?Kickass Atheists And A Ramble?

March 23, 2019

Hey babes!

So first, a quick check in. I’m trying a new experiment with my health, and so far so good. Things have flipped pretty drastically in a short amount of time. I no longer need allergy shots (we’ll see what happens once spring hits and the mold blooms,) and this is the 4th day straight I haven’t needed any dopamine supplementation for the Parkinson’s. I think I may have finally cracked this. I’m keeping myself aware—it’s all still experimentation until I can feel like this is repeatable and sustainable—but yeah, it’s looking good.

My key thought at the root of this experiment was the realization that it’s the gut that produces the majority of our neurotransmitters. Not through the gut itself, but the bacteria living there. If Parkinson’s is a sign of low dopamine (a neurotransmitter) and a ton of dopamine is created in the gut by our bacteria, then what would happen if I intentionally seeded my gut with probiotics designed to increase neurotransmitter production? AKA, why not farm my gut the way we farm the land to produce what I need to function?

The change was quick. Practically overnight once I started the probiotics and realized some store bought kombucha had the right bacteria to also produce neurotransmitters. I’m sure it helps I’m still on the Candida killing meds too. I have energy, and I’m more active in my life. I’ve been cooking (and eating) every day and I’m feeling really relaxed. I even started exercising on my rebounder again. I’m more active but it’s not that hyper energy I get when my immune system is flipping out. I just feel more me and more in my life.

I’m taking it slow, though. I feel like every time I push too hard when I see improvement, I undo the good. Which makes me think the extra neurotransmitters are helping with my residual anxiety. I’m really happy with it all so far.

I guess we’ll see how it goes. Hope is a double edged blade some days, so I’m just focusing on how nice it is to wake up on a Saturday, laze around, and still manage to write a Newsletter while also eating properly and thinking of creative stuff to do. I saw the Spider-Verse movie—the art style was so inspiring. My mind is a whirl of if I could do something similar in a visual novel. <3

Okay, some fucking kickass atheists!

I am in love with this video. If you’re bored and looking to see what it looks like when a brilliant atheist tears into an asshole who thinks homosexuality = aids, and homosexuality = pedophilia, check it out. What I love at the core is the message of freedom of thought and the problem with people who think a thought is an action. They are separate and don’t require judgment, something people really struggle with.

And if you’re interested in seeing an atheist view of sex work, and how even in secular spaces free of religion, society is still struggling with their personal shame when it comes to sex, check out this 9 minute intro—also, nipple at 11:46 😉

I’ve started watching things like the videos above because it is such a relief to find people who think like me. These concepts and viewpoints of the world seem like common sense to me, but I did not grow up with people who had common sense. The majority of the adults in my life were messed up and brain washed through social and religious means. It might seem weird that I see PTSD in practically everyone, but there’s a reason for that. I was surrounded by people who were traumatized, and these people never sought help. They just created a path of destruction everywhere they went. And I, a small child, was constantly being harmed by other people’s trauma.

Time for a personal ramble of my past

I haven’t done one of these in a while, but I’ve been thinking a lot about where the thoughts came from that I, as an adult, am forever clashing with. Unfortunately, they came from home, not some external source. At times it was influenced by external sources, such as the religion my family believed in. At the core, I was raised mostly through trauma, not nurture.

I grew up in an environment that didn’t promote thought. As a child, I didn’t really understand it, and I certainly didn’t understand what it was doing to me. When my adoptive mother would burst into angry tears because I would keep questioning her stances and offer other view points, I didn’t understand WHY; I just knew I got quieter and quieter to appease her. Her plea was forever ‘why can’t you just agree with me?!’

Well, why couldn’t I? More importantly, why should I? Why did I, a child trying to understand the world, have to agree with a grown woman to make her feel validated in the world? Because she was damaged. The same way my biological father would beat his kids when they didn’t act the way he wanted. He was damaged and he thought to control a child would mean he had control over himself. He didn’t. Why did the children always have to change to make these unstable adults feel stable? The entire thing is flawed and proposed by adults who are too damaged to see they are the problem. Unfortunately, children are beaten down to believe the lie of the adult in situations like this, and they spread it later in their own lives.

When my adoptive mother would snap at me for speaking quietly, I only got quieter. I was attacked for speaking up and saying the ‘wrong’ thing, and attacked for speaking quietly for fear of saying the wrong thing; the clear answer was to just never speak. Especially when I knew the stakes of speaking up, because I was a foster kid until the age of 10—my experience was if you pissed off your parents, they either sent you away or beat you. My adoptive parents did neither, but they threatened to plenty.

I was a foster kid who came from an abusive home, and I was adopted by well-intentioned parents, one of which (my mother) had been a ward of the state until she aged out and had endured terrible abuse during that time and after. Some of that abuse was inflicted on her by her husband, (my adoptive father,) who stopped drinking by the time we were taken into the house and was thankfully not the person of his past. Whether she intended to or not, my mother abused me in the same way she had been abused when it came to thought control, self esteem and emotional manipulation.

She set a standard in the household that I should be ashamed or disgusted by my body. That if my hair wasn’t to her specifications, I was a ‘hag.’ I can remember her absolute disgust when I got a new bra, and the way she pulled it down my torso, scathingly telling me it belonged lower—because when it was higher, my breasts looked larger (the horror.) When I spoke back to her, or just did something she didn’t like, she would say ‘you have the biggest balls I’ve ever seen.’ There would be such disgust in her voice, I only know now through observing the pattern through other people that clearly someone had said this to her as a child, and it had been gendered to assure that she would feel repulsed every time she stepped out of line. Girls were ‘good,’ and they certainly didn’t have balls. What defined good? Not upsetting others, and not being free like men. She used that against me in the hopes to break me from being my own person. She would tell me if I didn’t like living there, I could go live under a bridge. Because that’s rational—telling a child who had endured years of abuse that if you don’t conform in every way, you can go die on the streets.

My relationship with my adoptive mother was extremely toxic and it was not because I, a child, had established it to be that way. And to be clear, I loved her, just as I did my abusive biological parents, and my adoptive father (he favored materialistic manipulation over emotional.) Love is not stopped by things like abuse, trauma, pain. I can acknowledge someone was horrible in action and still love them whole-heartedly, even if I have no interest in being around them any longer.

I think that’s hard for some people; they can’t speak bad of someone—they can’t speak truth—because they fear they will appear unloving, so the truth festers away inside like an infected wound, unheard and ignored by their own psyche. It’s a psychological cocktail of misery that can create more repression and lies. When someone tried to tell me my biological mother was a saint when she did nothing to stop my biological father from hurting me, or my biological grandfather from hurting me, or refused to create a stable environment to prevent her small children from being at the mercy of any stranger who could be called a ‘foster parent,’ it just made the pain worse because it was bullshit.

Adults are not perfect, and some adults are really fucking terrible because of what they do to others, and yeah, I can still love them but I won’t pad the truth. And because of that, I can talk about this stuff and not be in pain anymore. I’m not broken by the truth because I realize people are complex, fucked up, and even when we try our best, we are not always our best versions of ourselves. When we can come clean about that stuff, we can move on to do better. But only if we can be honest. All the people I know who didn’t face their shit, never changed, never got better.

So, some weird shit about the mother I loved, the one who took me in and gave me a roof over my head when I was at my most vulnerable. My mother fought me for my adoptive father’s attention like a scorned lover instead of a mother—talk about awkward. I would have to walk home from school (a good 2 hour walk) if I missed the bus because she didn’t like his time after work going in any way toward me instead of toward her. She got upset when I had my plays or music recitals at school because it took him away for a few hours while she wanted all his attention. Asking for simple things like to be driven to a friend’s house or the mall was met with argument after argument, until it was easier to not have a social life to keep from battling her at every turn. She hated having other kids in the house; she wasn’t a fan of me and my brother being in the house either.

It felt like everything was a constant battle of wills with this woman, and none of it made sense. Why couldn’t I just be a person? She didn’t care my grades were shit, that I wasn’t adjusting to school, none of it; she just wanted me to conform to whatever she wanted and it made everything else so much harder. It took until the end of middle school for me to finally break her hold on me, and I think this was probably much younger than other children who break away from their parents later in life. My mother ‘washed her hands of me,’ aka, stopped telling me what music to listen to, what clothing to wear, stopped trying to ‘help’ me by crushing me down until I could barely move without her freaking out. She also stopped talking to me outside of guilting me for ‘bringing this on myself’ because I was too difficult on her. This was suspiciously around the same time her cancer returned. She could only handle one battle, and it was with her own body, and her punishment to me was to cut me out of her life.

She never told me she lost a breast to cancer before they took us in. She never got therapy for it. I don’t think my mother got therapy for anything, from her life changing illness, the husband who used to terrorize her, to the abusive childhood she endured. When I started washing her clothes as her cancer returned and progressed, I found her bra with the padded breast. I can’t even imagine having something so profoundly intense happen to my body and not share that with my child, to not try to teach about illness, about the body and how it doesn’t always look how we want but we still have worth, still have value. But my mother never sought help, and she did not have a healthy perspective of what it meant to live in a body.

My mother had turned me shaving my legs into such an ordeal—seriously, she got my doctor involved—that the kids at my school who were making fun of me for having hairy legs unlike all the other girls were told by a teacher that I didn’t shave because it was a religious thing. No, it wasn’t religious, my mother just couldn’t handle my growing up. She couldn’t handle talking to me about tampons or menstruation. When I had severe, and as I know it now, not even remotely normal cramps, but horrendous reactions to the mold in the house that would send me screaming for 2 days straight every time I got my period—she would call me weak and throw it in my face how I’d never be able to handle the pain of child birth. (I’m likely barren, actually, from what the mold did to me.) My mother instead pointed out how she would go to school every day even though she also threw up every morning. Because she was strong.

That was how I learned just how damaged my mother was. Not with long, meaningful talks about her past, but these little moments she would bring up and use to stab me with guilt and shame as she bitterly tried to keep me from the reality at hand. She was winning a game of who could hurt who the most I didn’t realize I was in; I was just being a kid.

If I had been in pain for something not ‘womanly,’ I’m certain she would have handled it different. If my knee was twisted, she’d get me to a doctor. But it was my uterus, and it was a subject off limits. I needed help and instead of seeking solutions, she would attack me for needing help. The reason being, in her mind she did the same thing to herself. Her normal was to hate herself and blame herself for not being able to control her life. And I learned because of years of that treatment to be just as cruel, just as apathetic to myself.

I can clearly remember one day me coming home from school to find my room ransacked with my mother standing there with my latest library book in hand. I was a heavy reader—I read to escape a very unhappy life—and she just started screaming at me, and screaming, and screaming.

The book was for young adults (of which I was one,) and discussed things like puberty, making out, potential sex in the future for the characters, etc. I can’t remember what my mother actually said, just the disgust twisted on her face as she screamed at me for reading such a book and how filthy it was. The hilarity being, she totally missed the romances and books that had masturbation and sex that I had already read by this time. My mother actually wanted to give me a book about sex, a book that never materialized, and one she mentioned when I was 17. Because she was so fucked up about living in a body, so fucked up about sex in general, and so fucked up with her identity and needing me to be a reflection that she couldn’t face any of these basic things.

We could never talk, never connect, because she never treated the demons in her past. I had read books about cancer, specifically of a daughter my age dealing with her mother having cancer, before she even told me she had cancer. I was learning more about my own life through books because she was avoiding me experiencing life. When I was in high school, and her cancer got so bad I would come home every day after school to take care of her, cook for her, walk her to the bathroom, etc, we didn’t talk like people, like a family, like friends. I could either share her interests, or not exist. I had to be perfect, or upset her. I had to be perfect, or I’d be letting her die. I had to be perfect, and I could never be me.

It’s not unique

My childhood wasn’t particularly unique in the long run when it comes to being born into abuse, into religion, and into needing to adapt or rebel from a controlling parent. It certainly isn’t unique in being treated so apathetically that I learned to do the same to myself. What is unique about me, and it makes me so sad to realize it, is compared to the people I am surrounded by, or once were (I left a lot of broken people behind) I was the only one I knew who was striving to deal with my shit and gain a new life. I strove to break free of the thought control that lingered from people who were now dead but were still managing to fuck up my life.

So, when I see videos like this, of someone who understands the world in complete rationality and is also CONFIDENT in the perspective, it is beautiful to me. Because I wasn’t allowed to see the world the way I wanted to, the way I did, without waiting to be struck down on so many levels—and don’t even get me started with the all knowing God who would condemn me to Hell for merely thinking.

It’s a wonder I didn’t grow up to be crazy, yeah? It’s a fucking wonder anyone growing up in a restrictive religious household, or an abusive one survives to be any sort of adjusted adult. Our reactions to the world and our basic ideologies are established when we are at our youngest and most vulnerable, and this is when we can be least protected and least seen. This is when the adults in our lives don’t realize their stress and fears becomes a child’s literal perspective of life.

I can’t be in a crowded kitchen because both my adoptive parents were always freaking out with being crowded in a kitchen when cooking. When I first started dating, most of my reactions were to lash out at any show of emotion in my partner because my mother made me believe emotion was weakness, and that other people needed to stop having emotions so I could feel safe. Why the fuck should other people’s emotions have anything to do with me? Because my emotions were perceived as an attack by my mother on her. It is absolutely irrational, but it was the world these damaged adults created, and the one I spend every day trying to break apart so I can live healthily.

I want to enjoy reality. I want to enjoy my voice, which still sometimes gets quiet when people show up to freak at me because I see the world differently than they do. I don’t always feel confident in speaking my truth, but I do still speak it. I want that confidence. I want that place of stability to know if I say something that upsets people, too fucking bad; I won’t end up on the streets without my mother’s love.

I am not the keeper, the caretaker, or even remotely responsible for other people’s emotions, and I have no interest in trying to manipulate those emotions in any way. It is not my job to make other people feel good about themselves, and it’s not my job to go away because people don’t want to face the reality of a difference of perspective. Too fucking bad for them.

I talk a lot of shit about the LGBTQ community when they are acting shitty. When you have ‘real lesbians’ telling bisexuals they’re not really into women, or ‘real gay men’ telling trans men they can’t exist. When the community says gender doesn’t matter, then freaks the fuck out when they discover the gender of someone is not what they thought it was. When still, those within the community abuse those who are different in the community because they, like my mother, need everyone who looks like them (or identifies like them) to be just like them. No person is alike, but still we try to crush people down to fit into what we conceive them to be, and it is shit. In a community trying to break free of labels, there are so many fucking labels!

I get it; it is extremely hard to see past the false realities pain and strong emotions create. I had PTSD for over 30 years. I know damn well. I wanted people to be what I thought they were so that they made sense and I felt like I had control. But I also know what happens when we don’t try, and what happens when we get lazy and just shrug off reality as being less interesting than the many distractions or addictive anger and constant victimization. I still battle biases, still put a wall between me and people because I fear emotional manipulation even now.

I would rather live in a void than go through something like what I did with my parents—and that’s fucking tragic. Human beings are social creatures, and my coping strategy that got me through a difficult time in my life is still being habitually used to destroy my ability to connect. Because someone once told me to suffocate myself was a sign of strength, and when desperate for love, I believed them.

Reality repeated

It is beautiful to hear other people describe the world as it is, instead of through the lens of a broken, brainwashed human being. If you’re well adjusted (I’m sure such people are out there and congratulations!) it might seem boring and mundane, but damn, I have heard so many skewed versions of the world full of pain that creates more pain, and I’m just tired of it. I want the bullshit to be gone already. I’m tired of entire institutions and societies promoting fucked up ideologies that make little girls feel like they’re nothing, and grown women feel like their only worth is in how good they can moderate the feelings/stresses of others, or through stereotypical gender roles. There isn’t a single movie out there lately with a female main character that isn’t torn apart because she’s a woman. The pathetic old cry of ‘gender doesn’t matter but don’t go shoving your female equality in my face by being equal’ just won’t shut the fuck up already.

I want to hear reality, every damn day, until people can distinguish they are hearing reality and not another insane ideology that only lives in the brain. This is the education the world needs. Every human being should be able to find the base reality and see through their own bias. When you can see reality, you can live in it—you can alter it like I’m doing with my health instead of waiting to appease some imaginary divine being to heal me, or appease a doctor in a lab coat who was so certain my problem was something else and believes I should conform to that reality instead of fixing the problem. When you can start in reality, you can distinguish when your brain chemistry is fucked, understand the thoughts you have (be they depressive, anxious, irrational predictions of the future, etc,) aren’t real, aren’t from you, and you don’t have to act. You don’t have to give up your life because you know where reality is, and that unbearable situation you feel trapped in can be left just by walking away or turning off your screen.

We need more reality and less irrational ideologies. We need more loud, proud atheists who are willing to shut up a homophobe who hides behind ‘stopping aids’ as their rational of hate. That’s the world I want to be a part of. I don’t want to apologize for irrational thought; I want reality repeated.

~Sins

?Fun MM Stuff In The Works!?

March 16, 2019

Hey babes!

As I sit here, staring at my computer, all I can think about is the shit I don’t want to talk about, you know? I am so exhausted and frustrated with the world. It is gorgeous weather where I am, no mold yet to be found, and I just want the world to stop being insane and join the happy train already. Selfish, sure, but hey, sometimes we need to be selfish.

So I’m going to talk about all the awesome shit I want to do, and how I can’t time manage my ass into gear (what gear would that be…?) to get it done. Ugh, why am I so bad at juggling things? Like, people do things all the time, every single day, and I’m just fumbling between eating and writing. @_@ Come on.

Things in the works…

The taboo guest author spotlight for mm writers. I gotta create a form or something, guidelines, what have you, but I really love this idea. And I was thinking later it might not have to be just for taboo writers, but it is my focus atm because of the whole censorship and discrimination taboo fiction faces verses any other fiction. I really do want a place where even if social media platforms start banning things—you know, the way Tumblr banned anything adult—you don’t have to worry about these links disappearing.

A new short story—and that is the key here, I want to make a short story I’m going to freaking finish, and it’s going to be full of nasty sex. This has been such a problem for me lately. It’s not just that I can’t split my tasks up so that I do a little bit of one thing at a time; I’m not finishing anything. These wonderful, long novels are sucking me dry, and I need to make a damn commitment to getting a project done. Any project at this point. Even when I get an episode of Demon Bonded done, I still feel like I’m only chipping away at a mountain, you know? It never feels DONE. I don’t even want to look at the old series at the moment because I just know if I go to add an episode, I’m going to want to change the beginning that was full of my moldy brain. So we’re starting fresh to keep my neurotic tendencies at bay.

I need to adapt to the whole website content creation thing instead of the publishing game. It’s hard for me to break out of the habit of rushing toward a goal when I need to start looking at multiple goals and planning my days around each. Right now, I’m jumping between the Demon Arms rewrite and Blowjob King—an incest filled, brother fuckfest with little to no plot. ^^ Back to basics. I’m hoping the contrast will keep me more motivated, as will finishing a damn project.

Oh, arting again too! Check it. The Blowjob King characters. ^^

I decided to try an experiment to see if I could do some character creation in a much shorter time frame. I think it worked out well. I’m rusty as an artist. I don’t art daily anymore; I barely art monthly. I’m hoping to find little ways to get back into it, and hopefully, once I get a smooth system going, start on the Demon Virus visual novel project.

Positive stress

I want the right amount of challenge in my life when it comes to creative work. I get bored. I know that’s probably terrible to say, but it’s real. I need some sort of mental stimulation if I’m going to sit in a chair for hours on end when I could be out enjoying life now that my body is working again. But I have to fight my own brain which likes to turn everything into stress.

It’s tough. I think I just got used to it. Years of anxiety and then of being sick has turned my base state of being into assuming the world is going to end if I can’t reach my goals. But my goals still aren’t immediately reached and the world is still here, and all that changes is I feel fucking miserable. Guilt! The fucking guilt of not getting shit done in a timely manner manages to make me slower. It’s a vicious hate crime on my own brain. I think that’s partly why I get so caught up in one project and can’t break free to do other things; a part of me is still switched on thinking if I don’t put all my time into this one thing, I’m automatically failing myself and others. Even though it doesn’t happen faster. My brain is just mean. =_=

So this is my tentative plan to work on all that. Find ways to add challenges while removing stress, and help push me to learn how to work on multiple projects again instead of throwing myself into one that lags on and on because I’m bored. I remember back to my school days where I could jump from subject to subject depending on the class, and it was fine. My brain is capable of it; I just need to find ways to enact that in my current life once again. I just have to remember how to juggle and get back up to pace… totally.

Not having my own room has been a big obstacle in all this. I have no office, I have no space outside of my shared bedroom, and once someone is watching TV (he knows who he is) my concentration is completely shot. We lost half our already small house to mold and yeah, it’s not great for my productivity.

I feel good—I feel healthy and am ready to take on the world—I just also still feel a little trapped by my circumstances and my crazy brain. But again, I think those are all things I can overcome. I just need to find creative solutions and keep working on letting preconceptions and stupid thoughts go. Fun is a state of mind, and I need to get back into that place. I love everything I do—I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise—but I’m having trouble making it fun again.

No goodies this week :/

I went into my old Facebook haunts to see if anyone had any deals this week. Nothing. @_@ I’m going to poke around a bit more, but it might just be a slow week. It is a lovely day… er night. It’s now night outside. >_> (Where the fuck do I go when I type? It was light out moments ago, I swear!) Maybe peeps are all out enjoying their weekend? I may have to go in search of this stuff more in the future. I know I’ve been slacking. I need to up my game and make sure you’re all getting some fun reads hitting you from authors you might not even know exist.

Peace, babes. Hope your weekend is wonderful, and the crappiness of the world doesn’t define your personal reality. We all gotta cope with an insane world, but we don’t have to go crazy with it.

~Sins

?Site Makeover and Looking for MM Taboo Writers?

February 24, 2019

Hey babes!

It has been an intense last few weeks. I feel like I’ve been staring at code for a lifetime and just lifted my head up to realize it’s winter. @_@ Did the zombie apocalypse happen? Did I miss fluffy pirate shirts coming back in style and then going back out? What year is it?

Thankfully, the website is finally—FINALLY!!!!—done, and I did it in a way that I will never have to take this long again to update it. (Well, unless I scrap it and start from scratch.) Emails have all been sent out, so check your spam folders for your new passwords and such. Everyone got a free month because of just how freaking long the transfer took. I’ll be writing start Monday and getting back to new content.

The design is a little bit goth punk, a little bit midlife crisis… XD

I went with a very funky kind of style that cheers me up every time I see it. I’ll be honest, babes, being sick for so long has taken a lot of joy out of me. I thought getting healthy would automatically bring that sparkling, joyful person back, but the years have beaten me down a bit. I feel like some days I am literally scraping to find those silver linings in life and get a smile to grow. Part of this website makeover has been about reminding me of who I am, the things I like, the part of me that finds writing a fun, crazy party. I need my fun back, and I’m hoping when people are on the website, they’ll be feeling fun too.

There are some new pricing options with the new website too. $5 Exclusive Reads and $5 Exclusive WIPs. I wanted to offer an economical choice to readers who like to pop in from time to time verse every day. Maybe you’re someone who doesn’t want to read anything new until it’s 100% finished, or maybe you don’t want to spend $10 just to read that one favorite WIP. This will hopefully address those kinds of problems.

Looking for MM Taboo Authors

I’ve had about a dozen authors hit me up at one point or another asking how to get around the unfair censorship and banning that’s been happening on Amazon and other major book retail platforms when it comes to taboo writing. The thing is, unless you’re starting with a website that Google says is trustworthy because it’s been around forever, or you have mad money to outbid Amazon or Goodreads for ads, it is very hard to compete outside of Amazon. It’s damn near impossible to make a living if you can’t be found, not to mention just the plain demoralizing feeling that comes with realizing the fantasies you write are not only being judged by faceless corporations, but aren’t protected from discrimination the way any other subject is. This is the kind of shit that kills the joy of writing.

It’s the corporate mindset that it’s okay to discriminate because there are plenty of places out there for people to find ‘that kind of stuff.’ Well, while Amazon might think erotic books are part of the porn industry or adult market, few writers want to brand themselves alongside a wall full of flesh and sex just because some prudish outsiders think that’s what this writing is all about. It’s not how many erotic writers want to present themselves as a brand, or their writing in general. And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the adult industry—they have to deal with enough bullshit discrimination as it is, and I’m not saying this to separate myself or my writing from their industry like I’m superior or some shit. No, I just don’t believe erotica comes from the same mindset. I feel like the adult industry has become industrialized in a lot of ways to the point that story and character development is mostly stripped away, and as a writer of books, that just doesn’t fit for me.

I write erotica for emotionally receptive individuals. It’s not just a fuck fic; it’s a story that gets you into a mindset to enjoy a fuck fic. A miniature psychological escape from the repression and bullshit of a world that doesn’t blink twice at censoring books to the point that I had an adult store owner say she wouldn’t want to carry any of my books that contained taboo content. This kind of discriminatory messaging doesn’t just stay on a platform, it spreads like a sick disease. It spreads the way shame does, hurting people, making them feel bad, and forcing judgments on the books they write and the creators themselves.

Amazon and other narrow minded platforms have made it so taboo and dark erotic stories don’t have a place. Where we’re not allowed to compete on equal footing in a market that is very much ravenous for this type of writing. Where others won’t promote our books in their newsletters while we promote theirs—this isn’t all authors, btw. I’ve had plenty of great authors who are more than happy to promote my books. But I’ve also had authors tell me my books just aren’t appropriate for their audience of adults. I’ve watched this get worse and worse over the last five years as a writer with little I felt I could do besides share with other authors what I’ve done personally to make it this far.

A Tentative Plan

I’m not rich, babes. Being ill this entire time has basically put all my money into meds and treatments and finding answers that took way too long to find. Writing books that can’t be placed on major platforms has limited my income greatly—I’m talking a loss of thousands per book. But even so, my books helped pay my bills when there are so many authors who never earn a buck for what they do. And if they want to write crazy fun, sexy, dark erotica? Many give up the moment their first book is banned because it makes them feel like shit. It’s not just knowing the world is broken, but also knowing there is someone out there who thinks you’re fucked up for writing what you write. It is a shitty, self-destructive feeling no one should have to face alone.

I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to set this up, but I want a guest author area. What I’m envisioning is a page for each author where you can read one of their short stories, click a link, and be taken to either their webpage if they have one, or a direct link to where you can buy their book(s). If you’ve been on my site, you know it’s basically impossible to download the stories from there—I’m sure to the frustration of many XD—so a guest author wouldn’t have to fear their stories being stolen and passed around.

And I want to pay each author for putting their short story on my website.

A predatory market

Let’s be real. There are plenty of writing publications, magazines, etc, who don’t pay for submissions. There are some so fucking disgusting, they charge a submission fee for the privilege of possibly being published with them. You know, the fee they charge for them to do a job that brings them money in. I don’t remotely come close to having the type of money an organization like that has, but I know I can still do better and actually pay writers for what they do.

You shouldn’t have to be poor to be a writer. You shouldn’t assume if you go into writing, you’re never going to make any money unless you’re writing nonfiction. Content is king in this digital age, but we’re still dealing with a bunch of assholes who profit off the backs of others while never giving back to the creators who made them popular in the first place. I refuse to be another writer who contributes to a broken system instead of demanding better. So, yeah… plans.

This is going to happen, I’m just not 100% sure how, just yet. If you’re a writer of MM taboo fiction and interested in having a spot in the guest authors’ area, email me and we’ll get an idea of what can work. I’m considering $100 per approved submission, no bullshit about exclusivity or rights—they’re your stories, not mine, and the entire point is to help sales, not lock your story on my website. Oh, and things in the membership part of my site aren’t read by Amazon bots, so you don’t have to worry about any KU bullshit either.

Someone has to make the world better

I’m hardly a perfect person, but just how long do we have to stare at a blatant, disgusting problem like discriminatory censorship before we try to do something about it? This is the kind of thing you have to learn to be loud about, and for me it’s difficult after a lifetime of shame messaging.

I am not ‘immune’ babes; I’m just bullheaded. I didn’t really get a grasp of how negative messaging about sex had destroyed generations of people until I found myself in a business class among entrepreneurial adults who kept calling me ‘brave.’ Not brave for starting a business–we were all there to do just that. No, brave for daring to sell dark erotic fantasies side by side with every other legit business out there. I was the BRAVE one because even among brilliant, resilient people, there was a level of discomfort around sex.

The world deserves better. It takes enough of a psychological toll to write a book and self publish in general. Why do we have to have fucked up cultural shame placed on top of that too? I refuse to accept it. The world can be better, and eventually I will never have to be called brave for doing what every other self published author does.

Peace, babes. Hope you enjoy the new website, and I look forward to getting back to writing.

~Sins

?Corporations Shouldn’t Be Our New Morality?

February 9, 2019

Rant time, babes,

Sorry, I heard some news and it just struck a fucking chord.

Hi, btw! XD It’s been a while. I’ve been doing so much website stuff to transfer members over to the new software. I’m literally in the process of rebuilding the damn library because I realized there is no plugin available to do the transfer, so I have to do it all manually. It’s going to take time and I don’t want people in a limbo of not being able to sign in. I’ll be sending out emails with updates to each member once their new account is ready and their new password available, so keep an eye out.

I’ve had a few epiphanies the last month when it comes to being content focused on the website. I’m looking at creating the ability to let new members pay $5 to either read the library of finished books, or $5 to read the new stuff as I write for the month. I want economically friendly choices just in case the $10 for both is just too much for some people. I’ve finally gotten past the emotional obsession I had to ‘fix’ all the old stories. Unless it’s part of a larger series, I’m not touching the old stuff. Letting go and moving forward. It’s also time to stop trying to get things ‘publish ready’ like I’ve been doing with the PATB books. It’s why I’ve spent so much time on those stories and not had time for any other projects. They’re long and I wanted them ready for publishing so I gave them all my focus, and because of it, the website has been suffering with only that content being added.

I’m taking the website back to a focus on taboo stories. You know, the stories that have been ignored while I’ve been writing perfectly awesome PATB books. I miss the dirty sex, and I need to find a damn balance to ensure the hot stuff is being written with the more sweet stuff. There needs to be more dirty books written, no joke. Half because they’re awesomely fun, but also as a fuck you to all this bullshit censorship happening. These books need to multiply instead of disappear.

I have to adapt to a new model of writing where multiple stories/series are updated instead of one again. I’m stretching, relearning, getting this brain to work now that it’s healed. It really is a lot of relearning how to do the same old shit and getting over my neurotic perfectionism. It’s not easy but it’s where I want to be as a person, so it’s well worth the work.

Seriously, you want a medal for basic human decency now?

Okay, so Starbucks finally gets around to giving their workers sick leave. This is a company founded back in 1971, and whose net worth is $30 billion. 5 days a year you’re allowed to be paid when you’re sick to keep you from coming through the door and working, that’s their sick leave. And no, they didn’t do it for some altruistic reason such as, well, giving a fuck about their workers. No, they didn’t want their customers getting sick. That was their mentality for this. Sick customers = bad business. So, Starbucks finally gets around to being somewhat decent on such a base level, and they get mad accolades from the public. A company who cares!

Similarly, the leader of Amazon comes out after being pressured by progressives to say he’s going to be raising all of his workers’ minimum pay to that of what some experts (these numbers are already old) would say is the bare minimum to living. That means ideally for a worker, their bills are paid, their heat is paid, they can pay rent, they can get to work, they can get groceries, and, maybe, if they’re lucky, they can pay their taxes and also have some left over for the kids, right? Here’s hoping health care is included in that, cuz it’s usually not affordable. A living wage is just getting by. There is no profit for the people making it, it’s just not being in poverty. So big cheers for Amazon for setting a standard to pay their workers enough, barely enough, while most other companies don’t even do that.

Nike and Gillette had huge, controversial (dear fuck, why is this shit controversial?) marketing campaigns. Nike for the acknowledgment of protesting as being acceptable in a country that is still battling racial inequality and a prison system built around oppressing black people and the impoverished, and Gillette for acknowledging it’s okay to have a penis and not be a total dickbag in a country that is still battling gender and sexuality inequality. It’s a big fucking deal for these corporation to do the bare minimum of reflecting back the major sentiments already in the country and in most modern societies on the globe. Normalizing equality? Wow, what a freaking shock, right? Accolades, cheers, awesomeness for just being real instead of trying to sell their products. Companies marketing to the future instead of the past. Brilliant.

And, in the midsts of all this supremely basic shit of just being rational in an irrational world, Tumblr bans any adult content to the point of women having hard nipples show through their very modest clothing being removed, Youtube demonetizes anything that uses fair use (aka, LEGAL content,) Facebook blocks anything potentially adult, and Amazon and all major book retailers ban certain subjects pertaining to erotica and romance in fantasy, to the point that sex ED books are placed in erotica or removed completely. Why? Well, we know for a fact with Tumblr it was to sign up Verizon as an advertiser, and Verizon doesn’t want certain sexual content to be associated with them. The whims of a 229.1 billion dollar company has decided the moral/ethical standards for 456.1 million users of Tumblr in the matter of one business deal, just so Verizon can have the ability to market their shit to those users the company wants to change.

Amazon (a 1 trillion dollar company) has decided the moral and ethical standards for the readers who consume the hundreds of millions of ebooks a year on their platform. If Amazon says it’s okay to have books about straight sex, but not gay, they can set a standard for millions of people and then other book platforms as to if gay books are allowed. And if this feels like a stretch, many books being banned are within the MM genre and it started on Amazon before other platforms like Barnes & Noble started following suit. Amazon has been caught shadow-banning erotic books (meaning they can’t be ranked and therefore can’t be seen by customers,) removing erotic titles completely with no explanation, banning authors who are just too good at selling books on their platforms, etc. I wish I were joking, but yeah, that was a huge thing in 2018. Amazon removed accounts of authors who were too good at selling their books. They claimed the authors were making money through illegal means but were unable to show or prove that was the case. Since it’s illegal as an author to have a lawsuit against Amazon, the authors lost their livelihoods without court case or trial or any fucking way to speak up for themselves and their reputations.

What’s my point in all this? EMBRACE DISCOMFORT!

When companies are giants, and they say something is ‘right’ and something is ‘wrong,’ (therefore setting moral and ethical standards,) society starts imitating those beliefs. Not necessarily on purpose but through what is available, what is SEEN. When a playing field is filtered so that no one can see that gay people exist in movies, people who live in bubbles of culture get very uncomfortable to realize gay people exist and it perpetuates the fucked up mentality of trying to make them disappear.

How many men freaked out when Deadpool was pegged by his girlfriend? He’s currently the queerest super hero on the big screen and he doesn’t even screw guys in the movies. We finally had a movie about black people that wasn’t about them just being black and dealing with racism and oppression. You know, they were allowed to just be people. This shit is taking too long! And it’s because the companies who hold the power to make our media aren’t looking to reflect society but to pander to the people who are uncomfortable with diversity.

Where do you think that old line comes from of ‘I don’t care what they do, just don’t let them get married,’ in reference to gay marriage? That comes from the mentality that marriage belongs to only one group of people (usually white and religious and straight) and it can’t belong to anyone else because that group is not exposed to the vast, beautiful wonders of this diverse globe. They think their experience is the only experience, partly because they lack other experience and are uncomfortable in gaining it. The same with when you had the apartheid in South Africa and you couldn’t mix those of different skin colors as a fucking law. When people grow up in a culture devoid of diversity, they normalize it and then push that oppressive belief structure on everyone they meet. Their discomfort sets the norms of society. Gross.

This is ancient era bullshit in a modern world. Segregation is not acceptance and it’s not equality and it sure as fuck isn’t enlightened, modern thinking, but we still can’t get certain races/genders/sexual orientations represented properly in media because some consumers are too fucking uncomfortable. It helps no one. When it becomes normalized, the way billion to trillion dollar companies have the power to make basic decisions and normalize what is on our television sets or computer screens, those wrong, fucked up decisions can start normalizing negative beliefs.

People have to stop running away from discomfort and face the fact that many people are fucked up over sex because of the repressed cultures they’ve grown up in. And how in the world are they going to be able to do that when books about sex disappear one after the other because someone thinks it’s acceptable to discriminate against fiction? How can people be allowed to think for themselves when in this modern world we’re finally breaking free of ancient, oppressive religious systems only to discover corporate policies are trying to be the creators of our morality and ethics by literally removing that which they disagree with?

Either it’s a ‘free’ market, or business owners are just talking out of their asses, being hypocrites while trying to control the market. And just so we’re clear, I will protect a corporate entities right to send a message (even if it’s an old fashioned, fucked up message) because I as an adult am well aware that my behavior and beliefs are still my choice no matter what messages are bombarding me. But I won’t sit here and bullshit that it’s okay for a company to discriminate based on the books people write or read. When Gillette made that ad, were they saying we’re not selling razors to men who believe in ‘boys will be boys?’ No. But Amazon is saying they’ll ban your books and even you as an author if you don’t conform to the moral/ethical standards they refuse to even state about sexual content in fiction. There is a huge difference there.

Think!

Think. That’s all I want for the world. For people to think and to break free of the mental cages they have built around them. There are enough assholes out there with superiority complexes who think they’re the only ones allowed to be free. Sociopaths who think they have a right to tell other people how to think and then profit off of them. Our books are our thoughts. Our writing is our thoughts. Our stories are the lessons we learn, the random thoughts we share and others enjoy. Who the fuck is anyone to take that away and make it disappear? To say which thoughts are right and wrong? Especially companies who don’t even have the decency to pay their employees a living wage while they profit off their labor?

Corporations aren’t some evolved, brilliant form of humanity that are going to save the damn world. They’re comprised of the same fucked up people living in the world today, and that’s it. They make money (some,) they destroy the environment and economy (some,) and it’s not a reason to believe they hold greater value over the individual.

It’s time to end corporate welfare and to stop allowing businesses to decide our ethical standards. Stop cheering for them to do the bare minimum when they have set the standard of people working 3 fucking jobs and not making enough money to live. Corporations suck at giving a fuck. They don’t care about people and their welfare, just how to take money from their pockets. It’s sickening—in a world where many can’t afford health care.

There is something in the human mind that is sourced back to our days of tribes where we feel we need to listen to what we perceive the majority is, be it the loudest voice, the most aggressive, or the most powerful. It allows really fucked up people who hoard wealth to have power over the minds of others. The same way we as a society need to overcome old software like anxiety and PTSD in the modern world, so too do we have to get past this tribalism bullshit.

We are a globe of humanity, and if that’s scary, you gotta face it and get over it already. The world isn’t going anywhere no matter how afraid some people are. Discomfort is not an excuse for oppression and discrimination or the rationalization of irrational, toxic behavior.

Also, seriously, fuck Trump. How disgusting to watch such a transparent manipulation of minds work in his orange crusted hands. That people are more comfortable with a known rapist and xenophobic bigot instead of reality is just a sad, pathetic reflection of the society we’re living in. People have to stop running away from reality and face their shit instead of making it other people’s problems.

deep breath Cathartic. Totally.

Back to boring ass website stuff for me. The bulk work is nearly done. Hopefully be back to writing soon. Sorry no freebies this week, just juggling too much. See ya around, babes. <3

~Sins

?A New Year’s Opinion On Vaccines And Failure?

January 12, 2019

Hey babes,

No, I don’t have an opinion on vaccines. Well, that is, there is no way in fuck I would share my opinion with the drama queens who clicked on this newsletter just over that title. *wink* No, I saw this post on Facebook after my week long retreat away and I couldn’t stop laughing. The exact quote:

Opinions on Vaccines? For a new baby.

Glorious. I started laughing immediately when I read it in bold letters and a bright background where it was posted in a natural healing group. I knew. I fucking new. A baby combined with vaccines plus OPINIONS? Oh, the torches were already lit to save or sacrifice, and depending on which side, the end result is still you’re either saving or sacrificing that babe. 1.1K comments and it was only posted 2 days ago. Lost it when I clicked and saw the moderator had turned off any new comments because of the flaming. XD

OMF, the Internet is amazing! I appreciate it so much more when I take long breaks away. I’ve been doing this social media break where I stay away during the week and only visit during the weekend. Now that I’m past the ‘reach for the phone’ addiction, it’s so much fun.

Hold on, before I forget…

Did you snag your Demon Bonded calendar?

Orders are already piling up and this is a limited time thing. There is no way I want to screw around with all this shipping nonsense for long. (Labels. What the fuck is the point of making shipping labels so stupidly complicated? @_@) So if you’re interested in a calendar full of nostalgic Demon Bonded covers, now is the time.

Oh, and I added some of the inner images so you can see on the site. It really is just the old covers, plus an extra poster for the bonus month. 😉

Anyways…

I have way more focus during the week since turning off social media. I appreciate my work more, actually. I’m not looking for distraction. I have plenty of shit I can do to distract myself and be productive at the same time. But my weekends now feel a bit like Jerry Springer time cuz I stumble into Facebook and Twitter and YouTube, and I realize just how desensitized I have become to so much insanity. The drama! The click-bait. The fucking useless text wars over shit that will never impact the individuals posting. It is amazing.

I’m starting to think people don’t care about porn anymore. No, they come to the Internet to argue and feel shitty, or ‘right,’ or angry. What happened to healthy, happy orgasms? XD

It’s also an interesting perspective when I think of the hours to days wasted on shit that doesn’t matter but people have chosen to invest their emotional selves into it. Like, are people really paying attention to the path they’re taking?

A New Year’s Introspective

I was thinking about how I used to ride dirt bikes before I got sick. Nothing crazy. The biggest thing I rode was along the lines of a Honda CRF250. I can remember ending up at this motocross event in New York staring up at these people jumping off giant mounds of dirt (it felt like hundreds of feet in the air, although I have no clue how high it was really.) And they were doing crazy tricks while flying, like legs up, entire body lifting off the bike, etc, before having to land with that heavy bike safely on the dirt beneath and not break their faces. All I could think at the time was huh… no way in fuck.

I already knew how I learned to ride a dirt bike. I would go super fast once I figured out how to make sure the thing wouldn’t stall, and I’d keep going fast until I hit a rock, tree root, or a turn I couldn’t make, and I’d go flying to the ground. This was the way I learned things, by being thrown over the handle bars, repeatedly. And to be clear, it was fun as fuck! XD I loved riding dirt bikes.

Still, seeing those people make that giant jump was enough for me to go, nope, that is not a fall I want to make. It wasn’t this fear of possibly falling, so much as knowing that falling was a part of the sport. If you’re not willing to fall, you’re not being realistic. It doesn’t mean you have to fall, but yeah, I know from all the times I went flying, falling was going to happen. Respecting the sport and my limits of not wanting to break any bones, I was not interested in learning to do huge jumps.

But it’s what makes me interested in doing so many things that don’t involve me breaking my face at high speeds. Because I know that failure isn’t that bad and I plan for it. When you try something and fail, rarely are there consequences worth mentioning. Some money lost. Time wasted. Frustration and disappointment. Maybe bruised pride and embarrassment if you have people watching. Is it cancer bad? I took care of my mother through high school until she died; few things are cancer bad. Is it breaking your face bad? Probably not.

Perspective is a beautiful gift, even if how that perspective is gained can feel like hell. I’m thinking about this stuff a lot because it’s a new year—you know, that arbitrary point that we decide is the measuring of a cyclical calendar for linear time. I see people make resolutions, or talk about not making grandiose resolutions because they’re afraid to fail. They take it so seriously. They’re afraid with every failure they’re not going to try again. And all I think is, wow, people need some perspective on failing so they’ll be willing to go for something.

Fail To Win

What if you set the expectation that you’re going to fail at least 5 times, every single month, until you reach your new year’s resolution goal? Well, already you’re giving yourself a message; failing can happen repeatedly, and it doesn’t mean it has to keep you from your goals. People think of fucking up as a one time thing. Like when the ‘worst thing happens’ they’re automatically required to stop and give up.

Babes, let me explain how the ‘worst thing ever’ can change when you stop giving up. When I was fresh out of college, my worst thing ever was being noticed by other people. Yeah, this was after my mother was dead and I was helping my dad with dementia get through the days. My perspective was so broken from PTSD and anxiety, that my ‘worst thing ever’ was being noticed. It made singing a trial every time and compliments misery.

Today, after years of experience and finding way worse things to face, my worst thing ever is death. I know it’s the end, just as I know I won’t be around to actually experience it. But I didn’t get to this mentality because I gave up. I was able to get here because I learned to accept that fucking up is part of trying something new. The ‘worst thing ever’ is in some ways inevitable, and it’s not the end of the world. I will drop dead one day and I won’t be alive to regret it. I’m hoping the moment before it happens, I’ll be aware enough to have no regrets, though.

Plan for failure like it’s exactly what it is, part of the learning experience, and you won’t ever have to worry about giving up on what you want. You might decide you don’t want it, like I did when watching those people fly off that giant jump. You might decide what you want is a little to the right or left of your original idea, or not in the same category as all. I went from singing professionally to writing commercially. The worst thing that happened was I realized what I was doing wasn’t enough for who I am today, and I changed my goal. I didn’t fail at singing or at life, I just admitted I wanted something else.

Failure loses its meaning when you embrace it. It’s not an end; it’s not a defining factor in your plans; it’s not anything. It’s just a step in being alive, like everything is. When you strip the meaning away, you have so much freedom to love what you do.

I love to learn and grow; it feels like the epitome of life some days. I would rather trip up and learn something new, than stay grounded and never try. I don’t have to break myself to try, but I do have to try. If you find yourself blazing down to Earth in failure like a shooting star, remember someone is making a wish to be as high as you reached for. Nothing has to be the end unless you choose to give up.

I hope you all find something awesome to reach for this new year, or even something mundane, just as long as it makes you happy. That would be an amazing resolution:

I want to be happy for 2019!

The Wild Ones

Louis Blackwood has been hiding his true nature all his life, lying to everyone and never daring to trust even those closest to him. When Louis is forced to use the powers he has always kept a secret to save his life, he’s led to prison without any chance of ever seeing daylight again. Until SINS shows up—the Supernatural Institute of National Security.

Lucas Lopes is the most popular professor at New York Supernatural University. Charismatic and honest, he’s renowned for his impressive control of his tiger form and impeccable good looks. Lucas is completely aware of the way he affects people with his charms and beauty, but it isn’t until Louis comes along that his smug arrogance grows to be a problem…

One Last Heist

One last heist.

It should’ve been easy. Crack a safe, steal from a villain, and go on vacation. The last thing Mack and Toshiro expect is to descend into a nightmare of betrayal.

Mack Ueda-Easton loves three things: his husband, heists, and his odd family of friends. He lives life on the edge. The only cloud on his horizon is the degenerative disease stealing his sight.

Toshiro Ueda-Easton tries to juggle his husband, his autistic sister, his interfering mother, and all of their heists. He knows they’re spiraling out of control and the journey they’re travelling can’t last.

What neither of them expect is to get catapulted straight into a dangerous conspiracy. They’re now in a race to come out on top. If they fail, the consequences are unimaginable.

Don’t Call Me Kid

Falling in love with your brother’s boyfriend and pining over him for a decade? It can’t get any more complicated than that!

Van found the man of his dreams on his fifteenth birthday. And promptly lost him on the same day when he realized Parker was dating his older brother, Taylor.

Ten years later, Van still nurses his unrequited love, but Parker and Taylor are no longer together. Too bad Parker only sees Van as an inexperienced kid, or a friend at best.

If Van plays his cards right, he might get a chance to tell Parker how he feels. With their complicated histories and Taylor wanting his husband back, their situation is as difficult as they come. Will Van finally get his man, or will he have to give up his teenage fantasies once and for all?

Don’t Call Me Kid is the first novella in the Just Don’t contemporary gay romance serial. If you like your romances on the angsty side and with a touch of complicated family dynamics, then this first book will have you craving for more in no time.

Buy Don’t Call Me Kid today to see if Van’s love truly conquers all.

Remembering You

“Careful there, Robbie.”  My sweater obscured part of my sight, and my fogged-up glasses managed to take care of the rest of it, but I’d recognize that voice anywhere, even after eight long years. It was deeper now, a bit more gravelly, but it most definitely belonged to the guy I’d spent most of my early teenage years pining after. My first—and unrequited—love.

“Troy?” I exclaimed, blinking my confusion as he helped pull my sweater the rest of the way off.  Troy Jacobs’ gorgeous lips twitched in amusement. “You remember me. Didn’t know if you would.”

“Oh, I remember you,” I mumbled. Hard to forget your first kiss—or the first guy you ever loved.

A 9,600 word short story about first love, second chances, and family.

?A Demon Bonded Calendar??

January 8, 2019

Hey babes,

Hey, have you ordered your Demon Bonded Calendar yet? What, you didn’t know it existed?!??? No, you’re not out of the loop. I’m just the kind of asshole who decides in the middle of January to make a calendar. Sorry. =_= But if you want to snag one of these beauties, signed by me, you can.

If you’re one of my Patreon supporters, you can get the calendar discounted. Just include the coupon I sent out to your Patreon email accounts this week at checkout (as in, you have to add to cart, you can’t hit the paypal button cuz there is no place for the coupon by that point.)

I’m looking into starting some merchandise. Mostly limited edition things since I don’t have the funds to do giant orders or anything. I’m looking at t shirt designs next. *eyebrow waggle* Not sure if anyone will be interested in something like a Demon Arms t shirt…

Anywho

I want to give a shout out to Louise and her very first book, The Wild Ones! It’s MM with shifters, sorcery, and sexiness. If you pick up this brand new read, would you mind taking the time to review as well? Louise is totally new to all this. Reviews are so important, and she would really appreciate the help and feedback.

The Wild Ones

A New Year’s Revolution Announcement cough Of Sorts

In some ways nothing is changing, but in others, it’s going to be this huge freaking change. At the moment it’s only a goal, one that I am not rushing toward but instead staring at warily and planning how I’m going to reach it without ending up bruised, broken, and broke. XD But it’s a goal I want, big time. It’s one that aligns with who I’m becoming as a person as I heal and start seeing a future. This shit is going to happen, even if it’s not overnight.

So, what is it? I want to expand the website and hire content writers. It’ll still be my stories, but multiple ones written faster and updated consistently throughout the week. Basically, I want writing help to get my stories produced faster. Not for the end rush of publishing, but to reward readers immediately on the website. You know, like a business. @_@ One that sustains itself by telling sexy, entertaining MM stories to readers. Something that doesn’t have to fear the rampant censorship of the big platforms like Amazon and can have a safe place to exist and grow.

Yeah, huge, and yet the same

I was having a conversation with the love of my life a couple weeks back. He asked me since I was feeling better, when was I going to do something with my business idea for M/F erotica. And in that moment I realized, I’m not. I enjoyed coming up with the idea during a business course and it would certainly make money, but I’m just not passionate about it. And if I’m not passionate about something, I won’t see my way through all the damn work to get to the end. So his response was, naturally, why not do it with the Sadie Sins stuff, then? That’s something you’re passionate about.

Well… Why not?

There are actually a lot of reasons. >_> Let’s not pretend, here. But most of those reasons are insecure, dickish fears. I don’t have the money to hire people. I’m not an adult (right? I mean, when the fuck does that officially happen where you have your life together? Did anyone else get that adult certificate?) What if no one wants to read the results? Would I ever be able to find writers willing to write the weird shit I like? Can I even stop being a control freak long enough to let someone write my stories?

That last one is actually the kicker. It’s something that’s held me back from trying a lot of things because in the long run, it makes so much more work for me. It’s the battle against my own perfectionism. I can find blunt, ignore that bullshit answers to all those other obstacles, but me chilling the fuck out and accepting help? That’s the shit of fairy tales.

I want to live in a fairy tale! I’m tired of not doing the stuff I want because I keep holding myself back. I work so hard doing everything when I could be putting my efforts toward the right goal. What it really comes down to is…

Am I living the life I want, or the life I’m afraid to lose?

Perfectionism is a fear of letting go and fucking up. It’s a fear of not being ready to jump off the cliff or just open a new door. I can pretend all I like that it’s all about standards and quality, but under it all is this fear of moving forward and letting go.

The last time I talked to you guys, I went into the freaking journey this has been the last years while dealing with chronic illness. It seems insane that when I was at my weakest with no future ahead I chose to write an escape in these stories and tried to build an income off of it. But I wanted insanity. It was so much better than my reality at the time of having to accept that in my early 30s I was looking at the end of my life with no one able to explain why. Fuck that.

This last year after breaking free of PTSD and figuring out a lot of health answers, I kept finding myself wondering if I’m living now, or am I still trapped in old, negative habits that came with living with an illness for so long. It can become habit, those negative, bullshit lies we tell ourselves. It can be hard to change even when we’ve already changed.

For example, why did I really start writing? To escape death. Is that why I’m writing now? Of course not, so why should I be clinging to my writing the same way? Why did I start a subscription website? To escape poverty when Amazon KU failed. Should I really be doing the same exact thing when my motivations for the subscription site have completely changed? No.

I gotta get out of the habit of doing things for survival and start looking at how to live a life of thriving. What I really have to do is take ME out of the equation. That’s the problem when you do things for survival; you only see yourself and you only see the misery you’re running from. Well, I’m a fucking mess when I’m looking at me, but things are way clearer when I look in any other direction lately. XD There is nothing I’m running from anymore. What a beautiful view the world provides.

If I want a website that can flourish, I need to be looking at what readers want. Consistent, updated stories. Content that actually has a freaking ending. More new, sexy short stories to balance out all the long novels where the sexiness is spread thin. This is obvious stuff, but it’s a mountain of work when it’s all on my shoulders.

How do I get past perfectionism? With one giant question.

What if I’m holding my stories back?

I write every single day, but it was only recently I dared to ask myself this question. And what a huge, scary, dear fuck, could that be real kinda question. How revolutionary an idea. Am I holding my stories back? Me, the only one who can create them? Is that even possible? How can I hold back what wouldn’t exist without me?

Pretty freaking easily, apparently. I’m totally holding back my own stories. It’s not from some place of cruelty or anything, so much as, when I put all the work on me, I limit the ability for these stories to be created faster. And how commonsense that is. There’s only one of me, and I’m stretched too thin. Is my health consistently good? Nope. Can I write multiple stories at once at a quality I feel is acceptable at a speed where people can readily enjoy? Not even close. What happens when it’s time to do the final edit of Demon Arms and I spend hours upon hours listening to the computer read back the text aloud to make sure I didn’t miss any mistakes? Will the rest of Shiny Thief or Hellcat suddenly write itself and post on the website? Nope.

I thought I could time manage myself out of these problems. You know, do one thing one day, another thing another day. But there are too many things. It just brings me back to my nemesis, my habit of how I have survived for so very long through the most arduous of times. Me. I am my own worst enemy because I am the only one I feel safe depending on. No, I don’t let myself down, but I sure can’t do the things a group of people can do with ease. There’s only one of me. I need to change that.

So, how do I stop doing everything myself?

I’m not sure. For real, I have been this way for soooo fucking long.

It’s easy to justify it. Especially when you might be kinda good at something. And if you find with a little practice you can be good at lots of things? @_@ It’s misery. I can already write a song and sing it professionally, but I’m also the psycho who would take the time to learn how to record with materials I could afford, edit with the computer, and get that shit online to sell. I haven’t sang in years, but if I suddenly wanted that goal, fuck, I would do what it takes. I’m a jack of all trades, a problem solver. Everything is a problem to be solved, every moment a challenge worth exploring. That’s the way I see the world.

Unfortunately, that creative freedom isn’t always positive. Oh, it sounds it, especially when you’re working with little to nothing at startup for a project. Why pay for something when I can do it myself, usually at a quality others aren’t invested in reaching? I think quality is one of the most important aspects of creation. You don’t half ass something; you do it right and create something that can last. So, do I actually get a return for my quality obsession, aka perfectionism?

Eh.

It’s fucking horrible to say. It really is, (if my parents were alive they would freak to hear me admit this) but most people don’t give a fuck about quality. You know how many reviews I got bitching about certain stylizations of writing I did constantly when starting out? Like, most negative reviews, even the positive ones, had the caveat of the author uses boy or blond or brunette too much. Did they still buy and read the book and get to the end? The fact they reviewed suggests yes. My bank account totally confirmed a big yes there.

I had a lot of books done in a short amount of time back then. I didn’t care about presentation so much as just telling a story. And yeah, publishing quickly is how to win certain writing games, especially erotica. If you have 1-2 stories out every month of a quality where readers’ eyes don’t bleed, and your work is compelling, you can do well in erotica. I once wrote 5 10,000 word stories in a week while sick. It was a damn good week. Was the quality amazing? No, but people bought the books anyways. Their standards weren’t as lofty as mine.

It’s not like I’m dicking around with these rewrites, I want to be clear. I don’t think I’m wrong to want to create a better (the fucking best) version of these stories I can, but it is far more time consuming. Quality is a sacrifice of time. It could be considered a luxury when you have no money. Unless I have the cash and daring to seek out help, something is going to suffer. Right now, it’s me.

I’m looking at this looming prospect once Demon Arms is done and I need to do that final edit. It’s going to be so much longer to tackle, and once again the website will drag with no new content. What about when I want to make that interactive visual novel (a fucking prospect I again decided to do on my own because I’m insane.) What about website content then? I want a solution that doesn’t kill me by meaning I do more work. I want a solution that keeps readers happy and me sane.

Mostly. Kinda…. Fuck.

Okay, you just don’t understand how much of a control freak I am!

I don’t walk these rare, unique paths of life just because I enjoy being creative. No, I do it because it’s wonderfully empty of people trying to tell me what to do. I like to do things my way. I like to throw myself at a problem until I solve it, bloody bruises and a big smile, while other people just do their own thing and leave me to my insanity. Suddenly I want to ‘manage’ people? Converse and get them to follow my guidelines for writing?

I have no clue how to ask when it comes to things. I know how to tell, and I’m sure I sound like an asshole every time. I know what I want, then I go after it until I get it because that’s how I roll, and I don’t really care what people think about it. Excuses are another word for bullshit. I want what I want, and I want to achieve what I want, and it’s why I get shit done. I do the hard stuff and don’t accept bullshit, and if people get in the way, buh-bye.

So… I don’t imagine I work well with others. @_@ I will literally have to be a different person to get the results I want… or find a way around my own personality flaws. I’m willing to do that. I am always willing to change to live the life I want. It’s just difficult. I see these character traits as positive, until I’ve worked myself right into exhaustion, once again, without the results I want to show for it.

Right now, I’m thinking a way around my ‘issues’ is to create writing materials that can teach prospective writers how to tackle commercial writing. I mean, everything else is solved, you know? I can create a system of reference for characters, in depth outlines to follow, etc. I can solve that shit. But can I ensure a writer can follow along to my standards? I could give them info that took me years of experience to learn. Things like how to make an erotic scene sexy. How to draft write for speed and efficiency. How to self edit. How to craft different story formats to ensure tension is consistent no matter what you’re writing. How to write more engaging and immersive content.

Oh, yeah, and how to be a total control freak.

Every time I think of this shit, I don’t know if I’m offering guidance or trying to force someone to stay in my style of writing to prevent me from having a meltdown and rewriting everything. Not even joking. This is so difficult for me!

Someone save me from myself T_T

This is a battle I want to win. When I took that business course, this was my biggest weakness. My need to control everything on my own. The only way the website is going to be able to grow and be something more, is if I get the fuck out of the way and allow it to be. Seriously, what an epiphany to realize I am the only person in the way of getting my stories done faster, maybe even better.

I can figure this out. I have never shied away too long from the things that make me uncomfortable. I want to win this challenge. I want to make the website about consistent, sexy MM stories. A safe place where you can read taboo and not have to worry about it disappearing or being attacked by this ridiculous censorship movement happening on the Internet. I have so many ideas just waiting for my time. So I need to solve this problem of time and put my efforts where they’re best utilized.

I should probably be more worried about not having money to do this atm. That would be the logical thing. Weirdly enough, I assume I’m going to solve that problem much easier than the control freak stuff. I can stagger hiring writing based on funds verses, like, hiring an employee. There’s a lot more leeway. I truly believe I can solve a lack of funds faster than I can solve not obsessing like a psycho over full creative control. @_@ I don’t know if that makes me cocky or delusional, but I’m going with it. XD

So, yeah. A goal for 2019. One that will take the pace required to prevent me from having a nervous breakdown at the prospect of relinquishing control and coming up with the money to hire help. There is so much to learn and do. Like, this week alone, I’m looking at a new subscription software for the website to finally deal with all those annoying date issues, figuring out shipping costs and taxes—actually looking at Fulfillment By Amazon where I could offer free Prime shipping for physical goods. I don’t think it’s time effective considering the calendar is already late, but on stuff in the future, it might be a win. Oh, learning Google Adwords and Woocommerce. Made a gorgeous visual of where I am writing wise for the 4 main WIPs on the website (and then did all this other work instead of writing. @_@ Cuz time management is a fail when there is too much to do.)

Yeah, it’s time to learn how to get help for some of this stuff. I want to see this website be something more than just me. Eventually, I will reach that goal. It won’t be overnight. It won’t look the same as I’m envisioning it now. Still, it will be fucking awesome.

Oh, I’m feeling better! Lol, not sure if you can tell. XD

✨?Holy Sh*t, Good News!?✨

December 15, 2018

Hey babes ^^

Let me throw some mm goodies at you, and then dive right into some crazy life stuff that I’m going through atm. For those who just can’t handle reality and my long ass rambling—although it’s good news, promise—you don’t have to delve too deep. I know the world is tough and we can only handle what we can handle. It’s all good.

True Mates

There are things that we want, and things that we need. Sometimes they end up being one and the same.

PHILIP

All my life, I’ve known two truths: my best friend Jaeger is my true mate, and I’m destined to marry a princess I’ve never met for the sake of my kingdom.

Prophecy’s a bitter pill to swallow when you’ve tasted true love and are told it can never be. But I wouldn’t be worthy of my beautiful omega if I were willing to let selfishness be the ruin of my people.

Because as it turns out, prophecies are never quite what you think…

Alright, so some news. Some crazy, cool, kick ass news. I may have figured out why I’m sick and how to fix it, like, permanently!

Five years of hell…

So, if you’ve been following along for a while, I’ve been ill since, well, fuck, since I started as an author. Two years before that (so a little over 5 years ago) I was hit with this mysterious illness. Got a fever that wouldn’t stop and it knocked me from working a very active job where I ran wall to wall in this large retail store getting shit done, warehouse stuff—you know, being a basic, active human being—to being bed bound and wondering if I was dying. I got a Lyme positive on a test 2 months after, they started me on antibiotics, and two years later after doing everything I was supposed to do, broke buying meds I couldn’t afford without a job, uh, not much changed.

My health had deteriorated to the point I was being kept alive by cortisol and aldosterone supplementation. It wasn’t consistent, though. I would have these windows, weeks to months, or sometimes just days of being human. It was like there was a little switch inside where if it was flipped, I functioned. My muscles worked—they hadn’t atrophied or anything—and I could breathe, think, function. And when the switch was flipped the other way, I was a zombie version of myself.

There was no way to know when it would hit again, why it would hit, or what the hell was causing it. During one of those longer moments of ‘okay,’ I actually tried to go back to work, only to have it happen all over again. Running around doing normal stuff like a person, only to feel like I hit a wall and collapse a few months into the job. Except that time, no Lyme positive. They started questioning if the first positive was even legit—I guess false positives are a thing with Lyme.

I started writing around this time cuz there was nothing else I could do, and really, I needed a mental escape. Reading used to be that for me, but facing what I was certain was a slow, excruciatingly boring death, I needed to create my escape, places far more interesting and hot that could distract even me from my circumstances. Not many people hit their mid 30s expecting to die shortly after. I needed a fuck ton more than the sweet romance I kept stumbling across, especially when the docs started calling my condition ‘chronic fatigue’—a death sentence for getting help.

Seriously, I swear they might as well have said it was all in my head the moment they stuck that label on my file. It terrified me and pushed me to start looking for different answers instead of Lyme. What I had wasn’t responding like Lyme, and two years of antibiotics hadn’t done a thing.

The turning point was moving into my current apartment and seeing my health improve overnight. We figured out the old apartment was moldy. A water heater had burst on the ground floor, then there was water under the kitchen tiles… Oh, and (this sounds so fucking stupid looking back but I knew nothing about mold at the time) I had hung up and dried out these beautiful gourds one autumn in the kitchen, and then left them there until we moved, covered in dead mold. Because fucking brilliant, yeah?

So they started me up on allergy shots, where my immune system, which already targeted my thyroid with an autoimmune, had over-targeted so much, I was allergic to over 20 different things (many of those things related to mold and the cats and their prey they would drag into the house.) But hey, it was a plan, yeah? Allergy shots for the win. Except I kept hitting a plateau. I’d get better but I couldn’t get healthy. Still exhausted, still pushing myself at every turn just to do anything. Meals, clean house, errands? Don’t make me laugh.

Last year, around this time, things seemed to fall into place. My PTSD had a breakthrough—as in, gone, cured, just left with old patterns of survival software to clean up—and my health was looking better. The winter meant all the mold was dormant, and although this new apartment was much better than my old, the backyard is full of mold. Like, I can’t walk out there without having a reaction. But it was good that winter. I got Hellcat done, I was gaining ground, energy was happening. Then summer hit, I bought a bed frame infected with ‘something’ (we still have no clue what but we lost two rooms of the apartment to it,) and I was hit with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity, aka, living out of my car, in a mask, unable to breathe the most basic of scents without my body flaming up so much, I would lose motor function and find myself in extreme pain.

It was shit, but at the same time, it was another piece to this puzzle. Around this time we figured out something else monumental: the dopamine connection. My dopamine levels were bottoming out whenever I had a reaction, aka, Parkinson’s. I started supplementing dopamine precursors, such as L-Tyrosine and Dopa Mucuna, as well as adding in neuron repairers and dopamine receptor growers, and I saw huge improvements. I regained mental functioning and motor skills within months. Naturally, I thought the moment winter hit, shit would be perfect with the mold going dormant in the area. But still, plateau. Again. Exhausted, couldn’t do simple shit like stand long enough to cook or clean or focus. I had all the supposed pieces but nothing was working.

Fucking plateaus. Infuriating bullshit, yeah? Well, I think the last two weeks have revealed the answer. Finally. (Dear fuck, I really hope so. @_@)

Neurotoxins

I came across a few different articles on Parkinson’s that led me to realize the low dopamine was at the bottom of the stream. What that means is, it was the symptom of something else, not the cause. I was treating the dopamine problem, but I hadn’t targeted and stopped why the dopamine was dropping. Then I read this and it all clicked.

There were two huge clues (and so many small ones) when looking back that spelled it all out in connection to the low dopamine. The allergies and multiple chemical sensitivity = olfactory response to neurotoxins. Every time I smelled mold, my dopamine flat lined. I could walk into a moldy building while being full of energy and excitement, and in minutes be so weak I couldn’t lift my arms or walk. But apparently, there are two ways to get this response. One is through those olfactory senses when inhaling, and the other is through the vagus nerve, a nerve that also controls the heart (mine kept racing,) lungs (shortness of breath,) and digestion (yeah, I didn’t. My stomach has been fucked up for years.)

What this means is if there are neurotoxins in the gut, the vagus nerve connects to the brain and will also flat line dopamine. AKA, even if I was breathing the cleanest air, in a mold free, allergen free environment, if there’s something giving off neurotoxins in my gut, I will still get sick.

Yeah, the fucking plateau is literally inside of me. @_@ No wonder I couldn’t escape!

I should have put it together earlier, because gut problems are absolutely linked with allergies. That over-targeting thing usually happens because the immune system is freaking out with a battle in the gut and once the immune system is on high alert, it starts targeting more and more. There were just too many symptoms, too many false answers, or half answers, and it wasn’t until I realized Parkinson’s could be a result of both these systems being hit with neurotoxins, that it made sense. None of it was unconnected (which is kinda crazy on its own.)

Saw my doctor, who was also super excited when we noticed how garlic (a known candida killer) was giving me some of my life back every time I made garlic soup. I had made the soup because my broken tooth kept getting infected, and right around Halloween, suddenly I gained ground again, health, and it slipped when I ran out of that damn soup. So she put me on a heavy duty candida killer this time around. Candida produces acetaldehyde and gliotoxin, both highly toxic that can lead to neuron degeneration. Gliotoxin is actually produced by the same mold I was constantly being hit by, so I’m likely extra sensitive to it.

To be clear, the treatment it is both helping and kicking my ass atm. I’m jumping from hours of exhaustion, brain fog and really shitty muscle pain as the die off overwhelms my system, to feeling energetic and myself again. I don’t know how long this is going to take. I only just started treatment and I’ll be upping the dosage Tuesday (kinda terrified the side effects will get worse then,) but this does seem to be the answer, finally. Already, I’m less sensitive to my environment—well, when the die off isn’t killing me. XD My allergy response is less. Mold = back pain instead of immediate zombifying. I haven’t needed adrenal support, and the low grade fevers I was getting and the unstable feeling like I was going to shake apart before I started this treatment has stopped.

I really—even with all my complaining—don’t care about the pain or shitty symptoms of the die off. This is all going to pass, babes. This is the answer. I’m going to finally crawl my way out of this damp, musty grave, and I’m getting my life back. This was the last piece of the puzzle and now I have a plan. Avoid neurotoxins, heal damaged gut, and retrain the vagus nerve (you can improve vagal tone with a modified TENs machine used as a cranial electrotherapy stimulator, which I’m ordering this weekend.) It’s all there now, and I’m not trying to clean the mess at the end but stop the leak in the first place. This is a fucking win!

If I’m lucky, if I fix everything ‘upstream,’ the Parkinson’s symptoms will stop completely. I have no guarantee of that—and I have very effective dopamine supplementation if that’s not the case—but if I’m not bombarded with neurotoxins, it stands to reason there would be no dopamine lowering response. I guess we’ll see. My biggest fear was spring hitting and all my symptoms coming back with the mold waking up. If I can get the Candida overgrowth dealt with, who knows? It might all be shiny. <3

Bullet Journal and removing stress

An amazing woman turned me on to the whole Bullet Journal thing, and it has been awesome to help me keep track of all this health stuff side by side with my creative stuff. I need an organizational method that works for me, and so far this has adapted to all my needs. I also need to get away from the time suck of the Internet. Talk about flashy, distracting black holes of creativity and happiness.

I’m trying really hard to stay on track while dealing with this next level of health stuff. With BuJo, creating the structure for each aspect seems to be the time consuming part, but once it’s in place, it’s like any proper system. It works as long as someone is there to fuel it.

I’m really looking forward to being more productive as a writer and getting these novels completed and out there. There has been so much I want to do since getting my brain back. I just need some damn energy to go with it. I actually started revamping the Demon Virus short as I plan out the visual novel I want to make once I get those PATB novels done—sorry if you’re missing it under the free downloads. I should have it back up there soon enough. I’m just a little distracted by my health.

Let’s face it, I’ve been distracted for a long time. My biggest goals the last few years have been to find ways to not obsess over getting better, to not stress, to learn how to cope with not being who I believe I am when it comes to my health. Chronic illness is life consuming, and it takes a lot of energy and intention to spin that around to something positive so that life can continue with happiness and hope. Finding gratitude and every silver lining, learning to let stress go and ignore the things you can’t control, and then let go of the guilt of ignoring the things you can’t control—this shit is hard… and so worth it!

It’s hard fighting my old PTSD wiring, and worse, it is impossible fighting every voice on the Internet who pops up to say for whatever reason, I’m not allowed to be free of stress and pain, that I’m supposed to cling to that shit. People do it all the time. They judge others who try to break free. They can’t help it. They see someone do something different and they need to reaffirm why they’re doing things their way to the point of beating down anyone who speaks up.

Every time I post something remotely enlightening about freedom from pain, it’s not agreement that comes along, but voices who want to argue about it. No joke, every fucking time. It’s actually amazing to watch people logic themselves into why they need to suffer merely because I announced they didn’t have to, but, you know, I was talking to myself because it’s Facebook and they were triggered because ego is triggered at the thought of freedom from pain. It’s seriously amazing.

Here’s a list of just a few things I’ve been doing to stop my stress and I’m sure someone will be pissed off with something. I stopped listening to the news and Internet news even though Trump is president and he’s in the middle of an ethnic cleansing at the southern border. I refuse to read most authors posts on Facebook because they keep causing drama over pointless shit. Unless it’s an email I care about, I don’t even bother opening, sorting, and deleting them, but let my mailbox automatically delete after a certain amount of time. I don’t answer my phone for anyone but 2 specific people. I stop following people who talk about depression or illness like it’s their identity, something that defines them instead of a chemical imbalance that is altering them, because I have no interest watching someone sink down a drain of despair without them fighting to be free.

I am done being sucked into the toxic world I can’t control, with my eyes wide open like if I somehow watch it all, I will be able to prevent any of it. Hello, PTSD, I am done. Time to be free. Saving people from there pain is just as quick a way to drown as drowning in pain, and no, I don’t feel guilty for not showing up anymore. Without pain, I didn’t learn to be free from it. It was what drove me to find my freedom, and let’s be real, it was a fuck ton of pain, the last 5 years plus 30 of PTSD. I’m good. I don’t want to sink back into that place just because other people enjoy the suffering.

Life is going to happen whether it’s perfect or not, and we don’t get a do over or reset. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world if you have a false start or fuck up or your body just isn’t up for the same challenges other people are. It doesn’t have to mean a damn thing. If you never compare yourself to another person, another dream life you had, you will never be dissatisfied with what you have. And no, I don’t need to cling to dissatisfaction like it’s supposed to drive me to be a better person—fuck that irrational logic of holding onto pain. I am done being unhappy wishing for something that may never be. It’s just so much easier to be happy with what I have. And when I’m content and happy with what I have, I absolutely attract more happiness, creativity, and love my way.

We don’t get to choose a lot in life, but we do get to choose how we feel about it all. It’s probably the only real choice we have, so might as well choose with intention. We can enjoy this moment now, and the next, and be satisfied and not have to feel guilty for being satisfied with less when others have more. It’s okay to be happy.

Peace starts within

I hope you’re all having a great December so far. Depending on what holidays you celebrate, or if you’re working in a tough environment, or traveling, etc., this time of year can be really stressful. It can remind us a lot of what we don’t have instead of what we do, and who we’re missing instead of who we have. If you find you’re alone this time of year, or even surrounded by a ton of people, I hope you remember the one person you’re going to be with from the day you were born until the day you die, and do something nice just for you. Someone has to remember you, and who better to do it than you? ^.^ (You’re like, right there. Come on!)

Legit, that’s my wish this season. I hope each and every one of you does something beautifully selfish and doesn’t feel any guilt over it. Hell, doing something you normally feel guilty over without the guilt would be awesome. People are too cruel to themselves. Get enough sleep for a change, or eat something fancy, alone, and enjoy every silent bite. XD Buy yourself the gift you want instead of waiting for someone else to guess. Get organized; that’s my selfish ass thing, boring as it might sound.

Taking time to get my life together, no matter how long it takes, is lovingly selfish. Everything I go through in this bullet journal is me deciding what is important in my life and what is just useless stress, and then choosing to do the important stuff. The damn thing is like a commitment to self care at every step, and I’m so grateful someone dared to share it with me!

I’m going to assume that the next month will be a lot of ups and downs for me with this Candida treatment. I’m still writing, still updating the website, but I’ll be taking a Newsletter break to keep one less stressors off my plate. Hopefully, the next time you all hear from me, it’ll be with more good news and after getting lots of writing done, but until then, take care, luvs and be kind to yourselves in new ways.

<3 Sadie Sins

?Vampires For The Holidays??

December 1, 2018

Hey babes,

Wendy has a new book out and guess who made the cover!?!!!

…it was me. I made the cover. XD Look at the pretties and read it! <3 Threesome with a vampire.

Okay, you guys ever see those Disney turned realism paintings? I feel like this guy could totally pass for Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. It wasn’t my intention, but he totally looks like it… maybe, sorta. XD

Not as much as this guy though, holy crap! @_@ Better hope no seawitch steals him away… >_>

As for me…

Um… not much going on outside of writing. I’m making a list of terms and creatures from The Paranormal Academy For Troubled Boys world for reference as I write the series, which I’m totally loving. I was thinking since I kept using null-collars and null-cuffs in this world, I should probably just call magicless people nulls, but I wasn’t sure if it sounded too easy—yeah, cuz I care a bit if it’s like too obvious. @_@ But I think it works with the whole theme. Better than nonparnormals because this way you can address paranormals who just don’t have magic, cuz yeah, that’s a thing too.

I was also thinking in the rewrite, one of those weekends when Dorian is avoiding Wylie to prevent sparking (cuz he’s just too sexy for his own good,) I’d intro the outside world a little bit by having him portal out. And then have Wylie actually go on a hunt with the other shifters, cuz although it’s implied, I never actually show that shit. Did you know Fox can run halfway up a tree and do a back flip? I feel like we should all know that. XD I also never show the resolution of Leo’s conflict arc, I just let it get lost in all the other stuff. Leo has the first of his turning around when dealing with the whole Dorian thing, and it might be nice to see.

Leo hasn’t actually been at the Academy too long. He showed up right before Vincent, and he’s such a loner, and difficult personality, he’s only now starting to crack and relax into Academy life.

Sorry, I’m rambling like a mofo. My mind is clearly on the books and not on the newsletter. Hope life is treating you all well ^.^

This Week’s MM Goodies

FREE – Ghost In Love

Alexander Preston just moved in to dorm room 418 and discovers someone else living there; the undeniably attractive ghost of Christian Holmes.

A mystery, a murder, and a lost love; these are the events that conspire to bring Alex and Christian to the revelation that even across the realm of life and death, love can still exist.

$0.99 – The Unexpected Santa

When a rugby bad boy butts heads with a retired Marine, which alpha male becomes top dog?

Scottie Monk came out of the womb angry at the world. He’s selfish and bitter. “Bah humbug!” rolls off his tongue far easier than “Happy Christmas.”

Gray Baird has dedicated his life to public service as a Marine Corps officer and later as a police chief. The decorated hero finds it impossible to ignore autistic twins in desperate need of holiday spirit. He’ll be the grumpiest Santa in the world if it puts a smile their faces. And he’ll drag a reluctant Scottie along for the ride.

This December, Gray and Scottie collide while unexpectedly playing Santa.

$0.99 – All I Want Is You

One kiss under the mistletoe destroyed a friendship. Will another Christmas kiss remake it into something better?

Eli hasn’t been home since he left at eighteen with a heart aching from his best friend’s rejection and his father’s intolerance. But when his father reaches out, Eli figures it’s time to make peace with his family. He doesn’t expect to come face-to-face with Turner too — or to learn that the straight friend he’d foolishly loved is actually bisexual — but once the shock wears off, he knows exactly what he wants for Christmas.

Turner’s life isn’t everything he’d once planned, but he’s happy to be the shoulder his loved ones lean on. They keep him busy, which is just as well since none of his dates have really clicked. He hasn’t been able to connect with anyone the way he did with his former best friend. When Eli shows up for the holidays after years away, Turner doesn’t know what hit him. But he knows one thing: This time, he wants to give Eli a reason to stay.

?Catching Up With MM Freebies and Goodies?

November 18, 2018

Hey babes, it’s been a while.

Things are actually really good. About (3?) weeks ago, right around Halloween, something shifted in my life. Not sure if it was the mold going dormant from the winter weather, the new probiotics I started up—magic? There’s always hope for magic XD—but I found myself adapting up instead of down for a change. I have so much energy. I actually hadn’t realized how little energy I had until it all hit me. I suddenly had a clean house, was eating daily, cooking again, getting errands done. I was able to focus writing for hours on end and not feel like crawling up the walls. I caught a cold soon after, and yet I still had more energy with the cold than before. It’s been damn good.

So, for those who checked up to see how I’m doing, no worries. Besides a few annoying things (such as a broken tooth with an exposed nerve just in time for Thanksgiving,) I’m damn fabulous. A little nervous as I wonder what might happen when the heat returns and the mold sprouts. I may have to find a frozen wasteland to live in full time…

So, what fun stuff to share? I carved a pumpkin for the first time this year! Not like carved, er, sculpted? Is that what they call it? It’s a 3d thing. Let me hit you with some pics. It’s of Pan from Pan’s Labyrinth, one of my all time favorite movies to be honest. I ran out of time, but I think his face came out pretty cool, if not totally orange. <3

Writing has been amazing. It’s flowing, it feels good, and I’m really happy with the direction it’s all going. Delving back into Demon Arms has been awesome. I love having the viewpoint of Theodore and Michael, some older (although not always mature) voices to balance out Wylie and Dorian’s younger perspectives. Theodore is such a study in grumpy coolness. XD

A little unedited preview for those curious <3

He unclipped the strap from beneath his despoiler coat and pulled free the sheath and encased diamond sword. When Theodore could trust that his voice wouldn’t reveal too much of his evening, he finally spoke. “Worried I was dead?”

Michael grimaced at the accuracy of the statement and lowered his cup of tea. The intricate clock on the wall behind him displayed it was just after 3 A.M. “It’s the first time a dragon has been placed on the registry, ever. If I didn’t have the boys to protect…”

Theodore turned toward him. The white cloth folded in his hand carefully moved along the laser smooth surface of his sword stained red. “I would have called if I needed help.”

Michael’s eyes sharpened at the blatant lie, and Theodore looked away. He busied himself with cleaning the deadly blade. Michael’s gaze felt like a razor as he accessed every sign, every tell of when he’d been too slow that night, when his reflexes failed and his speed hadn’t been enough. It was as if he were flayed from his coat and clothes, and every injury, every bruise was revealed.

Michael’s unwavering stare landed on the blood dripping down Theodore’s fingertips. He sipped his tea. “So, how did it go?”

Theodore shrugged noncommittally. Pain lanced through his shoulder from the movement, and his jaw tightened. His eyes slid over his desk and to behind Michael where he kept a collection of rare, beautiful objects. Some were weapons as well, but most were art. Dragons of lore from different cultures representing sea monsters, fire breathers, and earth burrowers posed along the shelves. His gaze stopped on a coil of an Asian style dragon formed from gold, and then returned to the blade in his hands.

“The skinners found a dragon tonight, just not the one they were expecting.”

Michael exhaled slowly and placed his mug on the desk. Without looking, Theodore flicked his fingers, and a coaster appeared and went sailing across the room to land right next to the cup. Michael blinked at the sudden appearance and obligingly nudged the coaster beneath his tea.

“Dead?” Michael asked quietly.

Theodore licked his fangs as his inner dragon shuddered at the memory of hot blood. “Two. I lost the third in the ether before I could get a tracer on him.”

Michael jumped up from the chair. “You were hunting in the ether? Have you lost your mind completely?” He moved around the desk, and his green bunny slippers flopped with each step as he headed right for Theodore.

Theodore fought the impulse to throw his hands up, to strike out, to slash with the very convincing weapon in his hands that would prevent whatever physical contact was imminent. A shadow flickered in Michael’s stormy gaze, and he stopped short as he read the discomfort in Theodore’s stance. Michael’s fingers twitched at his side as he held back whatever compassionate impulse he had intended on indulging.

“It wasn’t planned,” Theodore said tersely. “I’m not reckless.”

Michael shook his head and reached up to rake at his golden hair. “No, it’s never planned. But if you were sensed in there…”

“Clearly, I wasn’t. I’m alive. I’m here.” Theodore’s pale, violet eyes flashed steel. He turned and carefully placed the clear sword into its display sheath. He stared at it once he was done, not really seeing anything but the swirl of black and scent of blood still around him. “I still have prey to find. I’m sure he’ll offer me a chance to take his life soon enough.”

Michael’s gaze slid down to the splatters of blood beneath Theodore’s feet. “You reek of blue ash. Can you even feel your arm?”

“It’s fine,” Theodore muttered. He gripped his upper arm delicately and gritted his teeth when pain lanced down his side. “You know how quickly I metabolize.”

“Maybe when you were twenty,” Michael shot back. “That shit is dangerous in high doses, even for shifters. I feel lightheaded just smelling it. The last thing I need is you falling into a coma.”

Theodore rolled his eyes as he turned from the wall. He resisted the urge to brace himself no matter how much the room insisted on wavering. Michael’s disapproving glare came into view, and he growled warningly. “I’ll stop in with Rob once I’m updated on the kid.”

Michael’s mouth remained tight with worry. “You can see Wylie for yourself in the hospital. He hit the nullifiers on the way out of the transport. He’s down for the night.”

“Fine,” Theodore grunted. He hitched the sleeve of his despoiler jacket up his bleeding arm and brushed past Michael. He paused at his desk and pulled the stack of wards from a pocket and threw them next to the cheerfully bright cup of tea. He scowled when scarlet splattered onto the top heptagon ward and blurred out the intricately drawn insignia. “Fuck.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and his suspicious glare followed to where Theodore was scowling at his desk. “It usually takes a lot more to knock a dragon out.”

Theodore sneered as he used the outside of his coat to clean the blood from the ward. “He didn’t hold up well to interrogation.” He pulled the chiggers and a poisoned dagger from his pockets and slammed them into the desk drawer. He immediately spelled it shut while ignoring Michael’s outraged shout.

“For fuck sake, Theo!”

“For fuck sake, Theo,” Theodore mimicked under his breath. He lifted his head when Michael stalked over, and his tone turned defensive. “The kid’s fine. There was no time, the little punk had a mouth on him, and, well,” Theodore grinned sharply, “He started listening to me once he realized I was the strongest thing he was ever going to meet.”

“No! You will not stand here and justify your sadistic, territorial bullshit.” Michael grabbed Theodore by his good arm, the tension in his fingers revealing he’d rather be shaking him. “These are patients, not enemies, not challengers. Patients!”

Theodore stiffened in the grip and his breath stilled in his chest. When he met Michael’s gaze, the violet color had drained from his eyes to reveal an otherworldly white.

“Whiteheart, my dragon has feasted on death tonight. The scent of blood is all around us. Kindly refrain from touching me unless you’re volunteering to be the next offering.”

Michael’s angry expression grew darker, but he pulled his hand away and took a step back. “Theo, he needs protecting.”

Theodore tilted his head, and color sparked back into his eyes as his dragon withdrew. After a beat, he waved his hand dismissively. “It won’t happen again. I was worked up.” His lips tugged down into a grim frown, and he turned away to dig through his pockets. A cell phone, five empty vials in need of refilling, and a compact mirror clattered onto his desk. “I was afraid for the ignorant punk. My fuck, what an idiot.”

“He’s not the only one,” Michael growled under his breath. “It better not happen again, or I’m going to be the one who links with Doe.”

“No.” Theodore whirled back, fire flaring in his eyes. He went to point at Michael, then thought better of it as his blood splattered in an arc on the floor. “Shit.” Theodore took a steadying breath and tried again, calmer. “I’m Doe’s guardian. No one else can protect him the same way. It has to be me.”

Michael’s chest heaved, and he exhaled heavily. “I know. We all know. I just need you to not hate him for it.”

I think way back in the day, Michael and Theodore probably fucked. I mean, you don’t end up being the few to survive while everyone you know ages and dies around you without hooking up once in a while out of basic companionship for sanity. They’re BFFs even if they totally can’t stand each other some days. They hated each other way more when they first met. XD I wonder if I’ll ever get an excuse to write the two of them when they were young and Theo’s family is killed off one by one… Hmm.

I’ve been writing their backstory, if you can’t tell. Just filling out some more extensive character sheets I plan on sharing eventually. Doing a terms sheet too, because I want the world building to be more extensive. Squee, I’m totally nerding out over it. <3 I’m sorry it’s taking so long but I’m glad I’m making the effort because it’s going to make all the books going forward way better. If you missed it, you can read the first five rewritten scenes on the site here.

This Week’s MM Goodies

$0.99 Nocturnal Beloved: MM Immortal Lovers Romance

Julian Castrow is a young man tending at the local bar, the Hopper, serving drinks during the night and going to college during the day. Life is going at a steady pace until a vampire walks in one night changing Julian’s life forever.

Graham Beliviston is a considerably young vampire whom finds his attraction to Julian, strange and alluring. Usually he feeds and moves on, but something about Julian makes him yearn for more understanding of the mortal. But love can be hard for an immortal when there are vampire hunters on the move, and they’ve got their eyes set on the young mortal lover.

What will happen when a bond between an immortal and a mortal is inexplicably created?

$0.99 Beneath the Autumn Sky

“I could look into your friend’s disappearance,” Daniel found himself blurting out. After a few minutes of awkwardness, he mentally kicked himself. The sheer look of shock was more than enough to make Daniel regret those words, but even more so when Alec’s grip tighten. “No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I know a couple of guys at the police station. I could-”

“Please Daniel. Just…leave it be.”

Daniel stopped. He couldn’t help but turn away, looking at the small plate of vegetables. Before he knew it, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

He was about to take his hand back, but he couldn’t. It was warm, and it was the first thing he noticed. “Hey Daniel?”

“What’s up?”

“I love you. You know that right?”

In which love and death dance within the confines of Autumn. This collection includes The Devil’s Playground, Mayhem, Hero, and Promises.

$0.99 Game Time: Gay First Time Sports Romance

Things Can Get Hot Off The Ice

All Scott has wanted since a child was to represent his favorite hockey team, but after a couple of seasons toiling away as a second string he’s traded away unceremoniously. At first it hurts, but he vows to play well enough to make them regret ever letting him go.

He’s welcomed at his new team by Mark, the personal trainer, and the two of them form an instant bond. Scott is unable to deny the attraction he feels, even though exploring it could jeopardize his standing among his new team-mates. Mark is an anchor to Scott, until everything around him starts to sink.

Scott is forced to ask himself if his career is more important than his personal life. He’s already lost one dream, can he afford to lose another? And when it comes time to face his former club, will he prove them right or wrong?

Free! Surrender: An MM Erotica Short Story

Jonathan Estes could have just went home for Thanksgiving. Fortunately, he stayed behind to enjoy the solitude of campus. When his roommate and crush, Jake Kettleman, decides to stay, Jon begins to fantasize about what the holiday could bring.

Jon knows Jake could have any girl he wants. But on Thanksgiving Jake gets something more than a girl, he gets his kinky dorm buddy.

Self-revelations turn into sexual revelations in this short story about two men exploring their own bondage fantasy, and each other.

This is a story with BDSM

??A Smexy Halloween!??

October 27, 2018

Hey babes,

Think I wore myself out this week or so with all the cleaning and such. But I’m looking forward to all the trick-or-treaters ghouling it up in search of a sugar high, and, of course, all the paranormal mm fiction that pops up around this time of year. <3

I’ve got Taken By Beasts knocked down to $0.99 this week, and free to read in KU. So if you haven’t snagged it yet, it’s a good time. I had hoped to edit it up but timing and me rarely work well together. @_@ I’m sure it’ll happen. Seeing as Hellcat was supposed to be a Halloween fic and ended up publishing in March, I think we all may have a wait on seeing me edit the old stuff up.

And let’s be real, I’m just so excited about the Paranormal Academy for Troubled Boys! If anything is going to eclipse my life, it’s that. While writing Shiny Thief, I got to this scene I hadn’t expected (I love it when that happens) where I got to really explore Justin’s werewolf side. I realized I only touched on the background characters in Demon Arms, and really want to remedy that going forward. I want this world to feel in depth, concrete, freaking awesome, really!

Is it a good time for a sneak peek?

It’s not properly edited, but I’m kinda loving crazy Justin. He has such a nice duality, and I didn’t realize I wanted to have him basically be a split personality until recently.

I have all these ideas spinning as I hit the part of the Demon Arms rewrite where Wylie first arrives at the Academy. It’s this question of, ‘how do I show/portray these characters instead of describe them?’ In Demon Arms, I told you Justin was a werewolf and had ‘crazy’ moments, but I never showed it. I never showed you Fox so hyped up he’d be distracted enough to run in front of a car. I really want to find entertaining ways to show these things instead of just summarizing on the page. I think it’s just a better reading experience (or so, I hope.)

So here we go. A little excerpt from Shiny Thief right after Justin goes crazy wolf, takes on Leo, and Forest comes to the rescue. I imagine you won’t all have the context to know what the hell is going on or who Raider is, but still, Justin being wolfish and Forest saving the day!

Forest was a dark shadow melting through the dimly lit woods. He was long, lithe and limber as he slunk low to the ground and poured from brush to tree trunk with absolute grace. Even though the black leopard wasn’t in his natural habitat, he padded through the drifts of snow crossed with shadows with a predator’s ease, his yellow eyes darting for signs of movement. Whiskers twitched in the distance, and Forest’s ears perked forward as he caught sight of a rabbit nibbling unsuspectingly at a rare sprig of green among the white of the forest floor.

Forest’s tail slashed behind him in anticipation as he crouched. His muscles tensed, and his eyes never left his unsuspecting victim as he watched the rabbit dig into the snow and reveal a fresh, green root. The moment the rabbit ducked it’s head to eat, Forest leapt and shot out from behind a shrub and darting with precision. Snow flew up around him in a spray of white that glittered as it caught the fading sunlight.

“Bunny!” A whir of black, purple, and green darted past.

A scarf flattened across Forest’s face, and he stopped short. His momentum sent him tumbling in a heap as he slid across the snowy floor. A dusty cloud of snow rose up where he landed. By the time the glittering spray faded, Forest’s human form was revealed, crumpled in the snow. His dark hair was a mess, and jacket twisted unnaturally from his fall, but otherwise he was unharmed.

Forest’s eyes landed on the green and purple stripped scarf that was tangled around his shoulder and half in his face. He grabbed it with a hiss and pulled it free. “Dante, that rabbit’s mine!”

A child’s laugh rang out full of undisguised mirth. “Not when you’re so slow, it isn’t.”

Forest’s yellow eyes narrowed. He was pretty sure he had said something similar when he sniped a chipmunk from the pipsqueak’s sights just the other day.

“Doesn’t matter; it got away when you nearly squished it. No one wants a smooshed bunny.” Dante jumped over to where Forest had fallen and peered down at his grumpy expression. Dante’s green eyes sparkled with mischief and his cheeks were flushed rosy from running in the cold. “Race you back to the Academy?”

Normally, Forest was happy to kid around with Dante. Today, after his frustrating dead end with Raider and weeks of his heat, everything was just pissing him off.

“Brat, you could have been seriously hurt,” Forest snapped as he pushed himself up on his knees and brushed down his snowy jacket with quick swipes. “What if my cat didn’t realize who you were and he attacked you? What if I fell the wrong way and broke you in half? You have to be careful.”

Dante tilted his head, a faint smile twisted on his lips. “Pretty sure you’d have to be able to keep up with me first.”

Forest snarled. “You little…”

A distant howl echoed on the wind, and Forest and Dante immediately fell silent and turned toward the sound.

Dante bit his lower lip worriedly. “That sounded like Justin’s bad wolf.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it did.” Forest got to his feet and fished Dante’s scarf out of the snow drift. He wrapped it around the shorter boy’s neck a few times and made sure he was bundled up.

“It’s the full moon tonight,” Dante reminded as he stared out into the woods and listened for more howls. The normal bird calls were silent after the werewolf’s call. Even though no more howls could be heard, the lack of sound made it even more ominous.

“I know. Justin’s going to be having a harder time being himself today.” Forest sighed when he saw Dante’s gloves had been lost, or maybe never even put on before he went outside. “Listen, I want you to stay here. If Justin is acting crazy, he’s going to feel really bad if your feelings are hurt.”

Dante scoffed and shook his head. “No way. I’m not going to leave him alone with that crazy wolf in his head.”

Dante took a few skipping steps toward where the howl had come from, then turned back to wait for Forest. One side of his scarf unwound from his slender shoulders and dangled down around his knees, somehow already dusted in fresh snow. “Come on.”

Forest sighed under his breath. He was well aware if Dante wanted to go, he would do whatever the hell he wanted. The paranormal of unknown origins, who didn’t look more than twelve, was beyond stubborn whenever it came to making sure his friends were okay. Dante was also slippery, and always showed up or disappeared whenever he pleased.

“Fine, but stay behind me,” Forest insisted. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re the one who tripped,” Dante pointed out quietly as Forest reached where he was waiting.

Forest scowled and pushed his dripping hair from his face. “Yeah, yeah. Well if I can smoosh a bunny, I might end up smooshing you too, huh?” He ruffled Dante’s hair. “You don’t want to end up all squished by a giant leopard.”

Dante snickered and ducked away, his hands rising to comb his black locks back into place. “You’d still have to be able to catch me.”

Forest smiled bemusedly, but his expression darkened the further they walked into the thick stand of trees. The soft, serene sounds of the woods muffled by snow were replaced with growls, roars, and grunts of exertion. It sounded like a hunt gone wrong, a hunt with a very pissed of lion and werewolf.

Dante bit his lower lip as he peered out into the woods and the sounds of growling echoed on the air. “Fighting.”

“Yeah, that’s Leo’s roar. We’re close.” Forest quickened his pace, his heart stuck in his throat. If Leo was fighting Justin, shit could go seriously bad really quick. Leo had monstrous strength and a tentative hold on his explosive temper on the best of days. These had not been the best of days for Leo.

Forest’s strides stopped short when a distorted howl ripped through the air. “Justin. Oh shit.” A terrifying thought struck him, and Forest took off running. If Justin’s crazy wolf had taken over and he was going after Leo, there was no promise he’d stop until someone was dead.

“Stay back,” Forest ordered Dante as the clearing up ahead came into view. Forest leaped over a stand of brambles and burst through the underbrush. His sneakers hit the icy pavement of the driveway hidden in snow, and Forest tried to catch his balance as he stumbled to a halt. His eyes darted from where Raider was crumpled in the snow, Justin was standing over him snarling like a ferocious animal, and Leo was pushing himself up from a painful sprawl.

“Holy fuck.” Forest swallowed hard when he saw Leo’s throat and the center of his chest were coated in blood. From the distance, he wasn’t sure if Justin had gotten his jugular or if the blood was purely from the slashes on his face. Leo didn’t look like he was about to drop from a killing blow, and it was the only thing that kept Forest from freaking out and going cat.

Justin smelled all werewolf, a sickening mix of dark magic and twisted canine. It was something Forest had thought he had grown used to until now, hours before the full moon with the scent of blood hot on the air.

“Raider, are you okay?” Forest called, his voice hoarse. He couldn’t see if Raider was injured, but for whatever reason he was just lying in the snow. Forest tried not to assume the worst as Justin’s growl tore through the air.

“He’s fine,” Justin snarled. “Mind your own fucking business.” Before Forest could respond, Justin stalked to where Raider was hunched, dazed in the snow. Raider blinked up, his expression one of bafflement when Justin grabbed him roughly by the hair.

“Don’t worry, bitch. None of these fuckwits are going to take you from me.” With a fierce growl, Justin crossed the distance and crushed his lips against Raider. Raider whimpered into the rough kiss and relaxed in Justin’s arms. His lips parted readily as Justin’s tongue stroked into his mouth.

“Son of a whore,” Forest groaned and slapped his forehead. “Michael was right. Fuck, Michael was totally right.”

“Who’s Justin kissing?” Dante stepped up beside Forest, his head tilted curiously at the sight of Justin pulling kiss after breathless kiss from Raider’s swollen lips.

“Raider. He’s new.” Forest shook his head as he tried to clear away the guilt of nearly doing the same to Raider less than an hour ago. Whatever Raider was, it fucked up alphas types hardcore. It had to be a scent thing. If Justin’s crazy wolf was calling Raider a bitch, it was totally a scent thing.

Dante nodded slowly. “Okay. But why is Justin kissing him?”

“Because he’s lost his shit and apparently it’s contagious,” Forest muttered as he desperately assessed his options. Getting close to Raider might leave him just as fucked up as Leo and Justin. Forest’s cat wasn’t an alpha, but he was definitely interested in Raider enough to make a total ass of himself if he wasn’t careful.

Forest was torn from his worried thoughts when Leo lumbered to his feet and immediately took a swing at Justin. The werewolf jumped back with magically enhanced speed, but only noticed too late how he had given up his position over Raider. Justin sneered when Leo pulled Raider into his arms and kissed him with possessive intent.

Dante watched the exchange with interest. “Why is Leo…?”

“For fuck sake.” Forest quickly reached over and covered Dante’s eyes when Leo made a grab for Raider’s ass. “Listen, I can’t really explain the exact craziness of everything at the moment,” he said under his breath as he pushed Dante behind him. “I’m going to draw Justin and Leo into the woods. When I do, I want you to help Raider and bring him to the Academy. I think once Leo and Justin are away from Raider’s scent, they’re going to start acting normal again.”

“His scent?” Dante raised his head and his small nostrils flared.

“Yeah, I think he has a messed up scent and it’s fucking with the alphas. Shit, and Leo is still in heat.” Forest groaned in dismay and pushed his wet bangs from his face. “What a fucking disaster. We’re lucky Leo hasn’t torn Justin to pieces yet.”

“Justin’s really fast,” Dante reminded quietly, his eyes glued on the way the werewolf had just charged at Leo and the alpha lion had charged back, only to end up face first in the snow. “Justin’s scary fast when his wolf is out.”

“I know. I’m not going to let them hurt you, okay?” Forest reassured even as fear gnawed at his gut. He had yet to see Justin’s wolf control his friend for this long, and he was growing more and more worried it was somehow permanent. “Wait here, and I’ll draw them away. It’s going to be fine.”

Dante raised his eyebrows as Forest stepped away to confront Justin and Leo. “I’m not afraid of…”

“Shhh.” Forest dismissed him with a frantic wave. The closer he got, the more he could smell Justin’s alarming werewolf scent. It was difficult to know if his panic was from the situation or the instinctual fear that filled any shifter animal when the cursed scent was around.

Forest crouched down and grabbed a handful of snow. “Leo! Justin! Get it the fuck together!” Picking the one still standing and hovering possessively over Raider, Forest threw a snowball at the back of Justin’s head.

Justin jerked to the side before the snowball could connect. He whirled, and his blazing amber eyes narrowed with deadly promise on Forest. Forest tried his best to hide his fear while behind Justin, Raider collapsed to the ground with a whimper.

Forest had never seen Justin like this before, not for such a long, focused interval. Justin’s crazy wolf had only ever come out in short, sporadic moments, usually while bitching over stupid, territorial stuff that plagued alphas of all species. Forest could only hope that it had everything to do with the full moon, and it wasn’t some sort of heat, or worse, a new evolution. Some werewolves, their vicious wolves took them over until the human was lost completely. Forest had never thought that could happen to his sweet, empathetic friend, but seeing Justin like this had him terrified he was about to lose Justin to the curse forever.

It had to be the scent, the moon, something. The killer glaring out from Justin’s eyes had always been trapped before, and surely he would be trapped again.

Forest whipped another snowball at Justin, who didn’t bother to move this time. The snowball exploded in a spray of slush and ice as it struck Justin on the side of the head. Justin snarled, his normally sweet face was full of his murderous wolf as he deliberately wiped the snow away with his wrist. The blood smeared across his nose and cheek smudged down, staining his face red as Justin glared.

“Are you seriously so fucking dumb you’re challenging me?” Justin demanded, his voice distorted by his cursed wolf. “What the fuck is wrong with you dick for brain cats? I can take both of you fuckers out in a minute if I wanted to. Just go the fuck away.”

Forest’s stomach twisted as he heard the truth in those words. The thing was, Justin probably could take them out, easy. While a shifter might have extra strength, grace, and primal instincts, a werewolf had that on top of the unique abilities of the curse. Justin’s crazed wolf would make him stronger just as he was faster, it would make him ruthless in any fight without an inkling of morality as to when to stop, and it would allow him to heal in minutes from any wound while a shifter would bleed out until dead.

Magic could be used to restrain a werewolf, but Forest wasn’t a magic user, not really. He had some ability, but he was totally shit at it. They all liked to make fun of Fox for blowing up the Body Magic classroom all the time, but Forest was pretty sure if he tried as much as Fox did, he’d be just as terrible in his control. The only way to really stop a werewolf was to kill him, and Forest wasn’t sure he had that in him, not when it came to Justin.

Leo suddenly roared as he lumbered back to his feet, and Forest’s eyes went wide when the lion shifter charged right at Justin’s back.

He wouldn’t win. And if Leo did win, it wouldn’t solve anything. There would still be at least one crazy alpha trying to claim Raider.

“Shit!” Forest growled. His heart pounded in his ears as Forest bent down and gathered what he could of his tenuous magic into his palms along with the feel of icy cold snow. It was pure instinct when he stood and a wave of magic and snow shot from Forest straight at Justin and Leo.

Snow flared up in a brilliant cloud of white, blocking out the overcast sky and the view of the crooked branches and sparks of orange tinted light through the trees. Forest only had a moment to wince when he realized he had created an actual wall of snow, seconds before it all came crashing down right in the spot where Leo barreled into Justin’s slender form.

Forest peeked through his fingers, having at some point covered his face at the sound of flesh slamming into flesh. He stared with growing alarm as Justin and Leo’s fallen forms were covered in heavy clumps of snow and buried in a giant mound of snow. “Shit. Shit, don’t be dead.”

Forest shot forward and frantically began digging into the heavy pile of snow. Glittering dust stung at his face, eyes, and nose, and coated every inch of him in an icy powder that was threatening to choke him and freeze his lungs. Forest didn’t feel the cold on his numb fingers as he clawed through handfuls of wet snow and pushed piles aside. The fabric of Justin’s blue jacket peeked through the heavy snow, and Forest swore and patted around the area as he sought his friend’s face.

“Breathe,” Forest ordered the moment he found a few strands of Justin’s brown hair and pushed the snow from his face. “Breathe and be fucking normal, man.”

“What?” Justin blinked his snow crusted lashes open with an effort and revealed his human, gentle brown eyes. He stared at Forest for a few bleary moments, then his gaze strayed to the blue tinted snow he was practically encased in. Justin’s eyebrows drew down the center as he fixed back on Forest’s concerned gaze. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened,” Forest said quickly. “You’re fine and nothing happened.” He could see the panic growing in Justin’s eyes. In moments Justin’s breathing was shallow and his chest heaving as he was hit with the understanding his wolf had taken over.

“What did I…?” Justin pushed at the snow covering his chest, only to start at the streaks of red revealed in the snow. He lifted his hand up and stared wide eyed at his bloodied fingers. “Forest? W-what… What did I do?”

Forest inwardly groaned. “He’s fine, I swear. You’re fine. Justin, please, just focus on me, okay?” Forest leaned over Justin until he was all he could see. “It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

But it wasn’t fine. Forest could see it in Justin’s eyes as tears welled in the brown depths just as great as his panic. It had to be a full loss of memory. Justin always freaked out the most when he found gaps in his memory, even the smallest of moments. In those dark lapses he imagined the very worst his cursed wolf might do without anyone to stop him. Being covered in blood was only going to affirm that when he lost control, others were in danger.

Leo’s hand shot out from the pile of snow next to them, covered in slush, and both Forest and Justin yelped in surprise.

“Shit, I totally forgot,” Forest muttered, mortified he had left Leo to freeze in the pile of snow. It was too many crises at once, and Forest absolutely defined Justin freaking out after a ‘crazy werewolf slip’ as a crisis.

“Who is it?” Justin whispered, fear clear in his eyes as he stared at the hand clawing to get free of the snow.

“Hold on, big guy.” Forest scrambled in the slush, his jeans quickly soaked as he leaned over and sought out Leo in the pile of snow. He could only hope the overgrown lion shifter had also come to his senses with all the snow to cover Raider’s scent. Forest started pushing the snow aside, and his eyes went wide when the snow beneath him rocked in an alarming lurch. “Shit.” He fell back, just getting his legs cleared, when Leo pushed up and big chunks of snow fell from his shoulders in heavy clumps.

Forest swallowed hard as he tried to read the flashes of emotions that twisted at Leo’s fierce, bloody features as the lion shifter fought his way out of the avalanche. Dressed only in jeans, Leo pulled himself up with pure strength and then sat on top of the mound of snow and panted for breath. His tawny eyes focused on Justin’s pale face where the werewolf was still half buried.

“I fucked up,” Leo announced.

“What?” Justin gaped at Leo and focused on the four vertical slashes cut into his face. Justin’s expression crumpled and he struggled to get out of the snow. “Oh, no. Did I…?”

“I attacked you,” Leo said gruffly. “I lost my shit when hunting that deer, and your wolf woke up to defend you.” His eyes were sharp as he stared down at Justin’s panicked face. “You were protecting yourself, that’s all.”

“I was?” Justin blinked a few times as he tried to absorb the new information. His gaze fixed back on Leo’s bloody face, and a hot tear ran down Justin’s cheek. “Your face… I’m so sorry, Leo!”

Leo grunted and shrugged aloofly. “It’s nothing that can’t be healed.” His gaze darted to where Raider was huddle in the snow out of Justin’s sight. He fixed back on Justin and forced an awkward smile. “It’s kind of hard to see like this, you know, with the blood in my eyes. Could you help me back to the Academy?”

“Of course!” Justin pushed at the snow covering him with a determined, damn near desperate expression. “We’ll go right now. I’ll carry you if I have to.” He wiggled his hips to loosen the heavy snow and punched at the edges to create space to pull himself free. After a few kicks, Justin managed to twist and pull out of the mound of snow. He balanced precariously at the top of the pile and reached for Leo’s hand to help him to his feet.

“Do you want to lean on me?” Justin asked, blind to just how far Leo would have to bend over if he took him up on the offer.

“Nah.” Leo grimly scrubbed his palm down his face and roughly wiped the excess blood off. “I just need you to make sure I don’t go wandering into a tree or some shit.” Leo tried to smile to soften the words, but with the wicked slashes on his face and the blood that had gotten on his teeth, the effect was garish.

Justin smiled hesitantly and released a somewhat hysterical laugh. “Okay. I can do that!” he said too boisterously as he scrambled to get down the snow pile.

Forest breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Justin tried to help the towering Leo down the side of the slope. Leo had only just started to make an effort when it came to Justin’s sensitivity to his curse, and it was kind of a shock the lion shifter was able to put aside his current anger to do so now. Leo wasn’t exactly known for being nice. Most of the time he was an overbearing dick.

“What?” Leo grunted when he caught Forest staring at him with an odd expression on his face.

Forest smirked and shrugged. “Just thinking maybe you should have your face slashed more often. You’re almost being nice.”

“Fuck off, dickwad.” Leo flipped Forest off and stomped his feet into the unstable pile of snow to keep from falling as he made his way down.

Snorting to himself, Forest eyes fixed on the patch of bloody snow where Leo had pulled free. It had been a close call and he wasn’t in a hurry to see it happen again. The sooner they got Justin to the safety of the Academy, the better.

Forest tumbled intentionally down the side of the snow pile and landed on his hands and knees. He pushed up from the ground and brushed the snow from his pant legs. He didn’t realize his movements had caught Justin’s attention until his voice rang out in the growing chill.

“Um, guys, who is that?”

“Crap,” Leo hissed.

“Shit.” On glance at Justin’s wide eyed look of horror confirmed the dread twisting in Forest’s stomach. “It’s just the new guy, Raider. He saw you fighting, that’s all…” Forest fell silent as he turned and found Dante standing over where Raider was hunched over in the snow. There was a strange look on Dante’s face, one that grew when he suddenly swooped down and kissed Raider on the lips.

Forest gaped, at a complete loss for words as to what he was witnessing. With a fierce shake of his head, Forest recovered enough to grab a handful of snow and chuck it at Dante. “Hey! What the hell are you thinking?”

Forest stalked surefooted over the ice and stopped to loom over Dante, who was still kissing Raider. He grabbed the boy by his too long scarf and pulled him away. “What the…?” Blood was smeared on Dante’s lips, which the boy was quick to lick away while staring at Raider.

Raider touched his lower lip gingerly around the cut that had been nipped there. His dark eyes were full of confusion when he finally looked up at the two of them. “Are you a vampire?” he croaked.

“For fuck sake.” Forest covered his sleeve over his mouth to avoid breathing in Raider scent. “Why the hell did you do that?” he demanded of Dante, who was blithely brushing the snow from his knees.

“Everyone else kissed him. I just wanted to see why.” Dante shrugged off Forest’s angry glare and turned to where Leo and Justin were gaping at him. “Are we going back now? I want to play with Wylie.”

Forest closed his eyes and tried to take a steadying breath. “Yeah, sure. We’re going back right now.”

“Achoo!”

There was a collective gasp, and Forest grimaced. He refused to open his eyes. If he didn’t open them, there was no way things could possible get worse.

“Oh shit.” Raider whispered. “Fuck no.”

Forest cracked an eye open, then immediately opened the other. His jaw fell open and for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to shut it. “Did you just…? Fuck, you did.” Forest continued to gape as all proper words escaped him.

On the top of Raider’s head now twitched very large, very furry raccoon ears. If that wasn’t bad enough, his darkly tanned skin had gained a new black coloration around his eyes and fingers reminiscent to the pattern of his inner animal. Raider looked up, a desperate expression on his masked face as he stared at his clawed hands. Behind him on the snow covered ground, a long, fluffy tail ringed with black stripes flicked back and forth in agitation.

“Well fuck,” Forest finally blurted, his cheeks turning red. “You have the flu.”

This Week’s MM Goodies

$0.99 Taken By Beasts: A M/M Erotic Halloween Collection

This collection contains five never before released, steamy paranormal stories of monsters and the innocent, handsome young men they call prey *cough* boyfriend, written by the mistress of dubcon, Sadie Sins. Inside you’ll find five unique storylines containing friends to lovers, straight to gay, mild BDSM, and even a few group, taboo moments. It has furry full moon transformations, haunted houses, Halloween parties, evil witches, horny sorcerers, sexy demons, a cat shifter in distress, the rare minotaur, a stalking vampire, and a pack of rude, trash talking werewolves that don’t take no for an answer. Not to mention, the promise of a happy, claw biting ending. This book will make you downright beg to be a victim.

Halloween has never been quite so naughty as when you’re Taken by Beasts.

The Same Page

Aidan Greene and Liam McCullough feel like they’ve aged out of the bodyguard business—but a desperate call from former client Slava Vishinev draws them back. In a story ripped from the headlines, Slava’s gay son Arseny has vanished in Chechnya, where homosexuals are persecuted and imprisoned.

What was Arseny doing in Chechnya, and who is the enigmatic Italian who ends up in police custody with him? Answering these questions will take Aidan and Liam on their most deadly adventure yet, deep into the heart of a war-torn former Soviet state where danger lurks around every corner.

The stakes are high – innocent men depend on them for rescue from imprisonment and death. Will Aidan and Liam be able to rescue Arseny and help him carry out his plans—and make it back to Nice for their wedding?

$0.99 Operation Makeover

Will a makeover bring his fantasy to life or lead him to a love he never saw coming?

As a professional X-ray tech, Ridley has come a long way from the geeky kid Jace took under his wing in high school. Not that his best friend has noticed. Tired of pining, Ridley decides to show Jace what he’s missing. And what better way than with a newer, more sophisticated look?

Cole’s clients at the salon where he works love him dearly. Men? Not so much. He has dated one mistake after the next, and he’s beginning to wonder if a guy exists who can handle his fabulousness. Then Ridley lands in his chair.

Cole agrees to be Ridley’s makeover guru, and they click effortlessly. But when Cole offers to help Ridley with his sexual confidence, passion flares and boundaries blur.

Ridley’s had his heart set on Jace a long time, but when he’s with Cole it feels too real to deny. Now he has a choice to make: the friend he’s always wanted or the man who’s given him a whole new lease on life.

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Category: Newsletter

Hey babes!

Okay, some fucking kickass atheists!

Time for a personal ramble of my past

It’s not unique

Reality repeated

Hey babes!

Things in the works…

Positive stress

No goodies this week :/

Hey babes!

The design is a little bit goth punk, a little bit midlife crisis… XD

Looking for MM Taboo Authors

A Tentative Plan

A predatory market

Someone has to make the world better

Rant time, babes,

Seriously, you want a medal for basic human decency now?

What’s my point in all this? EMBRACE DISCOMFORT!

Think!

*deep breath* Cathartic. Totally.

Hey babes,

Opinions on Vaccines? For a new baby.

Hold on, before I forget…

Did you snag your Demon Bonded calendar?

Anyways…

A New Year’s Introspective

Fail To Win

I want to be happy for 2019!

Hey babes,

Anywho

A New Year’s Revolution Announcement *cough* Of Sorts

Yeah, huge, and yet the same

Am I living the life I want, or the life I’m afraid to lose?

How do I get past perfectionism? With one giant question.

What if I’m holding my stories back?

So, how do I stop doing everything myself?

Okay, you just don’t understand how much of a control freak I am!

Someone save me from myself T_T

Oh, I’m feeling better! Lol, not sure if you can tell. XD

Hey babes ^^

Five years of hell…

Neurotoxins

Bullet Journal and removing stress

Peace starts within

Hey babes,

As for me…

This Week’s MM Goodies

Hey babes, it’s been a while.

A little unedited preview for those curious <3

This Week’s MM Goodies

Hey babes,

Is it a good time for a sneak peek?

This Week’s MM Goodies

deep breath Cathartic. Totally.

A New Year’s Revolution Announcement cough Of Sorts