Liam’s Life Challenge

Hey All,

I’ve been doing the 100 kicks a day for 7 days challenge in support of Liam’s Life Foundation and the Kowal family.

Even though this site is inactive I thought I would post here on the last day in the hopes of inspiring people to sign the petition (link below)

If you’d like to see today’s video as well as all the others in which I embarrass the hell out of myself for a good cause please go to my regularly updated site

Here’s a link to he petition:

The foundation website:

Thanks everyone.  May you have a safe new years eve and happy and successful 2017.




Goodbye muh love.

Hey Everybody,

So todays post will be the last original post on Reluctant Joy for the foreseeable future.

My premium subscription is up in a few days and for a number of reasons I’ve decided not to re-up it. I’ll be losing the shorter address but of course all of my posts will still be up and available for reading by those who find their way here.

Probably by accident.

This was my first blog and I started it mainly because I thought it would help me as I moved into my new life of sobriety.  And it certainly has.

However since I started this blog I’ve been getting more and more involved in the online world and my strategy of having various platforms to do various things seems a bit unwieldy now.  I am now of the mind that a bit of streamlining is in order for both cohesion and time.

So I will be focusing on and when that comes up for renewal I will either keep it as is or perhaps even bump it up to the super-duper death star premium package to make it more professional and easier to navigate for those who stop by.

Please keep in mind that we are talking about me here so “professional” is being used loosely.

The main site which will be the only site updated weekly will be a mix of the usual updates, short fiction, rants and other random hooha that goes through my small, bird like brain.

I really want to thank  everyone for their support and hopefully you’ll all follow me over to and engage in shenanigans with me there.

I leave you with one last micro-story and I hope you enjoy it.


The station was silent. Empty for centuries.

His oxygen is low, his tanks just above empty.

After hours of frantic work he hears the hum of the generator.

The sound of air circulating through the massive structure.

He rips off his helmet and breaths deep.

Safe, or so it seems, for the first time in a long while

A Sci-fi Micro Story

Hey all,

So as I’ve mentioned before I’ll be folding Reluctant Joy’s posts into my main site in a couple of weeks to streamline my postings, time and online hubbery.

Of course all the posts will remain up and available for your perusing until the internet goes down or whatevs.

Anyhoo, until then I’ll keep posting stuff.  This week is a snazzy little sci-fi themed micro-story called Moving Day.  I hope you enjoy it.

Moving Day

Black on black. The undamaged ship nearly invisible in the distance.

She pushes off from her ruined hull, gliding through space a silent arrow.

The stars all around her, blotted out by this system’s sun.

She lands silently, her feet square on the underbelly of her new home.

The airlock is bypassed with ease.

She enters, ready to kill those who believe her to be already dead.

See you next week folks.

Another micro-story

Here’s  another quick micro-story for the week, another wizardry themed quick tale.  While I work on bigger posts for the future.


Fire all around him, flames of purple and green.

The power erupted from within his bones.

A deep cracking sound and pain nearing agony.

Now, his opponents attacks deflected, their faces twisted in fury.

Safe behind the burning wall of his own making.

Micro Story Time

Hey Everybody,

I’m working on a bigger post for next week about my recent trip to Las Vegas so this week it’s just a quick micro-story this week, I hope you like it.

Shadow Lady

The dark haired lady with the shark tooth smile bristled with power.

Reaching inward and lashing out, her magick flew toward her target.

Frozen with fear, stuck in time, her target withered.

Triumphant, she walks back in to the night and the comfort of her shadows.


42.6 Shades of Tumblr

42.6 Shades of Tumblr


Darla Tofu Johansen finished uploading her latest pictures to her Tumblr account and logged off of her computer.

For years Darla thought she was asexual and identified as a CIS gendered, asexual female with white guilt and lactose intolerance. It wasn’t until last year when she turned 15 that she realized she was in fact Otherkin.

This revelation changed everything for her and even though she was still pretty miserable at least she knew what she was. She was a wolf. Sometimes she could feel her wolf self trying desperately to break through. She would occasionally allow herself to go full on wolf form…though she still looked human to everybody else, but what did they know.

She was still adjusting to her new self and her life was very hard. Darla constantly craved red meat, though she was still vegan. She also loved to run through the woods near her home. Well, run may be a bit of an extreme term. Darla didn’t really like physical activity, but she would attach the tail she’d made to her back belt loop, put on her ears and walk around a bit.

The tail was made of faux fur since she hated the idea of hurting an animal simply to giver herself a tail. She new that her Wolf self appreciated this, since her Wolf self was about as socially conscious as a wolf could be, while still being a wolf.

She’d gotten lost in the woods a few weeks ago and that had terrified her. So now she simply walked near the edge of the woods occasionally stopping to stare at all the terrible CIS gendered people around her, pretending to not understand how they contributed to the oppression of her kin.

Darla had never been close to a wolf. She’d seen one through a cage at a wildlife refuge last year and it had terrified her. However, she did constantly look at pictures of wolves on the internet and that’s how she knew she was a wolf.

This morning she’d uploaded her latest batch of wolf photos to her Wolfkin account. She would often tag them and add descriptions such as “Me in full form leaping” or “My true self hunting”. This made her feel better about her life and the positive affirmation she received from her Otherkin sisters always boosted her self esteem.

Today was Friday and Darla was incredibly excited. Tonight would be her third date with Thomas.

Thomas was amazing. They’d met a few weeks ago at the local safe space to listen to a lecture about how the show Sesame Street was really all about rape culture and that both Big Bird and the Cookie Monster represented the aggressive CIS Gendered, white male patriarchy in the form of a yellow bird and blue monster.

This had made total sense to Darla. No wonder I’m such a mess. She thought. I’ve been programmed since birth! If only someone had told me this sooner, maybe I wouldn’t constantly be getting raped.

She had attended the lecture with her friend Jennifer. She and Jennifer have been friends since they were four. Over the years, even though they were very different, their friendship was still tight.

Jennifer was not Otherkin, but praised Darla constantly for being so brave in accepting who she was. Jennifer looked like your average, beautiful, white, 15 year old girl. She had luscious blonde hair and green eyes. Her breasts were far bigger than Darla’s and were perfectly shaped.

Darla wasn’t jealous of Jennifer though. She knew that Jennifer had no time for the boys in school who constantly followed her around trying to rape and oppress her. Jennifer in fact did not identify as a CIS gendered white female.

Jennifer actually identified as a poly-sexual, African-American, 1987 Toyota Corolla drift car.

Jennifer left Darla alone at the lecture because she had to meet her boyfriend, whom she was secretly dating because she knew her oppressive white, CIS Gendered, Hetero-parents would never approve.

Jennifer’s boyfriend was a 38 year old man named Gerard. Gerard appeared to be a near middle aged, African American CIS Gendered male but he wasn’t. Gerard identified as a 17 year old, African American, torque wrench. This was the reason it was perfectly suitable for him to date Jennifer, since he was under 18 and she was really a car…and also African American.

Darla had been terrified at the thought of being alone, even in the safe space, but she let some of her wolf self take over and then became confident. She sniffed the air, took a bite of her yerba mate’ snack bar and that’s when she noticed Thomas.

Thomas looked like your average 15 year old. He was white, a bit chubby, thick glasses and slightly greasy hair. He smiled at her shyly which wasn’t rape, but only a slight molestation, but Darla didn’t mind because she liked him.

After the lecture the two hung out and talked. For years Thomas identified as an asexual, white, CIS Gendered Dyson steam cleaner. Recently however he’d seen the new Star Wars movie and that had made everything abundantly clear.

Thomas felt foolish for thinking he was a Dyson Steam Cleaner now that he had his true identity. Thomas was now Fiction Kin and identified as the Millennium Falcon. His Tumblr account seemed to bare this out, since it was filled with pictures of the glorious space ship with clever captions like “Me hiding in an asteroid field” and “Me destroying the second Death Star” and his latest which simply said “Rey and Finn entering me, I’ve never been happier”.

Thomas only allowed Darla to call him by his slave CIS name, everyone else referred to him as MF. Except for the football team at their local high school, who called him FartSatan.

Darla threw her books in her backpack and made her way to the front door of her home. She was hoping to get to school without being raped, but that never happened. This morning alone she had been raped three times.

The first time was when she accidentally raped herself by staring at her reflection in the mirror and thinking about Thomas. Technically it probably wasn’t rape, but she still felt bad about it.

The second time had been when her father walked in on her while she was in the bathroom. Yes, she’d been completely clothed and her dad had apologized before hastily leaving, but he was a white male after all and he’d stared directly at her, so…rape.

Then her mother yelled at her for doing poorly on her math exam which had made her feel bad and since her mother had not let up for fifteen minutes it was truly like she was being raped.

She walked out of her house and ran smack dab into her uncle Max.

“Well hello there Darla.” He said.

“Stop raping me Uncle Max!” She yelled. Then she growled at him as her wolf form took hold before running away. She only got about forty feet before being completely out of breath, so decided to walk the rest of the way to school.

School was mostly uneventful. She got away with being raped only about 20 times. Mostly by boys who were probably staring at Jennifer, but Darla was standing next to Jennifer so it was kind of like a group rape.

Her science teacher Mr. Maddox had raped her when he told her not to constantly sniff the air during class. She tried to explain that she couldn’t help it, because she was a wolf. Mr. Maddox just laughed at her and told her he didn’t care if she was a Panther, in his class she had to act human.

This raping had been terrible, mainly because she hated panthers since panthers scared her more than wolves. Also, Mr. Maddox was white and probably thought about her sexually all the time, even though it was well known that he was gay and had been in a committed relationship for 30 years.

Now, alone with Thomas after a lovely meal she was feeling very excited. She knew deep down that this was sexual arousal, and even though Thomas was technically a YT-1300 Light Freighter designed for transporting goods and occasionally smuggling; on the outside he was a white male and this left her feeling conflicted.

But she pushed those thoughts out of her mind because quite frankly she really wanted to have sex.

She new she should be afraid, but she wasn’t. She trusted Thomas implicitly. Alone with him, in his parents house, about to lose her virginity, she felt like the luckiest wolf girl ever.

Her Millennium Falcon had been so kind and so understanding, how could she not allow him to make love to her.

Tied securely with locally sourced, free trade hemp chord, her legs spread to their extreme she knew that she and Thomas would be together forever.

“May I kiss you?” He’d asked.

“Yes.” She’d said.

“May I touch your breasts over your shirt?” He’d asked.

“Yes.” She’d said.

“May I remove your shirt and then touch them again?”

“Oh for God’s sake stop asking permission and just do it already!” She’d cried.

“Can I just go ahead and take all your clothes off and then tie you to my bed with locally sourced, free trade hemp chord?”

“Absolutely!” She’d screamed, then ran down the hall to his bedroom.

Thomas was incredibly excited. He hadn’t had sex in nearly seven years, but it looked like tonight he would finally be able to get laid. This was all down to his twin brother Marcus who’d taught him the secret of how to use Feminism and the Social Justice Warrior movement to his advantage.

It had been a lovely evening so far. He and Darla had gone to a local vegan restaurant where Thomas pretended to like the food. He made sure to eat a steak, some bacon and a lovely fillet of baby dolphin before meeting the ridiculous young girl with no self esteem; so it’s not like he was hungry.

He told Darla his parents were out of town for the weekend and asked her if she’d like to come home with him and watch a documentary about how Men were actually all rapists and lied to all women all the time.

Thomas forced himself to remain calm during the movie, because he was laughing hysterically on the inside. Thomas was in fact not 15, nor was his name Thomas. Thomas was actually a 38 year old man with an incredibly high metabolism and a regenerative cellular abnormality that kept him looking underage even though he was nearing 40.

He and his brother owned the house that Thomas and Darla were in. The twin’s parents long since dead, had left their sons their vast fortune.

Thomas, also happened to be a pedophile and was wanted in six states on multiple rape charges. He found Darla pleasing, even though he had to put up with her bullshit. She wasn’t as sexy as her friend Jennifer, but she’d certainly do.

“Darla?” He asked timidly.

“Yes Thomas?” Asked the securely tied young woman.

“May I now lay atop you and put my landing gear in your wolf yim yam and carefully, without trying to oppress you, have sex with your body until we both mutually achieve an orgasm that we can both agree is neither sexist, patriarchal, nor rapey in any form, while I acknowledge my inherent privilege?” Asked Thomas with the acting skill of an Oscar nominated CIS gendered, white male oppressor.

“Yes Millennium Falcon yes! A thousand times yes! Just do me already!” Screamed the incredibly aroused young girl.

Thomas stared down at the under age girl and hoped his brother Marcus was having as much fun as he was. He said a silent thank you to his brother before leaping onto the bed to literally rape the young woman who’d just given full consent.

Gerard was having a great time. He’d had sex with Jennifer three times already and was getting ready for number four.

He loved almost everything about Jennifer. He loved how hot she was. He loved how gullible she was and he also loved how willing she was to believe his lies.

When Gerard had figured out how to hide his misogyny and racism beneath the thick veil of politically correct SJW speak his life definitely had taken a turn for the better.

Gerard of course was not in fact Gerard. He also was not a 38 year old African American male who identified as a 17 year old African American Torque Wrench.

Gerard was a 38 year old CIS gendered white male named Marcus. He also happened to be a rabid white supremacist. He was born with a terrible birth defect. Well a terrible birth defect if you were white and born into a family of racist, white supremacists.

Marcus suffered from a rare condition in which his body produced so much melanin that it made him appear African American.

Growing up this had been terrible. His father was a full blooded Aryan, his grandfather – a Nazi scientist brought over to America through project paperclip – made sure that Marcus’s father was raised to believe in the master race. Marcus’s mother had also been raised to believe these things, since she too was raised by his grandfather.

Because sometimes in order to keep the blood line pure a brother had to marry his sister, or at least that’s what Marcus had been taught.

Being the in-bred, white son of incestuous, Nazi-Aryan parents was really tough on a kid, when that kid looked black. His parents hated him and treated him terribly. Up until the moment Marcus had murdered them.

The crime had been perfect and with the help of his loyal, fraternal twin brother, the two men inherited their parent’s vast wealth.

Their family fortune came from two sources, firstly there was the oil business, which had proven quite lucrative. But of course the bulk of the fortune had come from their parents black market business of importing and exporting rare and exotic animals to be used as sex slaves by insane people all over the world.

Marcus could still remember his father’s words. “You think oil makes you money? Ha! Then you’ve never met a man who wants to fuck a Yak!”

Marcus wasn’t a pedophile per se, but he did love humiliating women and getting them to do degrading things. However, to say that he didn’t enjoy the taboo of his illicit romance would be a lie. But he enjoyed it because he knew when he told Jennifer the truth (and he would eventually tell her the truth) it would crush her.

He’d make sure to do that when he was deep inside her, just to make it more satisfying for him.

“Oh Gerard,” called Jennifer.  “I’m ready for another tune up my beautiful torque wrench”

Marcus looked around the disgusting and sleazy motel room. He stared at the bed with the young teenager on it and smiled at her. His warm, caring smile hid the sadistic, lying bastard behind it.

“That’s wonderful baby, but here, I want you to rub some more motor oil all over yourself.” He said as he began to take pictures.

Jennifer happily did so. “You swear you’re not going to show these to anyone?”

“No, of course not.” Marcus technically hadn’t lied. He did not plan on showing her pictures to anyone. He did however plan on selling them and the other pictures and videos he’d taken, on the dark net. He didn’t really need the money, but it was a fun hobby. “Are you a slutty little Toyota Corolla drift car?”


“No baby, say it into the camera and smile.”

Yup that was pretty fucked up, even for me. Why in the world would I write something so terrible? Well I’ll tell you.

Since I was about fifteen I’ve been an advocate for women’s rights, minorities, and LGBT rights as well. I despise racism, intolerance and ignorance. I think everyone should be treated with dignity and respect.

But more and more I find that this new wave of “free thinking” folk are more concerned with how things are said and not what is said or even facts. They are listening for a chance to be right, they are waiting for an opportunity to pounce on a person for not using the right phrase, so that they can make themselves feel better.

The new crop of Tumblr, tweeter, social media SJWs do not want to listen to a person’s intent, only the specific words that come out of their mouth.

If you disagree with someone you’re attacking them. If you have a different point of view you are a bigot, or sexist, or racist. Long gone are the days of conversation, debate and discussion.

Now, you either speak the double plus good words or you are “bad”.

I have recently been called anti-LGBTQ for the second time in as many months because a character in my novel (The Geek out now!) is supposedly defamatory to the LGBTQ community.

The fact that this character is neither L, G, B, T, nor Q does not seem to make a difference to these people. The fact that they feel he should be, or that somehow because of one certain predilection he is automatically a representative of their community, when he isn’t is all that matters to them.

But I wrote the fucking book and I can tell you that he in no way is. He’s straight, plain and simple.

So be very careful what you wish for. Before you know it, me and the people like me will be long gone, we’ll want nothing to do with you and will decide that quite frankly you are not worth our time.

But the Thomas and Marcus’s of the world. The ones who think it’ll be fun, or easier to simply hide how they feel and join into the Orwellian double plus good orgy of Tumblrisms will be all around you. They’ll say what you want to hear and then go home and speak their mind in private on dark net forums where they’ll probably make fun of you.

Most likely you’re surrounded by many who already do this and you have no idea because you are so full of your sense of righteousness that it hasn’t occurred to you.

But I can guarantee that this will happen, because when all you want to do it is be right, or have your views unquestioningly supported, and not engage in open, thoughtful debate you will at some point find that the man you thought was a Torque Wrench is in fact an absolute bastard and the one you thought was an absolute bastard, while not a Torque Wrench, was at least on your side.

I shall continue to fight the real fight, the good fight from my end.

I suggest you start doing the same.

Or you may as well go ahead and smear some motor oil on your naked body and smile. for more offensive content.