edge-shaped

Evening Gown “Danse Macabre”

Victorian inspired evening gown, made from luxurious shantung silk and silk brocade.
The overdress is trimmed with satin piping and is held in place with a narrow waist belt with handmolded sparkling crystal buckle.
The inside of the skirt and sleeves is covered with soft high quality lining in black.
This design belongs to my client, but similar designs are available on request.
The short front brocade part features an interesting neckline and bottom edge shape. It is reinforced with steelbones to provide a smooth corset-like shape.

(x)

Lapis Lazuli hot glue gem tutorial!

Okay so here are the steps I took to make my Lapis Lazuli gem!

You will need:
-hi-temp hot glue
-exacto knife
-a large metal spoon (the desired gem size)
-non-stick cooking spray
-blue and clear nail polish
-hairdryer (optional)

First, heat up your glue gun until it reaches working temperature. Spray the spoon with ought coat of non-stick spray. Carefully fill the spoon with hot glue going slowly enough to avoid creating air pockets but quickly enough for the melted glue to become even. When the spoon is full set it down so the top of the glue will remain flat; blow with a hairdryer set on cool if you want to speed up the drying process. When the glue has cooled and dried you should be able to peel it out of the spoon very easily. Use an exacto knife to carve the edges into the exact shape you want (more/less tapered at the top). Coat with blue nail polish and let completely dry; coat after with clear.

You should have yourself a lightweight and shiny little gem at this point! When it comes to attaching it to the skin I personally like to use eyelash glue or spirit gum!

Things you’ll want to consider if you are carrying a knife intended to be used as a weapon: -How quick can you get the knife open and in your hand? -Can you open the knife with one hand? -Can you reach the knife with either hand? -Can you deploy the knife if someone grabs you from behind and pins both of your arms to your sides? -Can the blade shape and edge profile snag in flesh or thick clothing? -Does the blade have a highly visible reflective finish on it? -Does it have a balance between concealment capabilities and accessibility? -Is the locking mechanism on it solid? (If its a folder) -How laud is it when you take the blade out of its sheath or unfold it? -Does it have markings or writing on it that identify it as only a weapon (like tactical, skulls or a dragon with a ninja riding it) -Can yo maintain it out in the filed without any specialist tools? -Can you afford to lose it in case you need to dump it? -Do you have a training version of the rig or folder you plan to carry? (Very important) -Are you willing to invest in edged weapons training and not just carry a knife like some sort of amulet to word off danger? -Are you prepared to maim or kill someone with it if the need arises? These are just a few of many questions you need to ask yourself before you put anything in your pocket.

Sonic Legacy - Ark the Lizard (Redux + Bio) by Cylent-Nite ( cylent-nite )

Design of a reincarnation of Maria Robotnik. The first time I saw this design I found myself confused, the use sharp edges and triangle imagery is often reserved for characters with masculine character traits, but since this is supposed to be the reincarnation of a young, sweet and soft-spoken girl I was expecting more soft edges and rounded shapes. But then I thought about it some more, and it got me thinking of how both Shadow and Emerl has “souls” based on Maria’s and they are still very tough and action-oriented character. It also got me thinking of Maria’s illness and how it could have affected her. In Shadow’s flashbacks she seems pretty healthy, but we only see her from Shadow’s perspective, and it could be it has symptoms we don’t know about. We know she is sick, that is the reason Gerald made Shadow, to cure her. Is possible that the disease causes soft-spoken and timed behavior because of the lack of stamina? And without it, she would be am adventures tomboy? That would suits this design perfectly. Or maybe the artist is just subverting my expectations… it is inventive either way.

2

The lines and shapes in these pictures were made as preparation for an Insight Session. The goal is to get into a meditative mindstate, where the world… and you… are slowed down and able to access what you really see and touch and feel. Two of the images in the first pic were made by touching the object with one hand, feeling the edges and overall shape, while following those movements with the other hand with pen and paper. Eyes closed. The other two were made by looking at the object and drawing around the edges, but never looking at the paper except to reposition the pen when reaching the end of a line. The second pic was done by touching my face with one hand… eyes closed… and moving my pen with the other, following what I was feeling with my hand. Try one of these today. Move at a snail’s pace, in a place with no distraction. Feel your breathing slow and a sense of peace begin. Remember, the goal is not to make a precise replica of your object, but to observe it and record it as you feel and see it. Try an organic object (even a body part) rather an a manufactured one; they are much more interesting.
Post your results here,we’d love to see them and hear how the process worked for you.
You’ll be surprised at what you do when you stop worrying about what it’s supposed to look like.

Walking Home

You can say words that have no meaning, say them so often that they aren’t prayer, aren’t blessing, aren’t even a curse. Just words, over and over as a talisman, and all you can do is lie and hope they can be more than that.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she whispered as she ran, skidding around the corner. Two blocks. It was two blocks to home, but it was too far, the world – home – nothing fit anymore. Nothing felt right, fit together. She’d turned a corner, and another, and nothing felt right again. No one should turn a corner and have the sky and streets empty around them.

Sixteen, she thought, I’m not even sixteen, but the words meant nothing at all.

They were hungry, edges without form, shapes without definition, hungry and behind her and they – they – her steps flattered as her thoughts skittered, fled from a knowing. She stumbled, raised her head, and almost ran into a man standing in front of her. It was six in the evening, it was midnight, it was three in the morning all at once and there was only her, and shadows, and streetlights that flickered with stuttering black fire.

Ordinary. That was Kate’s first thought. That he was ordinary. Normal. Jeans. t-shirt. Shoes. A plain face. He looked like you could drop him into an office and never see him again. He looked like he fit into the world, but he was casting no shadow and his eyes, his eyes, his eyes. She drew back, not meaning to. His eyes weren’t boring. They were gentle and hard, warn and cold, and the smile he offered her felt like sunlight descending into a nightmare.

“You – you’re alone?” Kate had no idea why she asked that, had no idea how she was sounding calm, but he was solid, real.

“I’m never alone,” he said. “That gift is never one I’ve carried. You should not be here, you know.”

“I don’t know where here is,” she said, and fear cracked through the words, shuddered through her body.

“Sideways. Sometimes we step sideways from the world, never meaning to at all.” He stared over her head. “Some never find their way back, some never wish to. It is an easy thing to be lost, and easier to be afraid. They know this.”

Kate spun, and there were – she had no words. They were slivers, cuts, slices in the air that moved, shapes that were tall, thin, not human at all. Like tears in pages, if the world was a book, only not like that at all.

“She is not yours to take.” The man didn’t move, but the things stopped. Somehow, they stopped, twisted in the air. They had colours, then, that she’d never seen before and knew she never would again.

“We all blunder into stories that are not our own.” The man stepped up beside her. “How do you know you have not stumbled into mine?” he said, and the tears, the shadows, the things, jerked and moved backwards.

There was a sound. Like paper rustling at the edge of hearing, smoke made by something other than fire.

The man let out a sigh. “No. It is not your right to take her; has it been so long since a magician found this place that you think it is so simple, that you can tear a person from the world and claim them as your own?” He paused, then let out a humourless laugh. “No, my kind do not have rights either. We have responsibilities, obligations, duties. But rights? Never that. She called, and I have answered, and you will let her go.” The words were simple, a statement of fact.

Kate had no idea why, but she thought the shadows – the rents in this world without stars or moon – were laughing. She saw more, at the edge of vision, moving around them. “They are behind us.”

The stranger didn’t move, but a rent was in the world beside them, something ugly and hungry twisting toward flesh, only to veer away at the last moment as though stung. “You prevent travel from this place,” he said softly, and was somehow taller a moment later. Each of the streetlights burned white-hot, lights blazed from every empty building around them. Rents followed, the creatures moving, tearing into their own world, houses ripped apart to fall to the ground like cheap paintings, as though even the ground under them was just painted on nothingness.

There was no light, not even the black fire of street lamps, and Kate could not see her home at all.

“My house. It. Everything,” Kate got out.

“You would have run inside, thinking yourself free, and been open to them, to their power. They have never had a prisoner, never had someone fall into your world before. I imagine we confuse them as much as they do us.”

“Do we? Really?”

“If it helps you to think so.” He raised his voice, staring out at the things. “Do you ever know why you keep her here, what you mean to do with her?”

The tear-shapes surrounded them, folding into each other, bruises on the darkness, twistings that hurt to see. Kate flinched back, covering her eyes from a feeling of pressure, but the man didn’t move at all.

“How –.” she whispered.

“Magic,” he said, as quietly. “I could teach you, if you wished. Your potential opened this door to another place, Kate. Why did you not want to go home?”

And Kate, who hadn’t told anyone that she was avoiding being home (who hadn’t even told herself, not until this moment), spoke her secrets without even intending to. About her dad losing his job. That he would be drinking. That she’d seen her uncle Gareth in his face. That Gareth had scared her one night, with stories about the kind of man he was. Truths no child should be witness to, epigraphs to his life before he took his own.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” she said when her voice was wholly her own.

“Magic,” he said, and somehow it sounded like the word was trying to be an apology this time.

“You made me –.”

“I asked; a part of you needed to answer.”

“I don’t want that. That kind of – responsibility,” she whispered.

The rents were closer, pressing, a world of things wanting form held at bay by nothing more than this stranger standing beside her.

“She has decided not to be a magician,” the magician said, and his voice held nothing in it she recognized. “We will leave this place.”

The nothings moved in closer. They almost had voices now.

“I could take her magic for my own, force a way from this place.” The magician laughed, the sound eerily casual. “But then you would be able to leave as well, and that I will not permit. You know of our world: you are finding voices, can touch the edges of true things. Know this, then. I am the wandering magician of the world known as Earth by some, the world you tried to shape in this place. Fae will come find me, and they can unmake all you are before you can do anything at all.”

Kate was certain she heard laughter now. Certain it didn’t sound human, but that the unnoise was that.

“You do not fear them? Truly?” The magican’s voice was soft, but Kate was sure the question was answered, because he could ask questions one had to answer. “Very well.” And then the magician spoke a single word. It was a name. Kate was sure of that much, and that it began with a J, and had syllables, and he said it so very soft, and the rents did not move at all. Lost all colour, became merely odd lines drawn in the air as though frozen, though Kate couldn’t shake the knowing that it was more than being frozen.

“I bind you with that name,” the magician said, and his voice was low and hard, and for the first time Kate was certain she heard anger in it. “You will not leave, not move, not even should the universe end around you. And it will, have no doubt about that, and that even such an ending will not free you.”

He did not take Kate’s hand, but they were in the street a moment later. The real street, a block from her home, in a world of stars and skies and people, as though she’d had only to blink and the world to reappear. He looked the same, the magician, ordinary and plain, though his eyes were tired and he looked older than she thought he was.

“I have taken the magic from you as per your desire,” he said. “Should you ever want it again, you need only ask.”

“I don’t know your name,” she said.

He smiled a kindness, and something of what the other place had been, had done, fell away from her. “If you need to, you will know my name. Until then, I will put your magic somewhere safe.”

“Where?” she asked, not thinking.

“Inside your heart. Hearts do not break as easily as many believe they do.” And he turned away, before she could think to ask about his, before she could ask anything at all, and Kate was alone, standing on a street, huddling under a lamp.

Magic. Responsibility. She shuddered, and began the short walk home, and this time it didn’t feel as long as it had when she left the gym. Not long a walk at all.

Experimenting with polymer clay techniques! Found a quite pricy necklace (over twenty dollars) on Etsy I can reproduce for about $1.00 personal cost per necklace. This isn’t quite complete yet, it was just an experiment; in theory I would purchase a heart-shaped cutter instead of coin shaped, and edge the whole thing in white clay to make it look finished. My question is this:

Does it look knitted? Have I synthesized that look correctly?

theofcks.

it’s all about lines and edges. structural contours, shapes, detail to tie it in; he absorbs it will with the eye of an artist, pencil to paper, hands to texture. the bench beneath him is far too hard to be comfortable, and with his legs crossed to prop up the sketch pad on his calf, it doesn’t get much better with position. regardless, he’s content where he is, looking straight ahead of him at the building, and only occasionally glancing down at his work. what’s on the paper will not resemble what he’s looking at in the least, unless one knows how take take it in. unless one has his perspective. 

lips are curved around a cigarette, a slight bow, detail to the fingers etched in with such care that he can hardly believe that he drew it. it’s always that way with him, realism shining through spectacularly, and although it’s a building that’s inspiring him, it’s the man stood a few feet away from him that encompasses it. he has never seen someone look more like architecture than he does. he has never seen someone look so much like london. so how can he resist? how can he stop himself? it’s an invasion of privacy, almost. a peek into something he isn’t meant to see. he feels like a thief just etching lines. 

then he speaks to him. 

i literally want you to kill me with your cheekbones. right here. right now. it’ll be a mercy killing, so you don’t have to feel bad about it. take me. i’m ready.

Textures & Textiles: Beautiful modern home has a dynamic and interesting look

This contemporary house was designed and built by Jenesys Buildings, and is one of many properties that they have designed with sustainability In mind. The exterior of the house is very interesting to the eye as although there are no unusually shaped edges, the texture of the façades helps to give the house interest and dynamism.

Full post - http://www.usualhouse.com/textures-textiles-beautiful-modern-home-has-a-dynamic-and-interesting-look/

mornings

Every time he sees you he thinks of dreams and space, yet when he kissed you, the smell of it was clear as crystal, and he thanked the heavens you were not a creation of his imagination. Somehow he always managed to wake up before you, giving him time to admire; from all your curves and edges, the shape of your eyes, nose, lips and fingertips, to your delicate skin, the one he could see, that is, because the rest was hidden behind one of his t-shirt with the words en guerre, and he couldn’t help to think of how ironic yet accurate those french words were, because that’s how you made him feel; at war, with himself and everything that isn’t you. He would rise up, only to find himself laying back down. The thought of leaving you, even though it would only be for a few word, struck like a bullet in the back and heat like blood and lava was too suffocating to bear. That is, until you wake up, one eye slightly open and a “..good morning” that escapes from your lips like a crashing wave, is what gives him air and keeps him alive and intact and stops him from doing anything bad.

I often don’t know how to put thoughts into words, as if I think in images, in feelings, in dreams. I can’t turn them into something as trivial as words. Words are harsh. They cut my thoughts into little pointy shapes, all edges and no curves, no room for running smoothly through the ideas in my head. I often get cut in them. I often cut others with them.
Ever since I was a little child, I wished to escape. I wished to look up at the sky and suddenly rise and rise and rise and never come back to this disappointing earth. I thought, why is god tantalizing me like this? Why would he allow me to see such wonders above me and then curse me to a life glued to the ground? I thought I must be a fallen star. And at night, I would always imagine my sisters and brothers were falling too. They were coming to me. And one day I would meet them.
And still, many years later, I feel so lonely. I embrace the loneliness like it is a blanket keeping me warm. I cling to it with my fingernails and I don’t let go.  I believe it to protect me from this world. For I feel like I was made for another. I wouldn’t wish to get too attached to this one, for when I leave. Wherever I might leave. Wherever I might be taken to.  
Childish thoughts.
My head is spinning again. It’s like I feel the motion of the planet, turning and turning, never still, just like my mind. Nothing is steady here. Nothing and no one, we’re all moving towards other things, other times, other people. Towards death.
Ah, death. The greatest mystery. I might be going home. I might disappear into the void of everything there ever was. Who’s to say there must be something out there, beyond, waiting for us? Who do we think we are?
We are nothing.
I am a part of that nothingness.
I sink deeper and deeper into oblivion.
—  Restless nights, 1

anonymous asked:

are you square? round? triangular?

I’d like to think I’m abstract. Different shapes, rounded edges.

So I had a weird dream last night and I think it’s related to my kintype!
I was having a “normal” dream abt going to a new school or something then all of a sudden I am on a quiet beach.
I’m sorting these dried leaves with spiky edges into a heart shape and I have smokey grey paws and black paw pads. I look to my left and there is a white she-cat with deep blue eyes gazing out to the misty water and the sun is coming up. There is another cat beside her and they are looking at me with a worried expression. I dont remember much about them, but I do remember their eyes were pale green and they had a dark pelt.
The white she-cat (Glistening moon is her name or something moon related) tells me that “A high tide is coming” or something with a high tide. As she says that the tide comes in and washes my leaf pile away. the water is up to our bellies but Glistening Moon and her companion turn away and walk towards grassy hills behind us. My leaves are floating away and I go to follow Glistening moon and the companion but the wind picks up and they disappear in a snow storm and my original dream resumes.
It was really weird but I wonder if it has to do with my kintype??
I dont feel as strongly connected to Tall Shadow as I did before, especially after this dream….

2

Finished the engine on the friendship express! This is as close a recreation as I could make (yes, the floating wheel and other bits included) of the engine as it appears in episode 1 of season 5. The friendship express was converted to 3D for season 5, but it was low poly enough that you could see the edges around rounded shapes. This contrasts the traditional vector art style of the rest of the show in my opinion. I was curious enough to see how it looks all smoothed out so here it is. I’ll be doing the rest of the train carriages in the future.

And here’s a gif video of the full rotation.

Naviarhaiku067

I said nothing for a time, just ran my fingertips along the edge of the human-shaped emptiness that had been left inside me

This is the 67th experiment of Naviar Haiku. Participants have seven days to create a music composition inspired by the assigned haiku poem and post it on Naviar’s Soundcloud group Naviar Laboratory (https://soundcloud.com/groups/naviar-laboratory)

Deadline: 22nd April 2015

Poem by Shimmywritings

Picture by Dan Diffendale