Spike

 🩸 SHE SPIKED. YOU CLICKED. NOW READ. 🩸

150+ views yesterday. You’re not alone. You’re haunted.

Ash & Ink is rising—and the book that started it all is still the one they can’t shut up about.

🔥 THE PITCHFORK DIARIES 🔥

“A real gut punch… raw, dark, and unfiltered.” — Dread Central

This isn’t horror for fun. This is horror as survival.

Mental illness. Suicide. Grief. Religion. Possession. And one man who refused to die quietly.

🧠 If you’re new here, this is where you start.

📖 If you’ve been here, this is where you remember why you stayed.

👹 3-for-$10 bundle is live right now. You pick the books.

Pay via Square → https://square.link/u/9507RTz3

Delivery by email. Signed in blood (digitally, of course).

ISO: Cuddle Partner. No Sex. Just Soul

 

ISO: Cuddle Partner. No Sex. Just Soul.

I’m not looking for hookups.

I’m not looking for something transactional.

I’m looking for connection.

What I am down for is a real, physical, emotional presence in each other’s lives. A cuddle partner. A hand-holder. Someone to fall asleep next to watching movies. Someone who wants long hugs that last until the hurt fades. Someone who texts good morning and goodnight. Someone who sees me—without needing to take anything else.

No sex. No pressure. No performative dating rituals. Just warmth, care, comfort, and mutual need.

I want to be held, talked to, and treated like a human who still matters.

Touch-starved? Me too.

If you’re someone who craves closeness without expectation—who can love with your arms and your time, not your body—then maybe we’re looking for the same rare thing.

Let’s be each other’s safe space.

Dafuq

 

Why Do You Have So Many Accounts? Is This Some Kind of Scam? A Pyramid Scheme?

Ohhh honey. Buckle up.

You think I’m running a pyramid scheme? Sweetheart, the only thing I’ve ever tried to pyramid is trauma—just stacking it higher until I can climb out of this hellscape we call social media.

So let’s talk multiple accounts, shall we?

🧨 Reason #1: Because my entire life got hacked like a plot twist written by a meth-addicted screenwriter.

You remember Metal Coffee PR? My PR company that helped hundreds of indie bands get signed? Yeah, that one. It got hacked.

Hard drive? Fried.

Email? Jacked.

PayPal? Emptied of $1400.

Refunded? Of course not.

Instead, I got to watch helplessly while strangers pretended to be me—sending sex solicitations to women, including a friend’s wife.

Ever had your friend’s spouse message you like, “Hey, you into dirty talk now?”

Spoiler: It wasn’t me.

It was identity theft starring in a very special episode of What the Actual Fuck.

🛑 Reason #2: Because Facebook plays God with no customer service.

Get a little too real? Post something a little too sharp? Gone. Deleted. Nuked. Shadowbanned.

No warning. No appeal. Just digital execution.

So yes, I made backups. Duplicates. Triplicates.

Accounts on accounts. Pages on pages.

Call it survival. Call it paranoia.

I call it not letting the algorithm shove me into digital oblivion without a fight.

🎭 Reason #3: Because I don’t trust anyone with my identity—not even the people using it.

These people out here talking about me like I’m some unhinged, sex-crazed, woman-hating, racist monster with a god complex…

And you know what they all have in common?

They’ve never spoken to me.

Never asked a single question.

Never said, “Hey, what actually happened?”

They just grabbed their torches, fueled by gossip, and ran with it.

Meanwhile I’m out here cleaning up a mess I didn’t make and trying to explain to the world why I have 5 Facebooks, 3 Twitters, and a burner email like I’m in a Cold War spy novel.

🧠 Reason #4: Maybe I do have multiple personalities. Ever think of that?

Some of them write books.

Some of them cry in traffic.

Some of them try to make memes go viral.

And all of them are just trying to fucking survive.

Because when your entire reputation gets hijacked, your money gets stolen, and people judge you without ever knowing your name…

You don’t just bounce back.

You build fail-safes.

So next time you see an account of mine and think:

“Why so many?”

Try this on instead:

“What the hell happened to this guy that made him need them?”

Ask me again when your PayPal’s drained, your name’s smeared, your accounts are nuked, and someone’s sending unsolicited BDSM messages using your face.

You’re not paranoid when it’s already happened.

Welcome to my firewall.

Welcome to my life.

—Ash (on behalf of your least favorite glitch in the matrix, Jake Bannerman)

Fucking celebrate!

 

Ash & Jake’s Guide to Celebrating America’s Birthday

🎆💀 A red, white, and what-the-actual-fuck production

Step 1: Stimulate China’s economy by buying literal explosives.

Because nothing screams “patriotism” like buying CCP-manufactured fireworks from a Walmart parking lot. Yeah, the U.S. government calls China our #1 threat—but also lets them sell us rockets, glitter bombs, and those mini tanks that fart sparks and blow up in a toddler’s face. I mean, who wouldn’t want to celebrate freedom with a product that tracks your data, spies on you, and smells like betrayal?

💥 Boom goes the cognitive dissonance.

Step 2: Alcohol. Lots of it.

Because nothing shows “respect for our country” like double-fisting Bud Light while handing your 6-year-old a Roman Candle and saying, “Hold this, I’ll be right back.”

Bonus points if you set off a mortar shell next to a propane tank while asking your cousin to record it for TikTok.

God Bless Blackouts.

Step 3: Environmental slaughter in the name of freedom.

Look, you can’t even wipe your ass these days without a recycled bamboo-sourced, fair-trade seal of approval, but on July 4th? Let’s toxify every air molecule from Tulsa to Toledo.

We ban plastic straws, but go ahead and carpet-bomb the sky with sulfuric glitter ash while your uncle wears a bald eagle speedo.

Extra credit if you trigger a PTSD spiral in your veteran neighbor who fought in a war we don’t talk about.

💚 Very environmentally conscious, America.

Step 4: Corporate Necromancy.

Let Coca-Cola sponsor every parade, cookout, and baseball game while quietly being the #1 sugar-dealing grim reaper in the world.

They’ll sell you patriotism, diabetes, and virtue-signaling “healthy options” all in the same ad campaign.

No worries though—the Pentagon’s busy funding another weapons contract, and the VA’s still ghosting disabled vets, so everybody wins!

Especially Coke.

And insulin manufacturers.

Step 5: Pretend you have “God-given rights” that aren’t in the Bible.

Don’t read it, just scream it while handing your preschooler a lighter and shouting, “Let ’er rip, buddy—it’s your constitutional right!”

Because nothing honors the Founding Fathers like yelling about freedom while waving a Chinese sparkler and lighting $80 worth of explosives on fire…next to your flammable garage…on a drought warning day.

Conclusion: Happy Birthday, America.

Now go light your money on fire, scream about freedom in a country where medical bankruptcy is a national sport, and remember:

If it explodes, maims, poisons, or kills—

✨*it’s probably patriotic.*✨

Love,

Ash & Jake

(The only fireworks we’re lighting are under your bullshit)