I started hating my legs when I was about 7 or 8 years old. I was standing in a Gap changing room with my mom while she complained about the pockets on different jeans making my thighs look extra bulky.

When I was 13, (5,2” 100 pounds) she was driving me to the gym and she pestered me about wearing long leggings, rather than shorts. “Maybe if you actually worked and felt good about yourself you’d wear shorts,” she’d said.

Four years ago when I was 16 and in the eleventh grade, I was at a pretty unhappy time in my life. This was for a few different reasons, but I began to lose interest in school, in my friends, and in my sports. I became less active, and this, coupled with stopping gymnastics at age 14 and my liking of food, had led me to get a little on the chubby side.

One rainy day in class one of my good guy friends and another guy (whom I’d on/off liked) started making jokes and then referred to me as “Zeus.” I didn’t know what they meant, and I kept trying to find out for the next couple weeks whilst they continued to use this name. Then my friends found out, and they didn’t want to tell me what it meant. Finally one did. She looked at me with so much pity, her eyes dropping while she said: “Like you know.. Zeus.. thunder.. thunder thighs”

I couldn’t even cry, I just felt so sad.
I actually don’t believe in using the word “hate”, but damn I really did dislike my legs.
After grade 11 I began to slim down a little.

Three days ago I was lying in bed with my boyfriend who I have now been with for about six months. I was - in a light-hearted manner - complaining about the fat I’ve gained from all of our recent going out to eat. These endeavors have, in fact, led me to get back to the same weight I was in grade 11. (Hopefully this won’t last long, because it feels bad.) Boyfriend grabs me and he says, “Babe stop, I love your body.” He continues to tell me about all the things he likes, and even mentions that the first time we slept together he thought I looked like a Victoria’s Secret model. When he was listing off things he liked, he then goes “..your stomach, your thick thighs..” and I had to stop in shock at how ironic this was.

In grade eleven my thick thighs had been so hurtful to me, and here I was 4 years later being praised for them. He even referred to them as thunder thighs (god forbid) all in the same sentence – talking about them almost like he was proud.

The point of this story is to say that you should not be ashamed of who you are. We all have things we do and do not like, and there are always people who will and won’t be nice. We grow up in certain cultures, we change, and yet we are still ourselves.. and so susceptible to everything. But for every person out there who will embarrass you and make you feel hurt, there is somebody who will love you for everything. Love yourself first to make things easier. People who properly love and respect you will come along, even if you have to wait for a while.

anonymous asked:

what is the best written fic you've ever read? plot etc. aside - just considering writing style like wow you should be a published author type of well written.

Just writing style? That is really hard. There are so many good styles out there, but the first that comes to mind is

  The King of Spades   by   hazmesentir       

(I also loved the plot) but it made me fall in love with thrillers all over, and the plotholes were so good. I even loved the OC’s which is saying something.

When the birds first came,
The days stretched before us
Like a million-mile promise
And we could not tell our feet to
Stop chasing the horizon,
Hands extended, reaching toward the sun,
So sure that if we kept trying we could
Capture the light in our fingertips.
Every hill was a mountain and
When we reached the top we were conquerors;
The world was our kingdom and
As we sat on our throne
We watched the sparrows dance
With the clouds
And so mesmerized were we that we
Raced through the grass and our
Arms became wings, and
Not a soul could have convinced us
That we were not really flying.
When the sky deepened,
Robin’s-egg blue to
Diamond-studded sapphire,
The songbirds went to bed while
The owls rehearsed a new melody.
We delighted in each note and
As we laughed there was
Stardust on our breath
And the man on the moon envied
The glow of our features.
We were astronauts;
The universe unfolded around us
And we didn’t need a ladder to
Climb to the constellations,
We had wings.
We sailed through the skies,
Made friends with Orion and tried on his belt,
Closed our eyes as we drifted off to dreamland.
The birds flew south when the
Winds began to change,
Calling their farewells to the land as
They flashed patterns through the sky,
And we watched them, mouths ajar,
Tiny hands waving endlessly at
Flocks that carried memories on their backs and
Freedom in their feathers,
Not a worry in the world that
They might not return in due course.
The first snow of the season was
And when we ran outside to
Watch as crystal pieces of the sky
Floated down, glittering,
Before they melted on our tongues,
We could could not help but believe in
The infinity of tiny miracles that
That lived just past our doorstep.
But as the winter plowed on,
The sky faded to leaden grey and
The snow became tainted, tired, and
We grew restless and heavy with our
Longing for
Spring, for
New life, for
The return of the birds and
The freedom to fly amongst them.
And so we waited and we hoped,
But instead of sparrow and songbird
We found mourning doves that
Nested in our chests and
Tuned our heart strings to a minor key,
Ravens that perched in the foggy light of dawn and
Sang tunes of nevermore into our ears,
Vultures that circled overhead and
Made us fear the very skies that
Once held every distant dream.
—  The birds. // J.S.
“Make it better” (harry styles) (requested)

A/N: requested by my babe vanessnettness hope this doesn´t suck too much

I sighed as I felt my eyes watering again, a clear sign that another sneezing fit was on it´s way. And this time, it wasn´t just one sneeze, it was a chorus of sneezes, which probably echoed through the entire recording studio and beyond.

I had accompanied Harry and the rest of the band to their recording studio in London today, however, that was a decision I quickly came to regret as my ongoing cold kept on getting worse throughout the day.

I lazily slammed my hand against my forehead, quietly stating to myself that it was still strongly resembling an active volcano. I was just about to reach for the glass of water Harry had brought me earlier, when I could hear sounds that were giving away that the recording session was coming to an end. Louis was the first to come strutting out of the recording area. “Hi love, you feeling alright”? he asked in a chirpy tone. “To be perfectly honest not really” I pouted, leaning against Louis´ shoulder as he plopped down next to me.

“Aw Y/N” he pouted back, leaning in to playfully peck my fire resembling forehead. “Well you´ll get your golden booted boyfriend coming to take care of you in a sec” Louis assured. And correctly, a couple minutes and jokes from Louis later, my curly headed boyfriend came clamping into the room. Harry´s green eyes instantly filled with concern as he drank in my disheveled appearance. “You still not feeling better Y/N”? He asked, before furrowing his eyebrows and joining me and Louis on the couch.

I shook my head, the rising fever now having me at a point beyond exhaustion.” come on sweetie, let´s go home” Harry said with a small smile, reaching for my hand, me groaning as he softly pulled my lightheaded self up from the couch. So we said a couple of quick “byes” to the boys before heading out to Harry´s range rover and scurrying off to his house.

Once there I instantly stumbled on to Harry´s bedroom, heaving a dramatic sigh before throwing myself down on to the king sized bed, Harry following behind. “Aww baby, you´re really not feeling too good are you honey”? he cooed, lightly stroking my warmth radiating hair. “Nooo Harry make it better” I whined, clutching onto him shy toddler. 

“Well let me get you some aspirin and something nice and cool to drink and then I´ll come back here and we can just relax together, okay”? Harry suggested, pressing a kiss to my cheek before standing up from the bed. “Mmm” I hummed, pouting at the loss of human contact. “Hey Harry” croaked out before he had a chance to leave the room. “Yeah”? “You´re the best boyfriend ever” I stated with a sleepy smile. “Aw babe, right back at you” he winked before finally exiting the room, leaving me to think about how i possibly got so lucky.

Am I Developing A Style or Am I Writing What Boils Down to the Same Story Over and Over and Over and Over: A Fiction Writer’s Tale.  By me.

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon/Jon Snow
Characters: Jon Snow, Stannis Baratheon
Additional Tags: Intercrural Sex, Clothed Sex, Book 5: A Dance with Dragons, PWP

Jon would not submit so easily, not in politics and not in this.

Set somewhere between Jon III and Jon IV.

A/N: So, this is a thing that I wrote for theoldgods for ShipSwap. I wasn’t actually signed up for ShipSwap because I wasn’t sure I would have time for it. But her prompts came through on the pinch hit list and, since the show has stoked the fires of my Jon/Stannis love and since Kit and I seem to be brain twins when it comes to this fandom a lot of the time, I got excited and ended up writing this (and ended up enlisting the help of my Dragon Age beta since my go-to person for ASOIAF was, well, inappropriate ;)) 

It’s not often that a person is lucky enough to be graced with a presence like Harrys. In fact, it’s not often that someone would come across a Harry-like nature in their whole entire life. One in a million is Harry Styles. Graceful, brave, inspiring. Beautiful, intelligent, spellbinding. Humble, sweet, loving. There are a million different words to describe him, but none really pinpoint exactly who he is. There is no such word that single-handedly describes him to the full extent of his greatness - and honestly I don’t think that there will ever be such a word.

Harry is an old soul. He’s someone who deserves only the very best in the world. Someone who cares wholeheartedly about everyone and everything around him. And someone who deserves to be completely and utterly loved and protected.

(In the middle of writing something for Sockathan, but it’s late so I’m just gonna leave it here and finish it tomorrow.)

He’ll be the death of you.
With his sing-song voice that makes your heart stutter.
And those bright green eyes that steal your breath away.
That mischievous grin that turns your bones to jelly.
And that rare little blush that short circuits your brain.

He catches you staring, once, in the middle of class.
“Hey, hot stuff, see something you like?”
Yeah. You do.
Something on your face must have shown, because a moment later his face is scarlet, and so is yours.
Neither if you talk to the other for the rest of the day.

You’re drunk when you try to kiss him, alone at the house and tired of pretending.
He’s sitting right next to you, giggling like a school girl about something stupid you had said and you just sort of
Lean forward.
For one brief, perfect moment, you can feel his lips against yours, soft and chapped and better than anything you ever imagined.
But then it’s gone, and you’re passing through him like he’s nothing, and your face hits the carpet with a solid thud.

After that, he doesn’t talk to you for a week.
You had been afraid of rejection, of scolding words and accusing stares.
But this?
This frosty silence, this lack of acknowledgement altogether, this all-consuming uncertainty that eats at your thoughts?
It’s so much worse.

Broken Promises

Juvia is my queen and so clearly I needed to hurt her.

Prompt 3 - Broken Promises/Hearted

It was a bright and sunny day.

Sometimes she woke up and saw the sunshine and felt a moment of confusion. She didn’t’ know how long it would take to get used to blue skies.

Every single day she sat outside waiting. He promised her he would come back.

“Juvia misses Fairy Tail,” she had admitted to Gray. “Juvia is afraid that without them, without her family, she will lose herself again.”
Gray had placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “I promise you Juvia, I will always keep your rain away.”

He had stayed longer than she had hoped.

Being a rain lady had never been easy but she didn’t know how she would cope since she knew the feel of sun on her skin. How would she find any joy in the rain after sunshine, bird song and warmth?

Perhaps they were right, he never loved her. He was her friend yes, and he cared for her in some way but, never the way she would feel for him.

Why wasn’t she good enough? 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I love all your posts about books with diverse characters!! I was just wondering if you've read The Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobb? It's a fantasy book, but one of the main characters, The Fool, is genderfluid and bisexual. Also Robin Hobb has a very similar writing style to Scott Lynch's :))

Glad to hear it! I really want to read more diverse books (especially in my favourite genres - historical fiction and fantasy/sci-fi) and I think it’s important to share them.

I haven’t yet, but I have the first book on my shelf. I’m so excited to read one of her books. I’m just waiting until I’m in the mood for high fantasy again and I’m going to be all over it. :) I didn’t actually know about the diversity, so thanks for letting me know.

flightlesswarrior does an exceptional job with all of the Kid Icarus characters, especially Pit and Palutena! Each character is played perfectly and she is willing to interact with almost anyone from different verses. Every reply is so fresh and new and her writing style is amazing!  The mun is so sweet and caring and I know I have made a close friend for the rest of my life.

( submitted by forcesofnature )

anonymous asked:

can you reccomend any other good preference writers, who write similar to the way you do? :3 love you noel!!

I dunno, mate. I’m pretty one of a kind. 

Just kidding, haha. There are so many wonderful writers on here it’s absolutely insane, and it’s adorable, you know? Cuz they do it in their spare time; nobody gets paid for doing this and it’s just cool to see that kind of dedication. 

ketchupfromyoutube has the most adorable writing style ever. Every sentence has these cute little metaphors I swear it’s a roller coaster from start to finish.

If you’re into 1d, poshspicestyles is amazing. if you’re not, then that’s too bad, because you’re missing out, mate.

hemmingsofficial is always adorable. Always. I’m a huge sucker for the 90′s series thing. I don’t know how much she’s writing as of late, but all of her stuff is absolutely wonderful.

i quite appreciate punkcupcakestyles honestly (i love the lesson series hehe) 

daddyyirwin is great but it gets a little bit smutty there as long as you’re alright with that

hemmings1994 is a celestial being. 

sorrynotharry is wonderful as well, although she writes for 1D, if that’s a deal breaker for you. 

txhohood is a blush-effusing, butterfly-giving maniac and I love it. 

and there are so many more, too, of course, these are just a few off the top of my head. But go check them out, if you want, and feel free to request writers to me if you feel so inclined. 


the-gentleman-chronicler is such an amazing David Talbot, they create a very convincing illussion of seeing actual David on my dash. Their exquisite writing style and very clear approach to David’s personality are an absolute joy to read. And I find David’s stubborn refusal to engage in any innapropriate topic incredibly amusing. Also, I’m delighted by their blog’s theme everytime I open their page.”

fancycrow asked:

Hi Berry! I'm sorry if someone's asked this question already and I missed it, I'm a new fan of yours! I'm caught up on most of my shows, webcomics and book series.. and I was wondering if you have any blazing recommendations for any of those things. What are your favourite shows, books, and other creative media? :>



  • all the bright places  by jennifer niven. TW: mental illness, suicide, and death mentions a lot.  (note I have finished it but I’m really enjoying it and the style of the writing. IT COULD END HORRIBLY THOUGH BUT I KNOW FRIENDS WHO SAID IT’S GOOD). 
  • paper towns  by john green. (It’s about how you shouldn’t make out people to be more then they are. I am shit at book descriptions but it’s really good and one of my personal faves AND FUN ROAD TRIP IN THE BOOK) 
  • fangirl by rainbow rowell (about a girl who writes fanfiction for this book series and used to write it with her twin sister but then her twin sister stops writing it with her because they both go off to college and it’s really good)


  • paranatural (I haven’t finished it but read quite a bit and it’s super cute)
  • monsterkind (SO CUTE OMG READ IT)

tv shows:

  • chuck (it’s on netflix and it’s all five seasons of perfection. About a guy who gets a super computer downloaded into his brain and then he becomes a spy and it’s super fantastic)

youtubers (cause why not):

  • dodie clark (ukulele covers, music, and her vlog channel is super cute)
  • bribry (irish youtuber, his music is fecking beautiful, and him and his wife candace are soooo cute) 
  • thethirdpew (his videos are hilarious and perfect) 

bonthekitten asked:

If you're still taking prompts, prompt where Chloe does something stupid (again) even though Max kept warning her not to (again) and something bad happens to Chloe (again, by like a broken arm or something). And Chloe finally realizing that she's kinda been a jerk for taking Max's powers for her advantage and refusing to let her go back to stop her?

Read on

thanks for shattering my soul bon lmao I hope you like this! it’s a different writing style, wanted to jazz things up a bit

anonymous asked:

Your Poetry is just... I don't have the words. You kind of inspired me to start writing again, but somehow fractures of your way of writing always tend to sneak into mine. Which is why I stopped. Anyhow, you are so talented, I hope you never give up on it.

I can relate to you with that. So much. I’m constantly worrying that I’m not original enough-in fact I find myself surprised if people say they like my style of writing because I particularly don’t see myself as having one. But as somebody told me recently, no idea is ever going to be original-it’s how that person will perceive that idea (which will ALWAYS ALWAYS be different, so you’ll be original without even trying!). Drawing influence from other writers is a huge part of your own development so don’t think bad of it (by the way I am more than touched when you say parts of my writing sneak into yours *squeal*).

if you enjoy writing, please don’t stop because you’re afraid you’re not good enough. It isn’t your ability that’s holding you back, but the FEAR that you lack ability. This the unfortunate paradox of wanting to write: you don’t want to write until you can write well enough, but the only way you’ll ever get any better is if you WRITE. The blog write world (as onlyalmost kindly directed me to a few weeks ago) is a great one to check out if you’ve hit a block.

Don’t ever treat it as a test-writing is a freedom. Write what the fig you like. You’ll be wonderful.


anonymous asked:

Do you think a bad writer (OPG) could ever become a good writer? Are some people just hopeless? What if they changed their writing style? Like Kerouac had to become a beat writer. I guess that didn't make him good though. Would it work for someone else?

I’m about to sound like a pretentious ass, and I’m sorry, but…

You can teach competence, but you can’t teach talent. If OPG would get her shit together and learn how to declutter her sentences, hey, maybe her writing would be alright, but it wouldn’t be particularly moving, interesting, or original. Maybe she’d have moments. Maybe Kerouac would have been good if he’d yanked his head out of his ass and looked a woman in the eye just once. But you can’t teach someone to be talented, just okay.

Which isn’t to say that talent is sufficient on its own–if you don’t develop it then all you have is potential, and very few people want to read potential. But if you really want to be good, you need some natural ability to start, and then you need to develop it further. That development doesn’t have to occur in a classroom setting–shit, you could teach yourself if you have the discipline–but it needs to happen somehow.

Final caveat: Some not-good writers just haven’t found their genre. You may not do well with one genre (or many genres), but that doesn’t mean you’ll suck at all of them.

/end pretentious assiness