A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Red White and Werewolf Podcast out now!

July 25, 2014
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The Red White and Werewolf podcast series is out now and can be found on Sticher Radio, iTunes and Talk Shoe radio!

RWW Podcast Episode 4 poster


Bad Habits

July 24, 2014
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Some habits are hard to break.

I mean, really hard to not do.

If you’re a werewolf, you’re bound to have more than a few habits. Enough to form a routine.

It’s how we’re raised to live in this world as both ourself and the beast within us.

Routine is a form of control. Habits form routines and we learn from them what works, and does not.

Those Hollywood movies and tv shows about pouty, pretty, people may fool you humans. Sure we look as human and normal as you do, but we’re only part human, the part is wolf. Ancient wolf. Werewolf.

And we’re you’re a werewolf there are some things, that despite each generation born, can’t or more correctly won’t be suppressed.
Those instincts that drive animals, to their own habitual needs.

Those parts of our dna that just don’t go away.

The werewolf within our skin, is instinctual and burns to come out.
So its not surprising to read that that on the island of Sibale Island, in the Philippines, werewolves, are once again being hunted.

Whilst I’m not from the Philippines, I am a werewolf and any werewolf will understand the struggle that exists within them.

Especially if they’ve never really been taught how to deal with the werewolf aspects, the restless-ness that creeps forever under the surface of our skin.

A need for freedom to roam and explore. A wanting hunger that takes a lot of food, more than we’re supposed to be seen eating as humans, to settle.

And animals. We have issues with them. And animals have issues with us. Not all, but some. It can get….weird.

So perhaps it’s not surprising that cattle becomes seen as fair game. When you have an animal inside you and it see’s animals who are controlled by others, and therefore, kept in a state of servitude.

They begin to look like a weaker species, like prey.

Werewolves are dominant for the most part, by nature, even Beta wolves can be dominant amongst another animals (but when you put them up against an alpha werewolf, nuh-uh.)

Or maybe it’s just a case of the police and villagers in Sibale Island, Romblon, knowing about the world, the one that includes the werewolves in the first world.

Our race is hard to kill (probably why we haven’t died off just yet).

The police seem to have figured out the pattern for attacks, takes place in our around the full moon. Let’s face it, that is somewhat of a big ass give-away. You’d think if it was werewolves, they’d be smarter than to act up around moon time.

But control isn’t an anything to come by when you’re trying to be two things at once.

That’s what being a werewolf is like really.

You’re one thing and you’re another and the thing is, they’re one and the same, bound up in your blood, coursing through the fibre that makes up someone called you. But you’re bound to other elements in this world, that reach deep into your soul.

The full moon hums into your soul and vibrates along tendons, stretching fibre and facia, to surge the werewolf out. And again, we circle back to control. Even in our tribal form, we need to know how to be ourselves.

We may learn to control our werewolf instincts when we’re looking as human as the person next to you.

We may learn control when we’re in our tribal form. But we can not control the moon itself and what it does to us. Any of us. Lunar week and it does bring out the “loonies” amongst us, just check your police stats, watch them rise anytime there’s a full moon.

This world, we just live in it. Not control it as much as we might fool ourselves to think otherwise.

Nature has her habits too and all of us are subject to them, wether werewolf or human, wether we like them or not.


How werewolves say i love you

February 13, 2012
2 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Check out this Valentine’s Day card – perfect for werewolves everywhere to tell their NON werewolf partners how they feel.

Card by Kendra Shedenhelm / Big Bridge studios


Full Moon Beer

September 28, 2010
1 Comment

Full Moon Beer. It sounds like some sort of werewolf sports chant, “Full moon beer! full moon beer! full moon beer!”

A mantra of what you want (Beer) and when (Full Moon).

But what it actually is is a real beer for purchase in Belgium. There is a company that is selling a full moon beer. Well it’s a new beer that they brew only on a full moon.

It won’t bring out the werewolf in you, at least, I don’t think it has that kind of capability.

Apparently these brewers have discovered the benefits of the full moon that makes their beer somehow better tasting, stronger and longer lasting.

Intriguing that humans are trying to harness the power of the moon. Well, actually, it’s intriguing that they’re trying to harness the power of the full moon just for beer!

Imagine if the beer, could turn the humans into werewolves.

You’d be getting all kinds of people trying to get a hold of one of those things, just to see what it was like. But then, in the sober light of day, they find out they can’t turn back.

Or maybe you could create a beer that you drink and you turn into a werewolf through that, but only as long as the beer is in your system?

Maybe that would work for some people. Those that want to see what it’s like being a werewolf. Those that claim they want to be a werewolf, it could be like a trial dosage of the real deal. And then if they don’t like it, they could revert back to their usual self.

Handy and tasty full moon beer!

ha ha


Pack Animals

August 24, 2010
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Full moon night and I’m sitting at a table in a club, surrounded by Alpha Werewolves.

We’re drinking shots and they’re playing a sexual game of temptation. They’re trying to push each other’s buttons, not because they want one another.  They’re just doing it for amusement.

As the night goes on, the moon rises higher in the night sky. And as it gets closer to full moon, when the moon is completely full and at it’s highest point in the sky, us werewolves become more affected.

So what’s that like?

Well, I’m a Beta wolf so I guess you could say I feel things easier than the Alpha’s.  I’m more sensitive by full moon night as it were.  I’m already sweating, continuously just from the heat radiating from their bodies around me.  Also from being surrounded by so many Alpha pheromones in the air.

I’m roasting in my own body heat and my hormones are  making me squirm.  I’m constantly needing to touch, rub, or press some part of me against my packmate, Paris.

Another round of shots and the laughing starts again and it becomes  Jules turn to do whatever he can to get the pack’s thoughts racing and their libido’s amped up as we all watch each other to see who will react to whatever he does.

Dirty jokes, flashing body parts, suggestive imagery, and asking other wolves, those dancing, those not attached to those at these tables, to do things, put on a show or two for us.

I’m already out of this game. Paris is still in, but he’s got it extra hard, no pun intended because I keep crawling into his lap, or kissing him, or putting my hand up his shirt.   The others at the table don’t have partners on top of them, with them, doing what I’m doing. But then Paris is the Alpha pack leader, so they all expect to him to put in a damn strong showing in this weird little game they’re all playing.

So me pestering him, is considered average.  No different as it were to them without the extra pressure of a horny packmate trying to distract them.

Temptation is all about getting a reaction, an honest, unstoppable reaction out of fellow wolves.   There comes a point where something appeals to us, to the baser nature of our sexual beasts and eventually a spike in temperature, a facial tic, a pick up in heart beat, that continues on, gives away to each of us, who has just reached their peak of patience.

And still Paris holds out, even as he’s dared to bite me.  Not hard, not like I’m food, but  with his werewolf fangs all the same.  Each of them seem to think I’m going to be his undoing. They each keep trying to use me to get to him.

But while I’m doing things to him, and enjoying them. I’m deliberately doing it in a way that gives better views to someone else at the table, or I share a look with one of the others.   Kind of using what they’re trying to get me to do to him, to them.

We all hear the instant heart beat pick up and sense a spike in reaction as I arch backwards, my throat full exposed, my head dropping back, giving the boys opposite me,  a full view of the mounds of my breasts.

There’s a heavy sigh.  All eyes fall on Wiatt. He bows his head.

“I’m out.” He says softly, before making his way out from around the table and heading straight towards the dance floor, scouring for an available wolf.

Addison looks at us, and back out at Wiatt as he’s suddenly surrounded on the dance floor by near naked wolves.

“Oh screw this, or rather, I’d like to screw them.” He mutters at us a, downs his shot and heads out to the dance floor for some real play before we all have to shape shift.

Jules looks out at us and back at the semi naked bodies, writhing and dancing and looking joyous in their abandonment of clothing and sexual liberation.

“Oh to hell with this.”

Paris and I smirk at him, and he’s gone and we’re left alone and together.

“Paris for the win.” I mutter kissing him, and running my hands through his hair.

“Pack animals, sometimes they need to remember why I’m the Pack Alpha here.  I’ll never let anyone use you against me. Ever.” He says softly before we kiss.


Werewolves under moonlight

April 28, 2010
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When werewolves of today, such as myself shape shift during lunar week, it’s usually done indoors. I shape shift because of my werewolf biology that balances with my human side. My body has a compelling need to be something much more free than the whole human part of me.

Shape Shifting for me is mostly done in the company of others and I do it indoors. Mostly because it’s what I’ve conditioned myself, my wolf self to put up with. Because I live in a city. Which is about as natural to a werewolf as a desert is to Eskimos.

It’s a natural progression throughout time and our history that werewolves would evolve from beasts of the forests to counterparts of the urban city jungle. But there’s something to be said for being outdoors in werewolf form. It’s somewhat of a luxury and for me and mine.

There’s a sense of natural instinct and train of thought for the werewolf when its on solid ground, sniffing at dirt and animal scents on the cool night air. The feel of grass and dew underfoot is somewhat of an indulgence. Whenever I shape shift outdoors it’s like a new experience. It’s exciting. Probably because I don’t really do it all that often. After all, the New York werewolf packs have a big, old, golden rule about not shape-shifting in public, in front of humans.

Can’t freak the dears out.
Or get caught on video and become a you tube star.

Still some of us *whistles innocently* on “occasion”, get the urge to be one with our wolf outdoors. It’s these kinds of urges that a werewolf should not ignore. Because being a werewolf requires more than a semblance of self control. Bad shit can happen to you, those around you if you allow yourself to become feral and wild without true thought. And nobody wants to deal with the bad stuff. Just ruins the party.

If I were in Manhattan and felt the need to run and romp, I ‘might’ head out and hideout around Central Park, fairly late at night. Or if I were in Brooklyn, I’d probably sight prospect park as good place to get in tune with my natural self. The parks have a few hundred acres of nature and woodland for us to sniff and whiff around and enjoy under the cover of darkness at night.

Paris and I were making out under a tree, like a couple of hormonal teenagers, as we roughly yanked and pulled clothing off one another. The mixture of night time, a sense of urgency as the moon rose higher, made him harder and me hotter as we kept the contact of one another together. I straddled his lap and he eased me down as his mouth consumed sensitive skin that tightened against the cold night air. I was oblivious to the feel of cold, because the heat he was generating, was like pouring fuel onto an already full fire, that was my body.

We moved, hurriedly and Paris bit his lip, hard, to keep quiet. We didn’t want to attract any attention, human or wolf alike. We wanted to mate outdoors, in the comfort of night and under the essence of the full moon. Before we shape shifted and wandered around the park. For us, being so carefree and outdoors, doing the things we would do indoors at nightclubs was like the equivalent of being at Disneyland.

Happy.

We moved together with a synchronicity of werewolves who were fated together in this life and every other. His body warmed and encouraged mine, as I increased the pace of our fevered outdoor adventure. We’d decided to sneak away from the regular club scene, for the last part of the night. The latest part of the night as we could make it, before I would shape shift first, before him. I always felt the pull of the moon and the shape shift much earlier than he did. Just how it is being a beta werewolf.

Paris warned we couldn’t be out in the parkland all night long. He said only an hour or two. Which would mean, he would need to bring me out of my shape shift later on so I could get redressed and humanized to leave the park, or he’d have to carry my furry rump out of their without looking like he was kidnapping a wolf. Either was, it was apparent he was trying to be the Alpha leader he was meant to be. To do the right thing, and not get caught. But he was also trying to please his pack mate, me by allowing me to indulge in our little down in the dirt, romp. I think he found the risk of getting caught, exciting.

Typical adrenaline junkie. It’s all about the rush. Who was I to complain? I was loving the ride and of course the illicit secrecy of what we were getting away with. My body was suddenly seized by building pleasure racking it. I gasped, throwing my head back, my hair flying out around the back of me like a wave of night itself. Paris could no longer contain his quiet and he cried out, his voice filling the otherwise silent air as he joined me in riding out the sensation of our being together. We could no longer hold back our pleasure or wanted to. Paris howled , filling the night around us as I slackened in his embrace and rested my head on his pounding chest.

The feel of his heart, thudding against his skin. A sound of something that’s mine. Telling me it was racing to met the moon, as it had met me, made me smile.

Werewolves under moonlight, is there anything sexier?


Do werewolves have souls?

December 14, 2009
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Someone once asked “Don’t you believe wolves have souls?” and it made me wonder what they themselves were made of.

Made me think about how they feel on a full moon night.

You know it’s like common place and knowledge that people, not necessarily my people as it were, Nons, go a little bit crazy and looney – as in lunar, on a full moon night.

A study was conducted recently in some medical journal to see what the link between full moon nights and human behavior changes was. Turns out, humans get just as tropical on the full moon nights, as us werewolves. If not more so.

So hold your judgment on my kind if you will please until you take a good, hard look at your own kind.

I think it comes down to humans not being able to handle the power of the full moon and that’s why there’s a sudden increase in ‘extreme’ behavior if you want to call it that. That leads to violence, and medical mishaps. Maybe we’re all connected to the moon’s mythical force of power over us. But Werewolves have gotten the better deal. We’ve been given what we need to deal with the full moon and lunar weeks. We can shape-shift, change form and feel, for all intents and purposes, free.

Freedom can come in many forms, but I don’t think crazy lunatic is one of them.
But then having never gone the full crazy lunatic mode, I guess I might not
Be the authority on this ‘sensation’.
Lol.

So is it the werewolf soul that sates us (werewolf’s) on full moon nights, when the humans start going weird? I’d like to think so. That’s our soul being answered, assured and spoken to. That our souls are being noticed and we are being given a sense of love, purpose and fulfillment that perhaps, Nons, lack on such times.

It’s a bit of us versus them and it’s one of those times, on these times, that the police gear up for extra activity on the streets, that health care workers groan knowing they’re in for a heavy duty night of non stop work at the hands of human beings, that makes me glad I’m a werewolf. That I’m different and that I know the essence of my soul.

Our souls celebrate the full moon’s release on us. Rather than release us to the full moon, like humans
who go all out trouble mode on these nights.

So whilst we might all be connected – humans and werewolves, in the big scheme of things, we’re part human too and like the non’s we live amongst, are connected to the moon, there are those of us more privileged than others.

Like, say, werewolves.


Once upon a long ago…

October 23, 2009
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I got sent a link to the Wolfman trailer by @booklover73 on Twitter and it got me thinking about the tale of The Wolfman I was told as a child.

Since it’s almost Halloween seems appropriate to share it, so gather round gentle readers, and read along to this dark tale.

Once upon a long ago, there was a land in chaos.

In the United Provinces of the Spanish Netherlands the king of the land, was not pleased with his kingdom. He believed to rule his kingdom properly, everyone must follow his rule under, his god. He wanted the people of the provinces to have one god only.

The people of the seven provinces had always lived good lives. But when they told the king they did not wish to follow his god, they made him mad. The King formed armies of men in silver who were dispatched to make the people, listen to his decree. When they did not, they often met with death at the end of a sword, or were hung.

The people lived in fear of the kings silver men.

The men in silver were many, and always travelled as large groups on horseback. They carried swords, and they never left a village standing. Their arrival always signaled that death would follow to those who opposed the king.

But there was one village the silver men came to, that history would prove, to be different to the others they had conquered.

In the province of Uterecht, most of the villages had heard of the warring these men were bringing across the lands. A man named William, had spoken to them, told them of what it meant to fight the kings’ rule. William formed many friends, who rode with him across the provinces spreading the word of what was coming to those who did not do as they king wished.

The villagers of Maarssen, knew they could save their own village if they sought the council of their neighbors the Breukelen for help. They knew it would not be long before the silver men visited the town and burned their houses for not following the King’s decree of one god for all.

The village of Breukelen was also a small village, filled with families, farmers, blacksmiths and women who made the finest patterned materials of silk and wool. They like the Maarssen were a happy village, who were happy to live their lives from day to day, doing as they always had.

After speaking to the elders from Maarssen they decided the best way to save their villages from ruin and keep their people alive was to join their defenses.

The war of the silver men, was always moving closer to them, every day.

Together they sought out their surrounding neighbors for help in protecting the lands they lived on and their people.

They formed groups of messengers. Each group with a member from the Maarssen and the Breukelen was told to ride to a village and seek their support for the war.

The villages were spread wide and far.

The evening two of the messengers reached a village, but it was already too late.

Every house in the village burned. Bodies lay slain in the streets and pierced through pitchforks as a warning to those who rode through, of the might of the kingdom’s silver men.

Flames burned crops of wheat. The night sky was so blackened from the smoke of many fires, that the stars could not be seen for three whole nights. Instead of sunlight for those three days, ash rained down from the darkened sky.

Few animals managed to escape being slaughtered. Horses ran scared through cobblestone streets. The cattle of farmyard animals, whined so loudly that it was said the messengers thought they were crying and screaming at the same time, as they stampeded the nearby lands in confussion.

But one man, was found alive in the village.

On his knees, he wept.

He wore a fur across his shoulders, and a helmet with a wolf’s head on it. He held a younger man, in his arms, his eyes closed, blood staining his clothes.

“He was my brother.” The Beserker told the messengers.
“He fought the soldiers. He tried to stop them from coming into our village. We are peaceful he told them. We have artists here. Artists do not need to seek god or war. We have taverns with mead that you will be given all night. Beds for you to rest in as long as you need. But the soldiers did not care. I could not get to him, before they drew their swords and cut him down. A woman screamed and then they began burning our homes, killing our people.”

The messengers listened to the weeping Beserker. They offered to help the Beserker bury his brother, so he could be at rest. The Beserker, was so angry by the thought of parting from his brother, he yelled at the messengers:

“I will ruin the fires of the one god and king in blood and love. When the moon is next full, I shall walk amongst those who seek to destroy us as a man. By nightfall they will only see the beast of their creation, an animal that abhors mankind, and only seeks to fuel his revenge through their death. I will tear them apart with my teeth and cut open their flesh. I curse their life if it can not be this way for them as it is for me!”

The messengers, tried to help calm him down. But he would not be parted from his dead brother nor listen to the messengers who told him to join their cause. The Messengers realized there was nothing further they could do and left.

It is said that after three nights of falling ash from the sky the darkened smoke cleared and the full moon was able to be seen.

The messengers continued to form their alliances with the villages, and fight the silver men’s armies. Reports came in from far and wide of a lone creature, not unlike a wolf but some said more like a man, seeking out only the silver men and those they protected under the king’s rule. These people would be found dead, their throats torn, their hearts missing, with only claw and teeth marks on them. It was often said that wild animals, wolves in particular had attacked them.

But those two messengers always thought that this was the Besersker’s curse to carry as the Wolfman, forever seeking his vengeance, yet never satisfied.


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