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shobogan · 5 years

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Doctor Who: Combat Magicks

I finally read a Thirteen book, so here are some of my favourite bits! No major spoilers, I promise.

“Gaul? What’s that?” “It’s a place, mate,” Graham told him. “Asterix came from there. In the comic strip.” Yaz and Ryan looked at each other blankly, and Graham frowned. “You must know! Asterix the Gaul, feisty fighting little hero by Goscinny and...thingy?” Ryan shook his head. “I was Goscinny and Uderzo’s inspiration, you know.” The Doctor pulled her hair over her lip to make a blond moustache and winked at Graham. “Almost definitely.”

As one, the trio took their eyes from the sky, saw death charging them down, opened their mouths and screamed. He pulled back his sword-arm to silence all three cries in one great blow. But in a blur, another woman, pale and lithe, had pushed past his targets to stand before them. There was steel in her eyes and a rainbow blazed across her chest. “Oi,” she said. “No.” The word was like an axe thrown at Bittenmane, who reared up, turned and threw his rider.

The Doctor crossed to where Bleda’s horse - a stocky, short-limbed animals with a head big enough to break down doors - stood at the edge of a small clearing. [...] She began to apply the gel from her little jar to the cuts and gashes scored into the horse’s scruffy hide.

The Doctor finished up with the injured horse, patted him gently. “What’s his name?” Bleda grunted. “Bittenmane.” “Aww, that’s sweet,” she deadpanned.

He wasn’t sure how long it stayed dark but suddenly there was noise and movement at his ear, and something was carving a path through the feathered mass, helping him up. Ryan wiped at his eyes. Graham’s face - pale, scratched and concerned - was up in his own. “It’s OK, mate. Cuts and scrapes, but you’ll be all right.” “You came after me?” “Course I did! Thought I’d lost you.”

Bleda watched the Doctor beadily. “You belong to the Huns now.” “The sonic. Where’s my sonic?” “Your magick rods also belong to the Huns.” “Well, that’s a comfort. I always wanted the best for them.”

Yasmin shook her head. “He thinks we’re witches. Well, you’re the full-on witch, and I’m magic too.” “Course you are. I thought you looked familiar.” The Doctor grinned. “As in witch’s familiar. Yeah?” Yaz forced a grin for her friend’s benefit. “Look, here’s my familiar grin.” “Then things aren’t all bad.”

She patted her mount on the back and made stirrup with her hands. “Quickly! Climb on board!” “Um, I can’t,” Ryan said quickly. “I’ll fall straight off.” “So, be careful.” “You don’t get it. I have a bit of a problem with balance.” He paused, recalled the well-worn words his doctor used to say, licked his lips. “There’s a difference between how well I could do something, and how well I can actually do it.” Licinia raised an eyebrow. “If only all men were as honest as you, Ryan, I might not be as bitterly disappointed as I’ve turned out.”

The Doctor crossed to another house and threw open the door to reveal the rooms inside similarly rammed with the walking dead. “My guess is that these poor remnants want to fight alongside you in real battle so they get another shot at a living enemy.” “That will never happen.” Chokona’s face was a dark twist of fury. “These ghouls are idiot shades of the men they were. They have no place on the battlefield.” “No place?” the Doctor thundered. “In this world of yours, right now, you’re all dead men standing. You think they’re idiots? Wrong. They’re just bound to a certain purpose, like these Strava, I imagine: to add to the numbers fighting, to make the slaughter even worse.”

Yaz placed a finger to her mouth. “Listen to them. Alp and the others, they’re all saying the same thing: ‘All together in the Great Pit’”. She looked at the Doctor. “The Pit’s another word for hell, isn’t it?” “Right now, so is Catalaunum - and it’s a hell of your own making.” She glared at Attila, the whispering of the dead like a hopeless lullaby beneath her words. “You agreed to dance with the devil. Are you really so surprised to find she’s been calling the tune all along?”

A meeting with Aetius! The final great leader of the Roman empire in the west. Treat him like a regular bloke, Graham told himself. He still wipes his bum like the rest of us. Well, maybe with a sponge on a stick instead of paper, but...

“I would like to hear you explain,” said Aetius slowly, “how a medic from Britannia knows of such uncommonly dangerous things.” Graham managed a smile of apology. “Mostly from trying to avoid them.” “Would that we could. But time presses and you must help me resolve a delicate situation. The future of Rome and all the civilised world may hang in the balance.” The General’s blue eyes were untouched by the twitch of a smile on his face. “No pressure.”

The Doctor strode forward, grinning like this was afternoon tea in a country house, and held out her hand to shake. “Sorry, not been introduced. I’m the Doctor, Mr. Hun’s new attorney. I’d like to go over the terms of this settlement...” Inkri ignored her entirely, but Attila didn’t. “Doctor, this is a matter for me alone,” he warned, “you will be silent.” “I will? Nah, can’t see that happening.”

The Doctor turned to face Inkri, and found the Tenctrama had moved silently, was standing just behind her. She didn’t flinch. “Let Yasmin go.” “In time,” said Inkri. “Am I supposed to be impressed by your powers? Should I gasp, or swoon?” The Doctor affected a fainting spell, fell into a chair, swung up her legs and plonked them on Attila’s council table.

Inkri lowered her voice to a menacing whisper. “I think you care very much for the three friends you brought with you.” “Is that your guess? Well done. Not just warm, but boiling hot. Like the water you’ll find yourself in if you mess with any of my friends again.”

“Well, Bial, I bet the shamans had their noses out of joint when the Tenctrama came along, eh?” The Doctor nudged him. “You should tell them the hags have been booted out. They’ll be back out here in no time, sharing the wisdom of your ancestors instead of sulking in their tents.” Bial shook his head. “The shamans meditate.” “Meditation, right. Yeah, I pretend sulking is that, sometimes.”

The muddy, bloody water was churning; then suddenly, impossibly, the figure of a Tenctrama was rising from the tub; like he’s planted a magic bean in the water and this nightmare was growing from it. Gore and filth dripped from her matted hair and dribbled down her face as she stared at Graham, constellations of gold floating in her dark eyes. He managed to find his voice. “Needed a bath, did you?”

The Doctor loved building things, all kinds of things - from time-flow analogues out of kitchen bits to dry stone walls, from Arthur C. Clarke’s designs for a digital lawnmower to proper challenges like assembling flatpacked Ikea wardrobes. She didn’t normally mind being watched - what good was being brilliant if you had no one to boggle and applaud? - but the dead crow eyeing her coldly from its perch on the table beside her was putting her off her game. Golden skeins flitted across the dark, beady eyes: eyes of the Tenctrama. “Give the poor thing some dignity, let her go,” the Doctor said, staring straight into the crow’s head. “You can see I’m recharging the force field generator.” [...] The crow held silent and still. Then it pushed out its wings and flew up at the Doctor’s face. She recoiled and it flapped past, hit the canvas wall and fell with a heap on top of the other dead birds the Tenctrama had sent to spy on her. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, crossing to the crow and stroking its burning hot head. The optic link blazed through their little brains, they couldn’t last long. The Doctor swallowed back her anger - there would be a time for anger, soon - and flicked on her sonic, and returned to the job at hand.

The Doctor smiled as she recognised one of the horses standing inside. “Bittenmane!” He came out to see her, snorted and pressed his head against her shoulder. “Hello, boy. I won’t ask why the long face, because we both know you’re a horse.”

Inkri hobbled closer. The Doctor cried out as pain and pressure built up inside her head. Her vision began to blur but she could not blink. Inkri’s fingertips pressed against her temples and began to burn. The Doctor gasped, and Inkri’s face bobbed closer. She whispered, “Are you going to scream, Doctor?” “I’m...going to...whistle.”

Yaz clung on tighter. “Why does everyone care about this stupid hill so much?” “High ground makes it harder for the enemy to out-flank you.” Just as the Doctor spoke, the Roman hordes swarmed over the top of the hill. [...] “Mounts and monsters move faster downhill, while arrows strike harder, so possession of the kill could prove decisive...” “For someone who hates war you know a lot about it!” “Never hate something until you can understand it.”

Yaz couldn’t even hear her any more. The assault on her senses was too much. Rolling to their right, the Hun avalanche was set to engulf them, barely a hundred metres away. This is where it ends, she thought, water whipped from her eyes by the wind as they galloped on, but I’m not going to die crying, I’m just going to hold on to the Doctor and...

The Doctor put her head against Bittenmane’s. “You saved our lives, you clever horse. Thank you. Now you have to go.” She slapped the horse on his rump, whistled, and with a bob of his head he turned and galloped away. “That’s it, run!” Liss was staring. “That horse really seemed to understand!” The Doctor smiled. ”Well, I happen to be fluent in several equine dialects...”

“All right, Ryan,” Yaz called. She stood so calm and in control between these two giants of the ancient world, it was awesome; like they were just a couple of drunk-and-disorderlies she’d picked up outside the Millenium Gallery. But he knew how much doubt she hid behind that calm expression, and felt all the more impressed.

Ryan was running full-pelt through the gloomy catacombs behind Liss. Twice, he’d fallen over his own feet and sworn his butt off. Dyspraxics were meant to stick to long-distance running, slow and steady, but if he didn’t speed up - He fell over again. “Dammit!” Liss turn, panting, came back for him. “It’s all right, Ryan.” “It’s not!” he shouted. “Keep going. I’m slowing you down. You have to get back, our people need us.” “But what about - ?” “Go, will you!”

The Doctor was quiet, sat on a cart like the one that had carried them to the Hun camp only yesterday. Her bounce was subdued, clothes blackened and skin sticky with burns. She’d spent all that day in a deep sleep, like a coma, close to death. Don’t let us lose you too, Yaz had thought, holding her friend’s hand as tightly as she could. Don’t ever let us lose you. “She’s gonna thank you for the broken fingers when she wakes up,” Ryan said. He’d been holding the other hand. It had only been at the sound of Graham’s voice - or at a question only she was smart enough to answer - that the Doctor revived.

“War never determines who is right. Only who is left.” The Doctor jumped down from the cart, a little more her old Tigger self. “Bertrand Russell said that. Over tea and scones. It’s good, isn’t it?”

#thirteenth doctor #yasmin kahn #graham o'brien #ryan sinclair #doctor who #combat magicks

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paperficwriter · 7 years

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I Will Cover You

My first Dream Daddy fic. I am officially in Smallmarch (Robert Small/Damien Bloodmarch) hell. No regrets. And of course my first foray is angst and fluff. A killer combination. Robert tries his best to take care of Damien after surgery.

Cut for length, not for content, though do be aware that this fic depicts post-top surgery.

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“Oh. It’s you.”

“If I had a dollar for everytime someone answered a door and said that to my face...anyway, yes. It’s me. Where’s your dad?”

Robert wished for a second that his hands weren’t full, a loaded grocery bag in one and an unopened bottle in the other. Otherwise, he could have just pushed past Lucien and gotten into the house. Instead, he had to play this whole game of Purposeful Small Talk. Which he hated almost as much as Pointless Small Talk.

“Isn’t it Goth Night at Jim and Kim’s? Maybe you should try there.”

“The closest thing Jim and Kim’s has to ‘Goth Night’ is ‘Dark Sullen Drunk Night,’ and since I’m not there, that’s not happening. Move it.”

Lucien didn’t budge, instead raising a perfectly lined brow at the whiskey in Robert’s hand. “You do actually know that he can’t drink right now, right?”

He didn’t. “So? This is for me.”

“...”

“Look, Lucy. This can go one of two ways. You can move out of my way, or I can come back armed with a fully-loaded Betsy. Your call.”

“Did you just threaten my life so you can hang out with my dad?”

“Maybe.” Really, it was more a threat on his allergies, but...whatever it took.

Lucien smiled, and moved aside with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “Impressive. You may enter.”

Robert made a beeline straight for the master bedroom, ignoring the library and all the sitting rooms or parlors or whatever-the-hell-they-were. It was the one spot that Damien always skipped on the grand tours of the Bloodmarch Estate, but he knew that tonight that’s where he would find him. It was the one room that stood out from the Victorian macabre noir aesthetic of the rest of the house, bearing a resemblance more similar to the fake bedrooms at Ikea than anything from hundreds of years ago. When he shoved the door open, announcing, “Knock, knock,” Robert found Damien propped up on about five pillows, wearing a flannel robe, his long black hair a mess on top of his head. No makeup, no nail polish, nothing but normal. Robert couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen him like that.

“Robert?” Damien’s puffy, tired eyes widened, and he pulled the comforter up closer to his chin. “What are you doing here?”

“Giving the cryptids a night off from my regular slaughter schedule,” he said, sitting on the edge of the white down bedspread and dropping the bag and bottle. “I brought you some stuff.”

“You didn’t have to.” Even as he said it, Damien straightened a bit, glancing into the brown paper grocery bag.

“What kind of dick would I be if I didn’t? Your boyfriend gets surgery. You bring him shit to make him feel better. Isn’t that how it goes in all those movies you like so damn much?”

Damien chuckled and shook his head, reaching a pale hand out to squeeze Robert’s. He really did seem a bit out of it still, and Robert wondered why he hadn’t asked him to do the driving instead of Lucien. “I am eternally grateful.”

“You should be. No way would I watch that crap on my own.” He started unpacking with his free hand. “Let’s see...my favorite knife, a hot water bottle, basically the entire first aid section of the drug store...just in case those quacks didn’t give you enough stuff when you went home. Doctors just want to bleed you dry by making you come back for more. Don’t trust them.”

“They were very kind, Robert.”

He gestured ominously with the aforementioned blade. “They better have been. Or I’m going to be making a few more trips tonight before I go home.” Putting it on the nightstand to avoid any embarrassing holes in the sheets (again), he continued unloading. “Some of those Oreos you like…” Three packages, in fact. “Ought to keep you set at least through tomorrow.”

When he removed the next item, Damien let out what he would normally consider a “most undignified” squeak.

“Since I couldn’t bring her over, I figured I’d do the best I could with a surrogate Betsy.” He handed over the stuffed Boston terrier, and Damien pressed his face into it to hide the ridiculous red of his cheeks. “She sends lots of well-wishes though. Can’t wait for you to come over again.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Damien sniffed. “I shall treasure it always.”

“You better. I had to take out three toddlers just to get it. It was a bloodbath.”

“My hero.”

“And last thing...I figured I’d try to strike a compromise with a movie we could both enjoy. Pride and Prejudice --”

“Oh, Robert!” Damien’s smile was so radiant that it was even more amusing watching it fall when the DVD was handed over to him.

“-- And Zombies.”

“Oh.”

“Give it a chance! It’s a fun one. I promise. And I’ll keep the lights on. Fair?”

“Very. My deepest gratitude.”

Once Robert had loaded the movie onto the flatscreen mounted to the wall, he kicked his shoes off and laid back beside him, one arm around his shoulders. Damien carefully rested his head on his chest, holding the edge of his jacket while Robert smoothed down some of the loose strands of hair around the bun. “Is this okay?” he asked. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Damien shook his head, then nodded, reassuringly. “It’s fine. A bit sore. Another blessing of not living in the Victorian era is that there are much safer, not to mention effective, pain killers.” He sighed. “I must look a positive fright compared to how you normally see me.”

Robert shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m good. You’re not showing me up for once.”

He laughed at that.

“I wish you had told me when it was all going down, Dames. I would have been here sooner.”

Damien didn’t reply, instead holding his robe a bit tighter. “There was no need, Robert, dear. Lucien was more than happy to take the day away from school, and I didn’t even have to stay at the hospital or anything, so...I am only grateful you’re here now.”

Something in his voice didn’t make it seem like he was entirely grateful. Sure, happy enough, but…Robert let the topic drop.

After about a half hour, Damien stirred under his arm. Those pain killers must have really been something, because even with all the zombie-killing he had somehow managed to doze off. He pulled away carefully, standing up shakily to head toward the bathroom door only two feet away. When Robert jumped up, he waved him off. “I’m fine. I just...need to take some medicine and get the bandages changed.”

“Do you want some help?”

“No, thank you. I’ll only be a few moments.”

Robert didn’t sit back down. He found himself leaning against the wall next to the closed door, fists shoved into his pockets. His keen ears picked up every noise from inside: something wet being poured down the sink, the crinkle of the trash can, the tear of cardboard wrapping. Then, nothing.

“Damien? You okay in there?” he called after about thirty seconds, twenty-five seconds longer than he would have preferred.

No answer.

“Dames?”

A sniff, a slightly cracked, “I’m fine.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t. Really. Just...give me a minute.” Now, it was a full, obvious sob that followed, and Robert cringed.

“Listen. I may not have my boots on, but I'll...I would tear this door down with my bare hands for you. Let me in.”

“...You shouldn't have to see this.”

“Dames.” Robert tried to keep his voice from taking that jagged, unpleasant edge to it that seemed to cut through whenever he was frustrated. “Mary asked me to be in the delivery room when Crish was born. There is absolutely nothing that could be worse than that.”

He wasn’t sure why that seemed to be the deciding factor, but the knob turned, and Robert stepped inside carefully, trying not to stare. Damien sat on top of the closed toilet seat, tears pouring down his face, clean bandages balled up in his hand. The open flannel barely hid the thick, black stitches, angry red skin and bruising across his chest. “Come on, baby,” Robert said quietly, holding his hand out. “Let me help you with that.”

Damien didn’t move. “It’s awful. It’s...I’m…” Another broken noise cracked into the air between them, and Damien covered his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry...”

“What? Damien, don’t say that.”

“Is it ever going to heal?” he asked, a hard desperation in his voice, and Robert knelt in front of him, taking the bandages. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a great look, the T-shaped cuts scarring as they healed, but they weren’t infected. The doctors really had done a great job, as loathe as Robert was to admit it to himself.

“Of course it will. You just need some time. Give yourself a break. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Here, hold this.” Robert pressed one end of the roll at the center of Damien’s stomach and started wrapping, pausing occasionally to check to make sure they weren’t too tight. He winced when he jostled one of the drains that hung at Damien’s side. “Sorry. We’ll get you some more pills in a second, okay?”

“It looks so much worse than I thought it would…”

“It won’t stay like this.” Robert used his free hand to wipe Damien’s face with his knuckles. “Don’t cry. It’s fine. Really.”

“I just didn’t want you to see me this way.” Fresh tears dripped down, soaking the cuff of his sleeve.

“I don’t care how bad it is, Damien. Just let me help you. I don’t...God, you’ve seen me far and beyond my worst. This is nothing that won’t mend.” He finished wrapping the bandage and closed the flannel over it, finally raising his hands to touch his boyfriend’s face. “I don’t care if you wear capes or cloaks or fuckin’ jeans and a shirt, and I definitely don’t care what’s under it all. You could dress as one of those anime characters again, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Damien snorted, leaning forward to rest his face on Robert’s jacket.

“Just don’t leave me out of it. I’m not...great at this, but...I don’t want you alone. I got you, alright?”

He pressed his lips to both of his cheeks before kissing him softly, the wet on his face clinging to his stubble. When he pulled back, Damien smiled tiredly. “Thank you, love.”

Robert helped him to standing, guiding him back to the bed. “I think this calls for Oreos, whatever fancy drugs they gave you, and a drink.”

“I can’t drink right now, Robert,” Damien chided, holding his hand as he slipped back under the covers.

“Don’t worry. I can do plenty of drinking for both of us.” He raised the bottle and clinked it against Damien’s water glass. “To your speedy recovery, good sir.”

Damien only smirked at his theatric bravado. “Cheers.”

#my paperfics #dream daddy #smallmarch #robert small #damien bloodmarch #phew this fic was literally in my brain for the past week #glad i could finally write it and share

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buildingbooks · 7 years

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Secret Santa 2016

Okay, tumblr, lets do the thing. I think the words and you take them from my brain and make me a blog post, yeah? No? Ughhhh so tired.

Okay, so if you hadn’t noticed I haven’t posted much in the last month or so. Couple of reasons for that. One is bulk book orders, which take up a lot of time in and of themselves. Some time in the future I will probably write a post on how doing bulk work really refines your skills and builds your efficiency. Not today though. Another reason I’ve not posted much is because I have been working full time in another field and naturally that also takes up a lot of time.

Okay, enough on the excuses, time for a build post! I’ll warn you now that I didn’t actually take “finished” photos of the album so you’ll have to make do with only a couple.

First thing’s first, Paper! or in this case, I have some 240gsm cardstock in a cream colour. Hang on, I can actually zoom in on the label there... Here you go:

So yeah, I used Canson brand Iris Vivald Cream Cardstock. Pretty much all the coloured card is this brand. It doesn’t come in the size pictured above, you’ll need to cut that down as it comes in large sheets.

So I wanted this to be a springback, so I folded all the card and then isolated 4 book shards. The rest went into clusters of 2 shards each (instead of the usual 4 shards to a cluster). Oh, and I’m calling the pages “book shards” or just “shards” from now on. Signatures are now called clusters.

Two of the isolated shards got attached at the at the fold with some extra strips of card. These are my end pages.

Usual deal of saw cutting the holes in the shards. The End pages are NOT saw cut with the rest of the clusters. Those you’ll want to have just a punched hole for sewing. To do that, you cut your holes in the rest of the shards and then mark the holes according to the saw cuts.

Pro tip time! Sometimes you don’t saw all the way through all the shards in a cluster as you can see in the first picture. What I do when that happens is just shine a light from the outside and the holes are lit up quite noticeably. You can then just punch the holes with an awl or your sewing needle (which is what I do) from the inside.

Once all the clusters were sewn I trimmed the edges nice and square.

AND THEN I HIT IT WITH A FRICKING HAMMER.

One of the things I need for this springback is some backed cardboard to help with the lever mechanism (I’ll get to that in a moment). It’s pretty easy to make. I glued some fabric (in this case indian cotton) to some of the 240gsm cardstock I always use. Simple backed card.

I made some headbands off the book (which is so much easier than sewing them on the book for springbacks) while waiting for the backed card to dry.

The first coverboard gets glued down right up near the spine. You use the outermost shard of the end page on the inside of it, and then glue the tapes onto the outside. I then marked out a line where the edges of the book guts were and cut out a notch about 1.5cm away from the spine. This is the space for the headbands.

Headbands ands ribbon go on. You glue down the cloth right onto the outer covers including the spine.

Scrap cotton fabric fills the dips in the spine made by the tapes (and provides more of a hinge). Now I’m sure many (lol, like, maybe one or two) of you are wondering why I don’t use linen tapes or mull or whatever. There is a simple answer for that, and that is because It is hard to come by and I don’t want the extra expense. Cotton works just fine. Anyone who tells you that YOU CAN ONLY USE (item/product) OR ELSE IT’S JUST NOT RIGHT RAWWWWWWR!!! is someone you shouldn’t listen to. Use whatever you have available to you. Can’t get linen thread? Use cotton or wire or cat hair or whatever. Mull? Use the skins of your enemies! Linen tapes? Frickin... just.... sew the book shards directly to your fingers! As long as it works, go for it.

Sorry, I got distracted... where was I? Oh yeah, the backed card is now dry and ready to be used. I measured the distance across the spine and also 1cm either side of this. I then made fold lines along those with my folder.

And glued it down onto the covers! (taking care not to glue on the spine or within that extra 1cm on either side.

So the way a springback works (from what I gather) is that you have a thin, stiff cover attached right up close to the spine. You then have your “hollow” (the backed cardboard I talked about earlier) which spans from one cover, all the way over the spine and onto the other cover. Now the hollow is attached starting approximately 1cm away from the spine. Your final spine and cover layer are attached to this hollow. When opened, the free area between the hollow and the spine acts as a fulcrum for the innermost cover, which levers the book open (or snaps it shut).

I wanted a design on the front cover, but I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, so I just messed around in photoshop until I came up with something I liked. I then ported that to the Cricut and cut it out of some thick card. I really recommend that if you’re going to use a cricut (or similar) for doing this kind of thing, to use really good quality cardboard for this. I am not sure what this is, but it has a really fine paper pulp type inside with coloured card on the outside. I have used regular boxboard (greyboard?) and it works, but the end result is messy. This more expensive stuff... I think it’s some kind of photo mounting board, cuts really easily with no fuss.

Okay! Protip 2! Fake raised bands on the spine! I’ve used leather for all this, but what you do is you have your false raised band, and then cut your bevels on it. You then glue the cut side down onto your spine and your false raised bands will look all smooth and rounded!

I covered the covers separately from the book (so I didn’t need to use as large a pieces of leather). White lamb leather in case you were wondering.

Then I coated the spine. I don’t know why the leather looks grey in this. it is just as white as the other leather.

Turning in the spine is always fun, especially on a springback. That is all the build photos I got for you guys. But it was the usual job of affixing covers and then turn ins and pasting down end pages. Really riveting stuff.

Now for some finished pics

That is all I have in regards to finished pictures, but I DO have a video of this book over on instagram

https://www.instagram.com/p/BPD1vYiBsRQ/

And there you go. Thanks heaps for reading! Hope you all have a great 2017 If you want behind the scenes photos or want to keep up to date with news, or even want to purchase some of my works, Hit up the following links. Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/BuildingBooks/ Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/buildingbooks/ Etsy Store: https://www.etsy.com/au/shop/BuildingBooks

#white leather #photo album #springback #bookbinding #books #book #buildingbooks

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