#bound with thread | original posts
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god i want. an au where it dosn't work. where it's just arr g'raha who's woken up, and he doesn't have all these memories and all these people keep looking at him like they're mourning someone. the world has changed and time has changed and all the people he knows have changed, but he hasn't changed, he was just sleeping, just sleeping, and the world nearly ended several times and apparently he helped prevent yet another end but he has no memory of this. they want him to join the scions. he does not know these people. (he barely knows the warrior of light, now, but did he ever truly know them in the first place?) his little sister is alive and well. she looks at him like a ghost. she's changed, and she's older than him now. he acts bratty and loud and brash to cover up the fact that he does not know anything it seems, and he is tired but he was sleeping for so long, so how could he be tired?
he doesn't know these people. they seem to know him. he wonders if he'd killed someone, when it was him and not that exarch who woke up. he wonders if it should have been him who was "killed" in that way, if it is him that lives and not that man who had known and become friends with all these figures from legend. he wonders if he'll always be fated to be a historian one step back from everything, because he simply cannot be a hero.
#bound with thread | original posts#letters in verse | talking#g'raha tia#crystal exarch#hello everyone i am being Incredibly Normal about g'raha tia at -checks time- 12:02 am#you ever think about the fact that arr g'raha is basically killed/replaced when the exarch wakes up in 5.3. because i do. a lot#hi i have brainworms over this man he's SO tragic and i need to hold him gently in my hands like how you cradle a small trembling kitten#genuinely happy about his character growth and progression and happy ending and all but arr g'raha was the one who grabbed my focus#and i do miss a lot of that character sometimes yknow? post-shb g'raha isn't the same person as arr g'raha and that's intentional‚ i think‚#because he has gone through so much that we didn't see. so much trauma and pain because of the 8th umbral era and that loss he got hit with#and he's not the same person because he's *had* to change so much to keep himself and his people alive and i'm glad he's getting to#experience life to the fullest in endwalker onwards but just. i miss arr g'raha yknow#honestly the silliest thing about it is i miss his student of baldesion tattoo. was a fun little design element you know.#show us the tattoo again squeenix. give him back his red eyeshadow that he had.#give him his bow back i am begging#this has been: incomprehensible ramblings from simon at 12 at night
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the hardest lines ALWAYS come from ao3 fanfics and I stand by this
Mostly thanks to @emilyelizabethfowl (their reblog contains many of the fic links!! thank u sm) and a few deep dives into my ao3 history, the sources of the quotes have mostly all been recovered! I apologise for not posting them all with proper credit originally, I truly didn't think the post would blow up so much, but the lesson is very much learned :) enjoy!
- number 1 is from merthur fic called Destiny Ordered You To Die, But I Willed You To Live by ironfamjam
-number 2 is from a klance fic called reach out for you (break these walls) by Paladin-Pile (UserFromPluto)
- number 3 is a batman fic called Home (jason centered) by Daisybirb
- number 4 is a zukka fic by I'm Not Angry Anymore by team_avatars_eyebags
- numbers 5 and 9 are from The Art Of Burning by hella1975, an amazing ongoing atla following zuko
- number 6 is a hualian fic called No paths are bound by cataclysmic_calamity (originally a thread fic but also fully uploaded on ao3)
- number 7 is a merthur fic called tell me every terrible thing you ever did (and let me love you anyway) by Stardustwrites17 (the quote is also originally from a poem apparently)
- number 8 is from a batman fic called Nature and Nurture by lurkinglurkerwholurks
- number 10 is from a steddie fic called let me know (everythings alright) by bexiguess
ALSO there is now a part 2 !! (which I swear is better organized)
#merthur#merlin#voltron#klance#the walking dead#rickyl#batman#jason todd#red hood#batfam#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#atla#avatar the last airbender#zuko#zukka#stranger things#i have a whole collection in my gallery
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i don’t remember if i ever shared this here, but a while ago i posted a little twitter thread about bats and gas station snacks and some very talented podficcers made a podfic of it! 🎧
[podfic] Jersey Vigilantes Don't Pump Gas by isweedan & reena_jenkins
original thread (text under the cut):
nested tweet reading: ever since i learned gotham is supposed to be in new jersey i can’t get this concept out of my head: [a badly drawn bumper sticker that says “jersey vigilantes don’t pump gas”] / quote tweet reading: the batmobile can’t just slip in and out of a gas station unnoticed. an employee HAS to go fill up the tank. meanwhile the tired night shift cashier knows the various robin eras because they come in to buy different snacks as time goes on.
one night while the manager is out filling *the literal batmobile* the cashier blinks and comes face to face with a child in a leotard and green boots, buying a pack of twizzlers. “thanks!” the first robin calls, somehow vaulting over two rows of shelves on his way out the door.
years later, after a stretch of quiet weeks, a new, curly-haired robin comes in and grabs a bag of flamin hot pepper puffs. the cashier doesn’t even think robin 2 actually likes them, but he looks really satisfied with himself every time he drops them on the counter.
(even after the second robin abruptly stops coming in, the cashier keeps slipping flamin hot pepper puffs onto their order list. no one else ever buys them, but it just—feels like the thing to do, somehow.)
a stretch of months without a robin, oddly tense. then the third robin appears, even smaller than the first two. he slips inside and buys a cup of black coffee and drains it in one go right at the coffee station, nervously eyeing the door like he’s afraid he’ll be caught.
the fourth robin, when she shows up, makes a beeline for the protein bars. finally, the cashier thinks, someone remotely sensible for this line of work. (though maybe not sensible enough—or maybe TOO sensible—because small caffeine robin is back a few months later.)
the fifth robin, when he first appears, approaches the counter. “you will direct me to the best snacks new jersey has to offer,” he tells the cashier.
“uh,” the cashier says. “i like sour patch kids, myself.”
robin 5 nods. “i will take a bag of sour patch children.”
(one night, not much later, red hood strolls through the door. the cashier has lived in gotham for over a decade now; they barely blink, even when nightwing bounds in after him.
“oh, shit, flamin hot pepper puffs,” red hood says. “i haven’t had these in ages.”
“aw, come on,” nightwing says, already holding a pack of twizzlers. “no one else can stand those.”
“why do you think i got them in the first place, dickhead?” red hood says. “to fend off new jersey’s number one snack thief.” and he buys buys every bag in stock.)
#feat. my own terrible art drawn in the notes app of a decade-old ipad#the joke being that you can’t pump your own gas in new jersey#which i’m sure has been joked about plenty before#anyway the podfic is a delight and every once in a while i remember about it and re-listen for a giggle#batfam#my fic#OBVIOUSLY BRUCE HAS HIS OWN GAS PUMP IN THE CAVE#or the batmobile runs on solar (because it’s sustainable and discreet NOT because superman thinks that’s cool)#but: imagine.
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You don't know how he does stuff like this. What does this even mean? It's nonsense. Is it even syntactically viable?? Are you allowed to color text like that??? ARGH. Maybe you should ask him about it some time.
...hm.
You see, at first glance, this code does look syntactically viable, but only if we don’t pair the brackets in the way the coloring implies. If we write the code like this:
Then it’s a loop bound to the lifespan of Universe 1. Inside that main loop, it’s running a loop bound to the inverse of Universe 2′s lifespan - my guess being that this loop only runs while Universe 2 is dead.
If Universe 2 is ever registered as ‘alive’, the program waits for the blue THIS to die, and then continues. And when the main Universe 1 loop ends, it will wait for the red THIS to die, and finally exits.
In other words: This program will exit when U1 is dead, U2 is alive, and both ‘bifurcated’ iterations of THIS are dead.
However, the red/blue coloring implies that the brackets are paired in a completely nonsensical way.
I’m with Karkat here, this is nonsense. You can’t put the top half of one code block inside another - at least, not in any language I’ve worked with. I’m sure there are weird, esoteric languages that do it, but it’s definitely not the syntax du jour.
This ‘merged bracket’ interpretation is probably the correct one, though, since the colors match up. The reason this compiles at all is probably due to the special behavior of bifurcate THIS[], which we’re not privy to.
I do have a theory about what bifurcate is doing here, but... oh my god , guys, this is so silly. Will I post it? I’m going to post it.
TA wears 3D glasses, right?
What if we’re meant to do the same?
If we view these two loops as not inside each other, but adjacent to each other in 3D space, then this code makes a lot more sense. Suddenly we’re just looking at two simple death loops - one which exits when U1 dies, and one which exits when U2 lives.
They’re not blocking each other, because they’re probably executing on different threads, which may be the true function of bifurcate. Viewed like this, this code becomes a simple, multithreaded script that works similarly to my original interpretation - the difference being that now, the colors match up properly. It’s kind of beautiful, to be honest.
Now that I’m viewing this program as two threads, it seems as if the blue loop waits for the red thread to die before it can exit, and vice versa.
If I’m right about this, it means that this program is deadlocked - neither thread can exit, because it’s waiting for the other one. The two threads are back to blocking each other, and this program will never exit.
This code, when executed, immediately causes the user's computer to explode, and places a curse on the user forever, along with everyone he knows, and everyone he'll ever meet.
Not surprisingly, later on you would run this code in a fit of stupidity.
None of this, however, explains why it curses the user.
I think I need to borrow Karkat’s ~ATH manual.
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Art Heist, Baby! by otrtbs (@otrtbs)
When James Potter answers a mysterious ad in his local coffee shop, the last thing he expects is to be thrown into a world of white collar crime, but how can he resist when the mastermind behind the operation has dark hair and brooding eyes and promises wealth beyond James' wildest imagination? He would do anything for that boy named after a star, including stealing millions of dollars of fine art.
Pairing: Regulus Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: otrtbs no longer allows binds of Art Heist, Baby!. This edition was first typeset and bound in May of 2023. Please do not use this post as a permission to bind Art Heist, Baby!.
Art Heist, Baby! was one of the very first jegulus fics I read, and eventually became my second-ever bind. The original binding for this fic was done over the course of a single weekend, which makes me cringe a little now—but I am still so proud of this typeset and the bind itself, despite its flaws.
Half-Letter | 219,117 words | 609 pages
Title and Drop Cap Font: Bodoni 72
Body: Adobe Garamond Pro
Accent(s): Gill Sans, Futura Condensed
Typset by me in Word.
Designed by me in Illustrator.
Materials
Cover Bookcloth: Duo in Blue Jean
HTV: Siser Brand in Gold Metal and Powder Blue
Endbands: Mettler Silk Finish Thread
Endpapers: Chiyogami Paper
Eventually, I found that the structure of my previous binding was less-than-ideal, and I decided to rebind my copy. Given that I couldn't change the typeset, I spent a lot of time deciding on a cover design, and eventually settled on using Ivan Aivazovsky's Ship on Stormy Seas (a painting synonymous with this fic) as inspiration.
The process of turning the boat from this painting into something that could be used with a single shade of HTV was difficult, but I eventually settled upon a design I was happy with after messing around in Illustrator for a couple weeks.
When I removed the cover from this bind, I also trimmed and painted the edges, sewed double-core french endbands (two-tone, to match the bookcloth), and reinforced the spine (though I couldn't do much for the pre-existing swell). Overall, I am thrilled with how it looks, and with how my original typeset fits with my more developed design style.
Thank you to Nat, for writing such a beautiful (and heart-wrenching) story. Art Heist, Baby! is free to read on ao3, here.
#jegulus#wolfstar#bookbinding#fanbinding#my books#marauders#ficbinding#james potter#regulus black#marauders era#sirius black#renegade bindery#art heist baby
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— TEASER —
Material is subject to change in post editing.
“SIREN, BE BOUND TO ME II”
Now posted here!
A/N: Help us, Captain Bucky! We fell overboard! While you lovelies wait for SBBTM II, enjoy this teaser.
(Dark) Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader
— READER DISCRETION —
— Pirate (dark). Bucky. — possessive/dom Bucky — pet names ("Siren") — SMUT 18+ Minors DNI! — P in V sex — there is no pull out game here, Buck is ALL. IN — mention of marks/hickeys — jealous/possessive reader — I think that's it?
Enjoy the excerpt!
—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—
Your velvety walls tighten around the hardened length penetrating you, filling you, his cock encumbered by the vice of your cunt. The blinding flash covers your vision and heat spreads through every corner of your body, leaving nothing but a siren blinded in lustful bliss. He groans with each drag and push, muscles glistening in the soft glow of the rising sun. The flowing wave of his treasured seed finds purchase in your lower abdomen.
It’s not until he completely empties his hot load, does he finally slow his pace to a stop. Above you he pants heavily, each breath a reminder to you of the sea’s spray and sun-tainted breeze that tousles the darkened locks of his hair.
Your energy sapped from the unbridled temper of your beloved Captain, you find reprieve of the gentleness of his tongue tracing the numerous dark marks covering your skin - his marks.
“Know this…” His voice rumbles lowly, his flesh hand harbouring the necklace dangles it mere inches over your parted lips. “There is nothing for you to find in a dried pearl, Siren. I am all you need.”
Metal squeezes your jawline, pursuing your understanding. The pink tip of his tongue wets his lips and he arches a brow.
“Yes…”
You needn’t be jostled twice by the threat of his grasp, you whisper, voice barely audible, “…Captain.”
“Atta girl.”
Arriving at port in Nassau means safe haven for the crew of The Avenger, a chance to rekindle spirits with a few dozen barrels of liquor and a woman’s belly to keep any weathered sailor happy. In the Caribbean’s turning and heating morn, gulls scavenge for pickings of food, the white banks of sand converging with the blue tinged tide bathe the nudity of your feet with absorbed heat it brings an irate wince to cross your features. Over the vast stretch of beach and headed further inland, the jolly tune of harboured pirates emit from the wooden, creaky shacks, if not counting the ruckus of noisy patrons enjoying their paid company.
Never did your Captain have need for such sleaziness, such lazed women who lounge in wait for coins to fill the near-always empty drawstring bag tied to their thigh. He had you.
To hold you close to the scorching warmth of his battle hardened body, to passionately entangle your limbs in an endless thread of desire, and to bask in the radiance that is one another; the possession of a companion no other can have.
And your own guard for your beloved Captain doesn’t go unnoticed, by either him or the hungering gazes of those women yet in wait, your arms encircling around the bulk of Bucky’s flesh arm, in your neck the muscles strain as your fangs become elongated in a threatening display, the disguise of your eyes falters into narrow strips of glaring obsidian.
These women are no strangers to the presence of sirens, in spite of the limited number of population, a siren’s prize is never to be taken from her.
“Easy, Lass,” Bucky coos, lips drawn on either side into a charming grin. “Ain’t none suiting my fancy but you.”
His assurances brighten refocused pupils and the lines around your mouth pull into a smirk. The now scornful gazes of ladies unworthy of his time burn into you, and you in turn purse the tip of your tongue between your lips in retaliation. Behind, you hear a few huff in their amusement.
His assurances brighten refocused pupils and the lines around your mouth pull into a smirk. The now scornful gazes of ladies unworthy of his time burn into you, and you in turn purse the tip of your tongue between your lips in retaliation. Behind, you hear a few huff in their amusement.
Coming Soon...
TREEHOUSE TAGLIST
@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl @daddy-bucky @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @armystay89
#female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky smut#bucky barnes fic#pirate au#siren reader#pirate bucky#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#dem's updates#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x you
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Thread analysis from my twitter about soukoku & Dazai specific stuff in this DA art since people were interested in my thoughts on it lol reminder it’s my personal interpretations on it.
This is part 2 essentially of the original post. This focuses just on Dazai and Chuuya.
Alright, so I’ll just start by readdressing a point from my other post just for convenience for people who didn’t see the other post. You can reread this or skip down to my newer points. Red thread typically symbolizes those who are destined to be together.
Dazai has the red thread of fate wrapped around his neck. Chuuya has one end & it's wrapped around his wrist, that seems to symbolize he's holding Dazai's life in his hands. It’s also wrapped around the wrist where Chuuya has his childhood scar, the one proving he’s human.
An obvious link to their shared humanity to me, despite they, themselves, not believing in their own. But it’s no surprise Chuuya holds one side of Dazai’s life, we all know they're inexplicably linked & fated. Chuuya is always there to save Dazai & Asagiri said he's the only one who understands Dazai always.
But it's interesting the other half of Dazai's string is first wrapped around his own wrist before continuing to Aku. This essentially saying Dazai holds his own life in his hands. Which obviously seems super accurate since we know his biggest enemy is often his own mind & the hole inside his chest that he has a hard time filling. It's where his suicidal tendencies come from. But essentially, Dazai's life is held only by Chuuya & then himself and I love that detail.
Moving on. Another thing I found interesting about Dazai in this art (& in DA in general) is that he is wearing an all white suit with a black inner shirt. While Chuuya is in his typical black outer coat & white inner shirt.
I believe this choice serves to emphasize the “yin/yang” of their relationship. The red thread bounds them together while their individual natures complement/complete each other, making them whole. Dazai seems to often see himself/his soul as truly dark by nature even as he lives in the light now, so it seems fitting.
He utilizes his darker nature to *protect* the light now, as he understands the darkness (the villains) that come for those in the light. I touched on that above as well.
Chuuya is the opposite but also similar. Chuuya having a “lighter” soul/heart by nature despite being shrouded in darkness. This is showcased in his fierce protective nature of those he cares for as well as the city he protects. His intense, unyielding belief that, despite all he has been through, people are *worth* suffering for, they’re *worth* protecting.
This in contrast to Dazai when they first met who believed “nothing he could pursue is worth the cost of prolonging this life”.
Chuuya believes people are worth it even while still living in the darkness (which it’s important to note dark doesn’t equal evil, everyone is grey and everyone has a role to play).
But even while living in it, *despite* it, he still holds onto his light. His humanity. Humanity is a consistent theme between Dazai & Chuuya.
They both end up making the other feel human, feel alive. Even their abilities are almost named *for* each other.
Chuuya’s ‘no longer human’ when corruption takes over, until Dazai brings him back to it. (Just to be clear, Chuuya is human. That was confirmed).
Dazai is ‘the tainted sorrow’ that Chuuya is able to awaken from that sorrow with his very nature, his vibrant showcase of humanity. I believe it’s his relationship he was able to form with Chuuya that not only kept him alive (“Chuuya convinced me not to die yet”) but also opened Dazai to the possibility that there *are* people worth it out there. It’s why he was open enough to form his relationships with Oda and Ango.
But despite their struggles, despite their methods even, they both are trying to protect what they can. Both have the capability of acting in the light & dark in equal measure.
Essentially, they’re both made up of different light & darknesses but they end up completing each other.
It’s also interesting they put Chuuya on Dazai’s “good” side. The side Dazai’s see the light with. Kinda shows you how Dazai views Chuuya.
—
Something else about Dazai’s clothes, he seems to be wearing a yellow ribbon on his “darker” side. Which I find very interesting given the yellow wrapped ribbon normally represents suicide *prevention*.
Yellow in Japanese culture also tends to represent courage, which is also fitting, it even used to represent role models.
(This next part I’m definitely reading too much into it but I still found it fun and interesting!)
But moving to the next interesting pieces, Dazai is holding an apple in his hand on his “darker” side. Given Dazai talks about apple suicide (+ being called dead apple) it seems these 2 pieces are at odds with each other.
The apple in this context representing death/suicide while the ribbon represents life/prevention.
But Dazai is holding an apple in his hand on his “darker” side. Given Dazai talks about apple suicide (+ being called dead apple) it seems these 2 pieces are at odds with each other.
The apple in this context representing death/suicide while the ribbon represents life/prevention.
So in this art, is the idea of apple suicide representing a dark irony? Dazai seeing death as good fortune? Or is the apple only representing the more surface level contrast of death with the ribbon being life? I think that’s up to interpretation.
Small side note, Chuuya’s hat being placed over his heart is definitely deliberate. The hat that helps protect his humanity, the hat that helps offer Chuuya some control, sitting atop of & covering his heart makes sense. It’s almost as armor, protecting his “light” as it were.
Now to talk about Dazai being the only one “awake” as it were & the specific eye that’s uncovered.
The fact it's the eye that used to be covered in the PM is an important choice. Especially given the eye that was open with the PM is closed.
Dazai seems to be seeing more of the good now, maybe even is starting to see the true value in light.
However, it's only because of his dark past he's been able to survive & help save the ada multiple times. I believe that's why it's *that* wrist, the wrist helping covering that eye that was open while in the mafia, that is bound by the red thread of fate.
That wrist being wrapped up symbolizing how he partly holds his own life in his hands (along side Chuuya holding the other part). His fate is bound by *both* his sides, the light & dark in equal measure.
Dazai holds one side for his own life because not only is he his own worse enemy but he ironically (sadly) can't live completely without that dark side of him.
It's the part that wants him to end his life but it's also thanks to that side & what he went through that he can survive so well now & help others. It’s allowed him to understand the villains they face. Of course his past is a tragedy, but what we go through makes us who we are. At least he can use it to save people now.
Another point, (this more of a stretch) the overall theme here seems to be fate, since the thread of fate is predominately featured.
Dazai being the only one with his eye open, the only one awake, could also mean he knows something about their fates that no one else does.
Maybe since his “light” eye is open it’s a good thing. But it could possibly even be linked to the book, either that he knows more about the book & what it contains more than everyone else or (& this is a much bigger stretch) that he may even have read/seen briefly a piece of the book
Maybe whatever the reason is part of the real reason he picked up both Atsushi & Akutagawa & formed shin soukoku. Because for all his & Chuuya’s might, they need something *specific* for what’s coming. Something only shin soukoku has & we already know Atsushi is connected to the book.
Plus the thread of fate is linking them *all* together here. Some more connected to each other obviously, soukoku together & then sskk + kyoka. But again, this last part is very much a stretch but it’s just something fun to think about.
I hope all this made sense. Like i said, this is all just my interpretations so take it as you will. Everyone is free to have their own interpretations & opinions. I definitely went a little overboard & went deeper than just the art itself but oh well lol
If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed my interpretations! Again some are deeper than originally intended & some are much more a stretch but thanks for coming to my ted talk lol
#bsd dead apple#bsd analysis#chuuya nakahara#dazai osamu#dazai#soukoku#bsd#skk#chuuya x dazai#bungou stray dogs#akutagawa ryuunosuke#atsushi nakajima#shin soukoku#daz
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I've been musing about it for a while, thanks to some posts I've read recently too, and honestly... one of the (many) fascinating aspects of zolu to me is the way they share parallels/connections and or similarities to important figures in OP's world. spoilers for the most recent arcs and reveals ahead!
perhaps the most blatant and one of my personal favorites, are luffy and zoro's similarities to roger and rayleigh. as OP's mc and someone who's on the road to become the pirate king, luffy's own similarities to roger have come up a lot throughout the story and they've been acknowledged or pointed out by other characters like shanks, rayleigh himself and yamato, for example. from the goofy parts of their personalities, to the strength of their wills, and their dreams, luffy and roger's parallels are consistent in OP,
and as seen in rayleigh's brief memory of their first meeting, the straw hat luffy received from shanks was originally worn by roger back when he was young.
albeit the circumstances are a little different - with them stumbling upon each other by chance vs luffy going out of his way to meet zoro after learning of his name and reputation - this first meeting is still reminiscent of zoro and luffy's, with both ray and zoro initially rejecting roger and luffy's invitations to join them in their journey.
as for rayleigh and zoro, there's also a bunch of parallels between the two!
due to his previous time as a bounty hunter in the east blue, zoro made quite a name for himself and as OP progresses, his renown as the pirate hunter and the straw hats' swordsman is only second to luffy's. he was also the 2nd straw hat to get a bounty, and he's usually right behind luffy whenever their bounties go up. similarly, rayleigh was (and still is) considered a legend second to roger himself, strong enough that garp still views him as a powerful foe the marines can't easily defeat and managed to scare blackbeard away from amazon lily without an actual fight, despite the latter's strength.
there's other stuff too: the eye scars, both zoro and ray being greatly skilled swordsmen, their love for booze, being users of all three types of haki and even their epithets! from what I've read from other OP fans in discussion threads and through some internet search, rayleigh's title of "dark king" in jp is actually the name or word for pluto (the god of the underworld, roman mythology's equivalent to hades) in said language. in comparison, "enma", the name of zoro's most recently acquired sword and the "king of hell" title that he claimed after defeating king in wano, are a direct reference to the buddhist deity of the same name in jp mythology, also known as yama - a god of the underworld in charge of judging souls.
from the most recent flashbacks of the god valley incident, too, you can see the physical resemblance between these duos:
(as a bit of a side note, I think it was nice that rayleigh not only took it upon himself to mentor luffy, he was also the one who protected zoro from kizaru in sabaody and after the timeskip, during the straw hats' reunion in the archipelago and as they bid their farewells, zoro went out of his way to thank him for everything too.)
all in all, considering how close roger and rayleigh were (to the point roger called him "partner"), their strength, reputation and their overall journey with the roger pirates crew - the fact that luffy and zoro share more than a few clear similarities/parallels to them is really good imo, and it speaks both of the importance of their relationship and of the kind of figures they're bound to become, or are already becoming, in OP's world and ongoing history.
although it'd be sweet to have zoro and luffy directly refer to each other as partners as well (which kid and killer, another captain/first mate duo, have done too) I'm not sure it'll happen, if only for the sake of keeping the relationships between luffy and the crew balanced, so to say. still, like I said, knowing how close luffy and zoro are and that they share parallels with other captains/first mates, I think that says a lot about them regardless and the importance they hold for each other and the story as a whole.
another interesting resemblance between zolu and characters who are connected to one another involves, of course, shanks and mihawk - both of which are not only acquainted with each other, as rivals and friends of sorts, but also served as luffy and zoro's mentors/guides at different points of their lives and presently stand as their eventual foes to face in order to reach their goals of becoming the pirate king and world's greatest swordsman.
aaand last but not least, because it's yet another favorite of mine: joy boy/nika and shimotsuki ryuma. I sort of talked about it in another post, and I find it pretty cool. nika and ryuma come from different eras and don't exactly have much to do with one another but luffy's DF awakening and defeating kaido led to "joy boy" (since luffy refused to take credit for it directly by name) being hailed as a hero to wano that's comparable and only rivaled by ryuma, who in the past defended the country and was considered a legendary swordsman, whose sword shusui (that zoro wielded for a while) is a national treasure even.
since the hito hito no mi: model nika is a mythical zoan and vegapunk's speculated that devil fruits come into existence as manifestations of hope and wishes (or a potential for human evolution someone's desired), among other things, nika's existence as an actual god is kind of a subject of current debate in the fandom BUT. the fact remains that whether real or myth, he's still mentioned in old texts and his story has been shared among those enslaved by the WG, as a call for hope and freedom. in addition, even though he was human, ryuma also became revered as a savior figure and a sword god by the folks of wano.
so when you have luffy embodying the sun god of joy and liberation,
and it turns out zoro is none other than a descendant of the shimotsuki (frost moon) family, who resembles the former daimyo of ringo and the god of the blade ryuma,
well. those are some crazy parallels luffy and zoro share outside of their equally kinda crazy and meaningful relationship, as individuals and crew.
#zolu#tp#long post#idk what oda was/is cooking with these two but it's insane lmao#as if the braincell sharing; nearly telepathic communication and almost ridiculous levels of loyalty and faith in e/o weren't enough#the manga is like. here. have all these narrative and thematic reasons as to why zoro and luffy are pretty much soulmates#love to see it#I also have Thoughts about how ray lost his home and lived on a ship when roger found him#while zoro got lost and couldn't return to his home village; which he tells luffy about after joining him#smth smth true north soulmates fate#jay reads op
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Celestial Navigation by @sabrecmc
18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.
An absolutely gorgeous story of learning to love yourself, even when you feel like you don't fit in & that you grew up wrong. I'm so happy to have gotten to bind this mammoth work for Sabre & as a gift exchange for @mourningmountainsbindery (who bound me this beautiful copy of Astolat's Let the River Run—JUST LOOK AT THAT COVER!).
Also to anyone who has @ed me lately (looking at u, em @powerful-owl & tacky @tackytigerfic particularly) & I've been derelict in responding, here is WHY.
This has been the longest binding project I've undertaken, both in page count and in time. My original message to Sabre was on March 16th—can't decide if I want to use the laughing or crying emoji here—and the colophon says I made the book in April 2023 (which was when I started typesetting, maybe). I had been randomly perusing dying videos on Youtube in bed on a Saturday morning, as one does, and came across a video showing how to spiral tie-dye. I IMMEDIATELY had a design premonition of the full design for this fic as a two-volume set, planted into my brain wholesale by the binding gods. I learned many new techniques throughout the process (edge painting, edge trimming/sanding, tie-dying/dyepainting, embroidery, typesetting meta from tumblr which copy-pastes with the worst goddamn formatting in the world, kill me now). Overall, alternately extremely painful & wonderful, and I'm extremely proud of this set.
Design-wise, I went whole-hog with the scifi stars theme. Endpapers are recolored versions of the star charts from the Apollo 11 mission:
Title page & chapter titles are both rips in the galaxy:
Epigraphs both star-themed:
Some more glamor shots because I'm so proud 💕
8.6 lbs // 3.8 kgs worth of books (~3000 total pages) 🥰
Celestial Navigation is also INCREDIBLY popular, and Sabre has been incredibly generous answering asks on her tumblr + writing additional one-shots in the universe. There is also a veritable volume of fanart. I was so inspired by seeing @robins-egg-bindery copy of ********, with its appendix of fanart & meta, that I promptly copied them.
fanart redacted because lots of the artists are no longer active on tumblr but just know i am ECSTATIC about the amount of art in these books
Lastly, I love how @clovenhoofbindery includes their 'Illustrator mess' with their bind posts, as a behind-the-scenes look into the wild process of designing these books. I don't actually have an Illustrator mess for this book (the chapter titles & title page pretty much came in one take), but I do have a DYING MESS. It took me sososo many tries to figure out how to get the dye to look how I imagined in my head. I ended up 'dye painting' instead of tie-dying in the end, but my inbox is always open to chat hand-dying/tie-dying/dyepainting (or what I did differently between any of these attempts). Numbers are the dying attempt.
Last process shot: I hand-dyed variegated linen thread to match the colors of the bind, which ends up being incredibly difficult to see on the finished bind, but was super fun while I was sewing!
Materials:
Body font: Kepler
Title font: Compaq 1982
Chapter number font: aliens & cows
Endpapers: recolored versions of the star chart used by Michael Collins during the Apollo 11 mission (archived at The Smithsonian)
Bookcloth: dyed using Dharma Trading Procion Fiber-Reactive Dyes
Title page and chapter headers: designed in Photoshop using the Ultimate Space brush pack by jeffrettalyn on DeviantArt
Metallic embroidery thread: Cosmo Nishikiito thread
I would dye for this embroidery thread. It is LIGHT YEARS better than the classic metallic embroidery thread from DMC: much easier to work with & much more sparkly. Literally so eye-catching; it truly doesn't translate to photos.
Paint for edges: Daniel Smith watercolor tubes in Iridescent Sunstone and Prussian Blue
Note: these are GORGEOUS watercolors. The color is so saturated and strong and beautiful BUT I don't think I'd recommend watercolors for edge painting. They went on very differently depending on the grit of the sandpaper I used for the edges + they sometimes bled into the pages + they had to be set with fixative, which then stuck the pages together.
#blood sweat and TEARS into this bind#and now it is DONE my god#stony#stony fanart#celestial navigation#my fanbinding#posts i actually wrote
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Family Matters (Prologue)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 1.8k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo
Summary: After an argument with his eldest daughter leads to summoning a shadow from his past, Astarion must push aside his fears to protect the family he never thought he'd have.
*Link to AO3 Post
A decade ago, the mere notion of Astarion becoming a father would have incited raucous laughter from him. The very idea seemed ludicrous, an absurdity to be dismissed without a second thought. His life, after all, had been defined by shadows and deceit, devoid of any room for such domestic concepts.
However, fate has a way of weaving unexpected threads into the tapestry of one's existence. Astarion found himself thrust into an unlikely role as a parental figure, albeit under circumstances he could scarcely have imagined. The responsibility fell upon him during the year Arabella journeyed alongside them following the tumultuous events surrounding the Netherbrain. Delphie, with her protective instincts and fierce devotion to Arabella, would have surely taken his head had any harm befallen the young tiefling under his watch.
Yet, even as he fulfilled this role, Astarion remained ignorant of his own capacity for fatherhood. Being a spawn, he had assumed himself to be inherently infertile, an assumption born of his undead nature. It was a revelation that blindsided him, hitting with the force of a bolt from the blue, when Delphie unexpectedly found herself carrying their child.
Despite the persistent curse of vampirism lingering within him, Astarion eventually found a semblance of solace in the form of a ring—a small, unassuming trinket that bestowed upon him the remarkable ability to withstand the searing touch of sunlight. While it didn't eradicate his affliction entirely, it offered him a newfound freedom to bask in the daylight without fear of immolation, a luxury he had long believed to be forever beyond his reach. And though the tantalizing prospect of once again traversing running water and crossing thresholds uninvited remained an unattainable dream, he discovered an unexpected contentment in the life he now led.
His union with Delphie blossomed into a marriage not long before they parted ways with Arabella. Their love, tempered by adversity, had only grown stronger, fortified by a bond that transcended the boundaries of mortality and time. Yet, their joy was tinged with trepidation when Delphie discovered she carried their child—a miracle wrought from the interplay of vampiric heritage and a serendipitous twist of fate.
Gale's revelation regarding the transfer of fertility through blood had offered a glimpse into the intricacies of their unconventional family tree, shedding light on the origins of their impending parenthood. Astarion grappled with doubts, plagued by uncertainty over his aptitude for fatherhood, while Delphie harbored fears of reprisal from the countless enemies they had amassed over the years.
So, to ensure the safety of their offspring and as a belated wedding gift, the dragons, Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart all came together to build a comfortable home inside the secluded Dragon Cove. It would be a safe environment for the children to grow up in. Of course, the children would frequently take the portal with them to go to Baldur's Gate when errands needed to be run, but they would never leave their side. The only exception would be if they were put in the care of Delphie's step-siblings or Shadowheart.
Delphie's determination to find a cure for Astarion's vampirism remained steadfast, an unwavering beacon of hope that burned bright even amidst the joys and responsibilities of parenthood. Though their family had expanded to include two precious daughters, her quest for a remedy persisted, fueled by a love that knew no bounds and a fervent desire to see her husband freed from the shackles of his cursed existence.
Yet, as the demands of parenthood grew, they found themselves facing a dilemma—the dragons were ill-equipped to care for two young elven girls for extended periods of time when they received a new lead for a cure. It was then that Shadowheart emerged as a beacon of support and solace.
Despite her aloof exterior, Shadowheart harbored a hidden reservoir of warmth and affection, particularly when it came to the two young girls who had captured her heart. In them, she saw echoes of innocence and resilience, qualities she had long thought lost amidst the trials and tribulations of her own tumultuous journey. As she watched over them, a fierce sense of protectiveness welled within her, driving her to become not only their guardian but their confidante and mentor as well.
In a gesture of profound significance, Shadowheart assumed the mantle of godmother to their daughters—a role she embraced with unwavering dedication and tenderness. From storytelling beneath starlit skies to imparting lessons of wisdom and courage, she showered the girls with a love that transcended the boundaries of blood and kinship.
They were celebrating their firstborn, Scarlette's ninth birthday at the House of Hope, a midpoint thanks to Hope that allowed Karlach to see her nieces every few months.
Leta, as they affectionately called her, bore a striking resemblance to her mother, a reflection of Delphie's grace and beauty manifested in the form of big, verdant eyes that sparkled with mischief and a delicate button nose that bespoke of innocence and wonder. Yet, amidst the familiar contours of her mother's visage, there lay a subtle reminder of her unique heritage—a line of faint golden scales adorning the curve of each cheek, a legacy of ancient lineage and untold secrets.
From an early age, Leta had displayed an affinity for the arcane arts—a gift inherited from her mother that bloomed with each passing day, unleashing torrents of raw magic whenever her emotions soared to dizzying heights. Though her burgeoning powers often led to chaos and mischief, there was an undeniable beauty in the way she danced amidst the currents of magic, a testament to the untamed potential that lay dormant within her soul.
Yet, despite the undeniable bond forged by blood and love, Astarion couldn't shake the lingering sense of distance that seemed to grow between them with each passing year. Their interactions were marked by heated debates and clashes of will, a testament to their stubborn natures and the tumultuous currents that surged between them. And yet, amidst the tumult, there remained an unbreakable bond—a father's love that transcended the petty squabbles and misunderstandings of mortal existence.
The first time Astarion cradled Leta in his arms, a swell of emotion washed over him—a tidal wave of love and tenderness that threatened to overwhelm his hardened heart. In that fleeting moment, as he gazed into her wide, innocent eyes, he glimpsed the boundless potential of a life yet to unfold—a future brimming with promise and possibility, guided by the unwavering love of a father who would move mountains to see her smile.
As the years swept by, Astarion and Delphie's family expanded once more with the arrival of their second daughter, Lilliana, affectionately known as Lily. Unlike her elder sister, Leta, whose features bore a striking resemblance to their mother, Lily's appearance echoed that of her father in unmistakable ways.
Pale as moonlight, Lily's complexion carried the ethereal pallor of her vampiric heritage. Yet, it was in her eyes that Astarion's legacy shone most brilliantly—crimson orbs that glimmered with an intensity that mirrored the flames of a dying sunset. And then there were the fangs—protruding from her delicate lips with a subtle prominence that set her apart from her sister. While Leta too possessed the telltale signs of vampiric lineage, Lily's were more pronounced.
Yet, despite her father's influence, Lilliana possessed her own unique charm—a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a smile that could light up the darkest of nights. Unlike her sister, who often found solace in the depths of her mother's embrace, Lily gravitated towards Astarion.
In Lily, Astarion saw echoes of his own past—a reminder of the life he had left behind, of the darkness and the shadows that had once consumed him. And yet, in her laughter and her boundless curiosity, he found a glimmer of hope—a beacon of light that illuminated the path towards redemption and forgiveness.
Though he loved both of his daughters with a fierceness that knew no bounds, there was something about Lily—the way she clung to his side, the way her laughter danced upon the air—that tugged at his heartstrings in a way that was uniquely her own. She was his babe, his little vampiric sprite.
Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at Delphie's frantic concern over Lily's penchant for nibbling on anything and everything once she turned four. No matter how many times he reassured her that it was merely a natural phase of their daughter's vampiric development, she couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at her heart.
As the years passed, the bond between Leta and Lily only grew stronger, evolving into a steadfast companionship that transcended the confines of mere siblinghood. They shared everything—from their dreams to their deepest fears and secrets. Together, they laughed and played, their laughter echoing off the walls of the Dragon Cove like a sweet melody.
Even in their moments of disagreement and petty squabbles, there was an undeniable closeness that bound them together. They slept curled up together, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and whispers, finding solace and comfort in the presence of each other's warmth.
Inseparable in every sense of the word, Leta and Lily navigated the twists and turns of life's journey hand in hand, their laughter and tears intertwined like the threads of a tapestry.
As Astarion reclined in the comfort of the regal armchair, his gaze softened with affection as he observed his daughters, Leta and Lily, frolicking together in the foyer of the House of Hope. Their laughter filled the air like the tinkling of bells, a symphony of joy that resonated deep within his soul. Despite the passage of time and the trials they had faced, moments like these served as a poignant reminder of the precious gift of family—a gift he had once believed to be forever beyond his reach.
The warmth of Delphie's hand on his shoulder and the gentle press of her lips against his cheek stirred a surge of gratitude within him—a silent acknowledgment of the love and support that had sustained him through the darkest of days.
And so, as he sat amidst the splendor of the House of Hope, surrounded by the laughter and love of his family, Astarion couldn't help but marvel at the twists and turns of fate that had led him to this moment. So, yes. If someone had dared to suggest to him a decade ago that he would one day be a father, he would have dismissed it as the fanciful ramblings of a madman. And yet, here he was, basking in the warmth of his daughters' smiles and the tender embrace of his beloved wife—a testament to the unpredictable nature of life's journey and the transformative power of love to defy even the most improbable of odds.
#astarion x tav#astarion#astarion and tav#astarion angst#astarion fanfic#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate 3#bg3 astarion#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 tav#astarion x oc#astarion x tav fluff#kid fic#dadstarion#dhampir
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Oh, come on! I thought we bonded! Keith? Buddy? My man?
“My man...?”
Keith felt the words zip down his spine like lightning, warming him from the inside out. He felt the words settle in his belly like fire as heat bloomed across his cheeks.
Lance’s man?
Keith liked the sound of that…Liked being the one coming to Lance’s rescue, liked being able to banter with him—flirt with him, his mind whispered—or simply bail him out. It made him feel bold enough to say, “Can’t have it both ways, sharpshooter.”
Lance’s slow, “huh?” had Keith chucking.
“I said you can’t have it both ways. Am I your buddy? …or am I your man?”
If Keith couldn’t hear Lance sputtering over the comms, he’d worry he’d gone too far, but as it was he could practically feel Lance’s blush as he said “Keith!” almost as if he was winded.
“Better decide quick,” Keith murmurs. “I’m about to land.”
He could make out Lance muttering “oh my god” over the comms in a breathy voice. Keith decided to end the link before Lance could hear him laughing.
He was glad he had when he landed close enough to glimpse the blue Paladin, ass up, chained to a tree and took a picture for the sake of blackmail, obviously. Definitely not to keep for himself.
As Red and Blue settled down in the sparse terrain he could feel the lions chuff in amusement at Lance’s predicament.
“Hey,” Keith called out with a smirk as he walked up to Lance, casual and easy as you please.
He took his time, took in the pretty picture Lance made before gracefully sitting against the tree Lance was chained to.
“Just hanging out?” Keith asked dryly.
Lance snorted. “Oh, screw you man!” He flailed dramatically before resting his cheek on his outstretched arms.
It could’ve just been the rosy hue of the atmosphere here, but a Keith could swear Lance’s cheeks were dusted with a light blush at the red paladins attention.
“How does this always happen to you?” Keith asked (fondly), propping his chin up on an elbow as he met Lance’s eyes.
Lance sighed out one gusty sigh and thumped his forehead into the dirt. “You tell me. I guess I always wanna believe someone’s actually interested? Like interested in me,” he huffed in a self depreciating way. “And not just interested in the Paladin of a Voltron lion. But once again…” he quirked his lips and looked up, nodding toward his bound wrists.
Keith hummed. “They don’t know what they’re missing,” he said quietly as he moved over to break Lance free.
Lance sighed in relief and groaned as pins and needles assaulted his fingers in a rush.
“Thanks,” Lance said softly, pushing up and meeting Keith’s eyes—much closer than he’d anticipated. “Oh” he breathed quietly.
“Any time,” Keith murmured, eyes flickering between ocean eyes and sweet bitten-pink lips.
Slowly, Lance brought one hand up and pushed a lock of hair behind Keith’s ear, leaving his hand there against Keith’s cheek. Lips curving up in a smile as Keith leaned into the touch automatically. Lance let his eyes trace down to Keith’s generous mouth, feeling stuck there…
As if gravity itself was pulling on the both of them, their lips met in the middle in a soft kiss that surprised them both.
Keith gasped out a noise he might deny later, reached up a hand to keep Lance’s hold against his cheek and kissed him again.
When they broke apart, Lance breathed out, “Your man,” cheeks bright red.
“Huh?” Keith asked airily, head floating a little.
“You-you uh. Asked me earlier. If I was your ‘buddy’, or…”
“Oh,” Keith couldn’t believe his own ears, smile becoming blinding.
“Either way, I just wanna be yours.”
Lance leaned forward & pressed another kiss against Keith’s smile.
// transferring my twitter threads a little at a time 🥰 you can find the original post here: thread
#klance dreams#my writing#transferring my twitter threads#klance#vld keith#vld lance#lance mcclain#keith kogane#flirty keith and blushing lance is everything to me#klance drabbles#twitter threads
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It's been a hot minute but here's another painting of @wanderer-of-light 's Vastha, because those gpose shots of him in that dancer glam continue to live in my mind.
#bound with thread | original posts#seal it with wax | art#hero from another star | others' wol#vastha my beloved he is so so fun to draw#the golden lighting here was especially fun to do! bit of a messy lineart since it's just a cleaned up sketch bc that's just how it goes ah
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I saw somebody ask @merymoonbeam this and thought it would be fun, as I know there were several theories you had that were also correct.
Could you pleeeaasseee share with us what theories of yours were confirmed or even seemingly true after reading HOFAS?
Thanks!
Thank you so much for sending this ask! 🥹
I will preface my answer by saying that nearly all my theories relate to what will happen in the next acotar book, not hofas (though I love that series). Even when talking about the crossover, I was more focused on why it needed to come first and how it might impact the world of acotar and the maasverse she is building. I am really excited about what we learned, so here is how it tracks with my theories:
1. Urd / Mother, Cauldron, Fate / Stone Mother: Anyone who’s followed me knows how obsessed I am with the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate. Based on what the Under-King tells and shows us, I believe I was correct (and so were others) in thinking they are three faces or forms of a whole and she goes by Urd, which is called Wyrd in Erilea. This is important because Vesperus confirms that the Asteri bound Urd to the land, and she is depicted on the sacred mountain that is located in between the other two: Ramiel. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Elain is so connected to the land, and that she was described in terms of blooming life in Illyria.
2. Mapping secrets underground and the Asteri’s influence on the sacred sister peaks: In hofas, Nesta and Azriel travel underground / near the heart of the Prison mountain with Bryce. In Forbidden secrets, I suspected the next acotar book would involve the sacred sister peaks because they hide secrets (correct) and that’s where the Daglan, who I believed were the Asteri (correct), made their marks the deepest (correct). I theorized they were the ones who caused the sacred sister peaks to become void of life / barren (correct), and I suspected that the secrets they find below will lead them to the top of Ramiel (not totally confirmed yet, but I think it’ll be correct and the monolith on top of Ramiel, though perhaps deteriorated over time, may have once mirrored the behemoth (and behemoth originally meant beast of the land, I’m in heaven and already thinking of a post) of Urd in CC; the bowl is positioned at the bottom of the monolith on Ramiel in the caverns, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was once in the monolith’s upraised arms like in CC, before the Asteri). Vesperus confirms that there are more mysteries to solve under the sacred sister peaks, so that bodes well for Azriel and Elain mapping more secrets of the land.
3. Healing the Womb of the earth: I have always thought that Elain, the sister who loves growing things, would be a healer of the land. I connected that plot thread to the Cauldron since my first post on here. The reason that’s important is because we have sacred land that is clearly chained at the very root by an invasive presence, and it seems the land has waited for someone to open their heart and release them. (I mean, damn, this plot was made for Elain, who loves the land and has been chained magically and physically.) The same can be said for the Cauldron, and I believe it chose to give her something (such powers) so she could restore the land, healing the very womb of their earth (both physically and magically, dream and reality entwined). So, that healing plot in Forbidden secrets seems to be the correct direction for Elain’s book, and hofas really, truly reinforced it.
4. And the path to Hel: This one hasn’t happened yet, but since the acotar plot will likely take Elain and her friends beneath Ramiel, and there is a Helscape depicted at the bottom of it, I can’t help but feel like this one could be on the right track too.
That’s mostly from one post, but my posts are often a web of interconnected theories in one. 😅 I posted a follow-up to Forbidden secrets called Blooming dreams to pull together the new evidence we’ve been given. I’m so excited to see what she’ll do with all the seeds she’s planted.
#hofas spoilers#maasverse theories#elain archeron#azriel shadowsinger#urd#mother cauldron fate#ramiel#sacred sister peaks#healing the womb of the earth#and peering into Hel
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Goncharov, Star Wars, Stonewall, and Disco, and the 1970s: an epiphany.
ETA: This is a discussion of Goncharov as a meme and how it relates to Queer culture, therefore I am not tagging it with the “unreality” tag. Goncharov is not a real film, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important; for reasons I will now explain.
I may be going crazy, but I think I am on to something regarding the true meaning of the whole Goncharov phenomenon, and it's kind of related to Vaporwave and the image that people who didn't grow up in the 1980s or early 1990s (or who have hazy memories of it from their earliest childhood) have enshrined it in the "aesthetic" of vaporwave. But while the themes of Vaporwave are tied to capitalism and consumerism, the "aesthetic" of the 1970s has very different associations.
The whole 70s-to-80s transitional vibe is a favorite topic of mine: right before the Muskrat bought twitter, I tweeted a whole thread about how Panos Cosmatos channels that whole vibe better than nearly any director I've ever seen. (Yes, even Quentin Tarantino - fight me.)
People are watching the new Star Wars media, which are all based around the Original Trilogy and therefore have sort of the same 70s "aesthetic look" of the time in which those movies were made. George Lucas was incorporating and repurposing as much regular stuff that existed in the 1970s that he could, and it contributed to his "used, lived in future" vibe that I think people really glommed onto when they saw the films.
For example: Aunt Beru's outfit from the first film looks like something the actress could have worn on the street in 1977 without anyone giving her a second glance.
People all over the film (but particularly in the scenes on Tatooine) were wearing regular clothes and then making them over or putting accessories over them to make them look futuristic and alien; "Star Wars Bounding" before that was really even a thing. Their regular 1970s street clothes.
This is related to Goncharov because: people are watching Andor and The Mandalorian, and they're starting to ask "what happened to the 1970s aesthetic? Why don't we bring that back?"
Even more than the 60s and the 80s were at various points, the 70s have for a long time been a punchline for bad taste, but there's something more sinister to it beyond merely sneering at the outdated fashion of a previous decade. And it hit me while I was watching this video about the rise of Disco and how Disco's origins were connected with the Stonewall Riots.
The joke about the Goncharov film hoax is how it's a "forgotten film" and about "analyzing the themes of Goncharov." About themes of homoeroticism, about two men (one of them a Discotheque owner on the run from a repressive regime) and two women who are in love, all of whom are unable to consummate that love, because of toxic masculinity and cultural expectations. About clocks being a frequent and repeating symbol - about the characters’ time running out. And the film basically disappearing from public knowledge and being forgotten for decades because these themes were "ahead of their time." (All of this originating from a post about a pair of knockoff boots.)
Because this is a metaphor for the LGBTIQ experience in the 1970s if ever there was one. About a time when an intersection of Queer-BIPOC culture proudly asserted itself for a single shining moment in time - then was eventually subject to both a bigoted, racist backlash and a horrific epidemic so damaging and deadly that we're still analyzing the human cost and the effect it had on society as a whole. Queer culture exploded onto the scene in the 1970s - and then its time suddenly ran out. Or was cut short.
Goncharov - or rather, the spirit and the moment in time that it represents - wasn't "forgotten." It was buried. First under a racist, homophobic/transphobic backlash, then by the malignancy of Reaganism and the AIDS virus that Reagan and his policies enabled to spread and kill thousands. Under the sneering condescension and bigotry of the people who want this spirit to stay buried.
But this spirit is unkillable. Tumblr just gave this spirit a name: Goncharov.
This same spirit is in Andor, to a point - because Queer culture is being actively repressed by the usual bigots and fascists, and Star Wars in general has a running theme of resisting oppression, and it is firmly anchored to its 1970s roots despite taking place "a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away." Spoiler warning for the Andor season finale: but it was impossible for me to see the scenes of rebellion and not flash back on this recent tweet from Dan Savage in the wake of the Club Q shooting:
("Out of the bars, into the streets!")
One of the things I think about all the time is what would have been if the right wing bigoted backlash had been turned back, and how things might be different if Reaganism and the AIDS crisis had never happened. What our culture might have become. How much further ahead we might be than we are now.
We're still facing that same toxic right wing backlash right now, but it's our duty to resist and survive however we can, hoping that this time we might turn the tide.
Stonewall lives. Disco lives. Goncharov lives. Long live the Rebellion.
#Goncharov#Star Wars#Andor#Queer Culture#Disco#lgbtiq+ rights#Goncharov Lives#Discussion of Goncharov as a meme
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A Leap of Faith by Misery_C_Epicaricacy & Ynnéalay
Merlin confesses his magic, upending the trust between him and Arthur; when he goes missing from Camelot, a conflicted Arthur must reckon with his fears and prejudices as Merlin’s life is put at stake.
Fandom: Merlin (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: Gen
Relationship: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon, Minor Gwaine & Arthur Pendragon, Minor Gwaine & Merlin
Words: 40,475
Fanbinding of A Leap of Faith.
Process, commentary, and additional pictures under the cut ♥
First of all, thank you to all the lovely folks from the @renegadepublishing discord for enthusiastically encouraging me to fanbind my own work, though this is not entirely just-mine. This fic was co-written with the awe-inspiring @whoawhataconcept (Misery_C_Epicaricacy on AO3) and this binding is as much a love letter to her writing, her mind, and our creative collaboration as it is to my own contributions.
On: Textblock & Typesetting
I've bound a couple fics at this point, but was saving Garamond for this one because I fell in love with how these particular words look set in Garamond. The headings are done in a simplistic all-caps Calibri with expanded spacing to pay homage to how many hours editing this damn thing were spent looking at the font in question. I've also used font 'Merlin' for the front title page—which I got linked out of the @merlinbingo discord server—and Felix Titling for the interior title page.
The body is printed on EarthChoice colour cream paper, and stitched with red crochet thread.
On: Endpapers
The endpapers were a tricky one for me! They are prints of my own fanart which was not the correct aspect ratio to use as endpapers for a book printed on letter paper. This was also the first large map I created, and if I could go back, there are things I would do differently. But in the end, I decided to use it as-is because I'm proud of it. To fix the sizing issue, I up-sized the map so the width was correct for a letter-sized print, which left a border on the top and bottom of the image—this I filled in with black and red checkerboard pattern to match the banners and standards of Camelot.
Originally, I wanted it printed on this textured, pearl-finish linen paper, but then the print shop I use didn't have it in a large enough size to do endpapers on and I was heartbroken. I ended up using topkote gloss paper by Oji.
On: Endbands
Hand-sewn in red and gold crochet thread. I redid these like three times to find a core I liked, and ended up doing them over tightly rolled paper.
The Dust Jacket
I'm not a graphic designer, so the jacket design is simplistic. It includes a cover, back cover (with a 'praise for' section), and two inside flaps (which contain the fic summary and author bios). I took some cues from this dust jacket post. It's printed on a thicker weight of topkote paper by Oji, this time with a dull finish.
Closing Thoughts
I'm so proud of how this turned out! It's my best work yet in terms of straight-ness of the spine/cover paper, and I learned a lot about printing. Lots of firsts for me here, and I feel that every time I make a book, I improve. I've gifted this copy to my co-author, Misery. Seeing her flip through it, and seeing it on our shelf, is giving me a lot of joy today!
#Withy Bindings#fanbinding#fic binding#ficbinding#fan binding#book binding#bookbinding#fanfiction#whoawhataconcept#Misery_C_Epicaricacy#Ynnealay#renegade bindery#renegade publishing#bbc merlin#merlin bbc#merlin fanfiction#bbc merlin fanfic#A Leap of Faith#The Weavings of Destiny
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Merman TF (rubber, transformation, WIP)
This short fiction (~1,600 words) was originally written as a blurb which I expanded. I'm revising it again to make it longer and more story-like, but I'm tired and procrastinating and it may not be done for months, so I'll post this second draft as-is.
Intent on checking his nets, a poor and lonely old fisherman walks along the shore at daybreak, creeping along the cold sand and stray bits of seaweed through the chill wind. At the beach's rocky boundary, he finds a pair of golden bracelets lying in a tide pool, mysteriously abandoned. They look intricate, expensive. He could pawn them, or return them to their owner for a reward. Overcome with curiosity, he picks them up. They glow, then jerk, and fling themselves onto his wrists of their own accord, tightening fearfully. Immediately a viscous, coral-red tar pours forth from the bracelets, in thick strands that lengthen and wrap themselves around the fisherman's arms.
In a panic he tries to pry the bracelets off his wrists, but they are clamped tight, and prove impossible to remove. His hands, now coral-red and rubberlike in texture, appear larger, stronger. The rubbery tar spreads up his arms in hungry webs, and tentacles shoot out and latch onto his torso like grabbing hands. They lengthen and twine around him possessively, squeezing and groping around his emaciated body through his threadbare clothes. Against his arms the first strands shorten and grow taut, pulling his arms together and then binding them against his chest with a slick plop, and the cloying slime swells in spurts and waves, thickening around him layer by layer.
Immediately the fisherman's thoughts are of getting help, and be begins to run back down the beach toward town. As they slither under his clothes and wrap around his chest, the red vines extend downward and wind themselves around his legs, growing thicker and stronger as he gallops like a horse, fighting to free his arms of their slick bondage as he goes. Stealthily the tarry vines around his legs thread together, knot and grow taut, and before he's gotten fifty feet, just as the fisherman manages to break the vacuum seal around his arms, his legs are bound up and he falls forward onto the sandy beach, rendered immobile.
He catches himself, with some relief, then his arms are seized again and yanked behind him by a hungry mass of ropey tentacles that bind him by his wrists to his ankles, hog-tying him neatly. He calls for help, his voice hoarse and quiet from frequent disuse in life, but the cunning tar creeps up his neck and stretches a slick gag across his mouth, muffling him. The slime smells like sea-salt, and sweat, fragrant and masculine. Bitterly he fights against his cunning restraints, angrily bucking and grunting, but the rubbery tar ripples and bubbles around his body into the beginnings of a cocoon. And still the goo pours from his demonic bracelets, unabating, spewing syrupy hands that spread across him in webbed striations, clawing their their way over his feeble form.
The goo around his body surges and swells, slowly growing him into a shapeless mass. When his legs are completely encased the restraints behind him snap, and the fisherman heaves and rolls himself onto his back with a grunt. He fights with a renewed fervor against the slippery evil encasing him. He rakes at the rubbery gelatin coating his legs and claws furrows into the malleable, pulsating mass. His arms, now thickened with forming muscles bigger than he has ever witnessed, are powerful. But the virile bracelets spread far more of the tar along his extremities than he can tear away, spewing heavy loads of living crimson that fill in the claw-marks while growing his legs longer.
More tentacles sprout from his manacled wrists and latch onto and encircle his waist with increasing girth. He yanks at the ravenous ropes encircling him and they stretch taut, then grow instead around his arms and wrists, tangling them and swelling them further. They clamp around his meager muscles until, in pain, he's forced to release his grip on the goo enveloping him. The vines pull his arms against his sides, leaving him lurching and armless as a snake. He wriggles and cranes his necks to look down at himself, with difficulty as tendrils climb past his nape and dig into his pressure points. He resembles a dozen spiderwebs overlaid each other, hundreds of gooey strands upon strands all stretching and writhing and circling around him, clinging and swelling and merging into an increasingly shapeless cocoon intent on devouring him whole. And still the tar pours forth from the bracelets, unabating.
The gag that stifles him sends forth feelers, thin tendrils that part his lips and climb into his mouth. The scents of salt and masculine musk are overpowering to the his nostrils and tongue. The demonic tar presses down at him from every which way as he wriggles inside it, invading his pores and binding to his skin. He can't feel his clothes anymore, the fabric eaten away by the viscous tar. Gooey ropes shoot from his arms and torso onto his legs, the pulsating vines transferring mass to lengthen the growing stump of his legs even as more slime flows from the bracelets onto his upper body. His bound-up legs grow and stretch into what seems a heavy tail that swells and lengthens, unfurling to reach ten feet, fifteen feet after a minute of steady work. The fisherman wriggles impotently in his crimson bondage as he grows to gigantic proportions.
As the eel's tail reaches twenty feet, a long fin unfurls along both of its sides like a folding fan, a wide, strong membrane that conjoins at the tail and extends its length by another three feet. Finished expanding, the goo stops its travelling and turns its attention inward. The taut webs of ropes stop their serpentine writhing and begin knotting and lacing, entwining and wrapping. Slowly they begin to settle in place, and their surfaces flatten, smooth and congeal into a shiny, rubbery skin on the body. Inside the congealing, the wriggling tar separates into heavy cords of striated muscle, rippling and knotting and swelling with strength. Hungry for bones to support them, the pulsating fibres bear down on the fisherman, grabbing and digging into his naked body as they lengthen and thicken. And finally the last of the goo crawls over the fisherman's head, in hungry hands, lacing over his face and shutting him in darkness.
Hundreds of muscles fill the empty tail, diagonal and paired, working in tandem, and more of the tar congeals into strong ribs and vertebrae. The bulging muscles strain against the rubbery red skin, standing in stark definition as the skin pulls taut around them. The long belly turns white with speckled borders, the tailfin turns the beautiful bright green of sea grass. As the goo swallows his face a new face is formed over him, the hauntingly beautiful mask of a Sea Prince, red with a splatter of black around sapphire-blue eyes. Strands of white hair sprout from his scalp and grow long. Spiraling dark horns grow up from his forehead, and pain shoots through him as they anchor themselves in his skull. Pale claws grow from the tips of his fingers.
The fisherman cannot breathe, the rubber is suffocating him. With newly free arms he digs in his talons, and yanks at the slick rubber that has encased his face. He tears through the skin and pulls it away. The mask tears apart, and his face tastes fresh air. The tendrils in his mouth stretch and cling to his gums. But his arms grow heavy, and he's unable to hold it. The mask snaps back, and knots over his face. Again he digs into the rubber and yanks at it, but it stretches less each time he tugs, each time gripping his face more tightly still. He twists and pulls at the flesh-prison around him, but with every passing moment the still-developing system of muscles around him grows stronger and denser, and soon he is unable to move his limbs or body, helpless to its power. Instead the rubber skin begins controlling his body like a puppet, moving his limbs for him without his volition.
The muscles cement themselves to his body. Tentacles invade his mouth, his ass, filling his orifices with pulsing thickness. Air-tubes insert themselves into his nostrils, supplying him with air. The eyes behind the tight mask around his face pulse with hypnotic blue rings, as between the fisherman's legs the merman's twin procreative shafts form and begin throbbing with need, assaulting the fisherman with waves of pleasure. Against his will, his struggles weaken, hypnotized and subservient to the Sea Prince's will. He feels the mask of the great eel grow taut on his face as it smirks in diabolical satisfaction.
The merman reborn tests his new body idly, coiling and uncoiling his great length and feeling his muscles flex with ease. He is powerful, he knows, and he relishes his great strength. Satisfied, he gives into the waves of lust. He looks at his twin shafts, then rolls onto his stomach and starts grinding against the sand, humping and humping for friction. The tension in his gut builds until he climaxes and releases a vast, pearlescent puddle of seed. He coils himself, then uncoils in a flash, and springs himself forward into the ocean. In the shallows, he waits, invisible, unmoving. On the sand, his seed lies sticky and potent, alive with magic and ready to grab the next passerby and transform them into the Sea Prince's mate.
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