My mind is a whirl of awesome lately. Finding my happy, finding my fun. The three H’s; waking up happy, healthy and horny. XD What more can a girl ask for? …hairy? Could that be an awesome fourth? Humble? Nah, never that. XD How about hoarding? Aka a signed copy of Demon Arms plus another 22 books? (Yeah, weirdest segue ever. You’re welcome.)
Jex Lane, writer of the Beautiful Monsters series is having a giveaway. Sign up and enter to win a whole lot of sexy in paperback form.
The end of the year is fast approaching and it has me thinking about how I want to spend my days. I’m not sick anymore, feel amazing—think my thyroid kicked on and I’m finally out of starvation mode. Lentils are delicious, btw. Fuck, I missed eating. I spent years running from life, running from PTSD, running from my perspective of everyday shit while trying to reach something that would make it all better. I’m already there. Life is fucking good, and now it’s just a matter of living it.
I think I want to start making sexy yaoi art again. It’s been so long, I don’t know if I’ll be any good, but I’m sure it will be fun to try. Book covers have to be pretty tame to keep from being banned from certain platforms. But since I’m going all in with the adult side of Patreon, maybe I’ll start doing art to add to the fun of things. Hardcore, drippy fun. XD
Goal is to have all the Demon Bonded stories moved by this weekend and Apprentice Saga available for sale again. Hellcat has reached a level of monster demon cock I was hoping for (woot!) but still requires a few more scene rewrites before it’ll be ready. I hope I’ll make it for Christmas. Oh, and I posted some new Harry Potter fanfic wips on the site under free this month if you missed that. And… is that it?
Hmmm… I think it’s rambling time about perceptions of reality and the insanity of censorship
Stumbled across this vid last night and I love his voice. XD It’s nice to know there is still a culture pushing back against censorship, even as the world tries to demand that ideas are the same as actions and should be policed. Anime/manga is where I got my roots in art and story telling. The genre isn’t considered mainstream when it comes to book covers but most of my story plots are inspired by the push and pull of the wonderfully dirty comics I grew up on. Comics that have been used to fine and convict normal, everyday people and put them in jail in countries including America.
There’s this thing about the human mind where you hear the same story again and again and you start to believe it can only ever be that way—like a love story where true love only looks a certain way. My mom raised me to expect to be married by college—but I wasn’t allowed to date before then, and I was a girl, so I probably wasn’t going to college anyways even though I was mad smart. I’m in my 30’s—this wasn’t some ancient time long ago—but her beliefs reflected her childhood culture and she put that on me, repeating the story she lived (or maybe just heard) into a new era. This is the danger of rigid brains.
I think it’s why I’m so wary of tradition. It reminds me of that amazing poem about walls by Frost, and I think of the era in Europe when people were starving to death because all the nobility walled their land and no one could hunt, no one could travel because of the neurotic fucks who needed walls for some idea of order and ownership. Their beliefs that walls were important blinded them to how they literally killed people.
Humans are really good at creating systems that hurt themselves, and it starts in simple irrational beliefs in their mind that they react to. The belief that a thought, that an image, that a bunch of words could have the power to harm someone is the driving force behind censorship. Well, that and the need to be responsible for other people’s pain and protect them from feeling uncomfortable. It’s the root cause as to why people can be bullied on the Internet—they let their perceptions and emotions decide that words actually hurt them. The reality is, words cannot hurt you. You allow words to hurt you. If you didn’t hear those words, or see those words, they couldn’t have an effect even though they’re right there. If they’re in a different language, they mean nothing to you, just marks on a page or screen or noises in your ear. Your brain and how it perceives those words is where your pain comes from. But for those who let the pain grow, who believe those words, they can act irrationally, they can harm themselves, even kill themselves. They take an action in reaction to their emotional response.
Saying I’m sorry you feel that way, might seem like a total douche-bag thing, but it’s true. People hurt themselves. An action is an action. Pain, on the other hand, is the body and mind perceiving pain. We perceive the things that hurt us, whether someone else intended to hurt us or not. We still decide if it hurts, if it’s worth clinging to and making a big deal about and hunting witches down to make everyone pay.
It’s sad to see so much suffering, but how can the answer be to remove the words? The words didn’t do anything, the person did by believing the words. And do we try to help the people who are more apt to believe these words—words that are everywhere, that can be read, understood, never even directed at them but is still perceived as personal attacks? A relative of my bf was arguing with a recorded message (I wish I was joking) getting worked up because she thought there was a real person on the other line. She was yelling at nothing, at the perception in her head, while blaming a human being that didn’t even exist. She caused her own pain, but should we stop phone calls, just in case?
For some people, the very thought that they are doing this to themselves creates pain—because how the fuck can they accept that they are the ones hurting themselves when clearly someone else is attacking them? Someone must be to blame, someone must be punished because it hurts and they think their pain has value. But that’s humanity for you—that’s the root of PTSD, which is why this lesson is so powerful to me. I am well aware how my thoughts and perceptions of the world kept me trapped and unhappy. It is a choice to believe. PTSD is a mental system of anxiety and paranoia that feeds itself with its own thoughts, and the attempts to escape from those paranoid, negative thoughts are seen as death. Yet here I am, free, because I chose to stop believing.
When people believe that the representation of something is as real as what it’s representing—that a drawing is a person, that a doll is a person, that a company is a person—they react to an irrational belief. Not only do they react irrationally, but they take that irrational thought and project it into the future. We must act to stop an outcome that will definitely occur! If a drawing is a person, then people who see this drawing will go out and rape, or kill, or act insane because… fortune telling? It made them? They’re not responsible for their own actions?
The only madness occurring is in the mind of the person reacting to a thought as if it’s reality. A fleeting dream they insist happened, harmed them, and must be prevented. And yet, we have laws built around this insanity because someone believed a drawing is a person, that it is objectifying, degrading, harming a gender or a movement or a culture and to exist is to make people act. You know, the same way women shouldn’t be allowed to exist as sexual (showing off their ankles, or their legs, or their faces, or ass or tits—pick a culture and time period of what’s too sexual for a woman to exist) because someone will rape them for men have no power over their own dicks. The perpetrator of an actual act isn’t responsible, it’s the fault of something that existed as is, a woman without clothes or shame, that forced them to act.
People are very good at believing insane things and then clinging to value systems to justify it. Because what would happen if they relaxed and just let a drawing be a drawing? What would happen if they had to be responsible for their actions instead of blaming anything they can? Death. I think PTSD reigns in the minds of many, and I hope they find their way free. If they really want to.
There was this concept in the Matrix where when the aliens first put humans into the computer program, it was ideal, perfect, no conflict. But people died or didn’t flourish because they believed life required conflict. Shit was too nice so they were freaking out. It says it all about humanity—the need to hurt ourselves because we believe we need to. I know so many like this; I was this. So what if we believed we didn’t need to hurt all the fucking time and things could happen and not result in pain?
Here’s to a year free of insanity. I want to make some dirty art, a ton of super dirty books, and I want to live each day having fun no matter what my situation is—because it’s my choice to believe that my finances and circumstance define my happiness. They don’t. Money does not represent happiness, or freedom, or anything, it’s just money. It’s actually an amazing example of how far human insanity goes that we can find ways now to trade digital numbers for food and items and feel like it’s an equal value. If we all had six more zeroes at the end of our bank statement this month, everyone a millionaire, would the world stop and blow up in flames? If we could all afford to eat and live in houses, would some god come down to crush us all for daring to be happy? It’s just numbers on a screen that represents paper in a vault, that represents gold in another vault, that represents something of value because gold is… shiny? Why do we want gold? It’s time, but some people’s time is worth more than others? People are fucking insane so why buy in?
This year I say yes to happy, yes to fun, yes to not giving a fuck about all the many neurotic bullshit things my brain tries to make me believe is real. I say yes to questioning every system, every belief, and every boundary until breathing doesn’t feel like fifty stones weighed on my chest trying to keep me down.
Speaking of saying yes to better,
I redid the Hellcat cover to make it more dark and sexy. Sexy is better, pretty sure. *eyebrow waggle*
The Hunters have long made it their agenda to kill every last vampire.
Ronnie Perkins, fears for his life as he walks home alone. He tries to hide his fangs but still the Hunters spot him.
This is how it all ends.
But then, a solitary figure appears, swooping in and saving the day.
Claude Montgomery does not know why he put his neck on the line for Ronnie.
The two vampires are now on a crash course toward the rest of their lives. When the Hunters place a bounty on their heads, how will they escape?
Harry is a lonely omega who desperately wants an alpha and a family. He doesn’t want an alpha to control him but to be his life partner in every way. He’s a hardworking English teacher at the local high school who hears the ticking of his biological clock…and worries time is running out.
Alex is a Science teacher, an alpha new to the local high school. He’s not looking for an omega, he’d rather be a free spirit than settle down with a clingy omega.
Harry is shocked and furious, when the hot new teacher turns out to be the bully that made his life hell in middle school. After an explosive reunion, the principal realizes he’s got a problem on his hands, and comes up with a way to solve it.
They’ve got one weekend to learn how to get along…or someone is out of a job.
This is a 33,000 word story of male pregnancy with a HEA. This is book 3 in the Baby Makes Three series, but can be read as a stand-alone.
The Man That’s Supposed To Protect Him… Is Also Becoming His Lover
Life changes drastically for escort Kato when one of his friends is brutally murdered.
Even more unexpectedly, the man in charge of investigating the case- the charismatic Inspector Dole – takes more than just a professional interest in him.
But before long, he himself is in fear for his life, from an unknown assassin, intent on killing men like him for his own dark purposes.
Will Inspector Dole be able to protect Kato from danger and solve the case before it is too late?