therainsong



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    A post-Reichenbach story about time, and distance, and the way men bond in war. “In war, violence and care could look so much like each other, an uncanny horrific resemblance; sometimes he feared he’d forget the difference.” About how violence waits in memory: "His heart is heavy with the dread of what he’ll find. As if this were, indeed, the battlefield, and this another lovely young soldier with shrapnel in his heart." About finding a way home, and closing the gaps: "That pale beautiful face, that smell of weariness and smoke. This body he has loved at the distance of arms and years." And about how perhaps the differences and distances aren't so great after all: "John gives him his lips and lets him bite them just a little, for pain is the edge of pleasure, and fighters love that line."

    There is also epic poetry from Mesopotamia, fellatio, and very energetic frottage. Because of, you know, reasons.

    TW: some violent imagery.

    Words:
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    27 Jul 2012

  2. Public Bookmark 11

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    As John sinks toward the bottom of the pool, Sherlock tight against his chest, he thinks that now his life will forever be defined by these moments – he realizes from now and forever his life will be defined: before and after Sherlock Holmes.

    Words:
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    16 Jun 2012