edge gilding


Skyrim leather journal…

Full leather bound blank book is in 8" x 10" (26 x 20 cm) size and thickness around 3 inches (8 cm). Leather is hand toned and aged in dark brown color tone. The front cover plate has specially made map, surrounded with embossed frame and handmade brass corners. Central detail, Skyrim symbol has hand carved from thick leather and hardener with special bookbinder mixtures. The book block has 350 leaves (700 pages) of special, thicker, cream toned vintage paper type in 100 gsm paper weight. Paper edges are gilded and aged.


First Image: I’ve been trying to achieve something like this without using fancy gilding machines.The results are getting better but I can’t seem to perfect it because of the adhesive(size) I’m using. I have gold leaf but I prefer the red metal leaf like the one used in James Jean’s Rebus. 
image source: www.pink-e-pank.de

Second Image: After the edge gilding I’ll turn it into something like this. This one is pretty easy but I want to do the gilding first. I’ll do the bookbinding, aging, and everything.
I found this tutorial here: http://www.instructables.com/id/Harry-Potter-style-Hogwarts-Library-Spellbooks/#step0

Planning to do this on my Harry Potter, Chronicles of Narnia, and His Dark Materials books and magick manuals.

Flowershop AU

part one. this was never meant to be more than two parts, but i merged a helnik au into and now we’re here….

For Inej working at the flower shop was a rest stop on the road to something much more important. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, but the desire to do something more—be more—compelled her. 

She had an innate ambition to travel, wandering as hereditary in her family as her brown eyes. The big city lights of Ketterdam lured her from her small town—much like her coworker, Jesper. They both migrated to the city for college, each taking on jobs that consumed their leisure time to make ends meet, ending up in the same overlooked shop. They were two young adults whose friendship flourished, not because of the routine of seeing each other, but due to the fact they both felt like tiny fish in a vast, dark ocean they never belonged in. Though unlike him, she had plans to get out of the complicated net Ketterdam ended up to be. She witnessed first hand how the city sucked people in and trap them; she couldn’t allow herself to be one of them. 

She didn’t feel rooted here. Or anywhere for that matter. She would wade through Ketterdam with the same vigor she used in her other travels. Some feared getting lost, but Inej enjoyed the mystery of it, the thrill of what parts of herself she could discover each time she traveled some place new.

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Sometimes Rain Falls

Type: AU/Alternative Universe

Summary: Sometimes a normal life is a good one to lead; its nice…its easy…
But sometimes, normal isn’t the way that things were meant to be. And when you’re chosen as a possible candidate for one of the kingdom’s 7 princes, life isn’t as nice and easy as you always presumed it to be…especially when you catch the eye of more than one of them…

A/N: Part 2…revealing a lot more and confusing you more than you ever thought would be possible… ;)



Chapter 11

 ‘Y/N? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to find you since you ran off, I- Wait! Whats wrong Y/N…?’

Its an automatic instinct to let him pull you into his arms, the fear within you seeking comfort and protection from whatever had just chased you out of Hoseok’s room, and your brain seemed to identify Taehyung’s hold as just the right solution for its needs as he held you tight, murmuring reassurances and hushing to try to calm you down.

‘It was going to get me, I didn’t see it until he left, he told me I’d be safe!’ you whimper, cursing yourself for beginning to cry but finding yourself being unable to stop as you clung onto him tightly, feeling him begin to stroke your hair, but missing the way he closes his eyes to breathe in the scent of you as he props his cheek against the top of your head.

‘Calm down, beautiful, you’re alright now, you’re safe. Do you want to come to my room instead so that you can wait for Hoseok-hyung to come back?’ he murmurs, seeming to radiate warmth into your bones as he speaks and you don’t hesitate before nodding against his chest, instantly missing the feel of him surrounding you when he pulls back to guide you down the corridor to another black door.

Even though you still felt like a train was pummeling toward you with the rate your heart was beating in your chest, you still found yourself becoming curious in your observation of Taehyung’s room as he opened the door, being surprised by the reassuring brightness of it, so much so that you almost thought your vision was becoming slightly blurry with the amount of white colouring every furnishing.

‘Make yourself at home, Beautiful.’ 

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Circumstancial Luck

@astrila for you, part 2/2 :) love spell scenario finale.

The wind is cruel as it slashes at her raw and exposed skin, but still she doesn’t stop. Desperation and freedom writhe within her, whirling until they thread out through the souls of her feet and send her arcing up against the faint stars.

The metallic screech of her yo-yo is deafening as she repeats the motions. Swing and anchor and pull and release.

Her eyes look for any signs of glitter, sharply bright as she runs away from one problem and towards another.

She doesn’t know how soon Chat Noir will catch up, but she hopes she’s stunned him enough so that he won’t have time to ask questions by the time she finds the akuma.

She’s looking for gold among golden lights, her eyes are burning and her lungs are screaming, and her mind is oddly blank.

It’s no wonder she doesn’t catch the hint of glitter on her side. It’s no wonder she gets caught up in Lovestruck’s attack…a whirlwind of rose gold dust that knocks her out of the sky.

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Local demi queer looks like a manga character in those new filters

Let’s talk about girls, gladiator hearts and gilded edges. You remember sitting on a soft pink bed and it felt like the ocean, if the ocean was made of feathers and loneliness and magic and, oh, maybe the ocean is. Bubble gum pop songs and blisters and blood because we are all trying to shake out the edges of our silly wishbone limbs and become something greater than who we are. Being a teenage girl is a catastrophe, is absolution, is rapture. Being a teenage girl is what will save us – you – me, I think. I watch the girl I used to be walk down a street at night and I can’t help her anymore but maybe she can help me.
—  salvation pt. ii | m.j. pearl

etsyfindoftheday 4 | 3.19.15

theme thursday: white + gold finds

hexagon ring dish with gold by potterylodge

i’d totally go for the gold-on-white version of this ring, but i love all of the muted, feminine hues available. le sigh.

kallielefave  asked:

For the minific....E. Sharing a drink, Solavellan :)

lips that touch liquor

He hears their laughter through the walls, an echo that carries, to settle like a sigh in walls that have longed for the sound for centuries. His own, far quieter place remains just that, but he doesn’t begrudge them this moment, even if he’d rather not partake, for all of Varric’s many attempts at luring him out of his willing seclusion.

“Is this where you’ve been,” he hears her voice, the soft, familiar tones gently chiding, and he looks up to find her in the doorway. She’s in the simple garments usually reserved for her private chambers, a loose shirt and breeches, and her uncombed hair curls lovingly against her throat. In her hand she carries something, wrapped in a piece of cloth.

“Not one for card games?” Ellana asks, pushing away from the door frame to come stand beside his chair, leaning back against the desk. “It’s a shame – with the way you school your expressions, you could have us all running naked through the halls.”

She’s not touching him, the loose lines of her shoulders speaking of an ease that he’s come to know and feel himself, but her close proximity still carries a world of weight.

Solas glances up, head inclined and smile carefully inscrutable. There is something about her that prompts responses he’s much too old for. “You as well?”

He hears the near imperceptible hitch of her breath, but she’s quick to recover. “If you’d beat me,” she concedes. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, before they stretch into a smile. “It would have been quite the sight.”

This thinly veiled coquetry is not a new occurrence, but there’s something particularly daring about their exchange now. Solas allows a pause to follow at the heels of her words, before replying, still holding her gaze, “I have no doubt.”

A familiar tension shivers across the air, a dancing drum that begs and beckons. He’s stopped wondering how they come to be like this, always just out of each other’s reach, and the slow-fading memory of a dream-kiss living in the ever-shrinking space between them.

What he does wonder is what it will finally take, to swallow the distance completely.

“Have a drink with me?” she asks then, the words escaping with a breath, and the moment shudders – snaps and dissipates, like the popping hiss of a fire-spell, and leaving the same, lingering warmth. “We don’t have to play cards,” she adds, eyes twinkling.

Solas considers her where she stands, half-sitting, half-leaning on his desk, and the tell-tale, rosy flush to her cheeks. So easy to decline, and that will be all. She’ll retire to her quarters, and likely never offer anything of the sort again.

So remarkably easy, and yet–

“So long that it is not tea,” he says, and sees the relief that chases across her face, just before her cunning smile tucks it away and out of sight.

“Oh, don’t worry. This,” she declares, removing the cloth to reveal the bottle within and holding it up for him to see. A pale coloured liquid sloshes cheerfully against the glass container when she gives it a shake. “Bears no resemblance to the stuff.”

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My ‘Saturn’ card for the Light Grey Art Lab COSMOS Tarot & Oracle Deck. Every card in this 100-card deck is gorgeous, and it features gold foil and gilded edges throughout. Pick up a copy at shop.lightgreyartlab.com, and stop by the gallery in person by Nov 22nd to see these beautiful images exhibited large-scale.

Helpful Reader & Alpha Sans

               This Papyrus character seemed very sweet, but you weren’t sure if he was completely sane. He’d been talking to Miss Hart for the past half-hour, flailing his arms about as his voice boomed about the shelter. It was a large building, but not big enough to soften his words. The deer monster hushed him several times, but his volume would eventually climb back up. The quiet and shy readers had hidden themselves away in one of the doll houses in the far corner of the playpen, while the energetic and curious ones watched the skeleton excitedly. The rest of you were playing, enjoying your time before dinner and bed.

               “ARE YOU SURE?” The skeleton boomed as he was led over to the pen, looking a bit nervous. Miss Hart rolled her eyes behind his back and pushed him forward.

               “Just talk to them,” she insisted, “get to know some of them. I’m certain you can find the perfect Reader for your brother. I’ll go fill out the paperwork.”

               The tall skeleton tapped his gloved hands together and, still looking nervous, knelt beside the two-foot-high wall that separated the playpen from the rest of the store. He looked really, really uncomfortable at being so close to you all. He wasn’t the first nervous monster you all had seen, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. All the Readers that hadn’t been chased off by his boisterous attitude immediately gravitated towards him, like pins pulled by a magnet.

               “Uh, hello there, little ones!” He greeted upon realizing he had an audience. He was hilariously tall, and even kneeling down he towered over the wall. Several of them called out ‘hello’ or ‘hi’, while the rest simply waved. “I, the GREAT PAPYRUS,” his bellowing nearly blew several of the smaller Readers off their feet, “am looking for a companion for my brother!” He twitched his fingers a bit, and had he lips you were certain he would be chewing on them. When nothing more was said, a few of you shared amused expressions. Nervous, anxious monsters were always so cute when trying to speak with Readers the first time.

               “What’s your brother like?” A curious Reader piped up, urging him on with a soft smile.

               Papyrus immediately brightened up. “Oh! My brother is the best!” Literal stars appeared in his eye sockets and he hunched over to get closer to you all, arms draping over the wall so they nearly touched the floor. “His name is Sans. He’s older than me by a few years, but I’m taller,” he bragged with little-brother-pride. “He works with the Royal Scientist, Dr. W. D. Gaster, who’s also our dad.”

               The curious and intellectual Readers ‘ooh-ed’ and moved forward, eager to hear more. A few of the active ones wandered off, not interested in being with a cerebral monster over an energetic one. You stayed towards the back, listening as Papyrus went on and on about the experiments his father and brother had told him about.

               “So is science stuff all your brother does?” One of the creative readers asked.

               “Oh, no!” Papyrus laughed. “He’s a lazybones – dad says he barely does his job at work. He likes to nap a lot, or just lay around and read.” The rest of the adventurous and active types of Readers left the group, going back to scaling the plastic model of Mt. Ebott (complete with a cave system with hideaways and a fake little waterfall-esque twisty slide down one side). Papyrus didn’t seem surprised when they left – Miss Hart must have warned him about the whole ‘thinning the herd’ effect his description would have.

               “He does like jokes, though! All day long he makes puns.” The ridges above the skeletons nose cavity wrinkled. “It drives me nuts, but it makes him happy.” His voice dropped a bit at the end, and you caught a glimpse of something sad deep in his sockets.

               You stepped past the handful of Readers left and frowned up at him. “Are you okay, Mr. Papyrus?” You asked, reaching up and patting one of the boney hands hanging over the edge of the wall.

               “I am alright,” he rushed to assure you and the others, who had followed your lead and gathered closer, all having to crane your heads back to look up at him. Jeeze, he really was ridiculously tall. His smile looked a bit more strained than before. “It is simply that lately Sans has not been as happy as before.” He hung his head a bit. “I have not been able to cheer him up, and my father doesn’t have any ideas on what could be wrong. I think that he may be lonely…”

               “Awwww,” you patted his fingers again, getting his attention, “Don’t skull-k, Mr. Papyrus. You’re obviously doing a skele-TON to help your brother. I’m sure one of us can help him feel less bonely!

               Several of your fellow Readers groaned at the puns, and you shot them a guilty grin. A few of them, seeing what being around a punny skeleton all day might be like, wandered back to play with the toys. You didn’t really notice them, though – your focus was on Papyrus.

               The skeleton was staring at you with even bigger stars in his eyes than before. His jaw had dropped, and before you realized what was happening you’d been scooped up in a pair of boney hands covered in thick, red gloves. He lifted you to his beaming face.

               “You’re PERFECT! You tell the same stup – uh, the same jokes as Sans!” He gushed excitedly as he stood. You had to grab onto one of his thumbs to keep from falling on your face. He spun around and rushed to the far side of the room, where Miss Hart was sitting at her big desk, filling out paperwork. She glanced up at he came to a halt in front of her, an amused smile on her lips.

               “Did you meet someone you think your brother will like?”

               “YES!” Papyrus boomed, holding you out in front of him. The deer monster blinked, then huffed in laughter.

               “You told him jokes, didn’t you?” She accused, poking you in the stomach with the end of her pen. You couldn’t help but giggle and wrap your arms around yourself, trusting the skeleton wouldn’t let you fall from his fingers.

               “Have a hart, ma’am! Don’t tickle me!” You squealed when the pen gentle jabbed your side again.

               The deer rolled her eyes but was smiling widely. She pulled out a page from the stack she had been filling out. It was an adoption form – gilded edges and everything, very official looking with curly writing and her signature in the bottom corner. “I just need you to sign this here,” she pointed to a blank space beside her own, “and a few other things.”

               Papyrus carefully set you down on the desk and accepted the ballpoint pen she handed him. The skeleton signed his name in a flourish on the adoption certificate, and you noted that his handwriting looked oddly like a font you’d seen in a book about a desert place called Egypt. Weird. He quickly read through the accompanying paperwork – all outlining the laws involving owning a Reader, care instructions, proper feeding instructions (READER, YOU CAN EAT PASTA! I CANNOT WAIT TO MAKE YOU MY SPECIAL FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI!), using magic around Readers, and such. Miss Hart, meanwhile, pulled a small white bag from the bottom drawer of her desk and set it beside you with a bright smile.  

               “What’s that?” Papyrus asked curiously as he handed her pen back, along with the papers.

               “It’s just a little care package for new owners,” Rivet held the plastic bag open for him to peek in. There was a pamphlet about Reader health, along with some Reader-sized toiletries, a few simple changes of clothes, some snacks, and a few books and toys.

               Papyrus beamed and accepted it from her. “Thank you so much, ma’am!” He tugged out his phone and the bag disappeared in his storage space. “I’ll make sure Sans reads every word of the paper, I promise!”

               “I know you will, sweetie.” Rivet stood and shook his hand across the desk, before poking you in the side again. “You’ve found a good little friend, sir. I’ve never had such a funny little Companion Reader before.”

               Papyrus paused half-way in picking you up. “Companion Reader?” You leaned against his fingers, which prompted him to lift you to chest-height.

               “Yes,” Rivet pointed at a poster on the wall. One of the pictures was of a reader in a soft gray sweater, the same color as your own, beneath the words ‘COMPANION READER.’ “Companion Readers are wonderful, caring friends to any monster they meet. A lot of therapists and doctors in the area have Companion Readers – they’re very good at calming children and comforting monsters. As long as your brother can handle this ones terrible jokes, he’ll never feel lonely again.”

               “They’re not terrible!” You crossed your arms and pouted. “I think I’m very humerus.”

               Both monsters groaned loudly. “They will get along fine,” Papyrus assured her as he carefully lifted you to sit on his shoulder, where his pauldrons met his scarf. You had to grab onto his scarf to keep from sliding off, but his height meant you could see everything. It was incredible. “Now little Reader, let us be off!” With a dramatic twirl, Papyrus scampered out of the shelter, and you were barely able to toss a wave to Rivet on the way out.


               “I don’t know the best way to do this.” Papyrus had given you a whirl-wind tour of the house, which was a nice two-story cabin, before depositing you on the kitchen counter as he began to cobble together a spaghetti dinner for his brother and father.

               “Well, what does your brother like? Besides jokes?” You prodded, watching as he began beating tomatoes into submission. It was an interesting technique. You’d never really seen cooking before, but you were fairly sure Papyrus was doing it in a very unique way.

               “Ketchup. Japes. Jokes. Pranks. My spaghetti. He doesn’t like sweets much but he’ll eat them when they’re in reach…” The tall skeleton gasped and stopped mid-punch. “That’s it! I’ll bake a cake, and you can pop out of it and surprise him!”

               You grinned, then glanced at the clock on the oven. It read 4:45. “Um, didn’t you say they’d be home around five?” You pointed at it, and his face fell.

               “Oh, right, there’s no time to bake a cake.” He pouted a bit as he scraped the tomato remnants into a pan along with several spices and a few other vegetables he’d already beaten to death. The noodles went in the pot, the pan when on the back burner, and dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes, he told you.

               “What else can we do?” You asked. He leaned against the counter, arms folded over his anime-themed t-shirt (he’d changed before cooking, not wanting to get his Battle Body dirty). You mimicked him, leaning back against a jar of olives he’d left out and crossing your arms.

               The skeleton sighed and tried to think about what else he could use to surprise his brother. You mimicked his pout and posture, drawing a smirk from him when he caught what you were doing. You smirked back.

               Not even a moment later he slammed his fist into the counter a few inches away, making you jump. “I’ve got it!” He had started to vibrate in excitement. “You can jump outta the spaghetti!

               “Uh…” You blinked uncertainly. “Wouldn’t that, uh, be hot? And, like, get me and the food dirty?”

               “Not if I use my magic!” Papyrus was rocking from side to side now, one hand on his chin as he planned it out. “It would only be for a minute – they always come straight to the table when they get home!” His face was a bit flushed now, cheekbones orange in excitement.

               The clock over the oven beeped and Papyrus became a whirlwind of activity, draining the pasta, stirring the sauce, and dishing it all up into serving bowls. Then, he quickly set the table – three spots, three plates, two glasses of water and one bottle of ketchup, forks, napkins, everything needed for a nice spaghetti dinner. Just as he set down the last fork, the front door unlocked and swung open.

               “Oh!” Papyrus grabbed you off the counter and swept you over to the table. An orange glow surrounded you – it tickled a bit, and you squirmed against his palm. “Don’t worry, my magic will protect you! As soon as he starts to serve, I’ll help you pop up and we can both yell surprise!” He was trying to whisper, his voice softer than normal but still a bit loud. He pushed around the spaghetti, and you were glad he had put the sauce in a different bowl, or this would be a very messy prank.

               He tucked you among the noodles, and you did your best to ignore how much it felt like worms. A moment later he covered you, and everything was shaded in an odd yellowish light.

               “Hey Paps! It smells good, did you make your special Friday-night spaghetti?” A tired, cheerful voice asked.

               “Hello, brother! Hello, father! No, I made my special friendship spaghetti!”

               “Ah, friendship spaghetti? But son, I thought we were already friends?” A second voice asked, humor underlying fake hurt.

               There was a slight stutter before Papyrus managed to answer. “Ah-ah-a well, yes, of course we are friends! But it is always good to reaffirm it! With spaghetti!”

               The two new voices laughed, and you heard the chairs around the table scrape as they were pulled back. There was some creaking and groaning as the chairs were occupied, followed by the fluffing of napkins.

               “You look hungry, Sans. Why don’t you get yours first?” Papyrus urged, and you did your best not to wiggle a bit in anticipation. Dancing spaghetti would ruin the prank.

               “Uh, thanks Paps.” Sans answered. The magic around you tensed slightly as one of the chairs scraped against the floor. You drew your knees against your chest and took a deep breath. Your stomach lurched as the magic made you pop out of the spaghetti like a cork, suspending you a foot above it and only a few inches from the face of a startled skeleton.

               “SURPRISE!” You and Papyrus yelled at the same time, his voice easily drowning out your own. The shorter, rounder skeleton jerked back with a cry of surprise. The chair legs caught his own, and with a yelp he crashed to the ground.

               “Sans!” Papyrus’ magic disappeared as he rushed around the table to check on his brother. You dropped back towards the spaghetti and were only saved from a painful noodle-y bath by an odd-feeling hand catching you.

               A third skeleton – tall, thin, wearing a nice turtleneck – had saved you from the Italian meal. His face was smooth and white like his sons, but there was a crack moving upwards from his right eye and trailing down from his left eye to the corner of his mouth. You glanced down at his hand and realized why it felt odd – there was a hole right in the middle of it!

               “Apologies,” the skeleton said, his deep voice rolling over you like a cloud. “My sons can overreact when startled.” He set you on the table beside his plate, making sure you were steady before placing both hands beneath his chin and his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly so he could see you better.

               “It’s alright, sir.” You reassured him, glancing at the other side of the table. Papyrus was bent over his brother, babbling worriedly at a million miles an hour.

               “So, would I be correct in assuming that Papyrus has brought you home to be a pet for Sans?” He asked, eyes flickering between his sons and you.

               You nodded, not a fan of the term ‘pet’ but lots of monsters used it without meaning anything by it. “Yeah, he mentioned his brother has been sad lately.” There was a thunk as said brother smacked his head against the edge of the table as he tried to get up. Papyrus whined in surprise and knelt back down to assist his brother.

               “Indeed,” Gaster’s eyes crinkled at the edge (somehow – bone wasn’t supposed to move that way, was it?) as he watched his sons interact. “Sans suffers from depression,” he confided in you, “and often has negative mood swings.” He was very clinical in the way he spoke, though there was a warmth in his voice that showed the affection he had for his sons. “Papyrus spoke of finding a way to cheer him up, but I did not expect him to bring a Reader home.”

               You frowned suddenly, struck with a rather daunting thought. “Um, that’s okay, right?” Biting your bottom lip, you glanced up at him nervously. He was their father, right? Sans and Papyrus seemed to be adults, but this was probably their dads house. That meant he had final say on if you stayed, right?

               “Yes, child, that is perfectly fine,” he was quick to reassure you, noting your nervous expression. “There is always room in this house for one more.” He cast you a quick wink, then glanced over as his sons finally managed to find their feet. You shot him a quick smile then ran across the table, dodging past the serving bowls and cups, to stand beside Sans plate.

               The skeleton was shorter than Papyrus by a good bit, and had a wide, squat face with large eyes and a bright smile that, at the moment, looked a bit dazed. His eyes met yours and he simply stared for a moment, giving you an unsure smile. “Uh, hi.”

               “Hello!” You chirped, waving happily and flashing him your biggest grin.

               “Hi.” He repeated, before turning to glance up at his brother. “You…?”

               “I got them for you!” Papyrus was bouncing in place, looking delighted with himself before sobering.

               “Right. Can I talk to you for a sec?” He grabbed his brothers arm and, with surprising strength for his height, dragged him out of the kitchen.

               Behind them, your heart sunk into your stomach, and you sat down hard on the side of his plate. This was not a…complication you had thought of. Being bought as a gift was risky, but none of the Readers you’d known that had been gifted had ever been returned. Rivet would never allow them to be adopted in the first place if that was a risk.

               Muffled voices (a truly shocking feat, from what you had seen from Papyrus so far) hissed from the far side of the living room, too soft for you to make out any words. Oh god, what if Sans didn’t want you? He didn’t seem happy about this at all – what if he took you back? Had you done something wrong? Was popping out of the spaghetti too mean? Had you offended him some way?

               By the time the two brothers returned, both were much calmer than before. Papyrus seemed a bit chastised, but gave you a bright smile before taking his seat and serving himself some spaghetti. Sans righted his chair and plopped down in it, then slumped down, resting his chin on his arms so he was at eye-level with you.

               “Sorry, kiddo,” he gave you a large grin, “You gave me a bit of a fright – really rattled my bones.”

               “I’m sorry,” relief swept through you, making you feel a bit giddy, and you returned his smile. “Papyrus just wanted to get you a little gift, to help you feel less bonely.”

               He snorted, the air ruffling your clothing and hair. His breath smelled like ketchup and French fries. Behind you, Papyrus groaned (muffled by his mouthful of spaghetti) but Gaster let out a soft laugh.

               “Good one, kiddo,” he laughed, the bones in his jaw and around his eyes relaxing. “I’m Sans. Sans the skeleton. But I think you already knew that.” He held his hand out, offering a finger for you to shake. You accepted it, shaking it firmly as best you could.

               “I’m pleased to meet you, Sans.” You peeped happily.

               “Likewise.” He sat up straighter and dished himself some spaghetti, noting that the other two had already started eating. You sat at the edge of his plate as he smothered it in tomato sauce, watching him. “So, I’ve never really, uh, met a Reader before. Do you like pasta?”

               You smiled as he cut up a few pieces of noodle into small bites and pushed them towards you, so they rested within reach of you. “I like pasta,” you confirmed. “Especially special friendship spaghetti, cooked by the Great Papyrus!” You picked up one of the warm noodles and dipped it in a bit of sauce before munching on it.

               “Nyeh heh! I am glad you like it, Reader!” Papyrus had already cleaned his plate and was giving himself a half-serving for seconds.

               “It is very good, Papyrus.” Gaster complimented his son, also nearly finished. You watched curiously as they ate, noting that despite not having lips they were all able to slurp the noodles and flick sauce over their cheeks and nose.

               “Thank you, father!” Papyrus began on his second helping. “So what did you do in the lab today?”

               “Ah, we have found a fascinating connection between SOUL energy and plant growth…”

               You listened as Gaster and Sans described an experiment they had run that day, altering the DNA of an echo flower so it worked more like a recording machine, able to remember and echo many messages instead of just one. Most of it was completely lost on you, but as they spoke Sans brightened, lost in the technical mumbo-jumbo he and his father were spitting back and forth across the table. Papyrus looked just as confused but happy non-the-less as he had a third helping of pasta.

               After the four of you had eaten your fill, Gaster gathered up the dishes, insisting he would wash them since Papyrus cooked. The tall skeleton rushed off to the living room, yelling something about a Mettaton marathon. Sans dragged himself away from the table and glanced down at you.

               “Get enough to eat, pipsqueak?” He asked, voice light and teasing. You nodded and stood, brushing parmesan cheese off your lap. He stood in front of you, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie for a moment, looking unsure for a moment. When you realized why he seemed nervous, you raised your arms up towards him.

               “Uh, heh, I’m not really, uh – I don’t want to hurt you.” He rubbed the back of his head, and you grinned.

               “You won’t hurt me,” you insisted, smiling at his hesitance. “It’s okay, I promise. Us Readers are really durable!”

               He still twitched for a moment before biting the bullet and reaching out with both hands. One hand was set behind you, palm up, and you easily sat down, legs dangling over the edge of his boney pinky. Slowly – oh so slowly, ridiculously so, but you didn’t tell him that – he lifted you off the table, bringing you straight up against his chest to minimize the chances of you taking a dive.

               “What do you wanna do?” Sans asked, still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, as though afraid to move. You shrugged, leaning against his ribs, tugging at the squishy layer of his jacket curiously.

               “Whatever you want!” You kicked your legs a bit. Sans huffed a soft laugh.

               “Don’t suppose you’re ready for bed, huh?”

               “I could sleep,” you reassured him. “Getting adopted is really tiring.”

               He let out a bark of laugh and carefully left the kitchen, walking slowly. This babying was, at the same time, incredibly annoying and delightfully sweet. “I bet it is,” he shuffled across the living room, where Papyrus was sitting on the edge of the couch, watching the large TV with big, sparkling sockets.

               “SANS! READER!” He boomed, bouncing a bit in his seat, “Do you wish to join me?” He motioned to the TV.

               “Nah, bro. Me ‘n’ the pipsqueak are gonna go bond.” Sans winked at him before starting up the stairs.

               “Good!” Papyrus waved you both off with a thumbs up before going back to drooling over the robot.

               There were three bedrooms upstairs, and one small bathroom (no toilet, just a shower and sink). Sans went to the middle door along the hall and threw it open dramatically.

               “Welcome, pipsqueak, to scenic my room!”

               His room was – well, it was a bedroom, most likely. There were socks and trash spread across the floor, some of them twirling in a self-sustaining tornado. A lamp with a flashlight taped to the bulb was set on a dresser that had seen better days. Opposite the dresser was a mattress on the floor, no bedframe in sight.

               “Sorry about the mess,” Sans sounded a bit embarrassed as he kicked some trash into the tornado before shuffling over to the bed. With his free hand he spread some blue-tinted magic over the bed, smoothing out the sheets that had been balled up and messily tucking them into place. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

               You scratched at the back of your head and shot him a small grin. “Sorry,” you felt compelled to apologize. “I know you didn’t ask for a Reader, but Papyrus really did just want to help you.”

               “No need to say sorry, pipsqueak.” He sat on the bed carefully to keep you from bouncing, before laying back so his head plopped down on the pillow. You ended up laying on his sternum after a bit of maneuvering, stretching out on your stomach and resting your head on your arms so you could look up at him. He shifted the pillow a bit and put his hands behind his head so he was able to peer down at you. A lazy grin stretched across his teeth and you returned it. “Hey, I just realized, I didn’t ask your name.”

               That startled a laugh out of you. “I don’t have one. Most Readers don’t. Sometimes when Miss Hart gives one of us a nickname it sticks, but I never got one.”

               “Huh,” Sans raised one boney brow. “Well, what do you want to be called?”

               You shrugged, having never really thought of naming yourself before. “I dunno. You can call me whatever you want.”

               Sans’ eyes drooped a bit, looking heavy and tired as he thought. “Hmm. I may need a few days to think of a good name for you.” He winked.

               “A few days? You’re a real lazybones aren’t you?” You teased gently, remembering what Papyrus had said about his big brother’s awful sense of humor.

               A surprised laugh boomed through his chest, shaking his sternum and, by extension, you. You fisted your hands in his sweatshirt to keep from rolling off his chest.

               “I do like to laze around. In fact, sleep comes so naturally to me, I could do it with my eyes closed.” He shut his eyes as he said it, his smile stretching as you giggled.

               “Heh, don’t you ever get tired of sleeping?” You prodded.

               “Nah, sleeping all day is my dream job.”

               “Hey, what do you call a parent who sings their kids to sleep?”


               “A kid napper!”

               “Hah! What do you call a cat sleeping in a sunbeam?”


               “A light sleeper!”

               You could almost hear Papyrus groaning as you and Sans exchanged jokes. Despite him seeming hesitant to keep you as a companion earlier, you and him managed to keep the line of jokes going for nearly half-an-hour before he began to snore, hands falling to his sides. He didn’t roll over at least, and soon after his breathing slowed to gentle rolls of his sternum and ribs. The odd rocking sensation was relaxing, and it didn’t take very long for you to join him in dreamland.


               Sans woke to an odd little weight on his chest that wasn’t supposed to be there. His jaw cracked as he yawned and blinked the sleep from his sockets. Just before he sat up to stretch, the weight on his chest moved. He froze and glanced down, eyes widening slightly as he remembered the previous night.

               The reader on his chest, clad in a too-big silver sweater and jeans, was curled into a cute little ball, fast asleep, one hand fisted in his jacket, the other tucked under their head. They were breathing in time with him, inhaling whenever his ribs raised, and exhaling whenever they dipped. It was a very odd, yet comforting feeling.

               He still couldn’t believe Papyrus had gone out and gotten him a Reader. Hadn’t he ever heard that giving pets as gifts was one of the worst ideas ever? There were entire articles on it! True, those mostly revolved around puppies at Christmas and bunnies at Easter, but aside from sentience Readers were the same thing!

               Then again, that sentience was what made them such wonderful pets and companions. They weren’t simple animals with a need for food, shelter, affection – they were complex beings with advanced thought patterns and an understanding of metacognition and a strong sense of self. He’d met a few around the lab when they accompanied their monsters for the day (they would never test on a Reader – Alpha Asgore would have all their heads on a silver platter if anybody even thought of that, if Alpha Toriel didn’t dust them all first), but he’d never had a true one-on-one conversation or held one himself before. He was too lazy to do that.

               So he’d been understandably (though perhaps a bit excessively) annoyed when Papyrus had sprung the little thing on him. Honestly, popping out of spaghetti – the jape just screamed Papyrus. While having their whispered tête-à-tête in the living room, he’d demanded to know just what his little brother had been thinking.

               “You’re getting sad again, Sans,” Papyrus had whispered, torn between guilt and annoyance. “I can see it – your smile has gone all fake again, like when we were Underground! Nothing father or I have tried has helped cheer you up. We love you, Sans.” He’d rested his big, gloved hands on the smaller skeletons shoulders, “We want you to be happy. I truly think having a Reader will help.”

               When Sans still didn’t look convinced, Papyrus whipped out his smartphone. “Wait, look here. I did research, see!” He showed Sans the screen; it was loaded to a mental health website, specifically on an article connecting higher levels of serotonin to owning pets. “And the Reader I found for you, they’re what’s called a Companion type!” He flipped to another tab, showing a gray sweater with a list of traits beside it.

               “Please, Sans,” Papyrus pocketed his phone again, “I have a good feeling in my SOUL. It’s been there ever since I had this idea. I really think this will work.”

               Sans had sighed beneath the weight of his brother’s words and agreed to get to know the Reader. Obviously his brother had good taste – they’d kept up with him joke-for-joke, pun-for-pun, before he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a punchline. Apparently they were also just as much of a lazy-bones as he was – a glance at the clock on his dressed showed it was nearly noon. They’d slept for almost eighteen hours. Thank god it was Saturday, and he didn’t have to go into work.

               Sans laid his head back and began running a finger over the Readers head, not wanting to wake them, but at the same time needing a good dose of ketchup to get his day started.


               You woke to a finger running over your head, coaxing you from your rest. You lazily lifted your head and smiled up at the round-faced skeleton you’d fallen asleep on.

               “Mornin’, pipsqueak,” he greeted with a large smile on his face. You yawned and sat up, stretching your arms over your head.

               “Mornin’, bighead.” You returned, then realized what you’d said. “Er, I mean, uh-“

               The skeleton snorted in laughter, cutting off your apology. He cupped a hand around you as you sat up, allowing you to fall back slightly and sit comfortably in his palm as he got off his bed. “You’ve got me there, pipsqueak. C’mon, let’s grab some lunch”

               “What about breakfast?” You asked. He shifted so you were seated on his shoulder, comfortably relaxed where his clavicle dipped.

               “We slept through it.” He explained, leaving the messy room and making sure the door shut behind him. The other two doors were open – his father and brother were already up and about, apparently.

               You held onto his jacket as he meandered down the stairs and through the living room, heading for the kitchen. “So, what do you want to do today?” He asked.

               It seemed his lazy attitude was contagious – you just shrugged and leaned against his puffy hood, which was bunched up around his shoulders a bit, creating a perfect resting spot.

               “Heh,” Sans chuckled and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of ketchup, which he promptly uncapped and drank. You wrinkled up your nose and stuck your tongue out at the sight. “What, not a fan of the sauce?”

               “Nah,” you quipped, “I don’t have the stomach for it.” He chuckled, the vibes reverberating through his chest and shaking you a bit where you sat.

               “True, it is a unique taste.” A luminescent blue tongue licked over his teeth, catching the stray drops of ketchup on his bones. “Jokes aside, what do you want to eat?”

               You pointed to the white bag sitting on the counter, where Papyrus had placed it when you arrived last night. “There’s some snacks for me in there,” you explained.

               Sans took the bag over to the table and poured it out. The pamphlet on Proper Reader Care flopped out first, followed by all the treats the shelter owner had packed for you. The skeleton whistled and set you down on the table. “Heh, and here I was worried you’d only brought the clothes on your back.”

You dug through the stack of supplies, pulling out the few bags of treats the shelter owner had packed. There was a bag of Muffet’s cookies, a box of flavored chips from Grillby’s, and a variety of monster candy and snacks. You popped open the chips and munched on them as Sans continued sipping his ketchup.

“So what do you normally do on Saturday?” You asked around a bite of the BBQ flavored snack.

Sans shrugged. “Sleep,” he admitted, “or hang out with Paps or Alphys.” He had finished about half of the bottle now, and got up to put it back in the fridge.

“Exciting stuff,” you commented as he came back.

“Yep,” he agreed, retaking his seat and slumping back, hands on his stomach, as he looked at you with lidded eyes. “We appear to be two very exciting people.”

               “No bones about it.” You agreed, feeling a bit proud as he snorted with laughter.

               “Heh, good one pipsqueak. So, lazy day in?”

               You licked salt off your fingers as you agreed. “Lazy day in.”

               Several hours later Papyrus arrived home and lambasted you both for being lazy, as well as marathoning his TIVO’d episodes of the hilarious dating show ‘Would You Smooch A Ghost?’ without him. He was all bark and no bite, though, and by the end he simply sighed and stomped off to the kitchen to make lasagna.

               Sans seemed happy enough with the lambasting, and when he went into the kitchen to help Papyrus with something (leaving you on the couch cheering for the cute bunny and reptile couple in Royal Guard armor), you could hear him speaking softly and affectionately to his brother. Just as the applause for the kissing royal guard couple tapered off, you heard the older brother quietly thanking his brother for finding you.

               A proud smile crossed your lips, and you hummed happily as Sans returned and plopped you back on his stomach to watch the next episode.


               You and Sans bonded over bad puns and a shared love of hamburgers. He took you with him to work a few times, when he and Gaster weren’t dealing with chemicals or running experiments. You sat on his desk as he filled out paperwork, sometimes distracting him with spontaneous tic-tac-toe games, other times just reading some science books from his shelves. It was a bit daunting, having to stand on the pages to read, and flipping the pages was a bit of a hassle, but his astronomy and joke books kept you both entertained for hours on end.

               On days you couldn’t go to the Royal Labs you hung out with Papyrus, discussing Italian cuisine and watching Mettaton marathons. When Papyrus had work you enjoyed exploring the house, challenging yourself by climbing to the top of the couch or playing in the kitchen. At least until you accidently shut yourself in the fridge and Papyrus came home to a Reader-scicle. A quick warm bath and a lecture later, and you were banned from the kitchen when they weren’t home. Sans thought it was hilarious, of course – he made ice and snow puns for several days afterwards.

               Gaster stole you sometimes, whisking you away to his office on the first floor, just to chat while Sans napped. He tried to teach you to play chess – it was a bit difficult since the pieces were the same height as you, but once you got the hang of it, you…still couldn’t beat him.

               Most of the time, though, you were with Sans, riding on his shoulder or in his hood, sleeping on his chest, or exchanging puns and jokes (much to the annoyance of those around you). While he was often tired and did sleep a lot, you never noticed him being overtly sad or obviously upset.

               That’s why the nightmare was such a surprise. One moment you were asleep on his chest, dreaming about accompanying Papyrus to an Italy made entirely out of pasta and bread sticks, the next you were jarred awake by hitting the mattress. It had happened a few times – Sans slept like a brick, rarely moving, but you had rolled off his ribs a few times during the night. It wasn’t painful, just sudden. This, though – this felt more like you’d been pushed or thrown off his chest.

               The big-boned skeleton was thrashing in the sheets, his legs tangled, arms flailing, a blue glow curling up from his left eye. You scrambled away from the tossing and turning body, nearly losing your head when his elbow came too close. Luckily, you were able to reach the pillow with all limbs intact. Thanks to your time climbing around the couch and kitchen (when supervised), you easily scrambled up the cotton pillowcase and crawled across the plush surface to Sans head.

               You were on his left side, and the magic leeching through his socket sent an odd chill over your skin. For a moment you hesitated, not entirely sure what to do, but a pained whine from between the skeletons clenched teeth spurred you on. Inching forward, you moved to sit right beside his head and, with trembling fingers, began to gently stroke his cheek bone.

               Sans jolted at the sudden (if small) contact, but luckily he didn’t lash out. You continued to pet his cheek, running your hand in a line before switching to rubbing circles along the arch of the bone. Absently you began to hum, the same soft tune Papyrus sometimes did in the kitchen when he was cooking. You didn’t know what the song was, or even if you were loud enough for Sans to hear you, but miraculously the skeleton began to calm down.

               You kept petting and humming for what felt like hours, though surely was only twenty or thirty minutes. You had to switch arms halfway through, the muscles in the one having gone sore from the repetitive motion. Just as your other arm was about to give out, the flickering magic of Sans left eye (which had been dying down steadily for the past half-hour) went out, and he lazily opened his sockets to reveal his pupils. They shifted to you, and very slowly he turned his head so you were both eye-to-eye.

               “Pipsqueak?” He asked sleepily, reaching up to rub at his now magicless eye tiredly. “What’re you doing up here? Heh, get bonely down on my hoodie?”

               You ran your hand along the bone just above his nose cavity, as though petting a dog with a big muzzle. “You had a nightmare,” you explained.

               “Yeah, I uh, get those sometimes.” You swore you could see tears beading the bottom of his sockets, but he blinked them away before you could be sure. “I don’t normally wake up before they end, though…” His teeth lifted in a smile. “Guess I have you ‘n’ your pretty humming to thank for that.” His hand slid over to brush a finger over your bedhead. “Sorry for wakin’ ya up, kid.”

               “It’s okay, Sans.” You reassured him, standing to lean forward and press a kiss between his eyes. A blue blush crossed his cheeks as he carefully rolled over, so he was on his side, facing you.

               His eyes were still heavy with sleep. “Think you can sleep a few more hours?” He asked, even as the lids began to fall.

               “Yeah,” you flopped down onto the pillow beside his head, giving him the same half-lidded stare he was giving you. His hand came up to lay over you, warm bones better than any blanket.

               “Night, Pipsqueak.” Sans shut his eyes all the way and within moments, he was breathing deeply, fast asleep.

               “Night Sans,” you whispered back, grinning and hugging his pointer finger like a teddy bear, hoping the touch would keep any lingering nightmares away. It must have worked – the rest of the night passed peacefully.

Thanks for all the questions and ideas! I’m working on putting together a infograph about the Itty Bitty Reader AU, please let me know if you have any questions so I can try and answer them! I’d also love to hear any ideas - not a promise to write them, of course, but I enjoy inspiration!

asktechnowizard  asked:

Ohhhhh, but they're all so uniquely hot! I mean attractive. I mean AESTHETICALLY PLEASING. Allure is a BABE, Mystic is smol and lovely, Gilded is Hot Silverfox, Maggie is Goth Hot. In terms of just personal faves tho, Gilded edges out just a little more than the rest. I am weak for Hot Dad.

With you, Gilded always wins ♡

Variation 2

if you leave the world will get another book out of me. Hardbound with gilded edges. Dogeared and goddamned. There is a fable of a fish who gave her voice for the mouth of a man. Love transformed her into a door that leads nowhere but opens and closes with ease. I set my letters adrift and lure her to the shore. I tell her write poetry is to sing without sound. Teach me the siren song and I will never write again. She opens her mouth and I pour my words in.

At the London Olympia Book Fair today, I was able to see fore edge painter Clare Brooksbank work her magic! It was fascinating to watch her process, and the finished product is absolutely spellbinding!

For those of you unfamiliar, fore edge painting is a technique to disguise an image beneath the gilded fore edge of a book. The painting is only revealed when the fore edge is fanned out, as Clare so skillfully demonstrates. The trick is to paint the image while the edge is fanned, so when it returns to its resting state, the image seems to disappear!

The Magical Mermaids and Dolphins Oracle Cards finally came (after being lost in the mail and Chapters sending me a replacement).

Basically it feels more “adult” than the unicorns deck.

But it’s also “Oracle of the Mermaids Jr.” (I love the Oracle of the Mermaids it’s my self care deck).

I wonder if Lucy Cavendish or Selina Fenech (or whoever was in charge of the design for the Oracle of the Mermaids) has this deck because it does a similar thing with the borders being different colours and even uses a similar colour scheme.

The cards are the same size as all of DV’s decks but the stock feels less slippery. No gilded edges, which is a shame because silver edges on this deck would be awesome (it’s an older deck so I’m guessing her first few decks didn’t have it).

fuvkingmagnus  asked:

Actually, I think the cover is the collar that Maven puts on Mare at the end of GS, and it fits the description as well!!!!!!

A collar. Jeweled, gilded, sharp-edged, a beautiful thing of horrors.”

- Mare Barrow, Glass Sword.

While I love the idea of Mare having a bone collar (something that would most certainly be a beautiful thing of horrors).I think it’s just an expensive collar Maven  commissioned or ripped off of one of the royal hounds *sighs*. 

Thank you for the ask, darling! 

Robin  Hobb’s UK publisher HarperCollins have released a special edition of Assassin’s Apprentice to celebrate its 20th anniversary. The book is in a slipcase and features endpapers by John Howe. The edges are gilded in silver.

I was also lucky enough to snag a signed copy! Isn’t it gorgeous??

There are plans to release the other two books in the trilogy in a similar format. I will definitely be buying them!