We Are More

by Tsukizubon Saruko (月図凡然る子)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/82283.html)

May, 1996

The attic was going to be hell.

Katie stood in the middle of it, turning a slow circle with her hands on her hips. Old steamer trunks with garment bags stacked up on top of them, cobwebs sealing them to the floor like tape across the door at a crime scene. Defunct cabinets and haphazardly added shelves full of useless junk whose price value probably varied from ’50 cents, maybe’ to ‘worth more than your life, Katherine Willard,’ too tacky or too expensive for regular house display. It was an alien landscape up here, mountains made of history. The bruised-looking husk of a Commodore 64 computer perched on top of one of them, shockingly old, probably never used once since Katie’s dad had moved on to better things and donated it.

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by newtypeshadow

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/82446.html)

When the servant opens the door to her private library, Lady Catherine thinks it is Tessa with the lemonade. Instead it is one of the maids, come to say Tessa has taken it to the parlor, where Lord Seaton is waiting. “How does he look?” Lady Catherine is certain he plans to propose again, and just as certain he knows she will refuse.

Continue reading “Heat” »



by Purrsia
illustrated by susieoh

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/82758.html)

I woke up with a mouth full of sand.

The plane. Something had happened….

I sat up, spitting sand out as I went, and my head told me just what a shitty idea that had been. The plane had crashed. Shit. I went on a flight to Tahiti and ended up in fucking Lost. I hadn’t even made it to Tahiti.

Continue reading “Splash” »


Like Many Hopeless Romantics

by veryshortlist

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/83112.html)

Like many hopeless romantics, Sara had been so disenfranchised by the whole business of love and dating that she tried to convince herself that she did not even want a lover, a partner, a man to take care of. Like many hopeless romantics, also, Sara kept a vain hope that this belief would be proven wrong by some man, who would, by virtue of his existence, disprove many of her deep-seated theories about relationships and dating.

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by Matty Groves

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/83570.html)

“I say,” said Miss Evans, looking over the jalopy’s windshield. “Is that Kaoru Watu?”

“‘At’s it, miss,” the cockney driver said. “Th’ main village of the ‘ill tribe is just on top of that ‘ill.”

Continue reading “Fieldwork” »



by Yoshiyo Hotaru (昌夜 蛍)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/83759.html)

The air is so thick with the smell of honey that Anave can hardly breathe. The walls are sticky with it. She hurries through the twisting corridors, barely keeping sight of the worker escorting her to the center of the Hive, where she will be introduced and begin her mission.

Continue reading “Sweet” »


The Jazzman’s Last Jive

by shukyou (主教)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/84468.html)

illustrated by peachke

illustrated by peachke

She walked down the stairs into the dark, smoke-filled speakeasy like water, each long leg cascading down past the other as her pale blue skirt swirled around her knees, the light from the outside streetlamps catching and lighting her snow-blonde hair like a halo, and Nell took a drink of her martini and wondered what the hell kind of bird Jimmy had picked up this time.

“Looks like you’ve got competition, dollface,” said Louie, slipping another toothpick-skewered olive into Nell’s glass, to replace the four she’d eaten already.

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Luxury Interior

by Flower of Carnage

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/84624.html)

Amber noticed the car first. It was a white Mercedes convertible, done out with a bright red leather interior. No one drove a car like that in Western Helm. Amber had only ever seen things so luxurious at the county motor shows that Uncle Jimmy used to take her to, or in the pages of car magazines. The Mercedes pulled onto the oil-stained forecourt of her repair shop. She only noticed the driver when she spoke.

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Newton’s Third Law

by xahra99

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/84859.html)

‘To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.’
-Newton’s Third Law of Motion.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Dorothy hissed.

Her voice drifted up the stairwell to where Lillian stood. Lillian paused instinctively, her hands clutching the banister, one foot dangling in midair. Far above her head, a startled pigeon fluttered up and escaped through a broken window. The clatter of wings made Summerson’s reply inaudible.

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