#Raw diamond jewelry

[qualitydiamblog]

Uncut diamonds

Uncut diamonds are natural gemstones in their raw, unrefined state, displaying unique textures and forms. Valued for their authenticity and potential, they offer a distinctive charm for custom jewelry or collection.

[rocknrollmine]

Unveiling the Radiance: Raw Gems Design and the Art of Stacker Rings

In the world of jewelry, where elegance meets affordability, Raw Gems Design stands out as a beacon of creativity and sustainability. Recently we released stacker rings adorned with Herkimer diamonds, RGD seamlessly blends recycled silver and gold with intricate design, creating a collection that captivates the hearts of those who appreciate both beauty and ethical craftsmanship. The Allure of…

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Glass City

Part Four of A Gilded Cage ~2k Words

You can't remember the last time you cried like this. The plush leather muffles your sobs, but it does nothing to loosen the tightness in your throat, to offer any relief from the reality of your situation.

You had been blind, entranced by the fact that Jason Todd was alive and filling your days with distractions that you had missed one simple truth. Jason Todd is the Arkham Knight, and you know nothing about what that's turned him into.

The cuff around your ankle weighs heavy, a cold, unyielding reminder to the fact that you're trapped. You've been trapped since he snatched you to that forsaken penthouse. It draws more tears from your eyes until you have none left to cry, leaving you a shaky, gasping mess of heartbreak and terror.

It's that very fear, the urge to get away, that drives you to mechanically push yourself up. Sobbing has left you feeling drained.

Your head hurts, every breath is a battle, and you have half a mind to blow your nose on the stupid throw pillow lying haphazardly on the couch. It's with shaky hands that you examine the golden chain securing you to the leg of the couch.

Despite its shiny, lavish appearance, it's well made. No amount of tugging seems to bend the metal, and the cuff latched around your ankle seems equally as sturdy. It's frustrating, and your fear starts to morph into anger with every pull of the chain.

It's humiliating. You doubt you could escape his base even if you had the opportunity to try, and the chain? It just feels like a twisted claim over you.

You rub hands down your face and towards your throat, exhaustion and fury warring in your mind as you try to calm yourself. The motion causes your nails to catch on the diamond choker. The collar.

Another way he tried to keep you. Disgust wells in your throat. How did it get this far? Where did you start to lose yourself? Start to lose him?

It's thoughtless, when you curl your fingers around the piece of jewelry and rip it from your throat, throwing it across the room and as far away from you as possible. You hope it's broken. Hope something in this room is more shattered than you.

You don't react to the knock on the door, but you do lift your head when it opens. There's a hiss, and you watch Bean dig his claws into Mack's arm before jumping to the ground and rushing to you.

Bean purrs as soon as he starts to nuzzle your ankles, and you almost want to cry all over again when you pick him up to clutch him to your chest.

"The boss wanted to make sure you got him," Mack grumbles, seemingly more interested in the diamonds scattered on the floor than the redness in your eyes.

"Where is he," You bite out, or try to bite out. Crying has made your voice raw and scratchy, but even if it hadn't, you doubt it would have threatened Mack anyway.

"Busy," he answers bluntly, "Need anything else?"

You stare him down sharply, Mack might not be your friend, but he has been guarding you for as long as you've been under Jason's thumb. If anything, he should at least show you some sympathy.

"The key for this," You huff out, lifting your leg to show off the chain, "And a phone." Bean meows, and you take it as agreement as you try to hide your jittery nerves. Mack finally meets your gaze, jaw clenching and unclenching as he studies your defiant gaze.

"I don't have the key," he says eventually, "and giving you a phone is asking for trouble."

You lift your chin, exuding confidence over the militia man you don't necessarily feel, "Aren't you supposed to give me what I want?"

Mack exhales softly, slowly, and you have a feeling being assigned to babysit you is not how he imagined taking over Gotham would be. He shoves his hand into his pocket, and tugs out what's clearly a cheap burner phone. He tosses it to you, doesn't even blink when you barely manage to catch it with one hand.

"Two minutes," he warns you as he steps out the door and nods towards the chain, "Just long enough for me to find something to pick that lock with, understand?"

You breathe out a thank you when he's already out the door. Huh. Maybe Mack does like you more than you thought. You file that away for later, putting Bean down in your lap as you carefully type out a number you've had memorized since the day Jason disappeared.

Nine digits. Your last lifeline. The clock tower. Babs.

The phone rings. And rings. You've nearly given up hope, your breathing getting shallower, more panicked, when the line finally connects.

"Oracle– don't hang up– please–" You start. You don't know what to say, you don't even know where you are, but she'll know what to do. She has to.

But it's not Oracle's familiar voice that comes over the phone. No. It's the sound of your name that cuts you off, said through the low, robotic modulator that lives in your dreams.

It makes your blood go cold. It's impossible. You dialed the right number– "How–" You choke out, defeat settling on your shoulders.

The Arkham Knight laughs, an easy, bored sound, "Oracle and I are having a reunion, sweet thing. I would have brought you if I thought you'd play nice."

"I wanna talk to her," you stumble out, eyes darting to Bean as he cuddles into your stomach, seemingly picking up on your anxiety.

"She's busy," he tells you lazily, and you hear the sound of something falling over in the background of the call, "Anything else?"

"I want to go outside–" You try instead, pulling whatever you can think of to hold his attention, to try and give Babs a chance. (If she's even still alive)

He hums like he has all the time in the world to draw the call out, "Mhm, now's a bad time to be out, doll. But you can walk around the base. Sound fair?"

"The chain," You force yourself to choke out instead, "I want it off. I can't– walk if it's on." Bean meows and licks your fingers, it almost steadies the beat of your heart.

He falls quiet for a moment, and the modulator sounds in your ear like he's letting out a sigh. "I shouldn't have– I wasn't trying to scare you earlier. You just needed to be safe."

Another crash sounds in the back of the call. "Someone will take it off," he says your name again, voice no longer the shadow of a laugh, "I need to go. Don't call this number again."

The line goes silent, and you realize you've accomplished nothing at all. Jason's either killed or kidnapped Barabra, and you're no closer to escaping than before.

It's almost terrifying. Jason– The Arkham Knight– is capable of winning whatever war he's waging. He is winning the battles he's picked. And you don't know where that'll leave Gotham, where it'll leave you.

You're still staring blankly at the phone when Mack returns. Neither of you says anything as he crouches at your side and works on the cuff around your ankle. It doesn't take long, but when the golden metal hits the ground, you don't feel any lighter. Jason can win, has planned to win, and everyone will suffer for it.

Mack straightens himself out, and carefully takes the phone from your hand, "C'mon. I'll give you the tour."

"Why," You ask quietly, and lift Bean to cuddle him close to your chest, "Why are you bothering?"

Mack shrugs like it's obvious, "It's part of the job." He doesn't elaborate, and you don't ask for the truth, as you push yourself to your feet to follow him out the door.

Mack leads you down a hall, and when it opens up to what seems to be a hanger, you're left in awe. Now that you're not lost in your own panic, you can see just how impressive the base is. Rows of drones, trucks and tanks, groups of soldiers, and helicopters take up the massive space.

It makes it clear how much of an operation this is, how much Jason has prepared for this night. It nearly takes your breath away. How can anyone go up against him? How could the city survive this? How could you even dream of getting away?

A couple of the men look your way, but they're quick to avert their gaze when Mack levels them with a look. Bean seems just as enthralled with the scenery, and he crawls his way up your arm to sit on your shoulder.

You settle on the sight of crates and crates of weapons, "Can I get a closer look?"

"At the guns," Mack asks, tilting his head at you. He gives you a look like he's picking apart your entire plan when you nod. (Which you find funny, because you don't exactly have a plan yet.)

"There's a range we can use," he relents, leading you away from the hanger and deeper into the base. You're not sure if he's doing this because he feels bad for you, or if you really can get away with whatever you want. But it's hardly the time to complain about his easy compliance.

The range he takes you to is nice. At least you think it is, it's not exactly your area of expertise. There's a skylight, some targets, and more weapons than you've ever seen in one place. You feel like maybe grenades shouldn't be among the choices, but Mack doesn't say anything as you look over each option.

Bean nuzzles your ear as you trace your fingers over what looks like a rocket launcher. You're scrambling a little. This could be your only chance to get away, and you don't have a clue what to do.

Grab a gun and threaten your way out with a kitten on your shoulder? Shoot out a window and hope for the best when you try to run? Try and knock out Mack and pray no one notices you when you try to sneak out?

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the shadow that falls over the skylight. But you do notice when glass shatters down a few feet from where you're standing. And you definitely notice Nightwing dropping down to hit Mack in the back of the head.

Nightwing smiles at you, a pleased, proud sort of thing, and you stumble towards him like he's your last lifeline.

"Orcale is–" You begin, needing to share what The Arkham Knight has done, even if you aren't sure what's happened.

Nightwings smile falls, and he nods, outstretching his hand to you, "I know. Let's get you out of here."

"You know," you ask, voice going weak as you tuck Bean against your chest. It makes sense that he does, but your nerves feel like they're on fire, and you half expect Jason to appear from nowhere to drag you back to that chain.

Nightwing nods, voice soothing, "I know," he tells you, carefully pulling you to his side to shoot a grappling hook through the broken skylight.

Your feet hit the rooftop, but even still, it feels like you're flying. The air is cold, and Gotham is silent and screaming all at once. But you're free.

There's no Jason charging at you, no glittering collar around your neck. Just you, Bean, and the vigilante leading you towards safety.

"Where are we going," You breathe out, disbelief clear in your voice.

"There's– somewhere safe," he murmurs, guiding you through the shadows, "Robin's going to look after you."

"Oh," You mumble, following him step for step until he's helping you onto a motorcycle.

Helicopter blades sound in the air, as you hook your arms around Nightwings back. There's gunshots somewhere in the distance and muffled shouts lost to the wind.

You don't look back, you don't dare to, but it doesn't stop the chills that run down your spine as the bikes engine rev. It doesn't stop the feeling that if you did look back, you'd see The Arkham Knight and his heavy gaze digging into your soul.

[munson-blurbs]

Hi! I absolutely love your work and I hope this week treats you well!💗 I was thinking of this Eddie imagine I don’t know if you’ve done something like this but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Ok here it goes: Eddie’s fucking you stupid, it’s raw, it’s passionate, it’s filthy and in the midst of it all he says, "marry me". You think nothing of it, so you say yes obviously cock drunk and Eddie starts to fuck you even harder. Cut to the next morning you wake up stark naked next to the love of your life with a pretty engagement ring on your finger

I'm such a sucker for fluffy smut, and this is no exception 🙃

WC: 717 Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, pet names (baby/baby doll)

The night is still, save for the sound of bed springs creaking and panting breaths that you and Eddie exchange into each other’s mouths. Strong hands pin your own wrists to the pillow as he thrusts into you, moaning as he sucks a bruise into the crook of your neck. A bead of sweat trickles down his sparse chest hair and lands between your cleavage, another way your bodies are joined tonight.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he groans just under your earlobe. “How d’you always feel s-so fuckin’ perfect? Jesus Christ!” You can feel him tremble as you clench around him, already indebted to you simply for letting him see you like this. Small, crescent-shaped indents mark his bicep from where your fingernails dug into him earlier, a piece of you left behind. They’d eventually fade, but Eddie would always remember them being there.

He’s deep inside you, his wiry patch of curls brushing against your clit with each piston of his hips. You bite your lip to suppress a moan. 

“Nuh uh.” Eddie briefly lets go of you, bracing his body weight on one forearm as his other thumb peels your lip from between your teeth. “Wanna hear those pretty noises loud and clear, baby doll.”

You nod and whimper, “yes, sir,” which only makes him increase his pace. He lowers his body so that your chests are pressed together, and slips an arm around your waist when you arch your back. 

“This body…this perfect—fuckin’—body,” he grunts, thrusts accompanying each word. “Want this body forever.”

“‘S yours,” you manage, breath hitching in your throat as he grows even harder inside you. “All yours, Eddie. No one else’s.”

He leaves nipping kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. “Marry me,” he murmurs, surprising himself. It’s something he’s wanted for an absurdly long time, but he hadn’t planned on asking you mid-fuck. “Let me worship you for the rest of our lives. Please, baby.”

“Y-Yes, fuck—fuck, Eddie,” you cry out, and your affirmation has him bucking his hips without much precision. Still, he hits your sweet spot over and over again, throaty yeses emanating from your diaphragm. 

Yes, that feels good. 

Yes, I’ll love you forever. 

Yes, I’ll marry you. 

You chant it until you’re both cumming, your release creaming his cock and his release filling you entirely. Harsh breaths make way for giggles as he flops down next to you, falling asleep with his tattooed arm draped over your torso. 

His sleeping form leaves no way to discuss his marriage proposal—if that’s even what it was, and not just something he’d spouted out in the heat of the moment. Exhaustion overtakes you soon after, and you don’t wake until you hear Eddie pattering around the kitchen the next morning. 

It’s not until you wipe the sleep from your eyes that you catch a glimpse of something new: a shiny diamond ring on that finger. It’s beautiful but modest; nothing flashy, but you’ve never been the type for over-the-top jewelry. It’s perfect. 

Eddie comes into the bedroom, a bowl of cereal in each hand. He’s in just his plaid boxers, exposing the soft happy trail below his belly button. Heat blossoms in your core at the sight of him. 

“Hi, fiancée,” he grins, placing your breakfast on the nightstand. A bit of milk sloshes over the side of the plastic bowl, but you don’t care. You’re too busy frantically kissing him, morning breath be damned. “I guess that ‘yes’ of yours still stands?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, fingers dipping below his waistband. He’s always at least half-hard in the morning—he claims it’s because of you, but you know it’s probably just basic biology. Your hand easily finds what it’s looking for, and Eddie chuckles. 

“Don’t you want to eat first?” he teases, but he’s already putting down his bowl and climbing on top of you. He takes your left hand and kisses just above the ring now adorning it. 

“I love it,” you tell him, noticing that you’re wearing matching smiles. “I love you.”

Eddie presses a kiss to your nose. “I love you, too.” He slides a hand up your still-naked body, cupping your breast and gently sucking on a pert nipple. “Y’know what’s better than morning sex with your boyfriend?”

“Hmm?”

He grins wickedly. “Morning sex with your fiancé.”

--

[allegriana]

Every time I see those godawful rings in The Rings of Power I am filled with indignation. You're telling me that the greatest living Elven smith set these chunky bizarrely cut stones into these incredibly basic bands?? Was this the wretched work of Sauron to make Celebrimbor forget everything he ever knew about lapidary???

These rings are completely out of step with the rest of the elven art nouveau aesthetic. Elrond was 100% correct; they should have been cast into the abyss before they infected Middle Earth with the desire for subpar costume jewelry.

The whole point of cutting gemstones is to make them catch the light and sparkle in a way that shows off the unique properties of the stone. Celebrimbor's grandaddy understood this perfectly when he crafted the Silmarils, which captured the light of the Two Trees of Valinor. (Then he apparently died without passing this knowledge on to his descendants and Celebrimbor was forever dragged for his questionable design choices, I guess)

Here are some examples of rings made by people who had a budget of more than $50 and more than a weekend to knock out their Jewelry 101 summer camp project

https://www.langantiques.com/lang-collection-art-nouveau-style-1-81-carat-diamond-ring-gia-j-si2.html

https://pebbleandpolish.com/products/victorian-art-nouveau-buff-cut-garnet-and-diamond-ring-in-yellow-and-white-gold

I'd be willing to entertain arguments about using larger/weirdly faceted stones, but you still have to design the ring to take this shape and style into mind

https://byangeline.com/products/partially-faceted-natural-sapphire-gemstone-raw-rough-diamond-18k-yellow-gold-engagement-multi-stone-1280

Galadriel, gazing in fascination at the first Ring Pop ever crafted by the elves. Look at how delicate the rest of her jewelry and costume are in contrast to the Temu engagement ring. The elves eventually have to take these rings off not because Sauron forged the One Ring but because theirs were turning their fingers green.

There are so many set and costume designs in this show that I love; clearly a lot of talented people worked on this show! I just wish that as much elegant craftsmanship had informed the TITULAR rings.

(I'm sure some there have been some defensive justifications for Why the Rings Look Like That but I tell you I will not be swayed by any of them)

[arc-misadventures]

What are thise

Willow says to weiss " turning down the arc boy was your biggest mistake

Weiss " I know. I know i am dumbass. I picked thar over the dragon " points to Neptune

The Dragons Treasure Horde

Weiss: Mom! Did you really sleep with, Jaune Arc?!

Willow stared at her daughter before placing her cup of tea down on the table.

Willow: Well, that is certainly one way to start a conversation...

Weiss: Well did you?

Willow: And, what if I did~?

Weiss: Oh gods... my mother slept with my friend...?!

Winter: D-Did you do this to help, Jaune accept me as his lover?

Willow: Oh no, not in the slightest my dear. Jaune wouldn't possibly accept such an offer; If offering the, Schnee Diamond to him didn't make you his bride to be, then certainly not sleeping with him would work. No, no, I slept with, Jaune because I wanted to~!

Winter: You wanted to sleep with a boy... Weiss's age...?!

Willow: No, I wanted to sleep with a man who is a better person that your father ever could be, and a man who is four times bigger than your father~!

Weiss: Ewwww!

Winter: H-How big is he...?

Willow: Listen girls... You know how loveless your father is emotionally.

Weiss: All to well...

Winter: Not to mention how abusive he can be...

Willow: Yes, since you know how loveless our marriage is, you don't want to even imagine how our sex life is.

Weiss: Knowing about, Mom's sex life with dad is worse than with, Jaune...

Winter: That's putting it lightly...

Willow: Girls, I met a handsome, well mannered young man who politely respected me, and my daughters. A man who was given the opportunity to acquire one of the Schnee's most prized family heirlooms in exchange for my daughters hand. And, he refused it, saying he would want to know my daughter before even the thought of marriage came to him.

Willow: If I had met this man when I was younger I would have probably married him, and would have had a loving family with him. But alas, I couldn't. So, while I was enjoying a wonderful time chatting with this reputable young man, and trying on new jewelry to replace all the fake ones, Jacques bought, and were subsequently eaten by, Jaune... I decided to seduce this man on the spot, and I managed to do so quite easily~!

Winter: H-How...?

Weiss: Winter?!

Winter: I want to know, okay?!

Willow: I'll tell you how, but only if you decide to pursue him in all sincerity. If you do that, I will tell you how I did it.

Winter: O-Okay...

Weiss: I thought you weren't interested in him?

Winter: I...?! I... I don't know... I've never been sure about love... so... I'm curious okay? Jaune seems like a really nice guy... And, he has mothers approval, so...?

Weiss: Well... He has matured a lot since I first met him...

Willow: Oh, he certainly has my approval~! Why after receiving some very interesting news last night, I suddenly developed a second wind... A rather vigorous second wind~!

Weiss: Eww...

Winter: What news did you receive?

Willow: My dear daughters... I 'regret' to inform you that you father is currently in a jail cell in, Vaccuo.

Weiss: He's what?!

Winter: H-How did that happen?

Willow: Apparently, Jaune Arc is the owner of the, Gem Refinery, the worlds largest producer of fine gem stones, raw, and refined minerals. What he also carries with that those accolades, is that he is also the owner of worlds second largest raw Dust, and refined Dust producer: The Fleck-Stone Industries.

Weiss: I was aware of the first part, but I didn't know he was the owner of. The Fleck-Stone Industries?! I can't believe I'm friends with fathers bane...?

Winter: Jaune is the owner the, Gem Refinery? Hmm... Atlas receives nearly sixty percent of its raw ores, and refined metals from them. Why wasn't I made aware of this?

Willow: Apparently, Jaune preferred to keep a low profile, and had several representatives to act as his proxy when it came to his business dealings. It wasn't until recently when, Jaune was ousted as this, Dragon King by your friend, Blake Belladonna, that his identity of being the owner of the Gem Refinery, and the Fleck-Stone Industries was made public knowledge.

Weiss: Oh, that makes sense why no none knew.

Winter: He didn't tell you?

Weiss: No. In fact, none of us knew he was a faunas until, Nora discovered his fangs when he yawned.

Willow: You said, Jaune was infatuated with you; Do you think it was because he was trying to usurp the, SDC through marriage?

Weiss: No, Jaune liked me because he thought I was giving him a complement when in fact I actually was insulting him...

Winter: You insulted him, and he thought it was a complement...?

Weiss: Jaune's has never had great luck with woman... until recently that is. In all honesty, father would be the one who would be trying to set us up together to usurp his company.

Winter: I find that rather plausible. He has tried to sell me off for a quick buck several times. But, what does any of this have to do with father rotting in a jail cell in, Vaccuo?

Willow: As you are aware the, SDC various, Dust mines are located in, and around the, Kingdoms of Atlas, Vale, and Minstrel. But, after the destruction, Atlas wrought upon, Vaccuo, and it's people, the people of, Vaccuo have no interest, nor desire to let any, Atlasian business within their boarders.

Willow: But, the land is rich with, Dust, and your father is a greedy whore. So, he has been trying for years to get a foothold in, Vaccuo. But, all the dust mines to be found in, Vaccuo are under, Jaune's control.

Winter: So, for your father wished to gain a foothold, the best way he could do that was to claim one of, Jaune's mines. But, both of his plans to usurp one of his mines failed... rather drastically at that.

Winter: What happened? I expect that father tried to buy out one of his mines.

Willow: He tried two things. He had his private militia force, Winter's Caw attacked, and try to steal, Dust from one of his mines. While he, and a few of his personal guard went to another mine to buy them out.

Weiss: And, what happened?

Willow: The militia were annihilated by, Jaune's sisters for threating children. And, after, Jaune's other sister refused Jacques offer, he threatened her, and she threw him in a jail cell for threating her, and destruction of business property. And, because of that, Jacques is not resting in a jail cell.

Weiss: Oh no... When are you getting him out...?

Winter: More importantly: Are you getting him out?

Willow: Well, Jacques's lawyers have been sent to get him out, but I doubt they will be all that effective. Evidently, they are already forcing, Jacques to stay in prison where he will be subject to hard labour for at least six months. That should be more than enough time for me to remove his taint, and reclaim the SDC under a true. Schnee's leadership.

Winter: You planned this with, Jaune didn't you.

Willow: What? Absoultly not! I did not conspire this with, Jaune in the slightest!

Weiss: Oh that's good to...?!

Willow: It was one of his sisters...

Winter: Haa... You do know I have to let, General Ironwood know about this?

Willow: What of it? This may be an international incident between, Atlas, and Vaccuo. By the time all the red tape has been dealt with he will be freed anyway.

Winter: Yes, but father is part of many dealings with the SDC, and the Atlas military. They will try to get him out as soon as possible. Least their pocket books take a rather drastic hit.

Willow: Ahh yes... Corrupt, and greedy politicians...

Willow put her cup down, and rose to her feet.

Willow: It seems I best get going... There is much work to be done, and the sooner the better. Goodbye my dears.

Weiss: Goodbye, Mother.

Winter: Have safe travels.

Willow: Before I go I must leave you with one word of advice. Weiss, you let an absolute catch of a man slip away from you.

Weiss: I know... I'm question my taste in men, if I fell for a womanizer than someone like, Jaune...

Willow: And, Winter... I'm not saying you have to marry this man... But, I'm saying that you should at least see where it could go. Take it from me, You're rather no live with regrets when it comes to love. They hurt more than any wound could possibly make.

Winter: I'll... I'll try mother... I'm not experience with love, and romance... But... I'll... I'll try... I swear!

Willow smiled as she leaned down, and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

Willow: I know you will... Goodbye my dears!

Winter: Goodbye mother!

Weiss: Take care!

The two sisters smiled as they watch their mother walk away with a notable limp in her steps.

This warm sisterly moment was swiftly broken as a group of hormonal woman came rushing in.

Blake: Where is she?!

Velvet: Where's the milf, Schnee?

Yang: I have questions I need to ask!

Pyrrha: She's gone...

Coco: Gods dammit!

Weiss: W-What are you doing?

Coco: We want to know how she did it!

Blake: How did your mother seduce, Jaune?!

Velvet: We must know this!

Winter: ...

Weiss: ...

Winter: We don't know...

Weiss: And, we won't tell you even if we did...

Yang: NO!

Blake: Thieving Schnee!

Velvet: You have to steal everything from us faunas!

Pyrrha: We can just ask, Jaune you know?

Coco: I know. But, I like the juicy gossip~!

~~~

Willow was humming to herself as she made the way to the landing pad when to woman came up on her sides.

: Hello, Mr. Schnee.

Willow: Oh? Hello, Ms. Goodwitch, how nice to see you!

: Mrs. Schnee...

Willow: Why hello, Ms. Sienna Khann... What an unexpected pleasure~!

Glynda: We heard you spent a night with our dear, Knight...

Sienna: We need you to tell us what you did with our dear, Dragon King.

Willow: Hmmm~? We... While I am a kiss, and don't tell kind of girl. I know you fine ladies wouldn't tell those little children how I did it, now would you?

Sienna: Now why would we give up an edge to win the, Dragon King's heart.

Glynda: We're also kiss, and don't tell kind of woman. But, a little gossip between woman, there's nothing wrong with that, no~?

Willow: Not at all ladies... Not. At. All~!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Caught In The Spider's Web.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 2.8k.

TW: N0n///C0n, AFAB!Reader, Biting, Mentions of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Verbal Degredation, Slut-Shaming But In A Projection Way, and Choking.

“Get back here, qué perra!”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in a museum!” You called over your shoulder, chasing it with a breathless laugh before sparing a glance behind you, to where Miguel was still busy clawing through the layers of haphazardly laid webbing that were currently keeping his chest and arms pinned against the far wall of newly-emptied display. You saw his talons tear through the last of it before turning your attention forward – to the tall, narrow halls of the museum, or more specifically, to the stone archways spaced every twenty feet or so. With a wild grin and one last squeeze to the diamond-studded necklace around your neck, the strap of the rucksack weighing heavy against your back, you shot your webs toward the next archway and flew.

Or, swung, more accurately – with Miguel close on your heels. He was more experienced than you, more used to superhuman strength and animalistic agility and everything that happened when a radioactive spider took an interest in you, but no amount of refined skill could’ve measured up to your raw, unrestrained zeal, to the rush of adrenaline that came with every new heist, every new opportunity to use your new powers. Even in the confined space, you moved erratically; vaulting off of walls and falling into jagged nose-dives, never gaining any distance on Miguel but never letting him catch you, either. More than once, you felt his claws graze your back, heard his low growls and muffled cursing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry. Why would you? You were a superhero, now, even if you didn’t do many heroic things. You felt invincible. You were invincible – at least in that moment. At least before Miguel got his hands on you and put an end to your fun for the thousandth time. “Y’know, I really thought you’d be cool with this,” you went on, bouncing off of a display case a fraction of a second before he crashed into it, shattering the glass. “I’m like Robin Hood, dude!”

There was a half-snarled bark, a flash of red in your peripheral. You threw yourself to the left just in time to avoid a tendril of pulsing, luminescent webbing – earning yourself just enough time to shoot a playful wink back at him. He bared his teeth, in response. “Robin Hood gave to the poor. You just steal and cause anomalies.”

“I’d be poor if I stopped stealing!” Finally, you came to the room you were looking for – an open lobby with a domed, crystalline ceiling – a ceiling with a panel no one ever seemed to remember to lock. You’d left it open on your way in, and if you were lucky, you’d be able to slip out of it without alerting the guards posted at every other exit. After that, it was only a matter of losing Miguel in the dark city (you’d apparently been the only spider-people smart enough to skip the eye-bleedingly bright color scheme) and hiding a place to lay low in your own dimension. You’d have to come back in a few weeks to sell what you’d stolen, but that was something you could worry about later on. You’d earned your haul, tonight. “It’s been fun, Miguel, baby,” You let your swing go wide, vaulting yourself towards the ceiling and landing just underneath your escape hatch. You let yourself hang there for just a second longer than you could afford, flashing another smile toward Miguel before—

 Before you felt his webbing latch onto your lower back, wrenching you away from the domed ceiling and sending you plummeting downward before you could think to react. Your back hit the floor with enough force to crack the marble, your rucksack of stolen art and jewelry landing somewhere to your left and spilling open. With any chance of escaping Miguel gone and your latest haul scattered across the museum floor, you went limp, letting a pained groan slip past your lips. That was the thing about super-durability. The fall hadn’t broken every bone in your body, but your bones didn’t know that.

Miguel was bolting towards you in a second, on top of you in another. You managed to lift your arm, but your web-shooters only responded with a sad, dry grinding – out of ammo, because you always ran out of webbing at the worst times. His hand shot to his mask, his bared fangs catching in the dim light, but you raised your hands in surrender before he could bite down. “Hey, hey, you can save that for the thirst traps. I can spend the next twelve hours catatonic without your help.” With a heavy sigh, you collapsed, letting another wave of aching soreness wash over you before going on. “Take me home. I’m done for the night.”

It took him a few seconds to bite back his anger, to put on that stoic, put-together face you loved to tease him for. Pursed lips, narrowed eyes – all the things that’d fall away as soon as you got on his nerves. “You’re not getting off that easily, this time.”

“C’mon, Miguel, what do you think you’re going to do to me? Lock me in a cell for a couple days? Let your mega-spider bite me? Lecture me until I buy into your ‘great power comes with great responsibility’ bullshit?” Even exhausted and worn down, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. He made himself an easy target, and you’d always loved the taste of low-hanging fruit. “We both know how this works. You toss me around a little, tell me to spend more of my time saving orphaned puppies trapped in burning buildings, then send me back to my own dimension. Don’t tell me you’re gonna break our routine now.”

He didn’t answer, a pressed scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth as he worked off his mask. He hand dropped to the collar of your suit, and you let out another laugh, this one more nervous than the last. “Are you going to take my watch? You know I’ll just make another one when I get home.”

His fist wrapped around your stolen necklace, wrenching it off of you with enough force to snap the silver, jewel-studded chain and send rubies and sapphires scattering around you. You watched the precious gems clatter to the floor, mentally tallying up how much you could’ve gotten for each. Clearly, Miguel wasn’t as concerned with their value as you were. “You’re not going home.”

“Miguel, that’s not fun—”

“Say my name one more time and I swear I’ll—” He cut himself off with a throaty growl, turning his claws toward your chest. Before you could so much as think to panic, the front of your suit had been torn to tattered shreds, leaving you vulnerable and exposed to the open air and thrashing against the hand now wrapped around your neck, clawing at his wrist and kicking at his chest for all you were worth. If Miguel noticed your meager attempts at resistance, he didn’t seem fazed, didn’t feel the need to respond with anything more than a harsher glare, a straighter posture, a row of pointed nails driven that much deeper into the side of your throat. “Cállate. Just shut up and take what you deserve.”

The palm pressed into the base of your windpipe, a flash of sharpened teeth in the corner of your vision, and then, Miguel’s fangs were planted in your neck, his venom sent coursing through your veins. The feeling, while unpleasant, wasn’t alien to you. You were hyper-aware of your joints locking into place, your limbs going stiff and still, a heavy fog forming over the part of your brain that told the rest of your body to get up and fight. He pulled away before the numbness set in, before you could completely float into that void of immobile, oblivious existence, but when you tried to lift your arm, to kick at his chest, your body failed to respond. You cursed under your breath, glaring at Miguel, but he'd already moved on.

A gloved hand worked its way under the tattered remains of your suit, grazing over your lower stomach before cupping your cunt. It was the adrenaline, the high and the sudden let-down. Miguel must’ve known that, but it did little to dampen the condescension in his faint smirk as he collected your slick on his fingertips, swiping the pad of his thumb over your clit and drinking in the way your expression contorted. “Little slut,” he muttered, the scarlet shine of your blood still visible on his fangs. “You’re already soaked. Can’t let someone put their hands on you without dripping all over them, huh?”

You grit your teeth, doing what you could to swallow back a half-choked moan. “Stop,” And then, with more than a note of desperation in your voice, “This is a crime, you’re not supposed to—”

The air hitched in your throat as he brought his open palm down on your cunt – the blow rough, sudden, sharp. If you’d been able to, you would’ve gone stiff, would’ve lashed out, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm, couldn’t do anything but hold your breath and stifle a pained moan as the first blow was followed by another, then another, then another, until your cunt was sore and throbbing, until there were tears forming in the corners of your eyes and Miguel was breathing heavily above you. “I told you to be quiet.” It was a hiss, more than anything. A threat he could carry out, but not say aloud. “I’d tell you not to make this worse for yourself, but you were always going to find a way to make this more difficult than it had to be.”

You moved to apologize reflexively, to beg him to let you go, but he clearly didn’t have an interest in anything you had to say. He was already shoving two fingers into your burning entrance, adding something else to the ache – not quite pleasure, but not as far as you needed it to be, either. Everything he did was rough, cruel, from the way he stretched you open to how much force he used while grinding the heel of his palm into your clit. Everything he did was less for your gratification and more for his own entertainment, for as humorless as he’d always seemed to you before. Miguel’s paralysis limited your reactions, stopped you from grinding into his hand or squirming underneath him, but it didn’t help to hide your expression, to stop you from biting your lips or rolling your head to the side, giving in to the baselessly hopeful part of your mind yelling that not looking at Miguel would make him leave. He only laughed, the noise low and dark and infinitely more than anything he’d ever given you, before. That made sense. Miguel had always struck you as the kind of man who could only let his guard down after he’d already broken through yours – this was just the first time he’d gotten the chance to prove you right.

Eventually, he pulled back, drawing an airy whimper from the base of your throat at the sudden lack of stimulation. There was a wet, distorted sound you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a fist wrapped around your arm, and then, he was turning you onto your chest, keeping your wrists pressed against your back with one hand while the other spread your thighs apart. You felt his cock, already hard, already thick enough to send a pang of dread to your core, against your ass, and suddenly, you were very aware of just how easily he towered over you, just how little effort it took for him to press his chest into your back and cage you underneath him. Even if you hadn’t been paralyzed, you didn’t know if you’d be able to do anything to get away from him. Not after you’d already been caught in his web.

“You’re going to cum on my cock,” You felt his lips against your ear, the low timbre of his voice reverberating in the back of your mind. “And you’re going to fucking thank me, when you do.”

There might’ve been more. There probably was, but whatever he said was drowned out by a dull, droning buzzing in your ears – a lifeless static that nearly blocked out the feeling of his hands on your hips, his knee nudging your legs apart, the leaking head of his cock resting against your entrance before he thrust into you, splitting you open in an instant.

He was so, so much bigger than you. Even with the fall, even with his venom, you could still feel so much of him, still couldn’t seem to block out the way your own dripping cunt struggled to clench down around the girth of his cock. You let out a fractured gasp but regretted it immediately, trembling as you struggled to inhale while feeling so impossibly full. There might’ve been blood. It was hard to tell with the slick dripping down your thighs, with Miguel lapping over the side of your throat. He sounded animalistic, growling as he rolled his hips and buried himself deeper in your core, his nails burrowing into your hips and mangling what was left of your poor, ruined suit. You’d have to make a new one, when you got back to your own dimension, when you got back to your tiny apartment already over-crowded with stolen art and half-finished projects. If Miguel ever let you go back.

“You’re tight for a little whore.” He made no effort to be gentle, to hold back, to do anything but bully your cunt, bruise your ass, leave you breathless and struggling just to keep yourself sane. “Must be a tease,” he went on, dropping a hand to your clit and rubbing circles into the abused bundle of nerves. “That’s it. Stealing everything you could get your hands on, wrecking the multiverse – that was just your way of getting my attention, huh? Bet you were just waiting for someone to pin you down and fuck you.”

You could feel your legs starting to shake, in spite of the paralysis. “Please, I can’t—”

“So fucking needy, too.” There was a deep laugh, an open-mouthed kiss pressed into the curve of your throat. “I’ll have to put a collar on you. Might catch you bending over for the first person you see if nobody knows who you— fuck, who you belong to.”

His pace had been punishing from the start, but at that, it turned brutal. You felt tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, a tight knot of tension forming deep in your core. His cock beat against something sensitive and vulnerable in your pussy and you screamed, a strangled moan tearing past your lips. “Please, Miguel, I need you to stop—"

Your voice gave out before you could finish, but that was all Miguel needed to hear. Before you could take it back, before you could bite your tongue and curse yourself for trying to say anything at all, his hand was on your neck, cutting off your oxygen supply and leaving you choking for air, leaving your cunt convulsing around him. “De nuevo.” It was a demand, an order. You were starting to wonder if he knew any other way to speak. “Say that again, before I change my mind and snap your neck.”

“Miguel.” Croaked, airy, only half-coherent. When his grip only grew tighter, you said it again, and again, and again, his name forming an incomprehensible mantra that played in-time with the pulsing in the back of your skull, in the walls of your pussy. You felt yourself clench around him, your vision burning white as either his cock or the lack of oxygen or some awful combination of the two vaulted you to a breath-stealing, mind-numbing climax – strong enough and blinding enough to leave you crashing on the downswing, plummeting into an infinite abyss of searing heat and overstimulation as soon as your climax gave out under his violent affection. Vaguely, you were aware of Miguel’s touch growing rougher, of his voice in your ear, of his cum flooding into your sore pussy. He made no attempt to pull out, but you weren’t surprised. You didn’t know if anything Miguel did could surprise you, anymore.

You were in a haze as Miguel drew back, nipping at the corner of your jaw one more time before finally letting you go. It wasn’t his venom keeping you still, anymore, but your own exhaustion – weighing you down as he lifted you into his arms, letting you rest your head against his chest. Through your eyelashes, your watched Miguel type something into his watch, a neon-shaded portal cutting through the fabric of reality a moment later. You tried to protest, to call on whatever hidden pocket of strength you still had and get away from him, but all you managed to do was squirm in his arms and let out a small, pathetic whine. Miguel responded by pressing his lips against your forehead, chuckling softly. As if this was funny to him. As if he found this cute. “Settle down. You have nothing to worry about.”

He smiled for the first time that night, and you felt something in the pit of your stomach crack.

“I’m taking you home.”

[holylulusworld]

Mr. Dickbeard & Bimbo

Summary: Your boss’s best friend is the worst.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: Lloyd being Lloyd, bimbo reader, groping, implied smut

Catch up here: Mr. Dickbeard

Lloyd is furious. He can’t believe that he is considering buying the bimbo at his friend’s office a diamond ring. “You fucker always get me in trouble.” He tells his dick as he looks around the jewelry store.

“Sir, how can I help you?” The clerk asks. She flashes him her best fake smile while looking Lloyd up and down. His outfit, neatly styled mustache, and hair scream wealth, and she hopes for a promotion at her next sale.

“I’m looking for a –” Lloyd huffs. He squares his jaw and is about to leave the store. Unfortunately, he thought about your cunt wrapped around his dick and your lips around his dick for a second. “Fuck…I need a ring!”

“A ring,” she clears her throat. “Of course, Sir.” She coos when Lloyd looks at the engagement rings. “Oh, you want an engagement ring!”

“What? No! I won’t marry that bimbo!” He huffs and glares at the poor clerk. She’s on the receiving end of his frustration today. “I need a ring that impresses her. Gold, diamonds, whatever makes her drop her panties.”

Lloyd furrows his brows when the clerk purses her lips. “A sex ring, then,” she accuses before showing Lloyd the first rings. “This one is rather impressive. Most men coming here to impress their mistresses buy this model.”

He huffs and shakes his head. “I don’t want a ring grandpa buys for his young mistress. I want a unique piece no one else has. Something special that makes her pussy all tingly.”

“Certainly Sir,” she says with a fake smile but wrinkles her nose. “Let me get the unique pieces for you.”

“I want an engraving.”

“What do you want the engraving to say?” She dares to ask, already fearing the worst. Lloyd made an awful first impression.

“Property of Lloyd Hansen and his dick,” Lloyd smirks darkly at her pained expression. “I need the ring today. So, chop-chop little lamb and show me the most expensive panty killer…”

“I’m not going to fall for that trick again,” a huff and a pout are all Lloyd gets as he stands in front of your apartment. “I told you, if you like what you taste, put a ring on that finger.”

You wiggle your fingers in front of his face.

“Bimbo, don’t tempt me to slap that ass raw again.” He cocks a brow, waiting for your response.

“I got better things to do than wasting my time on your mustache. You’re not even that good at eating pussy.” You’re about to turn around when Lloyd roughly grabs your wrist and forces you to stay.

“You’ll not be going to slam that fucking door in my face again, bimbo!” He growls while fishing a black velveteen box out of his pocket. Lloyd opens the box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

You gasp as he takes the ring out of the box, holding it in front of your eyes.

“I just spent one hundred thousand bucks on a ring for you. It’s a unique piece, and I cannot return it.”

“I bet it’s fake,” you snap at him, and wiggle in his grip.

“I can cut your face with it to prove it’s a real diamond,” he leans closer to purr his favorite pet name in your ear. “You’ll read the engraving, put it on, and stop making a fuss.”

You take the ring out of his hand to read the engraving. “Property of Lloyd Hansen and his dick.” You roll your eyes. “That’s not nice!”

“It’s the truth,” he growls now. “Put it on, and then I’ll put something big and hard inside your wet little cunt. I know you’re leaking for me already. Diamonds make your bimbo-brain go all fuzzy.”

You giggle and take the ring to put it on your middle finger. Showing it to Lloyd. “There you go.”

“Bimbo!” He huffs as you wiggle out of his grip. “Put it on the right finger.”

“You’ll not get any until you stop calling me bimbo,” you snap at Lloyd. He groans as the pounding in his head returns. “I’m waiting, Hansen.” Lloyd would just turn around and go if his cock wasn't strained against his pants once again.

“Fucking bimbo,” he growls and pushes you against the wall to push his hand between your legs. “You’re my bimbo. My brainless little bird chirping nonsense all day. Now let me eat that cunt before I stuff your mouth with something better than food.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and jump into his arms to grind against his erection. “I hope your mustache is ready for another round. I’m going to ride it off your face today.”

“Go ahead, bimbo. I cannot wait to see you try…”

Tags in reblog.

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: yandere!Tom Riddle x gn!Reader

Synopsis: no one can take you away from Tom, not even Death itself

Warnings: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, non-sexual nudity, dark forces, mention of death and bodies, reader’s gender not specified

You felt weird. Your ears were filled with buzzing white noise, mind racing but also completely muddled up. You inhaled sharply, searing pain surged through all of your body at the feeling of your lungs expanding. It felt like your insides were set ablaze all at once. Rattling cough tore through your throat, filling your mouth with the some thick slime-like substance that you quickly spat out, gulping desperately on cold air in fast shallow breaths.

From what your overwhelmed senses could tell - you were laying down on some kind of flooring - which felt more like bare stone. You struggled to get yourself into sitting position, hard cobbles dug into your flesh painfully, causing you to shiver violently from both cold and discomfort.

You cracked your eyes open, blinking rapidly a few times to get the same sticky slimey stuff out of your eyes. It was very dark around- or was it your unstable state? Heavy steps could be heard, coming in your direction; your body tensed impossibly more, head snapping in direction of nearing man(?), hands roaming the ground underneath you, trying to find something - anything - to defend yourself with.

- Shhhhh, dearest, it’s just me. You’re safe, - a familiar voice spoke soothingly, your body relaxing at the dear sound of it.

- Tom? - you whispered, eyes flickering in all directions haphazardly, trying to distinguish male’s slim figure in thick darkness.

Tom fell to his knees next to you, muttering quiet ‘Lumos’, dim ray of light coming from the tip of his wand blinded you temporarily. You heard some soft shuffling before a thick woolen cloak was wrapped tightly around your shuddering frame.

You managed to crack your eyes open, finally being abele to look around. You peeked down at yourself - your body looked raw - as if you spent hours emerged in hot water - skin was a bringt pink color, extremely sensitive to the smallest of touches - just like an infant in first minutes of its life. You were completely bare, some weird slippery substance was covering every part of you, cooling your body down unpleasantly.

Your eyes wandered up to Tom. His face was gaunt - cheeks looked as hollow as ever; dark eyes you loved so much were unusually sunken, dark purplish circles you knew he got from sleepless nights were laying underneath them; his beautiful lips were chopped and pale, lacking their usual plushness; lush shiny waves of brown hair laying so elegantly on his forehead now looked bleak and brittle. Tom looked ill - as if he was struggling from protracted ailment. But even despite his miserable -you could’ve never thought of using this adjective for describing Tom Riddle- appearance, his eyes were sparkling maniacally, like diamonds in finest of the jewelry.

- Tom, what happened? I don’t understand… - you inquired quietly. Your throat felt way too tight, making your voice sound shaky and weak, and you struggled to get words out. You felt Tom wrapping his arms tightly around you, bringing you to his chest in a tight embrace.

- Everything’s all right now, my love. It’s okay, you are safe with me, - Tom muttered more to himself, rocking you from side to side gently.

You took a look at your surroundings - it looked like you were inside of a huge dark cave of some sorts, rough wet stones were forming walls and ceiling of the cavity, you could hear water dripping down the stalactites all around, hitting the rocks underneath with loud echoing sounds. What caught your attention were deep involute lines carved deeply into stone ground, forming an intricate designs all around you, slightest red glow was still visible emanating from them.

There were dead bodies laying all around. About a dozen of men and women, some of them you recognized as Tom’s devoted followers, were splayed around what seemed to be a transfiguration circle. There were no injuries nor blood on them visible. In fact, they looked fully normal if it wasn’t for their dull eyes and looks of absolute horror etched on their lifeless faces.

And then suddenly pictures flashed before your eyes - Tom’s face, still full of health and youthful beauty, covered in grime and blood, was gazing down at you, his eyes sparkling with shiny tears. What was that? Why was he crying? And then, like in some kind of drunken haze, you looked down at yourself - a huge crimson blotch was growing bigger and bigger on your robes, saturating soft cotton fabric in warm sticky blood. You looked back up at Tom - he was full on crying now, babbling “don’t leave me” and “please, don’t die” over and over again, trembling hands pressing down onto your chest, trying to stop the blood flow.

What was he talking about? Why would you die? You tried to say it, to console your silly boy, reassure that there’s no way you would leave him - but no sound came out of your throat, no matter how hard you tried. Your mouth filled with sickening metallic taste of your own blood, black clouding your vision rapidly.

And now you remembered. Those were your memories - your last ones - before you died.

But how was this all possible? Here you were, blood and flesh, warm and breathing and surely alive, in welcoming arms of your lover.

- Tom? What have you done?.. - horror mixed with shock slowly crept up your back, all the way to your chest and throat, making it even harder to breath than before.

- Nothing will ever hurt you again. I won’t let that happen, I promise, - Tom uttered next to your ear, his body shaking with soundless sobs as he held you even closer to himself,

- I will keep you safe, away from all dangers. You will know no worries nor fears. It will be just the two of us, in our perfect world we’ve always dreamed of. Forever.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback inspires writers on creating more content!💗

[menkya-and-charon]

₊˚⊹⋆ Hello! As promised it’s time for the girls ! ₊˚⊹⋆

Sandara pulled off her jewelry making skills again to prepare these magical sandy rings for every sandrocker who wishes to propose to their soulmate ! So without further and just like the boys here’s a little story behind each design ;)

Nia - In a heartfelt request asked for a ring crafted in the essence of her dearest bloom, a symbol of love shared with her cherished one. Adorned with pink diamonds and fashioned from rose gold, it mirrors the sentiment embodied in the exquisite "Heart Blossom."

Grace - With a desire profound to gift her beloved a symbol of her unwavering support and sought to give them a keepsake to bear her essence wherever destiny may lead. Entrusting Sandara with the task, she envisioned a ring of pure white gold, cradling a gem akin to the one gracing her ears, a tangible testament to the boundless love she holds for her soulmate.

Catori - This ring was made with the very gold from the Golden Goose tokens at Catori's request so she could share a part of her passion with her promised one !

Venti - Came by with this special raw mineral she extracted herself asking Sandara to make the most unbreakable ring ever !

Amirah - Wanted a special ring to crystallize her emotions into a tangible treasure. She tenderly sought a ring that echoed the ethereal beauty of the Mountain Rose for her beloved.

Heidi - The architect of her own ring's design crafted a plan infused with finesse and elegant details, each element meticulously chosen to hold the strong bond she share with her soulmate.

Elsie - Envisioned for her loved one a ring that seamlessly blended elegance and practicality, a pretty jewel in shiny silver ornate with a deep blue gem that would also speak volumes about her journey with her beloved.

Jane - Wished for a jewel that could eloquently express her deep attachment to her most cherished one. The delicate butterflies adorning the piece carry a special message, symbol of their love and heralding a new beginning filled with boundless happiness and joyful moments yet to unfold !

Mi-An - Driven by a wish for her lover's prosperity and a testament to her diligent efforts in revitalizing Sandrock, commissioned a ring with a distinctive touch. In response, Sandara crafted a four-leaf clover adorned with enchanting green gems, a radiant embodiment of Mi-An's sincere emotions and her dedication to transforming their shared world into a flourishing oasis.

Hope the girls could win your hearts with these custom rings!

Again I had a great time making these for the fandom with the help of my fellow tumblr builders out here so big thanks to them too ♡

[qualitydiamblog]

Uncut diamonds

Uncut diamonds are natural gemstones in their raw, unrefined state, displaying unique textures and forms. Valued for their authenticity and potential, they offer a distinctive charm for custom jewelry or collection.

[rocknrollmine]

Crafting Timeless Elegance with Herkimer Diamond Quartz Crystals

In the heart of Middleville, Herkimer County, lies a hidden gem – Raw Gems Design, a bespoke jewelry atelier that transforms nature’s wonders into breathtaking, one-of-a-kind pieces. Specializing in hand-mined Herkimer diamond quartz crystals, Raw Gems Design marries cutting-edge technology with traditional craftsmanship to create personalized jewelry that tells a unique story. The Rock ‘n Roll…

[jhyoos]

The Aesthetics Of My (Y/N)s

Kpop Idol (Y/N)

Dreams Come True

face claim : belle from kiss of life

(Y/N) with a soft yet elegant aesthetic, exuding a timeless and refined charm. Her honey-blonde hair is perfectly styled, framing her face in a way that highlights her natural beauty. She has an amazing voice, smooth and melodic, that leaves an unforgettable impression, whether she's speaking, singing, or laughing.

Her sense of style is impeccable, leaning towards luxurious, high-quality pieces that speak to her expensive taste. Her outfits often feature delicate fabrics like silk, cashmere, or lace, paired with understated yet striking accessories—perhaps a pair of diamond earrings or a sleek leather bag.

She has a signature scent that lingers, a blend of something warm and rich, like vanilla or amber, with a hint of floral or citrus notes, making her presence both captivating and comforting. Everything about her—from her demeanor to the way she carries herself—radiates a sense of quiet confidence and sophistication.

Influencer (Y/N)

Rebel Girl

face claim : maggie lindemann

(Y/N) embodies the perfect grunge influencer aesthetic, effortlessly blending edge with allure. Her style is unapologetically bold, often featuring ripped tights, oversized band tees, leather jackets, chunky boots, and layered silver jewelry. She's the go-to person for teaching eyeliner tutorials—sharp wings and smoky looks are her specialty—and she seamlessly incorporates her grunge fashion tips into her content. Her wardrobe is a mix of thrifted treasures and high-end pieces, creating a unique blend that resonates with her followers.

(Y/N) is a rising name in the modeling world, working with both small indie brands and major labels that align with her vibe. Her photoshoots are raw and evocative, showcasing her fierce personality and making her a muse for brands catering to alternative aesthetics. Her attitude mirrors Maddie from Euphoria : sharp, confident, and unbothered. She’s witty, with a knack for humor that cuts through the intensity of her look, keeping her grounded and relatable to her audience.

Her signature scent is Victoria’s Secret Vanilla Noir, a deep, sultry vanilla fragrance with a hint of spice that matches her bold yet approachable aura. It’s a scent that lingers in a room long after she leaves, making her unforgettable. Her followers idolize her not just for her aesthetic but also for her ability to balance grunge rebellion with high-fashion sophistication.

[wumblr]

there's this cruel irony of imperialism -- obviously many of them -- and there's a good chance somebody is going to call me either shortsighted, highfalutin, ungrounded, or reaching for saying this, but i've been thinking about the networked effects of extracted resources. first it was spice colonialism, then the spices all turned out to be too aphrodisiac and this eventually led to the industrialization of cornflakes

they used to construct elaborate fictions for conflict minerals, this item is unbelievably valuable and the only appropriate use for it is to commemorate a lifelong, monogamous and reproductive relationship (diamonds). now the conflict mineral (lithium) is an unnecessary substitute for an herb (tobacco) and it has become disposable

the nature and progression of imperialism requires continual growth and this means the conflict minerals can't maintain their value, they turn from precious heirloom jewelry to litter, simply because litter is less rare and so more profitable. first they had to mine the raw metals to build out an electrical grid, and then the materials to build roads and cars, and now that the grid requires baseload batteries parked in your garage we're throwing lithium on the ground. plastics have an irrevocable hold on the market simply because they're petroleum byproducts

cities could never have become as large as they did without the development of firefighting and now the baseload batteries are inextinguishable. progress of ever-smaller fragmentation for profit leads to contradiction. the city cannot move forward without the conflict mineral battery, but it can't put the fire out and it can't stop throwing them away, ostensibly to suppress use of an herb, once medicinal, now an adulterated vice. because adulterating it not only increases the rate of cancer but attributes it to personal choice, which is necessary, because otherwise it would be more attributable to the materials that keep the system running (uranium). it's incredible

the state with the lowest rate of cancer is downwind of the test site, because it's populated by yet another extremist christian wing of imperial progress, so extreme that they don't smoke or drink, because these personal choices have an outsized influence in comparison to the global contamination that the development of the bomb caused. a bit of the money made from the extraction of resources is put towards repayment for citizens of the imperial core, for exposure to the product that created their way of life, but the program expires and nobody cares because they seem to think it didn't affect them

anyway somebody threw a whole clock radio in my garden. i took the battery and now i can't do anything with it unless i want to figure out where to take it to be recycled. holding this blue plastic-wrapped cylinder of fire risk conflict mineral in my little hand and ruminating on it. do you think it traveled further than i have to get to me? i should never have left it sitting next to my keys i've been glancing at it in passing every day for weeks. of course you're not supposed to throw them on the ground, but i've already criticized the abdication of responsibility by corporations for the waste their products become. makes it into another issue of personal choice when they wouldn't have existed if they hadn't been industrialized

[threadbearsweater]

will never tire of daydreaming about being some notable guy's a candy at a gala of some sort. I'm the apple of everyone's eye- royalty, a princess, a queen. and we sneak off to an empty room to go at it raw, either because some other guy was making eyes at me and he noticed, or we've both had a few too many flutes of expensive champagne. we're both dressed to the nines and I'm dripping in diamonds or some other flashy jewelry and a sleek dress. he's handsome and confident and works the room as if he owns it. we're the highest bidders on the featured piece of art, and they announce our winnings while I'm in the throes of an orgasm, pressed against the mirror in a bathroom down a cavernous hallway.