this is my second town

Confessions in the Moonlight | Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 1780

Summary: After nearly a month of avoiding you, Jungkook finally confesses the true reason behind it.

Originally posted by sugutie

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Band members are human beings, they’re allowed to have shitty days and they are allowed to defend themselves when someone is being rude to them. Please don’t say ‘it’s part of their job’ to take in all the hate and smile like nothing’s wrong because it’s not.
—  Common Fucking Sense
(ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ACNL giveaway

thank u all for 900+ followers!! i appreciate u all for following and decided to host a lil giveaway for everyone yay

 The prizes are~ 

✿ First place ✿ 
☆ 10 mil bells 
☆ 5 sets of your choosing
☆ 10 mins in my landscaping town
☆ any 20 items 

  ✿ Second place ✿ 
☆ 5 mil bells 
☆ 3 sets of your choosing 
☆ 10 mins in my landscaping town
☆ any 15 items

  ✿ Third place ✿
☆ 2 mil bells
☆ 2 sets of your choosing
☆ 5 mins in my landscaping town
☆ any 5 items 

Followers would also get a dreamie of their choice ~! and lil doodle of their mayor (if they want ;o;) 

If you are NOT a follower, you’re only eligible to get third prize. (its to thank my followers after all, but since im not a pure acnl blog, the choice is there)
☆ Like and reblog to enter! (just don’t spam your followers)
☆ Must be willing to provide FC to be able to get all the prizes ^^
☆ For the adopted villager, make sure you have a spot open within a week!!
☆ No giveaway blogs please, and don’t enter if you plan to just sell these items for a profit ;~;
☆ Must have IM open and respond in 24 hours or a new winner will be chosen
☆ Please don’t tag this #giveaway
 Don’t follow just for the giveaway, its a tad rude

signal boosts are appreciated if you don’t want to join!!! if ur on a side blog just put ur main in the tags <: 
good luck friends!! people have been nice to me so i guess i want to give back c: 

Ends: 22nd June AEST  (●っゝω・)っ~☆

Cleopatra (Tom Holland)

Originally posted by j-murphy

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actor!Reader

Warning: Mention of death

Summary: Y/n writes letters to her ex-boyfriend, Tom when break up after he asks her to marry him. She writes all the letters in hope that he’ll come back to her. 

Author: Dizzy

A/N: Just a little fic I decided to write while listening to “Cleopatra” by The Lumineers.  Antony is the sequel with Tom’s responses to the letters Y/n writes.

Masterlist Request a Prompt

                                                                                                       May 30, 2017

Dear Tom,

It’s been two weeks since you left me and I really wish we hadn’t fallen apart. It’s been three weeks since we buried my father and I wish he was here to help me figure out how to move on.

But please, baby, you have to understand why I said no to your proposal. You asked on the first saddest day of my life, the second being your departure from my life, from our town. 

“No” just seemed to fall from my lips without warning that day. That makes sense though, believe me. I couldn’t get engaged the day my father was put to rest. 

Don’t you remember? I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. Hell, you had to force me to take a shower by doing it with me, by washing my body for me. I was sobbing on the bed in my childhood room when you knelt beside me. When you kept the mascara that stained my face from staining those pink rose and white sheets. 

It was when my sobs subsided, when everyone stopped coming by to see how I was that you pressed that ring into my hand, the one my father gave you when you asked for his hand in marriage. The very ring he placed in my mother’s when he asked her to marry him. 

“Marry me.” was all you had said, so simple and effective. 

I was shocked, my face sticky and my mouth dry as it hung open and your lips pursed into a nervous smirk. 

“No.” fell from my lips and the tears once again began to flow, not from my eyes, but yours.

It was the first time I had seen you cry. The first time I had seen sobs take over your being as you repeated the question of “why?”

Yet, I couldn’t answer why I said no, why I allowed the answer to fall from my lips when I truly wanted to say “yes”, especially when you stained my bed sheets, the beautiful pink roses, with angry tears.

                                                                                                          Forgive me,


p.s. Happy early birthday. I hid a present for you under the staircase.

                                                                                                        June 1, 2017

Dear Tom,

I’d hate to rain on your birthday parade, but I couldn’t get you off my mind. You’re welcome for the gift, it was the least I could do. I still love you, you know. Even if we aren’t friends or dating. 

I have some news. I will be playing Cleopatra in the movie adaption of Cleopatra and Antony. I know you probably don’t care, but I am very glad to have landed such a large role. 

That day still runs through my head. That Sunday. 

I remember how I left the mud stains on my father’s beautiful white carpet when you chased me out of the rain and into the warmth of that little house on the hill. I remember the sticky and sweet smell of the rain on our skin, the way you shook you head to dry off. 

I still remember how it took you all day to find out that the mud on the carpet couldn’t be removed because of how it hardened and cracked like my heart did when you announced you were leaving me. 

That day, Sunday, had gone by so slowly. The rain droned on overhead. The umbrellas were all black except for yours, with it’s bright and odd blue that seemed to make us stand out more than when I came crashing into you with loud and overwhelming sobs. The rain didn’t touch you, didn’t seem as if it ever would, like it was scared of the strength you had. 

I know you loved my father as much as I did and your lack of emotion, or should I say your perseverance of emotion, was all to protect me from the dark and dreariness of the day. I know when you discovered the mud stains on the carpet had cracked and dried, your eyes didn’t glazed over and your brows hadn’t furl because of what you thought people would think when they saw it. I know that they did that because you, yourself, were trying to keep from crying at the thought of how my father would’ve joined me in making those stains in the carpet he hated so much.  

I took up his way of transportation, taking the subway instead of the cab. It’s better for me that way. The sounds of the conductor’s unintelligible voice and the rumbles of the train on the tracks keeps me distracted from all the strangers around me that remind me of you. 

Like now, for example. As I write this letter, there’s a little boy and his mother that sit across from me.

The little boy looks as if he could be your son, with the same tousled hair, the same big eyes and bright smile. He speaks of animals and the heroes in his little children’s novels with such intelligence, just as your mother said you had done at that age. 

Sadly, not the conductor nor the thunder like rumbles and crashes of the subway can keep me distracted from this child, this little boy who makes me wonder what would’ve happened if I kept you around. 

                                                                                                           I miss you,


p.s. I hope you have a great birthday. Say hello to Harrison for me.

                                                                                                     June 4, 2017

Dear Tom,

I went to a church today. It was magnificent, open and stained with colorful streams of light that came from the windows. The tragic faces of Jesus and the saints seemed to make me feel comforted for the first time in a while.

Yet, it still made me feel empty, still made me miss you somehow. 

Maybe it was the speaking of how the church discouraged the lust for you that burns within me or the way they frowned upon my own beliefs that made me yearn for your comfort more than that of those red candles that burned around me. 

So, I left. I couldn’t stay much longer and I don’t know if I really want to go back because the only gifts from the Lord the church spoke of so highly were birth and my father and the Lord already took one of those gifts away. 

But maybe you were a gift as well. I may never know since we’re drawn apart, New York and London. Across the pond and worlds away.

Well, I feel like I should talk about, that I must admit it. I would marry you in an instant. Hell, I’d be your mistress if that meant I could have you around, in my world, on my side of the pond. 

The way your tears stained my bed sheets, the way your rosy cheeks turned a fiery red when your sobs subsided and you looked into my eyes is still a permanent image in my brain. 

To answer your question, no, I didn’t think of you that day. I didn’t think about how you felt when you had to pull me out of the rain, when you sobbed on my bedroom floor or how you felt when you left town. 

I guess I was late in figuring things out. I’m always late, Tom. Don’t you know? I’m always damn late. In getting out on time, in getting things done, in figuring out that you’re the love of my life. 

                                                                                                I’m sorry, my love,


p.s. My new apartment has a master bed and a joint bathroom, a place for you. 

                                                                                                        June 7, 2017

Dear Tom, 

Yes, if the offer is still on the table. If you will let me.

                                                                                                             With love,


During my second semester at school when the “we are number one” meme came out we had a whole week where artists would come out and speak to our classes. The third day was a character designer (I think) of Tomb Raider, and the guy was almost done with his presentation and was giving a very heartfelt and serious message towards us to go out and do what we love
But as he stops to think about what he’s going to say, meaning the whole room got quiet (which was huge as well, around a church size)
“wow, love the nice jazz music to accompany my message”

The Violinist

* Lin-Manuel x Reader
* Modern rpf
* Orchestra Reader

    A/N: Here it is! my idea made a real thing! So, the beginning is kinda slow…but it’s important for the rest of the story so yeah. But enjoy!

    Word Count: 3,747


    You had first met Lin when you played in the orchestra for In The Heights. At the time you were playing saxophone. Saxophone wasn’t your main or original instrument, it was actually violin, however you had learned saxophone a long while ago. It came in handy. In the beginning of In The Heights, Lin was in the room while orchestra was rehearsing. You had caught him looking at you with a strange look on his face. Still, you didn’t get much of a chance to meet him until a cast party. You knew many of the cast members so they insisted that you come along.

    However, it got late and you got slightly tipsy. You sat down during the party, you buried your face in your hands. It wasn’t crazy or anything, it was a relatively calm bar, but you were tired and a little drunk. “Y/N?” A voice asked. You glanced up and saw Lin looking at you in concern. He still had a Usnavi type hat on over his hair. “Are you alright?”

    “Uh, yeah sure.” You shrugged.

    “Uh huh.” Lin said, unconvinced. “You just look completely miserable.”

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    Was getting a bit frustrated last night so I played some harvest moon to get my mind of things and today wanted to draw my fave girl from my first fun harvest moon game!

    I Finished reading Abnormalities.

    First of all @artistefish how dare you make me feel with this angsty inukag, it’s so painfully but at the same time beautiful, I hate now so freaking much that person who shields his atrocity’s with  medical improvement.

    I need to draw something about the last chapter