Ten years in and Fletcher is dead. Neiman isn't far behind him.

Plot? What plot? We're all just spooning here, officer.

Holland tries to get sober, with mixed results. Healy is there to clean up the mess.

Dreams and desires share a common origin; both take root in Columbus too readily.

Anne has got some stuff to work through about becoming queen, and Richard is an obliging audience.

(Written for acanofpeaches, 6/13/2015... I think.)

David thinks on the manifold nature of love with regard to one Eli Shaw.

(Written for Comorbidities' prompt on Tumblr and Stars' "Take Me To The Riot": saturday nights in neon lights, sunday in the cell.)

There's a kind of unlucky energy in him when he's at rest, something at work inside of John of which he's only the feverish engine; the heat in him stirs when they are as close as this and she doesn't know what to do with it.

Hobie Doyle and Burt Gurney in: spy games.