letter carving

3

Taejin Seong aka Tae Jin Seong aka 성태진 (Korean, b. 1974, Choong Ju, Chung Cheong Buk Do, Seoul, Korea) - 1: Hardly Was There Any Cockcrow, 2015  2: Mars Attacks, 2016  3: My Heart Hurt, 2016  Acrylics, Ink on Embossed Wood Panel (Photos do not come close to the beauty in his work)  

friendship
/ˈfrɛn(d)ʃɪp/

  1. “What do you know about Welsh Kings?”
  2. Brothers, Ronan thinks.
  3. Blue’s hand inside Adam’s, warm and carefully tugged between his own fingers, the words “it’s going to be alright” whispered in short black hair over and over again, tear strains on an old, faded Coca-Cola shirt.
  4. dream-flowers that always bloom on a well-cared grave, morning dew that clings to white petals, a copper name-plate on a grave that glistens in the morning sun, letters carved into the rotting earth reading ‘REMEMBERED’, three boys and a girl standing in silence, their feet touching.
Once I sculpted you out of letters
and carved quotes into your skin
you became every word
I wanted someone to tell me
even if you said it with silence
you let me spill tears on your shoulder
even though it left a stain
and you never forgot a single detail
while I poured my heart out every day
yet I abandoned you as I always do
when you ran out of space for me
and I realized as I tucked you
behind rows of books on my shelves
that you never asked for my eyes
to spill tears on your corners
and my mind to drip words on each line
I ruined my creation,
my sculpture born of ink,
until I had no more tears left to cry.
—  Journal, @nothingwithoutwords
  • Pansy: Have you told Granger how you feel?
  • Draco: She knows.
  • Pansy: Listen, dumbass, I'm gonna let you in on a secret that most guys don't even have a clue about, all right? You ready?...Women love words.
  • Draco: Hmm?
  • Pansy: You need to tell her how you feel. Just say it. Say it again. Say it differently. Learn how to say it better. Learn how to sing it. You know, just write it in a poem and a letter attached to flowers. Carve it in a tree, in a sidewalk in wet cement, tattoo on your arm.

When he kisses her, the world does not shift beneath his feet, does not fall out of axis, does not shake his being, calling for his very bones to shout her name.

In joy, in wonder, in exaltation.

Not anymore.

When he kisses her now, his world shifts only to find its centre, his heart only murmurs in contentment, his feet only sink deeper into the earth as his bones sigh her name on every breath, her letters carved into them.

The edges and curves of her are written into his memory, her name and her kiss familiar to every corner of his mouth. 

(And every touch of her lips against his blessedly does not feel like his last.)

When he kisses her now, it no longer shakes him.

When he kisses her now, he knows her heart.

When he kisses her now, he knows his home.

a little drabble inspired by @nastylittlenerd‘s gorgeous gifset and these two dorks that I love

youtube

The progenitor of all cat content

German TV station invented cat content long before it was a thing

One day in 1970, the animal shelter of Frankfurt had too many cats and decided to euthanize a couple of kittens. It happened that Rudolf Küfner, production designer at the TV station Hessischer Rundfunk was around to check the settings for a documentary and decided to take the kittens home and look after them. His daughter Eva Demski, features editor at Hessischer Rundfunk, had the idea to film the kittens playing in a set of Hessischer Rundfunk logos made from the letters h and r carved out of plastic cubes. 30 minutes of footage were filmed, and the station broadcast different sections of it during breaks in the program, hence it earned the name “Pausenkatzen”, “break cats”. After it was first aired, many people called the TV station inquiring about the kittens, and eventually all of them found a new home. The film survived until today and is still shown occasionally. With the introduction of ultra-HD TV, the station felt the need for a remake in appropriate resolution (see below).

A Letter

Obviously, writing about you and how you are my life, my universe, my everything, my infinity, is pointless and words fail to express what you are and how I feel, but I miss you…

And while you sleep, I still hear your voice, always. I keep your voice, your smile, your eyes, your scent, your taste; I keep you with me.

I sit on sand connected to an ocean of memories of what always was and always will be, and the palpable feeling of destiny grips my heart in its hands while you tell me to live, while you, my moon pulling me, the ocean, gives me life; love.

You bleed so much life, so much warmth into this cold and dark abyss, that sometimes it seems that it might not be enough, but it’s always more than enough, I promise you. Always.

Ocean without fingers and the ability to write; I will carve letters in stone, one droplet at a time. Words, cannot express my love, but one day you will look down and see this and know that I have always loved you, and always will.

10

I present my final project for my typography and books arts class from last semester! I produced an edition of 5 books of a collection of songs and poems from JRR Tolkien’s Legendarium. I designed each of the illuminated letters, carved them out of linoleum blocks, and printed them on a platinum hand press. The text of the titles page was also hand set and printed (I ran out of time to hand set the rest.) The blue detailing I did with watercolors. I bound them in a simple case binding with a really pretty blue paper inside the cover.

These are the most exciting pages that I wanted to share. 

forever // jimin

Originally posted by jeonmp3

1.6k words. Ex-lovers au. fluff + angst.


The kids were running about, chortles and giggles tumbling out of their mouths, the parents having had enough of telling them to keep it down as to not disturb the other visitors, couples walking by holding hands and looking at each other with love sick expressions, love letters carved into the signs along the pavement you were walking on, screaming love is in the fucking air in the most obvious, face-rubbing way, and then there was you and Jimin.

Exes forced by their friends to participate in a double date and ending up paired with each other while the friends ran off to fuck knows where.

Keep reading

10

Created By Severinka

Hall interior N932

Created for: The Sims 4
A set of furniture and decor in classic style interior decoration of the hall, hallway, living room.
The set includes 23 objects:
- A long console table made of old wood
- Old chest
- Original candles in the candelabra with glass cap
- Branches in glass jar
- Umbrella-cane
- Old book (2 variants)
- Chess
- Sports balls (2 variants)
- Figurines of horses (2 variants)
- Wooden plaque on the wall (2 variants)
- Wooden letter ‘N’
- Carved wooden panels
- Picture with a retro black and white photos (7 options)

http://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1318853

10

Learn how to sing it. Just write it in a poem, or in a letter attached to flowers. Carve it in a tree, in a sidewalk with cement, tattoo it on your arm. Just tell her the truth. Tell her anything and everything you want.

It was called the Hating Tree.

The tree was old, twisted, grey thing in the middle of the forest. Its leaves had left it for good many years ago, so the branches laid bare, reaching skywards like jagged hands. The damn thing, honestly, probably wasn’t even alive anymore. The bark of the tree fell off in pieces, and where it hadn’t already come off, there was carvings. Countless carvings, letters all over the trunk. H.R, K.P, N.M.M, D.R, the list goes on. There didn’t seem barely a place for any more carvings.

The tree was terrifying against the midday sun, the shadow it cast was long and dark. I was only seven years old at the time, but I already knew this tree was a terrible thing.

Derek told me the thing was called the hating tree as we sat on a nearby stump. The tree was about a mile into the forest that surrounded our suburban neighborhood, in a clearing. There were four of us that summer day by the tree. There was myself, our friend Derek with messy sand blond hair and a missing tooth, Victor with his stark black hair and sharp eyes, and Harry, bald and portly. Harry clutched to his chest a power rangers action figure, his favorite toy that he owned. Harry and Victor stood by the tree and muttered about something between each other, occasionally Harry would get animated and Derek and I could hear Harry’s protests to Victor’s idea. Derek leaned back and drank his warm soda.

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The Womping Willow was hit with a stray killing curse during the Battle of Hogwarts. While poor Professor McGonagall was busy trying to handle the circus that ensued after the battle, the old stump was forgotten, until first year Teddy Lupin, eager to see all of the settings for his favorite stories, bounced along. Right away, he got to work in the library. After digging up a few spells, he went to Professor Longbottom, who helped him out with the actual casting bit. Little by little, it grew back into its old self, just a little less temperamental towards the children who had nurtured it. By the time Lily graduated, it was restored to its full glory, the letters RJL carved into its trunk.

A photo of the Willow at the beginning of Teddy’s second year.
Taken by Teddy, to send to Harry as a progress report.

Out of Your Depth (ii)

The continuation of the Fenris/f!Hawke merfolk AU which has thoroughly swum away with me.

read from the beginning // read on ao3

***

The bustle of the Kirkwall docks rises and falls around them like the waves against the wharf, a push-and-pull of orders shouted across crowded decks, and laughter ringing above the cacophony of heavily tinged Antivan and Fereldan accents mingling with the usual Marcher lilt. But their corner of the docks lies mostly quiet – there’s no one disembarking, and other than the occasional overseer passing along the anchored ships, it’s just the two of them.

The sloop bobs in the water, a pretty little thing, and at odds with the lumbering shape of the trading vessel floating at its side. Isabela lets slip a keening sort of noise, a sigh bordering on a moan. “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“Hmm,” Hawke agrees, eyes skimming along the gleaming dark wood, and the elegantly carved letters etched deep into the planks. “The Champion?” she asks, tone a tinge dubious. “Seems a bit excessive, for such a small thing.”

A snort from beside her, and Isabela crosses her arms over her ample chest. “Would you like me to give you the run-down of the many merits of small sizes?”

“Please don’t.”

“Are you sure? Because–”

“And here I thought you loved big boats,” Hawke interrupts, before Isabela can ask – although on second thought, she’s not exactly steering the conversation towards safer waters.

Isabela laughs, and waves a hand, the gold rings on her dark fingers catching the light of the morning sun. “Big boats, small boats – a predilection for one doesn’t mean I have no love for the other. I mean just look at this beaut – the lithe curves, the slender mast. The smooth, polished wood. Oooh, I’d love to take her out for a good time.”

“…we are still talking about boats, I hope?”

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Taejin Seong aka Tae Jin Seong 성태진 (Korean, b. 1974, Choong Ju, Chung Cheong Buk Do, Seoul, Korea) - 식사동블루스 Siksa-dong Blues, 2013  Acrylics, Ink on Embossed Wood Panel (Unfortunately a picture will never convey how truly intricate and gorgeous his work really is.)