#catboydogma

The first flower Obi-Wan hacked up on the bridge of the newly-named Negotiator was a marigold. Thankfully, this one didn’t come with roots—those were always the worst, leaving his throat sore or abraded for days after—and was relatively small. He’d felt the rattle in his lungs when as he’d first walked through the shining halls of the Venator, the soft-spun stoppage of petals and stem in his chest.

Due to my move causing a book binding hiatus, I decided to do a project to get back into things where I didn't need to do the typeset. @mourningmountainsbindery made this beautiful typeset for @catboydogma's great codywan hanahaki AU, and serendipitously I had done a painted silk class with @aetherseer when she visited me in Japan a while ago, resulting in a very pretty flower design - so! Put the two things together made bookcloth out of my silk.

This is a wonderful fic series, and I particularly like how in this AU hanahaki disease is not fatal, and more based on one's own feelings than whether it's reciprocated.

I also pulled out some of my floral chiyogami for cloth-jointed endpapers (mayhaps... i fucked up cutting the endpapers & thats why they are cloth jointed), and colored the edges with acrylic ink, and when there's so many Japanese components I have to sew the endbands in the Japanese silk, ofc.

[Podfic Link] | Length: 10 minutes, 33 seconds

Original Work: how to be alive by catboydogma

Clone Wars: Fox & Caf | Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

Summary: 

“What are you doing here?” Thire didn’t spare a look for Thorn, making his way down the hallway with his bucket tucked under one arm. The corridor was long and miserable and, Thire was sure, designed specially to exacerbate trooper eyestrain and headaches. The chairs outside Fox’s office door were stiff and just a little too small for the average trooper, especially in armor. Thire knew this because he’d watched Fox pick them out. “Pontificating,” Thire said, still staring at the door. “What can you hear?” Thorn tilted his head to the side. He’d scraped his hair into a bun at the base of his neck, squashed so as not to catch on the lip of his helmet, but several dense curls had escaped in a desperate bid for freedom. “…howling.” “Is that it?” Thire asked, conversational.

@catboydogma created a darkly stunning hanahaki series called Heavy Off a Golden Hue that has such rich visuals…

I had a bit of a hard time choosing scenes really…

But here we go!

For that I give you not one, but two scenes! Both were so much fun to work on, and gave me a good challenge to get the vibe right

Chapter 1:

The General’s quarters were bursting with flowers. The little tin cups they were all supplied with were scattered around in clusters, small flowers with lacy froths of petals bobbing in the water within. There was a faded, chipped mug on the folding table at the center of the General’s quarters; a spray of all different flowers sprouted from it, blue and violet and startling brass. Cody took a step further in, then another, and suppressed a twitch as the door slid shut behind him.

and in Chapter Three:

Obi-Wan coughed, braced against the unforgiving ground on hand and knee, his other leg crumbled under him and palm pressed to his throat. Crimson poured over his chin, teeth glittering scarlet in the fluorescence of Cody’s shoulder light. He was choking, endlessly heaving up more blood, more clots, more crumpled flower heads and loose petals and—

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said again, hacking wetly. His shoulders convulsed as another rush of blood went down the front of his robes—Cody had dropped to his knees without realizing, legs stinging absently at the impact, and he had no idea when or how he’d crossed the 10 meters to Obi-Wan’s side—

“Call—them—back.” Obi-Wan doubled over and Cody caught him, steadied his shoulders. “Troops—call—”

“They’re already gone,” Cody told him, icy shock tempered with the heady rush of adrenaline. Panic warred with training; he caught himself lurching forward to check Obi-Wan’s pulse and then back to shout for a medic all in the span of a second. “Obi-Wan, what—”