While on vacation in Mexico I downloaded 'Rolling in the Deep' on my kindle purely to reinforce my f

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Hooray!

I am glad you have learned the proper respect of Our Lord Poseidon, Who Will Drown Your Ass, and Our Lady Amphitrite, Who Will Do Something Substantially Worse.

deadcatwithaflamethrower: nekosmuse: thebloggerbloggerfun: Fanf...

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deadcatwithaflamethrower:

nekosmuse:

thebloggerbloggerfun:

Fanfiction authors are people who write as a hobby. They’re not paid, they do it on their own time, and they do it for fun. Some authors use fanfiction as a way to improve their writing, but unless they ask for critiquing comments, don’t be that person - even if you have good intentions. You don’t see the damage that you do, but damage is done.

The best way to encourage fanfiction authors to keep doing what they’re doing is to let them know what you liked about their work. I’ve seen too many fic authors get discouraged in their writing because of people who leave less than favorable comments on their work. Leave the critical comments for people who get paid to write. 

Again, I’m not asking you to lie to spare the authors feelings, I’m asking you to just refrain from leaving a negative comment. 

Critique is essential when it comes to improving your writing. It’s something every writer should engage in. But the key to critique? It has to be solicited. It also needs to come from someone who knows how to critique. 90% of fic readers don’t. And if they do, they already know not to send unsolicited critique. Great post, OP.

I sort of want to launch this like a missile into certain fandoms.

One of these days, I am going to find the time to sit down and write down my Fantastic Beasts and...

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One of these days, I am going to find the time to sit down and write down my Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them/Castlevania fusion plot bunny.

…it’s gramander, and involves dragons, demons, time-travel, annoying relatives, True Love, threesomes, and Percival Belmont Graves cursing out Grandsir Alucard, talking shop with Grandma Sypha, and sharing a long, companionable drink with Grandpa Trevor.

how to know you are a norse mythology geek:

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catwinchester:

kyraneko:

poztatt:

dendritic-trees:

sweetdreamr:

auntieval:

sweetdreamr:

upon seeing THIS in the thor: ragnarok trailer

you scream, “FENRIR! HI PUPPER!!!!”

IT GOT BETTER OMFG IM CRYING

Yeah… me too. I wanna pat the very big pupper.

And this is how The End is stopped.  Not by the gods or goddesses, the other races than man, no.  It is Tumblr.  As a mass running after a now confused and tail tucking Fenrir, whining softly as the crowd chants “PUPPER! PUPPER! PUPPER!”

Better yet: Fenrir escapes his chains and lopes forward to destroy the earth, and is met by a crowd of people. An army, Fenrir thinks, and bares his teeth in a ferocious snarl and charges toward them.

They cheer.

Wait … cheer?

Fenrir slows, confused. He smells no fear, senses no rage. This is … a very strange army.

The first hand—weaponless!—reaches for him; he tenses, ready to tear the offending limb to shreds, and lets out a high little yippy whine when it pats him about the ears.

Immediately the noise is reproduced by some four or five of the nearest humans; he smells excitement; more hands are patting him.

It’s nice.

The humans crowd around him, patting him and scritching him and shuffling around to give others a chance. Voices coo, and make puppy noises, and someone catches just the right spot and he cocks his leg and scratches himself, drawing a multitude of oohs and ahhs and cheers and squees.

At some point, his hunger awakens at the scent of burnt flesh; a human has brought him what he later learns is a hot dog; he swallows it in one bite, to more cheering, and looks around hopefully for more.

It is not long before more is bought: steaks and Big Macs and bacon; it seems like much of the group has brought him a snack of some kind and was hoping for a chance to give it to him.

The End of the World is supposed to be at hand, but Fenrir does not care. His hunger sated, his battle-lust swept away by a tide of gently petting hands, he rolls over, careful not to crush his many companions, and takes a nap.

“Who’s a good boy?” they ask him, over and over. 

Is this some psychological warfare, he wonders, designed to undermine his confidence and remind him that he is nothing more than a monster who needs to be chained? 

“Who’s a good boy, huh, huh?” “Who’s my good boy?” “

And then one of them answers the question for him.

“You are!”

‘Me?’ he thinks. But if there was any doubt, she confirms it.

“You are, yes you are.”

Fenrir’s tongue hangs out of his mouth as he grins. ‘I’m a good boy!’

@lectorel