#blue bear restoration

[bluebearrestoration]

Know The Types Of Mold. Which Type Of Mold Do You Have In Your Home?

Mold is a type of fungus that can grow in damp, dark environments. It can be a serious problem in your home, as it can cause health problems and damage to your property. In this blog post, we discuss the different types of mold, how to identify them, and what to do if you find mold in your home. We also provide tips on how to prevent mold growth in the first place.

Mold can grow in any damp, dark environment, so it's important to be aware of the signs of mold growth. Some common signs of mold include:

Musty odor

Water damage

Discoloration on walls or ceilings

Mildew

Black spots

If you think you have mold in your home, it's important to have it tested by a professional. Mold can be harmful to your health, so it's important to take steps to remove it as soon as possible.

In this blog post, we provide you with the information you need to know about mold, so you can take action to protect your health and your home.

Here are some of the key takeaways from this blog post:

There are many different types of mold, but some of the most common types include Aspergillus, Penicillium, and Cladosporium.

Mold can grow in any damp, dark environment, so it's important to be aware of the signs of mold growth.

If you think you have mold in your home, it's important to have it tested by a professional.

Mold can be harmful to your health, so it's important to take steps to remove it as soon as possible.

There are a number of things you can do to prevent mold growth in your home, such as fixing leaks, ventilating damp areas, and using dehumidifiers.

[vellichorom]

sleepingpills

[fanaticsnail]

You Kissed the Clown? Part 1

(S1:E2 OPLA timeline)

Upon waking, you found yourself in an unfamiliar environment. Stuffed into a small crate with your three travelling companions, your dark haired friend referred to as a “crew”, your senses were still groggy from the crimson powder exploded above your small rigging.

After your “Captain”, Luffy, disclosed to the group he had consumed the map to the grand line to “keep it in a safe place”, the crate opened to reveal a darkened space. Applause rang throughout the area and your eyes were drawn to a spotlight being placed on a man dressed as a white lion. Several circus-type performers littered the room and directed the large crowd to respond with prompts written on large white panels held by several members. You noticed the features of the crowd were bearing terrified expressions, crying streaks littering their cheeks and some crusted over wounds adorning their faces and bodies.

Through the small opening of the red and white tent, a displeased figure appeared out of the shadows. You were immediately mesmerised by the figure, brightly coloured facial paint adorning his cartoonish features, a large brim hat with blue tassels hung over the folded edge and a collection of mismatched stripes, spots, fur and feather upon his physique. He had a dangerous air around him, full of malice, ill-temperament and a small amount of desperation amongst his features.

The blue haired man immediately berated his companions, yelling at them for the wrong timing, the queue being off, the lighting contrasting over a lion-like man instead of his own features. You looked to your green-haired swordsman companion, making brief eye contact with him and quirking up your brow in question. He shook his head at you and nodded back to bring your attention to the scene playing before you.

You had no idea how you were among this ragtag trio of misfits, especially as piracy was never an occupation you fancied for yourself. You and those within your family line were skilled jewellers; antiquity restoration, appraisal and fine gold and silver smithery was your trade. You and your father were requested to appear before Captain Morgan and add a new gem encrusted embellishment to his recently acquired new head for his Axe-Hand.

You witnessed the fight that was brought out with Helmeppo and several other marines at the skilled hands of Roronoa Zoro. At that point, your father decided he was no longer going to be working with Captain Morgan; no payment was enough to continue working for a man that allowed his child to bully those lesser than him. You were given a choice then to find your own way in the world and bring attention to your own skilled crafts or to sail home with your father to return to work in the shop as a finery smith. Opting for the former of the two, you bid farewell to your father and found yourself upon the small rigging with three companions of whom you had grown fond of.

Bringing you away from your thoughts and tuning back into the conversation, your gaze fell to your orange-haired friend, Nami, as she attempted to bribe the blue-haired clown with a new crew member with untold abilities. Before you could stop her, she threw Luffy’s straw hat into the air and bolted for the opening of the large tent. Two members of the circus crew managed to drag her back to the group which she then berated the jester before you for destroying the town the tent was situated in. The conviction she held in her voice sounded quite intimidating, but the clown just laughed in response. He used a small knife to cut a piece of apple and place it into his mouth, while nonchalantly saying he didn’t destroy everything in the town – he allowed the townspeople to keep their hands to applaud his act.

You inhaled through your nose deeply and widened your eyes at his comment, breathing out slowly through your mouth while fixating your gaze onto his relaxed form. He continued to look over the four of you with a twinkling smile as he consumed his crisp apple before his gaze fell over you.

“You,” he began, pointing at you with the small knife in his hand, “you have been awfully quiet.” He gestured to the rest of the crew with the same knife, “that one threatened me,” he said pointing at Zoro, “that one attempted to bribe me,” he pointed the knife at Nami while sauntering over to the spot you were situated, next to Luffi and Zoro.

“Your Captain lays claim to what’s rightfully mine,” he continued while stalking your form. Your eyes leave his form to look to your companions.

“Don’t you look away from me!” he yelled suddenly at you, causing you to flinch in response. Your body began to tremble slightly at his demands, not used to threats of great violence being thrown at you at a whim. He almost danced over to your place on the ground, bringing his body within an uncomfortable proximity to your own. He made no effort to hide his gaze raking over your body from the hair on your head to the shoes adorning your feet.

Although he had a large nose that immediately drew your attention to it, you couldn’t help but to notice the hue of his irises hidden amongst white, red and blue paint. The intensity of his gaze was drawing you in like a moth to a flame. The hue was akin to several fine gemstones you worked with in your family’s smithery. Jade, sapphire, tourmaline and emerald being the first stones that sprung to your mind while gazing at the angry and menacing clown before you.

“And what would you do, hm?” he condescendingly smirked at you, “you’re no fighter, by the looks of you.”

You held his gaze, staring deeply into his mischievous teal eyes while searching your mind for a response to his pointed question. He placed the small knife into his breast-pocket within his long fur coat and stalked slowly over to you like an animal prowling over to their meal. You trailed your eyes over his form slowly, raking and sizing him up with a small amount of unbridled suggestion held behind your eyelids.

Unsure if what came over you was bravery, stupidity or something else entirely, you reached your right hand forward and swiftly grasped the mustard coloured cravat hanging tightly from his neck and pulled him into you with all of your strength and successfully closed the distance between your bodies.

He was right of course, you were no fighter. Your skills lay in appraising fine metals, gemstones and hand whittled crafts. You read books filled with fairytales, poetry and refrains whispered between lovers. With your occupation, an aura of charisma would often aid in sales; whether you were doing the buying or the selling. You were known far and wide in your homeland as someone with a small amount of flirtatious charm, which was why you were asked to aid your father in his journey to the “tight-pocket” Captain Morgan. You were to charm him as you did many others, swindling them out of their apprehensions and bringing more berry to the till of your family’s business.

A shocked whimper left the lips of the Genius Jester as you tenderly placed your own lips against his, bringing your left hand to his side and using it to bring his body flush against your own, cradling him into a tender embrace. Your eyes were closed as you deepened the kiss shared between you. You began using your lips to open his and caressing them slightly with your tongue.

You slowly felt him relax into your embrace as he placed one hand to the back of your head and the other hand wove itself around you, placing it to the small of your back. He almost gently laced his gloved hand into your hair and held you tightly against him. He released a stifled gasp into your mouth as the hand on your lower back squeezed slightly, pressing your bodies closer together. You released your right hand and moved it tenderly from his cravat to his jaw, feeling the slightly prickled skin beneath his painted face.

Not a word was uttered, silence engulfing the space. In this instance, nothing existed to either of you apart from the moment you were sharing with one another. The map? Gone from both of your minds as you held each other tenderly. You arched your back, pressing your chest further into him as you began lacing your fingers into the hair peaking out from the bottom of his broad hat. You snaked your left hand around his waist, beneath his fur coat and raked your fingertips over his skin, causing him to moan into your mouth and cradle you further into him.

You utilized your head to nudge his own head upward for you to deepen the kiss further. Trailing your hand from the hair under his hat down towards his neck and exploring his pectorals, you massaged down his body while holding him tightly and skillfully in this heated embrace. Your fingers began to explore the flesh of his back, lifting the material slightly to expose his flesh to your administrations.

He did not withhold any sounds from escaping his lips, as small groans released from his lips between kisses alerted you to how much he was truly enjoying your touch. You even allowed some gasps to escape your own lips as you continued to caress, massage and cradle him to yourself as he held you.

You were not foreign to the romantic touch of others by any means, but this kiss felt unlike anything you had experienced prior. You could almost feel his desire for affection as he hungrily held your body against him. Waves of loneliness escaped from his form and onto you as he began to be filled instead with your freely given affection, unlike the painted women he would pay berry for their time.

He groaned slightly and furrowed his brows together at the thought, releasing your lips from his own and holding you to him. His eyes bore into your own as your lips parted from one another, almost gazing into your very soul with the intensity he held.

Without warning, he pushed you from his body and swatted your hands from their position on his back. He turned to face away from you and brought his gaze to your captain before monologuing.

“Ok, here end the theatrics,” he began as the spot lights filter onto the four of you.

“I know one of you have my map, and I’m gonna get it back,” he said with malicious intent.

“What was it you said, rubber boy? That it was ‘in a safe place’?” he mocked with a small glint in his eye. Luffy looked to you in confusion.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he laughed. You trailed your eyes over his features, noticing the paint over his lips appeared more smudged than it had been moments prior. You then began to imagine how your face may appear after you shared the kiss with him moments prior.

“So,” he clapped his hands together and looked to his gang of circus members, “please make our guests uncomfortable in the green room.”

You felt hands clasp your wrists. You looked around to see a large man in a leotard grasping your form before you looked back to the clown. Your eyes met briefly once more, an unfamiliar emotion that could almost be described as a combination apprehension, longing and desire located in his eyes as your body was dragged to another location, this time without your captain amongst you.

You held little resistance as your body was escorted away. You looked to Luffy once more and attempted to reassure him with a nod as you walked briskly to be caged with your friends.

Nami was placed in a small cage suspended above the ground, whereas Zoro was bound to a large spinning wheel. As they were placed into these positions, their movements protesting and making it difficult for your captors to place them in these restricting positions; you held no such apprehension.

An aura of calm was coming from your form, confusing the large leotard-clad man. You placed your wrists together and held them out in front of you with a shrug and almost taunted him with how easy you were making this for him. His brows knit together in a puzzled fashion as he began to bind your hands in rope and tie you to a post away from your companions.

Once successfully restrained, the circus people left you with your thoughts as cries of laughter were echoing to the chamber that sounded like it was being pulled from the mouth of your captain.

“You kissed the clown?” uttered your green-haired, tri-sword wielding companion in a low accusatory tone, “why did you kiss the clown?”

You laughed slightly at the question, looking down at your bonds as you wiggled your hands against the tightly clasped rope, testing it for any sort of weakness amongst the restraint.

“I honestly can say I have no idea,” you smiled while pressing your knee against the post you were bound to with a small shove to assess its strength.

“It was incredibly stupid,” Nami commented from her enclosure, “if you were that touch-starved, I’m sure Zoro or Luffy wouldn’t have minded if you wanted to give them a little smooch.”

You turned your gaze over to Nami momentarily before rolling your eyes.

“Oh please,” you replied, “Zoro, I’m sure you are a wonderful kisser but unfortunately you don’t quite have what I’m looking for.”

He scoffed slightly at the comment while you moved your hands down to the hilt of your belt and began searching the folds of your skirts with your wrists.

“And if you don’t mind me asking, what does the dangerous clown-man have that Zoro doesn’t?” Nami asked with a teasing tone. Your wrists find the object within your belt and you smiled broadly, gripping it and bringing it to the light.

“Right now?” you said with a small twinkle in your eyes as you held the small object up to your new friends, "a knife."

For the first time in a while, the three of you shared a laugh before you all began to attempt an escape from the bonds of the green room.

Part 2

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Call of Duty but make it 🐺werewolves🐺

{Author's Note} Inspired by @deadbranch's werewolf AU so definitely go check it out. I’ve leaned more into the supernatural aspect than her series has and thought it'd be fun to post it for October hehe. If y'all want some good werewolf/soldier content, check out the "Shape-Shifters" episode from Netflix's Love, Death, and Robots. It fits this AU perfectly and gives a good visual for how things would work. >Call of Duty Werewolves AU -> Part 2 *I’d love hearing any ideas y’all have and would be happy to answer with more headcanons if you guys want. Werewolves and werewolf AUs are my JAM*

~ ~ ~

First, some lore for this AU...

>Werewolves are usually forced into organizations like the military to keep them under control. They are feared by most of humanity and treated more as assets rather than citizens with laws put into place to make sure they don't hurt the people around them. Medication is often taken to suppress their lycanthropy and violent force is used if they ever get out of hand. There are plenty of groups who specialize in the hunting and killing of werewolves.

>Natural werewolves are born with their abilities and have an easier time with their transformations as a result. 

>Bitten werewolves gain their abilities after being bitten by another werewolf. They tend to be more vicious when transformed and often have a harder time managing themselves. 

>Transformations are not dictated by the cycles of the Moon but instead by a werewolf’s will and emotions. However, many werewolves revere the Moon and often hold celebrations as it passes through its phases each month.

>Werewolves only gain about a foot in height when they transform, due to the shape of their feet changing and their spine lengthening to allow for quadrupedal movement (ex. 6'4" -> 7'4"). Their muscle mass/weight remain about the same as it is the face and head that undergo the most dramatic changes.

>Hair length and style remain relatively the same when transformed. Bitten werewolves tend to have less hair than natural werewolves. 

>Eyes are reflective in both forms; natural werewolves keep their human eye colors when transformed, while bitten werewolves tend to have more unusual eye colors (brown to amber, blue to silver, etc.). 

>Moon madness/blindness is when a werewolf is overwhelmed by the light of a full moon and transforms without meaning to, regressing to a state of mind that is driven more by instinct rather than higher reason (werewolf equivalent to human psychosis). This is more common among bitten werewolves and can lead to violent outbursts if not properly addressed.

>Among werewolves, moonstones are said to restore a werewolf’s humanity when they’ve lost control. Because of their relative rarity, however, this belief exists only in the realm of legend rather than truth. 

🌙 🐺 🌙

💲Price is well-known for his experience and the ease with which he can transform. He commands those around him with confidence, acting as a supporting presence and capable leader. He should never be underestimated, however, as his temper frightens even the toughest werewolves.

💀Ghost was nearly killed by the werewolf who turned him and so views his lycanthropy as more of a curse. He bears numerous scars from the attack and tends to be quite vicious when transformed. He is the largest of the 141 with oversized fangs, tufted ears, and blazing amber eyes. 

🧼Soap comes from a family of Scottish werewolves who eagerly embrace their lycanthropy. He has great control over his transformations and suffers little pain as a result. His trademark Mohawk and bright blue eyes remain when shifted, making him easily identifiable.

🧢Gaz still struggles with his transformations after being bitten but he doesn't find them particularly overwhelming. Price and Soap have both been a huge help in that regard, offering their advice and companionship when needed. He's become far more confident in his abilities and enjoys the company of his fellow lycanthropic soldiers.

🦿Alex was attacked by a moon-blinded werewolf and unfortunately lost his lower left leg as a result. He's managed to find enjoyment in his new life, however, thanks in part to his association with the 141, and uses his enhanced abilities to his advantage. Laswell had a unique prosthetic made for him that adapts to his transforming body.

🪦Graves is a born-and-bred werewolf. He’s proud of his abilities and encourages use of them among his Shadows. He makes for a loyal and headstrong soldier who is known for his disarming charm and willingness to get his hands dirty. Shadow Company functions more as a tight-knit family rather than a horde of military operatives, due primarily to Graves’ leadership and his embracing of their lycanthropy.

[itsabardknocklife]

Things the Baldur's Gate Fandom Needs To Know About Mystra

The current Mystra is the third Mother of Magic and she was originally a mortal human woman named Ariel Manx.

Ariel was the second daughter of a wealthy merchant and she liked to sneak out at night to go partying in the clubs.

While out clubbing one night, Ariel - known as Midnight among her friends - met a conjurer named Tad who introduced her to magic and brought her to Mystra's temples.

When Ariel was 21, she attracted Mystra's attention and began to feel as though she were being watched. Whenever this happened, she found that her ability to cast spells increased and that spells that she once found difficult were much easier.

In 1358, when Ariel was 26, the ALL gods were cast out onto the Material Plane by Ao because Bane and Myrkul were being little shits and making yet another power grab, like they do.

The Original Mystra was extremely Unhappy about being thrown out of the heavens and tried to march back up the Celestial Stairway to reclaim her place of power.

Ao did not take kindly to this, and promptly had Helm kick her ass.

Unfortunately, Mystra dying is Bad For The Weave, and Ao had to replace her.

He picked Ariel.

When she was 26.

Immediately after she kicked Myrkul's bony ass in a duel that took place in the sky over Waterdeep.

In order to make the transition easier, Ariel took up the name of Mystra so that

27 years later, Cyric and Shar conspired to kill her so that Shar could take over as the Mother of Magic and spread her Shadow Weave over the land.

Instead of granting Shar control of the Weave the way she hoped, the new Mystra's death/disappearance caused the Weave to collapse, taking the Shadow Weave with it and kicking off what is known as the Spellplague.

Unlike the last two times Mystra was killed, everything went kind of nuts. Magic faded, blue fire raged across the land, killing everything it touched and then raising them into ghouls, the landscape became warped, it was Bad.

The only good thing to come out of the Spellplague was the Dragonborn, who were released from thousands of years of enslavement as a result of the blue fire blowing everything to shit. Hooray for the dragonborn!

Anyway.

Over the next hundred years, things calmed down and the magic… sort of returned, but there were a lot of changes to how magic worked. The Mother of Magic was a non-entity, her presence unfelt even by the famed Elminster of Shadowdale.

At least, not until 1479, when he found her possessing a bear and guarding a hoard of magic items she'd stashed while mortal.

She sent him out to go find new candidates to become her Chosen, and he came back a few weeks later after gorging on the magic of a few of Mystra's other Chosen and gave her enough juice to "return."

Three years later, the Second Sundering started when Bhaal's last two descendants fight to the death and resurrect him as a result.

At this point, ALL the gods are out there recruiting people to become their Chosen right, left, and center. It's a race to become the strongest god in the pantheon, with the winners being decided based on who has the most followers.

This goes on for five years, with the Second Sundering coming to a close in 1487. This was when Mystra became fully restored as a Goddess, with the Weave returning to its original strength.

Over the next two years, MOST of the gods drop their Chosen like they're hot and go quiet, resulting in the rise of clerics as mortals struggled to understand why the gods' behaviors changed so drastically from before.

Mystra was actually one of the few who kept in contact with her Chosen while a few others (such as Ellistraee and the Dead Three) chose to remain on Toril in Avatar form.

In the year 1491, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep finds the Netherese Orb and has his silver flame (the mark of Mystra's chosen) consumed by it.

12 years after Mystra - once the mortal woman known as Ariel Manx - recovered from her near-death experience.

Please, I am begging you. Stop portraying Mystra the Ultimate Evil and Gale as her Innocent Victim. Their whole relationship is so much more complex than that. Mystra put so much trust in Gale and simply asked that he not cross her boundaries in return, and Gale, in his own words, "sought to cross [those] boundaries." He's a man who heard no and decided that he wasn't going to stop trying until that no became a yes.

I'm not saying Gale is the villain in this, but I am saying that both Gale and Mystra are complex individuals who are both flawed in different ways, and reducing them down to Good and Bad is doing them a disservice.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

GIF: Originally posted by @teenwolf-theoriginals

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Groping. Language. Kissing. Nudity. First time. AFAB receiving oral/manual sex. Fingering. Mentions of overstimulation.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Hello there my lovelies! I come bearing a new chapter and this time it is pure smut. It's probably the darkest, filthiest thing I have ever written so brace yourselves. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. In other news, I watched All of Us Strangers on Friday and it broke me in half. Hope you are all doing well. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The first thing that registers upon returning to your physical body is the touch of Morpheus' hands and mouth.

Warmth blooms at every point of contact and counteracts the biting winter weather.

Both hands have gone under the hem of your shirt to explore the skin of your back. The top three buttons have been undone to give access to your throat. Morpheus nuzzles there, pressing possessive kisses to the sensitive skin.

Navigating through the lingering brain fog, you realise that this was the source of the ghostly grazes you had felt during your meeting with the Fates.

Even when your mind was disembodied from your physical form, he was still able to affect you.

The connection between your souls is strong.

His sense of curiosity is strong too as he creeps a hand round and upwards to cup the flesh of your left breast. Your mind fully snaps back into your body and you make a squeaking noise, overcome with the intimacy.

He removes the exploring hand and pulls back from the crook of your neck, speaking your name eagerly.

Gentle fingertips stroke from your temple to your jaw bone. The world undulates when you try to open your eyes, and you sway on the spot.

He takes the weight of your body until your strength returns. Your eyelids flutter as you try to blink away the excess moisture that has accumulated there.

"That's it, come back to me," he murmurs.

You see the ocean blue of his eyes first, and then pan out to take in his whole face. Once again, you are wonderstruck by his exquisite beauty. Have you ever seen a bone structure combination as exemplary? No. Absolutely not. No one ever has.

The angles are balanced perfectly with his pouty lips, all pink and swollen from use; the sight of them urge you to replicate the same activity with each passing second.

There is no chance allowed for Morpheus disrupts your objectification. "Did you gain some clarity on the situation?"

You pull your coat closer to protect your décolleté from the weather, and take time to thoroughly contemplate his inquiry. There was much to unpack and while you had no inclination to do so standing out in the winter-washed street, you believe that for now Morpheus at least deserves an abridged version.

"Yes. And no. I may have more questions than before I spoke to them..."

"I see." He swallows visibly, hinting at trepidation. "You need not tell me of the specifics of which you conversed. All I need to know is that they have not changed their minds. That you are still mine."

You are smiling reassuringly before he has even finished the sentence. Your intuition tells you it was agony for him the entire time you were gone and you cannot leave him lingering in that state any longer.

"I am yours," you say ardently as a blissful, expanding feeling blossoms in your chest. "My soulmate."

You brush your knuckles over his cheekbone and cup his face with the gentlest of touches. "My Morpheus."

Saying his name in front of him for the first time has a considerable effect on him. His pupils dilate, lending him a feline air and he groans lowly and quietly in the back of his throat. Hips then roll forwards to give further evidence to his arousal.

You reflect this lustfulness by putting both hands on the back of his neck to pull his face down to yours. He goes willingly, of course, laying claim to your lips like he is an addict and you his vice.

The previous kisses you had shared had been led by Morpheus. You had participated with enthusiasm but he was clearly the one conducting the order of events. Now it was a duet.

Your confidence is shown in your touches. The placement of your hands on his nape and the small of his back, gripping tightly to maintain his closeness. Peppering in open-mouthed kisses in an attempt to get him to open his mouth in return. You want to taste inside him with your own tongue.

He lets you.

You both moan as you trace the inside of his upper lip with your tongue. The taste is just like before; a heady and delicious mixture that blinkers and exposes you in equal parts. You open your mouth further, intending to go deeper when he suddenly delves into your mouth too.

You kiss and kiss and kiss, all the while becoming aware of a trembling heat just above your sternum that carves a path straight and true down to your core.

The hands that were at your sides disappear and the wind begins to pick up. There are gritty specks hitting your bare skin, but you are too overcome with pleasure to wonder why. Morpheus takes hold of your hands and squeezes tightly.

Your head begins to swirl. Is it due to a lack of oxygen? You breathe in through your nose. The adrift feeling persists. The grip Morpheus has on your hands is causing them to go numb.

There's a pressure in your ears similar to that created by the ascent of an aircraft. You feel it straining against your eardrums and spreading across your sinuses. All sound then disappears, as does the floor beneath your feet. Your heartbeat thuds frantically in the back of your throat, pulsating with red flashes behind your closed eyelids. You don't stop kissing him though. He is the only thing that has sense and stability in the disorientation.

The spinning ceases and the pressure fades as your feet find solid ground again. The chill factor has reduced to an ambient temperature. Morpheus extricates himself from your mouth slowly and unwillingly.

There's a sleepy dust-like substance in your eyelashes; you dislodge and wipe it away and open your eyes.

Your location has changed.

The puddle strewn pavements are now white marble. The stinging light emanating from the lamp post replaced by a peaceful mixture of moonlight and starlight through vast windows.

It is extremely familiar. You are trying to figure out why when your focus falls on the statues.

The niggling thought that you put on the back burner is suddenly set free from its cage.

The King of Dreams and Nightmares. That was what the Fates had called him.

You had visited this gallery as you slept and touched yourself in front of a ethereal man.

You vocalise the end of your train of thought as mortification clenches in your gut.

"You were in my dream last night."

"Yes." There's a tiny movement of his lips that suggests pride at your comprehension. "I've been in your dreams for many nights now."

"In the crowds, and that room?"

"Yes."

It all made sense now. It was him you had been waiting for in the blank room and after then, he was the one you had been able to feel watching you from afar. That was why he seemed so familiar. He'd been with you for weeks.

"I can't believe I did that in front of you."

The predatory gaze is back as he surveys your flustered form.

"Hmm," he purrs, "You were quite the spectacle."

"Did you make me do it?"

"I set up the parameters of the dream. Your actions within it were your own."

"I don't remember choosing," you comment in a small voice.

You feel his hands about your waist. "Perhaps you were guided by instinct, rather than conscious thought."

It sounds very plausible for instinct had undoubtedly been in the driver's seat since he touched you for the first time.

You decide to change the subject from your exhibitionism. "So this is your realm?"

"We are at the heart of it, within the palace. Few are able to come here when they sleep. Even fewer are permitted to see it with a cognisant mind."

You look down as a bashful blush stains your cheeks. It is truly moving that he let you into his inner most sanctum, even before he had divulged your connection.

A strong thumb and forefinger find purchase on your chin and tilt your head up so he can assess your countenance. "What are you thinking of?"

"I'm just... all of this. What's happened tonight, it's beyond anything I could -"

"Dream?" He offers with a quirked eyebrow.

You laugh. "I was going to say imagine, but dream works just as well."

He brings you in for another passionate kiss, one that goes from lips to earlobe to neck, designed to make your head loll back and knees go weak, and you do both with a sigh.

"I would like to take you to my chambers now," he whispers against your pulse point.

That delicious vibration in your sternum shifts up a gear and you let loose a faint groan in lieu of a reply.

He speaks your name.

The inflection of his voice as he says it is so beguiling that you would probably do anything he suggested.

You are nodding, hazily repeating the word yes a few times even though Morpheus hasn't technically asked you a question.

The pressure you felt before in your ears returns for the briefest of moments and in the time it takes for you to blink, your surroundings have changed once more.

The first thing you notice is the bed, the lone piece of furniture in the room. The frame is an ornately carved pale stone, it twists and turns with gorgeous fluidity. The silk sheets upon it are a stark contrast; black with an iridescent quality that looks like the wings of a corvid. Its presence carries a raft of expectations with it and sets forth a barrage of nervous energy. You ignore the bed for now and look to your soulmate who has moved a few steps away from you.

He looks correct here, you note with intrigue. It's not as if he was out of place outside the function hall, for he has a humanoid form, but the grandeur of this private place is casting him in a different light. Here, with the omniscient gaze, assured tilt of his chin, graceful poise; he looks like the King he is.

And through a funny quirk of fate, he is all yours.

Your chest begins to ache, you raise a hand to it and frown in confusion. It's like your soul is pining, calling out for help.

Morpheus is by your side in an instant.

"I need to touch your bare skin again."

You waste no time in permitting this, shrugging out of your coat and letting it fall onto the black marble floor. Next to be shed are your heeled boots and socks. The height difference between you is lengthened by a couple of inches as you relax the tendons in your feet. You're left in your underwear after you take off your button-up blouse and trousers.

Morpheus' lips part as he observes your body. His eyes dart up and down and you can see the hunger within the darkening irises. His long fingers skim liberally and indiscriminately across your skin, diligently taking away the pain and cataloguing the sensitivity of your body at the same time.

The fingers of his right hand then twitch and his all-black ensemble dissolves into nothing, leaving him completely naked.

Your flush must be fuchsia as you notice his size, and twitches that traverse the length. You look to your own pile of clothes that took you several minutes to remove, hoping that a change of focus will steady your stomach's ever burgeoning butterflies. "That was efficient."

"Once you are dressing in garments created in the Dreaming, I will be able to disrobe you just the same."

You're not entirely sure how you feel about that. It's risky yet also kind of sexy.

"As long as you don't ever do it in front of people by accident," you assert playfully.

"You need not worry, I would never do such a thing to taint your honour."

You nod and close the gap between you.

To say you are astounded by his nude form would be an understatement. Whispers of sinew cord through slender limbs and across his torso, and for each angular peak proffered by bone there is a counteracting swathe of soft, flawless skin that covers it.

You yearn to touch him.

Morpheus' stares are intense as you place your palm over his heart. He hums out a sound of pleasure at the warmth this new skin-on-skin contact has created.

He draws you closer and suddenly lifts you off the ground, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You feel safe in the strength he possesses yet you cling to him with all four limbs regardless, pressing against his bare chest. Having so much of his skin against yours is creating a heat that is close to burning in the most wonderful way.

He lays you onto the bed and watches you with unwavering focus.

"Are you going to perform for me again, or would you like me to take control?"

The notion of that kind of pleasure being administered by him causes your reply to be breathless, "Touch me again, please."

The mattress dips slowly as he gracefully joins you on the bed, straddling himself on top of you.

He starts with your face, caressing you with adoration. Next, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders before reaching down your body. One hand fondles your breasts while the other cups between your legs. You sigh, relishing in the warmth and how slowly he is taking things.

Deft fingers then dip below the waistband of your underwear.

You jolt and moan, simultaneously thrilled and taken off guard.

"Good," he says with dark delight. "You respond well to me."

He teases at your entrance and you are all at once very overwhelmed.

"I look forward to seeing how you react when I push inside you."

It truly does sound like something you want him to do - you've longed for a physical relationship for years however there's a detail that you know your soulmate should be privy to before you try. How it will be received, you cannot begin to guess, but you need to be upfront.

"I've never been with anyone in that way," your words sounding even more vulnerable than you feel.

Morpheus stops his attentions immediately and for a handful of heartbeats, you are admonishing yourself for the bluntness of your admission.

He moves back up your body and his eyes find yours. His expression is gentle and devoid of judgement, the following sentence backing up what your optic nerves are perceiving.

"Then I will teach you."

He presses a single chaste kiss to your lips; an act that seals his promise. Your apprehension melts away. You run your hands through his hair as you bask in the sweetness of the moment. The Fates were right: Morpheus really is perfect for you.

"I am going to worship you now."

He's ridding you of your bra and underwear immediately after you consent. The second he sees you fully bared, his eyes turn black.

You wonder what you've just agreed to.

He kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed, grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him until your legs hang off the edge.

You've seen depictions of oral sex in media however you have always reasoned that they are likely to be unrealistic; fantasies created in controlled environments and you would be naïve to hope that it could be like that for you, when it happened. Until now. Morpheus is the expert in dreams after all. Maybe you are allowed to get your hopes up.

His lips tease your inner thighs as he settles himself closer and closer to your throbbing, wet core until you feel the tickling of his breath.

He observes you for a moment, parts your folds with a single finger, grasps your hips and then goes down on you like you are an enticing, delectable treat that must be devoured.

Your lips falls open as his own closes around your clit. The heat that is brought from this touch is an inferno. You moan, and look at him, at this otherworldly being smothering you so adeptly, and how his intense eyes dance with pleasure of their own. He is enjoying this. It makes you gush.

Morpheus, taking advantage of this, very quickly collects the slick on both his index fingers and reaches up to lubricate your hardened nipples with it.

You groan from this additional stimulation and throw your head back with abandon, getting a good view of the vaulted ceiling above you and the seemingly literal constellations that float glimmering and glowing in the rafters.

Soon you are writhing on the cool silk of the sheets and he is forced to resume holding your hips to keep you still.

He then switches to a two-fronted approach. Two fingers sink into your cunt, the thumb of the same hand curling up to press on your clit. It's quite the step - letting another person inside your most intimate place and his reverent groans at feeling your tightness envelop his digits shows that he acknowledges this too. All it takes is a few deep, well angled pumps and then you are granted a mind-shattering orgasm.

His hand presses into the softness of your lower abdomen and the ecstasy becomes ten fold. You repeatedly moan his name as vibrant colours explode behind your eyelids, like the green and purple phosphenes that form if you rub your eyes too hard.

"Was that to your satisfaction?" He asks once your body has gone limp.

You look at Morpheus through the pulsing haze of aftershocks; his cheek resting against your inner thigh as his skin gleams with the same divinely beautiful quality as the stars above you.

"It was more than that," you declare emotionally.

What he's just given you is beyond your highest hopes of what intimacy could be. You had let another person see you at your most vulnerable, and reaped the rewards of that trust. Now, you must show your devotion to him.

"Your turn."

He stands and shakes his head. "No."

You are crestfallen but catch on when he begins to spread pre-cum over the length of his erection.

"Oh, um, Morpheus, I'm sorry. I don't think I can take you right now."

The notion of any kind of touching so soon after climaxing would be the guarantor of pain.

He ignores you, his movements calculated as he adjusts your position; arranging you in the centre of the mattress and splaying your trembling legs.

"Morpheus. I appreciate that I'm inexperienced but I know my body. I can't -"

His tone is dangerous as he interrupts you, "You are my soulmate. You have been made for me and as such, you will be able to take me."

You sit up. "I want to do things for you too."

He climbs on top of you, takes your wrists in his long-fingered hands and leverages you back towards horizontal.

You still don't concede. "Morpheus, tell me what you want."

His voice rumbles with authority, "I want to fuck you without delay. Pour myself into you. Possess you. Merge with you and have us become one."

He ups the persuasive tactics, leaning in close so all you can see are dark eyelashes framing even darker eyes. The heat under your skin is stifling.

"This is the final stage in your awakening. Don't you want to know what will happen when it's done? Allow me to guide you there. Be your first and only, make you feel exquisite with my touch."

He places a palm onto your chest and smiles a twisted smile when a luscious shuddering in that spot above your sternum makes you whimper and squirm.

"Submit to fate," he whispers. "Let me tie our souls together."

He is so eloquent and compelling and he delivers the killer blow as he lines his thick, long cock up at your entrance.

"Will you surrender yourself to me, Y/N?"

-------------------------------------

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"In the middle of the night in my dreams, you should see the things we do. In the middle of the night in my dreams, I know I'm going to be with you so I take my time. Are you ready for it?"

[ariadne-mouse]

Blue Perennem

Common names: taintflower, gooch poppy, grundlebundle, taint-patiens, pussy willow, butt-ercup, nether-lily, panty-petunia, chrysanthebum, down-low daisy (1)

Appearance: Leaves and stems are greyish or black, and similar in shape to those of a rose bush. Flowers are a vivid blue, each with six petals, and each petal bearing distinct variegation that resembles a screaming face.

Etymology: Most scholars agree Blue Perennem takes its name from Archaic Common word perennis, meaning "everlasting", possibly in reference to its survival in harsh environments or its use in healing medicines. However, folklore points to its origin in the Modern Common word perineum, which informs many all of its common names. The association of perineum with the flower itself is unclear. It may be that in some phenotypes, the center of the flower markedly resembles an anus, and thus the petals would be analogous to the aforementioned perineum.

Distribution: Blue Perennem is an uncommon flower native to the Grey Valley, a region of the Cliffkeep Mountains north of the Umbra Hills in Tal'Dorei. It can be found growing in areas rich with demonic energy, cursed magic, death, loss, or other sites where significant conflict has occurred.

Uses and cultivation: Blue Perennem is used in powerful restorative medicines, in particular those reversing damage caused by poisons. Cultivation is largely unsuccessful. Despite Blue Perennem's hardiness against the hazards of its native environment, it poorly tolerates transplanting. Advocates of the perineum-origin etymology point to this as an example countering the flower's association with "everlasting".

(1) the author received many unsolicited contributions for this entry from amateur arcano-botanists, especially for common names of the Blue Perennem. Most have been reluctantly included for the fulfillment of linguistic descriptivism, though this author doubts the validity of several of them, especially those from parties who made many submissions and were giggling as they handed over their papers.

[dinneronvenus]

Doesn’t Matter Now

⭑ Gojo x fem reader

⭑ inspired by the song “doesn’t matter now” by flyingfish (listen to that while you read for max effect)

⭑ tags: ANGST ON 100, description of a jujutsu technique that forfeits the sorcerer’s life, death, a funeral, a hopeless and depressed Gojo goes to a medium, hinted reincarnation

⭑ synopsis: Gojo already lost his only true friend, so he never thought losing a woman could hurt him so badly

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Gojo. You didn’t even know.” Utahime spoke softly, her own pain wanting to break through in her voice. “Nobody did.”

Gojo remained silent, eyes glazed over, a cocktail of negative emotions mixing in his mind. He couldn’t even look at Utahime, whose outfit would remind him of you. They stood in the ruins of the shrine your family had built and ran for generations. It had come under attack by many cursed spirits and you had fulfilled your duty to protect the people who lived and worked there, as well as its secrets. With everyone else safe, it would be rebuilt and restored to its original glory, something that should have been a silver lining.

“It is not uncommon for a high priestess to give her life for her people.” Utahime said, voice breaking at the end. This brought Gojo even less comfort.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I hadn’t heard her say those exact words to me before?!” He snapped, still not able to take his eyes off the scene in front of him. It was Utahime’s turn to stay silent.

In the middle of the leveled temple, there was the evidence of your bravery. A set of heavy stone doors bearing an ancient inscription, left open by whatever you had summoned to walk through them, loomed over the two sorcerers. Gojo already knew they’d be used as a gate to honor your memory and remember your sacrifice. His eyes begged to see any scrap of you in the rubble. Maybe this was just a trick, and you were hiding behind one of the doors.

“What could her technique have been to have killed her in the process?” He whispered to the open air, not thinking anyone could’ve heard him.

“Gehenna Gate, it is a technique with the highest of costs,” A raspy voice broke the unbearable quiet. It was your mother, who despite everything, managed to keep a small smile on her face for your surviving friends. “I am sorry she never told you that properly. She wanted to protect you, in her own way.” Her hand came down on Gojo’s shoulder and the kindness in her touch almost burned him alive.

“I didn’t… I wish she…” Gojo stuttered out, hot tears stinging his eyes. Your mother pulled him into a hug, shushing him like a child.

Five days later, your funeral was to be held at your family cemetery in the mountains overlooking the temple. Gojo had no idea how he would survive that. He spent the time until your funeral looking for someone who could communicate with the dead. Thanks to his power and connections, he found one the night before and prepared himself to have one last conversation with you.

“Welcome, sir. I assume you’re here to see Mistress Takemi?” The young man spoke just loud enough to be heard over the jingle of the bell from the door shutting behind him.

“Yeah, and she knows already so I’m just gonna head back there,” Gojo sauntered through the foyer and down the hall to the back room where a woman in black and purple robes standing over a large glass table was waiting on him.

“Welcome Satoru,” she spoke cheerfully with a deep voice that echoed her years of life.

“Don’t call me that. Can we get started?” The overly familiar attitude irked him. The woman cleared her throat and dropped her cheerful act.

“I suppose we can get right to it then.”

The woman had a technique that essentially made her into a human ouija board. Her hands rested on the glass table and it began to glow a soft greenish-blue. Gojo could see the dark circles and puffiness of his eyes in the reflection, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for being this unable to accept that you were gone.

“Satoru?” His name again, but this time he could hear your voice mixing with Takemi’s voice. He said your name in disbelief, tears of joy in his eyes.

“Yes, yes! It’s me, I wa—”

“You can’t do this, Satoru. It’s against the laws.”

“Please, don’t tell me that right now. You hid so much from me, please just let me ask you one thing.”

Silence. Fearing he’d miss his chance, he went ahead with his question.

“Did you ever really love me?” The depth of sadness and desperation in his voice was unbearable to you, even in your disembodied state. “Why couldn’t you have told me? I could’ve helped you, I would’ve done anything to have saved you.”

“In the mountains where they’ll bury me, follow a trail that begins with pink and white flowers. You’ll find everything you want to know at the end. Goodbye, Satoru.”

“No, no, no,” He wiped the tears from his face and gripped both of Takemi’s shoulders, shouting. “Please come back! I can’t do this again!”

Regaining full control of herself, Takemi pushed Gojo off her and had him escorted out of her shop. The whole world was one hideous shade of grey. He walked for a while with no destination in mind but the grave. He wanted to go find that trail right now but he didn’t have anything else left in him. He wanted to sleep for the rest of his life. Returning home, he set his alarm and went to bed with your instructions in mind.

Utahime and Gojo walked with each other up the mountain to the funeral site. Utahime thought it was odd but refreshing to see him dressed in more traditional clothing. Just one more thing that only you could get him to do.

Everyone took their places, and your father stepped up to the podium. “We are gathered here to send our beloved high priestess to her place of final rest with her ancestors…”

Once the funeral was complete, no one but Gojo, Utahime and your mother lingered too long.

“I’m sorry again for your loss, ma’am.” Utahime said, bowing deeply. Your mother gave her another one of those wise, otherworldly smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve really lost her.” She said before taking a last look around the cemetery and turning to leave. “Why don’t we give him some space?” She motioned to Gojo and Utahime followed her.

Now alone with your memory and your ghost, Gojo began to look for this trail you had mentioned. It took him a while to find it but when he did, his path to the end was quick. It led to a small clearing where the grass was lush, and he was consumed by the smell of many different kinds of flowers and plants. The sight of the small garden was as beautiful as you were to him.

Looking around for anything that could be the answer you spoke of, he saw a faint bit of energy coming from inside a tree. When he got close to the tree, he found it had a hollow spot in it where you’d left a diary. He fished it out and walked to a shaded place in the clearing to begin reading it. Every page was an entry about the two of you together. All of your private feelings from when he was just a crush, and once you had gotten closer, you even glued in pictures you’d taken together.

Gojo couldn’t control his tears or hide his sobs. His body shook against the tree as he held the diary close to his chest. He calmed down enough to continue reading it, with the last entry being dated a week ago.

She knew she was going to die… He thought. You had written about the rise of cursed spirits in the area of increasing numbers and strength and how you felt like it was time for you to fulfill your duty to your people. More than that though, you wrote about how you wished you could have told Gojo. How you wanted to stay with him forever, how he was the only thing you’d ever loved as much as you loved the Gods, and how because of that you wanted to make sure he was safe and didn’t have to fight for once.

It was all too much, Gojo swore he would drown in his own tears right there. The wind picked up and blew the diary’s pages, landing on entry from before you two had met.

6.25 — Training Notes: after a long session of training and studying my technique’s history in my family. I have learned of a way I might be able to circumvent its cost. If I summon a deity of destruction that has the ability to reincarnate, then I will reincarnate too! One of my ancestors did that long ago, although it took 59 days for them to come back.

Gojo couldn’t believe what he was reading. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves furiously and scrambled to his feet. He stored your diary in an inner pocket of his kimono and made his way down the mountains to the temple ruins.

He inspected the gate and found exactly what he needed to be able to accept the loss of the only woman he’s ever loved. Utahime was strolling the grounds when she noticed him in the air, getting a close look at the doors.

“Gojo, what do you think you’re doing? Get down here!” Utahime found his behavior so disgraceful. He chuckled on his way back to earth.

“I was just checking on something. Had to be sure that I wasn’t seeing things.”

His eyes were red and puffy, but his annoyingly cheerful attitude was starting to return. Utahime couldn’t tell if she was relieved or annoyed.

“Checking on what?”

“Eh,” Gojo put a hand over the diary in his pocket.

“Doesn’t matter now.”

[xiakato]

Through The Dance Of Fire And Rain: Solitude

This first part of this short series is mostly world building, smut will come later

The rain shatters on the cold cobblestone walkway, the dark clouds taking over the once beautiful blue. The sounds echo through the desolate, empty streets. The sorrowful cello and piano. The music from both beautiful melting into the rain. The rain doesn’t let up, neither do they. A girl, curious yet afraid, follows the sound. Drawn in, she finds her steps slowly, taking in the sorrowful tune, the darkness hidden beneath such sadness. Typically she stays inside, but something compelled her to exit her safe home, in such weather no less. The once bustling street, now empty, a shell of its splendor. The sorrowful tune leads her to the Cathedral, a place she has gone a handful of times. Yet this place is a mystery to her, The beautiful gothic architecture goes hand in hand with the sadness and darkness that echoes through the streets, the alleys.  She pushes one of the heavy cathedral doors open, laying her eyes on them.  Two beings, one holding a cello, the other playing the piano ever so gracefully. Almost ethereal, the rain hitting the windows in stark contrast of their all white clothing. She wants to stop and watch them from afar yet she keeps walking, entranced. The cello player lays his eyes on her as if he sees through her entire being. Her muddy shoes dirtying the pristine cathedral floors, her umbrella falling to her side, her damp hair sticking to her face. The beautiful sorrow that is unfolding in front of her eyes is too much, overwhelming. 

The woman now takes a glance at her, unfettered in her pursuit of true pain. She has heard of these two, only appearing when the rain does, disappearing as quickly without a trace. A tear rolls down her cheek, she doesn’t notice as her mind floods with her past relationship with the town dock hand. He wasn’t the best but wasn’t the worst, he tried yet it wasn’t enough. He moved on quickly, she didn’t. She is still stuck on him like the mud to her shoes. She comes back to bearings wiping the tears away from her eyes. Focusing on the two ethereal like beings that are now only a few feet away from her. Both of them are staring at her as they continue to play, bringing sadness to this town. Their eyes are devoid of emotion, of life.  The man slowly ends playing his cello.

“What brings you here young girl?” His voice is deep, commanding and soothing. 

“I felt like I needed to come here,” Her voice is oddly confident, surprising even herself. 

“Then,” He pauses looking over at the woman, she stops slowly as well, “You must need answers.” 

“Answers? I don’t need answers to anything.” 

“Answers to why you never got on with the dock hand, tragic. That boy is such a pure soul, heaven has high hopes for him.” 

“What do you mean?” She asks, her eyes quivering yet not leaving the man. 

“His soul is pure, chosen by heaven to ascend when his time has come, he will become one of us.”

“What are you…?” 

“We are angels,” The woman talks now, her voice cold and distant. The young girl looks at the woman, stunned at her beauty despite the lifeless behind her beautiful emerald girl eyes. Looking back at the man, he has a smile, albeit very small. 

“Then why didn’t it work?” She asks, eager to hear the reasoning behind it.

“He’s pure, you’re not. In fact the darkness in your soul is what led you here,”  The man explains to her as he stands up, his height catching her off guard, “Don’t be afraid, the darkness that has been inside your soul this whole time is merely waiting till you are able to feel it.”

“What will happen when I do?” 

“You’ll become like us, we are angels yes, but we are more and less than angels, We are the fallen.”

“The fallen…” She mutters as she looks between the two.

“Yes my dear, The Fallen, we are fallen angels, distracted and consumed by the darkness in our souls.”

“How can I not become like you?”

“Find them, find your fated lover. They will restore the purity in your soul.” 

“Do you guys not find yours?” 

“I did, I wasn’t his,” The woman stares at the window, her fingers itching to play the keys once again. The young girl looks at the man, waiting for his answer

“I killed her,” His eyes reflect a tinge of pain before going back to dull and lifeless, taking up his bow. He stares at the other fallen, “Wonyoung,” His voice soft, tender filled with unexplainable emotion. She smiles ever so slightly hearing her name fall from his lips. 

“Y/n,” Her voice filled with the same unexplainable emotion, the young girl can only stand and watch as the beautiful sorrowful fills the senses once again. She watches on, they ignore her, her questions left unanswered, unasked. She turns away and walks back down the center, slowly taking in the tinge of heartbreak, despair. Pulling back up her umbrella, a note falls to her hand taking it and reading it aloud. 

“The heart was meant to be broken,” She stands still taking in the note before tossing it aside, walking away quickly. She feels their gazes on her as she walks away. 

Getting back home, she is greeted by her mother, “Oh Kazuha, I was just about to go looking for you,” 

“Sorry I took a walk, enjoying the music, “ She explains, kicking off her shoes, and hanging her umbrella. 

“I see, those two have always played such beautiful music, always filled with despair.” 

“You’ve met them?” Zuha asks her mother, curious. 

“Never but some of my friends have, the two of them have been around here since even before your great grandparents my dear.” 

She could only nod, processing the age of the two in the cathedral. Why here? In that very cathedral? She needs more information, the thought of her own predicament fleeing from her mind, she searches through her family's library looking for anything about them, anything. The rain has yet to yield and yet have they. Their sorrow echoes still through the town, her mother sits by the window in the library in the rocking chair. Her eyes closed, her mind filled with the memories of her husband. Kazuha can’t find anything, “Mother?” 

“Yes my dear?” Her mother opens her eyes looking at her only child, the love and affection that is only found in a mother is evident. 

“Y/n and Wonyoung,” She says simply hoping that is enough.

“So you’ve learned their names,” Her mother smiles, looking back at the falling rain, dripping down the window pane, “You wish to know more don’t you?” 

“Yes, mother.” 

“Y/n and Wonyoung, They go back centuries, during the Otrian war. Y/n  was rumored to be a general with a secret love from the enemy nation of Grador.”

“That war was with Grador,” Zuha says, “How does that work in the eyes of his comrades, his subordinates?” 

“Never well, my daughter. The last battle, The battle for Zylourgos.”

“The day that both nations fell.”

“I’ve taught you well Zuha, that day everything changed. Grador’s armies have caught wind of Y/n’s lover. Captured her and brought her to use as a bargaining chip.” 

II

The sounds of marching, armor clanging with each step, thousands of armored men stand close to one another, ready to strike, some scared, some steel their resolve. For Glory, For honorable death 

“General Y/n, we come to make you a deal,” Grador’s general shouts, Y/n’s eyes widen as they drag her out, his hands crushing the stone they rested on, “We will spare your lover, Ning Yizhuo. To bring a end to this war, to end this mindless killing,” 

“What is it that must be done,” Y/n says ignoring the remarks from his soldiers.

“Leave the city of Zylourgos, take all of your forces out of Grador and you may take her with you,” Grador’s General points at Yizhuo. Jumping down from the fortress walls, Y/n stands tall, his strength reverberates throughout the battlefield.

“Release her to me first and we shall leave,” Y/n demands, the general of Grador nods, releasing her. She runs as fast as she can. 

“Y/n!” She calls out desperately, “ Don’t trust th-”

Y/n stares in horror as the spear rips through her chest, “Yizhuo!” he dashes, catching her in his arms, her blood coating his armor. His hand cupped her cheek, her eyes fluttering, catching one last glimpse of his face. As her hand touches his face one last time before her life leaves her, “No no no please Yizhuo, Please not like this. Please please please,” He rocks her in his arms, “Yizhuo please, don’t leave me like this.” 

Y/n screams and screams, yet the screams of pain fall on deaf ears. The sound of iron against iron takes over. That was the day that both nations fell at the hands of one man. 

“The sorrow from his cello makes sense now, but what of Wonyoung?” 

“Wonyoung is a bit of an easier story to tell, Jang Wonyoung, The last Princess of Otria, The Divine Serpent.” 

“Didn’t Y/n kill everyone in both nations?” 

“Wonyoung was the exception. Her chosen one was Y/n,”

“How is that possible?” 

“God doesn’t care for the likes of us Kazuha, questioning him will only lead us to ruin,” She smiles, “Y/n couldn’t bring himself to kill her which led her to become one of the fallen with him, The divine serpent and The divine dragon together forever in damnation.” 

Kazuha sits there in silence looking at her mother watching the rain, enjoying the music. 

“Solitude knows no bounds my daughter, Solitude can make you stronger, but it can also make you weaker. Find your chosen one my dear,” Her mother takes her a coin pouch, “There’s enough to get to the next few towns.” 

“But-” 

“Dont worry dear, I will still be here when you return and so will they,” Her mother gestures out of the window towards the cathedral, “In fact you may even run into them again in your travels.”

Kazuha sighs, going to her room she knows anything she says won’t matter. Packing everything she would need for her trip, everything she hopes she would need at least. She says goodbye to her mother who sits still in that library rocking chair by the window. She sets off in the rain, looking back at the cathedral, leaving with more questions than answers. Yet she is unable to get more, she knows they won’t answer her. She gets to the train station and waits, a book clenched between her fingers. 

III

“Why didn’t you tell her Y/n?” Wonyoung’s voice gained some of the emotion it once had, her slender hands trailing up his neck to his face. 

“Tell her what? That she doesn’t have a destined one?” He looks down at Wonyoung as she nods, “I couldn’t, I… just couldn’t bring myself to tell an innocent girl that she will become like us, beings devoid of emotion.”

“Not being able to tell her that is emotion Y/n,” Wonyoung lays her head on his chest, “We aren’t as emotionless as you think.” 

“She doesn’t have a chosen one because of me Wonyoung, of my choices, my actions, my.. Destruction.” 

“God has a plan for everyone Y/n, that was just his for you,” She sways in his arms as they use their powers to continue to play the music. The two dance through the rain, their pristine white clothes covered with darker than black ink, as they dance through their despair, through the streets, empty, devoid of laughter, love, of life. Kazuha’s mother smiles as they pass her house.

“Those two always enjoy themselves in some way,” She cracks a smile as she fades in golden rays of light, the two watching as the rays of light ascend to the heavens. God has reclaim one of his precious angels. The two continue dancing as the rays of gold continue to ascend around the town, the rain comes to an end. The two fallen disappear from the streets, the music stops. People flood the streets once again.  The train finally comes, with Kazuha boarding and finding her seat, her heart feels heavy, burdened by something she feels like she missed. She ignores that feeling, as the train sets off from the station. Her stop isn’t far but far enough from home on foot that it is a two day ride on horseback. She watches through the train window, the clouds that once covered the ever expanding blue now retrating. She smiles softly as the train follows the hill side, silently saying goodbye to the place she grew up. Vowing that she will be back, better and happier. Still the music haunts her mind, she can’t get her mind off it. She slightly understands the pain of Y/n but she can’t come to even understand the pain of Wonyoung, her destiny was to be unable to let him go.  Despite her not being his destined, his chosen one. She watched as he destroyed her nation and another because of another, yet she stands by him. Not allowing him to stand alone in his abyssal despair, haunted by the memory of holding his dying lover in his arms. 

Wonyoung has devoted herself to him, and only him despite knowing he won’t love her the way she does him. Kazuha’s mind doesn’t wrap around it, and doesn't understand what love does to a person. Will she ever? She thinks to herself. 

“Excuse me?” A voice knocks her out of her thoughts, she looks over to a rather good looking man standing before her, “Is that seat taken?” 

“No, go ahead,” She gestures with a friendly smile, he smiles back sitting in front of her. 

“So where are you headed?” He asks, getting comfy in the seat, “Anywhere exciting?” 

“Unsure, I’ve never left my hometown, so I’ll go where the wind guides me.”

“Ooo a fresh new adventure! Ah, where are my manners? I’m Pulcinella,” He offers his hand to her, she shakes it and he leaves a kiss on her hand.

“I’m Kazuha,” She tells him, as that smile never leaves his face. 

“So I’m guessing that your hometown is the one we just left,” She nods, confirming his suspicions, “tell me have you met them? The rumors around your town say there’s fallen?” 

“No I haven’t,” She feels as if she shouldn’t tell this man she just met about them, she feels off by that smile never leaving his face. 

“Ahh rats, I wish to actually meet the fallen once,” he chuckles as they feel back into normal conversation. He’s easy to talk to, he has a broad view on the world, soon he grabs his bags saying goodbye, he jumps out of the window and disappears before she even sees what happened to him. 

May her journey be long and fruitful.

[vinomino]

MORTEM

Immortality and reincarnation

Featuring: Suo.H x f!reader

Contents: sfw, immortal!Suo, mortal!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, death

Since the dawn of time, humans have been dreamers. Dreaming about immortal narratives. Embrace or avoid, the human psyche comforts itself in the wake of such thoughts. There are countless ways to die and it could happen at any time. Death is relentless. So to take away death is to take away the human essence itself.

Suo is clad in black. He sits on that bench again, staring out into the sea. The sun brings to rise, forming bright pebbles that ripple along the surface of the dark blue water. You had left him again. He’s lost count of how many times the two of you met. No matter what he does, he would be unable to prevent your death. During the year of your 28th birthday, you’ll always die. He should be wise, he’s lived for millenniums after all. But he cannot bring himself to let you go. Suo can only faintly remember what happened the first time he met you during your first life. In contrast, he can pinpoint the exact year it was, exactly one thousand and three hundred years ago. 

They forewarned him about falling in love with a human, it was condemned. A human lifespan will go by in a blink of an eye. You swayed his heart and kept coming back to haunt him. He witnessed your death over, and over, and over again. All the children you two had departed. He outlived all the babies he made with you. Suo was immortal, he couldn’t age, and he’d always be stuck on this earth, in this same form. 

You always came back. Whether with a different name or background, he will always recognize you. Since it was a face he’s spent his whole life trying to forget. A woman who torments him relentlessly. However, Suo can’t let you go, if he isn’t there, you’ll fall in love with someone else, and he can’t bear to witness that. But whenever you see him, you’ll fall in love, always, that’s how it goes. The indestructible cycle that he can’t break. It decays him out and whole. Suo lives in isolation waiting for you, then you leave, and so he returns to his loneliness until it lifts again. There’s nothing he can do. 

“You’ve met me before?” You chuckle at his unbelievable confession, tracing your finger over his cheekbones. “Like in a past life?” 

“Something like that,” his throat squeezes shut, trying to prevent him from continuing. “But, you always left me.” 

You watch a wet film slip over his red eye. “I won’t leave you.” 

“You will.” Suo pulls you into his bare chest, pressing you into himself, as if he were trying to force you to become one with him. His legs are intertwined with yours, this short peace that he knows will end. It will be ripped from his heart, leaving him bleeding out.

“And there’s nothing I can do.” He rasps out.

It’s helpless. Even if he locks you in a cell for a whole year, keeping you healthy and fed— no matter what he does, you end up a lifeless heap in his arms. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper and peer up at him. Suo wants to believe it, he so desperately wants to make it real. His time with you will be fleeting, he’ll be left incomplete. For someone who can’t die, Suo’s scared of dying. If he’s gone, you’ll wander this world without him until the end of time. He promised to never leave you alone. 

The lily in his hand starts to droop. The restored innocence of the soul of the departed. He took this one flower with him, unable to leave it behind. Your body no longer has a form, only existing as a pile of ashes. Suo only needs to wait twenty or sixty years to see you again. He hopes you’ll take longer to be reborn this time. To give him some peace in this suffering. 

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — caving in

prev: spaces inbetween | masterlist | next: remember to be patient!

when he gets to her apartment, he feels like an intruder.

he stands outside the front door, an iced coffee in hand (specially made by kuroo) and an apology in his head, carefully scripted out during his trip. soft pitter patters of slippers against old wood draw closer, and he recognizes it as her. she pauses for a second before welcoming him in. something is off.

they continue as usual. he sits across from her on the carpet, listening intently while she draws out guides to illustrate each concept for him. she's focused -- more than usual -- and he assumes it's because of how close the end is nearing.

he wonders if they'll continue this schedule when the semester ends. he hopes that, by fate, they end up in another class together, and they'll continue to meet up every thursday to talk about their friends and their bad professors and their upcoming tests. when he looks around her room, then at her, he realizes how out of reach that idea is.

she pauses for a minute so he can finish his notes, taking slow, tantalizing sips of the coffee. it's the same flavor he got her the first time, laced with lavender and cinnamon.

deep inside, there's a flicker of hope that she mentions it. that, once the studying is over, they'll have a calm and composed conversation about what happened last wednesday.

but she never does, at least not for a while. she sits in silence, her distance -- both physical and emotional -- evident in the way she looks away and doesn't say a word. the apology he crafted minutes before he arrived returns to his head, and he's about to gift it to her, heartfelt words and all, until she says something first.

"you didn't ruin anything, if that's what you're thinking." her voice wafts throughout the room and pulls him out of his thoughts. he recalls the punch he threw and the red imprint blossoming on her stepfather's jaw, the image burned into his retinas for an eternity. he still feels bad for it, but with the way she reacted to his appearance, he isn't sure if he should feel any guilt for the man. "i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable, though."

"you didn't. not at all," he rushes. a dusting of pink coats the tips of his ears, and she finds it amusing. memories of the hallway slowly seep in. he remembers his palms on her skin and their foreheads ghosting against one another. he remembers the call from tsukishima, his concern piercing through the phone's speaker. he remembers sitting on the edge of her bathtub, an ice pack held to his face while she tended to his torn knuckles in silence, and he questions what it meant to her.

the physical space between them seems to grow the more the quietude drags on. she can't find it in herself to look at him any longer, in fear of making another impulsive decision.

her life has been thrown off balance, she realizes. no longer is there solely an overwhelming drive for success, so much so that it renders her entire being secure and alone. another factor has been implemented into her daily life. she doesn't know how to handle it.

she thinks of the years spent devoted to her studies, consisting of late nights in libraries and incoherent notes that only made sense to her. she thinks of her passion for art that had been slowly sharpened and refined until it was no longer a skill, but a weapon against herself and her well-being. she thinks of the dreams of the little girl trapped within the confines of her heart, who yearned every day to separate from what she had grown into and become something more. she wonders where he would fit into that, should she allow him to, and if he'd willingly bear the burden of her being.

the gentle thump of her heart against her chest escalates when she looks up to find him staring back. there's something resolute in his eyes as if he's come to a conclusion. a moment of rationality slips through -- she needs to catch up. she needs to restore her former fervor and pick up the pieces she'd left behind, even if it means spending hours upon hours dedicated to work once more. but kageyama tobio has proven to be the strongest opposition to the rules she had crafted for herself since her youth.

so she caves in.

the call of his name from her lips shifts the air around them. her coffee is long forgotten, the condensation wetting the fluff of her carpet. there's another pause before she asks him why he wouldn't mind, although she knows the answer already. she just wants to hear it from him. just to make sure.

"because i like you. a lot."

a small crack of a smile forms on her face, and he finds it much too infectious. he doesn't know why he's so drawn to her. he doesn't know why his hands gravitate towards her waist, allowing him to lean forward and kiss her again, without a bloodied nose and marred knuckles. he doesn't know why he can't break away from her, even with her hands loosely hanging on his shoulders.

it's still instinctual. but this time, she doesn't mind it as much.

𝜗𝜚 yn was genuinely so upset at herself for the whole week of no contact because she's not used to being so vulnerable for one person. she was trying to convince herself that it was wrong this whole time (bc she had goals, both artistic and academic) but clearly she can only put up a fight for so long bc kageyama was so insistent on disrupting the routine she had grown so accustomed to

𝜗𝜚 bokuto genuinely does believe they had sex in the hallway (it's his way of showing support)

𝜗𝜚 yachi and yamaguchi debriefed the entire situation in tsukishima's room (he complained outwardly, but he's rlly invested) and they're so happy but also so shocked bc of how much kags was willing to do for her despite how off-putting yn was at times LOL

𝜗𝜚 post makeout yn revealed that she had not in fact kissed anyone before bc of her grudge against herself (swearing off romance in exchange for her success yada yada) and kags genuinely was so shocked

𝜗𝜚 he did go home afterwards bc he felt bad for staying so long

𝜗𝜚 yn definitely wanted to ask him to stay the night (because it felt right, but in all honesty she's very clueless when it comes to situations like these) but she decided not to because it was just so out of character for her

𝜗𝜚 kageyama will never stop thinking about this tutoring session like ever he is so smitten with yn and he definitely feels very achieved. all he wants is for her to be happy </3

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @fiannee @minimarkive

[bluebearrestoration]

The Best Fire damage restoration, in California

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[cyborg-franky]

prompt: I’d like to ask for something with Ace and Sabo meeting again as adults (so Ace didn’t die at Marineford)

Sabo and Ace [NOT SHIP] SFW Ace didn’t die AU

Word Count: 737

----

Ace held his hat in place as he climbed out the window of the restaurant, the bone of a chicken leg hanging out his mouth as he grinned around it, leaping out the window and landing with a heavy thud of clunky boots on the other side. Dust kicked up and swirled around as he quickly got his bearings, looking down the tight alley between the buildings, picking his direction to run.

Taking off to the right, just as screams and yells poured from the open window he’d exited from. Ace laughed and ate the meat from the bone still clenched in his jaw, tossing it over his shoulder as he turned the corner, skidding and gripping the corner of the building to catapult himself around the bend.

And straight into a blond man in a ridiculous hat. Ace and the stranger let out a mixed collection of surprising sounds. Sabo winced and gripped the bare shoulders of the freckled man who’d almost sent him tumbling to the ground. Ace stared up at the well-dressed man.

Something in the back of his mind screamed at him not to run away, that he needed to be around the blond, there was such a surreal sense of familiarity when he looked over the confused face. The feeling of a bond that ran deeper and thicker than any bloodlines prickled through him, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

The gloved hands on his sun-kissed skin seemed comforting somehow, the worried look in Sabo’s eyes, the furrowed brow as he took a moment to collect his jumbled thoughts, all if it felt like home to Ace. Something from the past he’d tried to banish from his sad nights of reminiscing about times that had faded away.

Those memories that seemed like a faded sepia-stained polaroid, awaiting the day colour would be restored. Sabo sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw Ace for the first time, taking in how he was dressed, the tattoo on his arm.

Sabo knew this man from the wanted poster that had triggered all his lost memories, he watched the man he was gripping. He could feel tears brimming in his eyes as his mouth hung open, words failing him as emotions all battled with one another to be felt first.

Ace cocked his head to one side, blinking as the stranger with the familiar presence gripped his shoulders tighter, the leather of Sabo’s gloves making a creak, one that matched his trembling voice as he blinked away tears “A-Ace?”

“You know me?”

Before Sabo could utter another word the shouting of Ace’s pursuers rang through the air, cutting the confused air like a knife to butter. Sabo moved his hands, reaching for Ace’s and pulling him along the street.

Sabo remembered this part of their childhood, he ran with Ace in tow, the memories of those days together as children bubbled to the surface. Their laughter, grins, and leaving Luffy in the dirt as they ran from their younger brother.

Ace felt it too, something about this moment, his hand in the other man’s. The way Sabo’s blue coat fluttered in the wind as they picked up the pace, kicking up dust and gravel in their wake as they escaped from the centre of the small town into the thick forest that cupped the town in a cosy nest, safe from the world.

“S-Sabo?” Ace’s voice didn’t feel like his own as the name fell from his lips, he was sure this man was his brother he just didn’t know how.

He almost stumbled over his feet before Sabo leapt over a bush, not even giving Ace a heads up. The flame user huffed as he tripped and tumbled over the shrubbery, laughing when he landed painfully on his ass. Sabo laughed loudly as he stopped running, turning to watch Ace sit there, chuckling to himself as tears ran down his freckled cheeks.

“Sabo!”

“Ace!”

Sabo smiled and offered Ace a hand just to have the pirate pull him forward, landing on his knees between Ace’s legs as arms wrapped around his body, Ace sobbing against him, years of guilt, sorrow, longing slipped from his shoulders, his heart ached as he struggled to catch his breath through his crying.

“S-Sabo. I… I’m..”

“I know, it’s okay.” Sabo ran his hand through Ace’s messy hair and smiled at his brother, his tears cascading down his face.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Cute house, needs a little fixing here and there, but it was built in 1898 in Weatherford, Texas, has 5bds, 4ba, and was just reduced $45K to $650K.

Love the entrance hall. That door! Beautiful woodwork and the newel post lamp still works.

Just beautiful.

I wish they hadn't painted the wood in these rooms blue, but here it is. They even got to the pocket doors. Luckily, they left the gorgeous original fireplace alone. This is the sitting room, and that wood would be very hard to strip and restore.

Nice that they left the blue carpet, though. It's like new.

The pocket doors open to the dining room that has a door to the porch.

And, from the dining room, you enter the kitchen. Love that they left the stick walls and original features. Look at the stove built around the chimney. I like the cabinet color and copper exhaust hood, too.

It's a very large eat-in kitchen. This is a great reno b/c it beautifully blends old with new.

They completely renovated this bath and it's nice for what it is, but I wouldn't have put it into a Victorian home.

In this bedroom, the floor's a little worn and needs refinishing, but it has wonderful doors with transoms and an original corner fireplace.

These rooms are very bright and get lots of natural sunlight.

The owner was into folk art, and if you like folk art, this home has a lot of nice painting. In this room they did the fireplace, a painted "carpet" on the floor, and stenciled border along the top.

It's hard to see, but there are 2 cute bears wearing pants on the fire box screen.

This must be a 3rd level bedroom and you can see the nicely stenciled art.

It has its own bath.

Here's another nice big room with a painted rug.

An interesting room.

It's very large up here and looks like this is where at least 2 or 3 of the bedrooms are located.

This is a cute bath. Love the blue floor.

How cute is this little storage building in the driveway? It says Blacksmith Shop.

It's a very nice property.

Lots of trees on the .66 acre corner lot.

And, just a few blocks from the historic downtown district.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/202-E-Lee-Ave-Weatherford-TX-76086/230770336_zpid/

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

Behold, a bracket!

Text form below the cut because trying to copy all the 256 into the alt text sounded.... horrifying. Warning for 128 matchups, seriously, this list is long, and so I've avoided adding the artists until the polls.

a note: the pinned post has started misbehaving, so only open polls will be directly linked. closed polls instead have the results page linked in the set header, all the polls are linked from there

Set 1

The Lament for Icarus (Miao He) vs The Lament for Icarus (Herbert Draper)

The angel came to me in a fever hallucination, perched upon my bed as I returned from the bathroom. vs Sweet Brown Snail

Figures vs A Philosopher Lecturing on the Orrery

Happy Shoppers vs Hubble Deep Field

Lovers Painting vs Bath Curtain

Dr. Helen Taussig vs Une Martyre

Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo (Orangutan strangling a Borneo savage) vs Can’t Help Myself

Rape vs Technicolor Hiroshima

Set 2

A Walk at Dusk vs Based on “Autoportrait with the Model” by Maria-Rayevska Ivanova

Diary Page vs Les Jours Gigantesques (The Titanic Days)

Dead of Night vs You Won't

Christina's World vs Bobby

Untitled (I’m Turning Into A Specter Before Your Very Eyes And I’m Going To Haunt You) vs Two Sisters (On the Terrace)

Sharecropper vs Lustmord

The Parca and the Angel of Death vs Untitled (Zdzisław Beksiński)

Stress vs The Fallen Angel

Set 3

Device to Root Out Evil vs Travelling Light

Diana vs Fifty Days at Iliam: The Fire that Consumes All before It

The Plains, from Memory vs Exotic Bodies

Doubting Thomas vs Self-Portrait in the Bathroom Mirror

Empty Nest vs Somebody Fell From Aloft

Anguish vs If I Died

Cat in Obsolete Bath vs You're Not Boring Anymore

Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World) vs Untitled (billboard of an empty unmade bed)

Set 4

There Will Be No Miracles Here vs Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace

Fox Hunt vs Tarpaulin

Khajuraho Group of Monuments vs Ranakpur Jain Temple

ปราสาทสัจธรรม (The Sanctuary of Truth) vs Grande Panorama de Lisboa

Heroic Head of Pierre de Wissant, One of the Burghers of Calais vs The Weather

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit vs If this is art

Statue of Vincent and Theo van Gogh vs Jeanne d’Arc écoutant les voix (Joan of Arc listening to the Voices)

Fountain vs Judith Slaying Holofernes

Set 5

Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) vs Cave of El Castillo

Chauvet Cave Bear vs Uffington White Horse

Laocoön and His Sons vs Winged Victory of Samothrace

Crouching Aphrodite vs Statue of Taweret

Guardian Figure vs Kūya-Shonin (Saint Kuya)

Ancient Greek doll vs Arena #7 (Bears)

Enbu (炎舞) (Dancing in the Flames) vs Yearning Shadows

Belfast to Byzantium vs Freedom

Set 6

The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayan vs Portraits

The Blood Mirror vs Nighthawks

Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate vs "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw vs Forgotten Dreams

Saint Bride vs Pixeles (a group of 9 works)

War Pieta vs The Sunset

The Handmaidens of Sivawara Preparing the Sacred Bull at Tanjore for a Festival vs Ajax and Cassandra

Nāve (Death) vs Abstraction

Set 7

Yes vs Meeting on the Turret Stair

Hacked to Death II vs Stańczyk

Closeness Lines Over Time vs Voice of Fire

The Maple Trees at Mama, the Tekona Shrine and Tsugihashi Bridge vs Portrait of Sir Thomas More

Survival Series: In a Dream You Saw a Way vs Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre

Death blowing bubbles vs The Kitchen Table Series

Painting 1946 vs In the Grip of Winter

Untitled (Black and Gray) vs NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

Set 8

Blue Plate Special vs Red Cedar

Palace of Fine Arts vs Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba

Le Château des Pyrénées (The Castle of the Pyrenees) vs Susanna and the Elders, Restored - X-Ray

Moby Dick vs Viva la Vida, Watermelons

Venus Envy Chapter One (Of the First Holy Communion Moments Before the End) vs how to look at art

St. Sebastian vs Untitled #12

Carroña vs The invincible one

Untitled (Two Dogs) vs The Dog

SECOND HALF

Set 9

David (Donatello) vs David (Michelangelo)

The Other Side vs The Temptation of St. Jerome

Seated Woman with Bent Knees vs Starry Night

Headdress - Shadae vs Untitled for the Image Flow's Queer Conscience exhibit

Woman with Dead Child (Frau mit totem Kind) vs Les Amants (The Lovers)

Siroče na majčinom grobu (Orphan on Mother's Grave) vs You Make My World a Better Place to Find

Fighting Against SARS Memorial Architectural Scene (弘揚抗疫精神建築景觀) vs Fallingwater

Resting vs The Hull

Set 10

Olive Trees vs Worship

Glow vs Wheatfield with Crows

Study after Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X vs Untitled (He Plays Very Badly)

D.I.Y. by John Wiswell vs The Tragedy

Judith and the Head of Holofernes vs Beethovenfries (Beethoven Frieze)

The Memory of Me (How Could I Forget) vs oh god i had a really big epiphany about love and personhood but i’m too drunk for words

I am happy because everyone loves me vs 瀕危形態 (Endangered Forms)

Three Scaffolders vs Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan

Set 11

San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk vs Water-Lilies, Reflection of a Weeping Willow

The Grief of the Pasha vs Monolith in Vigeland Sculpture Park

Passion vs Space Diner

Hamlet and Ophelia vs Two Earthlings

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth vs Seer Bonnets

Photograph from "SNAP OSAKA" Collection vs Clytemnestra after the Murder

“Untitled” (Perfect Lovers) vs The Lovers (TIE)

Kedai Ubat Jenun vs Orange Store Front

Set 12

The Apotheosis of War vs Portrait of the Dancer Aleksandr Sakharov

Julie Manet vs Mouth

The Icebergs vs Kaleidoscope Cats III

Maman vs Caza Nocturna (Night Hunt)

The Book of Kells Folio 188r: Luke carpet page vs Ardagh Chalice

Yusuf and Zulaikha vs Dome of the Rock mosaics

Rowan Leaves and Hole vs Untitled (prisonhannibal)

Le Désespéré (The Desperate Man) vs The Dedication

Set 13

Deimos vs Dog and Bridge

The Mocking of Christ vs Prudence

The Broken Column vs Siberian Ice Maiden shoulder tattoo

Transi de René de Chalon (Cadaver Tomb of René of Chalon) vs Head of Christ

The Day vs Spirit of Haida Gwaii

Eleanor Boathouse at Park 571 vs Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban জাতীয় সংসদ ভবন (National Parliament House)

Juventud de Baco (Bacchus Youth) vs Barges on the Seine

Oath of the Horattii closeup vs Visit hos Excentrisk Dam (Visit to an eccentric lady)

Set 14

Christ Crucified (With Donor) vs St. Francis

Thunder Raining Poison vs Piazza d'Italia

The Grove vs Among the Waves

Pintura Mural de Alarcón vs Sagrada Família stained-glass windows

Noonday Heat vs La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and The Unicorn)

Matroser i Gröna Lund (Sailors in Gröna Lund) vs Gielda Plakatu

Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks vs The Garden of Earthly Delights

Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death) vs Haavoittunut enkeli (The Wounded Angel)

Set 15

i've wasted a lifetime pretending to be me vs da oracle

minus #37 vs Panel from Fun Home

Excerpt from illustrated edition of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)

The Veil vs Düsseldorf 4 (Museum Kunst Palast)

Capriccio vs Zodiac calendar for La Plume

The official imperial portrait of empress dowager Cixi vs José y Maria

Blooming Lilacs vs Lágrimas De Sangre (Tears of Blood)

An Interlude vs Boy Staring at an Apparition

Set 16

Mermer Waiskeder: Stories of the Moving Tide vs The Gran Hotel Ciudad de México Art Nouveau interior

Unfinished Painting vs To Arms!

Memorial to a Marriage vs The Island

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn vs A Few Small Nips

Saturn Devouring His Son vs Guernica

Fairy Princesses vs Lamentation over the Dead Christ

Mummy with An Inserted Panel Portrait of a Youth vs Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party

Agnus vs The Cup Of His Murders Is Flowing Over And In His Coat Shall Be Many Curses

[rvb-canon-grimmons]

RVB RESTORATION THOUGHTS!!!!

LONG POST IM SO SORRY I HAD A LOT OF FEELINGS

(Im so sorry this got so long, but i got emotional while writing it so please bear with me, read this like its the morning paper while u eat breakfast or something i have alot to say)

Before I go into the things I didn't like I do want to focus on some positives.

-Like I said in an earlier post, Geoff's acting…he absolutely killed it, and maybe this is because I'm a little bit Geoff/Grif biased but he was giving so much emotion and everyone else felt a little bit flat. Also only he could have delivered the "Come with me" line with so much Homoeroticism -I Had a pretty fun time watching the fight in the second half, The references to Monty we're sweet and getting to see Tex and Carolina fight together was pretty epic! -A good handful of jokes got me good. "23rd in my class" Shelia translating Caboose's Spanish to Lopez

Ok……. the next bit of this will get a little bit negative, but I do want to say this is coming from a place of deep love and care for this series. I have run this blog for like 6/7 years now and I've been a fan of this show for double that. My biggest fear is that fans get the same treatment we did when no one liked RVBZero. I have criticisms. This is a 21 year old series that so many people have had a part in and so many have loved. I was not looking for perfection, I wasn't even looking for something good. I was looking for an ending to the stories of characters people have held in their hearts for 21 years. Unfortunately, what I feel we were left with was a hastily thrown together hour of basically nothing.

-Why weren't they friends…..Why weren't they friends…No one cared for the others. I understand that we have semi warped perceptions of the characters from fanon works and things of that nature. But even in canon, the reds and blue care about each other. On their own team and the other team. Simmons, Grif, Tucker, and Caboose spent MONTHS together in chorus and same for Donut/Sarge/Wash. I've recently rewatched blood gulch and Caboose and Sarge have a great dynamic! Tucker and Grif canonically get along pretty well. Simmons was ON BLUE TEAM for like a hot minute there. THEY KNOW EACH OTHER AND CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. This was zero percent present in this film. No one had any motivation to look for Tucker. No one cared that it was Tuckers body inside the suit. THE REDS LEFT CABOOSE FOR DEAD!!!!!! THEY JUST LEFT HIM!!!!

-Tucker, I'm so sorry baby girl, this was supposed to be your arc, your moment. You were hardly in it. No build up to how he became the Meta. The scene where he breaks out of it to not kill caboose was the best part of the arc. And he just wakes up and remembers it "like someone elses Nightmare??" ok sure

-Wash………………WHAT THE FUCK???? WHAT THE FUCK???????????????? WHAT THE FUCK??????? WHAT THE FUCK???? TO RUIN THIS MANS ENTIRE CHARACTER ARC BY MAKING HIM COMPLETELY OBSOLETE. PUTTING HIM IN SOME RANDOM HOSPITAL FOR AN UNKNOWN INJURY THAT HAPPENS OFF SCREEN AND ISN'T EXPLAINED. HAVE HIM HALUCINATING DOC FOR SOME FUCKING REASON. HAVE HIM SHOW UP TO THE FINAL BATTLE AND DO ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING BUT JUMP OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND NOT SAY A WORD TO ANY OF THE RED AND BLUES I AM LIERALLY ABOUT TO FUCKING CRY TYPING THIS I AM LITERALLY SO FUCKING PISSED OFF. AGENT WASHINGTON, THE CHARACTER THAT WAS SO HAPPY IN THE SEASON RIGHT BEFORE CHORUS JUST TO BE ON BLUE TEAM AND HAVE A FUCKING FAMILY AGAIN. JUST SIDELINE HIM FOR NO FUCKING REASON AND THEN NOT LET HIM SPEAK TO ANY OF HIS FRIENDS EXCEPT CAROLINA AND DEAD DOC. AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE FACT THAT TUCKER BEING THE META WAS LITERALLY A PLOT POINT CATERED TO HAVE WASH BE INVOLVED. THIS IS LIKE AGENT WASHINGTON ANGST BAIT 101. YES IM A TUCKINGTON SHIPPER BUT PUT ALL SHIPPING ASIDE, THEY WERE STILL FRIENDS, THEY WERE FRIENDS THEY WERE FRIENDS.

Grimmons. I am disappointed. But really not surprised. Honestly for everything I disliked I thought Grimmons was handled ok… at this point im like….. they couldn't even throw us a bone. company was dying, final season airing, and they couldn't even throw us a solid Grimmons queerbait joke. Its whatever….I don't wanna get too upset about shipping because at the end of the day, ships becoming canon isn't what shipping is all about (says Tumblr user "RVB-Canon-Grimmons) you get what im saying.

-Donut…..where was he…..Fucking Homophobic honestly

-DOC IS DEAD?????????????????????????????? FUCKING WHY???

-Sarge's death was fine, I'm not upset by it I just didn't feel like it was emotionally satisfying. Especially after the shock of them leaving Caboose and the much better scene of tucker fighting the meta's control over him to not hurt caboose.

-PEOPLE CALLED U SIR ALL THROUGHOUT CHORUS SIMMONS WHAT THE FUCK??????????? WHY IS SIMMONS PROMOTED AND INCHARGE OF NO ONE???? WHY DID GRIF LEAVE HIM???

Im sorry………..this is so long………just remeber this is only my opinions and if u don't agree thats totally ok!!!!! I am just a critical bitch….