How To Quit In Vim Using Command Mode?

I get asked this a lot in fan chats and honestly it's an interesting question because stories like 'Quit Job, Gained Clingy Ex-Boss' sit in this fuzzy zone between snappy romantic comedy and workplace melodrama. To cut to the chase: no, it's not documented as a literal true story in the way a biography or news feature would be. It reads like a fictionalized serial — the kind of web novel or webtoon that thrives on exaggerated personalities, awkward office tension, and a dash of fantasy romance. That doesn't mean it sprang from nowhere; many creators pull threads from their own workplace memories or anecdotes they heard from friends, but those moments usually get amplified and rearranged for drama and pacing. What made me convinced it's fictional is the narrative structure and character beats: overly convenient meetings, perfectly timed misunderstandings, and a level of emotional clinginess that plays well in episodic installments but would be legally and socially fraught if it were an exact real-life retelling. Creators often include playful author notes or side comments saying things like 'inspired by tiny scraps of truth' — which is a nice wink to readers but also a sign they're not claiming documentary truth. If the series was adapted into a drama or webtoon, promotional material tends to lean into the romance hook rather than any verifiable true events, because marketing a story as 'based on a true story' changes expectations and can invite scrutiny. I love this kind of fiction because it captures the little absurdities of office life — awkward water-cooler chats, impossible deadlines, and personalities that clash in entertaining ways — without being beholden to real people's privacy. If you're curious about accuracy, pay attention to author interviews, official notes, or the publisher's blurb; those places will usually say whether something is autobiographical. Personally, I enjoy treating 'Quit Job, Gained Clingy Ex-Boss' as a fun, heightened take on workplace romance: relatable enough to sting sometimes, but intentionally larger-than-life so you can laugh at the chaos. It’s a guilty pleasure I keep re-reading when I need a light, messy rom-com fix.

If adapted well, 'Can Quit Job, Gained Clingy Ex-Boss' could be one of those unexpectedly cozy hits that hooks viewers with a mix of workplace comedy, slow-burn romance, and oddly sincere character work. I’d lean into a half-hour dramedy format at first — ten episodes feels right to build chemistry without dragging the premise — and keep each episode focused on one workplace mishap or personal growth beat while advancing the main romantic tension. The charm of the source is in the characters’ awkward, human moments: the clinginess of the ex-boss has to be played for both cringe and heart, so the show should constantly remind viewers that both people are learning and changing, not just that one is quirky and lovable. Casting and tonal choices matter more than plot tweaks. I’d want the boss to be magnetic but flawed, someone whose clinginess comes from fear and loneliness rather than entitlement; the protagonist should be sharp and independent, with agency and real career goals. Supporting characters — a vindictive coworker, an office best friend, a rival who’s secretly kind — give a lot of room for episodic humor and emotional beats. Visually, I imagine warm, slightly saturated cinematography with quick comedic edits during the clingy moments to keep things playful. The score should blend soft indie tracks for introspective scenes and punchy pop for montages; think of how 'The Office' nails small, character-driven moments but with a romantic core more like 'Kaguya-sama: Love Is War' when it leans into creative ways two people avoid admitting feelings. Adapting this kind of material brings real pitfalls: you can’t romanticize workplace power imbalances. I’d push writers to show consequences and real conversations — therapy scenes, awkward apologies, boundaries being set and respected — otherwise it could read as endorsing obsessive behavior. That also opens the door for deeper storytelling: why did the boss become clingy? How does the protagonist reclaim their work-life balance? If the show commits to growth, it can be both comforting and thoughtful. For marketing, short clips of awkward confrontations and adorable recoveries would go viral; for longevity, spin-offs about other office members or a later-season time jump could work. Personally, I’d tune in every week — the premise is goofy but with the right heart it could be my new comfort watch, especially on rainy evenings when I want something sweet but not saccharine.

Totally hit this snag before — you open a file in vim, make your edits, and then bam: permission denied when you try to save. The neat little trick I use most often is this one-liner from inside vim: :w !sudo tee % >/dev/null What that does is write the buffer to the sudoed 'tee' command, which will overwrite the original file as root. The % expands to the current filename, so the full flow is: vim hands the file contents to sudo tee, tee writes it with elevated rights, and the >/dev/null part hides the tee output so your buffer stays as-is. After that you can do :q to quit. I like this because it’s fast and doesn’t require reopening the file as root. If you want a slightly cleaner approach, consider using sudoedit (sudo -e) to open files with your preferred editor as a temporary safe copy — it edits a temp file and then installs it as root, which is safer from a security perspective. For convenience I sometimes create a vim command or mapping, like cnoremap W!! w !sudo tee % >/dev/null, so typing :W!! saves without fuss. Also, if you frequently need root saves, the plugin 'sudo.vim' (provides commands like :SudoWrite) is worth installing. Each method has trade-offs: the tee trick is quick, sudoedit is safer, and opening vim with sudo from the start (sudo vim file) works but bypasses some safety models.

If I had to pick a short list right off the bat, I'd put chrome-vanadium and S2 tool steel at the top for most durable vim wrench models. Chrome-vanadium (Cr-V) is what you'll see on a lot of high-quality ratchets and hex sets—it balances hardness and toughness well, resists wear, and takes a nice finish. S2 is a shock-resisting tool steel that's common for bits and hex keys designed to take a lot of torque without snapping. For heavy, impact-style use, chrome-molybdenum (Cr-Mo) or 4140/6150 alloys are common because they absorb shocks better and can be heat-treated for high strength. Finish and heat treatment matter as much as base alloy. Hardened and tempered tools in the HRC 52–62 range tend to last; too hard and they become brittle, too soft and they round off. Coatings like black oxide, phosphate, or nickel chrome help with corrosion; TiN or other nitriding can up wear resistance. In short: pick S2 or Cr-V for everyday durability, Cr-Mo for impact-duty, and pay attention to heat treatment and finish for real longevity. I tend to favor sets with solid forging and clear HRC specs—that’s saved me from snapping a hex at an awkward moment.

Honestly, I treat my tools a little like prized comics on a shelf — I handle them, clean them, and protect them so they last. When it comes to a vim wrench, the simplest habit is the most powerful: wipe it down after every use. I keep a small stash of lint-free rags and a bottle of light machine oil next to my bench. After I finish a job I wipe off grit and sweat, spray a little solvent if there’s grime, dry it, then apply a thin coat of oil with a rag so there’s no wet residue to attract rust. For bits of surface rust that sneak in, I’ll use fine steel wool or a brass brush to take it off, then neutralize any remaining rust with a vinegar soak followed by a baking soda rinse if I’ve used acid. For long-term protection I like wax — a microcrystalline wax like Renaissance or even paste car wax gives a water-repellent layer that’s pleasantly invisible. If the wrench has moving parts, I disassemble and grease joints lightly and check for play. Storage matters almost as much as treatment: a dry toolbox with silica gel packets, not left in a damp car or basement, keeps rust away. Little routines add up — a five-minute wipe and oil once a month will make that wrench feel like new for years.

Huh — that name caught me off guard, but in the best way. I’m not spotting a widely known franchise called 'Vim Hempstead', so I’m guessing there might be a small typo or a niche indie series you’ve come across. Either way, I love these little mysteries, so I’ll walk through how I’d pick the characters that really define a ‘most famous’ series and give concrete examples from familiar titles so you can see the pattern. If you actually meant a specific book or comic, drop the exact title and I’ll map the characters precisely. When fans say a series is defined by its characters, they usually mean a handful of roles that keep showing up: the stubborn, morally complex protagonist; the charismatic foil or rival; a mentor who shows the world’s rules; an antagonist who forces growth; and a small ensemble of friends who bring heart and humor. For instance, if we think of 'Mistborn', the defining pieces are Vin (the reluctant protagonist whose street-smarts and growth carry the arc), Kelsier (the larger-than-life mentor/rebel who shapes Vin’s worldview), Elend (the idealistic foil and eventual partner), the Lord Ruler (the pressing, mythic antagonist), and Sazed (the philosophic friend/keeper of wisdom). Swap in 'The Witcher' and you’ve got Geralt as the central, gruff moralist; Yennefer and Ciri as the catalytic figures who stretch his loyalties and purpose; and foes like the Wild Hunt or political conspirators who turn the scale. The pattern is consistent: one driving viewpoint character, one or two characters who challenge or complement them emotionally, a wise older figure or ideological counterpoint, and antagonists who test everything. If you want a checklist to identify the defining characters of a series you’re curious about, here’s something I actually use when I’m arguing with friends in forums: (1) Who the fans talk about most — that’s your protagonist; (2) Who changes the protagonist’s trajectory the most — that’s your catalyst or mentor; (3) Who embodies the series’ themes — often a secondary lead or antagonist; (4) Who provides emotional or comedic ballast — a friend or ensemble member; and (5) Who’s responsible for the central conflict — the antagonist or system. So, if your 'Vim Hempstead' reference points to a lesser-known indie series, run through that checklist and you’ll likely land on the five or six names that define it. If you were aiming at a specific series like 'Mistborn' or 'The Witcher' (or even something wildly different), tell me and I’ll list the core characters and why each one is essential — I get a kick out of these character dissections and swapping hot takes over coffee or late-night forum scrolls.

If you're running MacVim (the mvim command) on macOS, the simplest, most reliable route for me has been vim-plug. It just feels clean: drop a tiny bootstrap file into ~/.vim/autoload, add a few lines to ~/.vimrc, then let the plugin manager handle the rest. For vim-plug I run: curl -fLo ~/.vim/autoload/plug.vim --create-dirs https://raw.githubusercontent.com/junegunn/vim-plug/master/plug.vim. After that I edit ~/.vimrc and add: call plug#begin('~/.vim/plugged') Plug 'tpope/vim-sensible' Plug 'junegunn/fzf', { 'do': { -> fzf#install() } } call plug#end() Then I launch MacVim with mvim and run :PlugInstall (or from the shell mvim +PlugInstall +qall) and watch the plugins clone and install. A few handy things: if a plugin needs build steps, check its README; some require ctags, ripgrep, or Python support. Also remember MacVim reads your ~/.vimrc (and you can put GUI tweaks in ~/.gvimrc). If you prefer built-in package management, the pack/start method works too: mkdir -p ~/.vim/pack/vendor/start && git clone ~/.vim/pack/vendor/start/, then restart mvim.

Okay, here’s the short version first, but then I’ll expand — I love geeking out about editor choices. For plugins, Neovim is the one that pushed the ecosystem forward: it brought a clean RPC-based plugin model, first-class async job handling, and a modern Lua API that plugin authors love. That means a lot of recent plugins are written in Lua or expect Neovim-only features like virtual text, floating windows, and extmarks. The result is snappier, more feature-rich plugins that can do things without blocking the UI. If you use 'm vim' (think classic Vim or MacVim builds), you still get a massive, mature plugin ecosystem. Many plugin authors keep compatibility with Vim, and core functionality works fine — but some newer plugins either require extra patches, rely on Vim being compiled with specific features (job control, Python/Ruby/Node support), or are Neovim-only because they use the Lua or RPC APIs. Practically, that means your favorite long-lived plugins like statuslines, file explorers, and linters usually work on either, but cutting-edge integrations (native LSP clients, modern completion engines written in Lua) will feel more at home in Neovim. My take: if you want modern plugins, async performance, and future-facing features, Neovim wins. If you prefer a familiar Vim experience, GUI comforts on macOS, or rely on plugins that haven’t migrated, 'm vim' still serves well. I ended up switching because I wanted Lua-based configs and non-blocking LSP, but I still keep a light Vim profile around for quick GUI sessions.