#hardback hoarder

[night-market-if]

Yeah sex is good but wait until I show Bella my book shelves 😌 it has the ladder on wheels 📖

Now this has me thinking..does she prefer hardcover or paperback books. Oh how about the pages with the gold foil

Her book preference is everything. She is a little dragon hoarder when it comes to books. But I do think she has a special shelf for some of the really old hardbacks that are more rare. She is constantly on the hunt for rare print books.

[starlightfireflies]

Stories

written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: FFF252; spill the tea warnings: none word count: 731

The attic was old, dusty, stifling. Pale pink insulation fluffed against the walls, looking as soft as cotton candy. When she found herself reaching out a delicate finger, Luna reminded herself of her grandmother’s words: It may look poofy, but you will be wishing you never touched it once you did.

So, she steeled herself and returned to her task. 

Sometimes she hated old houses. 

Clouds of ancient dust puffed up in her face as she moved boxes. She needed black heels—the old kind—for her theater production. Her grandmother had offered her the heels. She hadn’t offered to help look for them.

“How much stuff is even in here?” Luna grumbled, as moving away what she thought was the final box only revealed more. She’d never thought of her grandmother as a hoarder, but that was exactly what she was.

Arms straining with the motion, Luna lifted the actual final box. This was the heaviest. And as she tried to move it away, her arms decided to give up. The box dropped to the ground, spilling its contents all over the place.

Luna’s attention was instantly drawn to a small scrapbook. When it crashed to the floor, it had opened to a page of sage green. Pictures of what must have been Luna’s grandmother as a teenager adorned the pages, along with various others. On one side was a piece of paper—wow!—torn up and stuck to the page.

Today something terrible happened, read the scrawling writing, I’m afraid June has betrayed me. 

Luna’s mind screeched to a halt. Without really processing what she was doing, she tore the letter out of the scrapbook and raced down the attic ladder.

She skidded to a stop right in front of her grandmother’s room. It was an old-fashioned door, made of wood and not steel. Most of Grandmother’s things were old. 

Like the scrapbook.

Luna lifted her hand to knock. One of the things her grandmother had taught her from the good old days was that you had to knock before entering a room. There was no alert system to notify a room’s occupant of a visitor.

“Come in!” came Grandmother’s voice, creaky but strong.

Luna pushed open the door. Her grandmother was propped up against the headboard of her bed, pillows as a buffer between the wood—still odd—and her back. 

At the sight of Luna, Grandmother’s face broke out into a smile. “Ah, Luna.” She gestured to a seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you.”

 “Nice to see you as well, Grandmother.” Luna took a delicate seat on the chair, a hardbacked black one made of wood. She hesitated, then passed the letter from the scrapbook over. “I was looking for your heels, and I found this. I was wondering…”

Grandmother’s expression flickered between dark and light. She stared down at the letter. “You wish to know what June did to me, yes?” At Luna’s nod, she sighed. “This will require some knowledge of the past. You see, Luna, one of the most popular phrases back then was spill the tea.”

“Spill the tea?” Luna echoed. 

“Spill the tea,” Grandmother said. “It meant gossip, essentially, and poor June was entranced by it. She spilled too much of my tea and didn’t have enough napkins to sop it up.”

The train of thought confused Luna, but she stayed silent.

“Therefore, I wrote in this journal. We liked to text a lot, but if you wanted to really express your hate, you wrote about them in your diary.”

“Journaling,” Luna breathed. She couldn’t remember the last time Grandmother brought out her old pencil to demonstrate what writing was like when she was a young girl. “So, June betrayed you by gossiping?”

“Pretty much,” Grandmother said. There was a glint in her eye. “But that wasn’t the last of my adventures with June…”

Luna leaned in. 

[yanderu-deredere]

the m in may stands for marriage

a/n: another one of these hehehe! don't forget to vote in the poll on my pinned post becos i have a really great surprise involving the winner of the poll!

warning: gender neutral reader, prompt: day twenty ★ reorganizing the bookshelf

liam arieh ★ profile

You coughed as dust suddenly exploded in front of you, blinding you momentarily "Liam, what the fuck. When's the last time you cleaned in here?"

Liam just whistled and ignored your question. He was on the other side of the room, sorting through the piles of books that weren't on a shelf. Still, you were sure that he'd still be able to hear you.

You just huffed and kept pulling books out, disgusted by the slight cloud of dust every single time you did so.

There were various hardbacks, expensive looking, with some of them even having gold on the cover or along the edges of the pages.

You noticed a pattern among the books; a lot of them had to do with mythology, with religion, with various Gods and Goddesses, angels and demons. Some, you recognised. Others were in languages you couldn't even decypher.

"You're such a hoarder." You grumbled as you finally cleared at least one shelf, wiping at the wood and grimacing at the dark stain on the paper towel in your hand.

Liam just smirked at you almost victoriously "I'm not hoarding, just, y'know, collecting. I'm an appreciator of fine literature."

"Plus, you can't complain. You married me, my sweet pomegranate." He added in that annoyingly cocky tone of his.

It took everything in you not to chuck a book at his head.

You supposed he did have a point though. And, despite the grime and the disgusting hoard, you didn't want to have it any other way.

[arctic-hands]

Propaganda For Thanking And Saying Goodbye To The Book: I have the entity of Shakespeare's surviving collection on audio drama book format. On top of that, Shakespeare is just a few years out of copyright, so all of his works are free to download in ebook form from the likes of Project Gutenberg if I want to read along to the audio on my ereader. Thus I can free up space on my shelf without really losing anything. Also I am a hoarder trying to keep that instinct/tendency in check

Propaganda For Keeping: it's so pretty 😭😭 also I've had it since like high school

[Image Description: a small, red, hardback book with a cloth cover, on which is stamped with a golden stencil of vines and flowers. The stamping is faded in some places from use and age. Up top it says "The Sonnets and Lover's Complaint", and at the bottom it says William Shakespeare. Below the cover the ribbon is sticking out of the pages, a bit of a deeper red than the cover and frayed at the end. End I.D]

[libraryinthecountry]

★ Happy Friday, readers and book hoarders! What are your plans for this weekend? Today I am unboxing @illumicrate’s November ‘Some Kind of Monster’ box! This box featured my favorite Illumicrate edition of 2022—a simply stunning edition of @stdennard’s The Luminaries! This edition features all exclusive: redesigned cover, foil embossed design on the hardback and digitally printed edges ALL designed by Micaela Alcaino (@micaelaalcainodesign), artwork endpapers designed by Ashley Mackenzie (@ashmackenzieillustration), and it is signed by the author! All UK editions feature interior illustrations by Kerby Rosanes (@keroyrosanes) that are exclusive to the UK editions and our Illumicrate edition has exclusive bonus material from Jessica Khoury (@lizardinkmaps). The items featured in this box are super, too! Included is: - The Priory of the Orange Tree inspired Ascalon sword replica designed by @stacey.mcevoy.caunt - The Winternight trilogy inspired scarf designed by @janinelecour - A Deadly Education inspired tote bag designed by @noverantale - Only a Monster inspired tea tin by @lioninthetrees Swipe to get a closer look at everything! If you���re new to Illumicrate, you can use my code LIBRARY5 to save on 3&6 month subscriptions! ★ HASHTAGS // #bookstagram #fantasybooks #bookseverywhere #booknerd #bookishlife #stencilededges #booksbooksbooks #illumicrate #illumicrateunboxing #theluminaries #susandennard #illumicratenov2022 #flatlayfriday https://www.instagram.com/p/CoNxXGLSgJD/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kctidy]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Hardback. T is for Trespass - Sue Grafton.

[randomlyritchie]

Gavin & Ali are also sprinting. I want to pop in on these as well. 🥰🥰🥰

[hardbackhoarder]

me ignoring my TBR during every readathon

[arywizm]

The Trial by Franz Kafka - "No," said the priest, "you don't need to accept everything as true, you only have to accept it as necessary." "Depressing view," said K. "The lie made into the rule of the world." || 5/5

a story about the lack of meaning.

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt - ...as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn't touch. || 5/5

for an eight hundred pages long hardback that you could break someone's heart nose with it was surprisingly optimistic.

Ferdydurke by Witold Gombrowicz - Our element is unending immaturity. || 3.5/5

I'm sorry to all enthusiasts of classics for the comment I'm about to make but this book? it's the marmite of literature

Last Seen Leaving by Caleb Roehrig || 2/5

I feel bad grading this so low considering that I gave the foxhole court 2.5/5 but while it was ridiculously bad at least it had some character? and this one doesn't even have the decency to be bad enough to be funny, it's just so bland that even I, a known quote hoarder, could not find a single line to put in this goddamn post.

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman - "With cities, as with people, Mister Vandemar,” said Mr. Croup, fastidiously, “the condition of the bowels is all-important." ||. 3.5/5

evil entities my beloved

[supremestrangeness]

OOC:

There were two volumes of Dr Strange I was having THE WORST TIME finding, and only saw them listed at places for like $75+ Each?? Alright, I get it, one volume involves him teaming up with King Pin, and the other one involves Loki taking over as Sorcerer Supreme (And the origin of Bats the Dog)- I’ve read both volumes online, but the book-hoarder in me needed to own themmmm…

Lucky me, I found some random listings on eBay that were affordable?? (Only $30+ Ea.) Spending the last of my Holiday Gelt with NO REGRETS and SO MUCH EXCITEMENT?? I’ll officially have the whole Aaron run (mostly Hardback) and the first two volumes (for now) of the Cates run and I’m pumped about it. Vol 2. (With the whole Hell Vegas fiasco) came in today, and woof, what a great volume. Clea, Strange, Scarlet Witch and Loki fighting demons in hell-Vegas together? Clea and Strange having Awkward Ex Talk where she yells at him to shave his beard and take a shower? Spider-Man asking him to magic him a way to talk to a spider? The canonification of the period he died his hair? The goodbye to Zelma? ((Grips heart))

What a good day to be a nerd. 

[the-al-chemist]

13, 20 & 23 for the OC asks?

Did I post this and then get distracted by being soft and watching outlander simultaneously? Perhaps… anyway, thank you for the ask, Kate 💛💙

13. Describe your character's typical wardrobe for the regular day.

Artemis isn’t a particularly fashionable bean, preferring to choose comfort over style. She often will wear hand-me-downs from Tonks/Penny/Rowan (the perks of being small for her age) and this means she has an eclectic wardrobe. Usually she goes for t-shirt/jumper + denim shorts/jeans/dungarees combo, but after the celestial ball in year four, she starts wearing more skirts and dresses.

20. Does your character have a comfort item?

Not a specific item per se, but Artemis is a bit of a hoarder when it comes to small sentimental items (you can thank her mum for this). By the end of year seven, she will have “collected” a lilac cardigan that would fit a tall 11-year-old or a small 13-year-old, a chesspiece, a woolly jumper with a badger on it, a tiny crystal potion phiall, a small gold-coloured wooden pendant shaped like a dragon on a thin strip of brown leather, an ancient Egyptian good luck charm, a pair of socks, several hardback novels, a model cheetah, and a golden Snitch.

23. What is your character's favourite food and who cooks it best?

In what has become my own longest-running running joke, Artemis’ favourite food is Bakewell tart. The best Bakewell tart she will ever eat will be made by Molly Weasley, in December 1988. Not so much because it was the best one ever cooked, but simply because it was made especially for her, because someone knew that she’d appreciate it. It meant a lot to her, and tasted all the better for it.

[maybeishouldwritesomething]

The first time Crowley visits Aziraphale’s home - after the dust of the whole end of the world business settles, of course - he has a vague idea in mind of what to expect. Doilies. One of these signs that reads ‘Bless this mess’. An exact replica of a furniture catalogue spread from 1942. Something along those lines.

The last thing he expects is what can only be described as a well-organised hoarder’s nest. He can tell it’s organised not only by how Aziraphale navigates it all with such ease, but by how everything is categorised by item. 

Stacks of newspaper, neatly tied with string, line one wall of what was once a living room, with a pair of paper scissors and a scrapbook sitting open on a little table next to them. Vases and ornaments of all shapes and sizes litter one corner, while books, hardback and paper, occupy another. An entire wall is adorned with paintings. Crowley has never heard of any of the artists.

“Have a seat wherever you like,” Aziraphale calls cheerily from the kitchen.

“Where?” Crowley asks before he can stop himself.

The sofa’s been lost to scrolls of paper of varying ages, and the one armchair is drowning in embroidery hoops.

Aziraphale peeps out from the doorway, somewhat chagrined.

“I know what it looks like,” he starts.

“Oh, good, I thought I was the only one,” Crowley replies. “What is all this?”

“History, dear boy.”

Aziraphale disappears for a moment before reappearing with two mugs - one tea, one coffee. He hands the mug of coffee to Crowley.

Crowley just looks at him. “You do know what the Internet is, right?”

Aziraphale makes a face. “Yes, and how long do we expect that to last, really?” he replies with a sniff.

He perches on the edge of the armchair. Crowley stays standing, still at a loss for words.

“Look, I-” Aziraphale takes a breath before he continues. “I can’t stand the idea of all of these- all of these perfectly good things that someone has put so much time into being forgotten and thrown away. It doesn’t seem right.”

And then it hits Crowley. All the years they’ve been on this Earth, and how quietly Aziraphale’s had to go about living. His work comes first, it wouldn’t do to get close to any human, only to lose them a few decades later. There are no parades for his miracles, no matter the size. He doesn’t want anyone to be forgotten, like he would be.

Crowley takes a sip of his coffee, trying to gather his words.

“You look like you could use a hand,” he says after a while.

Aziraphale smiles at him shyly. “I suppose I could.”

[fortheloveofeos]

The Vanguard - Chapter 7

Happy Holiday Season, y’all. I’ve been doing some writing that I’ve forgotten to post. I’ve got a few things up my sleeve I hope to have up over the season. Hopefully, the girls will be back in full force along with a new story that I intended to be one chapter per Chocobro but probably will be longer because my brain takes off sometimes. 

Get ready for angst and backstory.

XXX

Eirwen had been silent since the incident several hours before. Gladio had steered her away from the training area of the Citadel and into the back garden in hopes the quiet and seclusion would give her some peace. For hours he had watched her pace, absently trailing fingers over the stone walls and leaving a trail of ice behind her. Finally unable to watch her self loath any longer, Gladio had dared to speak and ask her where she wanted to go. Her answer had been a vague “anywhere that’s not here” before he had handed her his extra helmet and they sped off through the busy streets of Insomnia. She had followed him almost blindly until she heard him rattle his keys as he opened the door to his apartment - conveniently across the street from the building Prince Noctis had recently taken up residence. 

The apartment was entirely decorated in dark leathers, navy blue, and dark wood. Photos of scenic mountain views and pictures of his family were scattered along the walls. “This is...impressive,” Eirwen paused as she caught sight of the floor to ceiling custom shelves that housed an incredible number of books - most bound in hardbacks with titles covering subjects ranging from history to culture to largest number of war and strategy books she had ever seen outside of that section in the Citadel library. She also noted the fair number of fiction books scattered throughout and couldn’t help but see that more than one seemed to be romance novels. Trailing her finger over their spines, she was shocked to see how immaculate the collection was - no creases or signs or weather and absolutely not dust to be seen. 

Keys clattered somewhere behind her as Gladio deposited them into the bowl by the door and removed his heavy boots. “Bit of a hoarder when it comes to books. Coffee or tea?” 

Pulling an old leather-bound tomb from the shelf, Eirwen scanned the pages of a guerilla warfare strategy written in Ancient Lucien. “Milk?” 

“Coconut.” 

Nodding, Eirwen carefully thumbed through the yellowing pages. “Coffee, then.” Various sounds of cabinets opening and shutting and then of a brewing coffee pot filtered around her as she scanned the old runes advising on the importance of partners and scouting teams. 

Minutes late, Gladio handed her a steaming cup of fresh coffee that was just the right shade of dark caramel. He took up residence on the couch beside her, careful not to touch her but remaining close enough that she might know he meant to offer her comfort if she needed it.

Looking at her now, Eirwen looked nothing like the ice goddess she had appeared to be earlier in the day. Currently, her skin was flushed pink from worry and the heat of the coffee, her blue eyes bright with something akin to anger but without such force. She had tucked her legs under herself and curled into the corner of the couch as if trying to take up a strategic position to protect herself. Gladio had never witnessed such power before today - not even when King Regis had renewed the power that held up the wall protecting the city of Insomnia. It was incredible to think that any mortal could wield such power.

Exhaling, Eirwen closed the book with a sense of finality and caught the slight jump from Gladio out of the corner of her eye. Rubbing at her forehead, she forced herself to speak evenly. “You’re scared of me now?” She hoped she hadn’t sounded angry when Gladio was the only person who seemed willing and eager to listen to things from her perspective without jumping in and trying to give her advice. He was her partner in battle. 

“Scared of you?” Gladio readjusted himself so that he more easily faced her but did his best to appear relaxed as he reclined his arms across the back and sipped his cooling coffee. “I’m not afraid of you, snowflake. I’m worried for you. There’s a big difference.”

A humorless laugh escaped her. Leaning forward, she twisted the length of her pale locks between her fingers and focused on controlling her emotions so as not to turn the Shield-in-Training’s apartment into a meat locker. “Don’t worry about me. I’m always ready for battle.” In fact, punching something sounded like a wonderful idea at the moment. 

Finishing his coffee, Gladio deposited the cup onto the coffee table before making a show of giving her his full attention. “I’m not doubting your training and abilities - a few rounds with you on the training mats has proven you’re more than capable in that department. What happened earlier between you and Amira has me worried. I felt...whatever that was that you pushed out at her. I watched her freeze over. I saw your expression when you pulled yourself back out.” He didn’t ask her to explain, nor did he demand answers or promises that she wouldn’t do the same to him. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Gladio. I can’t explain it. It happened once, years ago. Amira…” trailing off, Eirwen raked her hands through her hair in frustration as if hoping to pull the words from her head. “It was like she 

 me when I was completely broken - or at least patched me back together. I wanted to try to do the same for her but I couldn’t find it, I couldn’t find what hurt her.” Tears of frustration threatened to spill from her eyes and she angrily wiped at them. “I couldn’t do the same for her. What good is this power if I can’t even protect the people I care about.” Forcing herself up from the couch, she marched over to the large window looking down on the busy streets below and pressed her forehead against the cool glass hoping to calm herself down. “She’s the only family I have.”

Silence rang out through the apartment. Distant sirens and the sounds of city life filtered between the two warriors to break up the deafening quiet. Gladio, for all his reading and knowledge in how to handle emotional trauma when related to combat, loss, and injury, was at a complete loss. Another not so well kept secret of the Twins: bad family relations. To his knowledge, Eirwen had none to speak of. In the file Cor had given him in preparation for his first mission with her, she was listed as a ward of the Citadel until she had become of legal age. Gladio, on the other hand, was fortunate enough to have an actual family. 

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’ve got your back now, Eirwen - on and off the battlefield.” Gladio walked past her to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes as he spoke, hoping not to make her feel pressured or closed in. “People care about you.” He had seen the way Crowe, Libertus, Pelna, and Nyx were with her and it was clear they had forged a bond that was deeper than camaraderie or friendship.

Across town and shaking from over exertion and residual tingles of forced magic, Amira leaned against the window from her perch. Purple lightning cracked in the distance each time her fingers twitched. It had been hours since the incident and she could still feel the sorrow in her heart left by Eirwen just before their connection snapped. The bone deep chill had left her almost as soon as it had arrived but now she felt oddly warm in a way that reminded her of post fever.

Nyx had been kind enough to make her a pot of gunpowder tea, piping hot and slightly bitter. She also vaguely noticed that he had switched on the radio to a low jazz to fill the ringing silence of her mind. He moved with familiarity and confidence in her home and she couldn’t help feeling both grateful and annoyed at the same time. 

“You don’t need to stay.” She hated how quiet and weak her voice sounded but she felt the need to at least offer him a way out of the current situation. Other than Eirwen, she wasn’t really accustomed to anyone trying to take care of her even after her injury.

“And you don’t need to catch the flu pressed against the window, princess.” Nyx chuckled at the obscene hand motion Amira quickly shot his way and was relieved to see she seemed to be clawing her way back out of herself. “I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out.” When Amira opened her mouth to argue, he was quick to stop her and refocus her attention on the larger goal in hopes of getting her to face the current issue. “We’ll be called back into the field any day now and since you’ve been cleared, I need to know you’re in the right headspace.” If he couldn’t get her to consider the issue as a work-related problem, he would have no hope of getting her to open up about personal issues.

Nodding, Amira worried the warm mug between her fingers. “I told you, I felt something snap. I’ve never felt her so far away - not when we’re separated by thousands of miles.” Assuring her that the connection could be fixed, Nyx urged her to continue. “Whatever she was looking for...something seemed to break her heart.”

“I’m sure she’s just worried about you. The two of you have always had each other -” Nyx stopped short as his phone vibrated in his pocket. The only people that had his number were Glaives and other work associates and the only time it rang was due to some work related issue. Fishing it out from the pocket of his jeans, he was surprised to see Pelna’s name lighting up the screen. “Report,” he offered by way of greeting.

Amira watched and Nyx’s eyes narrowed slightly and his stubbled jaw clenched. Though Pelna couldn’t see him, he nodded several times and made agreeable noises to urge him to continue. After a few moments, Nyx ended the call and ran a hand over his suddenly weary face. This time, it was Amira who was concerned by the sudden quiet. “Seems we have a bit of work to do.”

“Pelna cracked the firewall and found some sort of list he immediately sent to Cor - who informed him that several emissaries from the Empire are planning a visit to attend the Foreign Relations Gala in a few days.” A crease had taken up residence on Nyx’s forehead as he repeatedly ran the conversation through his mind. 

Shocked, Amira was silent for a moment as she processed the information. “They’re not planning a confrontation in front of a room of international dignitaries. Could they have realized that I copied that file?” 

“There’s no way they’re that stupid. They’re up to something, though. Pelna also reported increased military activity at the northern border - encampments, patrol, the works.” Sighing, he leaned back against the counter and studied Amira closely. “Looks like the vacation is over.” He paused momentarily hoping to choose his next words correctly. “You’re not going to...like what I have in mind.” 

Sighing, Amira pulled herself up from the window and stood to face her partner. “I rarely do,” she reassured him.

XXX

Unlike her Twin, Amira had grown up in what anyone on the outside looking in would consider a perfect home. Malcolm and Nadia Everet were the storybook couple - Malcolm hailed from one of the richest, self-made families in all Lucis while Nadia, coming from old Lucian nobility, had been raised as if she herself were next in line to the throne. When the two had married nearly three decades earlier, neither bride or groom had ever laid eyes on the other prior to meeting at the altar and both had approached the scenario as if it were a business transaction to further themselves and their families. When Amira had been born, she had instantly become the new bargaining chip for her parents and had been ushered through years of etiquette classes, ballroom dance lessons, advanced tutoring, fashion and beauty seminars, and all the formal parties her parents could drag her to. Amira had grinned and curtsied through it all, praying to the Six for a way out.

Things had remained tortuously the same until her fifteenth birthday. For years, she had begged her parents to allow her to train with her paternal uncle and member of the Royal Kingsguard, Declan - her justification being that she should know how to defend herself should her pedigree ever put her in harm’s way. Finally, after much pressure from her uncle, her parents had relented and allowed her to train two days a week for a few hours in place of the cardio workout her personal trainer had devised for her. Immediately, she had fallen in love with the raw violence and unstructured chaos that came from physical combat and had shown real promise for someone so young. Her uncle worked with her continuously had been able to nearly ensure her a position within the guard after her college graduation, even going so far as to go against her parent’s wishes for her by involving King Regis himself. She couldn’t have found anything more removed from her original life if she had tried - or at least she had thought until her training accident had sealed her fate. 

Uncomfortable falling back into bad memories, Amira kept fidgeting in her seat and pulling at the garment she had hoped she would never wear. The couture gown had been stashed away in its original box since her parents had sent it to her over a year ago in hopes of enticing her back into the spotlight her family thrived in. The saving grace was that the dress was at least mostly black. Made of the highest quality black satin and an overlay of organza, the floor length gown possessed a custom fitted corset with an off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline that dipped between her breasts exposing a bit more skin than she felt entirely comfortable with. The draped split sleeves fell beyond her wrists, perfectly displaying the tattoo of delicate roses twisting and blooming down her arm, and a careful slit ran up the long skirt to her mid thigh on one side. Hand embroidered gold applique leaves and vines decorated the bodice and skirts while the sleeves and trims were encrusted with shimmering gold glass beads. She had paired the dress with a pair of black designer pumps with a scarlet bottom adorned with a criss-crossing straps that buckled just above the ankle and glittering gold and diamond drop earrings. She’d had to buy new makeup as she had avoided wearing it as much as possible in recent years and had opted for a heavy-handed winged eyeliner and a dark plum lipstick. 

“If you pull continue to pull at the dress, you’re going to end up ripping it before we get to the gala.”

Sighing, Amira arched a perfectly filled in brow at her uncle Declan who was comfortably dressed in his usual Guard uniform of black slacks and dress shirt. He’d only added a jacket and patent leather shoes to his daily ensemble. “You know how much I hate this. I thought by becoming a Glaive I could wipe my hands of all this.” Contempt leaked into her words as she studied her black and gold manicure. 

Chuckling, Declan straightened his jacket and offered his niece a knowing grin. His salt and pepper hair mixed with the warm gold of his eyes had always made him so much more inviting than her father. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to walk in heels already? I thought we raised you better than that.”

Immediately, Amira flipped him off with her glittering gold-tipped finger and flipped her half pinned up hair over one shoulder. “Please. We both know I came out of the womb wearing a pair of six inch pumps.” Thankfully, the sleek black vehicle came to a stop and the back door was opened by a smirking hero. “Don’t start with me tonight,” Amira warned Nyx as she slid across the leather seats and carefully out onto the sidewalk before the Citadel. 

Flashing lights erupted from either side of her. As if flipping a switch, Amira smiled for the photographers pushed back her shoulders until she felt the familiar ache beginning in her spine. Declan was quick to take up her elbow as he too paused to allow the paparazzi a moment to capture his image. As the two moved forward towards the grand entrance, Nyx moved to her other side as if to shield her from the cameras. Speaking quickly, Nyx spoke just loud enough for the two Everets to hear him. “Many of the foreign dignitaries have already arrived but no one has spotted anyone from the Empire yet. The others are posted up inside and I will be positioned to see the entire ballroom.” Holding out a gloved hand to Amira, Nyx offered her nearly perfectly clear earpiece. “Pelna just finished these this morning. Don’t worry about it not picking up your voice if you speak quietly, it’s been calibrated to your voice specifically.”

Declan ushered Amira through the glass door before heading to the elevator and pressing the correct floor. “I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but your parents are here and they would like to speak with you. Try not to get blood on the dress.”

Groaning, Amira thumped her head back against the onyx wall of the elevator during her brief moment of normalcy. Tonight, she was once again Amira Everet, heir to the Everet fortune and darling daughter of Malcolm and Nadia. Of course, they had not been briefed on the plan the Vanguard and the Kingsguard were to execute. To them, their daughter was finally coming to her senses. “Six, I am going to need an entire bottle of champagne.” She could already feel the headache beginning to bloom in her temple. 

[guylty]

A big thank you to Storm Ciara! After quite an odyssey, I received two packages yesterday that had been travelling for far too long.

One was happy mail for my own pleasure, containing lots of bits and pieces for crafting with gorgeous Tim Holtz ephemera and super cute charms and stickers. My hoarder instincts are hard to suppress, but after discovering tons and tons of material in my stash during my office re-do, I have decided that I am neither going to buy new things anymore, nor hoard the best bits. Kisses to LoLo!

Anyway, that was more or less my private pleasure (although the bits and bobs will find their way into the RAPSes, I am certain), but at the same time another parcel reached me that had me gasp with astonishment. You see, fellow fan Jenny asked me a while back whether I’d be interested in some fan memorabilia. She was decluttering her home and had decided to let go of some of hoarded (!) fan items. Rather than have them sitting in a box on top of her wardrobe, she felt that perhaps some other fans might enjoy having these items. I happily agreed to receive the items for future auctions.

If you think that is it, you are wrong. That is just the heap of items, cleverly photographed from above to give you the false impression that it only consisted of three items…

After an unsuccessful first attempt at sending me the parcel (it was returned because the courier service claimed there was something wrong with my address *pah*), the box arrived yesterday. When I picked it up in the hallway, I nearly buckled under its weight! I had to lug it up three flights of stairs, but boy was it worth it.

I am deliberately not going into details with the items, but you get the gist. These are predominantly Hobbit fan items, hardback and soft cover books, magazines, misc, and original newspaper and magazine articles from all the way back in 2010 etc. It’s an amazing cache of fan items, and I am sure there are some much coveted items in there. Huge thanks to Jenny for letting go of them and donating them for future auctions.

Talking of which… Future auctions. After the auction is *before* the auction, right? It is six months until the annual birthday auctions. We have just recovered from the expense of Christmas. Is there any point and interest in an auction between now and August? When would you suggest another auction to be held? For a particular reason/occasion/charity? Would love to hear your opinion!

Until then, I have lots of reading material to get through…

  What a Donation! A big thank you to Storm Ciara! After quite an odyssey, I received two packages yesterday that had been travelling for far too long.

[rattlethereads]

Organization and Bookish Boxes

Ordered an Owl crate box and its shipped! I have never purchased an Owl crate and I have been on the fence about any book box. But I broke down and got it! I am planning to do an unboxing. I will just record myself opening it and upload that video here.

ALSO, what I am most excited about, yes over getting a box full of bookish goodies, is my new book tracker spreadsheet, thank you to Hardback Hoarder on YouTube for the template and doing all the work. All I must do is fill in the blanks- literally. It even does the math for you!

If you are interested in using this spreadsheet, she does explain it while using the sheet, in this video, feel free to check it out! I must say it is a game changer for me!

[maneatsbooks]

Little Objects of Desire

Fundamentally, books have remained the same since Guttenberg decided he couldn’t be arsed transcribing things by hand anymore.

It would be hard to think of another familiar, man-made object which has remained so markedly unchanged since 1455. White privilege, maybe. Also, tennis.

Ever since the birth of the Kindle, Nook (remember them?), Kobo (what?) and a plethora of other e-reading apps, people have been predicting the death of printed books, but it hasn’t happened.

After reaching a peak in 2014, sales of e-readers and e-books have slowed, and hardback sales have surged. More encouragingly, independent bookshops (bookstores for my American readers. I’ve never understood that – a shop sells things; a store just stores them) have bucked the recent high-street trends and are experiencing a resurgence in the face of ‘that south American river that shall not be named’. So much so that the ‘south American river that shall not be named’ is now considering opening physical bookshops.

It appears they are now learning the lesson that book readers and indie booksellers knew all along. Books are not just commodities or things to own. If that were true, then a bookshop would hold no more emotional resonance than a branch of Ikea.

There are few things more soulless than mega-corporations (naming no names) stacking high the three-for-two and buy-one-get-one-free offers, as if books were no more than store-cupboard staples. It’s not like readers would think, ‘I want the new Ali Smith, and I don’t really need the Jodi Picoult, but I may as well take it and shove it in the cupboard next to the chickpeas and kidney beans – you never know’.

Indeed, it’s very telling that Waterstones stopped their bogof offers a couple of years ago under the tutelage of James Daunt.

Proper bookshops know their customers come as much for the experience as for the books. A carefully curated, atmospheric bookshop is as cosy as a Hobbit hole in springtime, because indie bookshops know that books aren’t just books. They are little objects of desire.

I read a lot, but I will always have more books in my house than I will ever read. This is the happy absurdity of being a book lover. Unread books are not a waste. They contain the promise of pleasure yet to come, paths yet to roam, and lives yet to be lived.

To be fair, there is probably a fine line between a book lover and an ordinary hoarder, but in that thin gap is everything which makes the difference between a paper book and a notional ebook – the very physicality of paper, pages, binding, spines and beautiful, colourful covers. It’s interesting that the dictionary definition of a bibliophile is ‘a person who loves or collects books’. It does not define a bibliophile as a person who loves and collects and reads books. I mean, we will; but it’ll take a while.

You can’t collect e-books, unless you take pride in a virtual library – on Goodreads, say. Which is fine, but then it’s broken down into mere statistics. This is how many books I have read so far. These are the books I’m going to read. There is no theatricality, no colour, no physicality, and worse, no book smell.

And that book smell is like crack cocaine to book lovers – the old, slightly vanilla smell of paper and binding glue and musty, dusty shelves. If you could bottle it as a pheromone spray I bet you’d end up with a lot of weird dates in libraries.

There is also a difference between collecting books and collecting other things – shoes, for example. Show me a person with a thousand books and I will be green with envy. Show me a person with a thousand shoes and I will ask which southeast Asian country you have been exiled from.

Books are the ultimate badge of personality. The first thing I do in a stranger’s house is tilt my head to examine the spines on their bookshelves. You can tell a lot about a person from their bookshelves. There are green flags and red flags. Classics are a green flag. Also a few cookbooks, a volume or two of history, some contemporary fiction.

Jeremy Clarkson books are a red flag. Probably even for Jeremy Clarkson.

My books are me, externalised – my worldview in object form. A chaptered hall of mirrors casting reflected aspects of me. They are where I have been, where I hope to go, and the map.

Like the bicycle, the book is a perfect invention, and perfection dies very, very hard. The car hasn’t murdered the bike, and e-book corporations won’t murder the book. Even if Jeremy Clarkson comes installed free.