So, I’ve reached some new milestones! I’ve bound a book with silk moire endpapers. I’ve bound a book in leather, even though it was still learning-quality leather, and it had been largely pared before being handed down to me (I’m working on it! leather takes so many knives, and this one just arrived today). And I’ve used heated brass tools to do some blind tooling! Just straight lines for the moment, I’m working on consistency more than anything else, and still figuring out heat/pressure/etc, but oh my god.
And…. I’ve officially bound my own writing for the first time!!! This is in honor of the anon who reached out to me last year. I wasn’t able to answer their question in the affirmative, but it made me realize I’ve done a lot of work in this arena, and it would make a lot of sense to collect as an anthology
And I haven’t given up my wicked ways, I’m just writing about exciting new blorbos at the moment. Also, as I was going back and collecting text, this writing slaps, I stand by it. So the title is very tongue in cheek, this is very good writing, but!
YEAH, BABY!
This does cover a little more ground than pure noncon, because I haven’t written all that much of that, this is supplemented with a lot of material where consent is technically given, it’s just not given in a good way. It’s a very melancholy book in some sections, but I really do think I do a good job of writing sex where neither person actually wants it to be happening, and one or both of them is using it to self-harm. Unsurprisingly, Starscream shines in this arena, and I stand by my writing for him, I proudly recommend my own archives.
I did also write a quick little intro to the anthology, just an overview of the what and why, and specifying that this is the first time I’ve put my own writing in a book. Only took me like 140 books to get around to it, haha!
The book is subdivided by fandom, approximately in chronological order. The one mcu fic would properly go in the middle of the transformers fics, but that wouldn’t have been pretty. And I wanted the starclonus series to all go together, the fic to fic flow is important. I finished a star wars fic last week, but still have a tgcf wip that would belong here, that kind of thing. The bulk of this book is homestuck and transformers, but marvel, xianxia, and star wars all show up too!
This was so rewarding. I still have a lot to learn about working with leather, but even as a sleep-deprived amateur, I’m having such a delightful time! I also have unfinished leather and dyes and knives and no adult supervision, so I have the power to make a hellacious mess next time I get restless, amd I’m so excited
So, I’ve reached some new milestones! I’ve bound a book with silk moire endpapers. I’ve bound a book in leather, even though it was still learning-quality leather, and it had been largely pared before being handed down to me (I’m working on it! leather takes so many knives, and this one just arrived today). And I’ve used heated brass tools to do some blind tooling! Just straight lines for the moment, I’m working on consistency more than anything else, and still figuring out heat/pressure/etc, but oh my god.
And…. I’ve officially bound my own writing for the first time!!! This is in honor of the anon who reached out to me last year. I wasn’t able to answer their question in the affirmative, but it made me realize I’ve done a lot of work in this arena, and it would make a lot of sense to collect as an anthology
And I haven’t given up my wicked ways, I’m just writing about exciting new blorbos at the moment. Also, as I was going back and collecting text, this writing slaps, I stand by it. So the title is very tongue in cheek, this is very good writing, but!
YEAH, BABY!
This does cover a little more ground than pure noncon, because I haven’t written all that much of that, this is supplemented with a lot of material where consent is technically given, it’s just not given in a good way. It’s a very melancholy book in some sections, but I really do think I do a good job of writing sex where neither person actually wants it to be happening, and one or both of them is using it to self-harm. Unsurprisingly, Starscream shines in this arena, and I stand by my writing for him, I proudly recommend my own archives.
I did also write a quick little intro to the anthology, just an overview of the what and why, and specifying that this is the first time I’ve put my own writing in a book. Only took me like 140 books to get around to it, haha!
The book is subdivided by fandom, approximately in chronological order. The one mcu fic would properly go in the middle of the transformers fics, but that wouldn’t have been pretty. And I wanted the starclonus series to all go together, the fic to fic flow is important. I finished a star wars fic last week, but still have a tgcf wip that would belong here, that kind of thing. The bulk of this book is homestuck and transformers, but marvel, xianxia, and star wars all show up too!
This was so rewarding. I still have a lot to learn about working with leather, but even as a sleep-deprived amateur, I’m having such a delightful time! I also have unfinished leather and dyes and knives and no adult supervision, so I have the power to make a hellacious mess next time I get restless, amd I’m so excited
TW: references to past torture, fantasy religion, references to past consensual relationship, VAGUE reference to possibility of noncon and how it didn’t happen.
There was a brief hissing noise and a whiff of sulfur to Alsander’s left, further into the alley, as a doorway opened in what had been the solid stone of a wall.
With a flicker of red light, a cloaked figure stepped out into the alley, turned, and stared at him. “Harrow—!” Then she was there in front of him, her hood dropping about her shoulders, patting his chest as if to be sure he was solid and real, raising a soft hand to touch his face. “You’re alive, it’s you!”
He caught her hand gently. “Risha… Don’t, please— Not like that— I can’t.“
“Harrow— Nine Hells, what happened to you??” said Risha, tears filling her huge dark eyes. She was a succubus, and in her current form of a pale human woman with ample curves and sheets of blue-black hair; no horns, wings, or tail in evidence now. “I couldn’t find you!! I’ve been looking everywhere, and all I could get was that you hadn’t left this plane, but you were just gone! Where were you? Who did this to you??”
The apartment is beautifully clean. Every mug in the cabinet is lined up with the handle angled to the left. Every stainless steel surface is kept polished, the countertops have nothing but a bowl of decorative fruit painted in cheery colors, the coffee table has been sanded and freshened up to erase old rings of coffee stains. Quinn lounges on the couch, comfortable but refusing to pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch to cover their chilly arms because it’s sitting so perfectly where they laid it.
Knuckles rap quietly against the front door. All wandering thoughts about how elephants are cute when they use their trunks to drink water are erased in an instant. Wary brown eyes flit to the door. They are shirtless, freckles and scars on display to the empty, cold room. The patio door is in their bedroom, and the nearest window will creak if they try to push it open quickly. There is a gun under the coffee table, and one in the cabinet above the sink, and a knife in the entryway drawer, but none of those will really do much good if Quinn doesn’t have enough time to strategize. They don’t even know who’s there.
Pajama pants brushing against the sofa cushion as they swing their legs to stand up, the spy shakes their head to get their curls out of their face. They showered this morning and took care to curl their hair like they were undressing a wound, cleaning it, and redressing it. Now they’re wondering if that was a mistake. It was certainly stupid to have changed into pajamas this early in the night, to have not even bothered to grab a shirt. What if this is someone who expects them to be playing the role they used in some random mission months or years ago? What if it’s someone here to kill them? Do they really want to die wearing plaid?
The soft knock comes again. It’s oddly respectful, like the sound of someone unnecessarily asking for permission before entering a mausoleum.
The handle is cool under their swollen hand. It always seems to be too warm and tender, the other not so swollen but far more stiff, and it just gives the most awful cracks and clicks when forced to move. Quinn doesn’t spare the attention to frown down at their ugly crooked fingers as they turn the doorknob and crack the door open.
Exhausted dark eyes. Aquiline nose, bushy eyebrows, collarbones standing out under the neckline of a white T-shirt.
CNC (consensual non-consent) is a term referring to rape kinks, where real people roleplay being raped/raping someone with previously discussed consent.
Unless the characters are engaging in a kink session with pre-established consent, fictional rape is not CNC and shouldn’t be tagged or referred to that way. It just muddles discussions about kink and fiction.
