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@ninasptzbrth-blog
ok i am dying for a fic sort of based off of the relationship between allen and lucien in 'kill your darlings'. idk who would be who but it basically just involves a ton of sexual tension as well as incredible minds at work and withheld affection on one side. if you've seen it you'll know what i mean but it could also be set in the 40's and can i please just have poet dan in glasses w curly hair thats all i ask
Introduction
Words: 708 (how did this get so long idk)
Genre: Fluff / Parents AU
Warnings: tiny bit of swearing, as always
Description: Dan and Phil find a note from their child on the kitchen counter, and open it.
Read on AO3
Keep reading
it's not about them liking and hearing my music it's about them being able to sing along while i try to enjoy it
dan before: this is BULLSHIT nothing about this is at all accurate
dan after: *places a banana peel on his arm and says three words in a foreign accent and places the peel on his neck because phil said it would predict his future*
Blue
Word count: 13.8k
Summary: based off this song. ‘You were red and you liked me because I was blue.’ Dan is an artist who sees people as colours and Phil needs money.
Warnings: mentions of depression and antidepressives
AN: Thank you to the fabulous emejig16 for editing this and sorting out my shit. I love this song so have been working on this for a while so i hope it’s good
Read on A03
LIFE DRAWING MODEL NEEDED
Must be willing to be drawn nude. Any gender or physique but must be interesting. Must be 20-30 years old. Will pay £50 per session or hours. Discuss in person. Model must be available after 8pm. Preferable long term commitment.
Contact number: 07913362736
Dan Howell
Keep reading
this is the best thing i have ever read of dap thank you thank you thank you thank you
Alien: So you’re saying that human brains sometimes just… malfunction? And see threats that aren’t really there?
Human: Yeah basically?
Alien: And then the human keeps living and doing things anyways???
Human: Yup
Alien: Woahhhhhh. Woahhhhh. Humans are badass.
Aliens would probably have fundamentally different responses to trauma than humans would,like- their brains. would be so fundamentally different. at a basic chemical and structural level we’d have to relearn everything, in this scenario the alien species is REALLY BAD at continuing to function with even a slightly impaired brain, and deals with it with LOTS OF BABIES, Oh yeah great grandpa died three years back when he got really surprised and WHAT DO YOU MEAN,THAT A HUMAN GOT STABBED THROUGH THE HEAD AND CONTINUED TO LIVE I DON’T BELIEVE YOU THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE, I bet they are all pregnant all the time and when they randomly die the baby eats their way out of the corpse, they are insectoid and look a lot like praying manti and they REALLY FREAK OUT THEIR HUMAN FRIENDS THE FIRST TIME IT HAPPENS, there is a sort of generational memory that happens which is how they managed to develop tech at all being so fragile, so when the creatures get depressed or homesick or manic and die it’s not like their human friends have lost them forever, except for how it sort of is, (via @songofsunset)
PLEASE IMAGINE THE FIRST TIME AN ALIEN HAS ONE OF THEIR HUMAN FRIENDS DIE
‘so hey, that was a great funeral, cool outfits, always glad to learn more about your culture and stuff. So, when is she coming back?’
‘She- she’s not coming back’
‘Yeah, not as Megan, but when is her replacement coming back?’
‘We’re- not hiring anyone new for a couple weeks???’
‘no no no, you’re not getting what I’m saying- I want to ask her about that book she lent me- can I keep it for another week or two, or does her new version want it back?’
The humans stare at the alien and just. slowly start to figure out what the alien is saying. The alien shuffles nervously, their six spindly legs making a skritching noise that echoes in the cold chapel. Finally, the kindest of the humans takes the alien aside and-
‘hey. so. Us humans don’t come back when we die. Not like you do.’
‘what? No, but you clearly talk about reincarnation, and-’
‘Those are just stories, Six. When humans die, we’re gone. We don’t come back.’
The alien laughs ‘No, see, cuz that would mean that- that would mean. That Megan- Megan is-’ The alien cuts off the hissing noise that is their equivalent of a sob. ‘I have to go.’
The alien spends a week in their spaceship, the only place they can send communication to their Mother. When they come back, their carapace is a glistening new shade of red, and they’ve ended up as a different gender. When the lab adviser asks them how they are feeling about Megan-
‘Megan? Oh, yes, my previous version was very fond of Megan.’ The alien cocks their head, like a particularly thoughtful bird. ‘I suppose that I regret her loss. She was a valuable member of the team.’
The lab adviser lets this be- they are aliens after all. But later, when lab hours are done, the adviser notices Six double and triple-checking all the lab equipment, especially- well. The accident that took Megan will never happen again.
The book is never returned.
Now imagine the flip side: Sevan finds out his human friend is due to have a baby in six months. Six months! He asks, and finds that no, there’s no way to delay a human birth. In six months, a new version of his friend will emerge. Will they still like space operas? What about visiting that smoothie place in quadrant 6? Will they even still want to be friends? His friend asks him to be visit the baby, after it’s born. Of course, of course he will. It’s the least he can do. There’s always that vulnerable phase after birth when you haven’t got the hang of the new motor controls, and everyone needs a helping palp for the first few months. The night he hears that the new baby has been born, he wails quietly and recites the qualities of his friend that he will miss the most. Three days later, he gathers his resolve and knocks on the hatch of his friend’s place. Strangely, the access panel hasn’t been lowered - rude. He’ll make sure that’s one of the first things changed. His friends partner opens the door and lets him in and there - there is his friend,looking tired but well, a miniature copy of herself held in her arms. Imagine his joy when he finds out that not only will he get to spend longer with his current friend, but there will be another friend to get to know!
woa
good bug stories tbh
Excellent bug stories
I am crying over space bugs don’t touch me
[x] || [x]
The kids learn early on that causing trouble after hours will get certain professors out of bed in varying degrees of undress. [Except in Draco’s case, because he’s not a barbarian, Potter.]
Von (Hope)
Þar sem gróir þar er von. Allt sem græðir geymir von.
Listen to [x] while reading.
-
On the night of May 2nd 1998, Draco Malfoy lays awake on his bed.
“It’s over. He’s dead. It’s over.” His mind chants. But is it?
A dark, hooded figure that hadn’t been there a second before stands on the edge of his bed, Malfoy starts. He grasps for his wand before realizing he hasn’t got one. The hooded figure chuckles, voice acidic and cold.
“You cheated me.” It says, Draco is frozen in place, searching his brain for whoever this might be. It can’t be the Dark Lord. He’s dead. Draco saw him die today. It can’t be.
“I’m Death.” It answers the question he hadn’t voiced, the knowledge brings a sense of Deja Vu, but he can’t quite place it “and no, I’m not here to take you with me.” he fails to conceal his disappointment. The room feels colder than it had.
“You were meant to die today, in the fire, but you didn’t.” The hairs on his body stand on edge at the mention of it. He’s shaking before he realizes it.
It had been so hot, he’d been gripping Potter’s waist like a lifeline, the fire licking at the hems of his pants, his screams drowned by the roar of the flames, Crabbe falling down and being consumed by them like he was nothing. He thought he’d die. He wishes he had.
“It was written on the stars, Draco Malfoy. However did you cheat the heavenly bodies?” It drawls out impatiently, he doesn’t know the answer. Is he supposed to?
“For this, however.” Death says, swishing it’s cloak, bony hands showing “I owe you a wish. Any wish at all.”
Draco’s eyes widen and his heart picks up speed in his chest. Any wish at all.
He suddenly remembers hearing a similar story to this one. Every bone in his body advices him not to accept, for Death could only be cunning and deceitful, not giving and generous.
Or perhaps Life was the first two and Death’s sweet release was the last. Perhaps life had been the cruel one all along. He dreams of a world where he doesn’t have to feel all of this, where the guilt doesn’t eat him alive, where he never takes the Dark Mark, where war doesn’t kill hundreds, where he’s happy.
He realizes that even if Death is fooling him, he doesn’t mind the likely outcome.
“I want a time turner” he says firmly “One capable of going back to 1991.” If Death is surprised, it doesn’t show it, it moves it’s hands in a swish and a time turner appears between them. It floats until it settles on Draco’s hand.
“Act wisely, Malfoy boy. For I can only grant you one wish.” It says, the ghost of a smile behind the dark hood. Then disappears.
Draco clutches the object and adjusts the time. He wonders if he’s in a dream, if it’ll work. Maybe he’s already dead and doesn’t know it, he doesn’t mind much.
Doesn’t care to find out.
He closes his eyes and is launched into the paradox of time and space. He sees a colorless void and falls falls falls. His body small and insignificant in the never-ending space. Just when he’s starting to become fond of the quiet nothing and the soothing air touching his face, his stomach twists and he appears in a room that he knows too well. High ceilings and cool toned ancient furnitures. No feeling of home or coziness despite belonging to a child.
His childhood bedroom. If one could call it that.
He looks at the clock with a sharp twist and beneath the time, it reveals the date.
July 31st of 1991.
He almost can’t believe he has succeeded, but can’t dwell on his fear and excitement too long, for a small boy whom he knows too well and not at all stands at the foot of his bed, staring at him in horror. It’s a shock, seeing himself so full of life in the innocence of a child who doesn’t know what the future entails. A child with eager eyes and a prideful chest. Malfoy realizes he’s a ghost of what this child is.
“Who are you?” The small one shrieks. Draco presses a finger to his lips, shushing him. He’s grateful that the Manor is big enough for them not to be heard.
“I’m you. From the future.” young Draco flinches back and is about to start shouting again, before he seems to take in Draco’s features and connects them to an older version of himself. His eyes widen and Draco can see himself panic and glance around frantically, although also subtly, for an escape.
Slytherins. He thinks fondly.
“That’s not possible. Why-how are you here?” He demands.
“I have a story to tell you. But the first thing you need to know.” He swallows a lump in his throat “is that today you will be meeting a boy as you get fitted for your Hogwarts robes. I want you to change what you will say to him, for it’ll change how he sees you. It is extremely important that you do so.”
“Why? What do you mean? I don’t understand.” young Draco looks even more confused, of course he is.
Draco explains as much as he can and sugar coats what a child shouldn’t have to know. He attempts to explain to his own self that the opinions of his father are wrong, the small Draco tries to protest, but he doesn’t allow him to and continues telling him what’ll happen if he doesn’t listen carefully. By the end, his voice is hoarse and little Draco looks sick with fear. But he nods, seemingly understanding he has a duty to perform even if he doesn’t quite understand all of it it. Ah, the usual Malfoy, accepting what’s presented to him, born to please his elders, he thinks bitterly.
“Who’ll be the boy I’ll meet today?” His younger self asks tentatively when Draco is done talking and stands up. Draco smiles nostalgically as he adjusts the time again.
“I have put my faith in you, what you choose to do from now can change everything.” He says, and just as he feels the void sucking him in again, he says his last words to the last hope he’s got.
“And Draco, one last thing.” the kid nods “offer him your hand before you learn his name.”
-
where things grow, there is hope, all that heals has hope.
This NEEDS to be a longer fan-fic!! It’s completely brilliant!!♥♥
Oh. My God.
headcanon that hogwarts actually had an underground drarry fanclub
fics and art get circulated around the club but you can only see with a special incantation. ginny convinces hermione to teach her a spell that would sync the club members’ notebooks together so it’d be like an analog chatroom that they scream hcs and aus into
b u t!! the best part is that harry and draco are actually the club’s leading authors (anonymous, obv) in drarry fanfics, and they’re competing against each other, sending out weekly chapters of heavy plot, intense ust, the fluffiest fluff and the hottest smut just trying to be better than the other
at one point, harry and draco serving detention together and harry accidentally drops a reference about his fic and draco catches it. he panics inside and basically tries to threaten harry like “i know that u write fanfics with the two of us now wow how disgusting, potter”. harry freaks out a little but then realizes that draco recognized his fic and then goes “?? how did you even know i did that – b iT C H youve fuckin read it”
they both freak out a little and then realize that they’re really horny teenagers and that they’re really fucking gay for each other and so they fuck and become boyfriends instead
FUCK YES SOMEBODY WRITE THIS RIGHT THIS SECOND
“and so they fuck and become boyfriends instead.”
How every good fic should end thanks
Look at you. (strip)
looks like phil found a use for the boxes (and dan’s fluffy hair) ✨✨
@danielhowell @amazingphil !!
I know, I know: It seems absurd. Sure, they all look alike — the same hair, the same circa-2004 trappings, and the same buoyant robustness, like seventh grade pumped up into a parade balloon. These attributes, one might argue, could be yours, too, if you so desired. But what if Guy Fieri, Harwell, and Violent J don’t just happen to look alike and share the same confounding aesthetic? What if there’s something more systematic going on here? What if Guy Fieri, Harwell, and Violent J really are all the same person? Or, more specifically, what if they’re clones? Let us embark on a journey into the shadowy world of peroxide, UV protection, and goatees, and explore the little theory that I like to call Fieri Mouth. (A portmanteau of Guy Fieri and Smash Mo — you get it.)
A Unified Theory of Guy Fieri, the Guy From Smash Mouth, and the Guy From Insane Clown Posse Being the Same Person (and/or Clones)
This is magnificent.
(via wilwheaton)
why did i just read through this whole article
I CANT BE THE ONLY FUCKING ONE
where the years went i can’t say
word count: ~1000
rating: G
extra tags: reality, videofilming,
“Will you miss this hallway Dan?” Phil asks, standing behind Dan’s head to film him upside down. He’s seen him like this too many nights to count, more than he would have liked. Yet he kind of is genuinely sad this staple of living will never again repeat itself - unless the process of moving makes Dan especially crisis-y, which is very possible.
“I mean, where else will I lie to contemplate death?” Dan asks. “It’s just such a perfect, long, bleak corridor to lie facedown on.”
Phil laughs, “I don’t know!” he replies, genuinely thinking about it. There are no such narrow corridors in their new place. It’s open, light. There’s no space that automatically lends itself to such a state of mind.
