his body


[casually drops thsi here] so anyways, 

a take on a half shifted form for adri, very close to what other mimics look like. the thing is that when he (or other mimics) transform into their “”true”” forms, the skeleton goes through explosive change, and the rest of the body cant keep up with it so they look tattered and torn for a while until the growth stops, and the body can start to repair and build itself over the frame. 

also that excessively shiny thing inside adris chest is his core. which is kinda broken, so it leaks light even through the protective wrap around it

Shoulder To Cry On

W: 2.7k 

PAIR: Namjoon x READER

SUMMARY: You break up with your asshole boyfriend and of course go to your favorite shoulder do cry on - Namjoon - only today you want a little more than a comforting hug from him, feeling needy and all.

The tears burned when they rolled down you cold cheeks. It was so cold you thought they might turn into ice. Embarrassed to be crying in public, you throw you hood over your head in attempts of hiding your face. 

You couldn’t stay in there though, not with him in there, not with what just happened. Arriving early from work you had already made plans in your head of how you would bake your boyfriends favorite desert to surprise him when he’d get home from work. Now you looked down at your hand all sticky from shoving your fist in the cake and throwing it at his face when he told you there was someone else. You felt so stupid. 

Knowing that you weren’t gonna sleep at home tonight, you knew you needed to call a friend. Not your parents, they would be bothered by the drama and honestly you couldn’t take your father saying he was right about that punk all along. Going through your contacts you finally found Namjoon’s name in there. The person you always called, your best friend. He picked up fast as always with a soft what’s up.

“Sorry to bother you but can I come over?” You say, voice shaky as you try to compose yourself. You didn’t want him to hear your sniffles and worry him over the phone like that, but of course he picked up on your tone.

“Are you crying Y/N?” he shuffles behind the phone and you can picture him sitting up in worry. “Let me pick you up please,” 

“No I’m close, I’ll be there soon.” you say quickly and hang up. It wasn’t a lie, you walked for about ten minutes before you were at his door. You had time to collect yourself but the second Namjoon opened the door to his apartment and you saw his soft-looking face you started to cry. He pulled you in for a hug in silence and you hung onto his waist, hiding your face in the crook of his arm. Right now you just needed someone to comfort you, no demands and no pushing. He was never judgmental and always reassuring when you were sad.

“Come on,” he lead you to the living room with his arm thrown around your shoulders and a soft smile. Your body was shaking against his because of the hysteric crying. “Calm down please,” he sounded worried as you sat down on the couch. His body was warm to cuddle up against and his firm hands held you and made you calmer. You sat like this, your body shaking against his embrace for a while in silence.

“Where are your parents?” you broke the silence, mumbling it into his arms.

“Vacation.” he whispered against your scalp as his head was resting on your head. 

Nodding you closed your eyes listening to his heartbeat. You decided to just let it out.

“He’s been cheating on me-” 

There. It was out and you could’ve sworn Namjoons heart skipped a beat. 

Are you kidding me?” he asked, trying to be calm but you could hear him curse silently. He pulled away from your hug and grabbed your arms that covered your face wet from the tears. He looked into your red puffy eyes. “Fuck- Who does he think he is, making you hurt like this?” he gritted through his teeth. “I’m sorry but what the fuck? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t go over there and punch that stupid ass grin off his face! That asshole should be lucky to have you!” 

You bit your lip and studied Namjoons face. You could tell he was genuinely upset, his vein in his forehead popping and his jaw clenching. Suddenly he stood up after you forgot to answer him when he asked if he shouldn’t just go and punch the guy. 

“Stop,” you pin him with a look and grab his arm. 

He cheated on you?” his face showed an expression of confusion, not dropping it yet.

“It’s okay, leave it. He’s trash.” you sigh and try to pull Namjoon down to sit next to you again by the arm. He plunged down on the couch and grunted. You just needed comfort and Namjoon was your therapy. At that moment you realized what you needed, a distraction. That’s what you used Namjoon for, on friendly terms. Tonight was different though, because you couldn’t deny how sexy he looked when he got pissed. 

You let your hand wrap at the back of his neck and play with his hair, massaging his scalp with your nails. Namjoon sighed at the soothing feeling. His eyes were closed and his lips where parted and looking more inviting then they had ever. You feel the urge to lick at his bottom lip but a voice tells you not to overstep the boundaries of friendship like this. Of course you ignored said voice and instead you pulled his head closer to yours by the neck and he opened his eyes, wincing in pain at your sudden pulling of the hair in the nape of his neck. His eyes dart open and meet your face, unfamiliarly close to yours. You lean forward to close the gap between yours and his mouth. The feeling of his plump lips against yours is too brief, your legs tingling at the contact.

“What are you-” Namjoon breaths, obviously taken aback at the sudden kiss. Instead of letting him finish his sentence or answering, you tilted your head to kiss him again deeper. This time desire takes over your body, his silky lips kissing you back and you suck at his bottom lip. “Y/N,” he tried to protest but it came out weak, almost as a sigh of pleasure. Your hand rubbed his neck and moved to the collar of his shirt to pull him against your body because close wasn’t close enough right now. Never had you desired Namjoon like this before, but this was exactly the distraction you needed right now. Your hands were all over him but his were still lying on his sides, not daring to caress or touch your body.

Namjoon wasn’t touching you but not for any reason suggesting that he didn’t want this. Oh he wanted this. He had thought and fantasized about it many times. Your lips on his, the noises you’d make or what you would like in bed. He knew he couldn’t let you go too far, he’d feel like he was using you when you were vulnerable. He knew he had to stop you, but he wanted to feel your wet hungry mouth on his for just a little longer. 

“Wait, Wait-” Namjoon pulled away and licked his lips looking directly at you. Cheeks flushed and lips all swollen you looked so gorgeous. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t the way it should happen, if it even should in the first place. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m using you when you’re vulnerable.” you chuckled at his sweet words and for some reason him being such a gentleman just turned you on even more. 

As a grown woman you could take your own decisions and what you knew right now is that you needed sex. You needed to get fucked. Namjoon was looking very fuckable this very night, his shirt falling off his left shoulder after you pulled him closer by the collar, revealing his collarbones. The sight just made you bite your lip. He gulped under your hungry gaze.

“Namjoon,” you sighed his name and pressed your thighs together for relief. “I need you to fuck the sad out of me.” You practically moaned into his neck and you placed a wet kiss behind his ear. Namjoon couldn’t believe your blunt honesty and a shiver went down his spine as he thought of fucking you. You climbed on top of his lap straddling his hips and continued to kiss his neck. “Please,” you whined and rolled your hips down on his, smirking because he was already hard. 

At that moment Namjoon would break. He leaned his head towards you and caught your lips in a more aggressive kiss, his hands finally grasping your waist tightly. His lips parted and your tongues met, his exploring your mouth and sucking at it. The warm feeling of lust spreading in your stomach made you moan into his mouth. Namjoons hips rutted involuntarily against your ass from hearing you moan like that. Simply his kisses made you wet and you wondered why he affected you like this? Was it just today or was it Namjoon? Because you had never felt desire like this before. 

Namjoon let his hands travel up your warm back under your tank top and unclasped your bra, taking it off underneath the tank top. He grabbed your hair and yanked it lightly as a sign for you to pull away from his mouth so he could look up at you. You lips were red from kissing and your hard nipples stood against the thin fabric of your tank top. Teasingly you rolled your hips against Namjoons crotch and he gasped. His expression showed his state of horny. His eyes were half hooded and the tip of his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth. 

His big warm hands rested on your sides and you put yours on top of them. Slowly you guided them towards your breasts and he let his thumbs brush against your nipples through the fabric. You whined softly and he pulled the shirt over your breasts in a swift movement. He took your nipple in to his mouth and rolled the other one between his fingers. Overwhelmed, you threw your back with your hands in his hair and moaned at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple. 

“Your moans make my cock twitch in my pants baby,” Namjoon moaned against your skin and you bit back a smile. He kissed between your breasts and looked up at your face and he thought your face morphed in pleasure was the hottest thing he had ever seen. 

Noticing his intense gaze you lean down to bite at his bottom lip. He grunts into your mouth as you push down on his hard crotch. 

“Enough,” he says loudly and rids his shirt. He can’t wait right now, the waiting is excruciating. Here you were, half naked on top of him and asking him to fuck you and he felt like he was gonna die from being so turned on. He needed to be inside you so bad.

You kissed him, a needy kiss with your lips pulling at his tongue and you whine into his mouth. He understands you’re eager and so is he. 

“No time for foreplay Namjoon,” you pant against his lips when he tries to snake his hand inside your underwear. “Just fuck me.” 

He doesn’t need to hear it twice and pulls off his pants, his dick standing into the air. You motion for him to get on his knees on the couch like you and you’re facing each other, kneeling on the couch with your tongue down each others throats. Grabbing his neck you spin around so your back is pressed against his front. With a pull on Namjoons neck you get in all fours, pulling him to lean over you and you push your ass against his dick. He hisses, grabs your waist and takes in the sight of you on all fours, your back arched for him. Your ass is on the air and he let’s his palm slide over the curve of your ass. 

“You look so good like this,” He moans. Like he had pictured it so many times before. Not that he was gonna tell you about that.

“Shut up and just fuck me,” you pant, looking at him with a smirk. He smiles at you, grabbing his dick and letting the tip graze your entrance. You gasp and he smirks at the newfound power he has over you now when you were so needy. 

“Namjoon-” you where gonna beg him to just fucking give it to you and so he does, interrupting you. His dick sinks inside you and you gasp at the feeling, so full. A tingle goes through your body and reaches your toes as the feeling of his dick hard inside you. Namjoon daydreamed of this moment so long but now that he finally was inside your wet and tight pussy he didn’t know how he was gonna handle it. How was he supposed to not cum within three seconds when you felt this fucking good?

“Jesus,” he hissed and threw his head back. Any sounds he made just turned you on and you really felt it at the pit of your stomach when he’d moan or gasp. Knowing it was you who did that to him got you so fucking hot. 

Namjoon started moving his hips, watching his cock slowly disappearing inside you and not believing how hot this was. You bit your lip and braced yourself against the couch. 

“Baby, you feel amazing,” Namjoon moans and starts to pick up a slightly faster pace. His dick stretched your walls deliciously but it wasn’t enough, you wanted more and faster and harder. 

Almost as if he could read your mind he grabbed your hips and started slamming into you harsher and faster, the sudden switch-up having you moan loudly and cursing at the instant pleasure. Namjoon grits his teeth and throws his head back, his hips slamming into yours. His big hand swings at your ass and you gasp at the sharp pain if his smack. You can practically visualize the hand print on your ass that’s bouncing on his dick. Namjoon chuckled out of breath. 

Namjoon leaned forward to kiss at the back of your neck and down on you shoulders, still pounding into you, his body pressed tightly against his. He tongues your neck and takes your earlobe between his teeth. The pleasure is coming from all angles and you didn’t know how to handle it. Your hand went to grab Namjoons hair and you pushed ass back to meet his thrusts mid-way. He moaned at the sensation as you clenched your pussy around him.

Pleasure gathered in the pit of your stomach and you made sure to tell him how good he made you feel. Boosting his ego was a good idea because it made him want to fuck you even better and harder, exactly what you wanted! Namjoons hands roamed over your waist, feeling your warm skin and sending shivers all over your body as he kneaded your ass. Your toes curled and every thrust with his hips had his dick grazing your g-spot. His hand grabbed your shoulder for steady support as he continued to fuck you. 

“I’m gonna cum,” You gasp and hearing you say that had his dick twitching and his eyes rolling at the back of his head. His head fell to hang low and with every thrust came a grunt, your noises filling up the room. Every thrust most sloppy and eager for release. His hand reached to your front and he pressed his thumb against your clit and rubbing circles, causing your whole body to squirm and you moaned his name. Your pussy clenched around his dick as you felt yóur orgasm travel trough your body, First at the pit of your stomach and then the tingling sensation traveled down your legs and had you moaning his name over and over through your orgasm. 

Baby- Fuck,” Namjoon moans. Your walls clenching around him and your voice calling his name so sweetly is what set Namjoon over the edge and soon he was choking on his on moans and coming inside you. 

You slumped down on the couch just like that and Namjoon took a minute to collect himself before getting up to give you a towel. You sit up and you and Namjoon look at each other in silence. You’re both still naked, he’s pulling his boxers on and you both start laughing out of nowhere. You were best friends who just fucked and on top of it, the sex was amazing. What the hell could you do except laugh? 

“That was,-” Namjoon starts.

“-Amazing?” You suggest and he laughs shaking his head. “Thanks,” you say softly. He knows you don’t just mean it for the sex but for the support. Namjoon snickers.

“Friendly favor, am I right?” 


TFC-NET’S 2017 Spooky Creation Event: .
↳ So this is rlly way too long for a bullet fic and I’m sorry but I barely remember writing this and I’m too tired to split it up appropriately so here u go (tw violence, torture, and abuse mentions) 

  • Neil’s primary concern, something drilled into him by his mother, was always to stay alive
  • He was never scared of Riko, Riko couldn’t kill him. Riko didn’t know how.
  • He was scared of what Riko knew, how to contact the people who could
  • Riko pins him against the wall after the interview and sees Neil’s real eyes flash from beneath the contacts
  • Riko’s eyes widen before narrowing and pressing harder on his throat. No matter what he does, it won’t kill Neil.
  • He stops breathing for too long before Riko releases him, bright blue eyes still baring themselves to the human who dared try to hurt him
  • Kevin figured it out on the bus back from the winter banquet
  • “You’re one of them.” A fact, followed by a nod from Neil and a string of curses from Kevin 

Keep reading

Watch Me Run - Part 1

Masterlist  -  Part 2 (coming soon)

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader… eventually. I love a slow burn okay?!)

Prompt: The nightmare comes frequently and at the same time every day - one day you manage to sleep peacefully only to be greeted with the morning news by a story of a gruesome murder. The victim is the same person that’d appeared in your dreams

Warnings: graphic descriptions of death

Word Count: 1378

Author’s Note: A strange idea that has come out of Cumin’s Halloween Writing Challenge @rotisserierogers. This part reads like a prologue, but you really shouldn’t skip it so… it’s Part 1! (gif is not mine)

The air had the cold bite and that electric tingle of a pending storm. Grey clouds roiled over the mountains, seeming to absorb the darkness from their granite peaks with ever increasing depth. The darker they looked, the closer they marched to the ancient cabin whose chimney puffed white smoke to fight off the cold.

On the porch, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, stood The Seer with his green eye on its long copper chain hanging heavy around his neck. He watched the storm approach with a faraway look. The cataracts that clouded his once clear dark eyes meant he perceived the coming danger in the sharp wind and the cut of the ice crystals in the air. But mostly he knew of its presence from his dreams. The same dream. Night after night it had woken him at exactly the same time with this same biting cold nipping at his soft round nose, freezing the air in his tight lungs, and making the warm steam of freshly spilled blood that much more unnatural.

Keep reading

My Boys (Part 1/?)

Steve x Plus Size!Reader x Bucky

Author’s note- This is my first fic ever, so it’s going to probably need lots of work but I’ve been wanting to do this for a while so… yeah… also it’s going to be broken down into parts. This is part one its more of an introduction than anything…. Oh, and it’s not smutty… yet… Well my lovelies I hope you enjoy it!

Summary- You are best friends with the Captain and the Winter Soldier. You begin to realize your feelings for the pair of them and drunkenly tell Natasha, but who knows who else was listening in on girl’s night?
Warning- fluff, drunk reader, mentions of smut (kinda), drinking with Nat and spilling some secrets (again this is just sort of an introduction, so not much action I guess. Part 2 coming soon!)

Word count: 1382

Originally posted by stevesupallnighttogetbucky

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Cat au prompt: one of Thomas's friends brings over a keyboard and the kitties start playing with the keys making "beautiful music". That a good one?

//yes very good

Thomas should have known he would regret this.  As he and his friends sat around to edit, not a care in the world, the noise begun.  

It started when Patton realized the keyboard made noise.  He jumped up on it and accidentally made it go off, which actually scared him quite a bit.  Then Roman came over and pressed a delicate paw to a key, which was when he realized that one made a different noise.

Logan came over to inspect as well, pressing different keys along with the others to see what noises they would make.  

Of course, Thomas and all of his friends were not fond of this noise making, and apparently neither was Virgil, who was parked in Talyn’s lap.  The cat stretched and climbed up on the back of the sofa before darting across the back and leaping for the keyboard.

“Verge, no!”

“Bad kitty!”

“Oh, good god!” 

Virgil landed smack in the middle of the keyboard, making the other three scatter.  The kitten caused the loudest smash of keys possible, which sent his whole little body reverberating off the instrument.

Patton was over in a heartbeat, licking and fussing at the kitten.  Meanwhile Thomas, Talyn, and Joan were all laughing their heads off.  Needless to say, none of the kitties made their way back on to that keyboard for the rest of the night.

In 1991 serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer began serving his 15 consecutive life sentences at Columbia Correctional Facility; out of fears for his own safety, he was kept in solitary confinement for the first twelve months.

When he was introduced into the general population Dahmer was promptly targeted by the other inmates, many of whom were black (most of Dahmer’s victims were black). In July of 1993 he had his throat slashed from behind -Dahmer never identified the culprit -and other sources state he was sometimes involved in fights. He spent much of his time in the prison library and chapel, where he became a born-again Christian.

However, Dahmer still retained his morbid sense of humor. During meal times he would disgust other inmates by shaping his food into body parts, and pretending ketchup sauce was blood. In fact, this habit enraged inmate Christopher Scarver so much that he murdered Dahmer with an iron bar while the two were on work detail in 1994.

Jack, Boats, Water, and Flood imagery: Is Jack like Noah?

So there has been much meta about Cas and water, and 13x1 was chock full of things related to water. However, what I want to focus on is how hand in hand with the water references are the boat references.

The Book of Enoch and Noah and Jack

This is important to me due to this post I wrote about Jack. To summerise; there is an ancient Hebraic text called The Book of Enoch where this guy (Enoch) is shown this huge war between Michael’s angels and Lucifer’s fallen angels through these portals which appear. Enoch is told that this war is going on because all Lucifer’s angels created Nephilim and did other bad stuff and now the Nephilim and bad angels were ruining the planet. Enoch is told that this may occur on earth in the future. So at the end of this text Enoch’s son comes to him and says he has a new grandson who seems angelic and he fears the child might be a Nephilim and here is that passage;

‘And after some days my son Methuselah took a wife for his son Lamech, and she became pregnant by him and bore a son. And his body was white as snow and red as the blooming of a rose, and the hair of his head †and his long locks were white as wool, and his eyes beautiful. And when he opened his eyes, he lighted up the whole house like the sun, and the whole house was very bright. […] And his father Lamech was afraid of him and fled, and came to his father Methuselah. And he said unto him: ‘I have begotten a strange son, diverse from and unlike man, and resembling the sons of the God of heaven [i.e. angels]; and his nature is different and he is not like us, and his eyes are as the rays of the sun, and his countenance is glorious. And it seems to me that he is not sprung from me but from the angels, and I fear that in his days a wonder may be wrought on the earth. And now, my father, I am here to petition thee and implore thee that thou mayest go to Enoch, our father, and learn from him the truth, for his dwelling-place is amongst the angels. […] And I, Enoch, answered and said unto him: ‘The Lord will do a new thing on the earth, and this I have already seen in a vision, and make known to thee that in the generation of my father Jared some of the angels of heaven transgressed the word of the Lord. And behold they commit sin and transgress the law, and have united themselves with women and commit sin with them, and have married some of them, and have begot children by them. And they shall produce on the earth giants not according to the spirit, but according to the flesh, and there shall be a great punishment on the earth, and the earth shall be cleansed from all impurity. Yea, there shall come a great destruction over the whole earth, and there shall be a deluge and a great destruction for one year. And this son who has been born unto you shall be left on the earth, and his three children shall be saved with him: when all mankind that are on the earth shall die [he and his sons shall be saved]. And now make known to thy son Lamech that he who has been born is in truth his son, and call his name Noah; for he shall be left to you, and he and his sons shall be saved from the destruction, which shall come upon the earth on account of all the sin and all the unrighteousness, which shall be consummated on the earth in his days. And after that there shall be still more unrighteousness than that which was first consummated on the earth; for I know the mysteries of the holy ones; for He, the Lord, has showed me and informed me, and I have read (them) in the heavenly tablets.’

 So this son who is born who seems like a Nephilim is actually not and will be the saviour of the earth after God hits ctrl/alt/delete and floods the earth ruined by men and Lucifer’s angels. I think this discussion is highly relevant because in 13x1 all the angels shown were portrayed as adversaries to Sam and Dean. We also know that over in the portal world there is a huge fight between the groups of angels and Michael is about to come onto the scene probably causing more fighting. So we are nearing this world through Enoch’s portal in SPN. And Jack obviously will play a role in this, and like Lamech we don’t know yet whether he is like the evil nephilim created by Lucifer’s angels or if he will be good and save everyone, i.e. be like Noah saving everyone in Genesis. 

So I wrote that post back in early summer and have been waiting for this first episode to see if Jack is going to be linked to Noah. So I watched 13x1 looking for flood and boat and water references and I found a few. These might be a little far-fetched… but oh well. This is one interpretation and I really think due to the obvious similarities between SPN and The Book of Enoch that this is relevant. 

Jack and Pirates and Nautical Imagery

So evidently this first episode and 12x23 are set by a lake, but in this episode it moves from being about water into also being about boats and ships. Stumbling upon Pirate Pete’s Jolly Treats is the first instance of this. The place is decorated with everything nautical including the uniform of the workers. It is also a reminder that ‘Jack’ is a very pirate-like name. Most famously there was Calico Jack (named because he wore a lot of calico apparently). Fun fact, Calico Jack’s fellow shipmate was the person who apaz designed the Jolly Rodger (the flag with a skull and two crossed swords).

Also, ‘Jack’ is the name of a flag flown by a vessel at sea from the jackstaff, hence why people sometimes call the British Union Flag the Union Jack. So his name is nautical in that it is a well known name of Calico Jack and of course Captain Jack Sparrow and also it means a flag flown from a ship. So his name is like doubly nautical. 

Anyway, here are some screen caps to highlight quite how boat filled this episode was;

(apologies for the play signs in the middle of these screen caps)

We have to remember that sets take a long time to make. And just the sheer amount of boat related stuff in every shot inside here is pretty intense. 

We also see a boat in the same frame as Jack;

We also see these boats when Sam and Dean leave Pirate Pete’s. They are clearly shown and framed in the shot. I mean, they’re leaving a pirate themed food store and driving past at least 4 frikkin boats…. the nautical theme is just very in your face.

Another thing I noticed was that the camera focused on a boat over in the lake before panning towards the impala;

Then of course there was the shot of Jack holding the water and looking at it in confusion, tipping it from side to side to make the water move within it. He didn’t just hold the bottle, he moved the water symbolising not just still water but moving water like a flood.

(Also what is interesting about screen cap is that you can see Jack’s jacket. The amazing @tinkdw wrote in this post that ‘Though, and this could be totally random, his jacket is also very reminiscent of my Early Civilisations class where I studied early Mesopotamia and the emergence of the Mediterranean and Greek culture, the geometric design just really stood out to me’

What’s interesting about this brilliant observation is that the original flood myth is traced back to Mesopotamia! I don’t know whether this is just a coincidence or not…. but anyway. It’s something to note which I found very interesting when reading Tink’s post.)

And then Jack stands next to a drinks dispensing machine with a photo of some flooding water streaming out of it…

This is an image of the machine which I’ve definitely seen in the US.

North Cove 1889 and What Happened in 1889

And then we have the ‘North Cove’ stuff. There were at least 2 close up shots of this mug which I found a bit strange. It just seemed like they wanted me to really notice it. Of course North Cove is relevant to the water theme, but what about the date ‘1889′? Now…. this I was unsure about so first did a quick google of ‘America 1889 Boats’ and it came up with info on a lot of shipwrecks which was nothing to note due to there being many shipwrecks in that era. 

I then typed into Google ‘America 1889 flood’ and was inundated with pages about Johnstown flood in Pennsylvania in 1889. In ‘Time’ it is listed in the top 10 Historic American floods.

Again, I don’t know how relevant this is, but those close up shots of that mug that happened multiple times made me feel as though it was important. And it took about 5 seconds to link the date to one of the deadliest floods in American written history so…..

Jack’s Nursery and Previous Boat Imagery

Another thing to note about this whole nautical theme is that this didn’t just start in 13x1. 

In this post and reblogs by all these amazing people they discuss the painting in Kelly’s room.  Seriously, if you haven’t read it please do. And to the author’s, this next section is all to your credit and I hope you don’t mind me including your thoughts within my post!

I would like to thank @rosewhipped22 for the post which is amazing and also included these wonderful screenshots;

This painting was identified in that post as; ‘Breezing Up (A Fair Wind) is an oil painting by American artist Winslow Homer. It depicts a catboat called the Gloucester chopping through that city’s harbor under “a fair wind” (Homer’s original title). Inside the boat are a man, three boys, and their catch.More from wiki:   The painting’s message is positive; despite the choppy waves, the boaters look relaxed. The anchor that replaced the boy in the bow was understood to symbolize hope.[2] The boy holding the tiller looks forward to the horizon, a statement of optimism about his future and that of the young United States.’

There was also discussion in that post of the cross painted in Jack’s nursery which @deaneatscake said this about ‘I think the Camargue Cross has already been referenced (standing for faith, hope and love) but I would also like to add that this is also called a “Sailor’s Grave” in German.’

So we can see from this that the theme of boats and of stormy seas was started in season 12, and this imagery has just been ramped up one million times in 13x1. 


So rather than simply focusing on water imagery, this recent episode has started confirming my theory that Jack will be like Noah in Genesis. I am not saying that Jack is gonna build a boat and save the world. Think of Noah’s arc as a metaphor; the earth was being ruined by bad angels and fighting and so Noah saved the good people whilst God hit reset.

This bolsters a couple of theories. The first is that SPN is going to have to end at some point in the not too distant future. And a good way to end it would be to reset the SPN world back to when the gates of hell were shut and all Sam and Dean had to worry about in season 1 was ghosts and monsters of that lowly ilk. ( @tinkdw has some great thoughts in this).

And so I think that SPN is heading towards this reset button. We’re heading towards Genesis and starting in the text that in the Biblical canon precedes this; The Book of Enoch which gives you the backstory before Noah (for more info please check out my Book of Enoch tags).

The second theory this bolsters is that Jack will ultimately be good. I have no doubt that somewhere along the line Jack will have a misstep or two, but ultimately i believe he will be good. He is paralleled so much to Cas who has made mistakes but is good, and Sam who had demon blood within him but is also inherently good.

And so I think that Jack will be like Noah, he may not literally save people from an actual flood, but he will help to herald in a new kind of peace once the calamity of old has been washed over. And then the SPN world can in many ways start anew at the end. 

Floods are symbols of cleansing. They are also symbols of bringing the new. When a river floods its banks it destroys yes, but it also creates fertile ground. So I believe that all this boat symbolism surrounding Jack and the boys means that a whole flood of chaos will occur around them, but they will be saved from those torments and be carried through into calmer shores.


Pairings: Roman Godfrey x Reader
Warnings: DD/LG smut, language
Prompt: I kinda thought this one out myself, and with encouragement from a few lovelies, I’m going for it. This one starts with the reader and Roman in a car on the way to the party, and after they get there, Roman gets jealous of the dude she dances with. So he takes her to a room and has his way with her. (Also, there is mention of the look, this is said look)

As always, feedback is appreciated! Also, feel free to submit a request here :)  

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Felicity quietly got out of the bed, putting on a robe that was draped over the back of a chair. She looked at Oliver; he was asleep and looked peaceful. There were times not too long ago when his dreams had tortured him. In Ivy Town, and then at the Loft, he would come awake, chased out of his nightmares with a scream on his lips and sweat glistening on his body. Felicity tried to be there for him, but even when they were together (before) Oliver’s dreams were always something he had to endure alone. What he went through on the island and Hong Kong and in Russia was something Felicity knew she could not sooth away with comforting and assuring words.

She moved away from the bed and crossed over to the bathroom. The bedroom was a dark shade with small pools of cold moonlight shining a path for Felicity to follow.

Earlier in the evening, she and Oliver and William had their first official dinner together—Oliver made lobster tortellini and garlic bread. The meal felt a little awkward at first, as if they were all strangers trying to figure each other out. Felicity couldn’t help feeling it was her presence at the dinner table that made the setting uncomfortable.  Both Oliver and William seemed to be focused on the tortellini, taking quiet bites, keeping their mouths full so they wouldn’t have to make small talk with her.

In the six months since coming back from Lian Yu, Felicity tried to give Oliver the time and space he needed to not only settle in with William at the new apartment they shared, but also to establish the dynamic of being a father and a son. It has been difficult on both of them.

But it was equally hard on Felicity as well. She wanted to take her and Oliver’s relationship to the  next level. Ever since they were trapped underneath the Bunker, she finally understood why Oliver had kept vital parts of himself from her; most importantly, William. In Chase’s attempt to bury Oliver deeper into his darkness, the outcome of that maneuver backfired. It brought Oliver back to her and her to him, in a way neither of them could have foreseen. Felicity didn’t need Chase’s influence to remind her that she still and always would love Oliver.

When Samantha died, passing the parental torch onto Oliver, it shifted the relationship between Oliver and Felicity. To her relief, this new responsibility in Oliver’s life did not dredge up any of the old ghosts that used to haunt him—and her.  It was the opposite. It gave her a new and better sense of the kind of person he is; as a father, a Mayor, a hero—as well as a friend, a partner, a lover, and quite possibly someday, a husband.

Felicity entered the bathroom and was about to close the door and do her business, when  a cry came out of the darkness.

It was William. She turned and headed back into the bedroom. She was startled but not surprised by the shape of Oliver standing naked next to his side of the bed. His eyes were wide open as he responded to his son’s cry. He pulled on his sweatpants and started to go to William.

“Oliver,” Felicity interrupted his trajectory. “Let me do this.”

Oliver didn’t seem to hear her request and continued moving toward the door. Then he stopped himself and turned to look at Felicity.  “Do you…are you okay with…wouldn’t that confuse things more, for him and for you?”

“Oliver, it was your idea to have me over tonight. If I’m going to be a part…well, a part of all this, I should start earning my keep.” She saw some of the tension easing up in his shoulders.

Oliver smiled at her. “Okay Felicity, but this isn’t a job interview. You don’t have to earn anything. You are a part of this family—forever and always.”

“Thank you Oliver.” She put out a hand as if to forestall his expected response. “And you don’t have to tell me I don’t have to thank you. I’m thanking you.”

Oliver nodded. “You’re welcome. But maybe I should be thanking you.”

“What for?”

“For agreeing to this tonight. For going past you uncertainty and nervousness with William. I know how hard this has been for you.”

Felicity was about to respond by moving into Oliver’s arms when William called out again. She passed by Oliver and hurried to the door. Oliver fell in behind her and she turned back to look at him.

“Felicity,” he told her. “You got this, but I’m going as your back-up.”


Felicity slid open William’s bedroom door and went inside. Oliver hovered outside, ready to assist  her if needed. She could see her path to William’s bed by the nightlight Oliver put in the room. William was sitting up against the bed’s headboard. Fear was shining in the boy’s eyes, glistening with the tears his nightmare brought. When Felicity came into the room, William looked up and surprise crowded into his leaking eyes.

“William…” Felicity started to say.

“Where’s Oliver,” he asked her? “He usually comes in to…”

Felicity shook her head as she moved closer to the bed; then she sat down on it. “William…” Then she stopped herself. What should she say to him? Maybe she was right when she told Oliver it  might not be the right time for this. Uncertainty started to fill her intentions.

William kept staring at her as if he was waiting for her to give him all the answers.  As usual, his nightmare was about his mom. When Oliver told him she was dead, William did not believe him. He tried to run back into the smoldering forest, wanting to find her and prove that Oliver was wrong. But Oliver (his dad?) stopped him, taking William into a fumbling hug. William began screaming at him to let him go, struggling in Oliver’s grasp. But Oliver would not let him go. It was at that moment when Oliver became the “bad man” in his nightmares.

“William,” Felicity spoke with a tenderness the boy probably hadn’t felt since his mother tucked him in every night. “Please tell me what your dream was about.”

William suddenly made an unconscious connection through his fright. “You love Oliver, don’t you?”

“William…yes, I do.”

“You’re not  my mom,” William told her. “My mom is dead. And Oliver killed her.”

“William, you know that’s not true…I mean the Oliver killing you mom part. But he is your father. And you’re right—I’m not your mom.”

William shook his head. “He did kill her. She’s dead because of him.”

Felicity almost broke then. But another kind of force took hold of her instead—one of protectiveness for Oliver, and for William. She took a couple deep breaths and pressed on. “William, you dad’s mom died too, just like your mother. She was killed by another bad man, right in front of him.”

The look of accusation appeared to dim a bit when Felicity told him that. “Really,” he asked? “What…how…”

Felicity decided not to hold back. “She was stabbed with a sword.”

William’s eyes widened. “Wow,” he whispered. “Who…”

“William, it doesn’t matter now. It was four years ago and Oliver…your dad, he was really sad, like you are now.”

Fresh tears began to roll down his face. “Felicity…why did my mom have to die?”

Felicity felt her own tears start to fall. She reached out to hug William; he let her. He began to sob against her, a boy who wanted his mother back.

“William,” Felicity cried with him. “It’s alright. It’s okay to cry for your mother.”

He clutched onto her and six months of fear and sadness and loneliness poured out of him.

After a time, William pulled away from Felicity. He sat back and a different look was in his eyes now. “Felicity, did Oliver…did my dad cry too when his mom was killed?”

Felicity nodded. “Yes…in his own way, he cried.”

“Are you… are you staying with us tonight?

“Yes William, I am. Is that okay?”

William nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” He looked more closely at her. “Does my dad—does he love you too?”

Felicity smiled. “Yeah, I think he does.”

“Good,”  William responded. “Felicity, do you like baseball?”

Her smile widened. “I guess so. Why?”

“Well, there’s a game on tomorrow and Oliver said he would come home early and watch it with me. Do you want to watch it with us?”


Outside his son’s room, Oliver was smiling through his own tears. To hear his son open up to Felicity was…well, it was magic. Oliver felt blessed that Felicity was able to touch the purest part of him.

@it-was-a-red-heeler @almondblossomme @quiveringbunny @memcjo @mortallock @casydee @flowerandsunshine @1106angel @dmichellewrites @scu11y22

The Masked Swordsman

AN: Did anyone ask for Zorro!lock Sherlolly?!

Heart racing, he leapt down the stone wall, black cape fluttering behind him, and slipped under the arch just as the shouts and footsteps of the guards sounded above. Leaning back into the shadows, he felt the cold, hard steel of a handle and, to his relief, found the door to be unlocked. He slipped inside and was immediately hit by the scent of hay and manure. It appeared he’d stumbled upon side entrance to the stables.

Though still trapped on the grounds, his token was still safely stored in his belt and he breathed a sigh of relief for a moment’s reprieve to formulate a new plan of escape.

Until, that is, he felt the cold blade of a sword at his throat.

Turning slowly, he raised his hands. His eyebrows went up behind his black cloth mask at seeing, not a guard, but a tiny spitfire of a woman.

Molly Hooper.

His mark’s niece stood before him clad only in her corseted undergarments and a loosely tied dressing gown. Her long, brown hair was pulled back in a loose plait and shimmered with golden strands as the sun filtered from the gapes in the rafters above. Her features were rather singular, almost elfin in appearance, but strong of character. 

He eyed her stance and deduced instantly that she was not putting up a farce. Her form was impeccable and there was not a tremble along the deadly blade in her hand. With righteous fire in her deep brown eyes, she was an enchanting sight.

“Give it back,” she spat.

Sherlock smirked. “Give what back?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and looked down his body. He carefully did not make a motion toward the papers stashed under his tunic at his waist. “Whatever it is you have stolen from my uncle. Do not insult me by denying it.”

Slowly, Sherlock stepped sideways and edged toward the middle of the room. “Very well.”

She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “You’ll give it back?”

He crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance despite the sword at his throat. “No, I’m just not denying I took it.”

She huffed angrily and pressed the tip of her blade harder into his throat, not yet piercing the skin. “Give. It. Back.”

There was no time for this. Easily, Sherlock ducked out of her reach and unsheathed his own sword, executing a complicated twist of his wrist to catch it, raising it protectively in front of himself just in time to deflect her attack.

His arm trembled slightly as she bore down and he found himself impressed by her strength. It was, of course, no match for his own, but she was clearly a trained swordsman whose ability already surpassed that of the guards he’d escaped from. 

“Thief,” she accused and pulled her sword from the tangle of his and whirled about, swiping the blade in a horizontal arc as she did so. He leaned back just in time only to jump out of the way as she lunged forward and pierced the air where he’d been standing. Bringing his blade around, he swiped at her, not with intent to kill. An act she easily parried.

Back and forth, they attacked and deflected, his mocking smirk fading to a determined scowl. Somewhere in the process, Sherlock lost his hat and Molly’s hair had come completely undone, flying about her rosy cheeks as they dueled. For a moment, Sherlock did wonder if she would succeed in disarming him. Her ability was far greater than he anticipated and he found himself distracted by the sight of her passion.

But ultimately, her passion was her downfall and when she let her guard down with an enraged shout, Sherlock locked their blades together. Reaching around, he caught her free hand and held it captive behind her back. She struggled to free herself, breathing heavily, the bosom of her corset rising and falling rapidly. He couldn’t help but notice the appreciation in her eyes, though she tried to fight it, as he held her against himself. 

“You’ll never get away with this,” she declared. 

As he looked down into the eyes of this woman who had broken every expectation he’d made, for the first time in nearly a year thoughts of revenge against the man who had murdered his brother weren’t at the front of his mind. 

“Perhaps,” he admitted. His jaw clenched. “But I will die trying.” 

She stilled. Her brow furrowed and an almost soft, sympathetic look washed over her face. 

She was an innocent in this whole sordid mess, he had known that from the beginning. It was her uncle, or rather the man who claimed to be her uncle, who was a murderer and blackmailer. Sherlock assumed she was ignorant of her uncle’s dealings. But as she looked up at him, he got the unsettling feeling that she knew; and she knew what he was going to do. A silent war was waging within her and he felt her body slowly relax, her grip on her sword slackening. And as Sherlock stared down at her, he promised himself he would make sure she was unharmed and without blame when all of Magnussen’s dealings came to light. 

Heedless of the fact that the guards were closing in, Sherlock unlocked their blades and, in a show of trust, slowly backed away and sheathed his sword. 

Molly lowered her sword, that same look on her face that made him wonder if she could see beneath his mask, beneath his caped façade, to the broken heart he guarded. Uncomfortable with the idea, he put his confident swagger back in place and swept down in a mocking bow with a smirk. “Until next time, Molly Hooper.” Picking his hat up, he dusted the hay off of it, and placed it back upon his head, running his hand along the brim. 

He was about to escape the way he’d come, his hand on the door, when she spoke behind him.

“I look forward to it.”

He stilled. Pulling his hand back, he looked at her over his shoulder. 

Suddenly spinning around, he strode over to her and cupped her face with his gloved hands. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted just as he leaned down and stole a kiss, a rather passionate kiss as she was just as eager as he. Her sword clattered to the ground as her hands gripped his waist and her mouth met his, challenging him in their kiss as she’d challenged him in swordplay.

Oh, this complicated everything.

Breathless and flushed, Sherlock pulled back and let his fingers trail over the soft skin of her cheeks. Her eyes were closed and her lips pleasantly plumped from his attentions. She leaned forward, following him. He resisted the temptation to steal those lips again and backed away.

With a wink, he slipped out the back and sprinted away, just as the guards burst into the stables from the other entrance.

Until we meet again, Molly Hooper.