Bobbin lace is probably the most common. You're most likely to have a shirt with those decals on it or use it for decoration. Having that many limbs makes it easy to sit down and make a design; it's a common gift for parents to give to their grown children expecting pebbles.

Needle lace however is a lot more complex. Huge, intricate pieces that take years to make even with 5 arms and a crystalline brain. A finished lace tapestry can take years with several Eridian lace-makers who dedicate their lives to the craft. Thrums are often used to get the product done faster, with 5 Eridians on each end working outward and communicating in sync. It's a beautiful process to watch. A traditional technique is to start at a single point and work outwards with no plan, making a complex and unique piece. These are rare and usually owned by Eridians with high-ranking jobs.

At the memorial for Blip-A's crew is a massive tapestry meticulously created over the course of a decade. Small pieces of the families' carapaces have been woven in alongside an intricate, sectioned pattern. The piece can be read like a book—the lace echos back the frequencies of the crew's voices, immortalizing them in Eridian history forever.

In Rocky and Adrian's home is a tapestry from the ceremony of the night they mated, a common tradition for Eridian couples. Over the course of the event, the Eridians in attendance work off the hexagon representing the couple's courtship. No one involved is usually a master craftsman, so the work is a little all over the place. It functions as a quest-book, echoing the memory off the walls of their home.

Hello! Here's a more recent Tarot Commission for someone on Bluesky. The character's named Sinara ✨A gorgeous blood-elf that I absolutely loved painting.

I think the hardest part was to find a suitable pose for this kind of framing and balancing all the elements + the magical effects in order to have a good composition that doesn't feel too overcrowded. I even changed the position of the head long after I had rendered it just to see if it looks better and re-painted a lot of things.

Took me about a month to finish this but I'm very pleased with how it turned out.

Thank you for the support!

My commissions are also open for June and July, with limited slots. Check out my info HERE

I also made a quick GIF with the process:

you've grown to hate this place, this castle gifted to him for war victories. The halls are barren, the garden yet to bloom. The maids are pleasant, but they keep their distance, as if you'll strike. Maybe your husband is the kind to hit. You wouldn't know.

When he looks at you, it's only in short bursts, his eyes suddenly low. There's a long stretch of silence between you and you consider introducing yourself, but decide against it. He knows who you are.

"The maid is drawing me a bath," he says suddenly and a sick feeling pours over you. This day was always coming, but you aren't sure you're ready to lay under a stranger.

"Am I expected to join?" you ask and his nose crinkles.

"No." He steps back and away. His departure is brisk and driven. You retire for the night by yourself and awake alone. Your husband is set to leave again in a few hours; a few soldiers have already gathered in the front garden.

"Don't you wish to give your new wife a goodbye?" one asks, unaware of your open window. "One night and you've already had your fill? Or has she been filled too much?"

"I refuse to believe she is real!" says another. "What kind of woman has worn down our brute and turned him into a family man? Should we expect a gaggle of children in the upcoming year?"

Your husband growls. "You will leave the poor lamb alone. She suffers enough."

That softens you. Just a bit. You rise from you bed and go to the window, leaning out enough to catch the men's attention.

"Until next time."

He watches you, expression caught between more emotions that you can count, then turns his gaze back to his mount. The two men share a look, wide, wide grins on their faces.

(he must have lovers, you imagine. He hasn't touched you; he must be getting his fill with women in other cities, maybe women he actually loves. these are trinkets to keep his wife amused while she wastes away.)

none of the gifts come with a note.

one day a bolt of fabric arrives, yellow and ornate. It's only a small amount, not enough to make a dress, but enough for you to unravel and admire. It's beautiful and clearly expensive, golden threads woven into flowers and vines. Your father was a silk merchant; while you never wore the silks, you can recognize their quality.

the following week, the delicious man rides up on his steeds and presents a letter. The handwriting is rough. Knights that come from the lower class do not have the schooling of highborns; as fair as you know, your husband was born a street rat and worked his way theough the ranks to glory.

-I have been told by my secund that I did not send you enuf fabric for a gown. I do not no these things.

The spelling mistakes screw a smile out of you.

"Wait a moment." You stop the boy before he can leave. "I wish to send something back."

You take your time and use your finest calligraphy, tucking your note in with a handkerchief you had spent the week on. It's fine work-- one that would please even the hardest of hearts.

-Dearest husband,

Please take this handkerchief as a sign of my thoughts.

Your patient and thoughtful wife

A second letter arrives within the week.

-are you cros with me? A scrap of fabric for a scrap of fabric?

The response is what makes you cross. The poor messenger boy has to stay the night while you percolate over a response.

-Dearest, sweetest husband,

A handkerchief is a traditional gesture of affection. I have embroidered the edges by hand, with your last name and your roses, and it smells of my perfume. It is a piece of me for you to carry. If you do not appreciate my kindness or if you think it will turn away your lovers, you may return it. I do not wish it wasted on you.

Your less than patient and less than adoring wife

The poor boy scatters off in the morning and returns a few days later.

tortured wife,

I wil cherish it. I am sory, pour lam. I wil do better.

Is Archeops gping to land on her arm like a hawk? If so, how heavy is it. Can't be too-

From pics community on reddit

You can fight ICE by annoying them

Mess up their food/drink orders- Lose their tickets/reservations

Overtighten lug nuts, strip spark plugs

Give them incorrect but real-sounding information

Record them with your phones

Disrupt them with loud noises (car alarms, music, banging metal) and bright lights (flashlights, headlights)

Shame them

(fuck yeah)

The fascists want complacency.

Do not give it to them.

(fuck them white supremacists )

🏙️🐉 ENTWINED

Original piece, made with posca markers and a thrifted wood piece.

First work for a space-themed exhibition, Fires above. I'm super emotional about early humans, them looking at the sky, telling stories about these lights up there. Stories older than the glacier. We've been looking for thousands of years, and it's impossible not to.

Painted on agate.