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exaltedfuzz · 2 days

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Oh man, that three-part comic you posted. Such wonderful Skye sisters bits.... And making me want to take out Gant's knees with a baseball bat. >:| Really good content, loved the bit with the Snackoos, and the part with "SHE needs YOU?" Gant's notepad is a nice touch! Would you mind transcribing it though? Some of it is a bit hard to read. ^^; (Tiny side-note, but your British is showing; they drive on the right side in America, which means the driver's seat is on the left side of vehicles. :v )

Thank you so much! Really glad I could get both the sisters and Gant across successfully. It was originally a screenplay, so enjoy reading!

(I did realise that about the car. I didn't really want to re-layout everything... Besides, write what you know, right?)

Anyway! Here's my screenplay, under the cut. I figure pages and pages of text isn't fair to make people scroll through on my blog.

(And, in case you haven't seen it, here is my comic!)

SCENE - GANT and LANA’s office. They’re having a meeting. (set shortly after SL9)

GANT

Mighty fine to see you, Miss Skye. (shaking head) You’re always so busy… (looking up) How’s your sister?

LANA

Fine. She’s (looking aside) doing very well at school.

GANT

Such a smart girl. (nodding towards Lana) Like her big sister.

LANA

Thank you, sir.

GANT

I know you took the advanced bar. You ought to have told me yourself, Lana.

LANA

I… I did. I’m waiting on the results.

GANT

Oh, I can tell you. You passed with flying colors. Such a smart girl.

LANA

It’s a relief to hear.

GANT

Oh, Lana, don’t be so tense - we’re friends here. You and me.

Beat

‘Cause, remember, I’m the only one who knows. (uncomfortable smile)

LANA

Yes, sir.

GANT

Lana, please - Damon. Not sir. I’ve told you before.

LANA

Yes, Damon.

GANT

(claps) That’s right. I’m so very proud of you, you know.

Beat

And I’ve done something for you.

Beat

Oh, you don’t have to thank me.

LANA

…What is it?

GANT

I’ve fast tracked you. Pulled a few strings. Talked to Blaisey, talked to the P.I.C. (very enunciated)

LANA

You didn’t have to, sir.

GANT

Oh yes, I did. Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye.

LANA

(taken aback) Sir-

GANT

Damon.

LANA

(leaning forward in chair) Police Chief Gant, SIR! I can’t possibly accept that. What of…

GANT

Calm down, young lady. Manny? Oh, he’ll live. The prosecutors’ office needs you. You know I’m all for feminism, women in leadership.

LANA

I’ve never prosecuted in my life.

GANT

Oh, Lana, don’t talk like that. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to Ema, would you?

(Lana sits back in her seat)

Beat

I know you’re raising her on your own.

Beat

On a detective’s salary, no less.

LANA

No. Yes, I mean.

GANT

(laugh) Oh, Lana, you are a funny one. (suddenly serious) But you know what Ema did.

LANA

(chewing her nails) Yes.

GANT

It would be a shame. She’s all geared up to take up a prime position in the lab soon as she’s out of school…

LANA

She doesn’t need any help.

GANT

Oh, but she does. Did you forget? Our very own Neil Marshall…

Beat

What a diligent boy. Little too much for his own good. Maybe. (laugh)

Beat

Oh, whoops! Remind me, who killed Neil Marshall?

LANA

…Joe Darke.

GANT

Come on now. Say it with me, Lana. Ema Skye.

Beat

LANA

It was an accident.

GANT

Well, sure. That’s why we’ve worked so hard to make Ema innocent.

Beat

But I need you in the chief prosecutor’s office.

Beat

You look queasy. Why don’t we go for a swim?

LANA

I didn’t bring a swimsuit.

GANT

(laugh) Oh, you crack me up. Tomorrow, we’ll go swimming. Don’t forget, OK? I’m writing it in my diary.

LANA

I booked tomorrow off.

GANT

Oh, did you, now?

LANA

It’s Ema’s birthday. And parents' evening.

GANT

Oh, alright then.

Beat

It must be so hard on you.

LANA

Not at all.

GANT

Oh, don’t lie to me, Lana. Deceit isn’t a good look on you.

LANA

I’m proud to have a sister like Ema. She’s not a burden on me, if that’s what you’re implying.

GANT

Oh, no, no, no. I’d never say anything of the sort. You’re just… always so busy. Maybe it’d be for the best to send her off to a boarding school, or the like.

LANA

SIR! (clearing throat) She… needs to stay with me.

Beat

GANT

My, so animated. Tell me, “she needs to stay with you”, or “you need her to stay with you”?

LANA

(snapping, suddenly) Don’t-

GANT

Don’t what? Go on.

LANA

I do need her. She’s my sister. That doesn’t make me weak.

GANT

Oh, no. Strongest lady in the force. Soon to be strongest lady in the prosecutors’ office.

LANA

(hanging head) Yes, sir.

Beat

Damon.

GANT

Oh, I’m so happy to hear it. You and me, we’ll make sure all criminals get their just desserts. Right?

LANA

(muttered) What is “just” about this?

GANT

Watch your words, Lana. You know I take my job very seriously.

Beat

Let me know how Ema’s parents’ evening goes. Tell her uncle Damon says hi. I’ll be sure to get her a present, alright?

LANA

Since when are you “uncle” Damon?

GANT

Well, Chief Prosecutor Skye, we’re friends here, you and me.

Beat

And I’m uncle Damon.

Beat

Tell me, what does she like?

LANA

…Forensic science.

GANT

(laugh) Oh, surely there’s something a little less morbid.

LANA

(pause) I…

GANT

Surely you know. You’re such a good big sister, after all.

LANA

…She likes lots of things. It’s hard to keep up. She’s in a few clubs.

GANT

Oh, Lana… You’ve been working hard.

LANA

Don’t use that tone with me, sir.

GANT

(laugh) I’ll find her something. Why don’t I take you both swimming?

LANA

Please don’t worry about it. Ema’s not really big on swimming.

GANT

Oh, so you do know! What a good big sister.

LANA

… Don’t come by the house, please.

GANT

Aw, Lana. Don’t be like that.

LANA

I mean it. She told me she just wants things to be quiet.

GANT

Mmm. I’ll swing by the school carpark.

LANA

… Fine.

GANT

Wonderful! Oh, I’m so happy. Really, I am.

Beat

Where is she now, Chief Prosecutor?

LANA

Afterschool hockey.

GANT

Mmm. Is she good at it?

LANA

I think so.

GANT

Mmm. Did you do any sports in high school, Chief Prosecutor?

Beat

LANA

…I did. Netball.

GANT

Oh! How wonderful! We should play a game of beach volleyball sometime.

LANA

Different thing.

GANT

(laugh) Stubborn as always, Lana!

LANA

(checks watch [6:30] and abruptly stands) Sir.

GANT

Damon.

LANA

Damon - I need to leave.

GANT

Mmm.. Yes… I thought as such. After school clubs seldom run on quite so long as this.

Beat

But you will take up the position?

LANA

… Chief Prosecutor?

GANT

Oh, yes. You’ll be perfect.

LANA

I see no other choice.

GANT

Wonderful, really. I’m so glad we have this partnership, Lana. Sorry. Chief Prosecutor Skye.

LANA

Yes. Damon.

GANT

Now go on, get. Your baby sister’s waiting.

SCENE - EMA is waiting in the rain under a small shelter in the school car park. It’s getting dark, and she keeps looking at her watch. LANA’s car pulls up, and she winds the window down.

LANA

I’m so sorry, Ema.

EMA

… It’s been over an hour.

LANA

Just… Get in the car.

EMA puts her bags in the boot and sits in the passenger seat beside LANA.

LANA

(turning car around) Did you have a nice day?

EMA

Mm.

LANA

What did you have?

EMA

Chemistry. And Biology.

LANA

And…?

EMA

And lunch.

LANA

You’re not skipping classes, are you?

EMA

No.

LANA

Then what did you have?

EMA

Math.

Beat

And English.

LANA

… How were they?

EMA

Same as always.

LANA

Working hard?

EMA

Mhm.

Beat

Um. What did you do today?

LANA

Well, paperwork, mostly.

Beat

… I have good news.

EMA

Hm?

LANA

I’m getting promoted.

EMA

Oh, what? Cool!

LANA

Mm. So, I’ll buy you something nice with my first big new paycheque.

EMA

How about a lab?

LANA

I don’t know about that… How about some proper tools? To get you started on your big forensic lab?

EMA

…That would be really cool.

Beat

So, you’re what, deputy? Vice deputy?

LANA

… Well, I have some more good news. Do you remember a few months ago when I took the advanced bar?

EMA

Mm…

LANA

Well, I passed! “With flying colors”, says Mr. Gant.

EMA

Hey! That’s great news!

LANA

… So I'm actually district Chief Prosecutor. Isn’t that exciting?

EMA

Huh?

LANA

Mr. Gant says I’ll be perfect for it.

EMA

… Wow. That must be a lot of responsibility.

LANA

It is. I’m sorry, Ema. I was in a meeting with Mr. Gant. That’s why I was so late.

Beat

He’s very insistent.

EMA

Maybe I should start driving myself home.

LANA

Don’t be ridiculous. You’re thirteen.

EMA

… Would you take me to court over it?

LANA

Yes. And myself, for neglect.

EMA

You’re so serious.

LANA

Correct.

Beat

Serious about making sure you have a great time on your birthday. (weak smile )

EMA

(weak laugh) Yeah?

LANA

Mhm. I got you something today. Just in my bag. Have a rummage.

EMA leans back to grab a packet of snackoos out of Lana’s satchel.

LANA

I hope it’s the right thing. Not much, just from the vending machine at work. I promise I’ll get you something better tomorrow.

EMA

… Thanks. (crinkling packet between hands) I like these.

LANA

Oh, good. I wasn’t sure. Let me try one?

EMA

(opening bag) Alright.

LANA and EMA both eat

EMA

So… You’re Chief Prosecutor Skye?

LANA

Mhm.

EMA

Almost as cool as Dr. Skye, forensic expert.

LANA

… And I’m guessing that’s you?

EMA

Soon.

LANA

… Finish high school first, ok?

Beat

Ema, are you sure you still want to work with the force?

Beat

It’s ok if you don’t. The past few months have been a lot.

EMA

… I’m tough.

LANA

You are.

Beat

I’m very proud of you, Ema.

Beat

You know what? Let's get a takeaway to celebrate. My promotion and your birthday.

#ace attorney #exaltedfuzz #ema skye #lana skye #damon gant #screenplay #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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inlovewithkevinday · 1 year

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This may be biased since I think Andrew Minyard is perfect, but I really don’t see how during the foxes’ games, he could ever be scored on if he was genuinely trying to block the shot. I can not picture in my mind Andrew running and trying to smack away a ball, only for it to fly past him to the goal. It’s just so… out of character? I can not see him failing in this way. Especially during a raven game. I just can’t see it happening. No matter how hard anyone trains, i don’t think any one could ever catch him off guard like this, especially under the circumstances. unless it’s neil of course but that’s only cause of his personal feelings. It says in the book out of like 150 shots taken on him he let 13 pass, but what we’re those 13? I suspect he just didn’t care enough to sprint or he got bored and just wanted to watch the color leave Wymacks face. But he would never like one of Rikos shots through, because of Neil and Kevin, I really really can’t see it.

#all for the game #andreil #andrew and neil #aftg #the foxhole court #aftg fanart #aftg headcanon #aftg incorrect quotes #neil josten #aftg andreil

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babyzombiehottub · 3 months

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The Vampire Virus. (A fanfic of my good friend who's story is linked here: https://www.wattpad.com/1278626165-we-are-the-monster-generation-a-life-changing-day)

Dwayne, the young vampire with white skin and white hair, winced as another wave of pain coursed through his body. His red eyes watered uncontrollably and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was bad enough that he was a dude-bro vampire from Spain, but now this?! He couldn't believe the intense pain radiating from his lower abdomen. It felt like someone was stabbing him repeatedly with a million sharp needles. The worst part? He couldn't stop himself. He had no control over his own bowels. It was as if they were on a rollercoaster ride of their own, careening out of control.

He gripped the sides of the toilet, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep from passing out. His thighs, normally so strong and toned, now quivered helplessly. Even though he hated to admit it, there was something undeniably sexy about the way they looked now. The way the muscles tensed and relaxed as he struggled against the diarrhea, the way the veins stood out prominently against the smooth, pale skin. And his ass! It was the most magnificent thing ever seen. Round, firm, and begging to be grabbed. He couldn't help but fantasize about someone else's hands on it, massaging it, making him feel better.

"Dwayne?" came a worried voice from the doorway. It was his zombie friend, Neil. "Dude, you've been in there for, like, hours. You okay?" Dwayne didn't respond, too focused on his battle against the diarrhea. Neil walked into the bathroom and cringed when he saw the state his friend was in. "Dude… you know you can't flush that shit, right?" he asked, gesturing at the overflowing toilet. Dwayne managed a weak laugh, more of a groan really. "I know, man… just… help me get up, would ya?" Neil obliged, steadying Dwayne as he stood unsteadily.

Together, they made their way to Dwayne's bedroom, where he collapsed on the bed, his body still wracked with pain. "Dude, you should see a doctor," Neil insisted. "This is serious." Dwayne shook his head, his long white hair swaying. "I'll be fine, man… it's just… one of those things. Vampires get these funny stomach bugs sometimes." He closed his eyes, trying to will the pain away. "Just… give me some privacy, okay?" Neil nodded reluctantly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The next wave hit Dwayne like a sledgehammer, and he barely made it back to the toilet in time. The shit that came out was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was thick and tar-like, almost black in color. It coated his fingers as he clutched the toilet seat, and it seemed to burn as it slid down his throbbing ass. He let out a long, low moan of agony, his body shaking with each spasm. The texture was so gross that he couldn't even imagine how it must feel inside of him. He tried to wipe himself clean, but the toilet paper disintegrated almost immediately.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Neil standing there, looking concerned. "Dude, you sure you don't want me to get you some more toilet paper or something?" he asked, gesturing at the empty roll on the floor. Dwayne shook his head, his long hair flying. "No, man… just… rub my stomach or something, okay?" Neil nodded, and knelt down beside the toilet. He gently placed his hands on Dwayne's stomach, rubbing circles as the vampire grimaced in pain. "There you go, buddy… just let it out," he murmured reassuringly.

The pain seemed to subside slightly with Neil's touch, and Dwayne let out a shaky breath. He leaned back against the cool tile wall, feeling exhausted beyond belief. "Thanks, man… I owe you one." Neil shrugged, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. "Hey, we've all been there, you know? Besides, you're my bro, right? We got each other's backs." There was a brief pause as Dwayne considered this, and then a small smile crept onto his face.

As the intensity of the diarrhea began to wane, they both knew it was time to face the mess they'd created. Slowly, Neil leaned forward, his hands moving from Dwayne's stomach to his thighs, gently pushing the vampire's legs apart. The smell in the room was overpowering, a putrid stench that seemed to cling to everything. But Neil didn't flinch. He moved closer, his face inches from Dwayne's ass, and began to wipe away the tarry remnants of the diarrhea.

It was a delicate task, to say the least. The skin around Dwayne's anus was raw and tender, the skin inflamed from the repeated abuse. Each wipe brought forth another gobbet of the thick, black muck, and each time, Neil winced in sympathy as he disposed of it. He worked methodically, taking care not to irritate the area further, his breathing growing shallow as he focused on the task at hand.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they were able to clean up the mess. Dwayne sat on the edge of the tub, his head hanging low, his body shivering from exhaustion. He was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. "Thanks, man," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Neil shrugged modestly. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right? Besides, I've seen worse, believe me." He glanced around the bathroom, grimacing at the lingering smell.

Dwayne nodded, standing up slowly. "You're right. It's just… this whole thing is just so humiliating. I feel like such a freak." Neil put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, we all have our weaknesses, you know? And hey, at least it's not permanent. You'll get through this, and you'll be back to your old self in no time." He gave Dwayne's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back. "Why don't you hop in the shower and get cleaned up? I'll bring you some clean clothes."

As Dwayne turned to head toward the shower, Neil began to gather up the dirty clothes and towels, stuffing them into a plastic bag. The bathroom smelled faintly of bleach now, as if Neil had already begun the process of cleaning it up. He glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost two in the morning. They'd been here for hours, dealing with Dwayne's latest bout of the vampire virus. He couldn't help but wonder how many more of these there would be.

The shower came to life with the sound of running water, and a few moments later, Dwayne emerged, wrapped in a towel. His skin had regained some of its color, and he looked more like himself again. "Thanks, man," he said, taking the clean clothes and towel that Neil handed him. "I owe you big time."

Neil waved off the thanks. "Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?" He glanced at the clock as well, noting the late hour. "Better get you to bed, huh? We've got school tomorrow, and you don't want to be a zombie like me do ya?" Neil joked "Goodnight man" Dwayne said as he went to bed

#male diarrhea #fanfic #vampire #diarrhea

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discodeviant · 1 year

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Not Duke, Not Prince - Part 4

Billy | Teen | 1.9k words Alternate Canon/Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence (sorta)

This was a very cathartic part to write lol. Hope you like it 😈

Made for @billyhargrovebingo!

Prev. | Part 1

“Doc said you’re good to go.”

It had been a few days since Billy was admitted when Neil returned to see him again. He hadn’t since the first; Chief Hopper visited more often. Not that it bothered Billy all that much, because the drug tests came back negative after all, and there was nothing in his car to point the cops in that direction anyway. No documented hallucinatory mental illness or recent head trauma that anyone but he and his father knew about. He passed with flying colors.

The last time he saw Hopper was that morning when he’d come around with a cup of coffee from the office, a bagel in one hand because Flo said it was a compromise, whatever that meant. Billy ate half of it. They talked for a while. Hopper said something about Billy’s beard growing in like his own did in high school, and that he was impressed Billy bothered shaving at all. He didn’t tell Hopper that it didn’t usually grow in so fast, or that he only had to shave once a week. That his moustache was the strongest facial hair he had, and the rest was saved for his pubes.

He was reluctant to let Hopper leave even though he’d been there for an hour already.

Neil looked disgusted when he saw Billy then, with a face that said, let’s get you cleaned up. The nurses all but shoved him out, and he couldn’t pretend that he was broken again. Shaky as he was, he could recover at home, take some time off work if he really had to. Or, that was what they thought. He hated that he felt just fine. The lack of exercise made him want to run and jump through the dense Hawkins backwoods, a startlingly new feeling, but it was still too cold for that. Maybe in the spring, he would.

The ride home was agonizing—not physically other than the lingering ache in his lower back from laying down, not stretching like he usually did. He’d have liked to try once they got home, but he knew better than to think it would be so easy. Dread covered him in a suit of its own. He felt prickly all over, but it wasn’t sweat. The inside of his sweater aggravated body hair and caught it on its fibers; he guessed that made sense, having grown so long. In days, his face was scruffier than it had ever been, arms and legs with a darker hue so the hair was actually visible now. Maybe Neil noticed, but if he cared, he didn’t say anything.

The Dread Tie choked around his neck when they pulled up to the house, and Neil helped Billy out of the truck despite his rejecting the offer. It wasn’t a choice, Neil reminded him with another bruising grip to his bicep and a pace that should have been a little too fast, though Billy kept up with it anyway.

Max was still at school, Susan at work, and Billy knew—before they made it to the front door—why Neil chose then to pick him up. Neil knew that he knew. The silence made Billy’s ears twitch, the hair on his back stand tall into his overgrown mullet, pain from the accident only subsided enough to tolerate if he was left alone. Days-old bruises throbbed beneath his skin like they’d predicted this before existing at all. Scratches burned, fractures ached, and his head spun when Neil said, “Billy.”

They were hardly inside the house.

“Do you… have any idea… of the mess I’ve gone through this past week?” Neil spoke low, taking off his jacket and hanging it up, decidedly leaving his boots on, priming the worn canvas before him. “No, you don’t. Because you’ve been in the hospital, which I have to pay for.” He wrung his hands and straightened the dress shirt under his cashmere sweater. “Because you were driving like a maniac in that goddamn car after I’ve told you, time and time again, to be careful with it, because I’m not buying you another one.” Billy was no more than a statue of soft clay when Neil got closer, up in his face, towering like he owned Billy too. “And lying to the goddamn police. What do you have to say to that, huh?”

Billy’s jaw tightened, nostrils flared, back muscles tensed like he was trying to balance himself. “I didn’t lie to them,” he said, and his voice was paper thin.

Neil huffed, amusement quirking the hair on his lip, feigned or genuine, stinging nonetheless. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Billy.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” It hurt to look into Neil’s eyes for too long, so Billy focused on his angry, stiff bottom lip instead. The wrinkles on his chin as he waited for something. “Now, you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

And Billy was silent for a long while. Stood there while his legs and feet were going numb like they did in the snow, heartbeat climbing into a sort of tap dance from one side of his ribs to the other. The air was dry as Billy met his father in a stale mate, then promptly lost the game when he said, “I did.”

He was up against the front door without a second to brace himself, one heavy fist gripped tightly to his shirt, and the other hand pointing to his nose. “I am trying to protect you, Billy. Do you understand that?” There they went again, the same old carousel, the same skipping tape. “You could have killed somebody, driving like that.”

“I wasn’t dr—“

“Hey!” Neil’s voice was a violent clap of thunder in an empty desert sky. “You listen to me.” Billy swallowed hard. “Your ass wouldn’t survive a day in prison. You don’t need me to tell you that, which is why you don’t act stupid. You don’t act stupid in front of cops. You don’t lie to the fucking chief.”

“You’re a hypocrite.”

That was when the palm struck once, a bell chime, a ringing gong through the house. “You’re a goddamn brat.” Billy couldn’t help laughing, just a little bit, enough to earn him another slap across the face. He grunted hard, expelling a sharp breath through his nose that refocused his attention on Neil’s breathing. Still too quiet, too sinister, but deep and threatening when Billy’s started to match. “I thought I taught you to be grateful for what you’ve got,” he said, “but you still haven’t, have you, Billy?”

Inhale…

Exhale…

“Have you!”

Inhale…

“You really are your mother’s son.”

Like a taut wire, Billy snapped.

He didn’t know where it came from, the bout of strength that rumbled through his core, right to both arms that shoved Neil away until he stumbled against the dinner table. Billy saw rage flicker through his eyes, the same glint that turned deep brown to flaming red. For a moment he was still frightening: both fists clenched at his sides, in position to charge and deal the damage to Billy’s form and self worth all over again. For a moment, Billy thought he still lost, and then Neil’s face changed.

His eyebrows flinched with his neck, Adam’s apple jumping down low as his mouth remained closed. Billy felt it from his chest, heard the grumble of the old Volkswagen they had in San Diego. It was his mom’s until Neil took that and ruined it too, but now it returned and sat right where it had been all along in Billy’s heart. A piece of her still with him, a moment in time he’d never forgotten even when strands of gold through the wind were taken in a rough hand and pulled back inside. It came from Billy’s throat, deep and guttural, louder than the Camaro when it revved up and called for someone to take home.

“What the fuck?”

Now Neil whispered. Now he wanted to step away, but the coffee table blocked his path. The engine continued as Billy’s chest rose and fell with stiff gusts of wind making it into his lungs. There were endless things he could have said to Neil, that he wanted to say, but none of them would be enough to express the sweet, cold, tantalizing aroma of fear wafting from his father’s flesh and blood. It was apple pie and vanilla ice cream, chocolate covered strawberries, watermelon in the summer. It soothed the rising heat that made him bleary-eyed and fogged every window, every sheet of glass in the room. Billy wasn’t half conscious of what was happening anymore other than the simple fact that Neil Hargrove was afraid, and it was his doing.

“Billy?”

Still just a whisper, bordering a desperate plea for mercy, and while Billy wasn’t numb to the aches in his body, he was numb to the voice. His voice, Neil’s voice, they both degraded into rubble. Suddenly his name didn’t feel like his name anymore—Billy… Billy…

“Billy…”

Growling so loud that it shook the floor, the ceiling, the walls, and Neil right to his bootstraps, Billy kept his stance. Blinking endlessly into the void that lay before him, five feet and ten inches of dirt that he should have wiped off his shoe long ago. That he couldn’t wipe off his shoe until, suddenly, he didn’t wear shoes; until he was two heads shorter than Neil and leaping from across the room.

Billy roared a sound he’d never fathomed hearing so close, right from his lips and through the recesses of his flattened consciousness. He did what he’d always done best, apparently, according to Neil, and broke things. He broke the coffee table and the vase on top of it; he broke the lamp, though he swore he didn’t touch it; and he broke Neil’s collarbone with the impact of his weight. Not that he cared, because Neil never did either. If nothing else, Billy was exacting his revenge, teaching somebody, somewhere, something about standing his ground, rising against fists that had no place in his memory. He was going to put Neil in his place once and for all, grab him by the collar and prove that he was even stronger.

Neil didn’t stand a chance.

Not against claws marring his face, his neck and chest; not against four hundred pounds sitting on his sternum and sinking sharp nails into his skin. Punctured by long, thick teeth and soothed by an enormous barbed tongue, though it was only to sate Billy’s appetite until dinner. The taste of copper made his eyes cross, his stomach turn, his arms reach out for more blood as the seething hatred for his father all but blinded him.

So many words, so little control over his jaw and tongue, and his voice was a deep, bellowing roar that knocked Neil’s head against the wall. In that moment, when the light faded from those beady eyes, Billy calmed. He looked around, and everything was so much taller around him, but, for the first time, Neil was below. The predator was down, the territory had been fought over and reclaimed.

For the first time, Billy had won.

Part 5

#.discowrites #stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #werelion #werelion au #werelion billy hargrove #fanfic #billy hargrove bingo

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jujywrites · 9 months

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Victory Lap

another drabble for a dusty ongoing collection! Work Hard and Be Good Chapter 2. Sigsquare OT4 with Winterwatts focus.

AO3

FF.net

or keep reading

***

It happens quickly and slowly at the same time. Roxie's heart is a rabbit in the underbrush, legs carrying her fast enough to fly; she's in the perfect position when her teammate passes her the ball, if not the perfect distance—barely past midfield on the opponent's side.

So is the goalie, but Roxie knows her weaknesses.

Her foot connects to the ball in slow motion. Her breath is magnified in her head. Slow as molasses the ball lifts up, up, up into a curving glide. The goalie will have to jump, diagonally and with enough height.

It's forever, watching the goalie prepare her save. Her fingers barely brush the ball's underside.

The back right corner of the goal billows out with the force of a sonic boom, and time returns to normal.

Extra time, 1-1. Now 2-1.

Roxie can only feel her yell, drowned out as it is by the roar of the crowd and her teammates (where is Eva?) converging with their own screams around her. They carry her, or she wills them to, to the edge of the pitch. She can see Rob and Neil, bedecked in university colors, running toward her when Eva barrels into her, broken free from the rest of the team.

She's right here. You did it, she's mouthing, probably saying aloud if only Roxie could hear her.

"I did it! We did it!!" she screams, and then Eva's kissing her. She kisses back, in front of everyone, because what the hell else will she do? Spontaneously combust from love?

Her team has settled slightly, still cheering and high but somehow distant. Or maybe that's Roxie's brain, narrowed down to her three favorite people celebrating her accomplishment. She turns in Eva's arms to cling briefly to Rob's bear hug, and then Neil inadvertently separates them by knocking into her with as much force as Eva did.

"Roxanne Luna Winters," he hollers, "striker extraordinaire!"

"Hey," she retorts, flicking him on the forehead, "that's Roxie 'badass motherfucker' Winters to you!!!"

He's grinning so widely, dimples on full display. Neil only cares about soccer because of Roxie and Eva's team, but he does care. And here he is overjoyed like the rest of them, smiling hard enough she can picture his eyes behind his glasses—

And it's that thought that has her kissing him before she can even think about it. Her heart starts racing again but she can't stop, and he doesn't stop her.

When she does stop, she starts laughing. She can see Neil's now-uncertain smile as she tries to contain her hysterics, but she really does think she'll go up in flames if—

Neil catches her chin with one hand and her shoulder with the other, and kisses her again.

The flames cool because she pours them into him, senses Eva close behind her and Rob, always beside her, further containing the blaze.

When they pull away this time, Neil doesn't let her go, forehead to hers. "Did I just make you the gossip lightning rod?" He actually sounds a smidgen regretful.

"Let them talk. I don't care," Roxie says, Rob's hand at her other shoulder bolstering her determination. "And if I start caring I bet I can kick all their asses anyway."

"Heh. I don't doubt that."

"Well, it's about time."

Roxie flushes at Eva's voice, so close to her. She turns to look and sees a smile so soft she can't keep looking. "Yeah." She smiles, shyly, feeling small in the best way. "Yeah, I guess it was."

#JujYwrites #To the Moon #SigSquare #polyships #Sports AU #rare ships #small fandoms

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theanticool · 1 year

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Ian Machado Garry stops Daniel Rodriguez in the 1st!

Test passed with flying colors. Garry decimates D-Rod for the early finish in this one. After early attempts to pressure was countered by a couple of hard right hands, D-Rod was caught out at range. Garry was pulling, letting Rodriguez walk onto those strikes and then providing the power to dissaude pressure. He did a good job circling to the center of the cage. The one time he did allow Rodriguez to walk him back, he circled kicked circled and clinched before turning Rodriguez and going back to the center. But the head kicks were money in this one. Those open guard head kicks are deadly. Rodriguez ate a couple but once he was caught out in space and was stuck reacting to what Garry, it was only a matter of time. Ate one flush in the center of the cage. Sent him back and down and Garry gets on him til the ref stops the fight.

Honestly, a little disappointed. I was really hoping D-Rod would push Garry. Force him to adapt midfight. Expose an element of his game we don’t know about. Nope. Garry just went out and collected a clean win.

Then he calls out Neil Magny. Which I’m 100% down for. If anyone is going to get us a different look out of Garry, it’ll be Magny.

#Ian Machado Garry #Daniel Rodriguez #UFC #MMA #Results

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crmsnmth-journal · 2 months

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part 2

Of course, now when I sing along to "Gone Away" it's a whole new meaning then before. Especially the piano version of the song. Or the best father's day gift I ever came up. I took my dad to see Motley Crue (one of the first bands we really bonded over. Shout At The Devil is one of our desert island albums that we both agreed on. And seeing them play, before Vince Neil got so out of shape that he can't sing (we've all see the awful version of Kickstart My Heart HI-YA!). I remember smoking a pencil lead joint right before they came on. It was a great night. So even though, through most of my life, my dad and I weren't really close, some of the best memories that I have come from him. The first time I did DMT, flying remote control planes. Living in his basement before getting out on my own. Dying my hair green, just because he couldn't see that color (Colorblind). He didn't just pass down my eternal and undying love for music that was powerful and emotional. He also passed down ankylosing spondilitis. I have the gene fore it, but he had it so badly. The end of my dad's life was riddled with health issues. His disease had eaten his bones for years. And then he got his felonies, so I guess we kind of bonded on our criminal side as well. The only difference between his and mine was that he actually commited his crime (home-made 'fireworks', never to hurt anyone, just to see a big boom). Then he had his stroke which drained his body to almost nothing. At the end, he weighed less than I did and I was pretty skinny at that time. I constantly wonder if maybe the car accident wasn't really an accident. His PO told me today that he was really worried that he wasn't going to see another Christmas. And that makes me sad. He did see another Christmas. He just saw it, drugged up in a hospital bed and deciding that this was it. It was over. The DNR was signed and they sent him on his way to a hospice facility. He died with my step-mom and his dog, Radar, in the room. And I think that was the perfect way for him to go. At peace, with his two loves. He went quietly. His eyes closed, and they just never opened again, at least not on this plain. I think that's why I've taken it so well. He died early and unexpected. But we all came down and said good-bye.

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destizen · 5 months

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BEST ADVENTURE PLACES IN INDIA

We have compiled a list of the best adventure places in India to satisfy your cravings for that perfect adrenaline rush. Let’s take a look at the best adventure places in India.

Rishikesh

Rishikesh, located in the northern state of Uttarakhand in India, is a popular destination for adventure enthusiasts. Here are some adventure activities you can enjoy in Rishikesh:best adventure places

White Water Rafting: Rishikesh is renowned for its white water rafting experiences.

Bungee Jumping: The region around Rishikesh has become a hub for bungee jumping. The jump takes place from a height of around 83 meters, and the platform is situated near the Shivpuri area. It’s a thrilling experience for adventure seekers.

Camping: Rishikesh offers various camping sites along the Ganges River. Camping is a great way to connect with nature and enjoy the serene surroundings.

Trekking: The nearby hills and mountains provide excellent opportunities for trekking. Popular trekking destinations include the Kunjapuri Trek, Neelkanth Mahadev Trek, and the Valley of Flowers trek.

Rock Climbing and Rappelling: Adventure enthusiasts can try their hand at rock climbing and rappelling on the natural rock faces in and around Rishikesh. There are trained instructors and safety measures in place for these activities.

Flying Fox: This is a high-adrenaline adventure activity where you are harnessed to a zip line and fly over the Ganges River. It provides a unique perspective of the landscape and is quite thrilling.

The Andaman and Nicobar Islands are a group of islands at the southeastern edge of the Bay of Bengal. Known for their pristine beaches, lush greenery, and rich marine life, these islands offer a variety of adventure activities for nature lovers and thrill-seekers. Here’s some information on adventurous activities you can enjoy in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands:

Scuba Diving: The Andaman Islands are a popular destination for scuba diving. The crystal-clear waters and diverse marine life make it an ideal place for both beginners and experienced divers. Havelock Island, Neil Island, and North Bay Island are some of the top spots for scuba diving.

Snorkeling: If scuba diving is not your thing, you can still explore the vibrant underwater world through snorkeling. North Bay Island, Elephant Beach, and Jolly Buoy Island are known for their clear waters and colorful coral reefs.

Sea Walk: Experience the thrill of walking on the ocean floor with a sea walk. This activity is suitable for non-swimmers as well, as participants wear a special helmet that allows them to breathe underwater.

Trekking: The islands offer various trekking opportunities, allowing you to explore the lush greenery and beautiful landscapes. Some popular trekking routes include the trek to Madhuban in North Andaman and trekking to Saddle Peak on North Andaman.

Kayaking: Explore the mangroves, backwaters, and coastal areas of the islands by going on a kayaking adventure. This is a great way to get close to nature and enjoy the serene surroundings.

Ladakh, a region in the northernmost part of India in the state of Jammu and Kashmir, is a paradise for adventure enthusiasts. The stark and stunning landscapes of Ladakh provide a backdrop for various adventure activities. Here are some adventure options you can explore in Ladakh:best adventure places

Trekking: Ladakh offers some of the most breathtaking trekking trails in the world. Popular trekking routes include the Markha Valley Trek, Stok Kangri Trek, Chadar Trek (walking on the frozen Zanskar River), and the Hemis to Padum Trek. The high-altitude desert terrain and the views of the Himalayas make trekking in Ladakh a unique experience.

Motorbike Tours: Ladakh is famous for its scenic roads and high mountain passes. The Manali-Leh Highway and the Srinagar-Leh Highway are iconic routes for motorbike enthusiasts. Riding through high-altitude deserts, crossing passes like Khardung La (one of the world’s highest motorable passes), and exploring remote monasteries on a bike is an adventure of a lifetime.

River Rafting: The Zanskar and Indus rivers offer thrilling opportunities for white-water rafting. The Zanskar River is known for its challenging rapids and frozen sections. The rafting season usually runs from June to September, depending on the river conditions.

Mountain Biking: The rugged terrains and high-altitude landscapes of Ladakh make it an ideal destination for mountain biking. There are various trails suitable for different skill levels, and biking allows you to explore remote villages and monasteries.

Camel Safari: In the Nubra Valley, you can experience a unique form of adventure by taking a double-humped Bactrian camel safari on the sand dunes. This provides a different perspective of the region’s landscape.

Paragliding: In places like Tandup and Tso Moriri, you can enjoy paragliding, soaring above the mountains and lakes for a breathtaking aerial view.

Height – 45 m

Lonavala is a popular hill station located in the Pune district of the Indian. state of Maharashtra Here are some of the tourist attractions in Lonavala:

Tiger’s Point and Tiger’s Leap: Tiger’s Point offers breathtaking views of the Western Ghats, and Tiger’s Leap is a cliff-top with a sheer drop where the echo point is a major attraction.

Bhushi Dam: This dam is a great spot for picnics.

Rajmachi Fort: A historical fort located near Lonavala, Rajmachi offers panoramic views of the Sahyadri mountains.

Karla Caves and Bhaja Caves: These ancient Buddhist rock-cut caves showcase intricate carvings and sculptures, reflecting the rich cultural heritage of the region.

Wax Museum: Lonavala has a wax museum that features lifelike wax statues of famous personalities.

Ryewood Park: A beautiful garden with a variety of trees, flowers, and a play area for children.

Ladakh, a region in the northernmost part of India in the state of Jammu and Kashmir, is a paradise for adventure enthusiasts. The stark and stunning landscapes of Ladakh provide a backdrop for various adventure activities. Here are some best adventure options you can explore in Ladakh: best adventure places

River Rafting: The Zanskar and Indus rivers offer thrilling opportunities for white-water rafting. The rafting season usually runs from June to September, depending on the river conditions.

Paragliding: In places like Tandup and Tso Moriri, you can enjoy paragliding, soaring above the mountains and lakes for a breathtaking aerial view.

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actualbird · 2 years

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tot ao3 fic recs part 5: character studies or just any fic that made me go, "damn, author knows/interprets this character AMAZINGLY!!!"

previous tot fic recs post can be found at the very bottom of my tot masterlist

these are fave fics ive read that made me further Understand the tot character in question, that opened my eyes or delved deeper into an already visible trait, that well and truly studied tot characters like a bugs under a microscope (affectionate).

all 6 fics here feature no ships and are completed

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it waits for you by quarterweeb

“I hope you liked the city; it’s a favorite of mine.” Artem nodded, and the old woman smiled indulgently. “Did you visit Vienna, too?” - Inspired by Billy Joel's "Vienna."

focus on artem, outsider pov

this fic is the most recent one on this list that i read and oh my god, it made me actually cry. real tears, yo. in the span of 1.5k words, artem wing was gently pried open and told the exact kindness he NEEDS to hear and also will have the MOST trouble believing. the prose here is so like, beautifully simple, just an everyday conversation that can happen to any of us. but then there are lines of dialog that happen that artem is never gonna forget.

and also im never gonna forget a very specific line here. it's been etched into my BRAIN. i wont spoil it tho, GO READ THIS! ESP IF UR AN ARTEM ENJOYER!!!

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artblock by quarterweeb

There’s the sound of some slapping, and then a switch flicks on. Cody blinks against the light, although it’s still kinda dim. The whole hallway looks...gross. It looks gross! The walls and the floors are just gray-brown concrete with little posters and stuff hung up to make it look less like a jail. In front of him is a guy with normal clothes on and dog tags. “You look like an asshole,” Cody says, because it's true and his parents aren’t around. - Cody Teller is locked in the depths of the Stellis Art Gallery, when some random guy comes out of nowhere to help him out.

focus on marius, outsider pov

yo, i think quarterweeb is a master of outsider pov by this point. this is another one of her fics and it's SO DELIGHTFUL!! LITTLE KID POV and thru this pov the fic takes us thru this like, rlly sincere snapshot of who marius is when hes connected over something he loves: art. thru just the interaction in here, a very clear understanding of marius shines thru even if the fic isnt going too "deep" so to speak.

all in all, this is funny and very earnest read!!

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Two Degrees (of Separation) by samandspam

“... After all, I have two doctorate degrees, whereas Artem has only one.” Sure, he only had a doctorate in law, but he had managed to pass an exam that had a one percent pass rate with flying colors. He may have the patience and goodwill of a saint, but Neil and Celestine had honed on his subtle pettiness. But such was the saying: you should always lookout for the quiet ones. or alternatively: Artem is a petty guy who does not take lightly to being called out without reason.

focus on artem, comedy

who says character studies have to be "serious" all the time? not sam cuz this fic is a frigging HOOT. showcases an artem wing that, under what many think is a wooden sign that says No Fun Allowed, is a person who actually is Very Fun Allowed (Because Of Spite). sam is super great at taking what you "expect" a character to do and then turning that on its head in a way that still completely fits, and that specialty is v much highlighted here!

v much recommend if you want something lighthearted!!

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Penne for your thoughts? by samandspam

"If you really want to make a friend, go to someone’s house and eat with him... The people who give you their food give you their heart." — Cesar Chavez or alternatively: artem makes food for the nxx. a series of three (maybe four) drabbles where artem makes food for marius, vyn, and luke.

focus on all nxx boys, comedy, found family

i like to call this fic "i cant believe pasta counts as therapy!" kJBKJKFGS but rlly, this fic is the 2nd in a series where artem is rlly fucking good at making pasta and each chapter delves into each nxx boys' insecurities or feelings. and then those feelings r met with warmth and comfort and pasta. each chapter shows a rlly wonderful understanding of who the boys are thru what they fear and how to address those fears.

in this fic, you'll get a laugh and also maybe a cry if ur a repressed bastard like me who really kins luke, HAHA. deffo give this a read if u want to feel an ache in ur heart but then like, a hug after that.

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Despite All Odds, It Seems I've Met My Match by sure_galena

Now that she’s facing him — and at a closer distance — Artem notices there’s something familiar about her eyes. He’s used to seeing them each time he looks in the mirror. “Who—” Artem clears his throat, trying to shove away the pinpricks of fear, the snake’s fangs beginning to poke at him. “Who are you?” The woman stops about a meter away from him, keeping a cautious distance between them. “Artemis Wing, senior attorney at Justitia Law Firm. And I’m inclined to ask you the same question.” * Or: after an NXX mission causes Artem to get transported into a parallel universe, he meets the genderbent counterparts of the NXX Investigation Team.

focus on artem, found family

man mAAANNNNN!!! this fic is such a huge fave of mine!!! the artem wing we know and love ends up in a universe where things r the same but Not Really. that in itself had me hooked but then galena goes the extra mile by using this fantastic premise as a way to make artem realize and confront his flaws and fears. that + some rlly cool plot + SO MUCH FOUND FAMILY FEEEELLLSSSSS //SOBS. artem's pov here is exquisite, it's got this solid/strict vibe in how he handles himself but also this like, looping and almost endless questioning of his faults as a person, IT'S SO GREAT TO READ!!!

artem enjoyers, check this fic out!!

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In the end, all I hope for is to be a bit of warmth for you by sure_galena

When Vyn is away on a business trip and needs help with his plants, Luke (and the rest of the NXX crew) end up signing up for more than they thought they would

focus on luke, action, found family

nothing brings a team together than fighting a giant evil plant that vyn supposedly ordered!!! vyn, what the HELL?? but srsly, this fic is wonderful and i love it to bits. galena back at it again with a wonderfully absurd premise and then uses that premise to dissect character and this fic's victim is Luke Pearce. take it from me, self diagnosed luke pearce enthusiast, that this fic is incredible. be it through little quirks luke does with his phone contacts or how he strategizes a battle plan or the thoughts only us readers are privy to in his internal monolog, this fic delivers a LOVELY interpretation of who luke is. all the while telling a very entertaining and well paced story.

im pspspsppspss-ing luke enjoyers, come here, read this fic, it's great!!

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if you enjoy these fics, make sure to support the story with a kudos, comment, and/or bookmark!!!! feedback is the best way to make an author happy :D

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #not getting much time to write this week so it's time to hype up my FAVESSS #tot fanfic

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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The Tanning Rock

Harringrove April prompt 28, Tanning--Creatures!AU (This one grew to nearly 6k and I’m so sorry) @wasting-time-again HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, HAVE A MERMAN! XD

The lawyer who summoned Billy—about an inheritance, he said—was...weird. Straight out of a movie, with long incisors and a cravat, and he steepled his fingers as he talked.

Max said he was probably actually a vampire, and Billy agreed—which was weird, because as far as Billy knew, his mom’s family wasn’t exactly old money, and it was hard to imagine a vampire getting on a plane to fly clear to California and summoning him to a crypt full of file cabinets, all just to read a will about his mom’s collection of surfing stickers and pile of old National Geographics.

Billy knew his father had disowned him, so he bit his lips together, waiting to hear that his mother had died.

“I am here about the estate of your grandmother,” said the vampire lawyer, and Billy drew a shaky breath of relief. “Your mother was disowned—” he said, and Billy almost snorted a laugh—like mother, like son, he thought, “—and so her domicile has passed to you.”

“Wait, what,” Billy breathed, wide-eyed.

“It is an unusual case,” said the lawyer—Fangun and Stayk, est. 986, read his card, but Billy wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to Fangun or Stayk, or whether the whole thing was a joke yet, so he kept his mouth shut. “You will take ownership of the house and land, however, you may not live there—that is, not year-round, not unless you are given an invitation by a resident. It is a closed community.”

“...can I sell it?” Billy asked, and the deepset eyes of the lawyer stared back at him, bloodshot and dry.

“At well below market value,” he said, steepling his fingers again. They made a dryish noise. “As I said, they dislike outsiders. And a stranger will be even more of an outsider than you, in whom runs...the blood of the place.”

Billy wondered, dully, whether he’d inherited a haunted graveyard, or a den of werewolves, and groaned into his hands. Maybe he was part zombie somehow. Just his luck. “Where is it,” he sighed.

“It is not on commonly available maps,” said the vampire, and Billy nodded. It figured, he thought, though his ears perked up considerably when his grandmother’s lawyer laid out a map of Hawaii.

They got a ride from the shore on a fishing boat at four o’clock in the morning. “It’s barely tourist season yet,” said the fisherwoman, showing Max how to steer. “There will be a ferry, in a week or two, but I can give you two a ride out the day your visa’s up if the ferry quits sooner.”

“We want enough time to look around,” Max said, glancing at Billy. They’d let their lease run out, and sold most of their things, because a few orange crates of records were a small price to pay for never running into Neil Hargrove around town. “You could get a job on one of the normal islands,” Max had suggested, quietly, over and over. “If they don’t like us enough.”

Billy’d never suggested moving Max so far away, but she’d assumed they were going, and after a while he went along with it. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, getting a job in a hotel somewhere after the islanders threw him out. Max would probably love it, in Hawaii.

A fresh start, she had said, and it sounded good.

He and Max were greeted by a woman in a wheelchair, who stamped their passports. “Technically, we’re a different country,” she said, smiling. She had very brown skin, and looked contentedly half-asleep in the sun. “You’re the only visitors on the island, for a week or two,” she said, cocking her head. “We’re not always in a big hurry to scrub up the ferry for the summer. We love the money, but the tourists...” she laughed, shaking her head. “Three-month pleasure trip visa. Have a nice summer,” she said, waving them away.

Her benign lack of interest lessened Billy’s initial fears that he’d inherited membership in some rich, yoga-pants-wearing, white Human Superiority cult.

The house was traditional-ish, with a grass roof and walls, big open windows with no glass, only shutters, and a wide shaded veranda all the way around. It looked over a beach with rolling waves, and Billy couldn’t wait to get his board out there.

“I’m gonna look around the house,” Max said. “See if I can find any neighbors. Maybe I can bring them cookies.” She set her jaw, frowning around at their luggage, and the scattered pillows. “Maybe we can buy some furniture somewhere.”

“...we can always just come here for summers,” Billy told her, breathing it in.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have a great time getting a tourism job where you don’t work summers,” Max said, raising a sarcastic eyebrow, and Billy realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that she expected him to figure it out. Find someone who wanted him to stay, here, on the island, at his grandmother’s house.

“I’m no good at making friends, Max,” he reminded her, and she snorted.

“Better get out of my hair, then.” She folded her arms, taking another deep breath of the smell of grass in the sun. After a long moment, she looked back at him again. “...we’ve got a little over three months, Billy.”

He suspected it sounded longer to her.

When he wandered down to the beach, Billy could see someone’s tanned shoulders lying across a jutting rock about fifty feet out, and he paddled a ways towards it on his surfboard, getting the lay of the ocean. There was a rip tide, dark and eerily quiet, to his right, but the rest of the beach had shallow, warm, clear waves over white sand and coral until a dark dropoff about fifty feet out where the rolling waves began.

As he paddled closer to the rock, he could see the man on it—asleep, Billy thought, just lying in the sun as the waves lapped at his skin. As Billy drifted closer, paddling with his hands, he could see a long-fingered hand hanging in the water, and he paddled faster, suddenly wondering whether the man wanted to be out on a rock, or whether he was a Dude In Distress, his leg cramped, needing a ride to the beach on Billy’s surfboard and a trip around the boardwalk, and maybe some shaved ice.

As Billy approached, the guy opened his eyes, frowning over at Billy with wide, half-awake brown eyes. He pushed himself up on the rock with his arms like the goddamn Little Mermaid, Billy thought, amused. His throat went dry watching the flex of muscle, and the water droplets where the dude had lifted himself out of the bay.

Billy paddled at random, a little, unable to tear his eyes away. He cleared his throat. “Just, uh, making sure you didn’t need any help,” he said, staring at the tanned arms and swimmer’s chest in front of him, nearly triangular, like a superhero. “I, um. Guess you’re fine.”

The guy raised his eyebrows, starting to smirk, and then his eyes widened, and Billy realized in a flash of blue and foam that he’d drifted right into the fucking rip tide. Right in front of the gorgeous dude on the rock, Billy thought in the back of his mind, trying to hold onto his surfboard and let the rip tide take him wherever it would. Just his luck, he thought, dying because he was so damn gay he saw nice shoulders and his brain switched off. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to breathe before he got sucked down, and his lungs and sinuses were starting to ache worse than the rest of him, even as he was buffeted around against his board, when an arm slid around his waist.

He wanted to yell at the guy—and he did, in an explosion of bubbles—because what the hell good was it gonna do, swimming into a rip tide, but the muscles against his back and butt flexed, and they were moving sideways out of the rip tide, and then Billy’s head was above water. He gasped and choked, coughing up half the sea. The ocean moved soothingly around them, as this dude had no trouble holding Billy up, and Billy tried to clear his throat and eyes.

“Have you seriously never seen a tail before,” the guy groaned, hauling Billy along like he was no more effort to lift than a little kid at the pool. Billy felt rock against his thigh, suddenly, and scrambled onto it, coughing and wiping his eyes to see he was on the jutting rock the dude must have jumped off of, to save him.

“How-how fucking humiliating,” he gasped out loud. “Can’t believe. C-can’t believe I fucking p-paddled into a rip tide.”

“You drifted back into the...yeah,” his hot rescuer said, still in the water, with one hand on the rock to hold him steady as he frowned at Billy. His voice sounded a little odd—Billy was reminded of the Chinese grocery by his house, where their English was perfect, but they had a lilt as they tried to speak an atonal language with a tonal ear. Up close, he was even prettier, with moles Billy wanted to track down his neck and shoulders, and a doubtful, scrunched-up mouth Billy wanted to kiss.

“Sorry,” Billy wheezed, still coughing. “Sorry, I’m such a moron, sorry.” He tried to keep his eyes above the water level, but some part of his brain kept looking for tanned legs kicking under the surface, and he suddenly registered that the moving colors weren’t just fish and anemones. “Holy shit,” he coughed out. “You have a tail.”

His rescuer frowned harder, probably worried Billy had brain damage. “I figured that’s why you swam into the rip tide,” he said slowly, and Billy shook his head, groaning.

“No—fuck, I’m sorry, you—you’re just hot as fuck, I’m just a moron, I’m—damn it,” he sighed. “Sorry, jesus, I’m so fucking rude, sorry, I just didn’t notice, I was like ‘How the hell did he get me out of there? OH!’, sorry,” he muttered, sighing. “...drown me.”

“I am though, right,” the merman said, grinning, “—hotter than you,” and Billy realized he’d found the only person on the island more annoying than he was.

“Yeah, yeah, just laugh at the poor gay moron who nearly drowned staring at you, that’s nice,” he huffed, lying back against the warm rock to catch his breath.

“Was it love at first sight?” asked his rescuer, and Billy opened his eyes to glare.

“Shut up, asshole,” he grunted.

“Just asking,” his tormenter asked. “Are you gonna pine away, sighing over me? Hey, d’you think you’ll always do that? If I swim over in town, you think you’ll fall off the boardwalk?”

“Fuck you,” Billy told him, leaning his face in his arms and laughing. “Yeah, probably, you shithead. Are you gonna...follow me around? So I can look like more of an idiot?”

“Mmm, can you though…” the gorgeous merman asked thoughtfully, and Billy growled into his arms, feeling his whole body warm. He blamed it on the sun. “Why,” his rescuer asked, pulling himself up to laugh against Billy’s ear. “—you want me to follow you someplace?”

“Oh my god,” Billy groaned, laughing harder. “Are you afraid to leave me alone now? What if I try and eat my surfboard?”

“...are you gonna?”

“Maybe?!” Billy told him, then pushed himself up, frowning around to look for it.

“I’ve got it, it’s right here,” the smug asshole told him, waggling the surfboard in the water. “Want me to take you back to shore?”

“No!” Billy laughed, sighing. “I’m going surfing, just because I nearly died making an ass of myself doesn’t mean—”

“Hrm, maybe I should keep an eye on you.”

“Why,” Billy asked, then pitched his voice just a little lower. “You like what you see?”

“I could get used to it,” the merman said, and Billy started to preen, but the dickhead finished with “—kind of a comedy special, kind of thing,” and Billy reached over and smacked a big splash of water at him.

He laughed, his throat arching back, the gills along it thin dark lines that Billy fantasized kissing around.

Just as Billy was considering grabbing the surfboard and using it as a weapon of blunt force trauma, the merman leaned in close, his smirk widening around pointed teeth, and his cool, salty lips pressed firmly against Billy’s. Billy made a weird gulping noise in his throat, and the asshole started to pull away, but Billy leaned in, and fell clean off the rock. His weight dunked them both, and they rose sputtering and laughing, Billy held securely in his merman’s arms as his surfboard floated away. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“...my name’s Billy,” he panted.

“...Steve,” the mer-dickhead said, raising his eyebrows, like it was weird to want to know his name.

“...I inherited a house here,” Billy told him in a rush, drunk on kisses. “I’m from California. My mom used to talk about this place when I was a kid. Surfing here. With her mom.”

“...is she here?” Steve asked, steadying them with one hand on the rock, and glancing back at the beach.

Billy laughed, shaking his head. “Fuck, sorry, you don’t need to know my shit. We can make out. You’re short-circuiting my brain.”

“...I should probably get your surfboard,” Steve told him, grinning, but he leaned his head in again, gentle with his sharp teeth, and Billy inhaled shakily as the points grazed his lips and tongue.

“Jesus,” he whispered, once he could talk, and then he licked his lips and wrenched himself away to swim after his surfboard, just so his smug rescuer wouldn’t have to fetch it for him. The waves got bigger as he got out to where the trees weren’t acting as a windbreak, and he clambered up on his board, glaring back as Steve wolf-whistled.

When he let the tides pull him back towards the gorgeous merman on the rock, he lost his mind again, telling him his tail looked like a peacock butt, and Steve cracked up, grinning at him.

“...so, neighbor, you have to win someone over enough to invite you to stay,” he said, cocking his head.

“Yup,” Billy told him, pointing up at the house he’d inherited, built into the hill, the old grass vacation cottage blending in with the trees.

“And your method is to tell me I look like bird ass,” Steve continued, and Billy grimaced, waving his hands.

“No! No, I don’t—I know people have to get to know you. Here. I’ll…” he sighed. “I’ll try for a few months and see what happens. If nothing...clicks, maybe I’ll try again next summer,” he said, grimacing, and wondering what Max would do, if they weren’t allowed to stay. Leave, maybe, he thought—she was seventeen, and she could get a job herself.

He ended up teaching Steve to surf, after showing off his best efforts. When he swam back, panting, Steve looked properly impressed, and even more tanned. “Teach me,” he said, and Billy leaned in to kiss him again, nodding.

“That gonna get you to like me enough to let me stay?” Billy asked, and Steve frowned at him, but Billy laughed, and leaned in for another kiss.

“Tomorrow?” Steve had whispered against his lips, and Billy got no sleep at all that night, he just rolled over every couple hours to check the clock, and see that another two minutes had passed.

Steve was fascinating to watch on the board, his tail trailing as he controlled it with his hands around either side, his abs flexing as he held himself in a kind of plank pose with the support of his tail. Billy watched, and realized he was drooling.

“You like me enough to keep me?” he asked that night, teasing, and Steve laughed.

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

Merpeople—or at least, Steve, Billy corrected mentally, realizing he was dealing with a sample size of one—loved bread. Like a cat, Billy thought, watching Steve eye his croissant, or bagel. He started just bringing one every morning for Steve, and some coffee, and it was hilarious watching the fluffy flesh of a croissant dangling between Steve’s shark-like teeth. He waited every morning, and even though Billy wasn’t sure whether Steve was waiting for Billy or the bread he was carrying, he got heart palpitations every time he came down the ramp to the dock, and he could see the little lump of Steve’s head on his folded arms, the rest of him hanging off into the water.

“A few bagels aren’t enough to win me over,” Steve told him, and Billy’s stomach twisted, a little. He wished he hadn’t brought it up, kind of—the knowledge that he might have to leave hurt, like a sore tooth he couldn’t stop worrying at in his mouth. “Maybe more croissants,” Steve said, smiling, and Billy brought him more croissants.

When they’d arrived, they’d discovered the town was filled with mermaid stuff, and at first, Max and Billy had snickered at it, because surely even if there’d been a merperson or two living near a human town once, they’d died decades ago, or they just traded with fishing boats, far out at sea. They hadn’t considered the amount of people in wheelchairs, or the spray bottles close to hand.

When Billy suggested he bring lunch down from town, Steve swam over to haul himself up—his tail flashing in the light—through the bottom of one of the little sheds on the dock. Moments later, he banged the door open, wheeling out in an old rusty wheelchair. He spun it in a circle, waiting for Billy to climb out of the water, and then zipped ahead up the ramp to the path.

“Wait up, jesus,” Billy yelled after him, and Steve laughed, the muscles in his arms mesmerizing as they spun the wheels. He slowed down eventually, panting, enough for Billy to jog and catch up. “...lemme know if you want me to push,” Billy told him, and Steve snorted.

“Touch my chair and die,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Billy said, holding his hands up, and Steve laughed.

“It makes me…” he squinted, thinking. “...seasick…?” he offered, and Billy nodded, trotting along next to him.

“Motion-sick, probably,” he suggested, and Steve mouthed it as he rolled along.

The lady at the shaved ice stand leaned out and folded her arms on the edge of the little window, laughing at Steve. “You know they make those that work!” she called, and he flipped her off. “They don’t have to be electric! They make ‘em that just move smoothly.”

“It’ll just rust in my shed,” Steve told her, shrugging. “It’s fine.” As they waited for their tacos, Steve pulled up to a table, and his rusty, janky wheels kept rolling backwards, until Steve sighed and bent down to stuff some rocks under there.

“My friend Robin and I went in together on a nicer one,” he said, “—but I can’t park it in the shed. This one’s not so bad,” and Billy’s perception of it shifted a bit—maybe it was more like getting stuck with an old beater car occasionally, instead of something Steve needed help with. “...want to wander around, after?” Billy asked. “I haven’t got any souvenirs yet.”

Steve paused, then licked his lips. “Planning your trip home already?”

“...dunno yet,” Billy said, the invitation unspoken between them. It seemed ridiculous to want to stay so badly just because he’d met a pair of gorgeously tanned shoulders and a teasing smile, but it also wasn’t...hard to imagine, lingering on the island to go snorkeling with Steve, and learning about the reefs—he’d absorbed enough for a few semesters of marine biology, he was fairly sure, but told as stories, just off-handed things Steve had seen—and Billy was already wanting a drysuit, so he could go in the fall. Maybe Billy could get a job on a fishing boat, he thought vaguely, or help out in one of the shops.

If Steve would invite him.

Steve had slid his hands under Billy’s swimsuit a few times, pressing him back on their rock, or on the docks, rocking into him as Billy panted and gasped and fell apart under his hands—but he never said anything, after, and Billy hesitated to ask whether it was...anything, to Steve. Maybe he picks an idiot every summer, he thought, watching Steve smile at the depictions of mermaids on every surface of every shop on the main street.

“You all spend so much time keeping everything dry and dead,” he said, grinning over at Billy, who’d been anticipating a comment on the mermaid’s hourglass-like proportions, not her lack of water damage.

“...oh,” he said.

“I have a figurehead like that, but covered in anemones,” Steve said, cocking his head. “It’s beautiful.”

“I mean...you could...plant a vine on it, maybe?”

Steve nodded. “Put it outside in the rain, let it grow.” The lady behind the counter sighed, rolling her eyes, and Steve laughed.

“There’s a whole movement to ‘preserve’ our art,” he whispered to Billy. “Which mostly means they don’t let it become our art.”

“Huh,” Billy said, wondering whether human houses looked like museums, or mausoleums, to merpeople.

“Not to say that I’d pour water on your television set, or drop your mattress in the bay,” Steve said, grimacing a little, and watching Billy’s face. “I get that much.” He looked kind of uncomfortable with the lady behind the counter glaring at him, ducking his head.

Billy leaned to kiss him. He nearly steadied himself on the chair, and then remembering it would roll, and just held his hands away. Steve grinned up at him, particularly at his outstretched hands, and yanked Billy down on his not very much of a lap, hurriedly curling his tail up and around Billy’s waist as Billy threatened to slide down the smooth scales to the ground. Billy threw his arms around Steve’s neck, wide-eyed, as Steve held the wheels firmly, keeping the chair from rolling backwards under the weight of two grown men.

“Let’s go,” Steve whispered, and Billy nodded, breathing Steve’s sun-and-salt smell, and wondering whether it was okay to ask whether Steve would consider inviting him to stay—just until the next season, Billy thought, as the chair and Steve’s tail moved under him. Until the next summer, when he could ask whether Steve wanted him to stay again, or whether he wanted Billy gone.

After staying a whole year, Billy thought he might not have it in him to ask whether Steve was tired of him yet, but the thought of waking every morning to run down to the docks with coffee and banana bread was addictive, and he tried not to think about the end.

Billy ran into the lady who’d stamped his passport, and caught himself staring at her tanned legs propped up on the railing. “Oh, I’m human,” she said, laughing. “But I love it here. I can even shop in the little bookstore, imagine,” she said, and now that Billy thought about it, he realized it had an elevator in the back, and little lifts for the walkways along the higher shelves. “I’ve never had someone offer to lift me into their cafe, here,” she said, her nose wrinkled, and Billy nodded slowly.

“Shoot that thing!” she yelled, when she saw Steve’s awful old wheelchair, and he flipped her off.

“We can only invite a few people,” Steve told him, as they ate noodle bowls. “It’s for somebody you marry, you know, their family, maybe. Or if you leave the island, and have a kid.”

“Yeah,” Billy said softly, hearing the message clearly—invitations were not to be wasted, and Billy wasn’t special enough to keep. He finished his lunch, trying not to feel all butthurt about it. Max would probably understand.

Steve kissed him again, on the docks, and Billy leaned into it, feeling the familiar pressure of tears in his sinuses, and behind his eyes. He had three weeks left, he told himself. Three more weeks. Steve slid a hand up the back of Billy’s head, humming against his mouth, and Billy let himself go soft in his arms.

When they returned to the docks, Steve dug a big beach blanket out, and they spread it out on the sand, and Billy stayed out that night, losing himself in Steve’s warm hands and mouth, under stars like he’d never seen before.

Steve was watching his face the next morning, with a little frown, and Billy pulled away, sitting up.

“Better than croissants?” Billy asked, smirking a little, and Steve sighed.

“Was that what this was? Fucking me won’t make me give you an invitation,” he said. He didn’t look amused, the way he had over the bagels, and Billy wondered whether it had worked, a little. Billy’d always had a talented mouth.

“I won’t know if I don’t try, will I,” he said, laughing. “Maybe another round will help?”

“...I have to go,” Steve said, and he didn’t even fold up the blanket, just pushed himself off the edge and slid over the wet sand into the water, gone in a flip of tail. Billy watched for long minutes to see whether he’d come back—they’d been spending every day together, but probably Steve had stuff he needed to do, all the things he’d done before Billy had shown up at the island, easy with his body and his affections.

Billy folded up the blanket, and sat it in the shed, looking around. There really wasn’t much in there—it was the size of a small bathroom, with some knives for fishing, and a frayed net, and the beat-up wheelchair.

It smelled like Steve, and Billy stood and breathed, his eyes blurring with tears.

Steve didn’t come back, and after an hour or so Billy walked home, and ran into Max returning. “Billy!” she said, with a wide grin. “Nice night? I was out getting breakfast.” She told him about somebody named El, and somebody else named Lucas, and a Dustin.

Max was making friends too, he realized, which kind of made everything worse—she was doing her best, and Billy was just mooning over some guy who thought he was barely good enough for a fuck on the beach. She’d even met their families, he realized, listening, and registered that he hadn’t met any of Steve’s friends. He groaned into the pillows tossed around on the mat floor, and sighed.

“Should I stop seeing him?” he asked, mostly at the ceiling.

“I dunno why now,” Max said. “You’re not gonna find somebody else in a couple weeks.”

“Shit,” Billy groaned again.

“We can try again next summer,” Max said. “I like it here.”

The idea of returning the next summer, once Steve was bored, was enough to make Billy clench his jaw tight against the pillow he was hugging, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. “...yeah,” he said softly.

“God, you sound tragic,” she sighed, wandering over and dropping to sit on his butt. He grunted. “It’s fine, jesus. Worst case scenario we have a, like, vacation home. The vampire dude said we didn’t have to pay taxes on it.”

“Yeah, just pay for plane fare,” Billy sighed.

“He’s out there, y’know,” she said, “—tanning,” and Billy scrambled up so fast he dumped her with a drum noise on the taut mats.

When he swam out, Steve just stared out to sea, and Billy clung to the edge of the rock, biting his lips.

“I’m not giving you one of my invitations,” Steve said. “So stop trying to manipulate me into it.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, kind of wishing they’d never met. “Yeah, okay. Do—is that all, or are you sticking around?”

“I’ll stay,” Steve said, frowning at him, “—if you still wanna waste your time on somebody who’s not—how do you say it? Putting out?”

“...it’s not a waste of time,” Billy told him, swallowing hard. “I just wanted it to last longer, is all—” and Steve’s eyes narrowed intently. He grabbed Billy around the back of the neck, and yanked him into a kiss.

The remaining weeks, he took Billy snorkeling, and they had sex every night under the stars, Billy panting Steve’s name, and Steve holding him so tightly it almost hurt. Billy took him to meet Max, and she eyed him warily, but Billy fought and succeeded at securing Steve a plate of brownies, and he was vocally appreciative. She softened a little, at that.

Two days before they had to leave, Steve was lying next to Billy on the wet sand, the waves lapping up nearly to their waists. His shoulder was warm under Billy’s head, and smelled like the high ocean waves.

“...d’you think you’ll come back next summer,” Steve asked, and Billy snorted.

“Depends on whether I can afford airfare,” he said, sighing. “Depends on whether I can get a job somewhere that doesn’t need me in the summer.”

“...so I might just never see you again?” Steve asked flatly, and Billy laughed, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” he said, “—do you want to?”

“...fuck you,” Steve sighed, and Billy pushed himself up to frown at Steve’s face.

“I don’t know what you want,” he said, glaring back at Steve’s narrowed brown eyes. “You wanted me to shut up about staying. What am I supposed to say?”

Steve bit his lips together, and looked away. “...you know I’m gonna give you an invitation. You can just tell me.”

“What,” Billy whispered, scrambling to sit up, his heart pounding as Steve flopped over to scrabble around under his wheelchair, his tail flapping around a little in concentration, like a cat’s. He held an envelope out to Billy without even looking over.

“There,” he said. “All yours.”

“What,” Billy breathed, and then he half-crumpled it, opening it clumsily. “You—you’re giving me one?”

“Two,” Steve said, flatly, frowning down at the sand under his hands. “You and Max, right?”

“Holy shit,” Billy whispered, scrambling over to kiss him, once, then twice, relishing the little noise Steve made in the back of his throat when his lip slid between Billy’s teeth. “I have to go tell her,” he said, half laughing, his vision blurring with tears.

“Okay,” Steve said, quietly, and Billy hugged him before scrambling up and running back to the house.

Max stared at the two calligraphed invitations on the odd plasticky “paper” the merfolk used, written in Sharpie, and shook her head slowly. “You did it,” she said, and Billy laughed, nodding.

“He wanted me to stay enough,” he said, wiping his eyes, and desperately wanting Max to offer to handle the paperwork, so he could run back and kiss Steve.

There was a knock on the door. Max ran and opened it, and a short-haired woman wheeled in in a rainbow overall dress, and a small, fancy electric wheelchair, her tail the reds and oranges of a sunset. Billy never quite stopped being envious of how pretty the merpeople were.

“Steve gave you his invites, didn’t he,” she said, and Max slid them around her back, her eyes narrowing.

“...yeah,” Billy said, warily.

“Give them back to him,” she ordered, glaring between them. “He’s been saving those a long-ass time. He’s got plans for those, and he doesn’t need guilt-tripping by a pair of manipulative orphans, jesus.”

“I didn’t guilt-trip him,” Billy said, feeling guilty, suddenly, and remembering Steve’s stiffness as he handed them over. “I didn’t,” he said, less certainly. “...he...he just likes me, he wants me to stay—”

“He’s known you three months, and you told him you fucked him to get someplace nice for your sister to live,” she said crisply. “Give them back.”

“He’s not giving them back,” Max hissed, but she was staring at Billy in horror.

“I didn’t say that,” Billy said, waving his hands. “I didn’t! Not...exactly.”

“Fuck you,” the woman said, glaring. “You pressured him.”

“Fuck,” Billy agreed, his eyes tearing up again. “Lemme—lemme go talk to him. Max, give—give ‘em here.”

“No,” she said, sounding choked, but he walked over and grabbed them, and hugged her.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said under his breath, for her ears only, and ran back out.

Steve was perched up on his rock again, and Billy grabbed his surfboard and sat on it to glide out, paddling with his hands. The water was clear under him, his shadow passing over the anemones on the reef, and he watched the fish darting around, swallowing repeatedly.

“Hey,” he said, when he got close enough, and Steve’s head jerked around, glowering warily.

“...you came back,” he said.

“...you want me to stay, right,” Billy said, cutting straight to the chase. “You gave me these because you want me to stay.” Steve frowned back at him, and Billy’s heart sank. “Answer,” he said, his throat closing around the word.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it,” Steve said, reaching out, but he just grabbed Billy’s board before he could drift into the rip tide again. “You wanted to stay.” He was tense, and he wouldn’t meet Billy’s eyes.

“What do you want,” Billy asked again. “...because I think your friend Robin’s in my house, and she says I guilted you into it, talking about Max. Do you...if I didn’t need an invite. Would you want me to stay?”

“...I guess,” Steve sighed, and Billy swung his leg over the board, dumping himself straight down in the water, because he was definitely about to make some kind of awful noise, and the sea felt good on his hot, wet cheeks. Steve couldn’t see him crying underwater, he thought, grabbing a jut of rock to keep himself from floating back up.

He wished he could take a few slow breaths, he thought, closing his eyes, and then something brushed his arm. He opened his eyes on Steve’s wide-eyed face, his hair swirling in the water. Billy bit his lips together harder, his hands clenching on the rock, and Steve shook his head, pointing up.

“Up,” he mouthed. “Come on.”

Billy let himself be hauled upwards, and pushed up on the rock again, like when they’d first met.

“What are you doing,” Steve asked, hanging on to Billy’s surfboard.

“Nothing,” Billy said, keeping his voice level. “I thought you wanted me to stay. For me. You can have your invites back. I didn’t—” he took a deep breath, hearing Steve’s voice say stop trying to manipulate me, and Robin’s guilt-tripping. “I fucking know I’m pathetic, okay, you don’t have to pity me. Sorry I—sorry I fucking tried, jesus, I just—” he shut his eyes tightly again, laughing as he imagined Robin’s disgusted look knowing Billy’d gone out and cried.

“Wait, fuck,” Steve whispered, clambering up next to him, where Billy barely fit by himself, since it was high tide. He was warm from the sun, his tanned skin gleaming with water droplets, and Billy salivated, because his dick obviously hadn’t gotten the message it wasn’t wanted. “Wait,” Steve said, half on top of him, his weight grating Billy’s shoulder blades against the rock. Billy didn’t really mind. “You only want to stay if—if I want you, what—what does that mean—” His brown eyes were huge.

“...don’t really know how to be clearer,” Billy told him, unable to pull his eyes from Steve’s mouth.

“You don’t want to stay unless I’m happy about it,” Steve said, grabbing Billy’s hands.

“Yeah, that’s kinda how it gets, when you fall for somebody,” Billy told him, raising his eyebrows, and Steve took a shuddery breath and kissed him again. He didn’t stop, though, he just kissed Billy and kissed him, laughing shakily, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, as Billy clung to him and the rock, trying to keep them from tumbling off. “I want you here, I want you. Stay with me.”

“I’m what you want?” Billy asked, startled, his brain hazy from warm kisses, and the scrape of pointed teeth. “‘M yours then,” he whispered. “All—all of me. S’yours.”

They laid there so long, whispering and giggling, that Billy had tan lines of Steve’s fingers on his shoulder for months.

Here are the other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done!

#Harringrove April #Mermay #Almost #Harringrove #Steve's got a tail #Billy's got a surfboard

51 notes · View notes

eyes-of-mischief · 2 years

Text

weekly fic recs | 7

fandoms: aftg, aot, bnha, bsd, dn, hq

aftg

I’ll Be Your Angel by coritkyo

Their fathomless gazes reflected off one another. It was like holding two pitch-black mirrors in dichotomy and searching for light. Andrew had none to spare, and he urged the knife closer to Abram's throat in order to elicit another glint of fear.

Abram’s eyes sparked with the antithesis of fear. The corners of his mouth curled up into a smile sharper than Andrew’s blade.

“You’re holding it wrong,” he whispered.

Andrew suppressed a shiver.

He realized then, that after a million unanswered pleas to all the gods of every religion, his prayers had finally been answered. And yet, the office up in heaven had workers of the same quality as Andrew’s social care workers. They had mismanaged his case and made a mistake. Andrew had begged for an Angel. Instead, they sent him a demon.

[Prologue of a multi-part series]

passenger seat by reneewvlkers

(mature)

Briefly, because he knows they’ll only be in the car for another couple of minutes at absolute maximum, he watches Andrew for any break in the impassivity.

There’s the faintest twitch, which Neil assumes is Andrew registering his attention, but he’s not sure if it’s anger, embarrassment, annoyance- honestly, it could be anything. Then Andrew’s face settles. Neil doesn’t move, though, content to watch the way the passing lights change Andrew’s profile and colouring. If Neil were an artist, he thinks he’d want to paint this.

Fight or Flight by Jadelavender1301

Alex only has two more years till Nathaniel Wesnisnki is officially pronounced dead. All he has to do is stay out of trouble with the authorities until then and he will be free to start his own life, he hopes. But now on his own for the first time, his new high school recruiting for their exy team, and the senior Andrew Minyard trying his best to get involved with as many authorities as possible, it doesn’t seem like it will be easy.

aot

Flying Free by gremlinwriter

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence)

Eren knew there were a lot of rules he had to stick to. No one could find out the truth about his kind, he had to be careful at all times and that his job was to take out the mindless-murderous Titans with his friends. Until he happened upon a group of riders from one of the cities, most of them already slaughtered and he decided to save what lives he could, not only once, but twice.

bnha

headcase (the color of boom) by carthaginian_berries

People don’t really know this, and Denki doesn’t really make it a point to advertise it either, but he almost always feels absolutely, entirely, unequivocally insane.

Like, not in the sort of I think I’m going to snap and kill everyone in the room. Definitely not when he’s tucked in Sero’s hammock like a leaf-wrapped banana slug delicacy, staring at the ceiling and counting all the ways to turn the projected red sketches of the digital clock into all the various numbers and letters, but —

“I think,” Denki says eloquently, with the utmost sincerity, “that there might be something wrong with me.”

or: kaminari’s been going insane since the day he turned six, yet no one at yuuei ever seems to notice except himself.

the lies you tell yourself by TheHangedMan317

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence)

Izuku has always had a strange relationship with fear. He realized, after his quirks began to manifest in their entirety, that the daring he'd known in his youth wasn’t bravery, but an ignorance that masked itself as certainty.

He was afraid. All the time. But so was everyone, and that was where things really started to get interesting, wasn’t it?

Or, when an incident at home leaves Midoriya Izuku motherless and homeless, disillusioned with hero society and just wanting an escape from it all, he falls into the hands of All for One. Things only get worse from there.

bsd

nothing's fair in love and war by writedeku

Dazai spreads his hands apart. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, Akutagawa-kun. We haven’t done anything insidious to Atsushi-kun,” he taps a finger to his lips — damn, did Atsushi learn that from him or did Dazai pick it up from him — and shrugs his shoulders. It’s a fluid movement. “I think he just found someone he hates more than the Port Mafia.”

Akutagawa is miffed and mildly jealous. “Excuse me?”

and all i loved, i loved alone by featherx

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence)

“An ability?”

— on the past, present, and future of one Edgar Allan Poe.

death note

A Tithe to Hell by Aja

(explicit)

Light has thirteen days to find out how it will feel--not just to kill, but to destroy.

shame is pride's cloak by youremyqueen

(explicit)

The one where Light surrenders, hands over the death note, gets his driver's license, learns to make puff pastry, and doesn't kill anybody: all under one small caveat.

Disordered by Rachello344

Light and L meet in a long term care facility as roommates. Despite Light's initial dislike, the two become friends, and together, they work on recovering.

haikyuu

In Another Castle by thehoyden

(explicit)

Kenma feels his face go hot. People have to be looking at them. They’re having a fight in front of a real estate agency. But he doesn’t look away, and musters the courage to say, “Kuro, I want you to live with me.”

#putting some death note in here cause im feeling nostalgic #your welcome #weekly fic recs #aftg fic recs #aot fic recs #bnha fic recs #bsd fic recs #dn fic recs #hq fic recs #no prompt

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niksixx · 4 years

Text

Patience

~Part 2. Please read part 1 first~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader

A/N: Keep up those comments. It motivates me!

*Picture is not mine; Found on Google. Creds to the owner*

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @ginny-baker-sixx @metalheartofgold @madamsixx @curly-hudson @headlight-queen @julessworldd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At twenty-seven years old, you had finally managed to piece your life together. Although your small business was just beginning and wasn’t generating as much money as you would have liked, you were happy.

Baking was a hobby that you turned into a full time job. While the process could be long, you never found it tedious. Every measurement, every smell, every pastry decoration and design, was satisfying. And by the reviews from your customers, they were impressed by your craft. They say if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.

Just as you check the clock on the wall above the shop door, a loud growl sounds from your lower belly. Glancing down at your stomach, you shake your head and chuckle, grabbing your wallet and keys to lock up the store. It is a slow day, and usually you bring lunch to work, but closing the shop for an hour won’t hurt. You’d only had four customers since opening at nine.

As you walk down the strip, you glance at all the different shops that once started out at the bottom, smiling as hope fills your heart. Plenty of the stores started out as tiny businesses, now flourishing. There was never a doubt in your mind that your store, your pride and joy, would succeed.

The smell of pork fried rice hits your nostrils as you push open the doors to a nearby Chinese restaurant. Behind the counter you spot Lei, one of the first friends to welcome you to LA years ago.

Lei’s eyebrows crinkle. “I thought you were working today! How are you?”

“Well for one, I’m starving,” you say, patting your stomach. “And two, I am. I closed up for an hour just so I could come and see you!”

Lei rolls her eyes as she punches buttons on the register, already ringing up your order from memory. “Papa! I need an order of sweet and sour pork over white rice and a spring roll to go, please. You know what? Make that two spring rolls, it’s for Y/N!” Lei shouts, turning back with a sneaky grin. “Free of charge just because I love you.”

Tipping generously, you sit by a table and wait for your order. Lei’s family owns the restaurant, one of the most well known on the Strip. You frequent her business as she did with yours, always making sure to buy a slice of red velvet cake each week. A day ago, she’d put in an order for fifty cupcakes for her son’s ninth birthday party that weekend, which reminded you to check the cabinets at your home for all the proper ingredients.

A vibration rumbles in your purse and you retrieve your phone, holding it to your ear. You weren’t expecting a call.

“Hello?”

“I need another bottle of Jack.”

The sound of your boyfriend’s slurred voice had you frowning. On the other end of the line, Vince Neil sits in the recording studio, half empty bottle of whiskey in his lap while Tommy Lee aimlessly toys around with his drum set, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Hi, babe. Are you still in the studio?” Lei makes a gesture with a take out bag, and you give her a nod, rising to your feet while cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Yeah, Doc gave us a ten minute break so I figured I’d call you. Did you hear me? I need another bottle of Jack. I’m almost done with the one I took this morning.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, forehead creasing. The man was building up his tolerance day by day, slowly but surely killing his liver. “Vince, that was a brand new bottle. I just bought that yesterday.”

“And it’s almost finished,” Vince remarks, rolling his eyes. “Just pick up another bottle on your way home.”

“Vin, you need to watch,” You warn, shaking your head. The last thing you needed was your boyfriend spiraling out of control like his heroin addicted bandmate, Nikki Sixx.

“I’m fine, stop worrying. I don’t need you pissing me off before I get back in the studio,” he spits back. “Just get the bottle.”

Sighing, you mouth a thank you to Lei before heading toward the door. “You know, the word please goes a long way--.”

The phone crashes against the tile floor as you collide with the door, or something that feels just as hard. Blinking to clear the stars from your eyes, your breath hitches in the back of your throat, lips going dry. Long, shiny red hair is the first thing that catches your eyes, followed by a pair of thin pink lips that look downright sinful, and soft gray eyes that hold a familiar warmth in them. The figure stares back at you, equally as stunned, unflinching as his hand holds open the door.

When you find your voice, it’s weak, just like your knees. “Axl?”

“Hey sugar,” his mouth quirks, and you blink again, positive that you’re hallucinating. There’s no way your old best friend is staring at you right now. It can’t be real. “Long time no see, huh? I see you’re still clumsy as ever.”

A hand covers your mouth and for a split second, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to cry. It doesn’t stay, and is soon replaced by sheer amazement. “Oh my God!” You throw yourself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. Axl beams, catching you in his embrace, squeezing you against his chest. “I thought I was dreaming!”

His laugh is light and airy as he sets you on the ground, readjusting the bandana that keeps his hair off his face. “How have you been?”

Any feelings of irritation brought on by the lack of customers in your store and your pushy, intoxicated boyfriend fly right out the window. “Well, I was having a pretty crappy day, but I think you just made it ten times better,” you say, shaking your head in astonishment, bending down to retrieve your phone. Vince yells on the other line, but you quickly hang up before stuffing it back in your purse.

You give him another look, and his smile captures your breath, holding it hostage. It’s him. It’s really him. “My gosh, look at you. You are definitely not an eighteen year old boy anymore, Axl Rose.”

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he’d become. He was taller now, and had thinned out. Pale skin was littered in tattoos, giving him the edge he lacked in high school, from what you can remember. A face that was once hard and rigid, now gentle, just like his eyes.

“I’d hope not,” he says lightly, cocking his head to the side. His eyes trail over your body, slowly. “Twenty five has been good to me, and it appears twenty-seven has been kind to you.”

“I’ll say,” you breathe, drawn to his playful grin. The boy that never liked to show his teeth turned into a man that couldn’t stop smiling. “Are you stopping in for lunch?”

“I am,” he nods, noticing your take out bag. “Do you want to have lunch together? Are you busy?”

You shake your head quickly, eager to spend time with an old friend. “Nope! Slow day at work today, unfortunately. And besides, I’ll never be too busy to have lunch with you.”

~~~

A huge smile spreads across Axl’s face when you unlock the door to your bakery shop. The colors, the decorations, were all so inviting. Before bumping into you, he’d always pondered about what you were doing with your life. You’d turned yourself into a business owner, and as Axl glanced around the store, he felt a sense of pride wash over his bones. The woman he loved continued to amaze him.

“This is incredible, Y/N,” he says, nodding in approval, dragging his fingers over a metal chair situated at a circular pastel purple table. “So, how long did it take your indecisive ass to figure out what you wanted to do with your life?” He teases, fake pouting when you push his shoulder. After all these years, you were still so comfortable around each other. Maybe it would be easy to win your heart after all.

“Hey, I wanted to make sure that whatever I planned on doing for the rest of my life would make me happy,” you argue, setting your food down on the counter. Axl stands on the other side of the counter, aimlessly toying with his chopsticks.

“Are you?” He questions in a serious tone, waiting for your answer.

“Always,” you reply with a smile.

It doesn’t reach your eyes.

And Axl notices.

~~~

Hours pass by, with only a few customers straggling in and out of your shop. You’d only sold a few pastries, but you plastered on a smile to hide the pit of devastation that had formed in your heart. It’s five-thirty, and you’ll give it another half hour before you lock it up, hoping someone else would notice your shop and drop by.

“So, Guns N’ Roses, huh?” After spending hours discussing your new life in California, the conversation turns to Axl. You want to know everything about him, everything you’ve missed the last seven years. Everything you couldn’t be a part of.

He nods, taking a sip from his water bottle. “I still can’t believe we made it.”

“There’s five of you, right?”

He nods again. “Yes ma’am. I’d like you to meet them sometime when you’re not busy. They’d love you. Especially Steven, probably a little too much,” he winks, keeping the atmosphere light. “I’ll tell him to keep the flirting minimal, only because that’s my job.”

Cheeks warm, you gather your trash and head to the bin in the front of the store, avoiding Axl’s lingering gaze. He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know. No one did. “I’d love to, but that’s probably not the best idea.”

“How come?”

Biting your lip, you lean your elbows on the glass counter, clasping your fingers together. “My um...my boyfriend...he’s not a big Guns N’ Roses fan. He won’t even let me listen to your music. Probably would kill me if I ever did.”

Axl’s heart sinks. Let you? What the fuck? “Who’s your boyfriend?”

It’s not the answer he wants to hear. In fact, Axl’s face hardens when the name comes out of your mouth. “Vince Neil. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” you say with a wave of your hand. You weren’t in the mood to talk about your boyfriend, especially to your male best friend. Men didn’t like to talk about other men.

“Time out,” Axl says in annoyance. You want him to drop the conversation, but he presses on. “You’re dating Vince? You had your choice out of all those Mötley Crüe bastards, and you went with Vince? How--How did I not know about this?”

You shrug, biting the corner of your mouth. Cat’s out of the bag, might as well keep going. “No one does. I stay out of the spotlight. Vince has an image to keep up, you know? The player. The bad boy. It’s entertaining. A girlfriend ruins that. You’d think the label would want to contain him, but quite the opposite, actually.”

The floor sways beneath his feet as the words process in his head. If Axl knew anything about the pompous blonde asshole, then he knew you weren’t being treated right. “How long have you been together?”

You contemplate telling the truth, but if you didn’t, he’d pull it out of you. Sighing, you lean your forehead against your hands, mumbling, “Three years.”

His legs almost give out. Three years of hiding. Three years of pretending. Three years of wasted fucking time with a man that didn’t deserve you. Three years with his competition, his enemy.

“I knew you were in a band, Axl. Although I haven’t listened to any of your songs, I’ve heard your name on the radio, seen you at award ceremonies when I watched from home. And I...I wanted to reach out. I just didn’t know where to find you. Vince doesn’t even know that you and I grew up together. I’m too scared to tell him. It would just give him another reason to hate you.”

“And you don’t think you deserve better than that?” Axl asks, mouth twisting in anger. “Because I know you do.”

“Well…”

The door to the shop slams against the wall, and in stumbles a visibly inebriated Vince Neil. His blonde hair is stringy, matted against the side of his head, and the stench of alcohol fills your nostrils, lingering on his spiked leather vest. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels occupies one hand, while the keys to his car dangle in the other.

Eyes blazing, you step out from behind the counter. “Vince, what the hell? You drove here? Drunk?!” The evidence was in his hands, but you refused to believe your boyfriend could have done something so wild, so reckless.

“You...y-you didn’t come home with the...with the booze,” he slurs, throwing the empty bottle in the trash bin. He trips forward, reaching out to steady himself on the purple table. “I was scared something ha-happened.”

“Something did happen, Vince! You could’ve killed someone!” You scream, tears blurring your vision as you fight back the urge to shake some sense into his body. How could he have been so careless? So selfish? “You could have fucking died!”

“Don’t raise your fucking voice--,” And Vince’s eyes go black when he sees Axl standing behind you, stonefaced, hands shoved in pockets. He doesn’t know why the redhead is here, with his girlfriend, but he doesn’t like it. “Rose.”

“Neil.”

Vince straightens, puffing out his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Free country,” Axl retorts, eyes flickering to your face. The tears from your eyes are sliding down your cheeks. Even if he wants to bash Vince’s perfectly symmetrical face in, he holds back, not wanting to scare you. “And I was just leaving.”

“Axl, wait, no you don’t have to go.” You plead, grasping his wrist, voice thick with emotion. You didn’t want him to leave, not after you’d just gotten him back again.

“Yes, he does,” Vince says, more sober than he was a minute ago. Loosening his grip on the table, he toddles over, prying your hand from Axl’s wrist. Axl’s teeth clench, and his fists ball together in an attempt to keep the anger at bay.

“You’ll be going now,” Vince glares. “That’s not a request, either. I’m taking a piss, and by the time I come out, you’d better be gone.” He stalks off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

In a panic, you snatch a sharpie from the pencil holder on the counter, uncapping it with your mouth, before grabbing Axl’s wrist, scribbling digits quickly but legibly.

“What are you doing?” His voice is a hushed whisper as he tries to decipher the numbers.

“My phone number, my address.” you answer back, signaling to each one. Grabbing a piece of paper from your notepad, you quickly scrawl out Axl’s phone number and apartment address, stuffing it into your purse. He nods before pulling you in for a hug. “I want to see you again, Axl. It’s been too long.”

And he would see you again. There was no way, no way, that Axl would let anything come between you.

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italiansteebie · 4 years

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Heyylo, hope you're doing well! ❤️ This is a Harringrove request, I've seen a lot of fics with angel Billy (wings and the whole scbang) but only ONE :( fic with angel Steve. I think it would suit our boy, don't you? Maybe you can write an angel Steve + Human Billy or Demon Bills? Please and thank you, love your blog! 🥰

Hi!! thank u so much!! i hope this is good, i've only read one angel!steve fic and i don't really know much on the topic! sorry if it's not quite what you're looking for! i hope you like it anyways 💜💜💜💫

An Angels Wings

No one has ever seen Steve Harrington’s wings. It’s no secret that he’s an angel, his mother is an angel as well, and she flaunted her son from an early age before her husband deemed his wings “Un-manly.” When he was young, Steve’s wings were very large, too big for his body, and the resembled that of a hummingbirds, except quite large, and long in wingspan. The stereotype of white-winged angels was true for most, only the purest of angels got graced with wings of color, and Steve’s were magnificent. In picture from when he proudly flaunted his wings, the blue-green and gold speckled beauties were hard to miss.

They had been dating for a year and Billy has never seen Steve’s wings in person. It’s become his goal to make Steve comfortable enough to show off his wings again. There’s only 3 other angels that reside in Hawkins. Their wings are all white, and Billy doesn’t bother to get to know them. He has the most special angel, in his opinion. Billy is lost in thought when Steve comes home from work. “Hey Bill,” Steve greets with a soft smile, and sits next to him on the couch. He grunts softly as he leans back and puts pressure on his wings. He looks over at Billy with kind eyes, “Bill. I need to ask you something.” Billy gives Steve his full attention, “Yeah?”

Steve’s eyes flash fear for half a second, “I need you to help me unbind my wings. Robin noticed blood today and I don’t want to risk infection.” Steve sniffs, teary after the emotional confession. Billy nods his head, willing to support Steve in whatever he needs but he feels guilty for being excited to see Steve’s wings while he’s in pain. Pushing his thoughts away he turns to Steve and helps him take his shirt off, gasping softly when he sees the blood soaked ace wrap. “Doll, I know why you bind, but wouldn’t you feel much better at least sleeping with them out?” Billy asks gently, pulling at the ace wrap. Steve shakes his head and sniffles, “I would, but I’m scared.” “I know, babe. I’m here for you, what ever you need to do. Right now, we need to get you better.”

Steve starts the unwrapping process, slowly taking the elastic bandage away. The color of his wings starts to peak out behind the wrap, and Billy runs his hand over Steve’s shoulders, relaxing him. The last of the bandage falls into Steve’s lap, and his wings are out for Billy to stare in awe and grief. Steve’s once large and full wings are now small and crushed. There’s an unpleasant cracking sound as Steve unfurls his wings all the way, once they’re spread out Billy can see that the color is just as vibrant as they were in his childhood, but they were small, and feeble looking. Billy is shaken out of his trance when Steve speaks, “Can you grab the cream that's on the bathroom counter? On the left side?” Billy gets up without question and grabs the container, its label isn’t in English, it’s not in any language Billy can recognize.

Steve grabs it from his hands, opens it and takes a generous scoop. He reaches to his back and spreads it over the cracked skin as best he can. Billy watches as the cream starts to glow, and the cracked skin begins mending itself, the process is almost beautiful. Watching his lover surrounded in calming purple light as he his healed. “The cream only works in the hands of an angel, the language is an ancient dialect that isn’t spoken by any one except the angels that still live in the original village in The Netherlands.” Steve reveals, “I hope I never have to use it on you,” he says. Billy hushes him and re-assures him that he will never have to.

The process of healing is over and Steve reaches for his bandage and begins to wrap, starting with his chest. “What if,” Billy starts, grabbing Steve’s hand gently to stop him wrapping any further, “What if an hour everyday at home, you leave your wings out?” Steve looks unsure at the idea, but agrees.

Weeks pass by and the hour of free wings turns into 2, and then 5, and then sleeping un wrapped, and then spending weekends free, and so forth. After 6 months and few therapy sessions, attendance requested by Billy, Steve now flaunts his wing proudly again, and uses his angel abilities as much as he needs too. It’s fun for him, he can heat food up without using the microwave, and heal the kids scrapes and bruises. And then, the healing power is not so fun. On one of Steve’s days off, Billy goes into town to buy groceries for dinner. After about an hour Steve gets a frantic call from Max, she’s calling from a landline near Mirkwood, and Billy’s hurt. Neil found him at the grocery store, and Steve come quick, please. I’m scared. Steve drops the phone and runs out the door, he hasn't tried flying in a very long time, but with the adrenaline pumping he forgets his hesitations.

He finds Billy in 30 seconds, and lands haphazardly, asphalt cracks beneath his feet. Max runs over to him, tears steadily streaming down her face, “Please help him, Steve. I don’t know what to do.” Steve runs over to where Billy is propped up against the Camaro, the puddle of blood makes Steve pause for a second, but he shakes the fog from his head. In his haste he forgot the healing cream but he knows he has the power to heal alone. He presses again Billy’s wound, Steve acknowledges it as a stab wound, and presses firmly. The veins in his hand glow light purple, and the golden spots scattered on his wing illuminate with the same color. Steve breaths in through his nose, and pushes his energy through his wings into his hand into Billys side. The wound spasms, and Billy grunts and jumps in pain, “Pretty boy, I don’t know if that’s gonna work. I’m too far...” Steve hushes him, and takes another breath, the light purple moves into a deep blue, and the wound starts to heal. The glow from the action draws a crowd and townsfolk watch in awe as the wound is reversed.

Billy is healed, the wound is gone without a scar, and Steve collapses in fatigue. “Steve? Steve, baby. Wake up,” Billy says, patting his face softly. Steve opens his eyes, and cracks a smile, “There he is. There’s my guardian angel.” Billy says. He leans in to kiss Steve once the crowd has dispersed and just Max is left. They share another passionate kiss, “Never. Make me do that again. Okay?” Steve says sternly. Billy laughs, he’s not planning to.

#my writing #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #angel!steve #angel!steve harrington #angel!au #prompt fill #herethegay

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