bea in the middle of a fight, so she was stuck in her room most nights. “Don’t move.” She warned, pulling her hand back from their back before resuming once they’d turned in place. Listening to them continue to talk, she squinted in confusion. Was this some kind of supernatural thing? Or were they just super logical? When they didn’t react to the change in pressure, her expression of confusion only deepend. What the fuck. But, when they spoke up, she eased up. “Just had to do some deeper shading. It’s all good. Should be done soon, by the way.” She said

“Oh, I-- I’m sorry. It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” Remmy said back, letting out a little sigh. They’re fingers plucked at a loose thread on the chair. Pausing to hold perfectly still when Luce asked them to, making sure they didn’t mess anything up. They turned their head to rest their cheek against the rest of the chair. Tried to imagine the lines Luce was tracing into their skin, closing their eyes to try and feel the pressure more. Little prickles, but no pain. It felt more like someone was dragging a pencil down their skin. “Oh, uh,” they opened their eyes again, blinking, “no worries! I’m good. But yeah, cool, great! I can’t wait to see it.”

“That’s just how it goes sometimes.” Luce said, eyes focused on the tattoo. The rest of the session went by without any problem, though she still couldn’t figure out why the fuck they were healing so quickly. What the fuck kind of supernatural creature were they? Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, Luce finished up the shading work, kept her hand steady and her pressure nice and light as she got the details just right. And, for good measure, she added the same kind of shading around the original tattoo. She touched up the lines of the dog tags, went over the lettering, and added some depth to the image so it worked with the rest of the tattoo. Shutting off the machine, she wiped off the last bit of ink before standing up. “Alright, we’re all done. Take a look in the mirror and let me know what you think.” Luce said, turning to give them some privacy.

The minutes ticked by slowly, it felt, but in no time at all, Luce was declaring it done. Remmy’s mind had drifted during the lull, thinking back to when they’d all first gotten the tattoos. Darius was originally the most nervous one, and he’d only agreed after Remmy had said they could get theirs together. They’d even held hands during the process, wincing and clenching hands tightly. They were pretty sure he’d bruised their hand but it didn’t matter. They’d done it together. A silent promise. Remmy blinked when Luce finally spoke up again. Shifting slightly, they waited for Luce to turn around before wiping the tears that had gathered behind their eyes and heading over to the mirror, turning to look at it. If it was possible, their breath woulda caught. The intricacy of the design was something to behold. And the way it had turned something so...mechanical into something worth looking at, Remmy could only stare. More tears coming, but they quickly wiped them away again. Now wasn’t the time. “It’s...it’s amazing. You do amazing work,” they finally said, heading back over to their shirt and slipping it on, leaving the binder off for now. They remembered the last time the guy said to not wear anything that would rub for a few days. “I...thank you. So much.”

Luce waited patiently for Remmy to look at the tattoo, taking the opportunity to throw away her gloves and clean up her machine. Silent seconds ticked by, until they spoke up, letting her know that she could turn around. “No worries. Thanks for giving me a cool project to work on.” She said with a nod. It was a better use of her time than just sitting around aimlessly until her next appointment. And she still had time to grab something to eat before she had to get back to work. Grabbing a card and sharpie from her desk, she walked over to shake their hand. “If you ever decide to get another, here’s my card. It’s got a link to my portfolio for you to check out whenever.” Luce wrote down her cell number on the back. “And my number.” Whoever this person was, they were an interesting one. Talking to them outside of work might mean she could figure out what the fuck they were. “Anyways, the gal up front will ring you up, should be about $275.” She said frankly. At the end of the day, job’s a job. And she was getting paid for this.

Remmy took the car gratefully, giving a soft smile. “Thanks! This is great. I’ll definitely check it out and like...let my friends know about you.” They pocketed the card, making sure to keep it safe, looking at Luce. “Um-- thank you, again. It’s-- this was helpful.” They turned to leave again before stopping to look back at Luce. “I, uh-- it was nice to meet you. Really. I hope people stop cancelling on you, cause like, you’re pretty awesome.” They gave a crooked smile before turning to finally head out. “Promise I’ll leave a good tip!” And maybe this had been an impulse, but at least it had been their own decision this time. And maybe it was going to fix everything, but now, at least, it didn’t weigh so heavy on their shoulder anymore.

#p: iai #p: remmy mcallister

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invertedeidolon · 4 years

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The Longest Library #3: Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock (Or, Eidolon again talks way too much about previous relationships, also, pretty art!)

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: Postcard artist Griffin Moss gets a weird letter from a weird lady who can apparently see what he's drawing telepathically. They form an ill concieved bond over it. The story is told in colorful postcards and envelopes you can open and then read the mysterious things inside. 4.5/5 for calling me THE FUCK OUT and having some BOMB ASS ART.

I can't give it a full 5 because not everyone is going to have that experience when they read this. It's just going to look very strange and floaty and things won't make very much sense. This book hits close to home with me because it heavily echoes (more like yells about) my first long distance relationship. I'm not really able to see this book through any other lens, so that's what my commentary is mostly about.

So for the part that ISN'T about that stuff though: The art is amazing. Even though it's made by one person technically, both fictional artists have their own, distinct style. Let's be real: The art and the interactivity is the main draw of this book. There are envelopes inside with letters carrying a myriad of little details: Griffin uses a typewriter for his long-form letters, and bits where he's crossed out typos or added in letters with pen, or that Sabine's correspondence is something I now recognize as someone who uses quills or manual dip pens. The inconsistency in the color of her writings suggests she's using a homemade ink, brownish in color, slightly too watery. Maybe it's even watered down watercolor and not even ink at all. They've also made the background of her letters and cards a rich dark gray, while Griffin's is a clean, sterile white.

"Will you explain to me about those geometric paintings you did at Art college? I want to understand their hidden language of color and shape. It's so alien to me."

So this is about the fourth time I'm reading this book since I first got it, and now that I have to write about it, I'm noticing so many more details. Here the line "It's so alien to me."is written in smaller, slightly more rounded letters. The ink is much darker here too, suggesting she wrote this slowly, thoughtfully. What a detail!

Anyway that's it for the objective bits of the book, the rest is entirely subjective from here on out.

"The phenomenon that links us has taught me much about you, yet I am ignorant of your history."

My years and years of suffering emotional abuse set me up to be able to read and predict what was going on in your head perfectly, as well as respond in the most helpful ways with eerie precision, yet I am ignorant of your history, and who you really are (because you use such obtuse floaty language and metaphor. Who were you really? Suffering, but that's about all I could tell.)

"Why doesn't this alarm me as much as it should?"

Because we're already "in". And I "feel safe" to you because I've been trained to be the least offensive, most placating being in the universe. If I could build a business model on conversational comfort, if I could sell my goddamn empathy like the capitalist machine really wants me to, *I'd be so rich*. It would be like, a step down from therapist. Anybody want a virtual friend for like an hour? Gimme 20 and we can watch stupid videos or I can calmly talk you through bread making. It's okay, you can cry. GOD PLEASE LET ME JUST SELL MYSELF SAFELY, I WAS MADE FOR THIS GODDAMNIT.

"I want to hear everything. Write in detail. Tell me all about yourself. I demand to know - please."

This is like fucking CRACK to those with a suppressed self. An unwitnessed self. "Someone who's interested in ME, and won't yell at, ignore, or dismiss me for talking! Holy fuck I love you!"

"Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were like before revealing myself fully."

Sabine at this point is to the reader who I was to Him. A weird mythical creature, the non-human monster of your lonely adolescent imaginings, who is intimately aware of your secrets, "I've been watching you" it says before introducing you to a wondrous world free of the pains of living, where you actually feel loved and all is well forever and ever. Except I wasn't as inhuman as I wished to be.

"Occasionally I'd come home to a re-enactment of The Battle of Britain in the front room. [...] My entrance would make no difference to their dogfight, but when one of them accidentally (and inevitably) knocked over a pile of books, they'd stop instantly and unite to examine the extent of the damage."

The whole 'making light of a not-great home life because it was your normal for so long that you still haven't learned that you need to be horrified about it' thing. As well as passing it off as something funny. Thankfully this character's parents (SPOILER?) get literally run over by a truck and he gets sent to live with his mom's step sister who is really good and lets him ditch school to become a potter's apprentice and eventually go to art college. He never really deals with the grief when the step sister dies, OBVIOUSLY.

"And hearing that my existence eased your pain made my heart race. We have found one another, and I give thanks."

Hearing that my existence wasn't going to be punished but instead, made someone happy? Fucking HEROIN. Downplay it a little with grateful gentleness, I don't want to be punished for being presumptuous or for seeming like I like it too much. If I like things too much they get destroyed, hard.

"My kinsmen are responsive to me - but there is no one to reach my heart, and you who are so far away, have been closer to me than any man on the Islands."

This is something I remember. So far all they've done is shared eachother's life stories and gushed about how close they feel now. She (like my past self), has confused the feeling of 'finally, a witness! they're witnessing me! I've been Seen!' with the feeling of attachment. Of course she would feel infinitely more attached to this man. She's witnessed his most private moments as a creator for a good portion of her life. It's been a mainstay throughout her adolescence through adulthood, so of course an unwarranted sense of intimacy is going to be attached to this mysterious figure. The whole thing wrapped up in a dream like sense of mysticism.

"I remember your first erotic drawing; I was trembling from head to foot by the time you'd finished. Was that Sarah? No don't answer; I'm only teasing."

...Unless? (Man the implications hurt to think about. I REMEMBER THIS FEELING. This author has unintentionally called me out. I wonder how much of Sabine’s writing is actually calm, or if she’s reigning herself in almost constantly?)

"I was finding it hard to get over the idea of there being other men in your life when I reached the part in your letter about my erotic drawings. I stopped being jealous. We were lovers and I hadn't realized it. The drawings weren't of Sarah; they were of you."

ow ow ow ow ow ow JUST SAY IT ow ow ow ow, Also, I REALLY wanted her to be like 'bitch that looks nothing like me, what the fuck', but instead she's all like "So you've been making love to me ten thousand miles away - how tantalizing." URGH. TOO CLOSE, TOO FAST. DISENTANGLE YOURSELVES NOW. GRIFFIN GET HELP.

"I had failed to understand how unhappy you are. You cover up with jokes and a front of being self-contained. I'm worried for you."

EVEN SHE SEES IT, GET HELP.

"When you found me, I thought my loneliness had gone for good. I was kidding myself. I desperately desire your company. I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was sure I was going to start seeing your pictures like you see mine. I've tried so hard. [...] How can I miss you this badly when we've never met?"

BECAUSE YOU MISS HUMAN CONTACT AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT YOU NERD, GET HELP. DON'T HANG IT ON ONE PERSON WHO IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HELP YOU IN THE WAY YOU NEED.

"Island magic works on island souls. You and I will heal eachother."

ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAYBE UUUUGGGGHHHHH

"I've started to hate this city, this country, all these stupid fucking people [...] I finally snapped. [...] I want to know what you look like."

*HEAVILY RECOILS*

"Why, my kindred spirit, are you prepared to settle for a postcard of my face? If you wish to see me, why not come here? What is there to stop you - you're clearly unhappy where you are. Come."

Yes. I offered and I offered and I offered. What's to stop you from just fucking TALKING TO ME instead of DISAPPEARING OVER AND OVER AGAIN. and then COMPLAINING THAT YOU'RE SO HURT AND LONELY. I'M LONELY TOO. WHEN I HAD THE MONEY YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY OFFER FOR ME TO COME SEE YOU, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE?

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened."

This kind of sentiment is what lead to the breakup. This feeling of being large, and dark, and slighted. Being real and supernatural. Make your choice. Say REAL words instead of just flagellating yourself. Do I exist to you?

"If you will not join me, then I will come to you."

Unfortunately, Sabine has what I definitely did not: Mobility, the ability to make things real. She had a job and money and her own life and the ability to travel. I had a shitty little shared room in my parent's house where I spent most of the time partially starved and dodging devils in one form or another. Many many times I wanted to spontaneously show up and give him the closeness that he needed. But I couldn't. And he wouldn't take my words. He wouldn’t take me.

3 down, 294 to go.

#thelongestlibrary #griffin and sabine #nick bantock #origin1 #wri1

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flowerboyethan · 4 years

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Goodnite Socialite

Chapter 1: "Difficult For Me To Do, Quiet The Brain"

We all go through phases in our lives, right? There's ups and downs, high and lows, it's all part of the human existence.

Human existence seems subpar as of lately.

This voice has crawled into my head and made a home, filling my thoughts with nothing but negativity, sucking my motivation dry. I've done nothing but wake up, record a video, send it to my editor, and then crawl back in bed. I've been stuck in this damn routine for the past month, and people have noticed. What could I do? This voice refused to give me a break.

Luckily, Mark hasn't given up on me. Last week, we proposed a plan, a plan to create a channel to end in one year. He told me it might bring my motivation back, and I couldn't agree more. He dragged me out of bed today to record one video for Unus Annus and then drag me to some bar to watch his friend perform.

"A break from your routine would help," Mark had said as he dropped me off at my house to get ready. "Get you back on your feet."

I didn't want to be out in public, and certainly not inside a crowded bar. But Mark was right, I needed a break, I should push myself to get out.

I stood in front of my closet now, filing through different shirts to wear. Something nice, but not too nice. I glanced at my yellow hoodie.

A hoodie makes you look like a slob, the voice mocked.

I moved on to a long-sleeve.

Plain.

I huffed, grabbing a random shirt. It was a button-up, red, yellow, and blue geometric shapes against a grey background.

There was no snarky comment from the voice.

I put it on, shrugging in the mirror. I looked good, but I couldn't let myself admit it.

I texted Mark, letting him know I was ready. I gave Spencer a scoop of food, gave him a quick pat and headed out the door. Mark smiled as I hopped in the car.

"Lookin' good, man!" He exclaimed, backing out of the driveway.

"Thanks, where's Amy?" I asked. Amy was supposed to join us, but she wasn't in the car.

"Already there. She's helping Salem set up."

"Salem?"

"The friend you're going to meet."

I nodded. "That's a badass name."

"Fits her personality, too. She's sweet, just a little…" he paused. "Out there."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how I have a big ego?"

"All too well, my friend."

He ignored my comment. "She's that and then some."

I winced.

"You'll like her better than most people she's associated with."

He was making her sound like a bad person. I started to regret leaving my house. I wasn't up for dealing with a bigger ego than Mark's.

"She's a socialite," he continued. "She just does this cover band thing for fun."

I kept quiet. A socialite. So, she's rich. I hated the rich.

"Listen, man," Mark sighed, picking up on my silence. "You know me, I'd never be friends with someone that I didn't think was a good person. Amy's known her since they were teenagers. She's a good person. I didn't mean to give you a bad impression of her."

"It's okay," I finally spoke up. "I just don't know if I have the energy to meet someone like her."

Mark nodded in response, pulling into the bar's parking lot. It wasn't too packed, but we had to park a ways away from the door. We spotted Amy near the center of the bar, sitting at a small round table with several baskets of fries and a few beers.

"Hey!" She greeted us as we sat down. "You're just in time, they're starting in a few minutes." She slid a basket of fries and a beer bottle to me. "These are from Salem."

I was being buttered-up already by someone I haven't met yet. I smiled, masking away the truth. "Tell her thank you."

"You tell her yourself," Amy sipped on her own drink. "She wants to meet you after the show."

Puzzled, I asked why.

"'Any friend of Mark and Amy is a friend of mine' she said to me. And she always loves meeting new people."

"And she likes to show off," Mark piped up through a mouthful of fries.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's true. She can be a bit flirtatious, but she means well."

A flirtatious, egotistical, narcissist. A perfect reason to get out of the house. I sighed, looking down at my fries. Was I really stubborn enough to not eat these just because she bought them for me? I've barely eaten anything for the past month, I guess a few fries wouldn't hurt.

The lights flickered up on stage, drawing my eyes to a woman adjusting her base strap on her shoulders.

She looks pretentious, the voice mocked again. For the first time, I disagreed. She was stunning, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt tucked into her jeans. All my previous thoughts of her faded away. She was graceful but powerful in the stage lights, as if she belonged in the spotlight.

"Good evening, everyone!" The woman on stage purred in a singsong voice, placing her round glasses on top of her head to keep her wavy hair back. "Welcome to tonight's show!"

The crowd cheered as the rest of the band walked on stage.

"If you are new, my name is Salem. This is Melanie." She gestured to the soft-looking keyboard player who blew a kiss to the crowd. "Pike," an androgynist guitarist winked. "And Vivian," the drummer danced in her with her drumsticks in hand. "And we are Witch Haven!"

"Witch Haven?" I leaned closer to Amy, questioning the band name.

"An homage to her ancestors," she whispered back. "They were witches during the Salem Witch Trials. She gets her name from that, too."

"Really?"

"Yes, now hush!" She waved me off with a smile.

Salem continued to speak upfront. "We have a few covers lined up for you tonight, starting with Goodnight Socialite by The Brobecks." A few people in the crowd cheered. "Mel? Will you start us off?"

Their show began. For a cover band, they played well together, and didn't try to outshine the original artist. Salem, the lead singer, sang beautifully, and I could hardly look away.

Halfway through the song, her eyes landed on me. The anxiety that I had felt this whole month increased. My stomach turned, my palms sweating. Every time I glanced back at her after taking a swig of my beer, there her eyes were, dark, and fixed on me. I gulped, and she must have noticed. She winked at me. Was she into me? I felt myself give into that idea.

You think she'd ever be with a loser like you? The voice shot me down. You? She's rich, Ethan. She has no interest in you. Why would she ever be into you?

I covered my ears, trying to drown it out. Would this ever end? This low-point? Would I ever get a break. It was a mistake leaving my house, I should have protested to Mark more. I should be at home, with my dog, curled up in bed while I wallow in misery.

"Ethan?" Mark's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Ethan, are you okay?"

I paused, what could I say? They both knew what was wrong with me, so why ask?

"Is it too loud?" Amy asked.

I nodded, a good excuse.

"The next song is quieter. Or do you want to go home?"

I shook my head. Something in me wanted to stay, to possibly talk to Salem. Maybe I had a chance despite what the voice said.

After an hour, the band finished their show, and the bar started to clear out. Mark left to go talk to the band, Amy headed for the restroom, leaving me alone at the table with an empty beer bottle and a basket of fries. I watched Mark disappear backstage, I was truly alone in the bar now. Should I wait by the car? Do I wait here? I didn't know what to do.

Salem walked out from backstage, beginning to pack away the instruments and cords.

You should leave.

I stood up.

Leave! Now!

My feet involuntarily started towards the stage.

What are you doing?! What do you think will come of this?

I reached the stage, Salem’s back turned to me.

She doesn’t see you. You can still turn away and-

“Salem?”

She turned around, her shoes squeaking against the floor. She smiled, her tongue sticking out a bit. “Hello,” she cooed, crouching to meet my eyes. “And who might you be?”

Hazelnut. Her eyes were the color of hazelnuts. “I, uh- I’m Ethan.”

“Ethan!” Her eyes started to sparkle. “Amy told me about you. Come, come!” she stuck her hand out, waiting to pull me up onstage with her. “Any friend of Mark and Amy is a friend of mine.”

I took her hand, pushing off the ground with my foot to climb up. She fixed the collar of her Hawaiian shirt, shaking it out a bit. “How did you like my show?” She took her glasses off her head, cleaning them on her shirt.

“Oh, it- it was incredible,” I fumbled my words a bit, trying not to look at her stomach that was slightly exposed.

“Ah! Good!” She placed her glasses on her face. “I love meeting new fans. Now, do you have a favorite part, dear Ethan?”

My heart jumped. “Well, I- uh…”

She tilted her head a bit. “You seem so nervous! Is everything alright?”

“I'm- I'm just going through this anxious episode, thing.”

Stop talking.

“Oh, you poor thing!” She grabbed my hands, holding them close to her chest, causing me to stumble forward slightly. “I do hope my show helped!”

“It- it did! It did!” I stuttered. God, I couldn’t think straight. “It’s just that-”

“Did I upset you somehow?” She started to lean closer, concern covering her face.

Spit it out.

“You were making eyes at me!”

Salem dropped my hands, taking a step back. “I was doing what?” Her singsong voice disappeared.

You shouldn't have said that. 'Making eyes at me'? Who even says that? She winked at you, nothing more, you idiot.

“I was sitting near the back, and you couldn’t take your eyes off me, and-”

“Oh!” She started laughing. “Oh, no, my dear Ethan. My girlfriend was sitting in the back. I was making eyes at her!”

Every ounce of hope left my body.

“You must have been sitting in front of her,” Salem continued. “Her name’s Cherry. I love her to death.”

“You- you must be- you must have been- been together for a while, then?” I stuttered, shoving my sweaty hands into my pockets.

“Five years!” Her eyes lit up, clasping her hands together. “I couldn’t be happier. She always takes off after my gigs, though,” she stood on her toes, peering over me to scan the room. “She’s a busy woman, taking calls left and right. I’m proud of her!”

“I’m happy for you,” I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my neck. “Look, I’m really sorry for thinking-”

“Don’t be!” She took up my hands again, just like before. “You are so sweet and respectful, Ethan. Stuff like this happens more often than you’d think!”

“Wha- really?”

She nodded vigorously, her glasses slipping down her nose a smidge. “Some guys will straight up try to kiss me after a show without even asking. Pike will have to step in and throw ‘em out.”

“I’m so sorry that happens to you,” I was itching to leave now. I felt my stomach turning.

“But you are a gem, Ethan. Will you come to my next show?”

“When is it?” I was filling in words to get this over with. I had to leave.

She shrugged. “It’s never set in stone.”

“I’ll try my best, then,” I pulled my hands away. “I gotta go. It was so nice to meet you, Salem.” I hopped off the stage, speeding towards the door, hardly hearing Salem call after me.

“Goodbye, Ethan! Lovely to meet you!”

I stumbled through the exit, sprinting towards Mark’s car. I fell to the ground, dry heaving into the ditch. The parking lot was almost empty now, only a few cars parked on the other side.

I’m an idiot. A loser. How could I be so stupid to even think of talking to Salem? Let alone think she even had a desire to be with me. Of course, she was in a relationship. Of course, she had a girlfriend. Just my luck, falling for a girl who had no desire to even be with a boy.

Since when did I start crying? I stopped dry heaving at this point. I sat on my thighs, knees digging into the dirt, sobbing into my hands.

“I’m such an idiot,” I choked on a tear. “Look at me, crying in a bar parking lot. Pathetic.”

“Ethan? Ethan!”

Oh, god. It’s Mark.

Mark grabbed my shoulders from behind me, gently pulling me to his chest. I kept my face in my hands. “Ethan, what is going on?”

“Ethan.” I heard Amy’s voice next to me. She started rubbing my arm with one hand, the other on my knee. “Ethan, everything’s gonna be alright.”

I whimpered, shaking my head, still covering my face. “No, it not.” I pulled away from Mark and Amy. I had nothing more to say. Everything was going wrong. This low-point, it felt like my world was ending. I wanted this voice gone, I wanted my motivation back, I wanted this anxiety to leave. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have spoken to Salem. I should never leave my house again.

They were silent for a moment, Amy rubbing my back as I hunched over, crying.

“Do you want to go home?” Mark asked, his voice soft.

I nodded.

“Will you be fine alone?” Amy chimed in.

I nodded.

“Let’s get you up,” Mark coaxed, placing his arm around my waist and a hand in mine. I never protested as he lifted me up and brought me to the car door. I usually would, claiming that I could do it myself. I was too tired to protest.

So tired…

#flowerboyethan #crankgameplays #crankgameplays fanfic #ethan nestor fanfic #ethan nestor #goodnite socialite

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honeykngdom · 5 years

Text

prompt: person A sits on the last bench in a corner and writes things like ‘I hate physics’, ‘I’m bored’, etc on the desk. person B takes another course which is conducted in that same room, sits at the same desk and replies to all what person A writes. now they have shared all their life stories with each other except for their identities a/n: obviously this was revised a little but like .. the idea still applies.

In the corner of the tiny lecture hall, there sat a clock. It’s ticking echoed loudly in the midst of the silent room. Students huddled over their Scantrons, trying to fill in bubbles to the correct corresponding answers, in hopes of passing their midterms. Jillian — Maddox, as she preferred — finished her exam earlier than she anticipated and now sat listening to the tick, tick, tick of the clock above her head. She attempted to busy herself for the last twenty minutes, taking her pencil to the bottom of the desk to start drawing floral patterns and geometric shapes.

It was to her dismay that she arrived Monday morning for her midterm exam and noticed that the desks were clean, erasing all previous conversations she had with her desk buddy. This came as a surprise, given that she noticed over the last two months the janitor hadn’t once made his way to the back row to collect garbage.

She had been looking forward to the response. When their notes first began, it wasn’t by her own fault. Maddox complained about hating the professor’s stupid bow ties. Turns out, whoever sat in this same desk after her also happened to dislike his bow ties.

The first three days had been full of small talk. What’s your major, are you a local, etcetera. By the time the first week was over, they were exchanging stories. She knew they liked her drawings., and that they were the same age. She knew this person felt like they had very little control in their life, and that bothered them. She knew they were private. She knew they had uncles that weren’t always the friendliest. From this, she drew the conclusion that this friend might feel a little lost.

But, they lived with their grandmother. That couldn’t be all bad, right?

Maddox contemplated an idea for several minutes before she thought fuck it , and wrote it down. Above the flower she finished, she left her phone number. Just in case , she added along with it. She didn’t expect a response, and then realized she very well could have given a super gross random her phone number. But she was curious to know if her desk buddy had made hedge way with their uncles.

Then, she erased the number and sat back with a huff. She repeated this action at least twice more before she decided to leave the number. All things considered, if she ended up needing to, she could change it later.

When the class came to an end, and students handed in their midterms, Maddox left the lecture hall whilst shoving her headphones in. Her attention was elsewhere when she knocked into a hard body. The impact caused her to stumble back into the student behind her, earning her a hard shove from the victim and she fell forward again. The hand that caught her happened to snag onto her headphone wires in the process, ripping them out of place.

“Hey,” the voice in front of her was hard, almost angry. “Watch it, douchebag.”

Maddox brought her eyes up to the boy standing in front of her, using his arms to keep her upright. He had been the body she ran into , but that was no ones fault. His eyes narrowed, glaring at the group of students that passed her; they wore matching polo shirts and khakis. How fucking lame.

When there was less traffic, Maddox fixed her ear buds back into place and looked down at her phone. “You okay?” It startled her for a moment. She didn’t realize that she still had company, thinking that he would have carried on into the lecture hall.

“I’ll live.” She replied, offering him a tight smile. Then, she gestured to the open room behind her, “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She left him standing by the door, pulling her hood up over her hair and into the gentle rain. Students ran along the narrow sidewalks, scurrying to get cover, Maddox joining suit until she safely made it across campus to the parking lot. Her black Hyundai Elantra sat isolated in the far left; the Hyundai was something she had to split with her twin brother. It worked in her favour that the rain held off until she happened to have the vehicle for the afternoon to avoid getting caught in it.

Public transportation in Oceanside wasn’t exactly the most reliable.

Maddox threw her bag into the backseat and sat for a few moments, relishing the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the car. She let the heater blow on low while she looked through her playlist, sounds of her favourite band playing quietly through the speakers Jaxson had installed a week after Joey handed it the car down to them.

The ride back towards the shops on the strand was shorter than anticipated. With the unusually cool weather, most of Oceanside’s residents were dry indoors. Those on the road were only outside because they had to be. She was almost home when her phone vibrated in the cup holder. She assumed it was one of her brothers, could even be Joey’s fiancee, but there was a brief glimmer of hope.

It could be her desk buddy.

With that in mind, she turned onto her street and barreled towards the driveway, barely missing the curb at the front as she pulled into the garage and parked. Simultaneously, she undid her seatbelt and opened her phone, excited to see it was an unknown number.

Bingo.

UNKNOWN: hiya

OUTGOING: pls tell me ur the one ive been talking to for the last week

She waited in the driver's seat with her phone in hand, bottom lip caught between her teeth as the last of the warmth from her heaters began to dissipate.

OUTGOING: if so, ur reply from fri was cleaned off the desk

It was several moments before a reply came through.

UNKNOWN: that’s unfortunate

Maddox blinked, staring down at the words. Instead of giving them a response, she reached for her bag and stormed into the house. She didn’t expect anyone to be home, but it wouldn’t have surprised her if she found Elena lounging in the backyard with a mimosa in hand.

Instead, the house was silent, meaning the boys were out doing what they did best, and Elena was doing what she did best. Maddox was the only one in her family not overly mixed up in the lifestyle her eldest brother had chosen, but she decided that if it meant rent was paid on time and they had food, she could turn her cheek the other way every once in a while. Grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge on her way down to her room, she pulled her phone out and gnawed on her bottom lip in contemplation.

UNKNOWN: how’d you do on the midterm?

OUTGOING: I finished it in like half an hour. what do you think?

UNKNOWN: did u study?

Maddox rolled her eyes, mouth stretching into a knowing smile. Absolutely not. She typically didn’t need to, but truthfully physics wasn’t her major, and it certainly wasn’t her strong suit. She sent back a laughing emoji, then turned her attention to her laptop on her desk, hopeful to finish the lit paper due the following day.

It was quiet for a few hours following her response; the house was still empty, her paper was nearly finished and she was heating up leftovers from last night’s dinner. Maddox had named the unknown contact ‘Desk Friend’, but after hours of silence, it seemed she may not hear back from them.

When a reply finally did come through, it was the following day after her last class. This conversation lasted longer than before, and went well into the late hours of the night. When midnight came and her eyes began to feel heavy, she rolled over in her bed onto her side and plucked the phone from the nightstand.

DESK FRIEND: my uncles are having a party tomorrow. U wanna come?

She was hesitant to agree. Mostly because the majority of their conversations had taken place on a desk and through the phone. She didn’t even know who she was really talking to. But, Jillian Maddox didn’t have many friends, if any at all. She had her brothers, she had Elena, and a pen pal she wrote back in the sixth grade -- and then her Desk Friend.

OUTGOING: won’t it be all old people?

DESK FRIEND: definitely not. there are some students I invited.

Deciding she would sleep on it, she rolled back over towards the wall and pulled the blanket up over her head.

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

After much deliberation and a lengthy conversation with her brothers, she had been allotted a few hours of freedom. It was ridiculous to her that she was twenty and still asking for permission to go out, but sometimes it was necessary. Joey didn’t like taking risks, and he saw his little (and only) sister to be one of the biggest compromises to the family. For this reason, she wasn’t allowed to make (or keep) very many friends.

Joey never worried about Jax, mostly because her twin was already good at keeping his distance from people. Being an introvert worked in the family's favour. But even as a child, Maddox always had light around her. She was bubbly and inviting -- perhaps not so much anymore, due to years of isolation, but Joey could see it every time she got a little too comfortable with someone new.

It was safe to say nervous was an understatement. Her stomach flipped upside down, erupting with butterflies each time she thought about having to fully face her new friend. Could she call them a friend? Who are they? Maddox didn’t know whose house she was even going to -- she lied and told Joey it was some girl named Martha from lit.

Stupidly, he believed her. Normally because she didn’t have any reason to lie.

Her desk mate had said that if she wanted to, she could bring a swimsuit. Given that Maddox was fair skinned, she opted out of that part of the offer. Her attire consisted of cut offs and a frilly top, only bothering to grab a small bag to keep her keys and wallet handy in.

It turned out her new friend didn’t live too far from where she was, deciding to walk versus talking the car. Just in case.

You definitely should not drink.

In ten short minutes she was turning onto the street she needed to. The driveway was packed, but the gate (which you could tell was typically locked) was left wide open; from a distance, Maddox could hear the loud laughter and heavy bass. The music increased in volume as she made her way into the backyard.

It was decorated in pretty string lights, the garden in the far back a touch she certainly admired. Desk buddy had been right. Students had been invited. There were also a lot of adults in their mid to late twenties, and tons of girls varying from all ages. Which was slightly appalling, given that some relationships she could see were definitely not okay.

Her stomach erupted with another bout of butterflies, wondering when or if she’d hear from the anonymous texter. Maybe she needed a drink after all. If for any good reason, just to calm her nerves; currently her skin was hot and her chest felt tight.

It didn’t look like it mattered who took from where, so she bent to grab a fruity cooler from one of the large bins. A couple she recognized from campus watched her from their seats by the pool, and perhaps rightfully so. Maddox didn’t associate with any of her peers — regardless of Joey’s rules, she made zero effort to talk to anyone. She stuck her headphones in, always made herself busy. It was probably baffling to see her outside of the classroom, and she was definitely stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the bare skin that was darkly tanned.

She caught her lip anxiously between her teeth when she decided to pull her phone from her rear pocket and hit call. Not that she would speak if they answered, she just wanted to look around to see who might happen to pick up their phone. Of course she called four times before she realized she wasn’t calling a dead phone, and regretted the idea immediately.

Her drink was nearly finished after fifteen minutes, hoping if she nursed it long enough, she would hear from someone.

But nothing.

Maddox wondered if it might have been some sort of sick joke. Suddenly she found she was embarrassed for one too many reasons already, and decided she to go home. After swallowing the last of her raspberry beverage, she began walking back towards the way she came in, dodging the large leaves of a bush when she crashed into a hard frame. This time the hands of the offender were quick and caught her before she could stumble backwards.

This guy again?

“I’m sorry,” he laughed, eyes looking over her for a few moments before recognition lit his features. Features that Maddox found very appealing — hard jawline, pretty eyes, freckles of his own to match hers.

Joshua Cody.

Yeah, she knew of him. Most kids from Oceanside did, not much about him personally, but everyone knew about Nicky, and Nicky talked. Outside of their budding relationships, everyone knew he was one of the only kids from high school that ever paid attention in class or did the assignments.

They also knew he was trouble.

And her family? Well, Elena had connections of her own that made her privy to information about The Cody family most folks in Oceanside didn’t know about. Given that they worked in a similar business, it was only natural Elena tried to stay on top of things.

That was part of why Maddox wasn’t allowed to get too close to people. And this was the last person she wanted to be talking to.

“No biggie. I was just leaving.”

“Oh.” Was she seeing things, or did he look slightly disappointed? “You don’t seem very drunk.”

She shrugged, “I don’t really drink. Or do this,” she gestured to the cloudless sky with her pale arms.

“There’s couches inside, you know.” She nodded in agreement, trying her best to remain polite. She really did want to get home, but the longer she was kept with Josh, the more distracted she became. Weirdly calming. “Who invited you?”

Maddox hesitated. She didn’t have a name to offer, and wasn’t going to reveal that she was invited by someone she met via desk notes. “Just someone from campus, but they didn’t show.” It wasn’t an entire lie. They were someone on campus.

The way he watched her then shifted the vibe completely. He was studying her, his mind likely reeling with questions but underlying it all was this general sense of understanding. Like something clicked.

“I see.” He finally moved around her frame, going towards the front door to the house. “Well, if you’re hungry … I can make us something. Maybe if you wait a little longer, your friend will show up.”

Maddox didn’t really want to wait any longer, she felt ridiculous enough. But the food was a tempting offer. “Sure.”

Given the hoard of people taking space in the kitchen, he gently brushed her fingers with his and tilted his head towards the hall. Following, they weaved between bodies until they came to rows of doors; rooms sat behind them no doubt. He opened the one at the end, walking into the empty space.

“Are you sure we're allowed in here?” She asked after looking around the room. It was bare, if anything it made her feel like a homey hotel. Not very many knacks — it could’ve been a guest room.

Josh snorted in response, plopping himself down onto the mattress with a smile. “Why wouldn’t we be? It’s my room.”

Woah.

Wait.

Back up.

“You’re my desk buddy?”

He laughed. “I’m your what?”

“It’s you. You’re the one writing back to me on the desk.”

Josh nodded, her sudden realization an amusement to him obviously. “Yeah. It was sort of planned.”

Her earlier anxiety replaced with confusion, “Planned?”

There was a pause. His face dropped with a seriousness, jaw clenching as he leaned forward. His eyes focused intently on hers, gaze creating hot pools in her stomach along with continuous flutters. This wasn’t a flirty look. This wasn’t even a friendly look, but she knew what this look meant.

This was business.

“There’s something we need to talk about, Maddox. Close the door.”

#animal kingdom #j cody #joshua cody #animal kingdom imagine #* mine #* ak #j cody x oc #j cody imagine #listen i can't write j for the life of me rn but i just wanted to do a thing #and write more things #and making a series is a bad idea so i'll just do blurbs and shit for now #jm fic

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echonidae · 5 years

Photo

edit nov. 23rd: alrighty, break is over !! the seven main slots are back c: for now commissions will be done in a slower pace while i sort out schoolwork (but i only have classes for two more weeks !!) so there's that c: ,,,,i ended up not having much time to revise the whole commission page ;o; but i'll also eventually make a separated page for the older completed slots, just so the page doesn't get progressively longer asdfghjfghj

——— COMMISSION STATUS - OPEN please read all the info + rules carefully before requesting a commission!! by placing an order, you're agreeing to all the rules!!

4000x4000px .png images (icons are 800x800px !) at 600-700ppi by default, digital medium only; one file watermarked for reposting purposes, another with a tiny signature off to the side; payment is done half upfront, half right before i send you the finished drawing (two invoices) after i accept your order, you must pay the first half in 72h to occupy a slot or your request will be considered null and void! waiting period for the finished drawing is 1 to 3 weeks (due to classes — i tend to work fast tho) — i'll keep you updated!

7 slots per batch — icons have dedicated slots!! once i get this batch done, i'll open more slots — for icons, i'll create a new batch and reopen slots as they get done instead :) max of 2 slots per person (icons don't count for Main slots so if you want two commissions + up to two icons, that's fine !!) , only one character per slot.

more info under the cut!! please read all the info + rules carefully before requesting a commission!! by placing an order, you're agreeing to all the rules!!

this price sheet is on dA too, in case the readmore link can’t be opened on mobile!

- first batch slot 1 - completed !! slot 2 - completed !! slot 3 - completed !! slot 4 - completed !! slot 5 - completed !! slot 6 - completed !! slot 7 - completed !!

- second batch slot 1 - completed !! slot 2 - completed !! slot 3 - completed !! slot 4 - completed !! slot 5 - completed !! slot 6 - completed !! slot 7 - completed !! -------------------- icon slot 1 - completed !! icon slot 2 - completed !! icon slot 3 - completed !! icon slot 4 - completed !! icon slot 5 - completed !! icon slot 6 - completed !!

- third batch // opened on nov. 23rd slot 1 - OPEN slot 2 - OPEN slot 3 - OPEN slot 4 - OPEN slot 5 - OPEN slot 6 - OPEN slot 7 - OPEN -------------------- icon slot 7 - OPEN icon slot 8 - OPEN icon slot 9 - OPEN icon slot 10 - OPEN icon slot 11 - OPEN

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> SHADED LINEART - cellshading in 1 to 2 colors - clean lineart in 1 to 2 colors - solid color bakcground with/without texture - chromatic aberration in the lineart is optional — BUST: $ 12 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 14 USD

> OVERLAYED GRAYSCALE (as in, the drawing is done in grayscale and then i overlay a ton of diffrent colors on top of it) - cellshaded - clean lineart - minimal lighting - simple background with/without texture or simple shapes - chromatic aberration in the lineart is optional — BUST: $ 15 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 18 USD

> BASE COLORS - cellshaded + lighting and lighting effects - base colors - clean, colored lineart - chromatic aberration in the lineart is optional - simple background with/without texture or simple shapes — BUST: $ 22 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 26 USD

> FULL COLOR - full color digital painting - full shading/lighting - colored lineart - simple background — BUST: $ 38 USD — KNEE-UP: $ 55 USD

— each major change (as in: something significantly big and/or detailed, or a portion that is more than 45% of the piece, must be redone partially or completely) to the order after the lineart is done increases the price by $2 to $5 USD!

- will draw furries/anthro animals plants humanoids monsters humans body horror some gore your ocs - will not draw fanart (sorry!) nsfw/fetish/sexualized nudity hyper realistic gore mecha/vehicles/intricate armor (this sort of armor is fine! in doubt, feel free to ask!) text-only references (please send images instead!) someone else's oc (unless you have written permission!) hate speech/racism/lgbtphobia character sheets custom oc design custom clothing design (please send references!!) drawn backgrounds (as in, actual full scenes — abstract or simple shapes like mandalas or the ones in the previous commissions are fine)

feel free to ask if you're not sure whether your order would be ok or not !!

here are the full example images: - icons 1 // icons 2 - shaded lineart - overlayed grayscale (a more colorful one in this style would be [this] one!!) - base colors - full color (this was an ab extra for an auction so i can only link the preview, sorry!! most of my art is in this fullcolor style tho so here are some substitutes [1] [2] [3] [4]) feel free to check out previous commissions here!!

——— RULES / MORE INFO

- i reserve the right to refuse a commission request without needing to provide a reason — please don't take it personally!! - once i've accepted your order, i'll send you an invoice asking for the first half of the payment, which you must pay in 72h. after i receive that, you’ll occupy a slot and i’ll start working on your piece! - i'll send you some rough colored sketches for you to choose which one you like better; please make sure to think carefully and say if you'd like to change something before greenlighting one of the sketches! we can stay at this stage for as long as it is needed, no rush c: but please keep in mind that once you greenlight it, i'm not going to start over! - i'll update you again once the lineart is done (wip screenshot including the previously agreed color scheme, if applicable) — at this point, only color palette and minor changes to the lineart (small changes in the expression, moving a hand a bit to the side, more or less texture detail on faces and hair, etc.) are allowed free of charge — each major change after the lineart is done will increase the price by $2 to 5$ USD! - * i'll send another update right before finishing the piece so as to work out last minute details and small changes. * once your commission is done, i'll send a second invoice asking for the rest of the payment — after i receive that, i'll send you the full-res images! i'll also post the commissioned drawing here, on tumblr and on ig — if you don't want to be linked to the drawing once it's posted, please do say so ahead of time! - i won't accept private commissions (as in, the drawing isn't posted anywhere). i also will not do any edits after the commission is done (as in, after the second invoice has been sent) — again please make sure to voice your thoughts in the sketch phase! - please understand that, although i'll follow references as closely as i can * (and you can feel free to tell me if i missed a detail any time) * , i'll make stylistic choices due to my artstyle and i will not try to replicate someone else's style. - i keep all the copyrights to use, post and showcase the commissioned drawing in any and all websites, portfolios, announcements, etc. i won't sell or make prints/etc. of the drawing, and i'll make sure to add info on who the commission was for. - the commissioned drawing is for personal and non-commercial use only; you may not claim my art as your own nor profit in any way from the drawing. the resolution should be good for printing and you may do so for personal use but please don't sell prints of the drawing. * the commissioned drawing is a digital file, and i won't send any physical items to you. * - you keep all the rights to your own ocs, designs, concepts, and stories. - do not trace, copy, or edit the drawing in any way. and please do not erase my signature in the unwatermarked image, it won't be obstructing anything. - i'll send you a watermarked and an unwatermarked version of the drawing — only the watermarked version may be reposted (with credit) to prevent misuse/theft! the icon's file i'll send you does not have a watermark — still, credit is appreciated! i'll post icons together in a single post, and those do have watermarks for the same reason as mentioned previously ;v; - please don't commission me with a deadline in mind — your piece may take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to finish, though i'm aiming for the former. i'm currently in classes right now and they, of course, have a greater priority over commissions — if something comes up that results in a significant delay on your piece, i'll notify you of it! - i'll refund your payment if i wasn't able to finish or start your order. if you must cancel your order for any reason, please contact me asap so we can discuss it! if you give up on the commission mid-way or after it is done, i will not refund you and won't take commissions from/sell adopts to you in the future. - that being said, please do not commission me if you're unsure you can pay or unsure you actually want it!

by placing an order, you are agreeing to the terms and i assume you have read all the info i've written down! i'm not going to negotiate the terms! feel free to ask any questions!!!

——— IF YOU'RE INTERESTED

send me a note/PM with the following information:

subject: commission request paypal email: (so i can send you an invoice) type of commission: (icon, lineart, grayscale, base colors or full color?) type of composition: (knee-up or bust?) description/ideas: (please write a detailed description of what you want from this piece! what sort of mood/expression/pose/color palette/etc. do you have in mind? do send any ideas for composition and other elements even if they feel vague, we will work together on shaping your order c:) reference image links: (other than character sheets, these can be palettes, pictures of outfits, pose references, etc.! please keep in mind i won't do text-only descriptions/references, nor will i design characters/clothing/etc.!! also please make sure that the character sheet is colored or send a specific palette! if you have a quick sketch or doodle of what you have in mind [even if it's just stick figures!], it would be greatly appreciated if you linked it too!!!)

anyway yeah thank you for reading this far!! i realize this is very very long, still haven’t quite set up a dedicated page for commission info orz if you have any questions feel free to leave a comment or send a note, i'll get back to you asap!! c: ♥

#artists on tumblr #my art #commissions open #paypal commissions #artenidae #commissions #price sheet #artists on deviantart #illustration #digital art #portrait commissions #<3 here we go again !!

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twistednuns · 4 years

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February 2020

I managed to use my iPad as a second monitor for my computer. So tech savvy. Yay me!

Joking about developing a sex-based cardio programme with Manu. Powerfucking! Might help against aggression as well.

A late night phone call with Tom. Not saying much.

Making a huge pot of my grandmother’s signature veggie stew.

More Bon Appétit test kitchen videos. Chris recreating tacos. Claire making Ben&Jerry’s. Priya making her mum’s Indian curries.

Writing a letter to Lena. Drawing upside down bats (which makes them look like they’re having a wicked dance-off). Just the act of writing. I thoroughly enjoy looking at my handwriting.

Using the Salted Coconut handscrub by Lush. Especially now that I wash my hands so often when we’re working with clay at school. I feel like the peeling triggers some pressure points on my palms.

That Saturday productivity high. Cooking and preparing heaps of stuff, cleaning the windows, doing laundry.

Painting my nails like an expressionist artist.

Some portrait studies. Accidentally drawing Sirius Black.

Being really motivated to improve my Spanish. Working with Lorena, the Duolingo app and even starting my own grammar/vocabulary book.

This ultra quirky ASMR video. Also: watching videos with Erin an her boyfriend Chris. It’s amazing how well they work together. How you can almost feel their connection, how similar they are.

Carrot cake oats.

Seeing the The Darkness live again, this time with Margit. Justin’s outfit and personality, singing along, especially to Time of my Life, the band’s traditional first song after the show.

Meeting Chris. Having a Bramblette cocktail at Pusser’s. I like that place. Feels very old-timey with a rowing boat right under the ceiling. We made out in front of a tiger slide in a toy store window on our way to the next bar.

Peeling fresh carrots.

Pickling onions and making kimchi. My fermentation game is strong these days!

Looking through Dominik’s sketchbook. I loved the tree whose bark resembled a mole burrow with its underground tunnel system.

The flu. Yes, really. Fewer pupils at school. Quiet times. I’m actually surprisingly healthy. I’d guess my probiotics must play a role here… Who knows.

More sourdough experiments. Writing about it (DELICACY - a haiku. Oven-warm sourdough / salted butter, alpine cheese / and a strawberry).

Finding a really interesting list of SanFran hippie era book recommendations at the end of Robin Sloan’s Ajax Penumbra: 1969. In the mood to read Maya Angelou, Tom Wolfe, Jack Kerouac, Richard Brautigan.

Even more beautiful books: I really enjoyed Die weiße Stadt by Karolina Ramqvist, a feminist author from Sweden, and the graphic novel version of To Kill a Mockingbird. But two books that literally (well, figuratively obviously) blew my mind were Circe by Madeline Miller (mythology, loneliness, animals and plants, magic and monsters, some desperate kind of feminism, independence and strength) and Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (magical realms, university setting, psychological depth, unexpected twists and turns). I haven’t read anything comparable in a very long time and I desperately hope that there’s more to come from these authors.

A beach collecting all the world’s single socks in The Magicians. Oh and of course seeing them break the moon. What a sight. The show is super confusing, obnoxious and absolutely fabulous at the same time. Best example: the Freaky Friday szene in which Margo and Eliot switch bodies. I love how the actors took on each other’s speech patterns and behaviour.

A new addition to my colour vocabular: celadon (a greyish green; there is a type of ceramics you’ll only see in this colour which is not surprising since the shade provides such an interesting contrast to the the earthy, rusty orange of burnt clay.)

Manu telling me that he had rarely seen people with more joy in their eyes than me (“Ich habe schon Freude in deinen Augen gesehen! So ein Leuchten kann man nicht simulieren.”) after complaining about being bored and lifeless. / Making curry with or, well, for him the other night. Drinking Liqueur 43 with cinnamon and milk. Playing the Jackbox party games for which you can use your phone as a controller.

Finding myself in a well-known sitation from the past. Lying in Frank’s bed in the early morning hours, not that tired yet, when he starts talking about his life and his depression. In English, obviously, because that’s our emotional filter. Relating, since I feel quite similar. Coming up with a suggestion for a reciprocal support system. Let’s see what we can do for each other.

Looking at travel photographs. The sea, the cenotes. Longing to go back to Mexico or Australia. Diving. Taking it all in.

Dreaming of my grandmother talking about her biggest regrets in life. Weirdly she was in a little bundle under a coffee table, much like Voldemort in the last Harry Potter movie.

My weird, weird brain. How both pleasure and pain enhance my sense of smell and increase my brain activity, almost causing hallucinations and fixations on ideas. Like geometric shapes in gloomy off-colours and a beige silicon-like surface the other night. All I could think of was a benchscraper.

Blue eyeliner.

Brainstorming three-letter-words with Frank since I’m thinking of getting personalised Nike Blazers. Sad cat. Yes but. Dat ass. Why tho.

Flying squirrels. Watching them wobble through the air. How they look like cute exhibitionist when they’re extending their limbs and thus stretching their, well, let’s just call it wings.

The fact that red cabbage has an intricate pattern like brain convolutions when you cut it open.

Talking to Sonja for the first time in over two years. What a strange person. Interesting, too. At least in homeopathic doses.

Ripe strawberries and nectarines. Oh my god. I love fruit.

Meeting Eve at Pub Quiz. She identifies as female, loves swing dance, used to be an animator and I love her style. Also, I realised that really like Betty. And Dennis wasn’t mean to me for once. I love my nerd friends <3 And I learned that Starbucks was named after the first mate in Moby Dick! Also, coincidentally they asked a question about the city where To Kill a Mockingbird takes place (Maycombe, Alabama) after I had read it the week before.

Inviting Lorena to the Botanical Gardens. I always feel very happy and very much myself when I’m there. I sometimes wish I was a gardener. Lorena was late so I walked along the Spring Path outside and it might have been the first time I’ve seen a brussels sprouts plant. Inside I learned lots of Spanish words and marveled at the incredible butterflies. The huge yellow one right behind the entrance was my favourite. Its delicate feelers were fascinating.

Washing my hands at the Keg’s bathroom. Looking into the mirror. Suddenly thinking of the perfect karaoke song… Rescue Me by Bell Book and Candle! I kept singing it for days on repeat. My neighbour must hate me (nothing new here) especially since my voice is too low for the chorus.

It isn’t hard to see how such attachment patterns can undermine mental health. Both anxious and avoidant coping have been linked to a heightened risk of anxiety, depression, loneliness, eating and conduct disorders, alcohol dependence, substance abuse and hostility. The way to treat these problems, say attachment theorists, is in and through a new relationship. On this view, the good therapist becomes a temporary attachment figure, assuming the functions of a nurturing mother, repairing lost trust, restoring security, and instilling two of the key skills engendered by a normal childhood: the regulation of emotions and a healthy intimacy. // An interesting article on attachment styles and why theraphy works; it makes me want to learn more about attachment theory. This School of Life video is a nice addition as well.

That dream. About a book shop modeled after my picture of Penumbra’s 24-hour bookstore. There was an old man in a very narrow but high-ceilinged room full of books. There was no light source except for moonlight or some street lights. There were loads of stairs, very steep, leading to the back of the house. Upstairs the man would set out cat food and on the rooftop there was an old sailing boat. One day the man decided to open the door to the roof and let visitors see the ship, much like a museum; perhaps to attract customers. However, in the next night a cat-shaped ghost appeared who reminded me quite a lot of Kot Behemoth character in Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita. The ghost was not amused about the old man’s decision and took away his key, a big golden one adorned with a red ribbon.

Toasted sesame makes pretty much every dish so much better.

Watching High Fidelity with gorgeous Zoe Kravitz (I adore her effortless style and her outfits), getting in the mood for making a playlist and listening to more music in general. There are all these great songs out there I forgot about.

Remembering the xkcd storm chaser comics.

Making a wicked good batch of Pho for Tom.

Spending a nice evening with Alex at Shamrock. Singing along to American Boy by Estelle. Confirming the hypothesis that the nerdy, quiet ones usually have a freak streak. That moment in the morning. Eye contact and kegel exercises.

Karaoke with Margit and Betty. Meeting Manu’s doppelganger. Same type, looks, voice. Eerie.

Making a BA Gourmet Makes meme for Steffen after he had passed his law examps. Strangely Gaby kinda looked like him after I was done with it.

Saturday morning in bed. Reading comics and graphic novels. Fresh bedclothes, surrounded by books. Since it was February 29 I thought about leap years and asked a few friends what their inner seven-year-old would have done that day (based on the thought experiment that your birthday was on February 29 and you’d age in 4-year-steps which would divide your age by 4 obviously).

I came up with: visiting grandma / eating Cini-Minis / falling asleep with my face buried in a cat / beating my neighbour Anna at Memory / drawing while listening to a Bibi Blocksberg cassette.

Alex said he’d have been outside all day, building a snow igloo. Not noticing his mum telling him to come to dinner. If the weather had been bad he would have played with his dinosaur collection. His inner 7-year-old was a hopeless dreamer who got agitated whenever his parents had a fight. Who came home late from school every day because he forgot about time when he was talking to his friend next to a hedge with thorns that looked like tiny airplanes.

Lena said she would have been outside all day long, playing in the mud with the neighbours’ kids. Of course.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #february 2020 #february #2020

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klaudiaspiechowicz · 5 years

Photo

I genuinely hated using this program so much. It took forever to get the hang of it because in the beginning I wanted tomato everything into perfectly rounded shapes and lines but it was so frustrating to curve the lines because most of the time instead of actually making a curve they would turn into wave shape which I did not need. I also had to redraw the frame of my logo twice because the first time I drew it I made it really sketchy and uneven because I had no clue you couldn’t erase singular lines without making new ones. I was really fed up with this program and started using the brush tool to draw and colour in as you can see on the lake. But I got told how I can make the water so that it looks better, using the blend tool. I found that using it its actually simpler to use geometric lines instead of curves and since then I made everything using clean straight lines.

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vis3003 · 3 years

Text

Business Card Project - Part 1

Around the time this module started, I got back into contact with someone by the name of Josh Hitchcock who I met and worked with back in college. We met when we were 16 and worked on several projects with each other during our year studying photography together, I learned a lot from Josh and we’ve stayed loosely in contact ever since leaving school but haven’t collaborated on anything for around 5 years despite having always had similar interests, styles and aesthetics. Josh is also still pursuing his passions and talents in visual communication and is beginning to build a portfolio with the aim of applying for a BA, just like I was doing this time last year. Alongside getting himself prepared to do a degree, he has been expanding his online presence and slowly establishing a business and brand identity for himself. He reached out to me originally to ask if I could potentially create him a logo that he could use across all of his platforms which he needed fairly quickly as he was building a website, unfortunately I couldn’t meet the turnaround deadline and so he commissioned someone else to do a logo, later reaching out to me again to ask if I might be able to create business cards instead.

Josh had already started sketching out ideas and so he sent me his drawings as a starting point for the design

After some discussion and a little bit of time, Josh came to the decision that this was his favorite prospective card design and even began experimenting with it's colors.

It was at this point that I asked him to create a Pinterest board to help gather all of the ideas together which he promptly delivered on. Pinterest’s description of the board “Clean, simple doodles. Photography orientated based on nature and ancient art. A perfect combination of tech, nature and aesthetic.” sums it up perfectly. This was a really strong starting point for the overall design as it includes everything from small decorative graphic details such as flowers, vines and suns; to a concise range of colors for the palette of the art itself. The board isn’t overcrowded, it's clearly well thought through and does good job of clearly communicating the kind of style that I was expected to reflect in my design.

Coincidentally around the same time I started this project, I decided to treat myself to an iPad Pro and Apple Pencil to support my University work, these have become increasing popular in the art world because they are incredibly powerful creative tools, I chose to invest in it mainly for it’s capabilities in creating digital art using the Adobe suite and Procreate using the pencil which is exclusive to iOS and has is slowly becoming the standard for digital drawings.

Having recently attended the Illustrator workshop, I thought that I would experiment with using this software both on my iPad and computer as I figured if I could learn to use them in conjunction with one another from the get go, I would be in a better position overall later on; but in doing so, I threw myself two learning curves at once as I was not only dabbling in software I wasn’t comfortable with but also using that software on a device that I am a complete beginner to which was a definite challenge for myself.

I started out by doing a Google search to find out what the standard size is for business cards and found out that is generally 3.5 x 2 inches (1050 x 600 pixels at 300 DPI, which is the standard DPI for printing). This is how I decided to set my document up which is what gives me the white rectangular shape that you see me working on to start off with.

To begin the design, I picked out my favorite things from Josh's sketch which were the wavy line details and the bohemian style sun. I created some simple outlines using the line tools on iPad Illustrator starting with the border and dividing horizontal line where I intended the design to end, from this I was able rough out where patches of lines would go and add the sun. For the sun, I originally tried to draw one with wavy points but I was struggling to get it proportionate, even when I'd figured out how to use the reflect tool to make my drawing symmetrical, it seemed to be throwing the design off and so I threw this idea out and went for a pointed sun design instead. I chose triangles for the points as a subtle reference to the exposure triangle which is a rule that dictates camera settings when it comes to photography so it ties in with the business well and was also a concept that Josh was trying to reflect in his logo. I achieved the geometrically accurate shape of the points around the sun by creating the very top triangle and then using the Radial Reflect tool whilst using my iPad which automatically created the rest of the points for me with even spacing and perfect symmetry; all I had to do then was resize the points as I pleased. Once I had done this, I decided to repeat the process but with a small line between each point to give it an extra beaming sunshine look, this also fits in with how some of the sun's and graphics are drawn on the Pinterest board that I'm referring to as I design this.

Once the outlines were complete, I started experimenting with filling in the patches with lines, this is an effect that is featured on the album art of one of my favorite albums of all time, Currents by Tame Impala which I previously learned how to do using a vector pack from Spoon Graphics as I did work inspired by it for my University portfolio. Although I have used these particularly line textures before, I have only used them in Photoshop and not Illustrator so I haven't actually used the vector versions of them up until this point. I inserted these into my work using my computer as that's where they were saved, I was able to use Adobe Cloud to sync my work between my PC and iPad making it easy and convenient to switch between the two whilst working. Adjusting the waves worked similarly to how it does when I use them in Photoshop, I just added them in as a layer and then used direct selection mode to delete the extra lines around the outlines and border that I’d drawn in leaving me with what you see above. At this point, I sent what I’d done so far to Josh so that I could begin to get his feedback and make sure that what I was doing was in line with his vision.

Whilst I was waiting for him to reply, I started experimenting with adding color to the design hoping that it would help us visualize it better; I used colors directly from the Pinterest board for my palette by taking a screenshot of the webpage, opening it up in Illustrator, swatching all of the colors and adding them to my Color Library so that they could be easily accessed whenever I needed them.

At this point, I just filled in the colors according to what made sense to me, blue for the sky, yellow for the sun and something contrasting for the wavy lines, honestly, I chose orange because it’s my favorite color and I really like the way that the purple looks next to it, especially against the blue background where it appears slightly more subtle whilst still being effective at breaking up the image in the way that it needs to.

I continued to add colour, changing every other point on the sun to be red to give it more dimension and incorporate more of the colours from the chosen scheme; I then added green to the bottom section which I chose because I thought it would represent grass and fit in with the sun and sky theme that seemed to be emerging. I also added some small stars as I was experimenting with the shape tools dotting them into some small empty spaces on the design so that they line up in a triangular shape which is another subtle reference to the expose triangle.

Then I started experimenting with adding text and social media icons, Josh had told me that he wanted his name, website and social media information on the card, we decided to leave his phone number out as he only has a personal mobile number and didn’t want to risk handing it out to strangers. I chose this Art Deco style font for the name because I liked the lines in it and thought it went well with the lines in the top half of the design which are probably my favourite thing about it at this point. I didn’t use the same font for the website because it doesn’t look as good when it’s small, you can’t really see the lines and it made the website hard to read so instead I chose this glyph font which I thought Josh would like based on some of the imagery from the Pinterest board; I was unsure about this choice at first but it quickly grew on me as it’s subtle and yet it makes the website look bold on the bottom of the image which draws your eye down to it when you’re reading the information. I also added some social shapes to the front keeping Josh updated on my progress as I went along.

It was at this point that I started to receive some feedback from him, he was really happy with the first impressions of the design but did want to make a few changes. He started out by asking if I could change the green on the bottom to the orange colour in the waves with the hope of giving the card a more uniform look which we both agreed looked much better. He then asked me if I’d started designing the back which I hate to admit that I hadn’t actually thought about at this point and so we started discussing the layout; collectively agreeing to move the social media information to the back of the card and have that there along with some sort of bio which I much preferred the idea of as I wasn’t too keen on how the social shapes looked on the front of the card and I was worried about how I was going to fit all of the contact details on without making it look messy.

Originally we thought it might be nice to add some floral details to the front of the card where the space had now been freed up but we quickly decided that this didn’t look quite right.

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wootensmith · 7 years

Text

Icon

He was uncertain what he’d expected. A room frozen in time, unchanged by the two years he’d been absent from it? An entirely different room, devoid of anything he’d recognize? The Inquisitor to be seated at her desk or leaning on the balcony suddenly turning to smile at him? There was nothing shocking in her quarters. Perhaps that was what wounded him so. Her life went on. She grew and changed at the same rate without him. There was no sad gathering of the items he had left, no uncomfortable shrine or object placed just exactly where he had dropped it. Nor was all evidence of him erased. He could see the book he had been reading neatly shelved beside others, though there was a thin ribbon marking the place he’d left off. One of his patched cloaks hung near the hearth, beside her own. The translations he’d written were stacked neatly on the corner of her desk. She’d just— moved him gently aside and kept going. As if she knew he’d return, but not expecting him soon.

There were pieces of her, too. The pebble that held the translations down, she’d picked it up on the Storm Coast, smooth and rounded and blackened with dragonfire. A small thing that had pleased her, nothing more. The half finished staff she’d been working on in the Emerald Graves after her own had splintered. Dorian had become tired with the near-constant breakage and had given her a staff of Bronto bone before she’d finished it. It hung in the rafters above the desk, forgotten. The large map she’d been drawing hanging on the wall. There were more details now, the undefined edges pushed farther back than he had expected. She’d traveled much more than she ought to have. It troubled him. The anchor’s spread would be much worse outside of Skyhold. He had expected her to slow now that Corypheus was gone, but it seemed she’d traveled more in the past few years than when he’d been with her. He sat at her desk, depressed by the many scrolls that lay open, all describing the Blight. Notes from Dagna about the red lyrium and tired scrawls of her own. Lists and recipes and theories each seeming more desperate than the last. If she’d been there when he arrived— he tried to reason with himself. This wasn’t something he could keep her from. The Blight would come no matter where he kept her. And yet— if she had been there, he might have drawn her back to Arlathan anyway. If she’d go, he reminded himself. The door creaked and he tensed. But Jana crept in and he sank back in his seat. “I thought you might be hungry,” she offered holding out a plate toward him. “The kitchen is serving. It’ll be empty in a few hours, everyone has to get up early to see the Dalish off.” “Thank you,” he said, taking it from her. She nodded. “I’ll— I’ll come back when it’s time,” she said, turning to go. “Jana—” She turned back. “The Inquisitor,” he waved at the papers on the desk. “Does she do this often, this research?” Jana rubbed an arm nervously. “Some. She’s been busy with the refugees lately. It was hard to get the clans to agree to take them. She hasn’t had much time. But— it’s like an undercurrent. Always there. I think she worries over it more than we know. Since Dagna and Dorian left, she hasn’t really talked about it. But who is there to speak to anymore?” “And the anchor? Is it worse?” “She’s kept it covered since she returned from Tevinter. I don’t think anyone’s seen it. Gloves all the time, long sleeves. She doesn’t act as if it’s paining her though. She’s not sharp or short with anyone. Doesn’t favor it or wince when someone touches her.” He nodded and she left the room. The room darkened around him as the sun sank behind the Frostbacks. He knew better than to light up the tower and sat beneath the wide windows watching until the light was gone. The door creaked and Jana called up to him. He met her on the stairs. “The guards are light with no one here, but we’ll still need to watch for patrols,” she said. “If we’re stopped, just let me do the talking. Almost no one here will recognize you and there are so many elves here, most will assume you are with one of the groups already here.” She led him down the stairs, peeking around the edge of the door for a long moment. He followed her across the long throne room. The empty spot in front of the hearth where Varric’s chair had sat struck an unexpected blow and he stopped to stare at it a long moment. He regretted Varric’s anger with him. But he could see no other outcome for what he’d done. “Are you well?” asked Jana. “Yes,” he said, turning back to the door. They made their way down to the kitchens. The fires were banked and the slow, sweet fragrance of baked bread rose from the cooling ovens. “Most of it is in the pantries. I found the loading list from yesterday.” “Good, we’ll go through it as quickly as possible.”

They were about halfway down the list and his hands were dusty with a combination of flour and ground spice and tea from plunging his hands into sacks to check them, when they reached the wines. He followed Jana into the cellar, wiping his hands and stopped on the bottom step. There, gleaming in the corner beside the large barrels of mead, were three round metal urns. He’d seen all sorts of different casks in his time, even the poisonous mosswine the Carta used to assassinate their foes. None of them were ever stored in these. “These are the casks from Orzammar?” he asked as she moved toward them. “Yes. Three of them. More on the wagon, but they were meant for Val Royeaux and Halamshiral. The dwarven delegation has been invited to the Exalted Council as guests.” Solas pulled a barrier around them. He gingerly shifted one of the casks. A shifting rattle, like sand. “But when I lifted it, it sounded like—” He pushed one of the other casks. It sloshed. “A decoy. Did the merchants help you unload?” “Yes,” she said miserably, “And one of the kitchen hands. Bran. But he never said anything—” “They had to have an ally in Skyhold. Perhaps Bran was—” “No! He’s devoted to the Inquisition, he’d never do that!” Solas looked at her for a long moment. “Just as you would never join another force, Jana?” he asked. “That’s different, you’d never ask me to hurt them…” she faltered at his expression. “It is a matter for another day. I do not wish them hurt, that much is true. We will watch and hopefully catch the spy. But for now—” he pushed her behind him carefully and pried off the cover of one of the casks. The acrid smell of deathroot was immediate and overpowering. He peered into the dark cask. It was almost full with a silver-green sand, he pulled a handful from the cask and inspected it. He could not tell much, but poured the handful carefully into an empty wine bottle that sat nearby to take with him. He pulled one more pinch from the cask and put it carefully onto the empty stone floor across the cellar. “Stay back,” he told Jana, already recasting the barrier. He flicked a spark at it and the dust sizzled and banged with a bright flash and intense heat. Too small an amount to harm them or the stone, but he could tell it would be devastating in large amounts. Jana stared at the still sputtering sparks, but he just calmly recapped the cask. It was far too heavy for him to get up the stairs alone. “We’ll need help,” he said, “and a way out of the keep without being seen. It’s got to be removed or it could tear Skyhold to rubble. I don’t want to expose ourselves to the spy if we can help it. This can’t be the only place they’ve targeted.” “Farrow should be back by now. I’ll find him. The midden chute is the only way out of the keep except for the gates that I know of. But it’s close and I know the cooks ordered it cleaned a few weeks back.” “Yes, that will work.” He didn’t relish the idea of dragging the casks through a filthy midden chute but it would not be the worst place he’d been and the work would go quickly with three. She ran off to find Farrow. He tried to examine the casks, hoping for some clue in their shape or symbols. The geometric embossings would suggest that they had some kinship with dwarven design, but the rounded shape did not. He could find no maker’s mark, no stamp or label at all. Except for the word of the merchants, it might have been anything at all. The Inquisition was slipping. A few years before, every sack was opened, every meal tested for poison before being served. Were they down to so few people or had those that remained simply forgotten the threat? Jana didn’t know either, he reminded himself. A clatter of footsteps made him look up. Farrow and Jana hurried down to him. “I tried to reach you—” Farrow began. “About Loranil and Sevren, I know. They are both safe.” “Jana said they were explosives,” he said pointing to the casks. “Yes. I need your aid to get them out.” “Of course. But what will we do with them then?” It was not something he’d considered yet. “Could we dump them in the river? The current would wash it away,” offered Jana. “No. It’s laced with deathroot extract,” said Solas. “It would flow down into the local fields and taint them.” “Anywhere we dump it will do that after the first good fall rain,” said Farrow. “We’ll need to burn it, then. Somewhere safe, away from any villages.” They thought for a moment. Jana’s face broke into a slow smile. She glanced sideways at Farrow. “There’s the statue,” she said. “The ambassador would kill us,” he answered, though he began to grin as well. “She’d assume it was Sera.” “What statue?” asked Solas. “In the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” said Farrow. “They built a massive statue of the Inquisitor. She tried to stop it, but it happened anyway.” “Almost didn’t,” laughed Jana. “Sera kept stealing the requisitions for the marble. It was stalled just at the waist for months. Kept calling it the ‘Ass-quisitor.’ They finally finished it after she left. Had a big ceremony to unveil it. The Inquisitor was polite and thanked the sculptor, but—” “She hates it. The idea of it, the ceremony, even the actual statue itself. I watched her. She stared at the face a long time while the sculptor went on and on about artistic vision and how a ‘softer’ look would make her seem more approachable. He meant ‘human.’ Looks nothing like her. But that might be a relief. Anyhow, it’d be no great loss. And the ruins are still empty. Another explosion can hardly do more damage. It’s far enough that no one at Skyhold should see it, even a large explosion.” “Very well. If there are no settlers nearby—” Jana shook her head. “No, the Commander was nervous about the remaining red lyrium. It’s still under quarantine.”

The midden chute was still filthy and smelled rotten and sour, but he hardly noticed. He could only think of that night on the balcony. How he’d promised to remember her as she was when the humans changed her face, her words, her deeds. The metal cask was heavy even between two of them and it was an effort not to slip in the decaying vegetable peels and old ale. Still, he kept wandering back to the idea of the statue. To how much she had longed to be more than an icon to them. How could they not see? Sera had known. For that, he was grateful. But Sera had still gone, just like all the others. Back to their own lives. Why was clan Lavellan not in the courtyard? “Farrow,” he whispered, “Did the Inquisitor not ask her own clan to take some of the refugees?” Farrow grunted out a labored breath. “Months ago. They’ve taken more than they are likely to be able to support. It’s only because they remain in Wycome that it was possible. She only called upon the other clans when Deshanna finally admitted they could help no more.” They heaved the cask over the lip of the chute and settled it carefully into the wagon Jana kept waiting. Solas climbed back up into the chute. One more. “She would have kept them in Skyhold if she could,” said Farrow, “but she’s been warned. The Inquisition will not survive the Council. One way or another, she will have to give it up. Skyhold may not be hers in a few months time. Or if it is, it might not be safe for them to stay. It’s by no means certain that Orlais would not return the escaped slaves to their masters if it kept the peace with Tevinter.” They picked up the other cask. “Don’t think she means to try to hang on to the Inquisition anyway,” said Farrow, adjusting his grip. “She’s been selling off assets and using them to pay out retirements to the soldiers. Skyhold’s not just empty because everyone’s away. Almost half have already gone home. Cullen insists on an honor guard and the ambassador keeps a small staff on hand in case of visiting delegations, but this is the most crowded the keep has been in months. After tomorrow— it’ll be silent again until the Council.” They struggled to the end of the chute and lowered the second cask into the wagon.

It was late morning by the time they reached the temple, rumbling over a makeshift wooden bridge, the planks still bright and splintery where they had replaced the broken stone. He watched the enormous statue from the edge of the valley until he stood at its foot, half fearing the sight of her face would drive him to do something foolish. Like find her in the Deep Roads. Like letting Cole help him steal her from an uncaring world. It was hard to tell whether he were relieved or saddened to see the statue held nothing of her. Still and stiff and dead. A blank stone with someone else’s features staring from it. He felt no guilt as they poured large heaps of the explosive powder at its feet. “Go back to Skyhold,” he told them, “fill the casks with sand before you return them. We don’t want the spy to know we’ve removed it. Watch, but don’t interfere. I will return on foot.” “We can wait at Haven—” protested Jana. “No, I don’t know how bad the damage will be. It will require all my concentration to hold the Veil closed in this place. I would not risk you being harmed by being too close.”

He waited until the wagon was a glint upon the mountain pass before he began. Barriers and wards rose around him, around the powder, around the temple. He could not strengthen the Veil as the Inquisitor could, not without an intricate system of spells and amplifiers, but he could prevent it from tearing again. The temple ruins hummed with power, echoing from the remaining lyrium, pulsing and pressing. He held his breath and cast a flame onto the powder. A hiss that strengthened and heat flickering up the barriers. A massive crack that shook the valley and startled birds sending them in great clouds toward the sky. The statue cracked and slid, shoulder to hip, tumbling to the ground. Pockets of the powder scattered in small silver arcs. A low rumble he could feel in the balls of his feet grew until the lyrium around him began shattering. He pressed all his power into the barriers. Still, when the blast came in a wave of red light, he felt the Veil unraveling and thinning. It cost more than he had expected to contain it. The plume of fire roiled against the ceiling of his ward and then shriveled and was gone so quickly, he might have questioned it happening at all. But he was exhausted and the stone hand of the statue rolled toward him, charred and cracked as his barrier fell. He sidestepped it easily. An ember still glowed in its palm. He crushed the coal with the sole of his foot and walked slowly away. The explosive would have leveled Skyhold. And it would not be the only time the Qunari attempted this. He needed rest. And then, he’d wait. Watch. Track them down, one by one if he had to. He found one of the draft horses that had been hitched to the wagon waiting for him in Haven. It had been tied to the far edge of the palisade. The idea that it had been so close to the edges of his wards— he was uncertain whether to feel uneasy or grateful for his agents’ trust in his abilities. He hadn’t been entirely certain of himself. He climbed up and let the horse wander slowly toward home. He made it shortly before the gates closed for the night, shadowing his face again with his cloak. Farrow was waiting for him in the guard house. A simple gesture to signal that all was well, and Solas passed on to the stables unnoticed. Master Dennet was long gone, returned to his farm months before. The stablehands already gone to their meal. Fewer eyes to see him. Half a dozen fires dotted the courtyard and the tavern and keep blazed with light and sound. For a moment he ached again to be among them. To belong to this place as he once had. To stay. It was easy enough to pretend. No one stopped him as he climbed the stairs to the keep, nor even glanced his way as he crossed the throne room and climbed the stairs to the Inquisitor’s room as if it were normal. As if he were meant to be there. He pulled the cloak from his shoulders as he entered the room. He told himself it was irrational to be grieved that it was dark, that he did not find her sitting at her desk, the candlelight amber on her face, her hands. He pulled a blanket from her bed and stretched out on the floor. It was so simple to slip into the Fade here, where he most wanted to be. Come home, my love, he thought, find me. Keep me. And then he drifted into a happier memory.

#Solas #lavellan #solas x lavellan #dragon age inquisition #gaatlok

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therealvagabird · 7 years

Text

Emissary

A snapshot of interstellar politics, by C. Christiansen.

“You realize that appearances are a vital part of diplomacy.” Paul idled to the technician as he looked at himself in the mirror. The device hugging the temples of his head was not that obtrusive, but just bulky enough to throw off the sleek look he’d tried to put together.

“You’ll thank me later.” Mr. Leblanc inspected his own in the mirror, fortunate enough that for once his jarring blonde hair blended rather well with the pearl white plastic of the device. “Hopefully these will even be strong enough. I recommend you focus on purely what the emissary is saying, nothing more.”

“Doubly noted. The others?” he double checked. He hadn’t had many dealings with the Kinsurao in this sector, who seemed less than interested in political affairs lest provoked, but the dealings over this colonization attempt seemed of more keen interest than usual to them.

“Unless we smear you with mud, there will be little we can do about the Kinsuraos’ senses. Just try to stay calm.” The pale man straightened his lapels yet again. For being so knowledgeable on the minutiae of these dealings, the man had a severe lack of confidence outside of his field. Hence Paul’s presence.

The door to the dressing room slid open.

“Mr. Guandu? Mr. Leblanc?” the young lady checked her wrist-pad while the token security guard by the door looked on.

“Ready, is the shuttle still our course of action, or are they coming here?” Paul Guandu—he didn’t use his last name much in this trade—asked.

“The Shoñill emissary was adamant, he refuses to hold dialogue within ‘human constructs’.” Her face was apologetic, as if she was somehow responsible for the psychotic whims of an alien zealot.

“Very well, not the first time I’ve been situations like these—but I want the guards outfitted with jammers and backup guns. My job profile says ‘brave’ not ‘suicidal’.” The girl gave a smile and nod, taking her leave while the guard gestured for them to follow. “Come on, Leblanc, business awaits; your lapels aren’t getting any straighter.”

The shuttle ride over was brief, yet the views made the whole thing seem grand and ominous to a—by Guandu’s tastes—rather annoying degree. The massive form of the Shoñill dreadnought on the curved horizon of the planet far “below”, coupled with the multitudes of cruisers of all three factions—human, Kinsurao, and Shoñill—floating still like watching sharks made the trip across the black expanse more intimidating than Paul would have liked.

“They say Shoñill foundries grow their components in chemical vats, like tissue or crystal.” Leblanc commented, looking forward to the cruiser which appeared like some massive sea creature had eaten a gothic cathedral. “We’ve never found one of their ship forges, but doesn’t the architecture almost make it look like a living creature?”

“And yet we’re going inside it, which I would deem the opposite of a survival strategy.” Paul mused back, “So maybe the analogy breaks down a little bit, yeah?”

The scientist just shook his blonde, blonde head. “You’re very blunt for a diplomat, you know that?”

“They’re religious nuts, they breathe poetry and drink self-praise. I get results through deals, not kissing up.”

—

The doors of the shuttle opened to a hallway which seemed, to continue the discomforting trend, like the esophagus of a very long and wide fish. Two colossal guards stood, alien, four legs fidgeting with impatience in mirror to the humans’ own protectors, their clawed arms clutched two long poles. Long, avian faces were masked with featureless gold helms, much like the rest of their bodies—decorative plates fringed with flowing robes of burgundy silk.

“Follow.” One ordered in a fluting tone that nonetheless held all the gravity one would expect from a soldier, pointing down the hall with his staff. “Do not stray from us, or your protection will be void.” The speaker turned and began his plod down the hall. The other waited until the convoy passed to cap off the back, sandwiching the two ambassadors and their four-man guard team.

The walk wasn’t two long, as after a desanitization room most of the transit was done with the help of powered floors, though no windows were ever passed. Just endless sea-blue walls. They didn’t want them seeing the inner workings of the ship.

After a few more minutes they came to the end of their journey: a large hall lined with similar golden guardians, flanking the great doorway of what Paul assumed to be the meeting room. The silvery-blue gate was inscribed with many concentric circles of xenos runes, and squiggling lines in the image of a tree. Holy symbols of the Shoñill faith.

“You will join the others now.” The alien warrior spoke. “The old carnivores already wait.” Clanging their staves down, the duo allowed the convoy to pass as the portcullis spun outward into the wall in a mesmerizing display, the different ring-shaped panels separating and rolling aside, displaying the opulent meeting room.

The two humans tried not to become too enamored with the décor as they took their seats. The ceiling vaulted into a high cone, supported by many metallic ribs—draped with the burgundy banners of the fleet. Everything was inscribed with some manner of religious motif.

Even more eye-drawing were those seated at the table. The Shoñill ambassador sat unguarded, with just one other of his species beside him, cloaked head to hoof in black, and laden with trinkets. The emissary himself wore a traditional veil over his vermilinguan face, though the green skin of his head flanges, and the white feathers of his crest were visible. As was the one eye of his that could be seen, as the wide-set globes of his species meant that he had to tilt his head like a bird to look at the duo. Lounging in a taurian fashion, the two hosts carried an air of superiority accented by dripping contempt.

It was the Kinsurao ambassador, however, who ended up speaking first, he himself adorned in blue armor, with golden pauldrons encasing his enormous shoulders. Paul recognized as the creature made an exclamation of relief.

“You finally arrive.” He spoke in his species’ most common tongue, “I was beginning to think you would prefer bombardment.” His long limbed guards pricked up at the word for some reason or another. Leblanc tried to smile for the assembly.

The gangly creature just fixed the two humans with a discomforting stare, the grey skin on his tendril-flanged snout wrinkling as he either snarled trying to mimic the human gesture.

“Enough talk between the either of you.” The Shoñill clacked from behind his veil. “Your coarse language defiles this hall. You are on my ship, and you shall speak the clean tongue.”

“Master Ambassador.” Paul gave a bow of the head, adopting the lilting alien tongue, uncomfortable as it was, “I cannot speak for the others, but we come in the name of the Republic to negotiate a ceasefire, and the terms of Pracheen’s colonization.”

Even with his tauric half laid across a cushion, the Shoñill’s serpentine torso towered above even the Kinsurao’s seated form. “Colonization?”

He nodded, “This planet was the center of a colonization effort, though your forces arrived and attacked seemingly without provocation. We are further to the fringe than the Xenos Front, and Pracheen was selected because it seemed a safe bet specifically to avoid conflict.”

“What you dub ‘Pracheen’ was once an ancient shrine world of the Empire, lost in the final collapse against the Old Foe.” His black eye darted to the saurian warriors. “Countless artifacts of the old ages lie beneath its soil. Much knowledge stands to be recovered, if not destroyed by your prying hands.”

“If these were so important to your race, why did you not look to recover them until it came to bloodshed?” Paul asked.

“We did not know of their presence until our scouts reported. We would not think to excavate the sacred soil of this world like hungry barbarians. But now that you have unearthed our technology—we demand its surrender.”

“But it’s not just your technology.” Leblanc now spoke up, laying down a data-pad. “In fact the first artifacts to be recovered were of Kinsurao make.” He broadcasted a hologram, showing several fragmented gadgets and trinkets of unknown use, all quite angular and geometric, before pulling up a second hologram of far more fluid baubles. The aesthetic differences between the carnivorous Kinsurao and their herbivorous rivals were obvious and apparent. “Shoñill are clearly not the only ones who have some ‘ancient claim’ on this planet.”

“We care not for the abandoned articles.” The Kinsurao spoke up, “Little use save for scrap. We only desire the more exotic materials—and that which you unearthed on the plains of Mot Cigin.”

Leblanc fiddled with his notes while Paul addressed the alien. “And what exactly? There wasn’t much unearthed on that battlefield save for bones, if I remember correctly.”

“An artifact of my liege’s ancestors!” he placed a long, clawed hand on the table, “There!” he pointed to the hologram Leblanc had just rendered. “The Glaive of Kag’nai!”

The artifact looked like a simple gauntlet, albeit suited for the long paws of a Kinsurao, fringed with two blades. All gathered at the table leaned in to look at the unassuming item.

“A piece of armor? Or some sophisticated weapon?” Paul inquired.

“No doubt a tool of war. Only a Kinsurao would put blades on a gauntlet.” The emissary cringed in disgust.

The carnivore stretched his massive wingspan, “The blades are ornamental! Its true blade is one of light and fire, even grander than these fine specimens.” He patted the bladeless hilt on his belt. “It was wielded by the hero Xadem the Father. It strew the Core Fringes with the twitching limbs of the hated V’sok! It struck down Xadem’s traitor brother under the three suns of his own homeworld, and it alone laid low scores of warriors on this very planet before the hero was stung by a coward’s round!” his gaze darted between the two other ambassadors, his forehead twitching.

There was a very brief pause. “A blade did this?” Paul was familiar with plasma technology, but for a melee weapon to reave so much destruction seemed like an embellishment. Though if this weapon was so desirable…

“It was not just any blade! Its make was unparalleled. When I say it slew scores, I meant at once. It was said it could level anything put against it.”

Leblanc just looked at the unassuming gauntlet. “That’s impressive.”

“Would your liege be willing to negotiate a joint venture? I believe our own scientists could glean much about plasma technology from such an artifact.” Paul leaned towards the Kinsurao.

“Enough!” the Shoñill waved his hand with a violence, “The bones of our kin lie on this soil! We have paid for this planet in ancient flesh, more valuable than your brags and weapons! For any to own it but us would be an insult to the gods!”

“Your ground forces contained no scientific envoys. Your elite legionaries didn’t even try to reacquire any artifacts during their raid of our northern research station.” Paul furrowed his brow, “They killed all present, and when cornered by our mechanized division they committed suicide. The recklessness and cruelty of your troops far exceeds what I would expect from a reclamation force.” The Kinsurao seemed to chuckle, “It would seem you have revenge on your mind more than negotiation.”

“If you had left the solar system when our fleets arrived there would have been no issue, but you chose to continue your infestation.” The alien sounded indignant.

“We have several platoons of your infantry captured, and you’ve made no attempt to bargain for them despite your having visibly captured members of our civilian population. These gentlemen…” he gestured to the Kinsurao envoy, “Were more willing to bargain for your captured cavalry simply for the meat. I have reason to believe, though you have not stated it, that this is not a reclamation, but a Crusade—Master Emissary.” Paul put the squeeze on him.

And just as he did he felt a great pressure at his temples to match. There had been a slight buzzing in his head for the whole time he’d been in this room, but now it was like a throbbing pressure. And something else—whispers.

The blue lights on Leblanc’s headpiece lit up. The Kinsurao stood up rubbing at his own forehead with fury in his eyes. He took his hand away as his third eye opened, fixing the emissary with slitted gaze. “Duplicit fool!” his hand went to his belt as he and his two guard all drew their plasma sabers, sparking to life with an indigo light. Human guards raised their mags as Paul and Leblanc raised their hands. The pressure stopped.

“We came prepared, your holiness.” Paul still rubbed at his eyes. “I find your lack of tact really disheartening. I almost hoped something could be gained from these talks.”

“I will not kill you here.” The Kinsurao sheathed his blade. “This will be a short war.” He almost spat at the seated enemies, “Humans.” He turned to the two. “I extend on behalf of my liege an invitation back to our cruiser. If these curs have any honor the ceasefire will hold until we reach our fleets, but I feel we still have more to discuss.”

Paul stood. The Shoñill weren’t looking anymore, but rather talking to each other in hushed and angered tones. The human ambassador switched to the carnivore’s language, sharp and grandiose. “Just as well, I think my companion was pining for a chance to hear more about this Glaive.”

“Your stature hides your species admirable values. Perhaps you have some honor yet. Come, our guards shall march with your own. Tell your shuttle you shan’t be returning until the true warriors have had their ‘talks’.”

“How polite of you, sir.” The doors swung open, and the Kinsurao guards growled at the sentries as they made their way back down the expansive hallway.

#sci fi #aliens #short story

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