#gilded bookmarks

[halfhumanhalfasleep]

hey y'all have some art

[themelodyofspring]

Sleepy Readathon - Week 4

Behold! I have acquired a magic item for my reading slump-itis ✨ It's worked 2 days in a row. Hope it stays effective foreverrrr!

[aroaessidhe]

bookmark collection 11/?

daisy chains bookmark by hollydunndesign with a psalm for the wild-built & the oleander sword

[soupskull]

hnnnmg it’s here

[dragon-ascent]

A reminder that Zhongli canonically forged weapons during times of war; in other words, he's an expert blacksmith. Of course, he only used his prowess in smithing weaponry out of sheer necessity - and now that Liyue is at peace, he no longer needs to craft such powerful munitions meant purely to vanquish.

So, he now chooses to forge things for you.

The jade ring you wear was actually personally fashioned by Zhongli's own hands - he wanted his proposal to you to be perfect, after all. His smile while carefully shaping the ring was full of hope and love, and he was more than elated to reap the reward as you happily accepted becoming his beloved partner.

He likes to craft you special jewellery imbued with adeptal energy, so that no matter how far apart you may be, he'll always be able to sense and protect you. (That, and you'll always be elegantly fashionable. Only the prettiest for his darling.)

When you once complained to him about how frail your paper bookmarks were, he presented to you a few days later a beautiful bookmark of handmade steel. Its intricate patterns detailing stories of their own were enough to bring any bookworm to their knees.

A lot of his other gifts are handmade too - the man who once crafted swords, bows, and spears now makes you exquisite candle-holders, little sculptures of you and him, heart-shaped trinkets with your initials, and even gilded flowers that will never wilt, a symbol of his everlasting devotion.

You can find him on a free day out at the smithy, sweat illuminating his bare golden-veined arms, biceps flexing with each precise strike of the metal as his eyebrows slant in concentration. The melodious clang! of his hammer upon his handiwork is both tender and powerful.

This god, once a blacksmith for war, has now become a blacksmith for love - and he would have it no other way.

[swordsmans]

Behold! My longest bind yet! Which is saying something, really. I began typesetting an anthology of @thychesters incredible zolu fics sometime last fall, printed the textblock in February, and finished the case... well, that's between me and god. Life happens! This was an unexpectedly tricky bind and I hope I did the gorgeous fics inside (and @loopeyfluff / @fluffyartbl0g's lovely fanart) justice!!

The cover is made of nine pieces, not including bookboard. I wanted VERY badly for the case to be entirely flush while still having an old-school layered appearance, so what you're actually looking at is filled blue fabric, a layer of white printed + foiled cardstock cut to lay against the corners, and then a layer of extremely thin translucent marbled paper with both the corners and negative space for the "labels" carefully cut out.

In order to gild the manga panel edit (taken from Sunny's introduction, btw) I printed and cut the cardstock, but before i glued it onto the bookboard i used washi tape, heat-reactive foil, and an iron (i'm cheap!) to carefully foil the parts that I wanted. This was my first time using proper toner-adhering heat reactive foil, and it was definitely a learning curve. I did lots of tests (sooo many foiled stickers. so many) and had a fun time. I'll definitely be using it in the future!!

After the layers of paper and fabric were pressed, I used metallic HTV to hide the seams and title the spine. It's a very neat effect, I think.

The edges of the textblock are also layered, with two coats of matte acrylic (pastel blue and green respectively) and one coat of green shimmer. The shimmer coat acts like a kind of sealant for the matte paints, so I didn't need to break out the beeswax this time. This was also one of the first sets I did with my guillotine (I cut it with Conquering and Spill Your Wine), which was an experience in and of itself.

I used white endbands and a 5mm white silk ribbon (looped this time; learned my lesson), then topped the bookmark off with a gold anchor charm. The textblocks are sewn with teal and green thread. And oh! And the endsheets are a teal, blue, green, and gold marble that's absolutely to die for—and kept staining everything blue the minute it touched moisture! Totally worth it though.

The typeset is my most colorful, I think. I went pretty heavy on the ocean themes because Kate has a really distinct pattern for her titles, and I wanted the book to follow!! I'm very pleased with how it turned out, and also endlessly delighted that Kate proofread her own typeset. That was very fun, hehe.

All in all, I think this was a very successful project despite the endless delays, and the final books look exactly like I pictured. I happy to send them to their new homes!! <3

[layaart]

Bookish Art Giveaway 4 Gaza

25-31 May

This week is supporting Dima and her family, including four children under 4 and her mother who needs medical care. Their home and business were destroyed and they've been displaced multiple times, and need to get to safety.

This week's prize pack is all of my old book spine bookmarks & metallic gilded bookshelf stickers. Go in the draw to win by:

donating at least $5 to this gofundme (or last week's)

upload your receipt in this form

in a week I’ll randomly pick one winner & start a new one. thanks!

This Giveaway has now ended

[brinkworth]

One of my favourite binds we've ever done - back when we were dinosaurs by @kaaaaaaarf

@marley1031 and I have been planning this bind for a long time. I think I'd read one chapter of this lovely story before I had ideas churning in my head over what the design could look like. Karfy's writing is so vivid and full of detail that we were almost overwhelmed with inspiration.

This was our first time doing a design that wrapped around the entire cover, but this dinosaur skeleton was the perfect place to try it.

For the end paper inside, we were able to find a recreation of the Blockbuster poster that was referenced in the fic, based on Karfy's post with photos!

The edge gilding is near impossible to photograph, but the rose gold color complemented the espresso foil on the front so well.

For the bookmark we recreated the framed birth of a calf print that Remus gifts Sirius in the fic- complete with a real wood frame, acetate for glass, and a little dinosaur charm.

The biggest of thanks to Karfy for sharing this story! It was so fun and heartwarming watching these two nerds fall in love.

And a huge thank you to every friend of hers who helped make this bind special by writing love notes for us to include! You are all the best.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 7 all chapters

I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by turns; it was one I chiefly delighted in.

–Jane on Mr. Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

-It's no real mystery, why you dig out your beloved old copy of Jane Eyre. From the early 1900s, it had seen better days when you’d scored it in the local used book store, many years ago. You’d been a teenager then—and those days were long behind you. It seems you never outgrew your liking of a dark and broody anti-hero.

It’s safer to read about it though, than pursue the real thing.

Lately every time Mr. Wick comes into the shop you feel slightly agitated, as though you don’t quite fit into your own skin. You remember the sensation of his fingertips on yours, like a burn.

Mr. Wick sees you reading your tattered novel on your break, but doesn’t comment. You’ve seen him with old classics in hand and reckon he must be something of an aficionado.  

You put it away in your shoulder bag in the back after the break.

The next day, it’s gone.

You know you left it in your bag. Where the fuck could it have gone? Why would someone fucking steal it?

A couple of weeks later, it reappears on the counter by the register you favor.

You hardly recognize it at first, for it has received an encompassing makeover. It has new leather covers with gorgeous embossed gold lettering, and marbled end papers, and the tattered thread of the binding repaired. There are gilded arabesques on the spine and delicately drawn climbing flowers on the cover. You wouldn’t have even thought it the same book, if not for the intricately printed title page unique to your edition, with an old pencil mark in the corner you recognize.

Such a restoration would have cost a fortune.

You knew, because you’d looked into it.  

Further compounding the mystery, there is a beautiful jacquard embroidered ribbon bookmark inside. It’s on the page where Rochester has sat Jane down in the arbor, and is telling her that she has rejuvenated him from his unhappy existence without actually admitting anything, asking in the most roundabout way possible if it would be so very bad to take a second wife who would make him a new man, while his first is still living, the big idiot.

“Is the wandering and sinful, but now re-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world’s opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?”

Jane tells him, of course, that a man shouldn’t base his redemption on another person, but within himself. You are not sure you would have had the strength to speak so frankly to a man you secretly loved.

Well, maybe you would.

You are utterly mystified by the whole thing, to say the least.

But later, you are browsing the local book store, and the owner is reading Anna Karenina in what looks like freshly bound leather. The style looks familiar.

“Did you have that restored?” you ask, feeling like Nancy Drew hot on the trail of a fresh lead.

“Yeah, that new guy in town, John Wick did it for me. He says he’s just a hobbyist, but he does amazing work. Usually you have to send off to Florence for quality like this, seriously. It’s a dying art.”

Darren lets you look at the book, and you are impressed by the craftsmanship.

The spine decoration matches yours. There is a plate in the back that proclaims: Bound by John Wick.

The sneak.

You are touched to the tips of your toes, your heart filled with butterflies. Was the bookmark purposely left on that page, or just a random placement?

You hardly dare hope, and tell yourself it’s an invention of your own fancy. The gift of the book is magnificent enough. No need to further muddle things with secret communications that aren’t really there.

The next day you approach Mr. Wick’s table with hands on your hips, affecting annoyance. “You stole my book.”

He actually has the grace to look sheepish about it, casting those lovely dark eyes downwards.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. I really love it.” It’s the understatement of the century.

He looks up through his hair, the surprised sparkle in his eyes taking your breath away. Suddenly, he looks ten years younger.  

“Yeah?”

The corners of your mouth twitch. This man speaks like he’s paying five cents per word, you swear. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me you bind books?”

He just shrugs, and you cannot help but laugh.

“I’ve never owned anything so fine. Thank you, truly.”

��He nods again, and you sense that you’re maybe making him uncomfortable with your gratitude. You suspect it’s not why he did it at all.

“Will you show me sometime? How you do it?”

There is a flash of something dark in his eyes before he turns his attention back down to his own book. It feels like dismissal, but you have no idea what he’s hiding underneath it all.

Still waters run deep.

“Anytime you want,” he offers as you turn to go.  

You smile at him over your shoulder as you go back to your station, a secret lightness fluttering in your heart. On your break you flip through your refurbished book once more, taking even more pleasure in it knowing that John poured over every detail of it. You don’t know much about bookbinding or leather work, but you suspect he freehanded the little flowers on the front, and that moves you to your toes.

You flip to one of your favorite scenes because you find it so funny, when Jane puts out the fire that nearly burned Rochester up in his sleep, because undoubtedly he’d drank too much earlier to easily rouse, the lovesick scoundrel. Afterwards he doesn’t want her to leave but can’t outright keep her in his room without behaving an absolute blackguard.

“Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look.”

You cannot help but glance up at your tall dark bookworm in the corner, an aching warmth spreading in your heart for the sight of his furrowed brow, his concentration (you think) focused on the tome in his hands.

You know you are a ridiculous thing.

[leezlelatch]

Petrichor - Part I

Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader - fluff, rainy days, burgeoning friendship Terzo is feeling introspective on a rainy day. Perhaps he doesn’t have to spend it alone?

“What do you think Terzino, eh? Should Papa play tonight?” Terzo watches with a lazy smile as the tuxedoed cat jumps from his perch on the window to settle into his lap. Long fingers stroke delicately through plush fur as he heaves a sigh. “You will be getting hair on my pants, you rascal.”

Terzino blinks slowly, a rumble starting deep in his throat the more Terzo gives him attention. The cat’s nails dig into Terzo’s leg as the little thing gets more comfortable, the man giving a small grimace but making no move to push the cat off. “You know, I am thinking I am getting old.” Terzo glances down at the cat and scoffs. “Ah, do not try to argue. I have more grey hair than I can keep up with.“ He lifts a hand to his neck, his fingers brushing the soft, loose skin. “And may have to consider turtle necks.”

Terzino stands and stretches, his little body shivering, before turning and lying toward Terzo’s knee, facing away from him. “Ah, Terzino, if you turn from me too, I will not know what to do,” Terzo sighs, lifting a hand to drag his fingers through his wavy, black hair. “The Siblings, they like the power. What little I have of it, ha. But one can close their eyes and think of someone else. Do they think of someone else?” His brow furrows, and he glances out the arched window, eyes scanning the manicured lawn. “Perhaps I should take up gardening like il mio fratello.”

He glances down amusedly. “Sì, you are right, amico. I am far too much of a masochist to change my ways now.”

Terzo carefully picks the cat up and places him down, standing from his desk and swatting at his pant leg until most, but not all, of the cat hair is gone. The tinkle of Terzino’s bell sings through the room as he trots away, perhaps to play with one of Copia’s little companions. Terzo places his hands on his hips, looking out the window once more. “I think it is going to rain.”

ᰔᩚ

It was luck, finding this place. The way his shoes clack against old stone, the gilded candle holders on the corridor walls covered in wax from wicks long burnt. Stained glass of varying shades of purple, red, blue, and green. There were some renovations made when the Clergy first purchased the building half a century ago. Cracks filled in the walls, ceilings reinforced, foundation repaired, but they ultimately chose to maintain its old warm charm. This place may have a Catholic history, but Terzo did not view that as bad, or something needing to be cleansed. There was an energy in these old walls, full of the stories of residents long passed who prayed, and hoped, and dreamed for a better tomorrow. It would not do, he thinks, to forget that. No matter if their god was above or below.

The corridor leading from his office transitioned into a breezeway, four pillars covered in the delicate drawings of one of their more artistic Siblings opened into one of the inner courtyards. A perfect place to watch the rain. A crack of thunder rolls across the sky, and Terzo glances up at the swirling clouds, leaning his shoulder against painted vines. It seems, however, that he would not be alone with his thoughts this storm.

You sit on a stone bench just under the roof, your legs pulled up, arms resting on your knees as you hold a cup of tea in your hands. There’s an open book at your feet, and Terzo catches a glimpse of a few words which makes him arch a brow. “Hello,” he says, his accent curling around the words. “You know, I have heard it be called very dirty words, but never ‘velvet wrapped steel.’ That is a new one.”

You glance up, your lips quirking in a half smile. You cross your legs and lean forward, setting your bookmark between the pages and closing your book. “Sort of makes you feel like you’re grabbing a stick shift in an old car.”

Terzo pauses for a moment, just looking at you, before he tilts his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh, dragging out the final note with a shake of his head as he leans forward. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue. “That is very funny. Yes. Well, sometimes it is like handling a stick shift. Satan forbid you stall.”

“Pfft,” you snort and shake your head, your smile growing. You glance up at the sky as another rumble of thunder echoes overhead. Pinpricks of rain dot the ground, ever so slowly increasing. “Come to watch the rain, Papa?”

“It appears we had the same idea,” he nods, watching intently as the rain flicks the leaf of a plant growing in the little garden some of the Siblings tend to. “Perhaps you intended to watch the rain alone?”

“I intended,” you say, tilting your head a little as you regard him with a curious air. “But this is better.” Terzo glances back at you, his heavy brow slanting down. He takes a few steps toward you, slow and deliberate. You take a moment to glance over him, appreciating the slacks, loose black button up, and the brocade evening jacket draped over his shoulders.

“Better how?” He asks, his voice genuinely curious. “And what is that look for, eh? Admiring Papa?” It wasn’t just a superficial question. She could see his face, a rare sight without the paint, the lines deepening around his mouth. His strangely beautiful eyes burn into yours and you understand that he’s serious. It isn’t playful banter.

“I don’t get to talk to you,” you answer truthfully, sincere in the small smile you give him. “Your attention is usually taken, and I understand that there are more Siblings in this building than clergy. You can only get to so many people.” His frown deepens, and you continue. “So it’s nice. It’s nice to talk to you. I want to watch the rain with you.”

“Cara mia, you can request time, you know this, sì? I have office hours. Please do not be thinking you cannot come to me,” Terzo talks with his hands, his fingers waving in the air, punctuating his words. He looks so concerned, his body angled toward you, features twisted in worry.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head as you adjust on the bench. “I’m okay, Papa, really. I just mean I can’t come by to say hello, or make an appointment only to chat.”

“Why not?” Terzo shoulders rise and fall and he stands with one foot forward, hands on his hips. “You are more than welcome to come and say hello. Antichristus, and here I was thinking I come on too strong. Unless, that is the problem?” He looks at you, and you have to smile from the sheer befuddlement on his face. But you can tell, also, that he’s hurt. And that doesn’t make you feel good either.

“No. Papa-“

“Terzo,” he corrects you, sitting down at the end of the bench next to your feet. He rests his hands on his legs and gives you his full attention, and it’s altogether exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You’ve never spoken to a Papa like this, for this long, outside of anything that really has to do with your duties or other Ministry matters. It makes you blush, and Terzo takes notice, leaning a little closer to watch the pink pass over your cheeks with great interest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I would explain if you let me get a word in,” you say, not unkindly, your lips pulled into a gentle smile. Terzo chuckles to himself and nods, waving a hand in your direction, and then he pinches his fingers and pulls them across his lips in a zipping motion. “Thank you,” you continue lightly, laughing. “What I mean to say is, yes, I’m nervous. And it’s not for reasons you think. I don’t think you’re unapproachable. I don’t think you would show me any unkindness or give me reason to believe you aren’t totally invested in what I have to say.”

Your eyes pass over his face, taking in his dark features, and you briefly wonder why he doesn’t wear his paints less. His face is aging to be sure. Pocked and marked and wrinkled, but he is so expressive. So soft in the curve of his mouth. The way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. His white eye, meant to be intimidating, reminds you of freshly fallen snow. The warmth of a cup of hot chocolate on a winter’s day near Yule. It was truly beautiful, and you realize you’ve stopped talking.

But Terzo doesn’t move. He doesn’t prompt you to continue, he just stares back. The rain falls around you in heavy drops, a steady stream that wets the ground and mists your faces as it bounces off the stonework.

“I think I would fool myself into thinking that we could be friends,” you finish, your voice soft, caught in some kind of new understanding, a breath of realization. Terzo tilts his head very slightly, and he pulls in a sigh.

“Friends,” he murmurs, as if the word is foreign to him. His eyes fall away from yours and he focuses on nothing as he processes your words. And then he’s looking back at you and smiling, and it only occurs to you then that you’ve never quite seen his smile reach his eyes the way it does now. “Not many peoples wish to be my friend, dolcezza.”

“You are very frequently surrounded by people.”

“Yes, but what is that saying, eh? You can be in a room of people and still be alone. I am an old man, as much as I cover this face,” he gestures to himself. “Or dye my hair. I have my brothers, sì, but they are not so understanding at times. It has been many years since I have had someone who I can talk to as Terzo and not as Papa.”

“Someone your own age?” You ask quietly, expecting rejection.

His lips soften. “Not necessarily.”

You smile, and look out over the courtyard as thunder once more cracks overhead. The scent of rain and wet soil fills your nostrils, and you feel very at peace. For a moment your heart is full sitting next to this man. “I’m a Sibling, and I know I’m supposed to act a certain way around my authority figures. But sometimes when you’re giving a sermon, or I see you at events, or feast days, I just want to know if you think the potato salad is as delicious as I do, or if you wished whoever was in charge of the playlist would stop, for the love of all that’s unholy, playing Cruel Summer.” You laugh, and Terzo laughs with you. “I want to know who you are, and I don’t know if that’s okay.”

Terzo taps your shoe with an amused smile, and he looks happy. He looks like you just told him he won the lottery, his eyes sparkling with a kind of glee. “You know, just this morning I was talking to Terzino about this very thing. He said I should be more open. Open to change, which I scoffed at. Papa cannot change, not now. Not so late in his life, yeah? But…” He reaches a hand out into the pouring rain, watching the water cascade over his skin. “Rain renews. And I think I am ready for something new.”

He brings his hand back in, and grasps yours, a few droplets falling between you onto your closed book. “It is more than okay, amica. Now, tell me about this smut.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers sliding over his slick skin. You smile. “Your cat talks to you?”

Terzo pinches the top of your hand and you gasp, swatting at him. He laughs, low in his throat, a wild brow arching. “Shush.”

[rainbowcaleb]

FICLET FRIDAY: My Flowerhaired Prince

Prompt: long hair Essek | Pairing: Shadowgast | Rating: T | Wordcount: 811 | CW: none

A trio of wind chimes ring in Caleb’s head. He puts his hand on the page of his book, and looks towards the front hall. The afternoon sun is low enough in the sky that the floor is confettied with colored splashes from the stained glass inset on the door. He watches and waits. There’s a shuffling against the door, but no secondary alarm goes off. Caleb lets out his breath and returns to his book. He’s borrowed it from Veth and it’s long past due to return to her. Apparently she’s trying to start a bookclub with Jester and this is their first pick. He smiles to himself; The Gale and the Raven is a rather raunchy pick, but he can see the appeal. The descriptions are lovingly, explicitly, detailed.

The door opens and Caleb turns his page. Only a rare few know where he lives, and even rarer who have a key. It has been seven years and his anxieties, while not gone, slumber like a cat in a sunbeam more often than they roar.

“Caleb, I’m back.” It’s Essek, because of course it is. He lives here, comfortably settled into life with Caleb, three cats, and friends who come and go whenever they are in town.

“How was the market?” Caleb calls out. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no, it’s all in one basket. Ah, darling, you won’t believe how ripe the plums are right now. Mister Aplinn was kind enough to set aside a carton for me, which proved fortuitous as Jester’s pastry errand took a while first.”

Caleb finishes up his page and picks an envelope off the endtable to use as a bookmark. It’s the outside of the wedding invitation from Jester and Fjord, the contents of which he’s memorized.

“How is Jester? Did you send along my regrets? The problem with teaching isn’t the students, it is always the endless meetings—” Caleb stops talking. Essek has just entered the room. “Oh.”

Essek raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” He starts towards the kitchen to unload his basket. Caleb practically throws the book onto his seat and goes to follow him.

“Essek, you look…” Caleb feels completely tongue tied. Yes, he saw Essek just this morning, early sunlight through peachy curtains making his bare skin glow against the covers of their shared bed. But Essek has returned looking different.

“Yes, ah, well you see Jester is practicing.” There’s a hint of color starting to dust across his cheeks.

Caleb raises his hands and cups those warm cheeks and turns Essek to face him. “For the wedding?”

“Yes.” Essek holds his gaze. “Do you like it?”

“Dear, you look lovely.” Caleb can’t help but twist a finger around one of the curls that has fallen across Essek’s forehead. Jester has taken full advantage of the new shoulder length growth, braiding a crown of hair around his head and leaving the rest to gently fall in waves. Intermingled with the braids are fresh flowers; dainty pink, spring green, and blue petals frame Essek’s face like gilding surrounding a fine painting.

“Jester didn’t have a mirror, but I did try and glance in a shop window. It’s not really me, I would say, but—” Essek pauses, and Caleb can sense the words tumbling until smooth. “It is something new.”

It warms Caleb’s heart, and he can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to Essek’s smiling mouth. “If you wear this to the wedding, it is only fair that you braid my hair too. We should match.”

Standing this close together Caleb can practically see a sparkle in Essek’s eyes at the suggestion. “Yes, yes, a very good idea. But you can’t wiggle this time. It’ll ruin your hair.”

Caleb pouts. “When do I wiggle?”

Essek reaches up and threads his hand through Caleb’s hair, tugging a little as he goes. Caleb leans into his touch immediately, barely stifling a humming moan.

“See?” Essek kisses his neck, now handily bared as Caleb leans to his side. “You like it too much.”

“That simply means we need to practice, get it out of my system so to speak.” Caleb slides his arms down and around Essek, pulling him flush against him. “Good news, my evening plans are wide open. Shall we begin?”

“Caleb!” Essek does not pull away, but his tone is all playful admonishment. “But the food needs to be put away, the plums…”

Essek should have seen it coming. Caleb tugs him tighter, palming his backside in the process.

“Yes, the plum, which I have right now.”

That earns him a yank of his hair, but Caleb’s reaction is all reward, not punishment. Essek kisses the tip of his nose.

“Fine, you win. But you are making dinner afterwards.”

“Whatever you say, my flower haired love, now let me take you to bed.”

[snek-panini]

It's been a month since Binderary ended but I've still got books to share! This is @worse0mens's (hi!) wonderful Good Omens series, The Blossom Realm, which starts with Omens of Another Kind. This is very much a longtime favorite of mine, an AU with a really compelling combo of worldbuilding and characterization. This is a believable grand romance that's also a court drama and a fairy tale, and it's really long (the full series is about 220k words) so it will keep you reading for a long time. This is one of the fics I learned bookbinding for, and it was the first really long fic that I typeset (and redid once I learned more about typesetting). It's been a long road but it was so worth it.

More photos under the cut!

Couple of photos of the spines. The series doesn't divide easily, with one very long work, one medium-length one, and several shorter pieces. The main story is nearly 200k on its own, the longest single volume I've ever made (about 500 pages), and I was worried about it getting too unwieldy, so I put all the other works into their own volume of about 100 pages. They make a disparate set but I love them. The cover is done in skiver green faux leather from Hollander's; I've never worked with this brand before but I loved it, and one sheet was big enough to do both books. The titles are done in cricut brand gold foil htv. There were some issues with that, as I'd bought a multi-pack with a few different colors and only found out after applying the front cover graphics on both books that one, I didn't have enough to do the backs and spines; two, that the gold in that pack is a totally different color than the gold they sell on its own; and three, that no one in my area stocked it anymore and I had to order it from Europe. Here's what the back looks like:

It's the same graphic as the front but without the title in the center, and it's one of the fanciest backs I've ever done and it took forever to weed all those little cutouts. The graphic was free to use on rawpixel. The font I used on the spines and front is a basic Microsoft font called Harrington that worked incredibly well on the cricut, even at small sizes; a lot of basic fonts are too thin, especially fancy ones, so this was a delightful surprise.

Photo of the top, with ribbon bookmark and handmade double core endbands. The endbands didn't come out as well as I'd have liked; they're a little uneven and the color changes aren't that evenly spaced. Double core ones are harder than I expected and I need more practice. The endpapers are chocolate silk moire, and I chose them because there's a very important massive tree in the fic and I thought they looked like wood grain. I did a little experimenting with the shorter volume that's visible around the edges of the endpaper. I wanted gilded edges but the longer book had to be rounded, and I thought I'd try paint instead of foil since I don't know how to foil a curved edge. But I did my experiments on the smaller volume and I couldn't get good coverage, so the edge had to be trimmed off. The watered-down paint had leaked into the edge of the silk moire too far for me to trim, so it's still there. But it's kind of pretty, so I'm going to call it an aesthetic choice.

The title pages are the same, with free graphics from rawpixel. I got lucky and found a similar set of roses that I used for the chapter headers:

These had to be positioned by hand for each chapter so they'd fit around the text properly. It was a pain but they look so pretty. The final photo contains a story spoiler, so proceed with caution if you don't want that:

The scene break image in both volumes is this tiny snake. This was one of the first aesthetic choices I made for the books. A lot of the plot is centered around a prophecy about a monster snake that everyone thinks will destroy the kingdom, and of course in the manner of Good Omens fic it's a wildly inaccurate misinterpretation and not a threat at all. I wanted something like this because the snake is not only non-threatening but it's been here the entire time and there was never any reason to freak out about it. It was surprisingly difficult to find a snake image that was both simple enough to still be clear at this size and also didn't look dangerous or like a cartoon character. I looked at so many snakes before I found this one, it's ridiculous.

And that's it! I hope the author likes it (and remembers me since I asked to do this almost a year ago). There are three more binderary posts forthcoming, though I don't know how long it'll take me to get to them. It was a busy month.

[marley1031]

Wilder than Mountain Thyme by @tracingpatternswrites

I had the honor of designing the cover of Wilder than Mountain Thyme in this set done with @brinkworth!

This story had me hooked from Sirius and Remus' disastrous first meeting, to the heartwarming final words. Mal captures that feeling of longing for more and finding yourself while falling in love. I loved getting to watch Remus and Sirius overcome their assumptions and grow together.

This was our first attempt at doing layers of vinyl that required such precise placement, and I am so pleased with how it came out! I included elements of florals, foliage, and gold gilded edges to try and capture that feeling of wild magic woven so beautifully into this story.

Each book had a matching bookmark! For Wilder than Mountain Thyme I chose the leo constellation for little Leo, one of the cutest OCs I’ve ever read!

Thank you to Mal for letting us bind your lovely stories, as well as all of the friends who wrote love notes to be included in the typeset! And a big thank you to @narcissa-black-supermacy for her forward. Seeing how much this community jumped at the chance to show Mal their love was so much fun and so wonderful to see.

Check out Brinkworth’s posts for Unbound by you and Married at first sight!! As well as a surprise paperback of over blackened water.

[emeryleewho]

Hello! Today, I would like to give y'all a chance to win this special edition, gilded edge & ribbon bookmark edition of my YA trans romcom Meet Cute Diary. I need y'all to understand how *special* of a special edition this is. It is the only one that exists. I painted the edges by hand, and the art of Devin & Noah on the ribbon bookmark was commissioned from the original cover artist by me, meaning *I* am the only person who has the rights to use it. Not even my *publisher* could recreate this special edition. It can only come from me.

So how can you win it?

Donate 5 GBP or more to THIS GoFundMe to help this Palestinian family, and email me a screenshot of your donation confirmation to MCDGivesBack(@)gmail(.)com. I will pick one winner at random on May 9th. I will send the book anywhere in the world, so enter from anywhere just please understand that you need to be able to give me your mailing information to send you the book and must consent to that, and please, please boost this! Tumblr is my smallest platform, but y'all can be major beasts when you put your minds to it, so please help me help a family in need!

And if you're an author, consider hosting your own giveaway. Operation Olive Branch has a collection of vetted fundraisers, so please pick one and help motivate your readers to pitch in. This feels insurmountable, but if we all give a little, we can make a huge impact <3

[pansy-chic27213]

The Unofficial Legend of Zelda Cookbook is Back! 🌿✨🧀🍞💚

If you missed the chance to back the original Unofficial Legend of Zelda Cookbook by Aimee Woods in 2019, you now have a chance to back the 2nd Volume on Kickstarter! And this one is green! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/aimeewoodworks/the-2nd-unofficial-legend-of-zelda-cookbook

With 90+ new recipes (including vegan and gluten-free options), this sequel adds drinks and recipes from Tears of the Kingdom, with the possibility of adding recipes from the upcoming Echoes of Wisdom! The standard edition is $39, while the master edition is $69. Kickstarter backers also get a digital version of both volumes, giving you access to hundreds of recipes, menus, cooking techniques, and more!

The value of backing the Kickstarter instead of waiting to buy this later is that you can help unlock additional recipes and bonuses. Since the Kickstarter was posted this morning, it’s already reached more than $50k (since I checked an hour ago), unlocking several stretch bonuses! If you’re interested, you have until August to participate. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/aimeewoodworks/the-2nd-unofficial-legend-of-zelda-cookbook

When I backed the original Kickstarter in 2019, I received a beautiful Master Edition with faux leather cover, gold and silver embossing, ribbon bookmarks, gilded pages, and a beautiful signature page. The recipes I’ve tried have been delicious and accessible, and my family and friends beg me to make Aimee’s milk tea recipe for our get-togethers and events. See some pictures below!

I promise I won't spam post about it this time, lol.

[fearandhatred]

what are your favorite good omens fics??

WOO REC TIME thank u for asking!! you may want to ask again after i've finished my resolution of reading all my mutuals' fics though because i've barely had the time to read anything these past few months... so i don't have much bookmarked lol but here are a few anyway! (from earliest read to most recent)

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mourning doves by sleepyimpulse (Words: 22,686 Chapters: 7/7)

“I’m sorry,” he registered himself saying between heaving sobs. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please, please forgive me.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he knew the words were all wrong (he would never find the right ones). But the pain was coming at him in every direction and something, something had to give, and so he clung to Crowley like a life preserver. Crowley bent his body over Aziraphale’s and slowly, surely, pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead. “I can’t,” he whispered, and Aziraphale went unconscious. (Aziraphale falls, post season 2)

this was one of the very first good omens fics i read and one thing about me is i LOVE this type of angst. so so good and such a nice exploration of crowley's struggle with what forgiveness is. gorgeous and so angsty. have i said that already. angst galore

say yes to me (i've got my eye on you) by thehappyyears (Words: 11,983 Chapters: 1/1)

It’s a pleasant evening much like many pleasant evenings this month, so Crowley doesn’t expect anything unusual when he makes himself comfortable on his side of the couch and lets Aziraphale select the wine. Which is why he’s resolutely caught off guard when Aziraphale disappears into a backroom, which Crowley always assumed was a wine cellar, and then turns around, darkness behind him and low, warm light gilding his hair and making his eyes bright. He’s breathtaking, he’s so beautiful, his eyes are so dark. “Crowley,” he breathes. Or, Crowley and Aziraphale have sex.

this is THE epitome of service top crowley. all hail service top crowley. also it's just so well-written and seamless. also i don't want this list to be too long so if smut is your thing then i recommend literally anything by focusfixated or zehwulf or Ineffably_Yours

Zmija by Himitsu_no (Words: 3,185 Chapters: 4/4)

He'd sigh in annoyance and hide his face in the angel's chest. "Said if they lived longer they'd have more time to become nasty and corrupted little shits, do all sorts of evil deeds and the likes. They never questioned it and went as far as warn me in advance of all the bigger natural disasters." Aziraphale would laugh and his fingers find their way into the red locks with practiced ease, and he'd bend to kiss the top of his head. "Did they do that, though? The evil deeds." Crowley would smile despite himself, eyes closed and leaning into the caress. "About a dozen, maybe. The rest were just... ordinary humans doing ordinary stuff." There'd be a long pause in which the angel would take it all in, and the demon would replay many of it in his mind with unease. Then Aziraphale would speak again, voice barely a whisper, "How long were you in Mesopotamia after the flood, my love?"

yeah i have this in my bookmarks but i have not touched it ever since i read it the first time because. it hurts me :) idk if it's because of my mommy and daddy issues but the whole crowley being good with kids tropes makes me so sad. and also this fic is just. devastating to me. i really should leave a comment but i don't want to read it again fr

when i knew love’s perfect ache by sugarskulled (Words: 1,834 Chapters: 1/1)

A demon can't touch that which has been made holy by God. Crowley knows this well as anyone. And Aziraphale? Aziraphale is so holy it burns.

this is definitely one of my favourite good omens fics of all time. angst again and so bittersweet i think about it so often

better to read and eat cake in a Soho bookshop than to reign in Hell by Kaesa (Words: 35,717 Chapters: 5/8)

When Aziraphale flees Heaven with the Book of Life, he's planned for it -- he's alerted other angels stationed on Earth to Heaven's plans, and asked them to take steps so that humans won't get caught up in the inevitable battle he faces with the other archangels. But Crowley shows up too, and he doesn't know the plan, and in the chaos Aziraphale leaps in front of a terrible blow meant for Crowley. And so, still very angry with him, Crowley must get him back to the bookshop (which is full of annoying angels) and help him heal, and try to figure out how to move past their previous fight, because, sure, he's mad at Aziraphale, but he doesn't want him to die. But soon enough it becomes clear that Aziraphale isn't necessarily dying. He is changing, and no one quite knows what to expect, because this situation has only happened once before, when Supreme Archangel Lucifer Fell and became Satan.

this fic has everything tbh and it's one i keep coming back to. the smut is great AND well-written and besides that the plot itself is so good??? the writing overall is just gorgeous tbh. slight body horror too :) the moment this updates i will be all over it like a rabid dog

Dear Angel by crowleys_bentley_and_plants (Words: 3,379 Chapters: 13/?)

A collection of emails addressed to a certain Aziraphale, found on the computer of a lonely demon.

poetic and hard-hitting and interconnected and also tells a story. through emails!! also the last lines of every chapter always knock me out lmaoo

to hold you like a bouquet by gravitron (Words: 10,676 Chapters: 1/1)

Crowley and Aziraphale, as told by history’s flowers.

can y'all read this fic oh my god i'm gonna fight everyone. so so beautifully written and well-structured. you know what i'm just gonna copy and paste part of my comment on here because yeah: i love your writing it's just. The Way Yo uWrite. The Words. your way with words. etc. and some of your sentences have a directness to them that's so effective. and the way you incorporated the flowers into every part of the story is like... so tastefully done I'm obsessed