This Song Is About Your Sister (What Happens At The Villa, Stays At The Villa)

The suspicion grew sort of gradually, a nagging doubt at the back of her mind, like thinking you’d left the oven on. First just a vague sense of something out of place, and then bit by bit the specifics began to fill in; and then it was a growing, solider certainty.

“Are we — ” Zoe started, and then she stopped playing entirely, resting her bass against her chest and pulling off one cup of her headset. “…Are we playing in the wrong key?”

Andy looked at her for a second, frowning, his fingers starting to falter as his concentration broke. “No. What? No.”

“I think we are, though.”

“No.” But then he looked down at the fretboard, and his frown deepened. “Yes. …Fuck.”



Sam had always thought he’d be doing something more thematically appropriate when the dead started coming back to life. Like walking through a graveyard, or getting trapped in a mall, or even waking up in a hospital after the apocalypse had already happened — that was a popular one. He thought it would at least happen at night, or during a storm, or maybe in a deep, atmospheric fog. Instead, it’s three o’clock on a brilliant July afternoon, and he’s trying to get his hand down his boyfriend’s pants.

“Boys, come out here, something’s happening on the news,” says Emmett’s mother, through a door that had been closed for good reason.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” mutters Emmett, shifting a little under Sam’s weight. “She has, like, the worst timing ever.”


Minimum Wage

by Mamih Lapinatapai
illustrated by lihsa

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/1989.html)


illustrated by lihsa

Colin West really, really hates Matthew James Brose. He hates M. J. Brose for making him hate being a lawyer. Hates having to deal with him in his office twice a week and have nothing to show for it. Hates trying to explain simple legal terms to him when Colin should be writing iron-tight contracts for big-shot corporate businesses. Hates how he makes more money in a month than Colin makes in a year. Colin West hates M. J. Brose more than people hate flies stuck in between windows making annoying buzzing and bumping sounds or a broken toe when they have a soccer game or a waste of over $150 by printing monogrammed envelopes with the wrong return address. He really hates M. J. Brose and the only reason why he’s stuck with him so long is that M. J. Brose is the son of a business empire with so much money he could blow his nose in hundred dollar bills and not even feel the loss. And because Colin is M. J. Brose’s lawyer in a high profile divorce case — though Colin doubts this job sometimes, mostly when, oh, say, M. J. Brose waltzes in late ten times in a row smelling like women’s perfume and drink — Colin will be really, really well paid.

The other reason is that the last client Colin West had was found with him in his office with her mouth around his cock, giving him a very enthusiastic blowjob, and he was sort of completely naked except for a tie, and said client’s husband walked in on that happening, just as Colin was shouting her name (he was kind of loud during sex, he will admit), and then Colin got fired from his firm and almost ended up with a lawsuit on his back if it wasn’t for the fact that as he was walking into his current firm for an interview, who should spot him but M. J. Brose, who immediately demanded that Colin be hired as his lawyer. “I’ll take him,” he’d said, like Colin was a dog or a pig or a whore, and Colin is, because he technically gives his services out for money, but he really isn’t, it’s not those services, and so he hates M. J. Brose.

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