#I've written this post like three times already I am this close to throwing myself off a bridge

[artfucksmylife]

Read right to left.

Note: Yaad did in fact not allow him to buy a bunch of dogs. However, he was allowed to open a royal dog shelter and it eventually brought him a lot more joy to give them a home, even if mostly temporarily. (He did keep some for himself though)

Full page under the cut

Skrunkly Kabru extra that I scrapped

[no-shxme]

since ive had people asking about it, here's

an overview of my writing process:

its very long (but split into 4 sections) so i will be posting it below the read-more. i fr threw up all over the post and it covers my writing process specifically. because i write unreliable narration >> canonic characters, etc this will prolly not be as useful for like, idk, crack fic writers or whatever else. basically this is what works for me. it might not work for you, but feel free to peruse, im sure no 2 writer's processes are exactly the same. (AND THATS COOL)

Step 1: The Idea & Start

usually my fic starts with a single scene/mood/line, and the whole fic is started around that. (for ex: my fic Teeth started bc of 1 set of lines that we haven't even gotten to yet. [sob]) this also helps me be more motivated, as i become pretty desperate to get that scene/mood/etc written. (as i write i often find new goalposts to write to, which helps keep me motivated, yeah)

occasionally i will write out an initial drabble (like 1 or 2 paragraphs) set in the story idea i have, just to see if i like whatever's going on before i commit.

before i start i decide my setting or at least whatever parts of the setting are relevant. (i wont go into it here bc that's not exactly process.) then i'm game to start.

i've heard a lot of writers struggle with starting a fic and ending it. starting a fic isn't usually a problem for me but if i don't like how the beginning is looking it's usually because i've started it too far away from relevant plot. i don't want to write too much beginning set up, so my solution is always to delete what i have and restart the scene closer to when something happens.

(for ex: when writing everything that went wrong over the summer, the story started earlier and was going to have kayn discover rhaast at the end of the first chapter. but halfway through i decided it was bad. i didnt want to reveal too much and it was kinda boring, became a slog of wordlbuilding. i hated it so i deleted it and instead we meet rhaast in literally the second paragraph.)

imo if you are having trouble with starting stories, literally just throw yourself into the action, its the best way to jog a stuck start. move up the timeline, make things move faster. ask yourself if you really need all the space before the action happens. this method also be used on other scenes, not just beginnings.

it's generally a good idea to figure out what the minimum amount of time you need to complete your story. (this plot that takes place over three weeks, can it be done in three days instead?) but i dont always do that for fanfiction, more my personal writing. fanfiction can be loose and slimy, thats okay. i'm not gonna stress myself over it like i do with my book lol. for me fanfiction is like a vacation. since the characters are already established i can be free to experiment stylistically and try new things.

Step 2: The Writing (The Slog)

(The longest section of this post)

I actually have SO many notes for my writing process so this will be all over the place.

Whenever I write ANYTHING my goals are the following:

keep things concise, without crazy exposition or information overloads.

to me writing is kinda like a puzzle, or a combination lock. i have a line or thought and i just continuously swap words around in my head or on a doc until something clicks. my goal is not just something that fits, it's something that fits BEST. (i am not always successful at this.) so yeah sometimes a line sounds good, but how do i make it sound BETTER. i am always thinking about lines. all the time. i am always turning a scene in my head trying to find the best angle. im literally doing it right now.

this is a stylistic choice that might not apply to everyone, but i love writing unreliable narrators and therefore always write them. in fanfiction i like trying to keep the characters close to their canon personalities, so a lot of the following advice is through that lens.

WHEN IT COMES TO PLOT:

by the time i write my first scene i usually have an idea of the ending. i'm not too terribly focused on it but i definitely prefer to know it. its just something i have to reach eventually. usually little plot ideas will start sprouting up like checkpoints between the start and the end, and then it's just the matter of figuring out how to bridge the gaps between them. one of my favorite tricks i like to use for longer or difficult plots is work backwards. (i call it Keyframing)

(for ex: let's say i'm writing a story about a knight who marries a dragon, but i can't figure out how the hell that's gonna happen. an easy way to come up with ideas is think: what's 1 thing that has to happen between the start goal (there's a knight) and the ending (married to a dragon)? it could be something simple. the knight has to get to the dragon's lair before he can get married. okay, great, there's another plot checkpoint. now what's 1 thing that has to happen between the start and getting to the lair? and also what's 1 thing that has to happen between getting to the lair and getting married?

as you keep adding 1 thing to the plot between points, it basically writes itself, or gives you a very good list of things that HAVE to happen in order to progress the story. then you can add embellishments and tweak it, but its a good method i use for avoiding over-complicated plot. periodically i also ask myself: can this be simplified further?

in cases where i don't have an ending in mind (about 35% of the time) i let my characters drive the plot. this is very easy because i write unreliable, character focused narration. all i think is: ok what're they gonna do. how would they do xyz. hows this affect them. i'll also think about my end goal for the character as it slowly develops and ask myself if it's realistic for them. i don't write crack so if it's something a character won't do then i just won't write it. i'll figure out some other goal or method to achieve the same effect, even if the scrapped idea is cute. :C the end result is usually a more convincing character. (once again this is literally just how i write ff. you DONT have to write like this) in many cases the goal is fine but the method isn't, so i have to rethink how the character realistically reaches that goal. (this was very much the case in my fic, One Promise)

WHEN IT COMES TO WRITER'S BLOCK:

here's my methods for getting over writer's block in no particular order:

taking a break. (or a nap)

reading poetry (this helps bc i try to write poetic) or just read, if im in a pickle.

changing location. (if you write on your phone/laptop. just go somewhere else)

delete the scene and restart from a diff angle. (not advised tbh. i dont think this is a good method, even if it works for me. im only listing it bc its something i do.)

to a lesser degree: changing the font, listening to music i would never listen to normally. or not listening to music at all.

walking around in circles talking to myself about whatever line im chewing on. :/

Okay now im just gonna list a mixed bag of shit that pertains to my literal writing process:

i use google docs because i like to write on my phone and my tablet. i will write in bed before sleeping or in the car. ill write wherever. occasionally i will also use scrivener on my pc for writing assistance. or ms paint. (dont make me go into it)

i almost always try to write what the CHARACTER sees or experiences, versus what a narrator would see. (for example, in my fic Teeth, sett's ears are mentioned a lot. it's because talon keeps noticing them.) this is super important in my writing as it also serves meaning and makes things more concise. oh a character is an artist? so they might notice the technique in a painting. versus the same painting viewed by a carpenter, who might focus more on describing the picture frame. i have specific thoughts on (confident) character voice/unreliable narration, but this post is long lol. if anyone wants to hear it lemme know.

for the most part i only try to describe what's necessary. im not trying to introduce too many characters BY NAME or too many places or too much detailed description-dumping, unless im trying to hide something. ESPECIALLY IN FAN FICTION. one thing i keep in mind is that the reader will fill in the gap. like i could write 'a kitchen with green walls and one window' and boom you already have an idea of what the kitchen could look like. i could write a character using a stove and different readers might imagine that stove in two different places, as pertaining to their imaginary kitchen. that's fine. as long as the location of the stove is unimportant then i dont need to describe it. basically if it's not Vital to my vision then i often don't bother writing it. (this also allows me to push themes and sneak things, but this post is too long)

often while i write im thinking ahead, so ill start noting future lines/plot ideas to use at the bottom of the document so i dont forget them. if it's a long fic my lines-to-be-used will be like, pages long lol.

JUST WRITE. I JUST WRITE. sometimes its slop, that okay. i try to write every single day.

whenever i return to a wip i reread it to get in the Groove.

as i write i sometimes make comments (in google docs) on some words that i know are placeholders. like i'll write a sentence and think: i need to change that word, but im too in the flow to do that now, so i just make a quick note so i dont miss it when editing. i have shorthand for it too, like for example, WC stands for 'word choice' and REP stands for 'too much repetition.' sometimes im lazy and dont do this ._.

speaking of repetition, one of my lil tricks is to start a list of repetitive words as i write. i will often throw in the names of characters, and some common pitfall words for me (words that i have a tendency to use too often). this is helpful for....

Step 3: The Editing

okay first i take a break. the length often depends on how long the fic is. if its a shortie then i just play a game or 2 of league or smth. i must banish the story from my brain.

when i come back i give it a read over and edit whatever issues i see, reword, blah blah. i also use Ctrl + F with my list of repetitive words! this way i can clearly see problem areas where i've used the same word too close together. i will also Ctrl + F grammar missteps, namely double spaces, double periods, and double commas.

for word choice ideas i use wordhippo :3c sometimes i recognize that a line needs to cook so ill come back to it.

i also do character checks where needed. (Would they REALLY do that?) at this point i can identify a problem area pretty easily so i dont do it that much anymore.

then as my final editing step i read the whole thing aloud. this step is so important that i never skip it, even on long ass docs. reading it aloud to myself is vital. when i read it aloud i can actually test the dialogue and see cadence issues and random mistakes that i never catch anywhere else. for longer stories this is done chapter by chapter as finished, which is,,, thank god lol.

if im unsure about a story then i'll let it ferment for a while (days, weeks) before i come back and edit, just to make sure im not crazy or smth.

Step 4: The Posting

i post in ao3's rich text format, so it keeps some of the formatting. then i hit PREVIEW and then i hit EDIT again. bc ao3 is finicky about italics and will add weird ugly spaces bc of that. so to get rid of them i use my CTRL + F method again to check for space + periods (literally a space then a period), space + commas, double spaces (again), etc. i also center those *** things that people use as scene breaks bc they're never centered. takes like 5 minutes.

then i post and try not to feel immediately awful lol.

anyway that's my writing process. this ended up super fucking long holy shit. sorry i like, rambled and blabbed. i try to be thorough. there's a lot more that i can talk about not pertaining to the process itself but like, yeahhhh. thanks if you read all this, hopefully its not terribly boring.

[sputnik422]

TWS’s “hey! hey!”: What do you feel when you run with me?

Dear Reader,

I want to start this off by saying that I tend to overthink things a lot. Like, a LOT a lot. I've written and deleted and written and re-written this post's opening so many times already, I feel like it will never go public. I'm also a fairly emotional person (though if you ever met me you probably wouldn't be able to tell) with a very vivid imagination. These three aspects of myself often combine and keep me trapped inside of my head with an onslaught of thoughts about my life (all the things I’ve experienced, all the things I haven’t, and all the things I may never get to) and how it compares to everything I interact with. They say the grass is always greener on the other side and I too suffer this powerful sense of longing for any life that isn’t mine. This particular thought process tends to come back around when I encounter something that speaks to the part of me that’s always been a bit lonely and had trouble connecting with the world and people around me. Something exactly like “hey! hey!” by TWS.

Released on June 5th, 2024 (my birthday!) as a pre-release single leading up to their 2nd mini album, "hey! hey!" is a love letter to summer and youth. The music video puts the members in a high school setting, on what can be assumed is the last day of school. The six boys gather after the final bell rings, running out into the world and just having fun. They play basketball, eat ice cream, hop on a bus to the middle of nowhere, simply because they can. There's an inherent sense of freedom that comes with the summer, one that is often kept away from younger people. With the removal of any and all academic responsibilities, these kids are free to be kids again.

While the music video itself is enough to bring on a tidal wave of nostalgia and longing for summers gone by, pairing it with the song, particularly the lyrics, invokes a very strong set of emotions within me.

The Lyrics

The lyrics to this song, how do I even begin to describe how they make me feel? "hey! hey!" is about a relationship, specifically the very unlikely yet fierce bond between the narrator, N, and whoever they are singing to. It could very well be referencing a group of people, mirroring the music video, but for purpose of ease I will refer to the subject as a singular person. We'll call them S for short (very ironic yet fitting nicknames indeed). A great number of things stood between these two figures at some point in time, be it time zones or borderlines, yet they have somehow still managed to find their way to each other. It's miraculous really and the sentiment makes me think about just how slim the odds are that we get to exist. That the person who I consider myself to be, my distinct personality, gets to exist instead of the billions of other possibilities that existed before I was born. Now throw all the people I love into the equation and you get the beginnings of a typical 2 A.M. spiral.

Existential crisis aside, the introduction of the subject into the narrator's life was clearly a very pivotal event. To completely change one's mindset from, "I was all alone" to "Now I'm loving the word together" is no small feat. This theme of unity and togetherness is one of a handful that sit at the core of "hey! hey!". It is most easily seen through the constant use of plural possessive and subject pronouns like "we" and our" along with the way N continues to reassure S. N urges S to remember that neither of them have to be alone and work toward their shared goal in isolation anymore.

"I am by your side / We run together"

So, clearly the narrator and the song's subject are very close, to the point that the former could not fathom ever leaving the latter behind. This show of affection, how N is able to comfortably and confidently devote themself to S in this way, it got me thinking about the many nuances of interpersonal relationships.

Firstly, while the exact kind of relationship that N and S have is never specified, I think you would be doing this lyrical narrative a disservice to boil it down to just being another love song. Instead, I urge you to view it as something purely platonic yet much more tangible than a mere friendship. To me, the narrator and the subject are clearly some kind of soulmates. More specifically: Twin Flames.

If you could take one soul, split it in half, and place those halves into two separate bodies, those two people would be twin flames. It's different than the typical idea of a soulmate because instead of simply being compatible, you and your twin flame are direct mirrors of each other. They are someone who reflects your own growth, your own challenges, and even your deepest fears. You may not believe in these kinds of things, I myself only really see them as something fun to think about. But I also like to imagine that out of the more than eight billion people currently inhabiting the planet at least two have met and formed a relationship of this kind.

Lines like, “Our passion burning at equal temperatures” and "I want to cry out our dream" illustrate the similarities between N and S are. As previously stated there is a shared goal being worked towards here and both figures are fueling each other's ambitions, lifting each other up to that they can achieve it. Its like a never-ending feedback loop of passion, the force bouncing between the two at a speed so fast that it forms a tangible link. Through this channel the two are able to achieve that deeper level of understanding that comes with being two halves of the same whole.

This brings me to the last aspect of the song that I'd like to discuss today. In one draft of this post I started off with a thought exercise and I liked that idea so much that I will now be moving it down here. I want you to think about someone who you are thankful for. Could be a family member, could be a friend, just take a moment to really think about them. What have they done that makes them come to mind? Do you ever wonder why they've stuck around for so long, despite the trials and tribulations? Have you ever been able to tell them how grateful you are to have them in your life?

This is the dilemma at the heart of this song. Our narrator is very passionate, optimistic, and enthusiastic, but they are not without fear. There was once a time when N stood frozen, petrified by the uncertainty of the future and all that could come with it. They had nobody to sooth this anxiety and the world around them seemed to grow duller by the day. With the arrival of S and all of their support, the narrator is able to see a path into the light once more. Its not just the narrator's taking meager steps towards an unknown tomorrow anymore, they have someone by their side every step of the way. Those previously apprehensive steps become a steady walk, and that becomes a jog, until we reach the present point where the narrator is sprinting towards the future with courage and ease.

When you're with your special person, what words come to mind? When you're faced with the person to whom you owe everything, staring into their eyes as your sprint comes to a crawl and your chests rise and fall in tandem, how do you tell them that they are the reason you've managed to keep going all this time? When every fiber of your being resonates with theirs, what words could possibly even begin to convey how you feel?

The answer isn't "thank you". It isn't "You mean the world to me". It isn't even "I love you". Shockingly enough, the narrator begins by asking a question of their own.

"What do you feel when you run with me?"

When I stand by your side does it make you feel complete? When I take you by the hand, pressing our pulses together and finding that they are perfectly in time, does send a wave of contentedness trailing up your arm and across your entire body? When we finally take that first step towards the unknown, each footprint shining with the power of our potential and the hopes we share, illuminating the path to that unified tomorrow, are you glad that its me by your side? When we come face to face, two people who have managed to beat those impossible odds, crystalline mirror souls, do these thoughts and feelings arrive safely at the front door of your heart, of your mind, from their permanent residence within mine? Do they burrow in deep, transmitting a signal containing the overwhelming amount of gratitude that I hold for you? Are you sending your own signal back?

The narrator grabs the subject and smiles. They open their mouth, saying out loud the one message that has managed to make its way through this frightening whirlwind of emotions, the one thing they've been meaning to say all along.

"Out of tens of thousands of feelings I've got / I'll tell you how glad I am to have met you"

---

If you couldn't tell that this song is one of my favorites to come out this year, I sure bet you can now! And not just because it came out on my birthday. I've been wanting to lay out my thoughts about this release since the day that I first heard it and started raving about it to my friends on discord. It really does hold a special place in my heart, the way its able to be so emotionally vulnerable and say all of the things that often don't get said. It makes me think about the people in my life. Do they know how much they mean to me, even if I've never said it out loud? I know there are more ways to show gratitude than with words but I also happen to think that the method that appears the simplest can have the greatest effect. On the other hand there's the part of me that craves a connection exactly like the one detailed in "hey! hey!". In contrast with the picturesque vision that the music video presents, my school days were quite lonely. I was one of those kids who went to school and went immediately home, preferring the comfort of my room and the stimulation of the internet over extracurriculars. I could go an entire school day without talking to somebody simply because I had no presence in the class, I didn't register on anyone's radar. Once the pandemic hit and I had no reason to physically interact with a majority of my peers, I felt even more disconnected.

There's a part of me that thinks I'm being overly dramatic. My family are all very loving and I've been lucky enough to know the person who I call my best friend for about 6 years now. We may not have started off this close but time many overlapping hobbies have made it so that our friendship feels effortless. But there will always be that part of me that yearns for things to just fall into place, to experience the sparkling school days as seen in the music video. I fantasize about what it would be like to meet someone and instantly have that natural understanding, the ability to speak my mind and be vulnerable around them without simultaneously wanting to crawl out of my own skin. I want a kindred spirit.

If the universe has handed you someone who you can easily connect with, someone who makes living even a little bit easier, hold them tight and never let them go. You were put on this earth at the same time for some unexplainable reason, and as my favorite lyric in the song says: "Being together is truly / Fate, much more than coincidence". Make sure they know they are loved and appreciated in whatever way you feel the most comfortable because one day it may be too late and regret is one of the most difficult feelings to move on from.

Didn’t mean to get so downcast at the end there but what can I say! Just me being me. It was nice to finally be able to think this song through and write (very informally) about some of the reasons why I love it. If anyone actually read all of this of their own volition, even if its just because I asked you to, you’re the best and I’m sending you a virtual high-five. Seeing as there are more than enough songs that have moved me in similar and different ways, I hope I’ll be able to put out more of these in the future.

Until then,

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[miscelunaaa]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

HELLO SUNNYYYYY

Ah, I was just wondering about this last night while I was organizing some of my notes, tbh. In a way, all of them are my favorite, because they've all got something I love in them, butttt I do have my favorites 😅 let's dive in!

Sodium Vapor: Ah, wow. I know I literally just wrote this last weekend, but I've never written anything like it. And I finally got to express some really deeply felt shit in a way that made it feel like it was worth feeling. I love this fic. I've reread it maybe five times already. And I'm floored and emotional every single time. In a lot of ways, it feels like a long poem. I'm trash at poetry, to be honest, but this felt so so close to chasing this fleeting emotion and loneliness that's sort of followed me for so long. I'm going to be thinking about this piece of writing for a really long time.

Flat Sprite and Saltine Crackers: I think about this fic all the time. It's another one of those that just hit out of nowhere, and suddenly I was writing and couldn't stop. It's the first example of writing I had where I felt genuinely confident that it did what I wanted it to do. And well, it's Dad!Joon. It almost never misses.

Give Yourself a Try: This fic held my hand when I needed it most. I'm still shocked it happened at all sometimes, and posting it was really kind of stressful. When you really really pour your heart into something like this, you get concerned that all of the feelings you've built into it are going to be overlooked for the 3k of smut at the end. I genuinely had that concern, because it often feels like folks on Tumblr are just after p0rn. This simple fact has been an enormous stressor over the past several weeks and it's irritating as fuck, especially if you're writing for the reasons I am. Instead, this fic became so much more than that for so many people. It's the best gift and love letter I could have written for myself, and so many other people felt the same and felt seen in a way I never expected them to. I cannot thank them enough for sharing their vulnerability with me. It was an amazing experience.

Three Minutes: I shit y'all not, I wrote this in the span of like, three or four hours. The note's creation time is 10:31 am, and the posting time is 3:22. I ate somewhere in there, and did some editing. Sometimes something just comes over you. This one made me so soft. Writing is often an emotional experience but this one was a little closer to home than the rest. That feeling of helplessness that one often feels when a faraway friend needs care and you're not there? That's something I feel regularly and deeply. So this was cathartic in away. It's also another example of a piece of writing that felt like it did what I intended it to do, and that's a feeling I deeply cherish.

Things Left Unsaid: I .... really have no other reason for picking this other than Rancher!Joon make brain go BRRRRRRRR and I really really love the fact that I got to be a little nitpicky about period costuming. I also really love the dynamic that these two have. I should have waited to make this something bigger but at the time I just needed something quick and hot and smutty and a little angry and just something about two people figuring their shit out together. I’m hoping I can get myself to revisit these two some time soon. They deserve it!

Alright, well that’s enough feelings for the day. The ups and downs of the past month are being keenly felt on the heels of the ongoing shit show that is being a human in this place and at this time so I’m going to go throw myself into working on something, and hope for the best. If you’ve made it this far, thank you! This was fun, albeit a little wobbly, to write :)

[westywrites]

Writing goals for 2022... is it really already 2022?

@erinnharper tagged me in her writing goals, reminding me that I've been working on this post and really should try to get it out during these first few days of January while it's still relevant haha

A quick summary of my goals for this coming year:

write a short play for my university's theatre festival

continue with the next drafts of The Corvine and the first draft of Cypress Ascending

start the first draft of The Corvine book two

edit and ~do things~ with some already written pieces

write some short stories, poetry, etc for fun!

most importantly, be kind to myself

Before I go into more detail on those, let's start by responding to my goals from last January and see how I did in 2021.

Review of 2021:

-SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED!- 2021 writing goal one: do a final round of editing on my play for the 2021 theatre festival before directing it in February

This virtual play went really well! It's even available on YouTube now and forever :)

-ABANDONED - goal two: write & host a virtual murder mystery

Unfortunately, due to the so many other things happening in my life (and everyone else's), I realized pretty quickly this one just wasn't gonna happen. If the stars align again someday, maybe I'll give it another shot, I miss the murder mystery parties I did before.

I had mixed success on my other various goals (write more short stories & flash fiction, use haikus as writing warmup, effectively use my free time to actually write, update and interact here more often). Life loves to throw all it's got at us, huh? Sure makes finding the time to write difficult.

- PLANS CHANGED - Now. The Big Goal from 2021 was to get The Corvine ready and out for beta reading - I kind of succeeded? I changed my plan and decided that instead of doing public beta reading after draft two, I wanted to do a private round of alpha reading with some close friends & fellow writers. So they're finishing up with that as I'm starting to get ready for draft three!

This brings us to this year's goals!

Goal one: write a short play for my university's theatre festival

I have the idea already (playing around with the ideas of deus ex machine/god from the machine and fate). It'll be good fun, just gotta get it written and edited before February.

Goal two: edit and ~do things~ with some already written pieces

I want to edit through the jukebox musical I wrote for funsies and because I really like it, I am considering actually sending it to Cosmo Sheldrake himself and seeing what he thinks of what I did with his songs. Who knows what will come from that lmao.

I'm also looking at editing some of my favourite short stories and maybe submitting to lit mags for publication, so that's something that might happen this year.

The Big Goal(s): continue with the next drafts of The Corvine and the first draft of Cypress Ascending & start the first draft of The Corvine book two

As I mentioned above, I have some alpha readers looking at The Corvine - they all told me they'd be done and fill out the questionnaire I sent them by mid-January. Soon, I'll be working on the third draft (I already have some ideas on how to fix the most pressing issues). Hopefully, after the third draft, I will actually be offering it up to a broader public for beta reading!

In an ideal world, I would also finish the first draft of Cypress Ascending this year, but the BEd program owns my ass, so who knows what will happen.

I'd also like to finish up the outlining and start drafting on the second book of The Corvine (current working title is The Vulpsin, idk if I've mentioned that here)

Otherwise, I also have informal goals to write some more short stories, poetry, etc and post more here for fun!

But, most importantly, my ultimate goal for 2022 is to be kind to myself.

Life is hard. I'm a student in teachers' college. I've got acting projects and other extra-curricular things. I've got a job. I want to read and do other art things. I've got a girlfriend and roommates to make time for. However much writing I can fit in is a good amount of writing.

I need to remember all that I'm facing and realize that. Writing is my passion. But so are so many other things as well. Any writing is a good amount of writing. It's okay, whatever I get done or don't.

---

I'll tag some people who I'm curious to hear what they have planned! If you've already made a post, feel free to tag me in a reblog. Also, of course, no pressure at all to do it, I'm just curious! @radley-writes @ratracechronicler @drowsy-quill @cwritesfiction and @yvesdot

[karlajoyner]

Stressed Out (Sunset Curve x Reader)

A/n: So starting off I've made a master list that I'm posting real soon for you all to access my stories without the scrolling. In order to post it I have to update my post about my requests/taglist and soon because I do get a lot on that comments that ask for more Charlie or more Owen and I wanna give you guys that but I also wanna make sure that I get through the requests that you guys send me with plots and storylines. It just makes it like a thousand times easier to have something to work off of. Opposed to me coming up with my own storylines that I have to do a lot of reading on my own to get my gears working! But again thank you guys for the comments! And finally I wanna say thank you for sending in your requests and your feed back. It is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: Alex is bi in this one not taking away from the fact that he's gay in the show it just runs best for this storyline! There is no Bobby btw! Haven’t written a foursome with 3 guys before so it might suck ass. And it’s not much but it’s something so enjoy my fellow fantoms!

Warnings: Smut (18+)

————

I internally groaned walking into school. I wasn't the worst student. But by far I certainly was not the best. Which is why I had a reputation since I first arrived to high school.

That and I was in a band with 3 of my best friends. Who all happened to be guys. Hot guys at that.

Which automatically made me the schools slut. It was fine with me but the boys didn't like the label.

No matter how true it was.

"Hey y/n heard you gave Mike Dawson a blowjob this weekend. Just when I thought you couldn't be anymore of a slut"

"Mind your fucking business Hayley" I heard a familiar voice speak up for me. A smirk spreading on my face as I felt an arm wrap around my shoulder.

"Did she come to you right after Patterson? What's it like to be her sloppy seconds?" Hayley Becker spoke with a wicked evil smirk plastered on her face.

"Fucking amazing actually. God the long nights we have. It's so great" I heard another familiar voice from my left. A large hand intertwining my fingers with theirs. She rolled her eyes clearly not expecting my boys to speak up for me. But then again neither was I.

"Slut"

"Skank"

"Whore"

"Bitch" I spoke as the bell rang.

"Just watch your back y/l/n" She said before turning around and walking away.

"She will!" Reggie shouted after the dark haired girl. The three of us expectantly looking at our bandmate.

"What? I didn't even get to tell her we would too" I sighed shaking my head at the boy.

"Thanks for sticking up for me guys but I can do that myself"

"We know. But your our girl. And apart of this band so we're kinda obligated" Alex spoke as the four of us walked to first period.

"Your really not"

"Come on y/n you know we're still gonna do it"

"I know and I only let you today cause I can't deal with that bitch at this time of day. I mean seriously it's 8:00 o'clock in the morning. Does she not have anything better to do than spread rumors about me?"

"Apparently not. So you and Jake Mills behind the church?" Reggie asked.

"Didn't happen considering I was with you idiots all weekend. You know your the only guys I touch" I bit my lip hearing the three of them chuckle.

"Yeah well it better stay that way. I don't wanna hear Trevor O'Connor bragging about banging you in the boys locker room again"

"Schools golden boy?" I questioned.

"He tried starting the rumor yesterday during p.e but we quickly shut it down" Reggie explained as I stopped a few feet away from the science room to continue talking.

"So Hayleys boyfriend wants to bang me? Wow"

"Yeah but don't even fucking thing about" Luke said pushing me up against the lockers beside us.

"I wasn't. Unless you guys piss me off" I grinned pushing him off of me. Opening the door a few feet away and walking in.

"Gentlemen. And Ms. y/l/n. Your late"

"Sorry Mrs. Daniels we had to deal with something"

"And did this something give you tardy passes"

"It did not"

"Detention. All of you"

"That's nothing new to them Mrs. Daniels"

"Shut the fuck up Hayley" I scoffed taking my seat beside Alex.

"Ladies stop it before I send you to the principal"

"Yes Mrs. Daniels" Hayley and I spoke in sync.

"I can't believe Luke dated her" I whispered towards Alex glaring at the blonde bimbo.

"Jealous?"

"Why would I be? I already have him. And I could have her boyfriend too if I wanted him" I said taking down the notes on the board.

"Mrs. Daniels I can't focus on the lesson because they're distracting me with their talking" Hayley spoke pointing an accusing finger at us.

"We are not!" I shouted sitting up.

"Yes you are probably talking about who your gonna whore around with next"

"Yeah it's your boyfriend if you don't check yourself Hayley"

"Trevor would never do that!"

"I'm pretty sure he would"

"Ladies principal office right now" I scoffed standing up.

"Wait!" Luke shouted standing up. Everyone's heads whipping toward him. He made his way over to me groping my left boob.

I scowled at how hard he squeezed glaring at him.

"Dickhead" I muttered.

"Mr. Patterson! You too principals office" We looked at the other two boys expectantly. Alex immediately rolling his eyes before standing up.

"We could do this the easy way or the hard way Mrs. Daniels"

"If she goes we go"

"I cannot send you two away for absolutely no reason Reginald" Mrs. Daniels spoke challenging the boys.

I close my eyes preparing myself for what came next. Alex was quick to slap my ass while Reggie pulled me in for a sweet kiss. Immediately earning gasps from my classmates.

"Now I can do it. Office all of you! And detention today after school!"

I groaned walking out of the principals office with my bandmates.

"Detention for 3 weeks. Seriously?"

"To make it worse we have to spend 2 of those with Hayley" I spoke seeing the blonde talking with Trevor just a few feet away. Being sure to send them a harsh glare, I finally turned back to the boys.

"Hey you'll be with us everything's gonna be fine" Reggie said throwing an arm around my shoulder leading me away to our next period. That we conveniently had together.

"No it won't. I also have to chaperone the stupid homecoming with Hayley" I cried wanting nothing more than for the day to be done for.

That afternoon we spent in detention not leaving until late afternoon. Due to the fact that my detention went on longer than the boys.

I walked into the studio behind Luke not really in the mood to practice.

"What's wrong y/n/n? You seem down" Reggie asked as I plopped back onto the couch.

"I'm just tired is all. And a little stressed out"

"But we've gotta practice baby, for our next gig. Sunset Curves so gonna rock that book club" Luke said picking up his six string. I watched as Alex and Reggie sent him a glare, the boy immediately putting it back down.

"Or we could take a day off" He spoke coming to sit to my left while Reggie was on my right.

"That sounds amazing" I mumbled feeling Alex begin to massage my shoulders from behind. I craned my neck allowing him more access. Now feeling a little more relaxed than before.

"So tell us y/n/n why are you stressed out?" Luke asked as I shut my eyes.

"Well for starters I'm so gonna get my ass beat when I get home" I sighed feeling Reggie begin to rub my arm to comfort me. Something he did often with how anxious I got.

"And there's just nothing I want to do more than run your ex girlfriend over with a bulldozer" I mumbled hearing a chuckle escape their lips.

"Sounds like a plan" Alex said as Luke intertwined our fingers.

"We'll make a day out of it. Just us four and a bulldozer" He joked making me giggle. The laugh got caught in my throat as I felt a soft kiss on the side of my neck.

"Seriously guys? Not today. No way" I spoke opening my eyes.

"We just wanna help you relax"

"That's what you said last time. I couldn't walk right for 2 days" I mumbled the last part.

"We'll be gentle" Reggie spoke.

"I know you will Reg. It's them I'm worried about" I spoke earning a pointed look from Alex.

"Okay Luke"

"Am I that rough?" He asked a frown forming on his face.

"Sometimes" I admitted feeling a little bad.

"Gee I'm sorry baby" Luke spoke kissing the back of my hand.

"It's okay. I like it when I'm in the mood" I said watching as Alex walked around the couch.

"Well then boys why don't we help our girl relax for today" Alex said bending down in front of me. I bit my lip as he spread my legs open feeling a slight breeze hit my covered core.

"Well there's no need for your skirt or these" Alex spoke toying with the waistbands of both my skirt and panties.

I shimmied out of them with ease leaving me exposed to my best friends like I'd been many times before.

"She just gets prettier every time"

"And wetter"

"Mind if I taste baby?" Luke asked. I nodded my head, watching as he dipped his long fingers in between my folds. Moaning as he pulled them back up to see them glistening with my cum.

"So good" He whispered putting them in his mouth.

"Okay I want a taste now" Alex said opening my legs a little wider.

"Guys. A little help" I huffed as Luke and Reggie hooked themselves on each of my thighs to keep me still.

"Please" I begged getting more turned on by the second. The blonde didn't hesitate to latch onto my core. A loud moan escaping my lips.

"Oh fuck" I struggled to keep still as he moved his tongue skillfully through my folds. Lapping it inside and out as moans fell from my lips.

I whimpered as Reggie slowly began to rub my clit making the pleasure intensify.

"Use y-you're f-fingers" I mustered out Alex obeying my request sticking two fingers in my wet pussy. Picking up the pace. My eyes screwed shut as a familiar feeling of bliss coursed through me.

"Look at me baby" Luke muttered turning my head to look at him with his free hand. I opened my eyes looking into his blue ones covered with complete lust.

He was quick to smash his lips onto mine as the other two worked on building up my orgasm. Which wasn't far at the pace Alex was working on me.

"Holy shit!" I panted pulling away and throwing my head back at the amazing sensation of my orgasm hitting.

"You squirted princess" Alex grinned wiping away the liquids dribbling down his chin. I giggled at his swollen pink lips placing a quick peck to them.

"What now baby?" Luke asked rubbing his hand on my thigh.

I looked at the three boys before discarding any remaining clothes I had left. Watching as their eyes raked me up and down like many times before.

"Reg can you just fuck me today. I really need gentle" I begged as his cheeks turned bright red whenever I asked him to do something. Whether it was sexual or not.

"Sure beautiful" He smiled lopsidedly pushing his lips onto mine.

I sighed in content as he pushed me down on the couch. My head landing on Luke's lap giving me a little leverage.

"She's something else" Alex spoke to no one in particular.

"Your telling me" Reggie panted pulling away to undo his belt and jeans. I bit my lip looking up at the boy with the blue eyes. Who no surprise had a smirk plastered on his face.

"Condom" I heard Alex say presumably to Reggie. But I was too entrance in Luke's gaze wanting to include him. Upon hearing a ripping of a package I glance back at the boy who was hovering above me.

"I can do something for you after if you want" I bit my lip speaking towards Luke.

"It's okay baby. It's about you today" He said moving his hand down from my collarbone to my boob.

Reggie and I moaned simultaneously as he slowly entered me. Immediately stretching me out.

"So tight" He muttered beginning to move at a steady pace.

A squeal escaping my lips as Luke pinched my nipples paying close attention to each of them. He'd always been a boob guy.

I pulled Reggie down towards me our lips meeting in the middle as his speed began to increase.

Then there they were again. Fingers were now rubbing circles on my clit presumably Alex's sending my body into pure ecstasy.

I moaned loudly into Reggies mouth as I felt myself my inner walls clench around him. Earning a groan from the bassist. His thrust becoming more sloppy.

"Shit. Shit. Oh fuck" He cursed as his orgasm hit. Mine coming seconds after.

"Holy fuck Reg" I panted coming down from my high.

"That was pretty fucking hot princess" Alex spoke as Reggie got off of me to go throw away the condom.

"I try" I joked sitting up. Luke immediately removing his muscle tee and handing it to me.

"You do know this isn't gonna cover much up right?" I questioned him putting it on anyway.

"Who said we wanted you to cover up baby" He said pulling me under his arm. I sighed contently placing my hands on his bare torso.

"Anyways Reg why don't you go run her a bath inside the house" Alex suggested throwing me my panties that had been thrown onto the lazy boy.

"Got it!" Reggie said coming over and placing a chaste kiss to my lips before running out of the garage.

"I get to clean her up in the shower. Called it" Luke said as Alex wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Just as long as I get to put her to bed"

"Guys I've orgasmed twice today give me a break"

"Are you feeling more relaxed princess?"

Alex asked grinning at me.

"Much. Now if we could do that consistently for the next 2 weeks then I might be able to get through detention with Hayley without ripping her head off" I spoke earning a laugh from the two boys. Both of them knowing well that I wasn't joking.

————

Up Next: Carrie Wilson x Reader

Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Alex x Male Reader

Luke Patterson x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

————

@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg

[thestorytellersapprentice]

Why Do-yeok

I cannot believe I'm writing another one of this "Why" post. I thought it's a one-time thing with Love Alarm... But, here I am. Maybe because just like the previously mentioned Netflix series, Nevertheless causes huge discourse among its viewers. Team Potato and Team Butterfly. Jae-eon and Do-hyeok. Sanctuary or the gravitational pull.

And first off, an important note: my intention by writing this is not to seek any debate with anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, so here's mine. Feel free to read it or definitely not to read it if you're firmly on Jae-eon's corner and you can't imagine Na-bi with anyone else but him. I just want to sort out my thoughts simultaneously through writing this. And this is gonna be a bit long, I suppose.

So, as the title already declares, I'm Team Potato all the way. And, yep, this means I'm thoroughly on Do-hyeok's side and I want him to be happy because he deserves it. (Still need to see what's in store in the final episode, but I'm perfectly okay with an open ending: Na-bi ends up not choosing anyone but herself, as long as her friendship with Do-hyeok remains intact.)

And this comes down simply because of who Yang Do-hyeok is as a person.

If Do-hyeok is real, then you can bet that I'll date him myself too. At the very least, I'd definitely like to be friends with him.

Why?

Because....

One. His whole vibe is just so....warm and comfortable. We often see Do-hyeok's cheerful sides. He smiles a lot (and boy, Chae Jong-hyeop's smiles are just so endearing, but we're talking about the character here. Ahem.) He's attentive, thoughtful, and open. And he's not only like this with Na-bi. He, by nature, is a very friendly person, as you can see from his interaction with Do-yeon, his cousin, also with Na-bi's friends and the hyeongs in the noodle restaurant that he works at.

And I like it a lot that even just after Do-hyeok confesses to Na-bi and she turns him down, the very next day, they're able to speak with each other normally and just talk about his videos and how she'll watch them and give him feedback. That night, Na-bi also answers his call with a smile on her face. They joke around and not even stopping after Do-hyeok throws her some arguably-cringey-lines (if uttered by other guys and not handled properly). Clearly, Na-bi's very on ease and comfortable with and around him despite everything that has happened.

She even says this on her own: "And most of all, I feel comfortable when I'm with him."

Two. With Do-hyeok, the communication is sterling. Honesty and communication is also very important in a healthy relationship. Your partner isn't a mind reader, so you gotta tell her/him what you feel and think about, especially when you're having a hard time, so you both can work on it together. And our potato guy is the perfect example of openness and honesty.

Even when he's having a hard time, he doesn't lash out (unlike a certain someone), but he communicates it clearly to Na-bi: "I saw you and Park Jae-eon going into your house together. I know I said that I could wait for you as long as it takes. But I felt so jealous."

Do-hyeok also casually throwing lines like: "It's nice to hear your voice. The whole neighborhood seems empty without you." which can be really cringey, but hearing these with Chae Jong-hyeop's delivery = it's just Do-hyeok openly sharing his thoughts. And, again, he's not just like this with Na-bi. That's just the way he is. He openly states his concerns and thoughts to people close to him.

After her first disaster relationship and Jae-eon (who's a master deflector on all personal questions and is truly opaque), IMO someone like Do-hyeok is what Na-bi needs. With Do-hyeok, she never has to guess where she stands. And Na-bi responds to his openness accordingly. She shares her worries and not-so-good moments ("I was spacing out because the critique went badly. I got scolded. This semester is really the worst. I didn't get accepted to the exchange program as well.") And of course, Do-hyeok responds by reassuring and encouraging her.

Three. They begin as friends. Childhood friends, even. And while some may point out that she friend-zones him, I beg to differ. The expression on Na-bi's face when she first sees Do-yeon and hasn't recognizes her is not the expression of someone who sees her just-platonic-friend conversing with a girl. You can practically see the gears in her head turning and she suddenly looks unsure: "Who is that girl talking to Do-hyeok?"

But anyway, iIluminatedquill has written here and here what I want to say and more, so I won't add any more here, other than this: it's my own personal preference as well. I'm just more drawn to romantic relationships which also evolve from friendship. I feel that lust will only get you so far, and the companionship aspect is what makes it long-lasting. (Even in my personal life, my boyfriend is not only my boyfie, he's my friend and partner in crime also.)

Four. Do-hyeok has good and normal relationships with his family. He obviously has good relationship with his Grandpa (judging from the way he's reviving his Grandpa's noodle place until his Grandpa feels better) and is close with his cousin, Do-yeon. While this is based on what's been shown and even though we never see or hear about his parents, I think it's safe to say that Do-hyeok most probably grows up in a loving family and he carries their values with him as he approaches his relationships with people as an adult.

Again, this is mostly personal preference, but as someone who highly value family, for me this is another point for Do-hyeok. I'm not saying that someone with dysfunctional family cannot form loving relationships, but it's what one aspires for.

Do-hyeok cares for people. He takes care of them (e.g. voicing concerns over Do-yeon's plastered hand, preparing umbrella and coffee for Na-bi, etc etc). And, sadly, Jae-eon's distant family background just makes him even more detached and non-committal towards people.

As for Na-bi, she wants to learn from her mother and not following in her footsteps. "I promise myself I would never date while watching my mom." It's heavily implied (and is practically confirmed by her aunt) that her mother dates around as well, and from the one scene we're shown during her birthday weekend, she always feels like her mother neglects her and she's upset about it. So, yeah, Na-bi wants to live differently, and it's clear who's a natural at it already.

Five. I can see them growing together. Yeah, Na-bi's mostly the one who needs to sort out her life, but she also can be a good influence to Do-hyeok. She gives him feedback on his videos (as an example) and he builds upon that.

From Na-bi herself: "I don't want to ever disappoint Do-hyeok." She sees him as such a good guy and always receives things from him. I interpret her line here as her desire to improve herself, to be better. And that's how a good relationship should be, right? It brings out the best out of each other.

That's it from me for now.

I guess some of the points up there can be different priorities for different people, and that's okay. As I've said at the beginning of this post, this is all mine, so feel free to disagree.

To me, Jae-eon is like this very strong gravitational pull: he's sexy, mysterious and very alluring, yet he displays oh-so-many red flags. It's all such a rollercoaster ride with him: very fun and thrilling, yet can also cause you extreme dread.

While Do-hyeok is like a sanctuary. He represents safety, stability and ease. With him, it's like strolling on a park somewhere under the sunshine: things feel warm, pleasant, and cozy.

Na-bi probably still feels the gravitational force of Jae-eon. It's hard to shake off completely on such a short span of time, but I hope she remembers that just like her namesake, she always have her own strength to fly and defy gravity.

[jonesywrites]

Hey, I love your writing! I think I've consumed everything at this point. Do you have any favorite stories you can recommend? I may have blasted through all the fic updates of my own faves and just looking to see if people are reading stuff I might have missed. Looking forward to your next updates! No pressure!

Anon!

First, I am so very sorry it’s taken me so damn long to answer this. 

I actually did answer it - I wrote a very long, very beautifully gif’d post and then accidentally scrolled left on this stupid macbook and I lost the entire fucking thing and I wanted to throw my laptop out of the window.

::calming breaths::

Let us pray that doesn’t happen again this time (I am a klutz, so it’s a definite possibility). Secondly, I decided that now is the perfect time to recreate this answer because a) there are some goddamned talented ass writers out there killing the game rn, b) there are also haters out there trying to steal our joy rn and not only is it not going to work, I think now is a good time to spread the love as far and wide through Richonne as possible, so reblog the shit out of this and get reading if you haven’t already and c) I don’t have time to write the way I want at the moment so I hope this makes up for it.

I also really really need a list I can return to b/c I signed up to read a lot and am still verrry slowly getting through it.

So! Here goes…

Current Favorite Richonne fics…!

1. Round After Round by @nattah-gudgrrl

ZA Canon - Rick and Michonne after 6x10, being domestic and sexy af, round after round.

Holy crap, Anon. I was hooked from the first few words. I’m not finished yet, but this is incredibly sexy and beautifully well-written. Nattah’s writing is hypnotic and poetic. She drops precious gems throughout each chapter with her words, the way she phrases things is so original and addictive. Rick and Michonne are pitch perfect, but so is everyone else (and she’s hilarious, btw). She includes music to score her amazing writing, and trust me, listening to her suggested tracks while reading will only suck you deeper into the tantalizing atmosphere she’s created with these two. AND THE SMUT. HOLY SHIT. Prepare yourself. I love opening up to a chapter and letting myself fall. I almost feel like I need to smoke a joint, turn out the lights, and close my door reading this, no joke. (no seriously, i’m not joking, be alone b/c you will feel thangs down there)

2. Musings of Rick Grimes by @nyese3529

NonZA AU - Rick as a NYC photographer slowly falling head over heels for a charismatic college student Michonne as she becomes his muse.

OKAY. I’m not sure anything I say here will do this amazing piece of fanfiction justice. I’m not even caught up, but the chapters I have read so far are PURE FIRE. Nyese is a master at unfolding a real, atmospheric, moody, sexy, intense, and totally riveting Rick and Michonne for us to fall in love with from the start. Rick’s attraction to Michonne leaps off the page, as does she. She is so damn cute and sexy and seeing her through Rick’s eyes the way Nyese has written them is just to die for. Nyese also NAILS New York City life, especially as a southern transplant and artist (I feel you Rick) AND as a young, gifted black woman looking to make a difference while everyone else covets her light (I feel you Michonne). It’s a beautiful read, and I encourage you to ASAP. The smut is off the chain, as in every fucking moment of it had me squirming around wishing I had me a Rick Grimes here in NYC damn you Nyese you’ve ruined me!

3. The Art of Control by @avintagekiss24

NonZA AU - Rick as a sexy, wealthy contractor Dom and Michonne the comic book shop/cafe owner as his sub in Atlanta (bonus: featuring probably the best version of Maggie I have ever read)

GOTDAMN. Let me tell you something. THIS IS THE SEXIEST RICK GRIMES OF ALL TIME FOR ME. Every fucking word Miss Kiss wrote for him to utter had my panties wet and my brow sweating, do you hear me? This fic is hot as fuck. Even before Rick Grimes shows up in the story, I was feeling hot and bothered about his mere existence, just like Michonne. The way Miss Kiss writes the buildup throughout their relationship is simply riveting. She’s a very visual writer, just like Nyese, so I can see, taste, feel, and ground myself in this stunning world of money, undeniable attraction and absolutely delicious sex. AND DID I MENTION HER MAGGIE IS SEXY AF, FUNNY AF, NAUGHTY AF, AND GODDAMN IT I WOULD SO BE HER PLAYTHING?? The plot is really good, too, like really good. Screw 50 Shades of Garbage. Miss Kiss’s sub!Michonne and Dom!Rick Grimes are what you want, what you need, what you deserve. Go forth, and savor every moment of this. In fact, I need to catch up, myself. Hell yeah.

4. Sirens of the ZA, by @isisnicole

ZA AU - Michonne and her two sisters, fierce, trained fighters, find and protect Carl. Richonne begins to develop once Carl is finally reunited with Rick three years later.

Sigh, I love this fic. Miss Isis hooked me with her stellar opening, and the plot just got more and more compelling the more I read. Carl is still very Carl, but he’s got that “loved, protected, and taught to survive by three amazing black women” vibe to him that makes my heart melt. Ila, Luna, and especially Michonne are just everything in this. EVERYTHING. Their relationship is tight af, they keep it real, they are badass warriors (trained, medal-winning warriors, mind) and even though your heart yearns for Rick and Carl to reunite and for Richonne to soar, you cannot help but fall in love with the family dynamic that Miss Isis has written for them with Carl. The tension between Rick and Michonne is even more intense in this than in canon when they first meet, I’d say, but deliciously so. And once they both start to realize the business, it’s time to pull out the popcorn because the buildup is sooooo good. And did I mention an alive Shane and Merle, also written so well you kinda sorta forget they didn’t make it in canon? Yeah. Read this.

5. Red Dirt Road by @siancore

NonZA AU - Young!Richonne in southern af King County, Georgia, teenagers that fall in love one summer along a red, dirt road.

Honestly, this fic is just perfect. The world is real. I can smell the dirt. I can feel the heat. Rick in this is juuuuuuuust….! He’s everything we think of when we think of a teenaged Rick (but not underage of course). Kind, responsible, stoic, patient, respectful, and sexy. Michonne is a vessel for us all, transporting us back in time to when we went to our grandmama’s house and she bossed us while loving us like nobody else could. The whole gang is there and they’re all written to perfection, especially Shane. He’s as shady and selfish and yet completely charismatic as you’d expect a young Shane to be. The story is so sweet and the pacing is comfortable, fun, and easy, just like those summers we spent messing around with our friends, falling in love, learning to drive, staying out after curfew. I adore Sian’s writing and this is by far my all-time favorite of hers right now. It’s a must, must read! 

To Continue Reading, So Help Me…!

1. HALO, by leeeel

Holy smokes. I have only read chapter one so far and it is absolutely amazing. AMAZING. I reeeeaalllyy need to get back into this one. Rick and Michonne meet under dire circumstances, and the mystery begins. The writing transports you, and I actually got chills reading this. CHILLS.

2. Deception by @severelybabykryptonite

YO. I HIGH KEY LOVE “THE BODYGUARD” AND THIS IS THE RICHONNE VERSION AND IT IS EVERYTHING. Rick as a no-nonsense bodyguard to Michonne’s sexy, vulnerable star is a dream come true. I really need to catch up on this one, it’s just so good and it’s visual and it makes my geeky movie+Richonne loving heart soar. 

3. The Day I Met You, by @chezza3009

I almost don’t know how to describe this one. It’s dark. It’s riveting. It’s nothing like I’ve ever read in Richonne before. Rick and Michonne in the aftermath of an affair that leaves Michonne devastated and Rick a mess. I don’t recognize this version of Michonne or Rick, but then I need to continue reading. What I’ve read so far makes me very, very intrigued by this story. And it shall have my undivided attention ASAP.

4. The Beginning, by @vegasloversteel

Once again, Vegaslover has an uncanny ability to hook you with great story telling, dialogue that flows like “how is she doing this??” and chemistry between Rick and Michonne that vibrates off the page. Richonne is hot hot hot in this. Set in their college years with a great plot and fun with all your faves. Gotta catch up!

5. Palm Trees, by @cake-by-thepound

I AM SO UPSET I CANNOT PARTICIPATE IN ANY OF THE JUICY FIC TALK GOING ON ABOUT THIS STORY RN. Arrrrgggh the spoilers I’ve seen alone are killing me not so softly. I just loooove the way Cake writes Richonne’s worlds. Rich, grounded, dramatic but in a real, honest-to-goodness “that could totally happen to me” way that makes me want to stand up and cheer. I know this is going to be a beautiful ride, so far everything I’ve read is perfection, as usual, so I’m really looking forward to the day I am finally caught up and I can (too late, of course) dip into the forums and be like “GURL. BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT PART WHEN…” 

You Thought I Was Done? LOL.

These are the stories I haven’t gotten to yet, but that are also on my list. I’ve heard nothing but good things and I am hoping to get to them soon!

Right Where We’re Supposed to Be by @tigerwalk3 - I’ve read her mini-fic Sparklers and I cannot wait to dive into this one. Her characterization alone is amazing, and the way she puts phrases and details together makes me low key jealous.

Honey Bees by @cranesinthe-sky - I don’t get enough Michonne and Judith in my fandom diet and I’ve heard some really awesome things about this one. I’ve heard nothing but praise for Lady Cranes’ writing, so I’m excited!

The TWD Chronicles by @yellehughes - I read Yelle’s Richonne Secret Fantasy fic and loved it, and I actually feel rather ashamed that I haven’t gone back to dive into this epic Olympian take on Richonne!! Allow me to correct this, with the quickness. 

The Hunter of Screams, by @codename-me - I started this, and holy crap is it amazing so far. Like me, Lady Codename has a thing for sci-fi and fantasy, and her writing is rich and detailed and visual, which totally turns me on. 

The End of Wanting, by @glowysweetfab​ - I have started this, and love this period AU, it’s immersive and the plot is so interesting I’m not even all that fussed to get to the romance bits (well that’s a lie, of course I’m trolling for smut but I’m really enjoying the ride).

Honestly, there are so many more stories I have favorited/followed that it would take me all night to list them all here. But I will do more posts like these as I finish fics and move on to others, it’s important to me to show the same support for all of these amazingly talented writers that they have shown to me, and to spread as much positivity as possible because they deserve it. 

This fandom is chock a block full of major talent, huge hearts, astonishing intellect, and abundant passion. No one can deny that, and anyone who does is lying. 

READ AND WRITE ON, RICHONNERS!!!!

Thanks for the ask, Anon! 

-Kendra

P.S. I promise I will get back to updating as soon as I can. I’m in the middle of preparing myself to move across the country and transition to a new career. But my beloved fics are always on my mind, and boy do I have such glorious Richonne in store for you! Thanks for sticking with me! I promise you won’t regret adding a few of these ladies to your reading list, either, if you haven’t already. 

[ongames]

I've Never Felt Worse Than In The Moment I Looked My 'Best'

There is a photo of me, the best one I have. Maybe the best one I’ll ever have.

It was one of hundreds taken by a professional photographer whose pleasantly scruffy assistant spent hours flitting around her, holding a disc reflector to throw the Parisian summer light onto me just so. Before she’d even picked up her camera and he’d reluctantly put down his cigarette, a makeup artist had spent 90 minutes on my face, my hair, my nails. They were going for a ‘50s bombshell look – I’m not entirely sure why, now, but it made sense at the time – so there were hair extensions and curlers and false eyelashes and very bold red lips. In this photo, I’m sitting on a staircase, my hair mimicking the a curly black wrought iron bannister, with my hands demurely in my lap but my mouth slightly open in a Jessica Simpson-ish kind of way. My wrap dress, which I almost never wore in real life because it was too revealing, too clingy, is showing just the right amount of flesh. My eyes, thanks to the falsies and whatever witchcraft the surly makeup artist did with my brows, look enormous.

After the shoot was over, the photographer culled just three photos from the hundreds she took in the space of a few hours, and sent them to me. This is the best of those three. Years have gone by, and this is still the best I’ve ever looked in a photo. It’s also the unhealthiest I have ever been.

When it was taken, I’d been heavily restricting my food intake and compulsively over-exercising for about a year-and-a-half. I was the thinnest I’d been in years, and not that much thinner than I’d been when I fell down that hole, which, now, makes me feel both relief (thank god I didn’t do too much permanent damage) and regret (if I wasn’t even skinny, what the hell was all that suffering for?).

I was unspeakably miserable, literally: Despite being a professional writer, I couldn’t muster the courage to explain to anyone but a therapist how unhappy I was, or marshal the words to do my misery justice. But I was functional: working, traveling, and maintaining a social life ― even though I had to run extra miles to compensate for whatever I ate when people were watching. And this photo shoot was to accompany an essay I’d written for a well-regarded weekend magazine, an international byline, a big deal. The night before, I went for a run and ate lettuce for dinner. The morning of, I drank coffee and ate nothing.

The photo was taken before the rise of Instagram, though Facebook and Twitter were already in full force. Had I had access to a photo-focused social media network at the time I’m sure I would have posted it, probably with a performatively self-effacing caption, and watched with grim satisfaction as the likes and approving comments piled up. This week, in honor of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, I decided to post it, and to be honest about the wide chasm between what that photo shows and the truth. 

Thinness is an achievement for women, one we’re expected to work for if we’re not blessed with skinny genes, and offer sheepish, secretly-smug apologies for if it is gifted to us by nature. It’s a trophy we’re expected to hold on to at all costs.

The truth was that I was drowning. On the outside, things looked pretty good: My career was humming along, I was dating a great guy, I was spending the summer in Paris doing research for grad school, and hey, I’d dropped two pants sizes. For young women, this is what winning looks like.  

In fact, scratch the first three-quarters of that list, and just keep the newfound sense that you’ve earned the right to wear shorts in public: for young women, this is what winning looks like. Skinniness covers all manner of other failure, just as failure to be skinny can dim the sparkle on all manner of other success. There was a reason people were complimenting me on my “accomplishment,” praising my shrinking body. Thinness is an achievement for women, one we’re expected to work for if we’re not blessed with skinny genes, and offer sheepish, secretly-smug apologies for if it is gifted to us by nature. It’s a trophy we’re expected to hold on to at all costs.

Never mind that much of what I produced that summer was garbage, limp and listless writing that had to be redone because it lacked rigor. Never mind that I was lying to that great guy, pretending to be the healthy, naturally slender woman I knew he wanted to be with. Never mind that I spent those months denying myself French food and running along the pretty streets of Paris without ever really seeing them. Never mind; look what I’d accomplished. It was right there in the photo.

My illness never manifested as anything other than an achievement, because it was largely invisible. In that photo, I’m the thinnest I’ve been since hitting puberty in earnest, but I’m not skinny. I do not look sick. I do not look like a person who is suffering. I look like a person has succeeded at losing weight – and so I was. Very few people noticed that something was terribly wrong, because it looked like I was doing something right. This is not uncommon: eating disorders are exercises in secrecy, and while some of us fit the stereotype of the hyper-skinny anorexic, all bones and eyes, many of us don’t. Many of us hide our worst behavior behind closed doors, and hide the rest in plain sight.

I starved myself for two long years, with very little to show for it in the way of weight loss, and even less in the way of proof that I was sick. Again, this isn’t uncommon: There are lots of us out here starving, bingeing, purging and over-exercising, looking nothing like your mental image of a person with an eating disorder. You may think this makes our suffering less real, less corrosive. We may even think that ourselves – I did. I was wrong.

There are so many people walking around looking the “best” they’ve ever looked, and paying far too steep a price, a hidden cost they feel compelled to keep paying.

When, after a year-and-a-half of seeing a therapist, something finally shifted, and I started eating properly again, it showed in photos. In pictures from that year, I look puffy in the face and arms, like my body is clinging to every scrap of fat it’s given. Which, of course, it was. The body is smart: if you starve it once, it will forever be preparing for the next famine.

In those newer photos I am the picture of health, or at least, the picture of healthier. And yet, I don’t like to look at them. I don’t like the photo of me clambering on an ancient Sequoia with my colleagues on a work retreat. I don’t like the photo of me smiling at a dear friend’s wedding and surrounded by brilliant, loving women. I like the old photo, the bombshell photo, the photo that tells lies. It’s in a frame on my new boyfriend’s windowsill. I’m healthier now, and lucky to be so, but if there had been a oath to mental health that had involved no weight gain – well, I’d have been in recovery sooner, and I would have recovered faster. 

My suffering made me look great. There is no getting around this: my self-inflicted pain was rewarded with praise and sexual interest and even short-lived flashes of self-confidence. And there is no getting around the truth that I like the old photo better than the new ones. Just as I am working to accept that some people will always offer, “you’ve lost weight!” as a compliment, I am working to accept the uncomfortable, unhealthy truth: I have never looked “better” than when I was at my worst.

And I know I wasn’t alone. There are so many people walking around looking the “best” they’ve ever looked, and paying far too steep a price, a hidden cost they feel compelled to keep paying. To those people I say: I know your pain, and I promise it won’t always feel this way. It took work, to travel from that hungry day on the staircase, all dolled up and empty inside, to where I am now. It takes work every day, sometimes every hour, and it’s never a straight line. I look fine now, I suppose. I feel fierce, and I mourn the years I lost.

So the photo stays. As reminder of where I used to be, as a way to mark how far I’ve come. And as a reminder of the gap between truth and pretty fictions.

If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorder Association hotline at 1-800-931-2237.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

I've Never Felt Worse Than In The Moment I Looked My 'Best' published first on http://ift.tt/2lnpciY

[yes-dal456]

I've Never Felt Worse Than In The Moment I Looked My 'Best'

There is a photo of me, the best one I have. Maybe the best one I’ll ever have.

It was one of hundreds taken by a professional photographer whose pleasantly scruffy assistant spent hours flitting around her, holding a disc reflector to throw the Parisian summer light onto me just so. Before she’d even picked up her camera and he’d reluctantly put down his cigarette, a makeup artist had spent 90 minutes on my face, my hair, my nails. They were going for a ‘50s bombshell look – I’m not entirely sure why, now, but it made sense at the time – so there were hair extensions and curlers and false eyelashes and very bold red lips. In this photo, I’m sitting on a staircase, my hair mimicking the a curly black wrought iron bannister, with my hands demurely in my lap but my mouth slightly open in a Jessica Simpson-ish kind of way. My wrap dress, which I almost never wore in real life because it was too revealing, too clingy, is showing just the right amount of flesh. My eyes, thanks to the falsies and whatever witchcraft the surly makeup artist did with my brows, look enormous.

After the shoot was over, the photographer culled just three photos from the hundreds she took in the space of a few hours, and sent them to me. This is the best of those three. Years have gone by, and this is still the best I’ve ever looked in a photo. It’s also the unhealthiest I have ever been.

When it was taken, I’d been heavily restricting my food intake and compulsively over-exercising for about a year-and-a-half. I was the thinnest I’d been in years, and not that much thinner than I’d been when I fell down that hole, which, now, makes me feel both relief (thank god I didn’t do too much permanent damage) and regret (if I wasn’t even skinny, what the hell was all that suffering for?).

I was unspeakably miserable, literally: Despite being a professional writer, I couldn’t muster the courage to explain to anyone but a therapist how unhappy I was, or marshal the words to do my misery justice. But I was functional: working, traveling, and maintaining a social life ― even though I had to run extra miles to compensate for whatever I ate when people were watching. And this photo shoot was to accompany an essay I’d written for a well-regarded weekend magazine, an international byline, a big deal. The night before, I went for a run and ate lettuce for dinner. The morning of, I drank coffee and ate nothing.

The photo was taken before the rise of Instagram, though Facebook and Twitter were already in full force. Had I had access to a photo-focused social media network at the time I’m sure I would have posted it, probably with a performatively self-effacing caption, and watched with grim satisfaction as the likes and approving comments piled up. This week, in honor of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, I decided to post it, and to be honest about the wide chasm between what that photo shows and the truth. 

Thinness is an achievement for women, one we’re expected to work for if we’re not blessed with skinny genes, and offer sheepish, secretly-smug apologies for if it is gifted to us by nature. It’s a trophy we’re expected to hold on to at all costs.

The truth was that I was drowning. On the outside, things looked pretty good: My career was humming along, I was dating a great guy, I was spending the summer in Paris doing research for grad school, and hey, I’d dropped two pants sizes. For young women, this is what winning looks like.  

In fact, scratch the first three-quarters of that list, and just keep the newfound sense that you’ve earned the right to wear shorts in public: for young women, this is what winning looks like. Skinniness covers all manner of other failure, just as failure to be skinny can dim the sparkle on all manner of other success. There was a reason people were complimenting me on my “accomplishment,” praising my shrinking body. Thinness is an achievement for women, one we’re expected to work for if we’re not blessed with skinny genes, and offer sheepish, secretly-smug apologies for if it is gifted to us by nature. It’s a trophy we’re expected to hold on to at all costs.

Never mind that much of what I produced that summer was garbage, limp and listless writing that had to be redone because it lacked rigor. Never mind that I was lying to that great guy, pretending to be the healthy, naturally slender woman I knew he wanted to be with. Never mind that I spent those months denying myself French food and running along the pretty streets of Paris without ever really seeing them. Never mind; look what I’d accomplished. It was right there in the photo.

My illness never manifested as anything other than an achievement, because it was largely invisible. In that photo, I’m the thinnest I’ve been since hitting puberty in earnest, but I’m not skinny. I do not look sick. I do not look like a person who is suffering. I look like a person has succeeded at losing weight – and so I was. Very few people noticed that something was terribly wrong, because it looked like I was doing something right. This is not uncommon: eating disorders are exercises in secrecy, and while some of us fit the stereotype of the hyper-skinny anorexic, all bones and eyes, many of us don’t. Many of us hide our worst behavior behind closed doors, and hide the rest in plain sight.

I starved myself for two long years, with very little to show for it in the way of weight loss, and even less in the way of proof that I was sick. Again, this isn’t uncommon: There are lots of us out here starving, bingeing, purging and over-exercising, looking nothing like your mental image of a person with an eating disorder. You may think this makes our suffering less real, less corrosive. We may even think that ourselves – I did. I was wrong.

There are so many people walking around looking the “best” they’ve ever looked, and paying far too steep a price, a hidden cost they feel compelled to keep paying.

When, after a year-and-a-half of seeing a therapist, something finally shifted, and I started eating properly again, it showed in photos. In pictures from that year, I look puffy in the face and arms, like my body is clinging to every scrap of fat it’s given. Which, of course, it was. The body is smart: if you starve it once, it will forever be preparing for the next famine.

In those newer photos I am the picture of health, or at least, the picture of healthier. And yet, I don’t like to look at them. I don’t like the photo of me clambering on an ancient Sequoia with my colleagues on a work retreat. I don’t like the photo of me smiling at a dear friend’s wedding and surrounded by brilliant, loving women. I like the old photo, the bombshell photo, the photo that tells lies. It’s in a frame on my new boyfriend’s windowsill. I’m healthier now, and lucky to be so, but if there had been a oath to mental health that had involved no weight gain – well, I’d have been in recovery sooner, and I would have recovered faster. 

My suffering made me look great. There is no getting around this: my self-inflicted pain was rewarded with praise and sexual interest and even short-lived flashes of self-confidence. And there is no getting around the truth that I like the old photo better than the new ones. Just as I am working to accept that some people will always offer, “you’ve lost weight!” as a compliment, I am working to accept the uncomfortable, unhealthy truth: I have never looked “better” than when I was at my worst.

And I know I wasn’t alone. There are so many people walking around looking the “best” they’ve ever looked, and paying far too steep a price, a hidden cost they feel compelled to keep paying. To those people I say: I know your pain, and I promise it won’t always feel this way. It took work, to travel from that hungry day on the staircase, all dolled up and empty inside, to where I am now. It takes work every day, sometimes every hour, and it’s never a straight line. I look fine now, I suppose. I feel fierce, and I mourn the years I lost.

So the photo stays. As reminder of where I used to be, as a way to mark how far I’ve come. And as a reminder of the gap between truth and pretty fictions.

If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorder Association hotline at 1-800-931-2237.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from http://ift.tt/2mjj9Ac from Blogger http://ift.tt/2lyoEGU

[imreviewblog]

I've Never Felt Worse Than In The Moment I Looked My 'Best'

There is a photo of me, the best one I have. Maybe the best one I’ll ever have.

It was one of hundreds taken by a professional photographer whose pleasantly scruffy assistant spent hours flitting around her, holding a disc reflector to throw the Parisian summer light onto me just so. Before she’d even picked up her camera and he’d reluctantly put down his cigarette, a makeup artist had spent 90 minutes on my face, my hair, my nails. They were going for a ‘50s bombshell look – I’m not entirely sure why, now, but it made sense at the time – so there were hair extensions and curlers and false eyelashes and very bold red lips. In this photo, I’m sitting on a staircase, my hair mimicking the a curly black wrought iron bannister, with my hands demurely in my lap but my mouth slightly open in a Jessica Simpson-ish kind of way. My wrap dress, which I almost never wore in real life because it was too revealing, too clingy, is showing just the right amount of flesh. My eyes, thanks to the falsies and whatever witchcraft the surly makeup artist did with my brows, look enormous.

After the shoot was over, the photographer culled just three photos from the hundreds she took in the space of a few hours, and sent them to me. This is the best of those three. Years have gone by, and this is still the best I’ve ever looked in a photo. It’s also the unhealthiest I have ever been.

When it was taken, I’d been heavily restricting my food intake and compulsively over-exercising for about a year-and-a-half. I was the thinnest I’d been in years, and not that much thinner than I’d been when I fell down that hole, which, now, makes me feel both relief (thank god I didn’t do too much permanent damage) and regret (if I wasn’t even skinny, what the hell was all that suffering for?).

I was unspeakably miserable, literally: Despite being a professional writer, I couldn’t muster the courage to explain to anyone but a therapist how unhappy I was, or marshal the words to do my misery justice. But I was functional: working, traveling, and maintaining a social life ― even though I had to run extra miles to compensate for whatever I ate when people were watching. And this photo shoot was to accompany an essay I’d written for a well-regarded weekend magazine, an international byline, a big deal. The night before, I went for a run and ate lettuce for dinner. The morning of, I drank coffee and ate nothing.

The photo was taken before the rise of Instagram, though Facebook and Twitter were already in full force. Had I had access to a photo-focused social media network at the time I’m sure I would have posted it, probably with a performatively self-effacing caption, and watched with grim satisfaction as the likes and approving comments piled up. This week, in honor of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, I decided to post it, and to be honest about the wide chasm between what that photo shows and the truth. 

Thinness is an achievement for women, one we’re expected to work for if we’re not blessed with skinny genes, and offer sheepish, secretly-smug apologies for if it is gifted to us by nature. It’s a trophy we’re expected to hold on to at all costs.

The truth was that I was drowning. On the outside, things looked pretty good: My career was humming along, I was dating a great guy, I was spending the summer in Paris doing research for grad school, and hey, I’d dropped two pants sizes. For young women, this is what winning looks like.  

In fact, scratch the first three-quarters of that list, and just keep the newfound sense that you’ve earned the right to wear shorts in public: for young women, this is what winning looks like. Skinniness covers all manner of other failure, just as failure to be skinny can dim the sparkle on all manner of other success. There was a reason people were complimenting me on my “accomplishment,” praising my shrinking body. Thinness is an achievement for women, one we’re expected to work for if we’re not blessed with skinny genes, and offer sheepish, secretly-smug apologies for if it is gifted to us by nature. It’s a trophy we’re expected to hold on to at all costs.

Never mind that much of what I produced that summer was garbage, limp and listless writing that had to be redone because it lacked rigor. Never mind that I was lying to that great guy, pretending to be the healthy, naturally slender woman I knew he wanted to be with. Never mind that I spent those months denying myself French food and running along the pretty streets of Paris without ever really seeing them. Never mind; look what I’d accomplished. It was right there in the photo.

My illness never manifested as anything other than an achievement, because it was largely invisible. In that photo, I’m the thinnest I’ve been since hitting puberty in earnest, but I’m not skinny. I do not look sick. I do not look like a person who is suffering. I look like a person has succeeded at losing weight – and so I was. Very few people noticed that something was terribly wrong, because it looked like I was doing something right. This is not uncommon: eating disorders are exercises in secrecy, and while some of us fit the stereotype of the hyper-skinny anorexic, all bones and eyes, many of us don’t. Many of us hide our worst behavior behind closed doors, and hide the rest in plain sight.

I starved myself for two long years, with very little to show for it in the way of weight loss, and even less in the way of proof that I was sick. Again, this isn’t uncommon: There are lots of us out here starving, bingeing, purging and over-exercising, looking nothing like your mental image of a person with an eating disorder. You may think this makes our suffering less real, less corrosive. We may even think that ourselves – I did. I was wrong.

There are so many people walking around looking the “best” they’ve ever looked, and paying far too steep a price, a hidden cost they feel compelled to keep paying.

When, after a year-and-a-half of seeing a therapist, something finally shifted, and I started eating properly again, it showed in photos. In pictures from that year, I look puffy in the face and arms, like my body is clinging to every scrap of fat it’s given. Which, of course, it was. The body is smart: if you starve it once, it will forever be preparing for the next famine.

In those newer photos I am the picture of health, or at least, the picture of healthier. And yet, I don’t like to look at them. I don’t like the photo of me clambering on an ancient Sequoia with my colleagues on a work retreat. I don’t like the photo of me smiling at a dear friend’s wedding and surrounded by brilliant, loving women. I like the old photo, the bombshell photo, the photo that tells lies. It’s in a frame on my new boyfriend’s windowsill. I’m healthier now, and lucky to be so, but if there had been a oath to mental health that had involved no weight gain – well, I’d have been in recovery sooner, and I would have recovered faster. 

My suffering made me look great. There is no getting around this: my self-inflicted pain was rewarded with praise and sexual interest and even short-lived flashes of self-confidence. And there is no getting around the truth that I like the old photo better than the new ones. Just as I am working to accept that some people will always offer, “you’ve lost weight!” as a compliment, I am working to accept the uncomfortable, unhealthy truth: I have never looked “better” than when I was at my worst.

And I know I wasn’t alone. There are so many people walking around looking the “best” they’ve ever looked, and paying far too steep a price, a hidden cost they feel compelled to keep paying. To those people I say: I know your pain, and I promise it won’t always feel this way. It took work, to travel from that hungry day on the staircase, all dolled up and empty inside, to where I am now. It takes work every day, sometimes every hour, and it’s never a straight line. I look fine now, I suppose. I feel fierce, and I mourn the years I lost.

So the photo stays. As reminder of where I used to be, as a way to mark how far I’ve come. And as a reminder of the gap between truth and pretty fictions.

If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorder Association hotline at 1-800-931-2237.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from Healthy Living - The Huffington Post http://huff.to/2mQdWfM