comment party: because fic is the way I like to talk about stuff

[aria]

Okay, you know what? SurveyFail is boggling me so massively that I think it is high time I did something about it. The thing is, though, that plenty of intelligent people who are much more qualified to talk about both the scientific and the sociological aspects than I am are already all over this, so I am entirely in favour but I don't have anything meaningfully original to contribute to the many ongoing threaded discussions.

But there is something I am qualified to do, as a member of fandom and as someone who is queer and female and really, really fucking tired of all the heteronormative and gender-essentialist and generally ignorant things that the survey-makers are saying (this is probably one of my favourite threads, and by favourite I mean I read slash is kind of the female equivalent of the straight male interest in transsexuals and my brain considered going into total meltdown). I am qualified to feel as normal and un-guilty about my sexuality as I damn well please, and because a lot of the time it collides with my fannishness anyway, I declare this a comment fic request post.

But this one is specifically for porny prompts. Let's resurrect the sexual trivia meme! Throw one of your kink bingo squares at me! Tell me to tie Fraser up again! (Why yes, I am being specific about that one. Although I'll tie someone else up if that's your bag.) Anything goes, though I do reserve the right to say "what, hah, no, I'm not going to write this thing, but if you want to, totally go for it." Let's hear it. :D

Comments

[petere_capere]

Let's see...
Fraser/Sam Tyler.

[petere_capere]

Failing that, Fraser/Rodney (Optional threesome, either Carson Beckett or John Sheppard.)

[petere_capere]

What, you mean pairing suggestions aren't enough? Okay, fine...
Hrm.


Let's see one [or two, in the case of the optional threesome] wearing a collar and nothing else, OR using bondage handcuffs, not police ones/plastic ties (seriously, both of those hurt like a bitch, and the nice policing teachers even warned us against using them for such... activities).

[schiarire]

woohoohoo!

# Nacio/Oliver Wolf; keys, belonging

SOMEONE'S GOTTA ASK IT.

[aria]

Tragically I do not trust myself to be properly awesome with revolutionary eyai, although the prompt makes my knees slightly weak with joy. If you should like to attempt it I am perfectly willing to offer whatever is the desirable equivalent to my hypothetical firstborn.

[schiarire]

:( :(

fahye: this pairing is becoming the holy grail
fahye: nobody can get there!

[fahye]

I am in the mood for Geoffrey/Darren with theatre-related kinks! Either with power plays (ie. the actor-director dynamic) or, hmm. Roleplay :D

Geoffrey/Darren, acting

[aria]

[with apologies to Stoppard for appropriating his lines for porny purposes, and with apologies to you and possibly the world at large for being utterly incapable of writing a short fic ever]


Geoffrey knows what he has to do.

"All right," he says, and if it comes out equal parts petulant and despairing, well, Darren can't fault him that. "All right. You can be Guildenstern." It pains him to say it; Darren will tear through every pompous rant without finesse, the irony totally escaping him. Geoffrey still finds it the lesser of two evils. Being still young, and unacquainted with death (besides Ruffles, but Geoffrey has the suspicion that dogs don't count in Stoppard) he can't possibly do Guildenstern's slow arc of horror justice; Darren, on the other hand, being Darren, wouldn't be able to find Rosencrantz's quiet sideways wisdom even with weeks of cajoling under a seasoned director. So, the lesser of two evils: Darren the unintentionally ironic Guildenstern, Geoffrey the consummate Rosencrantz.

"Thank you, Geoffrey," Darren says, with the little smirk that telegraphs his witty intellectual triumph at getting the best of Geoffrey, and Geoffrey wants to strangle him. Under the layers of idiocy Darren must have some preservation left, though, because he clears his throat, adjusts his ridiculous glittery scarf, and says, "Line run?"

Geoffrey groans and tilts his head back, hoping that there is some sort of benevolent higher being to give him the strength to put up with Darren for the month and a half he has to refrain from killing the man. "Not act one," he says. "Please. I am not going to say 'heads' ten times in a row for your own sick amusement."

"Act three, then," Darren says, and Geoffrey can't tell if the flippancy is put on or real. "Let's see if you know your stuff, Geoffrey." He flicks his scarf over his shoulder and gives Geoffrey an expectant smirk.

"Fine," Geoffrey says, and settles down on the ratty couch, ubiquitous to all backstage university theatre rooms. When Darren keeps looking expectant, he heaves a sigh. "You have the first line, Guil."

"Ah," Darren says, and laughs -- yes, a little awkwardly, he's capable of losing his fine ridiculous composure around Geoffrey. "Are you there?"

It's still Darren asking the question, incongruous in his stupid mismatched clothes, but Geoffrey sighs again and settles into Rosencrantz, alone in a vast darkness with a singular voice to tether him, and asks, cautious, "Where?"

"A flying start," says Darren in a snap of contempt, and Geoffrey feels a jolting little thrill, because they have this down, they already have it perfectly in tune; of course the irony of playing Guildenstern is lost on Darren, but the irony of playing Rosencrantz off him had been lost to Geoffrey until these three words.

"Is that you?" he asks, careful, into the imagined dark, feeling his voice fall into layers of meaning.

"Yes," Darren says, locking eyes with him, and they're off, a rapid exchange, perfectly timed to Rosencrantz's stumbling confusion and Guildenstern's panicked impatience. "You can still think, can't you?" Darren demands, dropping down next to Geoffrey on the couch, inhabiting it, inhabiting Geoffrey's space, acting, and for a moment Geoffrey can't think.

"I think so," he says, shocked to discover it takes him a moment to find his breath and voice and line.

"You can still talk," Darren says, an instruction, Guildenstern guiding Rosencrantz blind through the night, and for a moment, again, Geoffrey can't.

"What should I say?" he asks, a helpless breath, knowing the lines and still genuinely meaning the question.

"Don't bother," Darren says, catching his shoulders, shaking him gently, trapping Geoffrey inside the moment. "You can feel, can't you?"

Yes, Geoffrey wants to say. He can feel his resignation melting into excitement, the rehearsal process tumbling out in front of him in a promise of snapping line runs, three AM breaks for coffee and ice cream, the channeling of his perennial urge to kill Darren into Rosencrantz's struggling confusion with the world and a physical push against Darren's gripping hands. It's going to be fucking fantastic. "Ah!" Geoffrey says, half-breathless, gathering his energy from the connection, "There's life in me yet!"

"What are you feeling?" Darren asks, inhabiting Guildenstern, entirely himself, pulling Geoffrey with him, only the faintest edge of arrogance in his face and tone because -- and here Geoffrey realizes it, in the same adrenaline jolt that he realizes what the script calls for next, Darren is as scared and exhilarated and hyperaware of the electricity of the moment as Geoffrey is. Fuck.

Geoffrey reaches out, slow and careful, his palm sliding along Darren's denim-clad thigh. He always wears his jeans too tight. Geoffrey can feel the heat radiating off him. It's in the script. "A leg," he says, and nearly giggles with absurdity and nerves. "Yes, it feels like my leg."

"How does it feel?" Darren breathes, and Geoffrey knows the answer is dead, that the audience is hearing a conversation in the dark, hearing a word to recall them to the title and inevitable end, that this exchange is just another in the series of slyly homoerotic jokes the play offers up, but Darren's breath is hitching very slightly and the answer is not dead, the answer is fuck, it feels alive, it feels warm and good and I hate you, you smug bastard, how in hell are we going to get through rehearsals? and they lean forward at the same time into a desperate kiss.

At some later point Geoffrey is definitely going to have to kill Darren. At the moment he's unwinding the ridiculous scarf from around Darren's neck so that the murder is not premature, his other hand still clenching spasmodically at Darren's thigh until Darren says, breathless and bossy and annoyed, "If you don't mind --" and Geoffrey says, "Oh, right, sorry," and various pesky bits of clothing are unsnapped and unzipped and tugged out of the way. "Huh," Geoffrey adds, staring down in some surprise, because he'd known for a while now that good acting was a turn-on, and it's not as though Darren isn't moderately attractive under all the infuriating pompous idiocy, but -- huh.

"Geoffrey, do stop looking like a vacant goldfish," Darren tells him, and Geoffrey starts to snarl some reply that gets lost when Darren kisses him again, the pushy bastard. It only gets worse when Darren decides to augment this a moment later with the best clumsy handjob Geoffrey's had in recent memory. Geoffrey feels a moment of panicked white noise before he realizes that he'll never live it down if he fucks this up, so he sucks on Darren's lower lip and reciprocates. Darren makes a little noise of shocked pleasure and Geoffrey thinks, perhaps a little hysterically, This is part of the rehearsal process, which is bullshit but comforting bullshit.

He leans into it and goes with it and, damn, this is good. His brain now done with rationale, Geoffrey's thoughts start running absurd lines, The ears are senseless that should give us hearing, to tell him his commandment is fulfill'd, and he knows in the next line Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead, but before he can hit that next syllable he starts coming, quite without warning, and hears Darren make the echo of a shocked sound into his mouth.

Well, fuck, Geoffrey decides dazedly, shivering a little. He and Darren lean together, panting, and Geoffrey thinks, Now what? They still have a month and a half to tolerate each other.

"Dead," he says, ridiculously, because they're a collective sticky mess and he still can't think of a better way to save this than to keep running lines.

Darren's head jerks up. "Dead?" he repeats in total bewilderment.

"I can't feel a thing," Geoffrey tells him, in entirely the wrong tone, pointedly, and watches the dawning comprehension on Darren's face.

"Give it a pinch," Darren suggests. He even smiles a little. Geoffrey squeezes his thigh, and Darren jumps a little, aftershocks.

"Sorry," Geoffrey says unrepentantly.

"Well," Darren says, "that's cleared that up," and grins at Geoffrey, probably the most honest expression Geoffrey's ever seen on his face, and thank god, they're going to be fantastic after all.

[carrieann]

I would say MenWithGuns!CKR/MenWithBrooms!PG, except I haven't seen either movie yet, and have no idea if they're even compatible. I'm just amused by the "Men With [insert object]". XD

Uhhh... you should tie Fraser up again. Specifically, put him in handcuffs. As a mirror of Fraser putting RayK in handcuffs in that on episode.

[aria]

Ahahaha. <3 I have only seen MWB, but I find that strangely adorable anyway.

I am starting to get the feeling that there is going to be a lot of Fraser in handcuffs in this post (OF WHICH I SO MASSIVELY APPROVE) because right now I am, uh, working on Fraser/Rodney with handcuffs. I am also making myself kind of unironically ship Fraser/Rodney, which, I don't even know.

[endofthewest]

I humbly request gender-bending. Par example: pretty ladies who crossdress and the really-rather-intrigued gentlemen and/or ladies who love them. Alternately, boys who crossdress and the etc etc. Because busting gender paradigms is hot important hot AND important. \o/

[aria]

I GREATLY APPROVE. If there are any particular characters you would like? If not you are probably going to end up with young Gellert Grindelwald in a dress or something.

[salienne]

I've been following this SurveyFail thing, but apparently not today.

slash is kind of the female equivalent of the straight male interest in transsexuals

Oh. My. Fucking. God. My jaw literally dropped reading that, and then reading it in context, and then reading the 'researcher's' responses to the responses, and just...

Okay, Martha/Rose. With bondage, a bomb, cupcakes, or any of the above. (Pretty please? *big wide eyes*)

Martha/Rose, bondage, a bomb

[aria]

"I think I hate this," Martha muttered.

"Shh!" Rose hissed, peering around the corner to see if any aliens were coming. "All right." She turned back to Martha, glanced nervously at the bomb ticking down placidly on the steel clasp holding Martha's wrists above her head. Martha decided now was probably not the best time to mention that her hands were tingling painfully as feeling drained out. "Right," Rose said again. "Know anything about diffusing bombs?"

"Hang on, I got this at UNIT basic," Martha replied, and tried to breathe normally. "Okay. Two wires?"

"Hang on," Rose said, and crouched down to crawl on top of Martha and peer upwards. Her breasts pressed softly against Martha's neck. Martha could feel her breathing. "Yeah, I got it. Two wires. There's a pink one and a purple one."

"Perfect," Martha groaned. "We only covered red and yellow at basic."

"Oh," Rose said, and went very still. The fabric of her blue jumper was soft against Martha's cheek. "So you're saying we've got a fifty-fifty on blowing up?"

"Yeah," Martha agreed.

"Okay," Rose said, only a bit shakily, and pulled off to give the quietly ticking bomb a look from another angle. "Six minutes and counting. Why would they have a ten minute timer on this thing anyway, instead of a ten-second one?"

"Don't complain," Martha said, laughing a little despite herself.

Rose glanced down and her mouth curved up in a smile. "I'm not," she said. "Reckon I should choose one in the last five seconds?"

"Last ten," Martha said, and took a shaky breath. "Rose -- you can go, you know. You might have time to -- to find someone who knows if it's the pink or the purple. And it raises your chances from fifty-fifty."

"Yeah, and it lowers yours, so shut up," Rose said, dropping down next to Martha again. "Look. We've got five minutes."

"Yeah, and --?" Martha started; Rose leaned forward and kissed her. It was just a soft press of lips, demanding nothing, asking everything: if Martha was all right, if this was okay, what it was Martha needed. Martha quivered for a moment with the new shock over the more mundane I'm-going-to-die adrenaline, and then she relaxed, relaxed and kissed Rose back, not just a press of lips but a real, we-might-be-about-to-die kiss.

"Oh thank God," Rose muttered, and then they were laughing into each other's mouths, still kissing, Rose getting her hands up under Martha's shirt and Martha wrapping a leg around Rose's torso to pull her closer. "I know this is mad," Rose added, between kisses, "I just --"

"Rose," Martha said. "I might die. You might die. Could we explain this after we're done not dying?"

"Right," Rose agreed, and that was it for talking. She didn't try to undress Martha -- no point -- but they carried on kissing, until Martha could hardly breathe, until she could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her bottom lip and in her toes and not at all in her fingertips. Rose more than made up for Martha's lack of hands, cupping Martha's breasts and caressing down her sides and rubbing the heel of her hand against the front of Martha's trousers, although she still didn't try to get any of the clothes out of the way, although she seemed to be trying to get Martha memorized, just in case, while the ticking in Martha's ears blurred and she started to shake, whimpering a little, pressing into Rose's hands.

"Time?" she made herself ask.

"Thirty seconds," Rose replied after a quick glance up; she kissed Martha again, deeply, the heel of her hand pressing down in a relentless counterpoint circle until Martha was almost mindless with it, and then she was gone. Martha gasped, one breath, two, three -- and Rose was back, grinning wildly, and without preamble undid Martha's trousers, slipped her fingers inside, and kissed Martha again.

Martha was not, in fact, entirely sure that the bomb hadn't gone off. It was only a few dazed seconds later that she figured out that her legs were trembling and that the explosion she'd seen was a result of her head thumping back quite hard against the concrete wall. "Oh my God," she said.

"Purple wire," Rose said, very knowledgably.

"I can't feel my hands," Martha said. At Rose's continuing grin, she rolled her eyes. "I can feel my toes, all right? It was good, it was wonderful, you just saved my life, but I still need my hands back."

"There's gratitude for you," Rose said, but she said it laughing, and in short order she'd untangled the bomb wires and freed Martha's hands from the clasp behind the bomb. Martha groaned and got only a little unsteadily to her feet, wincing at the renewed pins and needles. She tried to refasten her trousers, but her hands wouldn't cooperate, and after a moment Rose did it for her, so matter-of-factly that Martha couldn't mind.

"Right," Martha said. "Now let's go save the world."

[luzula]

I, um, would like F/K porn involving climbing equipment. Like, climbing harnesses and rope and carabiners and stuff.

The fic that made me realize I had this kink is here, although I've always thought climbing equipment was kind of sexy. I think it's a combination of the competency required to handle it, the way a climbing harness frames the crotch, the edge of danger that would come from doing something at a height, and also possibly the bondage opportunities.

[aria]

sadlds HOW MUCH DO I ADORE YOU FOR LINKING THAT. Maybe a lot, is what I'm saying.

And I'll get to this, but I have a whole lineup of other comments to answer first and I just thought you should know that that link has made my morning. Possibly my whole day. :D

[feverbeats]

I am seeing red whenever I try to think/talk about the survey junk, so I'ma focus on the porn now.

Okay, um, I don't know if you will write this at all, but I deeply want sexswapped Blackcest. Like, boy!Bellatrix/girl!Sirius, or boy!Bellatrix/boy!Narcissa. /o\ I AM NOT EVEN ASHAMED, MOSTLY.

[aria]

Ahhh, yeah. I just. *hugs*

And, um, I do not think I can do that one? Honestly it is mostly in a "scared to write any Harry Potter stuff remotely outside my comfort zone" thing. BUT omg do not be ashamed by this prompt, totally fill it out yourself here, and you can give me something else also. (I'm going to be filling these things out all day, ahaha.)

[feverbeats]

WHATEVA, ANSWERING MY OWN PROMPT BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE HATES AND REJECTS ME. :((((((

“I wish you wouldn’t wear those tacky Muggle skirts,” Bell says.

Siri flips her black pigtails and grins. “It’s plaid,” she says. “So fuck you.” She blows her cigarette smoke out the window into the alley behind 12 Grimmauld Place. She hates it when her cousins visit.

Bell sighs. “I think maybe I’ll just have to do something about it.” He lays his hand on Siri’s knee, shoving the skirt up a few inches.

This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it probably won’t be the last. Bellarion is completely mad, but that’s not why Siri has ended up in bed with him at least eight times. No, that’s probably more because they have a family history of disaster.

There are some things Siri won’t stand for, though. “The skirt stays on,” she says, stubbing out her cigarette on the window sill.

“That defeats the--”

Before Bell can finish, Siri slides into his lap and starts kissing him hard. Shut up, shut up, she mutters in her head.

His large, slim hands slide to her waist, grinding her harder against him. She moans easily, not ashamed of that, at least.

It doesn’t take too long for him to get one hand up her skirt and the other under her bra, rubbing her through her underwear as he gropes her chest roughly. Her breath hitches and she squeezes her thighs around him a little more tightly, rocking against his hand. He may be a fucking crazy bastard, but he’s good at this.

When he slides his hand into her underwear, she throws her head back and moans more loudly. She’s never been quite clear on why he’s doing this, but she’s going to show him he can’t break her or make her less bizarre.

*

“Stop being such a fucking nancy,” Bellarion says sharply, pushing Narcissus hard in the chest.

Narcissus’s legs are thrown carelessly around Bell’s shoulders, and he keeps trying to sit up.

“I said stop,” Bell snaps. He digs his fingers into his brother’s hip. “Stay down.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” Narcissus whines, falling back on the bed.

“Well, this isn’t about your comfort, Cissy,” Bell says, smirking. He bucks his hips a little and Narcissus whimpers.

“Please, Bell.”

“I know,” Bellarion sighs. “I’m doing it.” He starts to move in a careful rhythm, too slow to get Narcissus off.

Narcissus clutches wildly at the sheets. “Ah, fuck, Bell.”

“I’m sure I don’t know where you learned language like that,” Bell says, “unless it was from that awful Malfoy girl. They’re new money, you know.”

“They are not,” Narcissus protests, reaching down to wrap a hand around his own cock. “Lucia says her grandfather was--aah, Bell.”

“Regardless. They’re tacky. Don’t marry her.”

“Stop me.”

Bellarion sighs and reaches down to jerk Narcissus off. “You’re so incompetent. You need help with everything. You know, I could just tell her about this.”

That shuts Narcissus up, except for a few more high-pitched whimpers. He comes first, leaving Bell to thrust unevenly a few more times while Narcissus gasps raggedly.

Bell pulls out and wipes himself off, scowling. “I certainly hope this conversation is over.”

[eryslash]

I don't comment often, I know - but I know an opportunity when I see one, you gotta give me that *g*
First, serious business moment (sort of): thanks for bringing the whole SurveyFail stuff to my attention. I'm so out of the loop it's not even funny, but gosh it's ever so lovely seeing fandom come together, and cleverly so, against such things. Oh, fandom <3

NOW, for the shameless porn. Sirius/dom!Remus, collar, "Good puppy". Bonus orgasm denial!
Or, how to request something more freakish than kinky, and it is quite kinky after all.

[aria]

No worries! Very glad to bring it to your attention, and oh, I know; I kind of want to give fandom a high-five right now.

Also, your prompt is actually fucking awesome, although I'm starting to feel kind of backlogged so you may have to wait a few days before I give you a proper reply to it.

[gehayi]

Can I get in on this one?

Remus/Sirius. And you get the prompt I KNOW I'm going to have the most trouble with--object penetration (sex toys under clothes).

If that's too much, then...um...second choice would be Doctor/Master (your choice which ones) and penance/punishment.

[alwayswondered]

RayK hand porn. :P

(Either you knew I was going to ask that, or you're now thinking that you should have known.)

[aria]

I absolutely should have known. :DDD

[myalexandria]

I'm browsing through old entries tonight! Your stories are a delight, and I vote (always, always) for Fraser tied up. As many times as possible ;)