15/Fangirl/Sleep Deprived and wastes talent like my city's recycling system.

Enjoy your stay here on my humor/fandom/whatever comes to attention blog.
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I hate when I start shipping things I’ll be shamed for BUT OH MY GOD ITS SO HARD NOT TO SOMEBODY STOP ME I JUST SCROLLED THE TAG OF MY DOOM

Reblogged from the-musical-cc  569 notes

the-musical-cc:

So, I was investigating some stuff for the next chapter of my Helsa fic and I ended up looking for the meaning of Hans’s horse name ‘Sitron’ because I have the attention spam of a hamster with leuchemia and

Guys.

It’s the norwegian word for LEMON

HANS FREAKING NAMED HIS HORSE, HIS MAGESTIC NORWEGIAN FJORD HORSE WHICH HE RIDEST OWARDS THE SUNSET LIKE A BOSS LEMON I CAN’T BREATHE IF THE GUY EVER HAS KIDS PLEASE LET THE MOM NAME THEM

Reblogged from vakurun  873 notes

vakurun:

People bashing the elsanna ship

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People bashing the helsa ship

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People bashing the hansoff ship

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People bashing the kristelsa ship

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People bashing the hanna ship

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People bashing the kristanna ship

People bashing the jelsa ship

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People bashing any ship

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Reblogged from calenheniel  35 notes
  • [Hans runs into Elsa unexpectedly as she gets off the bus at night in the deserted city centre. She's curiously dressed, almost as if she doesn't want to be recognised.]

  • Hans:

    Elsa?

  • Elsa:

    Hans.

  • Hans:

    You ... were out today, I guess?

  • Elsa:

    Yes.

  • Hans:

    Well, it's late—let me walk you back.

  • Elsa:

    No thank you.

  • Hans:

    At least let me walk with you.

  • Elsa:

    That's really not necessary.

  • Hans:

    Come on—Anna would kill me if she knew I ran into you and let you walk home by yourself, so—

  • Elsa:

    So what? That's not my concern.

  • Hans:

    Hey, wait a minute—did I do something wrong?

  • Elsa:

    Nothing. Now will you please just let me go—

  • Hans:

    Not until you tell me why you're so upset with me.

  • Elsa:

    I already told you, I'm not upset with you—

  • Hans:

    Bullshit.

  • Elsa:

    Whatever you say.

  • Hans:

    Honestly, what the hell is your problem, Elsa? I've been nothing but nice since we met, but you've been colder than a block of ice—

  • Elsa:

    You wanna know what my problem is, Hans? You. YOU are my problem. Because I don't trust you, or like you, and I don't buy your Mr. Nice Guy act for one damn second.

  • [Silence. Then, Hans grins a little.]

  • Hans:

    Well, that doesn't matter much to me—since you're not the one I'm selling it to.