because i go here

snowfox24imcompletetrash  asked:

How would Tale, Fell, and Horror Grillby(if you do them that is) react if some douche bag tried to throw a bucket of water on Fuku to see what would happen, only to have S/O push Fuku out of the way of the splash and get soaked themselves? How would the flame Bois react to S/O chewing out the person who tried to throw water on a flame like, "What do you mean you wanted to know what would happen!? You could have killed them!!" and just overall being ready to slap a bitch?


Grillby steps up to your side, glowering at the douche from beneath his fogged glasses.  His silence is intimidating, but everyone can hear his crackling growing into a roaring fire.  The heat has considerably risen within the bar.  

The offender gulps, no longer finding their curiosity amusing.  Grillby extends a finger toward the door, and they trip over themselves in their haste to flee, while everyone remains staring at the three of you.  

Fuku is grateful, although states that it wouldn’t kill her–magic, and all that.  It would, however, be unpleasant.  

Grillby looks over your drenched attire, and you can see his features soften; you know him well enough to pick up on this subtle cues and read his face.  

“…….thank you,” he murmurs, his voice distorted, even though his crackling rage has eased.  "let’s…. get you dried off.“

He escorts you upstairs.


Instantly, the bar is an inferno.  

Fellby’s got a jagged, white hot smirk as he glares down his wire-rimmed glasses at the offender.  He’s impressed by your fortitude; the fact that you stood up for his niece means that you’ve got guts, and that’s admirable where he’s from.  Of course, he picked you as his S/O because he saw the fire within your SOUL, and it was enough to make him actually settle down and stop flirting with other people.  

He steps up to your side and reaches out clasp his hand on the jerk’s shoulder.  There’s no mirth within his burning gaze, yet his smirk is bemused.  The offender hisses, trying to pull away, but Fellby holds tight.  Smoke and wisps of violet embers rise from the flame elemental’s touch.  

”…..get out while you still can… or else… i’ll let my flame tear you apart.“  He tilts his head toward you to indicate he’s referring to you, and the offender glances toward your pissed expression.  They quickly realize they’ve chosen the wrong group to mess with, and what started off as drunken wonderment has now got them stone cold sober and scared shitless.

Is that the scent of burning flesh?  

They scramble out of the bar, clutching their shoulder.  Fellby turns to sweep you into his arms, pulling you flush against him.  Steam rises from where your wet clothes meet his flames.  

The night only gets steamier from there.



Grillby lumbers over you, his face contorted in its usual grimace as he turns to the person you’re chewing out.  His hands rest on your shoulders, but his flames don’t burn you; however, steam does begin to rise from between his fingers thanks to your wet clothes.  

The red bird monster squawks a translation:  "GRILLBY SAYS YOU FUCKED UP!“

Grillby proceeds to grab the person over his head effortlessly (even if his magic is depleting, leaving him eternally burning, he’s still got incredible strength), holding their shoulders with one hand and their hips with the other.  They flail, and he chunks them onto the grill.  

*You guys have seen how horrifying HT!Grillbz is, right?  I love him.  Even if he does kinda break my heart. 

(*Mobile Imagine Masterlist)

Thrown Against Something (Whumptober/Inktober Day 21)

As always, for the inktober whump prompts HERE.  Thanks @whumpreads!
@killian-whump, @ladyciaramiggles, @cocohook38, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable, @xhookswenchx, @gusenitsaa, @pirate-owl
All prompts: HERE
Previous Days: Knees | Bag | Cell | Noose | Explosion | Bone | Guilt | Scar | Self-inflicted | Gunpoint | Sacrifice | Starvation | Sleep-deprivation | Brainwashing | Drugged | Sensory | Withdrawal | Flashback | Panic| Threats

Killian knows that something is wrong from the moment it happens.  One minute, he’s swinging his sword at yet another dark knight insistent on taking his head off and stealing his Swan from him.  The next minute?  Well, the next minute he’s flying through the air like someone’s tossed a rope around his midsection and pulled it tight with a bloody fleet of horses.

It’s all over for him the moment he hits the fallen tree, something sharp piercing his back and lodging deeply inside him.  It steals his breath with an alacrity that he’s never before experienced, lancing pain and a pervasive chill race through him before he can even cry out.

And he won’t - cry out, that is.  Not if he can help it.  It might pull Swan’s attention from the battle of her own that she’s waging, and he can’t risk that.  Not for a sorry sod of a man like him who doesn’t deserve her in the first place.

It isn’t too hard to play dead, his eyes closed to mere slits just in case, when the knight stalks over to him and nudges him with a boot.  The stubborn part of him wants to tear himself free of whatever has snagged him and end this man’s life before he can attack Emma, but the realistic part of him knows that he doesn’t have a chance in hell.

He thinks the ruse has worked for just a moment before the knight rears back and kicks him in the head, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness before he can even react.

He wakes to fingers in his hair and excruciating pain radiating out from his back.  The coppery tang that fills the air makes him ill, but Swan is kneeling with his head in her lap and speaking frantically into what he will eventually realize is the magic shell that connects him with his brother at all times.


Gods, his brother is going to be insufferable about this - Killian’s first time out on his own protecting the princess and he nearly gets himself killed.

Nearly, he hopes.

His head is threatening to implode, the world swimming sickeningly in front of his eyes and swaying wildly when he closes them.  His back is on fire, the thought of moving nearly enough to make him weep.  The rest of him is cold, however, wracking his body with shivers that reignite the flames and destroy his resolve not to groan.

Or whimper, he realizes when he connects the sound he just heard with his own voice.  That was a gods’ honest whimper and he must be in more dire straits than he thought.

Emma’s fingers tighten in his hair, setting off a whole new series of aches and shivers, but also ground him in the present when the pain seeks to send him reeling.  He has to focus.  He has to keep her safe, get her away from here as quickly as he can manage.  

The princess is his priority and also… also his love.  He’d have given his life for her at any point in his tenure in the Royal Navy, the vow he took as a terrified sixteen-year old to Queen and Country never far from his mind.  But one stolen moment at the debutante ball for the princess had led to a courtship that was frowned upon by all save her parents, and things had developed from there.

Until the Evil Queen had returned, bringing with her a curse obliterating Emma’s light magic and her mother’s own brand of malice - a barricade around the kingdom that not only trapped the Royal Family within its borders, but also shut Liam and Killian off from the sea.  (Killian knew that the latter was coincidental, but it still made him seethe)  Left grounded in more ways than one, the Jones brothers had taken on the responsibility of Emma’s safety as she and her parents raced to break the curse and the siege.

Which leads them back to this very moment, Killian bleeding out in the forest and Emma’s hands figuratively tied against saving him.

“Emma, luv,” he whispered, afraid to speak louder lest it wake some new hurt, “you have to go.  Get to safety.  My brother will come for you.”

She hits him, and he cringes at the force behind the blow to his shoulder.  Every hurt voices its protest, nearly sending him back into the blackness save for the venom in Emma’s voice.

“You idiot, I’m not going anywhere until we can move you!” she hisses and Killian can’t help imagining a viper poised to strike.  Swan’s temper is a sight to behold, and he opens his eyes against his better judgment to take in her face.

Gods, I love her when she’s angry, he thinks before smirking disarmingly.  Charmingly, even.  Anything to erase the look of worry that is peeking out from behind the ire.

She rolls her eyes at him.


“No.  Don’t try it.  I’m not leaving you behind.”  She reaches behind him to prod at his back and he grits his teeth against the cry of agony that wants to escape.

He pants through her ministrations, writhing away from her touch when he can no longer stand it.  “Please,” he begs breathlessly.  “Please don’t do that again.”

Emma curls over his head, trying to soothe him as she apologizes in his ear.

Tears leak from his eyes as he tries to pant through the pain, his world reduced to the princess above him and the fire behind him.  The Evil Queen, herself, could march into the glade and he doubts he’d notice.

“I’m sorry, Killian, please.  I have to get you out of here.  Please forgive me,” she mutters and it’s the only warning he has before the fire in his back explodes into an inferno that steals the very breath from his lungs so suddenly that he can’t even cry out before he goes limp, thanking the blackness for taking him away from this agony.


GUESS WHO FINALLY FINISHED ALL OF THESE REFS! The actual project that these were used for should be done in a week or two if all goes well, so keep an eye out for that.


Campfire Kiss or Makeout

Do you know what pisses me off the most about the dreaded “Autism Moms”?

Let me tell you, as an autistic adult who also was a main caregiver for an autistic boy (my brother). 

For the record:  I swear that if you use this post to say autism makes people violent and abusive, I will send 12,000 angry geese to flock in your bedroom and destroy every item that you treasure the most. AND I will eat the leftovers you had planned on eating for lunch tomorrow. Don’t you fuckin dare miss the point of this post. 

Listen up. I got a story for you.

Bit of background first.

My boy, my little hobbit, was born when I was ten years old. My mother left him alone with my grandparents and me. She legit abandoned him. 

My grandparents weren’t sure they could take him in. 
I begged. I pleaded. I asked as hard as I could to let us keep him and not give him back to my mother. 

Of course, they said yes. 

I dutifully became the protective older sister.

I would bathe him up until the week I left for college. I measured his medications and crushed them into his favorite yogurt. Blue, if you were curious.I made sure his food was perfect - french fries made just like he wanted, a chicken fry sandwich complete with his favorite McDonald’s sauce we bought in bulk.  
I went to his speech and occupational therapies several times a week, and practiced the things he learned. I went with him to his first day of school.

I even did a middle school project all about autism (which I am slightly embarrassed about, as I mentioned A$ in it ugh). I read all the autism books a 12 year old could find, and immersed myself in the Vanderbilt paperwork. I delved into the world of IEPs, visual schedules, and basic sign language.

And now, I’m still sending them resources and information on medications, papers for teachers, and going over doctor notes for him - despite being six hours away. 

(Of course, I was an undiagnosed autistic girl who also needed quiet. When I wasn’t needed to do these things, I was often in my room away from the loud television and people. I wasn’t a perfect caregiver, but I did do a lot.)

All of that to say: yeah, it wasn’t easy. But since when is raising a kid ever easy? I started looking after this boy when I was ten years old.

But here’s what infuriates me.

I read all the time about these autism moms who complain about how terrible their lives are. They say they’re afraid of being hurt and their lives are destroyed. Some even talk about killing their kids.

You know what?

Yeah, I got hurt by him or when helping him. I got bit, scratched, hit, and everything else. Usually it was just him being frustrated over lack of communicating his needs, so I was rarely angry. 
I ran after him when he went out the door straight for a lawnmower and I fell to the concrete. I grabbed him right before he ran into a street and ended up with my arm covered in blood.

I was kicked in the head and given a traumatic brain injury that requires me to now use a cane, and has caused a ton of nervous system issues. I even use a wheelchair part-time due to another condition that occurred afterwards. I’m only 20, and my health is pretty comparable to someone with congestive heart failure.

And you know what? 

I never in a million years thought about hurting my little brother.

I still don’t blame him. He was often overwhelmed, and had meltdowns. As an autistic person myself, I understood it - even if I didn’t know I was autistic at the time. (I suspected, but was too focused on other things.) 
I don’t know if I’ll ever get better health-wise, and that’s okay. I don’t know if I’ll get to run and dance again, or if there’s worse effects to come. It’s just what it is, and I’ve accepted that. 

He’s a child. It’s not his fault. He once asked me if it was, and I hugged him tight and said absolutely not. 

I say all this not to demonstrate how violent autistic people can be, but to demonstrate that I get where these autism moms are coming from.

  Again, for the record, autistic people are far more likely to be abused and assaulted. 

Remember how I said  I get where they’re coming from?

Yeah, that’s still not an excuse to be harmful toward your child. Ever.

You don’t give your babies bleach, shock them, or starve them. You don’t talk about them as if they’re literally a death sentence for you. And you sure as hell don’t want to murder your little ones. 

And if you literally want to kill your kid, if you would rather have a dead child than an autistic one, I have news for you.

You don’t deserve that child, and you better back up and understand this.

You autism moms need to stop. You need to listen. 

Your kids are going through a world that wants to “cure” them, force them into suffering so they can look “normal.” Your kids are going to spend their entire lives dealing with a world that is hostile to them. People try to assimilate us to save their own pride, at the expense of our own comfort and stability. 
Your kid is going to go through life being told that they should be literally “treated” with electroshock therapy because of their neurology. They’re going to be told that they shouldn’t reproduce. They’re going to be told that they’re not worth having space in this world. Your kid is going to grow up one day, and they’re going to hear this and internalize it. 

I know that, because that’s what I hear every day. 

You say it’s so hard to have an autistic kid?

Well, of course it is. But you know what?

Kids are hard.
They’re going to kick, hit, pinch, and everything else. Even neurotypical kids do that. I don’t know a single kid who hasn’t bit their caregiver or thrown something when grumpy. 
(I’ll say it again for those in the back: autistic kids are way way way more likely to be abused and hurt.)

When you have a kid, you sign up for this. You love that little one unconditionally, you protect them with all your heart. You give them support. You love that child even if they have a disability, especially when they have a disability.

You teach them that they are allowed to exist, that they are just as valuable and needed in this world like anyone else. We need all the neurodiversity in this world we can get. 

You teach your child that they’re not a burden. You teach them how to say no and that autonomy is often more important than compliance. You teach them that you love them, and that they will always have someone in their corner to back them up when times are tough.

I don’t care how hard you think it is raise an autistic child.

Trust me, I know full well it’s hard. Parenting is hard. It’s not easy, and it’s not always roses and fluffy kittens. That has nothing to do with having an autistic kid; that’s just a fact of life. 

The fear of getting hurt is valid. I can attest to that, and I don’t think I can downplay that. But that behavior is communication, and you have to learn how to read it. I did. You have to fight for better supports, for ways to make it easier on your kid - and by doing this, easier for you too. 

Sure, it’s hard.

But you know what? Your kid’s going to have it much harder. 

celestialriptide  asked:

i saw an art that called lance 'shark boy' so then of I thought 'sharkboy and lavagirl but lance and keith' and then i had to come ask you if youve ever thought about that because idk i feel like thats something you would like to think about

Very much so… :) I hope you don’t mind the redesigns though!


this is me BNHA OC Kazuki AKA Eclipse - he’s shy when trying to make friends, but gives everything his all n always wants to help teammates :D

  • Ravenclaw: I feel trapped.
  • Hufflepuff: We're in the middle of an open field.
  • Ravenclaw: No, I feel trapped in this moment in my life. Where am I going? What am I doing? And how am I going to get to where I want to be?
  • Hufflepuff: We're going to charms class, we're going to be doing charms work, and usually hard work and dedication. Try to think in the now.
  • Ravenclaw: Well, in the now I'm contemplating an assault on you.
  • Hufflepuff: At least you're thinking about here and now!

A doodle of a Dab for all your fast dabs needs


Rivers ‘til I Reach You by Embodied

pairing: Harry / Louis
rating: Explicit
word count: 29k

Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer. 

AU. louis studies astronomy, harry studies louis. they spend their summers on the water and it shouldn’t be complicated. (spoiler: it is.)

For the @1dbigbang round 5, written by @southerngothicau

Ever Since
Author: letsjustsee
Word Count: 10.5k
Louis once again went to leave, but before he could reach the door he heard Barkley jumping off the bed behind him. The giant dog accosted Louis before he could get through, nudging Louis’ legs with all his weight and making him stumble, and Louis had to grab the doorframe to steady himself.
“What the heck, Barkley?” Louis was mostly talking to himself, aware that Barkley couldn’t actually understand him, but he had never witnessed the dog acting so oddly.
He turned around when he heard a quiet murmur coming from the bed.
“What?” He hadn’t been able to make out what Harry said, but at Louis’ question he sat up in bed, hair already wild from the pillow, eyes heavy, and Louis’ stomach gave a little flip.
“He wants you to stay.”

Or, a very fluffy AU where Louis finds a lost dog that he wishes he could keep - until he meets his owner, who he wishes he could keep more

Ravenclaw Headcanon

Ravenclaws get over excited when they talk about things they’re passionate about. It’s they kind of excitement where people either get very annoyed by it very quickly, or become so enraptured by what Ravenclaw is saying that they forget how much time has passed.