This is why I keep asking my homies to go watch tnb:
Seen a couple posts on the dashboard lately about writing with ADHD. So, for the ADHD and neurodivergent folks who like writing but struggle sometimes… check out StimuWrite.
You can set it to make little sounds as you type (or leave them off), and emojis pop up in the corner. You can change the background, dark and light themes, set your word goal, and it gives you a percentage and total word count at the bottom. Though it’s more meant for getting a draft written up, so it doesn’t have spell check or anything like that. You’re meant to just copy and past what you write here into Google Docs or Word or Scrivener or whatever else you use and go from there. Honestly love it when I’m struggling to get words down, though. And apparently there’s an update now for StimuWrite 2?👀
Anyways, give it a try if it looks like it may help. It’s currently name-your-own-price.
Yo I just downloaded this thing and hammered out 3000 words????? Which is more than I’ve written in years????????
Hey I’ve accidentally written 20,000 words in six days.
♡ a collection of max's memories ♡
although its certainly a low-hanging fruit, "reblog to _ the person you reblogged from" is necessary stimulation and enrichment for horny women who are too shy to actually talk to each other directly
reblog to stimulate the girl you reblogged this from
I’ve had this idea for the past few days but basically after the Hargrove-Mayfields moved to Hawkins Max notices that Billy always checks the mail. At first she didn’t notice anything strange until Billy would check the mail & return with nothing, but then Neil would come in before dinner he always had a stack of mail in his hand.
Max just writes it up to being one of Billy’s weird quirks. Like how his eyes look so dull and lifeless sometimes, and how he always stares at the front door like he’s waiting for someone to come back during dinner.
Until one day Billy hands her a letter from her dad, and tells her to not let Neil find it. Then she realizes he’s waiting for a letter from someone.
Max doesn’t figure out who Billy was waiting for until a letter arrived three weeks after the fourth of July. It was a letter from his mother apologizing for taking so long to write to him.
OH.
NO STOP STOP PLEASE IM OFF MEDS PLEASE/j
It's not disrespectful or rude to ask people why they like Billy and/or Harringrove, even if you don't like the character or the ship! I would love to have that conversation with you, as would many others - and our goal is not to convince other people to like the character or ship. So, please don't ever feel bad about asking.
It is disrespectful and rude to make negative assumptions about people's morality and ethics based on their enjoyment of this character and/or ship. You don't know us, or the reasons why we connect with this character and/or ship. We don't owe you an explanation if you're committed to mischaracterizing us.
That's the difference! Hope this helps.
TIL a family in Georgia claimed to have passed down a song in an unknown language from the time of their enslavement; scientists identified the song as a genuine West African funeral song in the Mende language that had survived multiple transmissions from mother to daughter over multiple centuries (x)
In 1997 Amelia’s daughter, Mary Moran, and other members of the Moran family were invited to Sierra Leone, West Africa, where they were welcomed in Freetown by Sierra Leone’s President and then flown by helicopter to the country’s interior. There, in the small village of Senehun Ngola, Mary and Bendu Jabati met and sang this song together for the first time. Years earlier, Bendu’s grandmother had told her that this song, which had been passed down in her village from mother to daughter for centuries, would one day reunite her to long-lost relatives.
In addition to finding out where in Africa her ancestors were abducted into slavery, Mary Moran discovered the meaning of the Mende song: a processional hymn for the final farewell to the spirit, it was sung in Senehun Ngola by women as they prepared the body of a loved one for burial.
(The OP's link leads to a site with a recording of the song sung by both Mary Moran and her mother, Amelia)
it's really fucked how the slightest bit of sympathy anyone might show towards billy and his situation is always inevitably followed by some weirdo popping out of the woodwork to call them a racist or an abuse apologist.
damn bro, nobody said the kid was a saint, I just think it kind of sucks that he was abandoned by his mother, physically and emotionally abused by his father for 18 years, then possessed by a flesh-eating interdimensional monster just to die a violent death for a bunch of people who didn't care about him. I'd probably be a bit of a dick too if that was me
Hey i know a lot of fics and posts make Hobie out to be a cool chill laid back kinda guy but uhhh
Need i remind you homeboy also lived/lives under a fascist regime and police state.
That has an emotional effect!
Like he’s a black man who fights with cops head on routinely.
He probably knows police brutality more than anyone and that can fuck anyone up
You can’t tell me that doesn’t have an effect and i feel like that’s a character trait that’s REALLY overlooked in Hobie. Which sucks because his punk ideology and activism is one of the most interesting things about him YA’LL
Can we PLEASE acknowledge the trauma of the black guy whose literal job is to put fascists to sleep
Can we PLEASE talk about how living under a police state mentally effects Hobie Brown and how he’d carry that trauma PLEASE
He’s not just some punk cool chill big brother he’s also a black kid growing up under a police state who puts on a mask every night to fight for his right to exist as he is DO YOU REALIZE HOW POWERFUL THAT IS - IT’S THE REASON HE DOES EVERYTHING HE DOES
I really like to see more of that diversity In the exploration of hobie’s character because I think he’s masking a lot trauma he’s repressing underneath and I want to see him finally be able to release. Not only for the sake of exploring his Character but for me to project onto him as well lmao yep I’m really sad guys.
gaygreenbeans-deactivated202306
f
i genuinely dont get how ppl can hate on rochelle, like genuinely i do not
Neil Hargrove being a man that was raised in the heavy gender role dichotomy and era of "the American housewife" that when his wife leaves and Neil has to take on roles that had been hers things go downhill.
Both his clothes and Billy's might get washed, but rarely on time, and things are full of wrinkles. He tried to iron exactly one time abd burned a hole through his work shirt. So wrinkles will stay. Neil gave up completely trying to figure out how to run delicates or how much starch to add. It all just goes in and if something gets ruined in the process then fuck it. If their clothing falls into disarray, Neil just tells Billy to continue wearing the item because he has no concept of how to sew or mend like Billy's mother, but Neil isn't about to trash and spring for a new set of denim jeans or socks.
Food is available but not in good or large quantities. Meals are had when Neil says it is and that's final. Breakfast is almost always a bowl of bran and milk. And dinner is always some manner of TV pre-heatable dinner or if Billy's very lucky... It might be a one ingredient mix-in like Manwich sloppy joes. Fresh produce is a rarity. Maybe an apple because those are the cheapest.
Keeping their living space clean and livable is at best at after thought. Neil tends to just shift piles of things around to make room to put his feet up or to sleep. Stacks of mail and magazines are all over the place. He sweeps once in a while, but never vacuums. Dishes and trash are about the only true thing that get done in a timely fashion. But even then those can at times be scattered around their living space until trash pick up day is nearing or until Billy can no longer stand it and Neil berates him for being "fussy".
I think I’ve said it before but there is such a stark, visible difference in the way Billy is being cared for before and after his mother leaves
Before his clothes are clean, pressed, chosen with care, his hair is tidy. After the clothes are torn and grungy, that shirt is oversized, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a cast off from Neil. His hair is messier, it’s hard to tell through the effects overlay but Billy himself actually looks dirty to me.
It really contextualizes him later choosing to taking care with his own appearance and being shamed and verbally abused for it.
we were the liminal kids. alive before the internet, just long enough we remember when things really were different.
when i work in preschools, the hand signal kids make for phone is a flat palm, their fingers like brackets. i still make the pinky-and-thumb octave stretch when i "pick up" to respond to them.
the symbol to save a file is a floppy disc. the other day while cleaning out my parents' house, i found a collection of over a hundred CDs, my mom's handwriting on each of them. first day of kindergarten. playlist for beach trip '94. i don't have a device that can play any of these anymore - none of my electronics are compatible. there are pieces of my childhood buried under these, and i cannot access them. but they do exist, which feels special.
my siblings and i recently spent hours digitizing our family's photos as a present for my mom's birthday. there's a year where the pictures just. stop. cameras on phones got to be too good. it didn't make sense to keep getting them developed. and there are a quite a few years that are lost to us. when we were younger, mementos were lost to floods. and again, while i was in middle school, google drive wasn't "a thing". somewhere out there, there are lost memories on dead laptops. which is to say - i lost it to the flood twice, kind of.
when i teach undergrad, i always feel kind of slapped-in-the-face. they're over 18, and they don't remember a classroom without laptops. i remember when my school put in the first smartboard, and how it was a huge privilege. i used the word walkman once, and had to explain myself. we are only separated by a decade. it feels like we are separated by so much more than that.
and something about ... being half-in half-out of the world after. it marks you. i don't know why. but "real adults" see us as lost children, even though many of us are old enough to have a mortgage. my little sister grew up with more access to the internet than i did - and she's only got 4 years of difference. i know how to write cursive, and i actually think it's good practice for kids to learn too - it helps their motor development. but i also know they have to be able to touch-type way faster than was ever required from me.
in between, i guess. i still like to hand-write most things, even though typing is way faster and more accessible for me. i still wear a pj shirt from when i was like 18. i don't really understand how to operate my parents' smart tv. the other day when i got seriously injured, i used hey siri to call my brother. but if you asked me - honestly, i prefer calling to texting. a life in anachronisms. in being a little out-of-phase. never quite in synchronicity.
I imagine that the last generation to really feel this way, to really feel a before-and-after kind of world, was at the last turn of the century, which had 3 huge, life-changing inventions happen all at once.
In 1890, everybody rode horses, used candles to see at night, and communicated through letters.
By the 1920s (only 30 years later!), everybody had automobiles (or access to another form of 'self-driving' transportation like busses or trams) and nobody had horses. Nearly everyone had electricity in their houses. Nearly everyone had a telephone, or access to one.
Can you imagine? Can you imagine growing up, being taught by your parents all about how to ride horses and care for them and hitch them to a wagon, only to...not ever use that knowledge as an adult, because you have a car? Can you imagine learning how to make candles, finally getting good enough at it to be useful to your family as a teenager, only to flick a switch to turn on a light bulb as an adult?
I feel like that last huge change in technology is the same thing we are going through. I know how to read a paper map. I will never need to use this knowledge. But it's still in there; including the many patient hours my mother spent teaching me, and a lot of fond memories I have of her doing it. I know how to research a topic in a paper library, with actual books. Pretty sure I will never do that again. I memorize phone numbers, 'just in case'. In case what? The automobile (smartphone) gets un-invented? But I hold that knowledge in my head. It's there. It's part of me.
I wish I could speak to my great-great-grandmother, who had her first baby in 1900. To ask her, if what Millennials now are going through is what it was like for her Centennial generation. The absolute whiplash, from one way of life to another.
Kids born in 1890 knew how to make candles, and kids born in 1920 could not fathom why you would need to know this.