Worked on Hunger a bit, not sure how many words I added, but the total wordcount is now 14,044. I also worked on the outline, so I have a vague idea of what my other characters will be doing when they make an appearance.
Haven't heard back from Outfox Support, but it is the weekend, so hopefully I'll find something out by Monday.
And I am more and more convinced that no actual people use tumblr, it's just a hunting ground for scam bots, lol. Fair warning, if I get a message or a comment asking me to go to Discord, or any other site, or asking if I need a beta reader, or anything else that makes me think 'Great, another bot', you WILL be reported and blocked. So if you're a real person, and you feel like sending me a message or leaving a comment, please make an effort to sound human.
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“Oh, no you fucking don’t,” I gasped, stumbling back as the lady minotaur reached toward me, leash in hand. I was not going to be someone’s pet, not even in a fucked-up nightmare. “Get away fr—” My words were strangled as what little air I had been breathing disappeared. I tried to draw in a breath and it was like there just wasn’t any air. I gaped, grabbing at my throat as darkness began creeping in at the edge of my vision. I glanced at the man, standing outside the cage, pointing at me, a fuzzy nimbus of light floating around his hand as I fought not to lose consciousness again.
The lady minotaur grabbed me by the arm and quickly buckled the thick leather collar around my neck with an audible click. As soon as it was secured, the man lowered his arm and I could breathe again. I tried not to fall down, but I doubt I would have remained standing if she hadn’t had a vice-like grip on my arm. She dragged me out of the cage and handed the man the end of the leash and a small silver key, which he tucked into his pocket. In exchange, he handed her a stack of shiny, green-gold coins.
I had just been purchased.
The lady minotaur said something, but it just sounded like snorting and moo-ing to me. The man responded and she walked away. I reached up and touched the collar, finding a tiny padlock hanging at my throat. The man said something sharp to me and began to walk, his strides quick and urgent. The collar bit into the back of my neck, dragging me forward, and I stumbled after him. My legs felt like lead and I thought my lungs were going to explode as I struggled to keep up. We were about halfway down the aisle when I fell, collapsing against one of the cages. The creature inside shrieked and snarled, lunging at the wires, and I got a glimpse of something that looked like a baboon and a spider had a really ugly baby.
Shouting, the man hauled me to my feet and gave me a rough shake. I spat at him and I swear to God, his eyes turned red. He let go and I staggered back, bracing my hands on my knees as black spots clouded my vision.
“I can’t...fucking...breathe...you asshole...” I panted. I did not want to pass out again.
He said something, his voice soft and musical. I glanced up, drawing a sharp breath and jerking back as he stretched out a glowing hand toward me.
“Don’t touch me, you—” I stopped, drawing a breath that felt almost normal. “What did you do?”
The iridescent glow around his hand vanished as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a loop of cord. He held it up, showing me a stone medallion about the size of a quarter strung upon the cord like a necklace, and then tried to slip it over my head.
I raised my hand, blocking him. “No thanks, man. I’ve got enough shit around my neck already.”
He made an impatient sound and grabbed my wrist, forcing the medallion into my hand.
“Put it on or don’t, I don’t really give a shit, but it might make things easier on you if you can understand me,” he said. “Now come on, I don’t have all day.” He pulled on the leash and I stumbled after him. Breathing might have been easier, but every movement seemed to take all my strength.
“Hang on, you can speak English?” I asked, hoping he’d slow down to answer me. He did, but just barely.
“I speak many languages, but yours is not one of them,” he said. “That charm in your hand contains a translator spell. Keep it against your skin and don’t lose it.”
I looked down at the small piece of carved stone. Up close, I could see strange marks, possibly some kind of writing, etched into the polished gray surface. Then I realized what he’d said.
“Wait, did you say a spell? Like...magic?”
“Of course.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, a frown darkening his eyes. “Do you not have magic where you come from?”
I shook my head. “Vegas has magic shows, but they’re card tricks and sleight of hand stuff, not spells.” I hesitated, then slipped the cord over my head and tucked the medallion inside my shirt, against my skin. This might just be a crazy dream, but I didn’t need to make it harder than it needed to be. We finally reached the main door and the man stopped, turning back to me.
“I have never heard of a planet called Vegas,” he said. “What system is it in?”
I started to laugh, but he was dead serious.
“Vegas isn’t a planet, it’s a city,” I said. “Las Vegas? You’ve never heard of it?”
“No. What planet are you from?”
“Are you shitting me? I’m from Earth.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” he hissed, and this time I saw it for certain—his pale green eyes turned dark red. “Earth is off-limits for harvesting. Everyone knows that. No wonder you were such a bargain. Now I’m stuck dragging contraband around with me.”
“Hey, if I’m not supposed to be here, maybe you could send me home!” Perfect! All I had to do was wrap up this crazy nightmare and I could wake up.
He snorted. “Right. I’ll just tear open an illegal hole in the fabric of space-time, shall I?”
“Can’t you?” I was confused. “I thought you were magic?”
“I can do magic, yes, but it takes a team of specialized wizards to open portals between worlds. No, I’m stuck with you. I can’t even get my money back because by now, those coins I gave her have reverted to worthless wood chips. So that’s a comfort, at least,” he added with a smirk, his eyes fading back to their normal green. He adjusted his grip on my leash. “Let’s go, and don’t talk. I don’t want to be arrested because someone recognizes your jabbering.”
He opened the door, orange-red sunlight spilling in on us, followed by an assaulting wave of powerful odors. Sweat, garbage, urine, and the musky stink of large beasts nearly knocked me over. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I tried not to gag as I followed him outside.
Had a couple of low-output days, which happens, but I did get paid for my latest chapter on Outfox, however, I believe there's been a clerical error and they credited my account with more than twice what I was supposed to get, and while more money is never a bad thing, lol, I don't want something that I'm not entitled to and haven't earned. So I have an email in to support and am waiting for a reply.
I did get some outlining done on a couple of new stories. Not sure which one I want to work on next, they both scratch a similar itch, so maybe I'll write the first few chapters of both and see which one grabs me the most.
And don't forget, Empathy for the Devil - Ch. 3 goes live 6/12/26 at 6 a.m. Pacific / 9 a.m. Eastern. Thanks to everyone who read the first two chapters!
I jerked awake, gasping like I’d run a marathon, my heart pounding. It was just a nightmare. It had to be. But if it was, then I had to still be asleep. I was lying on a cold, concrete floor, inside of what looked like a dog kennel. Walls of wire fencing surrounded me on all sides, a space maybe four feet wide and eight feet long. Slowly, I sat up, my head pounding, but that was probably just a hangover. My mouth was dry and gummy, and tasted like the bottom of a shoe.
Why was I having so much trouble breathing? It didn’t seem to matter how deep or how fast I inhaled, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there just wasn’t enough air in my lungs. Was this how climbers on Mt. Everest felt? If so, how the hell did I get to the top of a mountain?
Finally, I looked around, beyond the wire cage. I appeared to be in the middle of a long line of cages, each one with a strange person or creature inside of it. Directly to my left was a scaly beast with sharp claws and beady black eyes, dressed in what looked like jeans and a T-shirt. To my right was a young girl with tangled hair, dirty hands, and a pair of leathery bat wings protruding from her back. She scrambled around her cage, hissing and growling, her wings flapping.
Was I in a zoo? Or a circus freakshow? Groaning and panting, I used the wire to pull myself to my feet. Even the smallest task felt ten times harder than it should have and left me gasping for air. I staggered to the front of my cage and gave the door a shake, but it was padlocked.
Across the aisle was another row of cages, and I found myself facing an old man with a long, white beard. He was dressed in rags, his hands and feet covered in dark, crusty scabs, but he at least looked human.
“Hey, old man,” I called, trying to get his attention. He looked up, his gaze distant and unfocused. “What is this? Where are we?”
He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head and said something in a language I can’t even begin to describe. The lizard-man next to me responded with a sibilant growl and the bat-girl on my other side began to screech as she climbed up the wall and hung from the wire ceiling.
“What the fuck is this?” I shouted, my voice echoing. “Doesn’t anyone speak English?” I was answered by a cacophony of shrieks, bellows, snarls, and roars. I couldn’t have heard someone speaking if they were in the same cage as me.
Silence.
The racket died away, replaced by a tense hush. The bat-girl dropped from the ceiling and scuttled to the back corner of her cage, wrapping her wings around herself and curling into a tiny, trembling ball. Across from me, the old man scratched and dug at his scabbed hands and feet until fresh blood ran from the wounds. He smeared it on his face and in his beard, baring his broken, blackened teeth in a hideous, mad grin.
Curious, I leaned against the wire and peered up the aisle. Someone was walking my way. The angle was terrible and all I could make out was a slender figure with long black hair and dark skin. A woman? Maybe she was in charge of this place. Maybe she was coming to let me out. Maybe this was all a terrible misunderstanding. I hooked my fingers through the wires, hanging on as my tired legs began to tremble beneath me. God, what was wrong with me?
The figure strolled along the aisle, looking in each cage as they passed. It wasn’t until they glanced in at the bat-girl that I realized it was guy. His black hair fell in loose waves to his shoulders, shimmering with an iridescent sheen, like a rainbow or an oil-slick, and his dark skin was the most unusual shade of red-brown, almost East Indian or Native American, but not quite. He wore plain gray trousers and a blue tunic under a long, duster-length black coat that reminded me of a steampunk cosplayer I’d seen once.
As he turned away to look at the other side of the aisle, I caught a glimpse of his face, his jaw strong, his lips full, his cheekbones sharp and sculpted, and his eyes were the most unexpected shade of pale green. I felt my breath catch and my cock harden. I wasn’t gay, but fuck, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
He stopped and looked sharply at me, his soft, moss green gaze sliding down my body, causing a visceral reaction as effective as any physical touch. His lips quirked, like he knew, and my face grew hot.
“What are you smirking at, you queer fuck?” I said, giving him the finger. That dampened his smile a little, but not enough. He spoke to me, his voice mellow and lyrical, even though I couldn’t understand a damn word he said. I was pretty sure everyone had this dream at some point, where everyone in the dream is speaking a foreign language, but I was ready to wake up.
He said something else and made a motion with his hand, tracing a circle in the air with one finger. It took a moment to realize he was telling me turn around so he could look at me. When I didn’t move, he spoke again, saying something different, I think, and pointed at my shirt. He motioned for me to take it off.
“Oh, hell no,” I said, taking a shaky step back from the wire. “Go fuck yourself, you pervert.” The man regarded me for another moment, then carried on down the aisle, except he didn’t look in the cages this time. He vanished from view and I sagged against the wall, utterly exhausted. The lizard-man on the other side of his cage hissed suddenly, and I glanced up as the man returned, accompanied by a tall, brawny woman wearing stained overalls that barely covered her large breasts. Maybe she figured no one would be looking at her tits since she had the head, tail, and cloven hooves of a cow. I couldn’t help but stare. She looked like that Greek monster in the maze, the Minotaur, only with boobs.
She pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket and quickly unlocked my cage. I thought about making a run for it, but I wasn’t sure I could take three steps without falling down. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t reason with them, I sure as hell couldn’t fight this bovine bruiser. I was out of options.
The Minotauress stepped inside the cage with me, and my heart nearly stopped at the sight of a long, braided leather strap in her hand. She was going to whip me. That asshole had complained to the manager and I was about to get a beating. She raised the strap and I flinched, but it wasn’t a whip. It was a collar and leash.
Got a few more chapters of Empathy scheduled, so we're good through the end of June. I posted the next chapter of Hunger to Outfox Stories - Ch. 7 - Possession and Profit.
Worked on an outline for a new story that I may post to Outfox. It would be mainly M/M content about a paranormal gigolo--a male prostitute who services vampires, werewolves, demons, faeries, etc.
And I had a rather exhilarating/depressing experience over on Outfox. I was checking my notifications and I saw that I had a new supporter, but when I went to the person's profile, it said that weren't supporting anyone. I checked my list of supporters, and this person wasn't listed. So I'm assuming they signed up as a supporter, then quickly cancelled the support. Which I understand and feel no ill will toward them. But it was a rather crushing blow. Oh, well.
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Well, this has been a delightful surprise! The first chapter of Empathy went live this morning and I got likes and followers. Thank you! I hate to be one of those needy people begging for attention, but it does make one wonder why they bother at times, when they receive no engagement. So thank you again. This will bolster my enthusiasm to share my work for months.
And speaking of sharing, the first chapter of Hunger Has New Rules has aged out of Premium status over on Outfox Stories, so anyone can read it, even without being a subscriber. So if it sounded at all interesting, go check it out: Chapter 1 - Something Went Wrong.
And speaking of Hunger, I finished chapter 7. The new POV character turned out to be very fun and I can't wait to sprinkle scenes with him in them through the story.
Something I've noticed from the views and comments over on Outfox, I think my readers prefer M/M content, because they tend to stay quiet when it's M/F, so I'll probably be focusing more on that.
Ian's life goes from bad to worse when he gets isekaied through a magic portal and finds himself a slave to an empathic wizard. 18+ only - future chapters will contain explicit M/M gay sexual content. No part of this work was created, rewritten, or edited by AI.
Chapter 1
I sat at the bar, staring down into my nearly empty glass of beer as one might stare into an empty teacup, trying to divine my future. Unfortunately, flat beer and backwash was not as forthcoming as tea leaves. I wanted to order another, but I could barely pay for the four I’d already had, so I sat and nursed the few swallows that remained, anything to keep me from having to go home. If it even was my home anymore.
Damn Justin, and damn Becky, too. My roommate and I had had a good thing, then stupid Justin had gone and found himself a girlfriend, and now he wanted Becky to to move into the tiny two-bedroom apartment. I had pointed out how crowded that would make things—perhaps a little less tactfully than I could have—and Justin solved the crowding issue by telling me to find somewhere else to live. Which was within his rights as the one on the lease, but it just plain sucked.
If that wasn’t bad enough, that morning at work, I had received a notice that I was one of the ten percent the company was cutting from its workforce. I’d been expecting it since I’d only worked there eighteen months, but the real slap in the face came when I overheard some office gossip claiming that the CEO had gotten a three million dollar bonus because of higher than expected earnings last quarter.
And then, when I’d gotten home, I’d discovered Zelda, my goldfish, floating belly up on the surface of her bowl. So, yeah, I was in a shitty mood when Justin made his suggestion. I knew I ought to go back and apologize, to try to work it out, but honestly, human interaction just seemed too daunting at the moment.
On the far side of the bar, someone fired up the jukebox and I glanced over, my gaze taking in the long legs and tight ass of a young man with dark tattoos on his arms and neck. I think I was a little taller and had thirty pounds on the guy, but otherwise he looked a lot like me. Except for the tattoos, and my hair was blond, not black. Before I could glance away, the man turned and our eyes met, my blue holding his brown for a heartbeat, then I turned back to my beer.
I wasn’t gay. So what if my cock twitched at the sight of that guy? It was just because I hadn’t gotten laid in a while. My father had raised me right, had taught me to be a man, and there was no way I was going to shame my dad by turning into a sissy. I just needed to get some pussy and I’d be fine.
Someone stepped up to the bar next to me, the musky scent of aftershave giving it away before I even looked. It was the guy from the jukebox. Of course it was. Because a bad day can always get worse.
“Hey, there,” the guy said, a hint of a Hispanic accent lending a musical quality to his deep voice. “I’m Miguel.” He paused, waiting.
“Ian.”
“Hi, Ian. Can I buy you a drink?”
For a brief instant, I considered accepting the offer. I did want another drink, but a drink was never just a drink, and accepting was practically an obligation. After another drink or two, Miguel would want to take it into the restroom, or out into the alley, and I might just be drunk enough to go with him. I pictured him down on his knees in front of me, his lips wrapped around my cock, and I found myself suddenly and painfully hard. But I wasn’t gay.
I dug into my pocket, tucked the last of my cash under the edge of my glass, and stood up. I was right—I was taller.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, amigo,” I said. “I ain’t no fag.” I headed for the door, half-expecting the guy to come after me. They frequently did, but this time I was disappointed. A fight would have done me good, but I knew better than to throw the first punch. Instead, I stepped outside into the cold, damp night, and staggered toward my car parked at the end of the block.
I wasn’t going to drive anywhere—I wasn’t that stupid—but the back seat was comfortable enough to sleep this off. I’d spent many a night in that back seat, though I’d never gotten much sleep before.
As I fumbled for my keys, a sudden flicker of light caught my eye, like someone changing channels on the TV in a dark room. On down the street was a city park, the large, open grassy area dotted with trees and benches, but not many lights. It should have been pitch-black, but instead, something glowed, dancing and flashing gold and aqua and bright violet. It looked like a fireworks show, but it was utterly silent.
Curious, I shuffled past my car, heading for the park. I could not for the life of me figure out what I was looking at. Was it a drunken hallucination? I doubted it. Four beers in a night had me way past buzzed, but not quite to seeing-things drunk. Unless the bartender had slipped me a mickey or rufied me, or whatever the hell it was called these days. I didn’t know why the guy would, but it seemed more plausible than finding a large, oval glowing thing in the middle of the park.
As I approached the flickering light, I had to squint against the brightness. I expected to feel heat coming off of it, but if anything, it made the air around me feel colder. I could feel a thrumming in my body, like low-frequency vibrations...or maybe it was just the alcohol. I reached out toward the light, which I realize is just about the dumbest thing one can do when confronted by something strange in the night, but I was pretty drunk.
Suddenly, a very hairy, very muscular arm shot out of the center of the glowing oval and grabbed me by the wrist. If it was a hallucination, it was the realest one I’d ever had. Before I could try to pull away, the arm jerked me off my feet and dragged me into the light.
For a few moments, I felt like I was spinning in a dozen different directions, my body trying to turn itself inside out. Then I hit a cold, hard floor, knocking all the breath out of me. I gasped for air, but it felt like someone was sitting on my back. I tried to get up, but my whole body felt heavy, and moving only made it harder to breathe. I sucked air greedily, but it was like my lungs had quit working.
Above me, something made a strange sound, almost like speech, but it wasn’t any language I’d ever heard, just a bunch of grunts, snorts, and snarls. Summoning all my strength, I flipped myself over onto my back and stared up at something that must have crawled out of my nightmares.
It was huge, with warty, greenish-gray skin, a pig-like face with a snout and yellowed tusks, and big, floppy ears. Even more freaky than that was the fact that it was wearing a pair of goggles and a black bowler hat. It loomed over me and grunted again. I screamed, black spots swimming across my vision, and promptly passed out.
Okay, folks, buckle up. The adventure begins in less than four hours. The first chapter of Empathy for the Devil is set to go live at 6 a.m. Pacific. I have the first nine chapters scheduled and ready to go.
If you read it, if you enjoy it, please like or comment or follow so I know that I'm not just screaming into the void waiting for an echo that will never return. Please?
Still chugging away on Hunger, though writing is a little slow now that I have this new project on the side. Oh, and I added a new character. In addition to the incubus MC and the Sorcerer that we see every few chapters, I have added Lianus, the owner of the magitech company that runs the Dungeons. His grandfather created the first Dungeon as a way to combat poverty, unemployment, homelessness, and crime, but giving people goals and rewards, giving them a new purpose.
The current scene I'm working on has the Board members complaining that the Dungeons are losing money, but as Lianus points out, the company made a record-breaking profit in the last quarter through its other endeavors, so the Board can just shut up about the Dungeons or they're all fired.
I'm still developing Lianus' character, but I have this idea where he ventures into the Dungeon himself to investigate an anomaly in the monster behavior (Asari the Incubus) and has a fateful encounter with the horny MC. Still fleshing out the details, but it should be fun.
Okay, so after thinking about it, I'm going to post chapters of Empathy For the Devil on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 6 a.m. Pacific (9 a.m. Eastern). Three chapters a week will give me several months to maybe get my mojo back and continue working on it, but no promises.
I wrote a couple hundred words on Hunger, but mostly I was re-reading Empathy, looking for typos in preparation for posting. I hope you enjoy it, I sure liked writing it, until my muse got distracted by something else.
Oh, and if you want to pick up a fun gay fantasy adventure for 75% off, check out Mythical Desires Book 1: The Faerie on sale now for only .99 cents!
Your characters are allowed to be bad people. Your story is allowed to have no moral lesson.yyour ending is allowed to be sad. The villain can win. The good person can do something unforgivable. The lovers can destroy each other. You are allowed to write the thing that no one asked for and everything that everyone told you doesn’t work and you are allowed to not explain yourself.
Two things absolutely changed my life as a writer. You ready?
One- as OP said, your characters can be bad people, they can do bad things. There doesn't have to be a reason or a moral. You can make them bad if you want to. No other reason needed.
Two- it doesn't have to be good, it just needs to be written. On my last book i literally wrote the words "dumbest version" on the top of the page because I had seen some advice to do that. It changed everything. I stopped trying to make it perfect, I just tried to make it. Period. Full stop.
And honestly? Defiance is the best writing I've ever done. All because I let my characters be bad and I gave myself the freedom to write it badly.
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i love you all and i need you to stop writing trauma as a single breakdown scene in the rain after which the character is Healed and Ready to Love Again. that is NOT trauma :(
⊹ Trauma doesn't announce itself. it shows up as your character suddenly not being able to eat a specific food, or going very quiet in a loud room, or laughing at the wrong moment because their nervous system decided that was the appropriate response. it's mundane and weird and it makes no sense from the outside. the dramatic flashback sequence is the least realistic part. the most realistic part is your character suddenly needing to leave a grocery store for a reason they can't articulate.
⊹ The body keeps score and it keeps it in the strangest places. a particular smell. the quality of light at a certain time of day. a tone of voice that sounds like someone who hurt them. your traumatised character doesn't think "this reminds me of the bad thing." their heart rate spikes and they don't know why. they feel wrong and they can't locate the feeling. they're irritable for three days and only later, if ever, do they make the connection. write the disconnection. it's more honest.
⊹ trauma also does not make people universally sympathetic and wise. it makes some people controlling. some people funny at inappropriate times. some people very good in a crisis and completely unable to handle a normal day. some people are generously kind to strangers and absolutely terrible to people they love. trauma shapes behaviour in contradictory, inconvenient ways that don't resolve into a lesson. your traumatised character can be difficult to like. that's not a flaw in the writing. that's the WRITING.
⊹ Healing is not linear and it is not a destination. your character does not get better and stay better. they have a good month and then something small undoes two years of progress and they have to start again with slightly more tools than before. that's the actual shape of it. the spiral, not the arc. the scene where they finally open up and cry is not the end. it might not even be progress. sometimes it just means they were tired that night.
Busy writing day, but not much actual writing was done. Posted some promo material here and on X (my only two social medias) for the new chapter of Hunger and the next book in the Mythical Desires series. Got Book 1 put on sale (only 99 cents until 6/10 - The Faerie).
And, I've decided to start posting one of my longer WIPs here. I feel like seeing me talk about writing might not be as interesting as reading an actual story. Fair warning, it isn't finished, but I've got 50-some chapters just sitting around gathering dust, and I feel they're worth sharing. I can't post them to Outfox because they were originally published on Kindle Vella, and they only pay for all new material.
The title is Empathy For the Devil and it's a story about exploring a fantasy world, overcoming the damage that can be done to us by family, and learning to accept ourselves and others. It's a fun isekai adventure full of magic, dragons, demons, werewolves, and lots of hot gay smut. Not sure how often I'll post, but I'll hammer out a schedule and let you all know.
(this came out of a conversation in the comments on a previous post about an author threatening to stop updating a fic because of lack of engagement)
So there’s this idea that fic writers should write for themselves and not care too much about stats or engagement,
and i totally get the sentiment behind that. if writing becomes entirely about stats and external validation, something important does get lost - creative freedom and joy, conviction in your own writing
but i also think:
“i write for myself, but i post for others.”
because posting fic is not only self-expression. it’s social. ao3 is called an archive, but emotionally it often functions as a community space.
people post for connection, for participation, for others to bear witness to their pain and trauma and grief,
and i don’t think most people are asking to be admired so much as acknowledged. there’s something deeply human about wanting another person to encounter something that mattered to you and go:
“ok, yeah, I see what you were trying to say. I see you.”
especially because fanfic is often people processing very real feelings through fictional characters at a safe distance, one step removed,
and then uploading that deeply personal thing into a shared archive and hoping somebody else might connect with it.
And i think that’s why it hurts so much when you summon up the courage and post a fic into the void and you get nothing back,
Looking for a fun gay read for Pride Month? Check out Mythical Desires Book 1: The Faerie now on sale for only $.99!
Down on his luck and desperate for cash, Steven stumbles into the employ of Mr. Ahno—a cunning faerie with an unusual business. The job? Collecting specimens for a secret mythical creature sperm bank. But there's a catch.
After a steamy, unexpected encounter with Ahno's seductive cousin leaves Steven furious and used, he storms back, ready to quit—only to learn the hard truth: every "collection" requires personal participation. But when Ahno slaps a thousand dollars into his palm, Steven's resolve wavers.
Torn between pride and profit, Steven faces a dangerous choice—how far is he willing to go for easy money?
A darkly erotic tale of temptation, deception, and the high cost of desperation.
Mythical Desires Book 3: The Merlion is now available in ebook!
Steven is finally getting the hang of his strange new job as a mythological creature semen collector, but when his boss needs a big favor, he finds himself being tested once again. An unexpected encounter with an unscrupulous poacher leaves him with four flat tires and many more questions. With the help of a handsome tow truck driver, Steven might make his appointment on time, but is he ready to face his most inhuman client yet?
Also, Book 1: The Faerie will go on sale tomorrow to celebrate the new release! Check it out for only $.99. I'll post a link when the sale is live.
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Had a real good day today. It was busy, since it was errand day, but I did manage to bring my total wordcount to 11,995 and I published chapter 5 of Hunger Has New Rules to Outfox Stories. Check out Ch. 5 - Spells and Skills
In the next couple of days, I'll publish the next book in the Mythical Desires series on D2D, at which time I will put book 1 on sale. One of these days, I'll figure out how to use the coupon feature and offer a deep discount (maybe even free) to my tumblr readers.
idk guys sometimes you just have to accept a ship dynamic is unhealthy, insane, and sometimes abusive. and its not real people so those factors just make it interesting
please stop unfolding the origami crane and smoothing it out bc you got worried the paper was hurting from the bends
Author Alex Izeri @authoralexizeri - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook