#what a departure from the main POV characters

[incompleteninny]

The sixty-fifth free, unedited chapter of my upcoming book, “The Heist at Cordia Aquarium” is now available on its website (or click here to read from the beginning).

Crawling along unseen wires, strings of holiday lights curl away from street lamps. They trace images of snowflakes, bells, and candy canes that twinkle in mismatched sequence from red to green to gold. An unnecessary display albeit eye-catching and festive.

Scrypher's comfortable again — her face is covered up, free to look how it does. And she's on the move. Patrolling along the route outlined by their nightly dispatch. Rather, she would be, if Barclay didn't find a new excuse to drive them off course every few blocks.

Like the overexcited dog of a man that he is.

First, a bottle shop: he drapes himself over their glass display. "Evening! Oh no, no drinks for me: just wanted to check in. How are you folks doing tonight?"

Next, a trumpet player: Barclay claps and stomps in tandem with the surrounding crowd. Scrypher pulls him away, but not before the struggling strongman drops a handful of bills into the waiting instrument case.

The final time — not counting the dozen that follow — he steps into line behind some drunks playing hopscotch on a faded board. Scrypher's eyes glaze over. She barrels past, set to leave him behind. Irritating. An endlessly annoying, unfocused, lazy—

[...]

I’m sharing the book’s art insert featuring Scrypher and Barclay again. I’ll never stop thinking about this piece. I’ve got a plan for another featuring her, but solo. It’ll be placed in the book after next weeks chapter and the patience I need to muster until it’s time to send the references for it to Stella is unholy. Why must time be so linear...

(She’s the one standing prim and proper under that helmet, since the small excerpt above doesn’t mention her appearance. Barclay’s got the tights)

[variousqueerthings]

there’s so many ways that queerness exists in texts, unintentionally and intentionally, coded and uncoded and partially coded and baited and confused and limited and expansive, and then there’s whatever is happening with Hawkeye Pierce, M.D. of the 4077th MASH unit

[theperfectawful]

Blind Item / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Chapter 1: Gimme More

Rating: Explicit (18+) Series Summary: 2007. Hollywood, CA. As a former child star, you face the harsh reality of growing up in the unforgiving spotlight. A car crash on Sunset Boulevard and a cocaine scandal give you one option: Rehab. Reluctantly agreeing, you embark on a 90-day stay at Promises Malibu to attempt to salvage your career. But when Dieter Bravo arrives, your journey takes an unexpected turn. Drawn to each other, you navigate sobriety and the wreckage of your reputation. As the double standard of Hollywood's treatment of troubled stars becomes evident, you question if redemption is truly possible in a world of unequal consequences. Word Count: 11k

Content/Warnings: Age gap (~10 years, Dieter is in his mid-thirties), alternating POV, heavy drug use, illegal drug use, alcohol use, driving under the influence, frenemy dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), dubcon/noncon, it is neither reader nor Dieter's finest hour when we meet them. Period-typical language and behavior, Hollywood assholes.

Notes: This is my first fic - I've never written or posted anything like this before, so please be kind and feel free to share any feedback or suggestions. I never would have been able to write something like this, let alone work up the nerve to post it, if it hadn't been for the kind and gracious support of @pennyserenade, @whatsnewalycat and @frannyzooey all lending me their advice when I slid into their DMs. They all inspire me endlessly with their work and talent and it’s because of their work that I was inspired to write something of my own.

Our reader is, for now, and unnamed OC. While I’ve done my best to avoid using physical descriptors of her, it should be noted that this story is a period piece that takes place in early 2000s Hollywood. The main character would have been a contemporary of stars like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, and there are certain assumptions I’ve made about what she looks like based on that factor of this particular story. The early 2000s could be dark, ruthless times, y'all, especially for young women in and effected by Hollywood. My intention is to examine that. Thank you for reading!

Desperate times call for desperate measures: sources say that this former child star’s team is working overtime to keep her employed. When she made her not-so-graceful exit from her latest film, the star cited conflicting schedules as the reason for her departure. The film’s producer has a different story: the Hollywood juggernaut has been heard around town calling the star unprofessional, accusing her of being late to her call times and using drugs in her trailer. She’s got a shot at a last resort: a return to television. Word is, the bad publicity has her team bargaining and drawing out sober contracts just to get her hired.

Whenever you were in town for work, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. You were in Los Angeles often enough and long enough to justify buying a home there, but you refused, the idea of actually owning a home in LA never quite sitting right with you. Instead, you rented the same room each time you visited. You loved that little bungalow. The thick, lush landscaping shaded the windows and kept it nice and cool inside, and your front door was only a stone's-throw from the swimming pool. 

It felt like home after a few years, anyway. These old, tucked-away places were what you liked most about Los Angeles, unlikely, quiet havens hidden between sky-high condos and overly sleek offices. The building breathed old-Hollywood luxury, vintage tiles and original hardwood floors and the ghosts of silent film stars wandering the hallways. The staff knew you well. The same breakfast was delivered to your door at noon every day. The top-tier maid service employed by the hotel kept the living room, kitchen, bathrooms and second bedroom impeccably tidy, though they were given clear instructions not to enter your bedroom.

Your bedroom did not inspire the same glamorous aesthetic as the rest of the hotel. Clothing was piled high against the walls and pouring out of dresser drawers, tags and receipts discarded in the wake. Empty bottles cluttered the hardwood floors, clear, crushed water bottles and rattly orange pill canisters. A full ashtray sat on a side table, a makeup mirror and various products scattered next to it.

In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, an antique walnut headboard sprawling against the wall with a mountain of sheets and blankets layered atop a deep mattress. You laid swaddled in those sheets, rubbing your palms into your shut eyes and groaning as you rolled over, dragging your hands wide across your face to peek out at the clock on your nightstand.

4:41pm. You blinked, straining your eyes to focus and confirm you read that right. 4:41pm. Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, you reached for your phone, met immediately by a barrage of missed calls and unread messages when you slid it open.

MELANIE [3:21 AM]: Bathrrom

PETE [3:36 AM]: Did u leave

CORINNE [9:00 AM]: Call with NBC @ 1. Please be available. Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL: CORINNE

CORINNE [11:30 AM]: Confirming availability at 1pm. Corinne Roxford.

(212) 555-4325 [12:06 PM]: Hey gorgeous ;)

MISSED CALL [12:30 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [12:45 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [1:00 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:03 PM]: ??? Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL [1:05 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:07 PM]: Call immediately. Corinne Roxford.

“Hiiiii,” a soft, tired voice called from across the room. You looked up, squinting, at your best friend Natalie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in response, peeking out from where you lay buried in the sheets. “Hi.”

She crossed the room, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and perched herself on the corner of the bed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. You cracked open one eye, locking eyes with her. In an unspoken acknowledgment of your situation - what you got into last night, the state you’re currently in, the splitting headache you’re certain she has, too - you raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked back at you and the two of you erupted into laughter. You lifted yourself up to sit, pushing your foot into her side from under the covers.

“You were insane last night!” she accused, still smiling as she resumed brushing her teeth.

“Me!” your voice was raspy and you coughed. “Me? You were the one making out with the bartender.”

“He wasn’t a bartender. He said he was with the DJ or something.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better,” you snorted, the sound muffled by the plush pillows that cradled your head. You rubbed your palms across your face again, feeling the coarse texture of your own tired skin. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of morning seeping through the half-closed blinds. 

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, disrupting the quiet ambiance. You picked it up, groaning when you saw your manager’s name blaring across the bright screen. With a sigh, you slid it open.

“Hi, Corinne,” your voice was a hoarse whisper as you did your best to sound alive. Natalie stirred from her spot and crossed back to the bathroom, old floorboards creaking underneath her feet.

“I needed you on that call this morning. This is your career I’m trying to save here. Do you think I’m doing all of this for my health?”

“I mean… you’re not not…” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. She is on your payroll.

“Very funny. I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re running out of friends and favors here, hun. I don’t think you want me to join that list.” Her sentence was punctuated by the sound of her horn honking and a muttered expletive. She sighs. “NBC still wants to speak with you, and soon, but they want to do a four-episode Growing special. The rest of the cast is on board, and they think if we play this right we can turn into a full-on reboot. But you have to straighten up, do you understand? I need you in the Santa Monica office first thing Monday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.” Your eyes closed again, and you sunk into the plush embrace of the king-sized bed, the soft cotton fabric soothing against your skin.

“I don’t know how to make it any more clear to you how much trouble all of us are in. This is  your shot at a comeback.”

“I understand.”

There’s a bit of silence, the noise of New York traffic floating through the airwaves and into your ear. You insisted on total honesty from Corinne, unable to tolerate your team coddling you, so her words might have hurt more if this was the first time you’d heard them. Or maybe if the haze you’d woken up in were a bit thinner.

“Tomlin and the team will be in on Thursday night to get you ready for the VMAs. I’ll see you then, too.” Corinne changed the subject, her voice a mix of stern professionalism and genuine concern.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, a defensive baby voice you switched into when you were nervous, a trademark of yours that had been mocked by everyone from ex-boyfriends to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Corinne said goodbye and you felt Natalie’s weight return to your side.

You groaned, long and drawn out, tossing your phone into the labyrinth of sheets and blankets surrounding you. The show she referred to was a reboot of the sitcom you spent your childhood working on - Growing Together. It's one-half cast reunion, one-half desperate, nostalgic cash-grab. The producer you sat across from at the pitch meeting was almost delirious with excitement - explaining what a smashing success it was sure to be, a “televised homecoming for America's favorite family.” It took so much strength not to roll your eyes right in front of him that you thought you’d pop a blood vessel.

“Are you in trouble?” Natalie asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, almost always," you replied, casual in your admission. As you sat up, fully awakening, you stretched and planted your feet on the floor. You chugged the warm Vitamin Water on your nightstand before reaching for your bag on the floor and digging through its contents. Gum, a fluorescent orange paper wristband, a baby pink Juicy Tube, a black and white photobooth strip of you and Natalie with your tongues out. Not finding what you were looking for, you dumped it out onto your bed and continued rummaging through the items and garbage inside. Your iPod, a receipt from the drugstore, 3 loose cigarettes and half a dozen empty quarter-sized plastic bags. You sighed, shoving everything back inside carelessly. 

“Did we finish everything last night?” You call out, patting the bed behind you, your gaze darting around in search of your phone.

“We?” Natalie’s laughter rang through the room. “I don’t know about ‘we!’”

“God, no wonder,” you muttered, the realization of this morning's particularly splitting headache dawning. Locating your phone again, you typed out a text message to your dealer, padding out of your room to the kitchen.

[5:13 PM]: Andyyyyyy. U going to Lush tonight?

You tapped the side of your phone restlessly for a beat, then texted again.

[5:13 PM]: Can you bring what u brought last night

In the kitchen, you opened the cabinet, revealing an array of neatly arranged pill bottles. Without looking, you pulled out a bottle of Advil and an empty glass. Seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in her Macbook, was your assistant, Rhea.

“Corinne’s pissed.” She said before she even looked at you, focused intently on the screen in front of her.

“Good morning,” you responded, filling your glass at the sink and beaming an exaggerated, pageant-queen smile at her. She scoffed in response.

“The sun is going down in… 40 minutes.” she retorted, her gaze flitting momentarily to the clock on the wall, then back down. You made a mockingly offended expression, hands lifting with dramatic flair.

“Time is a social construct, Rhea,” you declared, tossing back the Advil and chasing them with the full glass of water.

“Yeah, for you, maybe.” She muttered, still typing like a maniac.

You were fired six weeks ago.

The movie was meant to signal a departure for you, a leap into serious territory - a drama marking an overdue graduation from the teeny-bopper films you’d spent the last decade of your life making. You’d been lucky a year ago - a really excellent writer took a chance on an elevated high school comedy with you at the helm that had people in the industry, finally, taking you more seriously. 

Seriously enough to get you in the door, at least. Being on set gave you a different impression. You felt as coddled as ever, still treated like an unqualified child star whose presence was more of a slightly annoying novelty than a creative asset.

You wanted to be treated like an adult - a real actress, a professional. This movie was supposed to accomplish that. Despite the fact that this project had a huge, award-winning director attached to it, it was subject to the same issues you’d experienced on countless, lower-tier productions. Poorly communicated call times, technical issues, handsy producers hanging around your trailer. The latter issue caused you to insist on Rhea being by your side whenever possible - power in numbers in an attempt to keep greasy Hollywood exec’s hands away from you.

You weren’t going out any more often than you usually did. Now that you were old enough to not have to sneak into clubs anymore, you were having fun. Though your evenings often bled into mornings, occasionally pushing the limits of your call times, it felt manageable. However, Corinne was relentless in reminding you of the stakes and your professional expectations: show up, behave, perform.

That morning, exhaustion hung over you more heavily than usual. The night before, you’d been out celebrating Natalie’s 23rd birthday. A friend of hers had just returned from Amsterdam and brought with him a bag of European ecstasy as a souvenir. After Le Deux closed, you threw an after party at the Chateau’s pool, you and Nat drank champagne on your floaties as the chemicals rushed through your systems. Your fingers dipped in and out of the heated pool, the two of you gossiping and giggling and floating along until the sun came up.

You were on set on time - early, in fact - but the MDMA had worn off and your energy was plummeting fast. You’d run through the scene several times with Rhea, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.

“Cut,” the director called out, sighing and stepping out from his position behind the camera. Your costar groans softly, standing up from his spot across from you and stepping away as the surrounding crew moves quickly to reset the scene.

“I’m sorry Alan,” you offered immediately as the director approached your mark. A makeup artist swoops in, tapping a brush to your under eyes.

“You’re furious with him, remember,” he coached you. “I understand it’s early, but I need you to manage to muster up some energy.”

You nodded, trying to focus despite the persistent buzzing in your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to me like a punished child, I just need you to perform the way I’ve asked you to. Can you do that?”

"I'll get it right this time, I promise," you assure him softly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He eyed you skeptically, his weaning lack of patience with you made clear by his expression.

“We’ll break for five.” He called out to the room, still staring at you as you stood up and shuffled off behind him.

Rhea arrived at your side with your cell phone and a Red Bull. You flip open the screen as you walk, quickly scrolling through your text messages and trying to distract yourself from your dull, nagging headache.

“That was okay, right?” You asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the uncertainty in your voice. “Is it as bad as he says?”

“You were fine,” Rhea’s voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched as she held out the straw of your energy drink in front of you. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the area, and her voice lowers into a whisper as she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m tired,” You brushed her off, shaking your head and handing your phone back to her. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Rhea nods, a concerned eyebrow lifting as you arrive at your trailer. Everyone in your life was looking at you like that lately - as if doing anything less than completely coddling you would cause you to fly off the handle. The cautious glances, the careful choices of words, the subtle tiptoeing around your every move - especially from Rhea, who never gave a fuck about your feelings - it all grated on your nerves like an itch beneath the surface. 

She held out her hand and you took it quickly, grabbing an orange bottle from her and slipping through the door of your trailer.

In your trailer, you sat at the vanity and closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them and gazing at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bottle, pouring out two small pills on the counter in front of you. Scanning the surface quickly, you located a plastic card and pushed it against the pills with the ball of your hand. You pushed it again and again, finally finishing and scraping the excess powder from the card onto the table. Dragging the powder into two lines, you leaned down to inhale them and stood straight back up. You licked your finger and picked up the excess residue, pushing it into your gums and taking a couple more deep breaths to re-center yourself.

The acrid taste of the pills gave you a Pavlovian surge of energy, the anxious buzz in your chest subsiding and easing into a steady hum. You sat at the mirror, dragging a finger underneath your eye to wipe smudged eyeliner from your face. You sniffled, forcing the action into another deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror. You belong here. You do. You know what you’re doing.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you back to reality with a jump.

“Jesus,” You called out “Alright, Rhea, one second!”

“It’s Alan. Open the door.”

Fuck. You frantically began cleaning the counter in front of you - slipping the credit card into your pocket and brushing your hands across the surface.

“Now!” Alan boomed from outside.

“Okay, okay!” You moved to the door and turned the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see you. You sniffled again, trying to camouflage the reaction with a cough. “Yes?”

Pushing the door firmly, Alan moved into your trailer, his body dwarfing yours in the small space.

“Listen to me,” he said, low but firm. “I’m done. I’m not doing this with you. I am not letting you fuck up my movie.”

“What?” You were dumbstruck.

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. You know exactly what I mean.” He was inches from your face now and getting angrier by the minute. You swallowed, desperately looking around for Rhea. Tears stung the corners of your eyes and you fought them, willing yourself not to blink.

“They’re prescribed,” you attempt. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time,” he continued “But this is mine. This is important to me and to everyone else out there whose livelihoods depend on this project, and I’m not going to let some spoiled, coked-out little actress spoil it.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

“Corinne fought hard to get you on this project. This was more of a fucking favor to her than you. But this movie does not live and die by your actions, do you understand me? You can kill yourself if you insist, but you will not pull my movie down with you. You’re fired.”

Your jaw dropped. You were unable to find words let alone choke them out. Rhea’s face was stark white when you spotted her just outside the door of your trailer, her cell phone firmly against her cheek, whispering into the receiver with her eyes wide.

“This is no longer viable for me or anyone else on this crew. I want you off my set now.”

You couldn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there for another moment before exiting the trailer and slamming the door behind him. The force of the slam caused the door to open slightly, revealing Alan standing in front of Rhea.

“I don’t want to see you here again.” He said to her, loud enough for you to hear, his voice stern and uncompromising. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for bringing drugs on my set.”

You hung in the doorway as he stormed away, and as the room swirls into focus you see the eyes of the crew on you, their faces filled with curiosity and concern. Turning your head, you quickly blinked away your tears and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Officially, you’d been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’. It was flimsy, Hollywood jargon for your star showing up fucked up, and unfortunately, the euphemism did little to quell the relentless scrutiny surrounding you.

Rhea had shown you the footage of you that began making the rounds after your firing was announced - a creepy, shaky video leaked by some PA of Alan berating you on set, cut with another clip of you walking around the soundstage. It was embarrassing - your hair was disheveled and you were pacing around in a way that looked strange out of context, but there wouldn’t have been anything interesting about it at all if the rumor hadn’t gotten out that you’d been fired for your drug use. Since then, the attention on you had been relentless.

The paparazzi had been a regular part of your life since you were a young teenager. It, generally, wasn’t as bad in New York, which is part of the reason why you preferred to stay there, but in LA it felt as if you were never more than a few feet from a camera. 

When you were 16 and working on your first film after Growing Together ended, you started going to clubs with your coworkers. No one ever gave you any trouble, and you didn’t even start drinking until you were 18, but despite that, the mere optics of a child star reveling in nightlife proved a lucrative angle for the media to exploit.

Since then, you were followed almost constantly. Leaving home, returning, getting groceries, getting your nails done, driving through McDonald’s - flashing lights in the corner of your eye were such a regular thing that you barely even noticed it anymore. There were photographers you knew at this point, friendly ones who knew your angles and creepy ones who constantly tailed your car.

It’d never been like this before, though. Literal throngs of photographers showed up anywhere you went, watching you like hawks, all waiting to swoop in on the slightest slip up. Going shopping was an event that needed to be scheduled in advance, boutiques needing to be warned that you’d be coming in so that they could prepare to lock doors behind you. Every step, every breath, felt scrutinized and captured for public consumption, leaving you suffocated beneath the weight of it all.

You were so angry about being let go - your behavior, truly, was no different from what any other actor your age was doing. You partied with your friends, you were out late sometimes, but you knew you were a good actress. It had been your passion since you were a child, and it was beyond frustrating to hear people tell you they loved you and wanted to see you win and then have them turn against you the moment you made a mistake.

So, although you’d behaved and spent the first week or two lying low at the insistence of Corrine, you were over it now. You stayed in LA, uninterested or unwilling to go home to your family and friends in New York and explain to them what's been going on. You were going out with Natalie every night, usually to Le Deux or Lush or Teddy’s. You stayed out late and slept in late and generally just did your best to avoid confrontation with any paparazzi or journalists or producers you’d pissed off.

You weren’t lying to Alan when you told him you were only taking what had been prescribed to you. It just happened that a lot of things had been prescribed to you. Lately, you’d been alternating between Adderall and MDMA for the last week or so, making you too speedy and anxious to really dwell on the current state of your career. You were, admittedly, running through your prescriptions more quickly than usual, causing you to need to make some calls in order to fill in the gaps.

Throughout dinner, you anxiously slid the screen to your Sidekick open and shut, open and shut. You thumbed through the wheel of apps, trying to will into existence a text from Andy that didn’t seem to be coming. It’s not exactly like you expected rigid punctuality from the guy who sold you drugs, but his radio silence was making you antsy.

[9:05pm]: Hellooooooooo

Natalie exclaimed as a tray of shots was delivered to the table, echoed by the group of acquaintances that you met up with at Don Antonios, the restaurant you always went to before a night out. Eagerly, you took one off the tray, blindly grabbing another as you knocked the first one back. You chased that shot with the other, the warmth of the liquid making you feel more like a human being and less like a raw nerve.

Seated to your right in the booth was a girl you kind of knew. She was always hanging out on the fringes of your group, some friend of a friend of a friend who was for sure going home and telling everyone she partied with you. She’d been gawking at you all night, beady eyes locked on you since you sat down, craning her neck and sitting uncomfortably close to you, your dress pinned under her studded jeans. You’d been resisting the urge to ask her what the fuck her problem was for the better part of an hour. As the group around you became distracted by the arrival of the shots, you seized the opportunity to confront her.

“Can you please get off of my dress?” you spat.

Her eyebrows shot up as she took her eyes off of you for what felt like the first time that evening to look down, apologizing and scooching over. She had tall red stilettos on and, when she looked back up at you, you could see the smudged mascara on her eyelid. Just as you were going to take the opportunity to move away from her, she leaned over to talk to you over the noise that surrounded you.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m Katie.”

You grimaced, not in the mood to talk to this person.

“Hi.”

You turn away for a beat, but your attention is grabbed again by Katie’s voice lowly in your ear.

“Hey, I have Xanax, if you want one,” the offer took you by surprise, the prospect lighting you up immediately.

“Oh, my god, I love you,” you said, quickly turning towards her and extending your palm. “Please?”

Downers really weren’t your thing, even booze wasn’t your favorite, but this evening was going to turn from boring to maddeningly insufferable fast if you didn’t get your hands on something.

“I know someone who needs one when I see them,” she laughed, discreetly dropping two pills into your palm.

The clubs in LA were the same thing every time. You showed up in big black SUVs, posed and made nice for the photographers outside for a moment and then clamored inside towards the booth that was waiting for your party. 

It felt like high school. Well, you assumed, since your high school experience took place entirely on set. You saw the same people everywhere, all scattered around the room, broken up into their own little cliques. All gossiping, the room alive with murmurs and whispers. Who’d just shown up? Who was fighting with who? Who’d stolen whose boyfriend? It all felt so juvenile, but not being here was worse, so you put up with it. The people changed, but not really - you usually ended up surrounded by the same cast of promoters, wannabe socialites and greasy LA club dudes, swapped out every couple weeks by stand-ins and understudies and new arrivals. They circled your table like vultures, mingled with one another and made use of your tab while you sat engrossed in your Sidekick.

The night became slightly more tolerable once you’d taken one of the bars Katie gave you, but you were still desperately trying to get a hold of a dealer. By the time you left the restaurant and were climbing into the backseat of your car to head to Lush, you’d even resorted to texting backup options, people you’d partied with once or twice who you suspected might be around. 

Sinking into the plush booth, you let your head loll to the side, eyes shutting against the assault of strobing lights. The steady, pumping rhythm of the bass sent a rattle through your bones.

After a minute, Natalie's hand landed gently on your knee, snapping you back to reality.

“You okay, girl?” She asked. Her voice felt distant, barely audible over the pounding bass reverberating through the room. The glitter on her eyelids shimmered in the blue light, the only part of her face you could clearly make out in the shadowy corner of the booth.

“I’m fine,” you answered impatiently, kicking your feet up into the seat next to you. Just then, your phone finally buzzed, your heart skipping a beat as your dealer’s name flashed across the screen

ANDY [11:03PM]: not goin tonite

You scoffed, pausing for a second before furiously tapping out a response.

[11:03PM]: FUCK U ASSHOLE

You hit send and threw your phone into your purse with a huff. You were going to have to come up with something else. Or maybe just slit your wrists right here at the table instead.

You surveyed your group as bottle service brought two large bottles of tequila to your table along with a tray brimming with shots. knew all it would take was a couple hundred bucks from a photographer outside for them to spill about how you’d begged them for coke. They'd probably do it for free just for the attention. You'd already asked Katie, but all she had was Xanax and a joint, and Natalie would've let you know if she got a hold of anything else.

You started scanning the rest of the room, looking for anyone you knew. The club was packed, some sort of launch party that’d booked a huge DJ filling even the VIP section from wall to wall.

Suddenly, your attention was grabbed by the sound of a man shouting at the booth directly across from yours. He was the typical guy you'd find in places like this: a douchey-looking producer type, each of his arms wrapped around two miserable-looking models to his left and right. Intrigued, you followed his gaze to see who he was yelling at.

Oh, bingo.

Dieter Bravo. You recognized him instantly. An actor like you, you knew you’d seen him around at award shows and parties, but you’d never met. His reputation preceded him, though; you knew he partied, knew that he, too, had been let go from movies due to 'scheduling conflicts' more than once. You knew he’d been in trouble for drugs. Last you'd heard, he'd been in the news for cheating on his wife or something. You were certain that all it’d take was a little bit of flirting and buttering him up to get him to share whatever he had with you.

Without a word to anyone, you rose from your booth, ignoring Natalie's questioning as you strode towards Dieter's booth. Immediately, though, you lost your footing, lightheaded from standing up too quickly. You brushed it off, saved from a fall by someone at your booth. Straightening your dress, you grabbed a bottle of tequila before pivoting on your heel and starting back towards Dieter.

Dragged out against his will, Dieter was a guest of honor at a launch party for Elysium Fragrances, the cologne brand he’d shot a campaign for last year. His presence was requested tonight as a make-good for being a no-show at the launch of his own campaign, instead being spotted that evening by the California Highway Patrol speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway with a model in the passenger seat. 

He’d been stopped by a cop as he attempted to pump gas, some asshole photographer seizing the opportunity to swoop in on the interaction and hurl all sorts of insulting names at his date. Dieter lost his patience, blowing past the cop to shove the paparazzo to the ground, shattering his camera in the process. He was arrested that evening on five charges - assault and battery, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct, assault of an officer (come on) and, thanks to a thorough search of his car, possession with intent to distribute.

As his smug-faced mugshot circulated the tabloids, it eclipsed the glossy editorial photos that the brand had invested millions in. The extravagant campaign was reduced to a joke, its over-the-top glamour juxtaposed with candid snapshots of Dieter’s angry face shouting at the photographer.

Unbelievably, the brand hadn’t thrown him out then and there. He almost wished they had - he preferred the couple of nights he spent in jail to the following days spent in meetings, his team arguing with Elysium over their ability to sway this and use his reputation to their advantage. Ultimately, they maintained his status as a face of their brand as well as his 6 million dollar contract, with the stipulation that he shoot another campaign and make himself available for any event, launch or party the brand requested for the next year.

Being asked to party in exchange for six million dollars was a sweet deal - he understood that - but the reality of being a cosmetics brand’s puppet meant that he ended up at the same fucking parties week in and week out, always babysat by an appointed employee of the brand or, failing that, someone on his payroll.

Tonight was particularly torturous. The tabloids had latched onto the whispers of his crumbling marriage - rumors that were, fortunately or unfortunately, completely legitimate. Heidi was meant to be the one to tie him down, set him straight, clean him up. Their wedding photos looked like a fucking editorial, glossy photos ran with headlines predicting their domestic bliss. But a year and a half, a relapse, a DUI, and a string of affairs - all on his part - had shattered those illusions.

Last week, Dieter returned home from a 3-day bender to Heidi’s mother on the landing at the top of his stairs. She was screaming and hurling the contents of his closet at him, plus whatever else was within arms reach. Heidi, her once-bright eyes now dull with tears, cowered in a doorway behind her mother, slamming the door behind her when he called out in an attempt to reason with her. Her mom located his Oscar, hurling it towards his head with a warning to leave the house before she called the cops. He’d ducked just in time to avoid the statue concussing him, it instead crashing through the glass window of the door behind him.

The stories spread like wildfire, his team scrambling to reshape the narrative, casting Heidi as the cold, unfeeling spouse who couldn't handle his demons. They painted her as the villain, accusing her of rejecting him for his vices - after all, she knew who she married - all the while conveniently forgetting that she had stood by him through more than most people would be able to tolerate. It was an angle he wasn’t happy with; He may have been hedonistic but he wasn’t cruel. In the interest of giving her space and avoiding any additional negative attention sent her way, he moved out. He kept an apartment closer to town, and staying there made it that much easier to avoid any reminders of his failures.

The word on the poor, dejected husband had spread, causing every asshole he ran into tonight to look at him with the same pathetic, sympathetic expression. He resented their pity. He resented this party, this club, his obligation to be seen holding some stupid bottle of cologne in order to maintain his career. The four whiskies he'd downed had done little to numb him from it, and even the lines he'd snorted on the way over had failed to dull the edges of this evening.

You’d stumbled in about an hour ago, perching yourself in the booth across from his own. Your eyelids were heavy in a familiar way, his dirtbag instincts making him suspect you’ve popped a painkiller in addition to whatever you’ve been drinking. A group of giggly, hungry hangers-on swarmed around your table like flies, posing for pictures and parting only to let bottle service in and out.

Dieter knew you - or at least, he knew of you. The cute little starlet who always popped up next to him in the tabloids. He’d seen you in enough movies and on enough billboards to recognize your face, and he’d lurked around clubs like this often enough to have seen you before. Before you’d walked in, he’d resigned himself to an armchair as far back in the VIP section as he could find, determined to wait out the evening before bringing home whatever model ended up in his car. The whiskey he’d been drinking was only just beginning to kick in and he didn’t fight it, leaning back and willing the time to pass faster. But you… you were interesting.

Your gorgeous legs were stretched out along the booth, climbing up to the hem of your dress, a pink silky thing he imagined he could tear off of you with the smallest amount of force. Glossy lips pouted at your phone, eyebrows furrowed in a sweet little frustrated expression. When you looked up he didn’t look away - he kept his eyes trained on you as you looked around the room. You were looking for someone, obviously restless. A boyfriend? The thought twisted at his stomach uncomfortably and he willed himself to stop watching you, putting his glass to his mouth and draining it with a single swallow.

“Bravo!” a voice bellowed from his left, snapping him out of it. Clint - some hack from Elysium Fragrances and tonight’s designated narc waved enthusiastically from the booth next to him. “You gonna sit there and fuckin’ mope all night, bro?”

Fuck this guy. Like most of his brand-approved chaperones, he was content to accept the babysitting opportunity and spend the evening running up Dieter’s tab and shamelessly hitting on the girls at his table. The least he could do would be to leave him the fuck alone.

His attention returned to you when he heard a commotion from your direction. There you were, knees buckled, held at your elbow by one of the guys surrounding your booth. A couple of cell phone cameras lift and snap photos behind you as you attempt to compose yourself. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you stand back up, adjusting yourself, your little dress riding up for just a moment before you smooth it back into place.

The bottle he’d finished had begun to cloud his vision, so it took him a moment to realize you were stumbling towards him, your plush lips slightly parted as you swung a bottle of tequila at your side. Despite the haze, your smile was unmistakable as you arrived at his chair. When you held up the bottle with a subtle lift of your eyebrow, he nodded in agreement.

He wasn’t entirely sure if you climbed into his lap or if you simply floated there, an ethereal presence that captivated his senses. You were such a gorgeous little thing, soft legs draping over him effortlessly, while your electric fingertips traced delicate patterns along his arms.

“Where’ve I met you before?” You slurred, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as you settled in his lap.

You were fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Good - he was, too. His plan had been to leave, get one of the models at his table to come home and roll over for him without much effort, but passing the evening with someone in his same state of mind would spare him from having another dull fucking conversation tonight. Plus, you were so pretty, big black pupils dilated and fixed on him beneath the lazy black fan of your eyelashes.

“You tell me,” he answered, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

Did you know who he was? He goes along with your guesses as to where you’d met before. Miami, London, the Met, whatever you said, as long as you didn’t piece together that you know him from a TV show that aired when you were still in middle school.

Music blasted through the speakers surrounding you, strobe lights flashing and highlighting flecks of glitter on your shoulders. He lifted his hand to run his finger along the thin strap of your dress as you lifted the bottle up between you and raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, holding up his empty whiskey glass. 

“Glastonbury?” You asked as you filled his glass. 

“That must be it,” he agreed, knowing he hadn’t been to Glastonbury since 1995, and clinked his glass against your bottle. He watched as you took a long draw from the mouth and could see the grimace you were holding back as you squinted, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. He followed your lead, emptying his glass in three big gulps. Your eyes flitted over momentarily to the group he came with, crowded around the booth to his left, then back to him.

“You alone?” You asked him, glossy lips smirking.

“Just like you.”

You let out a knowing chuckle and leaned in closer to him, tequila and lime and smoke on your breath as it mingled with his own. The way you dragged your lower lip through your teeth had his cock twitching, the combination of the chemicals in his system and you purring in his lap like a kitten destroying any shred of inhibition he had left. 

There’s an acknowledgment between people like you and Dieter. It’s one of those things that doesn’t lend itself to description, but he knew it when he saw it - in the mirror, in friends and acquaintances and enemies, in blown-up photographs on the covers of tabloids, suicides and DUIs announced in newsstands. Raw nerves covered in glitter, celebrity or civilian, death drives winning over life drives every time. He saw it in your dilated pupils and the way your thighs were rubbing together, the silk of your dress doing nothing to hide it. You’re like him, too, and most importantly, you know better than to ask why.

His hand cupped your face before he realized he’d done it and he closed the space between you, your lips soft against his the next sensation he was aware of. You tasted good, and he wanted more right away, deepening the kiss and digging his fingers into your thigh forcefully. He ran his tongue along the seam of your mouth, his own lips going numb as he licked into yours. He pulled you up to straddle him and you moved easily, hips lowering onto him immediately and settling, the lace of your panties brushing up against the thin fabric of his pants. His mouth trailed to your ear, worrying your earlobe between his teeth and guiding your hips to roll against his crotch again and again.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He said, his voice low and hoarse in your ear. He knew you had the attention of his group and your own, not to mention anyone else who happened to look over, but it didn’t seem to matter to you. He knew you’d been in trouble lately - the same limelight, coming-of-age growing pains he’d been through himself several years ago - and his own instincts threatened to kick in and shield you from the excess attention. 

You laughed with a shake of your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder and, without looking away from him, lifted his hand from your thigh to your lips, dragging your tongue across the length of his index finger and popping it into your mouth.

Oh, you were fun. You were already making him hard, and he knew you could feel it as you grinded into him again and again, letting his finger drop from your mouth when he pressed his lips back to yours. He needed to be careful - the linen lounge pants he’d thrown on to come here would betray nothing if you kept it up much longer.

It’s a noticeable absence when you hum and pull away from the kiss, the urge for more of you rolling over him and causing his fingers to dig into your thighs possessively.

“Do you have anything… funner?” You asked, big, blown out eyes pleading as you lifted the tequila bottle up again. Aha. It just so happened he did - a baggie of coke he’d brought along just in case sat in his pocket, along with two tabs of acid. It didn’t seem like that kind of night, though, at least not yet. He’d stick with the coke.

“I might have something,” he replied, a genuine smirk spreading across his face for the first time that evening. He sat up straight, smacking your ass and biting your jawline at the same time, the yelp it pulled from you quickly transforming into a wild giggle and sending a rush of blood to his cock as he peppered kisses and bites down your neck to your collarbone. 

Quickly, he helped you to your feet and guided you through the crowded room, following you across the floor, his index finger linked with your pinky, prying eyes and pointing fingers meaningless to the both of you. You may have been stumbling, but you were confident. Or at least not at all concerned. A camera phone at the bar flashed and Dieter instinctively ducked his head, moving a hand to your hip to rush you forward and out of sight. 

Tucking into a hallway at the back of the club, he kicked a door open and hurried you inside a small, dark room. It was clearly an employee restroom, high piles of backstocked paper towels and toilet paper toppling over when he pushed you up against the wall harshly, his hands cupping your face, the cool metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

He pulled a pink baggie out of his shirt pocket, opened it and tapped a bump of white powder out onto the skin between his thumb and index finger. He held it up to your nose and, without any question about what it was, where he got it or if he’d already tried it, you’d inhaled, one hand holding his steady while the other held your nostril closed. 

Fucking finally. Your head lit up immediately with euphoria and relief as the amphetamines rushed through your system and you melted against Dieter as he lifted you to perch you on a stack of cardboard boxes. 

You let him move you like a rag doll, smiling as he propped you back and tapped out two more bumps onto your chest and snorted them, running your fingers through his messy curls as he dragged his tongue along your cleavage, licking up what was left.

His lips found yours again, and the pungent taste of the powder on his tongue mingling with his taste drew you in closer. Looping your arm around his neck, your free hand clutched his bicep. The acrid taste turned pleasantly tingly on your tongue, a numbness spreading as it explored his mouth.

“Here, baby,” he urged, breaking the kiss breathlessly, and you hummed in response as he tapped out another bump on the back of his hand. You inhaled it again, then he used his finger to gather the remnants of the powder. Cupping your cheek firmly, your jaw relaxed under his touch as he rubbed the excess powder into your gums. You reacted instantly, closing your eyes and drawing his finger deeper into your mouth, succumbing to the rush of sensation.

He groaned in approval, your lips already open when he kissed you again, drawing him in for more, thighs parting to wrap your legs around him. The flimsy strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, the fabric across your chest following shortly after.

Blissfully content with the relief of the chemicals rushing into your bloodstream for the first time today, you went numb, rolling your head back and watching patterns dance behind your eyelids. You allowed Dieter to touch and move you at his will, his hands skillfully brushing the other strap of your dress off your shoulder, exposing your chest completely. A throaty moan escaped him at the sight, the gentle sway of your breasts moving with the rhythm of the rough push of his hips into yours. He drew you closer, his lips finding purchase on your skin. Roughly latching onto you, he drew your breast into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the peak of your nipple before switching to the other side of your chest.

Sparks shot down your spine and your mind went blank for a second, lost in the feeling of him against you, the synapses in your brain firing and lighting up. You snapped back into the moment when you felt him grasp your hand with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours. He guided you down to press your hand into his crotch, grinding the firm length of himself into your hold again and again. 

A soft moan escaped your lips, surrendering to the warmth and pressure of his body against yours. You tightened your grip around his neck, allowing yourself to fully yield to his control, your body pliant and responsive to his every move.

You’d fuck him, you figured, as you moved against him. He was good looking - now that you were feeling a little less edgy, you could appreciate it. Corinne would kill you if word got out, but he seemed like someone who knew a thing or two about discretion. He stiffened even more as he firmly thrusted into the cradle of your hand and you cupped your fingers around his length, the soft fabric of his pants allowing you to feel him completely. You walked your fingers up to his waistband, nails dipping under the fabric and pulling at it slightly. You’d go home with him. Whatever. You’d bring Natalie with you and you could leave by morning. He probably wouldn’t even notice a missing gram or two.

You followed the thought as he trailed kisses up your chest and neck, finally settling at your ear. His hand rose up your thigh, thick fingers dragging along the lace fabric at your center. The bundle of nerves there erupted at his touch and your thighs instinctively squeezed around him.

“Let me taste you, baby, please,” He growled just above a whisper into your ear. You arched your back into his arms, moaning and nodding in agreement, the cool porcelain of the sink underneath you causing your skin to goosebump as your dress rode up further. You opened your eyes, peeking at the chestnut brown curls, the color blending into the dark room surrounding you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you fought to keep them open, wanting to stay present with him. But the warmth of his breath against your skin and the gentle touch of his fingers on your cheeks were lulling you somewhere else. You felt like you were floating, your vision blurred at the edges and you fluttered your eyes shut again, feeling his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and stall there for a moment. 

Your fading in and out like that threatened to spook him away. You couldn’t be too fucked up. He lightly tapped your cheeks a couple of times, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Stay with me, baby," he whispered urgently. "Gotta hear you say it."

“Mmmm,” Dazed, faraway eyes looked up at him, your blown-out pupils mirroring his own. You nodded again, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. Your pulse raced between your legs, and you felt your hips moving towards him, trying to ride something that wasn’t there yet. “Do it, Dieter, please.”

There we go. He smirked, lifting you from the stack of boxes to push you up against the wall and sinking to his knees. He bunched up the fabric of your dress at your hips, roughly pulling your panties down your legs, the black fabric hanging loosely at one ankle as he lifted your leg to hang over his shoulder.

You shrieked when he slid his tongue through your folds, your knee buckling when he repeated the motion, his strong hands moving up to your hips to support you. His tongue pushed wide against you, him tasting and exploring you as his fingers dug into your hips with bruising force.

He felt fucking amazing. You typically hated when men touched you, especially when you were high, but he felt incredible. You’d give him anything. Despite your rapidly dulling senses, the feeling of his tongue working your clit back and forth was at the front of your mind. He pushed his tongue wide against you again and again, fucking two thick fingers up into you without warning. 

You gasped, your mouth opening wide as you root your fingers into his hair to ground yourself. He wanted to wreck you completely, to smear the dark makeup around your eyes and watch that glossy mouth of yours stretch around his cock. His lips locked around your clit, and as the blood rushed to the bundle of nerves there you threw your head back, chest heaving, loud, wretched moans spilling from your throat.

With your senses dulled, he knew it’d take a little more to send you over the edge. A third finger pushed into you with a stretch, starting slow and working up to get in and out of your tight, soaked cunt. You moved your hips to match his rhythm, your pace hiccuping as he began working you faster and faster, working your clit between his teeth with a pinch.

Your moans were frantic, hitching higher and higher as he confidently worked you towards an orgasm, your surroundings blurring and swirling around you. 

THUD, THUD, THUD. Just as you neared your release, a loud pounding at the door shattered the moment.

He groaned in frustration, pausing briefly before attempting to resume. You struggled to regain your focus, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, nerves coiled tightly at your core.

The knock was followed by a muffled argument and the clanking of keys from the other side of the door. Reluctantly, Dieter's head emerged from between your thighs.

“Fucking assholes,” Dieter grumbled in frustration as he stood up, moving the straps of your dress back up your shoulders and quickly adjusting himself. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you pulled your panties back up, frustration pounding angrily between your legs.

“Find me, alright?” He breathed, smoothing out your dress, his hand lingering on your ass and eyes slowly moving up your body. “I’ll take you home.”

You nodded as the door was thrown open, the bright, white light of a flashlight shining into the small room. You stood up straight, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror and sneakily grabbing the small, plastic baggie Dieter left on the counter, hiding it in your fist behind your back.

“Let’s go. Knock this shit off,” a voice bellowed from behind the light, which darted back and forth between you and Dieter. “We’re not doing this in my fucking club, get the fuck out, let’s go!”

“What the fuck is this?” Dieter asks, moving to stand in front of you and block you from the bright light.

“I’m sorry, man, I tried to stop him,” Another voice followed from outside the room. You squinted and peeked over Dieter’s shoulder, annoyance showing on your face. A large bald man in a suit held the flashlight and to his right was the small, douchey-looking guy you recognized from Dieter’s booth. Natalie’s head popped up behind the both of them, looking relieved to have found you.

“You’re not doing drugs on my floor and fucking little girls in my bathroom. That’s it, Bravo. Get the fuck out of here, let’s go,” the angry man repeated. Dieter raised his hands and murmured an apology to you as he shuffled out, one hand poised defensively in front of his face. He pushed out of the room past Natalie, her brows furrowed at him in confusion as he passed. His counterpart flocked to his side, immediately rushing into what sounded like a flurry of explanations and reassurances. Natalie slid into the room smoothly, wrapping an arm around you to usher you out. You stumbled at her side, annoyed and disoriented.

“I’m TWENTY-TWO, ASSHOLE!” You screamed at the man with the flashlight, attempting to shove him with your balled-up fists. He raised his eyebrows, bald head wrinkling and frown deepening. Natalie pulled you away from him quickly and you could hear her apologize behind you. “Don’t tell’um sorry, Nat, ’m not fucking sorry, I was in the fucking bathroom!” you slurred, your voice disjointedly raising and lowering in pitch.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Natalie urged you.

“Yeah, ’s get the fuck outta here,” you agreed, stumbling as she shepherded you out. She handed you your purse and you quickly shoved your hand inside, dropping the half-empty baggie into the side pocket. One or two flashing lights from the crowd gathered at the bar stole your attention for a moment, but it quickly returned to the big, bald, interrupting gorilla with the flashlight. “This place SUCKS!” you screamed as you began to turn back towards him, leashed by Natalie’s grip around your arm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated firmly. You followed her through the crowded bar, stomping across the floor and ignoring the unending stream of heads turning towards you. The two of you shoved out the heavy metal doors of the club, clicking and flashbulbs immediately erupting around you as the cool evening air breezed across your skin. Your name was shouted from your left and right as Natalie dug in her bag for the valet ticket.

“Having fun tonight?” A photographer asked. You rolled your eyes. “Alright, over here, honey,” the same voice continued. With a resigned sigh, you turned to offer a practiced pose, your mind ticking through your media training despite how fucking annoyed you were. Stumbling a couple of times as you attempted to maintain your balance, you moved through a lazy pose or two. You knew the routine - let them get their shot and maybe they'll back off. 

“Partying tonight?” Another voice interjected. Moron.

Natalie finally located the ticket and the valet handed the keys over immediately, your car already parked and waiting curbside. Impulsively, you decided you’d drive, intercepting the keys before Natalie could take them and nearly smacking them out of the attendant’s hand before stumbling towards the vehicle.

“She’s not getting in the driver’s seat. No way,” reasons the voice of a man with a video camera to your left. “There’s no way!”

Another blinding eruption of flashing lights emerged around you. You stared down at your feet as you stumbled forward, trying to see where you were walking through the relentless assault of flashbulbs. Natalie called out your name from behind you. You struggled a couple of times with the handle before throwing the car door open heavily.

“Hey, you can’t drive, honey,” Another voice called out. You rolled your eyes.

You climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, exhaling loudly as the noise of the chaos surrounding you finally muffled. Flashing lights continued, your windshield now completely blocked by cameras. The volume raised again for a moment, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks, as Natalie scrambled into the passenger seat beside you.

“Are these people serious,” you asked, angling your head in towards Natalie and shielding your eyes from the barrage of flashbulbs pointed at you, frustration mounting with each flash. “How’m I supposta drive when they’re fucking blocking me?”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” Natalie said, concern in her voice. “Let me, okay?”

You shook your head adamantly. “’M not going back out there.”

“So climb over,” She suggested.

“Not in this!”

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her thighs.

“Hey, since when do you know Dieter Bravo?” She asks, momentarily changing the subject.

“Who? Oh,” you replied, the question registering with you once you answered. The reminder of him sent your attention between your legs and you shifted slightly in your seat. “I dunno. I know’hm from an awards thing.” You offered. It was an unconvincing lie, but Natalie didn’t fight you on it.

“He’s so random,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I think my older sister had a poster of him in high school. Right next to River Phoenix.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, everything about this evening now pissing you off.  The incessant clicking of the paparazzi's cameras only added fuel to the fire, and you narrowed your eyes in irritation, slamming your hand down on the horn for a solid ten seconds in a futile attempt to disperse them.

“MOVE!” you yelled, only inciting more flashing lights.

“Let me drive, babe,” Natalie tried again.

“Oh, my god, fuck this,” you snapped, frustration finally boiling over. With your hand still shielding your eyes, you shifted the car into drive. “You're my eyes now.”

“What?! No!” She replied, her voice rising in panic.

“Be my eyes. I’m going.” You repeated. Very slowly, you eased your foot off the brake, the car beginning to inch forward. Voices clamored outside the vehicle.

“Oh my god, um, okay. Go slow. Turn left. Slow!” Natalie began to guide you. The crowd cautiously parted around the car, photographers scrambling to avoid being flattened while still unwilling to sacrifice this shot. “Oh my god, this is so stupid. Slow, slow, slow.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid! What am I supposed to do?”

“No, yeah, okay, just slow, keep going left.” Natalie's voice trembled slightly as she continued to navigate. The relentless barrage of flashing lights illuminated the interior of the car, casting everything in stark, blinding brightness. “Okay, cut it! Cut it and keep going straight.”

You cut the wheel to the right and straighten it out, cautiously peeking through the gaps in your fingers to confirm you'd cleared the throng of photographers.

“Haha!” you exclaimed, your laughter echoing through the tense air as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor once the street ahead is clear. With a screech of tires, you peel off into the night, Natalie's nervous chuckles mingling with your own laughter. “Bye, assholes!”

You rocketed down Highland with reckless abandon. A couple of familiar vehicles creeped up behind you - regular photographers who paid their bills by stalking you. The driver to the left’s hand hung out the window, a digital camera pointed squarely at you. The light was yellow at the intersection in front of you and you smirked, not letting up on the gas and rolling your window down to flip off the camera as you raced through the intersection just as the light turned red.

“Slow down!” Natalie yelled, panicked, her hand clutching the door handle in a white-knuckled grip. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?! These guys are the ones with the problem,” you fired back, your tone frustrated. “I can’t do anything without getting fucking cornered!” Your car veered dangerously across the yellow lines and Natalie yelped. You overcorrected, the vehicle lurching back into its lane just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming car, its horn blaring in warning. Natalie’s body stiffened further in her seat as you took a wide right turn onto Sunset. You turn on the radio, a Rihanna song picking up midway through.

“Did he give you something?” she shouted, her tone urgent. You furrowed your brow, shooting her a confused look. “Dieter,” she clarified.

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, mood shifting as you suddenly remembered the baggie tucked in your purse. “Look what I got us!” You reached for your bag on the passenger floorboard, swerving again. Natalie lunged across the seat, her hands fumbling for the wheel to correct your course, while a chorus of horns blared from the vehicles behind you. Finally retrieving your purse, you fished out the baggie from the side pocket and held it up between your fingers for Natalie to inspect. She grabbed it from you quickly, examining it in her lap.

“What is it?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Coke, I think. Shit, hold on,” you floored the gas to race through another newly red light.

“Stop!” Natalie shrieked. “This is so fucking stupid, dude, let me drive!”

“Jesus, Nat, fine,” you groan, slamming on the brakes. You both jolted forward as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. “You wanna drive so bad, fine.”

You unlocked the car doors, opening yours slightly and reaching down to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, disbelief etched across her features as she surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. You nodded in affirmation, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “You’re such a bitch.”

With a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you stormed out onto Sunset Boulevard, Natalie following suit. The gray Honda belonging to one of the persistent photographers tailed you, coming to a halt beside you as the driver scrambled out, camera at the ready.

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you shouted. “I gave you your shot at the club, I’ve been nice to you guys, what more do you want?!”

You considered what it would take to get him to go away. Words weren’t working. Should you kick his car? Throw something? You began to stumble towards him, interrupted by Natalie yelling your name again. You turned around to see Natalie standing in the street, gaze fixed on the intersection ahead. Your car - which you apparently failed to put into park - was rolling into the intersection on its own. 

With a frantic surge of panic, you and Natalie sprinted after the runaway vehicle, the strobe of camera flashes behind you incessant. Arms flailing, you both desperately signaled to other drivers to stop, your heels clattering against the pavement as you raced towards the car.

As the car veered left, you were powerless to stop it from crashing into a parked BMW at the corner. Rushing to catch up, you flung yourself into the open driver's door, slamming on the brakes and throwing the gear into reverse. You leaned across the cab to fling the passenger door wide open.

“Come on!” You shouted at Natalie as she climbed back into the car. With a tense exhale, you navigated the car backward, turning wide in the intersection before screeching forward.

Your mind was completely clear with pure adrenaline. You were only a few blocks away from the hotel now, the castle-shaped outline shrouded in trees just ahead on your right. You floored it, a tense silence hanging in the car, both you and Natalie’s eyes locked forward on the road in front of you.

Only slowing down to make a right turn into the hotel driveway, you didn’t bother waiting for the valet. Tossing your keys onto the driver’s seat, you left the door ajar as you stormed through the garage toward your room, ready to put this evening behind you.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Oh no was the spin-off bad or just mediocre? Is there anything you particularly liked or disliked about it?

god okay let's get into the good, the bad, and the ???? of it all. hiding it entirely under a cut because spoilers ahoy.

the :)

I have reservations about the Riddler as a full protagonist that I'll articulate below, but I can't really fault any of the writing re: Eddie's dialogue at all. the characterization of the Riddler as an insufferably cocky and nosy motormouth works really well, and Hasan Minhaj seems like he's having a blast with the expanded role.

I also like ESCAPE ARTIST PICKPOCKET RIDDLER recognition!!!

also hey even though they didn't follow up on some of the very promising tidbits re: Eddie's potentially deteriorating mental state dropped in Unburied, I like that it was made clear that there are physical components to his riddle compulsion, namely mentioning that his chest was getting tighter. it adds an interesting dimension to his whole schtick!

having listed all these fun traits that I enjoy, I also respect that the story doesn't feel the need to like... soften Eddie in order to make him a more likeable protagonist. oh haha the funny little asshole man? yeah he killed people. he kills a guy literally in the course of the story after proclaiming in the very first episode that he's mostly non-violent. and he's 100% chill about it because fuck that guy! he doesn't matter, he's in the way of the riddle! and the whole ending with Nadira is... oofah doofah, that's crazy. that's crazy crazy. and it's pretty tasty!

I LOOOOOVE appearances from minor villains!!! bro we got THE FUCKING TALLY MAN in this!!! also hey when I wrote that absurdly long post-Unburied fic I CORRECTLY predicted Croc, Sportsmaster, and the fucking Condiment King someone. I don't know. pay me or kiss me on the mouth for that or something.

I wish there was more Barbara, of course, but I really like what we did get of her! I like that we've kind of skipped over any need for her to have a Batgirl era and just got straight to the good stuff of being almost Oracle. I love to see her exactly where she belongs: flagrantly committing cybercrime to save lives because she can.

also the sound design is still good, and I really like the new music for the opening and Azrael's motif

also speaking of Azrael I'm going to say ONE nice thing about how he was written which is that I DO think it's interesting that they directly pointed out that the concept of Azrael as an angel of death is actually much more prominent in Islam than Christianity while also making in unambiguous that the Nygmas are a Muslim family. it adds a little bit of intrigue to the connection between Nadira and JP, not nearly enough to actually redeem Nadira as a big bad in my eyes (see below) but it is interesting!

also lastly Eddie is flirting so hard with Bruce AND Barbara I love you problematic awful bisexual representation. AND Killer Croc wants to fuck him? madness.

the :/

I alluded to this earlier, but I don't know if I love Eddie promoted to the POV protagonist! it's a big departure from Unburied, not just in terms of who's the main character but also in terms of limiting the scope of the story. giving Bruce and Barbara's alternating perspectives in Unburied was brilliant for building up the mystery and creating suspense in the story, and when the story came together to focus fully on Bruce as Batman it felt organically earned.

and also on a more Eddie-centric note I just! think he works better as a supporting character for other people to bounce off of, rather than being a lead in his own right!

I'm putting this in :/ instead of :( because it's more of a matter of personal taste than anything but godddddd I wanted more Barbara :/ I love her :/ where is she :/ I'm mostly mad because I wanted a spinoff of her and Eddie solving crimes while he crashes in her couch and does petty crime but godddddd god god god I want her back so bad I love her more than Eddie and Bruce combined

while I like the emotional beats of the resolution with Nadira I don't... like her as a character or a storytelling device. like I'm sorry but I don't really care about the Riddler's family drama! especially not when it's as heavy-handed as "my sister told me riddles to distract me from our parents fighting." very reminiscent of the backstory where Leonard and Lisa Snart would hide out in an ice cream truck or whatever, please stop trying to make psychology this painfully clear cut.

I also didn't really need an origin story but I do like that it's kind of an updated version of his first BTAS episode!

I can't decide if Jean Paul unceremoniously killing off Flass is really funny or sucks shit. kind of both but it does veer towards the latter, I was really hoping that if they're going to keep making more of this podcast we would at least get to see Babs get an arc where she investigates Flass and gets justice for her dad on her own terms. but then again. it is pretty funny.

also god this isn't REALLY about the show but I have to say this. the Riddler a.) getting #calledout by Azrael for bearing false witness and b.) ESPECIALLY him trying to dunk on his sister by implying she should marry a white guy are SO FUNNY given the timing of the minor scandal re: Hasan Minhaj maybe just straight up making things up entirely in his comedy and SPECIFICALLY getting that poor woman doxxed by claiming she dumped him for racist reasons. I'M JUST SAYING. (editor's note: since absolved of all wrongdoing and the woman who wrote that piece is genuinely unhinged, but the timing was still BANANAS.)

the :(

I'm just gonna say it, man: I'm not into Colman Domingo's Bruce/Batman performance at all. I don't know what happened behind the scenes to precipitate Winston Duke leaving the role, but god fuck I'm in mourning. Duke is genuinely one of my favorite portrayals of Bruce ever for his distinctive Batman voice and how much expressiveness, vulnerability, and warmth he brings to the character, and while I wouldn't want his replacement to try and mimic that performance exactly (impossible!) it seems like Domingo just... wasn't even given the memo? this is a much flatter Bruce, and I simply cannot love him.

re: my complaints about Nadira above, her character is just handled in a really underwhelming way. having Eddie repeatedly call her "sis" is stumbling straight into the one of the worst of all lazy exposition techniques, especially since Bruce works his way to that exact revelation, like would it have killed anyone to just... let us wonder about the connection a *little* longer? also, again, those flashbacks are ARTLESS. in Unburied there's framing and context for all of the ways the past blends into the present, whether it's Strange's recordings or the story taking place inside Bruce's own meddled memories. it really feels like they're just hurling backstory at us with a catapult in this one.

the ultimate big bad reveal is... ugh. UGH. Unburied was a really cool nesting doll of a minor Batman villain being manipulated by a more well-known villain being manipulated by an A-list villain with a cool and unique spin on her backstory... Secrets in the Dark has an absolutely WASTED member of the Batfamily used as a killer of the week, controlled by a minor dirty cop and a complete OC who doesn't get much screentime at all. cool!

also hey listen. as soon as they start going "hmm... I don't know this is just too big for Flass... SOMEONE else must be helping him..." it's like. I don't know, man. do you think it's possibly the only new character introduced in the series who we know was just elected to a government position? do you think maybe that's who it could be?

also hey man speaking of which they just fucking. they just used Jean Paul as a random deranged serial killer and then the fucking Riddler managed to convince him to off himself. fucking. disrespectful. this feels like that episode of Arrow (sorry to cite Arrow in 2023, I know) when Helena's just like. an antagonist of the week for Oliver to fight. disrespectful!!!!

"Makenzie I thought you didn't even like Jean Paul why does it matter" I'M COMING AROUND ON HIM

overall the plot just feels way more hectic and unpolished than Unburied and it's Unfortunate!

also hey do you remember at the end of Unburied where Bruce just casually blows the lid open on Eddie being afraid that he's like. devolving and actively losing his grip on his own brain and it's like extra bad and scary because he has no idea whether it really means anything when he passes psych evals, etc? really cool how we never really brought that up again

where was Ace :( :( :( my good boy :( :( :(

[acourtofthought]

For the Elucien Fans

Who really want an Elucien book

Every time anything is released, this fandom goes wild.

SJM wears a Bambi sweater? Elain's book is next!

Az gets a Bonus in SF and CC? Az's book is next! (Even though both the SF bonus chapters revolved around Elain, even though Tharion had a bonus but people still theorize Ruhn and Lidia's romance will be the main romance in CC4, even though Lucien had his own POV in the actual ACOTAR series yet people still think Az will have a book before him).

SJM places the copy of HOSAB on top of a book about flowers? Elain's book is next!

A HOFAS teaser is revealed and it has both Nesta and Az? Az's book is next because she's drawing our attention to him!

But CC is not the ACOTAR series and SJM at one point drew our attention to the Elucien setup in ACOWAR, made a big part of the first third of the book about Lucien trying to get to Elain and the second third about him helping her through her depression yet some still think Az will get his book before them.

In an IG Live, SJM said when you get to the end of Silver Flames, you'll know whose book is next. Not when you get to the Az Bonus Chapter, not when you read CC3. When you get to the last book in the ACOTAR series.

Yes, she she said she's excited to write Az's journey but a side characters journey starts well before they have a book in her world (i.e., Chaol's journey started in book 1 of the TOG series, Cassian's journey with Nesta began from the moment they met in ACOMAF, Lucien's journey has been ongoing since ACOTAR. etc).

Crescent City isn't the ACOTAR series. They don't market it as such, there's no reading guide that tells you the order you need to read ACOTAR and CC books in for them to make sense.

Yes, she did say CC will set up future ACOTAR books but, we have no idea which "future" books she's referring to as she's often talked about not knowing if she'll be able to stop after the remaining spin-offs she's contracted for. I could be wrong but I'm almost positive she didn't say it will set up for the very next ACOTAR book after SF. She once said her initial plan for the spin-offs hadn't changed so she could be telling us that her plan for Elain and Nesta's story remained the same and CC3 now opens doors for what happens after she closes out the main story of the Archeron sisters. She could be telling us that once the threats on their world are resolved, then there will be a new threat introduced (that new threat dealing with those outside their world). And Az being a focus of CC3 could simply mean that when it is time for his story, that's the direction it will be headed but it doesn't mean she's ready to tell his story before she closes out Elucien's story and the issues with Koschei, Beron, Spring, etc. At the end of the day, CC3 is still Bryce's book and I don't imagine it will heavily set up for Az's even if hints are dropped. Just like hints have been dropped for both Elain and Lucien's journeys way back when.

We kind of knew that with Bryce arriving in Prythian and the Asteri (in CC2) saying they've trying to find their way back to the planet their brothers and sisters were living on in order to get revenge it already set up future ACOTAR books. And that was directly addressed in SJMs Live HOSAB spoiler interview. She said that yes, now the ACOTAR characters will be concerned that if Bryce can find her way into their world that means others might be able to as well.

But that doesn't mean SJM is going to end CC3 and start ACOTAR 5 after Bryce's arrival and departure from Prythian. That wouldn't make any sense, not when you consider how SF left off.

I hate this fact about myself but I am probably a good bit older than most in this fandom. Sometimes I feel a bit embarrassed as I realize it seems an odd hobby to have when I'm probably not in SJMs target age range but what that does mean is I know a few people who have never read the Crescent City series and don't plan to. I know those closer to my age who don't follow SJMs Instagram or follow posts on TikTok or join groups in FB. The majority of the fandom is younger and many do engage in online groups, her IG, etc but there are some outside that target age group (and maybe even some within it) who read ACOTAR and that's that. My oldest child's friends father is an ER doctor and he's read the ACOTAR series but hasn't dug any futher into the Maas Universe as he waits for the next one to be released.

He knows nothing of Bryce. He knows nothing of the Az bonus from SF or the Az / Nesta bonus that's going to be released with CC3 or Az's part in CC3. All he knows is that Nesta's story ended and the remaining plot related questions we were left with were "what about the peace treaty?" "What about Beron allying with Koschei?" "What about Spring and Tamlin?" Even the Illyrians weren't much of a focus at the end of SF because Gwyn and Emerie were laughing about it saying they'll be angry for decades and Cassian said they wouldn't be ready for battle training for many years. He has no idea that Az and Gwyn had the hints of a mating bond introduced in the bonus, has no idea that Elain and Az almost kissed (he thinks she's ending up with Lucien though). Literally, the end of SF has Eris saying the things they need to be worrying about are Beron, Koschei and the treaty.

So imagine if he picked up the next ACOTAR book and it was talking about a traveler from another world having landed in Prythian with the focus being on Az and TT and whatever was discovered in CC3. He would be completely confused.

Also, there was a sense of urgency surrounding Koschei, Spring, Beron, and Vassa in SF. CC3 picks up 6-9 months after that. If an Az book were to take place 10 months to over a year after SF then does it seem realistic that they've just stopped worrying about Koschei? That they no longer are worried about Vassa being taken back or the fact that they said they needed Springs forces to be ready yet have done nothing about it? That the bad guys have just been casually waiting around in the background putting their evil plans on hold so SJM can first address time travel and the Illyrian plots?

To me, it still makes more sense that that SJM would begin the next ACOTAR book shortly after SF, resolving the major issues that were left open ended, then segue into the events of CC3 which would lead us into ACOTAR 6 and anything related to time travel and others worlds.

It makes less sense that she would have introduced the Vassa and the destruction of Spring storylines in ACOWAR, the Elucien bond in ACOMAF, remind us of how they are still issues in ACOFAS and ACOSF ("tell my Vassa I'm waiitng", "You've been trying to bring Tamlin back for awhile but he's barely improved", "We need a strong ally, we need the Spring Courts forces") then delay them yet again in order to first move on to a plot that, while very subtly hinted at in SF, is really being introduced in an entirely different series.

At some point, doesn't it start to feel just slightly ridiculous to keep pushing Tamlins arc and Spring to the side? Vassa's arc to the side? The Elucien bond to the side? Lucien's father reveal to the side?

I could definitely be wrong, I own that. However, I do think there's some logic in what I'm saying and that could mean that Az playing a major part in CC3 still doesn't guarantee him the next ACOTAR book the way some are claiming. All it guarantees is that at some point, the information introduced for his storyline will eventually be addressed. If SJM introduced Lucien and Elain's storylines way back in book 2 yet still haven't resolved them 2.5 books later then there's nothing preventing her from the doing the same with Az, introducing his storylines but not resolving them until a book or two later.

[girlwonder-writes]

Tommy Thoughts: The Army Bros Meta In My Writing

As a follow up to this, because @nine-one-wanton suggested it, I wanted to a separate post about how my interpretation of the friendship between Eddie and Tommy affects the stories I am currently writing.

Disclaimer: A lot of my writing recently is based off my interpretation of Eddie's character and something I read about Ryan saying that Chimney's bachelor party was the first time in a long time that Eddie was able to let loose and unwind. I forgot where I read it, honestly, and it was a while ago. The point is that if you want to support my writing and enjoy any of it, this is the guiding principle in my characterization of Eddie you should keep in mind as you read my work.

In order to understand where I am going with this, it's important for the reader to understand the scope of my writing. Harbor Station Stories was originally conceived as a parallel world to canon, where Harbor Station/the 217 had its own thing going on and Tommy had his small group of work friends. It was intended Tommy focused and all from his POV. Then my brain started filling out backstory and started making notes about the various work friends I had created, which then became the genesis for what I'm calling in my notes The Main Stories, based on each of my original characters. Olivia Chambers, who started off as just Tommy's best friend, started giving me Main Character Energy and one night, I wondered to myself, How well would she get along with Eddie? That was the genesis for Beyond the Legacy, which in turn is a series with the Main Stories from Olivia's POV.

Again, a lot of the friendship between Tommy and Eddie is implied here, since my focus has been on Olivia's POV in Running Just To Catch Herself (The first story in Behind the Legacy). But there are stories in the works that would elaborate on Tommy's POV during the same time period that would emphasize the friendship between him and Eddie. In my mind, they've been hanging out a little in the time between 7x04 and 7x10, sparring and talking. Most of their friendship so far is likely phone calls and text messages, considering how inseparable I imagine Tommy and Evan are when their schedules align. But I do head canon that Muay Thai is an Army Bros bonding activity.

In Chapter 1, it's immediately clear that Tommy not only supports Evan's friendship with Eddie and isn't jealous of it, he even goes as far as supporting Evan's plan to introduce Eddie to Olivia to try to cheer him up after Christopher's departure. While it isn't Tommy's idea directly to introduce his best friend to Eddie, he goes along with it, primarily because he thinks it would be good for both of them. I wanted this to drive home the point that Tommy thinks highly of Eddie, highly enough to introduce his best friend to him.

In Chapter 2, you see Eddie run into the factory explosion fire to rescue River as Evan is trying to talk Olivia out of running in behind him. While it's not very clear at first glance what motivates Eddie to act because the story is told from Olivia's POV, you can (and should) safely assume that at the very least, Eddie heard Evan and agrees with him about holding Olivia back. But you can also infer that Eddie has learned about Tommy's friendship with Olivia in the 2-3 days between trivia night and the factory explosion call. I personally imagine one of those group calls but it's Tommy, Evan & Eddie. Or maybe them playing video games together.

In Chapter 3, After he takes the time to listen to Olivia's gratitude for saving River, Eddie asks her if he's checked in with Tommy and Evan, which is meant to suggest that Eddie cares not only about them as as individuals but also considers them as a couple and a unit after a short amount of time. Here, I intended to establish Tommy's importance to be on par with Evan as far as Eddie is concerned.

Also, at the end of Chapter 3, Olivia hears Tommy come in as he's wrapping up a phone call. “Thanks for letting me know. I gotta go.” Olivia doesn't know who's on the phone. It's Eddie, telling Tommy about his conversation with her the previous night, which suggests that he's close enough to Tommy to want to report about the conversation he had with Olivia, in that 'She's important to you so she's important to me' sort of vibe.

In Chapter 4 and 5, Eddie has adorable interactions with Olivia, which leads into the next bit of insight into the Army Bros in Chapter 6 and it's very subtle when Olivia reaches out to Eddie to make plans and he makes her wait until the day of the gala to make plans, possibly to consult Tommy at the very least. [To be honest, I haven't fully thought out the implications of this but in my head and in my notes, there was definitely a conversation had between Tommy and Eddie about Olivia after that text came in. Going to have to add it into the Tommy POV fic of the day of the Gala.]

In Chapter 7, we find out that Tommy hasn't mentioned anything to Eddie about Olivia's transfer to the 118 and the subsequent tension. While it was established previously that Tommy and Evan are on par in importance here, at least compared to each other for Eddie, it's made clear here that while Tommy views Eddie as an important friend, Olivia will always be Tommy's #1. And I think Eddie understands that dynamic enough to offer himself up as a support to Olivia, in a 'You're important to Tommy, so you're important to me' sort of way, which was established by his initial offer to Olivia to hang out in Chapter 3, which was done to set up both the Eddie/Olivia dynamic AND also show Eddie as a thoughtful friend to Tommy.

Tommy invites Eddie to come along for Olivia's birthday dinner. In my mind, Tommy has clocked the dancing and noticed Eddie and Olivia getting along great. This is the first time he's seen them interact since trivia night and I imagine he's glad that his best friend and his Army Bro have hit it off. He can definitely see that they're enjoying each other's company but doesn't necessarily jump to the romantic conclusion. And he doesn't have to come up with a reason to include Eddie in the dinner party he's hosting, so that works for Tommy, as there is a connection to the birthday girl. He's extending his friend group to include Eddie, which circles back around to Chapter 1 and Evan's desire to help keep Eddie's mind off of his troubles after Chris' departure. Tommy also helps Eddie come up with a gift for the birthday girl, not knowing that Eddie and Olivia have spent her birthday together, thinking that his advice was strictly for impressing a new friend. Again, it's vague in the story because Olivia is not privy to this.

There's a whole other dynamic when you consider the Olivia Factor, which is outside the scope of this particular post. But I think this covers most of what I've written so far in the Beyond the Legacy series. There's definitely going to be more as the series progresses.

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 24th December ❄️✨

A very festive Audio Drama Sunday to you all! I think Christmas has come early this year because so many of my current fave shows gifted us new episodes this week! 

🤠 OUGH I’ve made it up to ep 9 in @caravanradio and this is where it starts absolutely punching me in the heart. I’m so excited to listen to ep 10 but then it’s over AGAIN. All I want for Christmas is S2 of Caravan to be perfectly honest. 

🧳 Travelling Light by @monstrousproductions (7) This episode made me feel homesick for a culture that doesn’t even exist. I found the philosophy discussed so interesting and keep mulling it over! I don't know what metaphorical shoreline I'd be considered part of!! 

👁️ I bloody loved Benevolent by @malevolentcast. They absolutely nailed the cheesy Christmas special vibe and I was so happy to hear the long-awaited return of arguably the best character in anything ever at the end there.  

🌒 @monkeymanproductions I loved the answers to the MTO Q&A! I just adore this show and it’s always so interesting to get the behind the scenes scoop!! I really do want that Cass-only episode though. Pretty please? 

🎙 Welcome To Night Vale (240) ahhh!!!! What does this mean?! If this is going to be an exploration of nature vs nurture I am so here for it. Let’s . . . maybe let’s not kill our doubles this time? 

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum RUINOUS. Oooh I love a twist on a fountain of youth story and this one was particularly gripping. There are so many new revelations so far this season and I’m thrilled to hear that we’re getting two more episodes! I don’t want it to end!

🎧 Yay more The First Episode Of with @starshipqstar. It was absolutely fascinating from a very indie creator POV to hear how people with talent and experience found approaching audio drama for the first time. But I also think it’s important to address the DEEP SADNESS that there will not be a Starship Q Star season 2!! What?!! Christmas is CANCELLED. 

🐬 The dolphin emoji I use to denote @patterspod has never been more apt as we met Big Wave Dave in the latest episode. If you like weird and you’re not listening to Finding Pattersby, I just don’t know what to tell you. It’s just something else. 

🌨️  @thewhitevault (4) oh MAN I love this show so much.  I refuse to believe that a certain character is really dead but … maybe they are, I just can’t accept it. It sounds as though something absolutely monumental is happening to the show’s main family and I need to know how the stories are going to entangle!!! 

❤️‍🔥 The Love Talker (5) Jeeeeesus this show almost makes me regret listening to it every episode. I love this set-up where we get a new character’s perspective each episode, every new piece of the puzzle is even more disturbing than the last. 

🏢 @somewhereohio (S2E3) oh no! It’s spreading!! It’s honestly a little funny to me to listen to the show as someone who has no context of what makes Ohio, Ohio. I’m sure I’m missing a lot of cultural context but also, after listening, I’m probably not going to visit . . .  also it’s great to hear Rae Lundberg popping up in new shows - they always do such a good job!

🧬 Regina Prime - What a fun departure from the world we think we know in this bonus Regina Prime episode! I feel like the next season is going to be even more expansive and I’m very excited for it!! It’s also made me realise that I no longer trust W Keith Tims in anything after listening to The Love Talker! 

I hope everyone’s having a wonderful festive season! I’m going to be doing the #12DaysofPodmas again where I post an official review of a show I love every day until Jan 5th as a little gift to the amazing creators who’ve made my year so much better! I’m sure they’d love it if other people did the same! ☃️

[fitzrove]

Tanz der Vampire & The Hero's Journey

TdV is often brought up as an example of a musical where (spoilers) the bad guys win. But I don't really agree with that take. Certainly, the assumed objective of our fearless vampire killers is not fulfilled by the end (the vampires are very much not killed), but that doesn't mean the hero of the story doesn't triumph. Let me go into excessive detail...

The Hero and his Goal

Alfred is obviously the POV character and the hero of the story. He's the first character we meet, and throughout the story, he's the character whose thoughts we get the most insight on. But unlike in a lot of vampire hunter stories, his goal isn't really to kill vampires, even though he does sing a bit about slaying monsters in Perfekter Tag. He's afraid of them and the danger they represent, but he doesn't have any particular deepseated conviction against them or trauma related to them (á la Uwe Kröger's Van Helsing in the Dracula musical for example). The vampire-hunting goal is really pushed onto the narrative by the professor, who occupies the role of the "mentor" in the Hero's Journey, and Sarah, who seeks the vampires out on purpose and (in Alfred's opinion) puts her life at risk. If the vampires didn't threaten Sarah (and if the professor, Alfred's mentor and most importantly his employer, wasn't obsessed with them), I'd argue that Alfred would have no quarrel with them. He's forced to actively oppose them by circumstance, and slaying them isn't an intrinsic goal he has.

So what is Alfred's goal? Well, according to Michael Kunze, his driving motivation is his love for Sarah. But I'd argue it's about more than Sarah herself (which doesn't diminish their relationship in my opinion) - it's about first love and letting all those sweet gooey emotions take hold of you for the first time, about being fearless and vulnerable. Alfred loves Sarah and wants to be free to love her regardless of societal expectations. And hell, there's a bunch of societal expectations and restrictions - Alfred sees what Chagal does to his daughter for something as innocent as taking a bath, how could he expect him to react positively if he told him he wanted to, for instance, propose to Sarah? And the professor thinks feelings are useless bullshit (and since Alfred seems to be pretty much financially dependent on him, he's really stuck between a rock and a hard place and pursuing a relationship with Sarah must seem impossible to him). He probably can't see any way for them to be together other than by running away (even though that must also seem like a pipe dream, because of the financial and practical impossibilities). So Alfred wishes, above all else, to liberate himself from everything that binds and obligates him, so that he can be free to feel and love and be together with the person he cares about openly at last.

The Hero's Journey 1 - Departure

Using the Wikipedia summary of The Hero's Journey, we can trace the similarities of TdV's plot with that narrative scheme. In the Departure section, the main character

lives in the ordinary world and receives a call to go on an adventure. The hero is reluctant to follow the call but is helped by a mentor figure.

So the ordinary world setup (which outlines Alfred's situation and his central problem of not being able to love and feel freely) would be the first few songs (He Ho He to Nie Geseh'n). In Nie Geseh'n, he (and Sarah) quite literally hear the call for the first time - they both hear the vampires sing Sei bereit during their duet. Alfred tries to put it out of his mind (which we see quite clearly in Wahrheit, where everyone except Sarah keeps themselves busy and wilfully ignores the vampire issue, while the professor - the mentor - tries to prod for answers so they can chase the call in the hopes of eliminating its source). After Sarah vanishes, he's pushed by the professor's fervor and determination to kill the vampires (and his own devotion to Sarah) to follow Chagal to the castle.

The Hero's Journey 2 - Initiation

The initiation section begins with the hero then traversing the threshold to an unknown or "special world"...

Literally Vor dem Schloss - the door to the castle is a very literal threshold between the normal world and the vampire world. But it's also an emotional threshold - the lyrics of the song have Krolock dangle the promise of all Alfred wants (love, freedom, passion) in front of him and telling him that by entering this world he will be able to experience all of it. Alfred completely forgets about vampire hunting for this encounter - he's just transfixed by Krolock and the dark freedom and "forbidden knowledge" he promises.

... where he faces tasks or trials, either alone or with the assistance of helpers.

Alfred's trials amount to:

Facing temptation in Carpe Noctem (and resisting it in Alles ist Hell right after, which continues the motif of burying your head in the sand and not dealing with emotions or problems that was introduced in Wahrheit)

Being pushed by the professor to kill Krolock in Der Grüft, but refusing to by saying that he can't (which shows how he's faltering - his fear does play a part in this, but it's more than anything a sign of his heart not being committed to the vampire-hunting mission. The professor tries to push him by telling him to think of Sarah, but to no avail)

Failing to convince Sarah to escape in their bathroom conversation & facing the fact that he'll have to brave his fears to protect her (wait out the ball because she explicitly says she won't leave before then) and coming to terms with it ("I will go into nothingness because I love you") (Für Sarah)

Wenn Liebe in dir Ist (facing the threat of violence, almost escaping by way of cleverness with his book trick, being rescued by the professor)

The trials serve to strengthen Alfred's love for Sarah and his conviction to do whatever he can to stay by her side even if it means forgetting his fears and "betraying himself" (actual lyrics). They don't serve to grow his hatred of vampires, even though he does become braver both in the face of danger and about openly declaring how he feels.

The Ball

The hero eventually reaches "the innermost cave" or the central crisis of his adventure, where he must undergo "the ordeal" where he overcomes the main obstacle or enemy, undergoing "apotheosis" and gaining his reward (a treasure or "elixir").

This is where the show is at its most subversive. Alfred and the professor do face Krolock head-on, but not before he manages to bite Sarah. They don't kill him, but they do seem to triumph over him by escaping. And about the apostheosis, well...

The Hero's Journey 3 - The Return

In the return section, the hero must return to the ordinary world with his reward. He may be pursued by the guardians of the special world, or he may be reluctant to return and may be rescued or forced to return by intervention from the outside.

The apostheosis really only happens after/during the return, which is why it's such a twist to the audience. We expect the ball to he the grand finale, but really, the apostheosis only happens while our heroes are being "pursued by the guardians of the special world" (Koukol). And said apostheosis is obviously Sarah biting Alfred and fulfilling their shared goal - to become free to love and live outside all boundaries and expectations. If you're a vampire, you won't really have to worry about food or shelter in the same way humans have to ever again - and if anyone tries to give you trouble or to restrict you, you can just maul them (which Alfred tries to do to the professor immediately upon being turned). It's really the only way for Sarah and Alfred to be together, and I think after all that they went through during the show, they both know that - Alfred perhaps only subconsciously until the very last minute. And they revel in it. The show has a happy ending even though zero vampires were slain - the poor professor Abronsius, who represents rationality and conventional moral propriety, got the short end of the stick because his ideals go against the show's thesis statement. But Sarah and Alfred got exactly what they wanted from the beginning.

The hero again traverses the threshold between the worlds, returning to the ordinary world with the treasure or elixir he gained, which he may now use for the benefit of his fellow man. The hero himself is transformed by the adventure and gains wisdom or spiritual power over both worlds.

And because Sarah and Alfred have now learned this truth, they can... uh... "use the elixir for the benefit of their fellow man", ie. bite people to liberate them like Krolock did to Sarah and Sarah did to Alfred. And the finale of the show fits this idea perfectly - "the vampires invite you to dance", you're next, being dead & selfish & cursed isn't such a bad thing because it's fun and sexy as hell. Vampirism is a "get out of jail free card" for individualism and greed, which may harm others (like Chagal illustrates in his solo - "why shouldn't I suck on blood when other people have sucked things out of me") but benefits the person doing it. I think this is what Kunze meant with his unhinged "tdv is about German reunification" take - it's about free market capitalism, in a way XD But I digress.

So yeah, TdV is a pretty clear hero's journey story where Alfred (in a way) eventually gets just what he wants, even though he resists temptation for most of the show. I love it and it's awesome >:D

[dreamidoodles]

HEY!! i was wondering if you could share your favorite fics with vanitas as sort of the main focus...

ofc!! i should note i haven't been on archive of our own in a HOT MINUTE so dont mind me recommending most of nichis work hope by llien brief vanitas character study, part of the departure series Though I did what I thought I had to do, I still lost you by llien alot of aqua pov but vani focused i would say (also what gave me departure au brainrot since it revoles around him) love is a language by llien very sad "what-if" with vanitas pov accidentally killing xehanort, character study Things that go Bump in the Night by greenegg101 another "what if" i never got around to reading but i was recommended, i trust my friends judgment Bubble Bath by Shoulderpads vanitas taking a bubble bath for the first time... weh Like Boys and Birds by pineovercoat more of a riku character study but its from vanitas pov, also what added fuel to fire on my rikuvani brainrot (all of pines work is amazing too)

if i think of more fics i'll come back to this post or tag it!! this is just off the top of my head rn

[sophia-sol]

Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix, by Anna-Marie McLemore

Look, there's another queer Great Gatsby novel, obviously I had to give it a try! This one's premise is: what if Nick and Gatsby were trans men and also explicitly textually into each other, plus Nick and Daisy are Latinx. And like, yeah, sure, I'm in!

Unfortunately, though I think the book is successful at what it's doing, it turned out to not work for me personally on several different levels. It's a good, readable, thoughtful, queer book with coherent themes and sympathetic yet imperfect characters doing their best, which should be my jam. And just about every criticism I'm able to come up with, there are reasonable reasons the choices were made, and I can understand and sometimes even appreciate those choices! And yet as a whole I was left dissatisfied.

Okay, so, like the original, Self-Made Boys is told from the first person pov of Nick, but this version is much more interested in Nick's interiority and Nick's life. We get to hear about his family, his job, his worries, his attraction to Gatsby, his feelings about his identity, his relationship with his cousin Daisy, and so on. He's also more willing and interested in sharing what he understands of the feelings and motivations of the people around him.

Overall the effect of this is to show the reader a bunch of people (Nick, Gatsby, Daisy, Jordan) who are much nicer and more sympathetic and more earnest than their analogues in the original, which....I have mixed feelings about. Yes it's more pleasant to read about people like this, but they all feel like fundamentally different people than the characters in Gatsby. Which, idk, maybe is fine and the point? I think I'm affected here by my understanding from fandom of the ~correct~ approach to fanfic, which is that even when writing an AU the goal is to write the characters to be recognizably the same characters, with the only alterations being due to the choices of the specific points of departure, and all other changes must emanate logically from those points. But when I think about it, it IS perfectly reasonable to say "I want to write a story with the same general shape as the original canon, but with different people in the roles of the characters, and see how the story plays out differently with these other characters. I will give my original characters the same names as the roles they're taking, for simplicity in following the story." I'm just not used to this approach and it feels weird to me!!!!

Anyway. One of the choices made in this remix was to cast much younger characters in each of the main roles. All of Gatsby & Nick & Daisy & Jordan are still in their teens. This really threw me at first. I was all, "teen gatsby why????"  But by the end I did get it. It actually fits in well with a theme in Gatsby of all these people acting in the roles they feel they need to, instead of being their authentic selves, whatever their authentic self may happen to be. These teens are playacting at being adults as well, another layer of distance between semblance and reality, and Daisy's efforts to be white-passing add yet another layer to the dance. Even so, though, Gatsby the 19 year old war veteran and wildly successful businessman is a bit much.

One of the things that threw me in the reading of the book is...well, something I have no good solution for. The author says in their note at the end that they very deliberately chose to avoid using any racial slurs in the book that might have been used in the era, which I am definitely on board with; and the terms Latina/e/o/x are all too new to use (Latino/a dates from the 40's). But the chosen replacement term still feels far too jarringly modern to my ears. Nick refers to himself regularly as "brown" as his main form of racial identity throughout, which from my understanding is a relatively modern way of using the term, so every time I read it, it distanced me a little from the notion that this is a book that takes place in the 1920's. But I might not have all the information here, so if you have further details on the use of "brown" as a racial identifier historically, please do let me know!

But what jarred me even more is that Nick kept referring to himself and Gatsby as "boys" throughout the whole book. This also felt weirdly modern! Idk I haven't done, like, specific research into social perceptions of adulthood over the last century or so but I have a real sense that there being a definite transition between childhood and adulthood is something that's been lost in western culture over that time. Nick is living an adult life! Pretty sure he would -- or at least would WANT TO -- think of himself as a man! And him looking at Gatsby, even more so, as Gatsby is older than him and has all the trappings of success and independence to boot.

These identity words were the thing that stood out to me most as not fitting into the time period the book is set in, but honestly, the book as a whole did not feel to me like it did a good job of really embedding itself in its context. It felt to me like the time and the place were set-dressing for the story Self-Made Boys was telling, instead of being intrinsic to the point like it was in Gatsby. And again....that's a choice that's reasonable for a narrative to make? But it makes me, at least, like the book less, both as a stand-alone novel and as a remix of Gatsby.

Another complaint from me about this book is that I am too ace and thus Daisy being in love with Jordan felt like it came completely out of nowhere, to me! After the reveal, the narrative mentions several of the clues from earlier that Nick feels stupid for having not picked up on, and then I got to feel silly too :P. Like, Daisy has a whole speech to Nick early in the book about how she's just not into men like that, and what I had taken from the speech was that she's ace, not that she's lesbian! Anyway that made the reveal of the Daisy/Jordan relationship feel like a Surprise Twist Ending shoved in instead of being actually integrated into the story, because the clues were not at all visible to me as clues, and so I was just irritated by the reveal instead of being pleased about it!

My final complaint is that the prose felt occasionally a little too try-hard for me, and in places its efforts to be beautiful or dreamy or evocative or descriptive just felt flat to me. But I know taste in prose is wildly subjective.

So like. As I said. My issues with this book are me problems, and I can imagine a different reader experiencing this as a five-star book, where for me it's solidly 3 stars and not a bit more.

So I'm nil out of 2 so far on queer Gatsby retellings that work for me. But if/when I hear about another one, though, I will return, ever-hopeful that maybe the next one will be the one that works for me!

[gliyerabaa]

Wicked but as an ABBA jukebox musical

Here it is.. the playlist absolutely NO ONE asked for

I am a musician. I love applying music to works of fiction (kind of like in Per Aspera Ad Astra which you should totally read)

was created with gelphie in mind but can really be viewed through any lens

WHOLE ASS ESSAY about song choices and analysis under the cut

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2w03fG5eWUxADqpyLNqQLg?si=bd038f76f8cc447c

Waterloo: I picked this song to match up with no one mourns the wicked. it’s a bit upbeat for NOMTW, but the general vibe of reflection and comparisons to a battle kinda fit

Thank You for the Music: essentially serves as Glinda’s character introduction, in the same way that her little aria does in Dear Old Shiz. Essentially it’s all about being beloved and musical. There’s literally a line about being ‘the girl with the golden hair’. Is Glinda Song

I Have a Dream/Eagle: both these songs capture the dynamic of TWAI, the first song being the ‘I want’ aspect and the second really capturing that vision of being up there with the greatest

So Long/Voulez-Vous: These two capture the general essence of what is this feeling. So Long, being Elphaba’s pov getting stuck with some rich brat, and Voulez-Vous being the general tense dynamic of it all. (for VV I drew inspiration from the scene in Mama Mia!)

Dancing Queen/Honey Honey: This is for dancing through life. Dancing queen needs little explanation. It is about dancing. Honey Honey pretty accurately captures the flirtiness with Glinda and Fiyero.

Head over Heels: Kind of also fits in with dancing through life? also melds a little bit with I’m not that girl. Essentially Elphaba’s observations that Glinda is a flirt and fiyero is pretty

Lovelight: This song captures the budding friendship in Popular, and also encapsulates the unseen Shiz-era gelphie dynamic. Could also be read as the romance between Glinda and Fiyero, or as a secret relationship between Elphaba and Fiyero

Take a Chance on Me: now THIS is for sure I’m not that girl. this is very much Elphaba being all like ‘well... if you change your mind, I’m the first in line...’ WHO this sentiment is directed towards is open for interpretation

Our Last Summer: matches up with one short day. it’s the end of Elphaba and Glinda’s time together but they don’t know it yet...

I Wonder (Departure)/Tiger: captures both sides of Defying Gravity; I Wonder is the sadness of leaving, the lingering doubt, wondering what you’ll be leaving behind. Tiger is more that fury, that fear, that defiance. Neither song quite lives up to the epicness that is DG but both songs together at least capture the emotions

Super Trouper/I’m a Marionette: Super Trouper may seem a bit upbeat to be filling in for Thank Goodness, but I feel like the upbeatness really emphasizes the fame and the joyous facade that Glinda has to put up. Plus, I am a firm believer that Elphaba would hide in the crowd during Glinda’s speeches, fitting with the line somewhere in the crowd there’s you.

I’m a Marionette takes a COMPLETELY different tone, focusing on Glinda’s frustration at being little more than a puppet for the Wizard, and how her being forced into a corner leads her to losing those she loves most. Which leads us to...

The Winner Takes it All: this is very much the reprise of I’m not that girl. Glinda’s missed her chance to break from the Wizard, and now she’s lost both Elphaba and Fiyero... Again, the relationship dynamics are very much up to interpretation here. Could be viewed as gelphie or fiyerabba (get it?) or as glinda/fiyero (gliyero?). Personally, I see it as Glinda realizing her fate and losing people she loves, regardless of romantic connections

Lay All Your Love on Me: You know the scene in Mama Mia where this song happens and the two main characters are making out on the beach? Yeah. ALAYM substitute.

S.O.S: this fits in well, I think, for No Good Deed. Yes, it’s a little upbeat, but it fits as that sort of cry for help/mourning. Particularly the line: when you’re gone, how can I even try to go on?

Soldiers: march of the witch hunters. not a lot to say about this one

I Still Have Faith in You/The Way Old Friends Do: TWO SONGS FOR ‘FOR GOOD’ okay so the first song made me SOB the first time I heard it. it was the debut single from ABBA’s newest album, released just last year. Hearing that song after FORTY YEARS of no new ABBA music felt like reuniting with an old friend. and funny thing is, that’s exactly what the song is about!!! ‘I Still Have Faith in You’ can be interpreted either way- as Glinda having faith that Elphaba can return from her past mistakes, or as Elphaba having faith that Glinda can take over and lead well. either way it makes me SOB

The Way Old Friends Do is about finding comfort in each other and being prepared to face whatever comes next. Literally For Good. Fun fact about this song is that all the releases on the album are live recordings, so they have this really cool rawness and genuineness to them. Almost sounds like a chorus at points. very cool 11/10

Disillusion: GLINDA ANGST GLINDA ANGST like she’s lost everyone that’s gotta hurt man. also midway through the song, it becomes a duet, much like the finale reprise of For Good

Chiquitita: okay, Disillusion was too sad of a note to end on, so Chiquitita kind of represents Glinda wanting to heal, wanting to be better. Also, the piano outro in this song is one of my favorite things ever, it has a feeling of representing hope and sadness at the same time

WELL there you have it, a whole entire Wicked inspired playlist of ABBA songs

pls share if you enjoyed, feedback is much appreciated

[goodqueenaly]

One thing that really troubles me about the potential political 'endgame' before the Others attack is the focus on Stark identity as a uniting factor within the factional groups that will converge on Winterfell. It feels like this undervalues Catelyn's influence on her children in favour of Ned, which to me seems problematic. Do you think the conclusion of this storyline will value both of Sansa, Rickon, Arya, and Bran's parents? (Also, I guess Jon could be included in this, but more as honouring Robb's will)

I mean, look at your own question. These various factions are converging on Winterfell, as you say, for the express purpose of restoring the Stark dynasty to the North (though under which particular Stark is, or likely will be, the matter of debate). It is the legacy of House Stark as a ruling institution - indeed, the sole supreme ruling institution of the North for the better part of eight thousand years - that we see such devotion to across the North. Put simply, however, Catelyn Tully was not the ruling Lady of Winterfell or heir to House Stark, nor did she ever claim to be; Catelyn was very much loved and listened to by her husband, and was certainly the mother of his heirs (putting the question of Jon's ostensible paternity aside), but she was not the poltico-dynastic conduit by which those children can now claim the Stark legacy of rulership. Any Stark restoration in the main novels (especially in a world where any junior branches of the Stark family are at best unclear and at worse nonexistent) must necessarily connect the claimant to Lord Eddard, as the next most recent ruling Lord of Winterfell (before the childless dead Robb); even Jon's claim, by the terms of Robb's will, derives from the fact that, as Robb pointedly notes to Catelyn, "[m]y father had four sons". Patriarchy is gonna patriarchy and aristocracy is gonna aristocracy; I don't make the rules, I just criticize them.

Now, does that mean Catelyn does not matter to her children? Not at all! I think it's pretty clear that Catelyn's living children very much love, remember, and miss her dearly; you need to only look at how Catelyn features in Bran's, Sansa's, and Arya's memories of Winterfell to see that much. (We can say less about Rickon, given that he is not a POV character, but considering his repeated calls for Catelyn after her departure I'd say she probably still means a good deal to him too.) What I think will matter to the Stark kids, having been reunited at Winterfell, is not a political restoration but a personal, specifically familial one, the reuniting of the wolf pack after years of trauma and grief for them all. In that sense, I would expect Catelyn's children might well come together as much to mourn and grieve for their mother as for their father, sharing their memories of her with the siblings who likewise knew her best. (This sort of gathering would obviously not, I think, include Jon, given the nature of his relationship with Catelyn.)

[billsfangearring]

[Fic Rec] "The Last Enemy" Series by CH_Darling

With Jilytober 2021 in full swing and @chdarling​ taking a well-deserved short break, I want to share my love letter to the series that I’d dreamed of reading since 2005 and finally found 15 years later.

Overview

"The Last Enemy" series follows the lives of the heroes and villains of the First Wizarding War from 1975-1981.

Genre: canon-compliant Marauders era epic

Pairings: James/Lily (with James/OFC and Lily/OMC first) and minor Remus/Sirius

Rating: teen to mature

Status: regularly updated WIP (first fic complete)

Length: 332,304 words and counting

The thing with canon-compliant Marauders generation epics is that we already know what most of the major plot points will be. The overall story arc isn't a surprise. The fun part of reading these fics is discovering each author's take on the other questions, especially the who, the how, and the why. Who are these people of whom we only get small, often biased glimpses in canon? How did the events unfolding at the time affect their lived experiences? Why did they make the choices that they did, driving their shared story toward its inevitable, tragic conclusion?

The sheer amount of thought that CH_Darling has put into answering these questions is why "The Last Enemy" stands tall in this genre.

Plot

I don't want to belabor the key canon events of the Marauders era for you. We all remember "Snape's Worst Memory" and know that the boys become Animagi, Sirius runs away from home, Sirius tells Snape how to get into the Shack and James has to save him, and James and Lily eventually get together. We definitely all recall what happened in the First War. Rest assured that CH_Darling has given all of these developments so far the emotional heft that they deserve: the horror of watching Remus transform for the first time, Sirius's suppressed guilt over leaving his brother, and the shattering betrayals of trust that close out Fifth Year.

There are plenty of side plots as well, often centering on political developments, matters of the heart, and Marauders mischief. The compelling DADA professors, spontaneous Snape-stalking, and marathon research sessions are all delightfully reminiscent of canon.

The story also features a couple of departures from widely held assumptions about timing in this era that serve up fresh character dynamics: Lily is the one who had a crush on James when they were younger, and James does not yet have the Invisibility Cloak in Fifth Year. I truly cannot overstate how much more interesting James and Lily's Fifth and Sixth Year dynamic is with the added layer of Lily's past humiliation by James and Sirius for that crush. While James does ask her out multiple times in Fifth Year, "The Last Enemy" does not feature the constant barrage of date requests that used to be the norm in this genre.

Format

"The Last Enemy" is written in past tense third person limited, with a set POV character from the ensemble narrating each chapter as CH_Darling masterfully weaves their stories together. I know the use of multiple narrators can be controversial, but there's never any rehashing of the same conversations from multiple POVs. Barring a few exceptions when major events take place at the same time across the castle, time moves forward across chapters. The chapters are not distributed evenly among the POV characters; the narrator reflects whose perspective is needed at the time for plot or character development reasons. The story flows smoothly over the perspective shifts, and the characters have easily distinguishable voices and speech patterns even though CH_Darling's poetic writing style is present throughout.

The range of POVs gives us a much fuller view of each character, because they all perceive each other and think of themselves differently. The main thing to keep in mind with this is that certain characters have very uncharitable opinions of each other—think James and Snape—and those opinions are reflected in their chapters. Some of them are more selfishly wrapped up in their own lives, whereas other characters—particularly Remus and Peter—spend a lot more time observing and analyzing the others.

Sirius set his mug down with a clank and wiped his mouth in an almost exaggerated display of carelessness. Remus had noticed how he did that. When they were all together, when Sirius was in the spotlight, he adopted intentionally impolite behavior — chewing with his mouth open, slopping butterbeer on the floor, kicking his feet up on the table — but when he was alone or distracted, when his guard was down, his manners reverted to a pristine display of pure-blood politesse, like he didn't even notice he was doing it.

Style

CH_Darling's prose is polished and mature, and "The Last Enemy" truly reads like a published book series. She is exceptionally good at foreshadowing; she seeds small tidbits of information early in a manner that’s reminiscent of the first mention of the Vanishing Cabinet way back in Chamber of Secrets. CH_Darling has also written several bombshell reveals of past nuance that remind me of the revelations in "The Prince's Tale" in Deathly Hallows. It's obvious how much effort she puts into outlining and editing—each scene and chapter serves a purpose and moves something forward, whether that be plot, theme, or character development. This is going to be a long series, but it's well-paced and ambitious enough in scope to merit that length.

CH_Darling's rich worldbuilding and sharp imagery are part of what makes her writing so engaging. The locations feel tangible to me even though I've never been inside an English manor house or a two-up two-down, and those detailed, lyrical descriptions carry over into how she depicts the characters. The occasional flashbacks and dreams, which are clearly marked, are often written even more poetically than the "present day" text, in that sort of hazy emotional way we recall our memories and dreams

Fleamont Potter was built of stories, the way other men were built of bones and flesh. His knobby knees creaked with tall tales, his wrinkled skin folded like creases in a page, his sly lips smirked a plot twist. Some stories were his own — tales of travel and adventure — and some belonged to others, borrowed with affection, but all of them loomed large in James’s childhood imagination, in his understanding of his father, of himself. He too was built by these stories, by the retellings of them, the smoky taste of them, like sitting around a fire, like the coils from a pipe.

Finally, in the time-honored tradition of Marauders-centric fics, TLE is funny. Lily has excellent comebacks and moments of observational comedy and even Snape's internal commentary can be bitingly hilarious, but the Marauders really are the kings here. They each have distinctive conversational roles that they typically fall into, the banter and punchlines are on point, and the conversations just read like real, organic group conversations. The process of becoming Animagi in the first book provides some of the best humor in the series, as James, Sirius, and Peter gag and lisp from the Mandrake leaves, give Remus ridiculous excuses for meditating, and learn to navigate their animal bodies. Remus's partially hidden slyness and the boys taking the piss out of James's crush on Lily are also highlights.

The stag leapt to its feet at once, wobbling a little and giving Remus a look not at all unlike a cat who’s just fallen off something and wants very much for you to believe it was intentional. Definitely James.

Themes and Characterizations

Given the absurd length of this post, I decided to pair each of the five most important characters (so far) with one of the major themes present in "The Last Enemy" rather than make them separate sections. I do want to say that the layered interpersonal dynamics are where this story really shines, even though I mostly focus on the characters as individuals here. I also don't want my choice to leave Peter out here to imply that he's nonexistent—while it's true that his POV is less common than the others' at the moment, he's very clearly an integral member of the group. 

CH_Darling's more minor characters are complicated people who provide a lot of color and depth to the story too, particularly Caradoc Dearborn, Marlene McKinnon, and Narcissa Black (soon-to-be Malfoy). We only get glimpses here and there of the complicated Black family dynamics—Walburga's resentment over her brother's control of the family fortune, a secret affair, Narcissa's insistence on papering over disagreements—but those peeks behind the curtain hint at much more to come, particularly now that Regulus has joined the roster of POV characters.

Coming of Age: James

Confession time: I was not yet sold on this story after the first chapter (James's POV) because of its somewhat simplistic portrayal of the world, but I decided to try a few more chapters because the writing itself seemed more technically sophisticated than most fanfiction. I quickly realized that the naïveté that I'd identified was James's flaw, not the author's. Although CH_Darling's James is intelligent, loyal, and truly the emotional heart of the Marauders, he is also young, spoiled, and cocky. He's righteous with a very black-and-white view of the world, and he—more than any of the others—really feels like a teenager to me.

By the end of Fifth Year we see James beginning to realize that the world isn't split into good guys and bad guys as he's forced to reckon with Sirius's darker side and his own failings, and his growing recognition of his complacence and ignorance is one of the major plot lines in the second fic. This loss of innocence is an essential step in James growing into someone who would be a good partner for Lily. I've enjoyed every second of his maturing appreciation for her as someone who is not only smart and beautiful but also steely, principled, and brave.

James glowered at the newspaper. Then, in an unexpected burst of  fury, he crumpled it up into a ball and hurled it across the common room. “What a load of prejudiced, bigoted, fascist excrement,” he snarled. Then he sighed and fell back into his seat as though he’d been hit with a deflating hex. He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to admit, I feel a bit stupid. I really didn’t think the laws would pass. I’m — I’m shocked they’ve passed.”

Companionship as Salvation: Remus

Remus's self-loathing is one of his defining character traits, and CH_Darling captures it beautifully (even if my heart aches for him almost every time he takes on the narrator role). He is simultaneously desperate for friendship but disbelieving when it's offered to him. His lycanthropy leads him to view himself as an "other" despite his deep humanity, and this manifests in Remus's tendency to hold himself apart, particularly in moments of emotional vulnerability when he needs his friends the most. I can see how he is being set up as the person we saw in canon who didn't think he should be overly involved in Harry's life even when Harry had no one else.

However, as much as James is the heart of the Marauders, Remus is the glue. In a lot of ways he's the essential Marauder—the shared secret of his lycanthropy is what built the unusually strong bond between the four boys. He's also the one who advises James on pranks and wooing Lily, relates to Sirius's simmering anger and bitterness, and understands Peter's sense of exclusion from the incredible, unspoken bond between James and Sirius. Remus also has become an increasingly important friend to Lily, who's deeply lonely after the events of spring 1976, as the two bond over their Prefect duties and Muggle heritage.

It was still surreal to him what they’d done. He couldn’t quite process it. Animagi. Every time he thought about it, he felt as though his heart had climbed into his throat and was beating its way out. They wanted to come with him during the full moon. They wanted to ‘hang out’ with a werewolf. They didn’t see the animal in him as something dirty, disgraceful, evil…they were becoming animals themselves. For him.

Free Will: Severus

Snape's evolving view of fate has been one of the more interesting character developments in the series. For much of his life, he felt trapped by his circumstances. His father's hatred of magic and his mother's rejection of the same draw an indelible line between them and him, and his blood status and class differences from his housemates leave him similarly isolated in Slytherin. He's observant, broody, and possessive over Lily, and he has a victim complex that's both justified and disproportionate. He's definitely not likable most of the time, but he's also a sympathetic character in a lot of ways.

As time passes after the Whomping Willow incident and his falling-out with LIly during O.W.L.s, Severus has increasingly shifted from viewing his life as having a predetermined path that he's unable to alter to finding ways to manipulate his circumstances in his favor. This growing recognition of his own agency unfortunately heralds him beginning to make the series of poor choices that he'll later come to regret. I'm always a complicated mess of emotions after Snape's chapters—I simultaneously feel for him so much and want to shake him for always choosing bitterness and blame.

For Severus Snape no longer believed in fate. Once upon a time he had felt the tug of his own destiny, his own greatness. Its raging undercurrent had wrenched him away from dirty Cokeworth and delivered him to the  halls of Hogwarts Castle, to the glamor of Slytherin House. Once upon a time, fate had delivered Lily to him. Lily, who was so beautiful and sweet and magic and good. His diamond in that dirty mill town. And then, like the snap of fingers into a fist, fate had taken her away.

Prejudice: Lily

One of my favorite aspects of "The Last Enemy" is the way the politics of the time permeate almost everything about the story. Blood status and class differences consciously or unconsciously underpin most interactions in a haunting but realistic way that most overtly affects Lily. Her mere presence at Hogwarts is inherently political as a Muggle-born student, and as much as Lily wants to be a normal teenage girl, she doesn't have that luxury. The political developments are personal for her.

The focus on First War blood politics naturally leads to an unusual Lily characterization that's extremely refreshing and feels much more relatable to me. CH_Darling's Lily is perceptive and perseverant and she possesses a "fierce kindness," as Remus puts it. However, she also can be moody, judgmental, and abrasive with her principles. She’s skeptical of others’ intentions as a result of the discrimination she has experienced, which sometimes leads to misunderstandings. Lily struggles to relate with her family and friends back in Cokeworth on more than a superficial level, and her blood status and increasingly public political views do not help her fit in at school either. Severus calling her a "Mudblood" at the end of Fifth Year obliterated her hopes of eventually fitting in. That lack of belonging makes her a social floater, and she frequently battles loneliness in the series.

"As a Muggle-born student, I am expected to completely erase everything about myself, my heritage, and my identity in order to conform to your idea of what a witch should be, and even if I do that, even if somehow I manage it, it will never, ever be enough to be fully accepted into this bigoted, blood-obsessed society, and frankly I object. Sir.”

Redemption: Sirius

Sirius arrived at Hogwarts having internalized his family's bigoted views, but his sorting and his friendships with James and Remus were the catalysts for reforming his worldview and vocabulary. However, his upbringing continues to inform his behavior into their Fifth Year in myriad ways; he is arrogant, casually dismissive of those he deems unworthy—such as Peter—and quick to lash out. His impulsive and anger-fueled decisions that lead to the nearly deadly Whomping Willow incident make sense for his character, and he's someone who unfortunately needed that sort of harsh reckoning to fully acknowledge his own darker proclivities.

Sirius sees James's friendship and example as his salvation from his family. James is the one he trusts and emulates over all others, to the point of putting James on an unhealthy pedestal. His relationship with Remus is more complicated, for obvious reasons, and some of the most riveting moments in the second fic come from the two of them wrestling with Sirius's actions of the past year. Neither is sure whether he's capable of redeeming himself or how he'd do so, but Sirius is trying to be more thoughtful with his actions and both hope he'll be able to succeed. Remus and Sirius's dynamic between The Prank and Halloween 1981 is my favorite thing to read about in fanfiction, and so far I've loved CH_Darling's uncertain and unhurried portrayal.

(I couldn't settle on a single quote for Sirius so you get two!)

What made him different from his family? From Bellatrix? His father, whose name was forever carved next to his own? Banished or not, he was still a Black. He always would be. Walburga may have burned him off the family tree, but its snarling roots had grown tightly around his ankles, his torso, his heart. Maybe that darkness was in his blood. Maybe he’d never escape it, no matter how far away he ran.

What twisted arithmetic could Remus use to absolve Sirius of his crimes? If he tallied up the right and wrong of his friend’s life, what would the math say? Where would he land? But then again, maybe that was the wrong way of looking at it entirely. After all, one moment was not the sum of a whole life…and besides, who determines when you should stop counting?

Final Thoughts

I began my fanfiction journey in the mid-2000s with the canon-compliant Jily/Marauders fics on MuggleNet Fan Fiction and I have read almost all of the well-known ones across the various sites at this point. I decided to give this one a try around this time last year when the first fic was still a WIP, and I'm so glad that I did. I've laughed, I've cried, and I've beamed at the screen in excitement. My heart has broken for these characters in their moments of anguish, and I’ve cheered on their triumphs.

"The Last Enemy" breathes new life into the canon-compliant Marauders generation genre in a way that I haven't seen in a long time. I don't think I've ever read a fic in this genre that so closely aligns with my own headcanons yet somehow also makes me think, "Of course that would happen. Why didn't I think of that?" with each new chapter, which is incredibly fun to experience as a reader.

I highly recommend "The Last Enemy" for its three-dimensional characters and fresh take on Lily in particular, its intricate plotting and elegant prose, and its moving and realistic portrayal of First War politics. For those of you who—like me—have been reading this type of fic on and off for years, I also encourage you to read it as an elevated example of a genre that holds a strong nostalgia factor for many of us.

CH, I can't thank you enough for everything you've put into writing this series, which has been a real bright spot for me amid the tumult of this past year. TLE Tuesdays are one of the best parts of my week! I also want to thank @the-dream-team for being my cheerleader and consultant as I put together this post and @consistentsquash for the advice on structure.

Happy Jilytober, everyone!

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

03 - MADARA GOLDEN AGE (fic)

Father of all Evil

All my thanks and gratitudes to the amazing artist @friizer for this illustration, please follow her on twitter : @_FRiizer Do not use without permission.

My previous chapters here in the table of contents || AO3

Izuna POV, Warring States Era, Action, Power struggle, graphic violence, Uchiha-centric, mostly canon compliant, seinen style

Here ends the second and last Izuna POV. There will be more in the future of course but next chapter will go back to Madara POV. Oh and let's play a game ! There is a BIG reference to a famous TV show, the first one who find it😋. I'll do a little headcanon of any Naruto's character of your choice. Enjoy the reading and tell me in comments everything you felt !

«Before the legend, before Konoha, before the Infinite Tsukuyomi, before plunging into his own darkness… There was a young prodigy and his brother eager to serve his clan. His name was Uchiha Madara and this time was his golden age»

My previous chapters here in the table of contents || AO3

Izuna POV, Warring States Era, Action, Power struggle, graphic violence, Uchiha-centric, mostly canon compliant, seinen style

***

I come back home at the break of dawn. Birds are barely chirping when I reach the main wooden porch and my heart can't help to skip a beat. In the morning, father always sits there on the floor, drinking tea with his subordinates, commenting on reports, and chatting loudly. There was always this little court of close comrades around him and Ranshin was at the first place. It was impossible to sneak in and out of this house without him cracking his dry humour. “Oh look, guys! That's my number 2, will he do the mission I assign him or will he repopulate the zone? I never know with this one” the echoes of his men's laughs will follow me until I left the neighbourhood. Madara has always complained that he was so laid back with me only and I would have argued that they actually spend more time together but today I don't know what to think anymore. Who are you, father? Why is your absence chattering one by one all my convictions? I thought I was a shinobi, I could get used to it but I can't... Today the porch is empty. 

I bypass it through the garden. Madara is already writing in his room. Or should I say  still  writing from the night before. As long as I can remember he doesn't entertain sleeping a lot. He takes some cat nap but I never witness him going into a full eight hours of sleep. And as practical as he is, he uses this spare time to read and do housework. I've always made fun of him, he looks so domestic all of the sudden. From lord of war by day to private secretary at night. But I'm not in a mood for amusement now. I'm exhausted by the hours I spend walking alone in the wood, trying to make sense with all my anger boiling inside.

I enter our house without taking off my sandals, covered in mud, he nods absently.

"I'm going to the training ground now, are you coming?"

Noticing I'm not moving he pays more attention to me. Confused by my appearance, he stares at me from head to toe. Then I throw at him what I was holding for so long. He soon realises Ranshin's head rolling at his feet. 

"What the hell is this ?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm about to ask you, I say clenching my fists, What the hell is this?"

"Have you gone insane, Izuna? Our father's right..."

"HE FUCKING SOLD US TO THE SENJUS," I lash out.

I take Madara inside my sharingans, and share with him my recollections of the assault. Ranshin is amongst those I would have never questioned the loyalty... Father never questions his friendship, why would I? And yet he was able to betray us in plain light. Even between us Uchihas, there was still a power hunger and it was silly of me to think my father's departure won't awaken the darkest ambitions. This disgusting truth opened my eyes to a new form of sharingan able to dominate Ranshin's cognition. Although a powerful genjutsu user, it was a far cry from that power flowing in my optical cells... My inner vision became so vivid and intricate! Nothing that I've experienced before. Nothing that he could neither control.

Tell me the truth

He tried desperately to resist my intrusion but there was no secret in his soul I could not perceive. He was compelled to surrender, unclosing himself in a vision within a vision. How his heart was rotten by the feeling of being forever second to my father. How he had been torn apart between his loyalty to Tajima and his growing scepticism toward his policy. They were brothers in arms since childhood, and Ranshin followed Tajima when he set on the impossible task to reunite the quarrelsome Uchihas branches under a single authority. But the endless loss of their friends changed their relationship. After many decades of living by the swords, he stopped to comprehend the reason for all those sacrifices, deep down he was disgusted by his friend. But he stayed mute and observed how power corrupts everything it touches. Tajima changed. Gone was the charismatic young leader fighting for unity, war made him power hungry and cruel.

It wasn't anymore fighting for clients, his extensive warfare on Senjus was getting personal and nothing on earth could make him change his mind. He will carry on regardless of the cost, always wanting retaliation. That same warmongering rhetoric was exalting his most fanatic troops but left Ranshin indifferent. He was growing weak and resentful of him... It was getting out of control... He had to do something, to stop this... And he knew he was not the only one thinking this way... They have to negotiate with the Senjus. As painful as it sounded, there was no other way. In secret, they made contact... slowly, slowly for months... and one day they met their leader Butsuma Senju in person. He said he was willing to end this as well, he promised them peace, he gave them expensive gifts to prove his goodwill, but he also asked them to prove they were ready to change their leadership and open a new relationship... 

« Subtle and insubstantial, the expert leaves no trace; divinely mysterious, he is inaudible. Thus he is the master of his enemy's fate. »

Sun Tzu.

"Madara, while I was walking back home, I thought about those last weeks since father was gone and I can't believe you are the type to just sit and wait. I remembered that book  the Art of War  you asked me to read, and I started to connect the dots; all those people who hold you and stroke your hair at the cemetery, they did it exactly in the same manner like a code... Your fake submission to the council's decision. You, going to Aiko's house publicly so people think you're having an affair and not meeting your allies... Do you take me for a fool? How come it took me three weeks to realize you were organising a coup against the council and I, your closest one, is not involved?"

He doesn't say a word. He just keeps fixing me as if I am the most interesting insect he ever observed before.

"You think I'm a child, do you? If I'm not involved and the coup failed, I won't be punished? Well, let me tell you something, this plan is lame! Because if I'm involved there will be no such bullshit option as  failure .

The more I'm talking the more my frustration is building up. My sharingans respond to my fury and swirl again until it reaches its new form. Is he even listening to me now? My new pupils take his whole attention. I've expected surprise or at least pride. but I get the saddest look paint on his face. I cease using them. My anger vanished immediately, I've never wanted to be for him a source of disappointment. He lowers his gaze, suddenly tired of this conversation. His attention comes back to the beheaded pouring blood in his tatami.

"Congratulation genius. Now, what are you going to do with the proof of your murder in my room?"

I clear my throat to gather my composure. It's quite unusual for once, him so detached and I losing my cool.

"I've already reported the incident to the council. I said we have been hunted down by a group of samurais. I beheaded him, in the same fashion they do it after a victory. Tomorrow they will find the rest of his body rotten somewhere in the heathland nearby."

"You're not answering the question."

"It's a gift," I said with a gesture of annoyance. "Put it somewhere in your trophy's shelve."

He closes his eyes with a faint smile. Ranshin's head starts setting on fire. Skin is crackling and burning under the intense flames. His face is distorted into the most disgusting expression. When Madara opens his eyes again, his pupils are such a thing of beauty. Glowing with an hypnotic passion, his crimson sharingans have a form I've never seen before, like three snakes eating each other's tails... Him too, he got those... for how long?

"Forgive me, Izuna. I was wrong you're not a child anymore and we have to do it together. I knew for a while there were pests somewhere crawling in the shadow. Father warned me about them. He felt that something was off about us losing ground against the Senjus, they have a mole inside the compound leaking information to them, but he died before he could identify them or maybe... he refused to believe who they were. It's only at his death that I've understood how deeply rotten those people were. They've sabotaged missions and sacrificed young life against a war they knew they will lose on purpose to shaken father's position. They compromised themselves with a sworn enemy, and prostitute their honour as Uchiha for money and positions... I will never forgive them. But now, thanks to you, those rats are forced to come out of their holes and they are in a panic. They thought you were weak and if they give you as a hostage to Butsama, I will be isolated and easily manipulated. Now they won't have a choice but act quickly. And then we will..."

"Strike them." I finish.

"Hm..." he agrees.

A skull. That's all is left of the great Uchiha Ranshin. Now that the skin is gone, the flames are attacking the bones, tearing apart the structure itself. making the skull falls apart until it is just ashes. Father told me long time ago that fire element is by nature the most destructive and its violence is feared by the weakest. But fire also removed stain and imperfections. It purges from parasites and warm up bodies in winter. Everything is purified through fire. Everything.

**

"Do you know it was my idea to make everyone embrace Madara during the funeral?" Tells me Aiko proudly. "It was unnoticed but let him know precisely how many people he can count on. I guess he never allowed so many people to touch him in a none deadly way before. Have you, Mada-kun? Did you feel aroused or something?" 

"Can you shut up? We've arrived." He grumbles while hiding his embarrassment.

It's this portion of the forest which is so deep that even the sunlight struggles to touch the ground. Madara jumps at the highest tree around to check how far we are from the clan Hideout. Aiko and I join him promptly but still trying to stifle our laughs. Now that I'm fully updated on my brother's plan, Aiko is giving me details. The more I'm listening to her the more baffled I am by his sense of strategy. He sees far beyond all of us, ten steps ahead and still finds a way to integrate the pieces of information I got from Ranshin at the last moment.

"In less than an hour, we'll make history," she concludes while observing in distance the step pyramidal mountain where the Hideout is perched.

"Or we all die in disgrace..." Madara adds. "Even if we succeed, do you realise how our life will be different forever? It's a dedication to the clan. There is no coming back."

"I'm ready for this life," Aiko says confidently. "I was born into it."

"We are all together in this adventure," I wink at him.

As he looks at both of us again, he sighs thoughtfully. I know he can't help but worry for us. 

"Let's go." He finally commands.

There is one thing I've always tried to imitate in vain, his ability to hide from others. As soon as we reach the first checkpoint. My brother immediately switches to the emotionless mask of Madara the Shinobi. Since early childhood, it has always unsettled adults when he plays poker face, without batting an eyelid. They can't say if he is listening or not, and in a way, it gives him a kind of power over them without saying a single word.

What makes the Uchiha Hideout so particular except his form is actually the protective genjutsu dome around a portion of the forest. Unless you are an Uchiha possessing a three tomoe and registered as being part of the assembly you can't see our hideout and of course, you can't either access it. For an important day as the election of a new leader, the security has been extremely reinforced. Every ten meters we're approaching the hill, we're tested by complex passwords and submit to some questions to check if we aren't intruders passing for Uchihas. 

It's only when we start climbing up the eastern tower to join the main building that I realise the scope of the uchiha clan and how crazy is our objective. Sure, Madara has followers back to the main compound and among civilians. But here it's only the three of us against the elite amongst the elite. If the shinobi families are the most respected and obvious choice for leadership, other influential lineages are present from all part of the country. Merchants, diplomats, member of priesthood, Blacksmiths guild. They don't participate in the battlefield except on extreme occasions but they are valuable dormant spies established in different regions and hidden in palaces and towns for generations under a false identity. It's easy to spot them, their navy blue uniforms look immaculate, made with the most expensive and shiny fabrics that no shinobi will use in daily life. But they all express pride to be allowed for once to wear it in public. Roughly, I'm counting three hundred people in the assembly, every single one obviously mastering a three tomoe. If we make any mistake as Madara has warned us earlier, we're dead in a second. 

We slide along the packed corridor to the main hall. The Uchiha stone throne is standing alone in the back of the room, raised by a platform of stairs. Behind it, the word  fox  is carved into the wall surrounded by eights swirls. The room is so crowded and everyone seems to be in a good mood, people who haven't seen each others for years are greeting and embracing, taking news from family back home. Despise the fact that I've seen people coming back and forth at home, I was way too young to remember most of them. And in return few people acknowledge me or Madara. Occasionally some people are pointed their fingers at him, whispering Tajima's name. But we don't waste time in small talk and go directly to find a place in the row of tatami facing the throne. 

"Let's sit in the back."

"Madara, that's far from..."

He doesn't listen to Aiko and moves on to the last line.

"He never likes to have people in his back, he's so annoying sometimes it makes no sense... "I shrug.

At the same moment, an important group of people make their entrance into the main hall. They are quickly surrounded by a small crowd. The famous Kiyo emerges from this group, sublime and regal in her dark blue silk kimono, the uchiha crest embroidered on her long sleeve. She was over 40 years old, but her face has a strange attractive beauty, finely crafted by age, almost no makeup but still, her pale figure has kept something timeless. Behind her, almost invisible her husband Daisuke is scampering at her side. Kiyo is definitely the queen of the day. As soon as she finds her seat. The high priest Kengen and his assistants start lightening the incense and intone some prayers to open the ceremony.

"We are today reunited to choose a new leader," starts Kengen. "I would like to thank everyone for having been able to come from so far and gather so quickly after Lord Tajima's departure. Without further due, and according to our tradition. All candidates shall present themselves and we will start voting with a show of hand."

I've been told that in the past, it can sometimes be thirty candidates presenting to the vote even if they know they had no chance. But it is a strange tradition where some people like to show off their eloquence to the group. But today it seems that everyone is in hurry to resume this election as quickly as possible. Two people stand for it. Daisuke and an obscure representative of the blacksmith guild who has naturally zero chance to win. He makes some jokes about the fact he will impose a tax on damaged kunais every time Shinobis degrade the blacksmith's work after only a week of use. Then, my uncle, Daisuke stands up. It was so annoying that from afar he looks so much like father and he pushes in purpose the resemblance by adopting the same hairstyle. But Uncle, you can't be him without his sharpness. Sword and butter knife don't play in the same league, don't you know that?

"The time has come for me to...hum...be a legitimate candidate at my brother's succession. My priority will be to ensure harmony and cooperation between us. We will diversify our activities, strengthen collaboration... Nobody will be left aside. We will do it together...it won't be easy first but slowly slowly things will move to the right direction and we..."

While he is talking, Hikaku, sitting few rows before us, turns his head to Madara with a desperate look.

"Even if you don't win,  I beg you  to defend your father's name. I can't believe I'm listening to that fool." He whispers to him.

Madara stays still, arms crossed, patiently waiting for our uncle to end his ridicule speech. 

"Is anyone else wishing to introduce themselves?" says Kengen. "No one? Then... Shall we precede to..."

"I have a question."

All heads turn to the back of the room.

"Can someone guilty of high treason be an eligible candidate?" asks Madara.

All of the sudden a loud noise rises from the crowd, profanities burst out from every direction. Uchiha are notorious for their violent directness, in battle as in conversation.

"Speak clearly young boy, nobody have time for riddle!"

"Is that Tajima's son? I thought he was taller than that !"

"This is an important time, but children are allowed to speak now?"

"Why don't you present yourself to the election if you're a real man?"

Without losing his composure, he continues with a louder voice to cover people. 

"Our tradition wants us to choose a leader with impeccable morality, ready to die for the clan. Is dealing in secret with the Senjus a sign of virtue. Answer my question, Daisuke.

"This brat needs to shut the fuck up !"

"How dare you !"

"Sit down, your father didn't teach you respect for your elders?"

"In my time, he would have been beating to death publicly!"

"Born yesterday and trying to lecture us on traditions!"

"I didn't travel two days to hear such nonsense!"

Kengen tries to calm people in vain. Daisuke is bending down, listening to some whispers from his wife and then says:

"Madara-kun, my dear nephew. I know your father's loss left you and your brother orphan. I loved my brother, I would never do such a thing. And I will always protect you, you are my family and blood."

He is using the same tone that he would address a toddler. It infuriates Madara but he keeps his anger to himself, the moment is too important. 

"Do you swear solemnly in front of all the assembly," he continues, "that you have never been into contact with a Senju?"

" I swear on my brother's grave!"

"Are you disrespecting my father's grave?" He raises his voice with a threatening tone.

"Are you losing your mind, Madara-kun?" He answered back with irony. "It's a serious assembly and you make people impatient with your childish attitude, you should calm down and check your paranoia."

" I have something to say," starts a quaking voice.

The elder member of the council stands up with difficulty. Due to his seniority, the assembly immediately goes quiet. Oda Uchiha despises his advanced age keeps a sinister appearance of a shinobi from a forgotten time with his facial tattoos and three fingers missing in his left hand. 

"Knowing your grandfather, your father, and yourself Madara I can testify in front of this assembly that you are not a liar. However, you cannot raise such accusations against Daisuke's honour without strong proof. Speak your mind, son of Tajima."

Slowly Madara stands up and pointed his finger at our uncle.

"I accuse Daisuke of collusion with the enemy. And even now perjury on my father's name."

Aiko tosses in the air a scroll and unseals hundred of papers falling on people's knees. He goes on :

"Those are copies of Daisuke's letters. I hold the originals in my hands. Thanks to his appreciation for prostitutes, I've collected all of them in few days. I know this assembly is an exceptional gathering of the best plagiarists and imitators of the world. they can verify by themselves that it's not a forgery, Daisuke was in communication with various Senju's delegations for business contracts without the approval of the council nor our late leader."

Livid, Daisuke stands up as well, his sharingan swirling with rage.

"You son of a bitch! This is a scheme!"

The calligraphy experts immediately scan back and forth all the documents. Thanks to sharingan it takes them few minutes to read a dozen of pages incriminating him in secret business deals. But Madara doesn't even share with them the correspondence about our father's murder because if he does it now, it will explode the uchiha clan, and break apart all that father fought for; Uchiha unity. The more they are reading into it the more their fury is out of control. The cacophony rises to a level that no one is able of cooling down anymore. They are holding Daisuke by the throat ready to kill him.

"Daisuke explains yourself! You swear in your brother's grave?"

"It...it... It's...It was not my idea, it was K-k-kengen...The high priest! Yes! him ! he said it was a good commercial opportunity... I didn't know it was Senju's merchants! I swear I didn't know !"

I hold myself from laughing. As we have expected wolves are starting to eat each other. Kengen is sweating so much it was absolutely disgusting... He calls upon his ancestor's protection that he was just sending his monks carrying letters from region to region and if they were Senju's messages it was secret diplomacy with Tajima's permission. 

The elders from different families come together around Oda and engage in a vivid conversation. They don't know if they should postpone this election until they settle this corruption case. Some say that if the high priest is involved, the election can't be valid. It went on for few hours. Until they reach a final decision. Oda speaks again in the name of the assembly. 

"Our clan have always had a specific way to function. Sure the consensus of the council is always a must but it has been stated earlier we need a leader dedicated and loyal. Right now we are talking like a beheaded body. Let's vote for a leader first and this one will settle his judgment. At the moment, based on the proof we have, Daisuke's candidacy is void. Tora from the Blacksmiths are you still presenting yourself?"

"No, my Lord Oda. I'm far from having the dignity for the position..."

"Then who?" Asks the old man.

They all look at each other confused. It's not that nobody wants the leadership, but there are more or less all have been corrupted. We knew that Daisuke has spent a lot of money before our father's death to buy their support one by one. They just didn't know until now it was Senju's funds they've accepted. And none of them wanted to follow Daisuke in his downfall. It is the first time in Uchiha's history that nobody wants power. Lord Oda clicks his tongue annoyed by their silence and turns to my brother.

"Son of Tajima, after this incredible disorder, why don't you present yourself?"

"I don't want this leadership tainted by corruption and betrayal."

Madara's voice is surprisingly poised.

" Oda-sama you live long enough to know better than me that we, Uchiha have suffered so much to survive until today. We made tremendous sacrifices in the past. Everyone in this room lost someone we hold dear. My father is watching me from the other realm, and I cannot lie in his presence, if I was your leader, whatever long or short is my life, I would dedicate myself to the clan until my last breath. I would fight for you and build a new era of peace and prosperity for the Uchiha. But without your trust, and your support I cannot stand for you."

I scan the assembly. Everyone in this room has lost a parent, a child, a spouse, or a friend too early. The fact that so many of us have awakened a sharingan was indisputable proof. My father's leadership built a vital bond in a time of chaos, but their hearts yearn now for something else beyond bloodshed and endless suffering. By the look on their face, I know my brother has moved them simply by his raw and refreshing honesty.

**

Madara's election was an overall standing ovation. Frowning on him, Kengen submits however to the group's decision and gives him the gunbai once belonging to our father and the previous chiefs before him. My heart almost ceases when Madara sits on the Uchiha's throne. It's like a dream. And it seems almost too big for him, but it doesn't matter. It was his now, and nobody can contest it. I stay at his right side while little by little groups of people come near the throne to pay homage to the new leadership. Sometimes they have few words about a particular issue they would like to discuss in future. It's going to be a long afternoon to listen to every single one of them but he does it without a complaint. He observes father dealing with it a thousand times, he just needs to imitate him for now. The secret is to listen carefully and make vague promises. When Oda comes to him I wanted to help him but someone holds me back.

"No Izuna," whispers Aiko in my ear. "Now that Madara is our leader you're by default his heir. You can't help a subordinate. They  have  to come to you, that's the hierarchy."

After a long and difficult walk, he stands still holding his cane.

" Well congratulation,  Madara-sama   for you election. My knees are killing me, but you drag me here. I was expecting another long and boring vote. But you make this day worths the journey."

Madara shows a mischievous smile.

"Oh, but it has only just begun."

he bends over to the old man's ears so nobody but him can listen.

"Ask your grandson to carry you on the rooftop and take the best spot in front of the higher bar of stones. I promise you, it will be something you'll never forget."

For the first time in my life, I see what looks like a smirk on Lord Oda's emaciated face.

**

When the assembly reaches the rooftop, the starry night has already fallen. After spending the day indoors, the cold breeze feels like a welcome relief.

"Is that part of the plan?" I ask Aiko. "I can't remember..."

"I don't know he just said, he wants  to convince the last hesitants . What does that even mean?"

Madara jumps on the highest of the three bars of stone, and amplifies his voice in a way it sounds like Heaven itself was speaking to us.

"Uchihas, you wonder why I invite you all here. This moment is crucial and needs to be under the close observation of the gods. Sake have been poured to celebrate this day. I got the opportunity to chat with all of you and I can't wait to strengthen our bonds shortly. But it's my duty as your leader to remind you that we are still undergoing a war and our positions are not secure. In this difficult time, unity is the key, acts of treachery cannot be tolerated. And yet a grave threat to our security has been the centre of our debate today. Confessions and proofs have been collected and authenticated. It needs to be settled immediately before everyone departs to their positions. Lord Daisuke, High priest Kengen come forward."

First, a murmur of general approval backs him up but it soon turns into concerns when he finally reveals his Mangakyou Sharingan to everyone. If Daisuke seems petrified by fear, Kengen keeps his dignity.

"By the authority given by my people and by following the tradition of our clan. You are guilty of collusion with the enemy. Do you have anything to say?"

Daisuke has lost all his superb arrogance, he was just a pathetic man, begging for his life. If he wasn't under a genjutsu who force him to stand still he would have probably been crawling on the floor. I can't believe this slug was supposed to rule us just few hours ago...

"I did make a mistake and I apologise. Madara, I'll do anything to be forgiven. I implore your compassion in the name of the bloodline that bounds us. If you show mercy, I'll be your most obedient servant."

From the height he's watching us, Madara seems closer to a Sphinx than a human being. Nothing is moving aside from his long hair blowing by the wind. But Kengen keeps his composure. He's a member of the high clergy, and a renowned scholar, he knows our laws better than anyone. Daisuke will be put in prison, shame and disgrace on his descendants. Himself will be forced to resign his position, and banishment from the clan might occurs if he chooses a strict policy just like his father. But it never happened that a cleric was ever condemned to jail. Or maybe... he's intuitive enough to understand that Madara represents a new era, and things won't go exactly according to tradition. He keeps gazing at the Mangakyou Sharingan before speaking. 

"I'm guilty of my crime, Lord Madara and I'm ready for my punishment. As a man, I failed us and I was blind by my greed to the point of forgetting my loyalty. But I am also a man of knowledge, it is still my duty to warn my brethren. When I see those eyes of yours, I see now that the prosperous will decay. They are bad omens of destruction and death upon the clan. And you, his possessor, will know nothing but humiliations, loss and despair. There will be no rest in your fall until you lose yourself utterly. O my people, beware the throes of those eyes! May my words be a small compensation for my dishonourable life of vanity.

An eerie silence accompanies his words. Madara doesn't make any mudra, although two tears of blood roll on his cheeks.

"I, Uchiha Madara, descendant of Indra, son of Tajima. Leader of the Uchihas clan." 

An intolerable mass of blue chakra raises from him.  This chakra ! The same nauseous one I felt when they announce father's death... but it expands now at an intensity I can't believe he actually possesses.  Do I possess this as well?  It stabilises first in a form of a double rib cage joined at the backbone. A ten meters skeletal bust with two faces wraps itself in muscles and skin. This monster of chakra raises its arms into forming the mudra of the tiger. Panic crosses through the assembly. As a defence mechanism, all sharingans lighten like red fireflies in the dark. But what could they possibly do against  this ? The humanoid breaths deeply in, its transparent ribs slowly spreading from each others.

"My Lords Daisuke, Kegen. I condemn you to death."

AMATERASU.

chapter 04 : Reiki (Madara POV)

[djarrex]

Countermeasures || 7

Fugitive

Fives x ofc!reader

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Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: mentions of previous sexual activities, mentions of alcohol consumption (we’re talkin’ 79′s, alright?), feelings, angst, sadness because of the inevitable

chapter summary: Fives sets out to find trustworthy friends who will listen to what he has to say regarding the massive conspiracy. His two hopes are that his findings won’t fall on deaf ears and that the woman he loves is kept safe in the aftermath.

note: This chapter will be entirely in Fives’ POV, and ties in with the episode “Orders”. I hope I did Fives justice when writing for him throughout this series. I’m sure the majority of you know how much I love Fives - that he’s such a well-written character that deserved way more. Sorry it took a while for me to get around to posting this - I feel like everything in this series has led up to this point and that last thing I wanna do is disappoint the peeps who’ve been keeping up with this! There will be one more chapter after this one ♡

***

You were hard to leave.

Fives held you in his arms for a few hours that night, frozen in time and trapped in pure bliss with the way your warm breath fanned over his exposed chest - a comforting, safe feeling he’d never felt before then. Your fingers lay limp as they rest against his side, your nose pressed firmly into the valley between his pectorals. He finally got to be with you - inside of you, and it was more than he could’ve ever imagined. The way you were snuggled into him as he inhaled your sweet, post-sex scent was just the most amazing thing. 

He still couldn’t believe he had managed to get to you after being tailed by General Shaak Ti; he thought he was for sure done for... so close to being executed for “treason against the Republic” - for the second time in his life. 

That meeting didn’t go the way either of you could have ever anticipated.

The Jedi General called out to Fives as he made his hasty departure, shouting for him to please stop and how she only wanted to talk. It was all a lie - there was no way he’d ever see the light of day if he’d stopped to let the Jedi catch up to him. Adrenaline pumped through him at an alarming rate; he was somehow able to run his fastest after waking from that sedative-induced slumber. His head was pounding and his limbs felt numb, but he kept running. Descending the dozens of levels of stairs to get to the surface-level of the Grand Republic Medical Facility had him out of breath and head feeling as if it was made of duracrete. After bumping into numerous beings while making a break through the loading dock, even after tripping and falling flat on his face, he was still able to leap through the blast doors before the steel cut him into two. He had to make it out of there. There was no other option - he had to get to you.

After putting in a good amount of distance from the scene of the crime and making sure he wasn’t being followed, het set out to find you. Fives knew he had to get to you, to make sure you were safe and to warn you of what was to come. Though, he wasn’t sure if he should fill you in on everything; with you having the knowledge of what the Chancellor had told him, you could very well end up a target much like himself. Fives needed to be sure he wasn’t being followed as he set out to find you. 

Tracking you down wasn’t exactly easy, but he managed to put pieces of your anecdotes together and found a residential complex just outside the medical academy’s property after a few hours of connecting the dots in his head. He had no idea if it was actually a building in which you lived, or if you were even there, but he went right in at the front and through the lobby, eventually making his way to the mail room where he found your last name and apartment number. Thank the Maker Fives was listening when you slipped your last name to him that one time, otherwise he’d be screwed.

Staying out of sight wasn’t too hard at that hour, since most of the residents were either eating dinner or enjoying a night out on the town. He was just hoping you were there, and not... taken from him already. By who knows. He just needed to get to you.

He paused when he got to your door. His heart began racing, and his lingering headache was pushed to the back of his mind as he knocked against the steel in front of him. Fives had a game plan, or at least a semblance of a plan; he was going to tell you how the meeting took a turn for the worst and that he’s a wanted man now, how he managed to evade the Jedi General and Corrie Guards on his way to you, and that he needed to find people he could trust to turn this newfound information over to them - but when you opened the door looking beautiful as ever in your exhausted state - all his thoughts flew out the window but one: He needed you. Needed you like you would be the only thing to save him from this entire mess of things, like you would be the cure for anything and everything.

And he had you. 

What the two of you shared was a complete out of body experience for Fives, unlike anything he’d ever felt. The way your warmth enveloped him, how your pussy clenched around his cock, how your face looked gasping and crying out his name as he thrusted into you - it was all so good. A part of him wishes he had made a move back on Kamino when you had shared your bed with him, but he’d decided that the moment didn’t feel right. He was perfectly content in holding you close as he allowed himself the best sleep he’d had in a long time; how you felt in his arms - it felt right, like he was always meant to hold you. Like, in another life if he wasn’t a bred soldier, created in a lab on Kamino, he would marry you and create a family with you. 

Fives held you just a little tighter at that thought.

Trying to push the ache in his temples away has become the new task as he rubs small circles into the soft skin of your bare back in an attempt to distract himself. You're intoxicating, clouding nearly all his senses as he breathes you in. It seems as though you really are the antidote for whatever triggered such a excruciating headache in the first place; the continuous throbbing deep inside his skull was thankfully kept at bay when he was making love to you.

Making love...

He figures that’s exactly what one would call it; what happened between you two was more and meant more than just “fucking”, Fives knows that. Though you had only known each other for about a standard week, the shit you’ve been through together encouraged a bond like no other. Fives has never felt the way he was feeling towards you about anyone before. Perhaps this new feeling is the same as what he’d heard from civilians when they speak about their “loved ones”. The ARC had protected and fought for numerous families and their “loved ones”. Their husbands, wives, children, parents, siblings - Fives blasted down the clankers that had threatened their lives, in order to keep them safe. It was his duty.

Fives had been with women before, varying in species. Those times were all quick fucks solely for the promise of release, normally during or after a night of drinking with the lads. He’d never took the time to feel any of his past partners, never looking into their eyes as he uncaringly pounded into them, haphazardly spurting his release wherever it ended up upon pulling out, never staying long enough for them to get another word in after their activities had concluded.

He obviously felt nothing for them... but you - he... loves you.

Fives recalls the heavy thumping of his heart at the sight of your face contorting into the most beautiful expressions of pleasure, the way your warm cunt throbbed around his cock as he released all he had to offer...

He came inside of you. He vaguely remembers you mentioning the requirement of having an implant while being enrolled in the medical academy, and that you are free to remove it upon graduation. Fives gets it - distractions are always the bane of duty - the same goes for himself and his brothers; that's why the clones are prohibited from having any relations whatsoever until “after the war ends”.

Now he truly understands; his love for you could be considered as a distraction if he were still on the front. In a way, Fives still is in battle - in his own fucked up battle versus anyone in on the massive conspiracy. It was just you and him, against everything.   

You’re the most beautiful and precious thing to him; he loves you - and you were very, very hard to leave.

Knowing that he’s on a clock, he rolls you onto your back as graceful as a one ARC could so he can get up and get dressed, careful not to wake you from your peaceful and well-deserved slumber. He knows you had to be exhausted; the past week had probably been the most stressful and hectic of your life, he figures. As he moves to snap on the last pieces of the stolen shiny’s armor, he couldn’t help but wonder when he’ll see you again...

Fives knows he's being framed - a metaphorical target nailed to his back now that he knows too much. His mind was somehow altered to snap, facilitating the act of aggression that was throwing himself at the Chancellor rather than keeping his composure - standing at attention like a good soldier - in the presence of his Supreme Chancellor. 

Fives came to while still strapped to the cot he was placed on back on Kamino when preparing for transport, quickly realizing that he was not at the Senate Building and you were not there in that strange med room with him along with the others from before the journey to Coruscant. The air had quickly turned to ice once he was left alone with the Chancellor; as soon as General Shaak Ti and Dr. Nala Se left the room, Fives knew something had changed. His head began to throb and his body shivered as the older man approached him, stalking around the ARC before murmuring to the side of him with a wrinkly hand coming to rest on his pauldron:

“Now... where were we?”

The Chancellor’s voice was serpent-like, the bite of his words injecting venom straight through Fives’ ears and humming throughout his stiff body. The air felt like it was all but sucked out of the ice cold room. Fives somehow knew the man speaking to him could smell the apprehension pouring off of him in waves as he mentally pleaded for the Jedi General to turn around and come back - he could get at least a semblance of feeling safe and grounded if she were still by his side. The ARC involuntarily shivered from the proximity of the highest power in the galaxy stalking around him as predator does to prey; the frightened trooper stood at attention to the best of his ability, forgetting to exhale once he stilled his breath as the thumping of his nervous heart became more prominent in his ears.  

Then his vision blacked out as his mind screamed at him to do something, save your brothers, save them all. A steady, high-pitched ringing consumed everything, every rational thought gone in only seconds. The next thing Fives knew, he had knocked out the Chancellor’s personal security and the evil old man was on the floor grasping his chest in the most dramatic fashion, shouting for help. The ARC aggressively wrestled down another guard in self-defense, holding his opponent’s blaster away from him so that Fives could get the upper-hand to take a swing when the other trooper was most vulnerable. The doors flew open, the Jedi General wide-eyed as the scene all but played out in front of her.

He knew he couldn’t stay to see what would happen next. 

There was no explaining this to anyone.

Get out of there. 

Run.

Fives knows his unintended and inexplicable outburst was not a consequence born from the removal of his inhibitor chip; he recalls being injected by something - jabbed into his neck while dazed on the transport by that sneaky long-neck. He was too weak to fight off the syringe making its way towards him by her three-digit hand. She’s in on it... just as he thought. Why else would Nala Se berate you when you spoke of your findings, when you were simply inquiring about Tup’s “tumor”? First it was a tumor, then it was an organic chip, now it’s an inhibitor chip that was placed in all the clones to keep them compliant - to follow orders with no questions asked. Even the fucking Supreme Chancellor of the fucking Galactic Republic played a part in it all; to what extent, though, Fives doesn’t know. 

Fives, now fully dressed in the shiny’s kit, places a chaste kiss on your forehead, smiling at the little wrinkle resting there from your still expression. A gentle caress against the apple of your cheek was all he can offer so as to not wake you up.

Absolutely beautiful....

Fives never allows himself the emotional release of crying - but one tear manages to break through his tough exterior, shimmering down his sharp cheek bone and curving underneath his chin as he stands at your door, watching you sleep. He doesn’t want to say goodbye; “goodbyes” are reserved as a promise that one would never see another again, so he opts for a “see you later, my love”, murmuring those five words under his breath as he wiped at the treacherous stream of tears before turning to exit your apartment. 

He’s aware of the amount of danger he’s in now that it’s all been amplified because of what happened with the Chancellor, and is afraid that he’s inadvertently put you in the same amount of danger just by your proximity to the initial discovery of the chips. He needs to speak to Rex, and hopefully his Captain and closest friend will bring General Skywalker along with him.

Now I just need to find a way to contact them.

The goal is to stay incognito - unrecognizable to the Corrie Guards, or to any others of the Chancellor’s agents for that matter, until he can plead his case to Rex, and hopefully the General.

Snaking through hundreds of passersby isn’t too hard of a feat when walking through the crowded streets of Coruscant, blending in as one of the many faces that grace the planet’s surface and lower levels, but where is he to go? He follows a couple Rodians that have been walking in front of him for several minutes now, hoping they will somehow lead him to a promising destination. The lights lining the walkways are too bright, the hum of the voices and speeders are too loud, and now he’s holding his palm against his forehead, shaking off the ache that’s creeping its way through him as he heads in an unfamiliar direction through the crowded walkway.

A taxi came in to land at the edge of the duracrete path; once docked, two pretty looking Twi’leks step out, throwing credits at the driver through the open window. Fives could get in that taxi and be taken anywhere within the thousands of levels of Coruscant, and that will beat walking with the risk of being seen, he concludes. Besides, Fives’ head is pounding like the Maker is using his skull as a drum, and sitting down sounds like a fucking dream.

I will not be found before I’ve had a chance to speak with Rex. No way.

Fives heads towards the vacant taxi, rubbing at the back of his head and blinking rapidly in attempt to rid himself of that lingering ache. He feels dizzy - feels as though his head is made of duracrete, hanging low as he tries to straighten his neck. As he slips into the back seat of the cab, the driver calls from over his shoulder, 

“Heya, pal. Where to?”

Well that would be the question of the night.

What would be the most promising location to seek out his friends? Fives knows the barracks are completely out of the question, so maybe a place where his brothers go to unwind?

“Take me to 79′s,” the worn trooper decides out loud.

“The clone bar?” The driver peers over his shoulder, raising his brows in realization with a stupid fucking grin on his ugly alien face. “Oh, you’re a clone, huh?”

Enough talk, please. Fives’ head is pulsating, and the overwhelming need to seek out a friendly face is consuming everything. The very last thing he needs is to engage in conversation with some dumpy looking cabby.

“Look, just shut up and drive!” he snaps, sitting back into the seat and glaring out the window at the beings meandering by. The seemingly unfazed cabby mumbles something over his shoulder and shuts the back door before dipping down under the overpasses and joining the line of speeders heading in the same direction.

The cabby’s choice of music is terrible and way too loud - encouraging the headache and egging it on in the worst way possible. He pushes past the painful pulsation and reminisces about how you felt underneath him, how you tasted, how you smelled. Fives wishes you were seated next to him in this taxi - your head resting on his shoulder to which he would rub at your scalp, enjoying the way your soft hair carded through his rough fingers. 

Fives remembers when he first saw you, the same day he and Rex had landed on Kamino with an objective that seemed so fucking simple at the time - escorting Tup to be examined by the long-necks - which turned into something bigger than he could have ever imagined. 

Through all that, though, he met you.

“So... headin’ out for a little fun on the town, eh? I didn’t know clones could have fun,” the cabby calls out, obviously attempting to make unsolicited conversation with his passenger. Fives bites his tongue, really not wanting to indulge this guy but the frustration of it all gets the better of him.

No one fucking knows.

"There’s a lot you don’t know about clones. No one knows,” he spits out. 

“Ooh, very mysterious, eh? I like a good mystery,” the driver wiggles his three yellowish-green digits in the air, shooting a quick glance at Fives from over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Fives grits out. This fucking cabby... “You ever hear the one about the people engineered to kill? Engineered to kill their best friends, their leaders, and they don’t even know it?”

Oops...

The driver just chuckles, completely unaffected and oblivious to the truth that just slipped past Fives’ taut lips. “I’m a cab driver, pal.” His head turns over his shoulder, “I hear stories like that all the time!” 

Yeah, sure he does.

Fives just sighs and stares out the window once again, channeling his focus on the passing lights outside the window in an attempt to suppress the reemerging ache within his skull.

***

Fuckin’ 79′s.

Fives loved being there, unwinding after a long mission with his brothers once they were planet-side after being awarded some much needed leave time. Rex was never one to get obliterated, yet he always had fun in his own way. Jesse was the real party-goer, always challenging Fives to a drink-off that would inevitably end up being a tie since they would always lose count in their drunken stupor. Kix and Tup always sat back, laughing with and at their brothers while nursing their drinks rather slowly in comparison to the others. When Hardcase was still alive he’d make the best of the night on the dancefloor, always with some willing Twi’leks on his arm. 

Fives stands just outside the taxi, rubbing at his forehead and squinting at the bright neon lights lining the club entrance. He doesn’t even register the voices being directed at him until a drunken corporal with tattoos scribbled on his face swings a heavy arm over the ARC’s shoulder, slurring nonsense into his ear with a half-empty bottle of liquor swishing around in his hand.

“Bill it to the Republic.”

Fives recalls calling those words out to the disgruntled cabby, earning hearty chuckles from his inebriated brothers. They echo his remark to the cabby, laughing their hearts out while taking swigs of whatever’s filling those bottles. The near-full weight of the tattooed corporal rests on Fives shoulders as the drunken man swings him around to direct him inside, but not before hurling his bottle at the taxi as it lifted off - shattering, making Fives wince.

No, no... can’t go inside like this... someone may recognize me as a wanted man...

“Corporal, that’s a nice hat you got there. Mind if I see it?”

Loud. Fucking bright.

Normally, those two main characteristics describing the only clone bar on Coruscant were nothing Fives would be too concerned about, but tonight they were the epitome of pain as his head throbs in time with the heavy bass filling the club. His eyes squint nearly every time a strobe comes his way, the neon lights pricking at his oversensitive retinas with every pass. The corporal who was hanging on to Fives broke away to join his fellow staff officers who were slouched around the bar and toasting to their respective legions before guzzling down shot after shot. Fives lowers his head - for the sake of both the sensitivity towards the lights and to hide his identity -  as he scanned the club, trying to pinpoint anyone who may be sporting that friendly and familiar blue and white armor.

It seems to be an officer’s night, he observes; they were everywhere, taking up most of the sabacc tables and booths Fives normally hung around in with his company. The bar’s seats were filled with officers, save for a few occupied by slutty Twi’leks or other clone-groupies who were hoping to get lucky with one of the Republic’s finest. 

Fives used to be into that.

A meaningless, quick fuck in the alleyway? Yeah, Fives used to be the first one to step up to the plate. He sought out that release because of various reasons: Echo dying at the Citadel, dealing with that interim General on Umbara, being so overworked and exhausted after going on his first few specialized ARC missions -  a quick, hard fuck was exactly what Fives thought he needed.

He’s a changed man now, he likes to think.

If Fives was here under any other circumstance, he’d be all in on the fun. He truly loved picking on the staff officers - they never showcased their individuality in any way, not with their hair nor their names, not even opting to get any tattoos (well, maybe the corporal who’d loaned Fives his hat would be the only exception) - and boy oh boy were there plenty of them around tonight.

Fives resumed his scan, moving his eyes around the occupied sabacc tables, booths, the bar-

There, at the bar, over on the other side of the dancefloor.

“Kix, Jesse,” the disguised ARC mumbles under his breath, watching two of his closest friends from where he stood at the club’s entry drink up and enjoy the night. They’re probably talking shit about some of the new shinies just recruited to the 501st, or maybe they were talking about the General and the Senator - specifically their... proximity to one another. Fives knows how the pair of troopers love their juicy gossip, usually filling in the rest of Torrent on any new and noteworthy events not too long after they hear of it. 

Kix excuses himself from the bar and heads off towards the ‘fresher - Fives’ eyes follow his every movement. 

This is it. An opportunity served on a silver fucking platter.

Only when Kix enters through the ‘fresher doors does Fives make his way in that direction, passing by the other merry lads while keeping his borrowed hat firmly fit atop his head. He wishes he could be drinking up with his brothers, dancing with you, or doing literally anything else in the galaxy...

Fives opens the doors, right away noticing Kix standing in front of a sink after having just washed his hands and now staring in the mirror, running a hand over his shaved head and gawking at himself through the reflection.

Kix, you self-obsessed di’kut.

The doors shut behind Fives, the blaring music from the other side becoming muffled. He takes a moment to look around the ‘fresher, eyeing the empty stalls to confirm that he was in fact alone with Kix.

This is it.

“So I guess the 501st is back on Coruscant?” Fives mumbles in amusement to the only other patron in the room. Kix turns his head in acknowledgment for just a second, quickly returning his gaze back on himself through the dusty mirror. 

“Oh, yeah, we just got back from Ringo Vinda.” The medic brushes off his armor while continuing to gawk at himself in the mirror. “The strangest thing happened out there.” Fives approached slowly, closing the space between the doors and his brother while lifting his hat, revealing his true identity - the signature “Fives” trademark, inked directly above his right temple.

“Yeah... I know.” He notices Kix’s eyes widen and dart to the incoming trooper’s reflection in the mirror, quickly turning to face him when he catches a glimpse of his now unhidden tattoo.

“Fives?” Kix retreats from his spot, backing up towards the graffitied wall beside the sink. “Whoa... what’s going on?” Fives goes to stand in front of the mirror, Kix cautiously moving behind him. “They say you tried to assassinate the Chancellor, and that you’re infected with that virus that killed Tup!”

Virus... funny.

The headache comes back as Kix’s brows pinch in confusion. Fives rubs at his forehead, that aggravatingly familiar throbbing making its way through his heavy head once again. He stands before a medic, a friendly one at that, yet he can’t bring himself to mention how his entire body is starting to feel numb and his head feels as though its about to combust.

The inexplicable and increasingly painful headache is not the priority.

“I don’t have time to explain right now. All I can tell you is- is that I’m being framed. All of us, even the Jedi, are in grave danger.”

“Are... you okay, Fives?” Kix gestures to his own head with quizzical and concern brow raised. Perhaps informing his company medic and closest friend of how that snake of a doctor injected him with something that’s surely the cause of all this would be the smart thing to do...

“M’fine. I think... I was injected with something. M’fine, though,” he lies. Fives swallows the groan of pain that threatens to escape his throat as he leans over the sink to compose himself. He continues after a few heavy breaths, “Danger, brother. All of us. Kix, please...”

“But wh-what can I do, Fives? How can I help?” The ARC had never heard Kix speak in such a frantic way nor has he seen such conflicting concern written on his face, he notes as he lifts his eyes to meet his brother’s through the spotty reflection.

“I need to talk to Rex, or... or General Skywalker.”

“Well, they’ve been tasked with finding you,” Kix lay his hand on Fives’ pauldron, watching him closely through the reflection. “Just- just turn yourself in.”

“No!” Fives turns around grabs hold Kix’s shoulders, pulling him in close and giving him a few hard shakes. “No, I’ll never get to them. You don’t understand... what I’m mixed up in... it goes all the way to the top. The highest levels are involved in the conspiracy. I have to talk to General Skywalker and Rex directly, alone.” Fives’ grip on Kix’s shoulders loosens, letting the medic retreat a few steps as he rubs at his neck, taking a moment to really look into Fives’ eyes - noting the dead-serious and desperate look filling them.

“Look, I can contact Rex, but I can’t guarantee he’ll bring the General,” Kix continues to rub at the back of his neck, staring intently at his brother. Fives simply nods before letting his thoughts circle back to you and your safety.

“Well... good, that’s good. Thanks, Kix. I appreciate it. Here,” Fives grabs Kix’s arm and starts tapping into his vambrace, the coordinates inputted successfully with a beep. “Here are the coordinates... for where I’m gonna wait for them. I also inputted... where, um, R- Renna...” 

Why is the mention of you getting caught in his throat?

“...Renna?”

“Her coordinates. In case I... don’t make it to Rex.” Don’t tear up in front of Kix. “She’s in danger, Kix. Because of me. She was with me when Tup...” The ARC inhales a shaky breath of air, pushing back the emotions that come with remembering how he held onto his fallen brother’s hand as the light left his eyes, “When Tup died.” Kix’s eyes were filled with understanding as he nods and bows his head for a moment. Fives leans against the graffitied wall, choosing to ignore the most recent installment that was no doubt by Jesse’s hand - a drawing of some ugly, alien creature labeled “Fives’ sister”. 

Funny, honestly.

Kix taps his boot against the dirty floor, taking a deep breath before continuing, “She knows about this.... this conspiracy?” He doesn’t sound accusatory or unconvinced, which is good, Fives thinks.

He’s... listening. Really, listening.

“Yeah, we uncovered it together, back on Kamino. She removed the chip from his head, which kickstarted the entire thing. She knows there’s something wrong, and needs to be protected so they don’t get her, too. Please just- just make sure she’s safe, if I’m not able to tell Rex myself... I need him to meet me there, Kix.”

“Right.” He offers a reassuring smile to his frantic brother before continuing with a nervous laugh, “You didn’t miss much else on Ringo Vinda, by the way, but I see you had your own share of fun on Kamino,” Kix chuckles again with raised brows; Fives truly appreciates his friend’s attempt at lightening the mood. 

“Somethin’ like that, yeah.” He smirks and volleys back with a backhand to Kix’s chest. “Look, she’s important to me, and I need to ensure she’s protected in case something happens-” A beat. “Happens to me.”

“I’ll get in touch with Rex,” Kix places a hand on the ARC’s upper arm and squeezes; Fives nods and turns to leave - Kix wishing him well under his breath as his brother exits the dim room, “Good luck, Fives.”

Fives exits the ‘fresher with you consuming every part of his thought process; your name was mentioned to Kix - a trustworthy brother, one who’d do anything to ensure your safety, Fives is sure of it. You’ll be safe, just as long as you don’t go back to Kamino - though he doesn’t think you’ll want to go back to his awful home-planet anyway. 

Keeping his head down low and hat firmly pressed atop his head, he walks through of crowd of familiar faces and makes his way to the club’s exit. Corrie Guards are there questioning the clones, asking to check their ID’s along with showing a holopic of the ARC so as to inquire if they’ve seen anything. As if luck itself has shined down on him this very night, Fives is able to evade being questioned by the lads in red and is able to secure a speeder just outside the club, starting the engine as inconspicuous as possible and taking off without raising any red flags.

At least that’s what he thought.

Now was time to head down to level 1325 - the warehouse there corresponding with the coordinates Rex is supposed to meet him at if Kix was able to successfully pass the message along to his captain. 

He hopes they don’t think of him as a monster - his closest companion in particular. Rex is a good man, he understands, he’ll always do what is right. Fives saw that in his captain’s heart even more so back on Umbara with that treacherous general; Rex was fully prepared to execute a Jedi for treason - after they were ordered by that same Jedi General to attack and kill their brothers. Rex was visibly shaking, probably wishing there was another way - another path to explore, another option to entertain - but he would have done it. He would have taken the shot if Dogma hadn’t grabbed Fives’ blaster and took care of it himself, consequently saving Rex from his internal battle between what was right versus what was expected.

Fives looks up to Rex, and always had. 

I hope Rex doesn’t think me a monster. I... had no choice. He’ll understand, right?

Fives knows what he is - more than likely contrasting with what any Jedi or clone thinks of him now due to recent events. He’s not a monster, but he’s still not what he wishes he could be; Fives wishes he was born. Raised by parents. Loved. Walking through the Embryo Room back on Kamino and actually seeing where he came from with his own two eyes, coupled with your own soft words, "You once lived inside one of those accelerated growth chambers, just like these little guys...” hit him just a little harder than he cared to admit at the time.

I’m not just another number... none of us are.

He remembers saying those same words to Rex on Umbara, and it still stands true.

He wasn't born, not like you were, not like he wishes he could have been. Fives was grown. Observed. Raised in a literal fucking jar, up until he could breathe and move on his own. It was always cold, he recalls. No warmth of a mother and father's touch, no praises nor embraces. The closest thing he has to a family is the hundreds of thousands of others just like him, all "born" exactly how he was - science experiments, used for profit and muscle - created only to be the pawns of a war he doesn't even fucking understand.

But...

You.

The warmth of you is all Fives can feel as he descends through Coruscant's lower levels, the air getting all the more crisp the further from the surface he goes. He truly misses you, and wonders if you're still asleep; hopefully you are, so he can get back to you before you wake. He said he'd come back to you after he spoke with Rex and the the General, and he had every intention of keeping his word.

Fives approaches the small hangar at level 1325. Backing the speeder up between tall and neatly stacked creates, he can't help but ponder what his next moves are. He doesn't exactly have a set plan; he decides he'll cross that bridge if Rex and General Skywalker actu-

Agh....

Fives' vision goes blurry as he dismounts the hijacked speeder, falling to his knees while grasping his head with trembling fingers. It's blinding - the throbbing within his skull. Everything in front of him is out of focus, the dull colors of the dark exterior of the warehouse swirling together and morphing into unrecognizable shapes. It's getting worse. Whatever that evil long-neck drugged him with - it seems to be doing exactly what it was intended to do. 

Through the agonizing pain he thinks of Tup, his fallen brother - gone because of these chips. He wonders if Tup felt this same pain, if he had this same ache deep within his skull. What if Nala Se had injected him with the same drug before you’d removed his chip? Tup is dead, and Fives no longer believes it was unintentionally at his and your hands, no longer believes it was due to the level of decay his chip was at before its removal. 

That syringe... the one laying next to Tup before he died...

The same syringe Fives held up in a threatening manner at Nala Se when she grabbed at Tup’s chip... he had found that right on Tup’s cot, next to his head. Whatever drug Nala Se jabbed into Fives onboard the transport may very well be the same drug that killed Tup, he concludes.

But none of that matters right now, no. The message needs to get out, no matter what happens to Fives. It needs to get out.

Get inside. All there is left to do is wait.

Keeping a hand firmly pressed into the side of his head, he stands on his feet, practically dragging his all-the-sudden heavy body through the blast doors.

Fives wishes he'd told you that he loved you before leaving. Yet, something in him tells him that you already know. He knows you feel the same way, and his heart swells at the sentiment.

The feel-good moment doesn’t last for long.

He doesn't... think he'll have to endure the effects of whatever toxin is coursing through his veins for much longer. 

Need to... talk to Rex...

Fives rests against a stack of crates once inside, attempting to focus on literally anything else other than the excruciating pain that once came in waves - now a steady riptide tearing him apart from the inside. 

After what feels like an excruciating eternity, Fives hears the sound of what has to be their ship landing on the platform just outside the warehouse.

All there's left to do is wait.

***

tags: @bvcketfvcker​ @deewithani​ @chromia7567​ @threevie​ @letitrainathousandflames​ @latenightsthoughtsnstuff​ @thefact0rygirl​ @justanothersadperson93​ @ohtobeamoth​ @14mcmd1122​ @tacticalsparkles​ @cheesemachine44​​ @salty-sith-bitch​ @iwannaclonetrooper​ @cyaniderainfall

[seventeenlovesthree]

“Shall we go together?” (18/24) | A Taishirou Christmas drabble countdown

Just a little Taishirou-centric Christmas fic I’ve been meaning to write all year long, so here we are. The plan was to post 12-24 drabbles to complete telling the story and the Christmas spirit succeeded in the end.

🧡💜

Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24]

Characters: Taichi Yagami, Koushirou Izumi, Koromon, Motimon (mentions of other Chosen Children)

Main POV: Taichi Yagami

Genre: Friendship (& romance)

Rating: K

Wordcount: 1063

December 24th,06:34 PM

 ~

 So Taichi and Koushirou had headed back to Odaiba by train, hiding behind their scarves as much as possible as their partners still pretended to be toys. The train ride itself had remained rather quiet, each of them contemplating what had happened – and what had to be done next.

 Taichi in particular was still feeling inhibited – and it absolutely didn’t help that Koromon had apparently decided to prove once more why he had  definitely inherited the bluntness of a true Yagami:

 “Taichi?”, he asked, followed by the loud grumbling sound of his stomach as they eventually stepped out of the train station.

 “Yeah?”

 “Why didn’t Sora come home with us this time? Even if the decorations are still alright, she and Pyocomon couldn’t even carry them all home on their own tonight… Does she want to be alone with Yamato?”

 With every spoken word, Taichi felt himself freezing a little more – which didn’t have anything to do with the increasing coldness surrounding them. He actually couldn’t have given a proper answer to that – as far as he knew, Sora and Yamato hadn’t tried to hook up again ever since they had dated for a few years in middle school, but he hadn’t pried too much into their issues in recent times either. On the other hand, the wink Sora had given him upon their departure, as well as a weird hand gesture by Yamato that could have meant anything, probably meant that they just had wanted to give him and Koushirou some space.

 Like a somewhat subtle way of telling him: “Don’t blow it, man.”

 “Err, well…”

 “Maybe it’s their definition of a date?”, Motimon stated in an equally blunt way, obviously playing into the first option, as they all still remembered that they had first started dating on Christmas Eve when they were 14, six years ago. “Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

 Taichi couldn’t help but feel like that comment wasn’t just meant as a simple statement, as Koushirou was audibly coughing after it. His breath had become a visible cloud of fog, Taichi noticed. Just as he noticed the Christmas lights illuminating Odaiba around them.

 It really was a pretty sight once you took the time to stop and stare. If only there had been snow…

Taichi shivered.

“We can’t know for sure unless we ask, so…”, he tried to deflect, scratching his neck. “Uhm… So, Koushirou, what did you give them for Christmas? In those envelopes, I mean.”

 Hearing that, Koushirou’s face lit up.

 “Oh, I’ve compiled databases for them to access via QR codes. Sora-san got an anthology of traditional Japanese fashion trends of the last century for her own research. Yamato-san was a bit more difficult to figure out, but you told me the other day that he is getting ‘weirdly interested in space recently’, so I came up with the idea to make a compilation of all accessible research results of space explorations within the last century as well.”

 “That’s… Pretty clever”, Taichi stated after a short pause, unable to not admire Koushirou for all the effort he basically put into everything he did. “Not that I expected anything else.”

 Koushirou, however, just gave him a somewhat disregarding smile.

 “I figured it’s exactly what you’d expect from me, isn’t it?”

 “Actually, yeah. But not like you think.”

 Something in Taichi had just flipped. He knew that attitude, had seen it since they had been children – and he didn’t want to hear any of it.

 “You think you’re boring, but you’re really just practical. And thoughtful. You’re always thinking about what could be beneficial to others. Yeah, doing research is exactly your thing, but that’s not all. Like earlier… All you could think of was how you could help me, right?”

 “That’s…”

 Koushirou seemed taken aback by that sudden heart-to-heart, but Taichi couldn’t stop, now that the words had already started coming out. He didn’t want to either. He absolutely didn’t mean to ‘blow it’, riding the wave of courage for as long as he could.

 “That’s what makes it special. Always was like that. Guess I never told you that it felt that way to me, huh?”

 “I’m… At least I can’t remember that we ever… Talked about that”, Koushirou mumbled, looking kinda embarrassed and Taichi could relate. They really hadn’t ever talked about things like these before. Praised each other, sure, but never to this extent.

 It was elevating. And frightening at once.

 “What did you give them?”

 Regardless of his thriving confidence, Taichi winced at that question – externally and internally. When he had wrapped his presents, he had suddenly been struck by a funny thought. He couldn’t believe it had taken him almost a decade until he noticed that three of his closest friends all did things for fun – or for work – that strained their hands in one way or another. So the wrist ointment for Koushirou wasn’t the only thing he had in mind…

 “Nothing much, really. Hand care lotion and a booklet on colour coordination for Sora, manly hand care cream and a new plectrum for Yamato’s collection.”

 “That’s not unexpected either.”

 Taichi both loved and hated that Koushirou’s smile made him experience all kinds of feelings at the same time.

 “You think?”

 “Like earlier… You’re highly protective of others, so you do take their needs into consideration to make sure they’re physically or mentally okay, even if it appears to be ‘simple’ to you. So it makes perfect sense, because that’s who you are. Kind and observant – as stubborn as you can also be sometimes.”

 “Huh…”

 Suddenly, Taichi didn’t even bother with the cold of the night anymore.

 He loved that they knew each other so well.

 He hated that they hadn’t realized that much sooner.

 He loved that Koushirou perceived him that way and that he could get into ranting mode just like that, every single time.

 He hated that he now didn’t even have the words to respond, because his stomach was filled with butter- and fireflies.

 “Man, when did we get that sappy?!”, he bursted out laughing instead, suppressing the urge to just touch, hug, do anything to bridge the physical distance between them, but couldn’t.

 “… You only wanted to protect me too, didn’t you? When you said I was ‘distracting’ you?”

 Especially when Koushirou was simply too smart for his own good.