California BC is a raw, restless coming-of-age story set in Vancouver’s rain-drenched streets, 1989. It follows Danny Fuller and Hailey Barne, two seventeen-year-olds clawing against the confines of their lives, searching for something that feels real.   Danny skates through cracked parking lots and shadowed alleys, his skateboard a lifeline through the fog of depression and ADHD. Medication dulls the edges but leaves him restless, like a radio stuck between stations. 

The Universe Doesn’t Care, But I Do is a raw, unfiltered collection of poetry that cuts through the void with intimate reflections on love, loss, and the search for meaning.

Written by D. McLoughlin, with evocative artwork by AC Cable, this book explores the tension between cosmic indifference and human devotion—where the universe may be silent, but we still feel, ache, and fight to make sense of it all.

For those who have ever stared into the abyss and whispered, I’m still here, this book is for you.

Set against a gritty urban backdrop. Karma and Eve explores themes of survival, identity, and the fragile bonds of friendship, as the two protagonists face danger, crime, and the consequences of their choices. 

Lila and Luna Morgan—born conjoined, bound by flesh and fury—claw their way through the sleaze of 1990s LA, turning heads and breaking rules as they rise in the adult film underworld. Alongside Danny, a double-dicked drifter with nothing to lose, they carve a bloody path from the Valley’s grimiest studios to Vegas’s neon gutters, chasing cash, fame, and a warped kind of love. But when mob debts, betrayal, and a vengeful has-been close in, their freakshow empire teeters on a razor’s edge—built on lust, sealed in blood, and ready to burn. In a world that gawks and exploits, the Morgan Twins fight to own their story, one brutal frame at a time. 

A cursed board. A severed hand. A city rotting from the inside out. 

Honolulu is coming apart. Boiling oceans. Cracked streets. Neon lights flickering like dying nerves. And me? I’m strung out, bleeding, and haunted by something I can’t outrun. 

A mutilated longboard fused with a severed hand follows me through the piss-soaked alleys and scorched sand of Kalihi, whispering in tongues and carving trails of blood I can’t stop seeing. Meth isthe only thing that dulls it, and even that’s stopped working. 

\This is a hallucination turned hellscape. A surf-punk horror soaked in gore, addiction, and urban decay, where the ocean wants flesh and the gods want my heart.

 The Devil’s Deck isn’t just a ride. It’s a curse. And it wants to finish what it started.