#Lettering Styles

[hero-and-villain-world]

The Evolution of Comic Book Lettering Styles: From Hand to Digital Art Forms

I still remember the first time I held a 1970s comic book in my hands. The bold speech bubbles felt like secret codes, each curve of the text whispering stories about the artist’s craft. That moment sparked my lifelong fascination with how words dance across illustrated pages. Early creators worked with tools that would make today’s artists gasp. They used rulers like the Ames Guide to hand-draw…

[pokeberry5]

practice portraits

[familyorkids]

Delving into the Art of Grosser Hand lettering

The world of hand lettering offers a delightful escape from the monotony of digital fonts. It's a creative pursuit that allows you to transform words into works of art. But within this realm lies a specific style known as Grosser Hand lettering, capturing the essence of grandness with its bold strokes and majestic presence.

Grosser Handlettering, translating to "Big Handlettering" in German, lives up to its name. This style emphasizes large, sweeping strokes that create a sense of scale and drama. Letters are often decorated with flourishes and embellishments, adding a touch of elegance and sophistication.

Think of grand signage adorning historic buildings or hand-painted invitations to a royal ball. That's the essence Grosser Hand lettering aims to evoke.

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While the visual impact is undeniable, Grosser Handlettering isn't just about aesthetics. It requires a certain level of skill and intentionality. Here are some key aspects that define this style:

Emphasis on Form: Each letterform is carefully considered, ensuring clean lines and consistent thickness.

Serifs and Swashes: Serifs, the decorative elements extending from letter strokes, are prominent in Grosser Hand lettering. Swashes, ornamental flourishes, add an extra layer of grandeur.

Limited Color Palettes: Typically, Grosser Hand lettering employs a limited color scheme, often black and white or gold and black, to maintain a sense of sophistication.

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Boldness over Delicacy: Unlike some handlettering styles that focus on intricate details, Grosser Hand lettering prioritizes boldness and clean lines.

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Who is Grosser Hand lettering For?

This style is perfect for:

Creating impactful signage: Whether for a storefront, wedding venue, or special event, Grosser Hand lettering grabs attention and leaves a lasting impression.

Designing luxurious invitations: For weddings, galas, or any occasion demanding a touch of grandeur, Grosser Hand lettering adds a level of elegance.

Crafting personalized gifts: Birth announcements, framed quotes, or personalized certificates become truly special with the artistry of Grosser Hand lettering.

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Getting Started with Grosser Handlettering

If you're captivated by the world of Grosser Handlettering, here's how to embark on your journey:

Invest in Quality Tools: Opt for pointed brush pens or chisel-tip markers that allow for consistent stroke control.

Practice Basic Strokes: Master straight lines, curves, and ovals - the building blocks of lettering.

Alphabet Drills: Dedicate time to practicing uppercase and lowercase letters, focusing on form and consistency.

Find Inspiration: Explore resources like lettering workbooks or online tutorials dedicated to Grosser Handlettering.

Remember, like any art form, Grosser Han lettering takes practice and patience. But with dedication and a love for the craft, you can unlock the power of this grand lettering style and create truly captivating pieces.

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DISCLAIMER

There are an affiliate link of a best product in this article which may make some profit for me.

[spoiledstarlets]

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie soulmate AU where Eddie is a famous musician, everyone assumes he doesn't have a soulmate. Eddie was just smart and doesn't confirm, doesn't want to go through rabid fans who claim to be his soulmate. He's had too many show up wearing his initials they tattooed on themselves even before he was asked about soulmates in an interview.

Enter Steve Harrington who works as a nurse. Just casually on his third nightshift in a row in the ER. Sipping some coffee trying not to fall asleep when they get the call about some confidential patient coming in.

Eddie comes in for some injury. Steve has 0 clue who he is, just says "You look familiar, did we go to school together?" And Eddie practically falls off the stretcher at Steve's feet. Goes all googoo eyes at him. Steve being mildly concerned because Eddie's heart rate keeps skyrocketing (its because Steve is touching him).

One of the other nurses can't help but try and get the gossip from Steve, who is very much confused as to why she cares about this random patient. She tells Steve who Eddie is, and he's just like ???? Okay???

Steve doesn't admit it but the picture she shows is HOT. It's Eddie, flipping off the camera, tongue out. He's covered in tattoos, including the word 'sorry' written in a weird script on his middle finger. He's shirtless and his pants are so low that Steve can see the dip of his hips creating a v and-

Steve has to walk into the supply room to get himself under control. Pretends it doesn't mean anything and goes back to his job as his heart thuds rapidly in his chest.

Eddie tries not to pass out when they draw his blood, Steve holds his hand. It feels right. Eddie can't help wanting to ask," Hey, do you have a soulmate?" But he hates being asked that question, so he won't.

Until Steve bends over, his scrub top lifting up slightly. Eddie can't help glancing at his ass, but then he can't breathe. Because on his lower back is the initials EJM.

"Steve G. H?" Eddie asks as his voice goes up an octave. Steve turns, bewildered ," How did you-?" "Edward James Munson." Eddie whispers.

Oh

[peacefulandcozy]

ig credit: laurasreadingtime

[secretly-a-trekkie]

insert pirates of the caribbean theme here

[samuelroukin]

it's so funny that you can hit all these buttons on a keyboard to make words appear on a screen. i will use this power to write about gay sex

[umblrspectrum]

the Solver of the Absolute Fabric, the Void, the Exponential End acting like an entitled toddler is the funniest thing

[kastalani123]

Not my usual content, but I just. I wanna ramble, ig.

Do you understand how baffled I was about how the vampire book, written by a man in 1897, is essentially a PSA about how important proper communication is?? Even after I scrolled through Tumblr, saw the memes, read people geeking out about the relationships (platonic and romantic) in Dracula, I was still caught off guard, because. Like. Everything in this book is about communication.

Sure, it's kind of a given, considering it's an epistolary novel partially made up of letters between the characters, but. I dunno. From Dracula controlling Johnathan's lettres, van Hellsing refusing to tell anyone shit, the men keeping Mina out of the loop, to Mina using her telepathic link with Dracula, it's. It's literally all about how important actually talking to each other and sharing information is. Fuck, throw in the fact that "Harker", Mina and Jonathan's, arguably the main characters, last name means "to listen"/"eavesdropper", and that the book is Mina's in-universe creation to help compile, organize, and share what they know about Dracula, and the book's very essence becomes centered around information-sharing!

And I just. The narrative punishes just about every secret hidden, every time the characters don't communicate. There's the obvious, Dracula keeping Johnathan from sending out letters for help and Mina getting bitten because the men leave her home alone, but also. Van Hellsing not telling Lucy's mom that the garlic flowers and closed windows and so on are the treatment and she is not to touch them is what kills Lucy and her mom! They maybe could have survived if he just told them what's happening/what he's doing! And even the godsdamned telegram he sends to Seward! If he had just addressed it properly (communicated to the telegram boy properly!) then Seward wouldn't have been late and maybe could have prevented the massacre!

There's also Jonathan's diary right after he finally reunites with Mina, and obviously Mina's whole ✨ thing ✨ with the diary during their wedding is like. Peak romance, but Johnathan doesn't fully get better until Mina reads and shares it with van Hellsing and van Hellsing assures Johnathan that he's not insane. Sure, it's an oversimplification of PTSD and healing and such, but it makes sense, especially if you consider communication and information sharing as a major theme! Only sharing his experiences, reading through them himself after blocking off the memories, is what heals him! He cannot get better without knowing what happened, and without others knowing what happened, because knowing and sharing is important.

Renfield's also an interesting case. I don't have the book with me right now to check, but as far as I remember, he tries to talk about Dracula, tries to get Seward to release him from the asylum so Dracula can't use him against Mina, but is dismissed entirely; as a consequence, Dracula gets in the building, kills Renfield, and bites Mina.

Even the language barriers! The villagers Johnathan meets on his way to Dracula's castle try so hard to warn him of the danger but they can't. They can't, because they don't speak enough of the same language, but they try so hard. But whatever does get through to Johnathan, such as that woman begging him to take the crucifix she gives him — that might've saved him. It keeps him unsettled and wary and he does keep the crucifix, which wards Dracula off. They can't communicate the full extent of the danger, but what they managed is probably responsible for him surviving.

And the whole idea is even mentioned in-text! Sure, Lucy saying that a wife ought to share everything she knows with her husband is definitely sexism-flavoured, but Johnathan says it too! He says that his idea of an ideal marriage is one without secrets! And Johnathan is effeminate, yes, he spends a good chunk of the book as the "damsel in distress", but he is still the hero! He is still the one who kills Dracula (with Quincey), and can therefore be assumed to be an intended role model. The (male) main character and hero of an 1897 novel says that a good relationship relies on communication. Sure, he doesn't always stick to it, mostly by agreeing to keep Mina out of the loop when van Hellsing pushes for it, but that doesn't discount that that is what Stoker set as the ideal.

I just. I love this book so much. It subverted just about all expectations I might've had about it and I'm so glad for it. It's undeniably a product of its time, with plenty of racism and sexism and ableism, but it's also so. Not, at the same time? It's so good.

[dame-nostalgique]

Details of an older letter that reminds me of the innocence of Spring 💌🌷

[schoenht]

↳ santa tell me

character: vil schoenheit

synopsis: christmas isn't christmas without him and no amount of pleading can make him come home faster.

a/n: listen i wanted to do this for christmas and i had the worst writer's block so i'm slowly getting back to it </3 i've been focusing on the solverse okay

the snowflakes falling outside of the door felt like they were taunting you. every pitter patter, every whisper of the icy crystals, reminded you further of how far your own shining light was.

vil's job was more than fruitful, the people saying the same stupid phrase over and over again as if it was supposed to be some method of comfort. booked and blessed. how ridiculous. no, that was cruel to even think about. vil had worked so hard to become an actor that was reliable and able to obtain various opportunities. he even got the lead role as the hero of a movie.

but he had promised that he would return for christmas. after last year where you were alone for christmas, he told you that he'd go to you no matter how far away he was. you told him it was okay, that he needed his career more than he needed you.

selflessness came at the cost of your own exuberance.

while you decorated the christmas tree in the corner, setting up the red carpet beneath the glistening pine needles, your phone went off. the screen showed a picture of you and vil after you had gone on a date, deciding to take pictures in a photobooth. you still had the strip of pictures on your desk.

sliding the green button, you answered his call. "hey vil, how's work?"

"hi, my love. everything is okay, we are taking a five." vil had told himself that he was going to call you as often as he could and time was running out on his promise. already the first week of december, if he didn't wrap it all up soon, he could be at risk of leaving you alone for christmas, the exact thing he refused to do. "i've sent you a small package of ornaments that i thought you would like. they should be at your door."

you walked over and opened the door to find a small white box. carrying it to the table and using a boxcutter, inside were the special edition ornaments of your favorite collectibles. "how did you find these?! they were sold out everywhere!"

vil nodded, even though he knew you couldn't see him. "i had to call a friend of a friend. he claimed that he had his own stash for those people that he cared for. originally, he was going to give it to my connection, but he said i could have it."

it was like vil was there with you, or at least his thoughts were there with you.

he also had an uncanny way of knowing what you were thinking.

"i'll be there for christmas. i promise." his voice, melodic and soothing, made a sense of calm wash over you, making you believe that he was right. he would be home, he wouldn't leave you alone this year like you were the previous year.

"okay," you said delicately, "i'll hold you to it."

"my five minutes are up. i'll call you when i get on my next break."

and so it went, the days passing by with a certain schedule: waiting until vil's next call and the intervals, yet also checking the calendar to imagine what would happen that christmas day. you had your own traditions that mixed in with his.

christmas eve came and while you were deciding between take out or scrounging around for something that could potentially fill your stomach, there was a knock at the door. your hopes that he would be home lifted as quickly as fireworks did. but it sizzled out when you saw it was a takeout bag. takeout bag?

the sticker said that it was for vil, so it must have been for you as a christmas meal. then it all clicked into place.

vil wasn't coming home.

there was a deep feeling of rage, except that it seemed to be more disappointment and sadness. an actor's life was solely for the screen and never anything more.

meanwhile, vil was being driven not to his own house but to yours. he had paid his driver extra if he could get there immediately. the traffic seemed to have another idea for him and that was not to make it. vil refused to break his promise. it was one thing to be late, it was another to not arrive at the set time. no, like all movie sets, to be on time was to be late. to be late was to be dead or fired.

finally, your place of residence was in his sightlines and he could feel that joy rising up within him that he rarely externalized. he thanked the driver and went up to the door, knocking twice in the way that he knew you would recognize.

"if this is another prank, i will never forgive him--" your voice muttered from inside, clearly loaded with restrained fury.

when was the last time he saw you? it doesn't matter, it had been too long. vil could write you galaxies of ink, and the quantity would never suffice. the planets would much sooner become supernovas than he would fall out of love with you. every single inch of you was nothing less than flawless to him.

"i'm sorry i'm late."

the silence was as thick as the snow piled up behind him. he paused and whispered, "i know. i should've--"

all of that was tossed to the wind as you wrapped your arms around him. rarely did he let you squeeze him into your embrace, but today he welcomed it, cherished it, he craved it after months without you.

you looked up at him and smiled, "it's okay. i knew you were going to come home."

he let out a playful scoff. "considering what you said after i knocked, i know you had your doubts. i do not blame you for one second." the tiniest of smiles appeared on his lips. "shall we?"

then he looked up after seeing your expectant look. mistletoe. "ah, a little surprise. very well, then." he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

you raised an eyebrow. "i don't remember that being the tradition."

"don't worry. i will make up for it."

"i missed you."

"i missed you more."

[newtonbridgerton]

cressida practicing writing by putting all her thoughts into unsent letters to eloise

all her feelings of betrayal and inadequacy and yearning and loneliness

and then her aunt jo finds all these sealed letters and mails them off trying to be helpful and then cressida is losing her mind when she cant find them

meanwhile eloise has just received several months worth of mail all at once to a rainy secluded castle in scotland

[plomegranate]

i love palestinian and arab culture so much.

my grandma wearing thobes around the house and making us tamriyeh. my cousins wedding when we all wore thobes and keffiyehs and took photos downtown and we danced with someone playing the guitar on the street and this lady stopping us to tell us we all looked so beautiful. walking the graduation stage in a thobe. the girl who liked to guess arab peoples ethnicities telling me "you're wearing tatreez... do you want me to write 'palestinian' on your forehead?" the keffiyeh my brother keeps on the drivers seat of his car.

my dad sending me off to my last semester of college with 2 pomegranates and a jar of palestinian olive oil. my cousins wife coming up with new ways to make zaatar and cheese pastries. me and my grandma sitting on the floor and making waraq 3neb- my job was to separate the leaves so she could roll them easier. my mom sending me and my brother to school with eid cookies for my teachers and tasking us with delivering some to the neighbors. my aunt glaring at me and piling more food on my plate and then asking if i was still hungry (i wasnt). my mom always telling me to invite my friends and cousins over for dinner and asking me what they like to eat. my family getting my dad knafeh instead of cake for his birthday. the man who told me i made the "best fetteh in the western hemisphere".

the man in the shawarma shop who gave me my fries for free and baklava i didnt order because we spoke about being palestinian while he took my order. the person on tumblr who i bonded with because we are from the same palestinian city. the girl i met on campus who exclaimed "youre palestinian? me too!" because i was wearing my keffiyeh. the girl in my class that showed me the artwork about palestine her dad made and donated for fundraising. the couple in the grocery store who noticed my palestinian shirt and talked with me for 20 minutes and ended up being a family friend. the silly palestinian kids i tutored sighing in disappointment when i told them i was born in america because they were hoping that id have been born "somewhere cooler". my friends family who bought me dinner despite me being there by chance and having met me for the first time the day before.

the boys starting uncoordinated dabke lines in my high school's hallways. the songs about the longing and love for our land. the festivals and parties and gatherings where everything smells like shisha and oud. memories of waiting in the car for an hour as my parents talked at the doorway of their friends homes. my cousins and i showing up at each others homes with cake or fruit or games as if it was the first time we ever visited even though we always say "you dont have to".

kids stubbornly helping to clean and make tea after a meal while being told to go sit down because they are guests. the necklaces in the shape of our home countries. people hugging and laughing and acting as if theyve known each other for years because they come from the same city or know people with the same last name. the day i finally got to bully my friends into letting me pay the bill because i had a job and they were still students. my moms friend who calls us every time she's at the grocery store to see if we need something

palestinian people are so resilient and hardworking and charitable. they love their culture and their community and are so quick to share and welcome anyone in. everyday i am so thankful and proud to be part of such a warm and lovely culture

[muwitch]

children of the Archon: Caelus and Prosperus August, Gaios Markus, Iovita Sedulus, Lucius Vergilius and his only daughter, Octavia Vera;

[mikeybutnotway]

This is a letter, my word is the Beretta, the sound of my vendetta against the ones that planned it!