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justarandompersononthehellsite · 3 days

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So... @muffinlance wrote a really awesome story. I read a post from a point in time, though I truly do not remember when since it seems like I've been working on this project forever, saying that she gives blanket permission for people to print and bind the story into a book (I think there was an also addendum saying that they do not give permission to be sold, since selling fic is illegal). This fic has had total control over my whole brain since it was sent to me (@creatorofthemind I believe it was you, so thank you forever for tuning me into it) back during the days of like chapter six or seven.

So here I am now, sharing this amazing journey of my first ever bookbinding adventure. Further reading below.

So to give you an idea of what's going on, this is a fanfiction about Zuko (Avatar the Last Airbender) (animated show version, the LA show did not exist yet and we do not speak of the movie) being adopted by Hakoda, Father of Katara and Zuko. (This might have also been what kicked off the Give Zuko A Parent craze, but don't fact check me.)

Overall, the characters from the show stick very well to the cannon versions, but where MuffinLance really shines is in the rich backstories and fleshed out feeling of all the non cannon elements. Especially the background characters. I would argue that the writing in this peice of fanwork could easily rival the cannon show at many points of comparison.

Now that you have context, we can get into the actual process.

To start, I used this guide to figure out where to even begin, and fount the included resource list to also be quite helpful. I cannot for the LIFE OF ME figure out where I found the template I used for the front matter and such, but it must be somewhere and I will link to it when I inevitably come across it again.

Then I began to typeset. This step took... a long time. I worked in chunks from about September of 2022 to late March of 2024. I would get a big section done, sometimes even the entire thing, but then find I hated the way I had done it and give up for months at a time. Such is the life of ADHD and flitting interest in projects I suppose.

And then finally, step one was done, and I was left with pages on a word document that look like this. (And do please let me know if you want the link to the document. It was so much work, and I would love to not be the only one to use it.)

Next step was printing out this beast. Ended up being about eight pages of front matter, and about 630 pages of body text.

That I printed wrong.

Twice.

Before finally getting it right. And then not getting a picture of it, because I finished at 4 am and had work at 7, and am also an idiot.

Then I simply stitched along, putting everything together into a beautiful text block.

And came up with a design for the cover.

Yes the glue did end up lumpy. Ignore it.

Yes I did have to sketch out the design onto a scraped page several times before I figured out what I was doing. Ignore that too.

The cover design does wrap around the entire cover. No I did not get a picture before I glued the thing down. See again: I'm an idiot. And just... massively impatient.

Finally, we get to the stage of gluing. Behold, my bookpress.

Of course, topped with Madam MuffinLances own actual professional-people book, Fox's Tounge and Kirin's Bone. It is Excelent. Here is the LINK so you can go and support this amazing author with the real-monies as well as the internet-kudos.

Then, once everything is glued together, one must give the book its "gilt" edges.

#atla #salvage #bookbinding #fanbinding #muffinlance #I'm a really big fan of this story and the characters ok?#They're really fun and I love them.

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shoshiwrites · 1 day

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Hi! I’m the anon that requested the handholding prompt, and I just wanted to say thank you. It was everything I could have hoped for and more!! It made me smile!!

If you are still taking requests, I would request Jo/Egan with the prompt touching foreheads or bandaging/stitching an injury. As you can see, I couldn’t decide between one prompt, once again. I look forward to whatever you write and of course, never feel pressured to write anything. I hope you are doing well 🫶🏼

Hello anon! Thank you so much for your lovely message. I'm so glad you liked that prompt, and I appreciate your understanding very much. I've kept "bandaging/stitching an injury" on my list, and filled this one for "touching foreheads." This is my first try at Bucky POV, and we kind of ended up on the depression-nap side of things (see my terrible header below). Thank you to @mercurygray for helping me work the end. Bucky Egan x War correspondent OC.

Six months.

And he’s felt every minute of every one, or at least it seems that way on days like this. Gray as all hell, like a storm gathering over the lake. Every minute if you didn’t count the gaps, the headaches, the days he sleeps away, the things he couldn’t remember those first few weeks. His jaw still wakes him in the night, dull if he’s lucky, a screaming pain if he’s not. He can never forget the things he’d actually want to forget, can he? Now that would be too easy.

Never coughed up an explanation for Buck either, even when Buck looked at him sideways about something or the other. Even if he wanted to, his throat goes dry at the thought, like the dust and dirt along the floorboards.

Holding onto it gives him something to hold onto, at least. The anger.

Six months of this damn nightmare, the bloodshot bone-chilled day and night. Different nightmare than the sky. He has those too. This is the kind of dream where you’re stuck in it, you can’t move, there’s footsteps outside the door. He’d had those as a kid. Terrified him.

It’s sure not the the kind they nail up pictures for, paper edges catching on the unfinished timber, hoping to summon some kind of vision. He’s so tired he’s practically drooling into the pillow, letting his eyes wander far enough along the wall that it hurts, over Rita and Ginger and Ava’s shining faces.

There are pictures kept in books too, pouches and the occasional wallet, those all but sewn into jacket pockets. Girls back home.

Not even a letter. Not one goddamn letter, he thinks, the sigh of it harder than seems fair to his mother or his sisters, trying to get around the mail delays and sending cards for every holiday they could think of. What the hell even was Arbor Day, anyway?

(“Trees,” Brady had said, not looking up from the keys of his saxophone.

“...right.”)

He thinks about Texas, and Florida, and Idaho, and Nebraska. Girls and dresses and perfume, manicured hands, no dirt around them. Marge’s friend, he can’t remember her name, pretty, dark hair, disinterested in a kiss but amenable to dancing. They’d all wanted to forget, right? Not when you’re flying out the next day.

He thinks of Lil, the cupid’s bow of her lip and the goosebumps under her sweater. She’d wanted to forget too. A brother somewhere in…he can’t remember now. Burma? Her grandfather hadn’t had too many nice words for him, John. Not that he could blame the man.

He thinks of Jo. Crouched over that little green typewriter the way Brady fiddles with his sax, the sound of the bell, the sound of the keys. Like Buck over the radio. The way she looked up at him, like she’d just realized something important. The way she smelled when she let him get close enough, like flowers after a spring rain.

The air’s sour in here, and cold. Showering helps, besides freezing your damn balls off.

He lets himself think it, about his head in her lap in the grass, or on a sofa, or anywhere, really, where she’s leaning down and she’s touching him, the little calluses on her hands, and her forehead close to his.

It hurts too much, and maybe he can admit it, here in this damn coffin of a bunk, mattress about as comfortable as one, that maybe she’d wanted to forget too.

You don’t kiss like that, he thinks, with acid in his throat, when you care what comes next.

She writes like she cares, though. She writes like she believes in all of them, like it’s real and not just what her paper wants or somebody wants to hear.

Maybe he can admit that now, if he doesn’t think about the note she’d left.

He’d rather think about anything else, hell, he’d rather walk outside with no shoes on, listen to the Yankees lose by a single run.

He’d rather wish this damn pillow was a different kind, her thigh or her body or her forehead, even, pressed against his. Not that he’d admit it out loud.

And her mouth right there, he thinks, like he can just make that half-second trip to kiss her, and kiss her again.

#masters of the air oc #mota oc #bucky egan x oc #john egan x oc #shoshi writes #jo's tag #motaverse #anonymous #i am...still figuring this out

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officialstrawhat · 1 day

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The Rose Of Dressrosa- Chapter 5

Chapter List

Hello! Wow, it's been forever. But on the bright side, I am completely caught up with One Piece! :D Please enjoy this Chapter!

Trafalgar D. Law x Fem!Reader

Summary:

After King Riku is dethroned, Doflamingo takes you under his wing and asks you to follow only one strict rule, "do not leave the palace alone". However, your sense of adventure is too great.

Law had only one thing in mind... Revenge. And you seemed like the best way to do that.

Trigger Warnings!: Please be advised there will be some allusions to grooming, non-con touching, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: Gif is not mine. Not Edited.

Chapter 5

You hummed happily as you sat in the courtyard of the palace. You sat back against the trunk of the large tree rereading your favorite parts of your adventure book. This was a great chapter:

In the South Blue, there are descendants of wayward giants from Elbath. According to legend, centuries ago, these seafaring giants were shipwrecked on a tiny island in the South Blue. In an attempt to return to Elbath without a ship, they tried to build a stone bridge to reach their homeland. Eventually, the island ran out of stones, and the giants soon realized they would never see their homeland again. Now, every year, their descendants walk across the stone bridge to honor their ancestors...

“You're chipper,” Dellinger came up from behind you.

“So? Am I not allowed that as well?” You bite back at his comment, rolling your eyes.

So what if you were happy? Was that so bad? Whenever you left the palace you felt a euphoric bliss that only satiated until the next time you could sneak out again. Anytime you would go out it was all very secretive. At least you hoped so, you tried not to ever talk to anyone unless it was necessary. Which only made it all so lonely.

That was until you met him. Law. He was new and told you all about his adventures sailing from island to island. It captivated you.

He captivated you…

You began to blush furiously at the thought. He was attractive, that was easy to admit. But to act like this it was a feeling you had never felt like this.

“Hellooo?!” Dellinger began to snap his fingers in front of your face.

Oh shit. Was he talking to you? “Hmmm…”

“I said, Doffy wants to see you.”

Your heart sank, “Did he say why?”

“Oh yes we had a great big chat all about it over tea,” the Sharkboy said mockingly.

Rolling your eyes again, you rise from your grassy spot.

“Have fun,” he laughed as he sank to lay down on his back the brim of his cap hiding his eyes. “Hopefully he doesn’t kill you”

“Asshole.” you tossed out as you walked off.

Shit. Shit. Shit. you curse.

Did he know? Did someone see you while you were out? With some strange man no less. You weren't stupid this could be bad. You had heard rumors of how Doffy would kill if he felt like his family was put in jeopardy. Maybe if you explained…

Taking a deep breath you knocked on his massive office doors.

“Young Master?” You say as you enter cautiously.

When you fully entered his office it was empty. It had been a long time since you had stepped into his room. You looked over to his desk and there were the flowers that were browned and dead in an expensive crystal vase. You waved your hand over the petals, reviving them back to life. The act caused a memory to revive as well.

Seven years ago…

Doflamingo sits in his desk chair reading a newspaper

“Doffy!”

He looks up, “Aww there's my Rose.”

“I made you something!” You tell him excitedly

“Did you?”

You nod and reveal a wildflower from behind your back lifting it up to him.

“Watch what I can do!” You turn the one into several different colors.

“My that is something,” he smiled and placed an invisible string to the flowers and tied it together before placing the bouquet in a crystal vase, “I think it works well there.”

“Mhmm.” You agree as he places you on top of his lap. “Doffy? How many strings can you make?”

He chuckled, “How many stars are in the sky?”

“You hung all those stars,” you gaped.

“Let me tell you a secret,” The Young Master leaned in close to your ear, “Only for you”

“Y/N,” you heard causing you to spin towards the entryway.

“I was told you wanted to see me,” you said hesitantly as you watched Doffy walk over to his large chair next to the window.

“Yes. Come sit,” he said once he placed himself in his large chair, you moved to the opposite chair in front of him. Before you could sit he stopped you by grabbing hold of your wrist.

“No, right here.” he patted his lap. You felt your stomach turn. Gulping you moved and sat on top of him, causing the grin on his face to widen at your obedience.

“I am proud of you, you know,” he says pulling you closer to him, “for keeping up with your training. In no time you will be able to unleash the full potential of your power.” He ran a hand through your hair brushing a strand behind your ear.

“Will it always be Monet training me?” you ask trying to focus on your breathing as your heart beats faster against the cage of your chest.

“Yes. As difficult as it may be,” he spoke, his words trailing off before speaking again this time his voice dangerously low and slow, rubbing your thigh. “Unless you want me to step in and teach you. I am a very good teacher.”

You watched his hand inch closer and closer to the most intimate part of yourself. Immediately you jumped out of his lap, “Was that all you wanted to speak with me about?”

“No,” He chuckled, seemingly amused at your jumpiness, “I wanted to speak with you before I leave for The Reverie.”

He’s leaving? This was news to you. You had heard of the meeting before. He had gone before, four years ago.

“I also wanted to warn you that while I’m away-”

“Don’t leave, I know.” You finish.

He stared at you with a grin on his face, “I know my rules may seem rigid but I do so because I care.” He rose from his seat and walked toward you. “You are naive my dear and I would hate to see you taken advantage of. I've only ever wanted to take care of you. Let me take care of you.”

He towered behind you, “Perhaps the next reverie I’ll let you attend with me” he spoke lowly again but this time he snaked his large hand down the length of your back eventually resting and firmly grasping the curve of your backside causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, “On the condition you continue to be a good girl of course.”

He moved too quickly for you to even understand what was going on. His hand wrapped your loose hair pulling your hair roughly, exposing your neck to him. Frozen in place you watched him smirk and lean down to the crook of your neck. He inhaled your scent deeply before rapidly running his tongue from the base to the top of your neck to the point where you could feel the tip of his wet tongue lash against your ear.

Before you could push back he let you go. Dismissing you back to your room. Quickly you scurried out the door as Doffys laughter echoed in the room.

Four hours later you met Law just like you had planned and tried to block out the events earlier today. As you walked through the alleyways you were at war with yourself. You kept thinking about Doffy and how he held you. How he touched you. It felt- not good. But Doffy had looked out for you your whole life.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

But he just did…

Maybe this was always meant to happen?

What was it that Doffy said? “Let me take care of you..”

Maybe it wasn't a big deal. He was very clear. All you had to do was play by his rules and in four years possibly get a taste of freedom. Do what he says, stay on his good side? Allow him to touch you and-

“Are you hungry?” Law asks as they walk down the dark street pulling you out of your head.

“No,” You say flatly arms crossed against your chest.

“Ya sure? I found this great little booth down this way” Law replied. He could sense something was off you weren’t your normal cheerful self.

“It's nothing.” You push back suddenly changing your mood into one of fake enthusiasm. “Food sounds great. Let's go.”

You two walked in silence for a considerable amount of time before he brought you to a small cart parked on the sidewalk of a market street. There were so many people and Toy people that it brought a certain warmth you always loved about the city.

You knew this place although it looked different in some aspects. Your attention immediately went to the two-story building the stucco roof was a different color and bicycles as well as their seller could be seen from the new glass windows but you could only imagine a woman who looked a lot like you did now helping customers in the quaint shop.

Law passed you the food and drink he purchased and led you away from the area until he found an empty alleyway.

You both slid down the building and remained quiet until Law finally spoke. “We don't have to talk about it.”

“Hmm?”

“Whatever it is that's wrong,” he told you, “We don't have to talk about it. Frankly, I’d rather just eat my empanada.”

“I used to live there,” you aren’t sure what made you say it, “Above the bike shop. Well It used to be my mother's flower shop”

He remained silent. Allowing you to continue if you wish.

So you did. “She died. I was ten.” You felt the tears but managed to push them back. “It sucked.”

Law nodded. “To your mom” You raised your glass of bottle letting it clink to his.

You both continued to eat in silence. Law wished he could say he was pretending to care about your sad story. But he did. It made him think of his mother. He was ten too. Or maybe it was because he knew something was up the moment he saw her walking over to him. He wondered what could have- No. he shook the thoughts from his head. He had to stay focused. He couldn't afford to start caring about some spoiled girl's sob story. She was just a key to his plot and it was high time to start putting it in motion.

@rebeccawinters @mj-airlines @awkwardspontaneity @cresent-z

#one piece x reader #romance #angst #donquixote doflamingo x reader #trafalgar law x reader #fem!reader

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noneorother · 2 hours

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The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

#good omens 2 #good omens fandom #good omens #art director talks good omens #tier list #cover art #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #book cover #go s2 #gomens #good omens analysis

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