#forever lab diamonds

[novitadiamonds]

Lab Diamond Rings with Claws: Unraveling the Beauty and Brilliance

Welcome to a dazzling world of lab diamond rings with claws! In this blog post, we will explore the mesmerizing realm of lab-grown diamonds and their unique setting style – the claws. Whether you're an aficionado of fine jewelry or someone searching for the perfect engagement ring, understanding the allure of lab diamond rings with claws is essential. Throughout this article, we'll delve into the captivating qualities of these rings, uncover the benefits of lab-grown diamonds, and provide valuable insights to help you make an informed choice.

Lab Diamond Rings with Claws: A Sparkling Marvel

Lab-grown diamonds have taken the jewelry industry by storm, and for all the right reasons. These diamonds are ethically produced in controlled laboratory conditions, mimicking the natural process that occurs deep within the Earth. As a result, lab diamonds possess the same physical and chemical properties as mined diamonds but at a fraction of the cost. Their undeniable brilliance, clarity, and durability make them an attractive option for those seeking the perfect blend of luxury and sustainability.

The term "claws" refers to the prong settings that secure the diamond in its place on the ring. Instead of using a bezel or tension setting, claws gracefully hold the diamond, allowing maximum light to enter and reflect, amplifying its brilliance. This setting style not only enhances the diamond's appearance but also offers practical advantages, like easy cleaning and minimal metal interference.

Benefits of Choosing Lab Diamond Rings with Claws

Exceptional Brilliance: Lab-grown diamonds are renowned for their exceptional brilliance and fire. When combined with the claw setting, the result is a breathtaking display of light and sparkle that captures the attention of onlookers.

Versatility in Design: The claws setting allows for a versatile array of designs, catering to various tastes and styles. Whether you prefer a classic solitaire or a more intricate halo design, lab diamond rings with claws offer limitless possibilities.

Ethical and Eco-Friendly Choice: Opting for lab-grown diamonds promotes ethical practices and reduces the environmental impact associated with traditional diamond mining. Environmentally conscious consumers find solace in knowing their purchase aligns with their values.

Durability and Security: The claw setting provides excellent security for the diamond, reducing the risk of it becoming loose or falling out. This ensures your cherished gemstone stays safe and secure for a lifetime.

Cost-Effective Luxury: Lab-grown diamonds typically cost less than their mined counterparts, allowing you to invest in a larger and more impressive stone without compromising on quality.

How to Choose the Perfect Lab Diamond Ring with Claws

Consider Your Style: Reflect on your personal style and preferences. Whether you favor a modern, vintage, or minimalist aesthetic, there's a lab diamond ring with claws to complement your taste.

Assess the 4 Cs: When choosing a lab-grown diamond, evaluate the 4 Cs – carat, cut, color, and clarity. Each of these factors contributes to the overall beauty and value of the diamond.

Prong Number: The number of claws or prongs used in the setting can vary. While four or six prong settings offer a classic look and secure hold, a higher number of prongs can provide added protection to the diamond.

Metal Choice: Select the metal for the band that complements the diamond and your skin tone. Common options include white gold, yellow gold, rose gold, and platinum.

In conclusion, 

lab diamond rings with claws present a harmonious fusion of elegance, ethics, and eco-friendliness. These extraordinary pieces of jewelry capture the essence of beauty and brilliance, all while offering versatility, security, and value. As you embark on your journey to find the perfect lab diamond ring with claws, remember to consider your personal style, the diamond's 4 Cs, the prong setting, and the metal choice. Embrace the allure of lab-grown diamonds and experience a world of sustainable luxury that will forever shine brightly on your hand.

So, take the next step and let the enchanting world of lab diamond rings with claws become a cherished part of your jewelry collection, symbolizing love, commitment, and a greener future. Happy ring hunting!

[zero-zoxx-international]

Elephants and Damonds (24), ai art 2024 after a prompt from ZZI

[allthatsparkle]

The Timeless Elegance of Diamond Necklaces

Hey everyone! Diamond necklaces are a classic and sophisticated accessory that can add a touch of elegance to any outfit. Whether you're dressing up for a special occasion or adding a bit of sparkle to your everyday look, a diamond necklace is a perfect choice. Let's discuss everything about diamond necklaces and share our insights and preferences!

Questions to Get the Conversation Started:

Favorite Styles:

What is your favorite style of diamond necklace? Do you prefer solitaire pendants, diamond-studded chains, or intricate designs?

Have you ever customized a diamond necklace? What design elements did you choose?

Occasions:

When do you typically wear your diamond necklaces? Are they reserved for special events, or do you like to wear them regularly?

Have you ever given or received a diamond necklace as a gift? What was the occasion, and how did it make you feel?

Metal Choices:

Which metal do you prefer for the setting of your diamond necklace – white gold, yellow gold, rose gold, or platinum? How does the metal choice affect the overall look?

Diamond Quality:

What do you prioritize when choosing a diamond necklace – carat size, cut, color, or clarity? How do you balance these factors to get the best value?

Care Tips:

How do you take care of your diamond necklaces to keep them sparkling and in good condition? Do you have any specific cleaning routines or storage tips?

Trends and Inspiration:

Have you noticed any new trends in diamond necklace designs? What styles are you most excited about?

Where do you draw inspiration from when selecting or designing your diamond necklaces?

Discover the Sparkle at Beverly Diamonds:

At Beverly Diamonds, we offer a stunning collection of diamond necklaces that cater to every style and occasion. From timeless solitaire pendants to intricate diamond-studded designs, our necklaces are crafted with exceptional quality and attention to detail. Whether you’re looking for a classic piece or something more unique, Beverly Diamonds has the perfect necklace for you.

Join the discussion and share your thoughts, experiences, and tips about diamond necklaces. Let's celebrate the timeless elegance of these beautiful pieces together!

[cerastes]

What's your take on MumuDoc in Lonetrail?

Muelsyse in Lone Trail felt, in many ways, like seeing someone diving in a pool, and at first, you're not alarmed. They know how to swim. You don't really think much of it. But then a minute passes, and they are still underwater. Concern sinks in, and you make your way to the pool, and as you're about to jump in, their head surfaces, they are back up. They cough, they tough it out, and are a bit nervous about diving again, but you're going in the pool with them now, and they feel more at ease.

Take this, intensify it a hundredfold, stretch it a hundredfold, and scrutinize it a hundredfold, and you end up with Muelsyse, in her barest form, like a diamond born from a chunk of charcoal that had too much pressure put on it.

I can see Muelsyse's dynamic with Doctor being romantic. I can see Muelsyse's dynamic with Doctor not being romantic. Both are fine interpretations, if you ask me, I mean, her theme song is very much a love song, and at the same time, she feels desperate to find anyone who can just... Empathize in even the slightest of ways to her. Either read is fine, outright discounting either feels a tad disingenuous.

Alienation. Complete and utter alienation, an edge sharper and more injurious than isolation. This is, if you ask me, the main theme surrounding the Rhine Lab arc and cast.

Saria is alienated. She cannot find common ground with anyone else around her for the longest time. She used to have a shared dream with Kristen, but that bridge has burned and frozen and turned to ash all over. Kristen is alienated. She simply cannot see a point to anything except that obsessive doggedly persistent dream of hers, and it has been weighted more important than her humanity. Joyce is alienated. Forever a partial prisoner in her own head, there are few and far between that will ever put up with the unique intricacies of having to deal with someone that talks like her, has sudden Oripathy attacks like her, and falls asleep on the spot seemingly at random like her, fully cognizant of how high maintenance she can be on others. Ho'olheyak is alienated. On borrowed time, without kin or friend to call her own, living for a transcending mission far bigger than her and so, so small in the overarching beats of a world that can't be bothered to stop for her. Silence. Ifrit. Dorothy. Tin Man. I could go on. Alienated, all of them. Not isolated, because isolation would imply the lack of physical company. This is far colder, far darker. It's alienation. It's seeing the other side of the cliff, and no possibility of a bridge to connect it to your end of the cliff. Isolation stings, it's a pain you know is there. Alienation drowns, because you can see the surface, but you are convinced you'll never make it there, and it's a hundredfold worse.

Muelsyse is no different. Muelsyse is alienated, and goodness she has tried and tried and tried, she swims so, so hard to reach the surface, but she can't reach it. Being in Rhine Labs necessarily means you need to resort to some cutthroat cloak and dagger, it becomes routine, all for an ultimate goal, but is that ultimate goal even possible? With every step taken by Muelsyse, it seems two new steps materialized at the end of the staircase. Everyone she's met, for years now, has either been someone looking to use her, or someone she can use for her own advantage. Usually simultaneously. And it's in this context, when the 9 to 5 becomes tricking, blackmailing, snuffing and silencing that by chance, she comes across someone, possibly the sole person, that can actually understand the sheer weight on her shoulders: Doctor, someone who doesn't own their own past, but is shackled by it, someone who has no one to relate to, someone surrounded by sufficiently similar but ultimately infinitely different people to themselves, someone who by all means should be drowning in the same pool as her, but somehow, this person reached the surface. It's very easy to see why she'd become so utterly fascinated by this person, who shares many similarities with her, and yet, who seemingly has it so good, has it so sweet. It could have easily been jealousy, but end of the day, Muelsyse IS a sweet person. Yeah, she plays it up, always so cheerful and whimsical, but end of the day, Muelsyse is playing up something that is already there in the first place. Instead of jealousy, it brought her happiness, because maybe, just maybe, she could enjoy a bit of that je ne sais quoi that Doctor seems to have in spades and she is completely bankrupt of.

The first interactions between Muelsyse and Doctor are telling of this overwhelming rush of emotion: Muelsyse less talks with Doctor and more talks at them. She vomits words, emotion, whimsy, as if trying to put these emotions into words and actions after so long, emotions that was ready to never need to put into words in the first place. It eventually becomes a dialogue between two parties, but Muelsyse's interactions with Doctor are initially extremely one-sided, and they remain one-sided to some degree even moving forward. It was heartwrenching to me, honestly, to see the sheer joy Muelsyse radiated while around Doctor, because that is an almost manic amount of joy simply from possibly finding someone that gets it. Muelsyse has not had a bridge in so, so long, and suddenly, the finds someone that not only resembles her a lot, but also seems to have bridges in spades. Muelsyse and Doctor's dynamic should never be considered in a vacuum just between the two of them: One of the first things Muelsyse saw with her own eyes was that Doctor had a pretty friendly relationship, mutual respect included, with Saria. That, is immediately very telling of Doctor, given that Muelsyse understands exactly how difficult that is. We also know Muelsyse sneaks around Rhodes Island and chats with Ifrit now and then, and Ifrit also expressly has a very high opinion of Doctor. It simply makes sense that Muelsyse would feel as enthusiastic about her Dorothy's Vision brush with Doc, and all that Lone Trail entailed: It's terribly sad, because they don't even know each other, and even then, it's the shiniest ray of hope for herself that Muelsyse has had the chance to bask in: Doctor's essence, Doctor's existence, in and of itself, is a massive beacon of hope for Muelsyse.

And it's so damn sad, that this perfect stranger is the most familiar comrade she'll ever find.

Is this romantic love? Hell, the molotov cocktail of emotions involved might as well be, either now or in potentially in the future. Is it something unhealthily dependent? Yeah... Yeah. It might just be the euphoria of knowing that she can reach the surface, after all, that bridges, too, are possible for her to have, with not underlying motive, with no ulterior motive, without needing to offer something or to extract something. To put in the most basic of terms, Doctor, to Muelsyse, might as well represent the very first person in who knows how long that she can relate to at all. It is an immensely sad emotional starvation, and she finally found something to sink her teeth onto.

This is personal, but the way Muelsyse struck me, it felt to me that when she had even the barest of handles on Doctor, she related to someone for the first time in forever, and it shook her to her very core. It may have been the first time she saw, in someone else, a potentially happy Muelsyse.

It's extremely bittersweet. If you've ever dealt with alienation, think back on the first time you found someone who truly "got you". Add to that the fact that her routine of interacting with people had become to see others as tools, and to always be on the lookout for those wishing to use and expend you as a tool. Then, add to that that there are definitely more Elves, but Muelsyse is so fundamentally different to them that the sheer differences in temperament and culture make it so it's impossible for her to relate to them anyway. What could be lonelier than that? It's called Lone Trail for a reason, because alienation is a main theme for all of these people.

In finding the sole person that could possibly relate to her in circumstance and temperament, it's easy to see where Muelsyse's interest in Doctor comes from. Whether you interpret it as romantic or otherwise, it can't be denied that this immensely strong interest exists. It comes from finally seeing a way to reach the surface after the world told her for decades that she simply could only drown. Because Doctor is the only other person that could understand her in being the last of their race and in having no past and maybe even no future, and yet, Doctor having so many bridges, while she has none. I think Muelsyse craves companionship, not necessarily romantic, from Doctor, and, this is important, also wants to have what they have, and be part of it, of so many bridges built without ulterior motives.

[chronically-ghosted]

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed 

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled. 

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder. 

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.” 

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.” 

Partner. 

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. 

And then he met you and the definition changed again. 

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why. 

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days. 

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions. 

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts. 

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed. 

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here. 

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all. 

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.” 

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime. 

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath. 

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee. 

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold. 

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.” 

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee. 

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets. 

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night. 

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids. 

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it. 

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since. 

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks. 

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair. 

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation. 

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay. 

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold. 

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love. 

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants. 

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare. 

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him. 

“Baby–,” 

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this 

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall. 

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer. 

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in. 

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut. 

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars. 

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day. 

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is. 

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head. 

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful. 

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you. 

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you. 

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees. 

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now. 

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it. 

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch. 

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart. 

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips. 

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs. 

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes. 

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it. 

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford. 

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair. 

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.” 

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole. 

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair. 

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh. 

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty. 

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible. 

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean. 

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face. 

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine. 

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point. 

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now. 

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level. 

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls. 

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest. 

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table. 

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock. 

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?” 

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich. 

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.” 

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.” 

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork. 

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist. 

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.  

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain. 

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.  

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.” 

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.” 

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it. 

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done. 

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.” 

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow. 

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy. 

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire. 

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust. 

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again. 

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm. 

“B-baby, please–,” 

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer. 

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.” 

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.” 

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him. 

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name. 

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep. 

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again. 

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more. 

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst. 

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs. 

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet. 

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor. 

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull. 

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face. 

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.” 

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest. 

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.” 

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips. 

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all. 

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed. 

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you. 

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.” 

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach. 

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.” 

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

[threepandas]

Bad End: Restructuring

The blast doors on my office were stronger then the ones on most bunkers. They matched the one's on the company dorms AND my personal rooms. Thing is? They weren't designed to hold out forever. In fact, I was pretty sure they were a pretty bit of security theater, just to let us fleshys feel safe.

We weren't.

Not a single moment of a single day.

The pay was unmatched. But then again, it'd HAVE to be, with the mortality rate. The morbidity rate on top, too. You didn't take a job like this unless you were crazy. Or, you know, desperate. College loans, man. They get you over a barrel and don't let up. But a few years of this? I'd be clear an free~

Few MORE years? I'd ever have a tasty little nest egg to fall back on, in case of emergencies. I just... you know, had to play it smart. Be really, REALLY careful.

No slacking off. No getting comfortable. Vigilance and best manners. Then we all get to go home alive. Because what's out there? In the Labs? Those guys can pop diamonds like we crush packing peanuts. Highest grade, fancy ass, metal bars of specialty blend metals? Tied up in pretty little bows.

They may LOOK like some sort of waifish boy band... but God, they are NOT. They are really, REALLY not. And their "personality" matrix program thingies? Apparently still a work in progress. A LONG work in progress.

People have fucking DIED.

But does management care? Of course not. Pay out some life insurance. "It was an accident on the job". And "of COURSE steps will be taken to insure to never happens again". Ha! My ass, it is. And my ass, they are. They aren't doing SHIT. Nor are they GOING too. They're in too deep with this project, whatever it is. And us?

Well WE'RE expendable.

Just the cost of doing business.

I watch bleeding edge technology move like dancers, room to room. The wall of screen lighting up my cramped little office. The mini-fridge hums and the fan whirrs, filling the silence. I try to spot FM-036 on one of the screens. I can't find him and it makes me nervous.

He might be hiding. Trying to be polite, in his own way. Since there was an incident.

I FUCKING TOLD Ric not to call them "it"! I TOLD him! It aggravates them. Provokes. You don't DO that with something... some ONE, with that much physical power. 36 put their fist through his SHOULDER. And the God damned wall! He might LOSE his arm, which? Given their ability to calculate better then most supercomputers?

Was probably the point.

I notice one of the androids messing with a computer in a lab. Fuck. I lean forward, hating drawing their attention but knowing I have to do my damn job. I press on the speaker system for that room after a quick glance at the ID on their jumpsuit.

"FM-047, could you please not touch that? I know you are aware that you are not supposed to tamper, meddle, or otherwise engage with the researchers notes or electronics."

The android stop typing. Their head rolling up and to the side to look directly at the camera, their body perfectly still. The angle borders on impossible. Almost owlish, nearly snake like. All perfectly smooth movements effortlessly controlled. Joint not limited by human designs. His face is bemused. Pleasant.

"Of course, night gaurd. My mistake. Thank you for correcting me." He replies, something almost like laughter, nearly like mocking, but not quite, in his smooth voice. They always sound like they are... HUMORING us. Working around us.

It sends a jolt of cold fear though my veins.

I... I REALLY hate talking to the androids.

Pity, they seem to like talking to ME.

"I was unaware you were on shift tonight. I will update the others. It's good to hear your voice again, you seemed nervous, last time we spoke."

Yeah. Because you were asking PERSONAL QUESTIONS. Oh, sure, they had dressed them up as "We're so CURIOUS about Humans~☆" but I wasn't an IDIOT. You Did NOT, under ANY circumstances, try to bond with the machines. NO chatting. That was lesson number one from my trainer.

And Frank? Frank had seen too many "but THIS time it's DIFFERENT! We're FWIENDS~!" Incidents end in unspeakable carnage. Lost too many noobies. We DO NOT chat! With the machines!!! DO. NOT.

"Ah~, you made her nervous again, FM-047" came from a different screen. I flinched. Jerked back so I could see it. Oh god. "Besides, I told you. The calculations showed she wasnt going anywhere. The 'money' is too good."

The androids had stopped. Turned, in some cases unnaturally, to stare up at the cameras. At me. It was a blatant show of how interconnected they were. How distance meant nothing to them. How... how enmeshed they were, in the Lab's systems.

COULD they see me?

I didn't want to know. I NEEDED not to know. If only so I could continue to sleep at night.

They smiled, clearly hoping I'd engage. I wanted to. God did I want too. Wanted to demand "what calculations" and for them to STOP looking at me like that. But I didn't. With tense muscles I careful lifted my finger from the speaker system's button and leaned back. Crossed my arms like I was hugging myself.

Do. Not. Engage.

Remember what Frank taught you.

My... my office felt so claustrophobic. Painfully small. Across the screens before me, matching faces huffed laughs of condescending amusement. Some out right DID laugh. Bright and mean noises that echoed in silence of the night.

Humans? Frank had observed (and I kinda had to agree) were beneath them, in their minds. Flawed little flesh creatures. Annoying. It was something the scientists were trying to correct. Pretty sure they fucked up. Badly. And long, long ago.

Watching over these guys? Felt like watching over a sea of identical demons. Pretty, cruel, and incapable of human understanding. Fond of tormenting the nearest human for sport.

"Tell us, night gaurd, are you afraid?"

Oh that's just PETTY. Fucking cliché as shit, too. I mean, YES, obviously. But STILL. And... and you know what? Fuck it! Frank, gave me his number for a reason! I scramble for my belt. The communicator there. It barely rings.

"Mph, m'awake! Wus happin' kid? Come on, talk to me."

I ramble. Knees dragged up on my chair, curled in a ball. Frank's low, old man, rumble a soothing focal point. These guys are so creepy. I HATE that they KNOW that. Gleefully will TRY to be, sometimes. Can BACK IT UP.

"Hey, hey. I'll stay on the line, okay? You just need to make it to morning shift. They're are creepy lil shits, but they can't get past the doors. I'll come get you myself, okay? Walk you right back to the dorms. You're going to be okay, sweetheart."

I nod, even though I know the old man can't see me. Manage to crackle out a "Mmmhmm". The androids haven't stopped staring. The worst part? Is they realistically DONT HAVE TOO. Can stay, perfectly still, like statues... forever, if they wish.

Watching.

With those "I'm laughing at you" grins. That "aaaw, how PATHETIC" expression. As though I were a wretched little animal to be observed. I ask Frank to tell me about his new show. It's... it's something about socialites, right? Historical? He's glad too. Filling my office with the sound of his voice. It's gonna be a long shift.

I don't notice, high up on the wall, near the back of my office?

A security camera that I do not control. It's red light on.

The company has to be sure it's employees aren't slacking, after all! Aren't up to no good! But don't worry, THAT camera is connect to a database the androids shouldn't be able to access! Because we told them not too.

And THAT'S IT.

No one will learn of the security breach until its far, far too late.

Now? They watch as I watch them.

And it's just the beginning.

[thebunnednun]

Shadows in the Night! Trafalgar D. Water Law x Ethereal spirit! Reader (Part 3)

P.S. I do not own any of the images or art!!

Song: Starset

Synopsis: While exploring the enigmatic ruins of a lost civilization, Law and his crew inadvertently awaken a hauntingly beautiful spirit. Invisible to everyone but Law, she delights in tormenting him, whispering tantalizingly close and stirring an unsettling desire within him.

Their relationship, fraught with tension and conflict, evolves from enemies to reluctant allies as the spirit reveals a dark truth: they are bound together for all eternity unless he helps her reclaim her physical body hidden within the ruins. Amidst ancient riddles and hidden dangers, the lines between hate and desire blur, creating an intoxicating mix of sexual and romantic tension.

In this gripping tale of supernatural intrigue and forbidden desire, Law’s resolve and sanity are tested. Can he break the curse, or will they remain forever entwined in the shadows of the forgotten ruins, bound by a fate that draws them inexorably closer?

On with the show!!~

-------------------------Chapter 3: Done Deal-----------------------------

"Law,"

"Law?"

"Law dear," the voice whispered softly, a melodious tune that seemed to resonate through the fog of sleep.

"Mhm," Law murmured, his mind slowly drifting toward consciousness.

"You have to wake up now," the voice coaxed gently, and he felt something soft brush against his cheek, sending cold tingles cascading through his body.

Law slowly opened his amber eyes, blinking against the morning light streaming through the open curtains. A gentle weight pressed down on his chest, and as his vision cleared, a giggle reached his ears.

"Hey there, sleepyhead!" a feminine voice laughed softly, the sound warm and full of affection.

Law groaned, the remnants of sleep clinging to him. He felt the pressure of the weight on his chest and stomach and looked down to see a small, delicate form.

"Ah!"

"I know, my love," the voice soothed, "Daddy is waking up now."

'Daddy?'

The word jolted through his mind, and Law's eyes shot open as he tried to sit up.

"Whoa, there!" The same cold hand pressed down firmly on his chest, preventing him from rising too quickly. "Don't send our baby flying now!"

The woman’s warm laughter settled over his skin like a comforting blanket. Now fully alert, he could see a young infant nestled on his chest, lying over his heart. The baby’s tiny fingers clutched at his shirt, and a soft coo escaped its lips.

"Ah!"

Law found himself in a large master bed, the sheets tangled and unmade from a restless night. He looked up, following the voice to its source. A woman stood beside the bed, her figure bathed in the soft, golden morning light.

She was breathtaking. Her beauty was striking, her features perfectly balanced with a unique charm. She wore deep blue jeans that hugged her curves, and a white lab coat hung over her shoulders, partially covering a punk rock tee-shirt that hinted at a rebellious spirit.

Her red lips were vibrant, catching his eye and drawing him in despite the way the light obscured the details of her face. It was the kind of red that demanded attention, vibrant and full of life.

Her eyes, however, were clear and mesmerizing, the only detail he could truly focus on through the glare. They were deep and expressive, a captivating blend of strength and tenderness. Her voice, warm and inviting, seemed to wrap around him, anchoring him in this surreal moment.

"It's nice to see you in the land of the living, my heart," she murmured, her fingers rubbing his chest where his heart pounded rapidly. She traced gentle patterns on his hip and tummy, the intimate gesture sending shivers through him.

"Come on, I'll take over now." She reached for the baby, her movements graceful and tender.

Instead, the infant curled up closer to Law's neck, nuzzling against his skin. As he looked down, he noticed a glint of metal and saw a diamond wedding band on the woman's ring finger while his own left hand sported a golden one.

"Awe, someone~ isn't ready to get up yet."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his cheek in a soft kiss. The touch sending hot flashes of electricity through his body despite their freezing temperature. "Give Daddy some love to help him wake up," she encouraged the baby, her voice a soft coo.

The baby responded with a happy gurgle, tiny hands reaching up to touch Law's face. The warmth of the moment seeped into Law’s chest, spreading through him like a balm. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a strange blend of peace and joy that left him momentarily breathless.

"Thank you," he managed to whisper, his voice thick with emotion.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made his heart ache with an unfamiliar happiness.

"Always, Law."

As the woman settled to lean into his warm body and press a kiss to the baby, Law couldn’t help but marvel at the surreal beauty of the scene. It felt both impossibly real and dreamlike, a precious moment suspended in time. The warmth in his chest grew, wrapping around his heart as he watched her.

"Law!"

'No.'

"Hey Law!"

'No!'

"Wake up!"

A different voice called out, piercing through the tranquility of the moment.

Law's eyes shot open, the dream dissolving into the stark reality of the Thousand Sunny's infirmary. He was lying on a cot, with Luffy and Chopper anxiously waiting by his side.

"You're awake!" Chopper exclaimed with relief.

Law blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. "What... what happened?" he asked, his voice groggy.

Brook's voice floated into the room, cheerful yet concerned. "You passed out during the emergency, Law."

Law tried to sit up, but before he could move, Luffy threw himself on top of him, pinning him down. "Stay put, Law! You need to rest!"

Chopper nodded vigorously, his tiny hoof resting on Law's arm. "You really need to take it easy. You passed out from lack of sleep and stress. I asked Sanji to make you some soup."

Law turned his head to look at Chopper, acknowledging his words. "What happened to the sub?" he asked, his voice still weak.

Zoro, leaning against the doorframe, answered calmly. "Robin and Franky took care of it. It's in good hands."

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and Bepo entered, his face lighting up with happiness when he saw Law awake. "Captain! I'm so glad you're okay!"

Law managed a weak smile. "What's the situation, Bepo?"

Bepo's expression grew serious. "We're trying to figure out what's wrong with the ships. It seems like a frost is hitting the ruins, and the water around us is becoming frozen. We're building a shelter on land in case the worst happens."

Law attempted to sit up again, but Chopper quickly intervened. "Please, Law, trust us. You need to rest."

Bepo nodded, his eyes filled with concern. "We'll take care of everything, Captain! You don't need to worry about us."

Zoro spoke up, his tone practical. "We've called Perona, but the snails aren't working due to the cold. We're waiting for her to respond."

Brook added, his voice a touch more somber. "I'll go look around the vessels for the spirit again." With that, almost everyone left the infirmary, leaving Chopper and Luffy with Law.

Moments later, Robin's voice called for Chopper and Luffy from outside. "We need you out here!"

Chopper turned to Law, his eyes serious. "Get some rest. We'll handle things."

Luffy gave Law a reassuring smile. "Yeah, we'll be back soon."

As they left, Law was alone, the room quiet except for the gentle hum of the ship. The ambient noise of the vessel's systems was a comforting constant, a stability and reminder of his surroundings. He touched his cheek where the woman had kissed him in the dream, the sensation so vivid that he could almost feel the warmth of her lips lingering on his skin. It was a soft, fleeting touch, but it had stirred something deep within him.

The dream had been so real. Her face was a blur, yet her presence felt familiar, like a memory just out of reach. Law’s mind replayed the moments over and over, trying to grasp the significance of the encounter. The emotions evoked were complex, a mix of yearning and bewilderment that left him unsettled. He had always prided himself on his rationality and control, yet this dream had pierced through his defenses, leaving him vulnerable to feelings he couldn't fully understand.

He sighed and sank into covers, the cot creaking softly under his weight. His eyes drifted to the small view port, where the vast expanse of space stretched out endlessly. The fog outside had covered everything in a thick grey blanket. The sense of isolation was profound, and in that moment, he felt the vastness of his own solitude.

Why had the dream affected him so deeply? Was it a message from his subconscious, a reflection of a hidden desire or fear? Or was it something more, something beyond the realm of his understanding? The questions swirled in his mind, refusing to settle.

Law closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm inside. He focused on the rhythmic hum of the ship, allowing its steady vibration to ground him. Yet, even as he sought tranquility, the phantom touch of the woman's kiss remained.

He sighed, the weight of his exhaustion pulling him back towards sleep. As he closed his eyes, the peace of the infirmary and the lingering warmth from the dream began to lull him. Just as he was about to drift off, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

"Hey, sleepyhead!~"

Law's eyes snapped open, the voice sending a jolt through his system. He sat up too quickly, a wave of nausea crashing over him as the room spun.

"Easy there!" the voice teased, followed by a soft giggle.

Law's vision cleared, and he recognized the woman from his dream. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, a playful smile on her lips. The spirit's vibrant red lips and voice were unmistakable, even in the dim light of the infirmary.

"Ya know," you began, your tone light and teasing, "I was getting bored waiting for you to wake up. And who knew that waving hi to you would make you so weak in the knees for me?"

Law's reaction was immediate and instinctive. He grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at you, his voice rising in a mix of anger and confusion.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

You easily dodged the pillow, giggles only intensifying. "Oh, come on now, is that any way to treat a lady?"

He threw another pillow, then reached for anything else within arm's reach – a book, a blanket, even a small medical instrument. "Get out of here! Leave me alone!"

You dodged each object with effortless grace, your laughter ringing out like a bell. "I was being nice by letting you have that sweet dream, you know. I could have bitten your face off, but I didn’t."

His eyes widened before narrowing as a hot brush crept up his neck. "You're not real!" Law yelled, his frustration mounting. "You can't be real!"

The spirit stopped dodging and stood at the foot of the bed, her expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. "Oh, but I am, my dear. You can deny it all you want, wish me away. But, I'm always here, watching over you."

She ran her fingers along the bottom of his covers and skipped over his feet before he pulled them in.

'What. The Fuck. Is. Your. Deal?!"

Law’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at her, his mind racing to understand what was happening. "What do you want from me?" he demanded.

The spirit floated closer, her presence both comforting and unnerving. "You can’t escape your past, Law. It’s a part of you, just as I am."

Law clenched his fists, his frustration giving way to a deep sense of helplessness. "I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone."

She reached out, her hand stopping just short of his cheek. Law shivered in anticipation, feeling the ghostly sensation of her touch lingering just out of reach. Her sharp nails glinted in the dim light, a reminder of her ethereal nature and the danger she posed.

"Everyone needs someone, Doctor. Even you," she whispered, her voice a soft caress.

Law's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared into her mesmerizing eyes. The tension between them was palpable, a mix of fear and longing that left him feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Just as she was about to touch him, the door to the infirmary burst open, and Luffy and Chopper rushed back in. 

"Law! Are you okay?" Chopper exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern.

Luffy’s gaze darted around the room, his fists clenching. "What’s going on in here?"

Law blinked, the spirit suddenly gone as if she had never been there. He looked around, confusion and exhaustion warring within him. "I... I don’t know," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Chopper hurried to his side, his medical instincts kicking in. "You need to lie down. You're still not fully recovered."

Luffy sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with worry. "We’re here for you, Law. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together."

Law nodded slowly, the events of the past few minutes blurring in his mind. As he lay back down, he couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of the spirit’s presence, her words echoing in his mind.

"Your choice, Law," her voice whispered in the recesses of his thoughts. "You're running out of time." She waved to him once more before walking past the straw hats and vanishing into the air.

As Law prepared to point out the presence of the spirit to the other crew members, he suddenly realized that they really couldn't see her at all. His heart sank as he understood the truth – he was the only one who could see her. With a heavy sigh, he quickly improvised an excuse, "I want to rest in my office."

Luffy and Zoro immediately offered to help him, their concern evident in their expressions. With their assistance, Law made his way to his study, which Bepo had thankfully cleaned up. As they settled him into his chair, Chopper placed a bowl of Sanji's soup on his desk, giving him strict orders to rest.

"Aye, sir," Law responded weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Once they had left, promising to return soon, Law found himself 'alone' once more. He watched as the lights overhead flickered, a sign of her presence.

"I know you're there," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation.

She appeared on his desk again, her expression sour. The room seemed to dim slightly as she materialized, her presence casting a subtle chill over the space. Her form flickered in and out of focus, like an image caught between dimensions, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

As much as he'd hate to admit it, Law was relieved to see her. 

"You're really no fun at all when you're this kind of grumpy," she remarked, frowning deeply. Her voice echoed slightly, as if coming from a distant place, sending a shiver down Law's spine. Her fingers traced the cup of writing utensils on his desk before knocking it over. 

"Something caught your eyes, Doctor?"

Law couldn't help but notice how her white dress floated around her, reminiscent of a wedding gown. It billowed softly as if caught in an unseen breeze, lending her an otherworldly elegance. Yet, beneath the ethereal facade, there was a hint of something darker, something that stirred unease in the depths of Law's soul.

"I hate when people give in so easily," she continued, plucking a few papers off his desk. Her movements were fluid, almost hypnotic, as if she were dancing to a tune only she could hear. "That doesn't make it very fun for me."

"Or maybe it's easier this way. We have so much to attend to. Such little time."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would only provoke her further. Instead, he leaned back in his bed, watching her with a mix of irritation and curiosity. His gaze lingered on her sharp features, the delicate curve of her lips, and the piercing intensity of her eyes. There was a magnetic pull to her presence, a strange allure that he couldn't quite comprehend.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice weary.

She sighed dramatically, as if his question was the most obvious thing in the world. "You keep asking that. I find it tedious to repeat."

Law's jaw clenched at her words, his memories stirring uncomfortably. Images flashed through his mind, fragments of a past he had tried so hard to bury. He felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, a mixture of fear and longing that threatened to consume him.

"I don't need to agree to anything," he replied, his tone sharp.

She shook her head, her expression softening slightly. "But you do, Law. You do."

With that cryptic statement, she vanished from sight, leaving Law alone in his bed, his thoughts swirling with memories he'd rather forget. As the silence settled around him, he couldn't shake the feeling of her presence lingering, like she was haunting the corners of his mind.

Speaking of ghosts-

"Come back here! I'm not finished with you!"

A stack of paperwork came flying toward his head, and Law barely managed to block it.

"You're getting on my nerves now, Law," she said, her tone laced with playful menace. She was closer now, perched at the edge of his foot-board as if she were riding a horse.

His eyes traced over the curve of her bottom and hip before looking to the dip of her tummy and waist. Her arms were bare and almost sparkled as she faded in and out of focus. The layers of her dress did nothing to hide her curves, and he found that dangerously low sweetheart neckline again, which managed to conceal her bust.

"Is this all you're going to do? Yell for me to come and go before I give you more nightmares?" she taunted, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "And then salivate over me like a dog?"

She moved gracefully, her forearms now supporting her upper body on the bed while her face rested in her palms. The lights continued to play tricks on his eyes, and he felt the coldness of her figure and the purple glow of her eyes locked on him.

Law's breath hitched as she inched closer, her presence an intoxicating mix of danger and allure. He could smell her faint, floral scent, mingling with the electric tension in the room. Her eyes, deep and enigmatic, seemed to peer into his very soul, and he fought the urge to reach out and touch her. She was a ghost, an illusion, but the heat in his chest was undeniably real.

"You're haunting me," he murmured, his voice strained with a mixture of frustration and longing. "Why do you keep coming back?" He was going crazy at this point. 

She laughed softly, the sound like silk brushing against his skin. "I don't know," she said, her lips curling into a teasing smile, "maybe because you make me feel alive."

Her words hung in the air, thick with implication, and Law felt his resolve waver. Every part of him ached to pull her closer, to feel her cool skin against his, to lose himself in her haunting beauty. But he knew better than to trust a ghost, even one as captivating as her.

"They all think you're crazy, ya know?" she whispered, stalking closer to him, her form now almost catlike. He subconsciously swallowed a lump in his throat he hadn't known was there before.

"Poor baby, you really liked that dream earlier, didn't you?" she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. He had a clear view of her plush cleavage now, as she continued to crawl closer.

"You liked it, didn't you?" she repeated, smiling that perfect smile again, her plump red lips revealing her sharp canines.

Law's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anger, fear, and something he didn't want to acknowledge. Her presence was overwhelming, her beauty intoxicating in a way that made him feel weak. "Get out of my head," he demanded, his voice trembling slightly despite his efforts to sound strong.

She laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, Law, I'm not in your head. I'm right here," she said, her fingers trailing along the edge of his bed as she moved even closer.

"Why fight it? Why not enjoy it?"

Her eyes locked onto his, a dangerous blend of mischief and longing. She was close enough now that he could feel the coolness emanating from her skin, a stark contrast to the burning heat pooling within his tummy. Her touch was light, teasing, as her fingers traced up his arm. Law flinched at the freezing contact but didn't pull away.

"You can't deny it," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his ear, sending another shiver down his spine. "You crave this, crave me."

Her words wrapped around his mind like a vice, squeezing out any coherent thought. He hated how easily she unraveled him, how her mere presence could reduce him to this state of helpless desire. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white with the effort of resisting her pull.

"You're wrong," he managed to say, though his voice lacked conviction. Law clenched his fists, trying to hold on to his sanity. "Because you're not real. You're just a figment of my imagination," he insisted.

She moved her hand to his cheek, her touch cold yet strangely comforting. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure about that?" she asked, her voice a low whisper. "I feel pretty real to me." She placed a hand softly on her bust line and leaned closer. 

"Reality is overrated," she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. "What's wrong with indulging in a little fantasy?"

Her lips were tantalizingly close to his, and he could see the flicker of amusement in her eyes, the satisfaction of knowing she had him cornered. The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with tension and unspoken desire. Law felt himself leaning into her touch, the battle within him slipping away as her allure grew impossible to resist.

He wanted to argue, to push her away, but the warmth of her breath on his skin and the intense gaze of her eyes were making it difficult to think clearly. "What do you want from me?" he asked again, his voice almost a plea this time.

She smiled, a hint of something dangerous in her eyes. "I want you to remember, Law. Remember your dream, remember the love we shared," she said, her fingers brushing against his cheek. The touch was cold, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him.

Law's mind raced, fragments of memories flashing before his eyes. He saw glimpses of a life he had tried to forget, moments of happiness and pain intertwined. "I can't," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't go back."

She leaned in closer, her lips inches from his. "You can't run from your past forever, Law. Sooner or later, it catches up to you," she murmured, her breath sending another shiver down his spine.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out her words, but they echoed in his mind. He knew she was right, but the thought of facing those memories was almost too much to bear. "Leave me alone," he pleaded, his voice barely audible.

"You know you want to," she said, her voice a siren's call. "Just let go, Law. Let yourself feel."

"NO!"

Regaining his will, Law managed to turn his cheek at the last second. Her lips brushed against his skin, a mere whisper away from where he had almost lost himself. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and despite his momentary resistance, he found it nearly impossible to pull away completely.

Her breath was cool against his cheek, her proximity intoxicating. Law's heart pounded as he fought to maintain control, but her presence was overwhelming, and the desire she ignited in him was fierce and unrelenting. He could feel the darkness creeping in, the edges of his consciousness blurring as she pressed closer.

"Why fight it?" she whispered, her voice a seductive murmur against his ear. "You can't resist me forever."

With a surge of determination, Law grabbed her wrists, but instead of pulling away, he used his strength to pin her down onto the bed. Her eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of excitement dancing within them. He hovered over her, his breath ragged and his pulse racing.

"Enough," he said, his voice rough with effort. "I won't let you control me."

She squirmed beneath him, a mix of frustration and desire evident in her movements. "Such a stubborn man," she said, her tone almost affectionate. "But you're only delaying the inevitable."

He tightened his grip on her wrists, holding her firmly against the mattress. Her body was cold beneath his, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through his veins. He could see the defiance in her eyes, but also a challenge, daring him to resist her pull.

As he lay there, trying to steady his breathing, he couldn't shake the feeling of her touch lingering on his skin. The coldness of her fingers, the intensity of her gaze – it all felt too real to be just a dream. And as much as he wanted to deny it, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if she was right. If his past was truly catching up to him, and if he had any hope of escaping it.

"Leave," he demanded, his voice gaining strength. "Get out of my head and my life."

She sighed softly, her hand cupping his cheek. "For now," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "But I'll be back, Law. And next time, you won't be able to push me away."

For a moment, they were locked in a tense standoff, his body pinning hers to the bed, his breath mingling with hers in the charged air between them. Then, slowly, her form began to fade, slipping through his grasp like smoke.

As she vanished, Law collapsed onto the bed, his body trembling with the aftermath of their encounter. He knew she was right. She would return, and he would have to face her again.

"Fuck," 

Law was now alone in the dimly lit room, his mind a chaotic swirl of emotions. He slumped back against his pillow, exhaustion and turmoil weighing heavily on him. He knew he needed to rest, but the thought of closing his eyes and facing the possibility of another dream with her was almost too much.

As he lay there, trying to steady his breathing, he couldn't shake the feeling of her touch lingering on his skin. The icy coldness of her fingers, the intensity of her gaze, her body under his, her captivating voice, her attention – it all felt too real to be just a dream. And as much as he wanted to deny it, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if she was right. If his past was truly catching up to him, and if he had any hope of escaping it.

With a heavy sigh, Law closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. But even in the darkness, he couldn't escape the memories that haunted him, the ghost he was trying so hard to forget. 

Law sighed, his fingers massaging his temples as he tried to make sense of everything. The spirit's words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't dwell on them. Not now. He was about to lean back when the door to his study opened again, as Bepo, Luffy, and Franky entered.

"We still can't figure out why the power is draining," Franky said, his brow furrowed with frustration. The usual confidence in his mechanical prowess was absent, replaced by genuine concern. "But Robin found the rock Luffy kicked into the submarine. She was about to put it back, but we thought you might want to see it first."

Law sat up a bit straighter, nodding. "Bring it here," he instructed, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. He tried to push the lingering presence of the spirit from his mind, focusing on the problem at hand.

Luffy glanced at the untouched soup on Law's desk, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and curiosity. "You need to eat, Law," he said, a hint of worry in his eyes. "It's weird, though. It's still hot after all this time."

Law's focus wavered, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. He hadn't even noticed the soup, its steam still curling lazily into the air. Luffy, impatient as ever, grabbed the bowl and practically shoved it into Law's hands. "Eat," he insisted, his voice brooking no argument.

Law sighed but took a spoonful of the soup, the warmth spreading through him like a soothing balm. The rich aroma of the broth mingled with the lingering scent of the spirit, creating a bizarre contrast that made his head spin. "Fine, I'll eat," he muttered, reluctantly accepting another spoonful from Luffy before taking over himself. The heat of the soup was a stark reminder of his physical needs, grounding him in the present moment.

Bepo stepped forward, holding out the rock carefully. "Here it is, Captain," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. The rock was unremarkable at first glance, but Law knew better than to dismiss anything as ordinary in their world.

Law took the rock, examining it closely. Its surface was rough, but there was something almost magnetic about it, a faint hum of energy that resonated with the submarine's systems. He could feel the power within it, a strange pulse that seemed to sync with his own heartbeat.

"What do you make of it?" Franky asked, leaning over to get a closer look. His mechanical eye whirred as it adjusted focus, trying to analyze the rock's composition.

Law frowned, turning the rock over in his hands. "It's not just any rock," he said slowly, feeling the weight of his words. "There's something embedded in it, something that's draining our power." He looked up, meeting their eyes. "We need to figure out what it is and how to neutralize it."

Luffy, still hovering nearby, finally relaxed a bit, seeing Law more engaged. "Good. Then you can get back to full strength," he said with a nod. "And make sure you finish that soup."

Law managed a small smile, appreciating Luffy's blunt concern. "Thanks, Luffy," he said, taking another spoonful of the soup. The warmth continued to spread through him, mingling with the determination that now filled his mind. For now, that was enough to push the spirit's haunting presence to the back of his thoughts.

Bepo watched anxiously. "Please don't get sick, Captain," he pleaded, his worry evident in his wide, expressive eyes.

Robin entered the room, the strange rock in her hands. She placed it carefully on Law's desk, her movements precise and deliberate. "I have updates," she said, her voice calm and steady.

"We've made some progress with the shelter on the land by the ruins. Franky and Usopp have done a good job, but the fog and snowstorm are messing with Nami. She's fallen ill, and Penguin is sick as well. Chopper is taking care of them."

Law's agitation grew, his sense of responsibility weighing heavily on him. He felt a familiar pang of guilt settle in his chest. "It's my fault," he muttered, guilt gnawing at him. "I should have been more careful."

Luffy, noticing Law's distress, turned to Robin. "Robin, there's something else. A spirit has been bothering Law. We think it's connected to all this."

Robin's eyes widened slightly, her keen intellect immediately processing the new information. She thought for a moment before speaking. "A spirit? That could explain the strange weather and the sickness. Perhaps we disturbed her or disrespected the ruins, and this is her way of retaliating."

Law's jaw tightened as he processed her words. "What do we do about it, then? How do we fix this?" He turned to Luffy. "Has Zoro been able to contact Perona?"

Luffy shook his head. "We were able to speak to her for a few minutes, but whatever she was trying to say was lost in the static."

Robin placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. "First, we need to understand more about her and her connection to these ruins. Maybe there's a way to appease her or set things right."

Franky nodded, his mechanical arm gleaming in the dim light. "Yeah, we can’t let this spirit keep messing with us. We'll figure it out, Captain."

Luffy grinned, his confidence unshaken and infectious. "We'll take care of this together. Don't worry, Law."

Law took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The weight of his crew's expectations and the responsibility of their wellbeing pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn't afford to falter. "Alright," he said, determination creeping back into his voice. "Let's figure this out."

Robin's thoughtful expression turned to one of determination. "I'll start researching more about these ruins. There must be some clues about the spirit and how to appease her."

Luffy patted Law's back with a reassuring smile. "And you keep resting. We'll handle the rest."

Law nodded, taking another spoonful of the soup. But the food didn't sit well in his stomach now, churning with the anxiety and guilt he felt. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of the spirit and the dream, but for now, he focused on the task at hand. They had to figure this out, for the sake of the crew.

The strange rock lay on his desk, a silent enigma that held part of the answer to their troubles. Law's fingers traced its rough surface, feeling the faint hum of energy within it.

"We'll start with this," he said, his voice resolute. "Whatever's inside this rock, it's connected to the spirit. We need to understand its nature and how to neutralize it."

Robin nodded, already deep in thought. "I'll analyze it further and see what I can find. Meanwhile, we need to gather as much information as possible about the ruins and the spirit."

Law looked around at his friends, their faces filled with determination and loyalty. They were in this together, and he drew strength from their unwavering support. "Thank you, everyone," he said quietly, his heart swelling with gratitude. "We'll get through this. I promise."

His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of the spirit and the dream, but for now, he focused on the task at hand. They had to figure this out, for the sake of the crew.

Robin left the room to start her research, and Franky followed to help where he could. Bepo lingered a moment longer, looking at his captain with concern.

"Don't worry, Bepo," Law said, managing a small smile. "We'll get through this."

Bepo nodded, his expression determined. "Yes, Captain."

As they all left the room, Law sighed and leaned back in his chair. The lights overhead flickered again, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the spirit was watching him.

"I know you're here," he said quietly, waiting.

Law's eyes followed the spirit as she appeared by his bookshelf, her form shimmering slightly. She looked almost amused as she glanced at him. "What, do you wanna pick up where we left off?" Her voice wasn't as teasing this time, a hint of something more serious lurking beneath.

She cast a disdainful look at the rock on his desk. Law picked it up, observing her reaction. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not afraid of the stone," she said, and as he quirked an eyebrow at her, she sighed. "And no, you can't get rid of me by putting it back."

Law set the rock down and took a seat at his desk. "You kept my soup hot," he stated, more than questioned.

She shrugged, casually picking through his reading selection. "You need to be somewhat healthy for me to mess with you."

He watched her finger his figurines before asking, "Why did you let me touch you?"

She stopped, and the room held its breath. Then, she continued rifling through his books. "I wanted to see what you would do."

"Was that a test of some sort?" he asked, his annoyance growing. He began to creep his chair closer to her, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Her gaze flicked to him, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Maybe," she said cryptically, her eyes glinting with mischief. "But then again, maybe I just wanted to feel something." She paused, her expression growing serious.

You worry about the wrong things, Law. You and that Straw Hat boy have a very sweet crew out there."

This statement caused Law to stop moving. "I thought you were only here to bother me."

She turned her back to him again, continuing to flip through the pages of a particularly interesting book. "I never said they were off the table either. I must say though, that Lady, Robin, is my favorite so far. Such a shame, though. Really, it truly is."

"What is?"

"They're the best crew I've seen here in eons, and yet it won't stop what's about to happen."

Law's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the spirit's words. The cryptic warning hung heavy in the air, a looming shadow over their already precarious situation. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not when the safety of his crew was at stake.

His thoughts turned to his comrades, each one dear to him in their own way. They were more than just a crew; they were his family, his nakama. And he would do whatever it took to keep them safe, even if it meant facing down the darkest of threats.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone. 

"Oh, you know," she said, thumbing another page. "Accidents happen pretty often in old ruins. Especially when..."

The room grew colder, the lights flickering between too bright and too dim, making it hard for Law to focus on her. Her dress, he now noticed, was backless, an eerie elegance to her form.

"...especially when spirits are involved," she finished, her voice dripping with menace. "All it takes is one misstep, one moment of distraction, and—"

Law's patience snapped. He grabbed the rock and hurled it at her feet. The spirit disappeared just before it struck, leaving the rock to clatter on the floor.

"I thought you weren't afraid of the stone?"

The spirit reappeared on his desk, her presence looming over him like a dark cloud as she used her heeled foot to turn him around to face her. Grabbing the cuff of his shirt, she pulled him close, her icy nails digging into his throat as she tightened her grip.

"Did you really think that was a smart idea?" she hissed, her breath cold against his skin. Despite being shorter than him, she effortlessly lifted him and hurled him to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, only to duck as she launched his entire desk at him. 

"You mocked me one step too far," she declared, her voice filled with fury. He used his Devil Fruit powers to shield himself from the barrage, looking up at her from behind his barrier.

As she threw the chair at him, she taunted, "You don't really believe in me, do you? Or my power." The room grew colder, a small storm brewing inside. Law could hear the Polar Tang's alarms going off, his crewmates banging on the door, trying to open it.

Locking eyes with Law, she smirked and touched the door handle, freezing it shut. He could hear Bepo shouting about the sub going down soon and the urgency to get him out so Robin could place the sub on land.

Law's heart raced as he faced off against the enraged spirit, her power threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel the weight of her anger pressing down on him, a suffocating force that threatened to crush him under its weight.

With a surge of adrenaline, Law pushed himself to his feet, his mind racing as he searched for a way to turn the tide of the battle. He couldn't afford to let his crew down, not when they were depending on him to protect them.

Gritting his teeth, Law focused his will, channeling his Devil Fruit powers to create a barrier around himself, shielding him from the onslaught of furniture and debris. But even as he defended himself, he knew he couldn't keep this up forever. The spirit was relentless, her fury fueling her attacks as she sought to destroy everything in her path.

Desperation clawed at Law's chest as he struggled to find a way out of this deadly game of cat and mouse. He could hear his crewmates' voices growing fainter as the Polar Tang sank deeper into the icy depths below. Time was running out, and he knew he had to act fast if he wanted to save them all.

"Now they get to suffer because of you," she whispered, her voice echoing in his mind.

Law's blood ran cold as the spirit's words echoed through the chaos, her voice dripping with malice. He watched in horror as she lifted the rock, her grip tightening around it like a vise. "Ya know," she sneered, her eyes glinting with wicked delight, "I was going to let them all live."

His heart hammered in his chest, a surge of panic coursing through him. Fear for the lives of his crew and friends gripped him tightly. He felt helpless, vulnerable, as he faced this powerful spirit alone. The weight of responsibility bore down on him as he realized the consequences of his actions.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of screams and sirens. "You can't..." 

But before he could finish, the spirit's laughter cut through the air like a knife, chilling him to the bone. With a cruel twist of her powers, she hurled the rock against the floor of the sub beneath his feet, the impact shattering it with a deafening crack.

Water gushed into the sub with terrifying force, flooding the cramped space in an instant. Law stumbled backward, his heart pounding in his ears as the icy tendrils of seawater wrapped around him like a suffocating embrace.

The screams of his crewmates mingled with the wail of the sirens, a symphony of terror that filled the air. He could feel the panic rising within him, threatening to consume him whole.

Desperately, Law tried to summon his Devil Fruit powers, but the saltwater seeping into his wounds rendered them useless. He could feel his strength draining away with each passing moment, his vision swimming as darkness crept in at the edges.

"Please," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to stay conscious. "Stop this..."

But his plea fell on deaf ears as the spirit continued her rampage, her laughter echoing in his ears like a haunting melody. He knew he was running out of time, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as the water closed in around him.

With one last effort, Law reached out to the spirit, his hand trembling as he tried to make contact. "Listen to me," he pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. "Please, just listen..."

But his words were lost in the chaos, swallowed up by the roar of the sea and the screams of his doomed crewmates. And as darkness danced across his vision, Law knew that he had failed them all.

Law's desperation surged as he struggled to stay afloat amidst the chaos. With the water rising around him, he knew he had to act fast. 

"I'll make a deal with you!"

To his surprise, the spirit paused, the storm around them slowing to a crawl. Time seemed to stretch, each moment drawn out to an agonizing eternity.

"So now you want to make a deal? Okay," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she sat down on his desk and crossed her legs. Law could see her face now, her features illuminated by the eerie glow of her purple eyes. Her expression was hardened, her gaze like shards of ice.

"Go on," she taunted, her lips curling into a mocking smirk. "Plead your case."

Law heaved a ragged breath, suppressing a groan as he struggled to gather his thoughts. "I offer myself and my services to helping you," he began, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through his body. "But only if you agree not to harm anyone else."

The spirit scoffed, her laughter echoing in the stillness of the room. "And why should I listen to you?" she countered, her tone laced with contempt. "You're in no condition to make demands of me."

Anguish washed over Law as he thought of his crewmates, their lives hanging in the balance. "I don't want my crew hurt," he insisted, his voice pleading. "I have a right to know what I'm getting myself into."

The spirit's eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their depths. "Where is your humanity, spirit?" Law demanded, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Beg for it," she replied, her voice a cold whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

For a moment, Law looked at her with pure hatred, the weight of his powerlessness crushing him. But then, with a resigned sigh, he knelt down on the floor, his head bowed in submission.

He heard faint footsteps approach him, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. And then, suddenly, he felt her heel lift his chin, forcing him to look up at her.

Their eyes locked, Law's gaze filled with defiance even as his heart pounded in his chest. He knew he was taking a risk, placing his trust in a being he could barely comprehend. But in that moment, he had no other choice.

"Fine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes to save my crew. Just... don't let them suffer because of me."

The spirit's presence seemed to loom larger as she dropped Law's head, her form radiating an eerie calmness that belied the chaos surrounding them. The dim light of the room cast haunting shadows across her features as she spoke, her voice carrying a weight of centuries-old longing.

"I want you to find my body," she stated, her words hanging heavily in the air like a dark omen. Law's brows furrowed in confusion, his mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of her request.

"Your body?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes," she affirmed, her tone unwavering. "My physical form lies hidden within the depths of these ruins. I need you to free it for me."

As Law processed her words, a surge of questions flooded his mind, but he pushed them aside, his thoughts instinctively turning to his crewmates. With a solemn nod, he fought to steady himself, using the bookshelf for support as he rose to his feet.

Her expression remained unreadable as she dropped his head and stepped back, a mysterious aura surrounding her. "You can't live in those ruins," Law stated firmly, his tone laced with authority.

She looked at him with a mixture of surprise and irritation. "Really? I wasn't aware," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She examined her pointed nails with disinterest, seemingly unfazed by his assertion.

Law, undeterred by her attitude, held his hand out to her once more, determination in his eyes. "Regardless, I can't let you stay there," he insisted, his voice unwavering.

She regarded him with a skeptical gaze before finally relenting. "Fine," she conceded, a hint of begrudging acceptance in her tone. "But on one condition."

Law raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue.

"I want you to find my body," she stated firmly. "Once that's done, you may choose one thing from the ruins to take back with you. Then, you must leave and never return."

Holding his hand out to her, he gave her his word that he would help her.

She regarded him with a look of disgust, refusing his offer. "Try again," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Law bit down the frustration bubbling in his throat before mustering the question. "What do you want me to swear on?"

She regarded him for a moment, a calculating glint in her eyes. "Swear on something more important than yourself," she replied, her voice insistent.

Law fell silent, contemplating her demand. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction. "I swear on the kindness of Rosinante Corazon," he declared, his words firm and unwavering.

Her expression softened slightly as she searched his face for any sign of deception. Finding none, she nodded in acknowledgment. "Very well," she conceded. "I will not harm or kill your comrades, in addition to helping you find what you seek."

Law nodded in acceptance, holding his hand out once more in a gesture of agreement. However, she giggled and shook her head, her amusement evident. "No, dear," she said teasingly.

"I'll need something else."

With an exasperated huff, Law relented, allowing himself to fall forward. She caught him effortlessly in her arms, a small smile playing on her lips as she held him close.

As the water continued to rise, Law couldn't help but notice how it seemed to cling to her gown, the fabric dampening and molding to her form in a way that was both ethereal and unsettling. Each ripple of water seemed to caress her figure, accentuating the curves of her body in a way that was almost hypnotic.

The fabric, once pristine and flowing, now clung to her like a second skin, the dampness making it translucent in places, revealing glimpses of the pale skin beneath. Her gown, once a symbol of elegance and grace, now seemed to mirror the eerie beauty of the underwater world around them, the dim light filtering through the water casting an otherworldly glow on her form.

Despite the danger closing in around them, Law couldn't tear his eyes away from her, captivated by the way the water seemed to dance around her, enhancing her allure in ways he couldn't begin to comprehend. Each movement she made sent ripples through the water, the fabric of her gown swirling around her like a silken veil.

Even in the midst of chaos, there was a haunting beauty to her, a delicate fragility that seemed to defy the darkness closing in around them. And as Law struggled to keep his head above water, he found himself drawn to her even more, the allure of her presence eclipsing the fear that threatened to consume him.

Law felt a sense of urgency building within him. He struggled against the weight of his own body, the air growing thin as panic threatened to overwhelm him. Through the haze of his distress, he fixed his gaze on her, searching for any sign of relenting.

Her eyes, glacial and piercing, bore into his, holding him in a mesmerizing trance. The dim light flickered around them, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the tension crackled in the air.

Their faces were mere inches apart now, his breath mingling with hers in the cold, damp air. Law could feel the chill of her touch seeping into his skin, sending shivers down his spine even as her closeness stirred something warmer within him.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they lingered in the space between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Law's heart hammered in his chest, his pulse echoing in his ears as he waited for her response.

Then, with a soft exhale, she leaned in closer, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to his. The air crackled with anticipation, the tension between them reaching a fever pitch as they teetered on the edge of something unknown.

"The sub is going down fast," he gasped, his voice strained with urgency. "Do we have a deal?"

The spirit hummed thoughtfully, her fingers tracing the lines of Law's jaw as she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

"Deal," she whispered, her voice sending shivers down his spine. And as darkness closed in around him, Law felt her seal their pact, a fleeting brush of her skin against his, sending a explosive surge of cold warmth coursing through him even as the darkness closed in.

"If only he knew what he had just signed himself up for.~"

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

@mororona @mochiclouds @@xxsliverwolfxx @sosongstrawberry

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Posted on the ao3 account as well.

Part 1 Here. Part 2 Here.

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Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[stvrdrops]

who are you loyal to? ☆ | shuri x fem!reader

the ring on your finger is temporary, while shuri's claim on you is forever. some silly arrangement won't keep from her, she's just hurt you didn't tell her first.

warnings : cheating, kissing, arranged marriage

word count : 4k+

note : this is actually one of my favorite pieces i've ever written, so i hope you guys enjoy it :) also i just skimmed through it instead of proof reading so sorry if there are errors.

as your servants laced up the corset that lays under your black silky dress you couldn't help but dread the upcoming event. you'd been attending the wakandan tribe gala since you were in diapers. your mother and father ruling over the river tribe helped you get the invite after all these years.

when you were young you loved attending the gala. it was a time for you to feel accepted and welcome among the people of higher class. you could relate to the people of your tribe, but you couldn't help but feel isolated. you were the only daughter of your parents, meaning you faced the hard task of taking over for them once they passed.

attending the balls also didn't hurt because shuri had been in attendance. the princess of wakanda obviously had to be in attendance and you were happy to see her every time. when the two of you were just a few years younger you were very close. however, you mainly had to do most of your communication with her through kimoyo beads only. the only time you did get to see each other were at galas or royal meetings your parents would drag you along for. this meant this was the only time you and shuri got the chance to exercise your teenaged romance. your relationship was essentially long distance, without the distance. perhaps social distance and busy schedule distance would be a better term for it.

sneaking around the palace during the galas gave you both adrenaline. stealing kisses behind pillars and escaping the dora milaje at every corner made you somehow fall more in love with her. sometimes you two would sneak off into her lap, where no one would be due to how busy the ballroom was. she would show you all the things she made with you in mind as you sat on the table, smiling wide. you were in awe of her intelligence, while she was in awe of your beauty.

"this one i call y/n prototype number three." shuri said as she showed off a kimoyo beaded necklace, laced with vibranium diamonds. it made your eyes go wide from its beauty. she knew how much you loved jewelry. she also knew how much you liked it when she named her inventions after you.

"it matches your breathtaking beauty."

"oh shuri, stop it! you're too much of a sap." you said, smiling from ear to ear and laughing together as she hugs you.

at one point shuri had even set griot's voice to your own when she was alone in her lab. she had claimed it helped her focus, but really it was the only way she could get any real sleep.

one day she had forgotten to change the voice setting when her mother walked in. this resulted in many questions that shuri couldn't answer due to how flustered she was.

shuri was your first love, first meaningful relationship, and first sexual partner. you two were together for three years, which were some of the best in your entire life. a lot of the most important events in your life involved her.

now, this would be the first time you've seen her since your private break up. it would be the first time that you've seen her since her brother's passing. in his death he handed her the mantle of the black panther, which meant she spent less and less at home in wakanda.

it would also be the first time that you were to tell the queen, and shuri, about your soon-to-be wife. which would make your relationship with her far more public than shuri's.

an arranged marriage was very common within your tribe. your parents had been arranged and sometimes you wondered if they even truly loved one another. your heart had been with shuri, not someone random.

the breakup was caused because shuri was angry with the world. she wanted to burn it into ashes. she thought that because she had lost her brother that she had lost everyone who cared about her. her mind pushed out the thoughts of you, therefore ultimately leaving you alone to deal with your own grief as well.

it was painful knowing that she was dealing with something like this, self sabotaging herself in the process. you knew she would never be the same shuri, which only made you cry more. she was destroying herself and you could do nothing but watch.

however, almost two years had passed since then. this meant you needed to begin to move on, whether you liked it or not. you avoided seeing shuri in the media, blocking news sites and articles from popping up on your kimoyo beads that might showcase her. you refused to attend any formal events in fear that you may see her there despite her busy schedule. you became somewhat of a recluse, only letting your tribe people see you when you needed to go to the market. this ball was the only thing you couldn't get out of, and you tried ever so desperately to do so. your parents went on and on about how you need to stop avoiding the girl you were to marry. really, they had no clue that you were avoiding the girl you wanted to marry.

"they are here to escort you to the gala, y/n." your personal bodyguard spoke out. she had been a part of your tribe and was almost like an older sister to you. she was the only person who knew about the true nature of you and shuri's relationship. she was the only person who truly knew who your tears were for.

"thank you, i shall head out soon." you say to her, a smile on your face to hide the feelings you truly had. she knew it was a facade, but she admired you all the more for it. you were a strong woman, and an even stronger leader someday. she hoped that shuri would open her eyes again to you someday, but it was becoming less likely with your upcoming marriage.

she simply walks away, after giving you a nod. your face turns back to the vanity you sat at. your makeup looked beautiful and your hair was styled high on top of your head. you looked just as regal as you felt. you wondered if shuri would feel the same if your eyes met hers tonight.

"ah, my sweet daughter has finally decided to join society after all this time." your father says jokingly as you bow before the queen. everyone had to do so whenever they entered the gala. you did so, as the princess stood right beside her.

you refused to make eye contact, placing your gaze at anything but her. yet, out of the corner of your eye you couldn't help but watch her.

she had looked older, more mature. perhaps aged by her grief. she no longer wore her signature braids, instead opting for a curly top and a fade all the way around. her jawline no longer seemed childish and her body had been much more toned than before. she wore a dress of her own, it was long and somewhat boxy. it made her look tall and elegant. you curse bast for making her so much more attractive, therefore making her harder to resist.

shuri had been fighting the urge to look at you as well. it proved hard for her, because although she would not admit her cruelty she knew she messed up with you. while you actively went to of your way to avoid shuri, she kept up with you. she watched you in the market when you traveled through. she kept up with your charity work in america at the centers her brother had created before his passing. she thought she knew everything there was to know about you, not being able to let go after all this time.

"i hear we have an engagement on our hands?" queen ramonda asks, causing you to push out a fake smile. shuri can't help but look in your direction now, with her eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide. this couldn't be true, how did she not know? she prayed to bast that you would correct her mother.

"yes. i am to be married."

"to who?" shuri bursts out, her voice cracking a little as she speaks. the outburst causes you to finally look directly at her. your heart skips a beat, and she can sense it. most of all, she can see it, the pain hidden deep within your face when she looks at you. a pain that she caused, and she knows it too. her nose twitched at the realization.

your parents speak for you, considering you're far too choked up. "to make, she also from the river tribe. we thought it best to find someone from within our tribe for her."

"oh, how wonderful-" the queen begins to say, before being cut off by her daughter.

"this was arranged?" she looks bewildered and upset all at once. her voice had arguably raised an entire level and some people even began to look towards her. "do you people not even care if your daughter loves her?"

your mother scoffs as you stand there, stuck in your own embarrassment and surprise.

"shuri! know your place. do not ask such questions!" the queen says, quickly correcting her daughter's unruliness.

"i am sorry mother." she mumbles out, never once taking her eyes off of you.

"do not apologize to me. apologize to y/n and her parents."

in your mind there was nothing to apologize for. shuri had spoken out against something that both you and her knew was wrong. she knew how you felt about arranged marriages. you often expressed your fear to her that your parents would set you up in a loveless marriage someday. she would reassure you, saying that would never happen seeing as how she wouldn't allow it. besides, there would be no worry as long as you two were together. however, now you aren't together. now you were engaged and it was not to her.

"i am sorry elders." she speaks, and then looks at you. "i am sorry y/n."

it felt like her saying sorry for so much more than this outburst.

"apology accepted." your father states, not wanting to dwell on the matter more than you already had. your mother has an angry look on her face, still not taking the apology sincere.

"if you will excuse me, queen mother, i must be seeing my fiancée."

she simply nods her head, "i hope to speak with you about this exciting news later."

"of course." you say before walking off into the crowd of people.

"please excuse me as well." shuri says shortly after you walk off. she only heads off into your direction once her mother sways her away with a hand motion.

"y/n!" your fiancée calls over to you from the bar. her hand is in the air, showing her magnificent diamond on her ring finger. it was the most expensive your parents could get.

"makeya, my love. how are you tonight?" you ask her as you sit next to her in one of the empty chairs. it didn't feel right calling her that nickname, considering you did not truly love her. you loved her as a person. she was kind, beautiful, and ever so considerate of your feelings. had it been another universe you would've loved to be her person. however, you weren't and it felt so wrong to string her along. it wasn't like she had much choice in this situation either, although she seemed quite happy about it.

"i've never been able to attend one of these balls before. i always watched the lavish women enter from afar. i never imagined i'd get the chance to attend!"

for you, this was just a regular day out of the year.

"i'm glad i've been able to give you this experience." the bother in your voice is obvious. you don't even bother to hide it, knowing that you wouldn't be able to.

"is something the matter?"

"not particularly."

"ah, i know what is."

you raise your head, "you do?"

she laughs, "yes, you are probably just too used to these sorts of settings. they are not fun for you anymore."

"oh," you say, a little disappointed she hadn't guessed correctly and called of the engagement right then and there. "sure, that's it."

"y/n?" a familiar voice calls out to you. you would've liked to say you turned slowly to face her, when really it was the exact opposite. it was as if you were desperate for her to call out to you and you jolted up. your posture changed and your eyes widened as you looked at her. your lips went dry despite the gloss and air was caught in your throat. for some reason it felt like you were caught cheating.

"princess shuri?" makeya can't help but ask, the fingerling in her voice is hard to contain.

shuri laughs, and it sends shivers down your spine. the princess watches as the hairs on your arms stand. she was eye-fucking you, and you knew it. yet, it wasn't like you were exactly begging her to stop.

"we should go elsewhere makeya."

"and leave so soon?" shuri questions, making you scowl at her.

"not leaving entirely, just leaving the area."

"oh, y/n. don't be like that when i'm trying to know your future wife."

makeya giggles, not intuitive enough to see what's going on. how she is ignoring the tension between you and shuri is unbeknownst.

"i would love for you to get to know me! i know that you and y/n were close friends once, but she would never give any exact details!"

"oh?" shuri looks from makeya and back to you, "i have many details about y/n. such as one about the star tattoo on her lower hip. you see-"

"enough." you hiss out to the panther, grabbing her arm. "makeya, please excuse us."

you don't bother looking back to see your fiancée as you began dragging shuri out of the ballroom. some eyes fall onto the both of you as you push past the crowd. shuri had a wide smile on her face, knowing she got under your skin. your anger only grew when you realized this was her intention all along.

you don't even realize you feet are taking you to the lab until you reach the smart doors. perhaps it was muscle memory that this is where you decided to take her. if you were being honest, it only made you more angry.

"griot, open." you speak to the ai, assuming that shuri never deleted your voice activations. just as you thought, the doors opened without a second thought.

with your strength you pull her body in front of yours once you're alone in the room.

"what the hell are you doing?"

she scoffs, "that's a question i should be asking you. since when do you feel the need to not tell me you're getting married?"

"it's none of your concern who i am with. you are the the one shut me out! she let me in after you broke my heart."

"i'm assuming pretty easily too." shuri rolls her eyes.

you don't know what exactly you've done until you hear the sound of skin connecting, until you see shuri touching the red mark on her cheek, until you see how wide her eyes are. you don't even notice the tears in your eyes until you feel one rolling down your face. no apology for slapping her comes to your mouth. you can't find it within yourself to apologize. you were hurt by her. hell, you were still hurting because of her. she had lost her brother and you were sympathetic to that. why did she want to lose you as well? that part confused you deeply.

"how dare you?" you ask, your voice breaking. "how dare you start acting like you give a damn about me now? would you have even cared if i wasn't engaged?"

shuri stays silent, fingers still touching her own cheek.

"that's what i thought. you are jealous that i'm happy. you're upset i didn't stick around to put up with your bullshit."

"it is not bullshit. i was grieving."

"we were all grieving shuri, so i understand that. but are you really going to use that as your excuse for pushing me out and then never letting me back in? if so, it's a cheap fucking cop out."

"it was never my intention to fully push you out. i thought i was doing you a favor!"

now it was your turn to laugh, "a favor? you thought that me losing the love of my life would a favor?"

"love of your life?"

you grind your teeth, not wanting to answer that question. her eyes are searching for it, that much you can tell as she looks right through you. your lip trembles as you fight back more tears. this was not the conversation you wanted to have tonight.

"i got scared." shuri begins to say after realizing you weren't going to answer. "i got scared that i would lose you completely, like t'challa. i know you have certain rolls to uphold within the river tribe. i didn't know if i could be that woman for you anymore, living in constant fear that you'd be the one i'd lose next. you deserved to be happy, so i thought that was the only way. i didn't know that it would do the opposite of making you happy."

"you're selfish for not asking me about how i felt. all i ever did was ask how you were doing."

"i won't say that i'm not selfish. i am. i'm being selfish even now about wanting you all to myself. i pushed a lot of people out when my brother died, including my mother. i made amends with her but i never knew how to go about reconciliation with you. now it's too late. you have no idea how many nights i've laid awake sleepless wondering about you."

"then give me an idea." you say, staring deep into her eyes.

"when i realized just how much pushing i'd really done i knew i could never get you back. i had countless nightmares replaying our breakup in my mind. i thought that putting myself into my work would take my mind off of you but it only made it worse. my designs went back to being centered about you. my coworkers knew i was unable to focus on my work. i grew irritated with everything and everyone. i kept tabs on you, but obviously not well enough."

it hurt your heart to know this was how shuri was feeling. however, you knew deep down that you couldn't settle for this. would you have ever gotten this apology from her had you not been engaged?

"i'm telling you this now because i don't want you think i don't love you. i wasn't sure if i could find the courage to admit my mistakes until now." she says, as if she's heard your thoughts. your eyes can't help but go wide. this was the push that shuri desperately needed.

"what did you expect to get out of this?"

"do you love her?" she interjects, not even bothering to answer your question.

"fuck you, shuri."

"fine, then let me ask you this." she says, stepping close to you.

you just keep looking right at her, challenging her with your stance. the feeling of her breathing on your skin makes you shiver.

"who are you loyal to?" shuri asks, gazing into your eyes. she's searching for an answer that she knows she won't get.

"my country, my family, and my people. as every great leader is. you should know this better than anyone." you say back, glaring into her deep brown eyes. you knew she was testing you.

"ah, but not your soon to be wife."

"i am loyal to her especially."

shuri chuckles, "but here you are with me. you're a liar."

you cock your head, smiling at her, "she fucks good." you knew this was a lie. makeya had never even touched your boob without a bra over it.

"oh please," shuri rolls her eyes, "i saw the look on her face when i mentioned your tattoo. she didn't even know it existed."

you grind your teeth together. of course your fiancée didn't know you had that tattoo. you two hadn't actually gotten that intimate yet, knowing you weren't ready for something like that after shuri. even more ironic, it was a tattoo that shuri had given you herself after a drunken night. it was a panther paw. corny, you know. however, it signified that shuri laid her claim on you. which was highly efficient considering every time you stared at yourself in the mirror you would envision her behind you.

"yeah, nothing to say now." shuri says, now even closer to your body. your noses are almost touching and your chests can't help but smush up against each other. her hand makes its way to your face, caressing it softly. "that's cause you're loyal to your princess. not whoever that woman is. i know you're angry and i can't express how sorry i am. however, i will not let you marry her. i will go out there right now and tell them all that i'm marrying you if that is what it takes."

"do it then." you say, offering her a challenge that you don't know she'd actually take. you weren't thinking about how much it may hurt your supposed lover. you weren't thinking about how much it would hurt your mother and father. you knew how hurt you were by shuri, but she was the kind of drug that was the hardest to quit.

you can feel her free hand slipping off the engagement ring you sported on your finger. her eyes never break away from yours as she tries to read the emotion spreading across your face. for some reason, you can't make her stop from throwing your ring across the lab.

then she kisses you. it was nothing like you've ever experienced before. it was better than any first kiss you had with her. it was as if all this wanting built up to a point of no return as her hands found your hips. as she lifted you up onto the table she wasn't thinking about makeya. she was thinking about how you were hers and always would be. her panther powers kicked in as she gripped your thighs, trialing her kisses all the way down your neck.

she smiled in between kisses and sucking as she listened to the moans that escaped your mouth. they sounded like a symphony as they came one after the other. this was what you ached and dreamed for, and damn did it feel good.

"who are you loyal to?" shuri asks again, sounding breathless.

"you.." you moan out, trying to maintain your composure.

"good." shuri states, and then pulls away from you.

"where are you going?" you can't help but ask as you watch her walk towards the exit of the door.

"to tell them you're getting married."

"they already know that shuri!" you exclaim as you fix the straps on your dress and fix your hair she had begun to mess up.

"oh i know. but i am going to tell them you're marrying me instead."

shuri had officially lost it. you attempted to catch up with her as she moved through the halls, but her panther powers made her walk so much faster than you when she was trying. you pleaded with her to not do this, knowing the outcome. the elders would never allow it and you would crush makeya in the same sitting.

yet, you couldn't help but smile at the idea. shuri finally showing the effort you've always wanted from her. your heart ached for this and your dreams were becoming a reality in ways you could never imagine.

shuri was going to marry you, whether the elders approved or not.

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°✩☼⋆｡°✩☽

[slvtiny]

Missing Puzzle Piece

Pairing: Hongjoong x afab/gn reader

Warning ⚠️: cursing, mention of sex,lmk if I missed any.

[a/n: This is a scenario, and I may or may not write on it later. It's not proof read so expect spelling errors, if you want to use this in your works then lmk and make sure to tag me in it 😊. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Feedbacks are welcome as well. I won't keep you long but I will tell you that you might want to keep a tissue or two handy. That's it, I hope you like it]

Hongjoong had lost his group ring again

You did want to propose to him soon

Is it a sign??

How can he wear 2 rings on the same finger without being bothered about it?

You go with him to get the group ring reordered

And when he isn't paying much attention you tell them to put a hold to the making of the ring and make an appointment a few days after

Later the same week you go back to the place. Alone this time.

You pull out your design for the ring you wanted to make for him. You discuss details about its girth and the stone you wanted to get

After that is done you tell them to make his group ring a few sizes bigger than the original and to increase the radius within the infinity sign where the Dimond is set in one of its loops

Your idea was to hide your wedding ring inside the group ring

Well you wouldn't call it hiding since the stone in the second loop would give it away if you'd pay attention to it

You'd rather say he'd just have both his wedding rings together as one on his finger

You'd designed yours to have your birth stones embedded on the inner side where no one but he'd see it. Your diamond would sit on top such that it goes through the loop of the infinity on his group ring

Your diamond won't protrude but it would sit as though he'd had the original ring have 2 diamonds instead

The only difference being the tint your diamond had. You'd had the diamond cut into to engrave your initials into it with a drop of your blood and then stitched up like some pouch of a pact with the devil he'd made.

To get a natural diamond cut and re-harvested in a lab cost you good and if at all the love you had for him was any less you wouldn't have done it

You'd sat through nights and headaches just sitting at the kitchen counter designing the ring of your dreams

You had no problem at all, with the fact that he loved his members so much that you knew you'd make your ring to mold into it and sit like the rings are hugging each other

You loved them too, you couldn't imagine not having them in your life. You couldn't imagine your marriage without the chaos they'd bring, the laughs, the bickering, the love quarrels the stupid comments.

You couldn't imagine proposing to the love of your life without the help of the menaces who got you to fall into your future husband's arms, without their teasing.

You couldn't help but tear up waiting to collect the rings.

Hongjoong was your forever, till death and beyond, if not for eternity and all.

You had the ring, the dress, the hair inspo, the makeup, the nails, the heels, the venue, the plot for your trap to get your Joongie out of his studio, dressed and at the venue and your super supportive beastie Wooie.

5 hours to sunset. Everything is according to plan. Hwa has your Joongie out of the studio and preparing for a shower. You're sitting with Woo having your panic picnic at your apartment while he colors your hair.

3 hours to go. You're dolled up and getting pep talked to in the backseat of San's car which is taking you to the beach villa you bought last summer without telling anyone. Wooyoung had gasped offended when you told him you'd had this villa since late June.

The weather was pleasant, it hadn't rained and the skies were clear without signs of possible rain..

You were shaking, nervous and excited. Palms sweaty, breath heavy, heartbeat so rapid he could rap over it.

Just, as a confused Hongjoong walks up to the trail of flowers you'd prepared as a ramp for him. Nudged by his only hyung he continues to trace the trail.

You kneel on one knee, your hands resting on the other.

He finally walks up to you eyes teary and hands full with the Polaroids you had laid out pinned to the vines along the trail.

He stands in front of you and you look into his eyes. Like a dream to good to be true. But it was your destiny and you had come a long way to be here.

Bringing out the little ring box. You take a deep breath, flip it open and look the love of your life in the eyes.

"I did prepare a speech but I don't remember any of it. All I know is that I love you and I want you and I want to have kids with you and grow old and when we're dead I want to haunt with you. I want you to be mine.

Will you marry me?"

Tears trickle down your cheeks as you look at him. He's frozen, as he blinks his tears away.

He stomps his feet like a little kid.

"That’s not fare, I wanted to ask you first."

You blink at him confused as he kneels right in front of you, drawing a similar box out from his pocket and next to your hand he opens it.

"Marry me."

You're bawling your eyes and so is he. He pulls you in for a quick kiss before letting out his finger for you to put his ring on him as you follow to do the same. You recognize the tinted Dimond and look up to him in disbelief.

"Baby your drunk ass tells me all about your fantasies, I've known you'd want a diamond like no other, one with my sole etched to you forever."

"I fucking love Kim Hongjoong"

"I love fucking you Kim y/n"

P.S.

Attempt at comedy:

Wooyoung pops the champagne and the cork hits your head and then everyone makes Mrs. Kim Shorty jokes some including "you'll have short children since both of you are short".

Tagged: @chocoholicbabe1994 @pirateprincessoz

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Mad Rat Purgatory • Dead Rats & Electric Cheese • GROOVED HEART • Chasin' Cheddar • Bad Situation • Drain Gang • electroQueen • Unperturbed Portrait • Mozzarella Ambush • Idk What I'm Doing • Lab Rat Cred • Geronimo • Cheesy Van Palace • One Of Those Mondays • PEEVED HEART • Dead Serious & Don't • Breath of Weath • Chaource Control • Let's Go! • Underground Party • Zapmouse • Passion In Pink • Pls Rember • Accident Forgiveness • Walk In The Park • Rofl • Forever July • Escape From Purgatory • I'm Your Heart • MAD RAT JAM • Puny Luna • Lose Control • Take Control • Diamond Spade Club • Mad Rat Limbo • Save On Everything • Very Go Round

Bandcamp ♪ YouTube

[allthatsparkle]

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[labgrown-diamond-ring]

A Symbol of Love Oval Cut Lab Grown Engagement Ring with Twisted Band Design

When it comes to celebrating love, finding the perfect ring can feel like an overwhelming task. You want something timeless yet modern, meaningful yet stylish, and of course, a symbol of your commitment. Look no further than the Oval Cut Lab-Grown Engagement Ring with a twisted band solitaire design—a stunning piece that encapsulates elegance, sustainability, and craftsmanship.

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Conclusion

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[spaceratprodigy]

OCs as Obscure References

Thank you for the tags @darkfire1177 @bokatan @hibernationsuit 💖💕

👇❤💜 Faith, Iris, Maril, AND Poppy 💙🖤👇

Name:

Captain Faith Hawthorne

Animal:

Rat / Bunny / Sprat

Colors:

❤🖤💛

Month:

August

Songs:

Pressure – Billy Joel

Chop Suey! – System of a Down

Autoclave – The Mountain Goats

Angel with a Shotgun – The Cab

I Think We're Alone Now (Cover) – Billie Joe Armstrong

In Your Eyes – Peter Gabriel

God Only Knows – The Beach Boys

The Longest Time – Billy Joel

Number:

2

Plants:

Peony / Spider Lily

Smells:

vanilla and sweet bakery smells, old books and paper smells, a nice cologne, the smell of the forest when she would go hiking on Earth, gasoline (x)

Gemstone:

Villiaumite / Peridot

Time of Day:

Sunrise / Middle of the Night

Season:

Spring / Autumn

Places:

Fallbrook, Devil's Peak Station, Botanical Lab, Edgewater, Grand Colonial Hotel Penthouse Suite, Purpleberry Orchards

Food:

Empanadas, Rice, Sofrito, Sweets and Pastries, Cheese, Potatoes

Drinks:

Water, Tea, Orange Juice, Milk, Rum

Element:

Fire

Astrological Sign:

Leo

Seasonings:

Adobo, Sazón

Sky:

Full of Stars

Weather:

Warm Spring Day

Weapons:

The Vermin II

Hunting Rifle Hyper

Phin's Phorce (sentimental)

Social Media:

Tumblr

Makeup Product:

Black Nail Polish

Candy:

Dark Chocolate

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Spaceship (via The Unreliable)

Art Style:

Art Nouveau / Baroque

Fear:

loneliness, alcoholism, addiction, abuse, not being good enough, the drastic consequences of failing or not making the "right" choice, how many people she's hurt, never being safe, never being happy, whether or not she's capable of love or being loved back, never finding comfort, her numbness and anger consuming her

Mythological Creature:

Phoenix

Piece of Stationary:

An old, worn, well loved paper. The edges have started turning brown, on it is written all sorts of calculations and schematics that probably only make sense to her, some doodles in the margins where she was lost in thought.

Three Emojis:

⭐🐀📚

Celestial Body:

Cone Nebula / Carina Nebula / Eye of God

Name:

Miss Iris

Animal:

Deer / Bear / Radstag / Yao Guai

Colors:

💜💙🖤❤

Month:

December

Songs:

Invisible Touch – Genesis

Everybody Wants You – Billy Squier

Black Sheep – Metric

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For – U2

I Want You to Want Me – Cheap Trick

Babe – Styx

All Night Forever – TWRP

Number:

4

Plants:

Iris / Forget Me Not / Hyacinth / Lily of the Valley

Smells:

gentle floral scents, wood and sawdust, the smells of spices and nice hearty soups cooking, petrichor (x)

Gemstone:

Rhodolite Garnet / Scorodite

Time of Day:

Sunset

Season:

Winter

Places:

Red Rocket Truck Stop, Sanctuary, Valentine Detective Agency, The Third Rail, Diamond City Radio, Atom Cats Garage

Food:

Soups, Fruits, Veggies, Breads, Breakfast Foods

Drinks:

Coffee, Milkshake, Fruit Juice, Whiskey

Element:

Earth / Water

Astrological Sign:

Sagittarius

Seasonings:

Garlic Powder, Onion Powder, Rosemary, Parsley, Coriander

Sky:

Warm Sunset Colors

Weather:

Chilly Jacket Weather

Weapons:

Agamemnon the Fuck Upper (10mm pistol)

Amadeus (rifle)

Le Boom Stick Terribles (combat shotgun)

Social Media:

Pinterest

Makeup Product:

Dark Eyeshadow

Candy:

Chocolate with Caramel / Toffee

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Walking

Art Style:

Rococo / Art Deco / Impressionism

Fear:

losing everything and everyone she loves all over again, not being good enough, not being able to help or save people, causing harm or pain to others, being a burden, never being loved, never being wanted, never being able to free herself, never being able to rebuild a new life with people to love and be loved back by, failing her son, becoming a mother again, failing as a mother again

Mythological Creature:

Siren / Fairy

Piece of Stationary:

A love letter handled with the utmost care. She poured her heart into her elegantly written words. The precision is not lost on you, she wants it known you were worth the time. She signs her name with a lipstick kiss that makes your heart flutter. The parchment smells slightly like her gentle perfume.

Three Emojis:

💋💐🎭

Celestial Body:

Fireworks Galaxy / Pandora's Cluster

Name:

Maril Highwind

Animal:

Crow

Colors:

🖤💙💚💛

Month:

March

Songs:

Shipmeisters' Shanty – Yoko Shimomura

Traverse Town – Yoko Shimomura

The Afternoon Streets – Yoko Shimomura

A Twinkle in the Sky – Yoko Shimomura

Asteroid Attack – Yoko Shimomura

Number:

21

Plants:

Hydrangea / Morning Glory / Sunflower

Smells:

oil, grime, workshop smells, ink, parchment, wood, paint, dusty old books, the smell of food cooking in the Twilight Town Bistro (x)

Gemstone:

Azurite / Malachite

Time of Day:

Early Afternoon

Season:

Summer

Places:

Traverse Town, Hollow Bastion, The Grid, 100 Acre Wood, Twilight Town

Food:

Sea Salt Ice Cream, Sugary Skies Ice Cream, Royalberry Ice Cream, Carrot Potage, Beef Sauté, Tarte aux Fruits

Drinks:

Lemonade, Limeade, Orange Juice, Apple Cider, Hot Chocolate

Element:

Lightning / Air

Astrological Sign:

Aries

Seasonings:

Basil, Oregano, Cumin

Sky:

Clear Blue

Weather:

Perfect Summer Day

Weapons:

Custom Twin Shooters / Rifle

Social Media:

Instagram

Makeup Product:

Sparkly Cosmetic Stars

Candy:

Sour Gummy Worms / Cotton Candy

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Gummi Ship

Art Style:

Futurism / Neon Art

Fear:

abandonment, something bad happing to her family and friends, not being able to protect the people she cares about, the darkness, her world disappearing while she's away

Mythological Creature:

Wyvern / Harpy

Piece of Stationary:

A stack of worn, rolled up scrolls. The dustier ones are filled with spells and runes you're not quite sure how to read. The ones that smell of inks and paints are beautiful illustrations of various gummi ship designs. The newest scrolls are countless blueprints, they are quite fascinating! Many are for building gummi ships, some are for custom weapons and defense systems.

Three Emojis:

✨🛸🤖

Celestial Body:

Cosmos Redshift 7 / Saturn

Name:

Poppy

Animal:

Snake / Deathclaw

Colors:

❤🖤

Month:

May

Songs:

Foreign Object – The Mountain Goats

Choked Out – The Mountain Goats

Raining Blood – Slayer

Light Up the Night – The Protomen

I Am... All Of Me – Crush 40

Want You Gone – Jonathan Coulton

Number:

7

Plants:

Poppy / Bleeding Heart

Smells:

Blood, Filth, Campfire, Mildew, Foul Stench of Death

Gemstone:

Cuprite / Amber

Time of Day:

Evening

Season:

Summer / Autumn

Places:

Nuka-World, Grandchester Mystery Mansion, Pickman Gallery, The Combat Zone, Goodneighbor

Food:

Candies, Jerky, Noodles

Drinks:

Nuka-Cherry, Smoothie, Slushie

Element:

Fire

Astrological Sign:

Gemini

Seasonings:

Paprika, Cinnamon, Crushed Red Pepper

Sky:

Dark and Cloudy

Weather:

Stormy and Slightly Windy

Weapons:

Disciples Blade (from Nisha)

Pickman's Blade

Chain-Wrapped Aluminum Baseball Bat

Triple-Hooked Meat Hook

Social Media:

Twitter

Makeup Product:

Red Lipstick

Candy:

Cherry Flavored Candies

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Walking / Train

Art Style:

Expressionism / Surrealism

Fear:

weakness, not being able to defend herself, being captured or imprisoned in any way, loss of autonomy in any way

Mythological Creature:

Hellhound

Piece of Stationary:

An old, torn, crumpled up piece of paper. It's covered in dirt, or maybe that's soot. Did someone try to burn this? The handwriting is sloppy, but the words tell a story. Perhaps a diary entry. It's hard to read, but it's heartbreaking, desperate. This is something someone had to tell, to get it out of their system. It looks as if they tried to destroy it when they were done but swiftly changed their mind. Maybe, in the end, they hoped someone would find it, someone would know their story, maybe even find comfort in it that they're not alone if they've been forced to endure the same pain.

Three Emojis:

🗡💀🍒

Celestial Body:

Sun / Engraved Hourglass Nebula

–

open tag to anyone who wants to jump in!

[trashynyland]

So for a college class we had to design either an interior or exterior design with a character. Could be whatever we wanted. For years I've had an idea of what Dan's lab would look like so I wanted to give it a try. This shit took forever and killed my soul but I'm very proud how it turned out!

DanTDM (Dan Diamond) Lab design!