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fishermanshook · 13 days

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LOVING YOU IS ALL I NEED!

( batter , first officer & forward relationship h/c's ) + gn!reader

# think of this as a pt. 2 to this fic , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

How these men show their undying love for their one and only—you.

꒰wc꒱ 1.1k

✦— THE BATTER

Ganji Gupta didn’t dare dream of the day he’d find his one and only, his true love, someone to grow old and tired with until his heart gave out on itself. Unfortunately, his newfound situation halted any progress he could’ve made.

That was until you arrived at the manor with a letter to hell in your hands. That was until he got to know you better. That was until you shared your first kiss on New Year’s Eve. Ever since then, he’s been completely and utterly yours.

Ganji Gupta is the type of man to show his love and devotion to you through meaningful Acts of Service. There’s little to nothing the Batter wouldn’t do for you. He isn’t above taking hits for you in matches when needed, and he will use his last ball to save you from getting sent back to the manor.

Ganji Gupta who, as much as he loves being on his own, gets a bit lonely at times. Therefore, he loves nothing more than to spend some Quality Time with you. He prefers long walks around the perimeter of the manor and also enjoys getting to rest his head in your lap as the two of you lounge about.

Ganji Gupta teaches you the recipes passed down to him by his Mother. It makes for a great way to spend time together whilst making sure he doesn’t forget them in the process. Cooking with you brings back bittersweet memories and reminds him of his Mother all too much.

Ganji Gupta frequently wakes up from relentless night terrors. He’s heard of other Survivors describing their own experiences with them but didn’t think it would happen to him. Now he finds himself waking up in a cold sweat and alone in bed with nobody to calm him down. This leads to him sleeping in your dorm room more often than not in a way to help combat these nightmares. Hopefully, he can get some rest tonight thanks to your help.

✦— FIRST OFFICER

Who doesn’t know the brave young man Jose Baden? The Sea Knight who wields a pocket watch said to have been blessed by Posiden himself, the artifact that always ensures smooth sailing? The First Officer is punctual, humble, and always knows what he wants. He just didn’t expect it to be you.

Nonetheless, the heart can guide a man better than any map can. He may indeed have fallen for you first, but you undeniably fell harder. Although, who wouldn’t with the way he constantly sweeps you off your feet?

Jose Baden is always true to his words when it comes to you, and therefore showers you with Words of Affirmation. It makes communication between the two of you much easier when there’s nothing to hide. And there are only so many words to describe his love for you, so we’ll have to start from the top and work our way down.

Jose Baden, who cannot keep his hands off you. No matter where the two of you are. Physical Affection is this man's specialty and has been embedded into his DNA. It's the simple things like his pinky finger being entwined with yours or his arm around your shoulder, holding you close.

Jose Baden isn’t afraid to show his love for you in front of others and would never shy away from it. It’s truly a gift to be head over heels, so why hide it? Why not show off what he’s got and everything that’s so precious about ‘em?

Jose Baden who can’t help but take a hit for you in games. He doesn’t ever want to see your blood spilled, and would rather have his coat on the map instead. He’s ready to face the stern talking you’ll give him after the match, but you’ll patch him up anyway.

Jose Baden doesn't like admitting the fact that he misses the sea badly. The things Jose would do just for an evening back on the ocean are wild and many. The closest thing he's got is Lakeside Village, but even the calming waves that brush upon the shore can't heal the pain in his heart. The Officer will admit his feelings to you in an act of desperation and comfort. And comfort he receives from you. From cuddling and listening to him rant about the ocean for the 100th time to peppering his face with soft kisses that seemingly never stop.

✦— FORWARD

Said to have been the creator of Rugby himself, you always want William Ellis on your team. He successfully lifts the spirits of all his teammates while headbutting into the Hunter just before they use excitement. It's the thought that counts, right?

To have William in your corner means to have someone who is with you through thick and thin. Someone who will stick by your side until the end of time itself. And until you can finally realize just how much the Rugby Star adores you.

William Ellis who can’t help but hold you close. Physical Affection is this man’s go-to for showing how much he loves you. Like Jose, he will never feel embarrassed or ashamed when showering you with his form of love and affection. He’s either got an arm around your waist or your hand in his—there’s no in-between.

William Ellis loves Giving Gifts just as much as he loves Receiving Them. While the Forward’s not the best at picking out pre-made gifts, he is the best at making ones straight from the heart. Using his clues and fragments, he’ll craft something he finds worthy of gifting you. Whether it be something like a small, red box in the shape of a heart or a bracelet that has your and his initials on it, the gifts are all made with you in mind.

That being said, William Ellis will treasure anything you gift him in return. And that can be anything. Silly little notes passed underneath the table during dinner. A beaded anklet that has left a tan mark because he never takes it off. Or a smaller version of his Ruby ball with every stitch being almost exact.

William Ellis who’s afraid he might not be good enough for you. Who fears that one day he may be forgotten by everyone he’s ever loved. Maybe that’s why he works so damn hard. To prove to himself (and others) that he’s worth remembering. Fortunately, there’s no need to go the extra mile when it comes to you. William’s proven himself more than enough already, hasn’t he?

note: a little gift for all my Ganji, William, and Jose lovers out there. made 4: @rieuvie + @williamkisser + @ch6douin +@jklovu + @5ku11h34rt

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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badkitty3000 · 3 months

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Addicted

Sometimes our bodies get a taste of something so good that it's nearly impossible to quit. No matter how bad it is for us. And right now that something is Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This is a short one shot I decided to write on a whim. I am new to posting on Tumblr, but you can check out my full works here on AO3. This one is also a bit different than my other works, as it's more abstract.

I am open to requests, so if you have any Five-centric one shots you'd like me to write, please feel free to ask under the Ask Me Anything button on my profile. I've also never asked for requests before, but I will do my best to fulfill them!

Addicted:

You can’t stop looking at the clock. An hour must have gone by, but when you check it again, it’s only been a few minutes. The night is going by at a crawling pace and as the seconds tick by, the more your anxiety is growing.

Don’t do it

You’re better than this

You’ve been doing so well

You don’t need him

Don’t do it

It doesn’t matter, though. You can tell yourself a thousand times to stop thinking about him, but it’s not going to stop. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cursed yourself for caving in and calling him. It’s an endless loop of want and regret.

You know how it’s going to go, that’s the pathetic part. You know you’re going to feel like shit the next day, and the day after that, and for another week after that. That’s how it always goes. And yet, you keep giving in. You keep punishing yourself.

Because, god damn it, he makes you feel good.

He’s your addiction. Your drug. And you’re constantly chasing that high.

Just thinking about it, about him, makes your skin hot and you can’t sit still. You’re jittery and pacing, and it’s all-consuming. The more you try to push it from your mind, the harder it comes crashing back. Second by second, minute by minute; he’s creeping into your brain, moving in, and taking up residence.

You’re sitting at home with nothing for company except some bourbon. Bourbon that reminds you of him. And you know you’re going to do it. It’s after one in the morning but you know he’s awake. Just one phone call and he’ll be there. No matter what you said to him the last time, he’ll pretend nothing is wrong and he’ll come anyway.

You know how it’s going to go, too. It’s the same every time. You’ll talk a little, have a drink or two, and wait until the tension eases. Then you’ll start to notice all of the little things that drive you crazy. The casual way he leans back, crossing one leg over the other. The way he looks at you, with that stupid self-satisfied smirk, and that fucking dimple in his cheek. And his hands. His hands doing anything, really. God, you love his hands.

Then you’ll look at him in some way; you’re not sure how, but he’ll know. He’ll lean in towards you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body and smell the faded scent of after shave that was put on much earlier in the day. He’ll lean in with that intense gaze of his, scanning your body and then your face; green eyes flashing and dark brows furrowing. He’ll reach out and touch you in some way. Maybe your hand, or your cheek; it doesn’t matter. One touch and you’re fucking toast.

The next few hours will go by in a blur. Skin slicked with sweat, lungs gasping for air, bodies tangled together. It will be everything you need and want, and fuck, it will feel so good. Until it doesn’t.

But right now, as you check the clock for what has to be the twentieth time in the last five minutes, you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t care. And you pick up your phone.

You could text, but he hates texting and it’s just easier to call. You want to hear his voice, anyway. Like some weird little mental appetizer before the main course. You take a sip from your glass, the condensation dripping onto your phone screen.

“You know it’s the middle of the night,” he says as a way of a greeting, and you can hear the smug smile forming on his face.

“Is it? Oh, sorry, I hadn’t noticed,” you reply, trying to match his usual snark.

There’s a slight pause. “I thought you said you were done with me.”

You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or if he’s genuinely confused. “Yeah, I did say that.”

“You said I was an insensitive asshole,” he reminds you.

“And I stand by that statement.”

There’s another pause and you can hear the phone shifting a bit. “So, were you just calling to remind me of that, or was there something else I can do for you?”

Of course, he’s teasing you now. He knows damn well why you’re calling. But he’s going to make you say it.

You clear your throat a bit. “Yeah well…I can’t sleep and I don’t know anyone else that stays up this late so…”

“So, you thought maybe I could help you sleep?”

Fuck, you really hate him right now! But, sure, why not? This little charade of yours isn’t going to last much longer anyway.

“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I thought.”

There’s a second of silence and you know he’s thinking about whether or not to continue to draw this out and really make you sweat, or to put you out of your misery.

“I did just get back from a job. I haven’t showered yet.”

Dammit, you’re already feeling the dampness between your legs at that little visual. Which is exactly why he said it.

“I don’t mind. You can shower here.”

There’s a low, quiet laugh on the other end and you roll your eyes at your desperateness.

“Alright. Be there soon.”

After you hang up, the only thing you can do is wait. And torture yourself even more by running through some very graphic scenarios in your mind. You pour another drink for yourself, and one for him, too. Then you wait some more.

You know it won’t take him long to get there. You also know he won’t bother to knock or use the door. He’ll just appear, like some magical fuck genie, ready to grant you three earth shattering orgasms in the position of your choice.

You’re sitting there on your couch, with the only light coming from a small lamp on one of the side tables, when he warps in; a nanosecond of blue before it’s gone and it’s just him standing there. You sit up straighter when you see him, glass in hand. He gives you that knowing smirk and you give him one right back.

In the dim light, you can make out the lines of his body; the sharp angles of his face. You can see he really did just get back from a job, because he hasn’t bothered to change out of his suit. The jacket is unbuttoned and his tie is loosened. But otherwise, he’s the perfect picture of a suave executive or maybe a cologne model. Or an assassin.

When you stand up, you bring him the glass of bourbon you had poured, and he takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours in the transfer. After he takes a sip, he looks at you with that same infuriating expression that makes you want to punch him right in his gorgeous face.

“Did you miss me?” he asks with a grin.

You smile and shake your head. “Not in the slightest. Did you miss me?”

“Nope. Not one bit.”

You’ve already decided you’re not going to draw this out. Why prolong the misery? The more time you take in trying to pretend this is something else, the more time it’s going to take for you to move on the next day. So, you’re going to cut straight to the chase this time. You take another step forward until you’re close enough to see the dark green of his eyes and the soft shadow of stubble on his face. Leaning in, you brush your body against his, tipping your face up, while at the same time hooking a finger into one of his belt loops, giving it a sharp tug. He makes a quiet grunting noise, his eyes meeting yours.

One corner of your mouth turns up. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just extremely happy to see me again?”

He raises one eyebrow, not moving. “Why don’t you find out.”

Without taking your eyes off of his, you move a hand to the front of his black fitted slacks and run a finger into the inside of the waistband. When you feel it, your smile grows bigger. As you pull out the pistol, you hold it in the palm of your hand, liking the weight of it and the sleek, simple design.

“I guess I was hoping for something else, but this is pretty fucking sexy, too.”

He only smiles and takes the gun from you, setting it on the coffee table, along with his drink.

“What? Don’t trust me?” you ask slyly.

When he grabs you around the waist and pulls you closer, the movement is swift and forceful.

“Absolutely not,” he answers before leaning down slowly, a few strands of hair falling forward and over his eye in the process.

His kisses start out soft, testing the waters, then gradually intensify. First a gentle brush against your mouth, then a playful bite on your lower lip. Soon he is slipping his tongue inside, breathing hard through his nose, and moving a hand to the back of your head.

If there had been even a tiny speck of resolve left in you before, it’s gone now. As soon as his lips are against yours, you give in. You will let him do anything to you without protest, you’re certain of that. And not just physically. You’re going to let him burrow into your brain again, pump your body full of dopamine and oxytocin, and start your addiction anew. You’re going to relapse hard and the withdrawal is going to suck.

But right before that…it’s going to feel so fucking good.

As he strips you of your clothes and your will power, you stand back and let him look at you. You know he likes this. He likes looking at your naked body, fully exposed for him and vulnerable. So, you’ll give it to him.

“Fuck…maybe I did miss you,” he says quietly as he takes you all in.

He starts to take off his jacket and pull his tie off, all while still looking you over. You can see what you couldn’t before; a splatter of blood on his white shirt. It’s not a lot, but it’s noticeable, and you know that it doesn’t belong to him. A normal person would be turned off by this. Sickened at the thought. But not you.

He sees you noticing, and he glances down at his shirt, and then back up at you. This isn’t the first time he’s shown up like this, wearing the evidence. And so, he knows. He knows your twisted little fantasies.

With his mouth twitching with arrogance, he steps closer to you again. His hands trail down your sides, and they are warm and familiar. He looks down at you while you bring your hands up to the spot on his shirt. It’s dried and has probably been there for a couple of hours now, having already turned a dark maroon color. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you start to unbutton his shirt.

“Blew his fucking head right off,” he says darkly, in the most fucked-up pre-game dirty talk in the history of the universe.

You let out a small whine, still working at his shirt. Your hands push greedily inside of it, pressing your palms onto the hard curves of his pecs, then running them over his tight shoulders.

“With that same gun?” you ask without looking up.

“Yes.”

“Mmm…” you muse, resuming your undoing of buttons. “Did he beg for his life first?”

“Crying on his knees,” he tells you, and you’re not even sure if he’s telling the truth. He just knows what you want to hear.

His shirt is fully open now and you look up at him while your hands find his flat abdomen and his waistband again. You feel him grip harder into your sides and his breath is coming faster. You know what you’re feeling now isn’t the gun, and you press your palm over the front of his pants, watching his eyes close shut for a moment in response.

It didn’t take much for you to go from want to need to desperation, and you’re already dripping wet for him. You unbuckle his belt and open his pants much faster than you did his shirt. He’s fully hard and when your hand grazes over his cock he groans, digging his fingers even harder into your waist.

“How many shots?”

You’re already pulling him by his shirt collar with both hands, walking backwards and taking him with you as you ask. When you fall onto the couch, he answers while he positions himself over you.

“Two. Right to the fucking head.”

You free his cock from his pants in one quick movement, and then he’s pushing himself inside you as you cry out, clutching at his arms and throwing your head back.

You’ll never get tired of this euphoria. Of the sudden rush of endorphins when his dick slides in and he’s pumping into you. No one else does this to you. No one else makes you feel like you’re going insane. Like you’re shifting into another reality. He gives your outer thigh a swift smack and you raise your legs up higher, spreading them wide, just like he wants.

He’s holding himself up with his hands on the armrest behind your head, the muscles in his arms flexed and hard as he pounds into you. He’s not saying anything, not yet anyway, but the loud panting of his breath and rhythmic clinking of his belt buckle fills your ears. Your own moans grow louder by the second and you can see that smug look cross his face, because he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

But, fuck, if that look doesn’t make him even hotter. Bastard.

You spy that dark red stain on his shirt again, and you picture the scene he described to you. When you turn your head, you can see the black pistol lying on the table, just a few feet from you. The same one that was used to splatter a man’s head all over the walls and the floor, and onto its owner.

You’re gasping his name and frantically grabbing at his body when he gives one more punishing thrust, making you come hard and loudly underneath him. The waves spread over your body and they don’t seem to stop; one after another as you buck into him. He’s soon to follow, stiffening against you with a low groan, emptying himself and filling you up until his body starts to relax. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck for just a moment and you feel his lips graze your skin before he moves off of you.

As you both lie sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, trying to slow your breathing, he eventually looks over. He smiles in that way that is somehow already resetting and rewetting your aching groin. You return it with your own hazy smile; too high and fucked-out to pretend not to care.

He pushes his hair off his face with his hand, shoving his dick back in his pants, and leans toward you, kissing you with a gentle hand on your cheek. You hate when he’s soft like this. It fucks with your mind even more than he already does. But your lips respond without hesitation and you melt into his hand.

“I really did miss you,” he tells you, pressing his forehead against yours.

You want to cry and push him away. It’s not fair! He’s enabling you and playing into your weakness. And even if you’re the one that had broken down and called, it’s still not fair. He knows it’s a sickness.

“I missed you, too,” you whisper, because you can’t self-sabotage yourself enough.

After another kiss, he pulls back and takes his unfinished drink off the table, settling into the couch while you get up to throw your panties back on. You tip back your own glass and empty the contents in one swallow, taking in the absurdly sexy image in front of you. He’s leaning casually back into the cushions, his pants still unbuttoned and unzipped; white dress shirt fully open and untucked; messy dark hair falling across his forehead.

It would be so satisfying to kick him out right now. But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at him!

Instead, you give in like you always do and join him, resting your head on his chest with one hand on his bare stomach, your legs curled up next to you. He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head while you sigh, letting your body relax into his.

He won’t be leaving yet, that’s not his game. He likes the companionship and your adoration. He’ll stay through most of the night, while you both talk and have a few more drinks. He’ll fuck you again in the shower, while you cling to his body and he pounds you into the cold, slippery tiles. He’ll fuck you in your bed, slowly and lazily, covering your body in soft kisses that will make you weak and forgetful.

He’ll make you come a few more times, leaving you gasping for air with his cum dripping out of you and your thighs burning. Your sheets will smell like him for days because you won’t be able to bring yourself to change them.

In the dark, he'll tell you more things you want to hear. I missed you. You’re so beautiful. I want you. I need you. He’s not cruel and he’s not a liar. He means the things he says. But that doesn’t mean he’ll stay. He never will, and you know it. The full reason for it, you’re not sure. Insecurities, trauma, secrets…so many secrets. No matter how many times you’ve poured your heart out, bathed him in reassurances, and cursed him until you were red in the face and crying. He will never stay.

You know what tomorrow and the next week or more will bring. The withdrawal symptoms will kick in and it will be hell. This won’t be cold sweats, shakes, and waves of nausea. It will be tears, self-hatred, and all-encompassing shame.

But he’s here now. And you drink in the scent of him. Sweat, sex, bourbon. All mixed together and highlighted with a slight twinge of copper. It’s better than any upper or downer or anything else that can be cooked up in a lab. It’s fucking maddening and you can’t get enough.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as you rub your cheek over his chest.

“Thanks for calling.”

“This is the last time, though, I mean it. I can’t keep doing this,” you lie.

“I know. This is the last time,” he lies in return.

He places another soft kiss to your temple, reaffirming what you already know. That he will be your ultimate down fall. Your rock bottom.

But damn, it’s going to feel so fucking good on the way down.

Link to my Master List

#five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves smut #umbrella academy fanfiction #five hargreeves #number five #number five fanfic #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy #five x reader #reader insert #number five x reader #female reader #five hargreeves fanfiction #smut

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magniloquent-raven · 8 months

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i've seen a lot of AUs messing around with what happened between Billy and Steve at the end of s2, like, what if Billy had seen the demodog, what if they made out instead of beat the shit out of each other, what if Steve hadn't lied about Max, etc. etc.

and i mean, it's not like i've read every harringrove fanfic so maybe this has actually been written before, but it just occurred to me that i've never seen someone explore what might have happened if Billy had just showed up at the Byers' like twenty minutes earlier. before everyone else left.

i just think it would be interesting because Billy has a habit of keeping his attitude mostly in check around adults, and the fact that one of those adults is a cop might keep him even more in check, so the chances of him getting violent would be much lower. but despite him being less likely to lose his shit, there's also NO chance he'd actually listen if he was told to leave without Max. and i doubt Max would be cool with leaving, no matter how angry she knows Billy is getting (maybe in part BECAUSE she knows he's already pissed, the last thing she wants is to get into a car with him right now).

the whole thing would be SO sus, because everyone would be trying to stop him from going inside but he can see Max and her friends peeking through a broken window while the goddamn chief of police tries to run interference without actually telling him anything. he'd be so stubborn about the whole thing. pretending to be polite, but not blinking an eye when Hop starts implying he's going to arrest Billy for trespassing if he doesn't back down, and Joyce has to get involved, being a mom about it, trying to convince Billy that Max is safe and he doesn't have to worry and she can call Susan if that would help.

so when nothing they say to Billy actually makes a difference they start to wonder if they should just send Max home with him, and Mike has started to get snippy with her about it, saying she should just go because if her brother ruins everything it'll be her fault, but Lucas is adamant that letting Max leave with him would be a bad idea.

and somewhere in between all the arguing Billy shoves his way into the house, where there's still a demodog dead on the floor, and Will's art project on the walls, and Will himself, knocked out in the next room. which is all very weird, but Billy's kind of on a mission here. so him and Max get into it. he can't go after Lucas this time, not with a cop twenty feet away. they just argue. loudly. angrily.

until Billy has had enough, he can't keep pretending he isn't on pins and needles, hasn't been keyed up since his confrontation with Neil. and he has to hit something. anything. nearby. he punches a dent in the nearest wall.

and it freaks El out. and something explodes.

which is just one too many weird things for Billy to ignore.

Steve steps in at the same time Hopper does, both of them unsure how Billy is going to react. except he kind of. doesn't. he's freaked out, and confused, and still angry, but he also looks just as unsure as they are.

they don't really explain it to him. not all of it. he glares at everyone in the room while they give him the stilted cliffnotes version and he doesn't seem to believe any of it.

when Joyce and Hopper leave with their respective teams, Billy gets left behind with Steve and the kids. Steve's half sure he's going to grab Max and drive off the second they can't see tail-lights anymore, and given the way Max is bracing herself, she seems to think so too.

he doesn't. he lights up a cigarette and sits on the couch by himself, ignoring everyone's uneasy stares while they sweep up glass and wood splinters.

and i mean from there it would be both harder and easier to get the kids to the tunnels lmao. could go either way but i figure Billy volunteering to drive the children to their death just because Steve was so adamant it was a bad idea would not be entirely out of character for him. and he's still not convinced any of this is real, so maybe he wants to see it for himself. and maybe he's still itching for some action. if there is some crazy shit down there...well, if he's dead he won't have to explain to Neil how bad he fucked up, so there's that.

(and on a related note i kind of love the idea that Billy would be shit at fighting monsters. like they just freak him out and he can't do it. so he goes down there into the tunnels all sure of himself and confident because he knows he can fight but the second they run into trouble he freezes up and Steve has to save his ass. which totally doesn't turn him on at all, shut up)

#stranger things #billy hargrove #harringrove #a raven's writing desk

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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I was reading this post of yours and it just made me think of a huge what if scenario where Ghost were to lose Helen tragically, not a break up or anything but just loses her and where he is reluctantly doing his hardest to move forward, even though he knows he will never love again because there was only one Helen, his Helen and that other half is now gone. I think he would be broken but not show it like he didn't show before, and no doubt think of a good life rewind and everything he could have done, more and better. But he knows ultimately that Helen would never want him to dwell on the past, even if that means he will never forget-stop loving her. Idk i was just feeling angsty and these two make me think of milion scenarios a day at least!! XD

ghost riley x helen!reader an: this got out of hand, so count this as a little nugget of them prior to helen.simon. warnings: breakup mention, hea.

i mean, they had a real thing before. not as deep, not spanning as many emotions or the level it does now. but the roots were dug into the ground, spreading under the ground. even if he didn't want to acknowledge it.

it wasn't until she left did he ever realise how much she mattered, how he missed her. ghost longed for her before she was really someone he considered sharing his life with. a part of him crumbled off as he spat words at her that she never flung back at him. she took it on the chin when he said she didn't matter, that she was a stress-relief, a hole. the words falling from his tongue like thick poison.

he only considered how much he had been lying, how much she mattered, when she was no longer there, when his hand reached out, brushing the part of the sheets she'd have been on, the side he hated her being on when he awoke. because he liked being alone.

when he had time to really think, he only then knew what it felt like to lose her. knowing, choosing, to live with that because he was the one who shoved her away. knowing she left because she knew she deserved better than him, than who he was, what he was keeping down inside of himself.

ghost was fine with it. glad, in some ways. numbed by the rest of his chaotic and traumatic life. it blanketing and silencing most of his feelings for her, until he heard her name. until price asked if she was any good. he couldn't spit out the words quick enough that she was.

and then, her eyes landed on him, and like a key unlocking the chest in his head he emptied. all of the emotions and feelings tumbling into his hands, unsure which he could deal with first. it was like stepping into the sun after being inside for too long. her presence alone warmed him, made him smile, and made him actually think about her.

he'd spend so long telling him it was better this way, a lonelier, more heartbroken way, but better. she would be safe, maybe find someone who made her laugh and would make her stomach swell. that's a harder thing to want for someone when standing in front of them, picturing a life with a king-sized bed and making them coffee.

ghost had found it easier to pretend she meant nothing when he didn't have to see her, when he could tell himself she was a dream, a fantasy he didn't get to live or have. it's more difficult when he can hear her, see her. longing for her at arm's length. he missed her because he allowed himself to—even if he had her smile, her voice, and her presence. naturally, he also pretended nothing had happened between them, that they'd never shared stolen moments before or that she had seen him less broken.

having her around on base made him question what was worse: living with her around or seeing her in his dreams.

even if he wanted nothing more than to never see her face in his thoughts, he hadn't been able to stand the idea of not having her around. so he saw her. made frequent pointless trips to pass where she worked. she likely knew, she was smart like that. but, without realising it, she had become the comforting thought, the breath in between the action. and it scared him, terrified him, rocked him to his fucking bones.

when soap was hurt, he couldn't fight it for much longer. he had to push for more, knowing he could leave, let her treat him. but he had to stay. had to make sure soap was okay, even if that wasn't the reason at all he hovered.

he argued with himself. battled more with his own feelings than he did with his enemies: because he knows what his life and his past would do to someone like her.

but, he never banked on her not giving a single fuck. not her wanting him, loving him. all she asked for was that he gave her, and only her, the parts of him he wanted to share.

and he did. he would.

and now, it's not a perfect morning if she isn't there.

#asked and answered #kind souls #anon #ghost x helen #simon x helen #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #cod ghost x you #cod ghost x reader

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raineandsky · 11 months

Text

Villains are nicer, anyway

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

tw: violence, death

It’s a shame the hero didn’t appreciate her sidekick’s powers more.

The villain simply stands to the side and lets the young hero—or ex-hero now, he supposes—do what he wants. It sounds like he’s earned it, from what the kid’s told him. The hero deserves every layer of hell he puts her through.

So he waits, idly watching the punches and kicks and strikes of lightning he rains down on her. To think she’d been so cocky when they arrived, as well. “Weakness seeks out weakness, no?” she’d said, and the villain had punched her so hard she’d toppled over pretty much immediately.

Her cruel jabs at the kid didn’t take long to turn into desperate apologies and begs for mercy. It took much, much longer for those to eventually fall into silence, and the young ex-hero is left standing over his mentor’s bloody, bruised, very dead body.

“How’s it feel?” the villain asks after a long moment of watching him stare at the carnage like he’s seeing it for the first time. He flinches so hard at his voice that the villain almost jumps as well.

His gaze flits to the man momentarily before turning back down to what he’s done. “... Bad,” he says quietly, and the slight quiver in the single word holds more emotion than the villain’s felt in years. He kind of misses caring so much.

“Always does the first time,” he comments, and the kid nods ever-so-slightly. “You want to help get rid of her or shall I do it?”

There’s a second of silence as he weighs up the options. “Can you do it, please?” He almost sounds guilty, but the villain waves him off nonchalantly as he finally steps out of the shadows to do the dirty work.

“It’s that exact feeling that made me such a weak villain in the beginning,” he comments as he lays down the giant black bag he brought. He knew he’d have to do this—the newbies never want to. “I hated killing people, and I told myself I’d never do it again after the first one. It’s harder when you kill for personal reasons, because it never makes anything feel better, no matter how many times you try.”

The ex-hero shuffles on his feet as he watches the villain get to work shovelling the hero into the bag with the grace of a dog covering its shit in the backyard. “How many people have you killed?”

The villain shrugs. “Enough to know that killing people doesn’t feel good. I don’t want to bog you down with a number—it’s in the double digits.”

The kid takes to fidgeting nervously as the villain gets to pulling the tape out. “Does it always feel as bad as this?”

“It doesn’t get easier, but it hurts your feelings less.” He starts wrapping the tape around the plastic. “You’ll probably be lying awake for a few nights after this, but each kill keeps you awake less until eventually they all blend together too much to care.”

“The agency always said killing people is bad,” the kid says quietly, as if anything the agency ever says is worth listening to.

“The agency also let people shove your head down toilets. There’s no point in trusting anything they say.” He stands up again, giving his handiwork a hearty kick for good measure. “Alright, let’s get this bitch moved. Oh god, wait, no, I keep forgetting—”

“I’m sixteen!”

“That’s not old enough!”

The ex-hero laughs, and the expression lights him up like the sun. The villain just about manages to wrangle his embarrassingly fluttering joy down to an entertained hum.

He’s glad the kid’s feeling a little better—he deserves that much after everything. He’s pleased that his mood is improving so he can start working on honing his powers for the villainous cause, nothing more. He doesn’t like the kid, really, kind of, maybe, exactly.

He watches the ex-hero shake his hands of the blood staining them though, a little disgusted but still wearing a fraction of a smile, and the villain knows better than that.

Fuck, he thinks distantly, I’m starting to care again.

#writing #creative writing #writing community #writers on tumblr #writblr #heroes and villains #tw violence #tw death #saw this series was still poppin off in my notifs so YEEHAW part 3 babey!!!!!

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kaaloopsiiaa · 3 months

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alexithymia

(n.) the inability to express your feelings

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

existing is so tiring. the mere thought of starting a day makes me sick to the stomach. waking up wishing i didn't, standing up wishing i would just collapse and never get up... why am i getting exhausted? i'm just existing, like everybody else, right? why am i getting tired? i'm not doing anything special, right? god, thinking makes my mind want to kill its own self. too many questions, i don't even want the answers to any of them, do i? i'm not sure. i'm not sure about anything, actually. my life seems to be endlessly drowning in confusion. it leaves me wondering if i really am confused or if i simply am not trying to figure it out. but honestly, do i need to figure it all out? do i have to? it's such a hassle. i don't know it all. but people do, people have their life together. why don't i? i'm not any different, am i? those questions, they keep popping up in my mind. they need to stop. they're making existing even more exhausting than it already is. yet they keep me sane. i tend to talk to myself, desperately trying to answer those questions to fill in the hole loneliness is digging in my soul. i mean, i'm not lonely. i have friends. i'm just avoiding them, or they are the one doing so. i honestly don't know. but i don't want this to keep going. why can't i just talk to them? why am i holding myself back from them? we're friends, so why am i scared of being too much a friend for them? actually, this is one question i can answer... well, never mind. another question came to my mind. what was i talking about again? my thoughts are fighting against each other, i don't know which one to side with. maybe i should sleep, it'll shut my mind off completely. only for 8 hours that would feel like a minute, though. because when i'll wake up, i'll wish i didn't. it's a cycle, an endless loop that burdens me more and more as days pass. but isn't it just so weird how: when i wake up to the sun hitting my eyes, i find it beautiful. when i look through the windows, watching the trees flow with the breeze, i find it mesmerizing. isn't it weird how i feel that life is beautifully perfect yet so disgustingly ugly. nature makes it easier, and minds make it harder. wait, i wandered away from the main subject once more. what was it again? right, existence. i don't even want to talk about it anymore. it saddens me a bit too much. makes salty water come out of the corner of my eyes. people call them tears, i don't really call them so because then this is called crying. and i don't want to cry. it's just my body feeling the need to evacuate its thoughts through those drops. i don't want to let it all out. i want to keep it to myself, let it rot until it dies. hopefully taking those stupid questions with it. but i know it won't. i'll live with the tiredness of asking myself these questions and with the guilt of not being able to answer them. but everybody does, don't they? don't they know their answers? they probably don't, my rationality knows that. yet my heart and soul tell me otherwise. they keep stating how different i am from others. i don't want to believe it, but my mind does. i can't help it, can i? see, questions never stop, even when they are that stupidly useless. useless... i hate that word. everything has a use, a purpose, a reason to be. well, many will disagree by saying that some things really don't matter. and i will agree because nothing matters. am i even making sense? but does it matter if i'm not? gosh, i just want to stop thinking, stop the race time is challenging me into, stop bothering myself with my own mind. i'm tired, too tired to even be alive. exhaustion is not enough of a word to describe how existing feels like. i lost the will to keep going, to keep trying to gather my life together. because in the end, i can't understand what i'm doing. i don't even understand what i've been talking about since the beginning.

#poetry #existence #art #books #essay #feelings #mental health #poem #literature #philosophy #idk man #have a nice life

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gi-maeve-rose · 2 years

Text

Rafael, however, was more or less pleasantly surprised, smiling with amusement. She was hard to forget, for sure. At first, when he saw her outside, he admittedly thought she was a collar let out on bail. She looked the part, but it was evident that looks could be deceiving. “Actually, I believe we’ve already met,” he mused, eyes never wavering from Valeria.

“You— You have?” Olivia’s brows furrowed, confused.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Thursday, May 12th, 10:02AM

Months of calm in the precinct were far and few between, but they were never unwelcome, especially after the harder cases. It was hard to want to do anything after a bad ending, no matter how many times anyone denied needing any break, but it was only ever apparent in the lack of energy in the squad room. And you just knew it was a rough patch when Carisi wasn’t even cracking any jokes. But as with anything damaged, it would only take time to fix.

And a new face never hurt. It was a little easier to forget the gloom and doom in the squad room when no one was there, but the reality always set in again when they stepped back in, but as Olivia figured, a fresh detective to train and show the ropes should busy everyone enough to keep them out of their own minds.

She stepped just outside of her office, shoulders squared, yet relaxed as she addressed her subordinates. “Hey, guys, I just want to remind you that we have a new body coming in from vice,” she reminded. “I’ll be in a one-on-one meeting with Barba when she comes in, so, Fin, I want you take charge of making sure she settles in comfortably.”

Amanda perked up at the mention of a new detective. Another woman, at that. “It’s about time,” she chirped, shifting her focus from her paperwork. “We’ve been needing more of a woman’s touch around here.”

Fin gave a glare of faux offense from across their desks. “Damn. After all this time together, that’s how you feel?” He was answered with a shrug and a grin, a smirk playing across his face.

“Do we get to know who she is or is it a surprise?” Sonny chimed in.

A blank expression laid over Olivia’s face before it fell into mild frustration and embarrassment. It was clear she needed a break, but knowing her, she wouldn’t take one unless forced. “Yeah, sorry. Her name is Valeria Castillo.”

Fin did a double take, brows raised high in disbelief. “Not that Valeria Castillo, right?”

Olivia nodded with a half grin. “That Valeria Castillo,” she confirmed before retreating back into her office.

Between her lieutenant’s and trusted partner’s knowing reactions of surprise, it was clear that this Valeria person was someone really good, or really bad. Either way, she was someone worth noting. “Wait, who’s Valeria?” Amanda asked curiously, eyes fixed on Fin, but still aware as Sonny approached to join in on conversation.

“Ten years ago, Munch and I took on a DV case,” Fin began to explain. “Sweet girl, twenty-one years old, living with her boyfriend who turned out to be a scumbag. Beat her, raped her, isolated her from friends and family. She only got the courage to report it after her mom was in rehab for the hundredth time and her baby sister had nowhere to go.”

“And she wasn’t about to have that kind’a thing around her baby sister,” Sonny assumed, confirmed by Fin by a nod of his head.

“How did that case go?”

“Smooth sailing. We avoided a trial altogether. She documented everything, left nothing out, her story was consistent. That piece of shit never knew what him.” More admirable was how Valeria now chose to make a career out of making sure other victims got their justice as well. She already fit right in with Olivia and Amanda.

“Wow,” Amanda breathed with a half smile, leaning back in her chair. “Hardened by trauma and vice? Sounds to me like we got a firecracker coming our way.” Not that it bothered her any. The distasteful thought that Valeria’s attitude would be more aimed toward men momentarily crossed her mind.

Sonny nodded, trekking over to pour himself a cup of coffee. “‘Castillo’,” he said aloud. “Sounds Puerto Rican. That might add to that firecracker attitude.”

“Did you just stereotype someone’s attitude based off their ethnicity?” Rafael only managed to catch the tail end of the conversation, mainly Sonny’s remark. “Carisi, I’m surprised at you.” Of course he knew it was only banter and Sonny didn’t mean anything bad by it. Sonny wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box when it came to social propriety, but he was a good man regardless. Rafael just enjoyed busting his chops every once in a while. Seeing the usually overconfident man stutter and stumble over his words to try and save face, he dropped the scowl, letting it morph into a facetiously smug smile. He landed a heavy pat on Carisi’s back once he relaxed a bit before heading off toward Olivia’s office.

Amanda and Fin chuckled under their breaths at the exchange. “Man, you just got the worst luck,” Fin teased. “Always making a fool of yourself in front of your crush.” He laughed just a little bit harder when Sonny flipped him the bird.

•••••••••••••••

10:25AM

She just meant to have one cigarette, but she had another out of spite when that pompous prick in a pressed suit and over-gelled hair went ahead with his unsolicited comment on her first one. ‘You know those are bad for you, right?’ he’d said, flashing Valeria a smug grin. She hoped she didn’t have to work too close to whoever that jackass was.

Valeria smoked her second cigarette all the way to the filter, tossing it into the receptacle some yards away from the front door before she went in herself. Even with nicotine in her system, her nerves were on fire. The smell of the hallways, the sound of the telephones and printers, the uniforms, all brought back every piece, every memory she thought she’d repressed from a decade ago. Each step closer to the squad room admittedly terrified her, but she found a small ray of solace in knowing that Olivia Benson, her saving grace in her leap of faith, remembered her and would be there to guide her as much as she could.

The squad room had changed drastically over the course of ten years. Better tech, new paint job. New detectives. The only one she recognized on the floor was Detective Tutuola. She felt slight relief and comfort, even more so when he caught her standing at the door. “Can I help you?” he asked, standing from his desk.

The quick and frequent swap of emotions flowing through her was enough to give her whiplash. She somehow expect him to recognize her upon first glance, completely forgetting how much time had passed and how much she’d changed herself. Valeria shifted on her feet, clutching the strap of her satchel in one hand while the other drew up to her chest. “I’m the new detective, Valeria,” she introduced herself. “Valeria Castillo.” In case it could jog his memory.

Again, Fin’s eyes widened, brows raised high. She was vastly different from how he remembered her. She use to be skinnier and paler from malnourishment, her hair thin and deep brown, cut to her shoulders. No makeup back then, otherwise her then-boyfriend would accuse her of cheating and beat her senseless. Forced to be conservative.

Now she was what Fin could only assume was her true self. Curvy and tanner, hair long, full, and dyed copper. A tiny stud decorated the left side of her nose, a little hoop on her bottom lip. In addition to the tattoo on her right wrist she’d had when they first met, a sleeve covered her left arm. She was dressed and made up like she was ready for a rock concert. Definitely not your run of the mill detective, but undeniably who she was meant to be.

“Valeria Castillo,” Fin repeated, approaching her with a welcoming smile and open arms. “Damn, girl, I hardly recognized you!” Familiarity. He could sense her nerves right off the bat and wanted to ease them. She was in good company and needed to know that.

Oh, thank fuck. Valeria accepted the hug, letting out a laugh of relief. “You think I’m unrecognizable? You should see Isabella,” she quipped.

Fin pulled back, keeping a comfortable hand on her shoulder. “Ah, Isabella. How is she? She’s, what, twelve now?”

“Thirteen,” she corrected. “And she’s doing great. She’s in eighth grade, a straight-A honor roll student. I became her legal guardian not long after you, Munch, and the others helped me through everything.” Munch. Valeria noticed he wasn’t here. While she held a bit of hope that he was just taking a vacation or came in on his day off, she knew very well the more likely reality that John had retired. But then where was Detective Stabler?

Thoughts and nostalgia were interrupted when Amanda and Sonny made their approach. “Hi, I’m Amanda Rollins,” she introduced herself, extending a friendly hand. “This is Dominick Carisi.”

“But everyone calls me Sonny,” he added, taking Valeria’s hand after Amanda. He always mentally cheered when no one objected to the nickname anymore.

What had Valeria been so nervous for? Olivia told her personally that she would be taken care of, that her and Fin would be there to make sure everything went smoothly. She felt kind of guilty for not trusting in them, but the guilt was washed away by the overwhelming sense of family she felt already. “Nice to meet you guys,” she beamed. “Olivia told me great things about you.” She glanced around momentarily. “Is… Is she here?”

Sonny nodded toward the closed door. “She’s having a chat with our ADA. She should be out in a little bit.” He stepped to the side, a hand gestured toward the empty desk across from him. “Here, why don’t you get settled? Want me to grab you a drink?”

“A water, please.” She set her bag down, looking toward the office, then to Fin. “Wow. So Captain Cragen really did retire.”

Fin nodded slowly with a mildly somber smile. “Yeah, with his girlfriend,” he confirmed, leaning against Valeria’s new desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “We miss the guy every day.”

More glances around the squad room. “What about Sergeant Munch and Detective Stabler?”

“Munch moved on to bigger things. As for Stabler…”

There was a pause. One that made Valeria’s stomach continue to do flips as she feared the worst. “What happened?”

Fin sighed, eyes cast toward the floor for a moment before looking back to her. “We were gonna go to trial for a high-profile rape case, and the victim was set to testify. Unfortunately, she was shot point blank just nights before.”

“The Luke Ronson case.” How could she forget? It was all over the news.

Fin nodded and continued. “We caught everyone involved in that, had them locked up in holding. We brought Jenna Fox, the victim’s daughter, in to see that we caught them, sent her on her way, and we figured that was it, right? Well, Jenna comes back later, pulls out a gun and starts firing into the cell. Next thing any of us know, Elliot fires his, Jenna’s on the ground, and…”

He didn’t have to finish. It was apparent what happened, and it was heavy. She, Amanda, and Sonny weren’t even present for it, but they could still feel the gravity. They couldn’t imagine how Fin felt. How Elliot felt. Silence loomed over the tiny group, Valeria only nodding in thanks as Sonny handed her the bottled water. “I hope he’s okay,” she finally said, voice soft.

“I don’t doubt he is,” Amanda chimed in with gentle optimism, taking her seat by her desk. “But I’ll tell you what, he left some pretty big shoes to fill when he left.”

Sonny huffed with a smile. “Yeah, no kidding. Liv doesn’t talk about him much, but when she does, it’s nothing but high praise there.” And well-deserved.

Valeria chuckled, sipping the water. “Then I guess I can only promise I’ll do my best.”

“Valeria.”

Valeria turned her head toward the voice. She hadn’t heard the office door open as she was caught up in conversation. Seeing Olivia stand there, aged but still such a refined and dignified beauty, a smile that reached her tired eyes brought on by the simple sight of Valeria, alive and well. Warmth swelled in her chest, almost bringing tears to her eyes. “Olivia,” she breathed wistfully, taking a careful step toward her.

Olivia’s smile widened. A decade had undoubtedly changed them both, but the bond their formed within their short time together was unmistakable. She started toward her as well, arms coming out for an embrace. Valeria closed the distance with faster steps, locking Olivia into a hug. After all these years, she still smelled the same. “It’s so good to see you again, Olivia,” Valeria expressed, voice wavering with emotion.

“Oh, it’s good to see you too, honey,” Olivia stated sweetly, squeezing Valeria firmly in her arms before pulling back to look at her. “You’ve grown up so much. How are you? Your sister, your mom?”

She gave a small shrug, a rather indifferent smile as she spoke about the circumstances. “I’m Isabella’s legal guardian now. Ma couldn’t keep herself away from drugs, so I did what I had to do.” And she would do it again.

Olivia nodded in understanding. If there was anything she could understand, it was mommy issues. “Well, I’m glad you found your way after everything. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you transferred over here from vice. There is not a single doubt in my mind that you’re going to be a perfect fit here.”

“You might wanna prep her for Barba,” Amanda quipped with a smirk.

Valeria looked between the two, brows furrowed. “Barba?” she wondered.

Olivia rolled her eyes with an equal grin to Amanda’s. “Our ADA, Rafael Barba,” she explained in more detail. “He’s cocky, he’s smug, he’ll push you, push your buttons—“ Valeria grimaced and rolled her eyes, making Olivia laugh. “But he gets the job done. And he’s really good at what he does. You’ll get use to him, I promise.”

Valeria groaned, shoulders slumping. “As long as he’s not on one today. I’ve had my fill of douche bag already.” And it was only noon.

“Someone already pushed your buttons?” Fin probed.

“Yes.” Valeria sighed, dropping her head back. “Some pompous prick saw me smoking outside and made a snarky comment about it not being good for me, like I don’t already know.”

“So what’d you do?”

“I smoked another one out of spite.” Her annoyance melted when her newfound squad laughed, pulling a smile onto her face.

Olivia rubbed a hand on her back. “Well, I can promise he’ll behave today,” she assured with a chuckle. “He seems to be in a good mood and that usually means good moods all around. I’ll introduce you when he finishes up his phone call.” She heard footsteps behind her coming out of her office as if right on cue. “Oh. Here. Valeria, this is Rafael Barba. Counselor, this is the new detective, Valeria Castillo.”

Barely noon, and already Valeria felt probably every emotion known to man. Her good mood was soured, expression morphing from shocked to annoyed beyond a reasonable doubt when she laid eyes upon the ADA.

“You— You have?” Olivia’s brows furrowed, confused.

“Yeah, the pompous prick,” Valeria reminded of the just had conversation. She stared daggers, her tone sharper and dripping with venomous disdain. She knew things were going too well today. It was only a matter of time before she was pushed off her cloud.

Oh, she had some spice. Rafael was use to it with Olivia. He wondered how much more Valeria had than her, just judging by her current demeanor. His grin grew. “Did you think about what I told you outside?” he asked, smug as ever.

Hands went on her hips to keep them from balling into fists and flying. Valeria’s blood was already boiling. “I did, actually,” she retorted with a wry smile. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that you can take it and shove it up your ass, if you can even get it past the stick you have lodged in there—“

“Okay, alright. Valeria, why don’t you keep getting settled at your desk?” Olivia guided Valeria away, casting a quick glare back toward Rafael. Her eyes bounced between her other detectives with a warning glare as they tried to conceal their shocked laughter. There was that firecracker attitude Amanda aforementioned.

Rafael was smiling wide now. He’d had witnesses and victims say things very similar to him, but never a detective. And rather than setting her straight, he figured he would play into this one. Why? Well, as smart as he was, not even he could tell you. “I look forward to working with you,” Rafael mused, catching her glare just before he turned to leave.

A second set of footsteps joined with his just outside the squad room. “Barba, listen, I know you’ve never done it before, but I’m asking you as a friend and as a lieutenant looking out for my squad to just go easy on Valeria.” She immediately held up a hand to stop Barba from protesting. “I swear I will keep her in line. Just, for now, at least pretend that you’re not always a jerk. For me.”

Rafael slowed to a stop, staring at her with a wondering smile. Now he was all sorts of curious and intrigued. Olivia had asked many things from him, but never a personal ask like this. “Is there some kind of personal history here?” he inquired as he continued to walk at a slower pace.

“In a sense. She came to us ten years ago as a victim. It’s not a long story, but—“

“Send me the case file, I’ll take a look at it.” Chismoso. He couldn’t help it sometimes. “Whatever it is, it won’t interfere with her abilities to work, will it?”

Olivia shook her head emphatically. “Not at all. She was with vice for seven years, they all only ever had good things to say about her.”

Save for the bad attitude, apparently. “Alright.” He pushed the elevator call button, waiting not very long for the doors to open and stepped inside. “On that note, I appreciate you taking the time to see me, Liv. We’ll keep in touch.” They parted with a smile, the elevator doors closing.

On the short ride down, Rafael found himself thinking an awful lot about Valeria. She looked so familiar, the name only adding to it. He swore he knew her somehow, it was right there in that blind spot of his mind. Yet he just couldn’t place her. All that came back around was her sneer and smartass remark, still bringing an amused grin to his face.

#SVU #law and order SVU #special victims unit #rafael barba #olivia benson #john munch #odafin tutuola #sonny carisi #amanda rollins #fanfic #oc #Rafael Barba x oc #fluff #smut #nypd #elliot stabler #donald cragen #nick amaro #l&o: marked

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dixie12 · 1 year

Text

seabs sees the quote as soon the tweet goes up. he was following the post-game anyway, he likes to keep an eye on things, and the game was the kind of beatdown that had been rare for a long time after pat and jonny joined the team, ushering hockey back into the public perception in a big way.

brent remembered the feeling from his first few seasons, though, and sadly, from his last few, as well. it never got any easier, and he knew jonny still took it hard, even after all these years. that's why he had the google set up, so he didn't miss any depressing, self-flagellating post-game quotes like this one.

"we're mentally having a difficult time recovering," jonny had said, but brent was fluent in press conference jonny, and what he meant was "I'M having a difficult time recovering, because i'm the captain, and i should be better than this. i deserve all the boos and the criticism and more, and i promise, no matter how much the media and the fans tear me apart, i'm doing much worse to myself." and it was true. brent had seen him slumped in his stall after a game too many times, weight of the loss bearing down on his shoulders, making him look older than his years. he'd had to drag jonny out of cold showers, off of exercise bikes, away from empty hotel rooms, just to get him to unwind and start forgiving himself.

brent wondered, reading the quote again, who was doing that for jonny now. pat was the obvious choice, but he had a kid now, and that changed everything. brent knew that from experience, how much harder it got to make time for the team once there were little ones at home. he grimaced, thinking of all the times he'd walked away from jonny in his last year, his hips aching, mentally counting down games until he knew he'd have to limp away for good. and those nights, he pretended he hadn't seen jonny slip out of the locker room and back into the gym. he wished he could go back, now. there was no way he could have known what was coming: covid, the bubble, and then jonny's lost year, but everything started to fall apart so quickly, and he wishes he had those days back.

he's not ignoring it now. he dialed jonny's number, but it went to voicemail once, twice, and then jonny declined his third call, the little fucker. brent could picture it, the way jonny would be sitting at his kitchen island, still damp from his shower. he'd be sore and worn down the way you only get from playing two periods of completely futile hockey. those minutes always seemed to hit harder, leaving it all on the ice, knowing that it was all going to be for naught but doing it anyway. jonny didn't keep guilty pleasure snack food in his house, so he'd be drinking water, or a protein shake. nothing with enough sugar or salt to replete what he'd lost in the game. and then he'd stumble to bed, wake up aching and stiff and go to the rink alone to do it all over again.

fuck, seabs couldn't let him do that. jonny needed to know he had people, lots of them, who'd be there for him on a moment's notice if he'd just get over his stubbornness and fear of imposing on people and just ask. he wouldn't, though, seabs knows, so he takes matters into his own hands. a quick peek at the schedule confirms the hawks are on a homestand, and he opens expedia to look for flights. one-way, he thinks. who knows how long jonny will need him for.

#o captain my captain #brent seabrook #197 #jonny/seabs #this season is giving me so much angst #blackhawks thoughts

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thoughts-and-gayers · 1 year

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ive been thinking about civil rights recently, specifically trans rights, as thats a marginalized group im a part of thats actively being hurt. i see people talking about the awful things done to trans people, the hate speech, the bills signed into law that make it dangerous for us to even exist. its terrifying to me, to think that im going to be leaving high school and entering a world that actively wants to kill me.

i just watched jessie gender's multi-hour video on jk rowling, and it articulated so many of my thoughts about transness in our. current society that i had no idea how to say. one thing she emphasized was how talking about these specific people, these little one-off incidents, is counterproductive. obviously things like hogwarts legacy and "what is a woman" matter, but should we really be talking about them as much as we are when anti-trans bills are passed faster than we can keep track of?

the way our society is right now, short and snappy thoughts about those tiny 24 hour stories are the only thing that gets attention. when you talk about trans rights, youre saying "dont support harry potter", youre not saying "stop the us government from actively hurting trans people".

but people dont listen when you talk about the big stuff. talking about the latest drama is much more entertaining than talking about the actual horrors that people are facing. we're at a point where we can call pointing and laughing at bigots a form of activism.

its so much easier not to learn about the deeper issues. for non-marginalized folk especially, supporting the marginalized celebrity is a lot easier than addressing systematic issues. but we dont get that privilege. we have to go to bat for the big shit, with or without allies. we dont get the luxury, the privilege, of not taking the time to understand and address bigotry and its sources.

im so tired. its exhausting even just learning about everything thats happening. and im not out of high school yet, so theres not a lot i can actually do out there. im trying to learn everything i can about everything thats happening, and its just so exhausting, all the time. on top of that, i also spend my energy on educating other people, trying to get them to understand what's taken me hours of work to get to myself.

and as a white person, i cant even imagine how much harder it must be for POC, especially when they exist at intersections of queerness, womanhood, disability, and/or more. im trying my best to learn about specific struggles that don't necessarily apply to me, but theres so much that a lot of the time i dont even know where to start.

cis, straight, male, white, abled, allo; people who fall under these dont have an obligation to learn about any marginalized group theyre not a part of, especially if theyre not a part of any of them. but they can still go online and say "fuck celebrity x" and get lauded as the pinnacle of allyship. they can make short, snappy, performative displays of their helpfulness without putting in any of the work to actually help. they have the privilege to do so. i as a white person have the privilege to do so, even if i try not to.

im so scared to go out into the world after i graduate and face all these inequalities, to try and deal with the horrors that high school and the internet have only been a small taste of. the most i can do is learn as much as i can before then, but i lose the motivation to every day when theres so little i can do to help; when the people who can help choose to do nothing anyway.

and this post, the closest thing my hungover ass can get to an in-depth analysis, likely wont get any attention at all. its not short, its not snappy, its not entertaining. its just a teenage nonbinary lesbian ranting about existential dread for way longer than he probably should have. and no, this isnt me begging for a reblog otherwise youre a bad person. saying stuff like that doesnt help anyway, since people would just snuff it out of spite instead of looking at the overall message. its just the way things are, not just here but everywhere.

im just so scared, and tired, and sad, and angry, all the fucking time.

#marie long posts #trans rights #civil rights #activism #queer rights #trans #hogwarts legacy #jessie gender #transphobia #bigotry

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shockwavve · 1 year

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4, 5, and 6 for the ask game?

Omg hi (I was not expecting to get this many asks) HERE WE GOOO

4. Which tf character is your favorite in terms of personality?

Okay, I tried to think REALLY HARD of an answer that WASN'T Shockwave, and. It's really hard to choose between IDW Swerve and G1 Mirage. Yeah, G1!!! I love Swerve because I honestly actually really love how endearingly goofy and silly he is and all his silly stories and how enthusiastic he about being so friendly and making friends... and yet underneath it all he's still so sad and lonely and I'm like... damn... that shit hurted... he's literally the embodiment of Gen Z Nihilism, "Everything sucks and nothing matters!! 😎✌" and it HURTS MY SOUL. He cares SO MUCH and he deserves all the love in the world.

On the other hand, G1 Mirage is like... ouuug where do I even begin. I think the writers gave him so much personality without even MEANING to. He's so like... he loves and cares about his friends so much but he also just has this deep longing to Go Home that kind of tints all of his actions with this little twinge of sadness, especially because he's willing to give up everything to protect the people he cares about. I think about the traitor episode CONSTANTLY because things keep going wrong for him and yet he continues to try so hard because he cares So Much, and despite Cliffjumper ragging on him the ENTIRE episode he just. Totally forgives him in the end and hugs him and I cry thinking about it. BUT HE'S STILL LIKE A FUNNY AND FUNKY DUDE AND HE'S SO SMART AND CLEVER AND I LOVE HIM. MWAH. KISS FOR YOU.

5. Is there a relationship (romantic or otherwise) between tf characters that you find interesting?

Ok ok so, honestly? Call me cliche but CDRW (Chromedome/Rewind) has my attention all times of the day EXPLICITLY because I cried so hard over that one fucking issue that I stopped reading the comics for TWO WEEKS.

In terms of just finding it INTERESTING though, outside of how compelling or well fleshed out or even canon it is?? I'm rotating the Constructicons and Prowl in my brain rn because I think the concept is kind of fascinating. The fact that those 5 left all their buddies behind just cause they liked being Devastator with Prowl?? And Prowl like, not knowing how to feel about that???? Like okay, you just handed the, arguably, most manipulative Autobot a stupidly loyal gestalt who are in love with his MIND. It would be easier to name all the ways that WON'T go wrong. And yet it still rings out to me as being capable of being stupidly wholesome and cute if only because one (1) angry little man being smothered by his five (5) beefy ass blue collar boyfriends is VERY funny to me.

On a ssssslightly more controversial note, I honestly. Kind of am really interested in TFA Shockblurr as a Concept-- There's absolutely no way those two would work "healthily" without making at least one of them horribly ooc, but I enjoy the idea of exploring the angst potential of a character's mental state after finding out the hard way that everything you thought you knew and loved about someone was a vicious lie, and how you even begin to heal from that. It's... a neat little outlet when you're speaking from experience. I'm holding Blurr in my hands :( he deserved better but I'm gonna make it worse anyways!!

6. Which tf character do you relate to the most?

There's no other way around this one, it's 100% Shockwave. Like, I can't think of any character I relate to harder ifff I'm being HONEST. SSSSPECIFICALLYYY TFP SHOCKWAVE. He's so like... I could go on for hours dude holy shit, where do I even begin.

I really really really REALLY vibe hard with the "emotionless" concept. I'm pretty good at Pretending to be a lot more emotional than I am, but honestly, feelings come to me very like... "watered down" for lack of a better word, and the strongest ones I feel are usually varying degrees of Anger. I've never thought of Shockwave as ACTUALLY emotionless, but just... like he doesn't feel things very STRONGLY, and when he Does feel things he usually doesn't express them, unless he's pissed. Which I get, because anger can be really hard to control. Additionally, I unironically jive with his "logical" vs "illogical" stuff. I can literally talk myself out of feeling bad about some things by analyzing it on a "is it even logical to feel this way" or "what are the facts behind this situation". It's... reeeaaally hard to explain to people sometimes, especially if they're rly empathetic, but as like a low/0 empathy person """logic""" is kind of how I rule my life.

As sad as it is to say I also hardcore vibe with his constantly being alone motif 😭 I'm a MAJOR homebody, and if people don't come check on me or drag me out I'll literally just stay alone doing my own thing forever until I inevitably Need something and Deign to grace society with my presence lookin' like a gd vampire cause I haven't seen the sun in days. I only ever leave my house to go to the store, to class, or to my lab so I can spend several uninterrupted hours doing DNA synthesis for my research.

I COULD GO ON BUT THEN THIS WOULD TURN INTO A GODDAMN ESSAY - LIKE IT ISN'T ONE ALREADY - SO BOTTOM LINE. SHOCKWAVE IS ME AND I'M MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIM,

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way2gowillow · 2 years

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I'm so fucking tired of doing this shit it seems like every single time anything gets better it gets worse I have managed to lose 2 freinds and my sister's trust in a week I literally have nobody again every friend I make turns out to be really bad people and my dad keeps saying I make awful freinds and I just I get so happy and I do so well and then everything goes to shit again and I'm so tired I just don't know why everything always hurts and like my whole body is in pain literally constantly and I have these gross rashes covering my body and face and obviously there's nothing doctors can do because it's just anxiety or it's just growing pains or some stupid shit like I'm 16 years old and I haven't grown since I was maybe 12 (I was really sick for many years let's be honest with myself) it's not fucking growing pains like my whole body hurts to the point of tears and I have fevers and rashes and no matter how much I sleep I'm still tired and it's like literally no one understands and i literally have the diagnosis but no one fucking cares about shit like that and idk it's just I need someone to talk to so bad I have no one right now and I just I'm so sorry I just need someone to talk to but I'm I'm sorry like honestly I'm sorry I need to stop going to you for help like I'm this random person on the internet but I literally have reached such a low again and i just need someone to talk to I hope you understand what I mean I don't want to keep bothering you after this I'll keep my fat mouth shut and leave you alone for a while I just need to talk to someone real quick I thank you for letting me have a safe space

-rosy

Okay, as always, you are not a bother at all. My ask box is open for a reason. And if I had any issue with you at all, I would not reply to your messages. Don't think that I must feel 'obligated' or whatever to reply back. It's always pleasant talking with you.

You mentioning the growing pains oddly struck a chord with me. My mother, for the life of her, thought I was simply going through growing pains as well, when I complained of having joint pain. It was in fact, not growing pains, but untreated arthritis. And my symptoms grew worse until I was eventually unable to even lift the blankets off myself in bed. That's when I was finally taken seriously.

I hate that you're kind of going through the same now. Your pain should be taken seriously. It's not normal to be in pain all the time- especially someone as young as you. But please don't take this as a sign to give up. There is hope of getting better. I promise you that. You make sure you let people know how much pain you're in, and how often. Do not hold back. Be honest, and be persistent. Someone, eventually, will finally hear you, and you'll get the proper treatment you need. In the meantime, keep tabs in a notebook or in your phone, on what helps with the pain and what makes it worse so you can learn what works best for managing your symptoms. And I can not stress enough, that mind and body are linked much more closely than you can believe. If you're having anxiety that's untreated, then yeah, it sort of makes sense you're not feeling great physically too.

And the whole friend thing? Friendship in itself is quite the gamble and I'm sorry you've been burned so many times already. True friendship comes at it's own time, and it will find you. To be honest, although it's easy to make friends in high school, it's just as easy to fall out with them too. I think some people just need a little more time to mature and appreciate people like you, you know? Especially now, since you know, the world is the way it is and life has really only gotten harder by the day.

All this blah blah blah from me is all just to say this- don't give up yet. I know it's much easier to throw in the towel. To stay down when the world throws you to the side. When all you've got is yourself. Pain can be used, and pain can be conquered. And it will be conquered. It always will be. Again, and again.

I know you've got this. And I'm rooting for you here in this corner of the internet. If you need a reminder every now and then- that's okay. Just don't ever, ever apologize for it. Just be unapologetically true to yourself, and focus on what makes you happy in this world. Take a deep breath.

It's going to be okay. <3

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nqmonarch · 3 months

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Quick little post on enjoying hobbies

Many times I've dealt with burnout in my life whether it be with art, writing, programming, or music. And I understand that if what you're getting burned out of is your job it's a lot harder to deal with but for those of you that don't have your hobbies as your job and are getting burned out that's okay!!!

Burn out is natural if you force yourself to do something then it's going to happen. If you make it your goal to write ten minutes every day and once you get started most days you're hitting at least an hour, then one day you can't even make it to five minutes of writing? It's okay to take a break!

I want to share my strategies for dealing with burnout:

-Take a break, really obvious I know but take a break and like an actual one. You don't have to do something else that day to be productive just take a break and do whatever your heart pleases, even if that's lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling for 5 minutes. I understand not everyone has the luxury of being able to take a break, so if that's you and you want to get over your burnout then hopefully one of the following strategies will help

-Experience your favorite emotion to feel. Sounds kind of confusing but we all have an emotion we like feeling more than other emotions (generally, a positive one). It's good to seek out media relating to that, for example I like feeling a sense of wonder when I see something completely new. When I experienced artistic burnout I suddenly had the thought of what was under the water (wildlife) of the Antarctic Ocean. Holy shit did I find some inspiring photos that I wanted to draw more than anything. Did they come out good? Hell no! But I kept improving at drawing.

-Don't focus as much on the end result. Especially if you're a perfectionist. What helped me overcome this is when I look at anything I've created I instead try to look at all the hours I poured in and the emotions I poured in, instead of just the end product. Be proud of the fact you worked so hard on something it may not be perfect but nothing is, and that's what makes everything so beautiful.

Preventing burnout:

-The most important thing is to keep going, no matter how small the steps are. You can take breaks but try not to make those breaks into something permanent. One day can very easily turn into one week which can easily turn into one month. What I like to do is the ten minutes rule for everything I'm working on I do ten minutes of it and generally I'll keep going once I get started. I get 5 rest days a month (which are flexible given the circumstances of my life) and if I don't do ten minutes and I'm out of rest days, Bertwin (my profile picture) gets punched in the face. I think finding a good motivator to do those ten minutes is the hardest part because once you've got ten minutes it gets a lot easier to keep going.

-Do different things in your life. Not like different things from what you currently do but try to do multiple things, like don't just do x and y hobby try to add more and give yourself people to talk to, sights to enjoy seeing, something that is just for fun.

-Cutout what causes burnout. This is hopefully not something the majority of you are experiencing but if you have someone that critiques every little thing you do in what you create then cut them out of your life (given that critiquing everything you create isn't that person's job, like an editor). It's really sad because it can be people close to you, and you love them, but for me, it sucks even more to not enjoy what I love doing.

Because at some point you did love doing your hobby, or else it wouldn't be your hobby. Just that love got lost somewhere along the way.

Decided to write this after finally enjoying playing piano again (to the point it can help bring me out of depressive moods) and my friend (much better at piano, used to play in competitions) told me to continue focusing on one singular song until it was perfect although that drains the joy out of piano for me.

It's okay to do things just to be happy with them,

who gives a shit if it doesn't sound that good? Or if you write or draw something and it doesn't get attention or gets negative attention?

You are doing something which should fulfill you and make you happy and you're improving at it because you continue to do it no matter what. You should be happy with yourself AND proud of yourself.

You're a wonderful person just for continuing to attempt to improve at something you love! It's okay to live your life for you, you don't have to always please or do something for others.

Just some things that help me

#burnout

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dr-avalanche · 4 months

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Becoming More Disciplined

Discipline is the strongest form of self love. It’s ignoring current pleasures for bigger rewards to come. It’s loving yourself enough to do whatever you need to do, to give yourself everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s giving up the good for the great. It’s about being relentless and having tunnel vision. It’s about believing in the long game and knowing you will accomplish the things you want.

📌💡🚀📝

How to become disciplined person easily

First I need to stop telling myself that I don’t have discipline or that’s for other people and take action now!

start by organizing my current life

what are my goals? what would be my ideal routine? where can i start? what habits are stealing my time or are harmful to me? am i satisfied with my current life? what should i improve? what can i do now to improve?

Only after answering these above questions I can have a clearer idea of what I really want,

Step by step I will write down my short-term goals (for example to become more disciplined in one month by creating small routines) and start organizing myself, again asking, what can i change right now? I can improve many things, like start exercising daily, have a day for relax and skincare routine, go for a walk more often or write a diary, even if a new habit takes 10 minutes a day, it makes a challenge and is to be recorded in my agenda.

find your motivation

what are the long and short-term benefits you will get when you start this habit or routine? how will you feel when you get what you want, no matter how small? what improvements will there be in your life during and after this? Answer these questions in your diary.

little by little

I start from choosing new “harder” habit and another smaller one like drinking water several times a day, and to remind me to carry a bottle of water with myself (what I recommend to everyone). To start exercising what often ends up leaving it, I start the challenge of doing every day 10 minutes for a week and this way I will get used to it (it can be any task that I want to incorporate to your life). It may be hard at first but when I got used to this daily routine and there will be some effects I will start to enjoy the process, write it in diary and/or talk to some friends.

There will be days that I won,t feel like it, but remember better little than nothing, but remember always do it for your well being and improvement, that is the biggest reason I will find.

some ideas to train your discipline

wake up one hour earlier than usual and go to sleep one hour earlier

organize yourself every day with a planner as soon as you wake up

know your goals for the day

control the time you spend on social media or watching tv

don’t give up!

After you have achieved your goal, for example, to lose weight, don’t give up the habits you created, you have to keep them in your life so you have to create a routine that suits you and makes you feel happy and motivated at the same time. There will be always more goals to achieve. When we create a routine and a plan of action everything will be much easier.

40 Tips to become more disciplined

1. Know what you want to achieve soon and in the future. This helps you know where to go and stay motivated. 2. Do the most important things first to save time and energy. 3. Have a daily plan that includes work, rest, exercise, and learning. 4. Make big tasks smaller so they’re not scary, and you can see progress. 5. Use methods like the pomodoro technique (working for a while - 25 minutes, then resting) or blocking time to get more done. 6. Notice when you’re avoiding work and make yourself start. 7. Control yourself from getting distracted or doing things just for fun. 8. Say no politely when you can’t do more things without getting stressed.

9. Stay healthy by eating well, exercising, and sleeping enough. 10. Keep learning by reading, taking classes, or trying new things. 11. Check how you’re doing with your goals and change plans if needed. 12. Tell a friend or mentor your goals so they can help you stay on track. 13. Keep your spaces tidy to help you focus better. 14. Learning discipline takes time, and it’s okay if things don’t go perfectly. 15. Think good thoughts about yourself instead of bad ones. 16. Imagine doing well to get motivated.

Set a new standard for yourself. A higher, better standard. Expect life to go in your favor, expect the best possible outcome. Know you are worthy of every single thing you want to experience.

17. Mistakes are chances to learn, not reasons to give up. 18. Be happy about even small successes to stay positive. 19. Listen to advice from others to get better. 20. Be ready to change your plans but keep your main goals. 21. Try mindfulness to concentrate, be calm, and know yourself better. 22. Write about your progress and plans in a journal. 23. Turn off things like social media when you work or study. 24. Think about things you’re thankful for to stay happy.

Confidence comes from putting yourself out there and stepping outside of your comfort zone despite being scared. If you wait for confidence to precede the action, you’ll be waiting for ever. Moving from fear to faith is what is going to carry you through. Realizing that the fears created in your mind are there to protect you and keep you in your comfort zone, is how you change your perspective.

25. Do quick tasks right away instead of waiting. 26. Spend time with people who help you and make you want to be better. 27. Let others do tasks that you don’t need to do, so you can focus. 28. Get better at handling problems without giving up. 29. Picture doing well to stay motivated. 30. Drink water to think clearly and stay healthy. 31. Have a special place to work or study to help you focus. 32. Wait for bigger rewards instead of quick ones.

33. Keep things simple, both around you and in your mind, so you can concentrate. 34. Listen to advice without feeling bad about yourself. 35. Use apps and tools to manage your tasks and time. 36. Reading helps you learn and think better. 37. Decide what’s good enough for you and stick to it. 38. Believe you can get smarter and better with practice. 39. Do creative things to stay imaginative and interested. 40. Listen carefully to others to be better at talking and understanding.

📌💡🚀📝

#confidence #self confidence #motivation #goals #successquotes #motivationalquotes #quotes #self love #ambitions #discipline #self development #self improvement

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sintreaties · 1 year

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May I ask you about your editing process, if you do not mind? How do I go from "a blonde haired woman" to "a woman whose hair looks like sunshine rays are threaded through it"

Although I’ll do my best to answer this ask, it's fair to say that my editing is currently the weakest part of my writing process. It is kind of a big problem, the biggest, in fact, given how editing is literally what makes or breaks a story.

The things that I'm about to explain are the same things that a lot of experienced writers would tell you in my place. The reason for that, very simply, is that they're perfectly logical and they work, yes, but... We'll see why it's not that easy.

Because this is quite a complex topic, this answer ended up being much longer than anticipated. I decided to divide this post into three parts, which you can read under the cut:

The Process

Purpose

Why It's Easier Said Than Done

I hope you'll find this somewhat helpful. Keep in mind that nothing I say here is an absolute rule, even I switch things up depending on the situation.

Part 1: The Process

Let's start by saying that editing is just another part of the writing process. Arguably, because it is the most important, you should do everything you can to ‘prepare the ground’ and make your life easier.

Here’s how I usually go about it:

1) Planning

In this part, you do everything you can to have a really good grasp of what you’re going to write. A few things that you should really focus on are:

Plot. Write down a timeline, an outline, or anything that you may come back to while you write. This will help you avoid plot holes and writer's block.

Characters. Make character sheets, write short introductions about them, make playlists and Pinterest boards — do anything you want, as long as you get to know them like the back of your hand.

Main Topics. Watch videos, read articles on the web, go to the library, or whatever, but do take notes of anything you might find hard to understand, unfamiliar or particularly relevant (like scientific cases, historical periods, different cultures, etc). This will really help you flesh out the kind of story you want.

Anything else. And I really mean it. Even if you might end up cutting it out, better to spend a few seconds deleting a paragraph than to waste hours and hours on research later.

This is crucial. I used to hate doing this stuff, but trust me, you'll thank yourself in the end.

2) Writing

Ah, the fun part! Time to put all that research to good use.

Your priority now is to finish the first draft. It doesn't matter if it gets ugly, messy or nonsensical. Trust the process. Editing will handle the rest.

Don't get hung up on details or tangents. If you find yourself struggling with a scene, a line or a character, you can always leave comments or write things (in brackets) so that you may come back to them later

3) Editing

Set the first draft aside. Ignore it for weeks or months — as much time as you can. You should forget as much as possible. Because your writing is not so familiar anymore, it will be much, much easier to spot what needs to be fixed.

More notes. So you're looking over the first draft again. Now that your eyes are fresh, take notes about what you believe needs to be reworked — everything from clunky dialogue to scenes to characterization to pacing. It's good to know from the start what will need more time and effort

Work in drafts. I usually use between three and six drafts. You can go about it however you want. For me, however, it's better to start with the big and move on to the small. You don't want to get distracted by grammar issues when you've got plot holes as big as the Grand Canyon.

Big stuff includes: plot, characterization, tension, everything that you left in brackets, key dialogues.

Small stuff includes: descriptions, subtext, phrasing, grammar, typos.

You can have as many drafts as you want, but if you find yourself growing tired, if it gets harder to catch and fix mistakes, set everything aside and give yourself time to forget about it for a bit.

Learn when to stop. Editing can be a never-ending process. The story will never be as good as it is in your head. It will never be perfect because perfection does not exist. Learn to settle on a final draft, otherwise you risk doing more harm than good.

Part 2: Purpose

At its core, editing is about purpose. Every element of the story, every word and character must be there for a reason. You need to decide what needs to stay, what needs reworking and what can be cut out altogether.

Clarity should always take priority. Do not be afraid to delete or change anything that impedes it, even if they might be your favorite elements. "Killing your darlings", it's called. A line might flow beautifully to you, but it's useless if the reader doesn't get it.

Learn to balance things out. You might be the kind of writer that focuses on characterization, or dialogue or (as in my case) introspection. These things are rarely enough on their own. George R.R. Martin is great at characterization, but his prose can be flat and repetitive and the way he writes about breasts and food is oddly specific. Stephen King can literally pull you into 1974 Maine, but he often goes on pointless tangents and his endings don't always hit the mark.

(Coincidentally, the fans of those incredibly successful authors will tell you that they both need better editors and that's why we should graciously learn from the critique they receive).

What I mean is that you don't have to give up what you enjoy writing. You simply have to make space for the other elements. Remember: if you're writing a story it's because you're expecting someone to read and appreciate it.

Let's take a look at your example now. Before touching that sentence, you need to ask yourself:

1) Who is this woman

2) Who’s describing her (is the narrator neutral? Is the POV relevant? A lover, an enemy and a secondary character should all give different descriptions)

3) What’s the situation in which she’s being described

If she’s a background character, someone we only see in passing (like a waiter in a restaurant scene, the cashier of the grocery store, etc) you have no reason to describe her in detail. Unless the more important characters — meaning, the narrative POV — have anything to remark about her, she’s just “a blonde woman”.

On the other hand, if this woman is the love interest of the main character or someone who is particularly relevant to the story, the other line you offered is certainly more fitting.

The secret to editing, in the end, is to know the story you’re writing. That’s why planning at the start is so important.

You need to have a good grasp of your characters, the tension of the single scenes, the subtext, the narration, how you want the readers to react and even your genre.

Once you know that a certain scene is more important than the others, it goes without saying but you will have to put more effort into it. If you’re writing a comedy, you’ll have to ensure that the tone is right all the time, otherwise the narration might sound flat or even obtain the opposite effect.

An easy, obvious way of giving relevance to an element of your story is to take away from other elements.

You want to write paragraph after paragraph to describe the battlefield of your epic fantasy's ending scene. That's cool. In that case, you might get away with saying that the king’s bedroom is large, lavish and warm, without getting into any details whatsoever.

Be careful about when you do this though. At best, it feels cheap and lazy because it takes away the reader's feeling of immersion.

At worst, it shows that you’ve gotten tired at a certain point (and God forgive me, but I’ve started to notice this a lot in my longest drafts).

Which brings us to the final point.

Part 3: Why It's Easier Said Than Done

Editing requires three main things: patience, time and enthusiasm. I intentionally left skills out, because without those three, I can assure you, you will not get to put skills into your work.

If discipline is what most writers struggle with, fatigue is the main obstacle that I face during the editing process. I get tired of reading and re-reading the same things, the story loses its magic, I just want to move on. Plus of course, I'm not a native speaker so there are instances in which my English sounds odd and I might not even realize it (even if the uniqueness of my speech can be used to my advantage sometimes).

Although I have still much to learn, these few things have been particularly helpful:

Alpha or Beta Readers. They don't know the story, which makes it easier for them to spot mistakes. One of the problems this presents, however, is that your opinions may vary. Make sure you go to someone who knows what they're doing — and no, that does not mean 'go to someone who will agree with everything you write'. Learn to take criticism when it's deserved.

'Read Aloud'. It's a Google Docs extension that does just what it says: it reads the text aloud. Although it's clunky and the robotic voice is completely devoid of pathos, it's very helpful when it comes to pacing and sentence length. Plus hearing your typos makes it easier to spot them.

Read Aloud — Literally. Flaubert used to do this all the time. The downside is, that with all the shit I write I risk growing hoarse, plus it's just plain embarrassing. This is a last resort for me.

Typing Assistants. Google Docs has a built-in typo detector but I also use the free version of Grammarly. Both of them can be pretty unreliable, Grammarly in particular can actually make things harder (as proved by the way it's trying to correct this post as I write it), but it's good to use them for one last spelling check.

Switching Between Projects. I only started to do this recently but it's been a game-changer. Focusing on only one story can be more effective, but working on multiple projects prevents taste fatigue and lets you clear your head. Pick no more than two or three stories at a time — unless you want to drown in plot bunnies.

Change Font and Screen. I swear it works. Using the Google Docs app on my phone instead of the web version helps with the tiredness. The change of font might give you a sense of estrangement, without having to set your work aside for weeks.

As I mentioned, some experienced writers will tell you these things because they are true. The challenge remains in trying to find what works for you.

That being said, I'd still like to go pro merely for the chance to have a personal editor.

#sintreatiesreplies #anon #writing advice #editing #writing

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