"But I'm straight." Those three words are the words that take Phil over the edge. Like his world is crashing down on him. What's up with his constant flirting and his cheeky smiles and lovey dovey eyes. Phil knows something's up, and he's determined to find out what that something is. //warning: swearing, self harm, and eventually smut//

Phil doesn't talks. Well, not anymore. The last time he said something, was when he didn't hate himself. And that was a long time ago. But now, everything is different. He must struggle with depression, whilst new boy Dan Howell desperately attempts to win him over. [Warning: this could be triggering at some points]

Loneliness was always her best friend. She trusted it more than anything. But when she meets a certain guy, she realizes that being Alone isn't what she wanted anymore.

Idk oneshots I write about phan xx

Part 1 of the infamous series. Feelings appear. Sparks fly. Love rises. Problems occur. Please note: This story is now very old (7 years old in 2020) and I'd like to think my writing has improved since then! There are a bunch of cringey parts and bad writing in here, but enjoy and thanks for reading! :)

Penelope recently moved to England to pursue her dream of becoming an actress. She never expected to fall for anyone, especially the Youtube sensation Dan Howell, better known as danisnotonfire. Will their relationship work, or will something get in the way? **Warning: May be triggering. ©writingmaniac321

Emily LaMarca doesn't talk, and hasn't for many years. A traumatic experience in her childhood caused her to close herself off from the rest of the world, and one way she did that was to stop speaking. Now living with her egotistical 'best friend' she begins to hate feeling so alone, but then she meets PJ, a particularly kind video blogger who helps her find her voice again. -Finished 26/10/13

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.