Keep Hoping Machine Running

The subtitle of today's entry should either be "Everything That Is Wrong with FF Today" or "Everything That Is Right with FF Today." Depending on, you know, your perspective. Because today I am exploring that very pure thing: pure, pure smut.

Yes, I'm talking about everyone's favorite maligned fan fiction genre: porn without plot. Or, if you prefer, plot? What plot? (I myself prefer the former, but everyone else on Earth appears to prefer the latter. Since this is an entirely me-centrist LJ, I'll be going with my own preference here.)

PWP is like free verse; anyone with a sixth-grade vocabulary can write it, but it takes real talent to write it well. And bad PWP, like bad poetry, is excruciating to read. There's a lot of bad PWP out there, I'm sorry to report, which has given rise to the common perception that PWP fan fiction is all awful. It isn't.

At least, it isn't for those of us sitting over in the pervert corner.

Best FF That Demonstrates the Use of Batsuit Body Armor as a Sex Toy, and a Damn Fine One, Too. But Then, I Always Suspected as Much. Dodge-Town, by shrift. D.C. Universe, Dick Grayson (Nightwing)/Tim Drake (Robin III). This is another sex pollen story; someday someone will explain to me why sex pollen works so very, very well. And someone else will explain why there aren't way more sex pollen stories than there already are. And then I will understand the mysteries of the universe. But what's fantastic about this particular sex pollen fic? I assume you mean aside from the inherent appeal of Nightwing on sex pollen, which is one of those things that requires no discussion; another one, of course, is Tim (Tim of the evening, beautiful Tim!) managing a sex-pollen'd Nightwing. Otherwise - well, did I mention the lovely, lovely sex? I mean, yes, goes without saying in PWP, but still - smut. Smut good! And this story has one of my very favorite morning-after sequences. All real-life mornings after should be like this one: full of excess carbohydrates and motorcycles and totally angst-free. (Join me, won't you, in Citizens for an Angst-Free Tomorrow? I'm the recording secretary of the Morning After Subcommittee, and we have excellent refreshments at all our meetings. They are chock full of Bad Carbs, but no one is allowed to feel guilty.)

Best FF That Demonstrates the Use of Pretty Much Every Aspect of Singing on Stage as a Sex Toy. And, Yes, Most Concerts Also Do That, but This FF Does It Better. Much, Much Better. Swim, by Sheila, aka mimesere. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Oz/Devon. Yes. And why not? Devon is a lead singer, people, and while I may not be a popslash reader, I know one thing: after a few years of publicly deep-throating a microphone, lead singers just naturally swing all possible ways. Or maybe that's only in my own overheated little world. But Devon must be a total slut, people; I mean, I suppose I'd be willing to entertain a rebuttal for the sake of inclusiveness, but I don't think you'll persuade me. (Opinions expressed here absolutely do represent those of the management of this specific LJ. Responsible opposing viewpoints - and especially irresponsible ones - may be submitted care of the comments section. They will not be edited for clarity, because coherence is over-rated. No warranty is expressed or implied. Read at your own risk. And for god's sake don't use a hair dryer while you're taking a bath; I'm not sure why this needs to be stated, but judging from my hair dryer's documentation, that's the very first use that springs to the average owner's mind.) I sort of forgot where I was going with this, which is the hidden danger of legal disclaimers, so you'll just have to explore this story on your own. But here's a hint: this night, Devon wants Oz on his knees, incoherent and begging. And when it comes to sex, Devon always gets what he wants. Note that this fic stops before the characters get down to the serious sex, and it still manages to be PWP. Be impressed, folks.

Best FF That Demonstrates the Use of Denim as a Sex Toy. Really, It Should Be a Law: These Guys Are Only Allowed to Wear Jeans If They're Willing to Have Sex in Them. Sadistic Sons of Bitches in Jeans, by Caroline Baker, aka linabean, and Lizard, aka adannu. Sports Night, Dan Rydell/Casey McCall (because the world would end if it wasn't, no?). We join this sex scene already in progress, and if there was ever a good use of the in media res technique, this would be it. (Oh, sure, some people would point to various Star Wars movies as the, excuse me, stellar in media res examples. They clearly haven't read this fic. Or seen The Phantom Menace, especially the Love and Sand Sequence, which induces rashes and madness in all who behold it.) Because, really, when you eliminate all the detail about how they got together and how they got in bed and who said what to whom and when and why, what's left is the essence of smut. (Essence of Smut, by Calvin Klein. I want to see some print ads for that perfume, I tell you.) Though I think this story is an excellent specimen of the genus fan fiction, species PWP, it may actually be too smutty for those of you lot who just can't do without some redeeming value in your smut. If that's you, well, you have my sympathy. And you'll get an extra rec, too, to replace this one. The rest of you: enjoy.

Best FF That Demonstrates the Use of Characters Played by Callum Keith Rennie as Sex Toys. Just the One Character, Actually, but I'm Told This Use Extends to Any of His Roles, Even the "Sexy Lump of Granite" One. Want, by estrella30. Due South, Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski. How do I love my Fraser? Let me count the ways, and let me start with all the various twisted or suppressed aspects of his personality. Number 34 on that sublist ("Fraser's Repressions: the First Thousand") is definitely the way he can be a prisoner of his own self-control, unable to leave the Mountie suit behind even when he's actually got on his much-worn relaxed-fit jeans and his over-washed blue flannel shirt. (No, I do not know for a fact that he has any such clothing. But that's how I picture him, 'cause he never quite belongs in the Big Red Gay Pants in my mind.) FF writers are, naturally, rather interested in helping him with the whole getting-out-of-the-Mountie-suit problem, possibly because we of the FF community are just such a caring bunch. Or maybe because we enjoy our lives more when Fraser is removing the Mountie suit, preferably slowly and with lascivious intent. Whichever. So, in any case, here we have a fine example of FF of the category PWP, subcategory Freeing Fraser. What's not to love?

Best FF That Demonstrates the Use of a Sponge Bath as a Sex Toy. Or, Actually, the Use of the British Military Man as a Sex Toy. Sharpe's Colonel, by cinzia. Sharpe books, Richard Sharpe/Jean Gudin. I'm doing this as a bonus story in honor of my own current attempt to get to grips with the Sharpe canon. (May I say, in passing, that these are bloody, bloody books? So bloody that you probably don't even want to read the rest of this parenthetical comment if you're squeamish. The first three pages of Sharpe's Tiger feature one explicit shooting death, complete with eviscerated rib, and several plague deaths, complete with aspirated vomit. And then there's the detailed descriptions of the behavior of vultures, complete with disgusting metaphor. War is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach, and neither is this book.) Cinzia brings her customary class and elegance to this story, this time showing us that porn can lack plot and still have all the right moves - perfect characterization, spot-on dialog, narrative that blends with the canon's, and even a canon tie-in so good you sort of wonder if Cornwell didn't intend this all along. Clearly, Cinzia should be writing more PWP. And you should be reading what she's already written.