#‘but the angst is so good’ it’s repulsive actually. read better comics for better angst. THERE ARE MANY

[aalghul]

i cannot emphasize enough how racist it is to make a sino-arab family obsessed with white men’s genes. can we all please leave behind the storylines of the al ghuls being obsessed with bruce or tim’s genes.

[coeurdastronaute]

Fic Writer Review!

Tagged by @lena-in-a-red-dress I never do these things, but it seemed fun to try as I venture out into the world away from fandom a bit. 

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

40

2. Whats your total ao3 word count?

1,264,254

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Technically 4, but let’s be honest. It’s just 2. 

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Essays in Existentialism Giant Nerd Duck Kiwi

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I once did, but it’s a little hard. I have been putting a lot of time into being more engaged on patreon. For the most part, I do take the time to respond to commentary that is engaging. I always appreciate when people take a moment to leave a “great!” or “loved it” or “can’t wait for more” and I’d like to issue a blanket thank you and I love you and I read every single one and on bad days, those fuel me to write mroe and try to be better just as much as others. But If I have a finite amount of time, I find it best to engage with people who are asking questions or making thoughtful commentary. My favorite thing to read are lines or parts of it that someone liked the most. 

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending

Well, I reckon it’s The Wrestle even though that doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t particularly work in angst. I’m not that angsty. 

7. Do you write crossovers?

Kind of. I mean, I play with universes a lot, I don’t know if they’d be crossovers. 

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

Um, yeah, here and there. You’re not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, and it’s okay if they let you know. I try to follow the guideline of “Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia (Kurt Vonnegut).” So I have a handful of people who have been reading me for literally years. Like I have people I’ve gotten to know and have spent years growing with, and I write for them to enjoy. It helps. 

9. Do you write smut?

Not well.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, actually quite a bit. I don’t understand why, to be honest. It takes absolutely no talent to steal, and I find it really repulsive. 

11. Ever had a fic translated?

No-- I feel really bad about this because I would love to share it with other people. I mean, the reason I write is to give a happy ending and some sweet moments to a group of people who don’t have many of them (even if they’re badly written and contrite), but there’s this kind of ownership of my words, and what if the feelings aren’t right? It makes me too nervous. I’m more and more open to it though, so if anyone is serious about it, let me know. I can’t promise it’ll happen, but I’d love for it to be a collaborative thing. 

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No-- I am an insanely irresponsible writer on a good day, and I couldn’t in my right mind subject someone else to this. 

13. All time fav ship?

Emily/Naomi-- Skins. 

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The Wrestle-- I just... I lost it, you know? I lost the plot. 

15. Writing strengths?

Welp. I wish I’d read through these more carefully before starting. I think I can do some dialogue okay.

16. Writing weaknesses?

Writing.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I think it’s fun. Adds a little depth to characters. I think it should be used sparingly. 

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Skins

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

This is a really hard question I get asked often. It changes daily. I’m really having fun with Atlantis right now, but that’s because Aquaman is my favorite comic. Fear was a good time. It’s hard. All of them have taught me important lessons about writing. Maybe Heart-- I very much regret not making that a full-length story. 

[hornsandthings]

vices i admire;

pairing: barry berkman x reader

summary: reader accidentally finds barry’s stash of weapons, and barry is forced to come clean. 

tags: fluff, angst // word count: 2.3k 

a soft muttering woke you, the low grumbles and frustrated huffs stirring your hair.

           “he don’t bolt—put a bolt into—to a nut; he don’t bolt a nut—fuck—”

           lazy and lethargic, you nuzzled closer to barry’s neck as your hand came to rest on his chest. he was much warmer than the light comforter, and holding him close at night was the only way to keep the chill at bay. he responded just as languidly, arm curling around your waist tighter. you knew, however, that this was due to distraction, not fatigue.

           “runnin’ lines?” you mumbled into his skin, voice thick and heavy with sleep. it was nice to wake up with barry, to have him close like this. he had always been a very nice and generous man, but often you thought he was somewhat unknowable, too. at times when he thought you were asleep, you saw how hard his mind worked, those thick brows betraying a deep frown. barry was approachable, but seldom open.

           “—then you get yourself a couple of shots—spots, goddamn it; spots on your hat—”

           a smile pulled at your mouth, a giggle trapped in your throat. you could only imagine barry’s expression – flat on his back, glaring at the ceiling, looking harsh while he accommodated your nuzzling with soft touches.

           “barry,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his clavicle. you had to blink the sleep away, but there he was, looking down at you.

            “—a salesman is got to dream?” he finished, eyes saying how did you sleep? while his words ended that speech. you laughed, cupping his jaw as you pulled him in for a kiss. it was easy and gentle, but you could still feel the soft intensity he managed to place behind it. again and again did he mould his lips to yours, carefully nudging you so that he was hovering above now, cradling your cheek in a way that always hinted at caution.

           shuffling steps in the next room, a heavy sigh that dragged in a way only a performer could manage. “barry!” someone called, “you forgot the milk! goddammit, man, you know it’s just an aisle away from the gatorade—”

            barry deflated, mouth already working up an annoyed mumble but you kissed the tip of his nose, warding away the whispered “fuck!” that was on the tip of his tongue. you jumped as the roommate pounded on the door, offering up another weary sigh.

           “please, man. breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

           “your cereal is eighty percent sugar. you know that, right?” he retorted back while still looking at you, eyes flickering to your grin. you bit your lip during the pause, trying to smother your laugh. barry only looked put out.

           the doorknob turned, letting out a tell-tell squeak and now barry jolted. “fine, fine!” he quickly shouted, hurriedly pulling the covers up to his shoulders as you gripped him closer like a shield. your briefly eyed the nearest article of clothing – in the corner, a few feet away – and burst into a big belly laugh at barry’s alarmed face, quite comical with those expressive brows as he swallowed thickly.

           he grumbled a little, disentangling himself from you between quick, chaste kisses. “i’m sorry,” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrugged on a hoodie, fumbled with a pair of pants. “i’ll be back soon, alright? thirty minutes.”

           “no worries, baby,” you mused, wrapping the comforter all around you as he left. daylight crept in beneath the blinds, and you allowed yourself to just sit a while, taking in barry’s room. there was little to indicate he’d been a marine, most of it packed away into a box stored in the closet. instead, things that told of his aspirations to acting dotted the room: gene’s book on the bedside table, a pile of old scripts in the corner, spare props peeking out from beneath the bed. you’d only seen him perform onstage twice so far; while his delivery couldn’t quite communicate the amount of effort he always put into it, you supported his desires wholeheartedly.

            this thing with barry – it was only a few months old, but the dedication throughout had felt pure and strong. the care between you two was genuine, and there was more than just simple attraction; the way he touched you, held you – it was laced with adoration. huffing a chuckle, you stepped out of the bed and wriggled into your underthings. muffled sounds from the television filtered through the door as you searched for your socks, tuned to some morning soap.

           this – you wouldn’t mind a life like this. to spend the nights with barry, wake up in his arms, coming to also know his lines from the sheer amount of times he went over them; to become part of his life in a way that meant more mornings like this. perhaps you two weren’t quite there yet, but sometimes – just from the way this particular happiness felt – you could tell that you, at least, were close.

           resolving to tidy up, you reached for the comforter to disentangle the knot you’d made of it. the material snagged, and with a frown you tried pulling to no avail. kneeling at the foot of the bed, you realised it had caught in the mattress’ zipper. jerking the quilt hard, it finally ripped free, tugging the zip right open with it.

           your heart stopped, skin crawling as goosebumps developed. with a trembling hand, you uncovered the array of firearms so expertly displayed within the mattress fibre. there were pistols, barrels, bullets and silencers; black, menacing things with an express purpose. to hurt. to kill.

           the door swung open and barry jerked to a halt, mimicking you as he went very still. those wide eyes and thick brows were no longer comical or endearing; no, they were alarming, frightening, intimidating. right now, he was a stranger.

           “i—i didn’t mean to—,” you stuttered, throat closing and jaw hurting as fear began its slow asphyxiation. barry was breathing just as hard as you, horroron his face as that stash of guns glinted dully in the space between.

           “listen, i—”

           a shout of laughter rang from the kitchen, and barry’s jaw clenched as your gaze flickered to the door behind him. both reminded of the presence of other people – help for you, trouble for him – barry moved slow, nudging the door closed.

           “listen,” he said again, low and deliberate, “i can explain.”

           you scrambled back as he stepped forward, sliding until your back hit the wall. a soft whimper fell from your mouth as he continued to near, but as soon as the sound hit him, he lowered to his knee a few feet away.

           “after afghanistan—i didn’t have anything else to be good at,” he started, desperation replacing the alarm on his face. “someone took advantage of that. i—i had to do things…”

           barry’s breath hitched in a way that forewarned tears, and your own eyes stung.

           “i tried—i’m trying—to get out of it, but i’m in so deep, sweetheart, it just won’t—fuck!”

           he gasped for breath, shaking his head as if trying to straighten his thoughts. you were shivering, reading the subtext that was simply terrifying. incomprehensible. those odd hours when he’d show up at your door, distraught and in need of comfort; he’d always blamed it on his acting process, the result of getting into character, but now – now you knew better. you couldn’t even look at him anymore, those red and tearful eyes just too much.

           “i know it’s wrong. i know. it’s not who i am—not anymore. i realised it when i came to LA, but i knew it before. deep down. but—but i’m good at it, and they won’t just let me be—”

           “barry,” you pleaded, “barry—”

           “please, please believe me,” he begged, even clasping his hands together. nausea roiled in your gut, mind sticky as reality slurred. barry – this… this man – was frantic; instability and guns didn’t make for a good combination. “i can’t let it happen again—i need you to just figure this out with me, alright? please.”

           “i w-won’t tell a-anyone,” you rushed, thoughts racing. you wanted to believe him – god, you’d wanted to love him – but this… this was horrifying. “i promise, just—please don’t h-hurt me.” you were curled into yourself, knees and hands drawn up to your chest.

           barry flinched in disbelief. “i won’t ever hurt you,” he promised, no fumbling to be heard; it was clear despite the dishevelment that threatened to undo him. barry’s distress tugged at your heart, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to that line yet. your eyes drifted to those weapons again, torn between sympathy and repulsion. barry winced, covering up the flap as he risked moving closer.

           “the war is over, barry,” you whispered. a sad, simple truth laid bare, barely making its way to him. you should’ve known that such integration after serving was too good and too soon; a life without violence may not ever be enough for him.

           barry’s voice failed, giving a mournful nod instead. “i’m sorry,” he said, voice filled with unadulterated sorrow for himself, for you, for what had happened, for everything. “i’m so sorry.”

           it was quiet for a time. he was crying softly in front of you while you just stared at the door beyond him, shutting down breath by breath. eventually barry realised, moving away.

           “i’m not holding you hostage,” he murmured, a hollowness to his voice that sent a dull spike of fear within you. “you can… you can go,” he said, jaw feathering as he probably weighed the consequences.

           nodding mutely, you grabbed your jeans and the first shirt you found, not even noticing that it was actually barry’s. breathing deep, you eyed him as prey would eye a predator; wary, distrustful, afraid. he slouched, seeming to fold into himself as he allowed you a wide berth.

           and so you left, putting one step in front of the other and keeping your head down, pulse still thundering in your ears. his roommates greeted you but all you heard was a series of discordant sounds, including your own vague reply before the apartment door shut behind you.

+++

two weeks. it had been two weeks of no contact, and barry had barrelled through the days thinking his world was imploding again. he tried to keep up a sense of normalcy by going to work, to acting class, to the grocery store, to the bar with his friends. routine. routine was all that could save him now.

           he’d wanted to be selfish, to keep you there until he was sure you wouldn’t eventually resort to the police, but unfriendly memories had come unbidden – of chris, of janice. he couldn’t fuck up this one – it was you, goddammit, he couldn’t even think of laying a hand on you. so he had let you go with the shred of hope that you’d see the truth of barry berkman. there were times he’d wanted to come and visit you, but he couldn’t risk scaring you even further. god, just the look on your face, the tremble to your lip – it sickened him to know that he was the cause of it. you’d been cowering from him, so vulnerable and exposed; caught in a twisted caricature of more intimate scenes you two would share. he hated himself for it. every time he loaded another shot, he could taste the spilled blood in his mouth, see the betrayal in your eyes. even now, as he watched some movie trying to be mindless for just one hour, the guilt nagged at the back of his mind.

           a knock on the door. looking around, he met the raised brows of his roommates and acquiesced. with a sigh, he trudged over, expecting another lost missionary—

           but it was you.

           it was you, eyes bruised and face gaunt with the knowledge that had troubled you for days. his fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, but he stepped into the corridor instead, shutting the door behind him.

            “what—,” he croaked, voice breaking. “you—”

           you let out a shuddering breath, and barry shifted on his feet as he saw tears glistening in your eyes. “i believe you, barry.” it was a low, breathy sentence, drenched in dread and regret. it seemed like you were going to say something more, but you just shook your head.

           despite this, barry’s heart lifted in a desperate sense of relief. a hitched, breathy laugh fell from his mouth. it was instinct to reach for you, and although you tensed, you fell into his embrace with a muffled sob, hands fisted in his shirt. barry swallowed his own tears, holding you close, pressing his lips to your forehead.

           “you’re important to me,” he confessed. “you’re part of this good life – the one that i want, the one with happiness and love – and i don’t wanna give it up. i promise i’m not a monster… i, uh, don’t think i am? i—i don’t wanna be.”

           with a sharp inhale, you looked up at him as you cupped his jaw. your brows were furrowed, corners of your mouth turned down, but you were holding him. you were here.

           “i don’t know where we go from here,” you admitted, “but i care for you, barry. i want you to be okay.”

           he nodded, face crumpling as he did so. hands cradling your neck, barry kissed you with all the longing he had in him, all the yearning and pining for things that were always so close to slipping from his hold.

           starting now, he told himself. the mantra that always failed him, but the one that he tried – always tried – to live by. perhaps this time.

           starting… now.

[redwylde]

EVERY. MATSU. For the ask thing~

I Am Going To Beat You To Death

Osomatsu

>SEE PREVIOUS ASK

Karamatsu

Favourite Thing About Them

He's so genuinely kind and caring, a bad boy with all the attributes of punk but not a bland ass edgy caricature.

Also THE STAFF CONFIRMED THAT HE'S NOT FAKING ANYTHING, EVERYTHING HE IS NOW IS A PRODUCT OF HIS OWN SELF-LOVE AND I'VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER.

Least Favourite Thing About Them

He doesn't go ape shitt enough. Why won't they let him KILL. (S2 stumped whatever I would've originally put here, I'm so happy)

Favourite Line

This absolute goldmine of a line here.

brOTP

YOU GUESSED IT, IT'S CHOUKEI

but also 💙 S 💚 U 💙 I 💚 R 💙 I 💚 K 💙 U 💚

OTP

I don't have one, but do you ever think about how Kara leaned in to kiss Iyami (Iyayo) and Iyami was just going to let it happen, I do.

nOTP

Ugly Flower ass bitch.

Random Headcanon

Every so often Kara likes to doodle when he feels like it. He has a sketchbook full of doodles and studies of his brothers, who he draws when they're all just lounging around the house. As such they're all in sitting or lying positions and he's able to capture their personalities in each doodle. There's a handful of pages that are just studies of Oso, reclining on the couch reading a comic, sleeping at the kotatsu or any number of things.

Unpopular Opinion

Kara exists outside of Ichi and all of his development/angst potential does not revolve around his relationship with Ichi.

Song I Associate Them With

Yours If You Want it by Rascal Flatts

Favourite Picture Of Them

Honestly, I love waaaaaaayyy too many pictures of Kara to even think about picking one but this shot from NeetPro is a high contender. I ALWAYS love seeing Kara wearing his Perfect Fashion and this picture does a great job of capturing his whole personality at once.

Cool man but with gentle eyes. He smiles, stands non-threateningly and just looks so serene. I cry.

Choromatsu

Favourite Thing About Them

He is actually a very kind and nurturing soul trapped in an anxious body and people need to appreciate this side of him more. He doesn't take Totty to the bathroom or offer his brothers his shoulder to cry on for any reason other than he genuinely wants to be of help. We all know he's strong enough to yeet them if he wanted to.

Least Favourite Thing About Them

BABY HATES HIMSELF SO MUCH, MY LOVEY PLEASE GIVE YOURSELF REST. I swear you're fine as you are.

Favourite Line

"Shit. I wasn't able to stop their Ferris Wheel Tyranny" - Tabimatsu Event

brOTP

SUIRIKU!! And 💚 W 💛 A 💚 K 💛 A 💚 B 💛 A 💚

OTP

CHORODAYO CHORODAYO CHORODAYO CHORODAYO CHORODAYO CHORODAYO THEY DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THEY GOT.

WHY ARE YOU ALL SLEEPING ON THE BEST WOMAN WHO ISN'T MATSUYO IN CHORO'S LIFE??

nOTP

ChoroNyaa.

Random Headcanon

Choro raises succulents and it makes him feel happy because he's able to put his energy into nurturing something and watching it grow. It makes him feel better about himself because he gets to see something beautiful thrive because of his love and care! It's a positive and therapeutic feeling and it always makes him feel better when he's sad or anxious.

Unpopular Opinion

It's almost 2020 and we still have to say that Choro is not more perverted or cursed than any of the other brothers. They have all had poorly aging jokes at least once in the show by now. It's a shock humour comedy and we KNOW that they fluctuate almost every episode. We rely entirely on translated subtitles that are never going to be 100% accurate.

Song I Associate Them With

Verge by Owl City and Aloe Blacc

Favourite Picture Of Them

This is basic I know but I swear this is not for a thirsty reason lmao

Choro is ALWAYS always drawn very moe and cute (partly due to Asano-san's influence as head illustrator) so his appearances in official art are (usually) very childlike in nature imo. So when the staff released this series of images it hit me like a truck because he looks really mature here?? It's a really good look for him, Mature Choro is not a thing we get a lot of (Kara occupies the Sexy box and Oso gets all the mature atmosphere just because he's the eldest) so this picture really sticks with me, I just love how grown up he looks.

Ichimatsu

Favourite Thing About Them

He's a very perceptive and very mindful boy. I can't explain why but I love how good he is at reading the room and people's emotions. A lot of the time it means he can speak up for others if they're too afraid to be honest or cant understand their feelings.

Least Favourite Thing About Them

Nothing that comes to mind! (S2 fixed this as well lmao)

Favourite Line

"ARE YOU A COMIC? YES, GOOD JOB!~"

brOTP

Parka!! Or 110!!

OTP

No OTP for Ichimacchan.

nOTP

YanaIchi. Sorry guys.

Random Headcanon

Ichi is on the aroace spectrum and is romance repulsed. His relationship goal in life is just to remain as close to his brothers as he is now. So long as he has his brothers and his 12 million cats, he's good.

Unpopular Opinion

Ichi is not just Edgy McFurry and I wish people would focus more on the rest of his personality, which is actually a very kind but insecure boy. Also the next time I see someone describe him as a tsundere I'm gonna start swinging.

Song I Associate Them With

Demon Kitty Rag bg Katzenjammer

Favourite Picture Of Them

(Is this technically my favourite picture of Choro HFJFHDJFJJF I LAUGHED AT THIS FOR MONTHS ON END WHEN THIS EPISODE AIRED)

Jyushimatsu

Favourite Thing About Them

A very smart and supportive boy!

Least Favourite Thing About Them

He vores people and gets away with it, when will he recieve the jail time he deserves.

Favourite Line

This. Just this, I scream every fucking time.

brOTP

KINNIKU!!! KINNIKKUUUUUUUUU!!!! 💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛

OTP

Can you believe it's not JyushiHomu?

nOTP

Don't think I have one?

Random Headcanon

I'm not sure if this has been mentioned in canon but I love the idea that Jyushi really likes fish and marine life! Crabs, cephalopods and the nautilus are his favourites!

Unpopular Opinion

He IS actually smart and extremely conniving, he is not all volume, do not trust this man lmao

Song I Associate Them With

Brotherswing by Caravan Palace

Favourite Picture Of Them

I don't actually have a lot of pictures of Jyushi but I will never not love this picture of him carrying Choro-chan to safety.

Todomatsu

Favourite Thing About Them

He loves and will die for his family. He has a really loving heart.

Least Favourite Thing About Them

I know WHY he does it but sometimes he sets his brothers up to fail completely and I'm like WHY, NO ONE WAS EVEN FIGHTING WITH YOU LITTLE SHIT lmao

Favourite Line

"It's actually really fun being sextuplets"

brOTP

110 and, at times, Cyber!

OTP

Nothing.

nOTP

Y'all gonna hate me after these. AtsuTodo.

Random Headcanon

Totty is an extroverted introvert (I think that's the term) and that's why he prefers to do some things on his own, like exercising and going on trips, but doesn't mind socialising wih a select group of people i.e his brothers, his friends.

Unpopular Opinion

He's not at all cute.

Song I Associate Them With

I don't actually have one for him yet, sorry about that!

Favourite Picture Of Them

[goddamnitaisha]

Your post was insightful. As much disgust as I have towards explicit fiction about sex with children, we can't cherry pick what can or can't be written based on repulsion. I was associating lolicon to literature and had a strong reaction to the original post. Your post is the first one I read that wasn't so dismissive especially because of age. (I'm 25 as well.) I researched if there were any harmful effects towards children or if they encouraged adults to commit crimes. I found none. (1/2)

Only journals about catharsis theory relating to violence. All I have is personal disgust and beliefs. I feel like people don't understand why there's such a reaction to this post. For me, I began to process what happened to me as a child through nonfictional accounts and news articles. And my experience was the least harmful. Why would anyone want to feel aroused by this? Violence seems different--plot driven. But anyway, your post helped me to understand better. (2/2)

Thank you for the reaction! 

I’m happy you thought my post proved insightful. I want to respond to what you said about katharsis. You make some very good points.

This is a centuries-old discussion.* The Greek philosopher Plato wanted to make an ‘ideal’ state. He thought that by mimicking (mimesis), people would learn. Therefore, the guards should only hear stories about brave soldiers to make them braver, not about cowardly ones. He put literature/poetics in service of the state. Then his student Aristotle responded to it: stories can help you develop an attitude towards the Problematic Thing. Katharsis can cleanse the soul. And Aristotle has trust in the critical thinking of the human mind.

Nowadays the same discussion pops up: instead of ‘think of th guards’ it’s ‘think of the children. but children can think for themselves. And if thy don’t lik it, thy’ll stop it. 

Television makes people sit still: “watching television makes children dumb!”Comics show violence: “reading comics makes children violent!”Games are action-orientated: “playing games makes children violent!

Fanfics are romance orientated: “Reading fics makes children normalise bad relationships!”

Now I’m going to respond to your anecdote and answer your question:

Personally, I’ve got a fear/reluctance of sexual intimacy (esp. being touched). In normal romance fics this would be ludicrous (“get over it ah ha ha”) and frustrating to the reader (“I came here for fluff and this is all angst?!”). But in the light of fics about rape/paedophilia/power-abuse, those feelings can become centre of the plot. By pulling intimacy into the extreme, every reader can relate to the discomfort, and I can explore those anxieties without having to justify them.

At the same time, arousal:When we engage in sex/intimacy, our bodies enter a positive feedback loop that encourages us to continue being intimate. It ensures enough arousal is present to reproduce and get children. 

When I read about sexual misuse of power in fiction, 

my feelings of anxiety are justified, and, 

I get positive feedback in the shape of arousal. 

(I can pause)

AS A RESULT, the thing I was afraid of, loses intensity. My anxiety lessens.This is why very dark fiction is actually very good for me.

This is why I say Literature needs no restrictions. It needs readers who comment. Literature is about people, literature a social act. 

We need to get rid of the word ‘problematic’ because pretends literature is a problem. Dark fanfiction isn’t a problem. It’s often a cathartic solution.

-

SOURCE: Davis, Robert Cor and Laurie Finke, eds. Litrary Critisism and Thory: the Greeks to the Present. New York/London. Longman, 1989