Every time someone reblogs a post of mine on Tumblr that is like 'actually reading what you want in fiction like incest / rape etc. is fine' with something like 'yes because incest in fiction shows you how wrong it is' I want to scream and shake them like *you missed the pointttttt.*
People can just enjoy it in fiction because it's hot. They can enjoy it because they find it hot and enjoyable. It doesn't have to say anything about a moral compassion, it doesn't have to be huge and meaningful, and it doesn't have to reflect on any real world values re: incest and rape.
Please don't reblog my posts and try and do your thought policing, moral crap with what I'm writing.
When I wrote incest in Strange Sights, I wrote it to be HOT. That's why I tagged and used liberal warnings for it. So that people who find it squicky or triggery can avoid it. When I write noncon, most of the time, I write it because it's hot, because the majority of human beings have had rape fantasy.
We seem to have a genuine issue with folks no longer being able to tell reality from fiction due to a profound lack of media literacy, and a need for opaque, black and white thinking with no nuance, and it's so incredibly dangerous re: the health of our minds.
Like, I genuinely fear for any moral puritan and the people around them, that they don't simply stop and recognise the difference between reality and fiction, that they do not have a 1:1 relationship with each other, that you don't have to be like 'it's okay in fiction because it is wrong there too' or w/e.
Knowing this is going to get worse before it gets better, having come so far down the slide of 'golden age of the internet' to here, is like... deeply unpleasant to say the least.
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Dropping a random ficlet that takes place in the Accidental Abduction AU and is Pride-adjacent for the last day of Pride. Hope you guys like it!
(As a reminder, I recently decided that Stan assigns the alien family the last name of "Roswell", so that's why he refers to them that way in this ficlet.)
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“It’s ceremonial,” Angie scolded Stan. “You’re supposed to mostly fake it, or at least go easy!” Stan scowled.
“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” he demanded. “Do you really think we do stuff like that on Earth?” He paused. “Okay, maybe we sorta do, but it’s not exactly the same.” Angie sighed and sat down next to him. They were in the kitchen on the Roswells’ ship, heading back home from following the migration of the strange, sheep-like creatures they tended to called parthok. Lute looked morosely at Stan from the other side of the kitchen table.
“None of our siblings got beat up for following the tradition,” he mumbled. Underneath the cooling pack Lute held to his face, hints of the black eye Stan had given him peeked out. Thanks to Lute’s blue skin, the bruising was dark navy and literally black, colors Stan had never seen on a human.
“I’m guessing the people your siblings tried to feed a knuckle sandwich knew that the fight wasn’t real,” Stan retorted. He had been minding his business, looking for a quick snack, when Lute came up to him and out of nowhere threw a punch in Stan’s direction. Stan reacted with a punch of his own. Luckily, only after a few blows, Angie showed up and separated the two of them, shouting that the fight wasn’t supposed to be real. Stan gently prodded his split, fat lip. “Explain this tradition to me again.”
“It’s very straightforward,” Angie said. “In our culture, when someone begins dating someone else, the two new lovebirds’ twins must fight their sibling’s new significant other, to prove that the person is strong enough to protect their twin. So, when you and I started dating, Lute had to fight you to prove that you were strong enough to protect me.”
“But we started dating weeks ago,” Stan said. He looked at Lute. “Why did you wait to do this ceremonial fight or whatever until today?”
“I wanted to wait until after we found out you weren’t tethered to your home planet,” Lute explained. “If you were, we’d have to leave you on Earth and you’d have to break up with Angie, so the fight would be unnecessary.”
“Or Angie could move to Earth,” Stan argued. He waved a hand. “Don’t you have a brother on Earth doing human research or whatever anyways?”
“Mom and dad wouldn’t let me move to a different planet until I graduated school,” Angie said. She rolled her eyes. “And they’d probably want me to enroll at the same college as our brother. Which, going off what he said about the school, sounds like a pretty cruddy place.”
“Ugh. College,” Stan muttered. He frowned as something occurred to him. “Hang on.” The twins looked at him curiously. “You said that the twin for both people in the relationship have to do the fight.” Angie and Lute nodded. “But my twin’s on Earth. Angie can’t fight him.” By now, Stan had told the Roswell parents as well as Angie and Lute about his family back on Earth, including Ford. Angie cocked her head.
“You’re right,” she said. “I should’ve done that while we were on Earth checking to see if you were tethered.”
It’s definitely a horrible idea, but I’d still pay money to see Angie kick Ford’s ass to next Tuesday.
“It’s okay,” Lute said. “This happens on occasion. People from other species, who don’t have twins, marry into our people. In those cases, a stand-in takes the role of twin. For example, one of our mom’s friends fought our dad when they started dating.”
So I might still get to see Angie beat someone up. All right, now I’m getting invested.
“Do I ask someone or…?” Stan asked.
“Someone you are close to will volunteer for it,” Angie said cheerfully.
“The only people I’ve interacted with on your planet are your parents and siblings,” Stan said flatly. Angie and Lute winced.
“Good point,” Lute said.
“You’ll just have to wait for the fight until you make a good friend at school, then,” Angie said. Stan was tentatively enrolled in the local “youth educational facility” for the start of the next school year. Whether he could actually attend was dependent upon how well he could read, write, and understand the verbal form of the Roswells’ native language, the name of which human vocal cords couldn’t pronounce. “I can’t wait, by the way.”
“For school or the fight?”
“The fight! Lute hasn’t dated anyone yet, so this will be my first.”
“You haven’t dated anyone?” Stan asked Lute. Lute shook his head. “A perpetual bachelor, eh?”
“No, not that,” Lute said.
“Haven’t found the right gal?”
“No. I haven’t found the right guy,” Lute said matter-of-factly. Abruptly, Stan’s heartbeat began to pound furiously in his ears.
“You- you-” Stan stammered. He cleared his throat and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his clothes. “You, um. Lute, you’re- you’re into…guys?” he squeaked weakly. Angie and Lute looked at him oddly. Stan couldn’t blame them.
I haven’t had this poor of a reaction in front of them this entire time, and how much alien shit have I been exposed to since I was abducted?
“Yes,” Lute said. He leaned in, visibly concerned. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I just, um-”
I’m only trying to get over everything my Pops said my entire life about guys that are into guys, that’s all. No big deal.
“Mom mentioned that Grandma had a strange reaction to meeting a same-gender couple when she first came to the planet,” Angie said softly. “Is that what this is about, Stan?”
“…Yeah,” Stan mumbled. “At least where I’m from, people don’t like when guys date guys or gals date gals.” Lute immediately leaned backwards, hurt on his face. He set down the cooling pack, fully revealing his black eye.
“You- you don’t have an issue with me being attracted to men, do you?” he asked nervously.
“No!” Stan blurted out. “No, not at all! It’s none of my damn business.” Lute nodded, seeming to be somewhat mollified.
And it’d be a real dick move for me to be upset about it, with how big of a crush I had on Carla’s brother.
“I imagine that, with the culture you grew up in, hearing Lute casually mention he wants a boyfriend was a shock to you,” Angie said diplomatically. “Even if you don’t personally hold those views.”
“Yeah.” Stan managed a smile at Lute. “Seriously, Lute, I’m fine with it.”
“Good,” Lute said. Stan’s smile strengthened.
“It feels like every day, I learn something new that makes me realize staying with you guys was the right choice,” he said. Angie and Lute smiled, but Stan felt a slight shiver down his spine. “It’s better to be on a planet that’s accepting,” he backtracked quickly. Angie patted his hand, not noticing Stan’s hurried attempt to distance himself from any indication he might be interested in a “same-gender relationship”.
Sure, they’re fine with it. But I’ve gotta do some introspection bullshit about it before I can say anything to these guys. Which means I might never tell them. Eh. Whatever. Sally, Angie and Lute’s mom, walked into the kitchen. She looked at Lute and Stan, visibly beat up from their fight. She sighed.
“I won’t even ask.”
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