I call bullshit.

Last month at PCA/ACA, I had the pleasure of hanging out with some very excellent people who are just as damn well fond of slash as I am. And to prove it, these lovely people were willing to read porn in public—at an academic conference, no less! Bless you, my friends.

Our reading was designed as both a celebration of slash and as a very public fuck you to anybody in academia or otherwise who tries to get us to justify why we love and choose to study fanfiction.

tumblr_mifgoaNMF81r3e2t4o3_250

Presented under the gleefully George Michael-derivative title of “What’s Your Definition of Dirty, Baby? Taking Pleasure (Together) In Fanfic,” the event itself was so much goddamn fun. In teams of two, we performed excerpts from six fics, each representing a different slash pairing, in an old-school forensics-style more akin to mini-plays than formal literary readings.

(Though I gotta admit: the performance itself was scarier than I’d expected. It was harder reading Dean Winchester’s dirty talk with a straight face [or, uh, something] that I thought it would be.)

More to the point: the thing generated enough happy, pervy energy that we’re going to try and stage a repeat performance at the next PCA/ACA con next year in Seattle.

But this, what follows, is the exigence for this event, the spark that set off the slash: a NSFW rant I composed one afternoon in a fit of fic-fueled fury that came to serve as the opening remarks for our little get together. So consider this some rhetorical ammo for the next time someone looks askance at what you love and what you do: a big ol’ hey, fuck you, too.

Continue reading “I call bullshit.”

Four Reasons I Adore Fanfic

The upcoming release of the film version of 50 Shades of Grey has spawned, perhaps inevitably, another uptick in discussion of fanfiction in the media. In this piece from the New York Post, for example, fan fiction writers themselves decry 50 Shades for its crappy writing, misleading portrayal of BDSM, and for being “just porn”:

Tom, a 22-year-old warehouse worker from the Southeast who uses the pen name military history and writes “Lord of the Rings” fan fiction, found the book’s abusive relationship disturbing and the understanding of BDSM misguided.

“The whole thing honestly reads like masturbation material,” he says, “as opposed to an actual story.”

PEOPLE READ FANFIC TO GET OFF?!

tumblr_inline_ndw0qfMT4i1rxvrno

HA! (Love that it’s a dude saying this, BTW).

Me, I’m not here to cast any shade on the 50. No. If you like it, awesome. If you don’t, that’s ok, too. Everyone’s relationship to fanfic is different, which is something that I think a lot of mainstream media stories about fic really don’t get.

So. Here are four reasons why I adore fanfiction:

Continue reading “Four Reasons I Adore Fanfic”

Sterek Rec List Added


Yeah, I feel like it was inevitable: I’ve added a page of Sterek fic recs. I’ve been reading a lot of it lately—because, holy gods, is there a lot out there!—and these are some of the stories I’ve enjoyed. On a meta level, it’s very interesting to be reading into fandom that’s still going strong, hot, and heavy. And they’ve got some great writers, too.

Updated Fic Rec List


I’ve updated my fic rec list again, at last! Because nothing says America’s birthday like gay incest porn. I’ve added Destiel and Wincest this time around; fics new to the list are tagged: **

There’s a dearth of new RPS on said list, et c’est triste. If you’ve read any such lately you liked, I’d welcome your recommendations.

But the key question for me now is:

  • What social action is the genre of slash fic used by writers & readers to accomplish?
  • And what is it about this genre that got me writing [all too] regularly for the first time like, ever?
  • And how the fuck do you define the genre of “slash fic,” anyway? Can you? Should you? What would such an attempt at classification give you?

Hell, I’d argue that the genre shifts with every fandom, much less every subgenre within said fandom.

Please, someone write a generic analysis of SPN knotting fic. Both RPS and character-based.

C’mon. Please.

…don’t make me do it.

Free From Faults

So my friend DarkCaustic and I started writing together well on a month ago, and next thing you know, we had 15,000 words of romantic smut to show for it.

In this story, you’ve got DarkCaustic on Sam, me on Cas, and oh, how we wish that were so.

So. If Dean’s going to leave Sam for an angel of the Lord—which he didn’t even believe in two years ago—he should at least have the decency to tell Sam to his face. And the high-end flirting routine Dean and Cas are staging in front of him right now? So does not count.

Continue reading “Free From Faults”

Here’s Truth

tumblr_lx5jx1tARe1qclcw2o1_500

Ok, so I posted this story briefly last weekend and then freaked the fuck out about it and took the thing down. But a kind friend read it, unruffled my feathers, and encouraged me nicely to get a grip and post it again.

Here’s the deal: this story’s a Western AU for Supernatural, one that begins at the end of episode 6.18, “Frontierland.” I’m fond of it. It’s different. I hope you dig it, too.

This is Part I of III, I think.

The sheriff of Sunrise knows that something in his head ain’t right. That he don’t quite fit in, where he’s at, even if he’s not sure why. He stands out a little, sure. But then, so does the town doctor—a man who seems determined to run Sheriff outta Sunrise once and for goddamn all.

I.

 When the dust settled, the sheriff was alone.

Six-shooter, sure. Dead Phoenix at his feet. Ok. But no Sam, no fucking clue as to why watching the clock on the courthouse strike twelve felt final, once and for all.

He waited there in the street for a while. Alone, only by rights, because the rest of the town was still terrified: of him, of the thing he’d just smoked, of each other.

He stood stock still, yelling his brother’s name like it was the only word he could remember. Hell, at that point, maybe it was.

His head felt cloudy, like a June day with a storm that wouldn’t break. Like something was wrong. Like he was.

But he couldn’t remember why.

There was just Sunrise. An afternoon in April in the year of Our Lord 18 and 61.

“Well, shit,” he whispered finally, all shouted out at last.

And that was the smartest damn thing he said all day.

**

Continue reading “Here’s Truth”

Before We Can Speak

Part V [jesus] in the Stray No More series. Standard warnings for RPF, knotting, and the possibility of mpreg.

In this story, Jared accidentally tells the truth and ends up in Jen’s arms.

Before We Can Speak

You lean on the freaking doorbell as hard as you can. Inside, you can hear the chime sound again and again, this tinny awful sound that hits your nerves just wrong, ratchets up your teeth that much higher.

He’s here. He’s gotta be.

His car’s in the driveway, for Christ’s sake.

But more that that, deeper, you know he’s here. You can feel it. Your body can.

So you lean and you wince and you pound on the door, now, one fist heavy against the wood and steady: pound. pound. pound. Continue reading “Before We Can Speak”

The Eye Burns Brighter

Over on teh tumblr, outofmymindbebackshortly requested “Sam/Castiel Space Pirates.”

Space pirates, ya’ll. Sassy fucking space pirates. 

I hope it goes without saying, but this was a goddamn blast to write.

The Eye Burns Brighter

When things went to shit, Cas was the first to notice.

He was burrowed into Sam’s lap, knees tucked into hips, his hand tangled in dark hair, his mouth open and willing and wide. Sam’s nails were in the small of his back, his growl curled around Cas’ tongue, the pilot’s seat tipped so far back that the floor seemed closer than the stars.

He had Sam’s cock in his fist, that lovely living thing shuddering in his palm, right on the edge of breaking. Sam was kicking his hips up, digging his mouth into Cas’ neck and moaning, the sound slinking under Cas’ collar and painting his chest with want.

Yes. They were busy.

But Cas could feel the shift in the plates, hear the whine of the engine go a little bit dark. It broke through the haze that Sam always twisted around him, the one that made his choices, however foolish, never quite seem like mistakes.

He cocked his head, tugged his mouth away, and sat up. Listening.

Sam chased him, swung his weight up so fast the chair almost snapped from its moorings. That sweet howl in his throat:

“Cas. Baby. Don’t leave me–”

“Shhh,” Cas whispered. “Don’t you hear it?” Continue reading “The Eye Burns Brighter”