Setting Wincest Straight

Here’s something I learned at the conference I attended last week:

  1. Wincest is disgusting, to some people.

Let me set the scene.

As my brother wisely observed, I go to conferences to road test my academic material. To put it up in front of an audience and see what works, what doesn’t; a trait, he says, I learned in improv, where it’s all about doing, reading audience reaction, and revising the work the next time you go on stage.

[I hadn’t made that connection, myself. He’s a smart one.]

What I’ve realized, though, is that there’s a productive tension between the need need to put a piece of academic writing on its feet and the need for it to be, you know, something good enough [ugh] for me to stand behind.

At some level, I’d love it if every conference presentation resulted in all comers telling me what a fucking genius I am, showering me with publication offers, and buying me drinks.

At another, I recognize that the unexpectedly rich engagement [weird, lively, sorta intense conversation] that occurred during my panel’s question and answer session was WAY the fuck more valuable. Even if no drinks were purchased on my behalf.

To wit: one of the lessons I took from the panel.

  1. Wincest is disgusting, to some people.

So one of the academics on my panel now writes about sex and science fiction, but is, in her other scholarship, also involved with neuroscience and psychology. In my paper, I talked [much more briefly than in others] about the rise [ahem] of the Wincest narrative and its distinctive presence in Supernatural‘s primarily female fandom. In response to some audience comments on the paper [more about that in a moment], this presenter stated that she found Wincest to be disgusting and disturbing because, as she noted, child/child incest occurs more frequently in the US than adult/child incest. At the time, my sleep-deprived brain didn’t know what to make of this statement, other than: dude, Wincest is hot. Which I thought but did not say.

But, later, revived by food and coffee, what I realized was this:

For my colleague, Wincest is akin to incest, which, in the popular [and legalistic] understanding, is almost always equated to sexual abuse. To the abuse of a power dynamic, of age difference, of emotional maturity, between siblings. Indeed, as this Harvard Law Review article suggests, most state laws that criminalize incest rely solely upon the notion of familial relation; that is, if two people who are “related” [and yes, the definition of this term varies from state to state], then any sex between them can be characterized as illegal–even when it is consensual.

And that’s the key to Wincest, I think. Well, to a lot of it.

Wincest is slash fic, first and foremost, and, in practice, most slash fic is predicated on a relationship between two [male] characters who are equals. Who consider themselves to be equals in real life, if not in the bedroom.  At least, that’s what much of the old school, hardcore academic theory [Constance Penley, Henry Jenkins, Mirna Cicioni] on slash argues. And this rings true for me as a reader and writer of slash.

So, to me, the concept of “Wincest” hinges at least in part on this sense of Sam and Dean as equal partners in general. And this sense of equality is linked to consent, to the notion that the boys come together [or, ah, something] because they want to, because it’s what they desire. Now the contrivances that get them there can be legion: magic, demons, booze, somebody’s hurt, somebody wants to fuck, somebody has a sudden moment of emotional clarity–whatever. But this acceptance of who they are, of what they have–even if it’s just for one night, as in some stories–is key, for me. Now they are non-con stories, sure, and many that feature dubious consent. And I hate making universalist or generalizing statements about anything, much less about something as free-range as fan writing.

But.

I think this equation of incest with abuse is what lay at the heart of my colleague’s squick reaction, of her immediate dismissal of Wincest [with which she had not been familiar, it seems] as aberrant, deviant, disgusting.

Which is, to me, fascinating. Because as often as I proclaim myself an evangelical member of the Church of Gay Incest Porn [tm twoskeletons], I think that I’d forgotten what that phrase actually means to most people.**

As a scholar, this was a helpful reminder that what I’m talking about, as much as I like to play at it being a little kinky and weird: actually is kinda kinky and weird, to some. And that resistance, as in this case, can be productive for me, can raise questions, can remind me of the “straight” reading of Wincest to which, through which, my scholarship on this awesomely sexy and transgressive and often really well-written stuff must be negotiated.

In fact, the whole discussion reminded me, eventually, of this terrific panel I attended at the same conference on BDSM and the popular romance novel. One of the presenters discussed the links she sees between the geek/fan community and the kink community; and, in the course of her discussion, she noted that folks in kink are constantly contradicting themselves in the way they talk about their practices. In the same sentence, she pointed out, kink people will say, “Hey, what we do is transgressive and resistant to the heternormative construction of sex. And that is fucking awesome” AND “Hey, what we do isn’t weird. We’re just like everybody else.”

Which kinda feels like where I am with slash fic, at the moment: weird and different and yet really normal, in a way. Whatever “normal” means.

So I’m stuck in between these two bodies of thought, these two ways of seeing Wincest, after this conference. Which feels like a good place to be, for now. A productive one, at least.

**Side note: One audience member who said very nice things to me about my paper after the panel also said: “I don’t really see the Wincest thing”–ok, I thought, fair enough–“but when you showed that picture of Dean at Sam and Becky’s wedding [the one at the top of this post], and you made that joke about how he was upset about Sam marrying anyone but him–I could kind of see that, in his face.”

I chose to see that as a step on the road to Damascus, friends. A baby step towards a casual Google search, towards a visit to the Sam/Dean Slash Archive, perhaps…

First He Came For The Porn. And Then He Came For Me.


Rick Santorum wants to revoke your right to jerk off.

As this story from the [right wing] Daily Caller points out, the Vest has a [missionary] position paper up on his website in which he boldly declares his desire to focus the [throbbing] power of the Justice Department on the new Great Satan: porn.

Indeed, Santorum argues that:

Every family must now be concerned about the harm from pornography. As a parent, I am concerned about the widespread distribution of illegal obscene pornography and its profound effects on our culture.

As a producer AND distributor of “illegal obscene pornography”–some of it featuring you, Rick–I’d like to say: thank you. You are a living example of the horrors that await Americans who don’t masturbate.

Let’s begin:

For many decades, the American public has actively petitioned the United States Congress for laws prohibiting distribution of hard-core adult pornography.

Name one member of this “public” of which you speak. And you don’t count, Vest. Neither does Mr. Hat.

Then Rick channels his inner Catherine MacKinnon:

Pornography is toxic to [STRAIGHT] marriages and relationships. It contributes to misogyny and violence against women.

No wonder you hate porn, darlin’: you’ve got misogyny covered all by your lonesome, don’t you? [And notice the assumption here: women? We don’t use porn. We’re just used by it.]

I’m always amused when right-wing nutjobs break out the old school feminist talking points. And by amused I mean pushed into A Handmaid’s Tale flashback. Yes, baby, sure; that’s why you’re against porn. Because you’re trying to protect us women from the animal passions of you beastly, beastly men, whose passions are so hot and so easily aroused that they cannot. be. contained, goddamn it!

This is what I don’t get about this view of porn: doesn’t it assume that men are one Jenna Jamison [or James Deen] away from turning into Vikings? One porno too many at just the wrong moment and average Joe Zinfandel will be raping the nearest female-owned orifice, burning down the split-level, and sailing to San Francisco?

Does Rick Santorum really live in fear of his cock?

Look, there’s no question that porn has a history of exploiting women (and men) [see: Boogie Nights]. But so does capitalism. So are we all all Marxists now, Vest?  You wanna take on porn that’s “obscene”? Then go after child pornographers, those who exploit children for sexual and material gain. Leave the consenting adults out of your Jesus Nanny state.

Frankly, I have a hard time taking Santorum’s “feminist” ideals seriously. This is the same man who thinks that contraception is “a license to do things in a sexual realm that is counter to how things are supposed to be.” Who argues that there should be “no more leading from behind for America.”

I don’t know: “America: Catcher to the World” does have a certain ring to it.

Rick, do this country a favor: lock yourself in a bathroom with whatever gets you off–if you even know anymore–and take it all out on your cock. Leave the rest of us, the rest of our private lives, our desires, our bodies, the fuck out of it.

A Rush of Conspiracy


Rush, Rush, Rush.

You just can’t keep your damn mouth shut, can you?

Ah well.

So despite the “apology” he lobbed at Sandra Fluke last week, Limbaugh is still scrambling–not only to justify the three full days he spent spewing misogynist rhetoric at Ms. Fluke, but now to find the real killers, the real cabal that’s responsible for his behavior. Because, “apology” or not, there’s no way in hell Rush thinks that his behavior can be attributed to, you know, him.

Today, as this post over at Daily Kos suggests, Rush has upped the ante and gone for the full 9/11 truther:

The same public relations firm representing Sandra Fluke represents Game Change [the HBO movie about the 2008 campaign]. The same PR firm that handled Sandra Fluke’s episode is handling Game Change, and you know who it is?  Anita Dunn, formerly of the White House! The Mao Tse-tung admirer, by her own admission. Anita Dunn, Obama’s former adviser, is the PR firm for the movie Game Change and for Sandra Fluke. It’s all part of a plan. It is not accidental. None of this stuff just happened…It’s all orchestrated.

Dun dun DUN!

But you have to admire the sheer absurdity of what Rush is “arguing” here. I mean, +1 for the Mao reference, buddy. Next time, go for the triple word score and throw in Bill Ayers or Jeremiah Wright.

To be fair, Rush ain’t arguing a damn thing. He’s simply stating the crazy as loudly as he can, as often as he can, and hoping that volume and repetition obscure the complete absence of evidence that exists for any of his claims.

The first rule of conspiracy thinking: eliminate any talk of evidence or proof.

Unless it supports your belief, in which case, add it to the shouty talking points.

And any evidence that doesn’t support your theory is, in fact, proof that it’s correct, and that the real truth is being hidden from you by the UN in one of their black helicopters that carry the codes to the Harry Potter Doomsday Weapon that will turn every man gay and every woman into a PhD. Obviously.

And when that happens? Rush will have time enough at last to do…whatever it is he does with his dick. Except, oh yeah. Well. That might make even Burgess Meredith wince in sympathy, honey.

28 Days Later (Rush Still Can’t Keep It Up)


Ok, Rush.

So part of the paradigm you’re operating in–on which your rhetoric relies–is that women should be ashamed of being on birth control.

Because using contraception, in your mind, means, ipso facto, that we are sluts. That we have what is, in your opinion, “too much” sex.

Your rhetoric relies on the power of shame, that central tenant of control wielded by the dominant [male] discourse.

I cannot alter the fact that this sense of humiliation over our own sexuality is deeply ingrained in many women. That it was once dug into me.

But what I can do is deny you and Santorum and Darrell Issa and any other dickless wonder with a bully pulpit the opportunity to shame me.

See the image above, Rush? This is my birth control pack for the month. Just one active pill left, one bullet in the ol’ hormonal chamber until my next cycle starts. Look closely: you can almost see the loose morality oozing from the bubble pack, can’t you?

I’ve been on birth control since I was 21. And yup, it’s kept me from getting pregnant for over a decade now. And it’s also regulated my cycle in a way that my body could not by itself. But mostly, it’s kept me from getting pregnant. When I have sex. With a man. Quell horror!

Rush, frankly, I don’t give a fuck what you think of, well, anything, but you must know–you have to learn–that your on-air idiocy has consequences for those whom you attack and, mercifully, for you, too.

Any woman’s decision to take birth control–to take control over our own bodies, over our own reproductive systems–is none of your damn business.

Neither is the apparently flaccid state of your dick any of mine, but so long as you keep coming after me and mine, I’ll keep posting this and reminding anyone who reads this that your radio show is the audio equivalent of Brett Favre’s cell phone photos of his junk: desperate, misguided, and a goddamn guarantee that you ain’t getting laid anytime this century.

Good, Bad–I’m The Guy With The Gun (it’s true: Rush Limbaugh has no dick)

Pretty sure you'll need a condom for that, babe.

Every time I think that today’s GOP has reached the apex of suck, they come back with a whole new brand of crazy.

Today, Rush Limbaugh made an aggressive push to regain the Raging Asshat title from Rick Santorum, who’s had a death grip on the thing for the last week. Limbaugh, for some reason, felt that he had informed opinion on the [frankly ridiculous] bitchfest that Congress is engaged in over birth control; specifically, over insurance companies and employers covering the cost of birth control, costs which can be prohibitive for some women.

You may recall that the House held a hearing on this issue in which they refused to hear from any, you know, women on the issue. This visual fail was made possible by Republicans’ piss-poor attempts to recast birth control–a matter of women’s health–as one of religious freedom [?!], one in which teh evil evil government was attempting to enforce its questionable morality on the long-suffering penises of America.

That is: some [men] in Congress don’t want to have to pay for birth control, because that goes against God’s plan of sex only being for procreative purposes, for women to be tied to the home and children, and for men to rule the motherfucking world. Or, as Rick Santorum put it in October of 2010 [dude was ahead of his time, right?]:

Many of the Christian faith have said, well, that’s okay, contraception is okay. It’s not okay. It’s a license to do things in a sexual realm that is counter to how things are supposed to be.

As Dean Winchester would say: “Okay, you lost me there, sparky.”

The Democrats on the committee had a field day with the all-male panel image and ran with it for a couple of news cycles. Last week, they staged their own hearing–a purely performative one, since they are in the minority in the House, and thus on the relevant committee–on birth control in which they heard from Sandra Fluke, a Georgetown law student. In her testimony, Fluke:

told the story of a fellow law school student who required access to the pill in order to deal with a medical condition. Not being able to afford it, because it wasn’t provided on the health care plan, the student wound up losing an ovary.

Got that? So a fellow student [not Fluke herself] LOST AN OVARY, which, hey, she might have wanted to use, thanks, because the school’s health care plan didn’t cover the cost of birth control. Pretty clear connection, for me, between women’s health and health care covering birth control.

Rush Limbaugh, bless him, doesn’t agree. He weighed in on the issue today [ETA: On Wednesday, actually]:

What does it say about the college co-ed Susan [sic] Fluke who goes before a Congressional committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex? What does that make her? That makes her a slut, right?

Yes, he really said this.

But oh, wait. There’s more:

Makes her a prostitute. She wants to be paid to have sex. She’s having so much sex, she can’t afford the contraception she wants you and me and the taxpayers to pay her to have sex. What does that make us? We’re the the pimps. The johns. We would be the johns. No! We’re not the johns–well, uuuhhhhh, pimp’s not the right word.  Ok, so she’s not a slut, she’s round-heeled [???]. I take it back.

[I love the metadiscussion he has with himself over the difference between a pimp and a john. Heh! And this is my transcription, for what it’s worth, so any errors are mine.]

So it’s evident, right, that he has no fucking clue what he’s talking about: he clearly did not bother to read or listen to Fluke’s actual testimony, since he a) gets her name wrong; and b) misunderstands the content of her testimony. Could be dismissed out of hand right there.

But it’s Rush, and I imagine this sort of gleeful ignorance is pretty de riguer for him.

I find this conceptual leap completely confounding, if one uses Earth logic, but totally understandable in fake Conservative logic:

  1. Woman wants to use birth control.
  2. Birth control is related to sex.
  3. Woman wants to have sex.
  4. Ergo, woman is a whore.

And this is, in large part, why the GOP is so hot and heavy to recast birth control–women’s health in general, I’d argue–as a question not of morality but of “religious freedom.” Such a rhetorical move–however lumbering and poorly executed–allows them to have their cake and eat it too: they can still have yahoos like Rush and Fox News make the old familiar, always-already argument that women are whores [what’s up, Eve?], while politically positioning themselves as champions of liberty, rather than would-be installers of chastity belts around the scary, scary ladyparts.

But, hey, what about men?

If the government shouldn’t subsidize female sexuality, shouldn’t encourage women to have lots of dirty sex, then it shouldn’t subsidize men either, right? Surely the GOP is pushing for insurance companies not to have to cover Viagra?

Riiiiight.

Rush, you have some experience with this one, don’t you, darling?

As Rick Perry might say: oops.

Here’s what I’d say: Rush, you do not have control over any woman’s reproductive system or her sex life. You are not a moral paragon, nor does any uterus tremble in fear at your opinion. At your dick, maybe, but your opinion? No.

So you keep spewing Santorum about women’s sex lives and I’ll keep reminding folks that you can’t keep it up. A small protest, perhaps. But, given its subject, that seems only fitting.

This Week In Male Hetero Fail (Thus Always To Tyrants Edition)

This is my boomstick! Not my transvaginal probe. Swear to god.

A friend and I were in a local restaurant/bar last night, eating, talking, trying to get some shit for school done. It was pretty quiet, being a Sunday night, I guess, save for one boisterous exception: a group of aggressively moronic dudes playing darts right behind our fucking table.

Now I have no problem with the individual elements here: dudes, darts, and beer. Fine. But this group took the elemental combination to new heights by tossing homophobia into the mix, which. Awesome. They’d divided themselves into two teams for their game, and their team names? The “gays” and the “lesbos.” Yes, in fact, they were so proud of these monikers that they not only repeated them [loudly] at every possible turn but also inscribed them on the wee chalkboard on which one of their ilk was keeping score.

So I don’t know for certain that these men were exclusively hetero; indeed, you could make a pitch for such aggressive posturing as being a cover for some sort of latent anxiety related to their own sexual identity, much less that of others.

Still. I strongly suspect.

So their dickishness [and my inability to formulate any sort of real-time response, vocal or otherwise], got me thinking about all of the male hetero fail that’s swirling around my home state of Virginia these days.

It’s not fair to consign all of heterosexual maledom into a universal. So take that as my caveat. [Indeed, a friend recently rapped my virtual knuckles for referring to him as “hetero” in a way that he took as a bit of an insult, which, ok, it may have been, but only unconsciously so. Hence me performing my bias so openly here.]

However, a handful of white, heterosexual men–many of whom ostensibly represent the fine people of Virginia–have been doing their damnedest over the past few weeks to make that truism harder and harder to uphold. So to speak.

Most of this idiocy centers around our state government’s attempts to pass a law that would have required any woman seeking the LEGAL medical procedure of abortion to have a transvaginal ultrasound. Oh, yeah. You’ve surely heard about this by now, thanks to the efforts of Saturday Night Live, The Daily Show, and The Rachel Maddow Show. Thus always to tyrants, indeed.

Currently, Republicans control both houses of the legislature and the governor’s mansion in our fair state. And although the person who drafted the state-mandated penetration bill is a woman, many of the bill’s loudest and most prominent supporters were the white men who dominate Virginia’s House of Delegates and our Senate.  Our right-wing social experimentalist governor, Bob McDonnell, had been touted as a potential running mate for the GOP’s eventual nominee [*cough*Mitt Romney*cough*].

However, once the transvaginal nonsense broke into the mainstream–both in Virginia and in the national press–McDonnell backed down from his heretofore vociferous support for the bill [and its equally insidious cousin, a so-called “personhood” bill that would redefine human life as beginning at conception. Good times!].

Now that the state-mandated penetration bill has been killed and the “personhood” bill has been sent back to committee [effectively tabling it for the rest of this year], you may be asking: of what new male hetero fail do you speak?

I speak, dear reader, of Delegate David Albo, who ostensibly “represents” district 42 in Fairfax, VA. Let me allow the gentleman from Fairfax to speak for himself–and it’s worth quoting in full, via Gawker:

I got Rita [Albo’s wife] some red wine, sat next to her, used my patented cool move. I invented this, it’s a United States patent. I went, “Ohhh, I’m so tired!” I then turn on the TV to find the Redskin channel. I know you think that’s weird, but my wife loves the Redskins more than she loves me. Got my theme music going, my red wine, looking at the Washington Redskins and I start flipping through the channels. And through the channels you have to get through the news stuff. And all the sudden on my big screen TV comes this big thing and a picture of a bill that has “Albo” on it. I went, “Wow! Holy smokes, it’s my name as big as a wall!” And the very next scene was a gentleman from Alexandria’s face as big as my wall going “trans-v-this” and “trans-v-that” and “they hate women!” and “we’re gonna—in that bill—she’s crazy!” And I’m like this with my wife. And the show’s over, and she looks at me, and she goes, “I gotta go to bed.” So if the gentleman’s plan was to make sure there was one less Republican in this world, he did it.

[If you have the stomach for it, you can watch the video of this display of rhetorical impotency here.]

As the commenters on Gawker’s story point out, Albo can’t even SAY THE WORD VAGINA, yet he professes a desire to legislate how and when the state should have access to it.

What’s almost as bad, I think, is his apparent assumption that if he wishes to have sex [shudder–why am I thinking of tentacle porn?!], then his wife should [by right] be in the mood. And I also love his assumption [a peek into his figured world, perhaps?] that it’s the talk of the transvaginal probing legislation that gets his wife “out of the mood,” as if she was already in said mood, given all of his careful preparation for seduction. Hey, at least he recognizes that talk of state-mandated penetration is, you know, less than alluring–as might be, dare I suggest, her knowledge that he supports such legislation of women’s bodies. Might not really make her want to, you know, give you access to her vagina, dude, knowing that you spend all day thinking up way to virtually worm your way into those of women all across the state. Just a thought.

And, to top it off, the Daily Caller website threw a video tantrum today over Rachel Maddow’s coverage of Governor Transvaginal Probe and his buddies. Seems the good people of the Caller don’t like Rachel using the word “vagina” on the TV machine. Loudly. Repeatedly. And in the context of GOP policies. [Also, note the totally squeamish way in which the blogger from the Washington Post presents this video. Can’t even bring himself to comment on it beyond a coy: “That’s as much detail as I’m willing to provide on this affair.” And the use of the word “affair”? No mistake there.]

So let’s add “vagina” and “transvaginal probing” to the list of words with which the dominant discourse is very, very uncomfortable–to the list of words I vow to now repeat early, often, loudly, and occasionally even in context–in a way that’s totally different, I think, from the heebie-jeebies that words like “anal” and “sodomy” give to said discourse.

Put down the puritanical bullshit and pick up a slash fic.

Why does slash fiction matter? Why does my work matter? Why do I think it’s important for the conversations we have in slash fiction about homosexuality, heternormativity, sexuality, and gender identity to get pushed into the mainstream?

Here’s why it matters, damn it:

A major reason that Jerry Sandusky was able to rampage at Penn State for so long, to sexually abuse and rape so many young boys, is that the male-dominated jock culture in the football program didn’t want to talk about male-on-male rape. Or use any term they associated with “homosexuality.” Or use the word “anal” in conversation.

As this CNN article argues, the words that Mike McQueary used to describe what he witnessed in the football showers–Sandusky brutally rape a young boy–mattered. The words that got watered down, somehow, from “severe sexual acts” [whatever the fuck that means] to “horseplay.”

A modern-day poster boy for the price of homosexual panic. But he didn't have to pay it.

Even the title under the photo of McQueary included in the article plays this same little game: “Penn State assistant football coach Mike McQueary says he saw Jerry Sandusky molest a boy in the showers in 2002.” Fuck, no. He saw Sandusky RAPING a boy. Not molesting, RAPING.

As Laurie Levenson, a former federal prosecutor, argues in the article,”Witnesses are embarrassed to describe in graphic terms what they saw and then it becomes a game of Telephone after that, as one witness changes the story a little before talking to the next witness.”

So, to be clear: because grown, presumably heterosexual men were “embarrassed” to use words like “sodomy” and “rape” in the context of male-on-male sexual abuse–Sandusky lost his key to the locker room, but retained access to the facilities and to god knows how many children through The Second Mile foundation. For years, this happened, because these supposed leaders of men–exemplifiers of the American heteronormative masculine ideal–were afraid to talk frankly about these matters because–? They were afraid of being read as gay? Because only gay men can talk about anal rape without blushing? Please.

This quote from Dr. Chuck Williams of Drexell from the CNN article is pitch-perfect: “Discussing sex is not an issue for men…We probably talk about that more than anything else….However, homosexuality is definitely a nonstarter in male-dominated culture, which colored how the men involved responded to the incident.”

What in the hell?

So the dominant discourse will encourage grown men to call each other a “pussy,” “cock,” or a “dick” in polite conversation, but can’t tolerate any discussion of matters considered “homosexual” in nature, even if it means helping a child get justice?

Complete and utter bullshit. Because it’s true. Because the heteronormative speech and behavior codes in this country discourage put good ol’ American [white, middle class] masculinity in direct conflict with anything the dominant discourse deems “homosexual” in nature. And here, to be clear, the discourse is defining “homosexual” as male-to-male; female-to-female sex is awesome and so not considered “gay.” Hey, it feeds heterosexual male fantasy, so it must be ok.

Ok. So here’s one reason why the complicated and highly sexual conversations that we have in slash fiction–as writers, readers, producers, and consumers–matter, why they need to be pushed into the mainstream, become part of the popular, if not the dominant, discourse. I refuse to believe that I live in a country where children are exposed to pedophiles–the ones that are rooted into the heart of every community, every church, every institution–simply because men cannot bring themselves to say “anus” or “sodomy” for fear of being read as gay. So we have to start saying this stuff, talking about it honestly, making it part of our CONSTANT discussions of sex in this country. Look, fucking is fucking, ok? And slash fic communities are constructed around engaging in these conversations, in navigating discussions of homosexuality (M/M and F/F) through fictional characters. We’re here to help.

So slash fiction matters. Talking about Sam fucking Dean or Kirk and Spock giving each other blow jobs won’t save the world. But–but, goddamn it, it can help.

[ETA: I should have named this post “Sam fucks Dean and saves the world.” Ah well.]