Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Random Bit of Flash Fiction


“What’s this?”

Marissa was waving the box I’d hidden in the hall closet. It’s amazing how quickly my mate could find things I hid from her. Yes, I know I shouldn’t hide things from her, but old habits die hard. My first mate had taught me that hiding things meant I only got yelled at for things she noticed. She hadn’t noticed much, unlike my sweet little witch.

I braced for an explosion and told her. “It’s , ah, I just noticed that we didn’t have any smoke alarms, so I picked some up.”

“Huh. There’s one at the top of the stairs on each landing and one in the coffee shop kitchen,” she murmured, reading the packaging. “These talk to each other?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, nervous at the lack of reaction. “See? When one goes off, it signals the others that there’s an event. That way, if you don’t hear an alarm upstairs because you’re down stairs, you still find out something is going on, because all of them go off.” She made a cute little face at the box. Werewolves were generally attuned to body expression, but I’d never seen that expression on anyone before. Bemused, maybe? “What’s funny about it?”

“Nothing, sorry. I just got a mental image of gossipy ladies from the 1950s all gathering on the street because their smoke alarms all told them that someone burned dinner.”

That mental image bloomed in my mind and an evil thought soon followed. “I wonder if the range can be extended for how far they transmit to each other.”

“Mooney, you are not going to put these things in Ziva’s house!”

“Ohhhhh, yes I can! I still owe Nick from that prank last month! Nothing like having his lady love informed every time he burns his dinner!”

Saturday, December 8, 2018

It's That Time Again ...


For the annual Supernatural Christmas photo. Hats off to the boys for having the guts to wear these things in public. And if you think this is bad, you should see WalMart. Happy Holidays, everybody!

Friday, November 30, 2018

Yes, This is a Commercial


...but I hope you won't mind. His Super Neighbor by J. J. Collins is now available at Evernight Publishing, Amazon, Bookstrand, and probably Barnes and Noble. I didn't look over there yet. Hope  Lon doesn't sue  over his portrayal in the scene set at the comic book store. He's a much better class of person in real life.

Also, a note to Serena, if you're still here: yes, it's Those Two again. ;)

Cullen Braithwaite has two obsessions—a massive crush on Grant Guthrie, his handsome neighbor across the street, and drawing comic books. Grant has one obsession—protecting his ten-year-old nephew from his sister’s abusive ex. The two meet and romance blossoms. Then Cullen draws Grant into a comic book story, publicly exposing him to a dangerous stalker. With real-life evil closing in, one of them will have to learn to unleash his inner hero.

Be Warned: m/m sex, no shapeshifters or actual superheroes

you can get it here


Excerpt:

The moment they stepped into the bedroom, Grant got hit with the double whammy of racing heart and racing brain. He wanted a clear head for this. He didn’t want Cullen thinking he considered him a casual fuck. The time had come to kick this single life shit to the curb and settle down with the right man. After that fanfuckingtastic blowjob, he’d been ready to propose right then and there, but what little remained of his rational brain urged caution. He didn’t want to move too fast or too recklessly, and maybe send Cullen screaming back across the street.

Then he looked down into Cullen’s eyes and all his fears disappeared. Their blue had darkened to a navy ring around his enormous pupils. And that voice he’d used in the living room, deep and dark and hoarse with passion—no, his man wasn’t going anywhere.

He had his shirt off and draped over a chair in the corner before he noticed Cullen still hovered in the doorway. Dammit. Grant didn’t want to lose the momentum they’d started in the other room. He’d better make a move before his dream date’s feet got any colder.

He returned to the doorway and slid his arms around Cullen’s waist. His lips blazed a nibbling trail down Cullen’s throat to his shirt collar. Seeing—and feeling—the effect his bare chest was having on the smaller man, Grant deliberately rubbed up against him. His fly was still open. To his surprise his cock was already showing signs of randy life again, in spite of its recent exertions. Perhaps it sensed Cullen’s, twitching behind the thin barrier of his slacks. Great heads thinking alike.

“I thought we were doing this,” he murmured against Cullen’s throat.

Cullen peered beyond his shoulder. “Your room. It’s … clean.”

“Yeah, I’m the neatnik in the family. Marti takes a more I’ll-get-to-it-when-I-get-to-it approach. Helps when you have a kid.”

“I’m not complaining,” Cullen said quickly. “I was expecting, I don’t know, a den of iniquity or something.”

“Seriously? My ten-year-old nephew stays here. Iniquity got kicked to the curb a while ago. On the other hand…” That spot just behind Cullen’s ear looked incredibly tempting. He leaned in to lick at it, and heard Cullen’s breath catch. “Rudy isn’t staying here tonight. I’d say some iniquity’s in order.”

By now Cullen was rubbing back—against his cheek, against his naked chest, especially against his crotch. The man was practically purring. Or was that a growl? Grant’s blood quickened with excitement, and his cock gave a definite leap. Here was his horny little slut-man from the living room, all wound up and ready to go. Those still waters of his ran deeper than the Marianas Trench, and Grant couldn’t wait to dive in.

“What are you still doing in your clothes?” he said roughly.

Cullen’s eyes were practically all pupil by now, and his voice had dropped into a Darth Vader register. “Waiting for you to take them off.”

Foreplay over. Let the games begin.

Friday, August 17, 2018

Friday, February 2, 2018

More Auto-fill!

I have to say, I'm becoming addicted to letting auto-fill write this story. This afternoon, I sat down to write my daily flash fiction. I decided to try to get Auto-fill to tell me more about the protagonist of this story. Here's what I got:

* * * * * * * * * *

The game has been a lot more than a few incidents. I did a lot of things to make sure that they didn’t find means to track my movements. I ate garbage all night so I had a different smell. I drove a tractor to pick up groceries. I wore clothes that were not really good enough for me to go to the gym in.

I am a huge fan of sushi so I don’t have it anymore. I love basketball so I don’t watch it anymore. I am an angry bird nowadays. All the things I love, I don’t do. I just have garbage for dinner, dress badly, and drive a lawn tractor any time I leave home.

I live in a dolphin house and it’s not really a good place. I can’t date, either. The other tenets would eat me out. The game is everything, even to them.

What is a dolphin house, you ask? Good question. It’s a parody of Dolphin Square in London, basically a bunch of “serviced” flop houses in a failed business district the supernaturals bought to house their pets. I do landscaping in exchange for rent, a job I got because of that damn lawn tractor.


* * * * * * * * * *

That last paragraph was me trying to turn Auto's rambling into some kind of context. I like it, I really do! Still need to find out some basic details such as gender, but the protag sounds intriguing at this point!

`Rebecca 

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Playing With Autofill

I found an article while browsing Face book that had me in stitches this evening. Botnik Studios put out an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation created with predictive keyboards. You read that right, they deliberately auto-wrecked themselves. It's gloriously hilarious.

Once my uncontrolled giggling subsided, I started thinking. What would a werewolf romance story written with auto-fill read like? I had to give it a try!

The first thing I discovered was that my phone's a better medium for this type of writing. The predictive keyboard I downloaded for my PC didn't seem to grasp action verbs or nouns. The second thing i discovered is that i have to guide the story a bit. My phone did come up with the premise of this bit of flash fiction, though. Here's my best creation to date:

Werewolves want to be the only ones in this game. The fact that I have been in the game for years now is a little hard to fathom. I’m not sure how I feel about it. The game sucks. I suck. Werewolves suck. Every time I try to get out, I get pulled back in eventually. They don’t want me here, but they won’t let me go, either.

The game is a simple thing. The only thing that is wrong is that it doesn’t work. They hide in public and pretend no one sees them. Most people play along and “don’t see” them. Sometimes people see them despite trying not to. I’m not one of those people who are still “not seeing” them.

They’ve never let me forget it. They haven’t killed me, though they have killed others. They haven’t absorbed me into their society, though they sometimes do that, too.

I can’t win, leave, join, or die. I just keep playing the game.



Not bad. I think I'll keep adding to this story to see where it goes!

~Rebecca