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maygraThe Last Outpost of All That Is
by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eighth_horizon (aka B. Stearns)
61,700 words
NC-17 for graphic Sam/Dean.
I sent B an extended version of this rec -- but words are seriously inadequate.
It's no secret that I findeighth_horizon to be an amazingly skilled and multi-talented writer. She's got a way with words and of seeing things that rings true to character and true to life whether she's writing humor or drama, horror or crack. It doesn't matter how outrageous her premise, her characters, her Sam and Dean are so grounded in the actual essence (rather than just the appearance) of the characters that everything else falls in line, whether it's revenant spirits or giving the boys wings.
The Last Outpost of All That Is is an apocalyptic tale, it's slash, and those two things tell you nothing at all about the story or the incredible journey it takes you on.
It is a stunning work. It's a devastatingly sad and horrific story except for where it isn't -- because the horror of it is in the starkness of an empty world, in the lack of explanation -- like if the world ended, the survivors would ever know why or how. Barb literally empties the world with this tale and then -- in a feat that is nothing short of miraculous -- fills it all back up again so that in the end it's less about something that's gone horribly, horribly wrong and feels far more like the world took a deep breath and righted itself again.
She does an incredible job with the trauma of it all, of Sam and Dean dealing or not
dealing in turn, of drawing such comparisons (and pointing out the strengths ) of how Dean survives because the core of his world is very small, all of it encompassed in Sam, and Sam, who sees the world as such a large place, able to still look at it that way, because his anchor in Dean is so very solid.
Apocasmut or not, all of the sex -- all of the physical love -- is so very real and tender and honest, neither porn nor erotica, but possibly the best expression of sex as an extension of character I've ever read. It's not a clinical, dispassionate narrative of the end of the world, but more like a visceral, feel-it-in-my bones experience of unimaginable loss tempered by an equally unimaginable love.
I have now read this story start to finish five times, and I could read it five hundred more and still not quite ever express how much I love it, how much I love Barb for writing it, for putting so much *heart* into it. An empty world should not be so comforting. That it is, says everything about the writer, both as a person, and as a storyteller.
This story is gift I didn't even know I wanted, and certainly not one I ever thought I or anyone else deserved. I'm so very glad she wanted to give it anyway.
by
eighth_horizon (aka B. Stearns)61,700 words
NC-17 for graphic Sam/Dean.
I sent B an extended version of this rec -- but words are seriously inadequate.
It's no secret that I find
eighth_horizon to be an amazingly skilled and multi-talented writer. She's got a way with words and of seeing things that rings true to character and true to life whether she's writing humor or drama, horror or crack. It doesn't matter how outrageous her premise, her characters, her Sam and Dean are so grounded in the actual essence (rather than just the appearance) of the characters that everything else falls in line, whether it's revenant spirits or giving the boys wings. The Last Outpost of All That Is is an apocalyptic tale, it's slash, and those two things tell you nothing at all about the story or the incredible journey it takes you on.
It is a stunning work. It's a devastatingly sad and horrific story except for where it isn't -- because the horror of it is in the starkness of an empty world, in the lack of explanation -- like if the world ended, the survivors would ever know why or how. Barb literally empties the world with this tale and then -- in a feat that is nothing short of miraculous -- fills it all back up again so that in the end it's less about something that's gone horribly, horribly wrong and feels far more like the world took a deep breath and righted itself again.
She does an incredible job with the trauma of it all, of Sam and Dean dealing or not
dealing in turn, of drawing such comparisons (and pointing out the strengths ) of how Dean survives because the core of his world is very small, all of it encompassed in Sam, and Sam, who sees the world as such a large place, able to still look at it that way, because his anchor in Dean is so very solid.
Apocasmut or not, all of the sex -- all of the physical love -- is so very real and tender and honest, neither porn nor erotica, but possibly the best expression of sex as an extension of character I've ever read. It's not a clinical, dispassionate narrative of the end of the world, but more like a visceral, feel-it-in-my bones experience of unimaginable loss tempered by an equally unimaginable love.
I have now read this story start to finish five times, and I could read it five hundred more and still not quite ever express how much I love it, how much I love Barb for writing it, for putting so much *heart* into it. An empty world should not be so comforting. That it is, says everything about the writer, both as a person, and as a storyteller.
This story is gift I didn't even know I wanted, and certainly not one I ever thought I or anyone else deserved. I'm so very glad she wanted to give it anyway.
