#bigwriterenergy

hello all! i’ve decided to open up commissions :) do you want me to write something in length? an idea or story that you’re dying to see created? i would be more than happy to craft a memorable story for you! the entirety of my tumblr is filled with examples of my skill, albeit, they are short demonstrations. i do have some longer pieces in my masterlist if you are curious to see how i write actual stories!

always check the original post to see if i have spaces available. <3

my main fandom that i focus on is JJBA, but, if you are interested in my writing for another fandom, please, let me know! i might have seen the show/anime! :)

HOW MANY SPACES ARE AVAILABLE?

one. ) closed two. ) closed three. ) closed four. ) closed

HOW MUCH WILL PIECES COST?

for 1000 words, 7.50 USD or equivalent amount for different currency. for 2000 words, 15.00 USD or equivalent amount for different currency. for 3000 words, 22.00 USD or equivalent amount for different currency. 

and if you were to want two stories in the same transaction, the 2nd will be half-off! so if you want both a 1k story and a 3k story, the 3k story would only cost 11 dollars!

ANY RULES?

not really! anything goes for what you’d like! the only rule i have is a huge no to pedophilia. all nsfw pieces will have 18+ characters, whether aged up or otherwise. no exceptions! other than that, i’m willing to write nearly everything! these guidelines here are reflective of what i’ll allow and what i’ll probably shy away from: here.

but always ask! i’m more lenient on certain rules, such as female-only reader.

Lool Gooosseee!!! <3 Thank you! 🥺

-

The group had been watching you rather closely for a while now since leaving India, and crash-landing in the Middle East. 

Polnareff is less chatty, Avdol and Mr. Joestar are probing, and Kakyoin seems subtly intrigued at the entire situation. The only one who hasn't changed much is Jotaro, for which you are grateful. But the mild distrust in the air is putting you on edge. You aren’t sure if pretending they aren't suddenly wary of you will bring all this awkwardness to an end. Around midnight, you find yourself slowly losing it, so you stand outside of the motel you all are staying in.

You’re far too tired to really hold a conversation. Though it seems that one must be had, because someone finally approaches you after hours of radio silence. 

“What are you doing here? It’s late.” 

Your lips curl into a smile; it’s only a touch scornful. “I could ask you the same.”

Jotaro doesn’t take the bait, instead, he pulls out a cigarette and zippo from his pocket. He’s courteous enough not to blow the smoke directly in your face but not much more than that.

“You wanna ask me something? Do it, already. Anything is better than you making assumptions.” you say to him.

Jotaro pulls the cigarette from his lips to look at you. It makes you lose your nerve, so you stare at his hand instead. They are littered with old scars.

“I’m not making assumptions. I know you.” He gives you that look, the one that says ‘shouldn’t it be obvious?’

You hate how validating it is to be understood by Jotaro; you haven’t even known him long, but you certainly note that he can relate. You’ve overheard Mr. Joestar countless times. When people see a certain side of Jotaro, they tend to judge only that. 

“Keep your chin up.” he says. “Remember? That's what you told me when we first met. You should take your own advice.”

A laugh bubbles in your throat and it feels liberating to let it out. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that many words in one sitting! But you’re right, JoJo, thank you!”

Jotaro snuffs out his cigarette with a shake of his head. “Good grief.”

-

❥ ┋ ❝ send me a word / phrase + a character and I’ll write you a headcanon!  — CLOSED

the most embarrassed you had ever seen Guido Mista happened while paying for groceries.

brown paper bags sat in his arms, the result of a shopping trip that Bucciarati had sent you both on. “Narancia’s sick,” the capo said after pulling you both aside after your usual Thursday night briefing. “can you pick up some groceries for him on your way home? I know he lives along your route. I’ll pay you back for it tomorrow.”

so you both obliged.

“augh... hey, [Name]? I can’t reach my wallet.” Mista tried to shuffle the bags to reach into his back pocket. alas, no luck. “grab it for me, will you?”

“wow, so you’ll pay for Narancia’s dinner but not mine? rude.” 

“c’mon, I’m slipping! can you just—” he rearranged himself, trying to get a better grip of the bags in his arms, “—get it? please?”

that last “please” was a little too demanding for your taste, but considering he was offering to pay, you’d let it go (just this once). so you do as told, your fingers slipping around the cool leather square in his pocket. he told you that it’s the red card, the one tucked on the bottom compartment to the left. “yeah, yeah,” you replied, your hands at work opening the wallet. 

and that was when it happened: out unfurled a roll of pictures, one by one, all the way down to your hip. all featured you and him on previous dates, all processed sometime outside your knowledge.

Mista looked at you.

you looked at Mista.

the cashier looked at both of you.

“wha— honey. what is this?” you blinked. wow. you remembered taking all of these with him, and... oh! he had a photo from your beach date along the Amalfi Coast!

Mista didn’t reply. instead, he dropped the bags, the sound of hard, metallic clanking filling the store. no doubt from the ungodly amount of soup Bucciarati had asked you to pick up. if it didn’t feel like everyone was staring at you both, it certainly did at that moment. 

he swiped his wallet from your grasp, stuffing the roll of photos back into his wallet haphazardly. he then closed it, but upon realizing that he still needed to pay for the groceries, he opened it just enough to grab his card. you were giggling throughout the entire process.

a soft beep! rang from the card reader, effectively ending the transaction. the cashier giggled along with you as she handed Mista his receipt. he didn’t look at you or her, he just plucked the receipt from her hand, crumpled it up, and threw it in the nearest garbage can before picking up the brown paper bags again.

you pushed the doors to the exit open, holding it for Mista to cross. he refused to look at you, but it wasn’t because he was mad at you. no, this was different. his lips were pursed and his head was low, with that pink tint on his cheeks you recognized so easily as embarrassment.

“so.” you caught up to him, a click in your heel at your new-found realization that Guido Mista was that kind of boyfriend. “wanna tell me about those pictures?”

“nope.” 

“wanna tell me that you got a whole plastic insert just so that you could put pictures from all of our dates in your wallet?”

“I’m good.”

“if you say so. here, let me help you.” you hopped in front of him, slipping your arms around one of the brown bags that he was carrying. the least you could do is make his job easier after putting him through that. but while he was distracted, transferring one bag from his grasp to yours, you took the opportunity to place a small kiss on his cheek. “and for the record, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I love you, dummy.”

from there, Mista’s face exploded into every shade of red that you could imagine. he still wouldn’t say anything. but how his shoulders rose, how his arms stiffened as he desperately tried to hold onto the bags—