by Lord Mune (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/157242.html) Love0
Category Archives: Bang*Bang no. 27
From Start to Finish
Good Night Sweet Prince
by Queen_Marshed (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/150423.html) Love0
The Steadfast Tin Soldier
by pseudonymeter (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/150560.html) Love0
Eat Your Heart
by ashe (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/150987.html) Love0
by Blue CheshireCat (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/151270.html) Love0
by Bluejuice (青液) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/151484.html) Love0
But This One is Just Right
by iianbe (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/151672.html) Love0
once upon a time
by fishkro (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/151954.html) Love0
by Naniwa Kaoyoshi (浪花顔好) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/152278.html) Love0
No Hero Manual Included
by Ogiwara Saki (荻原咲) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/152692.html) The problem in most fairy tales is real estate. I’m being serious here. The story of the Three Little Pigs? Real estate problem. Goldilocks? Real estate. Little Red Riding Hood? Clearly, the only reason why an elderly woman would live alone in the woods is because all the good […]
He leaned against the main trunk of the tree, high enough to not see the ground but still below the roof of the forest. Here, he could see patches of midnight blue and far off twinkling of stars when the wind teased the trees, also ruffling the leaves in his hair. At this height, he could, if he turned, wrap his arms around the tree. For now, he watched, though. It was almost time and he didn’t want to miss it by indulging his inborn love of Nature.
White and Woolfe: The Case of the Killer Piper
Some mornings felt like winter even when there was no snow on the ground. The calm and quiet felt chilled despite the warmth bright fall colors seemed to promise. The open window let sun float into the room and cast a line of light through the space. It cut along the grey sheets and defined a strong, naked thigh. The covers billowed around and made a nest that hid all but a tuft of black hair from view.
The sight brought a smile to Snow White’s face. His own hair was ice blonde and he was searching the floor for his boxers. The quiet of the morning wasn’t disturbed in the slightest as he padded softly into the kitchen. The smell of coffee was what had awakened him. He enjoyed the peace and poured two cups before he went back into the bedroom and settled onto the window ledge. “Woolfe?”
A muffled growl reverberated from the covers.
Shoubumei’s Requital (神の恩返し)
At all times of the day and in all seasons, a thick ring of fog embraces Yasukou Taisha, encircling the shrine grounds like a living sacred rope. In the early morning and on rainy days, the mists breathe out beyond the grounds, and even the little hokora shrines at the foot of the stone steps wear veils of dew.
The mountain is evergreen, though few of the plants themselves are. Drifts of spiraea blanket the feet of black pines. Plum and cherry–in full-bloom and heavy with fruit–stand behind trembling curtains of wisteria. Curiosity seekers hear of these wonders and arrive bursting with excitement, and leave feeling unsettled.
Sakaki Manabu paused to add one of the plums, heavy as a stone of similar size, to his basket. It would regrow by sunrise the next morning.
The Half-Baked Life of Pumpernickel Brett
Nick was mostly thankful he hadn’t burst in on the princess while she had been bathing. That would have been most awkward. Not that walking in on her while she was taking a piss was much better.
The two stood, frozen, jaws dropped open in shock. Time slowed to a sadistic stop. It was now that Nick took the time to let out that dying breath he’d been saving in his chest and to take in the crimson face of the princess and the way her long golden hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves. And the fact that she apparently peed while standing up.
“Next question. Cite three animals into which a witch is most likely to turn a princess.”
“Let’s see… frog, doe and… rat?”
Tristan’s frown turned into a grimace. “Rat? When did you ever hear a tale where the princess turned into a rat?”
Brynn shrugged. “Well who knows, witches like rats don’t they? Why not turn one of the blond tart into one?”
Tristan sighed. “You, my friend, are hopeless. The right answer is a swan. Frog, doe and swan!”
“Swan, rat, it’s all the same.”
“Until you try to give it a kiss,” Tristan pointed out.