The deal with this fandom is...this is my first big-time venture into an online situation.  I've puttered in some fandoms since the Internet took over civilization, but they were small, and the people there were by and large low-key.  I didn't find much wank (if any at all) and there was nothing that made my head spin around.  I moved on from those because I felt I'd said all I had to say.  A couple of years ago I wandered into Supernatural.  And that's been both really, really good, and really, really bad.

Most of you know this by now: I have no interest in slash.  I was introduced to it 30 years ago by someone who insisted that Starsky and Hutch were a closeted gay couple, and stopped speaking to me when I (vehemently) disagreed with her.  I have no more use for it now than I did then.  I don't see the "subtext" people claim is flapping its wings all over the place.  Beyond that, I'm not interested in gay porn.  It does nothing for me.  (I won't get into how pissed off I get at being accused of homophobia because I don't get turned on by gay porn.  I'm a straight woman.  What I want to see is a man and a woman together.  That's what works for me.  That does NOT make me homophobic.)

Anyway...imagine how utterly thrilled I was to find out that this fandom is rife with people who not only indulge in the slash, they indulge in portrayals of incest.  They glorify it, they romanticize it, they insist that it's beautiful and inspiring.

It's INCEST.

Oh?  They're fictional characters, so it doesn't matter?

Yes it does.  It does, because the people who write it and read it are gently (or not so gently) shifting their mindset around to a place where it's fine (and, indeed, something to be sought after) that brothers are sexually involved.  Where a father can be sexually involved with either or both of his CHILDREN.  I found a posting a few weeks ago describing a fic where John has sex with 12-year-old Sam (and 16-year-old Dean) as "exquisite" and "breathtaking."  That made me want to vomit.  Truly.  THINKING about it makes me want to vomit.

I also think it's seriously inappropriate to write "fiction" involving the sexual escapades of real people -- using their real names.  Yes, I wrote RPF once -- when I was 12 years old, and I thought Davy Jones would be the awesomest boyfriend in the awesome world of awesome.

Oh?  "Those people" aren't aware of the fic?  And/or they don't care?

I have some oceanfront property I'd like to sell you.  Really cheap.  I'm not sure about anyone else, but I don't believe I live in a world where two strapping (and straight) Texas boys "don't care" that the Internet is littered with explicit "ficition" involving themselves, their girlfriends, their friends and family members.  I believe they're looking the other way because they don't have the power to do anything else.

No, I'm not anybody's mother.  I don't have the right to tell anyone what to do, or think, or create.  But in this little corner of the Internet, I get to pick the rules.  I get to say what I like and what I don't like.  I get to say what makes me want to vomit.  I get to express my disgust and outrage with portions of the human race.  I get to create a safe place for myself -- and maybe, a handful of like-minded people.

More than likely, I won't change anybody's mind.  But maybe a couple of people will take a minute to think: about REAL people who have had their lives torn apart by incest, which is not ever, ever, EVER "breathtaking" or "exquisite."  About those boys we all profess to care about, who are trying their best to look the other way -- and who (if you're taking bets) I am absolutely certain are not sleeping with each other, nor do they want to, even in their wildest drunken moments.  They chose to make their living helping to tell stories.  That's all.  But somehow that was interpreted as "Okay, ladies, take your best shot.  We're fair game.  Oh, and by the way?  Every time we appear in public, rub our faces in what you're doing."

If you feel I'm intolerant, or blind, or stupid -- feel free to go elsewhere.  But as I said, this is MY journal.  My little corner of the Internet.  This is how I feel, and trying to hide that under a bushel, along with my love for what I write, made me so upset I couldn't come here.

From now on...this is a safe zone, for me and the people who choose to keep visiting here.  I would ask that you respect my wishes, because in a virtual sense, when you come here, you are in my home.  If you enjoy the things I do not like, then please leave that outside the door.  I do not want to (and will not) discuss the relative merits of slash, or Wincest, or freedom of expression.  (In fact, yes, if you bring it up, I will delete your comment.)  If you would like to comment on the stories, please stick to icons (and discussions) that are appropriate for *this* little community.

I am very proud of what I write.  I always have been.  True, there have been moments when I've been unsure whether I did my best work on a particular story -- but I have never, ever, been embarrassed or ashamed of what I wrote.  What I write has opened some incredible doors for me, and I hope to go on writing until I can't string two thoughts together any more.  Therefore, the fact that the dark side of this fandom has become so vocal, so in-your-face, and so "I can do what I want, and if you don't like it, I don't give a shit" to the point that all fanfiction is painted with the same unfriendly brush, that my work is thrown into the same basket with things that years ago were underground and I believe SHOULD HAVE STAYED THERE, infuriates me.

So I'm going to fight back.  There are 250 people on my Friends list.  I understand that to mean that all of you -- or at least most of you -- enjoy what I do here.  If this is your safe zone, then welcome.  I'll do my best to keep the door open and the light on.  And if you think I'm a weirdo, or intolerant, or blind -- I can't change that.  I just wish you'd give some thought to how much light you want to shine on the wrong things.

I still have a lot to get done around the house this weekend, because yes, real life *does* matter.  But the fic will be back, before too long.  When you read it (here or anywhere else), remember something:  we, the writers, know you're there.  We might not be able to see you, out there in the dark, but we know you're there.  And when you read, and say nothing, it's as if you've attended a play or a concert...and at the end, you didn't applaud.  You got up and left without making a sound.

When you say nothing, you're saying, "Wow.  I didn't like that."

Remember: comments are the only way we get paid.  They're the only way we know we're not talking to ourselves.  If you can't think of anything eloquent to say, simply say, "I liked this."  Or "Shiny!"  Or "Thank you."  Or...something.  I suck at comments too, and I've been somewhat lax at leaving them when I should.  That's going to change, because there are people out there whose work makes me smile, or laugh, or cry, or think, and I need to thank them every time they help me in that way.

Okay, enough of the blather.  It's 1:00 in the afternoon, it's glorious outside, and I need to find some lunch.  Enjoy your weekend, those of you who've decided to stick around.  I love you guys.

Even when you make me cry.  Sometimes *because* you make me cry.