wall dock


“You know, you don’t have to do this right now. It can wait, if you’re not ready.”

“It’s ok… Thanks for coming with me.”

Docks: Holding Area - in which many feels were had. These two tho, amirite??


omg i would love to see f(x) perform this song.  This dance group did an awesome choreography. 

This photo went viral in 2015 claiming to be a sea monster in Greece but, in reality, it might be far from a mysterious sea serpent. The image was taken by 52 year old Harvey Robertson while he was visiting the country on vacation with his family. He leaned over the side of the boat to snap some photos of the water while in a sea cave and when he looked over the pictures he took, he saw this. However, after about a week of this picture spreading around, the real ‘creature’ was found.

Dr. Darren Naish of the National Oceanography Center at the University of Southampton thinks that what Robertson captured on camera was most likely what is called a low freeboard fender. It is an object that helps protect boats from taking damage on dock walls and other obstructions. 

The Ice Master

Yay!  It’s Kristoff weekend!

Rating: K

The sign above was freshly painted and affixed to the wall and overhead from the second story with a rather large piece of metal and ornate finial jutting out.  It was a sturdy fixture and would take some effort to remove.  But that was not the plan.  It hung there solid and strong; a silent declaration of permanence.

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(160130) @hermosavidaluna / _minzy_mz: my precious friend kkungkkung minji. 😘 minji who first postponed all her schedules and came to my first solo concert the quickest. she gifted me the most beautiful flowers and the most beautiful heart. i will work hard and pay back the people who i am thankful to …….. i love you, minji. 💕 i love you to the fans who were with f(x) today!


It’s hard to get a good photo of the tank haha! The bright lights up top want to be overexposed while underexposing everything under the water. No, my water is not “dirty”. It’s tea-colored because of the tannins in the driftwood. Tannins are good for fish!

But I just wanted to show off the current layout and everything that’s in it. I love water-change days, everything looks so nice after the tank gets cleaned and filled. I lose about an inch of water during the week (so about a gallon?) due to evaporation so by Friday there’s a visible waterline and there’s condensation residue from daily misting, etc etc. 

Nice fresh happy tank!

Everyone gets to enjoy:

1 large piece of driftwood
1 thick synthetic vine and 1 thin synthetic vine looping around the tank
2 times a day it “rains” when I spray the enclosure (Lil’ Prince the betta loves chasing droplets if I spray the surface of the water. Lady is less amused and usually runs away. Hey girl, this is for YOUR benefit, this is how you drink!)

For Lady the anole up top there is:

1 reptile hammock hung sideways to make a climbing wall 
1 floating reptile dock (I put her food there, since she loves dropping down on it from above)
1 cork-log hide
2 synthetic plants hanging on the back of the tank
1 combo heater lamp with both night and day basking bulbs
2 thermometers
1 humidity monitor

For the fish:

1 glass bauble
Many rocks
Several live plants
Nice sand substrate
1 Sponge filter
1 Heater

Everyone is settling in really nicely. Lady is really starting to venture away from her favorite spot in the green plastic plant, although it’s still her favorite place to hide. I just added the cork-wood hide today and she really likes it. I love watching her hunt crickets! She likes watching the fish heh.

Speaking of, the fish are doing great! There was a brief ich breakout on one of the panda cory after everyone was transferred into the big tank but that was taken care of easily with some medication. Lil’ Prince enjoys sleeping on the sloped edge of the reptile dock - not its intended use! but adorable nonetheless. One of the shrimp is pregnant! The neons are doing just fine too. 


Arthur x Reader

Requested By Anon

Warnings: Strong language

Part Three

Arthur was being unusually tense. He’d avoid looking at you dead on unless you weren’t looking at him, then you’d catch him staring at you as if he’d never seen you before. Each time you brought it up he dismissed it and asked you to do something for him to ‘get you out of his way’.

“Arthur did you finish this week’s order?” You asked as you wondered into his office at the back of the Garrison.

“No… I’m doin’ somin’ else.” Arthur yelled back.

“Arthur what is so important that you haven’t finished odering booze for your pub?” You asked with an arched eyebrow and a condisending tone.

“I was um…” He sighed and lose his eyes for a moment, opening them and setting his gaze on you as he played nerovulys with his hands. “I was figuring out how to… ask you to marry me.”

Your eyes widened and you found yourself speechless, he swallowed when you left his office with a stunned look on your face. He called after you as you hurried from the pub, still in a daze as he tried to explain himself.

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WIP tag game

So … @solverne tagged me in one of these, and so did someone else? I can’t find the post right now though; let me know if it was you! 

I’m being dragged kicking and screaming (with joy) into this whole writing thing and I now have to admit to having some WIP pieces…I was tagged twice and then didn’t respond for about a month so I’ll also give two snippets from two different things. .  .


Small, rough hands grabbed around a crooked part of the wall near the dock-side of the Alienage. Parts of the wall were tall, smooth stone but a few spots - like these four feet, near the dock-side apartments - were decrepit and much patched with various materials.

Trevelyan Family Values

“You want to smuggle your sister out during the chaos?”

“What did you think I would do with your information? ” Eve Trevelyan asked, giving the slender blonde a hard stare, “Not just Esther, but Lilith too.”

AND I’M TAGGING: @thema-sal-shiral , @justanartsysideblog , @lycheemilkart , @katalyna-rose , @deleriumofyou , @wardsarefunctioning , @buttsonthebeach , @gaelathebane , @love-in-nature , @rawrzimon, @idrelle-miocovani , @dragynfox

As always, no pressure! Only participate if you have time/ inclination. :) 

Breath By Breath

Adam Milligan imagine requested by anon! “Can I request an Adam one shot where he’s having a hard time adjusting to life out the pit again so the reader is helping him but he thinks he’s a burden in the reader who doesn’t think that at all and loves helping him?" I’m very fond of Adam Milligan’s character, but I rarely get to write for him. If you have any requests, send them my way! Hope you like it!

You knew he was awake, though he was very obviously feigning slumber, his chest moving systematically to match the pace of your own breath, his body’s warmth exuded from unmoving limbs, the dip in the mattress beside you falsifying the owner’s state of consciousness. His exhales were steady, timed to precision, his breath hardly disturbing the air save for the rush of near silent sound created by the expulsion of air from his nostrils, a gentle sigh that, admittedly, almost had you fooled. And he would have had you fooled, had you not been fully awake yourself, timing your breaths to his, listening for the ragged inhale you knew would filter through his facade every hundred breaths, when the hair at the back of his skull would bristle softly against the motel’s pillowcase, a fidget here and there displaying his deep-rooted discomfort. If you knew anyone, it was the man underneath your covers. Adam Milligan couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes, try as he might. The man was practically your ward, under your care and protection since his brothers finally managed to wrench him from the cage he’d been trapped in for… for God knows how long with two vicious, never-tiring archangels. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived with enough brain function leftover to blink his eyelids, let alone pretend to sleep to keep you from investigating the cause of his insomnia. He cleared his throat as gently as was humanely possible, shifting to accommodate for the sound, passing his actions off as re-positioning, seeking better comfort. He went stiffer than before, waiting, listening. You kept pace with your breathing. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Your lungs expanded with lazy breath, your face snuggling into the cotton fibers covering your pillow. After a moment of his evaluation, he determined you to be deep in sleep, silently slipping from the covers, his fingertips prodding the comforter back into place along your spine, careful not to touch you. He knew hunters to be light sleepers, and he of all people would fear waking a beast like yourself. Then again, how could you compare yourself to someone like Michael? Like Lucifer? His bare feet prodded away from the bed, cautious of the floorboards, choosing his footfall as if his life depended on it, creeping away, a mere whisper against wood.

He tread near the window overlooking the motel’s dirt parking lot before stopping, a faint thud alerting you of his body’s weight, now resting against the wall. You turned over, clothes itching against the fabric cocooning your body, propping your face up on a hand, your elbow buried in the warmth of Adam’s recently abandoned pillow. His silhouette was illuminated by a sliver of light peeking through the stiff curtain, his fingers peeling back the fabric to gaze out at the streetlamps, a single shard of golden light slicing through your darkness. His shoulders were rigid, shifting downward upon your movement, his profile catching the light when his face turned in your direction, his features unreadable… yet something about the set of his brow was off-putting. This fissure in his facade caught your eye as he closed the curtains, your gaze pinpointing his trembling hands as they shifted away from the window, sheathing the room in shadow once again.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbled, voice gravelly, weighed-down by exhaustion, his throat crunching rocks on every syllable. He stumbled back to the bed, plopping down with his back to you, his fingers gripping the bedspread like iron vices, as if strangling the blankets would somehow cure his sleepless suffering. You erected yourself behind him, shifting beneath the blankets so that you were sitting as he was, your hand extending to rest atop his. He flinched away, shoulders hardening beneath the thin cloth of his tee shirt, your own hand retracting from his sudden movement. He cursed under his breath, his head shaking just slightly as it ducked into his chest, his expression hidden by your position. He inhaled slowly, his face angling towards yours as he had by the window, only displaying his profile, never looking you straight on. “Sorry,” he sighed again, clenching and unclenching his fist before moving his hands to his lap, hunching over his thighs. He brought his fingers over his face and further, venturing into his hairline, a common action with stress stamped all over it. How could you blame him? The man spent millennia locked away in Hell with the Devil himself and God’s favourite kiss-ass. His hands remained locked in his hair, his body curled in on itself. He made no attempt to speak again. You kicked the blankets from your body, your feet striking the floor as you made your way from the covers. The floorboards carried a certain chill atop them, striking through the balls of your feet as you scurried to the other side of the bed, to Adam, stopping in front of him. He nodded into his hands, chuckling to himself softly, a whisper of defeated humour. His face lifted from his hands, fingers clasping as they fell between his knees, his arms propped–up on his thighs. “You weren’t asleep,” he acknowledged. You tilted your head, raising your eyebrows.

“Neither were you, Milligan,” you whispered, your voice startlingly aware of the thin walls and the hour, docking your volume to a decibel above a breath. He grimaced, crystal eyes shifting to meet yours, wordless. He was just… so thoroughly tired. It was etched into his face, smudged beneath his eyes like charcoal, it polluted the clarity of his irises. You sighed, defeat tainting your exhale, as you took in his night-darkened features. “You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” You offered, his head shaking sloppily as you spoke, his eyebrows pinching in preparation to reject your therapy.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m… I’m fine. I’ll be alright, just a little tired.” He muttered, his hands moving to rest below his chin, though his hand and jaw did not meet. They hovered below his face, fingers twitching as he made his excuse. You pursed your lips, a hand finding it’s way to your hip, painting the picture of a stereotypical mother reprimanding her lying child.

“Adam,” you pressed, voice harsher than before, gaining strength rather than volume, his eyes locking on yours once more.

“I’m fine!” He urged, his stare unfeeling, locked away in a vault somewhere his emotions could be kept safe, kept away from the world… from you. You began forming his name once again, but his hands dropped to his lap, fingers unlacing, hands raised at his sides. “I didn’t want to worry you, Y/n, alright?” He hissed, voice broken, facade falling away. He was aggravated, he was hurt, and most of all… the fear clung to his voice like saran wrap, coating his every word with a thick, obvious paint. Your mouth closed slowly, his hands falling to his legs with a fabric-softened slap. “I can’t sleep without going back. I didn’t want you to worry about me, so I just…” He stumbled, eyes searching the ceiling for the strength to continue. Coming up blank, he began anew. “I dealt with it then, I can deal with it now. I just didn’t want to keep you up again with my problems.” He whispered, eyes falling on yours, exposing you to the miseries within. You slouched down, stabilizing yourself on your knees, your hands wrapping around his waist. He froze up as soon as you made contact with him, but soon he realized your approach was non-violent, your arms around his core were meant to soothe, not inflict harm. He relaxed breath by breath, his arms inching to yours, his palms resting on your elbows.

“Don’t be afraid to wake me up. There’s a reason I’m here, Adam,” you spoke, your voice a whisper against his shoulder, your skin tingling where his hands met your arms. “If you can’t sleep, we’ll stay awake.” You separated your face from his chest, craning your neck to view his face. The planes of his cheeks glowed softly in the absence of light, his eyes sparkling, if dimly, boring into yours.

“This doesn’t bother you?” he mumbled, his breath breezing across your face. You smiled, easing closer still, shaking your head at his silly assumption, your lips reaching up to peck his cheek. Surprisingly, he didn’t wince away from your touch. You burrowed back into his shoulder, his arms wrapping around your back, holding you to him like you were his life preserver. In many ways, you were. “Thank you,” he sighed, his face buried in your hair.

For the first time since his liberation, he felt safe.

Ride or Die [Harley x Joker]

Suicide Squad-verse. One-shot. Finally some lighter, fluffier Jarley.
Summary: Harley goes for an (involuntary) swim.

The dark water in the harbor glimmered in blue, reflecting the night sky. The momentary peace was only disturbed by the sound of gunshots peppering a building.

Harley sighed and crossed her legs, sitting on a car as far away from the water she could come. “This is boring,” she whined.

After returning from Louisiana’s fun house known as Belle Reve, she was promptly paired up with Frost and had to sit out some jobs. That drove her insane, figuratively speaking, and she had fussed quite vehemently until she was allowed to go out again. Boss didn’t want to let her out of his sight, and she had used that fact to her advantage. At least she was physically closer to him now.

Frost checked his watch as he kept his eyes on the building his boss and the crew had just entered. For once, the whole ordeal was not supposed to draw attention. They were going to infiltrate a warehouse to get hold of a large shipment of weapons. Harley and Frost had been placed as ‘look-out’ and eventual back-up – something she had been complaining about all evening.

A man in an expensive, discrete black suit, flanking a well-dressed woman, approached the car Harley had occupied. Frost realized that anyone parking an shiny car down in Gotham City’s harbor at this time of night really was up to something. Frost went closer, staying alert.

“Get off,” the man told Harley sternly, waving a hand. Someone of his type should at least have been aware of her identity.

Harley draped herself over the white, shiny vehicle with a slow grin. “Nice car. Compensating for something, hmmm?”
Frost tried to keep a straight face. She never went anywhere if it wasn’t in her boyfriend’s Lambo, after all.

She must be deadly bored.

“Get the fuck off my car,” Mr. Compensator threatened.

“Yeah?” She winked at him, her pointy wristbands rubbing against the windshield. It created a sharp, shrill sound. “Ya gonna come over here and tell me that again, big boy?”

The man took a step towards at her, reaching inside of his suit, but she quickly turned him over and pressed him into the hood of his car. The woman gave a small scream and Frost inwardly sighed. So much for keeping a low profile. Boss was going to so be pissed if she got the cops on their trail.

“What do you want?” the man stuttered. Now he must have connected the dots. Smart guy.

Harley grinned. “Ya got a pretty nice ride… not as good as my Puddin’s, though. Ya know who he is?”

“You-you’re with that clown, right? You’re his, crazy bitch.”

Her smile fell. Sensing the direction of her little game, Frost decided to step in. “Miss Quinn…”

“Mr. J is the king, showing off what he’s got, and you’re just compensating.” Harley slammed her nails down on his arm, making him gasp. “Can’t really entertain your girl, huh? Too bad. I wanna ride.” She held out her hand, demanding.

With Frost approaching and Harley glaring at him, the man seemed to realize his disadvantage. Swearing, he reached down to his pocket and retrieved the keys, handing them over to her. She giggled to herself, violently shoving Mr. Compensator off the hood. The woman helped him up, and they started backing away.

Harley straightened up, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I’m going for a ride.”

“Boss said you were not to leave without his permission.” The Joker was going to nail him to the ground if he let her get away, but Harley always did what she wanted to anyway. The rules regarding her had been harder ever since she got back, resulting in a lot of collateral damage and dead goons.

They were interrupted by the sound of gunfire. They looked in the direction of the warehouse only to see a big group of men welling out on the street, followed by the Joker’s thugs. Joker was among them, laughing merrily, as they scattered across the open area.

Seeing her chance for action, Harley grabbed her bat and was in the mix a moment later. In contrast to the rest of the Joker’s crew, she preferred face-to-face combat. While the men depended on heavy firepower from a safe distance, she wanted to be right up in the action. With her beloved toy and gymnastic skills she crushed skulls like glass. She was always one step before, but had been ordered not to dance in the crossfire this time.

She took on two men on her own, closing in on them from behind and beating their weapons out of their hands. The three of them ended up in something similar to a wrestling match and constantly drew closer to the edge of the dock. She was impressively fierce for her thin body, showing a determination close to the Boss’ when she beat something.

Frost kept himself out of reach as he fired his semi-automatic gun and let the thugs do their thing. He watched his boss having the time of his life gunning down every person in sight. It was truly a relief to see Boss so relaxed again. The ground turned red – it was only a matter of time before the cops would be alerted, but Boss didn’t seem bothered in the least. He was in his true element.

Distracted by keeping on an eye on the Boss and staying out of the gunfire, Frost only heard the loud splash from somewhere behind him. He kept firing as he stepped closer to the platform on the dock. He looked over the edge to see no other than Harley Quinn wildly struggling to keep herself afloat in the water down below.

“Boss,” Frost called as he shot at the few mobster thugs that she had been wrestling with, forcing them back towards the street. The rest of Joker’s crew, lead by Panda Man, had effectively taken out a whole group of them and stormed the warehouse to pick up the goods.


The Joker turned around when he heard him, before he saw his partner in the water. He growled in frustration – he needed to take care of that little problem as soon as possible.

He couldn’t have her screwing up his plans anymore with her habit of falling, jumping or otherwise ending up in water. Wouldn’t do to have little Harley drowning on him, after all he did to get her back, no.

He barked at the nearest thug: “Get her!” and finished firing at the remaining opponents with his customized, gold-plated Kalashnikov. They scattered like leaves all around him.

Oh, how he loved automatic weapons. Even better than knives – the way they just cleared the way in record time, like mowing the lawn. But knives were funnier, when he wanted to take his time and really savor it.

The henchman realized he had no choice as the Joker turned his rifle on him, and immediately threw himself into the dark water.

Joker couldn’t fully focus on the joys of murdering as he knew Harley was out of his reach, again, reminding him of something. An obsessive part of him felt forced to supervise; he couldn’t trust his idiot henchmen save for good ol’ Jonny Frost.

He stepped to the edge to watch. Harley reminded him of a drowning dog, wet hair in her face, spitting and spluttering, doing some kind of improvised dog paddle and sinking fast. As soon as the rescue-henchman got close to her, she grabbed a hold of him, still panicking. She took a choke-hold on him and clung tightly to his body.

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Thoroughly Modern Beast- why shove that stylish “Millie Dillmount” wig back in the box when you can use it again and give your Beast that quirky 1920’s flair?  Accentuate this chic look with some hot pink fabric taped to the theatre’s loading dock wall and voila- a picture perfect moment…..