#unpublished work

[whatkindofnameisella]

can you believe that we have fanfiction. that we have websites dedicated to fanfiction. that there is a place that you can go and read tens, hundreds, thousands and thousands of pieces of writing that strangers have made. people who are not "writers". people who come home at the end of the day and have feelings and say, i am going to put that into words. i am going to share those words. short, long, sweet, sad, horny, funny, wonderful words. we are all just human and we all love to make and remake and share that with others. can you believe that.

[zeestarfishalien]

Danny’s mistrust of adult figures in this fic I'm writing is really coming back to bite me in the ass.

Anyone much older than his sister is wee woo red alert do not trust. Selina is worming her way in slowly but it's a tenuous balance. Bruce about to come in here like a wrecking ball and ruin all of Jason, Barbara, and Selina's hard work. By gods I want this to turn comedic but rn we strugglin

I have a physical NEED for the pranks tho. Ugh

[prosodi]

⭐⭐Commissions are OPEN⭐⭐

Please find additional info and submit inquiries through this FORM.

Current slots:

B/W Sketches: 1 Color w/Simple Background: 1

I'm also taking inquiries by email for illustration and commercial work. You can find my portfolio and contact info HERE.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Reminder for the dpxdc writers!

Yeah I know lots of us get canon and fanon confused and some never watched Danny Phantom which is why I’m going to *friendly remind everyone* that if you don’t want to use the Ghost King Danny thing, it’s—it’s fanon. Like. You do not need to go out of your way to make it Not A Thing, if you find it’s hindering your plot line or whatever. You don’t have to write around it. At this point, you might need to clarify it’s not something you’re doing, since it’s so common, but like—if I have to read one more plot where they’re twisted up in knots to avoid it, like. Pls. You can do what you want and that includes this, we already disregard canon all the time, you can buck common fanon as well I’m—

That’s not to say I’m against Ghost King Danny, but I’m starting to think it’s one of those things people are afraid to stray from because they think it’s it’s one of the more… pillar parts? Of Danny’s character and canon? When it’s, like, not. If you want to write in reasons why he’s not king and etc etc you CAN, it’s your story and maybe it even serves your plot or tone or you just want to, but you can also just not even have it be a consideration. You’re free to just not do it.

[wingedflight]

Plus there’s one whole remaining fic I need to post before the end of the year. Maybe I’ll update my stats once that’s up.

[fistfuloflightning]

”Hashirama thinks—“ “I already know what he thinks. I want to know what you think. You were Hashirama’s shadow when you were Senju Tobirama. But you’re an Uchiha now, and that means standing at my side, and not in my shadow. This village is as much your making as it is mine or Hashirama’s.” Tobirama remained silent, red eyes fixed unseeing on her cup. Madara knew the peace haunted her in a way it didn’t the others. Her sole purpose for existence was no longer there and she was learning there was more to life than constant vigilance and a kunai in hand. And she was terrified of it.

[mediawhorefics]

not mentioning your boxer au 😭 may she live fondly forever in my dreams

im sorry 💔💔💔 i wish i had the energy/will power to work on it. i had such cute ideas for that fic 💔💔

like..... they were gonna go back to the national gallery on their 'official' first date and harry was gonna buy a print of van gogh's sunflowers for louis.......

here's the snippet if you want:

&&&

“Wait!” Harry exclaims as they walk past the museum shop. “Wait! Wait! Wait!” he repeats, stopping in his tracks and Louis has to stop too since they’re still holding hands. 

“What?” he asks, pouting and pretending to be annoyed. He’s so happy he could burst. Briefly, he wonders what the other museum goers would think if he just… snogged Harry right and there. Then, he wonders if that’s a normal impulse to have in the middle of a busy public place, if it’s just because it’s so new – their first date – or if this is just how Harry is always going to make him feel. 

“Wait for me here,” Harry instructs, grinning, and when he tries to walk away, Louis holds on to his hand a little too tightly, stopping his escape. 

“Don’t buy me a gift in there,” Louis warns, both a little thrilled and a little embarrassed at the thought. 

Harry snorts. “What makes you think I’m going in there for you?” he says a little too sarcastically, green eyes twinkling. Louis is falling so hard sometimes he forgets to be scared. 

“I’m serious,” he insists, tugging on Harry’s arm where they’re fingers are still intertwined. “Do not buy me a present.” 

“Oh my god, self-obsessed much,” Harry laughs. 

“Harry,” Louis says in his best serious big brother who means business voice. 

“Louis,” Harry echoes, sounding like the bratty younger sibling in every way. “Let me go to the shop.” 

They stare at each other sternly for a few seconds before it turns a little playful and they’re probably making a scene in front of all the nice tourists who just want a souvenir from the National Gallery. And yet, Louis doesn’t even have it in himself to care. In the moment, staring into Harry’s eyes, wanting to win this silent contest so bad, wanting to kiss Harry’s stupid face so bad, he just feels free. Free to do this, free to feel this, for the first time in a long time… For the first time ever really. 

Finally, after probably way too long, Louis sighs and let’s go of Harry’s hand. 

“If you buy me a gift, I’m breaking up with you,” Louis threatens just as Harry is about to walk away. 

He gets a loud squeaky laugh in response, his favourite of Harry’s just because it sounds so ridiculous coming out of him, and it makes Louis’ inside melt. 

“Please don’t break up with me on our first official date,” Harry says, tilting his head down to press a small kiss on Louis’ forehead, before he disappears into the shop. 

Louis scrunches his nose, trying to fight off a smitten smile and he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone to fiddle with while Harry most likely shops for something for him. 

When he opens his phone, a text from his mother waits for him. 

Tell me how it goes! ❤️

Louis smiles seeing it before biting his lower lip, trying to find a way to describe how well this has been going, how good Harry makes him feel. 

He’s still worried. He’s not naive enough to think it’s smooth sailing from now on just because he acted on his feelings. But there’s something about the way they have fun together that feels really precious and special to him. Even at their best, his previous relationship wasn’t like that… Shaking his head, Louis chases the ghost away from his mind. He doesn’t deserve any power on a day like this, when it’s all going so well. 

Instead of focusing on the past, Louis starts typing a response to his mother. 

I’ll call you after! is what he sends first. Then, after a second of deliberation, he adds: It’s going great. He waits a second, to see if she’s going to reply straight away. It quickly becomes clear that she isn’t going to, but, impulsively, without really thinking about it, Louis adds  He’s great ❤️ , presses send and pockets his phone again. 

It’s good timing too because just as he does it, Harry walks out of the shop holding a thin paper bag. 

Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “Found what you wanted?” he asks, so happy he doesn’t even want to fake petulance. 

“Yep,” Harry replies, popping that p extra hard. 

“Can I see?” Louis asks, only fishing for confirmation it’s for him a little. 

“Nope.” There’s that p again. 

Louis narrows his eyes. “Why not?” 

Harry shrugs, grabbing Louis’ hand and starting to lead him towards the exit. 

“It is for me, isn’t it?” Louis insists, leaning a little on Harry’s shoulder. 

“I’m neither confirming nor denying it’s for you.” Harry waits a beat before adding: “I wouldn't want to risk our relationship like that.” 

“Relationship?” Louis echoes. “Big word for a first date,” he adds softly, looking at the ground. 

Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ fingers. “Small word for what feels like the 50th date, to be honest,” he says and when Louis looks at him, he seems a little sheepish. Then, he seems to sober up, shaking his head and stopping in the middle of the corridor. “This isn’t me trying to put pressure on you,” he explains, looking soft and vulnerable, and Louis knows that Harry has been feeling that way from the start. 

He’s not stupid. Harry felt it that first night in his sister’s flat, the two of them squished together at that dinner table. He asked him out straight away, Louis hasn’t forgotten. More importantly though, Louis has been there right alongside him, even if he didn’t have the courage to say so yet. So he understands. He really does. 

“You don’t have to explain,” Louis interrupts what seems like it’s going to be a rather long speech. “You don’t have to hold back or…” Louis sighs. “I know you’re all in,” he admits. And he wants to say he’s all in too. He certainly feels it. But the fear, the fear of getting hurt again, the fear of losing himself again, the fear of nothing being stable enough for this, is still there. It might always be. 

“I am,” Harry says and it still feels like an admission, even though they both knew it. “I hope it doesn’t freak you out too much. We said we were taking it slow.” 

Louis sighs, holding Harry’s hand even tighter. This isn’t exactly where he wanted to have this conversation. Slowly, he pushes Harry’s body slightly out of the way, towards the wall so they can have a bit of privacy. They should probably just leave the building and talk about this outside, but it feels important for him to get this out now. 

“It’s not that,” he says with all the sincerity he can muster, looking into Harry’s eyes. “I’m not freaked out about that. It’s just.. It’s complicated. And I…” 

For a second, he imagines himself saying it, letting the whole sordid story out, exposing his soft underbelly to Harry’s mercy and hope against all hope that he won’t see him differently after it. 

One day, he thinks he’d like to do it. One day, he thinks Harry might be the one to receive it with kindness. But the truth of the matter is… He’s not ready. 

“It’s this stuff, this relationship stuff in general that… Well, you know I don’t really do it and I have my reasons and I’d like to tell you one day, but I’m just not… I’m not ready yet. And I hope that’s alright.” 

“Of course it’s alright,” Harry whispers. “I can’t pretend I get it, but I hope you know I’m not the kind of guy who’d hold you not wanting to talk about it straight away against you.” 

“I don’t think that.” 

“Good,” Harry says, looking relieved. 

“And I’m in too,” Louis adds, sneaking a hand around Harry’s waist, holding him. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Mostly because I never do anything without about a hundred million percent certainty,” he says jokingly, even though it’s true. Alright, kissing Harry the exact way he has had a little bit of spontaneity to it, but he’d let the idea build in his head for a long time while Harry was away, making sure it was exactly what he wanted to do. 

The joke lands, Harry’s dimples showing up and something settles inside Louis. It’s going to be okay, he thinks. Once he tells Harry. 

“Does that mean I can give you your gift?” Harry asks, a little hesitantly, but he’s still smiling big, clearly teasing. 

Louis groans, letting his head thud against Harry’s chest, pressing himself against him in a hug. “Fine,” he mumbles in Harry’s jumper, not letting go of his waist yet, gripping the material of his jacket for a second before finally letting go. When he looks up, taking a small step back, Harry still looks a little triumphant. 

“Go on then Styles,” Louis goads, letting go of Harry’s hand too, placing his hands between them, awaiting the dreaded present. 

Harry grins, placing the thin paper bag in Louis’ hands and, suddenly, he knows exactly what it is. 

It doesn’t change the way his face softens when he reaches inside the bag and pulls out an A5 print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. 

“I quite like the imperfect,” Harry says kindly and, for one horrifying second, Louis thinks he might cry. 

He doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything really, just look at the print, remembers that first afternoon, the two of them fitting together in ways Louis didn’t want to examine yet, remembers feeling like he’d said too much in front of that painting, feeling like he’d revealed part of himself to Harry that day. 

Harry who remembered, who might have been thinking about it this whole time. Harry who is all in. Harry who likes imperfections, who probably sees Louis’ no matter how hard he tries to hide them, who sees beauty in it all and buys Louis gifts to remind him. 

God, he’s fallen so far down already he doesn’t know if there’s a way back up. 

“Are you breaking up with me then?” Harry asks him when he’s clearly been silent for too long and what else can Louis do but kiss him?

Inside the National Gallery, near one of the exits, clutching a Van Gogh print, Louis wrap his hand against the nape of Harry’s neck and kisses him. 

&&&

and then the epilogue would have been louis moving into harry's loft and they would have FRAMED the print and put it on harry's WALL as a symbol of their relationship or whatever and the last sentence would have been something like this:

Once upon a time, Louis wanted to hold all the pieces of the puzzle that make this wall, wanted to know the story behind each print, wanted to know why they were up there, wanted to know Harry fully through it. So much has changed since then. He knows most of the answers to his questions now, knows the tale behind every image. But he didn't just collect all the pieces of the puzzle, Louis thinks as he smiles the wall, at the painting Zayn gave them as a housewarming gift, at the print of Van Gogh's sunflowers Harry gave Louis after their first real date; he became one.

ANYWAYS rip tbow, you could have been something......

[bittybattybunny]

Merry Christmas!!! Dorks being dorks

Was a bit tricky to get the pose down since like Ru is so much taller than Eclipse but that be how it is

Hope y'all had a good day!

[unopenablebox]

relatedly today the british coworker i have an only maybe disproportionate grudge against learned which six flags are the six flags and as the rest of my labmates groaned in horror he was like "well... it's part of the history though" and like. listen. i know you haven't lived in the US before. but when the room universally reacts in horror at something they think is racist possibly you should ask any questions you may have about it in "question" rather than "immediate defense of the confederate flag" format

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 22: Glass shard, “Watch out!”

Folks I’m ngl, this one is very intense. The first bit is the worst, but the end is kinda creepy too, and overall it’s just bad times, so uh, you know. There’s your warning. Per usual, if you think this needs more warnings, please tell me :)

Read on ao3

Warnings: see above, canonical character death (...sort of) blood, significant injury, brief mention of vomit, and creepy vibes

————————————————————

Somehow he knows it’s over.

His breath is coming short in his chest, blood dripping through his fingers as he tries to hold it in from too many injuries to count. The Master Sword was knocked from his grip ages ago, and he’s not sure what happened to his shield.

Something moves in the corner of his eyes, but there’s blood on his forehead and he moves too slow, Navi’s chime frantic in his ears.

“Watch out!” she shrieks, but Link can’t move fast enough, can barely breathe anymore, and when the huge sword cleaves his chest, he knows it is over.

He doesn’t know if it’s him or Navi who screams, or Zelda maybe, wherever she is. All he’s really aware of is the white hot agony ripping into him, the yellow eyes that stare into his, Ganon’s face upturning in a wild grin when he realizes what he’s accomplished.

A bellowing laugh of victory blots out any other noise, any cry Link might make as Ganon raises him into the air, still impaled on his weapon. His vision goes white at the edges as Ganon lets him hang there, and he knows he screams when the blade is ripped from his chest, dropping him to the ground with a sickening noise.

There’s a desperate wail he thinks comes from Navi, but all there is is light and sound and shattered glass beneath his broken body, only spilling more of his blood onto the floor.

You failed, his mind whispers, even as his eyes flicker and Navi wails again. You failed.

Something warm is spilling from his mouth, his chest, pooling rapidly beneath him. There is a new voice now, shouting something that makes bright lights appear in the edges of his vision, and he tries to turn to them, but can’t.

Zelda, his mind whispers. Trying to fix your mistakes.

He closes his eyes, grief and shame and horrific pain so intense that he can’t handle the weight of them. Something in his chest moves when he breathes, something that’s not supposed to, and it joins the rest of the agony pounding through him, breaking him into pieces like the shattered glass beneath him.

He wants to go home.

A cough bubbles out of his chest, something thick on his tongue, and wings suddenly brush his face.

“Link,” Navi sobs as she nearly falls onto his cheek, clutching at him with tiny hands, “Link no, I’m so sorry, I was s-supposed to protect you—”

Link lets out a sound somewhere between a cough and a sob, and Navi cries, her tears falling to his cheek like glowing snowflakes. He wants to reassure her, gently cup her in his palm, but he knows it’s the end.

Nothing can save him now.

Zelda’s voice sounds choked as it echoes along with six others, almost like she’s holding back tears. Ganon suddenly screams, and Link feels the tiniest wave of hope as his senses desert him, his ruined body failing.

He hopes that Zelda and the sages will take care of Ganon, that they’ll stop him, seal him, won’t let him destroy the kingdom more than Link has already allowed him to.

But he’ll never know for sure.

Link takes in one last gurgling breath, blood almost stopping him from breathing his last. Navi holds him tighter, and Link exhales, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth as his body falls still.

His fairy’s sob is the last thing he hears as his world disappears into nothing but velvety darkness.

—And Time bolts upright with a choked off scream before he even fully realizes what’s happening.

Images swirl in his head with such dizzying clarity he can’t focus on any of them. Blood and weapons, blue and yellow, stairs and music and the booming laugh that haunted his nightmares as a child—

Time clutches his chest, gasping in a shaking breath. He feels sick, horribly sick, phantom pain slicing into his stomach, terror sinking its freezing claws into him. Sweat pours down his face as the laugh echoes in his ears again, a shrill scream, and he tries desperately to reassure himself it wasn’t real.

That’s not how his fight against Ganon had happened. It wasn’t, he was fine, but his heart was pounding and his lungs were still straining like they couldn’t get in enough air—

(A trident, ripping through his chest, choking on blood, too much, too much—)

Time gags, and someone’s hand lands on his shoulder as he vomits into the grass, holding him steady while they wait for him to stop.

He finally catches his breath, head spinning, stomach still unsettled. The emotions from the dream sharply linger, failure and hopelessness and a fear so intense that Time is nearly sick again. The hand on his shoulder squeezes, and he finally looks up, meeting Warriors’ worried blue eyes.

The captain doesn’t say anything at first. But he hands Time a cloth to wipe his face, and steadies him when he gets to his feet, legs still trembling.

Warriors leads him to the fire, and Time sits down, forcing the shaking in his body to still. But it’s impossible, not when he can still hear Navi’s shriek ringing in his ears, feel blood pouring down his chin. Ganon’s triumphant laugh booms in his ears for the third time, and Time hunches down in his seat, mind unwillingly going through every single detail of the dream.

Just like he has for the past half a week.

The detail of the dream has increased each time he’s had it, but tonight’s was the worst yet. Time clutches at his forehead as his head pounds, and lightly rubs the bridge of his nose.

Nightmares rarely effect him to such a degree, but this... this time it had felt real.

What’s happening to me?

Warriors sits next to him without a word moments later, holding a water skin. A scarf settles around his shoulders, and Time nearly gives in to the childish desire to bury his face in it, hands still shaking.

“Time, are you... well?” Warriors asks finally, his voice gentle and worried.

Time sips the water he’s been given to give himself more time to reply, and lowers the skin with a quiet swallow.

“It’s not a sickness,” he croaks finally, hating how shaky the words come out. “I know it’s not. It’s...”

(Navi crying, Ganon’s roar, the rich tones of an organ as tears fall down his cheeks—)

He shudders.

“It’s the same dream. Every night,” he whispers. “Exactly the same, only they’re getting... worse. More real.”

He doesn’t explain what happens in the dream, but Warriors doesn’t push, instead staying silent as he thinks for a moment.

“Every night?” he asks finally, voice soft and worried.

“Tonight was the fourth in a row.”

Warriors goes silent again, the crease on his forehead deepening.

“Something must be going on,” he says finally, firelight shimmering off of the embroidery on his scarf. “Things like this... they’re very rarely a coincidence.”

“I know,” Time whispers, voice still terribly small. “This... this isn’t natural.”

“Could this be the work of the enemy?” Warriors muses, staring at the fire. “A spell? A curse?”

Time shakes his head, feeling at a loss. He knows the feel of curses, and the dreams don’t feel like that. They have more of a... heft to them, like anticipation before a battle, or the pressure before a rainstorm.

They feel more like the nightmares he had as a child, visions of Ganondorf’s attack, leading up to the day he left the forest. There’s a weight to these dreams, one that boasts of nothing good in store for their group.

But Time doesn’t voice any of this. Warriors doesn’t need yet another thing to stress about.

And besides, perhaps I’m wrong.

So instead of saying anything further, Time silently rests his head on his brother’s shoulder, scarf still warming his arms, and listens to the sound of his breathing, steady and strong.

He misses the look Warriors gives him, and at some point, falls back asleep, a hand carding through his hair.

(...)

The dreams don’t stop, their violence and clarity only getting more intense.

The others are aware something is wrong now, Time waking them all up with a bloodcurdling scream the very next night. They discuss ideas, but nobody has a clue what’s going on, what’s affecting him so deeply. Time sees several of them having conversations out of his earshot that day, furtive glances cast his direction, but he pretends he doesn’t notice.

If they want to talk about him behind his back, so be it.

They all generally give him space at night, but with the repeated nightmares, now his boys have take to sleeping much closer. And when Time wakes up heaving for breath, someone is inevitably there to calm him down.

After a week goes by with no relief, Time admits to Warriors and Twilight, quietly, what his nightmare consists of, in hopes it will aid in solving this. All it really does is make Warriors’ face twice as concerned when he wakes him from a nightmare, and Twilight’s eyes hold a nervousness when he looks at him now, like he’s afraid his dream might suddenly become reality.

Time debates not sleeping to escape the nightmare as it continues to plague him. He’s barely getting any rest anyway, he might as well skip sleep entirely.

He’s had plenty of practice, after all.

But after three nights of no rest, the others put a stop to it, several of them nearly shouting at him they’re so worried. Time nearly yells back, but he stops himself at the last moment, weariness settling upon him.

He does want to sleep. Desperately. But he can’t so much as close his eyes without the nightmare creeping up on him, blood and screams and pain pain pain—

Staying awake is almost more restful.

The others gang up on him that night though, and bury him in a pile of limbs and blankets, Wind settling himself right by his head. Time falls asleep feeling hopeful for once, but he still wakes up with a scream later that night, and Wind ends up calming him down as he tries not to sob.

He feels even worse after that (it’s not Wind’s job to comfort him, it should never be—), and pointedly moves himself away from the others at night, in hopes they’ll get the hint.

They don’t, really. In fact, they pointedly ignore it and continue to sleep by him, even when he wakes up thrashing and sick and nearly gives Hyrule a black eye one night with how frantically he’s moving.

He knows they only want to help, but he only feels like more and more of a problem.

They go through a portal and end up in Legend’s era, and Time wonders if the nightmares will stop with the changing of location. But if anything they get even worse, starting earlier in the fight, each slice in his skin burning when he wakes. He’s barely sleeping now, the shadows under his eyes nearly as obvious as the tattoos on his face.

No matter what he does, he can’t seem to break the grip of the nightmare, and he’s becoming a liability, slow in traveling, clumsy in fighting. They try everything to help him, healing, potions, magic— they even visit a doctor in a town they stop at, but he can’t tell them anything they don’t already know.

Time even writes to Malon about them, desperate to get his thoughts out to someone who understands, but he folds it up and doesn’t send the letter in the end, finding himself veering into questions even he doesn’t want answers to.

Has it finally been too much? All of what’s happened to me? he wonders as he tries his hardest not to cry in Warriors’ arms one night after the nightmare.

Am I going insane?

With the amount of sleep he’s been getting as of late, he wouldn’t even be surprised.

They make tracks for Legend’s house, hopeful that a real bed for Time to sleep in will help somehow. Legend also has a vast amount of magic objects and items, and he seems hopeful that at least a few have a chance of helping him.

And if not... well, perhaps the Zelda of this time will have some ideas.

But the night before they’re set to reach Legend’s house, weeks— has it truly been weeks? A month?— after the nightmares start, something finally changes.

Ganon stabs him and he breathes his last, Navi sobbing as Zelda and the sages desperately seal the beast away. He fades into darkness, simultaneously light and heavy, warm and cold, and knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s dead.

But the dream flickers here.

It’s as if an impossible amount of time goes by, and yet equally mere seconds, and the darkness falls over him again.

It seems to last for an eternity, wrapped around him, coating him in its hold as it intensifies, and suddenly Time is aware this is a dream, and snaps to sharp attention, looking around at the void.

It’s pure black, deeper even than the night sky, and Time feels his heart speed up at the suffocating thickness of it.

He’s not injured anymore. In fact, he’s himself, not the version of him that fought Ganon all those years ago, and Time stares, looking frantically around at the void.

Why hasn’t he woken up? Why is he aware, for once, that this is merely a dream?

Why is it continuing?

He doesn’t have long to ponder this, as the darkness parts eventually to show a room, stone walls, stone floor. Time has only just begun to study it when a noise hits his ears and he turns, watching in horror as a body falls to the ground, bloodied and broken.

Something moves out of the shadows and grabs the body’s face, and Time squints, trying to make out both the body and the figure shrouded in darkness.

But he can’t make out any features, the room too dark, dream too uncertain and wavering. Time feels something tense inside of him as he makes out the three gouges that mar the body’s chest, and tries even harder to see the other figure as well.

All he can make out are robes swishing over feet, in a color almost as dark as the room.

The figure studying the body finally lets out a quiet chuckle, leaning back as a hand caresses a chin.

“Oh I’ve waited a long time for this,” the figure hisses in a voice that seems as if it could be familiar, and drops the head none too gently, blood still spilling to the floor.

Darkness suddenly snakes from the figure and trickles towards the body, thick and unnatural. Time has the urge to grab the body and pull it out of the way, but he’s unable to do anything but watch in horror and disgust as the darkness reaches the body, wrapping around it like only tentacles, holding it tight. It seeps into the countless wounds, and the figure lets out a laugh as the body gives a full-body shudder.

The figure straightens suddenly, standing up from where it had kneeled beside the previously very much dead body. Something moves by the figure’s face, and suddenly it falls to the ground, robes rippling as it collapses onto the floor with a very, very faint moan.

But whatever had moved by the face stays up, floating somehow, and bobbing very faintly up and down.

Time feels the slow horror he’d been experiencing suddenly increase, familiarity freezing him like a blast from an ice rod at the sight of the dark shape floating in front of him.

He knows what it is. He’s sure he does, but his mind won’t even let him entertain it.

It can’t be.

The hovering shape turns slowly to the bloody body on the ground, then floats almost leisurely towards it, watching as the tendrils of darkness continue to weave through and around it. The body gives another shudder, and the thing suddenly slips down and latches on to the body’s face.

Time can only watch in horror as the body’s back arches, like it’s trying to fight back, even just a little, but then it goes unnaturally still again.

Then it sits up almost calmly, facing away from Time as it looks at its hands and feet. The body gets to its feet then, shuddering slightly as more blood drips off of it and falls to the floor.

Time wants to look away, but he can’t, all he can do is continue to watch in absolute horror as the body straightens, dusting off its ragged tunic, brushing a hand entwined with darkness over the injuries gouged in its chest.

“I’ve always wondered what this body would be like,” a voice muses, even more terrifyingly familiar, and Time sees a flicker of yellowy-orange eyes. “And now I’ve finally got my chance. How fun.”

The yellow eyes turn and stare directly at him, framed by a heart-shaped mask.

“Isn’t that right, Hero of Time?”

And the dream shatters, Time jerking awake with a name and a scream on his lips.

[writtenbydarling]

The first Taste

“ITS NOT THAT EASY!” I yelled at her, full of fear she took a step back, got away from me. I released her arm from my grip to let her get some distance between us. It was the first time i raised my voice at her. Even though she was used to me being blunt, she never had a reason to actually be afraid of me.

Until now.

“Listen princess and listen well. I won’t explain this twice.” I sat down on the floor with my legs crisscrossed, my hands in my lap, palms ups. She sat down on the sofa at the other end of the room, carefully, like she’d expected me to yell again. “I’m not like you, I am a monster bound into flesh, but i can rip that very flesh just so easy. When you walk around in my clothing you are marking yourself as mine, you’re rubbing my scent all over your body. And if that wasn’t hard enough you’re purposely showing off your neck when I’m around.”

She sharply breathed in to protest but i cut her off right away. “Don’t talk. Listen. Your life may depend on it one day.” She got one of the pillows and shielded herself like it would help if I’d decided to come for her. “You don’t look into my eyes for very long and when i get close you back away. When you’re angry at me you show me your teeth but as soon as i touch you, you’re a wet mess. Those behaviors have one thing in common, an invitation. Either you sign me to take you or to hunt you. I am strong but even i need breaks.”

„And living with you, having your scent in my nose all the fucking time and not being allowed to taste you is killing me. You have no idea how often i stood at your bed and almost woke you up by either fucking you or killing you. But on the other side…” i tilted my head, leaned forward onto my knees, slowly coming nearer. She could have stopped me at any given moment but she sat there in silence, starring at me. “… there is something that i really need to figure out soon or i will go crazy.”

I pushed myself between her knees, pulling her towards me, her ass almost over the edge of her seat. She still just starred at me, but now she held onto my hair as i placed her left leg on my shoulder.

Slowly leaving kisses on her soft skin, working my way up from her knee to her thigh and carefully slipping a finger under the oversized sweater she was wearing. When i found her underwear i started kissing the other leg, spreading them more and more while pulling her onto my shoulders further, so i could finally reach the place i wanted to bury my self in from the first second i laid eyes on her.

I heard her breath quickening and her heartbeat fastening, with my arms around her thighs i pulled her sweater up and the lace of her underwear to the side. She moaned a little when she felt my tongue for the first time, but she got progressively louder the longer i had my way with her. Her grip in my hair got tighter, almost painful.

But knowing that would be the first time she received without having to give anything, i kept on moving until her legs around my head started to tremble and shake and she tried to push me away. My tongue still inside her i crawled up on the sofa and turned her to the side so she could lay back down.

Then I added a finger. Her moans turned into some random babbling, something about how she should get me fired for this inappropriate behavior. But as soon as i closed my free hand around her throat she went back to those sweet little noises i heard almost every night when she masturbated herself to sleep. Still i needed more than her keeping her pleasure to herself, so a added another finger and i curled them upwards, slowly pumping them in and out while searching for that specific sweet-spot that would make her scream my name until the everyone knew it too.

When her head fell back against the pillows i knew i found it.

While my tongue flicked over her clit without mercy my fingertips massaged her at the same rhythm. From there on it only took me a few seconds for her to start whining about that i needed to stop with that and how much she hated me. I looked up to her and with my fingers around her chin i forced her to look into my eyes. “Thats alright with me, tell me how much you hate me.” I dared her to continue.

My words were only quite whispers against her wet skin while I looked at her, I knew what she saw right now, silver eyes that she could hide nothing from. Sharp teeth scratching over her skin, leaving little red marks that would be disappeared by tomorrow. Without breaking eye contact i started to suck marks next to those scratches, just to make sure she would not forget this so easily. “Scream it out loud, my sweet sweet morsel. Make me believe it…” then i went back to eating her out for my very own pleasure. She gasped, with my hand still around her jaw, she couldn’t even stop watching what i did to her and i clearly saw that she enjoyed every damn second of it. I took her apart piece by piece until she started begging me to stop, only then i pushed her over the edge.

“Cum for me like a good girl…” i growled, my teeth scraped over her skin as i sucked the little sensitive bud into my mouth. Aimlessly she tried to hold onto something, her hands found my hair again and then she let out the sweetest curses I’ve ever heard. He legs around my head were shaking but i let her ride out her high on my tongue.

When her grip loosened I slowed down and eventually stopped, got up, threw her over my shoulder and carried her upstairs into her bed. “Let me down!!” She demanded but i just smacked her ass. “You can’t walk princess, your legs are still shaking.” She screamed in frustration, her little fists crashing onto my back without any strength, she was completely done. “I will sleep on the stairs just let me down! Thats a order!!” I started laughing. “You will obey me!!!” I sure wouldn’t.

We arrived at her bed, i dropped her onto the mattress and got on top of her. “Fight me.” Her hand almost made contact with my cheek as i caught it. My thumb pressed painfully hard into her palm and her fingers closed around it. “Let me go you monster! I will kill you!” I angled my hips forward and her complaints turned into another moan. She was over sensitive right now. “Are you sure you want to threaten a monster?” I barred my teeth at her, a snarl deep inside my throat, knowing she could feel it. Her eyes closed for a second or two.

“Yeah, thats what i thought. I could do whatever to you and you know it. A brainless little princess that will be my brainless little fucktoy whenever i want her to be.” I brought her wrist to my lips and gently bit her without breaking the skin. Her hips rocked up against mine. “So responsive…” i added more pressure.

She let out the cutest moan while turning her head to the side. Her hair fell over her face but i could still see her biting her bottom lip. “Let's see what happens when i do this…” I heard her letting out a small “fuck” followed by some more involuntary hip movement as I intentionally drew blood. The crimson crushed into my mouth and lit up a firework in my body. The salty iron taste flooded my senses and i knew that this woman would be the death of me. I sucked on the small incisions and applied pressure with my thumb, my lips leaving a bloody trail down the inside of her arm as i made my way to her neck only to bite her again. My nose told me she got wetter every second and i took advantage of that by pressing her legs together with mine. She squirmed underneath me as i grabbed her other wrist and pinned both if them down above her head.

“Beg.” I simply said. “Please do it again?” I shook my head and firmly grabbed her throat. “I said ‘beg’ not ‘ask’.” Breathless she tried again. “Please do it again.” I gently smiled at her. “You can do better little morsel.” I increased the pressure and she gasped for air, not getting any. “Please fuck me again, please make me cum again! Please please please!!” she cried out with her last breath. “Thats a good girl.” I spread my legs a bit and hers followed to make place for my hand. 

[aceredshirt13]

gang i have to share this P. G. Wodehouse quote with you all because ever since I found it I can't stop thinking about it. it's from a letter he wrote when he was 78 years old to his friend Guy Bolton (many thanks to P. G. Wodehouse: A Life in Letters)

I have been on the sick list myself, but am better now. Inflamed bladder or chill on the bladder or something, the symptoms being agony when I passed water, as the expression is. It brought back the brave old days when I used to get clap.

he really said "yeah the pain from my bladder issue reminds of the days when I used to have so much sex I repeatedly got venereal disease"

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

Ghostly's Mini Leverage Crack Vid 13/?

[hermitagereheadcanons]

this isn't an ask or a request, but I hope you could still post it, because since I found this account the wave of love for this fandom crushed me yet again

not to disclose who I am too much, but here's a fact: I was dealing with pre schoolers as a part of my education(or, well, practice). around the same time I discovered the wonderful world of hermitcraft age regress fics. I myself don't regress, but I find those works insanely comforting. anyways I mentioned my education because, while in fics the looking after might be Way to soft and all-allowing (that YES can be very bad even short term), most of the works show it really well. and not just comforting, but as if the authors know Very Well they are portraying not a parent figure per say, but a "cool uncle that looks after you" type character and I LOVE IT. maybe this says smth about my childhood, maybe it's the overwhelming feeling of love coming from a friendship, but still. kudos to everyone who writes age re in this fandom, I love you.

I still haven't explored the topic of age regression as a study (meaning: I haven't really looked up the real world instances), but I have a feeling that learning about this phenomena in psychology feelings-first from a fictional work was a good idea.

Your ask has actually reminded me why I love this blog. I've been a bit out of touch with the fandom lately, but the sense of community that comes from gathering around something so niche is really nice and I love hearing about it.

I'm glad this type of content can be comforting and enjoyable even if you don't regress!

Also, when I originally had the idea to start this blog, there was very little agere-related content in this fandom that didn't emphasize a parental, set-in-stone caregiver as a key feature. I'm happy to see so much more variety in how people portray it in relation to friends and partners.

[local-diavolo-anon]

*throws this at u*

[a-gil-rebel]

Writing is so strange. I never entirely understood the whole "characters have their own life I don't make the decisions" until recently. I never planned for these two to be on a hike! Who wrote that? Not me! Yes I like it, its an adorable organic way for them to have another totally not a date. But who made that choice!? I was not consulted! I had no plans for any of this! When did this happen!?

Regardless, I will be doing my best to get the next chapter of Strawberry Felon up tomorrow even though the next chapter draft is sitting at less than 1k words. I feel like it's wrapping itself up, but, well, see above.

I think once that is finished, I'm going to finish Flying Teeth the Owl House crossover, then possibly start posting the Vampire AU, because I always see fanart of Fiddleford as a vampire and gosh darn it I wish I hadn't killed off the guy in mine because I could really use some FiddleStan for those bloodsuckers... sigh.

Then I think I'm going to be almost finished with Grunkle Bill, and post that in 5k chapters until its completed.

....I have 15 or more Gravity Falls AU and Crossover ideas... someone please hire me to write goofy stories full time so I don't keep killing my phone battery writing at work-