#real cut stone

[eightsunshowers]

Victorian Exterior - Exterior Example of a large ornate multicolored three-story stone exterior home design with a shingle roof

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Fingon: *Goes for a long walk with all his worldly possessions*

Fingon: *Climbs a mountain*

Fingon: *Casts a search-and-find spell*

Fingon: *Gets a miracle from god*

Fingon: *Encounters an unbreakable manacle*

Fingon: Time to get creative.

[clownsuu]

I finally have some free time to draw sketches and tell you about my headcannons with (young) Harvey and Dr. Stone!! 💥💥

The first headcanon: Harvey really likes to touch Stone's funny sticking-out hair with his antennae (I have no idea what to call it lol). OF COURSE, Dr. Stone gets angry, and Harvey just giggles and watches him—

The second headcanon: I thought it would be funny if Dr. Stone had (and maybe still has) a secret hobby of collecting minerals and stones. it's pretty funny that a sullen and angry dude collects and examines all sorts of stones, and then writes something in his book, muttering something under his nose. if Harvey somehow found out about his husband's hobby, he could throw him beautiful stones while he was going somewhere.

The third headcanon: Harvey loves hugging Dr. Stone very much, when he does this, this old fart immediately starts to get angry and swear, but after 15-20 minutes calms down and falls asleep. maybe Harvey does this on purpose so that his husband at least sometimes gets a full sleep

(not) Old people,,,,

[screechingfromthevoid]

Orym growing his hair out while Dorians gone because he's not really taking care of himself makes for an EXCELLENT gay hair cutting fic

[lezbianz]

does anyone want to hear my thoughts on the barbie movie? okay well even if you didn’t i didn’t like it. i thought it was weird that they tried to do an introduction to feminism from 2015 thing, especially considering it’s fucking barbie. and by that i don’t mean “let barbie be apolitical!” because that’s a dumb statement. it’s fucking barbie. i do mean however it was weird that they had the little girl whatsherface say everything that was wrong with the barbie brand and then they never refuted that or anything and just let it hang. but still did the 2015 feminism thing anyway. also the plot was bad and so was the pacing

[winterwrites23]

Wait in chapters 1-2 of SoT did Scot use Stonecleaver to threaten North? Or did he use a different sword?

I think he used a normal sword because Stonecleaver has visible runes etched on the blade. Carrying it around super superstitious humans would attract unwanted attention, even if the clansmen know of his true nature.

However, I checked the drawing I did forever ago of that scene, and we can see the sword looks like Stonecleaver so….. Maybe at the time, I thought it was that sword, but now I think it would make more sense if it was a regular sword lol

Also, the existence of Stonecleaver is supposed to be a well-kept secret cuz Marks are powerful artifacts. People throughout history have tried to steal them, so Scotland only uses his when dealing with magic or as a last resort.

So you can imagine the shock when a random kid you found in a forest casually reveals the equivalent of a national secret 😂😂😂

[cave-monkey]

I'm watching Monkey King 2009, and I know a bit of what happens to Six Ears later so I can't help but look at things through that lens, specifically the ways the FFM troop are a hot mess in a way that's actually kind of interesting and addressed in the show (to the extent a kid's show generally touches on those things). Like! The fact it's only the second episode and the troop is now two-for-two throwing Six Ears to the wolves at the first available opportunity! I decided to look back on what happened the last time they did this and go ahead and outline the thoughts I was having on it because, apparently(!), this was not a one-off! And I was not overreacting!

The very first fight scene in the series in Episode 1. Analysis, go!

Specifically, the part where a child is the one facing down the leader of the enemy warband, a combatant who already mowed through the advances of two experienced, trained adults with minimal effort, and the show...actually kind of goes a semi-realistic route with it?

Six Ears starts off strong and confident. He's basically an adult, his king put him up to this, of course he can handle it! He won't let him down!

And he does a pretty good job! It's very kid's show fun and punchy.

But then the Demon King of Havoc - an adult, a trained fighter, a blooded fighter - starts buckling down. And Six Ears slips up. And then he keeps slipping up.

It's not fun anymore. Six Ears is in way over his head and he knows it. So you get this (honestly kind of heartstring-tugging) shot of him glancing away while the Demon King approaches to look for his mentor and idol for help or guidance or something. He's a kid, he's scared now, and he wants his grandfather.

...and finds him asleep.

Now in most media I'd expect this to either be the mentor-figure feigning indifference or carelessness to encourage their pupil to handle the problem themselves (and implying in the process that they never doubted their pupil's ability to handle it - that they were never in actual danger), or this would just be building tension before the seemingly-oblivious mentor-figure suddenly intervenes at the critical moment.

But, of course, Six Ears isn't the actual protagonist, and that's not what happens. Six Ears looks to his king for help, finds none, and that's it. The Demon King of Havoc goes in for the kill and all Six Ears can do is run.

And he does, and he runs and runs and runs, farther and farther from his troop and anyone who can help because apparently no one was paying attention to the kid who was taking on the leader of the entire opposing force by himself, and he barely stays ahead of the sword, the trees the Demon King sends crashing down on him, and he's blatantly not able to do anything more than survive moment to moment.

And then he can't run anymore.

And the Old Monkey King doesn't show up. We find out he was never going to show up.

We get a shot of the Old Monkey King slowly waking up way back in the camp well after this scene, in response to Stone Monkey's hatching. (He also stands bolt right up, which is probably meant to be in shock at the giant stone rocketing into the sky wreathed in universe energy but I also like to think might also have been a "Where the FUCK is my KID" just so I can imagine someone was concerned about Six Ears during all this.)

Like, I cannot emphasize enough, Six Ears would be dead if Stone Monkey hadn't been hatching at this exact moment. An energy burst from the hatching blinds the Demon King long enough for Six Ears to bolt and start the chase again. That's what saves him. And then again when Six Ears manages to get the egg between him and a blow from the Demon King's sword.

Considering how eager the generals are to throw Six Ears to Stone Monkey when they're still convinced he's a legitimate danger in literally just the next episode, presumably just days after all this went down, and I...sort of think they were fully aware Six Ears was likely going to die to the Demon King. While I hesitate to say they didn't care at all, they showed in Episode 2 pretty clearly that they definitely cared way less about a child of their troop's likely death than they did about saving their own skins. Not enough to back him up, not enough to go after him when he's forced to flee, not enough to take on the fight in his place.

Which is tremendously messed up all on it's own, but it gets worse because these generals are all for treating him like a young kid when it's convenient for them. They see him as a child! But they're just as quick to throw him under the bus of adulthood as soon as that's convenient for them. Whatever requires the least effort from them, that's what they want him to be.

Seriously, who the hell is taking care of this kid? Because at this point it sure seems like the Old Monkey King - who is very old and very tired and whose body is blatantly failing him - is stuck not only trying to keep his troop in something vaguely resembling working order and secure them as much as possible for his imminent death no one but him seems concerned with, but is also somehow expected to be the primary (if not sole) caregiver of a young child. Something he can't be. Like, geez, guys. Let the man wither away in peace without piling on him more fraying threads of the things he can't possibly tie up properly before he goes, thanks!

Not to mention how this would blatantly conflict with the Old Monkey King's need to have a successor as soon as possible, since the most eligible adults in his troop are, apparently, all lazy cowards who are entirely unsuitable. He brings it up like two or three times in the first episode alone, so this is clearly something that's stressing him out, and his best option is still a boy. Meaning Old Monkey King is in a position of having to desperately (but trying not to show that he's desperate) push Six Ears to grow up just a little faster because he doesn't know how much longer he has left. There's just not a lot of room for him to just let Six Ears be a kid, in those circumstances. He needs a king. He needs Six Ears to make decisions and lead and take risks, even if the ones he's taking are far beyond the sort of things that should be on a kid's shoulders. He can't be his mentor and his grandfather and his king. No one person can be all three of those. Something is going to give. And so the Old Monkey King makes his mistakes. He piles too much on Six Ears too soon. He expects too much of him too soon. He nearly gets Six Ears killed in the first episode. (He accidentally leaves Six Ears vulnerable in the future to adults who want to use him.)

It's a fascinating little set-up. Obviously not really addressed in the show, since it's for kids and framed from a kid's perspective, which is also sort of genius? I'm thinking of the second episode where the generals are more than willing to dump Six Ears on the sacrificial alter, even physically carrying him out the door, an adult on each arm, like he might wise up and get scared and run (and if he did, like they wouldn't let him), and all Six Ears does is laugh. He's a kid. We've all been kids who think some of the most messed up things are perfectly normal simply because you don't have anything to compare it to. This is just the generals being the generals, obviously. They're so silly :)

But adults were writing this show, and I can't imagine an adult writing this not knowing exactly what they were doing. Especially knowing what happens to Six Ears.

Anyway, long story short: I want to fight the generals with my bare hands. I do not want to fight the Old Monkey King with my bare hands, but I do want to give him a long, disappointed glare over his cups that I feel like he would understand perfectly.

Also, someone needs to wrap Six Ears up in a burrito blanket and stuff him in a pillow fort with Stone Monkey where nothing can hurt them. That would be nice.

[phantastragoria]

1, 10, 21, 25, 28 for the comic ask game 👀

1. Who's your favorite character and why?

I love all of the five main Guardians equally (plus associated others to varying degrees) but Peter Quill is my little silly man who I want to put into an enclosure so I can study him through a glass wall. I could write various essays about his character and WILL whenever I get some free time because the world NEEDS to understand him the way I do...

Despite his many inconsistencies in personality due to inconsistent writing, I find him to be a very fascinating character with his usually bright exterior but inherent loneliness even as he constantly surrounds himself with groups of people... the never-ending cycle of reinventing himself because he never seems quite comfortable in his own skin for prolonged periods of time... his abilities that I don't think anyone else quite understand because it's too complex... No matter how many times he gets his ass beat or fucks something up he always manages to find a way to continue on even if he really doesn't want to :'/ my scrunklie...

10. Share a favorite comic panel.

Annihilation: Conquest - Star-Lord #1 and Guardians of the Galaxy (2020) #10

Sorry you're getting 2-for-1 pages because I CANNOT choose between the two nor just pick panels. The first I genuinely love just because it's soooo mundane... is there anything better than a suiting up scene... Timothy Green/Victor Olazaba really got across with so little just how completely tired he is of the universe's bullshit while contemplating alone.

The second is because that page is just the coolest with everything coming together... the payoff to Peter returning with the gained knowledge of his sun-elemental abilities... getting part of the gang together to take down a space weirdo... Juan Cabal's composition & Federico Blee's coloring are just SO good. All their issues on GotG (2020) were fantastic but shout-out to the last few they worked on together and especially with #9 as THE standout in my opinion.

21. Share a favorite piece of comics lore.

The most important lore ever is that Drax/Arthur Douglas' favorite meal was macaroni and cheese... we stan a simple king.

25. Who's your favorite villain?

This one is hard because I don't tend to keep up with any of the villains just on their own. I want to say Mysterio SO BAD but I'm not even a hardcore Spiderman reader, and he's done nearly nothing in the grand scheme of things, the mere concept of him is just so funny to me... But hmmmmm, I enjoy Galactus + some of his heralds, I have complicated feelings on Thanos... I find Shuma-Gorath interesting but his appearances are so inconsistent and lacking in giving him any real character of his own...

I actually really enjoy when the various Elders of the Universe show up. I think they work well for setting up an ongoing arc and or just to be a villain of the week thing, there's just such a big variety of extreme hobby fanatics to choose from for any occasion. I don't have a specific favorite out of them all though, maybe En Dwi Gast?

Now, specifically a favorite villain for the Guardians? I really liked the #evil Olympians in Ewing's GotG (2020) and part of me wishes they had been the main threat for a little longer. Greek mythos mixed with cosmic stuff is fun! Plus I feel they were thematically appropriate and a good foil for the team as a whole while also tying back to Peter with the usually forgotten Spartax stuff, the final battle/confrontation with them was great. Ultimately however I think Adam going Magus Mode in the DnA run and the tragedy of him turning after dealing with the fissure Fault and the team trying to do everything to prevent it, failing to do so and then Magus fucking with all of them, is still the most directly personal/effective threat they've had to deal with before or since if that counts for this... I know Magus wasn't directly their problem for more than a few issues but still.

28. What got you into comics?

I was super invested in the Archie Sonic the Hedgehog comics when I was way younger after getting a free comic book day issue LOL that eventually faded away as I grew up and then my timeline was essentially:

Saw the first GotG film > read the current (at the time) comics and was like ehhhhhhhh and fell off for a bit >> eventually went through and read the Annihilation era stuff and then went further back for individual characters >>> by that point All-New Guardians launched in 2017 and I LOVED the first half of that run >>>> Then it devolved into mass crossover event insanity and completely dropped Gamora's personal stakes in the plot to have a random soul stone monster being the mastermind of it all >>>>> Saw IW + EG and was SO HEARTBROKEN by the Guardians treatment in those movies that I completely put off reading anything Marvel related for a while LOL >>>>>> then the Eidos game came out and broke me and I read thru all the stuff I missed after Infinity Warps/etc and now I'm here.

[harrowharkwife]

tbh i feel like we're all maybe forgetting that 6A was kind of destined to be a little bit boring or slow-paced from the get-go because of how 5B ended so *perfectly* with everything tied up in a neat little bow. i mean 5x18 was literally called "starting over," and this is a show that (for better or for worse, this specific post is not pro-911s-pacing or anti-911s-pacing but a secret third thing, confused-and-trying-to-make-sense-of 911s-pacing) routinely and consistently takes right around ~10 episodes to cash in on big narrative plot points. not situational or episode specific or more technical plot points, like madney going from unsuccessful house hunting to finding a place within 2 episodes, or buck agreeing to be a sperm donor inside of 1 episode- those are typically resolved pretty quickly, within an episode or two. the show scaffolds these more-quickly-resolved plot points together into larger, more character driven arcs that typically always take around ten episodes for the full emotional fallout and significance to play out. 911 has always been a show where what happens matters a hell of a lot less to the story than how the characters feel about what happens, so because this is such a character driven show, inside of those ten set-up, pawns-on-the-chessboard episodes, it can be pretty difficult at times to figure out what they're angling at, or where they're planning on going (buck! where the hell are you going!), or how any of the plots are going to coalesce into something useful, profound, and cohesive. typically, the B season ends with at least a *couple* of loose threads that carry over into the arc-resolution-conclusion phase in the following A season, giving us an A season that's like 70% setup for new arcs and 30% wrapup of old arcs- but 5B ended on a true blank slate, so almost *everything* in 6A (with the exception of the conclusion to hen's super-drawn-out-but-very-realistically-paced med school arc) has been... scaffolding from the ground up.

and scaffolding looks pretty unimpressive and odd and boring on its own, like a big pile of ugly junk getting in the way of everything, but put it alongside the Sistine chapel ceiling it was built to accomplish, and suddenly it seems a little more worthwhile.

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

Looked at a necklace at a yard sale today and thought "hehe looks like rose quartz" and I picked it up and it was COLD and HEAVY which means real stone. The stones are also imperfect with cloudy spots and cracks through the inside of the beads. It's on a pink thread so the rosy color is mostly an illusion. But yeah probably scored a nice quartz necklace for $2

[jasonsbones]

EXCEPT YOUR CITRINE IS JUST HEAT TREATED AMETHYST. THERE IS IN FACT A REAL STONE CALLED CITRINE. And yeah the problem is the fucking crystal sales market is trying to sell with the biggest words to the dumbest fucking customers, but I'm so tired. HTA Citrine isn't even generated, it's amethyst that's turned into a shittier version of itself, and the education to what crystals are is abysmal. No shade on the other stones mentioned here but I'm honestly so fucking done with people defending heat treated amethysts as though they have the same chemical properties of actual real ass greenish yellow 'never forms in hexagonal pillars' citrine.

Imagine calling your aged bananas apricots and selling them as if they're the same thing. THAT'S the issue with HTA.

Man made crystals are so cool it’s so sad everyone who likes rocks is out for blood if you post man made crystals. I love you opalite I love you lab created opal I love you bismuth I love you HTA citrine I love you goldstone

[doctor-who-war-doctor]

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[didasgomas]

Protected but hurt

Day 14 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Toys/Gifts/Celebration

Content warnings : Implied loss of guardians/family

Bees - Viewed as representations of fertility, focus, hard work, generosity, and prosperity. They are messengers of harmony and good relationships to come.

November 28th

Her 10th birthday.

She had already opened the gifts from the other people in the village: new clothes, games, hair accessories and birthday cards and drawings, not too far from the usual. Now it was time to open grandpa and grandma's gift.

In public she was supposed to call her her aunt Mary, her late mother's "cousin", but in private she could call her grandma and refer to her by her real name. Sometimes she'd still call her Mary by accident, but granny didn't seem to mind.

Inside the box was something wrapped in paper, and getting it out of the way, she found a very pleasant surprise.

"It's one of those! You actually got it!"

One of the larger stores on the neighboring village had been offering a collection of plushies if people spent enough money, four plushies of winged animals: a butterfly, a bee, a bird and a bat. It was random anyway, so it wasn't like Felice had asked for a specific one, she just wanted one of them and that would be enough. This one was the bee, and it felt very fluffy.

"What are you going to call it?" Grandma asked, kneeled over on the floor next to her.

She thought for a moment, and then she came up with an answer.

"Polly! Her name's Polly!" She lifted the plushie above her head in excitement.

"What a nice name" Her grandma did a few small claps with a sweet smile.

"And you've got another present, kiddo" They both heard grandpa say as he walked from the entrance to the living room.

"Oh. Who from, Cal?" Grandma asked, turning her head to grandpa Caleb.

"From the Godwins. They came to leave this."

Grandpa held out his left hand, in which he was holding a yellow and black rosary. But she already had so many of them!

The only one she carried around was the first one given to her when she five, one with pink beads and rose decorations.

"I don't any more of those, grampa"

"I know, and that's why we're hiding them." He gave a small wink before reaching out to a box in one of the shelves, where all her unused rosaries went, where he dropped it inside along with all the others.

Grandma stood up slowly.

"Well, after we clean the room up, do you want to go thank everyone, sweetie?" She looked down at Felice with her usual warm smile.

"Yes! Then we can go-"

-

Sunlight hit her in the face, forcing her to wake up from her pleasant dream.

The sunrise came later now that it was autumn, so it wasn't early morning, but that wasn't a problem for her. She had been granted two days off to be able to celebrate her birthday, so today she didn't have to worry about waking up late for work either.

… She missed her grandparents, even if she couldn't fully remember what had caused them to be separated. One minute there was a fire, the other she was lost and all alone in the woods, but she knew something must have happened to them for her aunt Cat to have to step up and take her in.

Even if they were in old age, they had been very capable guardians for her entire childhood, and her aunt Cat had been honest when she told her she just didn't know what had become of them, but Felice knew that if they had died in some kind of fire, her aunt would know and she would have been told at some point.

Her childhood memories existed, but were corrupted by a blurry curtain that didn't allow her to recall the important parts, her grandparents' faces were still visible but only to a certain extent, every other detail of their appearance being almost completely missing.

Thirteen days before her 11th birthday was when things changed without prior warning, and she was aware that only half a year after aunt Cat took her from Hestia to Diane county, was when her memories began to get messy.

She was 20 now, and deep down, she still felt abandoned.

[splashtailstar]

I can recite the entire fire scene from memory

And by that, I mean I literally recite it out loud as I drive to school

[luvsupa]

“WHATT? NEVER SEEN A GHOSTT..”

summary: next time be respectful for gojo’s memorial. . .

tags: ghost!gojo x fem!reader, smut, threesome (ig ..?), use of clone techniques, jjk spoilers, mean gojo, ōral sex (f!recieving), size difference,belly bulging, full nelson, degrading, dumbification, etc, mdni.

w.c: 4k . . .

a/n: GUYSSS WE GOIN UPPP ☝🏽 TYY FOR 1,7K MWAAAAA

+ sorry for the errors

kinktober masterlist

the halloween theme park buzzes with screams from rollercoasters and actors in horror costumes that look almost too real. you walk arm in arm with your friends, all of you decked out in matching monster high costumes. at first, you weren’t into it, but after enough pestering, you caved and ordered clawdeen’s full outfit.

the crowd can’t stop complimenting the four of you. from the boots to the hair, everything is spot-on. but gosh these platform boots are killing you. you can already feel tomorrow’s regret setting in.

“ooo, let’s try this ride before we leave,” one of your friends says through the fake fangs she’s wearing as draculaura. you all turn your heads to see what she’s pointing at. a sign reads infinity maze, with eerie, glowing blue eyes blinking on and off. it’s famous, mostly because the guy who designed it—gojo satoru—died a few years ago, turning it into some kind of attraction with ghost stories attached.

you scoff. people are suchwimps.

as you approach, you’re grateful for your speed passes because the line is insane. “okay, how about we make a bet?” your cleo-dressed friend suggests. “slowest time pays for dinner.”

you grin at the challenge, nodding along with everyone else.

as you wait, something catches your eye—a giant memorial statue of gojo satoru, standing tall near the maze entrance. his cocky grin is frozen in stone, and beneath it, the descriptiom reads,

in loving memory of satoru gojo. forever lovable and the strongest.

you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “who gives a fuck about him?” you say, loud enough for your friends to hear. they giggle, and you continue, “seriously, they’re doing the most with this memorial. it’s not that deep.”

one of your friends shakes her head, trying not to laugh too hard. “it’s haunted, remember?” she says mockingly, to which you just snicker.

“haunted, my ass.”

your first friend goes into the maze, and you start timing her on your phone. almost three minutes later, she comes out breathless, claiming the only scary part was a worker grabbing her ankle at the end.

next up are the others, who all manage to escape in under two minutes. the pressure’s on now, but you refuse to be the one paying for dinner. with a quick glance at your friends, you flash your speed pass to the coordinator, ready to sprint through this lame maze and leave them all in the dust.

your platform boots thud heavily against the creaking wooden floor, each step echoing in the suffocating silence. the door slams shut behind you with a sharp clack, sealing you inside. a deep breath fills your lungs, but the air feels heavy, thick. the faint glow of flickering lights ahead barely cuts through the darkness, revealing the first room—a classroom?

it’s an old, japanese-style classroom, but something feels off. chairs are scattered across the floor like a struggle took place, and bloody handprints—too real for comfort—smear the walls. your heart races as a sudden crack of thunder rips through the air, making the weak lights above you flicker wildly. it feels like you’ve been transported, as if this isn’t a theme park anymore... like you’re somewhere else, somewhere you shouldn’t be.

you inch forward, boots sinking into the floorboards with each loud creakk. you can’t shake the feeling that the room is watching you. the chalkboard looms at the front, with jagged, uneven writing smeared across it

look behind you

your stomach twists. your mind fights to stay rational—it’s just part of the maze, it’s not real. but your hands are trembling as you slowly turn. nothing. just scattered desks and the harsh, stuttering light overhead. thunder crashes again, timed too perfectly. 

your heart rate slows a bit, but you mutter under your breath, stupid maze, trying to shake off the unease as you head toward the next door. the sign above it reads, hall of mirrors,

the knob feels cold in your hand as you twist it, stepping into the next room. pitch-black darkness swallows you whole, except for the mirrors that tower from floor to ceiling. hundreds of them, endless reflections stretching out in every direction. your eyes adjust to the faint, flickering light—just enough to see yourself, but not much else.

“fuck,” you whisper, hating mirror mazes with a passion. you move cautiously, knowing you’ll bump into a dead end at some point. your reflection multiplies with every turn, making it feel like you’re being watched from all angles. you stop in front of one mirror, catching your breath, and take a moment to adjust your costume.

you smooth down the sheer purple mini skirt, making sure your wolf ears are straight on your head. you shift slightly, checking out your ass in the reflection, appreciating how well the outfit hugs your body. you’re about to laugh at yourself when your eyes catch something—a shadow

a figure. behind you. 

your breath stops cold. your friends hadn’t mentioned anyone being in here with you. you freeze, heart pounding as you stare into the reflection, too terrified to turn around.

“o-oh um, did I come in the room too early?” you stammer, your voice barely steady, assuming he’s the worker who grabbed your friend’s foot earlier. you swallow hard, trying to make sense of the tension creeping up your spine. the lights flicker again, casting shadows that stretch too long. your eyes twitch as you stare into the mirror—he’s still there, standing so still it sends a chill down your spine.

the lights flicker again, plunging the room into darkness. your pulse races. you can feel his presence behind you, closer now, even though you haven’t turned around. every hair on your body stands on end, anticipation mingling with fear. when the lights finally come back, your breath catches in your throat.

gojo satoru.

he stands right behind you, towering over your smaller frame, his eyes glowing like cold fire through the mirror. his presence is overwhelming, suffocating, andelectrifying. his ocean-blue gaze locks onto yours through the reflection, freezing you in place. you can’t move, can’t breathe, as his lips curl into a slow, dark smile.

“nahhh, you came at a good time,” he drags out, voice low, rough, as it echoes through the room. the sound of it, mixed with the flickering lights, makes your knees weak. he steps closer, his icy fingers brushing the hem of your skirt, sending a shiver down your spine. your breath hitches as you feel his touch, subtle yet possessive.

“and who are you supposed to be?” his voice is condescending, almost mocking, as his hand continues to toy with the fabric, lifting it just slightly. the way he says it makes your heart race faster, your skin prickling with a mixture of fear and something else—something darker.

you glance up, meeting his gaze in the mirror, tears forming in your eyes. this can’t be real. his white hair falls messily around his face, his long lashes shadowing those dangerously beautiful eyes.

“h-how? y-you’re dead,” you blurt out, ignoring his question as panic takes over. but his chuckle—low, dark—vibrates against the back of your neck, making you shudder. you’re trapped between the mirror and him, his breath warm and taunting against your skin.

“that i am,” he murmurs, his lips so close to your ear, “but you know what they say… energy never dies. you brought me here.” his words wrap around you, suffocating, intoxicating. your mind spins, trying to comprehend. you brought him here? how could you possibly—?

“h-how?” your voice is barely a whisper, trembling as you try to make sense of his words. it feels like the room is shrinking, like the walls are closing in, the air too thick to breathe.

“don’t play dumb now,” he chides, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. the heat of his palm sends sparks through your body. you shouldn’t want this, but the way his fingers tease your skin, the slow drag of his hand, has you clenching your thighs together.

suddenly, it hits you. images of you mocking his memorial, laughing at his statue, flashing through your mind. his low chuckle tells you he knows exactly what you’re remembering.

“i-i didn’t mean-”

“didn’t mean it? nahh, pretty, you fuckin’ meant it.” his plush lips press against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make your knees weak. fuck, you shouldn’t be getting turned on by this, by a ghost. yet, your body betrays you, burning up under his touch.

he leans into you, his teeth grazing your exposed skin, making you flinch. fangs? you tremble as he brushes his fingers under your chin, lifting your face so your wide, glossy eyes meet his through the mirror.

“all that nasty energy you have within you… mmm, that’s why.” his voice drops as he nibbles on your earlobe, tugging lightly on your hoop earrings, making you wince.

“‘m sorry, j-just don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything,” you stammer, your voice shaky as his grip on your chin tightens. his movements still, and the way he smirks behind you makes your heart sink. you’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable—like you just handed him your dignity on a silver platter.

without a word, he pushes your back down, forcing you to brace yourself against the mirror, your fingertips smudging the glass as you struggle to keep steady. glancing to another mirror, you see him crouching down, eyeing your clothed cunt with dangerous curiosity.

“anything, she says”, gojo quietly says, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you arch your back just right for him. his eyes darken when he notices how soaked your panties are, the fabric clinging to your folds, sucked in by the wet heat between your thighs. of course, the lights choose now not to flicker—how fucking embarrassing.

with a quick, rough tug, gojo hooks his finger into your panties, pulling them side to side, watching how your chubby folds swallow the fabric before yanking them aside, fully exposing your dripping cunt. you clench hard at the sudden cool breeze against your exposed skin, and he pauses, mesmerized.

“you like this, huh? getting off to a dead man… ohh, you’re disgusting,” he mocks, his voice low and sinister.

“‘m going to make sure you live your dirty fantasies,” he growls, his tone laced with intent.

and he really is.

gojo has been diving into your cunt for what felt like hours, his impossibly slimy tongue lapping up your juices as your gummy walls snugly embrace him. your hands grip the sides of the mirror for dear life, feeling him reach the deepest parts of you. you’re moaning like a bitch in heat, your desperation rising as his spare hand mercilessly toys with your clit, not in cute circles, but pinching and pulling on your sensitive nub with no mercy whatsoever.

your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably as he pushes you to your third orgasm, broken moans escaping your glossed lips. your pussy slowly feels numb, overwhelmed by how hungrily he’s eating you out. do they not feed him in his world?

“ngh—‘toru, it’s too m-much,” you hiccup, and he growls behind you, the sound vibrating through your body. at this point, you’ve completely forgotten about your friends, about the stupid bet—you’re lost in the most toe-curling head of your life.

your stomach churns unexpectedly as you cum again, your brain so fuzzy that you can’t even comprehend it. he loudly slurps up your mess, not wasting a single drop as he licks you clean, your cunt twitching around his tongue. when he pulls his tongue from your gaping hole, your swollen folds throb in response as he grins at your state.

“heh, look at you—just a slut for a ghost!” he taunts, now standing behind you, grinding his achy bulge against your exposed cunt. his eyes never leave your face in the mirror.

“let’s see how much dick she can take,” he mutters to himself, cupping your pussy, clearly addressing her rather than you. as you catch onto his words, a wave of confusion and excitement hits you. how much? there’s more than one?

before you can process anything, you blink once and find yourself in the most insane position you’ve ever been in—full nelson. gojo has you completely at his mercy, holding your legs high above your head with a firm grip, locking you in place like a ragdoll. your tall platform boots dangle helplessly in the air, the sensation thrilling and humiliating as you stare at your reflection in the endless mirrors surrounding you. your stomach twists at the sheer size difference between your body and his, your eyes widening as you see your slick, swollen cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

your miniskirt is now so short that it’s bunched up around your waist, exposing more skin than you’d ever intended. your eyes drop lower, and you gulp as you take in the sight of his cock, standing proudly upright. the base is a tan colour, thick and powerful, with mean veins decorating the sides that pulse with each heartbeat. the bulbous tip is a deep pink, glistening with droplets of cum that catch the dim light.

with one hand firmly securing your legs, gojo uses his other to tease you, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, the sensation sending electric jolts through your body. you bite your lip at the girth of his shaft, feeling a mix of excitement and horror. he’s definitely bigger than all your previous exes, and with every second you spend in this position, he brings undeniable shame onto them.

“can you handle it, baby?” he taunts, his voice dripping with condescension as he revels in your predicament.

“yes, I can-”

without lettint you finish, he thrusts into you, burying himself deep within your slick warmth. the suddenness takes your breath away, and you let out a gasp as he fills you completely. his girth stretches you in a way you’ve never experienced before, almost burning as your gummy walls clench around him, trying to accommodate his size. each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, a delicious blend of pain and ecstasy as you realize you can only take it.

gojo holds you firmly in place, using this ruthless position to keep you utterly at his mercy, revelling in your helplessness. with each powerful thrust, he drives deeper, hitting spots inside you that make your vision blur and your legs tremble. you can’t escape, all you can do is take what he gives you, your body completely surrendered to the pleasure.

“look at you, taking it so well,” he growls, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he watches your reflection in the mirror. your moans fill the room, echoing off the glass, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. the sweat glistens on his body, making his white hair stick to his forehead, adding to the rawness of the moment. “you’re nothing but a greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

you can only whimper in response, your head spinning as his relentless rhythm pushes you closer to the edge. your thighs shake uncontrollably as he hits that sweet spot, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust. you’ve completely forgotten everything but the way he stretches you out, your body fitting around him perfectly as if you were made for him.

as gojo thrusts into you relentlessly, your collar jingles with every powerful movement, a stark reminder of your current position. each chime echoes in the room, amplifying your vulnerability as he drinks in the sight of your pretty, disheveled form. he watches how your eyes flutter in bliss, how your lips part with each thrust, and how your reflection reflects the pure ecstasy etched across your face.

“what happened to all that toughness?” he sneers, his breath hot against your ear as he quickens his pace. “wanna tell me how stupid this is?” his laughter reverberates through the air, as he reminds you of your sly comment.

the humiliation of his words ignites a flame deep within you, and despite the embarrassment, your body craves more. your jewelry clinks and jingles as he pounds up into you, each sound mingling with the echoes of your moans. the sensation is overwhelming, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your mind hazy as pleasure clouds your thoughts.

as you struggle to keep your eyes open, the world around you blurs and spins. you can’t tell if it’s the overwhelming pleasure or the way he’s wrecking you, but you swear you see multiple gojos swarming around the two of you in the mirrors. they grin wickedly, each one reflecting the same smug confidence, but you’re too lost in ecstasy to process it completely.

am I seeing things? you wonder,

your mind foggy from the pleasure coursing through your body. each thrust sends you spiral deeper into submission, heat pooling in your core, ready to explode.

then, without warning, you feel another hand, another gojo, playing with your pussy. your eyes shoot open, panic flooding your senses as you choke back a gasp.

he can clone himself!

your body responds eagerly to the dual sensations, the original gojo still jack hammerinh relentlessly inside you while his clone teasingly rubs your clit, heightening your pleasure to unimaginable heights. as if sensing your need, the clone moves closer, rubbing his chubby tip along your widened folds. you scream internally, panic flashing through your mind as he presses against you, the overwhelming stretch igniting both fear and pleasure.

there’s no fucking way.

the clone pushes in slowly, stretching you beyond your limits, sending shockwaves through your body. you cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain, tears brimming in your eyes. he’s moulding himself deep within your walls as you feel every inch of your velvety walls being re-designed for him.

the original gojo leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “c’mon, big baaaad wolf, can you handle both of us?” he taunts the nickname referring to your costume, as his thrusts becoming more forceful as the clone fills you. “i thought you were a big girl.”

you can only moan in response, the sound mingling with the jingle of your jewelry as they continue to drive you wild. the mirrors reflect your state—multiple gojos swarming around you, each one more enticing than the last. their mocking smiles deepen your humiliation, but the pleasure they bring you makes it impossible to care. both their cock heads rushing as if it were a race to reach your cervix as you squeak at the brutal thrusts.

“look at you, a pathetic mess,” the original gojo mocks, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you squirm between them. your gaze lazily drifts to the your tummy where a large bulge forming beneath your costume, moans escaping your lips at the sight. “you love being filled up like this, don’t you? who’s the stupid one now?”

your body betrays you, your pussy clenching around both of them as they thrust in sync, stretching you to your limits. the lewd squelches and sloshes of your dripping cunt fill the air, drowning out all coherent thoughts. each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, the overwhelming sensations causing your mind to spiral into oblivion.

the clone suddenly flicks your head, thr pain forcing you to look at him, and you feel a rush of clarity amidst the haze. “stay with us, pretty,” he demands, his tone both condescending and sultry. 

“we- hgnn -want to see that face you make when you fall apart.” you shudder at the sound of his voice, the way it sends waves of heat coursing through your body.

“mmf—i can’t. . . ’s too much,” you babble, your voice rising higher as the clone continues to push into you, the overwhelming sensation of fullness sending shockwaves through your body. pleasure and pain blur together, and you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

“ohhh, but you can,” the original gojo growls, thrusting harder, your body shaking as you sob loudly, the sounds echoing off the mirrors as your achy walls clenching around his thick shafts.

every angle captures your struggle—your skin glistening with sweat, your costume soaked and clinging to your curves, and the way you’re trapped between two versions of the man you crave. the reflections amplify the chaos, a never-ending loop of desire and degradation as you’re thrust deeper into submission.

“what about your friends?” the clone taunts, a wicked smirk plastered across his face. “what will they think when they find you like this?” the thought sends a wave of humiliation crashing over you, but the pleasure is relentless, drowning out any semblance of reality.

“anddd what about that bet you had?” the original gojo continues from behind, his voice dripping with mockery. “i bet they wouldn’t believe how much you enjoy being filled up by us.” you nod at his words, sniffles escaping your nostrils as fat globs of tears streak down your cheeks, your makeup a ruined mess.

they’re so deep inside you that it feels like they’re going to split you in half. each thrust stretches you to your limits, their relentless rhythm pushing you closer to the brink.

you swear you feel him in your chest.

“please… i need to—” you gasp, your body trembling as the clone toys with your clit, electric jolts of pleasure coursing through you. your senses blur, and all you can feel is the overwhelming fullness and the pleasure spirall out of control.

“let go, pretty,” the clone whispers, fingers dancing over your sensitive bud. “show us how much you want it.”

with one final thrust from the original gojo, the heat builds to an explosive climax. you feel your body tighten around them, walls pulsing as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you.

“fuckk!” you scream, body convulsing as you squirt, release gushing out of you and mixing with his cum. gojo’s thick cum shoots deep inside as he paints your gummy walls a pretty milky white, creating an intense mess that ends up coats your inner thighs. the overwhelming sensation sends you spiraling into a realm of ecstasy, every nerve ending igniting as you succumb to the bliss.

“what a sight,” the original gojo grunts, breath heavy with satisfaction. you’re lost in the aftermath, body shaking as you ride the waves of pleasure, mind fogged with overwhelming satisfaction and disbelief at the chaos that has consumed you.

as you try to come back from your intense orgasm, the clone pulls back and disappears. when gojo finally slides out of your cunt, a waterfall of cum oozes from you, thick globs spilling forth—it’s utterly inhumane. gojo carefully places your wobbly legs, which had been in the air for what felt like hours, back on the ground as you collapse, the numbness too much to bear.

the mess cascades down your gaping hole, sticky and warm, creating a thick pool beneath you. you can’t help but feel utterly exposed, the evidence of their domination staining your costume and making you acutely aware of how thoroughly you’ve been filled.

the sight is almost too much to bear, the way your body quakes with the remnants of pleasure while the glistening fluid slowly drips, accentuating the chaos you’ve just experienced. you feel humiliated yet impossibly aroused, the reflections in the mirrors surrounding you amplifying your vulnerability as he stands, watching you tremble.

“c’mon, baby, your friends have been waiting,” he coos, picking you up bridal style as you mumble nonsense, your brain so fucked that you can barely string a thought together. he strides through the mirror maze and into the last room, steadying you onto the ground for you to exit on your own.

he fixes your hair and outfit, quickly pecking your lips before opening the door and giving you a final push. you stumble out, the cool breeze hitting you like a splash of cold water, bringing you back to reality.

“girl, what the hell took you so long?” your friends shout as you try to steady your wobbly legs. one of them shoves her phone in your face, and your jaw drops.

50 fucking minutes.

“t-the worker was—”

“t-the worker- shut up. now you’re buying us food.” one of them mocks, handing you your belongings while they stare you up and down, taking in how badly you’re shaking and your frizzy hair.

“jeez did a demon fuck you? you look like you got meannn dick in there,” she jokes, and everyone bursts into laughter, including you. they have no idea what you’ve just been through, but you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

[fsmholidaze]

Family Room Enclosed Atlanta

Example of a large arts and crafts enclosed gray floor, vinyl floor and wood wall family room design with gray walls, a standard fireplace, a stacked stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv