#gothic script

[uwmspeccoll]

Typography Tuesday

This week, a little bit of Gothic with The Gothic Script of the Middle Ages by H. C. Schulz, printed in San Francisco by the Grabhorn Press in an edition of 71 copies for the publisher and first bibliographer of the Grabhorn Press David Magee in 1939. The type used is Fred Goudy's Deepdene Text, a blackletter typeface designed in the early 1930s to complement his humanist Deepdene typeface designed earlier. The two typefaces are not otherwise related in style. The book is printed in red, black, and blue, with a lovely gold-leaf initial T in the opening text.

This volume is a "leaf book": a book with content centered on the content of another book, or type of book, with a sample leaf from that other book included in the volume. In this case, a leaf from a late 14th-century manuscript Collectar is included in the publication. We don't know who H. C. Schulz is, but judging from the several other leaf books he produced with the Grabhorn Press, he must have been a collector and authority on manuscript books. Unfortunately, he also seems to have been a breaker of books, or at best a collector of broken books, which in turn encourages the breaking of books.

Schulz describes the leaf included here as made "probably in Northern France" and that "The writing is a very bold Gothic script in the best liturgical tradition, and a contrast to its heaviness is given by the fine pen ornamentation of the initials." Our copy of The Gothic Script of the Middle Ages is part of a gift from the estate of our dear friend Dennis Bayuzick.  

View other books from the collection of Dennis Bayuzick. 

View our other Typography Tuesday posts.

[moonysfavoritedog]

crybaby lettering by me

[kenofswords]

Thank you so much for your trust B! Forever grateful every day I get to tattoo but it’s especially nice when it’s on a friend 😊 Me and B got to reminisce about when the Spice Girls ruled the charts and we had dial up internet for this sweet 90s birth year tattoo!

[the-crooked-library]

Nosferatu (2024) is unquestionably a multifaceted work, but what I personally consider to be the unifying idea behind its facets is that, for Ellen, Orlok represents validation.

Her fears are dismissed and called childish?.. He's a nightmarish manifestation of them.

She is consistently disrespected by everyone around her?.. He considers her his only equal. She never uses his title, it's permitted.

She is told to fix herself, misunderstood, and always isolated?.. He knows all the darkest parts of her and is delighted by them. He wants her just as she is, so much that he will lie, kill, and cross the ocean to find her.

The scene in their death/wedding bed is a direct parallel to the scene of her waking in that bed at the beginning of the film. She complains to Thomas that the "honeymoon is yet too short" and tries to pull him down with a kiss - however, he is worried about being late for work, and so he extricates himself and leaves. Cut forward to her sharing the same bed with Orlok, similarly early in the morning; he is startled by cock-crow and begins to rise, but she guides his head back down - and, even though he knows that he will die, he stays. He is her sexual and emotional desire, realized.

Given that there is a plethora of emotions Ellen is forced to suppress on daily basis, there is no singular correct interpretation of her relationship with Orlok. To erase any one of them is to render it shallower than it actually is; but there is no doubt as to why their attachment is mutual. To each, the other is something they’ve never had before.

[theoptia]

Robert Eggers, from the original Nosferatsu script (2016)

Text ID: I have sought a creature from the depths. An Eve that remembers her Eden. You are such a one.

[a-modernmajorgeneral]

High German reformed A B C and name booklet, for children who are starting to learn. Germanton [Pa.] : Printed and available by Michael Billmeyer, 1789

For #typeTuesday this week we’re featuring this children’s primer printed in Germantown, PA in 1789. We love the alphabets printed in gothic type, and absolutely adore the tiny animals printed on the facing page.  

Hoch-deutsches reformirtes A B C und Namen Büchlein, für Kinder, welche anfangen zu lernen. Germanton [Pa.] : Gedruckt und zu haben von Michael Billmeyer,1789.

[beckwritesif]

The vast stretches of lone trees and wild grass of the rural countryside lures the ego overboard, pulling consciousness off course into addiction, delusion and seduction’s disintegrating madness. You barely pull yourself home from there every evening, the sun telling your time, the birds your weather forecast. One day you might not return home at all.

From the Mud is a Midwest gothic inspired horror romance set in a solitary countryside occupied only by two small towns and stretches of untamed nature. You play a troubled cowboy/girl/puncher who‘s ground deep into a maddening, repetitive routine that a string of deaths suddenly upends. The sheriff of the neighboring town along with a driven journalist and an old friend whose bridge you’ve long since burnt comes to town having heard the news. As you’re hunting for the culprit and running from yourself, your quiet life on the ranch is disturbed, forcing you to keep your cards close and choose your company carefully. But the most pressing matter proves to be whether you can trust your own mind.

From the Mud

☆ Interactive fictional psychological horror written in choice script

Features

Play as either a man, woman, or other

Choose your appearance from overall features to minor details

Experience nuanced romance as either straight, gay, or bi, or forgo romance altogether

Choose whether you’re religious or not in an overly christian rural town

Experience the world react differently towards you depending on who you identify as

Get wrapped up in the chaos to solve the mystery of several murders

Lose touch with reality and slowly question everything around you

Remember: you have to choose to get better

Reject the possibility of unnatural forces at play, or believe

Rot in a jail cell

Ride a horse!

Play a game mostly not driven by numbered stats but meaningful actions and a fuck ton of trackers

Demo! | pinterest | forum thread

Advisory for the story so far: death, gore, profanity, substances

Basics about some of the important RO characters and other below

The Sheriff ☆ Zachariah “Zach” Mallory ☆ a man in his mid thirties

Sheriff Mallory works from his office in Two Rocks, and though his occupation means working closely with other people and seeing to their needs, it would be indolent to describe him as being good with people. At all. Being abrasive and ill-natured, the man does, however, suit the role of authority well. When the angry crease on his forehead soften, you might find there is something else within his tired eyes.

The sheriff has dark brown, chin-length hair and a matching little effort short beard. His sand-colored skin is sun-kissed from being outside, the circles under his eyes almost a purple kind of shade. Under a heavy set of brows sits a pair of dark blue, almost stormy gray eyes. Standing at an imposing height, Mallory is nigh refused anything, and can’t be forced to wear the ugly uniform his rank requires. Instead, he sports a simple white fitted t-shirt and a pair of well-loved denim jeans.

The Journalist ☆ Candy Tillman ☆ a woman in her early thirties

Working for the local news station in Two Rocks, Ms. Tillman has through work experience and excellent mentoring from her predessessor become a hound chasing stories and truths. She is both idealistic and romanticizing (that which shouldn’t), and yet entirely unsusceptable to bullshit. When her facade falters who will accept her then?

The woman with the sweetest name has blonde hair that falls to the middle of her shoulder blades, which she loves to blowout. Her tan skin is contoured by a natural style of makeup, her small, light blue eyes painted. Candy is average height, reaching taller stature with her go-to minimalist pumps. The journalist prefers simple, feminine silhouttes of clothing, keeping up with the times.

The Best Friend ☆ Blythe Abel Goodwin ☆ a woman in her mid twenties

Blythe is your best friend who you grew up with in Ashley and who stuck around when everyone left, though you know she would’ve loved to leave just as much as you once did. In response to the death of her dreams and the narrow-minded opinions of the general inhabitation of the area, she has defiantly become a person of unique and unpredictable character. You’ve known each other through thick and thin, but is there a side to her yet to be discovered?

Your childhood friend is a contrast-filled woman just under average height. Long, black, cascading hair falls from her head down to her mid-back. Choppily home-cut bangs frame her small face. Her fair skin turns rosy in the cold. Blythe’s almond eyes that are sometimes obscured by a pair of reading glasses, are hazel. She wears whatever the fuck she wants.

The Colleague ☆ Ford Wiley Mallory ☆ a man in his early twenties

Ford Wiley is the younger half-brother of Sheriff Mallory and your colleague on the ranch. Working there only half-time, the younger Mallory is dedicated and driven only in the field of his passion; music. His band has only ever played at the local bar, though. Reserved and perhaps somewhat more thin-skinned than most living out on the countryside, Wiley makes do with refreshing optimism. Whether this optimism is genuine or fabricated is yet to be revealed.

Your part-time cowboy coworker has long, wavy brown hair that he sometimes makes an effort to style, and otherwise lets it live its own life. He and his half-brother have little in common, appearance included; Wiley has olive skin covered in freckles. His eyes are dark brown, and he is of average height. The musician’s clothes consist of unwanted (by himself) hand-me-downs from Zachariah and ill-gotten items.

The Old Friend ☆ Sawyer “Saw” Brennan ☆ a gender selectable person in their late twenties (m/f)

You grew up with Sawyer along with Blythe, and the three of you braved your childhood and youth in this godforsaken place for years. But they left when things got hardest, and you haven’t been able to get past it even after all these years. Over the years Sawyer has been away they’ve grown into a person you barely know anymore, and you struggle with their sudden return. Will you be able to understand and forgive them for leaving?

Sawyer has inky brown curly hair, worn long (f) or short (m) and loose, carefully taken care of and styled. They have warm brown skin and sharp eyes to match. Your old friend is tall, fitting their frame into oversized graphic t-shirts and either color matched sweats or baggy jeans.

My intentions with this game: It is not supposed to be a beautiful story, it is supposed to be ugly. Writing this game in the way I am is my taking a step away from perfection and seeing where my unpolished writing takes the story. I have been ruled by fear of inadequacy and a desire for ‘perfect timing’ long enough. If I continue to wait for the ‘right moment’ to create, I will end up not creating at all. My only desire now is to simply create, and continue doing so until I have something to show for it.

Story is written and coded by me

Credits to Cole Meanor for the beautiful photography done for the headers!

[velvetbeeez]

𝑌o𝑢r𝑠 𝑒t𝑒r𝑛a𝑙l𝑦… 𝓥𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖉𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔

Born to mourn, to dream...but to never sleep

౨ৎ . . .

In the midst of a harsh cold thunderstorm on a moonless night there echoed a cry of a babe, a princess. her first cry was a prophecy, bitter as truth and sharp as a firefly's light. The astrologers folded their charts in silence. Her fate, written in bone and sand, could not be rewritten.

They raised her in silk, mahogany, gold & silence…Her eyes learnt to read men’s smile before she could learn to write. By five, she walks around the castle, tracing her footsteps so she never gets lost, by ten she falls into a monotonous pattern of life, by 13, she weeps like a widow. Lost in a loop.

Her father, the king, with firm words set in stone, and laws thrown like worn out clothes, promises her to the son of a noble, a rich young man, loud- voiced, drunk on his own shadow, pride as swollen as the sun. The match was sacred, sealed by wax, turmeric and trembling hands of mothers…

Despite that, In the hollow of her heart, something rings, and chimes. She was made for more…

As the monsoon calls for the yearly festival of seven days, It brings the scent of wet earth, of rebirth, of things buried long ago rising in the night. But this year, the sky carries more than rain. It carries something heavy, humming low in her marrow. Hope. Something so forbidden, so out of touch for her. Dreams, in which she hears an unknown yet familiar voice, sees a hazy, inviting face… nightmares she calls them. The seven day festival begins, and with it, the gates of the city swings open like a wound. Boats drift in from distant lands. The air is brought to life with music, spice, and foreign tongues. Her father’s castle is brimming with guests from across the lands and seas. That is when she sees him.

Pale as twilight, with eyes like flaming emeralds, too alive, too cold. He calls himself Edmund from Greece, but she knows lies when she hears them. Something changes when his eyes land on her. It feels like he has forever been there, watching her from the shadows…

He speaks to her first beneath the silks of the spice pavilion. His voice is too even, too knowing. She replies with clipped words and sharpened stares, but his smile lingers like a wound that refuses to bleed. He plays the game with an elegance that infuriates her, his subtle flirtations, the ways he twists her own words to fluster her, the way he tilts his head when she pretends not to see him, the lazy grace with which he spars words as though born to it.

She despises him because he makes her forget the chains she had learnt to wear on her wrists like bangles. She despises him because he makes her stumble, stutter and lose the stillness in herself that she had mastered for years.

A day or two later, a duel takes place in the silence and privacy of the secluded weapons’ room. Clashes of swords ring in the castle…an attempt to push him away. But his cold sharp sword lands on curve on her neck, a kiss of ice.

She tries to forget but forgetfulness is not a luxury cursed daughters can afford.

The days pass slowly, painfully, with burning of hearts and stolen glances.

Then, on the seventh evening, the stars were dimmer. The winds were sharper, the whispers were louder. The world turns.

Her fiance, bloated with drink and bruised pride, finds her alone in the moonlit balcony. Words turn to fists. Her voice breaks. Her wrist bleed against the golden railings. And then, snap, something inside her shatters like a mirror. A knife. a scream. Silence haunts.

She runs. Wherever her steps take her. Past the festival fires, past the textile stalls, the spice lingering in the air, the music, the ghost of her past self.

The river waits for her, endless, blue, cold and deep. It calls to her. She wades in…or tries to.

And he is there. Edmund. He holds her. Promises an eternity, freedom, and his devotion. Offers her his world. His icy, dead heart.

She should recoil, turn back, run to her father’s palace, fall at his feet, sob and beg for forgiveness. But she does not. That life is not for her. She carries the weight of stars beneath her ribs.

So, under the weeping clouds, he sinks his canines into her slender naked neck. Gently. Like a prayer. Sealing a pact written before the dawn of time.

They vanish into the midnight. Travelling along with the stars.

The people searched for their princess for long, some say she drowned in the river, some say she lives like a commoner in some hut. Some say she was a witch who burned in her own sins.

But she travels the world with her immortal lover. Castles in Transylvania, markets in Tokyo, pyramids in Egypt, crowns in England. It is all theirs.

No one knows about them. No one wants to. Some creatures are meant to be unknown, to never be found, to bask forever in their own sacredness.

[rcrisdraws]

Undead.

[starstrider-productions]

Script Snippet No. 7!

As ye ask, so ye shall receive! The poll we put out overwhelmingly voted for nerdy Mina, so we have duly delivered.

This script snippet is in honour of our Tumblr page reaching 400 followers! Thank you to all of our fans who follow us on our social media for helping to make this happen. More exciting production updates to come as we swim through the month of June!

[cogneartive]

how does one get into castlevania ive been curious about it for a while

HI OKAY AWESOME THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS

personally you should get into the games!! there is the netflix show but its soooo very different to the games lore that i consider it something different entirely (there are alot of other valid criticisms of it but other people are more eloquent than me about it)

anyways, the first thing you need to know is that there are 3 distinct sorts of castlevanias. first you got the original 'classicvanias' which are the older ones where its really tight platforming stuff. theyre really hard but fun imo! then you have the 'metroidvanias' which theyre more known for i think. they're way easier to get into. and then there are the 3Dvanias which i think is best to get into after u get interested in the lore

personally i started with playing portrait of ruin! which is on the ds (emulated). i think most ppl consider it to be one of the easier games. but i honestly didnt get too too insane about it until i played symphony of the night (ps1) - which is the first of the metroidvanias so its a bit weird sometimes but the story made me insane. there is also aria of sorrow (gba) which is also one of my favourites!! that one has really fun mechanics and ive seen people recommend that to be their first as well!! for the classicvanias, im not really sure how one would get into them but rondo of blood seems like a good choice

so that is what i think ^_^ lmk if u want a little more because I Love 💖 My Vanias

[lambintheslaughterhouse]

hurt my ankle while filming and i'm just running different scenarios in my head of how that could have came to be. maybe you injured me so i couldn't run away. maybe you wanted me to still be able to run but not get far. not that you needed me impaired to overpower me, but just because it's more fun chasing a limping lamb through the woods who thinks their little whines and cries are inaudible to the big bad wolf who knows exactly where i am yet still takes the time to torment me with condescending sweetness.

[cursedcadaver]

"shit, you're older than the lion king!"

[perlene]

Genuine question/request for assistance:

Where are people finding the 2024 Nosferatu script. I keep seeing snippets of it. I would very much like to read the entire thing. Help pls.

[english-history-trip]

The Psalter of St Columba is a 6th century manuscript thought to be the first book written in Ireland.

The story goes that the manuscript was secretly copied by St Columba (Colum Cille) from a book he was lent, and St Finnian of Movilla, the lender of the original, claimed the copy should be returned to him as well. The Irish King Diamait judged that Finnian was in the right, which has been cited as the first instance of copyright law. The decision was so controversial it sparked a battle, and Columba was exiled to the island of Iona.

While the story may be apocryphal, the book became a holy relic in the keeping of Clan O'Donnell, who in the 11th century constructed an elaborate silver cumdach (book reliquary) to house it, and a tradition arose of carrying it three times around the O'Donnell warriors before a battle, gaining it the name "Cathach" or "Battler". It remained the property of the O'Donnells until 1843, when Sir Richard O'Donel entrusted it to the Royal Irish Academy.

[beckwritesif]

The demo is up!

This is so fkn nerve wracking for me lol, but I am really wanting input on my writing, on the story, and sharing what I create. The demo isn’t a full chapter, but I think it is a good start for me. Small steps. I have never published any of my writing before, after all.

The demo won’t be up on the choice script forum yet, I’d like to have all of chapter one when I take it to that level. For now, thank you for showing interest in my work.

If anyone is willing to give feedback on the style of writing, the flow of the story and continuity errors, I’d be very grateful. I am not too concerned with grammar, but of course I am aware that English is not my first language. Unless it is so bad that you can’t read it well, then let me know, otherwise let it be! Remember this is absolutely a work in progress.

Play the demo here!