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About Literature / Hobbyist Caleb R. TackettMale/United States Recent Activity
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Alright. This might be long. To start, the overall shading works nice in that the watercolor effect grants the thick outlining a gradua...

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INTRO

It was arctic and rainy and foggy. The wintry cold of the night air exhaled a grave chill as the dusty moonlight poured down calm solace on weary night travellers going home that could still muster some modicum of energy to peer up at the dim gazing beacon that was the moon above. Cool sea air rich with salt and the scent of city poured into the valley from the coast. The clouds charged forward from watery places to cover the land and obscure the star’s melancholic facets, and from which the beginning of winter awoke with a silent yawn. An amazing metropolis gleamed brilliantly like neon through a rain spattered window like great spectacles of spectral auras of green and blue flecked with polka-dots of red, titian, saffron, and orpiment. Brightly lit arc beams of advertisement lamps shining onto the clouds above swayed illuminating the misty air making it dance as the water crystals melted from the warm touch of the light, making them illuminate brilliantly for a few seconds before disappearing forever. This city, so great and wide in its hundreds of miles  and millions of peoples, in its many leagues of length and width, glowed like glossy phosphorescence against the world as an unending twilight clashing with the neptunian mantle about it. The sea swallowed this light almost as if it were food. This city did not only confine itself to the realm its hoisted, earth-shackled anchors clung to for architectural and arcological support, for great towering beam-held mega highways that carried thousands of lanes in and out of the city spanned into the clouds and above, and from it roared the constant siege of traffick, foreign and domestic. The city was Tchremados, on the great but lonely world of Fulden, the white sanded and snow swept steppe land which its denizens only knew of as home. City life was encumbered with loud rushing vehicles and float-buses, air-engines and railway platforms, fast paced thinking and moving crowds blitzing in and of chaotic dins of crossway support plazas and sky paths, one had to be a faster individual to exist here. It was a concrete and neon jungle, a densely populated forest of ancient temples, eroding buildings and shopping centers, office pillars and decaying, bricked off wooden fossils of the past lay deep underneath the sprawling mega forrest of city above, laden with the poor living inside old and crumbling ancient structures falling apart around them at the bottom, within dug out rooms of clay and iron and brick, they although making up the majority of Tchremados, were forgotten under the headless rush of the modern world above them, burying them into the mud below. It was a crime world. It was a damp city, for its placement near the ocean, built directly out of ancient fishing wharfs and sail docks. A city of sin. Here collected at the refined and clean top layers lay the sophisticated people, aristocrats, bankers, social and government workers, clerks, and others who profited off of the hard labor of the blue collar and those who existed in the middle layers, they who worked hellish hours and under poor conditions. Massive corporations that specialized in prosthetic enhancements, cybernetic upgrade applications, and other mechanical engineering dominated the world of fashion and cosmetics. Skyscraper farms  covered the majority of the area providing ample supply of untainted and unprocessed organic food only the most wealthy could afford. Green roofed libraries larger than the greatest of arenas, containing a nie-infinite source of worldly knowledge, lined great causeways and highways providing all those who could afford membership private access to world and the city’s history, meeting rooms, ballrooms, and assortments of all private and selfish services. There were gigantic boarding and public schools for all ages, of whome were the utmost privilege and opulent, and humongous upper-productories churning out the sleekest and most expensive goods on the planet, from cars to bionics to weaponry to packaged food and all sorts of devices these corporations worked ceaselessly. Greater Manor-apartments and comb-housing districts lined the upper atmosphere with the wealthy and upper class, the poor had no place here.

And so, there was crime. The momentous troy of lawbreakers whose numbers were so awesome that trying to comprehend the task of catching them all would the break the soul of any grown man. Will was the driving force behind Tchremados, not logic nor compassion. It was every man for himself, and there were only few, grouped into such minute corps, that it took all their time and energy and effort to at least enforce the law against one fifth of the city’s criminals. It was obvious to tell who was who in the bottommost layers, but when bringing justice came to the upper layers of Tchremados, it became a difficult quest, and so it was not focused on, simply for the reason that those who employed law enforcement too were hired by the corporations. But there was the Urban Defenders Ward, and the rest of larger law-keeping organizations, to quell crime, and bring justice, or what little of it mattered to the world. Their job was a thankless one, one they would go unsung and unremembered for. But they held off the tide of chaos, inch by inch, life for life.


  • Listening to: Trevor Freeman - Waves
Alright people, I am writing a lot of things at the moment I am not going to be posting on this website. I will however pick one I am really enjoying currently. I think you guys will like it, however, warning, it'll be kinda long. What do you all think? *Assuming I will get any comments, lol. 
Alright. This might be long. To start, the overall shading works nice in that the watercolor effect grants the thick outlining a gradual and noticeable effect of highlighting the slopes and angles of the character's body. The motion here is almost as if the subject itself is in a pose and was thrust upwards, but still the amazing use of color here does not make the viewer notice it too much. The negative space is white and contrasted with a cool and weak blue, leaving not an initially strong intent of letting the viewer know of its existence but rather draws in the viewer. The cool shade gratifies the darker yet in kinship with the negative spaces' hue, weak color a spatial unit in letting the viewer know where everything is. I assume the hip of this Canid is broken yet the form here can still use work, allbeit, this is an older work. What creates the most stunning effect however, is the intensity of the difference in shade between the shading itself, the fur color, the cool negative space, and the intense eyes. The eyes are a dark crimson, with white pupils. It generates a feeling of a deeper meaning, maybe rage in some, anger in others, but besides the fact it is an artistic opinion of interpretation, the eyes set this piece apart. The eyes force the viewer to take in the tendrils and inky splotches around it, the eyes however also create a uniqueness with the subject and it is this I find most interesting. All in all, the shading is good, the coloring is good, I would work on the hips, the tendrils and splotches are good, the drastic change from white fur to red eyes is a keeper, and additionally, the overlaying fog effect water color has on the art further gives depth to the work.
    Basking in the sunlight. He had kept his eyes barely open, the leaking air in his helmet made him sleepy. It was cold, the stars around him were brilliantly blotted out bye the rays of the shining sun in front of him. Despite the falling temperature around his face, the warm rays filled him with comforting warmth as his breath slowly drew from him and away into the empty outer space. Tethered to a broken chunk, bent and charred hull fragments kept together by steel rope and gravity, Ivan had fallen asleep for the third time in eight hours. Being dragged away from the station he called home had lost all meaning to him, so had his life now. Knowing he was for dead calmed him more than anything else, as his air to breathe thinned. The rushing cold from the cracks in his face mask made him chill but the rays outside of his helmet blinded him and made it so that he was floating in a feathery aether of winter. His limbs were swollen and broken, feeling and pain numbed long ago by asphyxiation, they were like stone. He could see himself above the orbit of Mars, the red planet came slowly into view as his tunnel vision afforded him only one last breath before looking down at the crimson magnificence below. The air pressure around him was still enough to carry his tears from his eyes. He cried but it was muffled. He had thought of his son, his family, his dog, and the Earth he left behind, beautiful and green. Long gone were they. He had remembered  the plans he had for himself, all the things he wanted to say and do, and he remembered all the people he had wronged, and wished to right them. He screamed for god as he wailed, exasperating all of his air from his lungs as one final good bye to his life before his face mask broke open, sucking from him all of his life. He wanted to claw at his face now slowly being froze, claw at his throat, he wanted to swarm around as the extreme pain dulled his sanity, and lost consciousness. He went to sleep above Mars, far from home, never to be retrieved. As his suit gave its final signal to Earth, signalling the full haul of his heart and the horrendous distance from home he was, it gave out. Too damaged was the power supply in his back pack. As the chunk of debris Ivan was tangled too slowly curved its path into the swinging orbit of the red planet it caught on fire as re-entry vaporized everything but a small van sized chunk of metal, blazing with insane hell-fire down to the surface. 
    Sergeant Dorian watched as the bright ball of light fell slowly down to the ground, kicking up titanic upheavals of dust. He had not time for the sight seeing however, he had a duty to attend to. Kicking up a small pile of red soil, he revealed a hatch door closed and sealed with magnetic locks, he applied a small breach explosive and ushered his four other squad mates of the Australian Space Corps, Private Killian Eary, Private Second Class Harry Deacon, Colonel Marathiam Wendel, rescued from the nearby wreckage of the defunct Australian Astro Navy "Marry Sue" space cruiser, and Lieutenant Daniels Myre. The hatch burst forth inwards and the loud clang of the door handle echoed from down beneath, taking three minutes to fall until slamming into the ground and signalling back up to the crew of the ship that the corridor was a long descent. Above them the rest of the fleet hung in the sky, slamming bolts into distant enemy placements and sending thunderous havoc missile clouds into opposing vessels of alien origin, which in turn they fired mysterious beams of light that melted through the sky and cut through their targets light a bullet in the wind. Armed all but the Colonel with Steyrs, they descended one by one down strange step like ladders that occasionally cut off suddenly and forced the climber to switch to another set of ladder steps on the opposing facing wall, which this corridor had six in the shape of a hexagon. 
The enclosing blackness seemed all devouring until the armor lights on the descending men kicked on illuminating the walls around them in gloom. The air smelled of dirt and metal while they drew closer to the exit, which fell eight feet into a chamber with another door which faced them on the eastern wall. Their radios fluttered with frantic screams and other sounds of battle while the war for Mars began, earth armies skyrocketing planet fall to martian soil. Their vessel was sliced in half by one of the terrifyingly massive disc weapons employed by this unknown enemy. Only it was a week ago from that day that the Martian colonies went quiet, and the Colonel speculated that this chance encounter with the construct they were climbing through was an enemy installation. 
Their hand radios flickered for assistance, all of them switching automatically to a close unit within the range of their own. Below them two klicks directly. 
    "Request for reinforcements to alpha sector granted, Vessel Marry Sue stand bye for secure platoon, all survivors take positions within vessel, all land forces direct attention to defense of your positions."
As the Colonel picked his radio up and brought it to his mouth a flurry of confirmations spattered across the entire channel, hundreds of segments, units, platoons, and armies complying to orders. The last thing the Colonel heard before the radio died was a dying breath uttering what seemed to be a dead man's goodbye.
"Wilco."
  • Listening to: Trevor Freeman - Waves
Battle in the woods
A seen from an RPG I was playing with some friends one night and decided to recreate a scene that I remember vividly.
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I am currently working on a big project. Sorry for my lack of submitting new content. 
INTRO

It was arctic and rainy and foggy. The wintry cold of the night air exhaled a grave chill as the dusty moonlight poured down calm solace on weary night travellers going home that could still muster some modicum of energy to peer up at the dim gazing beacon that was the moon above. Cool sea air rich with salt and the scent of city poured into the valley from the coast. The clouds charged forward from watery places to cover the land and obscure the star’s melancholic facets, and from which the beginning of winter awoke with a silent yawn. An amazing metropolis gleamed brilliantly like neon through a rain spattered window like great spectacles of spectral auras of green and blue flecked with polka-dots of red, titian, saffron, and orpiment. Brightly lit arc beams of advertisement lamps shining onto the clouds above swayed illuminating the misty air making it dance as the water crystals melted from the warm touch of the light, making them illuminate brilliantly for a few seconds before disappearing forever. This city, so great and wide in its hundreds of miles  and millions of peoples, in its many leagues of length and width, glowed like glossy phosphorescence against the world as an unending twilight clashing with the neptunian mantle about it. The sea swallowed this light almost as if it were food. This city did not only confine itself to the realm its hoisted, earth-shackled anchors clung to for architectural and arcological support, for great towering beam-held mega highways that carried thousands of lanes in and out of the city spanned into the clouds and above, and from it roared the constant siege of traffick, foreign and domestic. The city was Tchremados, on the great but lonely world of Fulden, the white sanded and snow swept steppe land which its denizens only knew of as home. City life was encumbered with loud rushing vehicles and float-buses, air-engines and railway platforms, fast paced thinking and moving crowds blitzing in and of chaotic dins of crossway support plazas and sky paths, one had to be a faster individual to exist here. It was a concrete and neon jungle, a densely populated forest of ancient temples, eroding buildings and shopping centers, office pillars and decaying, bricked off wooden fossils of the past lay deep underneath the sprawling mega forrest of city above, laden with the poor living inside old and crumbling ancient structures falling apart around them at the bottom, within dug out rooms of clay and iron and brick, they although making up the majority of Tchremados, were forgotten under the headless rush of the modern world above them, burying them into the mud below. It was a crime world. It was a damp city, for its placement near the ocean, built directly out of ancient fishing wharfs and sail docks. A city of sin. Here collected at the refined and clean top layers lay the sophisticated people, aristocrats, bankers, social and government workers, clerks, and others who profited off of the hard labor of the blue collar and those who existed in the middle layers, they who worked hellish hours and under poor conditions. Massive corporations that specialized in prosthetic enhancements, cybernetic upgrade applications, and other mechanical engineering dominated the world of fashion and cosmetics. Skyscraper farms  covered the majority of the area providing ample supply of untainted and unprocessed organic food only the most wealthy could afford. Green roofed libraries larger than the greatest of arenas, containing a nie-infinite source of worldly knowledge, lined great causeways and highways providing all those who could afford membership private access to world and the city’s history, meeting rooms, ballrooms, and assortments of all private and selfish services. There were gigantic boarding and public schools for all ages, of whome were the utmost privilege and opulent, and humongous upper-productories churning out the sleekest and most expensive goods on the planet, from cars to bionics to weaponry to packaged food and all sorts of devices these corporations worked ceaselessly. Greater Manor-apartments and comb-housing districts lined the upper atmosphere with the wealthy and upper class, the poor had no place here.

And so, there was crime. The momentous troy of lawbreakers whose numbers were so awesome that trying to comprehend the task of catching them all would the break the soul of any grown man. Will was the driving force behind Tchremados, not logic nor compassion. It was every man for himself, and there were only few, grouped into such minute corps, that it took all their time and energy and effort to at least enforce the law against one fifth of the city’s criminals. It was obvious to tell who was who in the bottommost layers, but when bringing justice came to the upper layers of Tchremados, it became a difficult quest, and so it was not focused on, simply for the reason that those who employed law enforcement too were hired by the corporations. But there was the Urban Defenders Ward, and the rest of larger law-keeping organizations, to quell crime, and bring justice, or what little of it mattered to the world. Their job was a thankless one, one they would go unsung and unremembered for. But they held off the tide of chaos, inch by inch, life for life.


  • Listening to: Trevor Freeman - Waves

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Caleb R. Tackett
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I am Caleb Tackett, I am a hobby writer, and I enjoy writing Grimdark Science Fiction and Fantasy. I am currently attending college and am searching for a job. I am Odinist. I enjoy heavy metal, black metal, folk and pagan music in general, and I like to cook. One of my other hobbies is miniature painting and my focused subject in that area is Warhammer 40,000 miniatures and Warhammer Fantasy miniatures. I enjoy sketching and painting as side hobbies also, mainly vehicles, weaponry, armor, and nature scenes. I like reading dark literature and I enjoy political and scientific debate. Some of my favorite authors are Arthur Desmond, Cormac McCarthy, and Ray Bradbury.

-7/11/98-
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:iconmana-ramp-matoran:
Mana-Ramp-Matoran Featured By Owner Feb 20, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the :+devwatch: :wave:
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:iconblackvoidofspace:
BlackVoidofSpace Featured By Owner Feb 20, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Of course!
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:icon3wyl:
3wyl Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello! :wave:

:iconprojectcomment: has been an active group for seven years to help support artists like you, so welcome to our group! :heart:

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:iconblackvoidofspace:
BlackVoidofSpace Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you very much!
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:icon3wyl:
3wyl Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Let me know if you have any questions, suggestions, concerns or anything else! :D
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:iconblackvoidofspace:
BlackVoidofSpace Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
got it!
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Bernardumaine Featured By Owner Edited Jan 31, 2017  Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you for watching and  faving !
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:iconblackvoidofspace:
BlackVoidofSpace Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
of course!
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