stop telling ppl to write like hemingway i promise u adverbs are not another face of the dark lord satan its ok
If writers took every bit of writing advice that was in the format ‘Don’t use X part of the English language’, all English fiction would read like Spot the dog
#Spot chases the ball#the ball chases Spot#the ball conquers nations#the ball still chases spot#see spot run#run spot run#the ball is coming
IMO Adverbs can be pretty nasty sometimes (”’I can’t wait!’ said Tom excitedly” is still a pretty bad sentence) but it all comes down to how you use them, and what words you put them together with.
Generally, you should try to avoid using adverbs in phrases like ‘she said happily’ or ‘he screamed loudly’. Aside from that, adverbs aren’t inheritly bad.
And ‘So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past’ isn’t a bad sentence at all.
thats not really anything inherent to adverbs, it’s just redundancy. the dialogue is speaking for itself. ’“i can’t wait,” said tom excitedly’ is a bad sentence, but ’“i cant wait,” said tom flatly’ is chill. id probably throw a comma in there before ‘flatly’ for pacing but u do u
“dont use adverbs” is basically a really shitty way to verbalize “redundancy is often awkward and makes your audience feel condescended to if it’s not done well”–because lgr there are times when redundancy is okay, there are times when literally everything is okay
break the rules of literature. theyre shitty rules anyway
First they came for the verbs, and I said nothing, because verbing weirds language
Then they arrival for the nouns, and I speech nothing, because no verbs
Then they for the descriptive, and I silent because verbless and nounless
Then they for me, and, but no
REBLOGGING BECAUSE THE LAST POST IS BRILLIANT.
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(noun) An untranslatable Yiddish word, aftselakhis is defined as a deep desire to execute a certain deed, because somebody else doesn’t want you to or told you, you’re unable to accomplish it. (via wordsnquotes)
This is wrong; aftzelakhis isn’t a noun, it’s an adjective or adverb, and it means “so as to anger/annoy” (i.e., so as to anger or annoy the person who forbade you to do it).
(via animatedamerican)
It’s not identical in meaning and doesn’t capture all of the nuances, but I feel like “spite-fueled” would be a decent rough translation.
(via shinyhappygoth)
well, now i know the most jewish possible word
(via roachpatrol)
the opposite of ‘ragequit’
(via jumpingjacktrash)
(Source: wordsnquotes.com, via thebibliosphere)
@words-writ-in-starlightslightly angsty first meetings
please do not repost
character development
#not so much character development#as the difference between joss’s gee golly gosh truth justice and the american way cap'n america#and actual steve rogers the potty mouthed daredevil IDIOT who let the army experiment on him because he was born so goddamn full of FIGHT ME (via absentlyabbie)
That is the best description of Steve I have ever seen
I was always so confused about if Joss Whedon had seen The First Avenger. Because Steve swears in the movie. Not like hard, its a PG-13 family movie, but he does swear.
I think Joss Whedon falls into the same trap as bad fic writer, where he thinks Steve is a farmer from 1950s Kansas instead of Irish Catholic kid from 1920s Brooklyn.
Steve Rogers is 400 pounds of righteous kickass in a 100 pound body and by using the serum the army found room for only most of it.
he thinks Steve is a farmer from 1950s Kansas instead of Irish Catholic kid from 1920s Brooklyn.
this is it. this is the description for how steve is so often mischaracterized.
My grandpa was born in a Brooklyn tenement in 1917. He was five-foot-nothing, fond of bare-knuckle boxing and once flipped my 6′1″ uncle to make a point. Enlisted in Dec 1941, got shot and blown up and turned down a medical discharge twice, but took the bronze star (which he tossed in the back of his closet). He cursed in two languages and told ribald stories about french prostitutes. He cared deeply about doing what was right even at personal cost, and would give you the shirt off his back. He learned how to use a computer just to spite my father telling him he was too old. He climbed on his roof at 87 to fix the chimney. At 89 he threatened to kick my husband’s ass if he broke my heart, and my husband was like “I genuinely believed him and was kind of scared.” When he died, people filled the largest room in the funeral home, then the line stretched down the hall, out the door, and down the sidewalk. I heard dozens and dozens of stories that could all be summed up as “Here’s how he helped/stood up for me” and/or “I really thought he was going to get himself killed with that”. My last surviving great-uncle said he was best summed up with “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”
This is the man I think of when I write Steve.
(Source: beardedchrisevans, via aethersea)
History won’t have had much record of Diana’s existence because she hung around the war for like 2 days but
there IS precisely One grainy-ass photo of a motley band of generic soldiers and also… a single woman in antiquity plate armor brandishing a sword??
like
what the FUCK is a historian supposed to make of this?
Wonder Woman is a WW1 cryptid
(via skymurdock)
kaleenjackson asked: I just wanted to say thank you for your fantastic posts. Every day I look forward to what crazy shit you have to say. Do you think you could tell us any stories about meeting any of the Howling Commandos for the first time?
well, dumdum dougan threw a nazi at me. that’s how we met. it was mid-fight, and i was a little pissed, because i wasnt expecting an angry german to come flying at my face at that particular moment. but we were a little busy trying to stay alive at that point, so mostly i just swore at dumdum and kept fighting.
the rest of them i met in the prison camp. dumdum, gabe, and morita were all technically members of the 107th, but i didn’t really talk to them at all until we were locked up together. falsworth was part of a british parachute brigade who wound up in the same camp as we did, and dernier was part of the french resistance as a spy and explosives expert. we all got tossed in the same cell together because we were the troublemakers of the captured troops. we kept inciting chaos.
which really backfired on them. because by putting all the crazies together, they just made it easier for us to conspire.
so we stole some supplies and blew up a hydra colonel.
they did not like that.
after that we became pretty close. there’s nothing like detonating nazis to bring friends together.
Anonymous asked: Captain America would kick Wonder Woman's ass just sayin
As someone who loves my son Steve Rogers, I have to say that he could never kick Diana’s ass, like literally, and also he would never do that, because Steve Rogers would grow up idolising the mysterious hero from WW1, and would probably swoon if he got to meet her, would call her “ Your Majesty” unironically, until Diana has to literally punch him to make him stop, and even then, he’d call her “Ma'am” with the utmost respect, and also he’d follow her to Hell and back without blinking.
humans are weird – adhd.
So after reblogging literally every single “humans are weird” post that came on my dash I decided it’s time to make my own!
Consider the following;
Humans are already weird space orcs that like either worship the term “fuck it” or make sacrifices to the ship’s rulebook, basically. They have a strict series of social interactions that even distinguish themselves between cultures. Deviation is rare, and sometimes ostracized, no matter how seemingly arbitrary.
So when the ship of the Vyrg’s first human shows up, they were expecting a smiling (humans smile for a lot of the time) human who will shake their first right hand.
Instead, they got a messy, spaced out creature whose hair was falling in their face and whose things were overflowing from their arms, all seemingly hobbies and random trinkets. A backpack hung on their back.Their first words were accompanied with a (sheepish…the captain thought) smile;
“Sorry, I overslept and I forgot deployment was today! And I forgot my saline for my contacts back in my room but we’ve got to take off, right?”Great. The crew got a dumb one.
Or so they thought, until their human explained the entire summary of how their ship’s mechanics worked, and fixed their left engine to work at maximum capacity in record time. The human followed it up with a seemingly random tangent about something called the “Stonewall Riots” and “gay rights”.
“Sorry,” Human-Clara said.
“A bit of light just reflected here and it looked like a rainbow and it made me think of it.”
Human-Clara had a tendency to speak either so fast they ran out of breath, or with so many pauses it sounded like they were gathering their scattered thoughts at that moment.Life with Human-Clara was – odd. They kept to themselves mostly, quietly chatting with crew mates on certain days or absorbed in their transponder for others. Sometimes they would walk out of their room so wholly absorbed in yet another new hobby that the Captain feared xe’d never pull them out of it. The crew never saw a hobby finished. Sometimes when they were spoken to, Human-Clara responded slowly and distractedly, eyes distant and far away as if still thinking of something else. They regularly forgot to eat, or sleep, or take care of themselves if they were absorbed in something else. Directions had to be written down or sent to their transponder. The Captain learned to be patient, as Human-Clara seemed to excel with patience.
Human-Clara was also oddly sensitive. It was quite a culture shock for them to learn that the Vyrg didn’t really have a notion of “friends” other than immediate family, and was almost – crushed, for a few days, the Vyrg’s usual polite friendliness not enough. They seemed depressed when their crazy, thousand-lightyears-an-hour tangents weren’t paid attention to, so the crew began to adapt, and things became much more harmonious.
Sometimes Human-Clara got angry. They were terrifying when angry. It lasted only a few seconds, really. They would blow up, the explosion big enough to scare even the Captain, and after the explosion, be calm in seconds afterwards.
Stimulant chemicals made them sleepy, which the Vyrg thought was adorable. They watched videos of what they called “stims”, and flapped their hands when they were happy, and slapped them quickly and repeatedly on flat surfaces when they were really excited about knowing something. These were “stims” too. The Vyrg wasn’t sure what these “stims” were, really, but they seemed to regulate Human-Clara, emotionally.
Then they got another Human, Human-Steve. Human-Steve was often condescending in their remarks, saying that if Human-Clara “tried”, they could concentrate. It was then that the Vyrg learned what “attention deficit hyperactive disorder, primarily inattentive” was.
They panicked, a little. Was their first human sick?
“No,” Human-Clara explained. “It’s just where the connections in my brain are different, so some things I do differently. Human-Steve doesn’t have that, so he doesn’t understand”.
The Vyrg didn’t either, but their previous methods of interaction worked just fine, so they kept using those.
(If anybody wants to add anything, you don’t have too, but feel free!)
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
So me and @alexkablob watched Rogue One and I think I can put into words what resonates so much this time. I realize other people have said this already more eloquently than me but…
While everyone I’ve seen agrees that R1 is fucking gorgeous, the main thing I’ve seen from people who don’t personally like it is that the total party kill is too dark, too depressing, it doesn’t feel like Star Wars exactly; that Star Wars is about hope and good triumphing over evil despite the odds. And look, Rogue One is heavy. You don’t have to personally like that, that’s fair.
But there is one thing that I have to contest. Because….Rogue One is about hope.
The good guys win.
They win. They pass hope like a baton, bloody fingers to sweaty palms, sprinting forward and trusting that someone will manage to slip it into their hand before it’s too late.
The message of Rogue One, the reason I adore it for its quietly unflinching look at sacrifice, isn’t the dark-and-gritty People Die In War, Don’t Be Naive. Its message is…look. Look at humanity. Look at what we do, what we are capable of. The beauty of hope, the love and the faith we have for one another. Look at what courage and compassion accomplish. All the hatred, all the brute force in the galaxy can’t match that simple, silent strength. The Empire fails.
A dark, gritty movie would be: the Empire wins. Or the Rebellion wins but the cost was too high, it wasn’t worth it. Rogue One says, yes, it was. That soft rising music over the entire end of that relay race, from the moment the plans beam out. It’s quiet, and sad, and solemn–and triumphant.
It says: it’s over. It’s done. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. You’ve done enough. Breathe. This was worth it.
(via chromatographic)
