i like the base

Danes to Danish people: I hate Denmark. Our weather sucks. It’s so cold, our coffee is never warm. It’s always raining. So much snow. I hate it. 

Danes to everyone else: once we were Vikings. We’re the happiest country in the world. We drink a lot. We’re strong. Our country is tHE BEST ONE

also i get really iffy about ocs from canon fandoms ( fairy tail, haikyuu, etc. ) who are related to one of the main protags // antags in the story ? or just related in general. like if the person isn’t stated to have a sibling at all….idk, i just feel like its kinda odd? is that just me?

Charger Dalish won the obscure elf vote tally.

Still in bed after i painfully fell out of it but there were two obvious leaders.

Adaia Tabris came in second with 6 votes.
Charger Dalish won with 7.

not to offende but ive drawn 1 taz piece and like 572 homestuck/davekat pieces and i can say w/ fair certainty based on the comments and tags that taz fandom??? 500% more enthusiastic and appreciative.

Like a Match

Idek what this is, but I felt like writing something Killian-based, and with that last episode I found myself with, at least, something to work with that came out alright. *shrugs*


Though there were many different kinds of knives that Killian had encountered throughout his life, he found that all of them had one thing similar regardless of the shape, size, or purpose of the blade.

It always burned.

The moment it sliced through his flesh, whether it be his back, belly, or neck, it always had felt as though a fire had taken up residence at the point of entry. Like his insides were a village during a drought that's only future was to be turned  ashy - like the skin of a dead man, with embers fading slowly - the color of spilt blood.

 He supposed that his lengthy list of experience with the feeling of being impaled, stabbed, or cut open made it easier to recognize what type of weapon heartbreak was.

It burned just the same.

He couldn’t be sure if it was long and jagged like Excalibur, or short, sleek, and unexpected like the dagger Not-So-Charming had used (perhaps it varied from person to person), but the all encompassing sting was there, along with the pinch of tears in his eyes, and the fading consciousness brought on by the rapid thump of his heart.

Gods, it hurt.

Of course he had faced heartbreak before, what with Milah and Liam having both died in his arms (one of which was to be mutilated seconds after the death of the former), but those heartbreaks were not like this. Theirs were deaths that gave him hope that, even though they were dead, and even though he was filled with a dreadful ache, they could be happy. And theirs were deaths that left him with a purpose moving forward (as unfulfilling as both of those purposes had ended up being).

With this, though, neither of them had died, nor had the pain he felt tearing him to shreds as he stumbled out of the house, needing to fix himself, been something against both of their will. She had handed him the ring, and she had walked away from him.

He was not the man she had agreed to marry.

He had failed her.

Were they separated?

Did she even want him in her house any longer?

The thoughts had caused his head to throb and a groan to escape his lips.

And it burned

It was as though the fire he’d kept deep within his heart for her, raging ever onwards with every kiss and glance and whisper, had escaped the fireplace with the addition of the wrong fuel.

His memory of that night, of a man pleading to go home stowed away in a dream-catcher made a fire for warmth and survival turn into that of destruction.

Now the love that he felt for Emma caused his muscles to be seared with the need to be better, with the desperate want he felt when he thought of Charming’s nobility, Snow’s optimism, and Emma’s constant desire to help even as her death loomed on the horizon.

He wondered if he would ever even need to experience being burned alive in order to tell you exactly how it felt.

He wanted to go home, and he wanted to spill every last secret he had to her to show just how much he trusted her. He did trust her. However, with the reminder of who she was and what she dealt with running on a loop in his mind, he shoved the idea away.

Of course he could calm the fire in his mind and lungs and heart with the freedom of forgiveness and her strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, but rum was more readily available, and far less likely to be weighed down by the secrets it’d never asked to hear.

It was a quiet and magical companion that would neither listen, nor judge, nor hurt. It merely stood by and provided a numbness needed to endure the tongues of fire biting at his conscience.

All the same, though, he wanted to go home.

It was next that he wandered to the ocean, wondering if the water that was salty like tears would loan him several to calm the frantic beating of his heart. To help him think reasonably amongst the numbness and fire raging within him.

(All his fault.)

However, with a glance at Nemo, who knew who he was, and helped others find exactly what they needed, he felt less like he wanted to find comfort in the waves lapping at the shore, and more like he wanted to drown in them (or at least be very, very far underneath them).

So rather than finding himself at home that night, wrapped up in the woman who both lit him on fire and put ice on his burns, he found himself with a sack filled with things (feeling much more hopeless than the last time he packed, less than a month ago), and a weight in his chest that quietly quarreled with the fire looking to get past it into the water.

Snow fell into his eyes, and he shivered, his larger coat still doing very little to block out the cold. He felt like he had stood out in the sun for too long. Burning up but shivering and numb all at the same time. Miserable.

His heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest for every thought of Emma, and the sea in front of him, and the plans he had in order to be ready to love Emma the way she wanted and deserved to be loved.

It thrummed louder in his ears as he thought of that love. As he envisioned her in the morning with her hair covering her face and her head facing a funny direction, sure to have a crick in her neck once she woke (which he would happily help her with). He saw her smiling and nearly bounding with excitement at her mere survival, and he saw the sadness formed by him that he desperately wanted to chase away (but would also happily help her deal with if that was what she needed).

He thought of her - angry, happy, sad, confused - he thought of her. He ached to see her though he’d only been gone for several hours.

How would he survive longer than this?

He even let memories of them in the Underworld wander freely in his mind.

He thought of the pain that they’d endured, and thought of how he almost never saw her again. He thought of how he almost chose that. How she held him after he changed his mind.  How she forgave.

He’d hurt, but he was safe. He’d let himself feel safe.

His heart jolted at the thought of that security, at being held and trusting as much as he begged she would him.

And just like that, it was like he’d jumped into the ocean and found himself shocked at how cold it truly was.

He shouldn’t be standing at the docks, or even considering a tomorrow without Emma and her uncomfortable sleeping positions, or without his family.

He shouldn’t be considering running. How on earth could he run from her. (How could he be so selfish?)

His heart twisted in his chest as the fire that had been filling up, burning him and causing agony to spread throughout his soul, returned to its rightful place. It beat a steady, purposeful rhythm in his chest as his mind cleared and the numbness turned to fierce and severe feeling.

He needed that.

He raced to the belly of Nemo’s ship, a smile on his face as hope overtook him.

He spilled his thanks and excitement to the man before preparing to depart. Before rushing home to the woman he loved and spilling himself to her, promising that he was ready to trust with just a bit of help (which he trusted she would be willing to provide).

He was so glad to not be on fire any longer.

However, with the appearance of a cloaked figure, and the sounding of the ship’s alarms, as they went down, down, down without warning, he found that his plans of love and safety and forgiveness were put on hold.

Now he was drowning.

anonymous asked:

Question, how do you write a good Eddsworld AU because mine is going "tremendously".

I’m?? Not good?? At giving advice???
Man, I don’t know. I did this au based on things I like.
I like shy Tord, happy Tom, angry Matt, and depressed Edd.
And it looks like a lot of fans like that too.
Oh, here’s a good advice! Think about something the fans like to see!
That’s all I got, sorry ahaha

anonymous asked:

Why do you think Gideon needs Killian gone? Some people said because he's Emma's strength but Gideon isn't the smartest kid, I don't think he'd observe that so quickly. I thought potentially he might be gunning for a twisted sleeping curse that bloody relatives can't break? Or something besides emotional reasons because that doesn't seem like his kind of plan. I could be totally off base, just wondering your thoughts!

I have to start by saying that as much as I adore the character of Killian Jones he is NOT Emma’s strength. Emma is Emma’s strength. The idea that she’s somehow weaker with Killian out of the picture is odious. And vice versa.

I think OUAT has done many, many things right with the Captain Swan relationship but one of the very best is that they’ve been careful not to diminish the awesomeness of the individual characters in service of the couple. 

They’ve done an amazing job of showing Emma and Killian as strong individuals whose love makes them even stronger together. And they’ve done that while avoiding the VERY common pitfall of showing them as a strong couple who somehow become weaker when viewed as individuals. The writers and showrunners deserve credit for that because it’s a hard line to walk and they’ve done it flawlessly to this point.

So if Gideon somehow thinks he needs to get rid of Killian because Emma can’t take care of business on her own that will surely be his downfall.

My guess is that’s not it. But rather that whatever he has in mind has some sort of emotional aspect to it–like he needs the eyelash of a  broken hearted savior in the moonlight or something like that–so he needs Killian out of the way.

I guess we’ll know soon.

anonymous asked:

iiaat to eat "weird?" i eat i subconciously make sure my food is very close to my body, and people always tell me i "eat like im in prison" or "hiding something" and im also very messy?? itaat or am i just bad at Human-ing

Many autistics eat in ways that are considered weird by neurotypicals. We each have our own quirks that vary from person to person. I would guess that you are likely clumsy (based on the messy comment) as well and that you keep your food close to you to try to make it easier to eat. Personally, I have to eat so that the first bite I take is on the right side of my mouth and the second bite is on the left and that I always have an even number of bites and bites one and two must consist of the same food/mix of foods and the same amount. So yeah, eating “weird” is pretty common in autistics.

-Sabrina

anonymous asked:

What other characters from HP do you ship?

Uhhhh, a lot.  I just don’t like…love them as the primary ship, if that make sense? Pretty much, I like all the ships that COULD be canon without changing the fundamental personalities of the characters.

I like Harry/Luna or Harry/Ginny.

I like Remus/Sirius, because it make sense to me.  Maybe with Tonks in the middle.

I enjoy Fleur/Bill.

Draco/Luna is fun. It was my B plot for one of my stories.

Dumbledore/Fudge or Dumbledore/Grindelwald isn’t exactly my favorite to think of, but I like imagining it because it makes sense based on canon.

Minerva/Severus (but it has to be written properly).

Ron/Harry (insert “but he’s basically Ginny with short hair” jokes here)

But really, I’d read any pairing/ship if the writer makes me BELIEVE in it.  If it’s an actual story and not just smut with name window dressing, I want to believe that it could be true based on who the characters ARE. If you can do that and you can do that well, then I’m sold.

i decided to participate in at least one day of the Victuuri Week

(illustration to the fic that was originally based on @beanpots AU)

5

Once I’ve read @helly-watermelonsmellinfellon‘s amazing Victuuri Soulmate AU compilation I just had to draw something from it! So here it is!(finally)
More under the cut <3

Keep reading

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No, it’s you.

—–

cheesy metaphor for freedom aside, look, they have plenty in common and would be adorable friends, dont look at me