as some of you may know, iām still working towards being able to support myself as illustrator and i currently work a retail job that isnāt giving me what i need by way of hours and pay. iām still going to be taking onĀ ādayā jobs until iām able to support myself solely off my own work - and iām currently in the process of trying to find a different primary place of employment for thetime being - but: i have finally started using my patreon!
95% of the work that i post i do out of genuine enjoyment, without payment, but feasibly -- i canāt make a living off of that. just because iām drawing and writing things i enjoy, it doesnāt mean iām still not putting in hours of effort! all the kind words, follows and support mean the absolute world to me, but as art is my trade and i want to make it my sole career in time, itās just not feasible for me to only make free content!
i already have a ko-fi set up by way of a tip jar, but if youāre interested in further supporting my work, as well as getting early access to finished pieces, seeing previews for finished projects (including things iām writing), access to patreon-exclusive work, voting on drawings and more, you can find my pageĀ here!Ā
as you can see, i have a few tiers set up already; iām still learning how to use the site so everything is still quite simple, but iām definitely going to add tiers as well as goodies as time passes and more people join!
so thank you all so much for your support so far, and for checking out my page! hope to see some of yāall over there š
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In Your Heart, I Find My Home by sparkleeye ( @sparkleeye )
M | 23k words
Itās been over a month heās been living with Harrington, three since heās been back and four since he died.
Life was already a sick joke before the spontaneous resurrection. Back from the dead and living out of his guiltiest wet dreamās guest bedroom, Billyās still not laughing.
Billy canāt shake the feeling that settles deep in his fins. He knows better than this--after all, itās what gets their kind killed--but he follows it instead of listening because the curiosity presented before him is too much of a temptation to resist.
What makes this human so special? Billyās never been captivated by much, but itās taken little effort to figure out that this human is not like the rest.
He snorts, eying the water beneath Steveās feet, each squelch of his shoes across the wooden planks grating on Billyās nerves. Two buckets of fish dangle from his hands--back and forth across the dock as the fishermen empty freezers full of fish from another successful catch.
Itās boring, lackluster because Billyās done this sort of thing his whole life--heās got to eat somehow. Yet, the way this boy moves--a little lanky, a little clumsy--mesmerizes Billy. He shouldnāt be caught in frivolity; one human saving him doesnāt mean anything, especially after Billy had almost killed him.
Thank god for guilt, he thinks; his mother had always taught him his siren song was a gift. What a tragedy heād almost let himself become.
Instead, Billy watches keenly. Steve does most of the hard labor, chalked up to being younger than most of the men on the boats. This means he also wades across the dock by his lonesome, and Billy curls his lips into a deadly smile.
Swimming too close than he knows whatās good for him, Billy lifts himself half way, tangles his fingers between the open spaces of splintered planks and shoves two remaining buckets across the dock. They skitter, Billy watching them go--one remains upright only by a miracle while the other topples over.
A colorful assortment of the seaās finest flop across the dock in a wet spread of delicious food. Billy takes what he wants--only the biggest and the best--and dives back into the water with nothing more than a splash.
His grab is toothpick pickings, little grubs not meant for a full meal, but theyāre satisfying. A pleased hum escapes as he munches, waiting for his human to return, and Billy knows that he will.
In no time, the creak of footsteps give Billy warning, makes him sink lower in the water as Steve comes back into view. Heās beautiful, very ethereal, and it makes him wonder how magnificent heād be if he were Billyās kind--with fins and a tail, full of gradient scales thatād shimmer while gliding through the water.
He figures, maybe, itād be similar to the brown upon Steveās head, a little longer than any other human Billyās encountered, soft to the touch as both water and wind have tossed it around.
āWhat the f-ā
Billyās nose curls when he laughs, tail pressing forward as he meets the edge of the dock again. If Steve had noticed, heād see the damp handprints across the wood, but Billy doesnāt blame him as Steve wipes his brow with the back of his arm.Ā
The wet of Billyās lashes blur his vision, blinking away the water. It leaves the entirety of Steve in his wake, and Billy holds his breath as Steve cocks his head in confusion.Ā āLiterally, what the fuck?ā he breathes.
Lowering himself, Steve reaches for one of the dozens of fish and eventually, the bucket, plopping the remnants of the dayās catch back where it belongs.
While his brows are crossed in confusion, Billy licks his lips, curious as Steve concentrates, as his face contorts into a variety of emotions Billy has never seen on him before.
It lasts for a long time, almost as long as it takes Steve to clean Billyās mess, but thatās it. The tin can is filled; Billy is stillĀ mesmerized, and the only thing that knocks him clean is the sharp look Steve sends his way as if heād known Billy was there all along.
Billy yelps, falling back into the water as Steveās sharp laugh cuts in half by water-muffled ears.
āYouāre lucky I took the best catch first,ā Steve says as Billy breaks through the surface of the water. He hadnāt expected it, but the humanās moved closer to the edge of the dock--an eerie picture Billy hastily pushes from his mind, when cold, wet hands and the trill of his song had cultivated a very sedated Steve.Ā āYour antics arenāt going unnoticed.ā
Floating in the water is one of Billyās favorite things to do, doesnāt quite understand how land life forsakes the ease the body is put through. Which is why he finds his way onto his back, staring up at the sky as Steve stares down at him--the curiosity Billyās accustomed to transferred into the depths of beautiful, brown eyes.
Billy ignores Steve, kinda. He acknowledges the amusement, the slight intone of worry. The prospect of another human discovering Billy is a risk heās taken--growing higher by the number each day he canāt say no--because thereās something here, and Billy doesnāt know what, and that feeling deep down in his fins wonātĀ leave him alone.
āSome of them think youāre an angel.ā Steveās fingers graze the water, but dip no further. Billy knows heās nervous to touch him, had seen the hesitation the moment heād rescued Billy from the fishing nets. Thereās nothing wrong with his fins; Billy knows this, and he thinks he ought to tell Steve that heās not muchĀ different than the slimy cretins he catches for a living.
Though all the same, Billy doesnāt push. He flops his tail in acknowledgement, and thatās all he gives by way of staring at Steve out of the corner of his eye.
āWouldnāt they be surprised if they really knew,ā Steve murmurs.
It sends a lump of bitterness down Billyās throat, anger seething on the tip of his tongue. Quick as lightening--because BillyāsĀ practicedĀ as a means of survival--he finds himself in between Steveās legs, fingers curling into the meat of Steveās thighs.
He says nothing as Steve hands land atop his, gripping tight in fright and surprise from the sudden change. If Billy had better hearing, he thinks maybe he could pinpoint the second Steveās heart picked up speed; heād feel guilty for that, too, but as it stands, he frowns.
āI-ā Steve starts, snaps his mouth shut when Billyās jaw flexes under the harsh bite heās known to give.
With a sharp shake of his head, Billy releases his grip on Steve, albeit slowly. If anyone should feel fear, itās Billy--and he does, to an extent. The temptation heās fallen under with Steve is useless fodder. It should mean nothing--it doesĀ mean nothing--but Billy only convinces himself of that in short bursts of rational.
Every other moment, heās caught between the torrential downpour of emotions Steve offers him. He keeps Billy alight with satisfaction, with wonder, with that undulating curiosity he cannot explain.
The mere thought of anyone elseās hands on him but Steveās makes Billy angry; it makes him aware that heās anything but a threat because humans, at the end of the day, are the real monsters. Billyās seen destruction, and he knows that Steve is on a boat out of basic survival, but that doesnāt mean his comrades wouldnāt turn at the opportunity for fresh meat.
It is, after all, why they fish in the depths of the ocean, far beyond what their eyes can see.
āBilly,ā Steve says, coaxing him out of his panicked thoughts.
It works like a charm, tension fading, Billy attempting to slump back down into the water, back to safety, until Steve doesnāt let him.
The rocking of the water is usually the comfort his kind seek, the deep sway of ocean as itās pulled by the wind, by the currents, and other sea life. Billy doesnāt thrive off of contact, not since heās learned that thatās the humanās way, but Steveās careful fingers--cold from the chill in the air, reproachful from caution--meet the curve of his cheek in the softest touch Billy knows heās ever received.
He doesnāt mean to, but Billy curls into it. His features fall into comfort while the flutter of his heart is felt so deeply in his chest. Billy flicks his gaze over Steveās, meets steely brown eyes that examine him so closely.Ā āI wouldnāt do that,ā he finally says, the conviction laced within his words.Ā āI wouldnāt tell them about you.ā
Relief had already flooded Billy long ago, so the tightening in his tummy is something different. Billy canāt explain it, and he doesnāt know that he wants to because something delicate has blossomed between them.
Steve releases a gentle smile, thumb brushing the corner of Billyās lip, and he thinks if heād reached a litter further, maybe Steve would like the taste--the taste of salt water and Billy and the humbled knowledge that what theyāre doing isnāt necessarily okay--
But maybe it doesnāt have to be bad either. Maybe Billy could deal with a cruel fate if it meant heād forever have Steveās attention.
(bolded parts are the main points if you donāt want my rambling/explanations + thereās a vague but general tldr; at the bottom. and if you actually read these posts even if you donāt interact with them, ty š)
- first off hi hello itās still alex, iāve just rebranded myself!! starting a new era more or less. iām still catching up on updating all crossover links though. and like i said in my nonsense tags the other day: iām keeping sparkleeyeĀ to use as a redirect page so it wonāt look like i just ghosted
- still jobhunting but this medication is making it really hard to exist rn because iām not able to fall asleep and... tbh on the verge of collapse if i lose one more night of sleep, so iām taking a break from stressing about work until i feel like a person again (please wish me luck though as i still Need a new job and iām not going back to my shitshow of an old job yet againĀ because iām that desperate)
- working on a kinda big but very self indulgentĀ personal project rn - not art but something iām passionate about that iām excited to do something with - that iāll have up in three parts before too long. thereās just a lot of ground to cover and iām trying to make it both for the people involved in it but also for those just curious on the overall subject matter, so i actually really hope even just a few people are interested and check it out!
- making an update post for how iāll be running my patreon for the time being! iām still on a self-imposed hiatus of sorts after realizing i need to check my priorities as well as make some general changes, but expect to see me on there a little more soon, just with a slightly different posting schedule/arrangement
- the elephant in the room:Ā iāll still be posting harringrove/ST stuff, but only when i feel like it. so yes, i do plan on eventually updating my wips and getting back to things i actually want to finish, but on my own time as they are not my priority rn and i donāt want to continue forcing myself to work on things i feel nothing for.Ā
- tbqh i just honestly and sadly havenāt felt inspired to do anything creative for or w/harringrove or just ST for a really long time... iāve been forcing myself for over a year now just to maintain appearances/maybe gain more traction again by being a more focused account but thatās not working for me and... i donāt want everything i do to be fandom based anymore. i want to be able to do art for a living and i think iāve been limiting myself for a really long time just because fan art + fandom is comfortable but itās not really taking me anywhere anymore and hasnāt for a long time.
- so: yes that does mean iām not going to be 90% harringrove/ST + 10% other stuff blog anymore; for as long as i keep using this site iām really just going to be RBing whatever different kind of content i want to at the time as well as making whatever kind of content i want to, as long as what iām involved in and/or making is not interfering with my happiness, productivity, creativity, or actual life things that need to take precedent.
- tldr; still in the midst of getting my shit together and will be for awhile but iām actively trying because iām so tired of feeling hopeless and lost and anxious and canāt do that anymore, hence iām rebranding, making my patreon work for me, going to be making content i want to make vs. what i think people want to see from me, and stepping away from being hyper-saturated in singular online communities to casually jump between interests.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
09: Do you bite your nails?Nope! I have other fidgety habits -- mostly that over the years of wearing a lanyard Iāll endlessly spin the keyring with my thumb and not realize Iām doing it, and now I have trigger thumb in both of my thumbs, ugh. GETTING OLD SUCKS. But no, no nail biting.Ā
26: What are you craving right now?Iāll do a simple and a complex answer for this, lol. Simple: THAI FOOD. I really am dying for some Thai. Iām making sausage pasta for din BUT maybe tmrw will be Thai night, oof. Complex: A HOUSE. Weāve been renting for 11 years now, and Iām more than ready to *own* a house. ofc you have to have money to do that and Iām a teacher so .... Iām broke af lol.Ā
36: Do you give out second chances too easily?I donāt think so. I think Iām good at establishing rules and boundaries, and when those are crossed, Iām done. Iām too old to be a doormat in any kind of situation (my relationship, friends, job, whathaveyou), so I wouldnāt say too easily. Sure, ofc I give them, but not without talking it over first and trying to resolve whatever the problem was to begin with.
