#sca scrolls

[tuxedolascribalblogger]

[cardiffart]

Finished an award template for my local SCA group.

[burningknucklecraftworks]

Finished product first, held by my wonderful spouse. Northshield is a kingdom big on the power of light. Our motto includes illumination as a virtue. We have a star named Griffin's Light. On top of the society A&S badge being a candle, our A&S awards are the Black Flame and Brigit's Flame. Since about year two of my tenure in the SCA I've dreamed of making a lantern scroll to honor that aspect and now I've done two. I'm so grateful to be surrounded by people who inspire me to push my boundaries and make cool art.

As such, these are lantern scrolls for Brigit's Flame awards, the GOA level Northshield arts and science award. One is for my wonderful friend Thegn Samson Muskovich (aka Samii), who does so much for the arts and sciences of the SCA. From metalworking with bronze and silver, to leatherwork and armoring, to teaching about existing as a trans person in the SCA and deep diving into the experience of the Gullah Geechee and making sure we know that the experience of Africans trafficked to America is as period as their resilience and resistance. I'm so proud that he's my cousin in the Choctaw tribe. The second is for the magnificent Dame Katerinka Lvovicha (aka Kat), who received her Brigit's Flame in 2015 but never got the scroll for it. She also does so much for Northshield, especially in the realms of heraldry and scribal arts, and she blasts a path for all Northshielders to feel safe by being extremely proactive about pronouns, cultural touchstones, and literally offering housing and travel assistance to people.

The inspirations for the project include these four lanterns and Morgan Donner's lantern build video. In the top row are two illustrations from period showing lanterns. The red lantern is from Book of Hours, MS M.972 fol. 1r, and has a bit of a splayed shape with a wider base and a turned dome at the top. It also has horn panels that aren't quite perfect fits for each side panel, as evidenced by the uneven horizontal lines. The second lantern, held by a crotchety dragonesque beast, is from Breviary, MS M. 8 fol. 158r and has a flat top with straight sides.

The second row shows two lantern awards made by other SCAdians. The first was made by Brig Ingen Erennaigh for a baronial service award called the Coill's Beacon, and the second is an Award of Arms by Northshield's own Tatiana Melville.

My original plan was actually to make a couple of so-called Viking lanterns like the kind you see all over Etsy. These usually consist of a top and bottom disc of wood, with dowels in between, and parchment or rawhide wrapped around the exterior. Extremely simple, and the parchment provides the perfect scroll text surface, but thanks to Morgan Donner's video, I now know those are dated to the 1800s. The idea of illuminated parchment stuck with me though and I decided to make a lantern more along the lines of the Breviary lantern but with simulated parchment in place of horn panes. I felt this was a good compromise between my original plan and a documentably period shape.

I didn't leave myself enough time to make this scroll, between the shield I made for Crown Tournament and Halloween festivities. Thinking fast, I ran out to my local hardware store for some precut 6 inch rounds. The ones I got have an ahistoric Roman ogee routed into the edge, but they'll add some nice visual detail to the scrolls.

Splitting my poplar side beams to width was vaguely harrowing on my radial arm saw. It would've been better to use my bandsaw but it's really not set up for use yet, so I made a janky jig and stood off to the side.

I was successful, and began the annoying process of carving 24 dowel tips.

Tools of the trade, and five doweled supports installed in the first base.

The coping saw did a great job of parting off each dowel end.

Dog bless the Shinso rasp. This thing makes my woodworking experience so much easier.

I got one set done and checked my progress. This looks really, really good so far.

I then grabbed some copper and went to town making the candle holders. I wanted these to have some give for different diameters of candles, including electric candles. These were made entirely off of Morgan Donner's video and aren't based on anything I personally researched, so I can't say anything to their historocity beyond knowing that sheet copper definitely wasn't the material of choice back then. I used a spare fat poplar dowel to form both holders.

I then used sidecutters to make the flanges, and bent them out flat. I used some brass brads to nail the holders to the bases, and pressed them through with my drill press just as I did with the tacks to the targe I made last month.

At this stage I needed to do a test fit, and boy was I happy with the way it looked so far. Now, I must say that this is not enough spacing between the candle and the lantern roof. It'll probably be alright, but it could also get pretty dang hot and risk a fire in there. A shorter candle would be better, but I have a hundred of these beeswax candles so I'm gonna give them away as gifts whenever I can.

Since the Book of Hours lantern is red and Samii's livery colors are red and gold, I painted his lantern red. I used a few different paints mixed together to achieve this shade, and then I sprayed the whole thing with matte polyurethane sealant.

I decided to make Kat's a nice golden oak color in contrast to the red lantern, based on so many being light colored in the various illustrations and illuminations I saw. It was down between this and painting it blue to match her arms, but I think I'm glad I did two very different finishes. The poplar is so green that the oak stain couldn't really compensate, but it's not bad. This lantern was sealed with finishing wax.

At this point Kim stepped in to get the scrolls done. This is Pergamenata, a perennial favorite of SCA scribes for having a similar surface feel and translucency to animal parchment. Usually I do illumination and word smithing while they just do the hand writing, but this time they took on all three of those tasks, much to my joy.

Here's Kat's scroll panes before color. You can see Kim used a template made off my test fit of the lantern to get the spacing correct. They used Speedball india ink and matched the hand to the calligraphy in CNM XXIII.C.124 Velislavova Bible, which they also took the design of the torch from.

Both scroll panes inked, painted and drying. We chose these scrolls to try tempera paint for the first time and the translucency of the tempera on the translucency of the perg is just so good.

Here's Kat's scroll panels with the oak-stained side supports.

Here's Samii's scroll panels with the red side supports.

The final assembly process. I had to cut the scroll panels into individual panes, because the spacing wasn't perfect. I used wood glue to affix the perg panes to the backside of each support, holding or clamping alternately to keep everything in place as the glue-wet perg curled away from the supports and then uncurled as the adhesive cured. It was a pain in the ass but it worked out. I then had to form two bronze rings for the tops of each lantern, and install hooks and loops to close the back pane, which has one end loose and wrapped around a thin piece of basswood.

Here is the final assembly completed, showing the door hooks made of bronze and the eyelet screws made of brass. This is not a very historic door shape, but it's what Morgan Donner hacked together for her lanterns and if it worked for her it'll work for me.

Kat's scroll completed as well, and here's the only view I have of the top suspension ring.

And of course it's not a lantern if you don't see it illuminated. I gave both recipients a beeswax candle and an electric candle, and this photo was taken with the electric candle in place. I had to wrap gaffer tape around the base to make it fit. The electric candle is actually pretty bright! Look at that pretty red paint, and not the fact that the support is slightly angled.

[malyssmakneile]

Introducing Baby's First Whole Scroll™

Duchess Meagan was surprise-elevated on Sunday this week and I volunteered to do the scroll. (Didn't do the words tho)

Round One: two weeks (not hurrying tho), got splashed with paint

Round Two: one week, had epic gilding failures

Round Three: I had a week to go before the due date and I did the whole thing in five days and diapered every blasted inch I could get my hands on

I guess I can do quick turnaround scrolls???? 😅

[local-magpie]

depending on your kingdom, "sometimes" becomes "almost always"

Come join the SCA we have:

- Stabbing other people

- Stabbing cloth (sewing)

- Period Accurate Dancing (you will be bad at it)

- Stabbing yourself (also sewing)

- Hitting metal with other metal

- Nobel Prize Winner Milton Friedman’s Son, for some reason

- Cranky old people

- Sometimes there is food

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Thinking about Actress!Reader who finally got to change into a pair of shorts and a crop top after being in a corset and long dresses all day after shooting was done for the day.

Actress!Reader who gets invited to go get Gelato with Peter to help cool off after being stuck in such stuffy clothes for the past six hours.

Bodyguard!Miguel who had to suppress a scowl when you told him that you were basically going on a date with your fellow actor. But that didn’t deter him from volunteering to watch over you both when you went to walk through the streets of Rome. He’d rather be the one watching over you than Peter’s bodyguard.

Actress!Reader and Actor!Peter who didn't notice when a group of passersby recognized them, snapping a few pictures of you both without your knowledge. You weren’t completely used to the whole “having photos taken of you without your permission or contact” but that was unfortunately a price to pay when you’re new and on the rise.

Actress!Reader who finally went home to relax, getting a good night's rest now that the jet lag has finally stopped.

Actress!Reader who wakes up the next morning with 24 missed calls, 35 new messages and her name trending on twitter.

—

Jake (Manager): (Y/N).

Jake(Manger): (Y/N), call me when you wake up.

Peter 🐝.: Did you look at Twitter yet?

Peter🐝.: Or like any social media yet?

Bestie💝: Girl…

Bestie💝: You’ve got some explaining to do.

“What’s… happening?” You mumbled as you scrolled through your new messages as you waddled into the kitchen of your hotel suite, where Miguel was already drinking his cup of coffee. Glancing up at him for a moment as he greeted you.

“Morning.” He mumbled as he placed his mug down. “Your manager told me to have you call him when you're up.”

“Do you know why?” You asked him as you scrolled to Jake’s contact info, receiving a grunt in response, a no.

“(Y/N) (L/N), would you like to explain what went on yesterday after you finished up on set?” You felt like you were five years old and being scolded by your mom all over again, except you genuinely didn’t know what you did.

“Um, I went to go get a snack with Peter. Why-“

“A snack.” He repeated, his tone questioning despite it being deadpan.

“Yes, a snack.” You huffed, your confusion turning into irritation as your brows furrowed together. “Why? can't I have a snack after work with my coworker?”

“You can have a snack after work, but from what I’m looking at here it doesn’t seem like it’s with a coworker.” His words make you pause.

“What?” All attitude now gone, confusion settles back in. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t seen the pictures yet?”

“What pictures?”

“Oh dear God…” Jake mumbled under his breath, before letting out a sigh. “Go on twitter, and check the trending tab.”

You put him on speaker and did what you were told, waiting for the little bird app to load, before clicking on the explore tab. Eyes widening as you read out the headline at top.

“Peter B. Parker and (Y/N), coworkers on a new upcoming movie, spotted out on date?!?”

Miguel almost started to choke on his coffee after he heard you recite the words, having to hit his chest to clear his windpipes as you frantically started to scroll through the tag.

“No, no it wasn’t a date though Jake, it wasn’t-“ Your words died on your tongue as your finger stopped scrolling once you hit a particular picture.

A picture of Peter making you try his flavor, by spoon feeding you.

Fuck how can I be so dumb? How could I forget that happened? It was only 2 seconds Max. And now it’s trending.

“I need you down at set an hour early. We have some things to discuss with Peter and his team.” Jake sighed before you heard the dial tone of him hanging up the call.

Shit.

—

Part 4<

Part 6<

Not proofread.

Word count: 600

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st

@mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout

@laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer

@migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart

@stressed-cherry @haveclayeveryday @miguelzslvtz @scaleniusrm @xerorizz

@enananawoah @messicampeon @anastasia1972 @lauraolar14 @huniedeux

@bluesidez @nommingonfood @chrishy973 @m4dyy @night-spectrum

@electricgg (to be added click here)

[pupsmailbox]

TECHNOLOGY ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　admin. ajax. alexa. am. atari. audio. auto. bailey. binary. blank. blu. blue. bluesse. browser. browsette. bug. byte. cache. calware. chip. circe. click. clicker. clickie. clicky. cloud. coda. code. codette. codie. cody. computette. crypt. cursor. cy. cyber. cybernet. cybernetica. cyberweb. cypher. cypherre. data. dell. digi. digitalia. digitelle. digitesse. disc. dot. electronica. electronique. emoticon. emoticonnie. fax. file. gig. gizmo. glitch. glitche. glitchesse. glitchette. graphique. hacker. hal. halware. hijack. index. informationne. intelligette. internette. interweb. java. javascript. juno. key. link. linuxe. lotus. lovebytes. mac. mal. malakai. malware. malwaria. memorette. memorie. meta. mic. micah. mickey. morphe. mouse. mousette. myspace. nano. neo. net. netette. nett. netty. paige. pascal. payton. peyton. pixel. programatha. programette. programme. pulse. reboot. rom. router. ruby. sam. sammy. screene. screenette. sean. shock. solitaire. spy. static. stutter. talia. tap. tecca. tech. techette. tessa. tetris. trojan. troubleshoot. ts. user. vir. virus. virusse. volt. vyrus. webbe. wheatley. whirr. widget. will. wirehead. wiresse. zap. zett. zetta. zip.

PRONOUNS ⌇　:-)/:-D. ^^/^^. ai/ai. alt/alt. anti/antivirus. arc/archive. audio/audio. bat/battery. beep/beep. beep/boop. bit/bit. bit/byte. blue/blue. board/board. bright/bright. brow/browser. browser/browser. brr/brr. bu/bug. bug/bug. buzz/buzz. byt/byte. byte/byte. c/cpu. charge/charger. cir/circuit. cli/click. click/clack. click/click. click/scroll. co/code. code/code. color/color. com/com. com/computer. comp/computer. compute/computer. computer/computer. cor/corrupt. corrupt/corrupt. CPU/CPU. crash/crash. cre/creeper. crtl/crtl. cy/cyber. cyb/cyber. cyber/cyber. da/data. data/data. delete/delete. di/disk. dig/digital. digi/digi. digi/digital. digital/digital. dra/drag. e/exe. electronic/electronic. enter/enter. er/error. err/error. error/error. exe/exe. fi/file. file/file. gi/gif. gli/glitch. glit/glitch. glitch/glitch. graphic/graphic. hac/hacker. hack/hack. hard/hardware. head/phone. hij/hijacker. ho/home. info/info. information/information. int/internet. intelligent/intelligence. intelligent/intelligent. inter/net. internet/internet. it/it. jpg/jpg. key/board. key/cap. key/key. key/keyboard. key/keylogger. lag/lag. lap/laptop. ligh/light. linux/linux. load/load. log/login. main/mainframe. mal/malware. me/media. memory/memorie. mon/monitor. mou/mouse. nano/nano. net/net. net/network. o_o/>_>. org/org. over/overwrite. page/page. pix/pix. pix/pixel. pixel/pixel. plu/plug. png/png. pop/popup. port/port. pow/power. pro/program. program/program. ram/ram. ran/ransom. reboot/reboot. reload/reload. res/restore. ret/retro. route/router. sca/scan. scr/scroll. scre/screen. scre/screencap. scree/screen. screen/screen. scri/script. script/script. sentient/sentience. shift/shift. site/site. skip/skip. soft/software. spa/spam. space/space. spy/spyware. stop/stop. te/tech. tech/nology. tech/tech. technology/technology. tou/touchpad. txt/txt. typ/type. upload/upload. user/user. vi/viru. vi/virus. vir/virtual. web/page. web/web. whir/whir. wi/wire. win/dow. win/window. wire/wire. wire/wired. zip/zip . ⌨ . ☣ . ⚙ . ⚠ . 🎞 . 🎨 . 🎭 . 🎮 . 🎵 . 👀 . 👁 . 💔 . 💡 . 💢 . 💣 . 💳 . 💵 . 💻 . 💽 . 💾 . 💿 . 📀 . 📱 . 🔇 . 🔈 . 🔉 . 🔊 . 🔋 . 🔌 . 🔎 . 🖥 . 🖱 . 🗡 . 🗯 . 🛠 . 🧿 .

[ofherpinkways]

Hyper Fixation

Cod characters x horror fan reader (GN bf/gf :) )

Summary : they ask one small question horror movie sending you into a complete hyper fixation and happy rant about all your favorite scary movies

(A/N: tbh this is mainly for myself so I can finally spill out my bottled up horror movie rants,plus this is based off interaction I just had with a friend on Snap. Our babies will be referred to as "they/them" since i wanna include everyone 🤍🩰🧸 might do a pt2)

You loved horror movies and let it be known to all. Everyone at the base knew it and it was what you were known for even to those who didn't know you fully . Often referred to as the "Horrorjunkie"

Your dorm was filled with horror movie posters,props from iconic classics and of course you had a bunch of those mini polaroid posters of all your favorite horror movies. Your body is covered in horror movie themed tattoos of all the well known villains and other scary themed things. Your left hand was covered in one giant tattoo that made it look like you were a skeleton. All of your causal/civilian clothes were the Steven Rhodes t-shirts and hoodies.

God forbid anyone lets you pick the movie during movie night . It was gonna be scary obviously. This night you picked Sinister (2012) forcing everyone in the common room. It only got worse when few of your teammates confessed they've never seen it. There you sat grinning wildly knowing the whole movie play by play. Having the ability to mentally time each up in coming jumpscare in your head laughing and smiling to yourself prepared for each scare ,glancing up at them wanting to see their reaction. The infamous lawn mower scene had just happened causing everyone but you to jump and yelp a little , instead you laughed and smiled happily at their reactions finding the whole thing amusing.

Fast forward weeks later,you were sitting on the couch scrolling your phone with " " (This is where you insert whoever you want lol). You both got bored after a while, you move and lay your head onto their lap "wanna watch a movie?" you ask looking up at them "I'll pick" you sang dragging the words smiling . They laughed smiling back "and what horror movie has the honors of your picking today mmph?" they remarked . You sat up and playfully huffed with fake offended expression on your face , putting your hand to your chest "Now who said it was gonna be a horror movie ?" you replied holding back a giggle

"you get called "horrorjunkie" for a reason " they said with a chuckle. You crossed your arms smirking "Touche", you grab the remote and start looking through the horror movie collection on Netflix " How about The Strangers ?" you ask looking at your partner . "Again ? we've watched like ten times already,why do you like it so much?"

you gasped "how could I not love it? its's such a classic !, and the timing of its release ! It was something never done before ! it scared the shitout everyone making them fear being in their own homes,making them worry when answering their door and the simple fact it was based off a true event?!?! absolutely sickening" you explained in a fast and excited manner.

And that's how you both spent the rest of your night and ranting about each of your beloved scary movies along with the cast,the directors ,the lore,the meaning and messages behind them, the remakes and sequels all of it

Going on about Scream 1996 flapped over and changed horror forever

Going on about Radio Silence was doing a great job on honoring Wes Craven on his creation of the Scream movies , as they keep the franchise

Why the Evil Dead franchise was so loved

Breaking down and explaining all of Jordan Peele movies, explaining the meaning,how their connected in way,why Jordan writes the way he does, why it's better to show and not tell

Giving off examples of movies that were clearly inspired of Peele's work

Talking about Ethan Hawke is perfect for horror movies

How his performance in The Black Phone shocked and scared everyone

Even though they may not get horror movies the way you do. They love the way your eyes lit up,love hearing the excitement in you voice, loving how animated you became when talking about horror movies. They enjoyed how happy the movies made you so they sat smiling up at you the whole time as you talked for what seemed like forever but they didn't care

[itsaperiwinkleworldv2]

I'm currently very broke, so to all my Very Broke Pookies.

Even if you can't donate to help people from Palestine - you can boost stuff. You can reblog. You can spread news around.

"But it doesn't look we-" *gunshots*

"But I don't know if they're trying to sca-" *gunshots*

"But it's bor-" *cocks sniper rifle* *headshots*

I don't care who you are, what your age is, where you're from, what you're currently doing or what your silly little blog looks like.

If you have the time to sit and doom scroll - you have more than enough time to click that silly little reblog button. You can't change my mind.

Your ✨silly little reblog button✨ could save a life.

You choose.

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 2 - eren x reader - 18+!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

welcome back to the much ado universe for our second installment! this chapter is just a lot more yearning and getting to know everyone in the uni, fleshing out the mysterious eren a little more, but there's a treat at the end ;)

@toxrez was kind enough to make some LOVELY fan art of this chapter, please find it linked here i am so appreciative so go send her some love!!!!

specific cws: tee tiny pinch of smut, drug/alcohol use, swearing, historia plotting on your downfall like the meddlesome best friend she is

-

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” - Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare (Act II, Scene 2)

A solid week or two passes and…nothing. You chastise yourself for being disappointed at Eren’s radio silence, especially since you hadn’t exactly given him a way to contact you. He knows Historia has your number, but he hasn’t reached out to get it from her. And why should you expect him to? the annoying, self-doubting voice in your head corrects you every time you dare to hope, you’re not exactly his usual type.

It’s true; since your run-in, Historia’s been busy doing reconnaissance on anything Eren-related she can pick up from the rumor mill. His dating history is a near-blank, but his “hoe history” as Historia lovingly dubs it, is colorful, full of rave girls and bar rats and Instagram models. You’d drank enough that night that it was entirely plausible you had imagined the excited sparkle in his eyes as you rambled on about misrepresentations of theme in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He had come to Scout’s to work after all, not on the prowl for a sex-starved literature student who couldn’t hold her tequila.

The fact was, he wasn’t interested, cemented after your night out to Scout’s on Halloween. Historia had gone to the trouble of dolling you up in an appropriately slutty outfit on the premise that It’s like, one of the biggest party nights of the entire year. There’s no way he’s not going to be there. But, the bar had been devoid of intoxicating cologne and green eyes, and you’d gone home empty-handed and far more drunk than you’d intended to.

The surprise comes a few days after.

You’re sharing a cup of tea with Historia as she paints your toenails on the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly and enjoying the pampering. As you're moving your thumb to like Sasha's Instagram post, Historia reaches for her phone suddenly and knocks the nail polish bottle over, spilling it all over your– again, hand-painted coffee table. After four years with her, you can only contrive a semblance of annoyance; you’re surprised the table even lasted this long with no major casualties.

“Stor!” You scramble for the bottle, righting it, but Historia’s typing madly on her phone, muttering under her breath.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

“What?” You can hardly contain your impatience, trying to quell the hopeful flutter rising in your chest. Historia bites her lip, grins wickedly at you.

“I told you. I told you.”

“Told me what?”

In lieu of an answer, Historia turns her phone to you. You squint to read the texts through the recently-cracked screen.

> Pregame at my place for min’s birthday tn u in?

> for sure! what time?

> 9ish u know the addy?

> yep! we’ll be there.

> See if ur friend wants to come too.

“Your friend?” you scoff, pushing her phone away in painfully feigned disinterest when in reality, your heart is pounding in your throat.

“That’s you,” Historia wiggles her eyebrows meaningfully, as if you weren’t already aware of the fact.

“I resent that,” you say, picking up your phone to continue your mindless scrolling until Historia snatches it from you, fixing you with a pointed look. “What? He can’t even use my name? What a douchebag.”

“That’s just how boys text,” Historia swats your concerns away. You bite back your scathing reminder that Historia has been a loud and proud lesbian since her teenage years and has no idea how “boys text”. Sure, you might be grasping at straws to hate him, resist the temptation rising in your throat, but you’re determined. He humiliated you once, and he won’t get the chance to do it again.

“We’re not going,” you say at the same time as Historia talks over you: “We’re going.” You scowl.

“We have to,” Historia shakes your shoulders, “he was all over you at Scout’s, not to mention that mysterious eight inch claim.”

“He’s had more than a week to reach out, and this is how he decides to do it? Summoning me through you?”

“Maybe he was too shy,” Historia shrugs, returning to painting your last few toes.

“Eren doesn’t strike me as a guy who’s too chicken to ask for a girl’s number, especially after everything you found out from Ymir.” Historia’s girlfriend may have been a bit on the anti-social side, but she somehow knows everyone and everything. Despite her bristly demeanor, Ymir possesses the god-given art of pulling the juiciest gossip out of complete strangers, and it isn’t a talent any of you have let go to waste over the years.

“He might surprise you,” Historia looks up at you through her lashes, “this is all just to get you laid anyway, so don’t think too much into it.”

You bite your lip, allowing her to work on your toes as you slip into thoughtful silence. If you’re honest with yourself, like, really honest, you’re not the best at “just getting laid”. In college, you were always the one stuck on the giving end of a one-sided situationship, and your only solution when it would inevitably fall through was to start anew with an equally terrible guy.

As you’ve leaned into your graduate years, you’ve been able to avoid your past pitfalls, sleeping with guys who are far enough away from your type to avoid heartbreak but cute enough to catch your interest, a category Eren should fall into. Something about him has you trapped, though, the same way you used to be. He makes your head spin, renders your normally pin-sharp thinking null and void, makes you say stupid, stupid things. Things like:

“Okay, fine. But an hour, max.”

You reflect on your stupid mistake as you stand on Eren’s porch with Historia and Ymir, in another cute-but-not-cute-but-not-trying-to-look-not-cute (or, at least, you think that’s the criteria) outfit of Historia’s choice. Historia had insisted on bringing her girlfriend to leave you free to “couple up” with Eren, but you realize all that means is you’re arriving to a party full of strangers as a third wheel. Great.

As Historia knocks, your stomach erupts in a bout of nervous grumbling. Not only have you forgotten to eat, but you haven’t been to a drug dealer’s party since you were probably nineteen. It’s actually quite a cute little house, homey brick with a red door and a well-kept lawn, not the trap den you’ve been envisioning all afternoon. The scene is eerily quiet, no LED lights shining in the windows, the low hum of music at a reasonable volume bumping through the walls. It’s not what you expected, but then again, you’re still on the wrong side of the door.

“Coming!” A voice— a feminine voice— echoes through the inside of the house, and one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen flings open the door. Just fucking great. “Hi, you guys are…?”

“Historia,” Historia chirps, not thrown off in the least. You smile timidly, trying to absorb some of the confidence that rolls off of her as she introduces Ymir and then you. The girl eyes you in particular but not threateningly, a hint of a smile playing on her face.

“Mikasa,” she opens the screen door, letting you inside, “Eren mentioned that you were coming.”

“Really?” Historia’s friendly grin grows devious, and you pinch her arm behind your back. “Ow!”

“You okay?” Mikasa frowns over her shoulder.

“Yeah, just stubbed my toe.” Historia scowls at you.

You round a corner to the source of the music, feeling a little like you’re going to puke, but you’re pleasantly surprised by the scene in front of you. It’s not a rager, and there’s nothing suspicious out except a handful of red solo cups and a couple of expertly-rolled blunts being passed around hand-to-hand.

Armin offers you a small wave from where he’s parked on a loveseat beside a striking, intimidating-looking blonde woman, failing miserably to flirt with her. Mikasa falls into an armchair beside another pretty brunette who’s wearing some sort of work uniform and an apron; her name tag reads Hitch<3. You faintly recognize the guy hitting the bong, his name might be John, and the dude beside him is one of Sasha’s best friends, Connie, who’s been posted on Barstool an impressive four or five times.

Eren comes strolling out of the kitchen with a half-eaten piece of pizza hanging out of his mouth and holding his phone, which he’s squinting at, away from his face like an old man. He looks so ridiculous you almost snort.

“Would you just get some glasses already, dude?” John coughs, waving the smoke out of his face and passing the bong to Connie.

“‘On’t need ‘emph,” Eren’s words are muffled by the pizza as he disproves his point entirely, moving his phone back and forth in the air until it seems he can finally see it. When he finishes his text, he takes notice of you, pulling the pizza out of his mouth with a crooked grin. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you try to come off nonchalant, but it doesn’t work, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“This is—“

“I introduced myself while you were stuffing your face,” Mikasa waves him off, leaning in to look at something on her friend’s phone. Eren scowls at her, moving along.

“Hitch,” he points to the name tag girl who offers a friendly wave, “Annie,” the blonde girl beside Armin on the couch, “Armin— well, you know Armin. Jean,” the mullet dude who’s still coughing, “and Connie.”

A chorus of greetings sounds off from around the room.

“Thank god we’ve finally got some more estrogen around here,” Hitch says to your little group, “these guys are insufferable with anything less than an equal ratio.”

Historia laughs, bouncing over to make further conversation and dragging Ymir behind her. You want to throttle her as she situates herself on the leg of the armchair (that’s already squeaking under two people’s weight) because now you’re left alone with Eren, who ducks into the kitchen and returns, holding something out to you.

You recognize the label of the local beer you’d been drinking at Scout’s the night you met, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

“You drink this, right?” Eren squints at the bottle, examining it. “I thought I remembered, but there was a million others at the store that looked just like it.”

“It’s my favorite,” you admit, accepting it from him with a little flutter in your chest. He grins again, toothy and pleased with himself.

“Good. Well, get comfortable, sit wherever, smoke whatever. I’ll be right back,” he holds up his pizza crust meaningfully, and you stifle a laugh. Eren Jaeger, the intimidating drug dealer apparently known around campus for his giant dick, doesn’t eat his pizza crusts. The thought eases your nerves; he may be the gorgeous, bad-news guy you’d flirted with a couple weeks ago, but he’s also a real person.

You follow his instruction, sitting beside Connie, not so close as to give the wrong impression, but close enough to invite a conversation. He offers a friendly hand.

“You’re Sasha’s friend, right?”

“Yeah,” you shake it, “Connie?”

“I’m surprised you remember. I’ve been backpacking through Thailand for the last eight months, thought everyone would’ve forgotten me by now.”

“Backpacking through Thailand?” You’re impressed.

“He’s only bringing it up so he can talk about it some more,” Jean grunts, shooting Connie an annoyed glance.

“I’d love to hear about it,” you say honestly, “I’ve never traveled.”

Connie launches into a detailed story of his flight over, being crammed between two families with crying babies, the different cities he visited, his bout with food poisoning on a twelve hour bus ride on his side trip to Cambodia. He’s funny and energetic, and it soothes you, lets you relax into the couch a little as you listen intently, asking a question here and there. You’re so caught up in his antics you don’t notice Eren sauntering over, plopping down beside you on the couch.

“Are you talking about Thailand again, bro?” Eren groans, wiping a hand over his face. Connie’s face flushes pink as he frowns.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Jean directs his red-eyed glare at Connie.

“Don’t stop him,” you argue, feeling bad as they dogpile on their friend, “I’m listening, Connie.”

Connie smiles gratefully, continuing on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Eren sighs, resigned to his fate, and settles into his seat to your left, throwing an arm carelessly over the back of the couch, and, coincidentally, around your shoulders. You feel awful because now you’ve lied; you’re not listening to Connie at all, too encapsulated by both the physical and the emotional weight of Eren’s arm around you. No, you reprimand yourself, he’s just getting comfortable. Don’t read into it.

The hour you promised Historia flies by. You’re thoroughly entertained by Jean, Connie, and Eren’s dynamic; Jean seems like a bit of a hothead, bickering with Eren at every opportunity, but Connie balances them out nicely, providing comedic relief at the perfect moments. When you finish your first drink, Eren’s quick to offer you a second and eventually a third, heading off for the kitchen and throwing your one-hour rule right out of the window. One more won’t hurt, you think, especially since you’re actually enjoying yourself. With the lack of distraction, you’re now free to look across the room where Annie, Armin, Historia, Mikasa, and Ymir are all huddled in a circle around a phone. You hear Historia’s drunken giggle and decide to interfere.

“What are you guys doing over there?”

Historia and Ymir exchange an inspired look that makes you sick to your stomach as Eren returns, throwing his arm back over you and peering at the screen in Historia’s hand. “Is that that Truth or Dare app?”

“You know it?” Historia’s eyes sparkle; you can feel it in your bones that’s she’s just concocted a fresh form of torture for you.

“Sort of.” Eren scratches his head, unwitting to the plot you can see unfolding right in front of you.

“Play with us, then!” Historia smiles innocently, beckoning you over. You know better and start to hesitate, but Eren smirks at you.

“What? Too chicken?”

You scowl at him childishly, and turn back to Historia, gesturing to her to bring the game over to the center of the room. You all get re-settled with the new focal point of Ymir’s phone as Historia explains the rules: the phone will pass from player to player, and whoever is holding the phone gets the opportunity to read a truth or a dare prompt to someone in the circle. Simple enough, you think, relieved that Historia won’t have the creative liberty to think of anything humiliating.

“We’re playing the spicy version,” Ymir smirks, “hope you guys don’t mind.”

Fuck. So much for that idea. You try to stay calm under Eren’s arm, praying he doesn’t feel your body tense up.

Historia goes first, daring Connie to reveal his body count. The phone moves to Armin, who has to dare Annie to kiss him on any body part of her choosing, a pink stain erupting on his cheeks when she leans in to peck his nose. The dares progressively get worse until you’re all in stitches laughing at Ymir and Jean tentatively touching tongues, Ymir retching into her hand dramatically afterwards.

“Okay, I’m not that bad,” Jean frowns, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I have an aversion to men,” Ymir hisses, narrowing her eyes. Historia pets her girlfriend’s hair soothingly.

“Down, girl. Go, Armin!”

Armin presses the little rolling dice icon on the screen, and the game chimes as it arrives at its decision. Wide, blue eyes meet yours, and he says your name, asks the question.

“Truth or dare?”

You want to pick truth, take the safe route, but after a couple of drinks and Eren calling you a chicken, you can’t convince yourself to. See, Eren? I can be fun.

“Dare,” you answer confidently. Historia winks at you; you ignore her. Armin reads the screen, the corner of his mouth curling up mischievously.

“It’s daring you to sit on Eren’s lap.”

You blanche. The lap-sitting dare’s already been called several times: Armin himself is reading your dare out from where he’s perched on Hitch’s thighs. But Eren? Surely, Historia rigged it; you look to her in a panic, but her face is simply split into an anticipatory grin. You’re frozen for a beat until Eren shuffles around beside you.

“C’mon then,” Eren grunts, hooking you under the armpits and scooping you up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your stomach so your ass is pressed firmly into his crotch. You look over your shoulder at him, positive that your eyes are comically wide in surprise; you’ve been able to feel the ripples in his arms through his hoodie all night, but you hadn’t expected him to be so strong. Eren shrugs from behind you, an impish smile on his face. “‘S just a dare. I don’t bite.”

“Don’t believe him,” Mikasa deadpans from across the table, “he’s got rabies.”

That lightens the tension between you, and you exhale an easy laugh, wiggling around on Eren’s lap until you’re comfortable. You hear Eren suck in a sharp breath behind you, low enough that only you catch it. 

“You okay? Am I too heavy?”

Eren meets your eyes, almost looking a little startled that you heard him. “No, yeah, m’fine.”

There’s a strain to his voice that wasn’t there before, but you opt to ignore it, hoping you aren’t making him uncomfortable. You have to force yourself to focus on the game and not the heat of his hands sinking through your shirt, unmoving from their station on your hips. The game continues amidst several roaring rounds of laughter: Jean has to “slide his hand up Armin’s thigh suggestively”, Mikasa has to lick Hitch’s neck, Historia has to tell everyone her favorite sex position.

Hitch gets dared to kiss you next, standing and walking to where you sit on Eren, giving you a chaste peck on the lips full of tipsy giggles. Jean, Connie, Eren, and Armin are rendered silent, much to the girls’ amusement.

“Hello?” Mikasa waves a hand in front of Jean’s unblinking eyes; he swats her away irritably. You peek at Eren to see a perverted grin splitting his face; he looks happy as a clam. You pinch his thigh, making him jump.

“Ow! Damn, what was that for?” He rubs his thigh, voice wounded.

“Being a creep,” you say, but the smile twitching at your lips betrays you. Eren’s eyes grow imperceptibly darker, in a private way that feels like it’s just meant for you.

“If you think that’s bad…” he trails off, shaking his head and wrapping his arms against your stomach, snuggling you into his chest. You kick your feet in protest, laughing as you try to shove him off, but Eren’s got you pinned to him, eyebrows raised in amusement at your struggle. He sneaks a hand to your ribcage, digging his fingers in to tickle you. “C’mon, you’re not even trying!”

“Stop, Eren- fuck, that tickles!” You manage to choke out around your furious giggles, worming around in his iron grip.

“Can you lovebirds cut it out?” Jean shoves Eren’s shoulder harshly, nearly knocking you both off the couch. You slide off of his lap, already having fallen halfway off in the struggle, cheeks burning as you come back to the room full of half-strangers and out of the little moment you’ve just had with Eren. You can feel Historia’s eyes burning a smug hole in your forehead. “It’s almost eleven, if we’re going out we need to get moving.”

“Shit, really?” Eren’s still catching his breath, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to check for himself. Sure enough, 10:57 is glaring white on the screen back at him. The past week hits you, and suddenly you’re so tired, unwilling to face Scout’s or wherever they’re planning on going. “Scout’s or Devil’s Paradise? What are you guys in the mood for?”

You feel the permanence of the few drinks you’ve had and the lack of sleep this past week setting in, eyes heavy. “I think I’m probably just going to head home.”

You’re met with a resounding round of protests from the group. Only Eren is there to come to your defense, swinging an arm around you and pulling your ear to his mouth. “Want me to take you?”

He’s only had one beer, safe enough and far preferable to stumbling through the cold streets half-drunk and alone. You nod; you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the exhaustion, but your eyes flutter, and you lean into his embrace. 

“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” Eren says, waving his friends out the door; his tone leaves no room for argument. Ordinarily, you’d be embarrassed at the way he speaks for you, but you’re grateful for it now, legs draped over his while the rest of your party files out.

“Text me when you’re home!” Historia calls, she and Ymir making up the caboose of the line that files out of the door in search of more fun to be had. You’re not worried about missing out, content with the warmth of Eren’s body against yours. Once the door shuts, you two sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Eren scrolling on his phone and you drifting dangerously close to sleep, curled into him.

“Ready?” Eren’s inquisition isn’t pressing; he actually sounds more than happy to let you lay here for the rest of the night, let you take advantage of his status as a personal space heater and cuddle up for the next few hours.

“Ready,” you reluctantly sigh, allowing him to pull you to your feet and out the door. You let him practically carry you, leaning on him heavily until he buckles you into his obnoxious muscle car. Eren starts the engine only for metal music to come blaring out of the speakers.

“Fuck!” Eren jumps, scrambling to turn it down. “Sorry.”

You’re so tired you’re barely phased, laughing sleepily and pulling your knees to your chest, making yourself comfortable in the seat. “S’ok.”

The red LED lights lining the accents of the leather inside soothe you, the movement of the car rocking you softly as he pulls out and onto the street, driving you home. This is far too comfortable for a potential one night stand at best, but you’re too exhausted to care, little tidbits of Elizabethan English literature rocketing around in your tired mind. The car ride is short, your head bobbing against the cool windowpane as you watch the streetlights pass by. When you arrive, Eren places a hand on your knee, warming your skin through your jeans.

“Sure you’re okay?” You don’t miss the note of concern in his tone, smiling to yourself.

“Yeah,” you answer, shaking yourself awake as best you can, “I’m fine. Just tired, s’all.”

Eren looks dubious, searching your face. “You don’t seem like the type of girl to fall asleep at the pregame.”

“It’s school,” you admit, “and work. I’ve gotten like six hours of sleep in two days.”

 “Want me to walk you up?”

“You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”  The authority in his voice isn’t something you’ll soon forget, feeding the flames in your core.

“I’m a big girl, Eren, I’ll be fine. I just have to hop through that door,” you point at the illuminated door in the parking garage, “into the elevator, and then third door on the–”

“Left. I remember,” Eren finishes for you, leaning onto the center console. He’s very close to your face, close enough for you to graze your hand over his cheek, which, you do, curiosity and beer outweighing your common sense. Your eyes are wide open now, studying him. You know you’re staring at his lips, too forward for your relationship as it stands, but you’re tipsy and far beyond tired and you can’t help yourself. In the low lighting of the parking garage, he’s gorgeous, eyes almost glowing.

You’re not sure who leans in, but you feel your lips brush together, tentative and shaky. He leans into you further, pressing his lips fully against yours. His mouth is even hotter than his hands were, searing as he kisses you deeper. You can feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, cupping your face and pulling you closer to him. You hate yourself for it, but a little whimper escapes you, pouring into him. Eren takes advantage of your open lips, swipes his tongue against your teeth, and before you know it, he’s pulling you over the center console to straddle in his lap.

He’s not too rough with you, but he’s insatiable, his hands traveling up your back, one landing on the back of your neck to hold you firmly to him and the other gripping your ass through your jeans, drinking you down like he’s a man starved. You nip at his bottom lip, wide awake now and grateful for the slight tint to his windows. Your hands run through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and it earns you a throaty groan from deep inside his chest, making you smile against his lips.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you up?” Eren murmurs, mouthing at your jaw. The sound of his voice grounds you a little, and you giggle breathlessly as he brushes over a particularly ticklish spot. 

“Told you I’m a big girl,” you whisper, “what do I need you for?”

Eren smirks, dark and dangerous. “Might need me to protect you. Who knows? There’s all sorts of awful guys who would love to take advantage of a pretty little thing like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Eren’s half-hooded eyes flick down to your chest and back up to your eyes, making your regretful response twice as difficult to get out.

“I need to go to bed, and you need to go with Armin’s birthday thing,” you sigh, leaning back against the steering wheel. You’re well aware you don’t have the willpower to turn him down to your lips inches away, but it’s late, and you could use the sleep. Not to mention the 8:00 am lecture waiting for you first thing in the morning. “Isn’t he like, your best friend?”

Eren groans dramatically, throwing his head back against the headrest.

“Armin won’t mind, I mean,” he traces a hand up your body, fingers grazing you from hip to chest, “just look at you.”

“What?” You cock your head playfully. Eren rakes his gaze over your body, stopping in a few choice places, something wicked pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Really gonna make me say it?”

You smirk down at him. “Maybe.”

“You’re trouble,” he tackles you again, pulling you into another kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and giggles. Eventually you find the willpower to shove yourself away from him, knocking your spine into the steering wheel with a short honk that makes laughter spill from both of you.

“Okay, really, unless you would also like to wake up at 6:30, I should get going.” You dab at the little tears pricking your eyes, trying to catch your breath. “Plus, you’d be a bad friend if you didn’t head back out for Armin’s birthday.”

“Can’t have that,” Eren agrees, regret flickering over his face. He reaches for his door handle so you can climb out on his side, but he changes his mind, withdrawing his hand and going for his phone instead.

“What is it?”

“Before you go,” Eren slides his phone open, tongue caught between his lips— God, he’s so fucking cute, “lemme get your number.”

You can’t help yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you want my number.”

Eren frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Could’ve asked Historia all week.”

An indignant flush rises in his cheeks. “I’m a man. I wanted to ask you myself, in person. Plus…”

The rest of his words taper off into a quiet mumble that you can’t quite catch. “Plus what?”

“I was nervous,” Eren raises his gaze to meet your eyes sheepishly, cheeks now bright red. Your heart thuds in your chest; he really is beautiful, with his long dark lashes and strong nose. You can hardly conceptualize the fact that he’d just kissed you- twice. A teasing smile tugs at your mouth.

“Nervous?”

“‘M not exactly your type, am I?” You can barely hold your laugh in, remembering your own cyclical, self-disparaging thoughts over the last few days.

“Give me that.” You snatch his phone and type your number in, handing it back to him with a smile. “Okay, I really should head up now.”

Eren concedes, throwing his door open for you to clamber off of his lap, stand in the doorway of his car, look down at him. Eren stares at you for a beat, running his eyes up and down your body. You start to step back, bid him goodnight, when he breaks out into a boyish grin, raises a hand to flick two fingers at you in a come-hither motion.

“Get back over here.”

You dissolve into giggles, feeling light as air, leaning back into the car to indulge him in one- no, two, or maybe three more kisses before you’re pushing yourself off of him with a quiet moan. “Eren, I need to go to bed, really, I do.”

“I know,” he sighs, leaning back into his seat. If you dare to look down, you can see where his pants are starting to tent, a thick bulge behind the zipper. You swallow hard; maybe he’ll end up living up to his impressive reputation after all. It takes every ounce of nerve in your body, but you step back from the car and wave meekly.

“Goodnight, Eren.”

“I’ll see you,” Eren smiles, shutting his door. Before you can even make it through the door, your phone buzzes, and you pull it out with a knowing smile.

> nice ass ;) sleep tight

It's so crude it makes you laugh out loud, turning around to see Eren snickering to himself childishly in his car. You toss him your middle finger as a response, only making him laugh harder. You don't hear the roar of his engine until you're already stepping into the elevator. The ride up feels long, exacerbated by your exhaustion, and you lean heavily on the wall, nervous butterflies dancing in your stomach as if you’d just had your first kiss. Your phone buzzes again, and you know who it is before you even unlock the screen.

> make it home safe? it’s ok if u don’t answer bc ur wrapped up in bed with ur boy toy ;)

Historia’s text would have ordinarily annoyed you, but you’re so giddy and love-drunk you giggle to yourself, thumbs trembling as you type back.

> he just dropped me off. he’s heading back to u guys now

> what???? nothing happened?

> i don’t kiss and tell

> aha! so u DID kiss him

> maybe…

Your phone buzzes close to a dozen times after that, but you pocket it, figuring you can just fill Historia in in the morning. You want nothing more than to collapse in your bed, but the lingering taste of Eren on your lips is distracting you. All throughout your skincare and your tooth brushing and your changing clothes, it still feels like his hands are ghosting over your body.

When you finally tuck yourself in, you slither a hand down your body and into your pajama shorts, rubbing mindlessly until you cum with the memory of Eren’s mouth and everything it might be capable of on your mind and his name on your tongue. You feel a lick of hot shame as you throw your shorts into the hamper, but a rush of elation follows it up. Eren wants you just as badly as you want him, and now, you’ve gathered enough evidence to do something about it. One good fuck, you decide, and he’ll be out of your system. Just one.

[tuxedolascribalblogger]

this just went out at østgarðr provincial court at pennsic :D

[scrapsovereign]

Ok everyone, hear me out:

What if you’re an aspiring NEET, current burnt-out millennial degen that has to work to support your wretched lifestyle and you get Isekai’ed on to the mindflayer ship?

You don’t speak the “common” language, but you can be sorta conversational in broken Japanese- which is eerily similar to another language a certain velf speaks…

Of all the places you had to get Isekai’ed to…wait a minute. This looks familiar. Is this that Bald and Gay game your friends keep sending memes to the group chat about?

Being here is actually a nice change of pace. The worst thing so far is not being able to understand a damn thing any of the other survivors say…

…until a moment arrives on the first night after you shotgun a health potion with a “Kanpai!” like the geriatric weeb you are.

The pretty, fancy one who sounds like he’s trying to pick you up using his best Vampire the Masquerade LARP voice snaps his head towards you. His eyes are wide in an expression that’s similar to the one you got from your supervisor that one time you loudly explained at the lunch table what yaoi paddles are to your zoomer coworkers.

He asks in what you consider to be the wildest pronunciation you’ve ever heard (for real, you can barely make it out) if you speak Kozakuran and by the powers of god, anime, and your rusty-ass 1.5 years of high school Japanese you put together a reply to him.

You can tell he haaaaaates talking to you in that language, but is also extremely smug about being the only one who can communicate with you.

He warns you that he’s the only one you can trust, and to keep your guard up around the others.

You tell him you’ll watch his back if he watches yours.

The Fabio-looking guy who looks like he’s fresh outta the SCA finds a scroll after you’ve been meandering about for a day or two and holy shit! It’s so nice to be able to talk to everyone! Kmart Fabio then starts talking your ear off. You had an awful date with a software engineer that went like this not too long ago and immediately regret the existence of magic.

It’s bliss when the spell wears off after a day’s time, and you have the sweet, sweet escape of hearing everyone speak in Sim Language. Except the fancy one, whose name you learned is Astarion.

You suppose maybe you should get your grubby fujoshi hands on a potion, another scroll, or actually try to learn the language. You know what though? Fuck it. It’s nice having the attention of a guy so pretty you’d normally be too nervous to talk to in your old life. He’s hilarious, sassy, flirtatious…

Still, something doesn’t seem quite right. You’re ready to tell your imposter syndrome to throw itself into the sun-and you do! It keeps coming back. It whispers that this is too good to be true, things can’t actually be this good.

When you wake up one night and you catch him in the act of trying to suck you dry like his personal Capri Sun you wonder briefly if it was right. Even if it is, you can’t remember the last time someone this hot had their mouth on you. Lastly, joke’s on your inner critic, you’re in to that sexy vampire shit.

You take off your shirt and lean your head to one side, offering your neck to him.

“Tabemasenka?”

He gives you a feral grin that does things to you- things that finally give context to all the smutty fanfic you’ve ever read.

“Itadakimasu, darling.”

[kiriska]

Working on some new art to put up at Vulpine Taproom next month. Gonna be mostly BW sumi and ink, but I might include some older watercolor pieces if I have room.

Since Sakura-Con unceremoniously decided to put their Art Show on “hiatus” this year, I’m using a bunch of the scrolls and frames I would’ve used for SCAS for this instead.

[malyssmakneile]

In two weeks I'll be invested as Baron of Lions Gate. What the hell.

[cardiffart]

Calligraphy/watercolor projects from the past few weeks: Chivalry scroll for the SCA (still in progress but close to the finish mark), album art for a band, and Father's Day card for Dad.

If you would like to commission your own piece of calligraphy, let me know!

[echodreamer]

So I know most folks arnt here for this but I was damn proud of this one. A scroll done for an award in the sca, based off of a manuscript loosely known as the black hours. I did all the art, The words themselves by my roommate and caligraphy by a friend. Now that it's been handed out I can finally post it! All gouache on black paper.