#rezbratonna

[00undecidedfiction]

Andy Murphy, from my sci-fi/military m/m fic, All I Have. At twenty-five, he gets mistaken for being a little younger. A little air headed, he tends to be impulsive and has a bit of a temper. But he can be relied upon in a good fight, and he refuses to let anyone walk all over him.

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3293558/1/All-I-Have

[00undecidedfiction]

Chapter Seven is up! A quick preview:

His heart did a stutter step. Against his better judgment, Andy said impulsively, “Would you like to meet up for lunch, or something? Or hit a bar, or…?”

Adam hesitated to answer. He felt his face stiffen with some expression, considering the pros and cons of that. He did want to. At the same time, he knew it was dangerous; he needed an excuse, he needed time to arrange for an evening out – because he absolutely knew it couldn’t just start and stop at ‘lunch’. But he knew that if he were to stop this to protect his secret, then he had to cut Andy off now –

Seeing no response from Adam, Andy turned away with a grunt, moving to walk away. Adam reached out and grabbed his arm to pull him back. “When does your shift start?”

“I haven’t been cleared yet,” Andy mumbled, wishing Adam wouldn’t touch him. He started thinking of vivid injuries and fatalities he’d seen throughout his career just to keep his body from responding noticeably, and inwardly cursed his cheap shorts. “I had a little trouble the other night on patrol. So until I’m cleared for duty, I am stuck at home.”

“Is that something you can talk about?” Adam asked him. Feeling relieved at a ‘safe’ subject. A good excuse. One that could be fallen back upon if they were discovered, or if anyone had any questions; he could do this, he could find last minute arrangements.

[00undecidedfiction]

Andy knew better than to get on a seesaw with a man like Adam, but it wasn't going to stop him from trying.

Andy looked up and judged the expression on Adam’s face. He took a deep breath, and sat down at the table. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You looked pissed. And not just because I’m here.”

“What gave you that clue?”

“You’re a scary guy,” Andy admitted. “It’s no wonder people don’t even try to mess with you.”

“You came over here just to comment on my mood?”

“No. Did you have a hard day on patrol?”

Adam’s jaw twitched again. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of your business. Don’t act like we’re closer than that.”

From Chapter Six, located here:

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3293558/7/All-I-Have

[00undecidedfiction]

Logan, Aniki, Nerio, and Josef. A girl on a mission to end slavery - the boys just happen to keep up. (Except Nerio, who is more interested in nap time and not getting killed.)

The mix of people are interesting to note: Logan is South Indian(I love her big feet) Aniki Japanese Josef is of German descent Nerio might be Icelandic, he’s not saying

My attempt at coloring - has not changed since I was a mere babe. Coloring outside the lines is sorta my thing. (Re: gave up trying)

All characters are from my fic, The Island Killer, at Fictionpress

[00undecidedfiction]

An update has been spotted!

Chapter One has been uploaded. A day out with friends starts with food, ends with food.

[00undecidedfiction]

It’s Been Awhile...

Since I opened up my original fiction folders. Fan fiction had been my last year’s delight, and after some recent encouragement, I thought I’d be fun to revisit the files I’ve had on hold. It’s interesting to see my changing thought process as I open up Version 1, version 2, version 3, etc. The idea was there, but the motivation? Damn, there’s no traffic. No reviews. I forgot why it was so hard to post, looking for a little feedback (original fiction is so hard to get feedback or even a view!) 

This is doable. 

Admittedly, original fiction has a different texture to it, and while I’ve read a few Amazon Kindle goodies, I’ve yet to open up Fictionpress to see what’s out there. I see I have 11 hits on a recent adventure, and 50 in total for a recent m/m fiction prologue. Hey, that’s not bad, right?

I plan on drawing my characters for these fics -  maybe it’ll receive better if people knew what they were looking at? Hmm. i am also interested in drawing a comic or two this year. With my plate full, i’m sure i can fit it somewhere.

[00undecidedfiction]

An extraordinarily clumsy teen finds himself being threatened by his parents’ old enemies; as his mother’s celebrity ‘henchman’ status earned his admiration and hopes, he finds that maybe this part of his life wasn’t something to celebrate. While his father does all he can to keep Jake safe, Jake’s best friend, Gone, has harbored a crush on his best friend. When things start happening, they find themselves getting closer...

[00undecidedfiction]

Carrota

Just a blurb from the first chapter of my original fiction, “The Island Killer”.

“What’s going on, sis? Are you the captain, now?” the first boy asked cheerfully, holding onto his bare feet.

             Nervously, she fiddled with the half-fingered wraps she wore, tugging at the material. “Well, it seemed like a grand idea at first – jump the crate, take over the ship, and sail off into the sunset, right? I just forgot the biggest part – I don’t know how to drive a ship.”

             “Wow, we’re probably going to die out here, aren’t we?” the boy asked, crawling over to sit as close as he could near the wire. But once the vine reacted to his presence with a tightened coil around the cage, he quickly sat back.

             “Why are you in there?”

             “We were headed home,” the first answered.

             “…In cages? Are you Workers?” she asked curiously, peering in at them. “You’re both wearing caste robes, though.”

             “And how did a slave get so far from her home?” the other teen asked, his quiet voice lifted only slightly. He had pale green eyes, which she looked into with a dazzled expression. He frowned at her for the invasiveness of their eye contact.

             She then shrugged, turning away from them. “I’m being transferred.”

             “Without an escort?” the other asked skeptically.

             “Well…no. Okay. So…I don’t have a home,” she confessed, gazing out at the sea once more. Hands over her stomach, she winced. “I feel sick.”

             “Did you escape? Are you on the run?”

             She gazed off into the distance. “My wish list includes fruit flavored bread, and real shoes. I would love to read and write. I dream of sitting on the beach one day, completely relaxed, without threat of being bothered by Agents or owners.”

             “That’s not an answer.”

             “In any event, are you being chased?” the other asked, folding his arms and crossing his feet.

             She turned to them, looking green in the face. After she was able to control herself, she swallowed hard, and then gestured at them. “First off, you’re in cages. It’s established that I am a slave, but you? You’re in Middle Class robes, you’re encaged with Blocking Vines…you’re defective Agents. Am I right?”

             They looked at each other, then gave reluctant nods.

             “Then we’re in this together!” she said happily, hands on her hips. Relief made her less guarded, and she stepped up closer to them with a brilliant smile. “My name’s Logan!”

             “Aniki,” the younger one said, waving. “And this is Josef.”

             “If we’re cooperating together, you should release us,” Josef said.

             “Well…I’m a girl, you’re two guys, and I’m really helpless…I wouldn’t know how to so you’ll have to just bear it,” she said with a timid expression.

             “Those muscles of yours don’t suggest helplessness!” Aniki exclaimed.

             Logan was aware of what she looked like. She short, with darkly tanned skin. Her light brown hair was braided in a halo up top, the rest dangling in a long braid, face framing pieces falling around her face in a wispy array. Her traditional clothing – a stained open robe over multiple wraps that served as a combination bra and banded top; harem pants, sandals forced from strips of rubber and tied with shoestring – was all she had ever worn. But wrapped tight around her small chest was a dark brown sari that she had manipulated to tie around her chest and dangle from behind her neck, a convenient hood from the sun. Around her arms were shredded pieces of material that she’d tied around her fingers, knuckles and wrists – a mysterious covering that didn’t fit the overall presentation. They were stained in some areas, suggesting healing injury.

             She’d never been considered pretty, but ‘strong’. She’d worked the trenches of the desert, manipulating the ground for the other slaves to assist Workers, and to do so required monumental strength. As a result, her frame was heavy with muscle on top, small in the middle, powerful in the legs – not the dainty, slim grace that was preferred of females on Rubarba.

             She didn’t answer for a few moments, but her hands clenched at her sides. Her wide set eyes were bright with determination, lips pulled into a grim smile. “Well, the point is, we’re on the same team. If you’re in cages, it means you’re continuous offenders. And me, well…I never liked following rules. I’m going to Carrotta.”