Prelude by DC [NC-17]

[creedcascade.livejournal.com]

My name is Creed and I feel very privileged this month to be recommending Tour of Duty (ToD) stories to you.

Tour of Duty is a small fandom with a big heart. I have written and read in many slash fandoms, but I consider this fandom to be home. It has the some of the most talented and friendly authors I have met anywhere, many of which I am pleased to call personal friends. The quality of the fiction in this fandom blows me away, showcasing everything from the inhumanity of war, the personal relationships built during this difficult time, and the enduring power of love. Yes, that does sound clichéd, but it works and there is also an awesome sense of humour in this fandom (just ask anyone about the whole freakin’ platoon being gay…)

For a great introduction to Tour of Duty, please review the fandom overview.

Fandom: TOUR OF DUTY
Pairing: Myron Goldman/Carl Brewster, Myron Goldman/Zeke Anderson
Author on LJ: dawnchsr 
Author website: Notes From the Underground
Why this must be read:

The first story I would like to feature this month is written by the talented and ever humble DC. She is the only author who I make a point of reading her gen fic in any fandom. This story (so not get in its hotness) also features one of the rarer slash pairings Carl Brewster/anyone. DC fleshes out Brewster and drew me, and I hope you, into this story. For myself, I could not buy Brewster slashed with anyone until I read this story. It’s that good. Also, it features my personal ToD “one true pairing” of Zeke/Myron. Great angst.


Carl stood and watched the other man, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the side of the building. He had an excellent vantage point, one where he could observe but not intrude.

Sergeant Anderson had left earlier that day, gone home to the States, possibly not to return. The man had completed three tours, who was Carl to judge him for leaving? But left behind in Anderson’s wake was the shattered Lieutenant Goldman and Carl had to wonder.

He watched as Goldman dropped a spent cigarette to the ground and absently crushed it out under his boot as he fished out his pack for another. Dusk had settled over the camp, dyeing the greens and browns to indigo. Goldman lit the fresh cigarette with sharp movements before taking a deep pull and resettling against the wall of sandbags.

Carl didn’t like to think that he might have misread the situation back in his office yesterday. Goldman, who was shut down and buried under a mountain of grief. Anderson, eyes sharp and body language making it clear that he was more than the boy’s NCO and friend. Carl was very good at picking up signals like that.
Or so he thought.

Now Anderson was gone and Carl couldn’t help but wonder just who Goldman was really grieving for. Or even if the young man realized it himself.


PRELUDE