#i hate how google docs formats over here

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:  𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬?

𝐭𝐰: 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, heavy angst! 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 

𝟔.𝟐𝐤 — my goal was 10k let’s all laugh masterlist

a/n: good morrow cousin, don’t mind me just vibin’ anyway— pls ignore the lack of formatting, google docs… count your days. this story still means so much to me, i won’t jump ship on it, and i hope you understand the mental headspace i get in while writing and how 🥰draining and crippling🥰 it truly is 🥲 BUT I DO IT FOR YOU MY LOVERS! ♥️😵‍💫

Sweaty hands were clamped in a bone aching constriction around your steering wheel the entirety of the drive to the club. Watching the whispy curls of dust from the gravel color the powder blue sky, you mutter to yourself.

This was so stupid.

Magenta hued beads hanging from the rearview mirror sway and clack together as you pull the car sharply into the your designated spot towards the back of the parking lot. Flitting a quick glance in the mirror to see if Eddie was still following, you tear your eyes away when the jet black steel of the fender catches the sun's rays, sending a blinding wink into the side mirrors as he approaches, parking alongside you.

This is crazy. This is insane.

Wiping your palms hastily on the ruby stockings pinched to your thighs, you wonder when the nerves in your chest would settle. If your stomach would ever stop churning with the rapid wings of a swarm of angry bees?

Why were you nervous? It was just Eddie.

Your knee bounces of its own accord as you remind yourself of just that. The dry swallow of the tablets you took before he could notice would start working in no time, and then you’d be able to stomach what you were getting yourself into.

Eddie Munson. A childhood friend. Taking a few deep breaths, you open the door into the shared space, and are met with that shit eating grin he never lost.

Here we go.

Green lensed aviators are nestled onto the bridge of his nose, a black bandana snug on his head that you definitely didn’t watch him tie back at your apartment as he straddled the bike before revving the engine and shooting you a daring smile.

Crunching gravel beneath his boots, he stands with hands in the back of his pocket.

“So…” he asks, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards the club, “when did the Hideout go belly up?”

A sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to get the laundry from the backseat of your sedan, voice muffled, “eighty…-three, I think..” you say strangled like, as you struggle with the bulk of the laundry basket. The strap of your purse is slung over your shoulder when you finally emerge from the car and stand upright to face him.

“Here,” he offers, holding his hands out in offering his help.

Puzzled, you look at everything in your hands, deciding against thrusting the basket of sheets into his awaiting arms, you nod your head towards the car and step out of the way, “sure, my shoes from the back? I just gotta find the keys.”

Switching the basket to your hip you dive into the depths of your purse looking for the keys to unlock the club doors.

Eddie’s fingers curl around the straps of your high heels. A look of bewildered awkwardness coloring his brow. The aching reminder of his actions that damned you to this life were held between his fingers. Cheap leather material, a small brass buckle, plastic.

He slams your door in defeat, hating himself more with each day of being back in Hawkins.

Your hand finagles the key, jingling it out from the mess of your purse. When you look up with a sly little quirk at the corner of your lips for your triumph…Eddie has planted a fake smile on his lips… one that was buried within him before you can see the sadness in his eyes.

“Ready?”

Mrs. Click rattled on and on about WWII, sounding more like the adults in a Peanuts episode every second that ticked by. A loud yawn escapes Eddie’s already slack mouth as he doodles in the margins of his paper, a blue smear on his hand from the ink.

A crumpled ball of composition paper lands on his textbook skidding across the slicked pages and finding home against the wire of his notebook.

Without looking around Eddie already knows who the note is from. A simple scrawled sentence with big loops on the letters and a smiley face after the question mark.

“Lolly wants ‘sketti’ for supper tonight… you in? :)”

His dimples well deep in his cheeks as he scribbles a reply, stealing a glance your way. When Mrs. Click’s back is turned to scratch a hiss of powdered chalk into the board, he lobs the note back to you, hitting your shoulder lightly.

A slow smile creeps across your face as you flatten the note with your palms and read your best friend’s scratched handwriting.

“Hell yeah!”

…

The halls were quiet, Hawkins High students busying themselves with tests and worrying about grade point averages. Not even the janitor Sal was squeaking down the halls.

“If Ms. Judy catches us…”

“She won’t.”

“What about Higgins? I can’t get detention again, my dad will slaughter me.”

“Clove…” Eddie grumbled, stopping his task of picking the lock to look at you with the deepest sincerity, “I promise, we’ll be fine, okay?…just, shit, keep your eyes peeled, I’m almost… there…”

A wicked sliver of a grin plays on his lips.

“Yahtzee, baby! C’mon”

The door to the school kitchen swung open beneath his hand. The smell of Comet cleaner and fresh baked bread invade your nose.

The blade of his knife is closed with a clink on his hip as he bends low with a bow for you to go in first, “let’s go shopping.”

“Set them wherever,” you say nonchalantly, pupils adjusting to the darkness as you step through the threshold into the club.

Walking to the counter and shifting the basket on your hip tossing the keys on the bar, you wiggle off your purse, and turn around to see him standing by a barstool, looking slightly out of place, like a lit Christmas tree in the summertime.

Seeing Eddie in the club, in the depths of sweat and sin was gut wrenching. The club was accustomed to pleasuring pastors and preachers, cops and school teachers. They had all traipsed across the wood floor in their Sunday best, shoes shined to godliness… leaving with lipstick stains and reeking of alcohol. Sin on their breath and in their Hanes.

No, him being here made you feel like your skin was crawling, and that you were about to scream at any given moment.

Heaving the basket onto the nearest table, you take a wounded breath, holding it for longer than necessary to squish your toes along the muddy depth of Lover’s Lake. You spin to avert the lingering glances from Eddie, his eyes burrowing into you like hot steel to butter.

Slotting yourself behind the bar you holler over your shoulder, “park it, I’ll get some drinks.”

Lights flicker and hum an exhausted tune as they slowly shine light to the grim bar, just enough to not be cast in complete darkness.

Eddie grabs the stool in a swift all too cool motion, sliding his long frame over it, the chain on his hip jingling against the wood as he sits, “just water for me…what?” he laughs.

You’re turned facing him with a furrowed brow, holding two of the cleanest shot glasses Queens had in one palm, the other steady on your hip, an annoyed look on your face, “don’t make me drink alone, Slim.”

He laughs again, a loud abrupt sound as he shakes his head, tucking his sunglasses in the neck of his shirt. A modest blush pinking his cheeks as his tongue runs over the sharp edges of his canines.

You haven’t budged, and Eddie finally looks up to meet your stare.

His eyes are glassy, dark and almost a sheen of velvet to them under the shadow of bandana, and the comical yellow rubber of the bandaid.

If eyes were the windows to the soul, you were familiar with his scenery, this particular essence was hurt like you, wounded in the same ways. The past showed through the forlorn strangeness of the last few years like a weathered map with all too familiar paths. Looking into his pools of deep darkness felt soothing in a crippling ached breath.

Features could change but eyes couldn’t, they kept you anchored to him stuck in the void of his mud.

It’s a game before you realize it.

A stare down… in dim light, eyes drying by the second, but it’s Eddie who folds first, no cards left to hold, or rather letting his opponent win. Like old times.

“Always such a headache, huh? Fine,” he exaggerates with a petty eye roll, “you win.” The crooked smirk on his lips gives him away, matching your own.

The two stout glasses clink together against your palm, a bottle of Jameson held by its neck in your other hand, “Not much has changed I see,” you quip, setting them down and pouring the whiskey into the first one, “you still suck at games.”

Eddie cringes as you pour the second, “trying to kill us? Do you not remember what happened on your fifteenth birthday?”

You erupt with laughter, tossing your head back and giggling in that little way he hadn’t heard since you were kids, “oh please,” you snort, thinking back to how drunk the both of you had gotten, “you don’t either.”

Eddie smiles, “probably not the greatest idea I’ve had.”

Sliding a glass towards him you hold yours up, the lights coloring the dark amber into a caramel pool of regret, “to us.”

“To old friends,” Eddie follows, in a grand accent, holding his glass next to yours, “burying the hatchet, stitching old wounds..”

“Alright Shakespeare wrap it up.”

“.. to you.” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning your face, and you shudder involuntarily before tipping the glass against your lips and swallowing the liquor.

It burned on your tongue, hot and unwelcoming, sliding like lava down your throat. Eddie winces, making a sour face as he slaps his glass down on the wood top of the bar.

“Fuck, that's horrible.”

“Ah,” you say, pulling a lever on the tap and putting a tall frosted mug under the spout of draft beer, “it’s not that bad.”

He watches as you pour another beer walk around the bar with one in each hand. His cheeks pink when you smile at him, and he quickly pulls out a stool for you.

Leaning your back against the counter you sip your drink. The bar is empty but the roaring waves of silence crash loud in your ears. It’s strange. Being here with him, would you ever get over seeing him after so many years?

“I won’t lie, Clovie, ’m not much of a drinker.” Eddie admits, rubbing his thumbs along the frosted mug.

“Well,” you say, holding your beer up to your lips, and looking over the edge to meet his gaze, “today you are.”

Taking a generous sip you smile when he follows suit.

“Eddie Munson, back in Indiana,” you tease, elongating the vowels of the state, “never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, tossing long curls behind his shoulder, “missed the scenery.”

You scoff, “yeah the luscious rolling hills of the trailer park really get me feeling like Julie Andrews too.”

He cringes, raising his brows for emphasis, “Those hills have eyes.”

“Eww..” your nose crinkles, “Craven outdid himself with that one, I still won’t watch it.”

Eddie takes a pull from his beer before adding nonchalantly, “that’s cause you’re chicken shit.”

Blowing a raspberry with your lips, your eyes narrow as you spit an insult. “This coming from the guy who slept with his lights on after watching E.T.”

“When he turns white by the river?! Fucker looks like a crushed powdered donut!”

It was easy falling back into the throws of jokes and banter with Eddie. You both giggle like kids talking about movies that had shredded horror as kids but now made you cringe with how poor they were done.

After a particularly long laugh about whether or not you still carried around your security blanket, Eddie sighs, “I thought this was gonna be weird,” Your nerves had calmed at the expense of childlike humor and talks of times long ago, that you finally slide on the stool he had pulled out for you. “us…. this place… Hawkins,” he bumps your elbow with his, “ shit I mean, we’re drinking in a bar, legally! Who would have thought?”

Your grin warms his heart like honey in a cup of tea, “somehow the beer doesn’t taste any better once you’re old enough to drink it.” The sip you took from your frosted mug was far from ladylike.

“You’re right,” he agrees, following your lead and taking a big gulp, “something forbidden always tastes better.”

Right now you felt like Eve, enjoying the fruits of company from Eddie Munson, and your cheeks heat. Rick hadn’t crossed your mind since he drove down the driveway this morning, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“…a motorcycle, huh?” you say changing the subject, “honestly didn't think you were the type.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a little dimple pitting in the plumpness of his cheek, “Type? Like I need to be a colossal douche to drive one, hell…it’s good on gas, real fast. I got a buddy who fixed it up for me, owed me a favor for a cover up I did on his back.”

“Cover up?” you ask, eyebrow quirked, “like…a tattoo?”

“Yeah,” he says, swiveling on his barstool to face you, rolling his sleeves up past his elbow showing off his tattooed arms in the space between you both, “did these myself, just something I do for fun.”

His skin is embellished more than it is bare. Dark swirls of onyx branched out along his left wrist and up to the rolled fabric of his shirt, and you wonder if it disappeared up to his arm, around his torso? The marks seemed to flow like a river, connecting, gathering, forking this way and that, etching more pages to a story of an unfamiliar tale. You hoped to one day know its origin.

Without asking, your fingertips trace the outlines of the black ink, delicately following the path.

They circled around a rose covered in heavy dark thorns, dripping with blood. It had bloomed in a grassy knob made of lyrics from songs you had never heard. The inscriptions continue to channel along to a long silver dagger with a jeweled embellished handle of pretty emeralds that were shaped in irregular patterns. The dagger sunk into his skin and poked back out, shredding tendons and marrow in its wake… all exposed, coming to a point at his wrist.

It was as if he created his own armor, each intricate drag of the needle serving as a steady reminder that he would overcome. You can’t help the smile spreading on your lips, you had never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

“Should have guessed you’d end up being some sort of artist, Eddie, these are really lovely.”

He smiles, warm and inviting as he reaches for your hand, angling it towards him to get a proper look at the stick n poke tattoo he did years before.

A rough thumb sweeps along your skin, and the whiskey coloring of his eyes pour into yours, “I could fix this for you, make it look better.”

“Absolutely not,” you falsely gasp, “I love it just the way it is… besides you didn’t cover yours up either,” you point to the tattoo on his left hand. The small heart and clover were faded and blown out, a stark contrast difference against the shadowed dark lines around it.

You grin and meet his eyes. “Do you remember how hot it was that day?”

Eddie had always kept that memory at the surface, remembered as if it were yesterday, thinking about it often. As if your hand was still sweating in his, he could practically smell the peanut butter in your hair, feel the dampness on his shoulder from your tears.

“Yeah,” he says with a sad little smile, “I remember getting our asses chewed because we burnt supper.”

The light leaves your eyes and your smile fades, venom on your tongue as you spit, “should have poisoned them both… could have saved ourselves a world of trouble.”

Eddie’s stomach rumbled at the empty hollow feeling it used to play on repeat, if it weren't for you, he would have starved indefinitely.

“Juvy couldn’t have been that bad, THREE meals a day? Shit, practically a cake walk.”

“Yeah, lucky bastards,” you admit, a small lost look on your face as you drop his hand, mind wandering to the long forgotten childhood you were abandoned in. If your dad wasn’t screaming at you and raising a fist it was the neighbors ignoring the hollering and groaning of furniture snapping against thin walls from the Munson trailer. Never a silent hour in the park.

It’s quiet for a few beats as you drink your beer, finishing it a few swallows and leaning over the bar to grab the bottle of Jameson, pouring another round.

“So, the motorcycle, tattooing… you must be fighting off the ladies.”

Eddie laughs, his eyes darting across your face with a quirked brow, “not hardly.”

Rolling your eyes you sip at the bitter drink, “don’t be prude Munson, tell me.”

He scoffs and moves hair from his neck, suddenly interested in the bottom of his drink, “I’m not telling you the woes of my love life, thanks.”

“C’mon..” you pout, showing your bottom lip, “we never got to have talks like this!”

Eddie snorted at the pathetic pout you showed, “yeah and we aren’t gonna start now because there’s nothing to tell.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you scowled at him. “You’ve always been such a bad liar, bet your ears are red,” you reach for his hair in a feeble attempt to reveal what you both already knew to be true.

“Quit!” Eddie yells playfully, batting your hand away, “alright yeah, I’ve had a girlfriend or two,” he shrugs, “never anything serious.”

You grin at him lazily, elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm, even though your heart sank a bit at the thought of him loving someone, “ahh, see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie blushes under your stare, “speak for yourself.”

He looks down, rubbing condensation from his mug with his thumbs. “And you? d’you uh… got a boyfriend?”

Your smile fades and you try not to shiver in disgust as you pour another shot. Slapping the glass down hard on the counter as you drain it, “I wouldn’t exactly call him that… it’s more of an… agreement.”

His face breaks into a jigsaw puzzle, “what does that mean?”

“Dont wanna bore you with ‘my love life woes’…” you interject, ignoring him, putting the tip of your finger in his glass and dragging it towards you. Tipping in more Jameson and sliding it towards him.

The buzz was tickling your fingers, a lightness took over your head as the alcohol seeped into your blood.

“Down to the meat and potatoes Slim…why are you home? I mean it’s not as if this shithole holds any happy memories.”

He brought the shot glass to his lips, sipping it down as you pour yourself another.

How did you not know that the only happy memory he had of Hawkins was you? He didn’t know how to tell you that it was the memory of your smile that kept him company when the nights were cold and he didn’t know where his next meal would come from.

He takes a deep breath, “my uncle died,” he squints with a puckered sour face at the burn from the liquor shaking his head, “Al is either dead or on another bender so…” he claps his hands, “here I am… met with his girlfriend today actually.”

You frown, reaching for his folded hands, tapping his knuckles, “‘m sorry, Eddie. Wayne was sweet, respectful, a regular here… to the bar, not the club.”

Eddie rolls his shoulders, trying to untie his tongue to ask the question that burned in him, “when did you um... start working here?”

Your stomach drops at his question, and your nails clack around the Jameson bottle again as you dump yet another splash into your glass. Your answer is muffled behind a choked swallow.

He frowns, racking his brain, “wait.. isn’t that…”

“My birthday,” you fake cheer, eyes too wet for normal conversation, “big 1-8.”

“Jesus...”

Eddie’s eyes shut in horror and your doomed fate. He covered his mouth with a fist to shield you from his quivering bottom lip. It was a far fucking cry from what he could have even imagined.

His eighteenth birthday was no glorious day either but he wasn’t forced to work in a strip club. His stomach churns, making milk into butter at the thought of your naive innocent eyes, and how they had almost hardened to steel in his absence.

The whiskey is working its magic now you’re feeling a little hot behind the ears, fuzzy in your head, dizzy eyed.He stares for a while over at you, watching in disappointment as you get clumsy with the pours, spilling a little on the counter and wiping it away with your bare hand, as you slug down, yet another, shot.

You stand suddenly, stumbling behind the bar and to the chip stand. Your fingers miss the clips in your attempt to release the snacks but they finally find home and you grab a bag, flinging it to him before opening one for yourself.

“Cool right?” you say, struggling to open it, tongue poked out in drunken concentration.

“Y’know I think most kids get a car,” the bag opens sending a confetti of salted crumbs and chips scattering to the counter to be crunched at your feet. Trying not to meet his eyes you talk to the ceiling, “maybe a crisp hundred dollar bill for their eighteenth. Clove? Blisters, a couple of bruises.. oh, and my name! Carved on the bathroom door, for a good time call…”

He’s struck dumb. Shell shocked and blinking back tears. Eddie clears his throat and reaches across the bar for your hand but you pull away from him, instead grabbing for the bottle.

“Welcome back.” you muse before pressing the mouth of the bottle angrily to your lips… foregoing the glass entirely.

Tipping your head back the now tasteless liquor slides down your throat with ease. An expert at coating the agony, you wait for your brain to lose oxygen and beg for an intake of breath, silently hoping you’d drown instead.

Years have passed of you dulling misery with anything you could get your hands on, liquor, pills, a little bit of nose powder… you’d tried most of the things Rick sold. And it worked until you needed more and more. It was a vicious cycle you were chasing.

But with Eddie here? It was nearly impossible to breeze over the truth.

When the bottle, in its near emptiness, slapped against the counter… a pair of dark eyes stare up at you, wide and sad, glossy with tears of shaming guilt.

Eddie couldn’t have guessed that your life was going to end up this way. He was naive in thinking that. Fucking stupid. He should kick his own ass for leaving the way he did, but his options were limited. Still, he’d wear the brunt of this mistake on his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

Your eyes were empty, lost, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He shook his head slow, voice gravely.

“I owe you years worth of apologies, Clove.”

You’re more than tipsy at this point, and suddenly you can’t form words as your breath is trapped in your throat.

He was practically in tears as he tried his hardest to explain himself, tried to right this wrong.

“I was young, so fucking stupid..”

“Eddie..” As much as you wanted to know what happened it suddenly felt like too much, like your brain would implode, unable to process the heartache any further.

“Just listen, okay? Please?” He’s begging for your attention and you would rather melt into the floor. “I never told you, I never told anyone.”

Thicker than thieves. Eddie knew you like the back of his hand and likewise with you, so what the hell was he talking about?

…

“Check the back, I’m sure the canned stuff is there.”

The kitchen was eerily quiet, filled with sleepy rays of the afternoon sun, loaves of bread set out on the counter fresh from the oven for tomorrow's lunch.

You pad on tip toes to the back room lined with shelves of aluminum cans, and dried goods. You didn’t know where to start.

“How many should we take?” you whisper yell over your shoulder, “Two? Three?”

Eddie’s using his shirt as a basket, filling it full with small cartons of milk, shoving apples in his pockets, “Look for the big ones, then we won’t have to come back for a… oh fuck yeah, come to daddy.”

“Ew, Eddie!”

“Found some cheese!” he cheers, “we could make garlic bread!”

Label after label your fingers skimmed over the cans. Peaches, tapioca pudding, green beans, lima beans, and finally… in a can larger than your head, crushed tomatoes.

“Jackpot,” you whisper grabbing the cans and adjusting them one under each arm, “ready?”

Eddie’s frame fills the doorway, arms bundled with an assortment of goodies, a fresh loaf of bread in a plastic bread sack between his teeth, a joker’s grin wide on his face, “let’s roll.”

…

It was pure dumb coincidence that an exit was next to the cafeteria. You were surprised at the fact that Eddie's jeans didn’t fall down to his ankles from the extra weight of food heavy in his pockets as the two of you ran to his van and sped back to the trailer park.

“We made out like bandits, gonna eat like kings tonight, Clovie.” Eddie’s smile is spread wide as he helps haul the looted school food into your trailer.

Years of yellowing stains from tobacco use shown on every surface, a permanent haze of smoke lingering in the air, baking in the sunlight. Dishes littered the sink in standing dirty gray water, gone ice cold.

“Sorry for the mess,” you explain, reaching into the sink to pull the stopper, “I fell asleep before doing them while reading Lolly her library book.”

Eddie opens a drawer looking for a can opener, “and your dad didn’t come unglued? You must be Irish with that kinda luck.”

“He was passed out, I could have lit the place on fire and he wouldn’t have known, and he was gone before my alarm went off this morning.”

Peeling back the tin lid after pinching it open with the can opener, Eddie grunts, “yeah, my dad left early this morning too, said something about keeping my ‘filthy fucking hands off his stash’ and that he’d be gone for a few days.”

It was an enormous relief when it was just you and Eddie to fend for yourselves. Most teens could barely use the stove to make popcorn, but you had been taking care of yourself and Lolly for years. It was what you preferred.

Reaching for the one good aluminum pot that was stashed above the fridge, you pull it down and remove the magazine clippings of recipes you wanted to try or things that looked easy to make with the very little your cabinets held. “Good, glad they’ll be gone.”

Eddie sucks a tomato sauce covered thumb into his mouth, smiling in a way that made your cheeks heat, “almost like you read my mind.”

He’s hesitant now, fumbling over his words and brushing hair from his neck.

“I, you know I always talked about leaving Hawkins…practically had it all figured out by the time we were thirteen.”

You remember how serious his face was when he cupped your arms in the kitchen, his words branding themselves in your skull like a prisoner counting down days.

He swallows roughly, running hands through his hair, “I… I wanted you to… firstly…I need you to understand that I didn’t want to leave… not without you.”

Playing coy you brush off his serious tone, “.. stop.”

“I’m serious,” he sighs, reaching for your hand and your stomach flips when his calloused palm clamps tight on your knuckles, “you were everything to me.”

“.. c’mon Eddie, that’s just the liquor talkin’ now.”

“t’s not… and with me,” his eyes seem to grow in size as his sincerity leaks through them, “I’d never tell you something like this while drunk.”

You swallow dryly and nod, accepting that whatever he was about to say was true and real.

He takes a sharp intake of breath, as if this particular memory hurt him more than any other. His eyes were growing dark. solemn, and he squeezed your hand as he begins.

“I think it was about a year before I left… we made spaghetti with shit we stole from the cafeteria…”

A pain in your chest blossoms with a thought you hadn’t remembered until now when he reminded you. The taste of cheesy bread in the oven and salty tomatoey spaghetti invade your mind.

“I still can't eat spaghetti.”

A quick smirk dances in the corner of his lip and he meets your eyes, “yeah… me neither, I stayed over on the floor of the bathroom.”

You nod, remembering the sounds of Eddie retching into the toilet while you laid in your bed, a popcorn bowl keeping you company, thankful that Lolly hadn’t gotten sick. Even though you had gotten screamed at for being sick yourself when your dad and Al came back earlier than expected.

“Well, I was awake when they came home. They didn’t know I was there or even awake, and they were talking ‘business’.. you know those trailer walls are so fuckin’ thin, couldn’t not hear them.”

His eyes pinched shut like you would on a rollercoaster when it’s too scary, shaking his head, his other hand clamped over the one he held yours in, rubbing as if he could possibly buff out the callouses.

You can’t do anything but stare at him. Frozen in place. Scared to move, not even breathing.

“They had been talking about how some of their new “talent” wouldn’t be ready to go right away but… goddamn…” his voice cracks and he shakes his head before his demeanor falls and his voice gets quiet almost mute, “they had someone in mind to fill in in the mean time…”

No.

It shouldn’t have been a shock, shouldn’t have gutted you on the spot, usingyour intestines as a jump rope, but somehow, hearing this from Eddie’s mouth made it worse than if you were to hear it from them yourself.

You wanted to run away, to hide and never come out of a dark hole.

“… I hoarded away any nickel I could find, because we were going to leave. Together.” he squeezes your hand on the last word, possibly trying to bring you back to life as you stared ominously at the counter next to your conjoined hands.

The stagnant air is cold between you, and you aren’t sure if you’ve taken a breath within the last two minutes or not. Cold sweat formed on your lower back and any high you were feeling was dull, a competition to fight with your lucidness. Eddie took a few deep breaths before continuing.

“I replay that day over and over… how my dad came home, screaming about how I was a man now, needed to start helping with the family business stop freeloading like my mom… y’ know somethin’ Clove, to this day I’ve never touched that shit, and that was the one and only time I’ve ever seen heroin.” He hangs his head and you shift on uneasy feet.

“Telling him no was my first mistake, But I had to stick up for myself, had to let him know that I wasn’t gonna be like him,” he spoke now through gritted teeth as he admits, “but instead he swung on me,” Eddie chuckles despite the gravity of his words, “got a few good jabs in before he pulled those brass knuckles out.”

Your hand flies to cover your mouth before you realize it’s open in horror.

“I packed the van when I heard him leave, pocketed the cash I had saved up. This was it, we were getting the hell out. You and me, Lolly too… fuck I can’t even imagine how crazy I looked covered in blood,” he sighs then, shuttering like, voice shaking, his eyes wet.

Your heart broke for him. Broke for his demons that followed him around like a shadow. “I… I didn’t even get a knock in on your window before I felt a gun pressed to my head …”

It’s your turn to take a shaky breath, and you can’t hide the burn in your nose or the way your mouth tingled from holding in tears.

His voice is low, broken, “… I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t just me they were threatening. He made it more than clear how easy it would be to get rid of two kids nobody wanted to begin with.”

Slipping in and out of present time, you imagine how scared Eddie must have been. The look of terror on his face as a grown adult held him at gunpoint. How his own dad hit him until he bled, how he tried to get to you, tried to save you. You were a fucking fool for hating him when the one you should have been hating this entire time was yourself.

“… he followed me to the van… told me he’d fill me full of lead if he ever came back.”

You pinched your eyes shut, imagining him driving away from the only home he’d ever known, from his life, from you.

His voice fades in and out, as he works through the emotions wavering in his body. “I should have come back for you, should have, I dunno.. I’m sorry, Clove.”

It’s quiet as you process everything Eddie has said. The pain you’d shoved down for years is raging towards you like a bull. Red, angry, demanding to be felt. But you would hide from this terrorizing house of horrors for as long as you could, and you step out of the bull’s way, deflecting.

“Music!” you screech out of nowhere, through the thick haze of sadness, “we need music.”

Standing abruptly, sending the now empty bottle of Jameson clattering across the counter, Eddie tries to steady you from across the bar, his cheeks damp.

“Whoa, hey.. you okay?”

“I gotta,” your hands roam over yourself in search of pockets, “…hey you got a quarter?” The floor seemed to move as you teetered toward the jukebox, keeping your eyes on the colorful lights as you walked towards it like a moth to a flame.

“Wai…” he takes a step forward reaching for your hand but deciding against it, hand going limp by his side, his eyes searching inside your own.

You desperately want to break against him, to throw yourself in his arms and let him hold you until the tears dry on your cheeks, but you can’t let yourself be so vulnerable. Not in front of Eddie, not in front of anyone.

“Clove…” his voice is tender, concerned, “c’mon, you need to sit down.”

“No change? That’s okay, Slim,” you squeak, cutting him off in a rush, forcing a fake smile as you silently curse yourself for sounding so derailed, “Gotta change anyway.”

Spinning and nearly tripping over a stool in your attempt to get to the dressing room, you avoid the swelling brown of his eyes like the plague.

“Larry or Kenny should be here in a few, tell ‘im you’re on my tab and you can eat all the wings you want for free tonight, ‘kay? I’ll be back!”

The tears slid before you could stop them, hot pools that stung your eyes like acid. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked…no you definitely shouldn’t have pushed to know the reason why he left.

The bar was still spinning, waves of heat hitting you like an oven.

You prayed that your Eddie would come back to you, come home to save you and take you away from this life, but he’s here now and it’s entirely too much for you to deal with.

Vomit rose in your throat before you could swallow it back, and walking down the ruby carpeted hallway, your stomach empties itself on the floor before you can find a trash can, the wall holding you up as you crumble against it. Heart bruised and battered, despite Eddie’s efforts to mend it.

He stood in the open bar, soul empty and hollow. So many confessions left unsaid were formed but couldn’t quite fall from his lips. The conversation he wanted to have was not the outcome he had hoped for. He yearned for you, how close the two of you used to be and how it was torn away too soon. Time was a thief and the years spent apart ate at him, and all he can think of is the small manila envelope he kept of letters that went unread, addressed to you.

thank you for taking the time to read 💋 i know this chapter has taken for fucking ever to come out but i hope it was possibly worth it🥀

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord 😭 @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper @corrodedcoffincumslut @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel l @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @eiightysixbaby @writinginthetwilight @jessisacarica @ali-r3n

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #best friend eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfic #eddie fan fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

[sanctus-ingenium]

any tips or stuff youve learned along the way on making a headworld "series bible" of sorts?

discord categories & channels (ft. the old working title of Where Hate Rules because i forgot to change it). i have a discord server with just me in it where I have a channel category for each writing project.

scroll down for a spreadsheet data blast

General - image dump, place to throw in new ideas so I don't forget them, plot points, etc

Worldbuilding - this is for stuff that's set in stone, not vague concepts. maps, diagrams, etc (i have a lot of diesel engine block diagrams and celestial illustrations in there as well as every holy beast)

Character log - literally just a list of characters. put in every character in the same format (i.e Name, Age, Profession, Physical Description, Hometown)

Writing Place - for prose. I write in libreoffice but when I'm out of the house on mobile or just doing test paragraphs they go here because I'd rather kill myself than use google docs ever. Each new piece of writing has an easily-searched title.

After this I have a channel for every main character. In here I put art relating to them, backstory, motivations, any random thoughts I have about them and so on. You don't wanna see how many of these I have for my Inver channel category lmaoo.

No, there are better ways to visualise Inver's absolutely massive series bible!

Discord is obviously only useful if you're online and I don't like storing so much shit in the cloud. And what if I need rows AND columns?

man i love spreadsheets. zoom in and get a load of that sweet sweet fossit guide.

this is me kissing microsoft excel with tongue to produce a datasheet about the modern-day ranger barracks in Inver (year 2017, Pascal's time) but any spreadsheet program will do. Even (gag) google sheets. I made this because in the modern era, rangers are ecologists! They participate in land management as well as faery relations.

Okay so. First thing you want to do is freeze the top row so that it remains in place when you scroll. Then populate the boxes. Here, each ranger organisation (column 1) is given its own bg colour based on its main tartan colour so visual reference is easy. The characters tab is similar - frozen top row with basic categories, then a colour-coded list of rangers.

I have one of these for 1800s Inver as well! Luckily I only had to do the habitats once since they didn't change much over the years.

Hopefully that helps?? Basically: if you're lazy and need to generate ideas and data on the go, pick discord. If you want to be more specific, make a spreadsheet or 6.

[ere-the-sun-rises]

Controversial Opinion

Microsoft Office is superior to Google's features. Hands down.

Point 1: Email

Okay, so here Google does actually win one. Gmail is better than Outlook not because it's a better service but because it's not trying so hard. Outlook is over-functional, in a way that says someone is justifying having a paycheck by adding features that no one wants or uses.

Point 2: Word Processor

Microsoft Word beats Gdocs to death in a back alley. Gdocs sucks so much ass it's not even funny. Word is the perfect program - clear parameters, nicely in-depth features and controls that allow for precise formatting. It doesn't lag no matter how long the doc is and it has more fonts than people on planet earth. You can easily save the doc as a PDF and it prints without issue. Gdocs has to beg for mercy and can barely manage to save to desktop without completely fucking up what little formatting you can manage. Plus, did you know that Gdocs doesn't save your work as a proper text file, but as image plates of each page? God, Docs sucks so much.

Point 3: Spreadsheets

GSheets is a joke. Its mother thinks its a failure and its siblings only hang out with it because they feel bad. Excel is intimidating, but for a reason - it knows what it's doing and is damn good at it. Nothing is beyond it. Nothing.

Point 4: Presentations

GSlides is screaming, crying, throwing up when Powerpoint walks into the room. Can you imagine? Intuitive slide management, no lag after ten slides, detailed formatting and being able to save and transfer without breaking both of its legs.

Point 5: Online Storage

OneDrive not only has more space, it has more sophisticated organization too. It saves stuff like your desktop would - in files, preserved formatting. It can also host online-only documents or just be a cloud backup. Drive wishes it could be so elegant instead of a dumpster.

Point 6: Meeting Platform

Teams is an unholy middle-management monstrosity made from a bargain with whatever eldritch being is in control of frustrating UI, but who tf has ever heard of Duo? Did you even know Google has a knock-off Zoom? I hate Teams, but if I had to be stucm in an elevator with the three of them, Teams is the only one I'd trust to reliably host a call for help. With a free Halo background, no less (Halo's artwork is so pretty you guys).

Point 7: Cost

Okay, Microsoft takes the L here again. I don't mind paying for stuff, but I resent subscriptions. Just fucking let me buy the program outright, you shitlords. But then again, Google is free for a reason.

I'm not a Microsoft shill or fan here, just a frustrated and irritated TA who's had people attempt to use Google's hideous products in their presence when the university provides Office to its students for free. The disrespect, honestly.

Dishonourable mention: Apple Pages.

You don't even have an excuse. Microsoft made Office for Apple and you know damn well that no dropbox accepts Pages files because they suck. Get that shit out of here.

P.S. I can tell when you're an Apple user too, because you never change the default font (San Francisco) to one any PC would have (like Arial, Calibri or Times New Roman).

[pigeonflavouredcake]

eeeeeeee digital grimoire eeeeeee

For the past few weeks I've been in the process of digitising everything from my irl grimoires over my years of practice into one big google doc. and when i say everything I mean

e v e r y t h i n g . . .

I decided to do this because I have dyslexia. Writing by hand has always been a struggle. Words change in my field of vision all the time. Letters always seem to be in the wrong place and oh my god the line jumping. I hate the line jumping. And on top of that i'm also a perfectionist. there's always new information i missed or mistakes i didn't realise until they were already written down.

A digital grimoire just sounds a lot more efficient for how my brain works. I can edit and reformat things, I can make links and organise my references and since i'm a digital artist as well I can add my own artwork to the pages for some extra zest.

Here are some examples of my current page formatting (ignoring any grammar mistakes).

so far i'm rly enjoying this but damm i got a lot to get through and I'm currently on 45 pages including a reference list. I might even fuck around and make a front cover.

#digital grimoire #grimoire #grimoire inspo #grimoire tips #grimoire pages #deity pages #deities #greek deities #greek gods #apollo #hermes #dionysus #witch #witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #witch aesthetic #digital witch #digital witchcraft #pagan #pagan witch #journal #journaling #digital art #digital doodle #book of magic

[alecscudder1987]

BILE AND BLUE PANSIES

theend4’s supernatural poetry event

hey everyone!! egan here<33 

so…. i recently hit a follower milestone… and i want to say thank you!!! wtf fr!!!! i love all of you so so much. i’m still an internet baby, but i’ve been active in different fandoms since around 2017, and this past year has been one of my favorite fandom experiences ever. i’ve made some really good friends and gotten inspired by so many different artists, writers, and ideas. thanks so much for being on this crazy journey with me. 

SO WHAT?

one of my favorite things i got to do this year was share my poetry with you guys! it’s been an absolute joy to receive so many lovely messages from you saying how much you love my work. truly, your feedback means the world!

so, in honor of that, i’d like for you all to share your poetry with me! whether you’ve got 7 published poetry books or you’ve literally never even read any, i’d love for you to try your hand. 

OK, WHEN?

September 18—September 24th, 2022

ALRIGHT, NOW HOW DOES THIS WORK?

READ the poems in the prompts, and then think about what you like about them—themes, voices, characters, endings, beginnings, word choice, formatting, etc!—and do some brainstorming!

WRITE one or more poems inspired by the ones listed! when i'm inspired by a certain poet, i like to try out writing in their syntax, their mannerisms, or their subject matter. give it a go! (for example: richard siken breaks up his lines across the page. if you've never tried this, playing around with indentation can be a super fun way to break up your lines!)

POST your poem either as a screenshot, photo, or plain text post to tumblr. (note: please provide a transcription of your poem in the caption if you decide to upload a photo.)

CREDIT the author of the poem you were inspired by in the caption! i won't reblog poems that don't give credit to their inspirations.

TAG your post with #bluepansypoetry and @ me so I can share your lovely creations!

DO YOU HAVE READING RECOMMENDATIONS? PROMPTS EVEN?

i do!!! please find my list of all-time-fave recommendations of supernatural-esque poems that i love below!! each day of the event focuses on one poem as a “prompt” or inspiration, so please read them all to see which ones you like! i tried to include a variety of styles. GOOGLE DOC OF THE POEM PROMPTS HERE!

SCHEDULING NITTY-GRITTY

SEPT 18: “french novel,” ritchie hoffman

SEPT 19: “colosseum,” jericho brown

SEPT 20: “fragment 147,” sappho, translated by anne carson

SEPT 21: “cagnes sur mer 1950,” jorie graham

SEPT 22: “road music,” richard siken

SEPT 23: “telemachus,” ocean vuong

SEPT 24: “object permanence,” madeline cravens

BUT I'VE NEVER WRITTEN POETRY!

i hear you say. yes. i have never tried oil painting, but i would like to! i believe it's important to keep an open mind when practicing new arts—you're never going to be "good" right away of course. besides, my goal isn't to write "good" poetry. (ok, maybe a little.) but i write poetry because i feel like a wildfire when i do. i write poetry because i might die if i don't. art keeps us alive. words feed the soul. 

the best advice i’ve gotten about how to write poetry… is to read poetry. read bad poetry. read good poetry! and then sit down for a hot second somewhere and write. write for 8 minutes without stopping. you can write "i don't know what to write" 100 times over if that's all that comes to you. or you can write a play. describe the space around you. talk about what you had for lunch. something will come to you, i promise. and if it doesn't? gently put it away for now. there isn't any rush. you can come back tomorrow.

FINAL WORD

first: no hate speech! second: if you do create nsfw work, please tag it as such. i want everyone to be able to participate in this event safely. 

thank you once again for being on this journey with me, whether you arrived today or have been here since before i even got into supernatural, i love you all dearly. good luck, and happy creating!! 

also, if  you were curious, this event is based on my poem (and song) blue pansies! which you can find here, if you like!

LINK TO THE POEMS AGAIN!!

remember to tag your work with #bluepansypoetry, and happy writing!!!

#bluepansypoetry #egan's creator event #poetry event #supernatural poetry

[alltimefail-sims]

Do you have any tips for getting into/making sims stories? (Idk what to call them lol, but like your strangersville story), and tips for taking posed screenshots because I’m struggling-

Hello, friend! 🤗

I am so genuinely flattered that you would ask me for advice. I'll admit, I've only been officially on simblr for a little over a year and I'm just getting a groove in posting, so I'm still learning about the storytelling format and posing aspect, too. Here are some really great posts that helped me:

@seaslugsims: Storytelling Resources Part 1

and Storytelling Resources Part 2

Storytelling Tips and Tricks thread started by @citylighten (Check the reblogs on this one - so many amazing, experienced creators have weighed in on their personal tips and tricks)

I hate posing sims, but I've found that it just takes practice and patience. @ts4-poses is a great resource blog for finding poses because it is organized into categories, making finding a specific pose less overwhelming. Put all the sims you need for a story post in the same household so you have full control of them all. Ravasheen's ISO Camera for in-game photos is what dreams are made of because the photos always come out perfect and no one has to be behind the camera to take the picture. When taking photos using the tab key, take them from multiple angles so you have a lot of options when editing your posts.

I also would say don't be afraid to just keep asking for advice! If you see a post you like, don't be afraid to ask someone how they did it! I've learned so much just by going to creators like "Hey, this post you made was so great... what editing do you use? Do you use a reshade/gshade shader? Do you resize photos?" You can learn a lot from others, and over time with practice (and a lot of trial and error) you will gain your footing and develop a style of your own!

Now, onto where I have personal experience: getting into stories and making stories! For me personally, a good story is all about characters and world building. Because simblr stories give you an opportunity to show varying perspectives and focus on more than one character's viewpoint (kind of like a comic or TV show), you can best take advantage of that by writing in-depth characters you love (or love to hate, lol). Knowing the setting and how the characters fit into that setting is really the backbone of any good story, and if you care about the details and you care about those characters, your audience will feel that! Also knowing what you like to write helps, too! I like sci-fi, fantasy, and coming of age; I like mysteries and love stories are my lifeblood (I'm a hopeless romantic); and I am a sucker for a good found family trope... so that's what I write! You'll never catch me writing horror stories full of loss, or adult romance stories, nor am I gonna pop out a teen drama (yk like Degrassi-esque or Disney Channel) or something cutting-edge/dark/with a strong visual aesthetic (like Euphoria) because I know that's not my thing (and editing is not my strength - I would HATE spending hours editing posts where some others might love that part of the process. I don't write or create something because I think it will be popular or on-trend or garner viewership (even though wanting validation is not a bad thing imo) I just create to create. I create using my strengths first, and I would recommend you write to your strengths and don't feel like you have to rush the process.

My biggest piece of advice is that if you have a story to tell, tell it! Trust me, someone (or a lot of someones) will love it. You may only get a few views at first, or it may take off right from the jump, but regardless your story is worth telling. Start by just opening a google doc and jotting down ideas as they come to you until one sticks. Don't be afraid to shelf what doesn't work or what you're not feeling any more. My Strangerville story was not my first venture on simblr, but it is the only one I have loved enough to keep up with.

Lastly, please let me know when you do put your story out there. You've already got one fan!!! 📣💕

#editing #story building #atfs ask #anon #sorry it took me a minute to respond - I wanted to give you links to resources I've seen floating around and that took a second haha! #Thank you for your ask!!! I hope I was helpful in some way! #Always feel free to ask me absolutely anything. I'm happy to help!!

[workingforitallthetime]

asking as a consumer of rpf fic (generally but love yours) and avid follower of yours.

do you have any advice for writing papers in university? I have one paper to write before I graduate (10 pages) but I am a physics major and other than my undergrad thesis (largely technical) I have never written anything longer than 4 pages.

Do you have any advice for putting pen to paper? I'm not out of ideas I just hate writing. I'm used to seeing a porblem set and stewing over it versus documenting my ideas

what a fun ask, i will give it a shot! the good news is you have ideas! that’s the hardest part of writing.

now write down the ideas. not in any particular order or any particular format. they can be sentence fragments or lone words or points you want to be sure to make. short is fine! just get them all down. you can do this in a google doc or you can do it on post it notes. i usually do the former for fic and the latter for the nonfiction writing i do for my job. there’s probably other ways but those are my go-tos.

to use drawn arrows as an example, little bits that got written down in this stage were “connor: canada. mason: ottawa” and “he was winning in switzerland and he wants to keep winning here” and “kent facetimes mason from 18th bday.”

now start sorting those bits and pieces. when you find bits that relate to the same topic, put those in the same place. maybe you have three post its where you said the same thing three different ways, so now you sort those into the same place. it is not wasted effort that you said the same thing three different ways! that’s how you find out what ideas are going to be central to your eventual product. the things you keep circling back to in your mind are the important things.

the goal here is to wind up with different baskets of stuff that are going to be the sections of your final product. ideally once you’ve got the initial round of ideas sorted, you will start to see what work each basket of ideas needs to do. idk anything about physics, but i would guess that a writing project in that area might end up with a section where you explain the theory that’s relevant to your project, a section where you explain the issue that you’re focusing on, and a section where you apply the theory to your issue.

ideally it’s easier to look at one basket of stuff and wrangle it into sentences and paragraphs to do the one particular thing that basket needs to do. much easier than looking at the whole damn project at once. also maybe somewhere in this process you realize you need another basket for something but you have no ideas to put in that basket. (remember me bitching about the interstitial sections of my fic? two yawningly empty baskets i had to fill with something.) write everything else first and then it’s easier to tackle those last trouble spots.

idk, hope something in here helps! good luck with your paper!!

#anonymouskinis

[bts5sosempire]

helloo(๑> <๑), can I ask app/website do you use to edit your fanfics, if it's okay with you? (I'm starting to write fanfics of my own and I couldn't find any app/website)

There are a lot, since I'm only using mobile version of the app(s) since it's more convenient for me to write on the get-go without bringing or opening my laptop all the time.

PureWriter (used to)

JotterPad (what I am currently using)

Grammarly Keyboard (what I am also currently using too)

Google Docs (used to)

Well, to start on PureWriter, I give it prolly a 7.5/10, I like the format and all, but the catalogs are a pain in the ass. Plus, you can't collapse a thread of your separate work, too, if you're writing for different stories. I hate trying to rearrange them in order so I kind of give up on that. It has a word reader to keep track of your word count and letters too. There are also constant updates on the app, so there are always new features being added, so I'm also not trying to keep up with that. I have the copy and paste thingy, as it double spaces my work and won't italicize or bold them correctly when needed.

For JotterPad, I give it an 8.5/10; it had its moment when I fought with it in the past. But there is an option for you to use the basic format, but you could also buy the add-ons if you wish. I may be biased, but I find it more convenient as you can link your account from Tumblr to JotterPad when transferring over whatever you're writing without the "copy and paste" type. Like PureWriter, it also had a word and character counter, so you can track how much you've written. It also gives you a statistics progress graph (like PureWriter, but in a different font, I guess). You can create folders (within another folder, again and again), which is a lifesaver, as I can separate my works into categories -> it almost works like a thread. I don't trust Tumblr enough to save in draft; the many times Tumblr ate my posts when I spend so many hours/days are agonizing.

Grammarly keyboard is a great way to use whatever app you use to write. Still, the hideous word recommendations are a thorn in the side at times when you're using an unfamiliar terminology or another synonymous that not the general audience knows. Like you fool, I'm trying to educate others and expand their vocabulary; let me do my sh*t. I say a solid 8/10, if for not the lagging it sometimes had. The app also had a desktop site, which I will not be talking about since I rarely use it. But if you do have your own words or terms, make sure to add them, or else this keyboard will auto-correct them for you.

Google docs, I'm sure I don't need to explain that here. No score.

But these are just my opinions, tho; you could try and see if they're to your liking or not; I'm sure there would be others who are willing to help you if they write a comment under the post or interact with you. Suppose I'm missing something or forgot to add.

Words of advice: block any porn bots on sight too, they could be liking and reblogging your stuff with a pfp of a hawt woman. So no hesitation. Also blank blogs.

Taggings: make sure to tag many things related to your content too. Thus, this will lead your content to be more exposed to others who like the stuff you put out that is related to their interest. You can check the "the tyrant" series I'm working on atm to see how the tagging(s) goes.

Taggings (tw): the "tw" stands for trigger warning, so if you happened to write any sensitive content that could potentially be in your series/ work, make sure to add them in your tagging if possible or add them at the very beginning of your list of content. Ex: tw frogs, tw cooties, or tw pink guy. If you don't put it, some people might stumble upon your work and unleash hell or politely tell you to edit and add tw to your work.

#writings #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writing problems #fan fiction #anime #writing help #fanfic writing #I hope this helps

[expressionbean]

an anonymous ask that got eaten when i posted a few minutes ago but was in my google docs as a backup (thank god):

"Please please forgive me if this is too forward, but your Carrd mentions that you have DID. I have OSDD myself, and I used to love roleplaying but ever since getting the diagnosis I feel like I have to choose one or the other because a lot of people think that CDDs are "roleplay" in and of themselves. Do you have any advice on how to get over that? Has the Tumblr roleplay scene been accepting? Do you often get fakeclaimed?

Thank you so so much for being here! I love your blogs and your writing. 💛"

hi anon! this is super super late, but i wanted to be thorough and i wanted to think carefully about what i say. i hope you're still around to see this and also, welcome to the RPC!

often, people do tend to think a lot of people with CDDs are "roleplaying". really, we're not, but that isn't what you came to ask.

and the stigma sucks, like it REALLY sucks. people with CDDs really aren't allowed to enjoy anything without a bunch of guys on reddit accusing us of literally whatever they can reach for. (usually faking or violence, but i digress)

i'm really still getting over a similar issue myself. it's so so so difficult to openly even enjoy a piece of media (including with other fans of a media), much less create anything and post it. i was formerly almost exclusively a discord and amino PM roleplayer - it's a small bit easier if i am not as open about what i'm doing.

i don't know how recent your diagnosis is (and it's none of my business), but i received mine years ago (2019 if i recall correctly) and it took until this summer for me to dip my toes into the water with the tumblr RPC. i can't remember exactly what compelled me to, but i ended up stumbling across my now-friend kira's blog. he seemed very friendly, so i sent an ask to go over what the heck i needed to do to get acclimated to the community.

i didn't really expect as kind of an answer as i got. i expected maybe some polite, generic thing but it was more than that. it was welcoming.

i was still scared though - i had a lot of things that were making me intimidated. i didn't have pretty formatting or stunning icons or banners or any of that stuff. i just had my writing, my amnesia, and my visual impairment.

and boy, did i not want my friends who know about my DID to know a damn thing about me having interests in media and, even more terrifying, my acquaintences in the RPC to know i have DID. i felt like i had to keep those two things almost totally separate, even though they're both pretty significant.

roleplay is an important creative outlet for me, but DID affects almost every facet of my life (as trauma disorders tend to do). it simply isn't sustainable to keep dividing myself up and hiding parts of myself from one group or the other out of fear of being judged.

i'm still working through that, in all honesty. my whole point in rambling is to show i relate hardcore to this ask, and i'm standing with you in solidarity.

anyway, i eventually (recently) decided enough is enough with being scared of a loud, shitty minority. it's not fair to let people who hate me just for existing dictate what i do for fun. identity politics and cringe culture should die.

i wouldn't tell people they're to be excluded from roleplay for being autistic or bipolar.

just the same, i don't really think it's a normal thing (even on reddit hate groups) for people to say i can't enjoy cooking because i have DID, or that i can't be a musician because i have DID.

roleplay is a hobby just the same as cooking or music, and DID is a mental illness just the same as bipolar. why shouldn't people be allowed to partake in their interests? just because strangers on the internet say not to for whatever ridiculous reason they've come up with on this fine saturday?

ultimately, they should! they should be able to appreciate and express all facets of themselves as freely or as privately as they want to.

obviously, i don't advise blasting your entire identity, location, etc. on tungle dot hellsite or anything unsafe like that, but you get my point.

your diagnosis is just words on paper - nothing's changed fundamentally except having a name for what's been going on. if you need permission, though, here it is: you are allowed to pursue things that bring you joy. you can make a blog and start roleplaying here. it's okay to do that. you are just the same as every other person here and just as worthy of writing with them.

as for more advice, here's some:

• the block button is to be used freely. liberally. you're the curator of your online space - it's fine to make it safe for yourself.

• the tumblr RPC, at least from what i myself have experienced from june 2022 until now, won't bite you. obviously, YMMV, but many people here are very kind and accepting. (staring lovingly at my "amestris no more" pals and all my other mutuals)

• i have not been fakeclaimed by the tumblr RPC from what i can remember. and personally, if it happens, i'd go to my favorite piece of advice: fuck 'em. no one behind a screen is going to know you better than you do! if someone's putting forth time and effort to hurt others, are their words really worth taking to heart?

• remember that it's your hobby, your writing, your space. you deserve that. do what you need to in order to make peace with those facts in yourself.

• remember that a hobby cannot invalidate you or take away what you've been through. hobbies are for your enjoyment.

• you can block triggering topics from appearing! i advise it.

• remember that there are people who will love you just for being yourself! i am one of them! i have so so so much love to hand out to people - please, come and write with me if things are compatible. i would love to see what you have. i'm sure my friends would too. you deserve a space here if you want one.

#tw fakeclaiming #fakeclaiming tw #[ also woo go me just in time for DID awareness day to not have ended ] #[ i think it's tomorrow actually ] #[ idk ] #[ anyway anon all my love to ya ]

[marisoft-paint-adventures]

Reread Masterlist

this is a containment center for the unhinged ramblings of a mentally unwell individual, in other words, this is the side blog where I will be rereading the entirety of Homestuck.

I’ve already clocked in at 3 separate readthroughs of this comic, yet somehow the voices are determined to get me to pick this thing back up and do it with full fucking force. on my last read, I detailed all of my thoughts in 2 Google Docs so I could keep my opinions catalogued and easy to refer back to. however, sitting on those documents for almost a year gave me the realization of how utterly incomprehensible they are to anyone, including myself, due to how hard it was to format the thoughts and critiques involving over 8,000 words of content in only 2 digital papers. I’m also generally not a fan of some of things I said in them because they range from not getting the point to just being ignorant.

for that reason, I am coming back once more, hopefully for the last time, but I cannot predict fate at this point. the format will be of a liveblog, mostly because Tumblr’s capabilities of meticulous tagging and proper chronological systems will satisfy my category obsessive little brain. I’m also doing it in this form because it’ll be a cheeky little way of harkening back to Ye Olde Fandom Days where everyone and their mother was making a readthrough blog to enjoy and/or hate the webcomic with the gray people.

you may think it’s weird to even call this a liveblog when I’ve already experienced the work several times over, and that is true, it sounds stupid. however, I am still committing to the bit of doing this live, I will comment page by page in order. this is so a full consecutive review can occur where all of my thoughts and reactions are fresh and genuine. the worst thing I can do is struggle to think back and try to find the right words for what I was feeling at the moment.

with all of that out of the way, here are the important links:

Archive.

Chrono tags.

Referenced Podcasts.

Asks.

#homestuck #home22tuck #hs #hs1 #homestuck epilogues #hs epilogues #homestuck 2 #homestuck^2 #homestuck2 #hs2 #hs^2 #masterlist

[ninadove]

Thank you @nebulousboops for tagging me in the fanfic challenge below:

List the first lines of your last twenty stories. See if you find any patterns.

I definitely don’t have 20 just lying around, so let’s have a look at whatever I have available on Google Docs! Some of my stories are in French, so I will exclude them from this list, although I’d be happy to share a few lines if anyone is interested.

Please forgive the terrible formatting. Tumblr can be a pain sometimes.

I. The Lucky Ones - Prologue: The clockshop on Midland Road 🕰

It all started with the letter.

Flora was the one to discover it, of course, with her bad habit of sticking her nose into others’ correspondence. I remember sitting on the couch, pouring myself a well-needed cup of coffee, as she ripped the enveloppe open - the glim in her eyes as she was playing around with the paper cutter scared me a little, but it was too early to protest. I watched through the pre-caffeine fog as her eyes scoured the note, her gaze shifting from excitement, to surprise, to incomprehension.

- Mister Clive, I think you should read that, she finally declared after a while.

- I would guess so, since my name was on the enveloppe.

- No, I mean, this is different - you should really read that one.

II. Untitled - Clemmy pub scene 🍻

Squished between a kitchenware store and a tatoo parlor, Oscar’s was a pillar of the journalist community. On Friday nights, reporters would clock out and head straight there, joining the columnists who had been faithfully keeping watch over the bar since the early afternoon. Its emerald façade adorned with somewhat golden letters bid a warm welcome to all troubled souls - from the photography school drop-out wondering how they found themself working as a paparazzi for the vilest of tabloids, to the surprisingly joyful little man who ran the Londonner’s necrology section. A much-needed parenthesis from catchy headlines, gruesome police reports, and overbearing editors. A droplet of joy in an otherwise morbid world.

It was loud, and dark, and dirty, and I hated it.

III. Untitled - RWBY x Hades Crossover 🔥

Darkness.

Ageless ruins, built by no one.

Silence.

Yang was sitting on the edge of the universe and she knew it. How long had she been there, her legs dangling in the void, was an irrelevant question. Time did not flow there - it could only exist as long as there was something, any kind of material body it could leave its impact on, and there was nothing in there but emptiness.

“Do not fall”.

She understood now that what they had mistaken for a warning was, in fact, a curse. One of them was supposed to fall all along, so it might as well have been her - it had been written somewhere, so it simply came to be, plain and simple.

Did her teammates understand it too?

IV. Untitled - Random Penina scribble 💄

As she was trying to assess whether her new mascara brush was as efficient as the previous one, Nina could see her brother dancing awkwardly in the mirror, a huge smile on his face.

- You did not come here just to borrow my stuff, did you?

- Primarily. But maybe not entirely.

- Come on then, ask away.

Hermann dropped on her bed, with just as much nonchalance as if it were his.

- I was just wondering what you think of my new friend.

- There it is.

- I think you have a bit of a crush on her. Do you have a crush on her, Nina?

Patterns:

Three out of four are Professor Layton fanfics, specifically Dove Family fanfics. So, you know.

The only exception is a comfort one-shot that was born from a feverish writing session JUST after Yang’s fall in volume 8. Since we knew nothing about Ever After at this point, my brain needed to come up with a scenario where she would be OK - hence a 15-page-long, ACTUALLY FINISHED piece where she gets to hang out with Zag and climb out of Hell with him.

Tagging: @dragongutsixofficial ( if you want to of course! 💖 ) + anyone interested!

#professor layton #clive dove #emmy altava #clemmy #nina dove #penny crowley #penina #hermann dove #professor layton ocs #ocs #rwby #rwby 8 #rwby spoilers #yang xiao long #hades #zagreus #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #nina writes

[thetragicallynerdy]

Alright I’ll bite :) for the emoji game: 🥺🛠 💖 🧠 ✅ For the character headcanon, dealers choice!

Oooh awesome thank you thank you!! These got long so apologies in advance XD

(emoji fanfic writer asks are here for anyone curious!)

🥺 (pleading face emoji) - Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Oh god SO many. I am basically in my feels about characters all the time, hahaha! I have lots of feels about small, casual moments of tenderness, especially between characters who might not find that sort of thing as easy. Characters expressing their love for each other, no matter how small the moment (a quiet I love you, the brush of lips against knuckles, hair tucked behind an ear) also give me many feels. Another (and one that tends to happen commonly for me lol, I really like exploring grief) is when characters experience moments of grief, in the many ways it can show up - I get equally deep in my feels if someone comforts them, or if they have to suffer through it alone, but for different reasons XD

🛠 (tools emoji) What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I primarily use Microsoft Word, both in desktop and mobile form - it's the program I am most familiar with, and I like the formatting on it. I'm also a gremlin who writes many, many things straight into discord channels jskskss (keysmash). I am in two fandom specific servers that I like to ask for prompts from, and I tend to write those directly into discord.

For fics that I'm co-writing, I use Google Docs, because it's easiest for sharing a file that we can both access. However, beyond it's sharing capacity, I kind of hate it, so I don't use it outside of that XD

💖(sparkling heart emoji) What made you start writing?

I already shared what made me start writing in general in this ask (TLDR: I fell deep into a new fandom, wanted to read something that didn't exist, decided to write it myself. Combined with the need for a new hobby and a supportive discord, I kept writing!), so instead I will tell you about what made me start writing OFMD fic XD

Basically kind of the same thing as for why I started writing in general, actually? I wanted to see more Jim whump fics, and I fell deep, deep in love with Jim and OFMD in general. Originally I was only going to write the Old West AU I've got kicking around (because old west is what I'm most familiar with, my other fandom is a cowboy setting), and then I just... got a thousand plot bunnies, as tends to happen, and now here we are.

🧠 (brain emoji) - Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. Dealer's choice!

Dealer's choice means Jim Jimenez right now XD

Hmmmm, picking a favourite headcanon for them is hard - but I think one of the ones that I really adore is that Jim eventually starts to see Frenchie as a brother. Like, definitely a speculative headcanon, but in fics where they have time together on the ship I love the idea of Jim calling him hermano, and them just being wonderful shenanigans siblings. I wanna see it!!! But also I love writing it!!

Another one that I have is that Jim finds it a lot easier expressing their love and using pet names in Spanish - something about it being a language that's closer to their heart, and closer to the tenderness of their past.

✅ (white check mark emoji) - What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Weirdly enough, broken wrists??? I have written 3 fics now which feature a wrist getting broken which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't that much but it's still weird that it's happened 3 times hahah.

Also hair washing scenes. Love me a good soft hair washing scene!!!! The soft domesticity of it all!!!! The tenderness!!! I have yet to write a Jim-focused hair washing scene and I don't know why, but you can bet it's going to happen!!!!

Thank you so much for the ask!!!

#ask game #fanfic writer asks #emoji asks #rambling #about me

[basicallyahedgehog]

29 & 30 for the ao3 wrapped, pls and thank youuuuu!! Feel free to exchange of those don’t spark joy!! ❤️

Thank you my love!

I answer 29 here but I warred with myself between two options so you get another one! From (They) Keep Me Warm

He cried, then, loudly and gutturally, no longer the quiet weeping he’d been doing all night. He cried for the child under the stairs, who hated being called “girl” but didn’t know why. He cried for the young soldier, saddled with a burden she didn’t know how to bear, unable to examine other, hidden parts of herself until the war was over. He cried for the last two years of confusion, fear and self-loathing. The years of pain, of wishing he was anyone but himself. He cried for the person he was only an hour ago, trapped in a life he didn’t know how to live, sure that he could never be loved for the person he truly was.

He melted into the arms around him, letting them keep him anchored as he floated on his emotions, finally coming back to them on a wave of gratitude. These two people who had been with him right from the start, had stuck within him through giant chess sets and basilisks, through tournaments and mysteries and wars. Who he knew, really knew , finally, would always stick by him, no matter who he was or what he did in life.

Which ties into 30: biggest surprise while writing this year?

I didn’t write all that much this year, not compared to what I’d had planned. And the things I did write tended to sit in google docs for months on end before I had a very short deadline and then they just appeared. And I think what surprised me the most was not necessarily how hard I found it to write this year, but what came out when I did write. Both of my answers to 29 are deeply personal and brought a huge level of catharsis.

And I knew, intellectually, that this is what writing can do. I use writing to escape, to make sense of my thoughts and emotions. I wrote fics about being ace and trans last year, I thought I knew what that felt like. And yet, I got totally blindsided by the above fic. It poured out of me in a way nothing has before or since.

In this fic I give Harry everything I wish I’d had with my coming out. And those two paragraphs at the top of this post are a pure outpouring of my own grief but also my own love and appreciation for the people have supported me.

And this answer has been so long and rambly! But I think what has surprised me the most is 1. How deep some of these emotions were 2. How cathartic and beautiful it was to be able to write them down in this format and 3. Just how many people resonated with it.

Send me AO3 wrapped asks!

#hedgehog muses #Rowan gets emotional #Rowan shouldn’t answer asks while exhausted clearly #hopefully there’s something understandable in there #asked and answered #ao3 wrapped

[the-sneep-snoop]

i have said it once i have said it a thousand times there is no greater hell for me than experiencing bad ux design.

partly because autism and i will cry if something is too confusing or doesnt work how its supposed to and partly because i did ux design for a job a few years although at a very basic level and that lets me give myself the false belief that i have any authority here

but this is seriously on my mind a lot like if i was better at writing and / or into journalism? trust that i would have already published a more refined version of this post on medium or something. unfortunately i will be addressing you today from the humble uncapitalised unpunctuated tumblr post.

anyways i just like to complain so, here are some things i hate about websites (and some badly formatted pdfs) featuring varying levels of explanation

A SECTION FOR LONG ANSWER RESPONSE BUT EVERY LINE IS A SEPARATE FIELD AND ALSO YOU CAN'T DELETE YOUR TEXT

idk if i can explain this in a way that justifies the horrors. imagine you are trying to apply for scholarships via a fillable pdf and you must answer a prompt with a paragraph length response. but alas, upon reaching the end of the line, you can no longer type. hitting return does nothing to advance to the next line. oh well, maybe try again, select what you have and delete it. but alas again! hitting delete does nothing to delete your text. fortunately you discover that you can still copy and paste, even if it pasts a row above the one you had selected. well, it is what it is, and with a burst of resolve you type out your whole paragraph in google docs, and painstakingly copy and paste excerpts whose length is dictated only by trial and error due to different font sizes. you definitely did not cry for three hours over this ordeal

WEBSITE MAIN PAGE THAT'S JUST A LOT OF BUTTONS

my lovely university's student services website which is used for silly little things like paying tuition and selecting courses. it has lots of helpful webpages and helpful redirects / shortcuts to helpful external webpages. lots of them! around a hundred if you count. how is it arranged? how does navigation work? well, each and every one of them is a small square button. and it's all just arranged in one massive grid. hundreds of them. not in any particular order.

WHITE TEXT ON A WHITE BACKGROUND

nothing else to say about it

DROP DOWN MENUS ON A PDF THAT IS MEANT TO BE PRINTED

let me paint you a picture. a form that is printed and given to all students in the school for them to fill out. a field where something must be rated on a numerical scale from one to five. every student receives a form that has the number five already printed in that field. why? why, you ask, asks everyone unfortunate enough to be tasked with filling this form. well, one trailblazer who did it digitally via fillable pdf has discovered the elusive solution to this mystery. it was supposed to be a dropdown menu. a dropdown menu that has been flattened and killed like a fly in a papercopier.

A JOB APPLICATION THAT ASKS TOO MUCH INFORMATION ABOUT YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA PRESENCE

idk if it's even allowed to ask that but they did. and in the goofiest way possible. it asks 'have you ever used a website or social media. enter the url here' . there is only one field and it is required to proceed. oh man, i'll have to think really hard about which website (out of all the websites i have used in my life) i should respond with...!

A FORM DISGUISED AS A CHATBOT

i am very passionate about this one. i think it is evil. i think disguising forms as chatbots is useless and inefficient. i don't see much appeal in an illusion, a poor mimicry of human-to-human customer service, for the sake of a marginal amount of vague approximations of 'social connections' and 'friendliness' and 'approachability'. at the very least, it's not worth the sacrifice of usability. it is conversational, and that tricks you (including less digitally literate older people, the kind who type please and thank you into their google searches) into thinking you should respond conversationally. what if it says

"hi! my name is linda and i am your virtual assistant! do you have a postal code you can provide"

and the user replies

"hi linda! thanks so much! i do have a postal code, I just have to double check that I have the right one, could you hold on a minute?"

and the chatbot is expecting something more along the lines of "A9A 9A9". i should also mention at this point that i am not at all educated on how chatbots work and for all i know i am dead wrong and i am tilting at windmills. in which case i probably deserve to be shamed but also please be nice to me please don't be mean thank you

AN INFAMOUSLY INTRUSIVE PERSONALITY TEST THAT HAS A NEW FEATURE (CONFUSING IMAGES)

okay so certain well known fast food company recruitment process includes a 'personality test' that is more like a job interview because it asks you questions that often have wildly obvious correct and incorrect answers (despite its disguise as a 'there are no right and wrong answers here' type of personality quiz). this has been criticised for having questions about things like if you would choose to cheat on a test , if you would defend the company against your friends discussing 'negative and unfair press', if you would yell at your neighbour, if you would break the dress code. the criticism comes from it being unrealistic and silly, but it also ties into how many neurodivergent people struggle with honesty vs. the 'right answer' in job interviews.

now, that's bad enough, but someone decided it needed some visual aids to help explain the scenarios depicted - granted, that's a nice idea, but not executed super well. for one thing, the computer generated mascots who live in a futuristic science fiction world with the brand logo all over everything is not the most appealing thing to think about. for another, i found that sometimes the scenarios just didn't match up or make sense with the questions, and made me feel incompetent at reading what was going on in the scene. which is very stressful and not super fun.

RACIAL DEMOGRAPHIC QUESTIONS ON JOB APPLICATION

yes i understand that collecting statistics on prospective job seekers can be useful. yes i acknowledge that most forms with these questions are nice and allow multiple checkboxes to be ticked. but in this day and age i keep finding dropdown menus or mutually exclusive radio buttons to indicate race. that's right, you can only choose one option. which is awkward for some people. like me for example. at least sometimes i am allowed to choose the option of 'other' :)

-

and that's it for today. i may very likely be able to think of more but i'd rather not tbh. turns out there is a lot of negativity brewing in my mushy little mind after spending an hour and a half typing out my every grievance with every poorly designed website and form. who knew? and on top of that i lowkey hate how comedically challenged / tryhard / quirkly my writing voice turned out. it wasn't meant to be this way. trust me, i hate it too. this is an incoherent ramble written in the most mysterious hours of the night / morning in the midst of illness and fueled by nothing but my brain juice. which is not always the most pleasant juice out there if you know what i mean. so if you read this and you hate me please keep in mind that i am not the pretentious individual person i come off as. i am not usually like this. it's like i have been possessed. sorry

#i hope someone finds this funny because i sure don't #ui ux design #shitpost #i think #i think thats what this is #i hope no one sees this #it would be so embarrassing if someone sees this #it would also be so embarrassing if no one sees this ngl #anyways #what happens happens #just manifesting that no one i know in real life sees me like this #grahgjghdfgjhg

[shopjust]

Plain text workflow

#Plain text workflow how to

#Plain text workflow pdf

#Plain text workflow pro

#Plain text workflow code

That’s a lot of technobabble, let me break that down some. The major downside is that it is expensive, although the developer lets you use it without paying if you can put up with periodic scolding popups.Įverything is saved to a git repository which gets to be in a private repo on GitHub. But I like Sublime Text over those other alternatives because (a) it’s extremely fast, stable, and lightweight (basically the opposite of Word), and (b) it has a plug-in system based in Python, which is one of my preferred programming languages-so it’s very easy for me to directly program my editor. There are fine alternatives for editing plain text, like Atom, BBEdit (Mac-only), and Notepad++ (Windows-only). I use Sublime Text pretty much only for editing markdown or plain text prose-when I write code, I usually use emacs or vim-so I don’t have to muck around with complicated file-type-specific settings. On the Mac, I do most of my markdown writing in Sublime Text, which is a totally bulletproof programmer’s text editor. Typically, for longer works (big articles, books) or multi-stage projects, I’ll have multiple markdown files with different logically separated portions of text, plus files for notes, paragraphs that need to be discarded or moved to a better home, etc. etc.

#Plain text workflow how to

For people who are interested in Markdown, I wrote a tutorial on how to work with Markdown here. There are different flavors of Markdown (for reasons to be described below, I use the Pandoc version), but the basics are very simple.

#Plain text workflow pdf

It’s readily convertible to MSWord format, as well as PDF (if you’ve installed LaTeX), HTML, and all kinds of more arcane things-it’s very commonly used by programmers and bloggers, and I think it’s by far the best way to write initial drafts. Markdown, for those who aren’t familiar, is a plain text format with very lightweight markup for things like bold/italics, links, and the like. So my workflow has the following elements: I want to use git for version control so that I can recover prior versions if something gets horribly screwed up. I like being able to relatively seamlessly switch between writing on my MacBook and on my iPad.Į. I also hate manually formatting my citations.ĭ. Most of the major alternatives to word (OpenOffice, Google Docs, Pages) are crap.Ĭ. Word “features” like styled paste, auto-conversion of URLS to links, bizarre dictatorial bullet point numbering, etc. I also want something that doesn’t impose involuntary formatting on me.

#Plain text workflow code

My writing needs to be scriptable-I need to be able to read my writing into an ordinary programming language as a string, run code on it, and spit it back out again as a string. If I want to do something weird or automated with my content, I want to be able to do so. It takes longer to start than XCODE, which, for those of you who program, you’re probably screaming in horror at the very idea.)

#Plain text workflow pro

I have a brand new souped up 16-inch Macbook Pro with an i9 and 32 gigs of ram. (It’s utterly mind-blowing how badly Word performs. I want something that doesn’t crash or hang all the time, unlike Word. Yet I recognize that many people that publish things I write need Word format, so I need to do something that converts to Word fairly readily. Subconsiderations: I won’t use it if it can be helped at all. I’m incredibly paranoid about losing work.ī. Here are the considerations, in rough order of priority, that drive me:Ī. This is a work in progress document I’ve promised to share my toolkit with a couple people, so, as those people say to me “hey, this makes no sense,” I’ll probably edit to clarify. I have an unusual and complicated academic writing workflow/toolkit, but one that might be of use to some other people, so I thought I’d share it here. This one is for academics rather than practitioners, though some of the details are applicable to practitioners as well.

#Plain text workflow

[nesswritings]

It was the third date when you found out one of the most important details about his life. Asexual, as Akaashi described himself. Though he felt comfortable with romantic interactions, such as holding hands and kissing, he didn’t have any interest in sex. That helped to explain why you only saw him on dating apps, and never hook-up apps, but it also left questions. What exactly was asexuality? What was he comfortable with? What was the line between acceptable and unacceptable? What were your own feelings on this matter? Keiji was understanding how the news dropped, a small nod at your promise to think things over.

Research was your friend during this time, taking the time after the date to find out more. Asexuality, though not something you had dealt with before, wasn’t all that different from others. It varies person to person, and it didn’t exactly mean sex was off the table. It could be a possibility, but not a given. Your eyes felt exhausted from the hours of staring at the laptop, the phone heavy in your hands. The text was easy to send off, your heart pounding before you got the response. A fourth date, and an agreement to talk more about this.

That was five years ago, and an easy thought to get lost in at your anniversary party. Five years together, one year married. Bokuto had insisted on this party for nearly a month to celebrate two of his best friends being committed, and it was hard to say no when he used the puppy eyes. He had rented out a restaurant for the night, complete with dinner, drinks, and bringing everyone he could think to invite.

“So, five years, huh? How do you keep things fresh? Especially in the bedroom, Omi wou-” “Atsumu, shut your mouth,” Kiyoomi scolds, the sharp glare enough to silence his boyfriend. He sips on his drink, leaning back in the chair. “I apologize for him. He likes to know everything and anything. Especially when he can’t keep his mouth shut.” The anxiety was radiating off of Keiji, but you chose to squeeze his hand, only giving the couple a soft smile. “Ah, things work out just fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head too much, there’s too much love to let anything get boring.” It was a typical Bokuto party, outside of the odd conversations you two were dragged into. Hardly any time to even think between the music, the drinks, and the conversations. Stepping out into the fresh air and the quiet was a drastic change, the both of you thankful Bokuto had gotten distracted by Hinata’s dare of taking shots to free the both of you. The cool night air and the chirp of crickets filled the walk home, fingers intertwined and hands swinging in rhythm. “Y/n, I’m sorry I don’t have sex with you.” The anxiety and overthinking would fill him until he spilled it. Akaashi still found it hard to voice those worries, but he had gotten better. You understood him, even if he didn’t always believe you did, and you allowed him to speak without any judgement. He had come out to you early, and the trust from that interaction made things easier. “That doesn’t matter, right? I know your friends talk about it all the time, and Bokuto-san asks a lot, and I want to make sure you’re still happy with me. That you’re okay with our relationship.” “Of course I am, Keiji,” you retorted, holding back the roll of your eyes. It was a normal conversation that happened a couple times a year, though you could never tell if it was from his doubting based on past relationships or if he thought he was the worst choice for you. “I have to admit, it was a bit of a shock at first, but I can’t imagine being with anyone else. As long as I still get my few kisses a day and preview the manga you edit, I think we’ll be fine.” “Are you positive?” “Yes, definitely. Besides, who needs sex on an anniversary when I have you to read to me? Or when we can pop open a bottle of wine, put on a bad movie, and then ignore the movie to make out?” You watch as he fumbles with the lock, following behind him. There was a single thing to finish off the night, something to take care of before the exhaustion of the party set in. “Wait right there, okay?” You walk into the apartment before Keiji could question, flicking on the necessary lights as you went. Akaashi took the carefully wrapped box, his eyebrows lifted in a silent question. Presents had been exchanged earlier in the morning, and he felt cheated out of giving the most. His long fingers undid the ribbon carefully, sliding underneath the edges to try and preserve the paper. Realization set in quickly when he saw the books, his mind racing slower than his heart for once. “Why? You didn’t have to do this, I was planning on buying this anyway. Wait, is this the signed copy? How did you do this?” “That’s a surprise, Keiji.” You watch as he admires the books, the smile wide on your face. A new release by his favorite author, a far better anniversary present than the old volleyball team photo you had framed for him. “And we can read it together! It’ll be like a book club, but the two of us. I can’t read as fast as you, so don’t get mad if we’re at different spots.” “I’ll never get mad, I can match your pace.” Keiji picked up the one copy to him, flipping the cover open carefully. The handwritten note caught his eyes next, his heart continuing to beat heavily in his chest. “I love you so much.” “I love you too, Keiji. Want to start reading this tonight?” “Yes, I need to grab my glasses. Grab the blanket from the closet, it’ll be a long night.” You watch as your husband handles both copies of the book carefully, stepping towards the closet with an amused shake of your head. You would have to thank whatever power out there gave

you someone like Keiji.

#akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x you #asexual akaashi #🌈.drabble #💛.drabble #haikyuu!! #hq!! #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #i hate how google docs formats over here #so pretend it looks nice