I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
I think we, as a general community, need to start taking this little moment more seriously.
This, right here? This is asking for consent. It’s a legal necessity, yes, but it is also you, the reader, actively consenting to see adult content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it.
You find the content you find behind this warning disgusting, horrifying, upsetting, triggering? You consented. You said you could handle it, and you were able to back out at any time. You take responsibility for yourself when you click through this, and so long as the creator used warnings and tags correctly, you bear full responsibility for its impact on you.
“Children are going to lie about their age” is probably true, but that’s the problem of them and the people who are responsible for them, not the people that they lie to.
If you’re not prepared to see adult content, created by and for adults, don’t fucking click through this. And if you do, for all that’s holy, don’t blame anyone else for it.
This needs to be reblogged today.
Consenting to see adult content doesn’t mean you should have to see a bunch of shit romanticizing incest and pedophilia you walnut
Except this is the last line of consent before the actual work. So if you’re at this button you have already done the following:
1) chosen to go onto AO3 in the first place
2) chosen the fandom you wish to read about
3) had the chance to filter for the things you do want to see like a specific pairing or a specific AU
4) had the chance to specifically filter out any tags you don’t want to see like, oh I don’t know, incest and non-con and dub-con and paedophilia
5) had the chance to set the rating level if you wish to remove any explicit content at all
6) have read the summary of the story, which aren’t always great but are the only indicator of what the story will be like writing wise so something about it was good enough for you to click on it.
7) have read the tags of the story which will tell you what is actually in the story. If you have used filters to remove stories with things you don’t want then there shouldn’t be anything in here that’s a shock to you but maybe there is. That’s why the tags are there for you to check for yourself.
8) Then you have to actually click on the story. You cannot see anything other than the summary or the tags without personally deciding that you are going to open and read this story.
9) Only here, at step number nine, do you get to the adult content warning pictured above. You have been through eight different steps, the last six of which have also been opportunities for you to see that this has adult content. And AO3 has *STILL* stopped you to ask one last time “are you sure you want to read this because it has things that only adults should see in it”.
If after this point you are reading incest and paedophilia then it’s probably because you specifically went looking for it.
You walnut.
This is the most beautiful thing that I have seen about ao3
through thick and thin and every cursed reappearance of the jeff davis shit stain on our lives, y’all are always there fixing it and making everything better
sterek truly isn’t a just a ship it’s a community and i’m so fucking beyond grateful that i’m lucky enough to be apart of it <33
Dothraki men wore their hair in long oiled braids, and cut them only when defeated. Perhaps I should do the same, she thought, to remind them that Drogo’s strength lives within me now.
TYLER HOECHLIN IS A PRECIOUS GIFT AND I HOPE HIM NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS AND SUCCESS IN HIS PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL LIFE.
Tyler Posey, however, is that emoji cushion someone gives you on your birthday because they don’t know what to give you but they don’t give
you the receipt, so you’re stuck with it.
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originfire asked: Imagine all the irritation when peter/sheriff and stiles/derek having a double wedding. "Would you mister stilinski marry mister hale?" // Imagine they send the wrong Hale to the sighning because they're late.
“Listen,” John says later, unfastening his tie. “It’s just a clerical mix up, and it’s going to get sorted out after the weekend.”
“Meanwhile, you’re married to my husband and I’m married to yours!” Stiles hisses.
The mix up was only discovered after the joint reception. Luckily, because John knows otherwise Stiles would not have coped well with having to smile for the photos and play nice with relatives they haven’t seen in years with this hanging over his head.
Peter wanders by, drinking champagne from the bottle. “So how do we do this? Stiles, are you sleeping in my suite tonight or should I come to yours?”
“Peter!” John exclaims. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m not here to help,” Peter leers.
Derek sighs, and puts an arm around Stiles’s shoulders. “It’s just a piece of paper, Stiles. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Listen to Step-Daddy Derek,” Peter grins, and then chortles when Stiles throws him a murderous glare.
“Dad!” Stiles wails.
“Derek, take Stiles back to your room,” John says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And make sure he drinks some water! And Peter…”
“Yes, nephew-in-law?” Peter smirks.
John sighs. “You’re never going to let this go, are you? This is what the rest of our life together is going to be like, isn’t it? This is what I’ve signed up for?”
“Technically, it’s what Stiles has signed up for.”
Derek catches Stiles around the waist before he can actually punch Peter in the face, but i’s a near thing.
“Go,” John says to Derek, and Derek hoists a protesting Stiles up into a fireman carry and left the room.
“Well then,” Peter purrs. “Alone at last.”
“Oh,” John deadpans. “We couldn’t possibly. Not while we’re married to other people.”
And he heads for the bathroom and shuts the door.
“John?” Peter complains complains loudly from the other side. “John, seriously? John?”
John smiles to himself in the mirror. No, not seriously, but let him suffer for a while. It serves him right for being a dick. And if John didn’t have at least a few tricks up his sleeve for how to deal with Peter in dick mode, well, he never would have agreed to marry the guy.
Stiles stared at the cock before him. Gazed, really, with heady admiration. Now this was a cock. A cock it was. Indeed, a cock was before him.
“Are you going to suck me anytime soon?” asked a voice from the other side of the stall, which Stiles was assuming was the owner of said cock.
“Well if you feel the need to rush me about it,” Stiles mumbled back, “maybe not.” He was, after all, the one who was about to perform a service. On his knees in a filthy club bathroom stall to do so, in fact.
+++
Stiles decides that if he’s going to lose his virginity, he might as well do so in the seclusion of a night club stall.
Stiles finally gets invited to the California werewolf convention and Derek is looking for a new pack. Stiles catches his eye and a little confusion ensues.
He’s sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he’s so fucking fucked.
He knows he’s not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don’t run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.
Sighing, Stiles reaches for Derek’s big hands, cradled in his broad lap, his skin lighting up even more at Derek’s touch. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, preparing himself to look for Derek’s soulmate. Whoever you are, he thinks, you better be worth him.
Derek first meets Stiles when he’s fifteen years old, just after the fire, and realises that he’s his mate. You can picture the kind of joy that follows.
Stiles has come to the terms with the fact that him and Derek are never going to be together in this life.They have way too many unresolved issues. Besides, Derek doesn’t want him, he knows that much.
Derek is hands down his first choice in the Nice Ass, Would Mate category of life, but also top of the Out of Stiles’s League charts. There has to be another explanation, another werewolf out there, and Stiles will find it/them because he refuses to be that guy that accidentally conned Derek Hale into some sort of mating ceremony while drunk. [the amnesia mates!fic]
Stiles Stilinski shouldn’t be surprised when he spends the night of his eighteenth birthday tied to a chair, gagged, and suffering through a mild concussion.
Four months they’ve managed to avoid one another. Stiles quit going to pack meetings. He quit doing research unless Scott really, really begged him to. He avoided driving the road that led out to the turnoff to the Hale house, he avoided going to all the spots where Derek might possibly be. Four months, and now, here they are, standing in the Minit Mart, Stiles thinks, staring down at the grimy tiles. He can hear the catch of Derek’s breath, and he closes his eyes and breathes deep.
It’s only been eight months since he started having the dreams, but he’s already cracking. He’s heard of people living thirty, forty years with them, unable to find the one, complete the bond…. He doesn’t know if he could do it. The euphoric, in-love feeling that used to carry into his day now hurts. It feels like someone’s ripping it out of his chest every morning and he’s bleeding, all day, until he’s asleep again and he is there.
“Since age three, Stiles has been dreaming of Derek. When he was younger, he would always babble about Derek and draw pictures of them together, etc. but everyone just assumed that Derek was his imaginary friend. Stiles himself didn’t realize that Derek was a real person until he heard about the Hale fire but by that time, Derek and Laura had moved to New York. ”
But it somehow mutated into a 8400 word behemoth featuring actual psychic Stiles Stilinski, soul bonding and wolfy mates.
Everyone had a mark scrawled somewhere across their body. A name, usually a signature to represent their soul mate, their one and only true love. Stiles has known who his mark belonged to since the third grade. He doesn’t understand how Derek can be so oblivious.
“Stiles, I think you’ve had enough,” Jordan says as kindly
as possible.
“Nope, I definitely haven’t,” Stiles says, slurred but
determined. “I can still feel my…feelings.”
“I’ll be lucky if you can still feel your legs,” Jordan
grumbles to himself. He takes Stiles’ arm, and gently tugs. “Let’s take you and
your feelings home, okay?”
