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katie-writes24 · 3 years

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Fell Into The Same Arms

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, implied material, angst, a sliver of fluff, and injured reader.

Part 2

You know what, this is on me, because I was on Pinterest YET AGAIN and came across prompts that made me want to vent!!! So here is this!! Also, I’m really struggling with this one WIP and I jsut wanted to post soemthing, so I don’t even really know if this is “finished” yet. Let me know if you want to be tagged, and give me some feedback. I apologize in advance if I hurt your heart! But...it’ll be worth it I swear!

Rain was in the forecast the entire weekend, and it didn't seem to stop anytime soon on Monday. It took a toll on traffic, that was for sure; the roads were starting to flood and the bus routes were changed unexpectedly. The streets were in no shape for anyone to be out.

But Y/N didn't pay no matter to that. Instead, she kept walking, despite the throbbing in her thigh and the blisters on the back of her heels. She ignored the piercing feeling in her back when she tensed. That pain in the back of her head: didn't bother her. Not now, not when she's in the wet streets alone at night, having someplace to be.

Another lie. It was someplace she needed to be, and maybe she wasn't welcomed, but she had no other option. Every other door that used to be open was now closed after comments like you're better than this and don't come crying to me when I'll only say I told you so were thrown at her.

Y/N should be getting her keys out to unlock her apartment door, heading to the shower and ignoring the worried cries from Hercules. She could even be knocking on the screen door and letting Eliza draw her a bath while they sipped on hot tea. Hell, she was even considering jumping the gate and climbing up to John's window and letting him hold her as she cried herself to sleep.

What was she doing instead? Knocking on the hardwood door in front of her, not knowing what the outcome ahead would be.

Seconds felt like hours before the door was opened quickly, only going so far as the small chain up top would let it. She was met with brown orbs, in a flash they were wide in shock.

She couldn't blame him.

She could only imagine what she looked like, it obviously wasn't a pretty sight if the feeling in her bones had any say in it. But something told her that her appearance was not why he had the reaction.

At this point Y/N believed that he was, in fact, in shock because it's still pouring rain and she can feel her limbs start to grow numb from the cold. He's still staring at her with that look...

"I didn't know where else to go," Her voice sounded raspy even to her, and she guessed it was loud enough for him to hear, considering he shut the door before the sound of a latch being pulled again was heard, and he fully opened the door.

He looked good; dressed in his pajamas, but still good, considering the last time she saw him. He looked fresh out the shower, and she took that as a sign that he didn't have company over.

Thomas hated leaving people waiting. Something they didn't share in common, apparently.

He stepped aside and Y/N didn't waste a second before stepping into the warm house.

"Just- wait a second," Thomas walked down the hallway, soon returning with a towel that he laid across the floor. "Don't want to ruin my floors."

She snorted. Still the same stuck up she remembers. "Could you spare one for me, you think?"

"I was actually going to offer you a shower, and maybe help you patch things up. Looks like you need it," He gestured to her head, which had a small gash, or at least that's what it felt like.

"That'd be nice," She cleared her throat once more, removing her shoes. She stopped after stripping of her jacket, standing awkwardly and hoping to give the man a hint.

Instead, he scoffed and went down the hall again. "It's not like I haven't seen it all before. Just leave your clothes on the towel, I'll throw them in the dryer."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She quickly walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. It all looked the same, including the bottle of shampoo he bought her months ago, still in the same spot.

She cleared her throat, mentally shaking herself clear of those warming thoughts.

A few minutes after she turned on the water, she heard a knock on the door, his silhouette behind the curtain.

"I brought a towel, and some fresh clothes," There was some shuffling before he sighed loudly. "Did you eat? Can I get you something?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Y/N cut him short, trying to ignore his caring need that he normally hid from the public. She wasn't any different, not anymore.

"Well, knowing you, you probably had a large coffee this morning and called it a day. And I'm not quite sure what you got yourself into yet, but I'm sure it didn't happen over a meal." Thomas sounded so sure of himself, and damn him for knowing her so well. Her silence gave it away, and he soon clicked his tongue in assurance. "I'll make you something quick."

There was no resisting the water in her eyes. Pain expanded all over her body, she had an excuse. Plus, he couldn't see her get emotional behind the curtain, and there would be no tear tracks on her cheeks later.

It might seem odd to others, to those who see Thomas as a public figure, a politician. He carries power, and never lets anyone outside these doors see his vulnerability. To them, he is a man with high standards and a precise wardrobe.

But she knew the real Thomas.

He was sensitive, caring for others, acting like he was just now. The newspaper titles were full of shit, they didn't have any right to criticize him because that wasn't the real him.

Of course he was passionate about his job and position, but they didn't know what Thomas acted like in the morning. They didn't know what Thomas's favorite meal to have when he's had a long day was. About his constant need to have a book to read before he goes to sleep, no matter what time it is. About what he looked like when he was in complete bliss, when he was really happy....

No, Y/N knew though.

She reached for the shower handle, turning the knob on the cold setting. She finished up washing her hair as quick as she could, then carefully dabbed her body with a washcloth, avoiding direct open wounds.

Stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a rather large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Y/N found Thomas at the table. He was standing over scattered papers, rubbing his chin softly as he thinks to himself.

While he's distracted, she takes in the house, knowing she really shouldn't, it will only hurt her or, worse, make former feelings reappear. But she can't help but look over to the wall beside him, where dozens of picture frames line up in a pattern. Some are of his parents, some of Thomas and James, there's even a group photo of his colleagues standing before Washington. She remembers how excited Thomas was that day, to finally be getting the recognition he deserves.

She also remembers that there used to be a frame below it, one that held two photos of Y/N and Thomas, holding hands, smiling. She remembers that the photographer wanted their hands close to the lens, getting a good capture of piece of jewelry that looked so simple, but held so much promise.

Was suppose to hold so much promise.

Should she really be sad that he took it down? Y/N didn't deserve to feel angry or disappointed that it wasn't hanging on the wall, to be a constant reminder to anyone that walked by of what used to be.

"Food should be ready soon. I just put it in the oven to warm up." She jumped as she was released from her thoughts, Thomas now looking over at her.

"Thanks," He soon walked over to her, only feet away when he lifted up his hand. She instantly flinched, swallowing hard as she realized what she did.

Thomas slowly put his hand down, looking at her with wide eyes. "I wasn't going to-"

"I know," Her voice was shaky, but she held a hard expression, looking at the floor.

Nodding, Thomas cleared his throat before heading to the bathroom, moments later coming out with a tube of ointment. "Let's get you cleaned up?"

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just Y/N's luck. Whatever it may be, she would never stop thanking whoever was watching over her that she got to feel Thomas's soft touch once again.

Yes, maybe she'd like it better if it was under different circumstances, but she was appreciative of the light touch he had against her head, one hand holding it still while the other gently dabbed the cream against her bruises.

The quiet was disturbed when he winced at the scrape right above her hip. There was no hiding it; it was already layered in dried blood, purple outlining the crevice of the soon-to-be scar. Thomas shook his head slightly, and she didn't know if it was from shock or disappointment.

Once he cleared the wound completely, Thomas pressed his thumb against her hip bone, rubbing her skin in soothing motions. Y/N smiled sadly.

"Can you stop, for one goddamn second, and just talk about this?"

"I can't, Thomas! You don't understand why, but I just can't-"

"Do you know why I stick around? Do you care about what I have to say? Don't you know that I love you? I would do anything for you, Y/N, why can't you trust me on that?"

"I do! I trust you with my life, Thomas! That's the problem!" The room grew silent, Thomas forming a sudden frown, eyes teary.

Her own were wet, as well. Vulnerability was not her thing, so Y/N quickly turned around, not bearing to see his reaction.

Lost in her own self deprecating thoughts, she felt a hand on her hip. His long fingers began stroking her bone, her skin lighting on fire every under the fabric of her underwear. Somehow, the simple touch completely broke her, letting out a shaky sob. Thomas wrapped his free arm around her chest, grounding her. Y/N allowed her own arms to grab at his as she shook.

“We’ll get through it,” Thomas whispered, his own voice a bit shaky. “Together.”

There used to be moments where Y/N would allow herself to completely fall into him, would just let go of all the pent up frustration and troubles she had. Because she knew Thomas would catch her, she knew that he would let her release all of her worries for him to fix, and if not fix, just to listen. He would offer comforting phrases that would make her feel like the only woman in the world. He would physically comfort her, whether it was a bath or his touch or his body, he would take away her stress.

And no matter how many times Y/N would experience such ache, Thomas never turned away. Not once. Not even after all this time separated. And she knew damn well that if she did the same thing now, he would let her.

That’s what scared her.

She couldn’t do that to Thomas, not again.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Apparently, him knowing exactly what she’s thinking didn’t change either. His soft voice rang loudly in her ears, traveling all throughout her body. Y/N had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from breaking down.

“You can let go...” It sounded like a promise.

Maybe she could count on him to catch her again, even if it’s just this one last time.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

@notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @tinywhim @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @daveeddiggsit @ohsoverykeri-blog @astralaffairs @i-know-i-can

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson x oc #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #my writings #thomas jefferson #wow anyways #didn’t mean to make it so sad?

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fallenfurther · 3 years

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Babysitting - Part 4

Finally got round to typing this up on my week off and finally got the WIP finished! Although the last chapter became two, so here is the how @selene-tempest kept her nephew busy for in the morning. Part 1 , 2 and 3. Enjoy!

*******

Her nephew’s wardrobe was a marvel to behold. Selene knew every inhabitant of the island so could tell exactly who had contributed what to the pile. The boy pulled out a white polo shirt with deep red stripes on the collar and dropped it on the floor before doing the same to a black top with a photo of a galaxy on it. Selene had grabbed a pair of dark jeans that she swore were just a miniature version of Scott’s favourite pair, and pulled the boy onto her lap so she could wrangle them onto him. There was some moaning from the struggling boy, but she won the fight. She even managed to slip on a pair of socks, which she hoped were clean, before he crawled away.

“Okay, pick your top then.”

Another three shirts ended up on the floor before her nephew turned around with a garish Hawaiian one grasped in his fists. It was a mix of yellow and green with white flowers which she had never seen on the child before. Selene was certain Scott had mentioned throwing out an awful flowery shirt before, so she couldn’t understand why the child was currently beaming at her like he’d won the lottery. He offered it to her.

“You really want to wear this one?” She questioned, holding it between her fingertips.

“Yes!”

The child raised his hands in the air ready to receive the garment. Selene rolled her eyes and did as she was told, though she quickly grabbed her phone and snapped a picture. Her nephew gave the camera a giant dimpled smile, and Selene posted it in the family chat with the caption “He’s so proud of his choices”. Grabbing a pair of the boy’s trainers, Selene beckoned the boy to the room she and John shared. Grabbing a clean pair of jogging bottoms and large comfy top, she changed as quickly as she could. She grabbed the brush she kept in the bathroom and ran it through her hair under the watchful eye of her nephew. Her phone buzzed and a few taps brought up the chat.

Scott: I thought I’d disposed of that one.

Scott: At least brush his hair.

Selene: I’m getting to it

She rolled her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten. Kneeling in front of the child, she gently ran the brush through his soft brown locks. He screwed up his eyes a few times when she caught the larger tangles, but she worked them out before sweeping the hair into its usual style; not that it would stay neat for long. Snapping a picture, she posted into the chat.

Selene: Done.

Scott: Thank you, Selene

Placing the phone on the side, Selene unscrewed the lid on her sunscreen moisturizer and started rubbing it into her face, placing the pot on the edge of the sink. Out the corner of her eye a small hand reached up for the pot. A little finger got in before she could stop it. She screwed on the lid and put the pot out of reach. The child became incredibly curious about the white cream on his finger and Selene hoped it wouldn’t end up in his mouth.

“Rub it on your face, sweetie.”

Those blue eyes peered up with sparkling curiosity, and the finger was presented to her. Gently, she took his hand and guided it to his cheek where she helped him rub it in. Once it was all rubbed in, she left the boy to stroke his cheek. After she'd finished creaming her face, she grabbed John’s Factor 50 from the side. Squirting a dollop into her hand, she rubbed it all over her nephew’s face, grabbing his arm as he squirmed. Another generous squeeze and she rubbed the thick cream over the rest of his exposed skin. Her nephew huffed as she washed her hands. Grabbing her lip balm and a hairband from the jeans John had worn yesterday, she tied her hair back before rubbing the salve over her lips. A glance in the mirror confirmed she was all set to face the windy beach. She turned back to her sulking nephew.

“Go grab your shoes so we can go fly your kite.”

“Kite!”

Selene sat down on the floor and helped the boy into his trainers, before reaching out and grabbing her trainers. Lacing them up was made difficult by her nephew wrapping his arms around her neck in and giving her an awkward hug from behind. The excited giggles in her ear warmed her heart, and once done, she twisted and pulled the child into a big tight squeeze which he returned. Warmth filled her as he buzzed with youthful energy. Releasing him, she stood and offered him her hand.

“Let’s go have some fun.”

*****

Those deep blue eyes stared straight into her and pleaded with her soul. The quivering lip and watery eyes were a stark contrast to the large smile plastered on the kite in his hands. The small kite, with its picture of Thunderbird One, had flown well in the breeze. Her nephew had spent a good amount of time flying it, running across the sand and through the surf with glee as it chased him. However, that just wasn’t enough for him and he wanted to fly the big kite. ‘John’s kite’ as he called it. Technically it was Gordon’s kite, which had been dug out of the attic of the ranch, but her nephew saw it as John’s because he was the one that had introduced it to him. This kite required more force than the breeze was currently willing to give. Selene had tried to encourage it into the air, having already thrown it up multiple times only to jump back so it didn’t hit her when it crashed back down to earth. She had stuck her finger in the air to work out the best wind direction and where to stand the boy. She had even jogged beside him as he ran with it, encouraging him to go as fast as his little legs could go, but the damn thing refused to take to the air. It’s bright yellow smiling face mocked her as her nephew continued to plead with her. John had said it was kite flying weather, so it should be good kite flying weather! Did he take it with him? Closing her eyes, Selene inhaled the fresh salty air, summing up as much energy as she could.

“I’ll run with it, but only there and back.”

His eyes lit up as he thrust the kite at her. Reluctantly she took it, turning it so she could hold it by the crossed poles. She stared down the beach and held it high, waiting for a good gust of wind. Feeling a light pull, Selene ran down the wet sand as fast as she could. She hated running. The kite filled with air and she released it from her grip. It paused, almost like it was deciding whether to fly or not. A tug on the string forced it up and it stayed in the air, much to her nephew’s delight. Squeals of joy followed her down the beach until she slowed to a stop, her body already complaining about the effort. The kite hit the ground as Selene took deep breaths.

“Again, Selene. Again.”

Those sparkling eyes gazed into hers and she started to prepare herself for what was going to happen later. The surf washed at her bare feet, trying to sink her into the sand. Picking up the kite, she held it out yet again before running back down the beach. Her nephew’s giggles let her know he was behind her. She slowed to a stop when she got back to where they had started. Her lungs inhaled deeply, as her legs complained of not having been warmed up before activity.

“Again, Selene.”

“No more. I only promised there and back.”

Those eyes turned on her again, trying their hardest to change her mind and failing. She could be swayed on a lot of things, but voluntarily running up and down a beach was not one of them. Still holding the line, she made her way back to the blanket she’d spread out earlier, with the bag in the middle surrounded by a few toys. Selene collapsed on it and slipped her hand into the bag and retrieved a water bottle. She glugged it as her nephew pottered up the beach with the kite. He stood before her. She knew exactly what was coming.

“Fly kite, Selene.”

His voice was soft as he pleaded, but Selene shook her head. It was not happening. She stretched out her legs as the boy came up close and put his arm around her back. His cheek pressed into her shoulder while one of the kites corners poked her chest. With her left hand guiding the kite away from her body, she scooped him onto her lap with her right and gave him a one armed hug. Using her leg as leverage she managed to slip the rods from the fabric, though he also saw the second part of the manoeuvre.

“No!”

“It’s not windy enough for this kite. You can play with the little one.”

“No. Selene, no.”

“The big one is going away.”

The child burst into tears and wailed. Selene knew this was going to happen, she’d seen the signs. Her nephew threw his arms around her and buried his face into her chest. Dropping the kite, she consoled the sobbing boy, rubbing his back. She could feel her top getting damp.

“Come on, sweetie. No need to cry, everything is okay.”

She continued to soothe the child until his tears started to slow. A few snivels came from him as he turned to wipe his face with his hand. Selene knew this was about more than the kite. Picking up her water bottle, she popped the top and offered the remains to her nephew. Eventually his small hands slowly reached out and took it, before drinking it greedily. The tears had stopped, though his eyes were still red and his cheeks rosy. Grabbing a packet of raisins from the snack stash, she offered it to him. Eyes widened and an exchange was made. His fingers happily pulled the fruit from the box one by one. He kindly offered one to her and she sucked it from his slimy fingers. It put a smile back on his face. Selene brushed her hand through his now windswept hair, before pressing a tissue to his running nose. He blew reluctantly, before finishing off the raisins.

Now fed, her nephew happily grabbed the smaller kite and ran off with it trailing behind him. Dusting off the sand he’d thrown up with his departure, Selene smiled as she rolled up a towel and placed it beneath her head. She kept her eyes on the boy as the sun warmed her skin and the breeze blew the odd purple strand across her vision. It was almost relaxing. Almost.

“Selene!”

She guessed she’d gotten ten minutes of peace before he’d called. The child was staring down at something on the floor, the kite slowly fluttering down behind him.

“Selene, squishy thing.”

Selene bolted upright, having spent enough time around Gordon to know that squishy could be dangerous. She hastened over to the child and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of an old plastic bag that had washed ashore. She grabbed his hand before he could touch it though, not knowing if it could contain something that wasn’t so mundane.

“Let’s not touch it. It’s just a bit of rubbish, nothing fun.”

Her nephew deflated before turning back to his kite which was floating in the wash.

“Uh oh.”

Her nephew brought a smile to her face as he hurried over and picked up the dripping diamond. She could see Scott rolling his eyes at the thought of Thunderbird One taking an unscheduled dip in the sea. Heading back to the blanket, she grabbed a fresh nappy bag and used it to scoop up the plastic bag before it was dragged back to sea, knowing Gordon would be furious if she let it happen. He had gone off on so many tirades about sea pollution and marine conservation over the years that she couldn’t take another. Doing her environmental deed for the day, she joined her nephew in the wash, where the kite had been discarded in preference of stones and shells. The water lapped at their feet, bringing sporadic giggles from the toddler, as they made their way down the beach. Selene’s hands slowly filled with her nephew’s ‘treasures’, which were made up of his favourite broken shells, stones and occasional piece of smoothed glass, from goodness knows where. As the sun took its place high in the sky, Selene’s stomach growled.

“Let’s head back now and get some lunch.”

Her nephew ran to her grinning, hands outstretched for his ‘treasures’. Selene gladly dumped the damp pile into his hands, drying them against her bottoms. Shaking out the blanket, she packed their things knowing most of it would be doing straight into the laundry basket. The walk back to the villa started off slow, with her nephew slowly picking through his ‘treasures’ and throwing the ones now deemed unworthy away. Once happy with his selection, he held them up to her, just as he did to his father, so they could be kept safe. Two smoothed out glass fragments, one green, one white, and a small intact spiral shell were dropped into her hand, which she slipped into her pocket. They would be put in the boy’s treasure box, which Scott kept in his room. Selene had seen both Scott and Gordon go through the items with the boy. The more interesting items in the box were normally suggestions from said uncle, having been found during one of their rock pooling expeditions. Her nephew took her free hand, his little fingers wrapping round hers, and gave her a content dimpled smile that melted her heart. The kid was so much like his father. Having his hand in hers was great but didn’t last long. He was off again, running ahead to explore the foliage that surrounded the path. Selene sighed as flowers were poked, leaves grasped and sometimes pulled off. Thankfully the leaf he decided to wave around was picked up from the floor and not yanked from the plant. He danced around Selene with it, flapping it around and above his head until it too became boring as was discarded on the path. She would not mention this to Virgil, who had tried on various occasions to teach the curious tornado to be gentle with the plants, and given Scott a death glare in the process.

Upon reaching the villa, Selene grabbed the child’s arm and guided him down the side of the house to the pool’s changing rooms. Removing his now sandy shoes, she dumped her nephew in the large metal basin used for washing Sherbet. Soap and warm water turned it into a foot bath that resulted in some joyous splashing from her nephew. Scott seemed to stash clean clothes everywhere, and having found some in a nearby cupboard, Selene dried and redressed the boy. He was now in blue shorts and a red check shirt that screamed Virgil. Selene rolled her eyes. After giving her own feet a quick wash down, they headed to the elevator so he could put his ‘treasures’ in the box. The moment the doors opened her nephew was off.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Selene swallowed as she hurried after him, knowing Scott wasn’t due back until late that evening. The board meeting he and Jeff were required to attend meant he had to be away for two days and as much as Scott wanted to come back to the island to see his son, it made no sense as the boy would be asleep. This was the longest the child had been on the island without his Dad being with him.

“Daddy?”

Selene knelt in the middle of Scott’s room as the boy’s lip trembled and pulled him into a hug.

“He’ll be home later, when the sky is dark.”

Scooping him up into her arms, she grabbed the box and opened it for her nephew. He sniffled as he dropped his treasures in.

“You can show Daddy tomorrow.”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her neck. Selene’s stomach rumbled, reminding her of their intended destination. Carrying the boy downstairs, she headed through the living room, receiving a brief wave from a busy Sally as they passed by.

“Grammie.”

Her nephew’s voice was soft and sad in her ear.

“Grandma is busy, but we can make her some food to help.”

He started playing with her hair, brushing the deep purple strands along her neck. Selene shifted him as she collected up the things she needed, her arm already aching from carrying him so far. Ultimately she had to put him down. Thankful he hadn’t complained too much as she let him cling to her leg instead, allowing her to make some sandwiches. Sweeping them, crisps, juice and some bananas onto a tray, she coaxed her nephew upstairs. A plate was slid before Sally, who smiled gratefully while taking a bite. Selene curled up on the sofa with her nephew, where they ate their lunch listening to the comm line. The boys voices filled the room, on a delay as EOS filtered out anything young ears shouldn’t hear. Her nephew relaxed to the chorus of his uncle’s voices, and eventually drifted off to sleep in Selene’s arms. Putting him to bed with a kiss, she tapped on the monitor and headed back to the couch where she collapsed. As if on cue, John floated before her, seated in Thunderbird One’s cockpit with a bottle of water. There was dirt on his uniform, breaking up the sensor lines that traversed his frame. His eyes were half distracted, obviously reading something on the display before him.

“How’s it going back on the island?”

Her heart fluttered at his voice. Damn, it never got old hearing him.

“Tiring, he’s got so much energy. You were wrong about the wind, the kite wouldn’t fly.”

John’s brow creased as his emerald eyes met hers.

“Really? EOS was certain the wind speed would be ideal for kites.”

“Well, she was wrong. That yellow monstrosity wouldn’t fly.”

“Hey! It’s not a monstrosity!” Gordon piped in, suddenly floating next to John, though he was clearly in a pod. “That’s the happiest kite in the world and always flies great.”

John rolled his eyes, making Selene bite her lip.

“So that’s why you threw a tantrum and hid it away in the attic? Because it flew too well?”

Gordon’s glare was adorable.

“Boys,” Grandma’s stern voice echoed around the room, “pay attention to what you’re doing. John, there’s a family not far from your location in need of evacuation."

“FAB, grandma.”

John gave Selene a parting grin, while Gordon stuck out his tongue. Selene slipped out her phone, allowing herself to catch up on her emails, sorting through her clients requests so she could tackle them tomorrow. Lying back, she relaxed into the sofa, knowing she only had a few hours to herself.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #selene tempest #scott's son #babysitting #baby tracy #beach #flying kites #treasures #cuteness #thunderfluff #fluff #worlds greatest aunt

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naomi-l-tiessen-blog · 7 years

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Tips on Staying [Relatively] Sane While Writing

Hellllooooooo Everybody ~

Happy Thursday Blogday!

Let’s face it: we’ve all been there, where at some point or another, writing stops being fun. Writing is our calling; we were born on this cynical planet to tell stories. It’s been written into our DNA, it’s our passion, it’s the reason Why. We. Breathe.

And it’s stopped being fun. In fact, it’s driving us a little batty.

*Le Gasp!!*

Cue the world ending.

Don’t worry. It happens to the best of us. It’s common to fall in and out of love with writing, especially considering we should be treating it like a job, and who doesn’t fall in and out of love with their job? Or, better yet, upgrade and develop a love-hate relationship with it altogether? It’s perfectly normal for your life passion to make you seriously question your sanity. And really, Lord knows it doesn’t matter if that passion is a hobby or a profession; insanity is completely inclusive and knows no boundaries. Honestly, you should watch me play video games; as much as I love them, I’m generally a mess when I play.

I know we all like to think that we are tough as nails and have nerves of steel, but the truth of the matter is this: we are human. We are fragile sometimes. And sometimes, SOMETIMES, our mental game isn’t exactly top notch. And while this might not seem like a big deal, not being 100% in the mental health department can lead to other things, like other health issues, insomnia, poor eating habits, increased hermitage, poor writing, or worse, NO writing.

Ok, NOW cue the world ending.

So, before you toss in the towel and seriously consider a new passion, let me settle your worried soul and offer 10 tips on how to salvage the last bits of your already fragile mental psyche. Some of these may work for you, and some of them may not. Some of them won’t be very nice to hear (you’ve been warned; the faint of heart should avert ye eyes), but are important nonetheless.

Without further ado, 10 tips on how to stay [relatively] sane while writing:

1) Take a break. This one is important, guys. When was the last time you got up, stretched, and focused on something besides your computer screen? Sometimes when we are so focused on our work, we forget that we have a body…a human body…and those things have needs! We ignore the signs our bodies are throwing at us, like muscle aches, eye strain, hunger pains, headaches, and full bladders. Trust me, your work isn’t going anywhere. You can afford a 5-minute pee break. It’ll all be there when you get back. And if it isn’t…well…I blame the wizards.

2) Make a schedule for yourself. Set alarms to remind yourself to take breaks, to eat, to do something that isn’t writing-oriented. Maybe instead of saying, “I will write today!” start with smaller, less vague goals. “I will write 500 words, take a 10-minute break, and then write another 500 words.” This goal is a lot more specific, is well-structured, has a beginning and end, and is easily attainable! Make it a habit to start each writing session with a routine so you know which direction you are heading in; going head-first into a session without an end-goal often leads to procrastination, frustration, and disappointment.

3) Switch it up. If the routine you are currently stuck in feels more like a rut than anything, perhaps it’s time to develop a new ritual. Try something different. Leave the house. Listen to a different playlist. Play around with a couple writing exercises to get the ideas flowing. Write in a group if you normally hermit it up (and vice versa, if you are on the more social side). Pick apart your routine and see what is working, and what isn’t. It’s amazing to see the sorts of things that might be helping alleviate your stress, and what might be exacerbating it.

4) Reward yourself. When you meet a goal, celebrate! Eat that candy, take a breather to watch that movie, go to the bookstore and buy that book you’ve been eyeing up. Allowing yourself those little treats is a great way to lighten the mood, offer momentary distraction, and reinforce further positive behavior. Think of it like this. If you are training your puppy to go to the front door when it needs to pee, you are going to offer positive feedback when it does the task you want it to do. Your puppy is then going to associate doing the right thing with something good (ie: praise, cuddles, and/or treats). The same thing goes for you (except, for the love of God, I hope you’re potty trained). When you set goals for yourself, reach them, and reward yourself accordingly, your brain is going to start associating positive experiences with hard word and hitting goals. This helps you focus less on stress and more on how well you are doing, or how much work you’re getting done. It’s all about perspective, you see. Positive reinforcement is key to a healthy you and a healthy me!

5) Accept defeat. Ok, I KNOW this is like a punch in the throat, and I’m not trying to be Negative Nelly over here, but this is an honest-to-goodness tip, Scouts Honor. When I say, “accept defeat,” I’m not saying toss all your hard work away the moment you hit a wall and all the rainbows and butterflies are gone. I’m saying that if you’ve been struggling with your novel baby for a solid chunk of time (I’m talking months-years here), you’ve lost your passion for it, and you are generally experiencing more anger than joy when it comes to sitting down at your computer and opening up your work, then you might want to consider either 1) setting that WIP aside and focusing on something else, or 2) getting rid of that WIP altogether. Now, keep in mind that this is only for absolutely dire, worst-case-scenario ordeals. But sometimes, it’s good to know when to call a spade a spade and to call it quits. I highly recommend putting a lot of thought into this, as well as making the decision with a clear, objective mind. Because, let’s face it, this is a huge deal, and letting your emotions get in the way might not be the best idea. But sometimes, you’d be amazed at how much lighter you feel after agreeing to drop a story. I’ve done it before, and as sad as it is to say goodbye, the lack of mental stress, guilt, and burden was enough to convince me that I made the right choice.

6) Get support/have a soundboard. A good vent session is a beautiful thing. And it’s even better when it’s not with your fur baby. For me, besides the raging headache I get, I often feel 10x lighter, more energetic, and more balanced after a good sob-fest/yelling session. While the soundboard can essentially be anyone, it helps if they have a writer’s brain like you; they know the struggles you are going through inside and out, and can offer constructive feedback and advice that doesn’t make you want to start throwing out punches like a kung-fu master. But the most important thing is knowing you aren’t alone in these problems. People have gone through EXACTLY what you are going through. They’ve been on the verge of snapping a time or two as well; what you are experiencing is not special, nor is it exclusive to solely you. People are suffering together! Hooray!

7) Journal your progress. Now, I know that sometimes journaling is the last thing people want to do, especially if writing is what they are already doing all day, not to mention if it is writing that is causing them such mental strain. But I find that if I journal my progress, even if it’s a couple sentences here and there, it helps me debrief and vent. This tip is especially handy if you don’t have the best support systems in place, or a soundboard to fall back on. Besides, sometimes we just need to rage-write our hearts out without fear of getting judged, interrupted, and overwhelmed with awful advice. Just as well, I find that journaling also helps me remain focused and on track. I can see how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown, and I’m reminded that I’m a lot stronger now than I was before. It’s very grounding.

8) Listen to music. Some people prefer to write in silence, and that’s totally fine! However, unless I’m really in The Zone, I find that my thoughts go way faster than my fingers, and in the end, I get too stressed to even function. My subconscious gets the better of me, and in the end, my work, and my mental health, suffers because of it. Therefore, often I turn to music to help keep my mind chatter to a minimum, and to keep my focus sharp. Music is awesome that way; there is a unique type for every sort of mood you are feeling. If you need something relaxing, there’s a playlist for that. If you need hardcore screamo, there’s a playlist for that. If you need orchestral, or lyrical, or dubstep, or chillstep, there is a freaking playlist for that. Music is incredibly influential, and often I find that my mood mirrors whatever I’m listening to. Using music to impact and manipulate your writing is a great way to push past blocks, fears, and crippling doubt. Need a confidence booster? I’ll bet there’s a playlist for that.

9) EAT. Seriously. When was the last time you fed your body? And no, I don’t mean with ichiban noodles, nutrigrain bars, and candy. When was the last time you put ACTUAL food into your belly? AKA protein, nutrients, healthy sugars, and non-lethal doses of sodium? When was the last time you drank something besides coffee and energy drinks? If you honestly can’t remember, stop reading this blog, go and grab a cup of water, and don’t sit back down till you drank it all. I mean it.

10) You are going to hate me for this, but exercise. Notice how I left this as the last tip…because it is honestly the last damn resort, the “worst case scenario”, the Plan Z. I’m not a fan of exercise on the best of days, but sometimes, if you are hitting that writer’s block for the umpteenth time, and the end is nowhere in sight, and your frustration is building so high up that it’s about to cave in on itself, then maybe stepping away from the danger zone and getting fresh air IS actually a good idea. Stop breathing in recycled air, and go out to where the elements are not man-made. Get the blood flowing, the heart pumping, and blast that music so loud that thinking about your book is next to impossible. Give your brain a moment to think about something else. Trust me, it’s not cheating to place your attention elsewhere for a couple seconds.

And there you have it! 10 tips to help you not rip out your hair and ram pencils into your eyeballs. Like I said before, not all these will work for you, nor should they (don’t forget, #5 is only in absolutely dire circumstances). During your writing hours, take time to introduce a couple of these into your schedule, and practice them till you find a groove that works well for you. I know your life is already busy, but trust me, your psyche will thank you in the long run!

With that said, I post new blogs (and vlogs, apparently) every Thursday, and if there is anything you’d like me to discuss, feel free to message me on here, or tweet me @ScarletteStone

Until next time,

Happy Writing!

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