Robin, or, My Adventures in the Adult Entertainment Industry

by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/77707.html)

Gary’s phone call woke me up in the middle of the afternoon. I answered it with a groan, ignoring his insensitive accusations that people should be awake by three p.m. Shows what he knows.

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Ixtapa of the Green Eyes

by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)
illustrated by ryuu no dokoro

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/46211.html)

From the private memoirs of Hernando de Soto, conquistador to their majesties Carlos and Isabella of Spain:

We arrived at Cajamarca in late fall, the cool heights of the mountains a welcome relief from the jungle lowlands. Atahuallpa’s army was encamped near there, at a hot spring, as he was fresh from defeating his brother Huascar in war. Eighty thousand men he had, and we were barely a thousand, only a tenth of that in Spaniards. Our little army revered us as gods, but they were untrained savages, and most didn’t even speak our language.

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The Fate of the Queen

by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/24899.html)

The night blossomed with light. Paper lanterns and peacock feathers, diamonds glittering on the curve of bared throats, silk necklines plunging down soft bosoms; the twinkle of laughter, the clink of glasses, the slosh of champagne. The orchestra bubbled with exuberance, violins cascading their voices to trail notes along the quick-stepping toes waltzing across the room.

Anna toyed with the gold band on her finger, twisting it restlessly and watching the fire in the studded rubies.

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by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/20070.html)

Dylan dreamed of drowning.

First, there was the splash, and the splash hurt. The initial slap of water as you hit, and then the icy embrace of the waves as they grabbed and pulled you under. The traitor gravity that kept you so stable on solid ground now just pulled you down and down. And all around you, bubbles glistened in the champagne water, fizzling over your skin and under your clothes, a thousand tiny caresses like lascivious sprites.

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by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/13708.html)

He rides the lightrail with me every evening, on the 6:36 train South. He curls into the gray and red striped seat, facing backwards so that he can watch the world fleeing away behind us.

He doesn’t notice me. There’s no reason why he should. I blend into the crowd, gray suit, gray tie, corporate haircut. Even if he sees me every day, he only sees me as one in a group of corporate drones riding the D train from downtown Denver.

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White Rabbits And Black Russians

by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/7994.html)

The wind howled like a symphony of sick dogs trained to sing commercial jingles. Jason slumped into the ski lodge, cursing God, snow and his uncle Errol, for sending him to some god-forsaken corner of the world where they still had fresh-air and blindingly white snow, which usually came in the form of ass-freezing blizzards. While he was shown up to his room, he added in some choice words about his taxi-driver and the general accessibility of the lodge, and then went back to cursing God about the weather in general.

He was–rather wisely on the part of some of the long-tempered staff–completely ignored.

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by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/4173.html)

Long ago, before anyone’s grandfather could remember, there had been a war, between wolves and men. The wolves won, not only because they were stronger, faster, and more cunning, but because they did not betray their own kind, as did the men.

After the war, a peace was settled, so that man and wolf might live in unity, but only a wolf was allowed to hold the throne, because humans were easily corrupted, and could not be trusted with government.

Continue reading “Sharizade” »