I’m going to be put this blog back up and I’m going to be writing like mad. I wanna see how much I get done and If I can build an audience after putting out my first short story.
My first story online and a quick Erotica. WOOOOOO.
I’m going to be put this blog back up and I’m going to be writing like mad. I wanna see how much I get done and If I can build an audience after putting out my first short story.
My first story online and a quick Erotica. WOOOOOO.
I don’t really know what my goals are other than to write. I need to write, I need to write. I’m one of those kinds of people that wrap my identity in my function like many men.
I am not Kennel Master.
I am not a person.
I am a function of my own choice. Thus I am a writer.
I have a blog because I thought it would be a way to connect to my fellow writers. I’m doing a poor job of it, If anything I’ve become far more distant. I’m starting to wonder if I’m wrong about how I’ve been handling writing. I want it to be social I want it to be a connection but at the end of the day I can’t really engage with my fellow writers as much or how I would like.
I want to write. In five years, I want people to give me money regularly because they love the stories I weave for them. In ten years, I want to write a story that I can feel content with sharing as a physical book.
I’ve gotten to the point that I’m looking at my weakness as a writer and a person. I’m mentally isolated and while I’m independent in my day to day living. I like comrades in shared interest.
2020. This is the year I set myself, If I don’t see progress I’ll find other interests because I failed at this one. I will put everything into this even if it means driving away people.
I’m tired but I’m going to keep going. I’m no one else but a writer so I wanna bring a few more smiles or erections to people while I figure this shit out.
Your three words are: Honesty. Hate. Bed.
Blood splattered on Cain’s smock, the nearly deafening shrieks of pain of the female on his table made the job more difficult. Cain’s assistants moved around him in a flurry of skilled motions, they carried the eggs to the spawning pools just one room over. Cain’s kept a close eye on the female on the table, she was restrained to the table and even with the metal cables binding she still managed to warp the table with her strength.
Cain sighed as he pulled the final egg from the expecting mother, this egg was large as an adult pig and fleshy. Cain passed the egg to several of his assistants before sitting down in the nearest chair to the patient. The patient turned her large chitinous head in his direction, Cain held his gaze with her silently. The part coming next was would be far worse than the five hours of extracting eggs.
“Doctor?” The patient asked while flexing a clawed hand in her bonds.
“I’m going to die now… right?” She wanted honesty, Cain wanted his bed.
“It’s not that simple, You’ll live at least a week longer but you’ll have to feed yourself to your daughter. She won’t grow other wise, most queens simply ask the doctor to chop them up and serve them up.” Cain was already plotting what assistant would be doing that job, he wasn’t a butcher.
“I should be scared but I’m just worried if my daughter will do a better job. I want to teach her to avoid void spiders, I want to show her that the fleshies have so much to teach us. I want to tell her that selecting a proper drone is more than just a shiny exoskeleton.”
“You want what every parent wants. Your daughter will hatch in an hour, we will bring her out here for you to tell her all of this.” Cain said as he pulled himself out of the chair. “You should still rest, even with a week to live you want to give your daughter every bit of your limited time.”
Cain wandered out of the operating room, the white tile of the hospital reflected light painfully into his eyes. Cain made his way into the staff quarters, the room was filled with exhausted doctors of all species and professions resting off the rough day. The other doctors noticed him and gave tired clap in response, a small part of him felt hate for the condition that his fellow doctors end their days with. He found a comfortable chair and planted himself in the soft cushions.
“You managed to survive your first Karzeet delivery, how do you feel?” The speaker was a large, fluffy, rabbit-like mutant, strong prehensile tentacles writhed contently from his back. Uubo, the senior most surgeon, grinned at him with tired golden eyes.
“I’m debating fluffing you and using you for a pillow, Sir. I’m exhausted and I had to deal with a giant bee person’s existential crisis.” Cain whined as he reached out to Uubo’s fur but the mutant politely brushed his hand aside.
“I’d advise against the notion of fluffing me, Dr. Moore. I would suggest that you head home, put your car on auto and sleep.” The doctor handed him a folded note. “You might want to take a trip there when you feel better.”
“Thanks, Sir. I’m going to go black out in my car now…” Cain mumbled but his head lowered and he was sleeping within moments.
The Prompt: “During a family camping trip two siblings set out to catch fireflies and accidentally catch a fairy. She grants them a wish, and they ask her to take them to the fairy kingdom.”
“Carl… We are in our thirties and we are supposed to be camping. You know how Debbie is going to act if you start doing that thing of yours.” Robert sighed as he followed his brother Carl through the trees.
“It’s not a thing, it’s a entomology and don’t be such a bitch. You used to love doing this as kids, remember how big the-”
“Nope. If you use the nerd name for it I’m going back. If we are going to ‘relive childhood’ then you are going to have to call them normal names and not Lampyridae.” Robert hissed as he managed to make it up the hill overlooking their campsite.
“You remembered the name!” Carl said with his voice rising a few octaves in excitement.
“Not like I didn’t hear it for the two weeks till you led me out here. So let’s catch a few things so you can jizz all over some obscure fact about bugs.”
“You’ve become a little crude lately little brother.” Carl said before propping himself up against a tree. “Is it because your love life is shit? You know if you had fun more than the ladies would like you.”
Robert rolled his eyes, “Take your damn net and get on with it. Will ten or so satisfy his highness? ”
“Thirty would be good but if you are so frail that you can only catch ten. I accept that you are already feeling your age.” Carl said smugly.
Robert immediately sprinted into the clearing, his net was a blur of activity. He wasn’t trying to catch anything per say but the violent action made him feel just a little better about his situation. As the little moats of light started to appear, Robert took to capturing the little bugs. The small ones weren’t much to write home about but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one bright enough that it could have been mistaken for candle light.
Robert brought the net down like a sledgehammer, the bright bug immediately tried to fly upwards and tangled itself in the net.
“Help! Rape! The humans are going to rape me! Help! They are going to use their bodies to violate my small frame!” The little being in the net screeched out.
Carl immediately ran over to Robert, the pair wordlessly gazed down at the being in the net. The creature stood only six inches tall, with radiant yellow wings and a baseball cap the size of a toy on its head. Solid black eyes gazed around
“What is that?” Robert asked, “It’s looks like a fairy.”
“I’m a fairy. S-s-s-so will you be gentle as you violate my poor butthole? Will you wish to have me as your courtesan or milkdrinker?” The fairy was radiating lust as it openly touched rubbed its tiny nipples before the siblings.
“I’m officially creeped out. I expected fairies to be more… wholesome.” Robert said trying to keep his eyes away from the lewd being.
“You said something about a wish?” Carl asked while reaching a finger down to poke at the fairy, “Is there some sort of price or are you going to do some wishmaster stuff and make our wishes horrible?”
The fairy shook his little head, ” I promise that I won’t be malicious with my wishes after all you are going to wish for all of me.” The fairy cooed before licking Carl’s finger with a tongue that stretched long enough to reach his palm.
“I wish go to the fairy kingdom.” Carl said without an ounce of consideration in his words.
“Wait Carl! We should at least talk about this!” Robert tried to shout but his anger died in his throat as he was face to face with imposing creature similar to the small fairy but it was eye level with brothers.
“I held up my end of the bargain sooooo…. net removal?” The smaller fairy asked while still held under the neat.
Carl removed the net and the fairy fluttered toward Roberts shoulder before sitting down. Carl ignored the small fair for a moment and took in their surrounding, the forest gave way to a small district filled with various creatures from Unicorns to Giants. Fairy from the size of the small one on his brothers shoulder to the size of humans.
“So since you are here, you need to give the fairy queen a visit.” The fairy crossed his legs and looked at Robert’s five o’ clock shadow. “You don’t wanna get caught without a passport by the city guards.”
“Carl, did we take shrooms before we went firefly hunting?” Robert asked with a bit of fear in his voice, there was a sender man approaching him with crown in his head. Every step of the man was no unnaturally calculated it was almost hypnotic.
“Little Bell. I see you’ve brought a few humans..” The man spoke with a voice that was song-like with mischievous promises hidden in every word.
“They asked to come here, they managed to capture me. I didn’t get to have any fun though, I even did everything you told me. I wore a hat.” The little fairy pointed to his stylish baseball cap.”I really don’t think hats excite humans, My Queen.”
“Well we will figure it out, we’ve got guests that need servicing. I am… Titan-ia, Queen of the fairies.” Titan-Ia gave a polite bow.
“Don’t you mean Titania?” Robert said and the fairy queen smiled.
“No I mean…” Titan flexed with enough force rip out of his tunic, rippling muscles bulged against the torn fabric. “I am the Titan, Ia, my body is a temple to swole as you human’s put it.”
“I wanna go home, I wanna go home now.” Robert said as the nude fairy queen leaned in and smiled widely.
“You’ll have to petition the Queen to leave and I feel like being a generous host to our new guests.” Titan-Ia snapped his fingers the brothers vanished leaving the tiny fairy hovering in the air.
“My Queen, I promised them I wouldn’t twist their wish. I do not wish to lie.” The small fairy spoke while keeping its gaze to the floor.
“My dear Bell, You won’t be a liar. I only sent them some place private so you can take advantage of first rights. Have fun with your human friends, if things go well then I look forward to the changelings that come of it.” Titan-Ia said before snapping his fingers again and sending the fair to join the confused humans.
Inspiration: This picture
“Leave.” The hooded figure, Crenshaw, growled as he scrawled his bone wand in the air.
“I can’t. It’s my job to be here.” The second speaker was large and reptilian, he stood twice as tall as Crenshaw with glimmering green scales and regal folded wings to match. He was every thing kobolds hoped to achieve, tall, winged, and strong.
“Go woo some scattered brained tribal, Larson. I don’t want you here, I am doing my own thing and bothering no one.” Crenshaw used his wand to flatten the fields around his home.
“I know. Makes my job much easier, you can’t make our masters piss themselves if you are just farming. So keep farming.” Larson snickered while his golden eyes scanned the tree line for the various creatures cowering from Crenshaw.
“They are not my masters. I do not serve dragons, those repulsive creatures can all die down to the last squealing whelp. You can serve who you wish but do not ever call those monsters my master.” Crenshaw growled but didn’t remove his focus from the spell.
“Touchy touchy, but that doesn’t change my job. I’m the only one that isn’t scared to come this close to you.” Larson snickered and hopped the fence, his clawed feet dug into the magically plowed land. He placed a hand on the back of the smaller black scaled kobold.
Larson watched quietly as Crenshaw started to summon Minotaur without any more than a snap of his fingers. The Minotaur immediately began to till and work the fields with practiced ease, Crenshaw’s gaze continued to drift over to the dragons watching him cautiously from the treeline.
“Okay, I have to ask. Why don’t you kill them if you hate them so much. You’ve ascended to Godhood, you can be anything you want to be. A dragon, a winged-one but you are still the same Crenshaw I remember.” Larson pulled back Crenshaw’s hood and stared, “Even the scars on your scaled face haven’t changed.”
Crenshaw sighed, “What would you do with this power? Larson, What would you do if you could do anything? I am strong enough to the point that I can hear the prayers of other gods. Such things should drive a mortal to madness, I wonder if I am already mad or not.”
Larson could see the pleading in Crenshaw’s shimmering eyes, “I’m glad you haven’t changed, you’re still the grumpy soft-hearted guy I remember. I guess I wouldn’t fix everything but I would probably make me a companion, maybe a female Kobold with a loyal nature, large breasts.”
“Kobolds don’t have-”
“Hey you asked what I would do and I like a lovely human or elf busom. They are my favorite warm lumps, I would also make sure she didn’t have wings so I could carry her around. Shiny black scales like yours but more clean. Hmmmm and blue eyes.” Larson managed to look embarrassed when he finished, “What can I say, I’m more interested into making love than getting revenge.”
Crenshaw nodded sagely as Larson felt hands on his shoulder, a radiant beauty of a Kobold that matched his specifications. She gazed at him with a coy smile before giving a a nod in Crenshaw’s direction. Larson poked at the female who responded with a playful gasp, Crenshaw pulled up the weeds that he missed earlier.
“Who is she?”
“She is a character I created to be your companion. I gave her stats that would be enough to keep you happy. I didn’t bother giving her a name.”
“Stats? Character? I don’t understand.” Larson commented.
“Larson, I am Omnipotent, I know everything that makes this world work and it terrifies me. I can’t look away, all I can do is hope that some aspect of me is real.” Crenshaw grumbled sourly.
“You are real. I am real. We’ve known each other since…” Larson paused as Crenshaw whirled on him with dirt still in his hands.
“Larson. I know what you are trying to do and I appreciate it but stop. Don’t try to convince me of what’s real and whats not. Just be the Larson I remember, okay?” Crenshaw said with a sigh. “I can make you, I can unmake them, I can rearrange the laws of space and time. I know what our world is and it’s weighing on me.”
“So you can do anything, you can hold any power and you came out here to be left alone but we keep bothering you. Do I have it all down?” Larson squatted down, “Well hmmm. Gimme a house right about here.”
Larson pointed to the plot of land next to the farm, “Maybe give a few cows and few goats.”
“What are you-”
“You want to get your mind off of being a god? Well we were farmers before I grew my wings.Well I was a farmer, you were an Botanist.” Larson had the nerve to make air quotes, “I don’t mind going back to basics if it keeps things going smoothly, I am tasked to keep tabs on you so the dragons don’t shit themselves.”
“Why a house? You lived in a cave before.” Crenshaw asked, Larson only responded with by pointing a clawed finger to newly created female. “Oh…”
“Would you like to join me?” Larson asked, his gaze was locked on the black scaled female.
“I’m not going to watch you mate.”
“I didn’t mean that, I mean… Would you like to sit and just talk like old times. Before I got these wings and before you became old and grumpy.” Larson asked.
Crenshaw nodded before withdrawing a small sheet of paper from the air. “Take this.”
Larson gazed upon the sheet, his name was on it with various statistics and a breakdown of each one of his achievements. Larson puzzled over the document and points to the section that mentioned a familiar named Shia.
“I don’t have a familiar named Shia? What is this Crenshaw?” Larson asked and the black Kobold female waved at him.
“I’ve given you the keys to kingdoms. You are holding everything that makes you, you. Any change to the sheet will change your reality to reflect that. You tire of being a Kobold? Write Dragon in the race section. Wanna kill all the dragons, well just write in a spell that does that. That is a taste of what I can see, The Gods…” Crenshaw takes a deep breath, “The true Gods have made us all on that, every single living creature, every single monster from the most basic slime to the greatest of Gods has a sheet. There are even books that would teach other Gods how to make use, we are toys to creatures both beyond our comprehension and utterly beneath us.”
Larson look at his sheet, “Is that the big truth? The oh so profane knowledge that has you shaking in your boots?”
“Don’t mock me, Larson, You don’t understand that everything you are is in that sheet. You can’t even destroy it if you wanted to.” Crenshaw gritted his teeth in annoyance. When Larson didn’t answer, Crenshaw looked up from the ground to see the Kobold suddenly rippling with muscles and his familiar far more buxom than he originally made her.
“Pfffftttttt.. you are too eggheaded that you can have fun. We’ve always had something over us, dragons, demons, Gods, even a landlord. Stop looking up at the bigger thing and enjoy this opportunity, make the world interesting!” Larson snapped his fingers and a shimmering door appeared.
“Hey everyone, Crenshaw just gave me a magic bar and everyone is invited!”
“I did not!”
“They don’t know that and you don’t want to be looked at like a monster. Shut up, come inside and let’s get started on how you can have fun being God. I mean you made me familiar with a thoughts, you can make a few friends for yourself too.” Larson pulled the divine kobold through the shimmering door.
Crenshaw noticed that the bar was fully stocked with brews of all sorts, Larson stepped around the back with Shia following. Larson mixed some concoction faster than Crenshaw could follow before placing a glass in front of him. Crenshaw reached for the drink as other Kobolds were filing in, most likely at the request of their dragon masters. Larson placed a claw on Crenshaw’s hand.
“I trust you not to hurt us, I won’t use this power to hurt anyone but don’t expect me to timidly deny the demi-god you just made me.” Larson said, “My dragon masters be damned, I will make sure that you enjoy this power if I have to drown you in good drink.” Larson removed the claws.
“For a good friend, You’re an asshole, Lars.”
“Says the lizard who can summon lovely Kobolds with a thought.”
“…I can’t disagree with that.”
I like romance, I hate romance.
I love the feeling of passion toward another, the taste of their excitement and affection. It’s one of the few drugs that leaves your generally better after you’ve started taking it. I’m sure most of you reading my blog have been in love and experienced that ‘puppy love phase.’
I love love. I’m a romantic at heart, I write romance and smut as my hobby while trying to be serious as a fantasy writer as my source of limited income. This is where I feel a little bit frustrated and my Cog Diss comes into play.
I hate the romance that I see around me, so many people are jaded and justifiably unfulfilled. There is a certain gallows humor that comes from watching couples and debating the length of their relationship just by their compatibility. I don’t want them to fail because I want them to prove me wrong, last long and show me that I’m wrong. Even if I never have that, I want to know that it exists in my own era.
It’s a bit funny when I think about it because I’ve pretty much come to love myself to the point I haven’t thought about being romantic with anyone. My stories show a desire for that, most of what I write is usually about loyal females and masculine males. I feel the opposite when I read modern erotica, I see way too many subtle jabs at masculinity on one side of the fence and I see extreme over compensation on the other side.
I just miss the old school story tell were couples were loyal and usually some level of monogamy with each other. I know it fiction but damn could I enjoy a good lie about a masculine male getting respect and a loyal lover.
This is my Love/Hate relationship with romance in fiction.
There is a bit of madness in thinking of giving advice to your younger self because we can’t exactly go back. It’s still a fun bit of play when you preform it because you usually end up inspiring others who are younger than you.
The truest advice I can give to writers and to my past self is : Get over yourself.
Across the board I have met so many writers that work hard to find reasons they can’t write. The reasons run from : I’m tired, I’m sad, I’m just not in the mood, my muse isn’t paying attention, I have writers block.
Since I am polite in person it’s rare that I say the kinda things I’m going to say here so prepare yourself for a lot of swearing.
I hate hearing this because this isn’t followed by the person getting some rest. This is followed by someone kicking on a video game or TV for 1-10 hours. This really translates to I’m done giving effort for today and I need to not sound like I’m lazy. Fuck that, you are weak and you are wasting my time. Go the fuck to sleep or just say you don’t wanna write right now. Writing isn’t exactly calorie intensive.
See that crying baby in the picture, this is what I imagine when someone tell me they are too sad or down to write. You fall into one of two categories to me. One: you must be a really flat writer. You have a lot of emotion and you have trouble writing? This is a great time to write negative emotions in your story, this is the perfect time to write about loss and confusion in your story. Two: You are giving excuses. Stop that. Unless your sadness is about broken fingers then you can still write.
Unless you are being visited by a magical being tossing plots at you. Shut the fuck up, not only do you sound lazy but you sound pretentious as hell. Could you imagine if other careers or jobs did this? “Sorry boss, I can’t cool down the power plant. I’m just not inspired to work.” “Yes I know your store got robbed but I’ve got law enforcement block.” You don’t need a muse any more than honestly meeting people, if people took time to interact to with others and travel all the muse in the world would be yours. Writer’s block is not a real thing, you can get into ruts and you can get a bit stuck but long periods of not writing is a choice not a conditions.
So my advice for old me? Shut up, suit up, and write.