She/They 20s💛⚠️‼️18+ content MDNI‼️⚠️
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Imagine being the first human your alien meets, and thinks everyone acts like you, so he starts to copy everything you do. It takes him a while, but he ends up finding out that you are neurodivergent and he learned nothing about social interaction and normal behaviour.
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There are no real monster fuckers or fake monster fuckers.
Just because someone only likes werewolves or hybrids doesn’t mean they’re fake monster fuckers.
WE’RE ALL FREAKS! YOU’RE NOT SUPERIOR BECAUSE YOU’D FUCK MORE NICHE MONSTERS!
All of us are seen as weirdos by outsiders. So shh….
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Reblog to give prev the power to write their fanfiction
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"rape play / misogyny kink / trauma play / age play / fauxcest is bad and romanticizes real issues!!!" shut UP bethany. we’re consenting adults. we know the difference between fantasy and reality. you being uncomfortable doesn’t make it immoral.
like sorry but you’re not a better person because your kinks are vanilla and you only fuck in missionary to indie playlists. some of us have trauma. some of us have dark fixations. some of us just like fucked up shit because it hits right. and guess what? that doesn’t make us bad. it doesn’t mean we endorse it. it means we’re acting out control, pain, power, shame—safely. consensually. with people we trust.
it’s literally called a kink. a roleplay. a scene. not real. not actual incest. not actual rape. not actual abuse. just two (or more) people pressing on a bruise because it helps them feel something—or reclaim it—or just get off. and that’s okay. that’s fucking okay.
you don’t get to weaponize morality against people who are already managing their own darkness. you don’t get to stand on a pedestal built from your own repression and throw rocks at people healing, exploring, owning their wants. you’re not better than us. you’re just louder. and more annoying.
“but what if a predator sees it and—” okay. what if a predator breathes oxygen? what if a predator eats toast? are we banning that too? stop holding survivors and kinksters responsible for the actions of abusers. blame the fucking abuser. not the people doing safe, consensual shit with their own bodies in their own bedrooms.
grow up. learn the difference between catharsis and endorsement. between fantasy and reality. and stop pretending your comfort zone is the moral high ground.
we’re playing pretend. you’re playing cop. who's actually hurting people here?
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stalker!kyle going through reader's things and finding her sketchbook, only to realize they are full of drawings of him.
-🛸
Oh em gee.... <333
He didn’t mean to find them.
Well—he didn’t mean to find them tonight. He’s been through your apartment before, always careful, always surgical. He’d comb through your drawers, your laundry, your laptop, your books—devouring every thread of your life like it was scripture. But the sketchbooks? They were stacked in a milk crate, barely hidden under your bed. Not exactly locked away.
He opens the first one with idle curiosity and stills.
The first few pages are abstract—warm-ups, maybe. But then there’s a profile sketch. Sharp brow. Cropped hair. A beard he doesn’t have anymore but used to.
His breath catches.
Another page: him, again. Closer this time. The ink captures a furrow in his brow he’s only ever seen in his reflection. The precision—the obsession—is uncanny.
He flips faster now, frantic, as more of him fills the pages. Some drawings are from behind. From across the street. From places you shouldn’t have had unless you were watching him before you even knew his name.
Some are dated—months before he ever spoke to you. Before he accidentally bumped into you at the café. Before he saved you from that creep in the alley. Before you ever let him into your life.
Kyle sits back on his heels, the sketchbook trembling in his grip.
You’ve been watching him.
You saw him first.
And fuck—it does something to him. Makes his pulse spike. Makes his stomach flip in this sick, intimate way.
All this time, he thought he was the predator.
But now? Now he’s not so sure.
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now you’re not actually supposed to do this (seriously) but i don’t care so — i can’t stop thinking about fire lookout!Price saving some novice hiker whose suffered from a snake bike deep in an AB park. it was a simple garter snake, but she doesn’t have to know that. Price says that the best course of action since they’re so far-removed from everyone else is to suck the venom out. so he puckers his lips and places them on her thighs and sucks real good, real hard, until she’s squirming and approximating that “alright sir, i think that’s enough sir,” but Price is the one with the wide brim and khaki pants and officiated shirt so only he knows when to stop kitten-licking your wounds (and probably sniffing your pussy) :///////
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Warnings for manipulation and gaslighting but…. Price replacing your ADHD meds with fake pills then gaslighting you that nothings changed, maybe you’re just not meant for things like… you know- a job, paying the bills, stuff like that.
After all, he doesn’t mind having his wife occasionally wandering around confused and unable to think or having bursts of hyperactivity if it means he gets to keep her home and dependent on him. Don’t worry, he’ll take care of you. It’s better this way anyways. You don’t need those silly meds, all you need is your loving husband and a bit of patience.
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Ao3 does not need an algorithm, you're just lazy
Ao3 does not need a 1-5 star rating system, you just want to bring down authors writing for FREE
Ao3 does not need automatic censorship, it is an archive, therefore anything can be posted
Writing or reading about something illegal does not mean the author nor the reader condones it, if that were true, you could never read a story involving anything negative
Purity culture is ruining fan culture and you all are fucking annoying
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just need reader to be out with some friends, bar hopping or something, and they notice that you've got a disconcerting shadow. they watch him with unease because he's terrifying. there's nothing soft about him, no warmth in the hard lines of his jaw, his features sharp and severe, as if cut from stone. he doesn't socialize, doesn't try to blend in. every table in the place is crowded with half-finished drinks, condensation pooling in rings on worn wood. except his.
he's blatantly out of place.
your friends exchange glances between whispered concerns. it's not just the way he looks at you— it's the way he looks at everything around you, jaw tightening when someone steps too close or too long. he even only ever moves when you do. if you're flitting toward the bar, he follows, never directly at your side but far enough to seem incidental. but it isn't.
their instincts scream when they realize that he didn't just happen to be in the same space as you; he's choosing to be. it rattles your friends, and they decide they've had enough. someone clears their throat, forcing a casual tone that does nothing to hide their anxiety.
"hey, uh. not to kill the buzz but that guy," they gesture with their head towards the threat—the one with heavy arms and a crooked nose, "he's been watching you since we got here. he's following you, i swear it."
you blink and instinctively turn, following their gesture, only to lay eyes on simon. and then you realize— oh. they don't know.
that's your boyfriend.
(telling him to act normal for once because the police were almost called only ends up with you getting pinned against the nearest wall and ate out until you're the one apologizing for the inconvenience of it all.)
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Thinking about vampire!Soap showing up to the den with you—a weak, freshly turned fledgling, clinging to his jacket and hiding behind him.
He gets scolded. Probably punished. They’re not allowed to turn people without express permission from Price to do so, and he’s gone and disobeyed. He couldn’t help himself, he says— saw you wandering the beach alone and knew you needed a forever home. That you’d make a beautiful creature of the night. that his coven would adore you— just look at that face— red tint soaking into your irises, little baby fangs pressing against your bottom lip as you bite it nervously, a few drops of Johnny’s blood still smeared at the corners of your mouth.
By all accounts, they should kill you and start him on some sort of punishment for the next decade. That tends to be how it goes when a vampire tries to undermine the sire of the coven.
But he was right. You are a cute little thing. Already settled onto Nikolai’s lap while they’re deciding if you should live or die. You’re a little too hazy from dying to really follow the conversation in any meaningful way. You’re tired and blood-hungry, your eyelids fluttering as you get bounced on his knee.
Which Price does not appreciate, by the way. This was supposed to be a serious discussion, condemning Soap for his mistake, not coddling it.
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My thoughts on this:

1. Please, if you are being triggered by certain works, utilize the tools on the app that censor/block certain tags. You curate your own experience.
2. Your coping mechanisms are not always the same as other people’s. It’s unrealistic to think that way. For me, writing/reading noncon and dubcon fics IS a coping mechanism.
3. Of course your trauma matters. So does mine. So does everybody who writes or reads or even blocks these kinds of fics.
Don’t shame me then turn around and tell me not to say something about it.
This is not to diss the author of the original post—I’m just saying that this train of thought is dangerous.
Censorship isn’t going to take away your trauma.
Censorship isn’t going to solve rape culture, either.
Believe it or not, you can be vehemently against rape and sexual assault in real life and still write noncon fics because it’s FICTION.
These characters are not real. You can make them out to be literally whatever you want. If you can’t handle creative differences, then for the love of all things holy, use the tag blockers or get off of Tumblr.
Nobody wants you to be triggered. If it’s taking a toll on your mental health, work on that!
But it’s not up to authors to hold your hand and shield you from all the things you don’t like.
You’re an adult. Help yourself.
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