Jyvur Entropy's Blog, page 25

My Monster Girl Book is Selling!

Eep! Today my first Monster Girl erotica went live on amazon and holy moly!!! I’ve already sold a few copies and gotten double-digit page reads in the Kindle Unlimited program.

Gah! I’m so excited

Day one on amazon and it’s pulling in the page reads! I’m so stoked!

If you want to check it out, it is here.

And I’m so happy to announce that book two, ‘Frosting the Abominable Snow Woman’ will be releasing April 17th.

The gorgeous character art was drawn by Hazel West. This isn’t the finished cover. I added all the text and some of the graphics (splatter and dripping icicle), but Hazel thinks she can tweak this to look a tad more style-cohesive.

But this is the placeholder cover. I’ll be sure to post another update once the preorder goes live!

Anyway, amazon erotic shorts experiment is looking successful so far!

Family

The person in my family I’m closest to is my grandmother. She was basically my mom for the first few years of my life. I lived with her until I was six, and my mom was just sort of around here and there before that.

My grandparents are very buttoned-up people. Sort of weird, considering my grandpa was a juvenile delinquent as a teenager, but maybe that’s just what 20 years in the military does to somebody. Everything had to be a certain way in their house. Everything was just so. I was definitely a real little brat as a kid. The fact that they had so many rules made me want to break them. Like once when I was around four, I remember making a bunch of mud pies in my sandbox and then sticking them to the backdoor just to see what my grandma would do. She…yelled XD lol And for some reason, that was kind of hilarious to toddler me. I mean, I loved my grandma. Still do. She’s the only person in my family I’ve ever had a very strong bond with. But from the time I was a toddler, our relationship has always been her scolding me and me fucking with her. when I was little that meant covering her back door with mud, so she could storm out and go “JENNIFER! Jesus! Mary! And….What is…what is wrong with you?!” While I laughed and shot her a shit-eating grin going “What? You never said NOT to put mud on the door, Nan. That’s not one of the rules.” Today it means she nags me about when me and my dude will ever get “really married” and have a ceremony and I tell her “Never. It’s a waste of money and I don’t care about ceremony” so that she can roll her eyes, sigh, and go “Jennifer, stop it, you’re trying to aggravate me.”

In my defense, she will nag and chastise and criticize me, whether I go out of my way to annoy her or not. I know this from experience.

I think my grandma’s constant nagging, pearl-clutching, and criticizing is why she and my mom never had a good relationship. You see, my grandma never treated me very differently than she treated my mom. Yet my mom has a lot of issues with my grandma. Me on the other hand, I’m very close to her. I love my grandma more than anybody else in the world. She’s the only person in my family I implicitly trust.

I think I always intuitively understood that’s just her love language. I mean, is that not the love language of every old-school Irish Catholic woman from Boston? My grandma doesn’t hug me. She snaps at me to buy new shoes and take better care of my skin. She also sat up with me countless nights talking me down during emotional episodes when I was over-medicated and not responding to it well. She spent a LOT of time and money bringing me to different doctors as a teenager. I do believe psychiatric care made me worse, but I know my grandma wanted to help me. She always had my back, trying to protect me from my mom’s abuse. She fought for me to come back and live with her many times. Every time I had to, inevitably, go back and live with my mom, she kept tabs on me. She came by all the time. She tried to protect me and I know she did. She couldn’t and that’s not her fault.

So, my grandmother is not a soft and cuddly person. She is hard and critical and she isn’t going to say “I love you.” You have to know that her showing up to your apartment, throwing out half your clothes, and then insisting you go to Kohls to “get some decent clothes so you don’t look homeless” is her way of saying it.

For some reason, this never bothered me. But it bothered my mom.

I always understood that my grandmother loved me and I always enjoyed being around her. I liked gardening with her, watching movies with her, and singing with her (she loves to sing and so do I). She would snap at me or criticize me and my reaction was always to playfully try to rile her up more.

My mom’s response to this was to be sad. Very sad.

I remember my mom opening up once and talking about how she didn’t think Nan loved her. When she talked about WHY she didn’t think Nan loved her, she gave a bunch of examples that sounded…well….exactly like how Nan always treated me.

“When I was a teenager, she dumped all my clothes on the floor and told me I dressed like trash.”

Okay, she’s just doing that because she cares.

“She always compared me to my brother.”

She compared me to the other girls in my dance class. It’s just a thing she does. She doesn’t mean anything by it.

“She hates everything I do.”

Same….use it to bug her?

I don’t know. For some reason, my grandmother being so buttoned up and easy to irritate was always just sort of charming and funny to me. I think I always understood that she just doesn’t know how to show she cares in any other way. When she cares about people, she tries to “fix” them. Of course I can see why some sensitive souls may find this hurtful.

My mom was one of those sensitive souls.

It broke her heart that she wasn’t good enough to make my grandmother love her. And in a way, I get how my mom can feel this way. Because that’s how I feel about my relationship with her. I think the difference is, I never sensed good intentions behind the cutting words, when it came to my mom. And unlike my grandmother, there was no way to playfully bite back. I was actually in danger around my mom. All three of us, me and my two sisters were.

My mom was rebellious. To look at her, you’d never have guessed she came from such a conservative Irish-Catholic home.

I think the first parasocial relationship I ever had was with my mom. She wasn’t around very much when I was little. When she was around, she was so goofy and fun. So absolutely free-spirited.

My grandmother with her perfectly-coiffed hair, wearing a ladies power suit with shoulder pads and pearl earrings, sitting across the table from my mom with her jet black and purple hair, heavy black eyeliner, ripped jeans and leather jacket, I remember sitting one Christmas when I was maybe 3 or 4, just looking back and forth between them like wow….they are so different.

I used to go through my mom’s stuff. I wanted to know so much about her. She had so many weird things in her room (a room I hardly remember her ever actually being in). She had feather boas, spiky clear high heels, clingy snakeskin-pattern dresses. I found pictures she’d taken with her friends. One of her in an orange car with no glass in the windows and chains wrapped around it. I found out years later that was a picture of her driving in a demolition derby. I found pictures of scantily-clad draped over various pieces of furniture in my grandparents’ house. I found out years later, she took those to enter into some magazine modeling contest. She had lots of records. Statues of unicorns and dragons. Band t-shirts from all the concerts she went to. (She’s actually an extra in a Stix video. She got my name from a Stix song. I don’t know how she talked her way into a Stix video, but the fact that she did just sort of perfectly sums up her as a person).

Every once in awhile, she was around to do something normal. Eat dinner with us. Put me to bed. Stuff like that. She usually did something wild that got my grandmother yelling (which got my mom sulking in a corner). Like hair monster. She had very long hair back then. It went down to her butt. She would walk into the house, snatch me up from wherever I was, and throw her hair over my face, screaming “hair monster! hair monster is going to get you!”

Or she would pick me up, fold me into a ball, and pretend she was playing basketball. She’d run over to the nearest piece of furniture and plop me onto it and yell something goofy like “She scores! Jen-ball in the net!”

And then she’d disappear again. Off doing whatever it was she did in her late teens/early 20s.

She kept on doing whatever it was she did after my younger sister was born. My grandmother became the default mom for both of us.

And through it all, I went through my mom’s stuff whenever I could. I thought about what it would be like to have her around all the time. She had a boyfriend I didn’t really like. He was mean and loud and made me nervous.

He was the reason why, when I was told I was going to go live with my mom and Jose, I wasn’t happy. I cried and asked, “Can it just be me, Mom, and Carly? Not Jose?” But obviously, first-grade me had no say in the matter.

That goofy fun woman vanished when we all moved into the little gray house.

I mean, she made appearances here and there. But, after I knew who was left behind when the goofy woman left, it was never the same again.

I love my mom. I miss her. I wish it meant something.

That twenty-seven years ago, she held up a ball and a stuffed animal and explained to me how the moon orbits the earth. I wish it meant something that I know she’s hurt too and that she never got the love she needed either, and that I’d forgive her, and be around her, if she would only stop hurting me.

I wish it meant something.

Probably writing it all down is stupid.

But it should mean something. All of that happened to me. It’s back there in the past, and it feels like it should matter.

Jen is so melodramatic. Jen is crazy.

It’s all so melodramatic. It’s all so crazy.

I wish we could all talk it out. I wish we could all make it better, somehow.

We can’t.

Jen is me, by the way. From the song “Jennifer” by Stix.

It isn’t spelled “Jennifer.” My name is spelled wrong. My mom spelled my name wrong on purpose. She spelled Carly’s name wrong on purpose too.

I’m Jen and I was born in the late 80s in New Jersey. I lived in a little gray house off exit 80. My mom and her boyfriend ran a ceramics company called ‘Necroworks’ and my mom managed a store for her friend, Mike. It was called Wild Syde and people remember it as the place that sold Doc Martins and Manic Panic in Brick. Mike opened up a second location in the same strip mall when I was in 4th grade. That location had primarily adult goods: lingerie, sex toys, etc. I think that second location was some kind of a wholesale setup, because it had nothing but counters and catalogues. But I was a kid, so it’s not like anybody explained it to me. I don’t really know. I just know I spent a lot of summers and school vacations surrounded by porn and anal beads, reading the Babysitter’s Club, and sometimes taking a handful of quarters down the sidewalk to the convenience store to buy a bottle of Frutopia. I vividly remember trying to eat a sub for lunch once, with pictures of vaginas all around me and getting grossed out. I ate with my eyes shut and when the chunky hippie woman who worked part-time asked me why I said, “Because all the pictures of naked people are making it too hard to eat.”

We had a kiln in the kitchen and there was gray dust all over the house. Clay and greenware covered every surface. The house was full of insects and clutter. Finding animal feces or maggots was not an uncommon occurrence. Carly liked to keep bugs she found and make them “pets.” We shared a room, so I smashed them and threw them away when I found them. Once I killed a cricket she’d put in a shoebox and she cried for hours. I felt so guilty that, eventually, I started crying. I went and found her a new cricket, but she said it wasn’t the same and released it in the laundry room.

The kiln would make the house very hot. The ceramic oven got as hot as 3000 degrees when ceramics were being fired.

When I was nine and my youngest sister was two, her arm was burned on that kiln. I wasn’t in the room when it happened and she never screamed once. I don’t know why. Her skin kept peeling off and it looked like it should have hurt a lot, but all she did was stare at it and open and close her mouth a bunch of times.

My mom played showtunes when she was goofy. Or she would ask me to stay up late and watch movies with her. She loved old silent movies. She also loved Westerns. There was a massive John Wayne poster on the wall in the kitchen. She would sing and dance around the house when she was in a good mood. I always like it, sort of, except that it was always like waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of her highs was often followed by one of her lows. But during her highs, she would quote Monty Python or make terribly corny puns.

Her friends were fun too. She had this group of guys that would come over to play Dungeons and Dragons every Friday night. I’d fall asleep listening to them shouting and carrying on over the big mesh tabletop cover printed with hexagons. they had campaigns that lasted years. A few times, they made a soundtrack when the campaign was done and burned CDs for everyone in the group.

I don’t really think many of them knew what she was like behind closed doors. Because she was really two people. The fun, silly side of her is awesome. I can see why people gravitate to her.

But writing this all down is for nothing. It doesn’t mean anything if I write it all down. It doesn’t mean anything if anybody reads it.

Put the words down or not, when it comes to my family, there’s this whole jumbled mess that I don’t think I’ll ever sort out.

My mom will probably continue to text me every year on my birthday.

And I’ll keep ignoring her.

But I won’t block her.

I can’t talk to her. I can’t let her near me, because she will hurt me. And I’ll let her.

I love her and miss her and I like that we are still connected in that one flimsy way. That she remembers to text me every year, even though I don’t answer her.

There’s nothing to say. But I like that she still thinks about me. I still think about her too.

And I wish, I wish, it all could have been different.

The Unlikeable Heroine: A Guest Post by ‘Careless Whispers’ Author Synithia Williams

The Unlikeable Heroine

Men can get away with almost anything in a romance novel, while women characters are often held to a higher standard. Unless, I’m writing the story. Lol! I like to write sexy, messy stories with imperfect characters, and that includes my heroines. In Careless Whispers the heroine, Elaina Robidoux, is the head of her family’s successful company. She’s been raised to be ruthless in business and strategic in her relationships. To Elaina, love is a liability.

Now that Elaina’s watched her younger siblings find love, her sister with Elaina’s ex-husband no less and her brother with his old love, a small part of her begins to wonder if there may be something to this falling in love thing. The last person she expects to care for is the one man she can’t trust. Alex Tyson has been her nemesis from the day her father hired him at their company. The man is a threat to her position and sees through her tough outer skin to the vulnerabilities beneath. When Elaina and Alex must trust each other related to a project involving his family, they not only let go of past resentments but find a love neither expected.

Synithia Williams has loved romance novels since reading her first one at the age of 13. It was only natural that she would begin penning her own romances soon after. It wasn’t until 2010 that she began to actively pursue her publishing dreams. Her first novel, You Can’t Plan Love, was released in August 2012. 

When she isn’t writing, this Green Queen, as dubbed by the State Newspaper, works to improve air and water quality, while balancing the needs of her husband and two sons. You can learn more about Synithia by visiting her website, http://www.synithiawilliams.com, where she blogs about writing, life and relationships. 

Author Links

Website: www.synithiawilliams.com/books#careless
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/synithiarwilliams

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SynithiaW

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/synithiaw

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/synithia-williams  

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Synithia-Williams/e/B008QGXWCI

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6431718.Synithia_Williams

~~🕮~~~~🕮~~ 

GIVEAWAY

$10 Amazon 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/careless-whispers-book-tour-and-giveaway

~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ HOSTED BY:~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ 

Silver Dagger Book Tours: https://www.silverdaggertours.com/  

Buy Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B087MW86QF
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/careless-whispers/id1509950142
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/careless-whispers-synithia-williams/1136918905?ean=9781488077807
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Synithia_Williams_Careless_Whispers?id=2b3eDwAAQBAJ&hl=en_US
Harlequin:  https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781488077807_careless-whispers.html

WWW Weds: Just Over Here Infiltrating a Cult and Writing Amazon Filth

It’s the weekly meme we know and love, hosted by Sam at Taking on a World of Words.

What are You Currently Reading?

I’m still reading this book and I’m still very lost. I told y’all I’m not actually smart. I just wear glasses and know some big words. Any asshole can learn big words. That shit’s rote memorization. It ain’t an indicator of actual intelligence. I don’t understand this fucking book. There are too many characters. I don’t think I’m a fan. But it’s become a point of contention now. I’m reading this fucking book. I’m not gonna DNF. It will not defeat me.

I’m also working my way through book two of the Lazarus Town novella series. It’s a super fast-paced Western romance with tons of twists. So far I’m liking book two even better than book one.

I’m back to trying to work my way through this book. My GOSH Unicult is the most boring fucking “cult” in existence. They really called themselves a cult just to get the wannabe edgy people like me to give them a second glance and not write them off as woo-woo self-help bullshit right away.

Anyway, I wasn’t able to get into the official Unicult discord. I do not know why. I filled out their freaking application, the paper and the digital. I paid my $11 via etsy. Never got access.

But I DID gain access to the Friends of Unicult discord server. It is very boring. Fucking nothing is happening in there. Really, I’m paying $5 a month via Patreon for this?

“Daily” prayer channel has not been updated since July. Before that, it still wasn’t daily. And there’s nothing here you don’t get in the weird “Cam church” thing on youtube.

The only chit-chat channel is dead AF.

That’s their general channel (and the only channels they have are introductions and the aforementioned “daily” prayer channel.

The general channel has had no comments in days. It’s rare to see new people greeted. No conversations are happening. I’m just saying…..y’all really charging people for access to this discord? I’ve never seen such a dead discord. I’m in a writer’s discord with literally 4 people and it’s more active and vibrant than this. The only interesting conversation in general is one where they all talk about how “negative” 4chan is. Fucking shit, at least they’re real.

I’m sorry but I was raised in a cesspool of woo-woo nonsense. I don’t trust woo-woo nonsense. That’s probably why I’m so keen to expose this group. Unfortunately for me, there is nothing to expose. They are the most boring motherfuckers on the entire internet, and that does include the disney community I recently had a scuffle with. Hey, the disney community is cringe, but it isn’t boring. Holy shit, Unicult is boring.

It’s all the same woo-woo “be positive love yourself manifest your reality” Tony Robins/The Secret bullshit we’ve seen thrown up all over the self-help genre, the guru grift time and time again. It IS a grift.

Fuck, I hate new age bullshit.

Crystals are just rocks, magic isn’t real, and life is abhorrent and meaningless, and you aren’t special. Stop playing pretend and do something productive.

Anyway, yeah, I am pushing my way through the regurgitated bullshit of this book, so I can finally start putting together my deep dive on Unicult and why it’s a fucking grift.

Telepathy is not real. Good vibes are not real. I’m only half-convinced meditation is real.

Woo-woo nonsense is a grift. Everybody stop falling for it.

Woo-woo new age shit makes people idiotic, self-centered, and terrible. I know I’ve talked enough about my horrible childhood. My very physically and emotionally abusive mom was the queen of woo-woo. Crystals, herbs, scrying mirrors, tarot cards, spell books. Lots and lot of money thrown into woo-woo shit and none of it ever made her happy enough not to beat the fuck out of her kids and tell them how much she hated them on an almost daily basis.

So a scathing deep dive on Unicult coming soon. Just gotta push through this boring cliche self-help book first, so I have a full understanding of exactly what flavor of bullshit we’re dealing with.

What Did You Recently Finish Reading?

I just finished book 3 in the Bloodline series and it was SOO Good!

I just love a werewolf story that isn’t romance for once! Like there is some romance in the series, but it’s absolutely not the main plot thread. Like in three books, we had one hook-up between Daphne and a side character. The book isn’t about ships. It’s about the end of the world, found family, and characters trying to figure out who they are.

If you feel like checking out the first book in the series, it is free on amazon and it’s available in audiobook on audible.

What Do You Think You will Read Next?

I’m moving right on to book 4 in the Bloodlines series. These books are so fun and action-packed, and since they are all novellas, it’s easy to plow right through them. It’s nice to be able to finish books so quickly, when I know I’m gonna be stuck on Malazan for several months.

And I signed up to read this arc through booksprout. I was browsing for some arcs and saw this alien romance and thought “Why not? I’m an alien smut writer now? Better check out the competition.”

Literally can’t believe this is what I do with my time now, but yeah XD I had a friend invite me to join a discord with a bunch of alien smut writers and alien/human erotic artists. Oh my goodness…I am learning things about this subgenre.

It’s fun though. I am in the VERY small minority writing erotica marketed to men. It’s a small market, but it does exist. Most of the alien smut that’s out there is stuff like the book above: male alien and female human. I did the opposite. Still, we do share a sub-genre, if not a target market. It never hurts to learn as much as you can about the state of a genre, the conventions and tropes.

Anyway, shameless plug now for MY alien smut. It’s currently available for pre-order. The book launches on April 3rd.

And yay! I have goodreads reviews

Also, I am currently in the process of having it made into an audiobook. For easier fapping.

I mean…something something literary things.

Fuck it, selling out is fun as hell. I’m not sorry. I’ll do whatever the hell I want with my undergrad in Creative Writing and Master’s Degree in English Lit.

The horny people of amazon deserve some filth without typos or glaring plot holes.

That’s it for me! What are you reading? Any indie books? Any upcoming book launches? Let me know in the comments below

The Single Best Decision That I Ever Made

I have a ton of unresolved trauma that I don’t know how to deal with. I just don’t. Because I’ve been through it all. Therapy. In-patient hospitalizations. Medication, including antidepressents, anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers. The only ones I can remember by name (because there were a LOT of different drug cocktails I was given over the years) are zyprexa, depakote, and prozac. Those were the ones that I was on the longest, but others were added here and there. The anti-psychotic actually made me psychotic. Like I won’t pretend I don’t have delusions here and there still, but never to the level that I did while I was on the drugs. And I’m a lot more self-aware off the drugs. I have the ability to use some logic and go “wait…bitch, stop it, that isn’t real” and it might still FEEL real, but I can talk myself down to a much greater extent. I had no ability to talk myself down or recognize that I was losing touch with reality when I was on all those drugs.

The worst part of having lived through such a fucked up childhood is that I don’t know if I have mental health issues because of that or if I would just have those issues anyway.

I’ve had acquaintances make comments like “People who have really been abused, don’t talk about it. If somebody talks about trauma, then they’re lying.” Which is some Kafkaesque shit that I don’t even know how to start unpacking.

Yes, I’m very open about and vulnerable on the internet. It’s the only place I can be. It’s not like I can just go around talking about this stuff in real life.

“What are you doing for Christmas, Jyvur?”

“Oh, going to my in-laws’ house. We always go to their house. His parents are so nice. What about you?”

“And what about your family? What will you do with them for the holidays?”

*Internal panic! Do I lie or dodge? Let’s settle for….truth without too much detail!*

“I usually get together with my grandmother after the holiday. I bought her some slippers and a candle. She’s just like me, so she’s pretty easy to shop for.”

*Strange look*

“What about your parents? Do you have siblings?”

*Internal screaming. What the fuck? Now I have to lie! Okay, okay, say something vague so she backs the fuck off* “I’m not close with my family. I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Why is that?”

*Glaring* “I’m gonna go do something else. Bye”

And that is an actual conversation that I had at work about three years ago. People pry like motherfuckers. And of course, I’m not going to just pop off at work and talk about everything awful that happened to me as a kid, or the fact that being around my family at all as an adult fucks my head up a TON and puts me in a horrible emotional state.

I talk about this stuff online because it is the only place I can.

Every day, I go through life with all this horrible stuff in my head and I just have to keep going, even though some days it feels like everything horrible is STILL happening. It feels like it’s still echoing inside of me.

The time my mom almost beat our dog to death in front of me. The time she burned my younger sister and her skin kept peeling off and she had to go to the hospital. All the times she told me she hated me, that a demon was attached to me because of my terrible energy, that she didn’t know how I was her kid when there was so much so much wrong with me. How I had to take care of my infant sister or nobody else would and she was a baby and I was seven, but if I didn’t, she’d stay unfed in dirty diapers for days.

And it stays all pushed down deep inside of me and I don’t go near it. Until something goes wrong in my life. Literally, anything that is emotionally difficult for me causes this like eruption and all these emotions attached to this trauma just BAM!

I don’t understand why I’m like this, but anything upsetting happens and I’m overwhelmed by all the emotions about my family and everything that happened all over again.

So I’m over here fully acknowledging that I should be able to find some way to let go, to get past it all, but I have absolutely no idea how to do that. I did the mental health stuff. I did the church thing. In my 20s, I was very rah-rah Christ, with my little highlighted Bible and Bible study several times a week. I did the holistic thing. Yoga, barre, meditation, eating healthy.

Nothing has worked.

I’m sad or angry or just generally distraught a lot of the time. The best way I have of dealing with it is distraction. I’ll admit, I’m way too addicted to the internet. It’s a problem. It distracts me. I find communities to lurk in and weird niche rabbit holes to fall down and indie books to read, and I have a weird little Machiavellian streak where I like to fuck with people and troll. It’s all just noise and distraction and stuff to think about. The internet puts a lot of noise into my head and the noisier it is in here, the less room there is for all the awful stuff.

But the internet addiction definitely backfires on me sometimes. Like the whole thing that ended with a dude using a sock puppet account to fuck with me. I’m actually amazed. A lot of people in the writing community know all the gory details of that situation, including everything I did that led up to it, and somehow people still have some respect for me. I don’t understand but I think that’s pretty cool.

I think I write so prolifically for the same reason. The more I’m writing, the more my brain is distracted. I’m just constantly, desperately looking for some noise and distraction.

But I Did Find One Strategy That Worked

I went no contact with my family.

Well, with my mom.

I had to. Because I’m so fucking desperate for some little scrap of affection from her. I always have been.

I didn’t live with her until I was six. She was around here and there, before that. But she was so mysterious. She had a room full of stuff at my grandparents’ house where I lived before I was six. I used to go through her stuff. I used to think about how cool she was. Sometimes she would show up to my kindergarten class to break me out to play hookey. We’d go to the Ground Round and share popcorn shrimp.

I thought she was so cool. I thought she was so fun. I thought she was so goofy. I thought she was absolutely the most fascinating adult I’d ever met.

Where my grandparents were very strict Catholics, all buttoned up, spending Saturdays mowing the lawn or clipping coupons, my mom was WILD. She wore fishnets and a leather jacket and Harley Davidson boots. She had a friend with a “grown up store” full of pictures of naked women. All her friends were guys and they played Dungeons and Dragons with lots of sparkly dice and stories about elves and warriors and mages. She loved to paint and would give me paintings of my favorite cartoon characters for every birthday.

Then…I went to live with her. And she hated me. And she hurt me. And when she told me I was disgusting and ugly and horrible and had a demonic entity attached to me, I believed her.

People can be so wonderful at a distance. Then you really get to know them.

But it doesn’t matter that she did so many awful things, I’m pathetic around her. I’ll do anything to impress her. And she uses this against me.

I’ve changed so much, since that awful time, all those years ago in the 1990s, in this little gray house, where all of that stuff may as well have never happened, because nobody is sorry and nobody wants to talk about it. I’ve changed so much, except when I’m around her. I’m the same first-grade kid desperate to make this cool, fun woman love me, feeling like there’s something wrong with me when I can’t.

The best thing I ever did was cut my mother out of my life.

And my mom’s wife came to see me once. She said to me, “She’s your mom. You only have one.”

I know. I know I only have one.

But she doesn’t get to make me feel small and horrible for my entire life.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop mourning the relationship I will never have with her.

I can mourn it without living inside of something dead, hoping it somehow, someday, is resurrected.

She will never love me. And it might feel like that’s my fault. It’s always going to feel like it’s my fault. Logically I know it isn’t.

She will never do anything for me, except insult me, wound me, spread lies about me, use my biggest insecurities against me.

So I’m very glad that I finally realized I can’t allow her space in my life. I would give that advice to any other adult survivors of abuse. Cut your family out. Drop them. You can love them from afar, because loving them up close is dangerous for you.

But I wish I could have kept my siblings in my life.

It wasn’t very long after cutting my mom out of my life that my relationships with my younger sisters started to suffer. My mom amped up this campaign against me, telling all kinds of stories. And my family, including my sisters, already thought of me as “the crazy one.”

It’s like once I stopped pretending everything was fine with mom, my sisters stopped pretending everything was fine with me, with each other.

I miss them so much sometimes. So much.

I often talk about them like they’re still in my life. But they aren’t. It makes me feel close to them still to act like they are.

I always know what’s going on with them. Because I check up on them online. I look at their pictures. I stalk their social media accounts. I’ve found several of their anonymous accounts.

I was telling a friend of mine about my very bad habit of cyber-stalking people and she admitted she’d done the same thing to someone in her life, and she talked about this tech-trick she had. I don’t have any tech tricks. I don’t know how to find an IP. I barely know what that is or what it would be good for. I follow breadcrumbs. Most people are very sloppy online and leave lots of breadcrumbs. If you pay enough attention and follow every breadcrumb, you can follow them all over the internet.

My sisters are, I think, the first people I ever did this to. I look at all of their content and then I sit in front of my laptop and cry. I cry because (fake names) Mary was like my baby and I fed her and put her to sleep every night. I cry because Carly was my first best friend and when I was seven and she was five, we stacked a bunch of tires and climbed them, and I loved Irish Step dancing and she loved tap dancing, and we’d both practice in the garage every Friday, and we would lay in the top bed of our bunk bed and watch Cartoon Network, and she never minded being Ken so I could be Barbie, and I love her and I miss her and I can never ever ever just take it all back…

“You’re crazy. I hate you. You’re so dramatic.”

It’s totally fair. I wish I knew how to fix it though.

But maybe like I can’t have my mom in my life, they can’t have me in their lives.

Carly makes movies. She’s far more successful in her craft than I am in mine. She’s brilliant. She turns 30 this year. I haven’t spoken to her since she was 27.

Mary is a real hustling little entrepreneur.

I wonder how things might have been. I wonder about the timeline where we’re all a happy family and love each other.

I guess it couldn’t ever have been that way though. Because it all started a long time before me. I started way before my mom was ever an emotionally-unstable pregnant teenager. It started way before that little gray house in New Jersey where so many awful things happened.

It started, probably, before my grandmother hated my mother and compared my mom to her brother every day and told her every day that something that was wrong with her. It started before my grandmother married somebody she didn’t love, because she was fat and thought nobody else would have her, and before my grandfather started getting physically abusive with her. Maybe it started even before my grandfather’s mother fell in the bathtub and died when he was seven, and he found her and ended up in foster care, and ended up in trouble with the law as a teenager, and finally ended up in the military-the only real place for an orphan from Boston to grab ahold of a middle class life. Once he told me that he’d never stop feeling guilty that he spent so long playing marbles outside, because if he’d gone inside sooner, she might have lived.

Where did it start?……

I don’t know.

And I don’t know how to stop it.

I don’t regret cutting my mom out of my life. I don’t blame my little sisters for cutting me out of their lives.

Family is the most painful and terrible thing in the world. You have to protect yourself from family.

You feel like you aren’t whole without one. But with one, you feel so out-of-control it’s like your body is going to fly into a million pieces and you feel sick and hate yourself all the time.

Not being whole sucks, but it’s a lot better than the alternative. Incomplete is better than completely broken.

Cutting off toxic family is like cutting off a limb with a horrible infection. You’re going to feel the absence of that limb for the rest of your life. But at least it isn’t making you sick anymore.

What the Third Bloodlines Book Says About Power

I just finished the third book in Emily Hurricane’ Bloodlines series. This is a post-apocalyptic story with a werewolf twist. In this world, werewolves have a very strong immune system. So when a virus spreads killing off the global population, werewolves were the only survivors. This series focuses on a group of werewolves rebuilding a flimsy society from the wreckage of civilization.

The first two books in the series are through Daphne’s POV. Daphne is a half-wolf who has never shifted. She never knew she was a werewolf. She knew that she was different and physically much stronger and faster than most people. But it’s not until the world ends and she sets out for adventure, that she meets the other werewolves and learns what she really is.

This third book changes direction and we get a completely new POV. This book is from Killian’s perspective. Killian is the pack alpha. He’s actually a fairly new alpha, since all the packs in the area merged to create one pack and they had to do a thunderdome-style death match of all the alphas to pick the alpha to rule them all.

So far in the series, we have only heard of Killian. He’s been referenced here and there, as Daphne integrates into the pack, but we’ve never seen him. And then this book gives us over 100 pages of deep immersion in his POV. It was awesome.

What stuck out to me more than anything about Killian’s perspective and the events of this book was what it all says about power.

And it sent my brain going off in two very different directions: it got me thinking about the feminist narrative and it got me thinking about BDSM (Okay, well I guess those are the two subjects I’m always thinking about anyway. I’m an antifeminist pervert).

Let’s get into it! Let’s talk about power!

I believe the way power is often referred to and thought of is surface-level. Our society does not have a nuanced or realistic view of power.

Why don’t I start by talking about my time as a manager at Home Depot. Years ago, I was a department supervisor for HD. I ran the front end at a very busy store just outside of Boston.

I got the promotion because, for all my social anxiety and general awkwardness, I have a pretty good game face. I’m constantly nervous inside my head, but I can put on a very confident and outgoing exterior when I need to. I had spent years working a variety of sales and operation positions and already had six months as a head cashier under my belt. I was a shoe-in for the position.

And it was….awful.

I fucking hated it.

Yes, I got more money. I made my own schedule. I could come in 15 minutes late or early or whatever I wanted, because I was always there when the department needed me, so my boss didn’t pay too much attention to when I was in the store. I could work a split shit and take a yoga class in the middle of the day. I won’t say some aspects of it weren’t very cool.

But then….

Being a leader means being responsible for a group and that responsibility is STRESSFUL.

I was tasked with sorting out disagreements between associates.

I had to worry about their health. Fuck, I hated this part. There are registers out in the garden area and in the summer it can get HOT. I had to think about things like “Fuck, don’t put her out there she’s pregnant” and “No, we can’t put the 85-year-old woman outside.” And when the pregnant cashier was left outside in the sweltering garden booth in 90-degree weather for hours without water (the ASMs picked that day to decide nobody was allowed to markdown water), and she ended up having a dizzy spell and needing to go home, it was on me. That was on my conscious. I was in meetings and planning an event for the front end, so I had no idea she’d been left outside so long by the head cashiers. It didn’t matter. This was my department and it ultimately fell on me.

Cashiers can not leave the front end to use the bathroom or get a drink of water or sit down to eat, without coverage being found. So a disorganized front end can literally run into human rights violations.

The guilt when you fail to properly protect and guide the people you are leading is awful. That’s one of the biggest downsides of holding a leadership position.

This is an aspect of leadership that is explored with Killian’s character. He leads his pack into battle against the rival pack that murdered his father (and indirectly, his mother too, since his parents were mates, his mother died when his father did). Nearly his entire pack is killed in this bloody battle and he spends years carrying around that guilt. He feels so guilty that, until the world ends, he refuses to be an alpha.

And just so that I properly get to bitch about my time as a manager, leadership also comes with dealing with ALL of the problems. At Home Depot, that means dead rat rotting in the bathroom drop ceiling? It was my job to loop in an ASM and figure out exactly what the SOP was for that particular situation, all while nobody can pee without throwing up a little. It meant customer trying to return a toilet seat covered in actual shit, cursing out the returns cashier and throwing racial slurs at them, well, now I have to go deal with an actual idiot (or a weirdo getting a sexual thrill out of making women look at his shit) and after 20 minutes of repeating the line “No, I will not take back a toilet seat covered in feces” (the trick is to get increasingly louder, all while NEVER changing your wording. Broken record and keep turning up the volume until another customer either gets involved and curses them or starts filming) well, then I had to go comfort a cashier who had just been terrorized with shit and called the worst racial slur.

But another side note, why is fuckery like this a regular part of retail workers’ jobs? Retail workers should be able to stand up to actual verbal abuse, hate speech, and being subjected to literal human shit being waved around, without worrying they’re going to lose their job over it. And just to be clear, if this woman had told the asshole to go fuck himself and called him every name in the book, I wouldn’t even have written her up over it. I’m pretty sure I would have pretended I saw nothing and let it go forever. But you know how retail is. She had to stand there, wait for a manager, all while this guy waved his feces around and called her the n-word, feeling like if she walked away or really told him about himself, she might lose her job. I hope she knew I had her back, but there were a LOT of other bosses above me.

Protecting my employees from customers is my real-life equivalent of Killian trying to protect his pack from rival packs. And like Killian was burdened with guilt when his pack was killed off, I carried guilt anytime I sent a cashier to the returns desk who wasn’t ready (or just didn’t have the personality for it-let’s be real, those shy little mouse cashiers can’t hold their own at the service desk and will end up in the BOPIS room crying).

Oh gosh, the other drawbacks of leadership…well, let’s see: you work way longer hours, your job is far more complicated and less-clearly-defined, you have a TON of eyes on you at all times, the power struggles from the betas (in Killian’s case, the actual betas. In my case, Head Cashiers who thought they should have gotten the job). It was a lot. It was stressful. In the end, I burnt out super hard and quit HD completely.

So let me get on to the first train of thought that this book sent me down: the feminist narrative.

Men are Not and Never Have Been Unilaterally Privileged Over Women

There is no systemic gender-based oppression and there never has been. For every supposed example of female oppression the feminists can come up with (that isn’t just outright false like the gender pay gap), there are just as many, maybe more, examples of male oppression.

So here is my radical take: neither gender is unilaterally privileged over the other. I take the Dr. Warren Farrell perspective: Gender roles were a thing, and each gender’s traditional role comes with benefits and drawbacks.

Many times feminists will “prove” oppression by pointing to the fact that men have historically held the vast majority of leadership positions.

Yet this begs the question is leadership a privilege? I’d argue it is both a privilege and a burden.

In the same way, the traditional female role of taking on the domestic duties is both a privilege and a burden. As someone who recently became a trad-wife, I can tell you there are good aspects and bad aspects. The benefit is that my job is really easy and low pressure. I don’t really have a boss or any oversight. The negative side is that it doesn’t really come with any fulfillment. It’s a boring and isolating job.

Power is not inherently a privilege. Power comes with tons of downsides. Look at all the murdering that went down with medieval kings and queens. How is a job automatically a sign of privilege when you automatically have a 95% higher chance of getting murdered by a relative?

In ‘A Tale of Two Fathers’ all the alphas kill each other off in a death-match to see who will be the one true alpha of the newly-formed mega pack.

The betas and omegas (okay, this book doesn’t actually have omegas per se, but all the wolves below the betas basically) have the privilege of not having to fight to the death.

Leadership is almost always lauded like it’s nothing but power and fun and games, but it comes with sacrifice. So how can we act like it’s something everyone would want? Many women do not want positions of leadership and this is fine. What isn’t fine is blaming men for something women may not even want. Nothing in the modern day prevents women from seeking out leadership positions. Nothing save for their own ambition.

And it is absolutely fine to not be ambitious. The world needs betas and omegas. This is why many of the alphas had to be killed off in Bloodlines. The world DOES NOT need as many of them.

Now let’s talk about power within intimate relationships

I do a decent job of leading a large team in a professional setting. But I did not enjoy it. Whenever I’m placed into a team at work, I find myself taking charge and leading the team about half the time. If someone else steps up to lead the group, I’m happy to fall back. I’m like the alphas in Bloodlines who submitted to Killian and stepped back into the role of beta, because he was the most alpha of the alpha. Stuck in a group with another talkative and take-charge person, I usually find myself deferring to them. But stick me in a group with a bunch of mousy little things? Within minutes, they’re all looking at me like “What do we do, Jyvur?”

I’m specifically thinking of an all-day training I had to do back when I worked in education. We did break out groups and were given a bunch of hypothetical scenarios to solve. We had to outline our plan to address each of the scenarios and tie it back to specific pedagogy research. Everyone in the group was very meek. They all seemed fairly uncomfortable speaking up. Since I have the ability to speak up and lead a group, I did. I do it because I always feel kind of bad for shy people. I always feel an urge to help them feel more comfortable and relaxed. I guess I end up taking over in situations like that, because I’m not terrified to speak up and so I might as well take that pressure off the people who don’t want it.

That being said, I do have a good dose of social anxiety. My social anxiety is not paired with shyness, which I guess it usually is. I can not explain why I’m so damn weird.

I’d prefer not to lead in a professional setting. Ever ever again. I don’t want that pressure or responsibility. I don’t want all those eyeballs on me. I don’t want to be under all that scrutiny constantly. No thank you. Never again.

But…erm…privately?

Yeah, I wrote a whole gentle femdom novel. I just started releasing short amazon femdom erotica.

Okay, we get it, Jyvur wants to peg a short shy boy.

This sexual preference gets some very weird reactions from people.

Just some of the odd things people have said to me about my femdom kink/preference for subby dudes.

“People should be equal.”

What the fuck? Why wouldn’t my male partner be my equal?

In most relationships, the man does the pursuing and romancing and the man is the active participant during sex. The man is the one who does the ravishing; the woman is the one being ravished. Because this is the norm, nobody bats an eye.

Say you have a preference for the opposite, and everybody thinks you’re a psychopath who wants a spineless simp of a man to bully.

Another good one I got…

“You should want a partner who challenges you. Each partner should bring something to the table and help each other grow.”

Erm…..yes…..????

Why would that not be the case if the female the more outgoing, take-charge of the two?

But a writer friend of mine said something that sort of cleared up where some of this confusion might be coming from.

She told me that my femdom stories were completely changing the way she views submissive dudes, because the guys in my stories aren’t just spineless wimps and that’s how subby guys usually seem in the media. And she gave me the added compliment of saying that I had made femdom kind of hot, even though that’s not something she’s into. Gah! Be still my heart!

But yeah, i mean, nobody wants some spineless wimp that they can walk all over. Only abusive psychopathic assholes want a partner who is just a prop for a kink.

Relationships are complex and nuanced, and yes, of course people who are sexually-dominant want a partner who brings something to the table, who has insights that are valuable, who can tell them when they’re being a dumbass.

People who are sexually dominant want a partner with a personality. They want chemistry with their partner. They want to be best friends with the person they marry.

And most relationships are wayyy too complex to sum up into “this person is the leader all the time and the other person is the follower all the time.” When it comes to financial decisions and big picture things (choosing a car, moving to a new apartment, etc) I defer to my husband on almost all of this. He’s a lot more trad-con than I am. He likes “being the man” and making all those decisions. And I don’t mind letting him take the lead on that stuff.

Privately, it’s a bit of a different matter. I like taking the lead in the bedroom.

And in a lot of other ways, I’d say I take the lead. He’s very shy and has a hard time sticking up for himself. I think a lot of dudes would probably find it emasculating that I’m really protective, but he’s never minded.

For example, he’s autistic and so he can come across strangely to some people. There have been a couple of times throughout our relationship, when I’ve landed in a legit confrontation with people over the way they were treating him. Once I got into an argument with an employee at a bookstore who yelled at him for where he was sitting. Actually raised her voice at the poor man. My shy mousy little thing! I don’t think so. I dumped all the books I was planning to buy on the floor in front of the desk and yelled at her. Then grabbed my dude’s hand and marched out of there. Another time, back when we both worked at Home Depot, there was someone in his department that didn’t like him. This old guy was talking about him behind his back, making it sound like my guy wasn’t doing his job (he was). He was also just being very rude to him when they worked together. Well I launched my own bullying campaign in retaliation. In the end, the old guy was written up and I was written up. But my guy never had anyone act so nasty to him at work again.

So yeah, I’m the protective assertive one. I’m the one who wants to do the ravishing in the bedroom. He’s the smart one, so he makes most of our big decisions. There’s give and take, push and pull. We both lean on each other.

I think people don’t understand that a sexual power exchange is complicated. Both the sexually dominant person and sexually submissive person get something from the exchange and both people bring something to the dynamic.

Like the assumption that a submissive dude couldn’t challenge me or give me what a “regular” dude could.

In ‘A Tale of Two Fathers’ Killian needs his pack, specifically his betas, just as much as they need him. It is a symbiotic relationship.

Both people get something from a power exchange. The leader has their need to protect and nurture and care for another person sated. The follower gets to feel treasured and small and taken care of.

That’s why it always surprised me when people act like either:

A) I’m missing out on the personal growth opportunities and complete relationship of life with a more take-charge guy (y’all don’t think much of introverted men, huh? Like shy dudes aren’t real people with insights to offer? Noisy fucks like me do really well with people calm enough to know when to talk and when to listen).

or

B) I’m some sick fuck that just wants to push spineless dudes around.

Both assumptions are wrong and just very un-nuanced views of what power exchange is and how real-life relationships work.

In Conclusion

Power exchange is far more complex and symbiotic than is often presented. This is true both in terms of power on a large, official scale and power within intimate relationships.

In Emily Hurricane’s ‘A Tale of Two Fathers’ we get a truly nuanced and complete view of what power is: how it comes with costs and benefits, how it comes with sacrifice, and the beautiful, symbiotic nature of power exchange.

All the Bloodlines books are on sale now

The Last Book in the Bloodlines Series Has Dropped (Also a giveaway and audiobook)

Northern Fire is the final book is the 5 novella apocalyptic werewolf series, Bloodlines!

Yes, this series is written by my friend, but it’s also just amazing and I’d be excited anyway, even if it wasn’t written by Emily. Like who thinks up this stuff? Take a post-apocalyptic world, except like, every single character is a werewolf. Well, Emily Hurricane thought it up and it is awesome.

Northern Fire
Bloodlines Vol. 5

Daphne’s past is about to destroy her future.

She’s been labeled a traitor, thrown in prison, and ultimately banished for a crime she has no knowledge of. After risking everything to help Killian, accusing her of being a spy is how he repays her.

She knows so little about her past, but she finally has a nugget of information that could help. A key player that could give her long-awaited answers, someone she’s been searching for since the beginning of her journey.

He’s the one who started all of this.

Now Daphne’s going to end it.

**Only .99 cents!!**

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57215127-northern-fire

Buy Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08XMJHGX6

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/northern-fire/id1555631382

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/northern-fire-emily-s-hurricane/1138900988?ean=2940165351419

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/northern-fire-2

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1073741

Book One is Free if You Haven’t Started the Series Yet

The Beginning of the End  

Bloodlines Vol. 1 

Daphne Rhodes would tell anyone: being ‘the one’ sucks.
At least, she would if there was anyone left to tell. She’s the one who’d survived. The one with the magic immune system that saved her.
The only one left on this whole miserable planet.
Daphne spends her days alone and craving answers as to why it had to be her. Why did she have to watch everyone she’d ever known and loved die a horrific death?

On her mother’s deathbed, Daphne learns long-hidden family secrets that send her on a quest across Canada to not only discover where she came from, why she survived, and who she is…but what she is, as well.

Volume 1 of the Bloodlines Series 

**Get it FREE!!**

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57007317-the-beginning-of-the-end

Buy Links

Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Beginning-of-the-End-Bloodlines-Vol-1-Audiobook/B08ZBF8RTP

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08VHNRGXG

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1551646553

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-beginning-of-the-end-emily-s-hurricane/1138730788?ean=2940165368325

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/the-beginning-of-the-end-25

Book one also has an audiobook version

Get the audiobook here!

On a side note: Emily has really been busting out the audiobooks lately, and she got me excited to give it a try, so the alien smut that I wrote under my Sylek Phantasm pen name is going to be made into an audiobook! I’m working with amazon’s ACX program and I’ve already gotten some auditions, plus I reached out directly to an erotica narrator I like, so we’ll see what happens.

A friend of mine asked what the point of turning erotica into an audiobook is and, well, I guess I’ll be the crass fuck who explains it XD He asked why people would want erotica in an audiobook version, since you can’t exactly listen to it in public.

Ahem…well, you see…

It’s for easier fapping. The point of an audiobook erotica is so people can put it on and masturbate. Like porn, but classier.

Which is why I need a female narrator, even though my protagonist is male. This is the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but I’m listening to these auditions like, “But which voice actress would readers prefer to fap to?”

The biggest problem I’m running into is the snippets of Spanish and the pronunciation of the protagonist’s name. I’d like to get a narrator who speaks Spanish, so that everything is pronounced correctly, but no luck on that front so far.

Okay side note over! And Bloodlines is not erotica. Just to clarify. It’s paranormal dystopia. But Emily pumping out all these audiobooks gave me the audiobook bug and starting with an erotica short made the most sense to me.

Anyway, I’m mostly just trying to share a book series I love, while also supporting my friend. I recommend Bloodlines to anybody who loves creative genre blending, grizzled badass main characters, and-although it is not romance-there is even a little bit of sex.

Emily is hosting a giveaway right now for her tour with Silver Dagger. Make sure to check it out to win some gorgeous book swag (and I happen to know for a fact, she spent loads of time perfecting her book merch and making it beautiful).

GIVEAWAY

$25 Amazon gift card, a signed postcard, and a Bloodlines coffee mug – 1 winner! 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/bloodlines-book-tour-and-giveaway

~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ HOSTED BY:~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ 

Silver Dagger Book Tours: https://www.silverdaggertours.com/  

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily hails from rural Nova Scotia, curled up on a tree stump with a bubblegum pink notebook and a steaming mug of french roast coffee. She is a thirtysomething mom of a toddler and a furbaby. Her lumbersexual husband doesn’t actually work in lumber anymore, but he still wears the plaid and the beard.
When she’s not writing and/or momming, she’s sipping espresso, crocheting, and listening to audiobooks. She’s an established freelance writer and editor. 

Author Links

Website: https://www.Emilyshurricane.com
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/EmilySHurricane 

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ESHurricane

Instagram: http://www.Instagram.com/ESHurricane

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/emily-s-hurricane 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Emily-S-Hurricane/e/B07K7TN68B

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18595215.Emily_S_Hurricane

My review of book one above. I’m planning a deep dive into werewolf lore on my youtube channel. I think it would be cool to explore how Emily Hurricane builds on or subverts the existing werewolf mythos, as well as how the werewolf mythos has evolved over the years.

That’s it for me!

See ya!

My Very First Amazon Smut is Up! (And yes, it is Alien Femdom Futanari Shit-You’re Welcome, World!)

Okkkay! I guess I really am never going back to my previous career XD

This is a smut I wrote and it is now available for pre-order.

Excerpt

Tightening her grip on his ass cheek, she pushed her finger deeper into him. 

“Ow! That hurts!”

“I did tell you this would be unpleasant, Earthling. Calm down, there is more to come.”

He groaned, feeling her finger slide deeper, deeper, until the cusp of her knuckle pressed into his stretched asshole. 

“There now,” she said. “The penetration is complete. You can start to relax.”

Jasiel tried to relax, and in fact, with every passing moment, that feeling of stretched fullness became less unpleasant. He almost liked it in a way. It absolutely hurt. It was uncomfortable and unpleasant and yet…He didn’t want it to end. He could feel her so intensely. Every nerve of his asshole felt on fire and the flames shot all the way down to his twitching cock. 

She gave her finger a slow twist. He shivered and then moaned. She moved her finger deftly, hooking it strangely, and then….

Blurb

“Earthling,” she said, sharply. “You agreed to my terms. Experimentation and abduction in exchange for the fulfillment of your deepest wishes.”

Jasiel has always wanted adventure. But he gets more than he bargained for when he sets out for New Mexico and ends up in an alien spaceship instead! The alien woman wants to test the limits of the male Earthling body. In exchange for his body for two hours, she will give him a spaceship of his own.

Will he agree to this busty extraterrestrial’s strange proposition?

Jasiel is in for a wild space ride complete with pain, pleasure, and a good dose of spandex.

Photo by James Lee on Pexels.com

So if you’re interested in something campy and smutty and want to support an indie author, you can preorder the book here!

I’m working on building a full backlist of monster girl femdom smut. I’m having a lot of fun doing it and I am hoping this can become an income stream to fund my more serious projects (which take years and years to finish, and usually aren’t very financially lucrative even once complete).

If this experiment is a flop, eh *shrugs* it’s still been fun.

Oh! Let me tell y’all the smutty content included in the alien one (it’s actually far more graphic than anything I’ve written before-so much so that some of my usual beta readers chose to opt out).

The fetish list

-graphic BDSM impact play

-tentacles

-bondage

-pseudo-futanari (it’s not technically a dick-it’s an egg release appendage)

-references to egg implantation in a human body

-references to male pregnancy

-anal fingering

-pegging

-face sitting

Photo by Matthew T Rader on Pexels.com

And I could sit here and say “Oh, I just studied which tropes overlap with the monster girl trope and femdom trope. I’m not actually into this.”

But we all saw how that worked out with my gentle femdom romance novel. I held pretty firm to the “I’m just writing this, I’m not actually into it” for awhile, but you know, now everybody knows I was writing my own lady-fap material the whole time.

So….

Well, if you like campy, demented smut, please check it out.

Next one in the pipeline is my yeti smut, ‘Frosting the Abominable Snow Woman.’ Not as many fetishes were jam-packed into that one. It’s really just one….ah….very sticky fetish.

Anyhow, I’ll keep everybody posted on the success/failure of this filthy experiment.

A Response to a Disney Chick (and the insidious harm of women infantilizing themselves).

Hey all, you get to see my bitchy side today.

I wouldn’t go writing a blog post, except this girl sent me a passive aggressive holier-than-thou message and then blocked me, because she didn’t want to see my response.

Okay, well, she probably won’t see this, but I figure this is a cool opportunity to make my position known to everybody.

“You Need To Stop Judging People.”Photo by Ekaterina Bolovtsova on Pexels.com

Oh, thanks so much for the advice, that’s not a self-defeating statement at all. The logic is definitely self consistent /s

No, I’m gonna fucking judge. All I want. And You can’t stop me.

See?

I made a whole video judging the Disney community.

The thing is, “Don’t judge others” is a bullshit position. Especially since the statement itself IS a value statement. You are judging people who judge. You are making a judgment about what behavior is and isn’t appropriate. Which would be fine with me, if the logic of that statement didn’t defeat itself.

Moving on…

Judgment is Good

I know that isn’t the postmodern feel-good safespace opinion, but it is. It is good. Judgment is how we come to a consensus as a society about what behavior is and isn’t acceptable.

Immaturity is fine in small doses. Yet, there is a reason why people not acting their age produces disgust (and whether I tell you I’m disgusted or not, I have that visceral reaction to grown women pretending sweating college students in fursuits are fucking cartoon characters). When people start teetering over into unacceptable levels of childlike behavior, we call it “cringe.” That’s why a 30-something teacher making fortnite references is “cringe.” When people do not behave in an age-appropriate way, we have a natural and justified disgust reaction to this.

Why does this produce a disgust reaction?

Probably because adults that behave in far too childlike a way may have nefarious intentions with children. I won’t go further with that line of thought, because I do not believe that is the case with the Disney chicks. I’m pointing out why adults infiltrating children’s spaces may make a person’s insides curdle on a primal, involuntary level.

I’d also say people who are far too childlike often don’t conduct themselves appropriately or have sensitivity to the real struggles of others. They’re too damn busy chasing rainbows to notice the plight of others. Take the poor college kid sweating away for $12 in a fursuit at DisneyWorld. No human being with any empathy or maturity is going to go bother them, unless they HAVE kids. They might be working, but still. They are there for the kids. You’re making them work harder at an already hard job. Like…leave them alone?

And many people who are inappropriately childlike are not as responsible or productive as they could be. They aren’t grounded in the world. They are looking at it through cartoony rose-tinted glasses that make them pretty useless when it comes to the realities of everyday life.

I’m gonna take a wild guess that these Disney chicks DO in fact judge people for their hobbies

Many of the Disney chicks are Christians. Christianity is a value system. I’m gonna take a wild guess they judge people who, say, write alien femdom futanari porn as a hobby. Many of them judge premarital sex. Many of them judge sexual deviancy like age regression, extreme bdsm, male feminization, etc. Many of them judge drug use or drinking to excess.

I’m not telling them not to. I’m pointing out that they only give AF about judgment when it is aimed at them. It’s important not to be a hypocrite. You have no intellectual integrity and your opinion doesn’t mean much if you don’t strive to minimize your own hypocrisy (Look, we’re all hypocrites at times, but in order to have our ideas taken seriously, we must work to mitigate the human tendency for hypocrisy whenever possible).

I’m also willing to bet they judge their male equivalents pretty hard. Their male equivalents are the dudes collecting anime figures and My Little Pony merch. They’re the guys who spend their days playing video games. The NEETs.

I’m gonna take a swing and say the Disney chicks judge those dudes.

Even if they don’t…

I am Pro-Judgment

When I do something fucked up, cringe, or foolish, I want people to tell me.

I believe judgment keeps people from making fools of themselves (and I don’t care how ooey-gooey nice people are to your face-everybody is a judgmental cunt in their head-I’d rather people share what they’re thinking).

Without judgment, we would have no shared values.

We’d have people going to work in dirty clothes or masturbating publicly or writing long essays about the necrophilia fantasies they have (that last one is relegated to anonymous image boards like lolcow, because shame keeps people from posting that fuckery on facebook. Thank God).

Shame keeps people from taking the last six donuts at work or clogging the toilet and leaving it for the next poor soul.

Okay, okay, but the Disney chicks aren’t doing anything THAT wrong, right?

The harm they cause is insidious. They are a part of something bigger.

They contribute to a culture where women are allowed to infantilize themselves. Where women can get away with acting far more childlike than men. They contribute to a world where men are the real adults and women are the pseudo-adults.

And the infantilization of women causes real harm. So many children are returned to or kept in abusive homes when the abuser is a female. This is what occurred in my childhood. CPS was involved with my family. The police came out to my house multiple times. I lived with relatives here and there, and in the end, always went back to live with my mom. Because she was the poor widdle single mother who didn’t know no better. She cried and people felt bad for her. Men are held accountable when they abuse children. Women are not. Because our society views women as incredibly childlike creatures (and the mainstream feminist movement IS part of this, as is the trad-con red pill side of things-both groups seek to remove accountability and autonomy from women).

It starts small. Women being given more license to act like children. And it results in women truly being viewed as children. Children suffer at the hands of women who have been allowed to act as pseudo-adults for far too long.

The male equivalent of the Disney chick is shamed. The Disney chick is not.

People don’t go after women for their cringey hobbies. The bronies are used to being mocked. The Disney chicks are not. They don’t get judged.

Except by me, I guess, and I’m the rude judgmental cunt.

“You need to stop judging people.”

TLDR: Fuck off, I’m not going to.

A Response to A Disney Chick

Hey all, you get to see my bitchy side today.

I wouldn’t go writing a blog post, except this girl sent me a passive aggressive holier-than-thou message and then blocked me, because she didn’t want to see my response.

Okay, well, she probably won’t see this, but I figure this is a cool opportunity to make my position known to everybody.

“You Need To Stop Judging People.”Photo by Ekaterina Bolovtsova on Pexels.com

Oh, thanks so much for the advice, that’s not a self-defeating statement at all. The logic is definitely self consistent /s

No, I’m gonna fucking judge. All I want. And You can’t stop me.

See?

I made a whole video judging the Disney community.

The thing is, “Don’t judge others” is a bullshit position. Especially since the statement itself IS a value statement. You are judging people who judge. You are making a judgment about what behavior is and isn’t appropriate. Which would be fine with me, if the logic of that statement didn’t defeat itself.

Moving on…

Judgment is Good

I know that isn’t the postmodern feel-good safespace opinion, but it is. It is good. Judgment is how we come to a consensus as a society about what behavior is and isn’t acceptable.

Immaturity is fine in small doses. Yet, there is a reason why people not acting their age produces disgust (and whether I tell you I’m disgusted or not, I have that visceral reaction to grown women pretending sweating college students in fursuits are fucking cartoon characters). When people start teetering over into unacceptable levels of childlike behavior, we call it “cringe.” That’s why a 30-something teacher making fortnite references is “cringe.” When people do not behave in an age-appropriate way, we have a natural and justified disgust reaction to this.

Why does this produce disgust reaction?

Probably because adults that behave in far too childlike a way may have nefarious intentions with children. I won’t go further with that line of thought, because I do not believe that is the case with the Disney chicks. I’m pointing out why adults infiltrating children’s spaces may make a person’s insides curdle on a primal, involuntary level.

I’d also say people are far too childlike often don’t conduct themselves appropriately or have sensitivity to the real struggles of others. They’re too damn busy chasing rainbows to notice the plight of others. Take the poor college kid sweating away for $12 in a fursuit at DisneyWorld. No human being with any empathy or maturity is going to go bother them, unless they HAVE kids. They might be working, but still. They are there for the kids. You’re making them work harder at an already hard job. Like…leave them alone?

And many people who are inappropriately childlike are not as responsible or productive as they could be. They aren’t grounded in the world. They are looking at it through cartoony rose-tinted glasses that make them pretty useless when it comes to the realities of everyday life (I was raised by one of these humans-I would know. Make-believe by adults is absolutely fucked and totters easily into actual horror).

I’m gonna take a wild guess that these Disney chicks DO in fact judge people for their hobbies

Many of the Disney chicks are Christians. Christianity is a value system. I’m gonna take a wild guess they judge people who, say, write alien femdom futanari porn as a hobby. Many of them judge premarital sex. Many of them judge sexual deviancy like age regression, extreme bdsm, male feminization, etc. Many of them judge drug use or drinking to excess.

I’m not telling them not to. I’m pointing out that they only give AF about judgment when it is aimed at them. It’s important not to be a hypocrite. You have no intellectual integrity and your opinion doesn’t mean much if you don’t strive to minimize your own hypocrisy (Look, we’re all hypocrites at times, but in order to have our ideas taken seriously, we must work to mitigate the human tendency for hypocrisy whenever possible).

I’m also willing to bet they judge their male equivalents pretty hard. Their male equivalents are the dudes collecting anime figures and My Little Pony merch. They’re the guys who spend their days playing video games. The NEETs.

I’m gonna take a swing and say the Disney chicks judge those dudes.

Even if they don’t…

I am Pro-Judgment

When I do something fucked up, cringe, or foolish, I want people to tell me.

I believe judgment keeps people from making fools of themselves (and I don’t care how ooey-gooey nice people are to your face-everybody is a judgmental cunt in their head-I’d rather people share what they’re thinking).

Without judgment, we would have no shared values.

We’d have people going to work in dirty clothes or masturbating publicly or writing long essays about the necrophilia fantasies they have (that last one is relegated to anonymous image boards like lolcow, because shame keeps people from posting that fuckery on facebook. Thank God).

Shame keeps people from bullying, or taking the last six donuts at work, or clogging the toilet and leaving it for the next poor soul.

Okay, okay, but the Disney chicks aren’t doing anything THAT wrong, right?

The harm they cause is insidious. They are a part of something bigger.

They contribute to a culture where women are allowed to infantilize themselves. Where women can get away with acting far more childlike than men. They contribute to a world where men are the real adults and women are the pseudo-adults.

The male equivalent of the Disney chick is shamed. The Disney chick is not.

Except by me, I guess, and I’m the rude judgmental cunt.

Well, then I’m a rude judgmental cunt.

“You need to stop judging people.”

TLDR: Fuck off, I’m not going to.