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stoney321Well, this was originally going to be a post about Bad!(great)fic. About the ubiquitous "weeping and leaking" cocks and how FRIGGIN' WRONG that is. Really. Maybe it's my degree in Biology speaking here, and that one incredibly interesting and VIVID semester on STDs that put the fear of god in me. Maybe it's that. Or maybe it's because DICKS DON'T WORK LIKE THAT. Or if they DO - they should be shown to a team of medical doctors and injected with all sorts of medicines and quite possibly put to pasture. Because if it is WEEPING and LEAKING... Next up is the chrystallized urine and chancres. I'm just saying.
Now, I get that people want to be accurate in fic. You've got some sweeping, romatical seahorse multichaptered, cutting/pseuicide/twu wuv/anorexia/girls r meen saga that is going to win the "Lyndsey's Fave Spanderer Fics, Liek OMG" awards. I get that. So... BE ACCURATE. For fuck's sake: you use the word FRIGEDARIUM in your Roman AU fic, yet there is dialogue like: Yeah, alright. You pushy big sod. Psst: the Romans didn't say 97% of those words. You? Yes. Big? Uh huh. Not the others. I'm just saying.
How does a person UNZIP THEMSELF? So... that got me to thinking. How does a vampire that cries soothingly and becomingly with his leaking and weeping cock that can save puppies from drowning unzip himself?
I WILL TELL YOU. He isn't REALLY a vampire! Wait. He is. BUT. He is also an ALIEN. As in, not from planet Earth. FROM MARS. Hence the Alien. AND. He's a mutant. Because The Man is trying to keep him down, OMG, (real alien dialect - I checked) and blocking the AIR. It's time for reinforcements. And they'll have to meet with Kuato - also known as Spikto.
I now give you the ONLY CROSSOVER I WILL EVER EVER WRITE: Total Recall, I Think. Maybe. What?
A Tale of Redemption, Mutants, and lots and lots of skeevy sex, featuring Spike as the Leader of the Mutants on Mars, and the Guvenator as a beefy guy with a glowing red ball up his nose. Yeah. Chicky Bow.
~*~*~
Hauser has been waiting outside the warehouse for what seems like hours. Mars time is different than Earth time. It's only been a few minutes. Hauser is imaptient like a little whiney girl. Speaking of whiney girls, he can hear sobbing and a dripping noise coming from the otherside of the heavy iron door. He has very good hearing. Someone sounds like they found out their mother AND their pet died. Absolutely bawling. And that DRIP! What kind of place was this? The door opens finally, and Hauser is led into its dark, dank, fetid, fecund, turgid - no, that's not right - dismal interior.
Hauser is led into the back room to finally meet with the leader of the underground mutants, or "Underground Mutants" as they call themselves. A large, brooding man with perfectly gelled hair stands. He turns, his head cocked at a slight angle, perfectly showing off his strong jawline and with the tiniest flick of his hip, a black coat swirls perfectly about his strong calves.
"My name is George. You can call me Angel."
"Why deedant you jas tell me your name whas ANGEL?"
"Hmm. Good plan. So. You are here. Are you helpless? I help the helpless, you know."
"Look at mai AHRMS. Do I look helpless? I wahnt to talk to Spikto. They gonna turn the AY-yah off and you gonna DIE. Consider that a demand."
"Oh. Heh. You wanna talk to Spikto?" Angel/George chuckles to himself. "Are you sure? He's kind of annoying and once you get him going he'll never-"
"NOW!"
"Okay! Okay! Hang on." Angel/George begins unbuckling his pants, never breaking eye contact with the only man in Hollywood with a larger, more squared-head than he. The pants fall silently to the floor. So silently that everyone forgets to look down - I mean, there was no NOISE to indicate the pants had hit the ground.
A piercing wail penetrates the room, not unlike a massive donkey dick to a virginal carpernter's ass. Hauser looks in the direction of the wail and sees -
A dick. With a head. Okay, okay, they all have those, but this is a HEAD. Like, with HAIR of the crispiest platinum Marilyn never achieved. Jane Mansfield, neither. And a mouth - dear god, it had a MOUTH. Are those... cheekbones? On a cock?
"BLOODY HELL!! Angel/George, give a man a chance to plug in an air freshner next time you pull those pants up. Swamp ass to the Nth degree. I mean, cocks and bollocks and Cor, blimey! It's dark in there."
The penis man tucks himself behind the small, soft sacs under him, then straightens back up with a twitch. And apparently there is a secret pocket where miniature smokes are held. "Got a light?" the dick-head implores.
Hauser leans over, shields the flame from his Bic and lights the wee little smoke.
Spikto talks around the smoke, "So. Came to see the Big Bad, didja? Right. Well. Here I am." He twitches again in anticipation of being looked at. Just bobs and weaves until Hauser begins rethinking that chili-dog he had back on Earth.
"I heard crying. Like a leetle girrrrl."
Spikto spits out his smoke, followed by a creamy white substance. "Sorry. All that buggering I've done over the centuries.. picked up something. Can't help that from just slipping out. Sometimes it's so bad I completely soak Angel/George's pants. Which - medically - should be completely impossible. But..." Spiketo thinks about the leaking and the dripping and starts to make a little sad face, with only accentuates his cheekbones, which are ribbed for YOUR pleasure, and he begins to tear up. Little white dribblets fall from his eyes, and he begins to cry in earnest. Just friggin' WAILING and WEEPING, and yeah... I'm pretty sure those are teeny little dick-head teeth gnashing, too.
Everyone in the room looks away - they've been here before - while Angel/George hunches over his crotch and soothes the poor little weeping cock. The cock with a luxurious yet stiff head of pure, white hair.
From nowhere, oh, okay, from behind the group, a gaggle of geese - no, a squadron of GOONS burst in with guns blazing and mow down the crew, except for Hauser who uses the George/Angel/Spiketo thing as a human sheild. Horrified by the monstrous crybaby dick, the goons sheild their eyes, which gives Hauser enough time to grab a gun, fire an impossible - yet not unheard of - 286 rounds of bullets from a semi-automatic rifle and mow them all down efficiently. Except for all of the civilian casualties, but who cares about them.
"I've learnt NAHTHEENK. Except I will always slip it ON before I slip it EEN so I don't grow a crybaby sad-girl deek."
THE END
Kids, don't make your cocks weep. Or leak. OR THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU.
This PSA brought to you by the letters W, T and F. And the number eleven billionity. And it's always Defriend Stoney Amnesty Day. :-D Cheers!
Now, I get that people want to be accurate in fic. You've got some sweeping, romatical seahorse multichaptered, cutting/pseuicide/twu wuv/anorexia/girls r meen saga that is going to win the "Lyndsey's Fave Spanderer Fics, Liek OMG" awards. I get that. So... BE ACCURATE. For fuck's sake: you use the word FRIGEDARIUM in your Roman AU fic, yet there is dialogue like: Yeah, alright. You pushy big sod. Psst: the Romans didn't say 97% of those words. You? Yes. Big? Uh huh. Not the others. I'm just saying.
How does a person UNZIP THEMSELF? So... that got me to thinking. How does a vampire that cries soothingly and becomingly with his leaking and weeping cock that can save puppies from drowning unzip himself?
I WILL TELL YOU. He isn't REALLY a vampire! Wait. He is. BUT. He is also an ALIEN. As in, not from planet Earth. FROM MARS. Hence the Alien. AND. He's a mutant. Because The Man is trying to keep him down, OMG, (real alien dialect - I checked) and blocking the AIR. It's time for reinforcements. And they'll have to meet with Kuato - also known as Spikto.
I now give you the ONLY CROSSOVER I WILL EVER EVER WRITE: Total Recall, I Think. Maybe. What?
A Tale of Redemption, Mutants, and lots and lots of skeevy sex, featuring Spike as the Leader of the Mutants on Mars, and the Guvenator as a beefy guy with a glowing red ball up his nose. Yeah. Chicky Bow.
Hauser has been waiting outside the warehouse for what seems like hours. Mars time is different than Earth time. It's only been a few minutes. Hauser is imaptient like a little whiney girl. Speaking of whiney girls, he can hear sobbing and a dripping noise coming from the otherside of the heavy iron door. He has very good hearing. Someone sounds like they found out their mother AND their pet died. Absolutely bawling. And that DRIP! What kind of place was this? The door opens finally, and Hauser is led into its dark, dank, fetid, fecund, turgid - no, that's not right - dismal interior.
Hauser is led into the back room to finally meet with the leader of the underground mutants, or "Underground Mutants" as they call themselves. A large, brooding man with perfectly gelled hair stands. He turns, his head cocked at a slight angle, perfectly showing off his strong jawline and with the tiniest flick of his hip, a black coat swirls perfectly about his strong calves.
"My name is George. You can call me Angel."
"Why deedant you jas tell me your name whas ANGEL?"
"Hmm. Good plan. So. You are here. Are you helpless? I help the helpless, you know."
"Look at mai AHRMS. Do I look helpless? I wahnt to talk to Spikto. They gonna turn the AY-yah off and you gonna DIE. Consider that a demand."
"Oh. Heh. You wanna talk to Spikto?" Angel/George chuckles to himself. "Are you sure? He's kind of annoying and once you get him going he'll never-"
"NOW!"
"Okay! Okay! Hang on." Angel/George begins unbuckling his pants, never breaking eye contact with the only man in Hollywood with a larger, more squared-head than he. The pants fall silently to the floor. So silently that everyone forgets to look down - I mean, there was no NOISE to indicate the pants had hit the ground.
A piercing wail penetrates the room, not unlike a massive donkey dick to a virginal carpernter's ass. Hauser looks in the direction of the wail and sees -
A dick. With a head. Okay, okay, they all have those, but this is a HEAD. Like, with HAIR of the crispiest platinum Marilyn never achieved. Jane Mansfield, neither. And a mouth - dear god, it had a MOUTH. Are those... cheekbones? On a cock?
"BLOODY HELL!! Angel/George, give a man a chance to plug in an air freshner next time you pull those pants up. Swamp ass to the Nth degree. I mean, cocks and bollocks and Cor, blimey! It's dark in there."
The penis man tucks himself behind the small, soft sacs under him, then straightens back up with a twitch. And apparently there is a secret pocket where miniature smokes are held. "Got a light?" the dick-head implores.
Hauser leans over, shields the flame from his Bic and lights the wee little smoke.
Spikto talks around the smoke, "So. Came to see the Big Bad, didja? Right. Well. Here I am." He twitches again in anticipation of being looked at. Just bobs and weaves until Hauser begins rethinking that chili-dog he had back on Earth.
"I heard crying. Like a leetle girrrrl."
Spikto spits out his smoke, followed by a creamy white substance. "Sorry. All that buggering I've done over the centuries.. picked up something. Can't help that from just slipping out. Sometimes it's so bad I completely soak Angel/George's pants. Which - medically - should be completely impossible. But..." Spiketo thinks about the leaking and the dripping and starts to make a little sad face, with only accentuates his cheekbones, which are ribbed for YOUR pleasure, and he begins to tear up. Little white dribblets fall from his eyes, and he begins to cry in earnest. Just friggin' WAILING and WEEPING, and yeah... I'm pretty sure those are teeny little dick-head teeth gnashing, too.
Everyone in the room looks away - they've been here before - while Angel/George hunches over his crotch and soothes the poor little weeping cock. The cock with a luxurious yet stiff head of pure, white hair.
From nowhere, oh, okay, from behind the group, a gaggle of geese - no, a squadron of GOONS burst in with guns blazing and mow down the crew, except for Hauser who uses the George/Angel/Spiketo thing as a human sheild. Horrified by the monstrous crybaby dick, the goons sheild their eyes, which gives Hauser enough time to grab a gun, fire an impossible - yet not unheard of - 286 rounds of bullets from a semi-automatic rifle and mow them all down efficiently. Except for all of the civilian casualties, but who cares about them.
"I've learnt NAHTHEENK. Except I will always slip it ON before I slip it EEN so I don't grow a crybaby sad-girl deek."
Kids, don't make your cocks weep. Or leak. OR THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU.
This PSA brought to you by the letters W, T and F. And the number eleven billionity. And it's always Defriend Stoney Amnesty Day. :-D Cheers!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 12:58 pm (UTC)My mother was always very practical with her advice.
This was hilarious. They should use this story in sex-education classes. Well, if they still had sex-education classes in the United States. They don't in Texas, do they? :wonders: I know the Health teacher down the hall wouldn't except some free sex education posters I received. She said she'd get in *serious trouble* if she hung them on the wall in her classroom.
Ridiculous.
I think I read a story very similar to this on Nummytreats a while back. Or I tried too.
Did you steal from Ursula LeGuin? :)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:52 pm (UTC)Your mother and her matter-of-factness. Very helpful. I was told: it's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.
Ah, my mom. Blanche Devareaux.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:07 pm (UTC)Oh, my mother told me that one about the falling in love with the rich man just as easily as the poor man.
She also told me to never marry, if possible, but if I did, marry someone who's an orphan.
She gave me a wall-hanging when I went off to college. It said, "You're only young once, but if you work it right, once is enough!"
She was always very open and frank with her discusssions with me about sex. She didn't want me to end up accidentally pregnant or with *oozing weeping sores* on my *hot girl box.* :snort: She never put it that way, but I've seen that in fan fiction too. Hot girl box.
"Hey big boy, keep that oozing weeping dick away from my Hot Girl Box."
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 12:22 pm (UTC)"Beyond the Blue Event Horizon" is one of my favorite titles -- love the geeky astronomy pun.
Pohl is a good speaker and nice man, too. He's getting on up there in years though. They all are, these old lions of SF. I believe Poul Anderson is dead now?
*pokes you*
Hey, did you ever manage to read either of those newer authors I rec'd? Connie Willis or Nancy Kress?
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 08:02 am (UTC)You sound like you had a good one!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:54 pm (UTC)*dries the tears of cum from your face*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:05 pm (UTC)**cleans off desk with mop**
Dude. You slay me. And yes, I am SO guilty of the wet dick thing ... *hangs head in embarrASSment*
**dies laughing**
xoxoxoxo
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:57 pm (UTC)And I have to say, I've asked three guys now about "jamming a tongue into their slit" and they all cringed. I take notes, missy.
*loves you ALL OVER!!*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:22 pm (UTC)Mercy, please...don't know if I can write again after this.
Well said and nailed home as per usual - you're a sledgehammer, darlin - but damn, you make me giggle all the way to the grave.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:48 pm (UTC)*sings* I'm your: SLEDGEHAMMER! Won't you SHOOOOW for me! I will shooooow for you!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:46 pm (UTC)*gives us both dry, non-oozing, non-weeping stars*
However in the cracked out fic I wrote for Felis' bday? They were weeping in bold type baby! It was gooooood to be bad!!
*gives you props*
Word.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:31 pm (UTC)I can't defriend you; sometimes your posts are all that stands between me and eating all of the cookies which are in the house for the kids. So you have until they move out to clean up your act, missie!
And may I just say that sometimes finding the right words for a not-here, not-now story is bizarrely difficult. And that is why my next piece will be set within my lifespan and in a place I've actually been.
Julia, brain death R me
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:50 pm (UTC)And hee to the background on your Irish Rose tale! I'm am RESISTING a new fandom, simply because it would involve learning about sailing large ships and I am COMPLETELY BORED with that information. I just want the Commodore to have his way. Wot?
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:07 pm (UTC)*grabs you and kisses you*
I love the funny.
Damn this and Yoda slash [Unknown site tag]
My tummy hurts from the laughing
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:21 pm (UTC)LINK ME UP, BEEYOTCH.
:-)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:25 pm (UTC)I be hookin' up you up with lizinks. Click that shit!
http://www.livejournal.com/community/hay_ew/12025.html#cutid1
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:20 pm (UTC)That's called incontinence, and should be checked out. <-- OMG sew know sexay.
*sends Bounty, the Quicker Picker Upper™*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 04:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 04:11 pm (UTC)Or, you know... go about things as usual? :-D
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 03:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 04:35 pm (UTC)**stars making casseroles**
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 08:29 pm (UTC)HAHAHAHA! An excellent question. It's like those fics where the author writes "He took himself out." Out where? Into the garden? Spike, don't take yourself out there, you'll catch on fire!
Anachronistic language in fic is annoying. But it bugs me even more when THEY USE IT ON THE SHOWS. In one of the historical scenes in "Darla," Drusilla uses the word "okay," which was coined during World War II. Those are some awesome psychic powers you got there, Dru.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 08:35 pm (UTC)Oh, LYNNE. In anciet Rome the phrase: OMG is used.
????
OMG.
Typed just like that. Frigidarium + OMG = hilarity FOR ME.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 10:39 pm (UTC)I've been so waiting for someone to take the obvious leap and turn the characters into a walking penis or an anus that talks (but jeez, when it burps!), and I'm so glad it was you my friend, so glad it was you.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 04:06 pm (UTC)(oh, LORD. A burping vampire anus.) I am so glad I can laugh about this jacked up shit with you, too.
*buys us kitten blankets filled with booze*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 03:44 am (UTC)"Spikto"!
*dies laughing*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 04:07 pm (UTC)"But honey, I'm your wife."
"Considdah that a deevorhce."
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 06:40 pm (UTC)Dude - this fic had me drooling, leaking, and weeping to the point that I had to un-zip myself. There was pre-cum, cum, post-cum and posthumous cum everywhere. I loved the wee smokes, too.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 07:01 pm (UTC)You liked the smokes, eh? I was going to have Angel quietly gasp or something, but I wanted to stay true to canon - and George was quiet when Kuato spoke.
Ahahahaha!!! read this line earlier somewhere: "Spike looked up, expecting delight, but what he SMELLED was tears."
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 04:08 pm (UTC)That, my friend, was PURE GENIUS. And also, this...
I'm pretty sure those are teeny little dick-head teeth gnashing, too.
Heeheee!
Oh yeah, Angel totally looks like a George. Or a Georg (as in Von Trapp). Heh, Georg sounds dirty.
Second try because the first time I italicized everything and I'm kind of anal...oh, you know what I mean!
I think everyday should be Stoney Friending Day. Seriously. I love you and want to have your babies, but alas, I have no weepy youknowwhat to get anything done. Shame. :(
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 04:11 pm (UTC)You could kick Mr. Ako to the curb and I WILL RAISE YOUR CHILD AS MY OWN.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 04:23 pm (UTC)Oh, oh! I can be the butch one if you like. I usually have the figure of a prepubescent boy anyway.