How I Learned Fandom Has a Serious Problem

It's January 2026, months after Kinktober ended, but I'm still thinking about the absolute shitshow that unfolded. Not because I'm obsessed with drama, but because what happened revealed something deeply broken about how we talk about fiction, ethics, and accountability in fandom spaces. I've been in fandom since the first FNAF game dropped in 2014—I lived through 2010s roleplay Twitter, I've seen some shit—so I'm not some newcomer clutching pearls over my first encounter with dark content. But this? This was different.

What Even Happened?

For those who missed it or forgot: this year's Kinktober prompt list included four tags that a lot of people found deeply concerning: incest, non-con (aka rape), ageplay, and what some people mistakenly called beastiality but was actually listed as animal/pet play. The discourse wasn't about Kinktober existing or kink in general—it was specifically about those four prompts being treated as equivalent to stuff like "lingerie" or "massage" or "praise kink."

Content creator Finn put it perfectly: "Four tags. People are upset about four tags. That is it. No one is saying that you can't write about any of the other tags. It is those four tags that people are upset about."

But that's not how defenders heard it. Somehow, "hey, maybe romanticizing incest and child abuse is concerning" got translated into "you're trying to destroy all of fandom and you're basically a fascist."

Let's Talk About What These Tags Actually Are

I'm gonna be blunt because the defenders sure as hell aren't.

Non-con means non-consensual. It's not CNC (consensual non-consent, an actual negotiated kink). It's writing about rape. You're taking a violent crime and making it erotic content. That's what fetishization means—making something the object of sexual desire while stripping away the reality of what it is.

Incest is sexualizing family relationships. When it's parent/child, you're writing child sexual abuse. When it's siblings, you're romanticizing dynamics that in real life involve grooming and power imbalances. It's not "just another kink"—it's depicting familial abuse as desirable.

Ageplay is adults roleplaying as children—using pacifiers, diapers, baby bottles, toys meant for toddlers—in sexual contexts. Defenders say "it's two consenting adults!" but miss the point entirely: these adults are consenting to reenact child sexual abuse. The whole appeal is mimicking adult-child dynamics. It's never adults pretending to be elderly or just exploring age gaps between adults—it's specifically about one person acting like a child.

And as Finn pointed out, ageplay also sexualizes age regression, which is a legitimate non-sexual coping mechanism. By conflating the two, this content perpetuates stigma against people who use age regression for comfort.

The "Fiction Doesn't Affect Reality" Lie

The main defense I kept seeing was "fiction doesn't affect reality," which is demonstrably false if you think about it for like five seconds.

I took an American Popular Music course in college that covered the evolution of music and its impact on culture. We spent significant time on minstrel shows—white performers in blackface depicting racist caricatures of Black people. Everyone knew it was performance, fiction, entertainment. Did that stop it from reinforcing racism and shaping how generations understood Black people? Nope. The fiction had devastating real-world effects.

Or consider:

• The Jaws Effect: The movie led to shark culling programs that devastated shark populations
• Propaganda: Fiction that shapes political attitudes and voting behavior (hello, MAGA)
• Military recruitment through games: Call of Duty functions as propaganda and recruitment tool
• Step-sibling porn: The popularity of this category has normalized sexualizing familial relationships
• Larry Stylinson: Fan fiction about Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson damaged their actual friendship, as Louis confirmed in a Seventeen Magazine interview

Fiction shapes culture through normalization, attitude formation, and creating communities around shared values. It doesn't work through "monkey see, monkey do"—it works atmospherically and cumulatively.

When defenders say "fiction doesn't affect reality," they're contradicting themselves because they also care about LGBTQ+ representation in media. They understand representation matters. They know seeing yourself in stories matters. They just conveniently forget this when it comes to content depicting abuse.

Then AO3 Refused to Remove Sexual Content About a Real Minor

Just days after Kinktober ended, AO3 reportedly declined to remove sexually explicit real person fiction about an actual, named minor. Their position? In the US, written sexual content about real children is technically legal—only photorealistic images count as CSAM under current law.

Let that sink in. Real child. Real name. Sexual content. And the defense was "well, it's technically legal."

The comments were telling:

• "Before it was 'it's not affecting real kids' and now that it's depicting REAL kids it's 'filter it out with tags'"
• "they will call you a puritan and fascist for finding rape fanfic of literal children disgusting"

This is where the "it's just fiction" defense completely collapses. When the fiction is about an actual child who exists in the world, who could find this content, whose family could find it—the harm isn't theoretical. It's real.

The Defenses Were All Bullshit

Every defense I encountered was either logically incoherent or straight-up manipulative.

"Dead Dove: Do Not Eat"

This tag means "warning: disturbing content, exactly what it says." But as Finn pointed out: "Why the fuck are you putting a dead dove in the fridge in the first place?" The tag warns people, sure, but it doesn't justify the content existing or make it immune to criticism.

"Don't Like, Don't Read"

Should mean: curate your experience, avoid content you dislike. Actually means: you can never discuss content that makes you uncomfortable, even in your own space. Meanwhile, the people preaching this are actively seeking out critics to screenshot and mock. The hypocrisy is stunning.

"Your Kink Is Not My Kink"

Should mean: we have different preferences and that's okay. Actually means: you can never express any ethical concern about any sexual content or you're a fascist trying to sanitize the internet.

"Ship and Let Ship"

Should mean: coexist peacefully despite different preferences. Actually means: shut up and never critique anything. Also, as fan critic Stitch documented, this rule is selectively enforced—"pairings with Black characters are never respected across fandoms."

"It's Trauma Processing"

Some survivors do use dark fiction to process trauma. That's legitimate. But here's my question: if it's truly therapeutic, why does it need to be published publicly as erotica for mass consumption? Therapy happens through the writing, not through posting it for strangers to get off to.

And here's the thing: survivors aren't a monolith. For every survivor who says "dark fic helps me cope," there's another saying "romanticized depictions of my abuse make me feel like my trauma wasn't serious." Why does one group's experience get priority?

The Age-Based Dismissals Were Wild

Multiple proship creators, including someone named Shan (who I've since blocked), argued that people under 25 can't have valid opinions on this because their brains aren't fully developed. One even said critics would "grow out of" these concerns and become proshippers once they matured.

This is condescending bullshit. Yes, the prefrontal cortex develops until around 25, affecting impulse control and risk assessment. But that doesn't mean people under 25 lack moral reasoning or critical thinking. If it did, we wouldn't let them vote, serve on juries, join the military, or consent to sex.

The hypocrisy is incredible: minors are supposedly mature enough to be depicted in sexual content "because it's fictional," but those same young people aren't mature enough to critique that content? Make it make sense.

Also, the "moral OCD" accusation from Shan? That's weaponizing mental health terminology to pathologize normal ethical reactions. Having concerns about romanticized abuse isn't OCD—it's having boundaries and thinking critically.

The Minors DNI Hypocrisy

Someone pointed out to Shan: "what confuses me is when someone says 'minors dni' on their page, yet they'll consume media that fetishizes and sexualizes minors."

Shan's defense? Euphoria and Stephen King's IT.

This is embarrassing because both examples are heavily criticized for the exact issues being raised. Euphoria has been consistently dragged for excessive nudity of actors playing teens, male-gazey cinematography, and the big question: why is this set in high school when these stories could be about college students? Cast members have discussed being uncomfortable. Barbie Ferreira reportedly left over how her character was handled.

Stephen King's IT scene is so controversial that King himself has essentially disavowed it, admitting he was on drugs when he wrote it. Both film adaptations cut it. Even hardcore King fans say it was fucked up.

Using these as defenses proves the critics' point: sexualizing minors in fiction IS controversial and problematic, even when done by acclaimed artists.

The cognitive dissonance of "Minors DNI" + creating sexual content about minors is stark. You're saying real teenagers shouldn't see sexual content while creating sexual content featuring teenagers. Pick one.

The "You're Being a Puritan" Accusation

I got called a puritan so many times for expressing discomfort with romanticized incest. Let me be clear: I'm not remotely sex-negative. But "puritan" gets weaponized to shame anyone with ethical boundaries.

Actual puritanism: "All sex outside marriage is sinful, the body is shameful, desire is corrupt."

What I'm actually saying: "Romanticizing incest is concerning because it depicts familial abuse as desirable."

These aren't the same thing. You can be enthusiastically sex-positive and still think some content is qualitatively different from other content. The "puritan" accusation creates a false binary: accept all sexual content without question, or you're a sex-negative prude.

Then Shan Said the Quiet Part Out Loud

In what might be the most bad-faith take I've ever seen, Shan made a video claiming that being anti-kinktober/pro-censorship is "rooted in white supremacy."

Her argument: White people historically invade spaces, ignore existing norms, demand everyone cater to them, and cry oppression when told to leave. Therefore, critics of kinktober are engaging in white supremacist colonization.

Here's the problem: this is projection.

From my observation and others', the demographics are:

• Proshippers defending extreme content: Predominantly white women, nonbinary people, and trans men in their 20s-30s
• Critics: Much more racially diverse, including significant numbers of Black fans, Asian fans, Latinx fans, and other POC

Shan is a white woman in a predominantly white community accusing a diverse group of critics of centering whiteness. The irony is suffocating.

And as Stitch (a fan of color) documented extensively, actual white supremacy in fandom looks like: ships with Black characters being disrespected, POC fans being called "antis" when they push back against racism, white fans using "etiquette" rules to silence marginalized fans, and predominantly white communities establishing norms that protect their comfort while erasing dissent.

That's what proshippers are doing. They've invade spaces, established norms (romanticized abuse is just normal kink), silenced objectors (especially fans of color), claimed "this is just fandom culture," erased the harm they cause, and positioned themselves as victims when challenged.

Shan described colonization perfectly—she just applied it to the wrong group.

The "Fandom Etiquette" Weapon

Defenders kept invoking "fandom etiquette" like it's sacred law. But as Stitch documented in their article "The Three Rules/Laws of Fandom," these rules aren't ancient—they originated in a 2016 Tumblr post responding to Star Wars ship wars. They're recent, reactionary, and specifically designed to protect shipping content from criticism.

The rules get weaponized to:

• Silence criticism ("don't like don't read means never discuss it")
• Protect creators' feelings over marginalized fans' safety
• Maintain status quo rather than allow evolution
• Punish dissent while allowing defenders to break rules constantly

When someone said "fandom etiquette doesn't exist, y'all just want a reason to implement conservatism," they weren't saying no etiquette exists—they were pointing out it's being weaponized as social control. The response? "lol are you NEW?" Pure condescension instead of engagement.

Every Accusation Is a Confession

Looking at everything proshippers accused critics of, it's all projection:

Shan said "learn to sit with discomfort" while making multiple videos about how oppressed she feels by criticism. The lack of self-awareness is remarkable.

What I Actually Think

After months of watching this play out, here's where I land:

I support AO3 hosting all legal content with proper tagging. I oppose government censorship. I understand KOSA is a Trojan horse bill designed to harm LGBTQ+ people and marginalized communities. I know that legal censorship disproportionately harms the vulnerable.

AND I think romanticized depictions of incest, rape, and dynamics mimicking child abuse are ethically concerning. Not because they should be banned, but because they normalize serious harm. Fiction shapes culture—not through direct behavioral replication, but through gradual normalization of attitudes and creation of community norms.

I don't think everyone who creates dark content is a predator. I don't think all dark fiction should be removed. I understand some survivors use it to process trauma.

But I also think:

• Romanticizing incest is different from other sexual content
• Eroticizing rape perpetuates harmful myths
• Ageplay deserves scrutiny even between adults
• Fiction depicting real minors sexually causes real harm
• We can discuss what it means that people find abuse dynamics appealing

These positions don't contradict. They're nuanced. But nuance is exactly what this discourse refuses to allow.

Why This Matters

This isn't just about four kinktober prompts or ship wars or fandom drama. It's about:

• Whether fiction can be ethically critiqued
• Whether community norms matter
• Whether marginalized fans' concerns are valid
• Whether some content deserves different treatment
• What responsibility we have to each other

The proshippers' response—age dismissals, accusations of mental illness, claims of fascism, weaponized social justice language, refusal to distinguish between content types—reveals they can't actually defend their position on the merits. If they could, they would.

Instead, they project their own behaviors onto critics, weaponize identity politics, medicalize disagreement, and treat any criticism as existential threat.

Where I'm At Now

I'm tired. I'm tired of being called a puritan for having boundaries. I'm tired of being told I'll "grow out of" ethical concerns. I'm tired of watching predominantly white creators claim criticism is white supremacy while erasing fans of color who agree with that criticism. I'm tired of "it's just fiction" being used to shut down any examination of what fiction actually does.

I've blocked Shan and several others because I'm done engaging with bad faith. I'm done watching people use social justice language to defend romanticizing abuse. I'm done seeing survivors who find this content harmful get told they're just too damaged to understand healthy coping.

Fiction does affect reality. Not simply, not directly, but truly. Romanticizing abuse normalizes it. Communities that celebrate this content develop different norms. And we're allowed to talk about that without being fascists or colonizers or mentally ill.

I don't know what the solution is. Maybe there isn't one—maybe this is just a fundamental value difference that can't be bridged. But I do know that the current discourse is broken, the defenses are intellectually bankrupt, and the projection is so blatant it would be funny if it wasn't so exhausting.

Anyway. It's 2026. Kinktober is over. And I'm still here thinking about what it revealed about fandom, about how we avoid accountability, about how desperate some people are to defend content they can't actually justify.

Maybe next October will be different. But I'm not holding my breath.