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Sometimes a stevetony fic will include cute little domestic breakfasts and latenight kisses and wholesome secret-identitybased crushes. other times one of them will be saying some bullshit to the other like ‘listen up okay I NEED to kill myself to save the planet and fuck you if you even THINK about stopping me’. Isn’t that so beautiful.

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i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point

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The way necromancy works is this: Everything in your body — meat, bones, skin, blood — has something like a memory. They remember, in their own way, what it’s like to be alive. Skin remembers the sun. Bones remember what shape they’re supposed to be in. Muscle memory is more than just an idiom.

The way necromancy works is that the caster puts a little bit of their willpower into a corpse to order it to remember how it functioned in life and obey. This is easiest to do with bones, which are easy to trick, and becomes increasingly difficult the more of the original body remains.

To reanimate a full body to your command, you have to have a lot of willpower.

The necromancer checked the map. She checked the map again. She squinted up at the stars, lips moving silently. Then, taking the lantern off its hook, she peered over the side of the little sailboat.

There wasn't much to see. The sea was dark and still as glass, except where the lanternlight turned a patch of seawater a yellowish-green. A tiny fish flitted into the gleam, attracted to the light, and then vanished into the murk again.

The necromancer chewed the inside of her cheek. She sat down again, the boat bobbing gently with the movement, and checked the map one more time. Then she opened the little wooden case on the floor of the boat, which unfolded into a neat arrangement of drawers.

There were. Things. In the drawers. Some wriggled. Others twitched little beetly legs into the night air. A few of them made noises, which ran together into a squeaky, wheezy squeal of horror.

The necromancer twiddled her fingers over the display as she considered her options. Then she grabbed a few of the twitching, wriggling things, held them in her palm and squeezed her hand into a fist as tightly as she could with a squelching noise.

She opened her hand to inspect her work. She breathed the spell into it, and then, holding her hand over the edge of the boat, dropped the spell into the sea.

And that seemed to be it. She sat back in the boat and closed the little wooden case. After a moment she started looking over the map again.

There were a lot of handwritten notes on the map. Each one was connected to a mark and some coordinates; some of them said, "Storm 1457," or "Struck a rock 1483." Others said "Total failure," or “Completely dissolved.”

The note the necromancer seemed most interested in was the one that read, “Battle of Salzstein, 1501.”

The necromancer checked the map. She checked the map again. She squinted up at the stars, lips moving silently, and then she was suddenly thrown down to the floor of the boat as though a giant, invisible hand had crushed her.

Her mouth opened in a noiseless scream.

Two minds were fighting for control of the corpse; on one side was the mind of the caster, and on the other was the memories of bones, of flesh, of skin, trying to drive the caster out.

The weight of that mind was incredible.

Sweat poured off the necromancer’s brow; darkness whorled across her vision. Then slowly, every movement a bone-breaking agony, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, lungs straining.

The trick was that this mind knew how to obey.

The necromancer stood, wobbled, steadied herself and poured her willpower into the sea. She tried to make hers the full willpower the thing had obeyed in life, the will of the wind, of the sea, of the rigging and the wheel.

Because of course it had been alive. In a sense, they were all alive. Sailors talked of them like they were alive, gave them names, called them “she.”

Sailors knew they were alive.

It was the cessation of that life that interested her.

The necromancer reached out with her power, seized the mind in her hands and pulled, blood and foam flecking out the corners of her mouth as she ground her teeth together with the titanic effort and ordered it to obey.

The sea roiled, hundreds of tons of water moving fast as something deep below boiled to the surface.

A bowsprit sprouted from the water. Then a wood-rotted figurehead of a mermaid. Then inch by inch, yard by yard, the huge barnacle-encrusted bulk of silt-stained timber rose out of the deep, seawater streaming out of every gunport.

For a moment the warship hung in the air like a monstrous fish held by the gills of a colossal fisherman. It dropped into the sea with a sound like a depth charge; the little rowboat lurched in its wake.

The necromancer released the spell. Then she threw up, and passed out.

———

Later, once she had woken, gathered together the tackle box, the lantern, and the map and had scrabbled aboard, the necromancer inspected the undead ship.

There was a hole in the hull where a magazine charge had exploded. This was, admittedly, fine. Undead men could walk with a hole in their bellies; an undead ship could sail with one as well.

Really, she thought, despite the discomfort the spell had worked masterfully.

It was a perfect start.

She unfolded the map on the soggy floor of the quarterdeck, sucked the end of a pen, and next to the last marker wrote “Total success.” Then her finger began to trace down the page to the next.

And the undead ship — unbidden and obedient — shifted its sails and began to move south.

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I'm moving in 3 weeks.

I'm also ass deep in a bind for an author exchange - all that's left is the vinyl work and casing in. So this weekend is books and measurements, and then I'll be gone for a bit for real whilst I move and unpack all my shit.

But ya'll? This bind I'm doing now? Ya'll are gonna love this shit..

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Zero's Book Binding - Seasons

Seasons by @stinglesswasp

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Ship: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Start Date: 01/03/2025 End Date: 02/24/2025 Second Printing: 07/11/2025 Pages: 127

Ok. So, surprise, it's a paperback.

Season's provided a very specific challenge for me that I haven't face before - which is, technically, that it's a short fic. 'Short' as in this fic is 51K words - so it's not actually a sort fic, it's just shorter then the fics I have bound till now. Additionally - Wasp is a artists as well as a writer. I found them on twitter when I first fell into Ghost/Soap, and I instantly was obsessed. So when I asked if I could bind their fic, I also asked if I could use their art as well.

So! I spent a lot of time weaving the fic art into the typeset. I….need the practice, truly - there is a skill to inlaying images that i have not had the pleasure of practicing yet. I did the best i could and im...really happy, actually.

Ok! I pulled quite a few topographic maps from the rough areas where each chapter takes place. I jazzed them up, surprise, and added color and overlays to better matched the season that was being referenced. I did my best to match the typical font that Wasp uses for their art too in the drop caps and chapter headers - so that everything was as consistent as possible.

Should i have offset the gutter more for this print - so that I didn't cut off the word CHAPTER for every single header? Sure should have. Put it on the list of lessons learned.

Inline breaks match the cover design - which started out fucking crazy, but I pulled back with the design stuff and kept the map idea to be consistent. I printed the cover on 80LB marker paper, which…works for what i needed it to do. It's heavy enough to feel pretty good in hand, but not to heavy to go through my printer.

Is the spine text in the wrong place? Sure is. Could I have fixed this when I reprinted the fic again? Sure could have. Did the spine glue down in a curve that I couldn't fix? Yep.

I followed a DAS Bookbinding tutorial on making soft covers to put this book together. Its….easier then you think? And less expensive. Is it perfect? No, but until I get a better handled on how to do it, it'll just keep working at it. Say it with me: Ya can't be good at a thing the first time you do it.

So I need a better printer, for sure. Especially if I'm going to do more things like this. Some of the images really did not print well, and with the SotM bind in the wings I'm gonna NEED a better printer to chew threw that m o n s t e r.

Thank you again, Wasp, for being cool about me binding your stuff. If you like Goap and haven't read Seasons? My dudes - please go check it out.

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Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Original Child Character(s), Bobbi Morse, Brock Rumlow, Brock Rumlow’s Strike Team | Strike Team Alpha Members, Phil Coulson, Kate Bishop Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, SHIELD Agent Clint Barton, SHIELD Agent Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, early aughts fashion and technology, I definitely gave Bucky an undercut for my own personal enjoyment, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Kid Fic, Clint Barton’s Farm, now featuring a llama, mention’s of clint’s traumatic childhood, Deaf Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, weird strike team delta shit, Jewish Bucky Barnes, a mildly shitty teacher who also is kinda anti-semetic but fuck her very much, a slightly more than mildly shitty cop, switching i guess, tattooed pierced and otherwise Extremely Hot James Barnes, I won’t be taking questions, humiliation perpetuated by a well-meaning but clueless five year old, I do not like Brock Rumlow and it shows, a new addition you say?, foster care slash witness protection slash adoption slash look you gotta build this family somehow, Kate Bishop is a gift, Hearing Loss, Lip reading, I have taken some liberties dear reader, not many but a few, Sign Language, Pidgin Signed English, Comic Book Science, The Thirsty Women of Waverly Series: Part 5 of Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins Summary:

Love is a place you can live.

You build it yourself.

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Folded. They chunky boys for real.

1.5in (3.8cm).

This one ia going to be a monster- and im making 2 of em.

23 signature total - half a ream of paper.

Coolcool

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This one ia going to be a monster- and im making 2 of em.

23 signature total - half a ream of paper.

Coolcool

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Some paper & pencil sketches for garrick, and some period au for Mona! Thank you always ✏️🌷

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And some ghoap christmas leave in a snowy forest hut for shainira! Thank you..🎄🌨️

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something sweet.

early access + nsfw on patreon

this is fanart of "Cedar Beam, Pine Rafter" by joesoef, specifically Chapter 3 where these two knuckleheads finally get over themselves and kiss. "Cedar Beam, Pine Rafter" is one of the most heartfelt fics in the fandom, with such a sincere and thoughtful take on these two and their unending dedication to each other. It talks a lot about disability and is so empathetic and considerate of both Simon and Johnny in this new relationship of theirs, and I love it all to death. If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a nice comment and some kudos!!

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My piece for @transistorpoweredheart-zine :)

Based on Avengers (2013) by Hickman

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Another jayvik book, completed! This is the incredible motion on a circle, by @runesick. Stunning artwork by @marika-misc, who kindly granted me permission to include her art <3

As always, crafty chatting + more pics under the cut!

Whereeee do I even begin with this fic oh my gosh. The worldbuilding is PEAK. There are so many fun things that rune does with the structure that convey the strange, otherworldly, in-between space of the arcane. And the jayvik? AHHHHH. THE YEARNING! THE GRIEF!!!! It's both cosmic horror and sweeping romance at its finest. It's so, so good. I left a comment that was literally *checks notes* 2,000 words??? LMAO. Thank you rune for reading my yapping! I just had to bind your fic; it's been living rent-free in my mind for months now.

Some fun design things! There are a few sections in the second chapter that are written in the style of a screenplay, so I mirrored that in the typeset :3 For font, I went with Courier New, which is (I believe!) the standard for screenplays, and also changed up the justification for the paragraphs to be left-justified.

I really love the resulting effect--the chapter this happens in is about (spoilers aha) Jayce getting tossed into the metaphorical basement of the arcane, and because he's not technically supposed to be there, he's kind of only...partially rendered. But he's also literally aware that he's a construct, which is BONKERS and so delicious, narratively speaking. All that to say, I really wanted to convey that feeling of unreality, and I feel like the stark contrast between the two fonts really helps with that!

The title page was also super fun to design! After Viktor gets spat back out of the arcane, his face kinda splits into a thousand different after-images. I thought it would be really neat to convey that somehow, along with the general idea of motion as named in the title:

I liked the effect so much I did it for the cover text as well! This was my first time using printable canvas and gosh is it a game changer. For the cover artwork, I used Vasily Kandinsky's Several Circles and flipped it around so that that the title would fall in the black part of the big circle:

My bindery logo falling right in the middle of the orange circle was a happy accident heh, but it's one I'm quite pleased with :3 This was one of those designs that sort of fell into place the moment I found the artwork--it just felt right.

This was also my first time making paper endbands! I used the same paper for both the endbands and the endpapers and love how it brings it all together.

A million thanks again to rune for letting me bind their work, and to marie for letting me include her artwork! I had so much fun with this bind, and this is legit one of my favorite fics not just in arcane fandom, but also just in general. I'm so so happy to have it on my shelf! Here it is once more, for the road <3

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🌝

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The cooking I am doing on this rebind, guys gals and non-binary palls, is pure f i r e

Lets hear it for spending WAY much time on something like... 3 people are going to actually see, tucked into a bumper page between chapters.

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"Are you okay" NO. THERE ARE LITTLE FICTIONAL BITCHES IN MY HEAD. AND THEY'RE KISSING.