i don't know why this took me forever !

Old Habits Die Hard

A (super super late i’m the worst) prompt from @killbunnyqueen

Thank you so much for your patience! I wrote this halfway through once and then my draft didn’t save, and I’ve never written something like this before, so I took my sweet time trying to get it right.

Summary: At the Space Mall, Lance eats something that doesn’t quite agree with him. Later on, the team realizes that Space Allergies are a thing.

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So the second chapter of the fanfic came out Tuesday and I really wanted to draw more!

This is a scene where Bisky calls Killua prideful and Gon responds with 

“Killua isn’t too prideful”

ect ect 

read the second chappy here!: http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/21044150?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_89770547

this is for you @lattemika ! Hope you like it despite my messy sketching/coloring job ;P

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“It was nice seeing her again. She looked truly lovely this evening. I haven’t seen her in anything but her school uniform for a very long time, and tonight she wore this enchanting dress, a pale, spring green. It had all these airy layers of chiffon that floated around her, and she had her hair up.” Eriol sighed softly. “That girl has the most beautiful neck I’ve ever seen, slim and pale and…”

“Yeah, you’ve got it bad,” Spinel told him.

A Capella - Kit Spooner

FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY TWO!!!  Four hundred and thirty two of you have decided to stick with me despite it all. I really don’t know what I’ve done to deserve all of you or why you’ve stuck with me, but I’m so grateful. I’m so grateful to be able to write one of my favorite characters with extraordinarily talented writers such as yourselves. It’s an honor, a blessing, and I couldn’t ask for a better group of followers. Some of you have now become close friends of mine who I don’t know what I would do without now. It’s crazy to think how lucky I am to have met you let alone write with you. Right now, things have been very tense within the fandom and we could all use a great bit of positivity–as a whole the human race needs some love. So with my bias list, I’m going to share some love because I feel that love from all of you and I want to share it. 

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The Ultimate Loves throughout History (inspired by x)

Mark Antony and Cleopatra (41BC - 30BC) - famous for defying the Emperor Augustus and for their passionate affair

Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castille (1475 - 1504) - famous for joining what can now be called ‘modern’ Spain together

Henry VII and Elizabeth of York (1486 - 1503) - famous for uniting the two warring factions in England: York and Lancaster

Mary, Queen of Scots and Henry Stuart (1565 - 1567) - famous for producing Mary’s only son and their rare ‘love’ marriage

Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal (1612- 1631) - famous for the most beautiful building, the Taj Mahal, being built in Mumtaz’s memory

Jahangir and Anarkali (1621 - unknown) - famous for the romance that blossomed between the crown prince and a slave girl

I’m Forever Yours. *Ricky Horror Imagine*

Originally posted by rickymiw

A/N: I hope this is long enough for you Anon. You guys must really like MIW huh? Well here you go. (Gif not mine but look at him. Like damn.)

*~*~*

Y/N could be very patient. She could wait days for one little thing to come in the mail and not be constantly wondering when it would arrive. In fact, she considered herself a rather patient person. But not today. This day was different, this day was special. Ricky was coming home today.  From the moment she woke up she was rushing around getting everything ready for his return home. Y/N couldn’t wait for the door to open and see her scruffy boyfriend walk through the door so she could attack him with affection. Unfortunately the time of Ricky’s arrival was unknown. First, it was a flight change, then a delay, then another flight change, and then because of the delay they missed their flight. So Y/N wasn’t very happy, or patient. So by the time Ricky texted her saying he was back it was already very late. It took all of her will power not to fall asleep.

In the midst of her in and out state Y/N totally forgot that she had locked the dead bolt; so when she was startled by loud pounding on the door she thought it was some sort of serial killer. Very quietly and tiredly, she got up from the couch with the TV remote in hand to bash the killer with. Y/N looked through the peephole to find not a serial killer, but rather a very tired and annoyed looking Ricky. She unlocked the door and smiled.

“Hello.” Y/N said rubbing her eyes.

He pulled his bags inside and wrapped her arms around her and rested his head into her neck. “Hey baby.”

She ran her hands over his hair as if she was petting his head and kissed the side of his head. He pulled away and drug his bags into their room. Soon after a loud thump on the bed and groan was heard. Y/N giggled and yawned then turned to turn the TV off. While she was locking up she heard Ricky calling her name.

“Y/N…Y/N…”

She shut off the lights and trudged into the doorway where she saw Ricky laying on top of the bed with all his clothes still on, save his shoes. When he saw her he grunted and pointed at the empty space next to him. Y/N made her way over to the bed and plopped down next to him. She faced him while he had his eyes closed. He looked so at ease right now, being back home in his own bed and not in a bunk. Suddenly, he reached out and snatched Y/N and pulled her close. She gave a squeak of shock and pushed against him a bit.

“Ricky I can’t breathe!” She protested.

He loosened his grip but still held her firm against him. “Stop moving. Go to bed.” He grumbled tiredly.

She smiled and kissed his head. The corners of his mouth twitched a little bit in hint of a smile, “Good night Ricky. I love you.”

But by the time she said it he was already fast asleep. Y/N didn’t go to sleep right away, she stayed up for a little while watching him sleep. It wasn’t until times like this she didn’t realize how much she missed him. She would miss the protectiveness of his arms around her, his calm breathing next to her, his messy hair falling onto his handsome face. Just the little things. She brought her hand up to touch his face and he didn’t even move. The skin under her hand gave her notice that he was living and breathing next to her. Y/N nestled her head under his chin and threw her arm over his side. Now, the bed wasn’t empty and the world was at peace.

Y/N was the first to wake the next gray morning. It seemed neither of them had moved through the night, and that was okay with her. Ricky’s arm was still loosely holding her to him and her arm still over his shoulder. She scooted up to his face and smiled. It would be such a shame to wake such a beautiful boy. She placed a kiss on his nose and turned very carefully to remove his arm so she could go start breakfast. But his arm tightened and she was again slammed against him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked groggily.

“To make some food. Usually that’s what people do in the morning.” Y/N replied tapping his hand.

“Don’t get up yet.” Ricky begged, “Stay here just a little longer.”

Y/N didn’t protest. Instead she went limp and looked over her shoulder at him. He smiled and pulled her closer. She turned so that she faced him once again; he gripped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and his eyes looked over every aspect of her face. She leaned forwards and kissed him. It was a long, sweet, meaningful kiss. Ricky deepened it by pulling her even closer and tangling his hand in her hair. Y/N sighed a little bit and could feel every hair on her body stand on end.

“I missed you so fucking much.” He murmured.

“I missed you too.”  She whispered, fearing if her voice was any louder it would crack with emotion.

“Everyday I thought about you, wishing I brought you along.” Ricky’s hands traced over her body.

Y/N took one of his hands, “Maybe next time.”

Ricky nodded and  pulled something out of his pocket, “But next time, I don’t want you to go as my girlfriend,” he showed an engagement ring to her, “I want you to go as my wife.”

Y/N stared down in shock. She hadn’t been expecting anything like this. Her words were coming out in jumbled nonsense and she wasn’t sure if she was still dreaming or not. She could only look from Ricky and the ring repeatedly. He chuckled nervously at her antics and fiddled with the ring.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” Ricky asked quietly.

She couldn’t decided wither this was a dream or not. But dream or no dream, she loved Ricky with every inch of her soul and knew exactly what she wanted the outcome to be.

“Yes.” She squeaked out quietly.

He gave a sigh of relief and smiled while he slipped the ring onto her finger. They shared a long look of love before kissing happily again. Ricky smiled into the kiss and grasped her hips tightly. Y/N let out a squeal of surprise and amusement when he flipped them over, but it didn’t work out so well. Ricky rolled a little too far and they both tumbled off the bed, bringing some sheets with them. They both laughed as the blanket covered their heads and they tried to push it off without avail. Ricky grabbed Y/N’s cheeks and pulled her in for another kiss before saying,

“I love you so goddamn much.”

The rest of the day the two lounged around in bed and talked about the future. Their future together. They took a few pictures together and Ricky texted the band his results of his question. They gave him congratulatory texts or phone calls not long after. When Y/N got up for something her phone went off with notifications from every thing imaginable. When she opened it up she smiled at what she saw. One of the pictures they took together was posted on instagram with a caption.

rickyhorrorx: Three years ago, she said yes to a date. Three years later, she said yes forever. I am the luckiest man in the world. @Y/I/N I’ll always love you.

vanessavanessafoundaboy  asked:

this is the worst day of my life. I'm 22, my dads always been super abusive. I went to visit his dying mom in the hospital last night. He was there, drunk, and punched me in the face. I've been talking to cops all day, have this nasty bruise, and I'm trying so hard to hold myself together but I just feel so- broken. I know it's pathetic as hell but God I just want Harry to hold me. Would kill for a comforting blurb. If you don't feel comfortable though, I understand

I’m so sorry you had to go through this, love. I’m also sorry I took forever to write this. But hopefully it can still help. I wish you the best xo.


You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to go on this trip. The cabin was nice, your friends were nice but…to say you were having a good time would be a stretch. It wasn’t like you wanted to go home, though. At this point you weren’t really sure if you had much of a home to go to.

When everyone else decided to play a game, you snuck off by yourself to the little deck out back. The sun hadn’t quite set yet and it was a little chilly, so you grabbed your hoodie and a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. You sat in solitude, watching the sky change from orange to purple. The brisk night air filled your lungs as you took shaky breaths, trying your best not to cry.

“What are you doing out here?” you suddenly heard behind you. You hadn’t even heard the door open. You remained silent, however, and didn’t bother to turn your head.

“Okayyyy…” he said, stepping closer to you. “Something wrong?”

You shook your head, finally acknowledging him. You sniffed, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands.

Harry sat next to you on the step. You could feel his eyes on you, but still you focused on the sunset and the pine trees. You heard him take a deep breath.

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@terraterrific I fell hard and fast for this boy & I need so much help

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make me choose: thischarmingdevil asked: hannibal’s house or hannibal’s office?

{quote by w.h. auden}

I thought I’d try developing a technique that was faster than a true painting. This failed that goal. But hey, lightning!

anonymous asked:

Absolutely LOVE this blog, I don't know how it took me so long to find it! I do have a quick question that I was hoping you could give your opinion on. In HLV, when Sherlock is coming back to life, he's like struggling his way up the staircase. And of course, we are all reminded of ASIP, his and John's first case together. But why are the staircases slightly different? I would've thought Sherlock of all people would remember the scene exactly as it was. Thanks a bunch :)

!! You are precious and lovely !!

*hugs you forever, if you’re into that sort of thing*

I apologize for the delayed response, I’ve been a little busy the last few days. HOWEVER, I love this observation and thank you for asking my opinion on it. I started this enormous meta on Sherlock like a year ago, but it started to look something akin to one of loudest-subtext-in-television‘s metas (because it spans the entire series) and I got overwhelmed by it and it’s fallen into neglect. Poor meta! ;A;

Anyway, I’m sure that there have been several great metas about this out there, and if anyone knows of any off the top of their head, please feel free to share those with us and I’ll reblog them. <3 But my interpretation of it is fairly straightforward. Here’s a little photo of the two stairwells in question;

Let’s consider the context of them. In the first episode Sherlock runs down the stairs, leaving John at the top of them. They’re very dirty, they’re pretty much linked with death (thanks to Jennifer Wilson) and, although John and Lestrade both try to engage Sherlock, he all but runs away from them, down those steps.

In his mind palace those stairs lead, at least in part, to the padded room where he keeps his Moriarty-esque tendencies locked up. This is indicative of his initial choice to turn away from John (who, I think, is representational not just of Sherlock’s romantic interest, but his heart itself) and stay, at least in part, down in a realm where Moriarty still lurks inside him (in so far as Moriarty is Sherlock’s dark mirror, and the part of him that’s willing to use or hurt others for personal gain).

On the other hand, in HLV, as he fights his way back to consciousness, the stairwell has taken on an entirely different look because it’s meaning has changed to Sherlock. Where once it was a dingy, cold route of escape, it becomes symbolic of the difficult task of leaving that dark, withdrawn, and bitter self behind, in order to reach a place of light and pure intent. Or, in terms of John as representing Sherlock’s heart, a life in which he no longer runs away from the pain and fear that comes with living with an open heart in a painful world. It isn’t easy for him to climb those stairs, it’s a painful struggle, where it was always very easy to run down them.

If you agree with the idea that Sherlock is intentionally given vague religious overtones (for example, the way he was tied up in TEH and tortured is reminiscent of the suffering of Christ (and there are several similar religious links set up in the imagery)), that imagery is reinforced here as well. The original railing rungs are somber, funeral-esque crosses that call to mind old, abandoned cemeteries–ones, perhaps, where criminals were buried in unmarked graves since it’s literally part of a crime scene in ASiP. They’re all tones of grey and shadows, away from the light of day and heaven.

On the other hand, the rails of the stairs in his mind palace are much more ornate. They look like the kind of things you’d see decorating an alter in a church, and they’re bathed in a crystalline whiteness, a kind of pure and heavenly light. You can even see those rays of light; they’re quite angelic. The stairs have become something difficult to scale, but intrinsically beautiful.

I think those stairs are symbolic of Sherlock’s decision to stop running away from his emotional and moral responsibility toward others, and to let go of his need to stay closed off in a selfish attempt to protect himself.

The change in imagery is significant in that it goes from cold and grim to being bathed in the kind of bright, painful light. This calls to mind the feelings one often experiences when facing their demons. It’s a kind of burning brilliance that can be very uncomfortable, but eventually leads to clarity. And while self-growth is not necessarily linked to religion, it is in the minds of a lot of people, so I think the creators may have been using that kind of imagery to convey this idea.

Essentially, I think his climb up the stairwell, and the difference in appearance that it takes on, is representative of Sherlock’s decision to stop taking the easy route, and to put in whatever effort is necessary to grow as a person. To become a better person, for John and for his own well-being. His decision to stop doing things for personal gain and pleasure, and instead start acting out of genuine concern for the betterment of others, even if doing so is difficult and painful.

In my reading, in addition to this absolutely breath-taking love story, the show Sherlock is actually the story of a man transforming from someone who is self-serving and cold, into someone whole, open, and loving. It’s about personal growth, and the stairwell is reflective of Sherlock’s change in attitude.

That’s one of my favorite things about the show, really. That, in addiction to the layers and layers of romantic subtext, the show itself is a metaphor for transformation; from child to adult. From a great man to a good one, as Greg puts it.

It’s really beautiful. I cry over this show a lot, for a lot of reasons. *weep weep*

That’s just my feelings on it though. I’m always happy to hear other interpretations, and I know there are many. Thanks for your kind words, Anon!! ^o^