#typographic spaces

[drawdownbooks]

Space as Language: The Properties of Typographic Space

This publication, part of the Cambridge Elements: Publishing and Book Culture series, examines the function and significance of typographic space. Readers are invited to consider in turn the space within letters, the space between letters, the space between lines, and the margin space surrounding the text-block, to develop the hypothesis that viewed collectively these constitute a 'metalanguage' complementary to the text.

Drawing upon critical perspectives from printing, typeface design, typography, avant-garde artistic practice, and design history, Space as Language examines the connotative values and philosophies embodied in the form and disposition of space. These include the values attributed to symmetry and asymmetry, the role of "active" space in the development of modernist typography, the debated relationship between type and writing, the divergent ideologies of the printing industry and the letter arts, and the impact of successive technologies upon both the organization and the perception of typographic space.

Published by Cambridge University Press, 2023

Softcover, 75 pages, 5 × 7 inches

ISBN: 978-1-00-926543-0

[duffmckagans]

need somebody to tell me that it is not an efficient method to attack draft 3 by retyping the whole thing

[happywebdesign]

Kim Lenschow

[allofthesudden]

world would B better place if I wuz allowed 2 manually kern my emojiz

[flowerisevil]

Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen reader where she is Rhaenyra’s sister and daughter of Viserys and Aemma, she is pregnant when they visit King’s Landing and she has the baby so Alicent calls her as she does with Rhaenyra and Gwayne gets furious about it even more when Alicent insinuates that their son is not Targaryen so from then on he is team black.

Devotion

Gwayne Hightower X female reader Targaryen

A/N: I hope its okay that I use an original female character and i don't if i understand your request right but yeah here it is I hope you enjoy. Happy reading mwa!

Disclaimer: grammatical/typographical errors ahead, englisn is not my first language.

Warning: mention of blood, child birth, cursing, and no use of Y/N. Please tell me if I miss anything.

//

The married couple returned in Kings Landing from Oldtown for the King's funeral, the second born princess Targaryen along side her husband and her growing belly arrived at King's Landing, the princess was expecting to see her elder sister Rhaenyra only to hear that she had already departed with her family to Dragonstone.

"Your sister s-she is rather not very pleased to be here" the Queen explained of her sister's departure with her new husband Daemon.

"How is your pregnancy daughter?" Alicent asked, changing the topic.

The princess rub her belly as she smiled "It is great though a bit struggle happens"

Gwayne her husband held her hand that was caressing her stomach, as he joined their conversation "My wife pregnancy is very delicate, it is her first pregnancy and the maesters said her body needs a lot of rest"

Otto nodded in acknowledgement "I am happy for the both of you, you seem to grow fond of each other"

The couple smiled, they did indeed. "We truly did and Daeron in Oldtown is one of our witnesses" Gwayne chuckles, the poor boy was tired seeing the two couple always on each other like what a newlywed partners would do.

Alicent sighs at the mention of her youngest son "and how is he? Daeron?"

"He is doing good, a boy full of wit, a good sword fighter" the princess explained ".....he is very kind your grace, a soft hearted child, his heart has a space for animals" she added, her youngest half brother was a great boy, far away from them. He is a chivalrous boy.

"I should talk to the both of you outside, may I?" Alicent turned to them, the couple simply nodded as all of them walked outside the chamber.

"I wish for your wife to give birth here in Red Keep" Alicent said, the princess frowned but before she could give reaction her husband spoke first.

"I wish my child to be born in Oldtown, why you must decision for that?"

Alicent looks resigned to her brother's fire backs.

"It is an order from your Queen" was all the Queen say before she entered the room, shutting the door before them.

Gwayne's clenched fist softened as she caress it. "We shall give it to them for now Gwayne, there's nothing we could lose for giving them a small favor"

Gwayne rolled his eyes "Oh please that is my sister, and I am a Hightower I know how one thinks"

Gwayne was never unknown to the small resentment his sister Queen had for his wife, even before Alicent was a young lady she had always envied the younger princess, the princess was smarter, kind, beautiful, she was like a glowing light walking through the halls of the Keep, everyone pleased her, and when she was on the right age for marriage she was married to him, the heir to Oldtown and a knight. She had the life his sister was deprived of.

And he knew Alicent has some plans behind this little show of hers.

And he was not wrong.

His wife give her the favor, she gave birth between the walls of Red Keep, her screams and groaned echoed all over the Keep, they can hear her dragon Silverwing roaring for her rider.

"Lord Gwayne you shall not enter, you should be somewhere else or perhaps on the training grou-" the servants shuts when his collar was tigtly gripped.

His wife birth was no jest, the Maesters had informed them before her birth that her body was weak, and she might be carrying a boy for having such a hard labor.

"Don't you understand my wife's condition? She needs me, let me in" Gwayne scowled but his request was denied as the servants pulled him away from the room.

One of the Maesters came out, his face full of worry "My Lord, the princess"

"How is my wife?"

"The princess...she is trying her best my Lord but I must be honest with you, I have both a good and bad message to deliver" the Maester exhales before he continued. "The good one is that the princess is able to push half of the babe's body"

Gwayne wanted to smile, he will finally have an heir and child that he had hope would taken the look after his beautiful wife but knowing that the news has a bad new to come, he can't help but worry for his princess.

"And what is the other one?"

"The babe was rather in an unfortunate position, in birth the head of the babe should be the first thing to come out but in her condition it is unfortunately the other way around"

"You mean my baby's head is still stuck inside of her?"

The Maester nodded "and it is quite dangerous my Lord, we might lose the babe"

Gwayne nodded but frustration covered his face, what would happen to his wife and child?

"Unless my Lord you wish to cut open the princess to save-" the Maester wasn't able to finish his words as he stumble on the ground from Gwayne's singld punch.

"You will do no such thing, what you will do is save my wife from that horrible state whatever it takes, my wife shall come out of that room fine and alive, you hear me?" He command, his knuckled has some blood stained from punching the man.

The Maester nodded and walked back inside the room, Gwayne sat on the cold floor, they will have to save his wife one way or another.

"Your father wish to see you Ser Gwayne" one of the guard approached him and spoke.

"I do not wish to leave my wif-"

"The Lord Hand wants me to tell you it is urgent" the guard continued, Gwayne groaned out of frustration, slowly standing up and walked to his father's office.

On the other hand the princess was lie down on the bed, blood was everywhere.

"Your grace, another push please you are doing well" one of the midwives encourage. Another scream filled the room, stained tears on her cheeks.

The nursemaid and midwives encourage her more, as she continued pushing out the babe inside her, her situation was hard to watch, as they looked at her filled with concern for the princess, she looked tired and breathless. Some of her handmaidens that was present was tearing seeing their princess crying out from pain.

Another scream filled the room once again.

"It is a boy!" The Maester finally announced. Holding a baby boy on its hands, the room filled with cheer as they ran to the princess, immediately handing her help, some wash their sweat, some clean her up.

She smiled as she saw her son being washed and wrapped, she was still shaking but she insisted to hold her child. A boy...an heir for her husband.

The cheering stop as they all looked at the door opening revealing a concerned servant "M-my princess...the Queen s-she uh"

"What of the Queen? Speak clearly"

"She said that she wish to see her grandchild, and you aswell, she wish for you to deliver her grandchild to her" the servants finished, murmurs, shock gaps and whispers filled the room, looking concerned for the princess.

The princess sigh, so this why she wants her to stay here? To have something to play with?

She stood up, legs shaking, her whole was is shaking rather, the nursemaids guide her to carry her newborn son.

"Princess....you're body is still trembling, you shall not walked around the castle or els-"

"Who are we to deprive the Queen a sight of her grandchild" she smiled weakly, as she embrace her son and start walking through the Halls, her whole full of sweat and blood still dripping on her legs.

The news arrived Gwayne's ear, one of his men bargen inside his father's office sending the news of his wife's succesful delivery, Gwayne stood up and left the room fast, his knight walk fast closely to him.

"But my Lord the princess has already left her delivery room, the servants said she immediately left as soon as she gave birth" his man informed.

Gwayne stopped his footsteps.

"They said her Grace had asked for your wife's immediate presence after her birth"

That mad woman. Gwayne was so done of his sister, she is nothing but a horrible Queen, he let her and their father do whatever they have wanted in this castle, corrupting the King, ruining the life of his wife's older sister but he would not let him take advantage of his wife's kind nature.

Gwayne ran as soon as he saw her walking through the halls, his mouth opened but no words came out as he saw her state. Trembling, body covered of sweats and bloodstains, her dress was not very appropriate to see, and his fist clenched as he saw the path of blood dropping from her legs as she walk. Was this is the sigh his Queen sister wish to see?

She wasn't suppose to even raise a finger after her horrifying birth but now she is walking around carrying their babe. He ran to them and cautiously held her back.

"My wife, where are you going?" He tried to sound calm to not show any hint of frustration and anger on his voice.

"Oh ask your dear sister, my love s-she wish to see our child" her voice was hoarse it sounded to frail almost like a whisper from all the screaming she made.

His jaw clenched, he looked at his men and ordered him to bring a nursemaid as soon as the nurse came he told her to carry their child inside the room.

"Gwayne but the Queen-"

"I would have the talk with her, you shall not worry she will be able to see our child when the right time has come, and that right time is when you finally have a rest and sleep" his voice was soft but full of authority, he slowly lower himself to carry her in bridal style.

His eyes cannot lie and his wife can see it, she see right through him. The anger she can almost see what she is plotting inside his head.

The princess lean on his chest. "Do not let anger took over you Gwayne, talk to her nicely"

Oh he would definitely do have a nice talk with his cunt sister.

"Please Gwayne, I would not wish you to be in trouble"

"She took advantage of you darling, how do you wish me to react when I see you trembling as blood drip from your legs walking through this long fucking halls of castle nothing but fragile? Do you wish for me to celebrate?" Gwayne sarcastically spoke, he hated her wife for being a too much proper but he also loved her the same way.

"I kinda wish you do, I gave you a boy. An heir" she smiled, her eyes sparkles as she look over the maid who was carrying their child, Gwayne smiled looking over the babe.

"I am happy more than happy actually, but I would not want to put you in that situation again"

"It is normal state they said"

"Still I would not want to risk you again, I am happy with you no matter with heir or none but now I have a young version of you, I would have more very reason to go home and wake up everyday"

She was his life, she made him whole, losing her would be a big tragedy to him, the day he vowed to her that he will love her with all he can offer, he did not just love her, he stayed and place his faithfulness to her.

As he slowly placed his wife om their chamber, he send her handmaidens and Maester to look after her, clean her and check if she need something to be mend.

He barged inside the council room knowing they will be their, the members looked at him, Otto spoke first breaking the silence.

"My son, as far as I remember you do not have a seat in this room to attend to"

Gwayne scoffs, as he eyed for his sister. "Is this your plan? Why you wanted my wife to give birth here? To make her suffer?"

"It is the King's dying wish"

"Oh I believe is it? Just like how his dying wish is to fucking crown Aegon as his heir, despite your son being brainless smug"

"To say that such thing to the prince is treason, what is it that makes you so angry Gwayne?" Otto tap his son shoulder but he immediately pull back.

"Your Queen, made my wife walk through the halls right after she gave birth to our child, have I not told you that her pregnancy is risky? Yet you made her walk instead of giving her the time to regain her energy"

Alicent snapped a look at him, the two children of Otto Hightower faced each other. "I wish to not harm her, I simply wish to see her and my grandchil-"

"Is that really it? Or perhaps you are so envious of seeing my wife live the life you wished you had?"

A deafening silence filled them, the members each switch looks between the Queen and Gwayne Hightower.

"You shall not touch my wife anymore and so is our child, we will leave here as soon as she recover" Gwayne discussed. Otto approached his son.

"What about your army? we need them incase Rhaenyra declares war after we declare Aegon as King" Otto explained.

Gwayne chuckles, the audacity of his father to think that he will give him his army.

He did not answer them instead walked out the room, he will make sure what they did to the princess will be delivered to the future Queen Rhaenyra.

//

She arrived at the chamber, she was welcomed by the sight of his beautiful wife holding their child, he slowly walked to them sitting on the edge of bed beside his wife.

"We will leave here tomorrow, I can and will not go another days with those cunts around you and our son" Gwayne spoke, caressing his wife's silver white hair, he sighed as he continued to reveal another thing.

"They plan to make Aegon King"

The princess turned her face to him, her face was confused hoping she heard him wrong.

"They know Rhaenyra is the heir, the future Queen of the realm our father made it known before he died, he declared her as his heir" she explained, she and Gwayne were both there as she was declared the rightful heir to the throne.

"I know but those two said it was the dying King's wish, I do not believe."

"We shall go to Dragonstone and send words to Rhaenyra..." She trailed, something in her was nervous what if Gwayne would not side with her?

"Yes we must, as soon as possible my love and make it clear to your sister that we bend our knee for her" Gwayne leaned his forehead to hers, his gaze moves to their son.

The boy had her eyes, lilac gaze, he had his nose and lips.

This is all what Gwayne had asked and wished when he married his wife, a whole family but with the upcoming war he knows they will have to be extra careful.

He will bent the knee for Rhaenyra but his wife and son's safety would remain a top of his list.

[requiemforthepoets]

to be in it with you ⟢ OP81

PAIRING: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: as you watch oscar play happily with his nieces and nephews, you’re struck by the overwhelming love you feel for him—deeper than you’ve ever known.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: use of y/n, named side character (brother), fluff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have an oscar request lined up from last year, and somehow i’m at 40%-ish of completing it. so i’ll dedicate this oscar one shot that i drafted long ago to my ‘osc anon’ who had sent in the request as a compensation for not finishing yet their request 🥹 so i hope you guys will like this one too!

It was a perfect summer afternoon in Australia. The sun shone warmly over the sprawling and perfectly manicured backyard, the sound of laughter and chatter floating through the air as Oscar’s family gathered for the reunion. You sat comfortably in a lawn chair, a cool drink in your hand, condensation dripping down the side of the glass, and a soft smile that played on your lips as you watched Oscar from afar. He was in the middle of the yard, playing tag with his nieces and nephews, their high-pitched giggles filling the spaces as Oscar chased them with exaggerated slowness, his long strides deliberately clumsy.

Oscar was radiant under the sun, his easy laughter blending with the children’s laughter, his cheeks flushed from the activity. His hair, slightly damp from exertion, curled at the edges, and he ran a hand through it as he crouched low to let one of the toddlers ‘tag’ him. The sight tugged at your chest, making your heart swell almost painfully.

It hit you then, not for the first time, but in a way that felt newly profound. You love him. You love him so much that it terrifies you. You never knew that it’s possible to love someone so much. The thought was overwhelming, almost suffocating in its intensity. No one had ever made you feel like this before. The relationships that you had in the past now seemed pale and faded photographs in comparison, distant and dull compared to the vibrant, all-encompassing connection you had with Oscar.

You took a slow sip of your drink, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you, but your gaze remained fixed on him. You loved everything about Oscar—the way he interacted so effortlessly with his family, how he was patient, gentle, and kind with the children, how his face lit up with genuine happiness when they pulled him into their little games. He was a mosaic of everything you had ever dreamed of, and yet, somehow more.

With these realizations came a series of flashbacks. You and Oscar go way back, though ‘knowing’ him would be a generous way to describe it. Growing up, you were never more than acquaintances in passing, brought into each other’s orbit because of your older brother, Asher. Asher and Oscar had bonded over karting, spending weekends at the track, their friendship was fueled by shared victories, losses, and countless hours tinkering with karts.

You were always on the sidelines, quieter than most, mostly content to sit with a book or scroll through your phone while Asher raced. Occasionally, your eyes would drift to Oscar—not intentionally at first, but there was something about him that always caught your attention. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, calm and focused, even at such a young age. Or perhaps, it was the easy smile he wore after a win, the way it lit up his whole face. You didn’t actually know when or why it started, but somewhere along the way, you realized you had feelings for him.

It was not a revelation that struck you like lightning. No, it crept up on you, quiet and persistent, until one day, as you unpacked your bag after another weekend spent at a karting competition, you paused, clutching a book in your hands. You loved him. Or, at least, you thought you did. It was kind of innocent, unspoken affection that felt too big to put into words.

But Oscar never knew. You barely spoke to him back then, except for the occasional polite exchange of ‘hi’ or ‘good luck.’ You were not shy by nature, but there’s something about him that always left you tongue-tied. So, when he moved up to F3 and you moved out of Australia to chase your own career abroad, that chapter in your life pretty much quietly closed.

Years passed after that. You had kept tabs on him sporadically, mostly through Asher, who remained in touch with Oscar even after leaving karting behind. When Oscar finally made it to F1, you learned about it through your brother, who called you, his voice buzzing with pride. Though you hadn’t seen Oscar in years, the news stirred something in you—a quiet, enduring happiness for him.

Then, it was months later, on an otherwise unremarkable evening, that your phone rang with a call from an unfamiliar number. You hesitated, your finger hovering over the screen before you finally answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is this…y/n?” the voice was hesitant but familiar, a thread of nervousness woven through the words.

“Yes, it is. Who’s this, may I ask?”

There was a brief pause, then, “it’s Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. “Oh. Hi. Um…hello, Oscar.”

Oscar’s laugh was soft, almost sheepish. “Sorry, this is kind of random, isn’t it? I wasn’t sure if you’d even remember me.”

“Of course I remember you,” you said quickly—too quickly for your liking, your heart thudding in your chest. “I just…wasn’t really expecting this, that’s all. How did you even get my number?”

“Well, apparently our mums kept in touch all these years,” he explained, tone a little lighter now. “My mum mentioned that she saw you back in Australia not too long ago, and she told me about it. She, uh, also gave me your number.”

You were not sure what to say to that. “Oh,” you managed. “I didn’t know they still talked.”

“Neither did I,” Oscar admitted, you could hear the smile in his voice. “But when she mentioned you, I figured I’d…I don’t know, take a chance? I mean we never really got to know each other back then, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” you agreed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

“I always thought you were kind of…quiet,” he said, voice teasing but kind. “Like you didn’t really want to be there, but you came anyway because of Asher.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “That’s pretty accurate, actually. I was there for him, but it wasn’t so bad, I liked watching you race.”

“Really?” Oscar sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You were good. You still are.”

“Thanks,” he said, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though it felt like the space between breaths, waiting to be filled.

“So,” he said finally, tone shifting to something more tentative. “Would you…want to catch up sometime? I know it’s been years, but I’d really like to get to know you properly. No more awkward hi-and-hellos this time.”

Your heart leapt at the offer, but you kept your voice steady. “Yes, I’d like that,” you said. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” Oscar said, and you could hear the smile in his voice again. “I’ll text you, then. We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” you said softly, your fingers tightening around the phone.

“Okay,” he echoed.

After that whole conversation with Oscar, for the first time, you realized that maybe, you were not the only one that has been waiting for this moment.

The memory had you smiling crazy, failing to notice how Oscar glanced your way, a smile spreading across his face when he caught you staring and smiling. He stood, brushing the grass off his hands, and made his way over to you, his pace was unhurried but purposeful.

“Having fun watching me make a fool of myself?” he teased, voice warm and tinged with amusement as he dropped into the chair beside you.

You chuckled softly, setting your drink on the small table next to you. “Not at all. You’re doing amazing out there,” you replied, tone playful but sincere.

Oscar leaned back in the chair, his hand quickly finding yours without hesitation, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin. “You looked like you were in deep thought,” he said for a moment, his eyes searching for yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, not because you did not want to tell him, but because you were not sure how to articulate the depth of what you were feeling. But after a beat, you decided to just let the words flow freely.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” you admitted, voice quiet but steady. “And how no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s like I don’t even have the right words for it.”

Oscar’s expression softened, and he squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to find the right words,” he said, tone earnest. “I feel it. Every time you look at me, every time you smile like that, I feel it.”

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. “It’s just that sometimes it feels like too much, you know? Like, I want to memorize everything about you—how you speak, move, even how you laugh. I want to soak up every part of you and carry it with me forever.”

He let out a quiet laugh, his thumb still brushing over your hand. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of masterpiece,” he said, tone light but his gaze were serious.

“It’s because you are,” you replied without hesitation, voice unwavering. “You are to me.”

For a moment, Oscar did not say anything, he just looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. Then he leaned closer, his free hand coming up to cup your face, his touch gentle but grounding.

“You have no idea how much I love you, do you?” he murmured.

“I think I might have some idea,” you whispered back, lips curving into a smile.

Oscar leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back to meet your gaze. “Good,” he said, voice low and filled with affection. “Because I’m all in with you. Every part of me, every day.”

Your chest felt like it might burst anytime soon from the sheer magnitude of what you felt for him. “Me too,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly. “I’m all in with you, Oscar. Always.”

Everything had also made you realize that you didn’t need the perfect words or grand gestures. Being with Oscar, loving him as deeply as you did, was more than enough.

[todays-xkcd]

And over heeee[...]eeeere (i)s Saturn.

Space Typography [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[A grayed-out sentence in the Times New Roman font reads "Optimistic aliens measure space typographically". The "O" in "Optimistic" is dark black and indicated as representing the Sun (not to scale). The dots of the letters "i" in the sentence are similarly dark black. The dot in the first "i" in "Optimistic" is indicated as representing Mercury; the dot in the second "i" represents Venus; the dot in the third "i" represents Earth. The dot in the "i" in "aliens" is indicated as representing Mars. The dot in the "i" in "typographically" is indicated as representing Jupiter. A measurement bar indicates that the distance between the "O" and the third "i" in "Optimistic" is equivalent to 1 AU (astronomical unit).]

[Caption below the panel:] Space tip: if you're ever lost in the inner Solar System, you can just type out the phrase "Optimistic aliens measure space typographically" in Times New Roman and use the dots as a map.

[rosecoloredsunshine]

honey, you're familiar — james patrick march

masterlist | character.ai bot | part two

PAIRINGS: james patrick march x female!reader

SUMMARY: you are the reincarnation of his greatest love, the woman who mysteriously vanished from his life in the 1920s. though you have no memory of your past life, you are an exact replica of the woman he adored.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, reincarnation, slight implication of reader being murdered (if you squint enough), the countess does not exist in this fic, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i've been rewatching ahs, and i wanted to give it a try writing for the ahs fandom. this will also be my first time writing for the ahs fandom. i also made a character.ai for this fic that is linked just above. i hope that you guys will enjoy this one! :)

2015

The night air was unseasonably cold for Los Angeles. You had stepped out of the cab with a soft huff, wrapping your coat tighter around your body as you glanced up at the building that stood before you. The Hotel Cortez. It loomed like a relic of another era, gothic and imposing, the dark stonework catching the dim city lights in odd angles. Truth be told, it wasn't your first choice, it was far from it, but after calling around every hotel in the city, it was the only place left with a vacancy. You had hesitated for a brief moment in the cab, chewing the insides of your cheeks, but what other option did you have?

Inside of the building, the lobby was a different world. Grand, in an old Hollywood kind of way, but there was something off. Maybe it was the silence, or the way the golden fixtures gleamed too brightly, as if they were watching you. You have your luggage in tow behind you, the sound of wheels clattering against marble floors echoing through the space.

From behind the front desk, a woman perked up at your approach. She was a much older woman, thin lips pulled tight over perfect teeth, hair styled in an immaculate bouffant that screamed another decade. Her name tag read Iris.

“Welcome to the Hotel Cortez,” she said brightly, but her eyes didn't seem to match the warmth in her voice. “Checking in?”

You nodded at her. “I need a room for the night…maybe two.”

Iris’ fingers clicked across the keyboard, an ancient looking machine that still required a punch of force on each key. “Well, lucky you,” she said, “we’ve got one left. Seems like the city’s just full up tonight.”

She then slid a paper across to you, pushing a fountain pen along with it. “Sign here, please.”

As you scrawled your signature across the page, you felt something in the air had shifted. It was subtle at first, like the faintest change in pressure before a storm. You did not notice it, but he did.

James Patrick March was standing on the mezzanine above, his hands resting on the brass railing as he stared down at you with eyes wide, unblinking. He had not known fear in his lifetime, he’s the kind of man who reveled in control, carnage, in bending fate to his will. His usual smirk was absent, replaced with something that is raw, something akin to disbelief.

His mind could not accept it at first. It had been nearly a century since he had last seen you. Since you had vanished without a trace, leaving him to scour the world for any whisper of your presence. But now, James watched as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, just the way you always had. Your fingers were delicate, graceful, as if they belonged on piano keys. Your profile turned toward Iris was devastatingly familiar, the high curve of your cheekbone, the sharpness of your fox-like gaze, even as your eyes darted so casually across the lobby in a way that suggested this place unsettled you.

You are here. His lost love. His obsession. His salvation and his damnation.

James’ chest constricted. You were unchanged. Not merely similar, but the same. Perfect. Flawless. As if God himself had honored James’ desperate plea for your return, despite his profound aversion to the Christian values. He descended the stairs without realizing he had moved, the sharp click of his shoes announcing his approach. Iris noticed him first and immediately stiffened. You did not see him at first, too busy retrieving your wallet from your bag.

“Sir,” Iris said, voice lower, deferential.

James’ voice was honey-drenched steel. “I will handle this guest personally, Iris.”

You turned then, startled. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. He stood before you, immaculate in a three-piece suit from another age, posture unnaturally straight, predatory yet elegant. His mustache was neatly groomed, and his dark eyes were captivating. It was as if they burned into you with such intensity that you took a small step back without thinking.

“I—” you began, voice soft and uncertain. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

His smile was slow, it was like a knife slipping beneath flesh. But there was something else there. Reverence and awe. “You will,” James replied, voice low and velvety. “In time.”

There was an unsettling calm to him, like the eye of a hurricane. Iris handed you an old-fashioned key on a brass fob before scuttling away, leaving you alone with the man.

James gestured toward the elevators. “Permit me to escort you to your room. It is the least I can do for a guest of your…exquisite standing.”

You briefly hesitated, but politeness was second nature. It had been drilled into you at finishing school, and this man spoke with such an archaic elegance, like he had directly stepped out of a Fitzgerald novel.

You offered a wary smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

As he walked beside you, pace measured, James studied every delicate angle of your face. They way you held yourself, graceful and poised, just as he remembered. Your perfume was different, more lighter, but your skin—he could almost swear, still smelled faintly of rose and sandalwood.

“I’m James,” he said as you reached the elevator. “James Patrick March, the owner of this hotel.”

You nodded. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

The elevator doors opened with a groan, and he ushered you in, following closely. As the doors slid shut, you glanced at him, feeling the weight of his stare.

“What is it?” you asked softly.

James tilted his head, smiling in a way that made your stomach twist, half-charm and half-sinister. “Forgive me. You remind me of someone…very dear to me.”

You flushed faint at his words, but nodded, really unsure of what to say. As the floors ticked upward, James kept his hands behind his back, concealing how they trembled with restraint. He wanted to touch you, just to confirm that you were real. That you were flesh, and not some cruel hallucinations that had been conjured by centuries of longing.

When the doors opened, he stepped aside and let you lead the way, gaze never straying from you for an instant. You walked to the door that Iris had assigned you—room 64. He took the key from your hand with a touch that sent a straight shiver up your spine and opened the door for you. You crossed the threshold, feeling the strange energy of the room settle over you like a veil. As you set your bag down, James remained in the doorway, just watching.

His eyes darkened as he spoke again. “If there is anything, anything, that you require, you need only ask.”

You turned to him with a gracious nod, still smiling politely, though something about his intensity gnawed at you. “I appreciate it, Mr. March. Goodnight.”

James took a breath, lips parting as if to say something more. But he did not. Instead, he gently grabbed your hand and kissed it softly, as though you were a queen and he was a loyal knight.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

The door shut softly, but he stood there for a long time, staring at the wood as though he could see through it. His mind reeled. You were here, at his hotel. Alive. Returned. Though you bore no memory of the life you once shared, of the nights he whispered secrets into your ear and how your voice had caressed his name like a prayer as you lay tangled in his arms, of the dreams he had for the empire he was building with your beauty at its heart—he would remind you.

James would awaken the love you held for him. Brick by brick, memory by memory, he would reconstruct you into the woman who once adored him with such fierce devotion, and this time, you would never leave the Hotel Cortez. One thing was certain—James Patrick March did not believe in coincidences. Fate had returned you to him, and he had no intention of letting you go a second time, so he wasted no time and descended the stairs to find Iris.

He turned to Iris. “Send her dinner, something divine. And Iris…”

“Yes, Mr. March?”

James’ gaze was gleaming. “Nobody disturbs her. She is not to leave. The lady of the house is home at last.”

Then slowly, he smiled.

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[valeriehalla]

Not to put you on blast, but speaking as a comic artist, I can tell you that all that random emphasis isn’t actually as random as you might think!

I’m sure every comic letterer has their own criteria for when and how (and whether) to employ this technique, but the way I see it, there’s a couple of overlapping reasons why it’s done:

It makes the text a bit more legible. The bolded words act as visual landmarks that help guide the reader through the text. Comic text is pretty weird, typographically speaking: it has a very small line-height and it’s center-aligned, not to mention it’s usually printed in allcaps. This is all done in the interest of conserving space for the illustrations, but it makes for text that can be kind of fatiguing to read. The extra visual emphasis on key words and phrases can make it easier to quickly parse the text, especially in larger speech bubbles.

It also serves the usual purpose of indicating the natural word emphasis that people employ when speaking English. Usually you’d just use italics for that, but italics are hard to distinguish in handwriting, so letterers will use either bold or bold-italics for the job. Beyond that, the difference is mainly down to quantity: comic letterers traditionally go a bit ham with this technique, whereas it’d be gauche to do the same thing in prose. But that’s a matter of convention.

Emphasis on the word traditionally in that last point, by the way. In truth, this convention has been on its way out for a while. Lots of comics these days even have lowercase letters! It’s easier to pull off with the switch to digital lettering. But I still find the practice charming as heck.

[prokopetz]

Eat God draft 0.4.2 is up. This is a minor update, incorporating further typographic corrections reported by sharp-eyed readers, as well as inserting small clarifications regarding dice-rolling procedures, cooperative tests, interrupted Rebellious Arts, the durations of Limit Breaks, several edge cases involving overloaded inventories, visibility of NPC qualities, and how to handle situations where every single player character manages to Stress Out at the same time.

Barring the discovery of major errors in the text, this will be the final update to version 0.4 of Eat God. Work from here on out will shift focus to the development of additional playsets and optional rules for an expanded second round of playtesting. Keep an eye on this space for updates, and don't hesitate to let me know what you think of the game's current version, either in the notes here or via the Penguin King Games Discord server.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Typographic Vocabulary

A limited terminology exists to describe the many kinds of typeface and typesetting in regular use. Among the important terms are the following:

Ascender - A part of a letter which extends above the height of the letter x, as in d and h. It contrasts with a descender, a part of a letter which extends below the foot of the letter x, as in y or p.

Bold - A type with very thick strokes, as seen in boldface.

Fount - The set of characters of the one size of the same typeface, including capitals, lower-case, punctuation marks, and numerals; also spelled font.

Italic - Characters that slope to the right, as in italic.

Justification - The arrangement of lines of text so that there are even margins. Left-justified setting is standard practice. In right-justified setting, the last character of each line is made to reach the right-hand margin at the same point (by adjusting the spaces between the letters and words). Unjustified setting has a ‘ragged edge’ right-hand margin (as in this column).

Kern - The part of a letter which overhangs the body of the type, as in the top part of f.

Leading - /ˈledIƞ/ The spacing between lines of type. The term derives from the former printing practice of separating lines of metal type by inserting strips of lead between them.

Ligature - Two or more letters joined together as a single character, as in æ and ff.

Lower-case - Small letters, as opposed to any kind of capital letters (upper-case). (The ‘cases’ were originally two containers placed one above the other in a printing house: the type for capital letters came from the higher container; the small letters from the lower.) Upper-case letters are divided into large capitals and small capitals (B vs b). Small capitals are similar in weight and height to a lowercase x. Large capitals are the height of an ascender.

Serif - A small terminal stroke at the end of the main stroke of a letter. A serif typeface is used in the main text on the facing page. A typeface with no serifs is called sans serif.

Sort - A single character of type. A special sort is one which the typesetter does not have routinely available in a fount, and which must be formed specially, such as a phonetic character.

Superscript - A small letter or figure set beside and above the top of a full-size character, as in x2; also called a superior. It contrasts with subscript, a small letter or figure set beside and below the foot of a full-size character, as in 3n; also called an inferior.

X height - The height of the printing surface of a small letter x.

These features would all form part of a graphetic analysis of printed language.

J. Butcher, 1992 ⚜ Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Notes & References

[ranmarruuu]

Favor

Rui x MC headcanon

Trigger warning: grammatical and typographical error.

It's very unusual for MC to have personally asked Rui to accompany her back to the Clementia dorm, and it's also he who always insists on escorting her home.

Normally, he would quietly rejoice in it, but there’s something hidden in her tone that makes him uneasy. It doesn't help that she's been quiet all day either.

Even though she doesn't tell him, he knows something is wrong. After all, he’s not the only one who thinks she's behaving strangely. Edward could sense her troubled thoughts, and Lyca could also smell her anxiety. And, Rui knew her well enough to say that she was worried about something.

As they passed the Tree of severance, Rui stole a glance at her for the ninth time and once again dived deep into his thoughts.

Only her voice calling his name brought him back from his train of thought, "Mm?".

"Do you think everything happens for a reason?" she inquired. He couldn’t help but to think about his curse.

And if there is, what could be the reason for his having to endure this curse? Is it to torment him for being a ghoul?

“As much as I don’t want to think about it, I can't help myself from thinking that the reason I was cursed was so that I could meet you all”. His heart began to race rapidly at her words.

"I've been here for eight months. I learn things every day that could never be learned anywhere else. Being an inspector also helps me with getting to know you all better…

And I didn’t realize I was getting attached already. It’s also frightening to think about the chances of forgetting this memory after the curse is lifted. I still wanted to break the curse, so please don’t misunderstand. It's just that, except the curse itself, I've learned to value everything that is happening…

“I think I’m going crazy. I’m starting to think this is fate— oh! I never realized you had stopped! You must’ve missed the things I was rambling about, hehe. My bad”

He heard everything, crystal clear. And despite his desire to express himself, he was unable to articulate anything for some reason. It felt like his throat went dry.

Mc strode back until she was right in front of him, leaving only a few inches of space between them, which earned a yelp and a step back from him. “Sorry”

"No, you do—“

“Rui, I have a favor”

This. This very tone of hers. It gives him chills and fills him with such anxiety. He doesn't like what that favor could be. He would happily comply with her wishes if she were her usual self, but this? this is different.

"Although I've long accepted my fate, I won't give up looking for a way to break my curse... And if it went south. If the treatment comes too late. For that very last time, I want you to be with me…

I know this favor is too much. I know I’ll only make you feel bad. I know this is selfish of me. I know this will only caused you an everlasting agony, but… I’ll still take my shot. I will nevertheless try and ask you for this…”

Mc paused for a moment, kneeling down.

“R-Rui, will you hold me for the first and my last time as a human?” She pleaded on both knees.

“I know this is too much for you, and I'm being really selfish. But I don't want to be an anomaly; I want to die as a human. And I want to hold someone I trust and cherish in this lifetime…”

It has been a month since the curse marks started to have a life of their own. Despite her efforts to cut the little flowers that are sprouting on her body, they continue to reappear throughout the day. There’s also this burning sensation she has been enduring every night as the curse markings light up and spread to other parts of her body.

Right then she knew that she was running out of time. And if they weren’t able to find a cure, this is the only way she’d want to perish…

Rui gritted his teeth in frustration as he remembered that night three months ago. He is unsure of what to do. He can't do it to her, but if he doesn't, she'll become an anomaly and will suffer as well.

"It's time, Rui... it’s okay”

And for the first and last time, he was able to feel the warmth of her body and the taste of her lips.

rushed but I hope it’s readable.

[shabbytigers]

last night i dreamed they made a 20€ coin and the typography on it haunts me

the coin was huge and impractical: the ~normal coin part was basically a plaque mounted on a larger, framing seven-point star piece. the points were narrow, like rays, very pointy, very not ideal for putting in your pocket as they jutted out a good centimeter or so

the overall aes was kind of ninja because of the star, but also not very ninja because of the typography (i know nothing about japanese typography, mind you; maybe this is just how samurai would roll typewise)

the numeral 20, in the relief treatment you see on coins, was in this dead gorgeous serif font. it had a kind of early 20th c elegance. neither art deco nor art nouveau gives the impression i want to convey—[rummaging through Fonts In Use] i’m probably thinking of typefaces in the vicinity of Graphik although it isn’t exactly on point

but so now i want you to take that aesthetic and run it real quick through the space age midcentury modern machine

the characters have a pronounced squareness (almost reminiscent of mcm cyrillic display fonts, but the early 20th c serif elegance keeps the lines more spare than blocky) but the squares have space-age rounded corners. the curvature starts too close to the corner to end up at squoval; it’s a little austere and adult for space age. now make it italic for more speed and dynamism, dialing up the space age note, dispelling most of the austerity, but retaining the serif elegance

fff i wish i had the motor coordination and skill to sketch a typographical concept but i can’t draw for shit

[1five1two]

You have with you the book you were reading in the cafe, which you are eager to continue, so that you can then hand it on to her, to communicate again with her through the channel dug by others' words, which, as they are uttered by an alien voice, by the voice of that silent nobody made of ink and typographical spacing, can become yours and hers, a language, a code between the two of you, a means to exchange signals and recognize each other.

Italo Calvino

[gritrook]

⭐ Announcement: my online handle is changing! ⭐

My online presence will be Grit Rook (gritrook as a username) across the board!

(My name is still Jennifer Reuter, this is effectively like a business name)

This might seem pretty sudden, but it's been long, long in the making behind-the-scenes as I'm slowly putting myself back in the online space.

You may have seen the skull image-mark logo as watermarks on pictures and scattered around the place already, but it needed a name to go with it. While my regular name worked okay for a few years, I wanted something catchier, easier to spell and which evoked the kind of dark, atmospheric and emotive work I'm creating.

And, of course, something that looks Really Damn Cool on jewellery packaging or as a stamp or at the start of a game or on a poster... but that's for later. ;)

So what's going to happen now?

Website

My old website URL (jenareuter.com) will continue to work as expected, and I am intending to keep it indefinitely, it will just remap to gritrook.art whenever you click an old link. You can also type in gritrook.com, and all my old emails will work too.

Social media

All my current active and inactive accounts (Tumblr, Bluesky, Twitter, Instragram, anything else) will be renamed to gritrook where possible, so all existing posts and activity are preserved (unless, of course, I've chosen to delete the content). I will also 'park' my previous 'jenareuter' username, which will point to the updated account, but remain empty and un-followable.

Name

Jennifer, or Jen, is still the same. If I ever end up publishing graphic novels and novels through traditional routes, I'd use my full name. Grit Rook is, for all intents and purposes, like a business name.

I won't bite anyone if they call me 'rook' or 'grit' or what-have-you, by accident, but I generally prefer my real name in conversation.

I'm very excited to release this, finally, and please bear with me during the process of changing everything!

(Yes. The typographic design is hand-lettered. ✨)

[kunaieu]

The Rise of Cyber Sigilism: The Modern Graphic Design Trend Defining Digital Aesthetics From the brighter days of graphic design, it seems new aesthetics appearing in the foreground are shaping and redefining the visual language of the industry. Arguably one of the most remarkable and potent trends in the present digital design cycle today, Cyber Sigilism is the convergence of mysticism, technology, and futuristic typography that has attracted the designers, brands, and artists into a new approach to visual storytelling. But what is all about Cyber Sigilism, and why is it all gunning down contemporary design space?

Defining Cyber Sigilism

Cyber-Sigilism is an aesthetic mode that integrates cyberpunk attributes with esoteric and arcane symbols. Here, the sinuous, digital essence of the cyber-realm stands beside the cosmic sense of ancient mysticism, adorned with intricate glyphs, abstract typographics, and a dark atmosphere replete with futuristic tone. Such a trend has become extravagant, mysterious, and otherworldly-it offers something truly demanding for designers wanting to reveal their full vigor in bright and conceptually lucid compositions.

The term derives from "sigil," defined as a symbol endowed with mystical powers and most commonly associated with magical arts and the occult. By fusing such symbols with the digital and cybernetic aesthetic, a near-ritualistic, visually complex aesthetic emerges, one that resonates with the digital age's preoccupations with technology, spirituality, and dystopian themes.

Why Cyber Sigilism is Trending in Graphic Design

Internet culture and alternative aesthetics. An age where digital subcultures thrive calls for online art communities to go beyond every possible measure of cultural creativity. Instagram, Tumblr, and Behance have become platforms that allow space for experimentations, where Cyber Sigilism may have gained currency due to its aura of mystery that speaks in defiance.

Nostalgic yet hyper-futuristic appeal. Cyber Sigilism embodies the nostalgia of early Internet aesthetics, from the templates of old-school RPGs, sci-fi interfaces, and projects of the Y2K era, while very much elevating them into hyper-futuristic realms, thus bridging between the visual styles coming out of the past and that of the future.

The mystical and the technological. While society becomes ever more engrossed in the exploration of digital technologies and spirituality, Cyber Sigilism provides ample opportunity to fuse the two. Reflecting themes of mythology, sacred geometry, and cyberpunk interface, the style resonates with audiences who are equally curious about the unknown and the digital world’s unbounded potentials.

Appealing to a counterculture. Many artists and designers today provide a contrast to the mainstream vomit of design. The chaotic, almost anarchic vibe of Cyber Sigilism is the opposite of the clean, Zen-like trends that have dominated branding and UI/UX design for far too long. In essence, it gives designers an extra, loud-hard statement in directing why one not only should reject proper rules of design but, dare say, almost so common as that.

Key Elements of Cyber Sigilism Design

If considering Cyber Sigilism for any design work, the following are critical considerations:

• Intricate Glyphs and Symbols: Mysterious markings compile cryptic languages and custom-made sigils; hence these are significant.

• High-Contrast Type: Angular, demanding, distorted, and glitchy typography would further create futuristic and ritualistic atmospheres.

• Dark-and-neon Color Palettes: This specific combination of tones builds a cybernetic-and-supernatural ambience with pitchdark blacks, electric blues, and neon greens.

• Layering Visuals and Textures: Interference from grids, noise textures, and abstract 3D renders-the layering technique complicates everything just a bit.

• Glitches and Digital Distortions: Static distortion, pixelation, and cybernetic interference allow the digital mystique to explode.

Final Thoughts

Graphic design is a constantly-changing domain, and Cyber Sigilism represents the avant-garde of the modern-day digital aesthetic landscape. This unusual and magnificent design style works to break accepted norms by mixing futuristic cyberpunk elements with ancient mysticism. Become a Cyber-Sigilism initiator, and whether you are a designer willing to hack the style or a brand willing to stand out, you'll ensure attention from a contemporary audience.

As this trend rises onward, one thing is certain: Cyber Sigilism is rewiring this visual identity for the digital age. (all works are courtesy of @mun15h on Instagram, go check him out! he does amazing cybersigil designs)