Comments Posted By noiseandhammers

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It was a crooked sort of thing, most people said. He’s a goner, a wanderer, one that doesn’t protect those he cares about–country, family, life, love.

I couldn’t take it any longer.

The flag bellowed at me like its stars were bore into my back.

A flag that I’d sworn under.

A politician, they had said, a crooked one at that.

I’d let them down.

I took the fall.

I swallowed my sorrows, my pride, and then I swallowed the bullet.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 01.09.2013 @ 1:33 pm


She seemed nice. Really. But he’d panicked. He didn’t want to be a celebrity. He never needed the spotlight. He simply did his job. But this was spiralling out of control and all he could do was push them all away. And it wast that he’d meant to be cold or mean or inconsiderate. He just did what ed always done: he told the truth.

“You repel me.”

And he’d seen the hatred bubble and the disappointment simmer and if he’d known that it would ruin him, he’d have just taken the taxi ride. But he’d made a mistake. And it had cost him his life.

Well, more or less.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.31.2012 @ 5:38 am


There was really no dilemma. Really. He should just be able to ask. Just ask him. It’s not hard. It really isn’t.

“John…would you…could I…”

“What is it, ‘Lock? Everything ok?”

“Yes…I just…”

Just ask him. Just ask. It’s over the phone, for Christ’s sake. Over the damn phone. You don’t even have to see his face.


“I’m nearly home, what is it?”

“I…would you…let’s get married.”




“Are you–”

“Yes. You idiot. Yes.”

See? No dilemma.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.29.2012 @ 7:30 am


All he was supposed to do was get it back. Retrieve the stupid flying disc that always had a way of escaping him. That brightly coloured floppy thing that the upright one kept catching and throwing and taking from him. It was mildly frustrating, but ever so much fun.

That is, until it landed on the dark coloured pavement, and the roaring machine with the blinky eyes and the rolly legs came and charged into him, crushing the magic disc along with his furry skull.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.25.2012 @ 6:34 am


There was the cabin in the woods.

There was the hotel with the fancy lobby.

There was the dingy looking gas station with the smelly looking old man and the expired packaged biscuits.

There was the lonely waffle house.

The strange coffee shop.

The deli.

The pub.

But wherever he could find lodging, it didn’t matter.

Nowhere was home.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.24.2012 @ 5:00 am


The cursor blinked. The monitor was a monstrous thing, really, taking up most of the desk. But it was one of the few things that Mycroft had decided not to get rid of. It worked fine. It got the job done. It was reliable. It was rather important. The cursor blinked. His third memo of the day, and it was only seven in the morning. Saving the world, one email at a time.

The monitor was worn and old, tired, and had seen many, many world-saving emails and memos and plans and other top secret things that made the world the balanced thing that everyone had come to know.

The monitor was always there. Always ready.

Mycroft sighed. Sometimes, he wished he could just turn the damn thing off.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.23.2012 @ 4:51 am


Nobility. Honour. Valour. Justice.

He trekked on, barren wasteland and endless landscape barreling on in front of him like the scrolls of old, rolled out for all to see, some to read, many to conquer.

Blood. Death. Hatred. Vengeance.

His quest was far from over.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.22.2012 @ 4:40 am


He didn’t have one. Everyone else had one. He didn’t.

“I wanna be a doctor.”

“An actress!”

“Mountain climber. I wanna be a mountain climber.”

The teacher looked at him, the gaze that was ever piercing, making his skin sizzle.

“John, what do you want to be?”

John’s face coloured furiously as he looked down at his worn trainers encasing his little feet.

“John, I asked what you’d like to be.”

John shook his head. He didn’t have a calling. He only had a dream.

“I want to be in love.”

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.21.2012 @ 8:46 am


John, I know that I

John, this is hard for me to

John, I want you to know that

John, if I

John, you


“Dammit,” he growled. The backspace key was taunting him just as much as the cursor on the page; the page filled with unfinished sentences, half spoken confessions, the letter that would never be typed, never been seen.

John, I love you.

John, I lov

John, I


‘Are you sure you want to delete “Document 1?”‘

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.18.2012 @ 4:46 am


Cliche. All of it. It was nearly sickening.

Useless sentiments, acts of “kindness” and chivalry and ancient prose recitals.

Music too simple and too cheesy for the rest of the world, assaulting the ears of those who only had less than a fighting chance at a life together.

That was romance to him.

Love, on the other hand; that was an altogether different animal.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.17.2012 @ 4:53 am


Pistons moving, north and south, gears clicking, tongue in throat, massive workings, here and there, running, pausing, reeling, steam and smoke, faster and harder, holding onto what seemed broken, suddenly changing, moving, pistons sliding, changing, moving, reeling, nonstop, faster, harder, faster…

He awoke.

John jolted next to him. A quizzical look, concern.

Even in sleep, his mind didn’t stop. John understood, arms wrapped around him, you’re safe.

He cried.

The pistons slowed.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.16.2012 @ 4:37 am


It’s not that he didn’t care about him. In fact, if there was any inclining he’d had any disregard for John’s feelings, it’d be sorely misinterpreted.

He didn’t know what he’d seen on the moor. He didn’t know what he should believe. And he was frightened…Dear God he was so scared. Doubt. It crept in the crevices of his mind and made him shake with such fear and anxiety that he nearly found it hard to breathe.

He knew he’d hurt him, he knew he’d made him upset, but John would understand. When nothing made sense, John knew what to say, what to do. John was the light when all else was shadow; the shadow of doubt.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.14.2012 @ 5:35 am


It was elementary, really. An entirely primitive thing of nature, to want to be with someone. It was an easy, human concept — that part smarted a bit, he’d have to admit — but it was normal.

He didn’t want to be alone, but he was. It really wasn’t complicated, and yet he couldn’t seem to shake it away.

Delete that.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.10.2012 @ 4:02 pm


He’d never had good handwriting. It was pretty much understood that if he’d written anything, you either understood it or gave up half way. It was like deciphering a code, a cypher, and sometimes, John just said “sod it all” and made up the grocery list mentally.

Of course, it didn’t help that all of Sherlock’s notes were written in Da Vinci shorthand. But that was besides the point.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.09.2012 @ 4:55 am


He’d never done it before. Well, he had, but on the other end. He’d never actually -done- it.

“I can do it first, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine…”

“I don’t mind, John.”

“I know…”

But he’d never get another chance, he knew. He’d always wanted to taste him anyway.

“Brace yourself, love.”

“Alright. And we don’t have t–oh my God…”

Rendered speechless? That was new. The look on his face? Priceless, for sure.

John could definitely get used to this.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.07.2012 @ 2:51 pm


The way he moaned. The way he cried out his name. The way he whimpered and begged and asked for “More, please, God more.”

John never was one for classical. But with him, with him every sound, every cry, every yelp of pleasure and ecstasy was a symphony, a euphony of beauty and passion. Admittedly, John eventually found himself becoming quite the connoisseur of…instrumental activity.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.07.2012 @ 4:37 am


What use was he? His senses heightened yet numbed. What good could he do? He heard the ringing, constant and ever present, all around him, a gong tolling his fate.

The blast was blurred. The memory faded. But the scars remained. And he was numb to all, deaf to more than just the world around. The voice of God was quieted. The hand of Fate was stayed.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.04.2012 @ 5:01 am


It had been too long. Far, far too long. And yet when their eyes met, it was like yesterday. The great chasm dissipated, the separate pieces merged to one.

They reclaimed their being. They took back their own. They collided into worldly existence. They were no longer undone.

He kissed his pale lips, the ones he’d come to know, the ones he’d so longed for, the ones that were his once more.

“I love you.”

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 05.01.2012 @ 12:06 pm


His name was hardly one to praise. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Ever since the year he betrayed the village, he’d been, for lack of a better word, excommunicated.

Once hallowed, now deceased.

If that’s what they called it these days.


» Posted By noiseandhammers On 04.30.2012 @ 2:47 pm


No. He didn’t have one.

Yes. He was most definitely going to make one up.

“She was with me, ask her.”

Put complete trust in a stranger. Why the hell not.

“She saw me. She was with me all night. We had a damn good shag, too. Just ask her.”

But they didn’t. They didn’t say a word. They were too busy re-buckling the straight jacket.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 04.30.2012 @ 5:34 am


I saw it up on the wall. It sat there contentedly, like a mocking little imp. It had my face, of course, plastered on it like a grave stone’s engraving:


They never did get the eyes right.

I would find it insulting if I hadn’t seen them all over town. I was a celebrity, as far as criminals go. Yes, quite the celebrity.

» Posted By noiseandhammers On 04.27.2012 @ 4:42 am

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