by cloven (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/288793.html) — send the artist a comment directly (you must be logged in) see this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki Love2
Category Archives: Bang*Bang no. 51
22
Oct
Skinny Dip
by Iron Eater (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/289119.html) – send the artist a comment directly (you must be logged in) see this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki Love1
22
Oct
Deep Sea Love
by Starbeams (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/289422.html) – send the artist a comment directly (you must be logged in) see this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki Love2
22
Oct
Blowing Bubbles
by n_th_green (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/289635.html) — send the artist a comment directly (you must be logged in) see this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki Love0
22
Oct
(\(\(\(\( *o* )/)/)/)/)
by morgie (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/289801.html) — send the artist a comment directly (you must be logged in) see this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki Love4
22
Oct
Betta and the Beast
by pie派 (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/290243.html) — send the artist a comment directly (you must be logged in) see this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki Love2
22
Oct
Oh, Freedom
There was always a perfect moment of weightlessness upon hitting the water, a single instant where buoyancy met gravity and he was held aloft by watery arms, caught between sea and sky. Then those arms gave, and he exhaled by reflex as the rest of him sank into the high, salty tide.
Seconds later, he was shoved back up toward the air by two strong hands, and though he could have surfaced all by himself, he wasn’t about to complain. He treaded water with one hand and pushed his long black hair from his face with the other, smiling as its dark curtain parted to reveal Beckett’s bright grin. “So cold!” gasped Kai, kicking with his black-rubber flippers to keep in place. The waters of the marina were still, especially on a calm, bright morning like this, but the living ebb and flow of the ocean never stopped, and Kai’s legs already bore years of tiny nicks and scars that came from drifting too close to the barnacle-encrusted jetties.
Beckett just laughed and submerged, and seconds later a bright purple fin rose from the water; Kai didn’t even have time to shield his eyes before it smacked the surface, drenching him with the spray. “Oh, very nice,” said Kai, spitting seawater as he spoke. When Beckett surfaced again, Kai rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Fish blood,” said Beckett with a wink, and when Kai rolled his eyes again, Beckett laughed.
22
Oct
Subarashii
Keith Lewis looked in the mirror, sighed, and adjusted his tie once again. The damn thing didn’t look any better no matter what he did. He was about to give up when he heard a giggle. He turned around and noticed his sister, Tara, in the doorway.
“Need some help?”
Lewis was not proud enough to refuse.
“If you don’t mind,” he answered, undoing the tie and letting it hang around his neck.
“Didn’t they teach you to do this in military school?”
She put the tie around her own neck to make a perfect knot before putting it back around Lewis’ neck.
22
Oct
In Your Wake
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”
Dylan flinched and looked down at his coffee, trying to hide his scowl from the concerned face peering at him. For a moment he considered just not answering. Hiding was usually a nice safe option. He could feel the warm presence of his questioner, though, standing expectantly and hard to ignore. Distraction was sometimes almost as good as hiding. Sometimes better, though he knew Cass wouldn’t go for the usual sort. Conversation it was, then.
“Doing what?” He tried to sound casual.
“C’mon, now,” the voice continued, gentler now. “You come in sopping wet at 4AM, order a coffee in as few words as possible, and hunch over in the corner booth? At least you remembered your clothes this time.” Cass chuckled. “But no one comes here to be left alone, even you.”
22
Oct
Lands of Green in Days of White
It was actually a rather warm winter, but that didn’t stop the Norseman from complaining about the cold at every opportunity. The Norseman had a name, of course, but he didn’t use it much, and since the both of them lived out in the ass-end of nowhere nobody else needed to use it or even know what it was, so “Norseman” and “hey you” did all the dirty work. It made enough sense if you were just going to be called “Skraeling” (or “hey you,” but this time with a weird nasal accent). He’d actually made the effort to try and learn a proper language in addition to the noise the longship-riders used, which was nice, but he was so bad at it that he might as well have stuck with Norse. At least it was fun needling him about it.
The Norseman’d stopped fussing about how their food tasted once he’d finally gotten off his ass and started to help with the gathering; for various reasons he wasn’t allowed in the qajaq (he didn’t know how to paddle it right, it probably wouldn’t fit his too-long legs even if he did, and there was the whole “shipwrecked” thing that was just begging for more misfortune), but it was nice having a second pair of hands forage for berries and things, and so long as he was nowhere near the shore during high tide he could sometimes catch something when he went fishing. When the weather wasn’t good enough to be outside for long he carved trinkets out of leftover bone. “We can use them to trade with later,” he’d told the Skraeling when he’d made the first one, showing how the little animal he’d whittled had legs that went round and around themselves in knots. They looked nice and it kept him out of trouble, so what could it hurt?
It turned out they did hurt if you sat down on them unexpectedly.
22
Oct
The Siren of Titan
by shukyou (主教) illustrated by The Winter Cynic (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/291336.html) The light off the Kraken Mare shone warm and inviting, but Andreas knew that even if he’d been close enough to feel its reflection on his face, it wouldn’t have been like the mornings of his childhood, standing at the edge of the Aegean Sea […]
22
Oct
The Selkie and the Bear
Let me tell you, it is godsdamn boring being a seal. Oh, all right, technically I’m not a seal, I’m a selkie. But really, once you’re in the water, there isn’t a big difference between selkies and seals.
We don’t have movies, there aren’t any milkshakes, it’s hard to use a computer when you live in and around the water. It goes without saying that we don’t have anything like Grindr or Manhunt. It’s full of fish. And seaweed. And males fighting each other for harems. And honestly, I’m not remotely interested in fighting to fuck anyone, even if I wasn’t as queer as a three dollar bill. Also, seaweed makes for shit decoration. And I hate fish.
Yeah, you heard me. I’m a selkie, and I hate fish. Give me a big greasy hamburger and waffle fries smothered in cheese any day of the week. And if you really want to make me happy, a extremely thick milkshake that you have to eat off a spoon — preferably chocolate, but I’ve developed a fondness for the banana smoothies sold from a little stand on the beach.
Even though that fondness stems from tasting the smoothie on the lips of the guy who works there in the mornings. He’d take one to go after every shift and we’d share it, trading sips, kissing and licking tastes from each others’ mouths. We didn’t bother exchanging names, only small talk. More often than not, this was a prelude to slipping into the alley for a handjob or a quick frot up against the wall. Sometimes he’d go down on me – his mouth still cold – and suck me until I came over his tongue. I always dragged him up for another taste, salty and slightly bitter now, but I thought it was perfect.
Sometimes we’d part ways without another word, but when I had money, I could always coax him into getting a hamburger or to catch a movie. Which would lead to another quickie in the bathroom of the theater before he went off to wherever it was he lived, and I went back to the sea.
22
Oct
Ship in a Bottle
“Look, Edgerton left his coat,” said one clerk, pulling it from the hook in the convenient modern closet the new building’s architects had included in the office.
The other snorted. “I doubt he’ll be coming back for it, after that exit.”
“It’s good enough cloth.” The first rubbed the dense boiled wool between thumb and fingers.
“To hear him tell it, he could buy a hundred coats tomorrow and never feel a dent.”
“Hmm. It’ll never fit me.” The clerk glanced over. “It’ll never fit you.”
“Yes, yes, I am short, thank you for reminding me. Why is Edgerton’s abandoned coat any concern of yours?”
“We binned thirty years of flotsam and jetsam when we moved. Why do we have to immediately start cluttering the new place up?” The clerk stretched out a long arm and dropped the coat on the farthest hook at the back of the closet. “If it’s still here in the spring, I’ll bundle it up for the church rummage sale. Don’t let me forget.”
