word snobs

A Writer’s PSA

Firstly: I just saw an interesting post made by @caplanbuckybarnes (who I can’t tag, but that’s okay), that inspired both anger and relief in me at once. I was compelled to type out this PSA.

Secondly: I am tagging everyone who has asked to be tagged in The Irrelevance of Napoli SO YOU CAN SEE HOW GODDAMN AWESOME THEY ARE BEFORE I START THIS. 

@thecrownedrose @persephone-is-here-omg @find-me-here2 @captainamerotica @redgillan @angryschnauzer @ursulaismymiddlename @rebelslicious @kittykitty-mewmeww @erisjade @siren-kitten-his @buckyappreciationsociety @kozmicrock @aingealcethlenn @rachelle-on-the-run @thewinterswimmer @vaisabu @inside-lizzys-head @angryschnauzer @melconnor2007 

Thirdly: I am doing this more for the sake of my upcoming fic, Cherchez la Femme, which I have been working on for MONTHS–probably since Septemberish–than I am for Napoli. Also doing this for the sake of other authors who may feel this way, but don’t want to say anything for fear of making people mad. I personally am tired of dealing with my own anxiety about this subject, so I’m getting this off my chest. 


 I am exceedingly frustrated by the majority of attitudes (or non attitudes) I see towards anything that is not a one-shot on here. ESPECIALLY if it’s smut.

I like smut. I love smut. I’ve read some really good smut on here. But… that’s not all I’ve read on here. When I first got on Tumblr, I found some really unique and interesting fics, and I got very invested in them. But lately, the majority of what I’ve been seeing on this site is the same damn thing, over and over and over again. Smut one shots, no plot, no character development, no nothing. Those fics I was invested in were discontinued (temporarily, I hope) in favor of smut one shots, which, like I said, I don’t mind, but ya know… I also do.

Authors are capable of writing more than smut one shots. 

Authors are capable of writing more than smut one shots. And many of them do write more than smut one shots. But I have seen two (2) of the multi-part fics I follow being seriously reblogged. That’s out of A LOT that I happen to read and like. One of my favorites got put on hiatus because there were no reads on the most recent chapter at the time.

Tumblr, seriously, what is going on? Like, I recognize that we all want to imagine ourselves having sex with some version of Sebastian Stan (ME TOO, I AM NOT EXCLUDING MYSELF FROM THAT GROUP) but some of these people have worked ages, ages on these fics. With well-developed characters and plot and settings and serious issues that are worked through. THESE PEOPLE I READ SHOULD WRITE ORIGINAL CONTENT AND GET PUBLISHED. In my world, they would. Because they are that good.

And yet, they get almost no recognition. And it frustrates me, and scares me, and makes me really, really sad. Some might say, “Tumblr is more (something else) than fanfic for me”–which is fine. Please engage in whatever joy may have brought you to Tumblr. But also remember that for others, it IS about fanfic, and they enjoy doing that just as much as you enjoy doing whatever you do. So hit the like button every once in a while. Read more fics of your favorite characters. Some might say, “I have –something that gives me a shorter attention span–, I can’t remember what happened before this chapter/can’t concentrate enough to get through a whole fic in the time I have”–in which case, you are fine, don’t worry about it, not a big deal. Some of you may say, “Works in progress are annoying, I hate waiting for new parts to come out”–and trust me, I’m right there with you. I’m waiting on a few new parts for fics myself (I’m also waiting for Diana Gabaldon’s next Outlander book, goddammit), but that doesn’t stop me from reading and commenting on the parts that are there! Tell the author that you have something to look forward to until the next part comes out! Also, TELL THE AUTHOR IF YOU ARE WAITING FOR THEM TO COMPLETE IT, or ask to be tagged in the final masterlist! We won’t mind if you do it that way! Some of you may just hate longer fics and there’s nothing anybody can do to change that. In which case, whatever floats your boat.

I’m not getting on anyone in the above paragraph to suddenly change your preferences and start reading fics with more than two parts. What I am saying, though, is if you consume, but don’t comment AND reblog (or at least tag and reblog), or if you don’t consume at all and blatantly ignore what authors are putting out there… come on, guys. We put our heart and souls into this stuff. Some of the stuff we write is taken from real life. Some people don’t have anything but their writing to help them get through what may be a really bad stage. Likes, comments, reblogs–writers need these. We don’t all have to be JK Rowling here, but we do hope to see that someone smiles or laughs, or cries, or feels in some way with our fics. 

One of my friends on here was very sad a couple of days ago because she was getting very few notes on even her one-shots, or reblogs with no comments. She has 700+ followers and a taglist that’s a mile long. It made me sad for her, and I can’t even hug her because she lives far away from me. Readers, you don’t have to comment or reblog every chapter of a fic that’s been written, it’s really okay if you don’t, but let the reader know that you like it and acknowledge the work that’s been done. 

I’m still relatively tiny on here, and I definitely need to follow more blogs, so I will now go looking. But, indulge me for a second: If, when I publish Cherchez, I deem it as not getting enough notes, I will make a goddamn video of myself deleting the thing off my computer and burning the damn notebooks. I started by writing this stuff for me. Napoli ended up being about someone I know who recently died. Cherchez was what I wrote when I was coming out of a breakdown. So yes, I write for myself. But as soon as I put it up here, it becomes yours. You consume it, you feel because of it. So really, guys, read all the smut you want. I know I’m going to. But read more than smut, too.


Someone who is a teeny bit oversmutted

(If you want to, you can check my tags for more info)

Liam chose The Eagles [as all time favorite band]? That is the most random thing I’ve ever heard, it’s like he made that up on the spot. I’d say he knows two Eagles songs - Hotel California and Desperado. I’m livid about that, yeah.
—  Niall, BBC Radio 1 Christmas take over 25/12
The Story of Us

Prologue || 1 ||

 ✮ Chapter Two: First Day ✮

Word Count: 2958

Note: I forgot to add it on first part in the prologue but pretend that Lucas was supposed to transfer to NYC during his freshman year of high school and not seventh grade. I just wanted them to be older for this story.. :) 

Also make sure you’ve actually read the prologue as well as chapter one!! I know some people missed it!!

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

After dragging herself out of bed and into the shower Riley dresses for school and makes her way downstairs where she finds Jed sitting on the sofa with a laptop in hand. The old man shares some news that doesn’t go down well with the New Yorker.

“You’re going to make me catch the bus on my first day at a new school?” Riley’s eyes are wide with disbelief.

“I don’t like to drive much,” Jed croaks.

“How will I know what to do?” Riley asks in a panic.

“There’s only one school bus in this town, it picks you up at the top of the street,” Jed explains. “And I’d hurry if I were you because it comes at 7:15 sharp.”

Riley looks at the time. 7:12am. Feeling bold Riley looks up and finds Jed’s stare. “And what if I miss the bus?” Riley challenges.

“Then I’m going to have to call your mom,” Jed doesn’t back down, “And the kids may be scared of me in this town but I’m no Topanga.”

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got7 as fanfic writers

jaebum: ALWAYS angsty as hell. 98% of his fics are tagged with ‘major character death’. ships anything rare and complains about how dry the tag is. when he writes for the famous ship he always kills at least one half of the pairing off. tags nothing and summaries are vague as hell. fics are either 500 words long or 50,000 words long, no in between. wants to collab with jinyoung but was rejected bc jinyoung didn’t want his ‘emo stink all over his carefully crafted masterpieces’. 

mark: fics are lowkey. not too much angst not too much fluff. ships everything and lives in the ‘collage au’ tag. puts in the least effort but always gets 10,000+ reads and his fics become fandom classics. randomly and without warning posts hardcore smut fics. replies to every comment with the same response every time. updates fics every 8 months. never edits anything. writes in lapslock because he thinks its cool. writes a lot of daddy kink for someone who claims to ‘’’’not be into it’’’’. 

jackson:  fics are either kinky as fuck or extra as fuck. known for writing the most dramatic fics. loves plot twists and cliff hangers. occasionally fights with jinyoung on tumblr because his plots aren’t ‘’’realistic’’’. responds to every comment with a small essay. tags way too much. can never commit to finishing a chaptered fic. summaries always end with ‘i suck at summaries but pls read anyway’. started on wattpad but switched to ao3 after jinoyung made fun of him.

jinyoung: creates novels. plots are always detailed as fuck and complicated as hell. tags every fic with ‘angsty realism’. has never written a fic under 50k words. a fic snob. always leave constructive criticism in the comments. commented under bambam’s fic that ‘once the word dick appears over eighty times in a 500 word drabble you should really consider deleting your account’. has one of the most high quality fic rec lists in the fandom. takes fic writing extremely seriously. starts every fic with an exert from his favorite poem/novel. 

youngjae: fluffy and pure fics mostly. owns the ‘friends to lovers’ tag. surprisingly writes the best smut. fics are usually short and sweet. friends with all the artists so always gets the cutest fanart drawn for his fics. always writes requests and prompts. ships every thing and doesn’t have an otp. fics are always wholesome and soft. tags are messy af. tried to collab with jaebum but cried when he killed the main pairing off so the fic was deserted. 

bambam: crack fics. writes the stupidest fics that everyone are infamous in the fandom. authors notes always start with ‘im sorry mom’. started as a joke but actually became really famous within the fandom. never takes prompts seriously. probably wrote that one fic every fandom has that they ‘dont speak of’. forced yugyeom to be his beta. writes self insert fics ironically but they always become his most famous. nearly 100% dialogue. tags are always wild.

yugyeom: is only writing because of bambam. started the fic as a joke but it got really big so he felt obliged to finish it. fic is now 100k words because he didn’t know how to end it. never plans any of his fics so plots are all over the place. can’t stick to one genre. wrote the best stripper au in any fandom ever. unironically writes self insert fics. writes parodies of jinyoungs most famous fics. can’t commit to any other fic because he still has no idea how to end his first. doesn’t understand tagging. 

Klaine Advent Day 9 - Indecent


“Put that thing away.”

“C’mon, babe, it’s not that bad,” Blaine said, motioning to the heap of fabric next to him on the bed. “I think you’ll look great.”

“Of course you do,” Kurt sneered, backing away from the bed like it was a monster ready to pounce. “That thing is indecent, Blaine. I’m not wearing it.”

“But you have to.”

“Says who?”

“Says the invitation, remember? Mandatory dress code.”

“I always knew Elliott was a pervert, but I didn’t think it was this bad,” Kurt grumbled, arms folded across his chest.

“You make it sound like we’re going to some kind of S&M party,” Blaine said, trying not to laugh too obviously - best not to provoke more of Kurt’s ire.

“I’d almost prefer that!” Kurt said, provoking some mental images in Blaine that made him choke. “I have bondage-inspired apparel. I look amazing in bondage-inspired apparel! But this?” Kurt picked up the bulky green sweater distastefully between his index finger and thumb. “This is a crime against humanity.”

“Oh, come on, it’s festive,” Blaine said, smiling. The sweater had knitted Christmas ornaments, jingle bells, and working lights festooned across it, with a gold star on the neckline and a velvet “skirt” around the hem. “It’s totally going to win the ugly sweater contest, too.”

“You really think so?” Kurt asked, hesitantly intrigued.

“For sure,” Blaine said. “It’s completely gaudy. No one could possibly compete unless they literally glued a reindeer to their chest.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Rachel,” Kurt said darkly, but he had shifted his grip to have a better hold on the garment. “And you promise that we can burn it afterwards?”

“I’ll let you light the first match,” Blaine said calmly. “But if you win, I doubt you’ll want to burn your victory sweater.”

“If I win, it can stay. If I lose, we’re having a bonfire when we get home,” Kurt said. “Deal?”

“Deal. Now get dressed, I don’t want to miss Dani’s gourmet eggnog!”

holyhayle  asked:

What do you think the tlc couples would fight about the most?

Kaider: Whose hoodie is whose (that’s what happens when they’re all oversized and gray). What exactly qualifies as “overwork”. Whether the sweet rolls are better from the street vendors or from the palace kitchen (the word snob is bandied about).

Wolflet: Whose turn it is to get up and make the coffee on the cold mornings. Whether or not it’s necessary to yell at those dumb enough to make unpleasant comments about Wolf (it is). What the best way to make a grilled cheese is (the butter goes both inside and outside).

Cresswell: Who the best character in that adventure novel they’re reading together is (it’s a tie). How many sample bites of the other’s ice cream are acceptable (both parties push the proposed limit). Whose turn it is to talk to that air traffic controller (if Thorne ever wants his portscreen to work again, he’d better fold).

Jacinter: Whether or not they need another dog (of course they do). What exactly constitutes an excessive level of PDA (ahem). Who gets the last sour apple petit (not Jacin).

norrihiddleskittycap  asked:

Imagine Steve and Bruce being best friends and doing yoga or drinking tea or painting together!

The café was wedged between a sub shop that had a line out the door no matter the hour, and a Planet Fitness so Steve wasn’t sure how it was so quiet, but if he hadn’t been looking for it, he probably would have walked right by it.  

“I think this is one of those places that belongs to the Wizarding World.”  He smiles, sitting in the armchair across from Bruce.  

They’d started their own two-man book club a month ago and at Bruce’s recommendation, they were through the first two Harry Potter books.  

“I knew you’d like it.  Here.”  Bruce passed him the tea menu.  “I have an apricot blend.”  He held his mug out for Steve to try a sip.  

They’d discovered they were both (quietly) tea fanatics (Tony had used the word snobs when they both turned their nose up at the brand of Early Grey he’d bought).  And the conversation quickly moved from their favorite brands of English Breakfast and Green to books and pairings (“Oh my GOD you two, it’s not wine.  What are you – am I not nerdy enough for this conversation?  Why are you leaving?  I bought you tea you’re just too sophisticated for me!”)

Steve hummed.  “That is good.”  He glanced over the menu.  “Oh! They have white tea, though.  –And white loose tea.  That decides it for me.”  

He orders, and looks around the shop.  The walls are a muted green with brown accents and the lighting gives him the sense that he’s in a forest, sunlight peeking through the trees. The menu is extensive and if he can convince Bruce (it won’t take much) he plans to stay for at least three cups of tea and several chapters of reading and discussion of The Prisoner of Azkaban.

When they leave, five hours later, they’re both halfway through Prisoner and have bought loose tea to bring back to the Tower to carry them through to their next Enhanced Anger Management Book Club Meeting.

I could never be an English teacher. I’d get fed up and start saying things like:

And then finals would come along and I’d scream:

“You know who my gods are, who I believe in fervently? Herman Melville, Emily Dickinson — she’s probably the top — Mozart, Shakespeare, Keats. These are wonderful gods who have gotten me through the narrow straits of life.” ― Maurice Sendak

Who's That Girl?

So… I wrote a roommates fic? This is blatantly New Girl oriented, but the boys aren’t really meant to be exactly Schmidt, Winston, Coach or Nick. I’ve got about fifty short little snippets of this thing already because holy hell the hijinks that could happen with these guys.


Who’s That Girl?

The loft is nice, cluttered with mismatched furniture, red brick walls and large windows, it’s all very…nice.

This is the twelfth apartment she’s looked at today, and it’s getting a little ridiculous, if she’s being honest with herself. She’s practically Goldilocks right now - too small, too big, too smelly, too many cats, not enough light; she’s run the gamut of things that she doesn’t like and it doesn’t help that she is really, really not a huge fan of people right now.

The man who’d introduced himself as David is giving her a little tour, sweeping his arms out as he shows her the main room, and she gets a good look down the hallway at the closed doors lining it, a random assortment of things piled just to the left of the corridor - a guitar case, a pair of skis, a - is that a bow?

Emma quirks her brow as she follows him through to the living room, and he waves vaguely toward the kitchen (it’s a really nice kitchen) as he pats at a seat across from him on the couch. “Sorry, the rest of the roommates should have been here by now.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He gives her kind of an awkward smile, his Ken doll hair flopping as he tilts his head, his arms coming out again in a grand gesture as he waves them about. “Do you have any questions for me?”

She’s halfway through grilling him on the building security, and more than halfway convinced that this is the place, this is where she wants to live, when the front door swings open on it’s frame and raised voices drift through. Emma turns her head to look at them even as David lets out an annoyed groan.

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