sammialex

[sammialex]

Grave offerings and burying the dead with tools and goods is actually such a deeply human thing to do. It's not really even necessarily about how much you believe in a literal afterlife or them taking the tools with them. It's also just going Wait, I'm Not Done Taking Care Of You, let me make you one more pair of socks so your feet won't be cold when you go wherever it is where I can't follow.

[sammialex]

[sammialex]

The fact that animals that care for their young will sometimes adopt others' lost or orphaned young to raise along their own is just funny to me. I know that it's all hormonal and there's no conscious thought involved in it, but the internal logic of it is so funny.

"Baby = success. More baby = more success. I have one baby and I found four other baby. I have five baby. I am being so fucking successful right now."

[sammialex]

This is not the first fic I bound - I definitely bound one of my own fics first, accidentally glued the spine to the case, and then hid it in the back of my craft desk never to be seen again

But I’m posting these binds first because, to be quite frank, they’re curséd.

I have redone the covers FIVE times. Unclear how much of the endpaper I have gone through. I have printed both text blocks AT LEAST three times. Volume II doesn’t have tapes, because I forgot them.

I don’t know what kind of blood sacrifice I was supposed to make for this to go smoothly but I obviously didn’t get it right.

Anyway, these are for @sammialex. We first collaborated on these binds way back last summer, when she was looking for an artist to do cover art and I poked at @maevemauvaise because she’s super talented and it seemed like her sort of thing. The end result is stunning!

The printed hardback from [redacted company] was (in my opinion!) NOT PRETTY ENOUGH

So when I decided, sure yeah, bookbinding, 1000 hobbies in a trench coat, sounds like fun, I knew I wanted to make Sammi a more beautiful copy of her work because I know how much love and attention went into the story.

I learned, at minimum, five specialty skills just to make these.

The bookcloths are Hollander’s Verona line in Merlot and Forest, the cover design was created by @maevemauvaise and hot foiled directly onto the book cloth using a foil quill and my cricut, the endpapers are Hollander’s Thai marble in “Firestorm” and “Forest”, and the paper is Neenah classic linen 8 1/2 x 11, in natural white, which has a really nice heft and texture and feels sort of old-fashioned in a way that vibes with the setting. The ribbon is black velvet which is probably impractical but I’m in charge here.

I designed the typeset using Affinity Publisher and I definitely went ham with green vines and blood drops, but I don’t regret it. It looked like A Lot on the screen but in person I think it’s exactly the right amount.

These babies are going in the mail next week, as soon as I get back from my trip, where I hope the curse wont follow! @sammialex thanks for letting me play with your work, for your patient guidance with Affinity, and for giving me the opportunity to make every common mistake and several uncommon ones trying to bring these fics to life 💜

Upon What Soil series, by SammiAlex (mind the tags)

Volume I: Vessel at the Launch

Volume II: Last Restraint

[sammialex]

OBSESSEDDDDDDDD AND SO EXCITED TO PUT THESE ON MY SHELF seeing them come to life and be loved and crafted by hand one baby step at a time (and fighting the curse that I am somewhat validated to see wasn’t just me bc goddamn getting these physical was impossible) WAS AMAZING 😍😍😍

This is not the first fic I bound - I definitely bound one of my own fics first, accidentally glued the spine to the case, and then hid it in the back of my craft desk never to be seen again

But I’m posting these binds first because, to be quite frank, they’re curséd.

I have redone the covers FIVE times. Unclear how much of the endpaper I have gone through. I have printed both text blocks AT LEAST three times. Volume II doesn’t have tapes, because I forgot them.

I don’t know what kind of blood sacrifice I was supposed to make for this to go smoothly but I obviously didn’t get it right.

Anyway, these are for @sammialex. We first collaborated on these binds way back last summer, when she was looking for an artist to do cover art and I poked at @maevemauvaise because she’s super talented and it seemed like her sort of thing. The end result is stunning!

The printed hardback from [redacted company] was (in my opinion!) NOT PRETTY ENOUGH

So when I decided, sure yeah, bookbinding, 1000 hobbies in a trench coat, sounds like fun, I knew I wanted to make Sammi a more beautiful copy of her work because I know how much love and attention went into the story.

I learned, at minimum, five specialty skills just to make these.

The bookcloths are Hollander’s Verona line in Merlot and Forest, the cover design was created by @maevemauvaise and hot foiled directly onto the book cloth using a foil quill and my cricut, the endpapers are Hollander’s Thai marble in “Firestorm” and “Forest”, and the paper is Neenah classic linen 8 1/2 x 11, in natural white, which has a really nice heft and texture and feels sort of old-fashioned in a way that vibes with the setting. The ribbon is black velvet which is probably impractical but I’m in charge here.

I designed the typeset using Affinity Publisher and I definitely went ham with green vines and blood drops, but I don’t regret it. It looked like A Lot on the screen but in person I think it’s exactly the right amount.

These babies are going in the mail next week, as soon as I get back from my trip, where I hope the curse wont follow! @sammialex thanks for letting me play with your work, for your patient guidance with Affinity, and for giving me the opportunity to make every common mistake and several uncommon ones trying to bring these fics to life 💜

Upon What Soil series, by SammiAlex (mind the tags)

Volume I: Vessel at the Launch

Volume II: Last Restraint

[sammialex]

Book 25 ✅ a birthday gift for talented artist and wonderful friend @noxnthea, incorporating her STUNNING watercolors throughout 😍 so much fun to create!! First time using suede, first hand sewn headband. Onyx by lomonaaeren is free on ao3.

[sammialex]

Internet nicknames introduce the exciting and novel possibility of being internet full named. The first time one of my friends called me "Brawl Together Now!!" in voice chat it had an immeasurable power not unlike being called into the principle's office.

[sammialex]

prompt fill! i got an anonymous request for tony/bucky for the prompt: concealing an injury. so here's a little fic about tony stark, slowly dying of palladium poisoning, and vampire bucky barnes.

warnings for general vampire violence.

---

Stark doesn’t like him. Never will, probably, and Bucky can’t blame him for that.

Steve’s got ideas about redemption and forgiveness, but one night, years ago, Bucky licked Howard Stark’s blood off his teeth and then ripped open Maria’s throat, and no matter what happens now, that happened first. It’s hard to build a functional relationship with a man after you introduce yourself by orphaning him.

They keep the peace by keeping apart. Outside of missions, Bucky doesn’t even speak when Stark’s in the room. Pretends he’s back under some Hydra facility, buried in another box, waiting.

But Bucky can’t help being what he is. He has a predator’s knack for sensing weakness, and Stark’s getting weaker by the day.

He’s rotting, somehow, from the inside out. Not cancer. Something else.

Bucky waits a week, and then another. He can track Stark’s movements by the smell of sickness through the Tower, and he thinks about going to Steve, but he’s taken enough from Stark for a lifetime. He might as well leave him his dignity, if he can.

“JARVIS,” he says, when he enters the elevator, “I need to talk to Stark.”

“Mr. Stark is not accepting visits or calls right now,” JARVIS reports. “Would you like to leave a message?”

“Sure,” Bucky says. “Tell him I know he’s sick. And if he doesn’t tell Steve, I will.”

There is a long pause, tinged somehow with disapproval. And then, without comment from JARVIS, the elevator rises, and the doors open, and there’s Tony Stark, standing in his suite with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, looking impatient and annoyed.

“You think you know something about me, Barnes?” he asks.

“I can smell it,” he says. No reason to lie. Tony Stark knows exactly what he is.

Stark’s mouth twists in an elegant, expressive curl of disgust. “Of course you can.” He gestures at himself, a telltale flick of his fingers toward his chest. “Poisoned meat, right? Wouldn’t want to upset your digestion.”

“Poisoned sounds about right,” Bucky says. “Is that what it is?”

“Maybe. Why? You want me to type it up for Steve? File a report? Prep some blood samples for Fury?” He laughs, dry and a little choked. “You want a couple hits while I’ve got the vein open? Or am I too compromised for your tastes?”

Sometimes, when Hydra buried him for too long, Bucky would rise so weak that he’d crawl after sick rats, drink whatever was too diseased to drag itself away. But there’s nothing to gain from telling Stark a thing like that. He’s the one who found the bodies; he knows damn well how starved Bucky used to be.

“What is it?” Bucky asks, instead. “Are you treating it?”

Stark laughs again, longer this time, and finishes his whiskey. “Sure,” he says. “I could treat it. All I’ve gotta do is stop my heart.”

There’s some kind of machine in Tony’s chest. Implanted, Bucky thinks. Nobody talks about it. Maybe nobody knows much about it. Maybe nobody’s wanted to.

“The arc reactor,” Bucky says. “It’s poisoning you?”

Tony shrugs. “Sure.”

“And you can’t take it out?”

He shrugs, again. Dismissive and uninterested, all his mannerisms suggesting that Bucky is wasting his time. “No.”

“And you know it’s going to kill you?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a slight flinch. Tony’s heart beats faster, but his face stays blank. “I’m a dead man either way, Barnes. I’ll live longer with it than I would without it.”

If you can’t cure a sickness, you treat it. Bucky is always going to be a vampire. As long as he stays well-fed, he’s not dangerous to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

“I can fix this,” he says. “Mitigate the symptoms, clean the blood.”

Stark’s eyes narrow, and, suddenly, finally, it feels like he’s fully in the room. “You,” he says, voice rising, “are not getting a single drop---”

“No. Not yours. Mine,” Bucky says. “It’d be my blood. I can give you--- it’ll heal you.”

That low, dismissive derision kicks abruptly into open rage. “Are you out of your Goddamn mind?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, listen. It’s not---”

“You drained my parents like a six pack at a beach party,” Stark says. “You ripped them apart. And now you want to make me your familiar? You gotta take every fucking drop from this family, Barnes? What the hell did we ever do to you?”

It’s a lunatic plan. It’s a terrible thing. But it’s not his fault that the only thing he can offer is a devil’s bargain. He is a devil.

“I want to keep you alive,” Bucky says.

“Alive,” Stark repeats. “Alive? Alive as what? Alive in what form, Barnes? As your puppet?”

Bucky swallows. He stares at Stark’s face, tries not to see Maria’s eyes staring back. “I’ve been a puppet, Stark,” he says, when he can speak. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Stark stares back him. His heart is racing, and that machine in his chest is killing him and saving him, and Bucky can smell the spreading rot that’s eating him alive, cell by cell.

He knows, already, what Tony’s going to do. He knows because Steve’s right: they’re not that different. Bucky drank sick rats to stay alive. He’d do it again; he’d do worse if he had to. The pair of them, they’d do any damn thing to themselves. Weighed against all the misery they’ve brought into the world, what does it matter how much it costs them to stay here?

They’ve got debts to settle. They’ll pay with whatever blood they have.

Stark throws his empty tumbler against the wall. Bucky feels like he’s watching a pinned butterfly beat its wings against glass. There’s no rage that can break a trap like this.

“Fine,” Stark says. "I'll do it."

Bucky picks a shard out of the carpet, doesn’t think about Howard, doesn’t think about Maria, doesn’t think about the winding thread of blood tying them all together.

“You don’t have to drink much,” he says.

“Jesus,” Stark breathes. For a second, there’s open misery on his face, a cut that goes right through him, an old wound gone rancid. And then he smiles, wide and dazzling, an ugly irony hooking up the edge of his mouth.

“Bartender,” he says, “pour me a double.”

[sammialex]

Happy birthday to him! 🎉🎈

[sammialex]

Stop just asking "is it normal?" and start asking "is it harming anyone?" Lots of harmful things are normalized in this society and lots of things considered weird or rare are completely harmless. Whether something is considered normal or common shouldn't be the deciding factor in whether it's okay

[sammialex]

Casting a spell on you that makes you happy, by the way. Your day tomorrow will be pretty good. Something nice will happen, maybe.

[sammialex]

I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

[sammialex]

I don’t know who needs to hear this but there is always a way to turn your fav character into a more disgusting immoral predatory version of themselves <3 never give up

[sammialex]

Circus boys 💜

If you like this concept, you might love this fic. Made me fall in love with these two together.