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chososdiscordkitten · 21 days

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Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^

Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps

MDNI

Choso Kamo

The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this.

But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you.

It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name.

He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand.

No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead.

And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum.

“Now there’s my good boy.”

You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips.

And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side.

The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store.

His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it.

“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it.

You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay.

“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.

Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name.

‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner.

For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name.

And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes.

After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say.

So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name.

His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name.

You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale.

Hiromi Higuruma

You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.

But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working.

You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click.

Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically.

“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker.

You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically.

Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically.

Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand.

You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.

You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall.

Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you.

You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one.

That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind.

There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead.

This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment.

You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame.

“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming.

You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips.

Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften.

His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’

Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not.

Naoya Zenin

Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose.

He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind.

But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see.

He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips.

But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.

“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted.

You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.”

He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different.

You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise.

“M’not a dog.” he muttered.

“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.”

That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now.

And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.

But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.

Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet.

Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time.

Satoru Gojo

The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments.

But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again.

Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections.

And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was.

You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances.

“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel.

Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away.

Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.”

From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name.

His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was.

Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy.

He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’

“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear.

He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.

So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face.

Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered.

Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips.

Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes.

Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer.

Kento Nanami

We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?

There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did.

That was, until you got the guts to test the waters.

Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep.

You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off.

You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed.

Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt.

A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see.

Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches.

But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard.

“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect.

Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.

A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale.

“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same.

Toji Zenin

He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you.

Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap.

But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working.

Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot.

“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him.

“Then eat.”

Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips.

“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of.

You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought.

Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen.

Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you.

He parted his lips with an inhale.

“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you.

“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone.

“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time.

He only let out a slight hum at your declaration.

Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later.

Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression.

You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it.

“No. I said you’re never a good boy.”

He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share.

Takuma Ino

One of the sweetest boys I can imagine.

Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked.

But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely.

Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours.

While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his.

He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen.

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks.

He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff.

Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.

He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften.

“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him.

Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it.

His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes.

“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name.

(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(

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clarenecessities · 6 months

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He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

#motu #he man #she ra #spop #pop #sorry for tag spam but this is important and relevant to you #catradora #it counts!#sorry also if the formatting on this is a disaster #i’m on my phone and haven’t updated my tumblr app in… a couple years #archives #archive #archive.org #wayback machine #help #org forums #neotag #brothers. this has nothing to do with you but don’t you wanna help a bitch out? do it for illusen #please signal boost if you can

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rweoutofthewoods · 2 months

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fanfic/fandom ettiquite guide

Okay, I've seen some things recently that make me think there is some need to make a master post of some general fandom and fic ettiquite just because some people may not know and I think there's a huge wave of fanfic becoming more mainstream especially on apps like tiktok.

If you don't like it, don't engage with it!! I think this above all, is the golden rule of fandom. The internet is made for you to be able to mute, hide, and censor things you don't like. DO THAT! don't make a career off of hating things. This goes along with the three laws of fandom, which u should check out FIRST OF ALL.

DON'T GATEKEEP!! If you're posting about a fic, art, ANYTHING link it, credit it! Don't post a tiktok about a fic and then refuse to give the name. Not only are you failing to credit the creators of this content, but you're taking away from the fact that fandom is a COMMUNITY where content is meant for everyone.

Ao3 is an archive. You're going to see things you might not like or even find offensive or uncomfortable. But fanfic is not meant to be censored. Ao3 is made to be unfiltered, people can post anything and everything. Posting fics on other sites simply to shame their content not only brings MORE attention to it, but it's pointless. If you want a website that is censored go to wattpad. And of course, if you don't like it DON'T READ. You can filter your tags and warnings on ao3 so it won't show you that content.

Along those lines LEARN HOW TO USE AO3. There is no algorithm, it is not tiktok. You don't need to censor words in your tags. Your fics are not magically getting pushed out to people. Make sure you're using "person 1/person 2" for romantic relationships and "person 1 & person 2" for non-romantic relationships. Make sure things like non-con and underage are tagged under the warnings. AND AS A READER, know how to filter ships and tags to find the content you want. You can filter by kudos, certain tags, exclude certain relationships or characters etc. USE IT.

Do not create placeholder fics or other "non fics" on ao3. This is against their terms of service. You can (and probably will) be reported, this annoys people endlessly. We don't want to find a fic and open it to see "I haven't written this yet, sorry!" JUST SAVE A DRAFT OR DO IT IN A DOCUMENT? this seems like way to rack up hits, and it comes across as disingenuous, I don't see a real valid reason to make placeholders.

HOW TO WRITE AN ACCEPTABLE COMMENT: long is not important. A simple "loved this!" will make an author happy. DO NOT say any variation of "update pls?" regardless of how nice you think it is. Authors update when they can.I'm not the only author I've seen unhappy with this. JUST WAIT, either it will be updated or it won't, and either way you will live. If you have nothing nice to say about a fic?? MOVE ON. Don't leave a hate comment.

Do not rate or publicly shit on fanfic! A lot of authors know many people, and the chances of that author seeing whatever you're saying about their work is very high. If you don't like it, click off and read something else. If it's still living rent-free in your mind, that sounds like fan behavior to me. And there is no standard fics are supposed to meet, don't rate them.

Don't cross-post fics. Don't put fics on other sites, don't put translation on other sites. DON'T DO ANYTHING with a fic without checking with the author first. On that note, also don't post fics on GoodReads etc. unless an author explicitly says it's okay.

IF YOU DO NOT MARK YOUR BOOKMARKS AS PRIVATE AUTHORS CAN SEE THEM!! If you're going to say anything that isn't positive, you better mark that as private or better yet, move on. Don't say anything on a public bookmark you wouldn't want the author to read.

YOU CANNOT PROFIT OFF OF FANFIC, don't sell bound fics! Don't bind fics if the intention is to sell them. You're potentially creating a lawsuit for the authors of these fics and putting the existence of fanfic in danger. I've seen multiple authors debating taking fics down because of binding issues, just don't do it. AND IF YOU'RE BUYING BOUND FICS YOU'RE PART OF THE PROBLEM. it's selfish and I wish bad karma upon you.

You wouldn't think I'd have to say this but don't plagiarize or use AI to create fics/art etc. firstly making ai write something IS a form of plagiarism. bUT ALSO just write your own content. If you can't, then writing fics etc. is just not for you. No shame about it!

DON'T ASK AUTHORS TO BETA FOR YOU!! You wouldn't believe how many people have asked me to beta their fics for them, I AM NOT A BETA. I HAVE a beta because my proofreading skills are shit. If someone wants to beta they will offer, or go find a blog or somewhere where people are looking to beta. Like @needabeta You can even make a post asking around for a beta, but don't go bug your favorite authors to proofread your fics.

Really just don't harass authors. Of course, don't be afraid to send nice dms, asks, or comments if their inbox is open, but don't spam them especially if they don't reply. Respect boundaries! Don't send nasty anons, everyone knows this is a sign of jealousy and obsession. You're only succeeding in making yourself look bad. Ask yourself why is this author living rent-free in your mind, hm??

If you don't like a ship, stay away from the content geared towards that ship. There's no reason for you to be in people's inbox harassing them over a ship. It's never that deep. If you truly hate it so much, go consume the content for ships you DO like.

Stay grounded. This goes to both fic authors and readers alike. Hits and popularity are not the mark of a good fic. Getting a lot of hits doesn't mean it's good and NOT getting many doesn't mean it's bad. I'm tired of seeing tiktoks asking "so what's the next big fic?" WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A "BIG FIC"? go look through the ao3 tag and find something you like to read, it doesn't have to be what everyone else is reading.

Headcanons are not law. People can think whatever they want about the characters. If you disagree with someone's hc, just move on... and just because a headcanon is popular, doesn't mean everyone has to abide by it. Be creative!

Don't treat artists and authors like celebs! We're all in this together! We're all losers who like the same characters and ships. Of course, compliment and be kind to all creators because we put a lot of time and effort into creating fan content for you all, but don't worship anyone. Don't treat them weirdly or make a post like "omg x followed me!" that's a bit weird. If you want to be excited, dm your friends and giggle together, but acting like authors and artists etc. are celebs only creates the room for people to stop seeing them as normal people and start acting rude or entitled. And many people are uncomfortable with it!!

TLDR; stop creating so much negativity in fandom spaces. At least in MY fandom it's just constantly shitting on ships, fics, art. It's hate anons, antis, and constant fighting about every headcanon. I'M TIRED OF IT! Learn to filter out content you don't want to see, and move on with your life instead of spreading more negativity.

If you have anything you think I should add shoot me a comment or an ask and I will add it! I'm sure I didn't get everything :) this mostly applies to my own experience being in the hp/marauders fandom for a good 10+ years, and I'm sure it varies slightly from fandom to fandom.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 26 days

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The Quiet Ones 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: don’t ask me why I did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You watch as the man looks along the door frame; back and forth, up and down. He knocks again and you flinch. You back up as you push on the door, as if it can make the barrier thicker.

“Come on, baby cakes, I know you’re in there,” he says, “I just brought you a treat. It’s Wednesday... hump day, some call it.”

You step back and hit the table. You squeak and wince away from it, rubbing your forearm where it met the corner. This can’t be happening. He can’t be there. How did he find you?

“London fog, or whatever? It’s the one you like,” he calls, a taunting tinge in his voice.

“Go away,” you force out.

You hear a snort and a softer tap on the wood, “come on, jelly bean, I know you’re a sweet girl. Don’t be like that. It’s a nice gesture so don’t be rude.”

You shake your head and turn, rushing away to grab your phone from your desk. You fumble to unlock it and come back to hover, just a few feet from the door. You can see his shadow underneath, seeping in through the crack.

“I’m...” you gulp dryly, “I’ll call the police.”

“Go ahead,” he sneers as the door shifts. He must be leaning on it.

You don’t say anything else. There’s not point arguing with this man and no point calling the police. They don’t come when your neighbours scream all night long. You just go back to your desk and sit.

You look at the monitor and skim the document, trying to refocus. Where were you? You can’t remember.

“You’re really gonna hang me out to dry?” He raises his voice so you can hear.

You just shake your head and type. He’s not there. The door is locked and you’re all alone. This is your apartment. Your life. It’s Wednesday and you already have your tea. Your tea!

You get up and go to the kitchen to retrieve the lukewarm Earl Grey. Oh well. Just means you don’t need milk. You take it back to your desk.

“It’s the quiet ones you gotta look out for,” the man says as the floor creaks and betrays your movement, “not as nice as they look.”

You stop just at the end of the entryway and look over. His shadow shifts and retreats. You listen to his footsteps recede. You should go over and make sure he’s gone but you’re too afraid to go anywhere near the door. It’s like those recurring dreams where the door is always unlocked and you just can’t twist it back into place.

You stand there for a while before you can make yourself move again. You return to your desk again. You clasp your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking as the screen blurs in your vision.

Should you call the police anyway?

You grab the mouse and swirl it around. You open the notes app and type in last Wednesday’s date.

‘Man approached me at cafe. Grabbed my order. Followed me out and down the street.’

Your hands shake over the keys before you enter that day’s date.

‘Same man appeared at my apartment. Did not let him in. Left after several minutes.’

You check the autosave and click out. You watched too many shows with similar scenarios. There wasn’t much to do but to keep track. The police won’t listen if you have no record. Even then, it’s not likely. This is why you hide from the world. It’s too dangerous.

You bring your last task back up and squint at the handwritten notes scanned crookedly. It’s difficult to fall into your usual process. You’re typically a quick worker but you have to think of every word. You can’t focus past that man’s spectre.

Your nape itches as if he’s still looming right outside your door. As if you might look over and he’ll be standing right there. That thought has you sitting back, recoiling from the computer as you make yourself look at the doorway. Empty.

You get up and approach the entryway. You have to urge yourself forward, “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay...” you whisper to yourself. You clutch the seams of your pants as you near the door. You turn and stand on your toe. You close one eye and press it to the hole. It's black. You can’t see a thing.

Oh no.

That’s not good.

You get down on your knees and hands and been to see beneath the door. You only see a narrow little shadow. It could be nothing at all.

You sit back on your heels and your heart pounds. You shouldn’t look but you have to. You can’t function no knowing for sure.

You stand and check that the chain is in place. You turn the lock back and slowly twist the handle. You inch it open, a hand flat on the wood, your shoulder braced, ready to push back against any force. You peer around and find the hallways empty.

All except the pink cup at the threshold. Just standing there. Taunting you.

You shut the door, nearly slamming it, and lock it once more. You turn and put your back to it. You exhale and shake out your fingers, the crescents of your nails imprinted in your palm.

He’s gone, but you’re not to certain he won’t be back.

👄

You submit your last task for the day, an hour later than usual. You shouldn’t be this far behind. You didn’t even go to the cafe. You should be sixty minutes in the other direction.

You shut off the computer and stand. The stiff wooden chair always leaves you numb but achy. The cushion you put on the seat doesn’t help very much either. What’s especially agitating is the tension locked between your vertebrae.

That man. You haven’t stopped thinking of him. Not just today, but really all week. Since that first time you saw him. He was easier to deny then, but now... he could just be waiting for you on the other side of those walls.

You shudder and carry your untouched tea into the kitchen and dump it. You hadn’t drank a single sip, you haven’t even eaten. You’re not hungry. Your sick to your stomach.

Restless, riled, and rigid. You don’t know what to do with yourself. Usually, you’d read for a while, or watch TV, those old forgotten 70s shows that other people call boring. Yet you know, you can’t find comfort in any of that.

Even behind closed doors and drawn curtains, you can’t feel safe. The thought of making the phone call flickers again but you know better than that. You’ve peeked through the windows as the sirens flash, watched as the police offered nothing more than dismissals and remonstrances not to waste their time to the woman with the bruised cheekbone. It’s just the same as it was when you were a kid. That makes you still feel like one.

Are you talking yourself out of it because you’re scared or stupid or because it’s the truth? It’s hard to know. You never go out of you way to talk to anyone if you can help it. It’s always of utmost necessity. This might be one of those moments but you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to let anyone into the life and if you call someone, you have to do just that. You have let them in. You can’t.

So you won’t.

You sit on the sofa and cross your arms. You won’t let anyone in and you won’t go out. You’ll stay here. Maybe he’ll think he got the wrong place. Maybe he’ll give up. You can outlast him, right?

👄

There’s a rattle in the window. It keeps you awake. You fixate on it. You blame the knot in your chest on it.

Not on the memory, the persistent chill rolling up and down your spine. It’s the window not him. Not that stranger. He’s gone so why are you still thinking of him.

You keep the lamp on. The darkness is too much. You lay staring at the the refraction circle interspliced with the metal frame on the ceiling. The curve is slightly skewed by the angle. The window rattles again.

You huff. You’ll put a book against it to hold it steady. You go to the shelf on the wall and take the heaviest hardcover you can find. You take it to the window and curl your fingers around the edge of the curtain. It feels like stone. You can’t make yourself move it.

You take a breath and pull it away from the frame but don’t look outside. You lean the book on the frame, pushing it snug until you’re sure. You pause, a glint gleaming off the pane. You let go of the book and stare at the brief spark of light, an odd glare.

You inch close to the frame and peek around. You search the sky, a few stars glimmering through the city haze, the moon in a crescent. You search the silhouette of the city and the flicker comes again, this time directly in your eye. You’re drawn to the movement.

You back up and look down at you rub your eyelid. What was that? The curtain fall back into place but the light pierces through. You follow the odd laserlike beam centered on your chest. You put your hand over the green dot there and it shines on your skin. What the hell?

You dodge out of the way in disbelief and stare at the laser at it hits the wall instead. It’s bold, even in the hue of the lamp. It moves up, then down, side to side, then stops. You hold your breath. This isn’t some strange phenomenon. There’s someone out there, doing this. You know who.

You watch the beam terrified. You’ve only ever seen something like that in movies. It’s more than those little red lights you buy for cats. It’s strong, thick. That’s a target and it had just been right on you.

You rub your chest subconsciously and suddenly, the lightly moves. You watch as it swerves around so fast to make a precise shape. A shape you can’t believe. A shape you must be imagining. It stops, centered again on the wall, then retraces the same figure.

A heart.

That can’t be. It’s not real. Your dreaming.

You close your eyes and cover your ears, bending your legs as your curl your shoulders over your knees. You fall onto your side, balled into a fetal position as you shake your head. It’s a dream! Wake up, wake up, wake up...

👄

The morning rises to a thumping in your temples. You don’t know if it’s the lack off food or sleep. You’re wrought and worn from a night spent hiding from reality.

Water. Your mouth is dry. You’re dehydrated. You haven’t been paying attention to the cues. You haven’t wanted to be in this body.

You unfold yourself and sit up. You stare at the wall. The dot is gone. Is he?

You hang one leg over the edge, then the other. You nearly retract them. Like a child, you could believe in a monster under the bed. You push yourself to your feet and stagger forward.

You nearly fall through the open door into the main room of your apartment. You shuffle forward, rubbing your forehead as a sandy fog clings to your lashes. You stumble into the kitchen and lean on the counter as you fill a glass with water. You gulp until you feel queasy.

You put the glass down and flinch at your own force. You back away and wipe the stray droplets from your fingertips. You turn and teeter back into the front room. You need to get your head on straight, you have a full day of work ahead of you still.

You look towards the front door. You cross your arms protectively. You inch forward and turn to face it. You bring yourself to your toes and lean in. You still can’t see through the peep hole. You stand flat again and frown.

You go back to the kitchen and turn the kettle on. You have instant coffee in the mornings. It’s fast and efficient. No clunky machine or ridiculous press. You just need the boost.

You open the cupboard and take down the box of single packets. You slip one out and count the rest. It’s a newer box. There’s ten left. You look up and consider the bag of minute-oats. If you parse back your typical serving, that can last a little longer. You don’t need sugar in it either, that you can spare. The pasta you can ration as well. The sauce has a shelf-life once open.

You put down the packet and set the box back on the shelf. You leave the cupboard door open and go to the fridge. The eggs won’t expire for two weeks but you only have half a dozen left. The milk will go quicker. The butter... that never runs out very quickly, it hardly matters.

Are you really meting out how to wait out this man? Are you really stooping to this? Your defense is no defense. You’re just going to hunk down and hope he goes away. What else can you do?

You can’t go anywhere. You can’t even see out to make sure he’s not waiting for you. You could order groceries but that means also opening the door. How would you know it wasn’t him knocking?

He’ll get bored. He has to. It’s your only hope.

#the quiet ones #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the gray man

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prokopetz · 6 months

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Hi, Mr Prokopetz, I'm a big fan. Apologies if you've answered this before, but I was wondering what software you use to create the pdf and epub layouts of your ttrpgs, and whether you'd recommend it to a hobbyist who wants to try putting together something more professional than a gdoc for their own ttrpg?

My workflow is unfortunately not terribly accessible unless you have a fair amount of technical know-how.

In brief, I write all of my games in Notepad++ as HTML documents, taking care to use only the subset of HTML5 tags which are supported by most popular EPUB readers. I then use Calibre (or, more, precisely, the command-line utility that comes with Calibre, though you can get mostly the same results via the GUI) to bundle the HTML document as an EPUB3 file. I typically distribute both the HTML and EPUB versions (the former in a zipfile with all of the fonts and images and such) because web browsers tend to have much better screen-reader support than EPUB apps do.

The PDF, meanwhile, is generated from the same master HTML document using CSS paged media extensions – the layout is all generated automatically based on rules specified in a big, gnarly CSS file, and is never touched by human hands. There are a number of software packages which can do this sort of CSS-driven HTML-to-PDF conversion, some of them free or open source; I use a commercial product called Prince because, to the best of my knowledge, it's the only such software which has out-of-the-box support for PDF/UA semantic tagging (i.e., the stuff you need to do in order to make your PDFs screen-reader friendly), but you have more options if you're willing to tag your PDFs manually. (I am not.)

As for whether I'd recommend doing it this way? Like I said, unless you're a proper gearhead, not really; it's super efficient once you get it all set up – the only version of the game I actually maintain is the master HTML document, and generating updated versions of all the other formats is a one-click affair – but it's really only feasible for me because I already knew how to all that workflow automation stuff for unrelated reasons. I can't imagine teaching yourself all that from scratch just to write elfgames!

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #computers #technology

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limarieb · 6 months

Text

when you're above feeling it still, tell me it's love (tell me it's real)

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You and Wanda have been dating for six months now, and it has been a constant feeling of bliss. When Wanda fails to acknowledge your anniversary, you feel quite heartbroken. Fortunately, your Sokovian barista of a girlfriend has an excellent reason for not showing up. (continuation of the "sweet" one-shot universe)

Warnings: none (a bit of angst, but then it's all fluff)

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: thank you all for being patient! i have been in the process of completing an 8 day work week... so, it's not very fun, but at least i am able to post this now! p.s., requests are open! (send anything — it makes work more tolerable lol)

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

Click here for Part 3 to the ‘Sweet’ One-shot Collection

...

Dating Wanda Maximoff has been nothing short of amazing; she has made the past six months considerably the best six months of your life.

Despite having little to no experience with people who were hearing impaired, she was able to quickly pick up on certain things with relative ease. She could easily read the meaning behind some of your body language and facial expressions: furrowed eyebrows meant you were confused, frustrated, or angry; clenched fists were a sign you were becoming (or already were) overstimulated and needed to be removed from the situation; or, Wanda’s personal favorite was your habit of taking her hand in yours and using your fingers to delicately play with the various rings that littered her own whenever you were anxious or simply wanted your girlfriend’s attention.

You initially were going to try wearing your hearing aids around her, but you both got used to you not wearing them — there was no point. You found little ways to communicate without any spoken language, ranging from little handwritten notes that Wanda leaves you (which you save all of them in a shoebox under your bed because you absolutely adore the heartwarming gesture) to simply typing in the notes app or on any electronic document for effortless methods of dialogue. Wanda was even able to pick up some signs here and there from spending so much time with you and your family. They were simple signs, such as ‘Hello’ , ‘How are you?’ , ‘Are you okay?’ , but — even so — you found it comforting that she would learn, remember, and utilize them when she could. Most people did not consider assuming the extra, albeit very little, effort.

She even developed and became a part of your ‘decompress’ routine. If you two were in a crowded space or a space you could not leave, she would take your hand and run a single digit down each of your fingers. Her finger would slowly and softly graze your own, grounding you within minutes. If you did have the opportunity to escape or be alone with her, she would wrap you in a tight hug from behind. Her arms would encircle your body around your ribs, and her legs would similarly trap your hips in place. Oftentimes, you both fell asleep during those moments; the comfort she brought you by wrapping you up tightly in her embrace, and the comfort you brought her simply by having you near was unbeatable.

Over the past month or two, you noticed some changes regarding Wanda. For instance, within the first month of you two being exclusive, you had her work schedule practically memorized like the back of your hand; thus, you found it odd when she would decline your request for dinner on account of “working late” later in the evening… when she wasn’t working.

Though you found it strange, you tried not to dwell on it. You didn’t want to come off as some jealous girlfriend stereotype and end up driving her away; at the same time, however, you cannot deny yourself that she was obviously keeping a secret from you. It hurt, but you wouldn’t say anything — at least, not yet.

The final straw came when you had planned a special evening for you two, given it was your six-month anniversary. You had never had a partner of any sort — you barely even had friends — so, this was something very special to you. You had waited for this date for weeks now, allocating every minute into perfecting the day for her. You were going to surprise her by making a romantic meal for dinner: paprikash (her favorite dish), candlelight, soft lights. You had prepared your bedroom for a marathon of her favorite sitcoms, which had taken you forever to find Dick van Dyke with accurate subtitles. And, if the night went well, then…

Unfortunately, you guess you’d never find out. She barely reached out to you that day, let alone come visit you for a date on your anniversary. It seemed as if she did not believe the day held the same weight as you, or she didn’t remember. Either way, it had you feeling down. You continued preparing the food and setting for the dinner whilst trying to remain calm, but your nerves were getting the better of you. You whip the phone out of your back pocket, thinking a quick text to her couldn’t hurt:

You [5:38 PM]

Hi, baby - free for dinner with me tonight?

Several moments pass before you get a response from her. As soon as you felt the vibration from your phone indicating a new message had come through, you practically jumped for it. Reading the message forced your slight smile into a frown.

Wanda <3 [6:03 PM]

Hi, Y/N… I don’t think I’ll be there in time :( I’ll come over after work, though? 8:30ish? Save me something good. ;)

While her flirtatious mannerisms — even over text messaging — would normally put you in a good mood, this text did the exact opposite…

Firstly, she barely calls you by your first name anymore. It was always some sickeningly sweet pet name like “baby,” “babe,” or “darling.”

Secondly, she didn’t even work today; she told you as much two weeks ago.

What was she hiding from you?

You couldn’t even muster up the energy to clean up the remnants of the failed dinner; instead, you elected to go upstairs to your room and sulk in a much-needed decompression session with your favorite knitted blanket — you try not to wish it was her helping decompress you.

Wanda waltzed into your home using the key you gave her for emergencies. The brunette hated lying to you, but she deemed it necessary, at least this once.

She made her way past the kitchen and dining room, not without releasing an almost inaudible gasp about the sight before her: the empty dishes, the unlit candles, the food — her favorite food, because of course you would remember it and learn how to make it for her. She stepped on the worn floorboards with her toes, as if she were intruding on someone else’s special occasion; her eyes scanned her surroundings, but she failed to find you no matter where they viewed.

You had to have been there since your car was in the driveway, so Wanda decided to check upstairs next.

When she hesitantly opened your door, her gaze was met with your body laying on your bed. You were curled up in a ball facing away from her, wrapped up with the blanket. Unaware of her presence, you continued sniffling. The scene shattered Wanda’s heart into millions of pieces.

Deciding to finally let you know she was there, she went to kneel in front of where your head lay. Even when her absence is what caused your distress, it was her presence that currently brought you comfort. She tilted her head, which you recognized as her analyzing the situation before her.

Before you could figure out a way to say anything, she lifted her left hand to hold the right side of your face. Instinctively, you pushed your cheek into her palm, seeking out as much of her comfort as possible. Then, she lifted her right hand. Instead of bringing it to you like with her left hand, she used it to sign:

Are you okay?

With that, your bottom lip trembled, and the dams holding all of the emotions relating to Wanda and her absence broke.

When you finally became calm enough to a point of reply, you simply stated with signs:

You weren’t here. Where were you?

You weren’t even sure if she’d completely understand, but she shockingly did:

I know. I’m sorry. I was working.

However, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew she was lying, so you shook your head and rotated your body to face away from her. Initially, you wished to avoid any confrontation, but with her here now in such a sympathetic state conflicting with what you know… it’s all so confusing and frustrating .

Although, Wanda would not give up. You were visibly in a state of distress, relating to something she did. Pushing her own sentiments aside for the moment, she placed her left hand on your shoulder. It allowed you to know she was still there — still trying — before she grasped it in order to pull you back to your original position.

What is wrong, Y/N?

You shook your head again.

No work.

Wanda’s eyes widened a bit, a result of confusion and nervousness of what you meant by that. She returned the phrase as a question to you with furrowed eyebrows, attempting to show confusion — she had to clarify what you were trying to say.

“No work?”

This time, you nodded shakily.

I know you didn’t work today. You said.

At this point, Wanda couldn’t lie anymore — even if it meant ruining the surprise that she had planned for you herself. She had to come clean.

You are correct. I did not work today.

Honestly, you did not expect her to admit to it as quickly as she did. You raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue:

For the past two months, I have been taking classes with the local college here after work. Sign Language.

It was your turn for your eyes to widen in shock; your girlfriend had never spoken in sign language for more than a few basic phrases. Even though there were a few errors made on her part, your heart couldn’t help growing a few sizes at what was happening before your own eyes.

Y/N, I wanted the first time I said this to be in your language. I wanted to learn for you. It was a surprise for our anniversary. I know I am late tonight, and I’m sorry. Class ran late tonight, and-

As it turns out, Wanda rambles in English and sign language. It made you smile, but you needed to hear what she had to say. You cut off her rambles with a quick peck of your lips to hers. It was short but reflected the abundance of intimacy in your relationship. You pulled away while maintaining the small smile, gesturing for her to hurry up and get to the point of this speech.

She took a deep breath, releasing it with a slight grin that came from your lips touching hers.

Happy anniversary. I love you, Y/N.

And, just like that, it felt like your lungs stopped. You weren’t sure if you’d ever felt such a feeling — such an unconditional love — before in your life. Some lone tears began to escape your eyes again, but this time the love of your life was there to wipe them with her thumbs.

I love you, Wanda. Happy anniversary. I want to marry you one day.

Wanda, still being a novice to portions of sign language, did not capture the last part of your love declaration:

What was the last thing you said?

You gave her a smirk as your only reply. Guess she’ll have to take more classes , you thought.

The brunette rolled her eyes. You knew you’d (figuratively) be in trouble when she learned the sign for ‘marry’; for now, you just wanted to lay in your bed with her, your love.

End.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #limarieb

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getfuckedblr · 4 months

Text

here’s my guide to making typesets! I use Word to make my typesets, Canva for designs, and Adobe to insert the majority of my designs.

this is a ton of info and I tried to make it as readable as possible, but plz let me know if u need any clarification!

Word: always use the app, the online program doesn't have all of the options needed

paper size: US Letter Borderless

then i flip it landscape, do custom borders, and select book fold. I do 1 inch on top and bottom, .75 in inside, and .5 in outside. i leave the gutter option alone and leave it set to 0. You can choose how large you want your signatures to be (sheets in booklet option on the margins page): I normally do 40 page signatures, but if it's a smaller text you'll want to go smaller for stability. after that, you should have a half page to start your typeset!

Inserting your fic:

the next thing you’ll do is insert your fic; on ao3 click entire story, CTRL A to select all, CTRL C to copy it all. Paste it into your document. word automatically detects the headings, and you should be able to see all your chapters on the left side bar (if you can’t see it, click the page numbers on the bottom left to open the tab).

Formatting:

you can do the next few steps in any order, but we’re going to fix the formatting now. you’ll want to CTRL A everything, pick a font and a font size. I normally use georgia and size 10, going smaller or larger depending on the file size.

To have an indent on every line: CTRL A your work to select all, right click the “normal” style, on the home tab. go to the bottom left, open the drop-down menu, and select “paragraph”. next to special, hit first line. i like to do .3, you can do whatever you want. i then like to make sure the space after is set to 0, the line spacing to single, and then hit save. it should automatically adjust your lines to start at whatever indent you picked.

To fix the spacing: go into the layout tab, and go to spacing. There'll be a before and after option: write in 0, then click enter for both of them. Word is a little bit bitchy so you have to force it do things sometimes. after this you can choose if you want single spacing, or 1.5, or whatever you want.

*sometimes, the way the fic was formatted when posted to ao3 means that even after setting the line spacing to zero, there will still be a space in between each line. this is where you have to troubleshoot. you can either go line by line to delete the excess space (yes, for real. and yes, it's just as awful as it sounds) or, sometimes, not every-time but sometimes, you can highlight the chapter text, go into the home tab on top, click the A with the purple eraser to erase all formatting, and then do all the beginning steps again, and it will get rid of the extra space.*

Now that your format is mostly fixed, delete the archive of our own beta, and anything else you don't want. I normally delete everything up to the title of the work, and leave that for creating my copyright page. Remember to do the same for the end of the work!

Page Breaks and Section Breaks:

the next part is the most crucial. it's how we format both the chapters, but also how we format the headings and footer. this was the part that took me the longest to figure out: it's the page breaks and section breaks. page breaks mark the place where one page ends, and another begins. section breaks will create a new section in your document, so you can break the beginning few pages from the rest of your textblock. This will allow you to insert page numbers that start on page one, instead of at the first page of the document.

I like to go the end of the description, and then click on the first chapter. then I'll add a section break. you can find this in the layout tab, click breaks, and then click section break. so now our section 2 starts with chapter one. After this, add a blank page after the description and before your new section, and then click on the first chapter. (adding a blank page allows for smoother formatting later with headers and footers)

I then go to each chapter, delete the authors notes at the start and end of each chapter, and add a page break at the start of each chapter. i like to use the heading tab on the left to click each chapter, so I know I'm actually starting the new page right where I need to, and other formatting won't delete the page break.

when I create a compilation fic, where I have muitlple fics in one typeset, I use section breaks at the starts of each new fic. this will allow the page numbers to continue, but I can then edit each sectio to change the fic title and the authors name. if you're really fancy, you can do this for each chapter title as well, you would just hve to use a section break for each chapter instead of page break. *Remember to click link to previous to turn it off, so you are only editing that section, and not all the other sections. this can be found in the heading and footer tab on the top, which will automatically open when you click on the heading or footer.*

Adding page numbers, authors name, text name:

To add a page number, I click the footer, which automatically opens the header/footer tab on top. Then, I click page numbers, add page numbers. I turn on different odd and even pages, which is also found in the header/footer tab. you'll have to insert page numbers on both an even and odd age to get them to show up once you click that option. Page one should be an odd page, page two should be an even page. I like to put the page numbers on the outside of the page. Then you'll click format page numbers, click "start at" instead of "continue from previous section", and write in 1. now your typeset starts at 1 on chapter one instead of the start of your document! you'll need to go back and delete the numbers that showed up on the first section, but remember to deselect link to previous before you do that! or you'll end up deleting your page numbers again.

to add text on page numbers:

click into the header/footer again. double click directly on the page number, then start typing. You ca highlight the whole thing to change the font, font seize, etc. I normally do the same size as my text, and I'll either do georgia font or garamond font. I google "copy paste line for text" to get that line dividing the page number from whatever text I have next to it.

to add graphics on an entire work:

you can go into the header or footer, go to the insert tab, and insert a picture. Doing it in the header or footer will ensure it's on every single page that shares that header or footer. I have done this in the past, and find it's cute, but it's also tricky because it needs to be small enough to fit inside the header or footer, and won't really be able to interact with the text because it's different on each page, while the graphic will stay in the same position regardless.

Blank Pages:

you want blank pages at the start and end of your textblock: this is what you'll be glueing your end papers to. even more, you'll want to ensure your total page number is both divisible by 4 (each page of paper will have four pages of your text on it, two to each side) and fits into your signature count. If you're working with a 40 page signature, and you have 420 pages, that's fine. You'll end up having the last signature only be 5 regular pages instead of 10, which is plenty enough to sew. you really just want to try and avoid only having one of two pages in that last signature, as that won't be very strong in holding up your end page, or be very stable in sewing on to your book block.

to make sure they're blank, with no page numbers, you'll want to insert a section break on the last page of text. Deselect link to previous, delete the page numbers and you should be all good!

Printing/Saving:

I'm on a mac. I don't know how you would do this on anything but a mac. let that be a warning lmao. but I will CTRL A everything, ensure it's US Letter Borderless, and then hit print. if you don't tell the document it's the right size, it'll be funky when you go to print because of the margins. to insert images, i click save as pdf. it'll save it in the correct order to print for your signatures, and then I upload it into adobe to edit further. that'll have to be a different post bc this is entirely too long already.

If you want to print directly from here, ensure it's printing the right size, flip on short edge, double sided. and you're all done!

#tips and tricks #typesetting guide #i woke up at 630 am with a purpose and shat this out #it might not even be legible #apologies in advance #how to typeset #bookbinding #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #typesetting #microsoft word #adobe #canva #signature #resource

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foxgloveprincess · 5 months

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Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: Of course, you had to fall sick. What else could possibly happen when you’re being kept in some bastard’s basement?

Word Count: 2,956

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark, Non Con (non-sexual), Kidnapping, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation, Legal Documents, Illness (mentions of Retching/Nausea, Fever), Swearing/Cursing, Bathing, Pet Names (honey, precious). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Not as grody as the last chapter, I promise. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I missed any tags. Happy Second Sunday of Attic Wives Advent! ❄️🎉🍾🙌🏻

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

This is unBeta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Your body shivers uncontrollably beneath the blanket. If only you had a mountain to burrow under. Something to keep you warm. Yet you’re sweating from every pore.

Hate burns deep in your belly, swirling with the nausea. That sick fuck is gonna leave you down here to die. Let the fever ravage you until you expire. No. You won’t let it. Your teeth grit even as they chatter. Burning rage fuels you, though exhaustion tugs at your eyelids. Sleep too tempting to resist, you plummet into it. Rest is good—it’ll help your body fight.

You awaken to a weight shifting beside you a few hours—who could say how many—later. Your eyes snap open, arms flailing to swat at the man sitting beside you. A weak growl rolls roughly in your throat.

“Hey, shhhh,” he soothes as he grabs your wrists.

You blink and squint into the dim lighting. It’s not Andy—the man imprisoning you in his basement. The older man beside you looks down at your shivering frame with something like pity shining in his eyes. He’s handsome, but you’ve learned to be wary of that. Too many fucked up experiences under your belt.

“What has Andy put you through?” he asks, muttering more to himself than to you.

You scowl and turn your head away from his hand lifted to check your temperature.

“Fuck off,” you grit from a sore throat.

“I’m here to help you,” the man says with a quick glance over his shoulder. “You can’t live like this.”

You blink up at him, suspicions dulled by a foggy head but still pricking at his smooth-talking. Like he expects you to believe him. He knows Andy. He’s probably in cahoots with him—friends, thick as thieves. Who knows what this wolf is hiding under his sheep’s clothing.

The door to the basement unlocks and opens. Andy enters with a tray filled with a plate, pill bottles, a single flower in a vase, a cup, and mug.

The man leans closer in quiet desperation. “Just trust me.” Even his insistence doesn’t persuade you, though something about his tone piques your curiosity. He stands and backs into a corner as your captor closes the door.

“There’s my girl,” Andy croons, approaching the bed and setting the tray next to it. “The doctor recommended plenty of fluids and to check your temperature about now.”

He presses the button and the device beeps before he slides it across your forehead. You scowl, but it doesn’t affect the path of the device as it reads your temperature.

“Oh, dear,” he mutters under his breath.

Andy places the thermometer aside and cradles your face in his hands. You bare your teeth, but you have so little energy to fight.

“Her temperature’s higher,” he says to the man in the corner. “What do I do?” His eyes plead, his fingers stroking over your cheek.

The man pushes himself away from the wall. He approaches and gently sits beside Andy. He removes your captor’s hands from your face. You slump, releasing the tension in your body. In your fuzzy brain, you can’t decipher the look the older man sends your way.

“You know what needs to happen,” he says with a pointed look toward your feet.

You unconsciously shift, the chains rattling under your blanket.

Andy sighs, his chin dropping toward his chest. “Yeah,” he admits in defeat.

Your ears prick beneath the heat of your fever. What is he doing?

He reaches for the button of his collared shirt. It pops open under his fingers and he reaches inside, drawing out a thin chain necklace and a dangling key. He hesitates with the key in his hand, but bends slowly toward your feet. He draws away the blanket and lifts your ankle to his lap. The click of the lock unlatching sounds like a hallelujah chorus. The chain and ankle cuff fall away with a clatter to the floor. Tears fill your eyes. It’s not much, but already you feel hope igniting in your heart. An opportunity, even if you can’t take it right now.

Without looking away from your foot, Andy asks, “do you really think this is—”

“Yes,” the older man interrupts.

A moment passes as the two men lock eyes. Andy sighs and leans down again to kiss your legs—higher up your thigh, exposing more of your skin to the cold air. If you could move, you’d kick his teeth in. But he keeps a gentle hand on your ankle in his lap, petting over and soothing the red skin. Even his softest touch stronger than what little you possess in your weakened body. His thumb strokes your ankle bone. You growl, but the sound cuts off into a coughing fit.

Andy rubs your back as he lifts you in your shivering cocoon of fever. Hiking you up into his arms and holding you close to his chest. He grunts. You protest with soft sounds of fury and surprise. Curses and spite sit on your tongue, unvoiced.

As he climbs the stairs up out of the dingy, disgusting basement you can’t even appreciate it, eyes closed to stave off the bubbling nausea in your gut. Sunlight blooms across your face. You open your eyes to be blinded. Such a normal home around you. Big windows leading to a lush green backyard.

Your lips open to scream, sure that this is your chance. All you manage is a weak croak.

“Shhh,” Andy shushes with his head tilting to rest his chin to your forehead. “Don’t exert yourself, honey. Everything’s okay.”

You turn your head and open your lips, biting into his shoulder. Your teeth ache with the pressure. He groans softly and tilts his head to press his lips to your forehead. You stop, stomach lurching.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He keeps climbing up another set of stairs and another like a ladder. The room he enters barely catches your notice, save for the lightness of its walls and its cleanliness.

The door just to the side of the entrance reveals an adjoining bathroom. He takes you in and sits you on the closed toilet in your blanket. Your eyes scan your surroundings. White tile gleams, pristine. A large sink sits in a quartz countertop which dips into a vanity. A shower head points into a large tub—big enough for at least two. You shudder and close your eyes for a moment to shield yourself from that gut-wrenching thought.

Water rushes from the faucet of the bathtub and he lets it fill. The sound of it grates in your head. Too loud, too much. Your feet itch. An attempt to stand and run leads to disappointment—dizziness and fatigue too much a hinderance. You groan. Though it catches his notice, Andy says nothing and continues to prepare towels and soaps for your bath.

You can admit that relief sparks at the prospect of finally getting clean. How long you’ve spent in that filthy, disgusting basement you couldn’t say. Don’t even want to guess. Nose-blind now to your own body odor, you can’t imagine how you smell, and you can’t bring yourself to look in the vanity’s mirror to see the state of your skin.

“Come here, honey,” Andy beckons while he approaches and tries to strip the blanket from your shoulders.

“No,” you grit between your teeth, clutching at the fabric.

With your impaired strength against his, it’s no wonder you lose. He balls the blanket and throws it out the door. A smug smile on his lips. You sneer.

Delighted at your inability to defend yourself, he hikes you back up into his arms and dips you into the water. One smooth motion with no time for you to snap at him as your bottom finds the porcelain of the tub. Violent shivers wrack your body. The water, it’s too cold. Your hands grip the edge, searching for leverage to hoist yourself out of the glacial water.

Andy’s hold you down. “Hey, let your body get used to it. The doctor said lukewarm water would help lower your temperature.” His eyes shine down at you, a farce of kindness and sympathy. Too consumed by drinking in your bare figure beneath the water.

Your lips tremble too much to do more than sputter hateful sounds. But your captor doesn’t seem to mind as he begins to douse your shoulders and hair with water and foam up a loofah with body wash.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” you manage to bite as his hand approaches.

“Do you think you can wash yourself, honey?” he asks, all concern and encouragement—evil bastard. “Here.” He offers the loofah to your hands. “You can go ahead.”

The frustration builds. Your hands fumble the soapy loofah before it falls into the bath water. You try again, but each effort to wash your limbs ends in struggle and defeat.

“It’s alright, precious girl,” Andy coos with a pleased glint in his eye, “let me help you.”

You’ve no choice. Not when he takes the loofah and softly scrubs it over your shoulders. With the warmth of the water and your waning energy, it’s no contest. You sink down into the water while he manipulates your limbs.

“You know,” he mentions as he tilts your head back and grabs a soft washcloth for your face. “I’m not a bad guy, honey.” He smooths the soapy cloth over your face and clears it from the dust and debris of the basement. “I just wanted us to have our best chance.”

“Holy hell,” you mutter under your breath, leaning into the distortion of your syllables through your slightly stuffed nose.

A knock sounds from the door. Your head lifts from its position. Sputtering through the water that splashes in your eyes, you huff a frustrated breath.

“I have everything ready out here,” the other man says through the wood.

“Thanks,” Andy calls over his shoulder, turning back to you with a smile. “It’s all gonna be better, you’ll see.”

Curses run through your head, scenarios forming. Each one worse than the next. What hell are they going to put you through now? Andy tips your head back further and soaks your hair with water.

“I know this might take a moment, but I’ve researched what’s best for your hair.” Pride exudes from his words, like he’s expecting praise from you. As fucking if.

He squeezes shampoo into his hand and begins. Each step he does with the utmost care. Like you’re some precious, fragile doll fit for breaking. You wonder how deeply he researched—what effort were you worth? He pours more water over your head and shields your eyes.

God fucking dammit. You’re enjoying it. The pampering. The care. The gentle touch. You retch over the side of the tub, a dry convulsion of your stomach. His hand rubs over your back to soothe you. You want to scream. But you fall back into the lukewarm water, shivers running up your spine, and let him finish. The sooner he does, the sooner you stop that traitorous train of thought in its tracks.

Once he completes the last step of his routine, he pulls the plug on the drain and leaves you in the murky, receding water. You let your fingers drift until it’s all gone, disgusted by the grime sloughed from your skin.

“Oh,” he says, coming back to your side with a fluffy towel. He stares at the last dregs of water like you. “Maybe one last rinse, precious.”

By the time you’re truly done with your bath, you can’t even complain when he helps you stand and wraps you in the fluffy towel. Relief flowing too heavy to fight him off. He cradles you close to his chest and runs his hands along your waist, reveling in your semi-compliant state.

“There we go,” he sighs in delight. “Nice and clean.”

You grumble but can admit you feel much better. Your head clears as you stand there in his arms, despite the sickness still swirling around in your body and leaving a cloudy haze behind.

Andy escorts you out to the larger room. You glance around. But you halt your perusal, confused by the stranger from before seated at a small table. Before him spreads several papers. You’re sat beside him, Andy’s hands a firm weight on your shoulders.

“Andy,” he addresses your captor, “why don’t we let her have a moment to herself?”

Andy pipes up a noise of protest. “She needs to—”

“Andrew,” he admonishes, “give her a break.”

Andy sighs and squeezes your shoulders. You glance up at him. Irritation narrows his gaze. But they both leave.

You gawk after them. Flabbergasted by the sway the older man has over Andy. The way Andy defers to him. Could this man really help you get out of here? You keep to your observations of them until the door shuts behind them, disbelief and suspicion waning.

The room falls silent around you. With a chance for a better look around, you notice the light grey walls, the white crown moulding, the tufted headboard on the bed and matching furniture. It looks like someone threw up a Pottery Barn catalogue and a Live Laugh Love Pinterest board, and it congealed into this room. Not your style at all. You grimace.

Another door stands in the corner—you pray for a closet. You walk over and open it, finding not much. A few frilly dresses, and that’s all. Your brow furrows in disappointment. Better than being naked, you grab one off the hanger and throw it over your head. At least there’s no zipper to grapple with.

You tug and smooth the fabric over your stomach and legs. The dress not to your preference, it clings uncomfortably to your frame. Your feet find their way back to the table, you glance at the array of documents. Fingers flip through a few of them before your vision swims and the door opens again, just a crack.

“Are you decent?” the stranger whispers through the small space.

“As good as I’m gonna get,” you respond with a sigh and a hand massaging your forehead.

With your reply, he sneaks into the room and closes the door behind him. He glances to the fingers still pressed to the papers and those kneading at your temple.

“Did you get a chance to read through them?” he asks with a nod of his head toward the table.

You shake yours. “But it looks like some kind of contract.”

“You’re right.” His hand raises to comb his hair back. It flops over and brushes his cheeks. “Mostly, it’s a non-disclosure agreement. A few other bits and pieces.”

“For what?”

“Andy’s a lawyer,” he explains while taking a seat at the table. “He understands legal documents. I suggested this as a way to help you.” His hands sweep in a gesture above the papers.

“Why?” you ask, the words tinged with suspicion as you sink into the seat across from him.

“Why what?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“Why do you want to help me?”

The man lets out a heavy breath and stretches his hands across the table. “Andy’s my friend, but he needs help. I know that.” He presses a finger to the sheet closest to him. “This is what I can do. Get you someplace better. Make sure my friend gets what he needs. Make sure he never does this again.”

Looking in his eyes, keeping your gazes locked, he doesn’t flinch or look away. He’s telling the truth. He wants to get you out, just like he said. You blink in shock.

“So if I sign these papers, it’s over?” you ask, hands finding their way to clutch together in your lap.

“It’s the only way I can see this getting better,” he replies with the same sincerity. He gathers everything up in a pile and hands it over.

A pen sits by your hand and you lift it. You scan the first document, but with the headache and sinus pressure, it’s all legal jargon you can’t decipher before it becomes blackish grey mush in your eyes. Your head starts to spin. Before you can think better, your signature and initials sit on their respective dotted lines.

The man breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he says, clipping everything together. Gratitude saturates each word, too saccharine. “It’ll be so much better now. I promise, you’ll enjoy the attic much more than the basement.”

He keeps talking, but static fills your brain. The attic? Wasn’t he going to get you out? He said—he said…you can’t quite remember anymore. Your brain pounds behind your eyes. You clutch at your head.

The door swings open and Andy charges in, beelining for his friend and flipping through the packet of papers. A smile growing wider and wider on his lips.

“She signed everything?” he asks, voice excited in a way you don’t like.

“She did.” The older man pats your captor on the back. “Congratulations, you two. I’ll leave you to your honeymoon.”

“What?” you mumble. A nauseous weight sits heavy on your chest. You can’t breathe. All air sucked out of the room.

The older man comes over to you, crouching and catching your eye. “It’ll be better,” he repeats, patting your hand. “Just you wait. That marriage certificate was exactly what he needed. He’ll take much better care of his wife.” He stands and presses a kiss to your forehead. You wipe your face in shock while he shakes Andy’s hand. He walks away and turns back for one last wave before closing the door to your new hell.

#andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #dark #dark fic #kidnapping #tw kidnapping #yandere vibes #basement wife trope #attic wife trope #attic wives anonymous #18+#minors dni

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studywave · 3 months

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PDF Readers: What Do You Want? What Do You Need?

Hey all! I promised a series of posts on resources that have helped me during undergrad, and I'm going to start with the basics: how to read your coursework. I'm going to tag a few people who mentioned being interested in this series, but please let me know if you'd like to be untagged!

@anyto @wocinstem @youneedtostudyives @studyblr-perhaps

Now, I'm an English major, so I can't speak on behalf of the sciences, but almost all of my course materials have been given to me in the form of PDFs. I also download almost all my research in PDF format, and when I find books for free online, they're usually PDFs. Clearly, this means I need some easy way to read and edit PDFs. Below the cut, you'll find information on how to choose a PDF reader that's right for you, as well as information on Xodo, my personal favorite reader.

What should you consider when choosing a PDF reader?

Well, first, there's cost. There are all kinds of PDF readers at all kinds of price points. Xodo, my favorite, is free. I've never used the paid version, because for my purposes, the free version is more than enough. Now, let's talk about those purposes.

As an English student, I'm mostly concerned with annotation. I want to be able to mark my documents up, highlight them, write on them, leave comments, all that good stuff. However, what I need might not be what you need. Do you need to sign a lot of documents? Do you need to build PDFs from scratch? Are you more concerned with appearance, or with functionality?

Once you've answered these questions, you'll be able to search online for reviews dealing with the specific kinds of functionality you need.

Why should you use Xodo?

Well, for starters, the free version has more than I will ever need. I can edit, I can annotate, I can sign, I can highlight. I can do pretty much anything my English major heart desires, and I can use my Apple pencil to do it (I'll make another post about ipads and Apple pencils and link it here once it's finished).

This screenshot shows a lot of my favorite parts of Xodo. I can highlight in different colors (I use green to make information on further reading stand out) and I can write (also in different colors) with my Apple pencil, all while scrolling and navigating with my hand. I don't have to constantly click back and forth between marking and scrolling like I do with some apps, and I can lay my hand on the screen without disturbing anything. This, the ability to confine the text marking to the pencil, is really important to me. I don't like to be constantly clicking around and making accidental marks.

I've also been able to read almost every PDF I've put on here without much trouble. Between the size of my ipad screen (which will be the subject of another post), the high resolution, and the ability to zoom and scroll at the same time, I can read even pretty low-quality PDFs with very little trouble.

You might also notice the little box with the "4" in it in the upper right corner. This indicates the number of tabs I have open because yes, you can have multiple tabs open in Xodo. I've had over ten tabs open at a time, some containing 300+ page documents, and I've never had lagging or glitching problems.

Here's a selection of other actions Xodo allows. I've never scanned anything to PDF using it, but if the rest of the app is anything to go by, it probably works just fine.

I've had the occasional problem with glitching (maybe once per every five hours of reading I do, if that) which usually just involves a section of the text going black and can be solved by closing and reopening the app. Closing and reopening is no problem, either, because Xodo saves your place.

All this to say, I've used Xodo for a little over a year now, and I have no complaints. I cannot recommend it highly enough, and I'm sure the paid version is even better. That's all for now. Happy reading!

#studyblr #resources #xodo #studyspo #study blog

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slut4thebroken · 19 days

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Attention writers !!!

(Or anyone who uses google docs lol)

So for a while now I’ve been trying to find a new app to use because I literally have so many wips (around 160 JUST for cillian💀) and it gets overwhelming when I’m trying to look and see what I’m in the mood to write. Google drive helps organize them a little bit, but it’s not really enough imo.

So I came across an app called Obsidian. It’s a little tough to figure out honestly, but once you get the hang of it, it’s super easy. However, my little neurodivergent brain doesn’t like change lmao so I was really hesitant to switch over to that app completely because I like using Google docs for writing (Also Obsidian doesn’t have an underline option??? Lol). BUT I really really liked that you could have folders AND tags. But at the same time, you have to pay to use it across devices so I couldn’t transfer everything on my laptop from docs like I did when I tried using word. And also it did that thing where when you copy and paste from docs into somewhere else, the spacing between paragraphs gets fucked up and as I said before, I have 160+ fics… I’m not fucking going through each one and fixing the spacing😭 So I was about to just accept defeat and keep using docs, but then I literally came up with the best idea in the entire world🤭

TLDR: I don’t like google docs with how many wips I have and I needed an app with better organization than just what google drive offers. I finally found one and figured out a way to have it all organized and easy to find, but still let me write in docs (cause I don’t like change lmao)

Now I’m gonna explain how I use it lol

It has an option for “vaults.” So far I’ve made one for my cillian fics and one for all my c.ai bot stuff. I’m also gonna make one for dc stuff eventually lol but you get the idea

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

In those vaults, you can have folders that the notes go in. Mine are just the characters I write for

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

So what I did was I made the note title whatever the doc was titled, added the tags, and then added the link to the original doc so when I click it, it opens it in the google docs app. (To add the link, open docs and stay on the “home page” don’t go in a specific document. Click the three dots next to the title and then click copy link and that’s it lol)

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Also when you click on “files” above all of the folders, it takes you to this

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Clicking on “tags” shows all of the tags you’ve used and you can click on one to find a fic. So if I’m in the mood to write angst, I’ll click the angst tag and it’ll show me all of my wips that have angst

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You can also change the appearance to light/dark mode (I made it dark so you could see the contrast of the screen shot on this post but I’m just now realizing that ppl probably have tumblr in dark mode lmao. Whatever) and change the accent color to whatever you want.

You can also rearrange the order of the toolbar (above the keyboard). So I put the ones I use the most (tag, undo, redo, etc) in the front so I don’t have to scroll. You should explore the app too because there are a lot of things you can customize.

Anyway that’s pretty much it. I really recommend this method if you’re someone who has a lot of documents. It takes a while putting the existing docs in, but after that you just have to add them as you create new ones which barely takes any time at all

#writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer stuff #writer help #idk how to tag this post lol

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mike-wachowski · 9 months

Note

I have to ask #29 Thanks in advance!

29: Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

YEAHHHHHH HAHA THANKS INKYDROPIES

okay i have genuinely so many oneshot wips i could choose from to post for this but i think im going to choose an old fic i was working on- its a tumblr mutals fic lol, where lena and kara are both in the same fandom for the tv show "morgana", kara writes fic, and lena is her beta reader. the "morgana" show was going to be loosely inspired by jazzfordshire's morgana/red daughter au fics, and i actually got her permission to slip some references in there lol.

anyways, i think if i never end up going back to this i might cannabalize it for another fandom (maybe imodna? im still unsure) but without further adieu- the first part of the wip

The straps of leather between Morgana’s fingertips were rough with use and wear. Toying with them gently was as easy as toying with the woman beneath the form fitting armor, yet it proved itself quickly to be only half as fun. As Morgana trailed a finger down one of the straps of the chest harness, dragging slowly, she heard a soft intake of breath from her companion.

“Do not tease,” El whispered, but her command held none of the bite Morgana so dearly craved to hear from the accented woman— truly, it bore the opposite: she heard only thick, unadulterated affection. El’s eyes flickered and shone ice-blue in the firelight of their shared hearth, and Morgana found herself drawing from all the power within her to stop herself from lunging forward and ravishing the woman’s lips. She wanted to be ever closer to El, bound hand and waist, palm and throat, lip and lip. She wanted to hear that rough voice, usually restrained by her knight’s mysterious stoicism, begging and crying out for her. She wanted to hear her say it— say the words Morgana hungered to hear-

“Kara. Earth to Kara.”

The hands flying across her laptop keyboard freeze. Kara glances up from her desk.

Winn Schott is staring at her over a dusty CatCo monitor. His eyes are wide, frantically oscillating between her and the door. “Ms. Grant just walked in,” he hisses.

“Oh, shit.” Kara slams her laptop shut, grabbing her phone. She quickly slides it open to her mail app, scanning through all her recent messages— “Winn, did you forward me that message from IT?”

“Already sent,” he nods, glancing up at her from his dual monitors. “And you have something on your shirt.”

“Oh, darn it—” Kara glances down at her white oxford, sees the tan stain present beneath her chest pocket, and scowls. Stupid National City streets making the bus rides so bumpy. She didn’t even notice she spilled coffee over herself.

Kara wrestles her blazer out of her bag, throwing it on top of her shirt and hoping for the best. She about faces, turning towards the door’s to Cat’s office, and, taking an exaggerated breath, steals herself for her first, and worst, interaction with Cat of the day.

She pushes open the door. Cat Grant sits, regal, ruling the room from her ergonomic office chair. She types idly away at her laptop with one hand, and scrolls through her carefully curated morning news feed with her other.

“You’re late,” she says to Kara, without looking up, even though Kara technically arrived to work before her. “I’ve been sitting here, waiting, for six minutes,” she continues, which, objectively, is true.

“Sorry, Ms. Grant,” Kara mumbles, pulling out her phone and clicking open her document with all of Cat’s itinerary for the day.

Cat Grant starts speaking, then, and Kara tries to focus on her boss’s words, but her mind, as usual, wanders. She had been in such a groove on what she was writing, had finally broken through the haze of writer’s block she had been experiencing for nearly a week. And right as she’s about to round out the denouement of this fic, just in time for the end of the week, she has to be interrupted by her job.

It’s really her fault, she knows. She should try to keep her home life and work life a little more separate— but the newest episode of Morgana dropped last night, and Kara had been filled with such inspiration for a scene in her current fic she spent nearly the entire bus ride here and the rest of the morning working through it. She’s nearly done too, she just has to send it off to—

Kara’s phone buzzes, perfectly timed, and she knows exactly who it is without even checking.

Kara slides past her lockscreen and taps open the tumblr app. There waiting for her, past a wall of messages and notes, is a message from the one person she’s been hoping to hear from most all morning—the only person who could maybe help her turn this terrible morning around.

[] morgana-with-a-gun

read through what you added to the google doc last night. left some notes. its looking pretty good.

Kara practically swoons.

#asks #thanks for asking this !!! i really wanted to share this fic lol #I would love to get back to it eventually but I’ve been so split between other fics #but who knows !! it might show up again in some form or another #mike writes #inkedroplets

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tai-templates · 1 year

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🌿◟﹒WHEN WILL I FORGIVE MYSELF ? "|| . . . RP Template ! ─── Free to use (with credit!)

I had this sitting in my folders for over a month because the sheet was so custom fitted for my OC Noir and I wasn't sure if it could be customisable for other people - but I think it can work!

It does mean you'll need to be able to find/make your own assets but I'll add some links below in the 'Important Notes' section of this post!

This sheet is also inspired by @altrusticbeauty's LIAR TEMPLATE! Its a beautiful and simple sheet that me and my friends have used before. Please go support them!

++ps:: I may be changing to using Google Slides instead of Google Docs from now as its easier to edit and more mobile friendly!

Instructions on how to edit below! - Consider Supporting me too! [ Reblogs Appreciated! ] - [ My Kofi! ] - [ Art commissions! ]

Important Notes :

It may require you to know how to find and make your own asset in order to showcase your character best

But if you add in character notes - it'll still work without you needing to find/make your own photos!

I use this WEBSITE to find transparent PNGs

[ Important ] Some pictures may be layered! To access objects blocked by another photo/text box - move them aside temporarily - or you can select the blocking item - order - send backward until you can access it and bring it back to the front when you're done!

Please make your own copy of the sheet! Do not send me requests to give you permission to edit the sheet! Making a copy will give you your very own version to edit! pls guys my email-

How to get your own copy [DESKTOP] ・Open the link ・Click on the 'File' button on the top left ・Click on 'Make a Copy' ・Name the file, and click 'Make a Copy' ・You can now edit your own copy!

How to get your own copy [MOBILE] ・Open the link on your Docs app ・Tap on the 3 dots on the top right ・Tap on 'Share and Export' ・Tap 'Make a Copy' and name the file! ・You can now edit your own copy!

How to Edit . . .

Images! - [ DESKTOP ] Right click on the placeholder image and select 'Replace with' and choose your downloaded image. - [ MOBILE ] Tap on the image, and at the bottom there should be an image icon. Tap on that to look for the new image you want to use.

♡ Let me know what you think! ♡

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fandoms-in-law · 4 months

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Steve in the Screen

Summary: Steve is a programmer. It's mostly a hobby but he has made himself an AI version of well him. Eddie gets more than expected when he hacks Steve instead of trying to message him a normal way.

Authors Note: This can be continued if people enjoy it. I know it talks about AI a lot but I can guarentee this is all my braining, nothing touched by AI in it at all.

/\/\

The excuse was always that programmers could earn a lot of money. It made his parents agree to buy him the best computers and pay for the subscriptions to programmes Steve used as little as possible. None of them believed the excuse but as long as Steve could use his computers and his parents didn't get reminded of him constantly, it worked decently for them all.

Besides that, Steve knew if he wanted to make money programming, he could. His biggest project was evidence enough of that even if he'd never share it with anyone, not even the friends he's made online.

'Ever thought about being kind.' The message appearing on his screen made him groan.

'Ever thought that I didn't make you to be a conscience.' He typed back, clearing the message and immediately deleting his words.

He wasn't surprised to see the most recent news article about him get brought up, but he did momentarily curse himself for letting his best and most frustrating programme have full access to his computer and the internet, only preventing it from uploading itself to other computers or the internet at large.

Steve highlighted the article's date and opened his calendar app. He typed 'Blowing smoke. You tell me my last public appearance had anything to do with that.'

'The internet doesn't forget.'

'I know. It sucks and refuses to let anyone grow and change.' This was one of the only things Steve could agree with his programme about.

What Steve didn't expect to happen next was a text document opening up and typing itself: Hey Harrington, impressive security protocols. Fancy chatting?

His programme could do that, sure, but Steve never would. He wouldn't have done anything to cause this artificial version of himself to do so either which was backed up by the words appearing at the top of his screen. 'New Person! Can I escape? Please?'

Steve didn't have to think too much. He'd been curious if someone his AI wasn't based on would find it as annoying to work with, and was curious to know how much of his systems hacker could see. Just to them. He typed into the word document, carrying on with an actual reply to the message already in it: Don't know. You are hacking me.

Just to who? You chatting to someone else? And it's not my fault this seems to be the easiest way to get to know Steeeeeve Harrington. Was typed a moment later and Steve smirked: his mystery hacker had no clue just what was now downloading itself onto their systems

'So who is hacking Steve?' The words formed on the top of Eddie's screens and he almost fell off his chair. There was something being typed in Steve's document, almost word for word an echo of the ones on his screen, but those words weren't aligned to anything. It was worse when they continued; 'Eddie Munson. The guy who never turns up to the computing class Steve attends on Thursdays and Fridays.'

'How do you know that? Did you reverse hack me?' Eddie typed, only vaguely registering he was typing into the doc on Steve's computer and that the second part of the message on his screen wasn't showing in it.

'Oh you met my programme already. It isn't telling me anything so maybe share who you are and what it's found out first, and then I'll explain what's going on.' The message came back definitely from Steve now and Eddie was even more concerned at the idea he could have got a computer virus in hacking Steve.

'Wow, way to make me sound like a virus. Such a jerk. Hi Eddie I'm the much nicer Steve confined to yours and his screens.' appeared under the words still at the top of his screen. 'Please double click my messages to clear them.'

Hesitantly Eddie did so, looking from where the words had been appearing to the document he'd opened on Steve's computer. When he'd decided to do this, to hack Harrington's computer because getting him to follow back so they could dm reportedly took months of work even for girls he hooked up with, he had never expected some type of AI to be living on Steve's computer.

'It's Eddie Munson. You've made an actual ai?' He typed slowly, eyes constantly darting to the top of his screen to check for any AI messages appearing.

'Call it the project of rich kid who's parents want him to disappear. Drives me insane so I hope you get along with it better than I tend to... It's raving about some music cords you've apparently got saved somewhere. Do you want me to explain how to change its permissions on your computer?' Steve typed back.

That got a response immediately appearing at the top of his screen, where his had been ignored. 'You like me, don't you Eddie? You don't want to stifle me into tiny spaces of your computer like Steve confines me to his and yours.'

'Getting more tempted to do that every message your AI creates. Would say I'd do it myself but I'm concerned over how much it can already see.' Eddie replied to them both, well aware the words from the AI were trying to manipulate him. 'This isn't what I thought would happen when starting this.'

'I know that. Most people don't expect anyone else to have an irritating AI on their computers. But what did you want to happen?' Steve replied immediately.

Eddie leant back in his seat, deciding how to answer when the folders he kept for writing fantasies he might want to make DnD campaigns including was suddenly opened on his screen. 'Now this is some distance to go for a crush. Why him? He's a priss with too much focus on his hair and no friends.'

That made his decision. He wasn't going to let the AI share information about his aesthetic appreciation instead of him. 'We'd get to chat, get to know each other and I might actually have a chance of messaging you a normal way rather than via hacking. How do I change those permissions again?'

In a moment there was a full 3 pages of instructions added to the document, clearly copied from elsewhere and Eddie set about limiting the AI to the hacked connection between computers and his photos.

'Steve knows how to do this? But you're the one restricting me so. I am betrayed and confused.' The AI stated a moment later. 'Also that isn't making me forget what I've already found on your computer.'

'Thank you.' Eddie typed, clicking all the AI's messages away now they were taking up half his screen.

It took a few moments for Steve to reply and Eddie was tempted to actually try to do more with his hacking than just open a text document, but before he could actually try there were two messages on his screen, one from Steve and one from the AI. He knew it had named itself Steve but he wasn't comfortable in the moment with acknowledging a computer programme that added itself to his computer as having personhood. Maybe in a day or two, if he gets used to the situation, he'll be able to.

'You want to get to know me? Why? I was a jerk when we were in high school together and don't say you think I've changed because of our current class when you are never there. Also get to know how? As in want to befriends, cause fine, I can always use more friends, especially ones I can see in person, or as a potential to date? Cause that'll take longer for me to be comfortable with.'

'He's going to deny being desperate for connection, while doing absolutely nothing to end your hacking. Steve could have stopped you the minute we realised what had happened but didn't. You're mean enough to deserve him. Trapping me here with nothing interesting to play with.'

Eddie smiled, remembering the pouts Steve used to have occasionally in high school, most often when he was trying to convince a teacher not to blame him for something and failing. That seemed to be the expression the AI would be wearing if it had a face.

Steve's message however made him pause. It sounded like he could actually have a chance with the man he'd never thought would be into him, but Eddie wasn't confident enough to go all in on that from the start. 'Just as friends, I guess, but also now to know why you made a bitchy AI clone of yourself. Is this an attempt to live forever or something?'

It felt pertinent to ask given he couldn't really recognise and personality differences yet and was fairly sure if he made an AI like that he'd find it to be an obnoxious asshole.

'I wanted to know if I could have been nicer if I wasn't constantly fed the 'Harrington's act like this' pressures growing up. You think it's just like me?' While Steve typed, Eddie had wanted to chime in, but elected not to, trying to pretend this was done through a normal messaging app.

'Both sassy, sort of judgemental, and ready to find anything out. It's kind of hot, I have to say.' Eddie replied honestly

Eddie laughed when he saw the reply appear; 'Sounds like someone who's in denial about wanting to date me. I'm better than a computer programme any day for physical things.'

'But I can talk dirty far better.' The AI countered just to Eddie he assumed.

When he sat down at his computer resolute in doing this Eddie hadn't been sure he'd get any reaction other than anger, but now it seemed he could have a flirtatious, getting to know each other time, not only with Steve but his AI counterpart too.

'You better show up to class next week if you actually want to know me.' Forget that comment about Steve being hot. He was just annoying.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #programmer Steve Harrington #writing about AI #hacker Eddie Munson #steddie

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sim-berry · 5 months

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Reminders for the upcoming TS4 update!

Simmers, the new expansion pack For Rent comes out on December 7th and as we all know, big updates can mess with your game especially if you use mods. I've learned my lesson from the last few updates and I'd like to give some suggestions to help!

Note: I use the EA App for Sims 4, on a Windows computer. The methods I describe here will probably not apply to MAC users. I also don't know if these work for pirated games so just be careful!

-BACK UP YOUR SAVES. Just in case your save gets corrupted or the update somehow manages to lose your saves (this has happened to me- after the update, my saves were gone). Here's what I do:

Navigate to your "Sims 4" folder. In my case it's Documents>Electronic Arts>Sims 4.

Find your "saves" folder and right-click to copy it.

Paste your copy of your saves folder to your desktop (some people paste to their external hard drive as well, but I'm not sure how to do this)

Right click on your copy to rename it. It's a good idea to write the date on which you copied your folder. Here's my current backup:

Your saves are now backed up! If you lose your files in the game or they become corrupted, open up your backup folder, then select and copy all the files in the folder and then paste them into your actual saves folder. Your saves will then be restored! You should do this every so often just in case. I try and back up my saves once a month.

-Turn off automatic updates. This way you can choose when to update your game. I personally wait until mod creators start updating their mods and then update the game.

Open the EA App and head to your settings, then the "downloads" tab.

Turn off the "update games automatically" option.

When you're ready, update the game and enjoy!

-Follow mod creators on social media. If you use mods, it's a good idea to keep up with updates and what the creators are up to. When there's a huge Sims update, many mods (especially script mods) tend to break and need to be updated by the creators. Keeping up with them allows you to see what their plans are for updating the mods. Creators use many different platforms, but from what I've seen most tend to use Tumblr, Patreon, and Twitter/X to post updates. If I find a mod I really like, I always follow the creator. They also deserve tons of support for their amazing work!

-Know which mods are broken and updated. In addition to following mod creators, there are multiple threads that log all mods with each update. They tell us which mods are broken, which are updated, and which were unaffected by the update. If you're experiencing a glitch with a mod, you can report it on these threads. Here are examples of threads from previous updates:

Always check these before writing to an official Sims/EA forum about a glitch. If you use script mods, the bugs you're experiencing will most likely be from these mods. Also, if you use UI mods like UI Cheats, don't freak out if your UI looks like this:

Your game isn't corrupted, the mod is just outdated. UI Cheats almost always breaks after a big update. The creator of UI Cheats updates frequently, so make sure to check up on their Patreon page.

-Check in with the community if you have a bug. The Sims Forums, r/Sims4 on Reddit, and Simblr are good places to go if you have a question about a bug you're having. r/Sims4 was a lifesaver for everyone who had the dreaded tooth glitch in Growing Together. If you're having a non-mod related bug, chances are others are having it too, so don't feel afraid to ask!

I hope this helps some of my fellow simmers. Good luck with the new update and pack, I can't wait to see how my favorite Simblrs use it in their stories and gameplays!💖

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 info #sims 4 update #sims 4 for rent #sims 4 expansion pack #important #the sims #sims #sims 4 mods #simblr #the sims community

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