every last one
generation kill (brad/nate)
exactly 2,000 words. pseudo-crossover with american gods, by neil gaiman. er, kind of. rated pg-13. this is mostly a short diversion from the longer things I'm writing, because I felt the need to prove to myself that I actually can finish writing things! thanks to both denialgreen and moorfaerie for reading this over for me and helping me deal with my own agony over scene order. any remaining confusions/errors/typos are mine and mine alone!

There is a horn displayed in a case in Brad’s living room, on top of the glass coffee table in front of his couch. Nate sees it in his peripheral vision the moment before Brad shoves him back against the door, hands clenched tight in the sleeves of Nate’s long-sleeved t-shirt.

( every last one )

slow it down (down, down)
dollhouse (topher/adele, mostly gen)
2,293 words. spoilers for, uh, the entire series thus far. through 2.04 (belonging), anyway. thanks to moorfaerie and citrus_vanille for the beta. any remaining errors are mine! title is from scorpio rising by the mountain goats and john vanderslice.

“Shhhh,” she says, “it doesn’t matter,” and slides down into the pod next to him. He was always thin, bony, but he refuses to eat more often than not, and it shows in his hands and wrists, in the fragile, birdlike span of his exposed collarbones.

( slow it down (down, down) )

built to hold and fit
Generation Kill (Christeson/Stafford)
1,518 words. Rated NC-17 for, uh, porn. Takes place sometime after episode five, A Burning Dog. Many thanks go to denialgreen and citrus_vanille for the cursory read-through. Any remaining errors are mine, and feel free to point out anything I've missed. Title is from the song Good Arms Vs. Bad Arms, by Frightened Rabbit.

This was written for Get Some: A Generation Kill Porn Skirmish, for the prompt "Christeson/Stafford: in the back of the humvee."

Fuck, yo. Getting hit motherfucking hurts.” Stafford grins at Christeson in that wide, loose-jawed way that he has, pushing the rag back up his forehead. His helmet is discarded by his side, but they’re stopped for the moment, so it doesn’t really matter.

( built to hold and fit )

oh the flash then the silence
Harry Potter (Draco/Neville)
5,545 words. Rated R for mild violence. This is an AU somewhere around the 5th book. Mostly, I just wanted to write about a different course the war could've taken, minus the horcruxes and the trio's search for them. Thanks to kawaii_tenshi27 for the beta! The title is a lyric from the song Radio, by Vienna Teng.

“This might hurt a bit.” Neville’s voice is brisk but not uncalm. He’s proud of himself for that. He’s gotten better with the blood in the past months. People are harder than plants. Messier.

( oh the flash then the silence )

from the inside
Band of Brothers (gen. Leibgott and Roe centric.)
605 words. Rated PG. This was originally going to be for a prompt over at bob_kink, but that, uh. Didn't happen. Oh well!

“Shit, Doc,” Leibgott says, pulling in his breath with a quick hiss, “that fucking hurts.”

( from the inside )

conjuring up our melancholy
Panic/My Chem (Ryan/Mikey, Pete/Mikey)
26,280 words, rated R. This fic is the sequel to anything please (except for defeat), the fic I wrote for bandombigbang last year. It would probably be a good idea to read that first, but what you really need to know is that it's an alternate timeline au, in which Brian, and My Chem, signed Panic instead of Pete. This fic follows Warped Tour '05, AKA The Summer Of Like. A world of thanks goes to kawaii_tenshi27, for betaing this for me, and to moorfaerie for the read-through and additional comments. All remaining errors are mine and mine alone. The title is a lyric from I Know, by Dear And The Headlights.

Also, fucking massive thanks to lone_wo1f for the fanmix, and to clayeer for the fanart. Both of you are amazing, and I wish I could hug your creations to my chest and never, ever let go.

Ryan’s standing with Mikey in front of My Chem’s bus, and watching the way the smile pulls at Mikey’s lips when he sees Pete. The way Mikey waves back, long-fingered hand still pale this early in the summer.

Ryan feels a pang he doesn’t want to identify. It’s just easier that way.

( conjuring up our melancholy - part one )

PART TWO