I LOST IT
I LOST THE PLOT
(Source: tealbluestatic, via itsnotobvioustome)
This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.
—Gary Provost (via travelandfallinlove)
(Source: qmsd, via suckerforsciencefiction)
Just so you know I didn’t ask for this. I’m going to make this succinct and in conversation form.
*I walk towards Misha*
Misha: “I love when people bring props!”
Me: “I thought we could play Human Twister? *I stick the red dot on his shoulder* I’ll just put this here *I put the yellow dot on my stomach* … so you don’t feel uncomfortable.”
Misha: *looks at yellow dot* “Hmm, do I have any other choice?”
Me: “Wherever you want, really.”
Misha rips the yellow dot from my stomach and slaps it on my chest. He just looked at me approvingly and we took the photo. I thanked him, we shook hands and left.
4 Hours Later.
I picked up the photo (to many a praise I must say). Went to get Misha to sign it. His assistant slid the photo over to him. Before he even saw the photo he looks up at me and grins massively.
Misha: “Oh HEY!” *massive wide eyes*
Me: “Hey thanks for being a good sport about that!”
Misha: “No, thank you for letting me cup you!” *looks down at the photo* “It turned out great didn’t it?”
He signs it.
Me: “Oh thanks for writing that, I won’t be forgetting it.”
Misha: “It was my pleasure.”
Then he winked at me and I went on my way.
And there ended one of the most unforgettable days of my life.
(via suckerforsciencefiction)
postreichenbachstressdisorder:
Fanservice.yesyesyesyesyes
I must reblog this everytime it crosses my path. Perfection
(Source: gamesofsherlock, via 221t-tardis-st)
(Source: letmartyhandlethis, via suckerforsciencefiction)
“NOW, BABY BROTHER, HOLD MY HAND WHILE WE CROSS THE STREET.”
“Thor, stop that. I’m an adult.”
“HOLD MY HAND, BROTHER.”
“I’m not your brother.”
“HOLD MY HAND.”
“Fine.
“HALT DEAR BROTHER—I HAVE BEEN INFORMED THE PROPER ACTION BEFORE CROSSING A MIDGARDIAN STREET IS TO LOOK BOTH WAYS. ALLOW ME TO DO SO FOR THE BOTH OF US.”
“Thor, every mode of transportation these pathetic humans have created would only bruise us at best—”
“THAT IS NOT THE POINT, BROTHER. AS GODS IT IS OUR RESPONSIBILITY TO SET AN EXAMPLE FOR THE YOUNGER GENERATION!”
“How many times must I remind you that such sentimental nonsense will have no sway over my decisions?”
“THINK OF THE MIDGARDIAN CHILDREN, BROTHER!”
“…”
“…”
“…THE CHILDREN!”
(Source: jillypooh, via suckerforsciencefiction)
My role playing partner is incredible, and I love her to death. However, when it comes to the drama we decide to do….well. Let’s say that’s when my character’s sanity goes downhill, and all hell breaks loose….
