write me fanfics

“A-Alice?! What'ya doin’ here?! I mean look yah, You’re okay! Not a scratch on yah.”“Bendy, What did they do to you?” *touches his face* “̳̤̥͈̙̘̮ͅA̗̼̫̭̪̻-͏̸̩̭̦̺͓ͅA̳̪̺͇̞̪̥͟͞l̳͚͘͢ị̪̪͍͔c̢҉̨̫̘̙̦̗͎̪̬ͅe̢͈̩̮̠!͓͔͙̗̯̟̻̰͝͞͡ ҉͉͇N̫̞̩̗̗̩̕o͕̜̟̜͚͙͎̫!̹͖̙̟͡ ̟͙̝̯͎̞̯́̕S̺̗̮̣̰T̨̝͔A̖̞͕͟Y̞̜̥̟̮͓̳ ̭B̙͇̠̙̯̫͟A͖͝C̶̼͓̥̘̘͇̪K̴̢̥̰̳̘ͅ!̵̹͖̞͔̰͞"̸̳̺̺̖͘͟ͅ


Daveed Diggs x Reader

Word Count: 2312

Request/Summary: This wasn’t requested, it’s a fake dating AU in which you invite Diggs to your high school reunion.

Warnings: None, just cussing and unrequited love.

Tagging: Long ago @whatdimissmotherfuckers asked to be tagged in this so… (it did NOT go as planned. but I like it. so,)

A/N: Please enjoy! Let me know what you thought, if things go as planned, there will be three parts!

Masterlist | Ask me a question or tell me what you thought! | Previous Chapter (This is the first part) | Next Chapter (Not available yet)

You sighed through your teeth, fiddling with the corner of the invitation in your hand, its shiny surface reflected the flickering light above you. You should go. You exhaled again and dragged yourself up from the couch, scouring the area backstage for Daveed. “Daveed.” You stated when you saw him.

“That is my name.”

“Let’s be honest. You’re the hottest guy here,” you started

“I would argue that Leslie is the hottest guy here.” Daveed countered, his teeth showing as a smile crinkled his eyes.

“Hey!” Thayne and Anthony harmonized, causing you to stifle a cackle.

“Anyway. My high school reunion is coming up,” Daveed grinned. “What are you smiling at?” You asked, suspicious.

“Nothing.” He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively and sniffling softly.

“Well, I need to rub in their faces how successful I am.” You continued hesitantly. “And… I need a fake boyfriend.”

Keep reading

For a while now, I’ve been joking that Akechi keeps hitting on Jun (since the TV thing), but Jun’s not having any of it (this boy has to WORK to earn my attention due to pissing off Ryuuji), so I’ve been trying to convey that with my dialogue choices and

>I’m sleepy.

Akechi: *proceeds to ask if I got enough sleep and asks if I’m okay…then…*





What’s even funnier is that the other day, in-game, I took a bath at the public bath because it was Thursday and Thursdays (as well as Mondays) mean medicinal baths, so that’s even more of a charm boost. Medicinal baths ALSO means that Jun smells really nice while looking very pretty, so it’s kinda hard not to imagine Akechi just walking by and just going, “You smell nice, by the way.”

Like, Akechi, please, CHILL.

(It’s really the timing of it that makes me laugh so much)

(Jun is a very sleepy and reckless student, from the way things have been going in this playthrough. Jun is also kinda “accidentally” smart like 50% of the time and the other half is Jun being right about the things people least expect, like when it came to doing stuff for the third palace ahahaha)

(Jun is also the type to ask Mishima, “Does the M stand for Mishima?” and get the response, “That’s a secret” from him. Lmao, Morgana thought they were talking about shirt sizes and I’m inclined to believe that Jun would be thinking the same)

(My favorite thing about Jamais Vu Jun being very short is the fact that Jun WOULD need help cleaning up, so Kawakami’s Confidant makes a LOT of freaking sense, because you have Jun going, “I couldn’t reach with the stool and I thought of you.”)

(keep in mind that I told “Becky” that I was a Dad, so with Jun, you have this tiny school girl SAYING that, while the guys are outside, being total nervous wrecks)

(Jamais Vu Jun amuses me, because I told myself, months before the game came out in Japan, that tiny protag would pay off AND IT DID!!!)

        if you’re wondering if i want you to
                              (i want you to, so make a move )

pairings: alex danvers/maggie sawyer.
featuring: sara lance, lucy lane, eventually: winn schott jr.
camp au - alex gets forced to spend a summer at an lgbt+ camp by eliza.
chapter one out of ???

                   READ ON AO3!

jupiterjames  asked:

#1, #16, #28 for the 40 questions thingy, please!

1 - Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Well, I noticed a trend a little while back, that I seem to write a specific theme into (most) of my stories - love confessions and first kisses - usually with pining on both sides and angst from one or both before they finally connect and I rarely feel the need to go too far past that point :P Like, that is my end game. Get them together and sigh happily, content in knowing it’ll all work out from here. Cause I say so.

16 -If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Considering the preponderance of Destiel on my A03, I’d have to say that (though I do have others that I love) :D

28 - Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

OH god! I set myself up for this one, didn’t I?
FAVORITES? Um…I’ll try to narrow it down. But I hope no one gets offended if I don’t mention them because I know a LOT of awesome writers!

@unforth-ninawaters - always the first that comes to mind. I came in on “An Assembly Such as This” and stayed for nearly everything else. She has a way of writing that even if it’s something i’m not into, or if it’s got difficult themes, I’ll read it anyway and like it - while the same summary from a different author may make me worry and walk away. I completely trust her and her writing!

@ltleflrt - I think I discovered her around the same time. I can’t quite remember which fic i started with - “Kiss the Baker” is most likely though - and It was just so damn sweet! And I always get something really fun, and even when there’s angst (I have no idea how many times i’ve actually teared up/cried reading specific scenes, even though I KNOW it’ll get better) it never really gets too dark (even when she’s trying - Sorry! I’m thinking of “Addicted to You”… :P) and just, yup! I eagerly await every bit of it.

@jhoomwrites - I just loooooove all the shorts. and the bonus scenes are so goddamn FUN! First fic I read was “Parkour Kisses” and I think I re-read it several times in the space of a week - it was just so sweet and I really needed that at the time. It kept bringing a smile to my face. And then there were just so many more (and she’s also one of the masterminds of my descent into DCJ)

40 Questions for Fic Writers

To All Writers...

You’re all LIT AS FUCK

I mean seriously you guys pour your heart and soul into this shit. You put in YOUR time and YOUR effort to make these beautiful creations and you don’t NEARLY get the credit you deserve. What must take you days or weeks people will devour in seconds and demand more IMMEDIATELY. Or people treat you like crap because it’s not how THEY wanted it. Honestly you guys are AMAZING. If you’re work takes you 3 hours to write: YOU’RE LIT AS FUCK. If it takes you 3 days: YOU’RE LIT AS FUCK. 3 weeks?: LIT AS FUCK. 300 words long?: LIT AS FUCK. 3,00 words?: LIT AS FUCK. Just started writing?: LIT AS FUCK. Been writing for years?: LIT AS FUCK. Don’t let others discourage you. Fuck ‘em. DO WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY. For the love of god you guys don’t nearly get as much love as you deserve. People on here forget that you’re doing this FOR FREE, forget YOU DON’T HAVE TO WRITE FOR US, and forget YOU’RE HUMAN BEINGS WITH LIVES THAT DON’T REVOLVE AROUND WHAT THEY WANT. FUCK THOSE HATERS. Just please remember that there are readers out there that understand this and respect you. that love what you do for us and appreciate every last thing you do


Keep reading

Another Man’s Treasure

A/N: This will be a multi-part one shot because @alrightpetal and I have this thing about making Harry super vulnerable and flawed. So here you go.

…I’m gonna show you tonight! I’m alright! I’m just fine! And you’re a tool so, so what?

You belted your heart out up on stage, pumping your fist in the air to empower your words even further. It was a good thing you knew all the words, too, because your mates had bought you so many drinks your vision was crossed and blurred you couldn’t have read the lyrics to an unfamiliar song. Then you would have just been a blubbering fool butchering a karaoke performance. And that would have been embarrassing.

Singing yourself blue in the face—and drinking yourself into oblivion—served as the perfect outlet for your aching heart. Hours earlier, you’d been dumped. Or more accurately, replaced.

It’d been a week since you’d heard from your long-term boyfriend, and while you knew he was on holiday with his mates—a holiday you hadn’t been invited on—it was still odd that you hadn’t heard from him at all. Not even a text to let you know that he’d made it to Amsterdam. You didn’t expect too much communication; you trusted him to treat you right, but, silly you, you thought your boyfriend might actually miss you and want to say hi.

Last night after seven and a half days of nothing, you completely lost it and called him forty-seven times in a row. And not a single one was answered. So you rang your closest friends and they came over, laptops and tablets in hand, and intense cyber-stalking commenced.

It only took thirty-four minutes for your good mate Lindsey to unearth a damning post on Insta that your boyfriend was tagged in by a girl you kind of knew. The picture itself wasn’t awful; honestly you couldn’t make out much besides silhouettes and drinks. Even the caption wasn’t much; all it said was, “this guy” with a random slew of emojis. But the funny thing was, when you tried to search for it yourself, nothing came up. Meaning you were blocked. You weren’t meant to see this picture.

Twenty-two minutes of super-sleuthing was enough time for your oldest friend Ashley to find every social media account the girl had, and then eventually uncover her phone number.

In thirteen minutes you had a text drafted to her that was so long it was broken into five different parts when you hit send.

And one minute and fifty-four seconds is all the time your boyfriend—well ex-boyfriend—allowed you to speak to him today before he told you he was coming back tomorrow and there’d be no need for you to come see him. Tomorrow or ever again.

So your mates did what they knew best. They took you out, got you absolutely smashed, and then got you up on stage to pour your heart out. Somewhere in between I Will Survive and Total Eclipse of the Heart, you got a bit weepy and ended up calling your brother from the toilet. It took you awhile to realize you weren’t actually sobbing to him but his voicemail, and as soon as you did you pulled yourself back together and headed out for another drink and a rousing rendition of Since U Been Gone.

The few other patrons in the pub were hardly paying attention to your drunken warbling on stage, only breaking from their conversations when your mates would cheer at the end of each song, some of them even offering half-hearted claps. If they were annoyed, they certainly didn’t let on. Most likely, they pitied you; for Christ sake, you pitied you.

When your song ended, you finished the rest of your drink and began flipping through the songbook. Liberation was surging through you and you wanted a song to match your mood; something to serve as a proper fuck you to the twat you’d wasted the last few years of your young life on.

The book closed on your fingers, and you stumbled back in surprise. Were books automated now too?! You still weren’t over the automated tills at Tesco, would you now have to get used to robotic books closing on you when they’d had enough?!


You looked up, your blurred vision slowly coming into focus as you swayed on the spot. A robotic book didn’t close itself on you, a person had closed it. Which was rather rude of them.

[Y/N],” he repeated. Finally he came into view and you cocked your head in confusion.

“Hazza?” you slurred, taking a step closer to get a better look. You nearly toppled off the stage, but Harry was quick to grab you by the waist and steady you before easing you down.

Keep reading

lavender hues (m)

fantasy au (reposted)

pairing: jimin | reader
genre: angst and fluff
word count: 13.094
warnings: sexual content 
author’s note: previously named ‘if these wings could fly’ in my old blog. I’m just reposting it with a new name. :)

Beauty. If someone asked you to define it, your mouth would probably go dry and your heart would flutter yearningly, freezing as the words turn heavy in your mind and dissolve in the tip of your tongue.

Beauty is short-lived but ubiquitous, a transparent but shimmering liquid running in rivulets through hidden alleyways and veiled landscapes that the eyes don’t notice unless they look twice. Beauty is found in the unexpected, in the withheld words of the timid poets, in longing stares and authentic, carefree laughs. Beauty is found in what the eyes can see, in what the ears can hear, in the deep reverie of the colorful minds and in the dreams held close to the heart.

Beauty is fleeting and you’re unable to grasp it. All your life you’ve chased it, extended your hands towards it, longed to touch it with your fingertips. But your steps are slow and your hands are ungifted, and you can only imagine what it would be like to create beauty, to have the hands of those that are able to reflect love and joy and pain in books and paintings.

Keep reading

mark my words (m)

pairing: reader x sugar daddy!kim namjoon

genre/components: smut, crack, fluff // kim namjoon had money and a taste for sweet little things with the sharpest tongues 

count: 15,548 words

also extended, rewritten, crossposted to ao3 as minjoon

a/n: for anon who requested it months ago im so sorry this took so long but i hope it was worth :^) 

The blinking line on his blank document was laughing at him. He swore it was laughing at him and has been laughing at him for the past half an hour since he sat down and fired up the program. One word, backspace. Three words, backspace. One fucking sentence, he fucking backspaced. He let out a growl of frustration as he pushed back from his desk, rubbing his eyes as if the pain would clear up any part of his brain – preferably the one that didn’t make him sound like a five year old storybook. He might as well have typed “The wife is a sadist who accidentally killed her husband mid-fuck.”

Grabbing his robe, he quickly tugged it on and padded over to the kitchen to pour himself a blistering hot cup of coffee. His answering machine had picked up seven missed calls, probably from his editor cursing him out for missing his calls.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to any of them or even handle his editor’s desire to tear him a new one when he was so tempted to do it himself. His last book had been published a few months ago. Usually, by the time one was stocked up on the shelves, he’d be working on the next as he cashed in whatever the latest one was making. However, with the last few miserable months, everything he printed looked like a shit stain on a piece of paper. Even his editor, who was down to his last string of patience, thought so.

Things used to come naturally to Namjoon. All the sophisticated whatnot, all the carefully intricate plots that wove themselves onto the blank pages in fabricated fiction. He didn’t know what happened to him. He’s never had a muse except for his own messed-up life so it wasn’t possible that (as what his readers and critics believed at least) his inspiration had evaporated into thin air.

Namjoon perhaps knew what had been happening, what he saw from three books away. But he wasn’t about to fucking admit it because that shit didn’t happen to the genius, versatile writer, Kim Namjoon. Whatever he wrote turned into gold, selling nearly as many copies as the holy Bible. If his jittery nerves wasn’t enough evidence of his problem, then the coffee cup shaking in his earthquake of a hand was. As the realization sank in, he was finally hit with the cold hard truth.

Kim Namjoon had hit writer’s block.

Keep reading

the train of lost souls

fantasy au

pairing: jungkook | reader, hoseok | reader
genre: angst and tiny bits of fluff
word count: 13.610
warnings: mentions of past death 
author’s note: I promise it’s not tragic, though it might seem like it at first. pls believe in me! :)) on another note, let’s just pretend they are all the same age here, since I planned the story that way~

The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options.

You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you’ve ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile — all of it, completely gone.

Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.

You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it.

The choice is solely yours.

Keep reading

Aesthetic: Fanfic writers

1.  Idea.

Originally posted by mkhatake

2.  Sobbing

Originally posted by thatherohair

3. Writing

Originally posted by find-a-reaction-gif

4.  Sobbing

Originally posted by thatherohair

5.  Posting

6.  Maniacally refreshing the page

Originally posted by benfreak

7.  Receiving feedback, or more likely, NOT.

Originally posted by ba1n3s

8.  Sobbing

Originally posted by thatherohair

9.  Repeat


Newt: Let’s begin our conversation.
Graves: What’s on the note cards? 
Newt: They’re possible topics of conversation. 
Graves: Whales. Parades. Electricity. And the rest are blank. 
Newt: Yeah, well I couldn’t think of anything else. 

(Parks and Recreation; season 2, episode 4: Practice Date)