People Will Do/say The Kindest Thing You’ve Ever Witnessed Then Be Like Sorry If That’s Weird :(

Just asked my husband to create an app or website to replace NaNoWriMo (jokingly), expecting him to lol and leave it at that. Instead he says, ‘what shall we call it? SteddieWriMo?’ And I’m obsessed. So this November I’m doing SteddieWriMo, yeah boi!

Youtube comments good sometimes

Two days after they nearly lose their daughter to a fire the Buckley’s open the door to find a woman with curly red hair on their porch step. Claudia Henderson. They’ve heard the rumors, Hawkins does so dearly love them, about why she moved to Hawkins when her child was six. They’ve heard the rumors about rumors. About how her boy is friends with the boy who did but didn’t. They’ve seen her out and about. Mousy. Timid. Flinching when yelling gets too loud and over protective of her boy. For a moment, just a brief one, they think she’s here to blame their hatchling. Their fledgling. Backs straighten, mouths flatten.

“I do hope I didn’t wake Robin, knocking on your door,” is what they get instead. The mousy, timid woman not as noisy and timid as they thought as she manages to smile and talk her way into their home. Robin is still asleep.

“Now I’m sure we’ve heard the fire story.”

They nod. It felt wrong, smelled fishy. Dottie has never been a fan of the government and River saw the damage to the Harrington boy. No falling debris could cause that.

“I don’t know much. Dusty won’t say much and always looks so scared when I ask. But it’s a load of cow manure. Something happened though.”

Claudia talks in a soft low voice, even when agitated and upset. Her hands moving in eclectic patterns. She tells them what she’s seen, what she’s guessed, put together with the Sinclair’s and oddly enough Ted Wheeler.

“Karen is of the opinion we should wait for the children to tell us. She listens in but doesn’t offer anything. It’s sweet really,” she says and they both notice that her cheeks get the same pink tint that Robin’s does when she talks about Tammy or Heather or Vickie or even Chrissy. Dottie raises an eyebrow, River tucks his chin.

They’re interrupted by noises coming from upstairs. A thump like a body hitting the floor. Followed by two sets of running feet. A door opens, closes, a few minutes later the toilet flushes. They wait and listen as two try to become one on the walk back to Robin’s room.

“Steve likes to think he’s sneaky, but his nightmares give him away. He’ll… he’ll probably cycle through houses. Will try not to be seen. Especially now.”

“Now?” River asks because he’s always been nosier than Dottie.

“Him and Hopper.”

There were rumors, some nastier than others.

“Hopper had practically adopted him.”

Dottie makes a pain filled noise. She’d had a different upbringing than River. His grandmother joining the little commune of hippies and nature lovers, those who wanted peace and a greater feeling of unity, than her parents. And the parents that had basically adopted her.

“We shared custody, Hopper and I. So he comes through my front door. He’ll collapse on me and cry. He probably won’t with you. I know he doesn’t with the others.”

It’s not quite what they left behind, what grief caused them to flee. But it’s still a village and Claudia is there to welcome them in.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Later. Not even a year later. They, and the others, stand up in town hall. Call Jason Carver a fear mongering asshole and condemn anyone who believes him. Jason calls them satanist sympathizers. They aren’t quite run out of town but people side eye them. Some of the more religious threaten them.

They’re there when Claudia get the call Dustin and Steve are in the hospital. There to take Steve’s place protecting the Munson boy. Worry deep set on their faces when he faints the moment Dottie takes the nail studded bat from his hands.

They’re there when Steve flatlines twice and Eddie does thrice. They’re there when Wayne Munson gets the Claudia treatment. They’re there because that’s what family, what a village does.

How to write emotions

How to write emotional scenes

How to show emotions Part I

How to show emotions Part II

How to show emotions Part III

How to show emotions Part IV

How to show emotions Part V

How to show emotions Part VI

How to show emotions Part VII

How to show emotions Part VIII

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Your writing will always feel awkward to you, because you wrote it.

Your plot twists will always feel predictable, because you created them.

Your stories will always feel a bit boring to you, because you read them a million times.

They won't feel like that for your reader.

when i go in a room and forget what i needed i become a point and click protagonist. [water bottle?] that’s not helpful right now. [socks?] i don’t know what to do with that. [charger?] that’s not helpful right now. [scissors?] i can’t do anything with that. [water bottle?] that’s not helpful right now. [lone paperclip?] that’s not helpful right now. [water bottle?]

my friend just told me that there's a secret second dashboard that solely contains posts from people you've turned on post notifications for, and when i click the link in the messages it opens it within the tumblr app, so the tumblr app also has a secret second dashboard for post notification blogs, and the only way to access it is to open the link for it within the app.

i literally love tumblr

I hate when people ask me about my preference but I don’t understand their preference level. Like yes I kinda want Chinese food 10% more than I want a sandwich but if you want a sandwich like 40% more than Chinese food then I would say it’s totally reasonable we get sandwiches.

macarons