#jewelry engraving services

[simonsjewelers]

Jewelry Engraving Services In Missouri

Jewelry engraving services in Missouri provide a personalized touch to your treasured pieces, allowing you to add meaningful inscriptions, names, dates, or special messages. Whether it's for wedding rings, watches, pendants, or other jewelry, these services enhance the sentimental value of your items, making them truly unique. Skilled engravers in Missouri use advanced techniques to ensure precise and elegant results, whether you prefer classic scripts or modern designs. Perfect for commemorating special occasions or creating custom gifts, jewelry engraving adds a lasting impression to your cherished pieces.

[hudsonpoolejewelers]

Several times, due to a bit of chipping or chafing, we keep away our jewelry. However, stores offer to handle these damages and many others very efficiently with the help of high technology and products. In this article, we will examine the varied range of services that almost all major stores provide to restore the original brilliance of the product.

[huiyitan]

Learn Hand Engraving without Learning Graver Making

[diamondjewelry23]

Jewelry items have a significant meaning for which individuals wear. Individuals adorn these ornaments to look their best during important events; a few pieces of family heirlooms contain memories. However, for these ornaments to get damaged over time is something other than what individuals prefer. The Jewelry Repair Services help retain the charm and value of these jewelry items.

[hudson-poole-fine-jewelers]

Take an unsurpassable trip to high-quality art without any delay because you can always order high-quality pieces from exclusive jewelers for the finest Jewelry Repair Services. Work with some of the best jewelers in this blog to understand the importance of settling for first-rate jewelers for diverse services, including jewelry maintenance, ring engraving, ring cleaning, and diamond ring resizing.

[finejewelryandblog]

What is the Practicality of Jewelry Repairing Online?

With the best Jewelry Repair Services, you can now maintain and extend the longevity of your priceless ornaments. They deploy the latest methodologies to clean and repair your jewelry. One of the key highlights of these services is that they offer you great flexibility. Maintain the shine of your favorite ornaments by opting for repair services.

[customjewelryblog]

Things to Know Before Selecting a Jewelry Repair Store

Looking for the best jewelry repair store? We realize it may not be easy to choose when there are so many factors to consider, so in this blog, we have listed a few points for you to consider before selecting a jewelry repair company that can provide you with its finest services. So, without further ado, let's hit the blog.

[lunaekalenda]

jjk men's hands!

satoru gojo

satoru's hands are bony and pale. his fingers are extremely long and slim, and his skin is always soft and warm. every week, you sit with him at your living room table and take care of his hands, as he does with you: apply creams, prepare his cuticles and cut his nails. then, he paints yours, letting you chose the color or surprising you with something he saw on pinterest. he takes your hands on his, concentrated in painting all your nail, leaving no blank space behind. When he’s done, he slides your rings - specially, your dating one - back on your fingers and kisses your palm.

he always uses rings, apart from the one you got for him when you moved together, that has both your names engraved inside. you’ve gifted him some for his birthday, and he always puts them on. he insists that keeping the rings you got for him on ihs fingers makes him feel you closer even if he's away. his index and ring finger are always occupied

his touch is subtle and tender, and his hands are always on you: cagging yours, resting on your lower back, above your shoulders or inside your pyjamas at night. he caresses with his whole palm, rubbing it slowly above your body.

suguru geto

suguru's hands are big, and they puzzle so amazingly with yours, as if they were made to hold you. usually, he wears no more rings than the one you got when you started officially dating, as he wants his fingers free to work. he wants to fill them with tattoos, tiny little ones that flow from his wrist up to his fingers. his hands are usually cold, especially when you're outside, and he likes to take you hand into his and put both inside his jacket's pocket, to warm them.

wears, usually, a chained bracelet, from which hangs your cute tiny first letter. he never takes it off, and proudly shows it to everyone. he's a sucker for necklaces, though, especially if they are for you.

suguru's hands are always around you, as well: he keeps your pinky tangled on his, his hand around your waist when you walk by his side, cupping your face when he kisses you.

kento nanami

kento's hands are elegant and strong, and his touch is so tender and subtle that you can't get enough of it. kento shows his love by acts of service: offers his hand to help you get into the car, cleans your tears away whenever you need it, buttons your clothes - and unbuttons them.-. he always keeps your hand on his while he drives, tangled while he changes gears.

it's not a big fan of jewelry, but he always wears a clock, specially when he works, and your ring, that shines on his finger, which matches with the one you wear.

his hands are always hot, and he never doubts to press them against your sore muscles after a long day or, in case your period hurts, against your belly. showering you on caresses is one of his favorite things to do on his free days.

toji fushiguro

toji's hands are big and veiny, and they show the long years of hard work he carries. they're strong and rough, but really warm when he holds yours. his hands are the perfect size to cup your face and grab your ass, as toji is very touchy - and possesive - towards the ones he loves.

never wears anything because he's too afraid to lose or break it on accident. he only wears a clock, one you got for him several years ago, when you freshly started, and he never takes it off. your initials are engraved on the metallic frame, and it has given him luck all this years.

he can't sleep if his hands aren't on your body, on your wais, back or sides, caressing or resting, squeezing or massaging. he cannot keep them quiet around you, slapping, grabbing, hugging. he's a touchy man, and it shows.

[quarterlifekitty]

I'm begging with all the devotion I can muster PLEASSEEEEEE write part two for the goddess reader its such a unique creative concept that was written so well for being so short the people NEED it thank you for your service 🙏🏽

here's a little something something. Also, not really a content warning, but I feel the need to mention: I write intimacy/romance like a freak

cw: non-graphic sexual intimacy, mentioned death of a child

You can only appear to your devoted one through significant offerings. Trapped in the realm of the gods, you are powerless for as long as you lay forgotten by mankind. You tell König that his love is what gives you power.

His usual gifts to you are fruits and jewelry. At the end of his battles, he collects the gear of the fallen– armor, weapons, shields– and has it all melted down. He commissions the best craftsmen to create delicate chains, cameos in your image, beautiful bangles engraved with processions of animals. Rabbits are his favorite to adorn your altar with– representing luck, quickness, numbers… fertility.

His favorite piece for you is a hair pin. He had it made from the guard of a sword he pulled from some foreign noble– embedded with small jewels and molded leaves. He loves to see it glitter in the light as you turn to see him with that inspiring smile when he comes to visit.

Your temple features an impluvium– a tiled pool for catching rainwater. It’s purified from your influence, he’s drank from it many times. And one day, he sees your stolla neatly draped on your pedestal. Gold and silver are the only things decorating your ample form as you relax in the cool water, beckoning him forth like a nymph. He’s never shed his things more quickly.

He’s had women before. Paid women. Women whose time had a price– who wanted him to take what he wanted and leave quickly. He’s an efficient man, and it was never a problem for him, he understood that there was no room for true intimacy in a brothel.

You treat König to something so different it’s almost antithetical. It’s tantric, cool and warm at the same time, as many square inches of your skin pressed to his as possible. You are entwined. He could swear his flesh feels wedded to yours. To part from you would be death– to be alone in his own body.

The last time a person’s touch made him feel beautiful, he was a boy holding the hand of a girl, the young daughter of the man who owned the farm his family worked on. They were children when she died. He has felt robbed, alone, and abandoned ever since. You crack him open by the sternum and climb in between his ribs the same way that she once did. He would die for you and fight his way back from the underworld to die for you again.

[sgrplumditz]

Simon falls for Johnny’s wife…

render by @ave661

a/n: I’ve been working on this for a hot minute, but ended up having it sit in my drafts for a couple months :(. these images were released and it definitely struck a chord in my delulu mind. hence why i decided to finish it..

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"I've got a bad feeling about this one, Johnny," she said to the Scott with a shaky breath. Their toddler clinging to his mother's leg while keeping a tight grip on his father's finger. His little hand too small to grip the entirety of his hand.

She couldn’t help but notice his worrisome sigh as he looked for the comforting words, "Eh, don't you worry, Darling. I always come back don't I?" he replied enthusiastically as he embraced her figure, his chin resting on the top of her head and his free hand caressing the back of his son’s head. Johnny always knew how to comfort her, but she couldn’t shake her nervousness and doubtful thoughts as he said goodbye to her husband and the father of her only child.

The memory of their final interaction as a family replayed in her head continuously as the rain created soft tapping noises on her black umbrella. The pattering of the water creating an almost hypnotizing effect on the new widow that kept her mind on the only aspect that was left of her late husband -- memories.

The toddler, a three-year-old boy, who like most of the time clung to his mother's body. Except this time he was fully embracing his mother, his little face placed into the crook of her neck as the pair stood together at the outdoor memorial service. She could only stare blankly at the urn that held the remains of the love of her life. Through her observant stare she took note of the simple, yet lovely set up of white roses, numerous awards and medals. All of which surrounded a framed photo of her Johnny — her favorite photo. A candid picture snapped of the blue eyed, dark haired man by his wife — the woman he kept a secret from his work life. Not out of shame, or malicious secrecy — Johnny loved his wife and his child. Love them so much that he couldn’t be bothered ever putting them in any sort of danger.

She could feel numerous pairs of eyes prying into her and her son as she stood amongst the medium sized crowd of individuals. She assumed all of them were teammates, Co-workers, or people simply paying their respects. she knew he was a highly decorated soldier, but he was far more than that. None of them knew about his personal life, and nobody knew about the widow and small boy he had left behind. Nobody but Captain John Price knew about Soap’s little family. In confidence, Soap had asked Price to maintain word of his wife and son under the rug of the sake of their safety. Although they were hidden, he always carried pieces of them with him wherever he went — attached to his dog tags were two small and silver flat pendants that had been engraved with his wife and son’s fingerprint, his wedding band usually accompanying them on the same chain whenever he was deployed.

When Johnny was home he never removed his ring. He would often complain about how difficult and stubborn the piece of jewelry was when it came time to remove it for work. Johnny thought he was as discrete as he could be when it came to protecting the two most important people in his life, but there was a certain masked individual who took notice of the tan line that marked his left ring finger, the sudden dark under eyes and disheveled appearance that started 3 years ago when they would meet early in the morning for briefings, and when he caught sight of a vomit stain decorating the left shoulder of his black t-shirt — he just wasn’t one to pry.

Those same observant eyes were glued to the grieving widow and the blue-eyed toddler.

Her mind was pulled out of thoughts as Price approached her with a warm and tender expression in his eyes. In his hands were the dog tags, along with his keepsakes of his beloveds and in a small box was the wedding band. All of his personal belongings packed neatly into a box. Price knew he didn’t have to say anything to her for her to know that he was paying his respects to Johnny’s wife. Prior to the memorial service she had made it clear to Price that she wanted him to keep his ashes. She found they would get at least some closure from releasing them.

As Price drew her small frame in for a polite hug her son grew restless in her arms. She knew he was too young to understand that his father was gone, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable and upset from the lack of him. "Mama, it's cold" he fussed as he smushed his face farther onto her neck, "and your feet are getting wet. You're gonna catch a cold". She gave Price an apologetic smile as she turned her attention to her son now — Price had taken it as a signal to retreat. He now stood with two other men.

She couldn't help but smile at the innocence and kindness that exuded from her son. She gently patted his back to soothe his discomfort, "How about we get out of here and get some lunch?" she tried to speak in her most joyful tone, but even then it was coated in sorrow. The boy did not catch on to her somber response, and instead eagerly nodded his head as he perked up to look at his mother. That is when she realized how similar their son, Samuel, looked to his father. He mirrored him in nearly every aspect -- the eye shape and color, the dark hair, and even the mannerisms were similar. This could all be a fragment of her imagination -- she thought. Maybe it was part of her grieving process. She missed him so much that she began to look for him and could only find him perfectly in their Sammie. She was so consumed by her thoughts, that she had not realized the single salty tear that slipped out of her eye and down her cheek. Samuel hated to see his mother cry, he quickly brought his tiny hands up to her cheek and wiped it away with a slightly heavy palm. Usually, he would verbally comfort her — as best as a toddler could do, but all he did was lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his mother's forehead, "This always makes you feel better when Daddy does it". Does -- in present tense.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She could not tolerate being at the memorial service for much longer, and neither could Samuel. She had buckled him into his car seat and handed him a strawberry and banana squeezable fruit pack and crackers to ease his rumbling tummy in the meantime.

However, as she closed the car door and turned her back to face the crowd of people one last time she was instead met with a tall, burly build of a man. His face was hidden by a balaclava, leaving only his eyes on display. But the rest of his face was not necessary to note that he was also grieving. She noticed him within the crowd of the memorial service as well -- she assumed that was one of Johnny's friends, but did not bother to congregate with anyone since Johnny kept his personal life completely separate from his work life. And if she was being honest with herself, she did not have the emotional stamina to socialize with people that spent months out of the year with her late husband.

"Sorry. Can I help you with something?" she asked the brute man. She stared up at him with her eyes slightly shut to avoid water from getting into them.

"He’s Johnny’s" was his only reply. For a moment she only blinked and stared at him and noted the heavy English accent. The mention of her late husband’s name stung as she now was fighting back tears. Yes, he is Johnny's son. His pride and joy -- was what she wanted to say, but she could barely muster up the strength to nod her head.

She could tell that the individual's lips tightened into a line by the way the fabric of his mask slightly stretched. "My name is Simon. I was a friend of Johnny's..." he attempted to continue speaking, but all he did was nervously rub the back of his neck. "Johnny meant a lot to me, a real friend of mine..." he trailed off again.

She knew he was grieving, but it was a different type of pain. She sensed guilt within his sadness, but she knew better than to ask about any specifics. Her kind nature and maternal habits took over as she saw Simon struggling to find his words. For whatever reason this man decided to make himself emotionally uncomfortable to introduce himself, she figured there would be no harm in easing his mind.

She knew who Simon was since Johnny would bring up his friend "Ghost" every now and then "I know who you are" she smiled warmly trying to be the emotional rock between the two, "How about you join us for some lunch. I think Sammie would love to talk to and get to know his Uncle Ghost" she spoke eagerly in an attempt to lighten the mood -- something that was usually Johnny's role.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The three of them sat in a booth within a homely diner. The rain had completely let down at this point, the large drops of water hitting the roof of the diner with loud individual pats. Her hands were wrapped around a warm mug of coffee as she stared out the window watching blades of grass be temporarily smooshed by the inclement weather. The waitress had refilled her mug causing her gaze to turn towards her, her eyes softened and she gave the waitress a subtle nod to thank her. It was then that she realized that her son was wearing the ghost mask that was once on Simon. There was a glimmer of joy in Sam's eyes as he stood on the booth and gently hopped toward his mother to show her the "cool mask".

"I look so cool!" he exclaimed which only caused a chuckle to leave both her and Simon's mouths as the toddler's face was completely exposed through the eye hole on the mask -- his features obviously too small to fill the mask in the same manner. Upon hearing the slight laugh she turned to look at Simon, who she was surprised to see with dirty blonde hair. He was overall a handsome man, something that anyone would notice at first glance, but his eyes always conveyed a lot of emotion. Right now it was amusement tinged with pain as he stared at Sam. She knew he also noticed how strongly he resembles Johnny, and a part of her found comfort in knowing that she was not grieving alone. The way he looked at Sammie made her feel warm. She sensed that Simon knew Johnny deeper than most of the people at the memorial service — knowing that she found herself smiling at the thought of her being able to cherish Johnny’s memories with someone else.

The waitress had arrived with everyone's meals. Sam did not hesitate to dig into his plate. The toddler abruptly grabbed the bottle of syrup and drenched his pancakes in it. His careless behavior causing some of it to spill onto to the table, "Use your table manners please" she spoke sternly, but softly to the boy as she slipped him a napkin and a set of covered utensils.

"He looks just like him" he spoke in a gentle and respectful tone. His eyes rested on Sam -- who was now too focused on using his utensils properly to pay attention to the conversation happening in front of him.

Her hand wiped a strand of dark stray hair away from his forehead before she turned her attention toward Simon, who was now looking at her, "Yeah. Carried him for 9 months and he's got the nerve to look just like his father" she shrugged with a pained smile — her attempt to lighten the mood once again failing, "but I wouldn't have it any other way".

Simon took note of the sorrow hidden within the smile as his own face mirrored it out of empathy.

A few minutes had gone by and Samuel was still working on his meal, Simon had quickly eaten his, and she played with her food, tossing it around all over her plate in a desperate attempt to distract herself. How embarrassing would it be to break down at a family diner. "You should eat your lunch" he spoke. The deep voice dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced down to look at his empty plate and her contrastingly full one. Casually shrugging off his suggestion she set her fork down and let out a soft sigh, "I'll just take it to go. I don't really have an appetite at the moment" she spoke in a casual tone — too causal of a tone. She was normally a social person, the type to be able to engage in conversation with any type of person for hours. Her personality was magnetizing in the sense that she was an incredibly open minded person, which only made her a vessel for hundreds on conversations, all of different topics and tones — a quality that Johnny loved about her. She was one of the few that would keep up with his mindless thoughts and nonsense ideas. That is where she was at the moment. In her mind she was thinking about the woman she was before she got the gut wrenching knock at her door. The knock where she was told by Laswell and Price that her husband was gone. “Killed in Action” were the words they used. “He died saving the world” was something Price added.

Sure he had died saving the world, but her and her son’s was destroyed. She was never a selfish person, but in that moment she wished the world would burn if it meant he was in her arms instead of merely a memory. She hadn’t noticed until recently that tears were flooding her cheeks and spilling onto her meal. Simon had been observing her for a moment as she watched her fall into deep thought, but once he saw her tear stained face he acted quickly.

He swiftly took his wallet out of his pocket and placed a $50 bill on the table to cover their meals and a decent tip, “Come on” he spoke in a demanding voice, his tone remaining soft enough for her and Sam to remain calm. Sam was oblivious to his mother’s current state as he had now distracted himself with the crayons and the kids menu.

She looked at Simon as she attempted to regain her composure. It was long gone, she was an emotional mess at the diner — exactly what she was trying to avoid. “It’s alright.” he coo’d as he took Sam into his arm. With his free hand he guided her out of the booth and to the exit.

He took the initiative to get the mother and son home as soon as possible. The three of them approached her car, “Get in and take a few deep breaths, yeah?” he instructed while simultaneously holding the door open for her. Sam had been buckled into his car seat, which Simon struggled to figure out, but the toddler being incredibly intuitive had seen his mother and father do it hundreds of times and was able to talk Simon through it.

If that had happened under different circumstances she would have been able to congratulate Sam and let him know how proud she is of him, but she was far from being in that state of self awareness and state of mind.

She was a wreck in the passengers seat of her own car. She was heartbroken in the passengers seat of her own car. The severity of it all finally setting in making it nearly impossible for her to get ahold of herself.

Is she just exhausted from the days leading up to the funeral? A weeks worth of concealed emotions finally spilling out in front of her. She is definitely overwhelmed, but this time she subconsciously feels safe and secure enough to let go of her broken front.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Months had gone by since her meltdown in front of Simon, and he never once brought it up. He was well aware it wasn’t something she was proud of, nor did she want to talk about her grief. Simon had been coming around her and Samuel a couple times a week just to check in on the pair. He felt it was his responsibility to keep them safe now — the least he could do for his recently deceased friend. Everyday he spent with the two of them he realized why Soap had kept them a secret. They were truly too special to put into any risk; especially her. She was a walking breath of fresh air, not something anyone encounters often in their lifetime, especially not in their line of work and the lifestyle it supplies. Now it all made sense. Johnny was always the most eager to return home when they’d be out in the field, said he had “something special” waiting for him, but everyone would shrug it off.

He grew to understand Soap’s decision to keep his family hidden from the world he worked in.

Even though Simon was consumed in his own thoughts he was still able to be completely alert as the mother and son played on the playground.

Her laugh. It stripped him away from his spiraling memories and muses. His gaze snapped to her body on the floor covered in wood chips, she had clearly tripped and stumbled while playing with Samuel. She was laughing at her clumsiness, laughing at how attentive Samuel was to his mother as soon as she hit the cushioned floor, “Sammie, I’m okay” she soothed him as he clung to her — small and gentle laughs leaving her full lips as she reacted to the entire scenario.

That was the first time Simon had heard her laugh.The sound of her sweet tone intoxicating to him. He couldn’t get enough, is what he mentally told himself as he walked over to her to help get back on her feet. Her soft and polished hand nestled and firmly gripped onto his rough and calloused one as he pulled her off the ground.

Guilt lingered in his being upon realizing how much he liked being around her, but he needed to be there for them. The conflict was clear within him, and something he figures he’ll eventually learn to accept and move forward with. He knew he would have to set aside his audacious feelings to respect her and more importantly to respect Johnny. He would be there to protect them as much as she allowed him. He wasn’t planning on getting emotionally attached to the the pair, or her alone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later that same evening, Simon had made the decision to pay her and Sammie a visit. He stepped out of his car with a bag of Chinese takeout in his hand. Chinese food had become the only thing she would willingly eat ever since Johnny passed. A swift hand smoothing his plain black t-shirt before he began walking toward her front door, but as soon as his hand left his clothing he realized what he was doing. Bringing her favorite food to her and her son with no real reason to be seeing her, checking his appearance — something uncommon for the typically aloof man. A lingering hint of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he treaded towards the front door of her house. No, Simon was only supposed to be there for the mother and son duo as an aide during this severe loss. He felt that’s what he owed to Johnny since he felt partially responsible for his death. A cocktail of traumatic thoughts and memories invaded his mind . The grip on the take-out bag grew stronger, the same strength being felt in his chest as his heart pounded in its cavity

Upon reaching the front door he heard what sounded like a glass had broken — as if it had fallen off of a surface, which isn’t a big deal, she had a bad habit off leaving glasses on the edge of countertops and tables, but the yelp that followed only made Simon react in the most instinctive manner. He rushed inside the house and into the kitchen where she was found with a dish towel wrapped around her hand and a grimace on her face. Her nose scrunched in reaction to the pain.

Simon raised an eyebrow at her as he approached her with swift and long strides. His demeanor was urgent, alarmed and slightly panicked as his body was still in a reactive state from his memories, but how could she know that? She stared at him with the same expression, but she had more reason to. His breathing wasn’t heavy but it was slightly sporadic. At the same time, it was still controlled, his body was tense, but most significantly, his eyes looked panicked and unsettled. “I didn’t know you’d be visiting tonight. You should have let me know,” she spoke casually as she continued holding pressure on her fresh wound, “Or else I wouldn’t have-“ her words stopped flowing when Simon grabbed her hand and began to examine the brand-new cut. She watched his concerned expression lighten when he confirmed that the abrasion was small enough to heal on its own, “- let my mom take him for the weekend.” She finally completed her sentence when his large brown eyes met hers.

She knew exactly what was happening to him. She recognized the wide, alert eyes, uneven breathing, and tense mannerisms. This was a common occurrence that she witnessed Johnny experience. Her husband was gone, but there were constant reminders of him everywhere -- and one thing she hated seeing was Johnny struggling with his PTSD. Just like Johnny, she couldn't tolerate seeing Simon in the same condition.

Using her unharmed hand, she grabbed Simon's calloused one. Her movements were gentle and fluid as she guided their hands to the left side of her chest. With his palm now resting on her chest she looked into his eyes before speaking in a nurturing tone. "Slow and steady. Count it for me" she said as she placed her own hand over his chest. It was then that she noticed how hard and fast his heart pounded. "I’ll count yours until we match pace. One, two, three..."

Eventually, Simon counted with her, his heart rate slowing gradually as his mind remained distracted from the trauma and focused on her. On her beating heart, on her nurturing voice, on her full pink lips, on her long dark eyelashes, on her soft delicate hands. Her. His mind consumed by images of her, his newfound serenity.

Simon cannot help but feel guilty, but his pleasure and serene state strongly blinds him from this feelings. This is exactly what he didn’t want, but he can’t help but relish in it.

[simonsjewelers]

Types of Jewelry Repair Services for Worn-Out Pieces

People often spend a fortune on precious or semi-precious jewelry but forget to take care of them. Maintaining and caring for your jewelry is equally important. You can find many jewelers that offer post-purchase jewelry maintenance services. You must take your jewel to a reputable jeweler when it starts to wither.

[karlachismylife]

Total eclipse of the heart

re-posting this since it was buried by that shadowban, so sorry if you've already seen this, i appreciate every one of you!!

Dog tags can be so many things, learns Karlach when she spots an unfamilar piece of jewelry among other alien things Soap brought from his world.

Second part (NSFW) here - Worshipping the Sun

Everything about these four men was foreign and piqued curiosity: from their clothes and ammunition to the way they spoke and treated every task given as a unit. Believing they came from another world wasn't that hard given the unfortunate circumstances, what's news about some other dimension after you were literally carrying a "gift" that travelled through space in your head? If there were illithids, githyanki, devils and gods, was it really so unbelievable that somewhere else there was a world with buildings that could house hundreds of people and weapons able to kill that same amount of people in mere seconds? Yet somehow these four very mortal, very normal men were more of a mystery than whatever Gale was hiding under his robe or Shadowheart kept in her pocket.

It was mostly in how different their reality seemed to what everyone else in the party knew. No matter how well they were trained to adapt to anything and everything, coming to terms with magic, shapeshifters and pacts with devils was much harder for those who called themselves "task force 141" than it was for every other member of the party to get used to their unusual arsenal of (mostly useless now as it turned out) weapons or tales of "tanks" and "helicopters". They surely tried to hide it, but the wariness that showed in their stances when approaching the most mundane things like a little water creation scroll was noticeable even in the less readable Ghost, even moreso in the expressive Soap. He would curse, mouth agape, thick accent and wide open blue eyes, no matter if he saw a goblin horde charging their way or Halsin having a thoughtful conversation with a random squirrel. At the beginning Johnny even had a bruise on his tanned arm from earnestly pinching it every time he witnessed something out of the ordinary; Ghost kept chastasing him for putting on a full comedy yet not even once refused to pinch his sergeant when asked.

To be honest, Karlach thought it was very funny.

She was a whole bunch of unbelievable things put into one for him; from the devilish appearance to the god forsaken engine, and her quickly growing friendship - or comradery - with the task force and especially Johnny allowed for the longest conversations consisting mainly of questions about every single thing they found odd in each other. She would sit next to him, a safe distance to keep poor lad from cooking alive, smiling cheeks propped onto big red palms and tail curling and swishing as Soap told her about random Earth bullshit - grenades, football clubs, obscure scottish alt bands... and Karlach definitely tried her best to imagine all those wild things, even if her interpretation sometimes was slightly off.

"What's that?" Her claw pointed at his chest, making Soap glance down. Was she talking about his vest? He pushed his thumbs under the heavy weight and lifted it slightly off his shoulders, cocking a bushy eyebrow. "No, I meant this... is that an amulet? You better keep an eye on it, soldier, I heard Gale's getting hungry. What's it for?"

His dog tags. He almost forgot about the dangling pieces, two non-reflecting circles with an engraving that wouldn't make much sense to Karlach even if she could read it. With a chuckle, Soap pulled the chain off and wrapped it around his fist, showing off dark letters to the tiefling's marvelling gaze.

"Nae, lass, these aren't an amulet. Tis 'n identification tag. So that they'll ken what name tae put on a grave even if mah handsome mug is in ten different places." Karlach scooted even closer, narrowing her tiger eyes in an attempt to look properly. "Tis here mah name, mah blood type, mah service number... the whole lad in five lines. Quite concise, isnae it?"

Concise it was. Those little characters stamped into firm steel were unreadable to her, yet they were everything that would be left of Johnny for sure in this world. No one would remember him as a kid playing football, not a crying widow clutching her wedding band, no devastated mother with a family picture in a black frame, no bookshop keepers that used to scold him for sneaking a peek or two into the adult magazines at the age of fifteen. Even when the whole party would be gone, failed to preserve each other, turned into tentacle-faced mosters or buried in a desolated place, there would be someone to remember, someone to mourn.

Yet everything Johnny and his lads would have are these little steel discs that will never tell anyone how deep the northern sea in his eyes was, how invisible the formiddable mount of Ghost could get in any environment, how fast Gaz could solve a puzzle even in a temple of an unknown god in a land he didn't know even existed, how lush was Price's beard... a number, a name and a religion no one in Faerûn even heard of. Here, in a whole another world, these tags danglng over Soap's knuckles were nothing more than just a constant reminder of impending death. A part of his grave already hanging down from his neck.

"Not much use of it here then, is there?" Karlach couldn't keep the flooding thoughts inside. She looked up at Johnny's smiling - still smiling, like he was proud to show off how little would be left of him - face. "They didn't give us anything like this in Avernus. Probably just as useless anyway, no one's burying anyone there. No one cares."

"Take 'em." He said it with such ease. Reached out his hand and let go of the chain, allowing it to slip right into Karlach's catching grasp. The tags were still carrying that barely noticeable warmth of his palm, and Karlach squeezed them instinctively, savouring this surrogate touch with eyes shut and breath slightly wavering. "I'm in no rush to die, eh. "'N ye get to ken wha' it's like to be a part o' a team tha' cares."

Karlach opened her eyes and looked at the slowly heating up tags on her big palm. The initial devastating thought of wearing your own death around your neck slowly withered away, like a large piece of ash on the wind. Being a part of the team, knowing there were other soldiers to have your back... that was a thought she could get behind.

"Doesn't feel right, mate. They're yours, your name and everything..." Before she could even give them back, Soap stood up, grabbing his gun like a kid dragging a toy by its little plush paw.

"Och, tis right if ah give them to ye. C'mon, just wear them until we make ye yer own." Johnny checked one of the straps on his thigh and then suddenly winked at Karlach. "Besides, maybe ah just wanntae see ye sportin' mah name around tha' bonnie neck, soldier. Fur protection purposes, ye ken."

She blinked, feeling her cheeks - and engine for that matter - slightly heating up, and then quickly slid the chain over her head, careful not to catch it with horns. Hanging on her chest, the dark round plate in front of glowing sunshine of her engine looked like a solar eclipse.

"So it is an amulet after all," she muttered, touching now warm metal with clumsy fingers. Soap smirked, unable to hide his own blush. Despite a heavy tactical vest his chest seemed vulnerable and bare without the tags. Like anyone would be able reach a hand and rip his heart out as they did to Karlach.

Well, they would be able if his heart wasn't already snatched.

"Aye, bonnie. Fur ye it is."

[syncallio]

So about those Lady Sheaffers...

This is my collection.

This is a model IX, Red Balicon. (Nobody knows why it's called "Balicon", so if any of you folks know what that means, please tell me!) I love the contrast between the glossy gold and the red engraved lines. I'm also super pleased to have the box it came in.

These two are both Paisleys, models IV (black) and VI (periwinkle). The nibs are silver-palladium Triumph nibs. The engraving really does give the impression of fabric, and has a nice texture in the hand.

These three are from the later Lady Sheaffer line in the 1970s. From left to right: 632, 921, and 925. (Collectors call them Tulle, Chevron/Flammé, and Barleycorn.) The nibs on these are called Stylpoint and are 14k gold.

The left one is mesmerizing when you turn it in your hands. The other two are almost gaudy they're so bright. Definitely eye-catching pens!

Also I gotta show you this box, the one the Balicon came in. Have you ever seen something more Mid-Century Modern in your life? The ivory plastic, the pebbly texture, the gently curved lines. The way it sort of floats off the table, and the inset section at the front. And like a brooch, a tiny golden symbol in the shape of Sheaffer's signature inlaid nib. Some designer spent ages on this thing and it shows. I love it.

If you like small, slim fountain pens, definitely look up the Lady Sheaffer. For some reason they're not heavily collected, so folks aren't driving up the price. They're cartridge pens so there's no mechanism that needs servicing, and Sheaffer still makes the cartridges.

Unless you like your pens plain and understated, in which case I can't help you. Every model they made is jewelry!

[olaqueenbeeofastrology]

#vintage

☀️

#charity

Benefit

⌚️👀💓

@zodiacwatches

Retail👇$2995 USD. u get it for 👆

@wsj @money @gemstone-network @gemstonesilverjewelryus @gemstones @jewelry @fashion @crystalgems-blog @youtube @google @yahoo @bing @twobigblondes @consignmentcouture @christiesauctions @sothebys-pe-blog @sothebys @qvc @qvcuk @twitter @tv-moments @variety @thr @watchestobuy @watchesparadise @bestbuy @biglots @target @watchrepairlondon @vintage @watchrepair @vintagewatchesdepot @vintagewatchesandjewellery-blog @gemstone-network @baldassarreted @gemstonesilverjewelryus @gemstones @jewelry @fashion @crystalgems-blog @youtube @google @yahoo @bing @twobigblondes @consignmentcouture @christiesauctions @sothebys-pe-blog @sothebys @qvc @qvcuk @twitter @tv-moments @variety @thr @taylor13 @lizzo

@youtube @yahoo @google @thr @variety @instagram @yellowtaxi @lyft @twitter @tumblr @yahoofinance @money @fortune @forbes @wsj @dalailama @uscopyrightoffice @wholefoods @olaqueenbee @olavay @instagram

@vogue @ebay @thr @variety @nytimes @seattletimes @latimes @time @google @forbes @etsy @tvguide @pbs @nytimes @tissot @raymondweil @luxurywatchguy1 @calibercrown @rolex @nytimes @google @money @bestbuy @walmart @biglots @tiffanyandco @covergirl @essence @bet @mtv @bbc @cnn @espn @nba @wnba @nfl @revlon @goldmansachs @macys @jomashop @watchmaxx @wsj @money @gemstone-network @gemstonesilverjewelryus @gemstones @jewelry @fashion @crystalgems-blog @youtube @google @yahoo @bing @twobigblondes @consignmentcouture @christiesauctions @sothebys-pe-blog @sothebys @qvc @qvcuk @twitter @tv-moments @variety @thr @watchestobuy @watchesparadise @bestbuy @biglots @target @watchrepairlondon @vintage @watchrepair @vintagewatchesdepot @vintagewatchesandjewellery-blog @gemstone-network @baldassarreted @gemstonesilverjewelryus @gemstones @jewelry @fashion @crystalgems-blog @youtube @google @yahoo @bing @twobigblondes @consignmentcouture @christiesauctions @sothebys-pe-blog @sothebys @qvc @qvcuk @twitter @tv-moments @variety @thr @taylor13 @lizzo

@youtube @yahoo @google @thr @variety @instagram @yellowtaxi @lyft @twitter @tumblr @yahoofinance @money @fortune @forbes @wsj @dalailama @uscopyrightoffice @wholefoods @olaqueenbee @olavay @instagram

@vogue @ebay @thr @variety @nytimes @seattletimes @latimes @time @google @forbes @etsy @tvguide @pbs @nytimes @tissot @raymondweil @luxurywatchguy1 @calibercrown @rolex @nytimes @google @money @bestbuy @walmart @biglots @tiffanyandco @covergirl @essence @bet @mtv @bbc @cnn @espn @nba @wnba @nfl @revlon @goldmansachs @macys @jomashop @watchmaxx @wsj @money @gemstone-network @gemstonesilverjewelryus @gemstones @jewelry @fashion @crystalgems-blog @youtube @google @yahoo @bing @twobigblondes @consignmentcouture @christiesauctions @sothebys-pe-blog @sothebys @qvc @qvcuk @twitter @tv-moments @variety @thr @watchestobuy @watchesparadise @bestbuy @biglots @target @watchrepairlondon @vintage @watchrepair @vintagewatchesdepot @vintagewatchesandjewellery-blog @gemstone-network @baldassarreted @gemstonesilverjewelryus @gemstones @jewelry @fashion @crystalgems-blog @youtube @google @yahoo @bing @twobigblondes @consignmentcouture @christiesauctions @sothebys-pe-blog @sothebys @qvc @qvcuk @twitter @tv-moments @variety @thr @taylor13 @lizzo

@youtube @yahoo @google @thr @variety @instagram @yellowtaxi @lyft @twitter @tumblr @yahoofinance @money @fortune @forbes @wsj @dalailama @uscopyrightoffice @wholefoods @olaqueenbee @olavay @instagram

@vogue @ebay @thr @variety @nytimes @seattletimes @latimes @time @google @forbes @etsy @tvguide @pbs @nytimes @tissot @raymondweil @luxurywatchguy1 @calibercrown @rolex @nytimes @google @money @bestbuy @walmart @biglots @tiffanyandco @covergirl @essence @bet @mtv @bbc @cnn @espn @nba @wnba @nfl @revlon @goldmansachs @macys @jomashop @watchmaxx

[blueiscoool]

The Long Lost Temple of Artemis in Greece Reveals More Secrets

A long-lost temple dedicated to the Goddess Artemis that was finally discovered in Evia, Greece after 100 years of archaeological research is revealing more of its secret treasures.

The temple was discovered by a team from the Swiss Archaeological School and Greek Archaeological Service after they worked out that ancient directions to the site were wrong.

They switched their dig from the ancient city of Eretria to a site at the foot of a hill near the small fishing village of Amarynthos.

They were looking for a legendary temple to the Goddess Artemis, one of the most widely venerated deities of Ancient Greece.

Several ancient sources mention the sanctuary of Artemis Amarysia. The main public documents (decrees, treaties), engraved on steles, were displayed there. The festival Artemisia was celebrated every spring by the Eretrians to honor the goddess.

On this occasion, a grand procession of 3,000 armed warriors, 600 horsemen, and 60 chariots made the twelve-kilometer journey to the sanctuary. The festival attracted citizens of the cities of Euboea but also representatives of other Greek cities.

Following painstaking work, the team of archaeologists discovered a stoa, or gallery, that could have formed part of the temple, and began excavating in earnest in 2012.

Amarysia Artemis temple was finally discovered in Evia, Greece

Their analysis proved correct when the team finally cut through the gallery walls in 2017 to reveal the core of the sanctuary of Amarysia Artemis.

The team has since uncovered buildings ranging from the 6th to 2nd centuries BC, including an underground fountain, and, crucially, inscriptions and coins bearing the name Artemis—the guardian goddess of Amarynthos.

These confirm that the site was the destination for the annual procession from Eretria by local worshippers of the goddess of the hunt.

Further excavations by the Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece (ESAG) and the Ephorate of Antiquities in Evia brought to light the existence of two successive temples and a rich deposit of offerings.

The first temple, built around 650 BC, was destroyed at the end of the 6th century. A second, more monumental temple was rebuilt shortly after around 500 BC.

Rich offerings were deposited on this occasion; the excavations brought to light over 600 objects, including ceramic and bronze vessels, painted terracotta figurines, gold jewelry, silver, faience, glass and semi-precious stones, orientalized seals in the shape of scarabs, as well as weapons (including a helmet and a shield).

The Swiss Archaeological School in Greece says that remains in the sanctuary attest to the site’s deep history. The earliest structure dates back to 3000 BC. Sanctuaries are sacred spaces usually consisting of an altar, a temple—the house of the deity—and annex buildings, delimited by an enclosure. The sanctuary of Artemis Amarysia is no exception to the rule.

In addition to the monumental portico excavated in recent years, two altars related to the successive temples have been uncovered. Animal sacrifices took place on the altar, as selected parts were burned to ashes as offerings to the goddess. Such rituals performed at Amarynthos by the Eretrians were meant to attract the goodwill of Artemis.

The ancient site of Eretria, Evia

The excavations indicate that the foundation of the temple of the goddess Artemis at the edge of the fertile plain east of Eretria is connected with the fortifications found at the border of the ancient city.

Excavations of ancient Eretria began in the 1890s and have been conducted since 1964 by the Greek Archaeological Service.

Today it is the home of the Evia Ephorate of Antiquities, and it boasts an archaeological museum—the most significant in Evia—and an ancient theater dating back to the 5th century BC that hosts Ancient Greek tragedies and modern plays.

The most important site that has been discovered there is the Temple of Apollo Daphnephoros. Artifacts found at this ancient site are displayed at both the Louvre and National Archaeological Museum in Athens.

However, some pieces have remained in place at Eretria, notably the terracotta centaur from Lefkandi, dating back to the 10th century BC.

[empresskadia]

I think the most powerful gifts you can give a Spartan is one that reminds them of you for when you're aren't there. Sometimes they're off doing missions, and you're separated, and they really miss you. Having that little reminder always makes it better.

Like, say, for Naomi, her partner has an Ace of Spades playing card on the pauldron of their armor like their uncle did back when the Human-Covenant War began. Luck was important to him, so it was important to you. Naomi was just as important to you, so when you couldn't always be together on the same ship, you gave her two things: A copy of the card on your shoulder and a magic eight ball to keep in her room. You may or may not have replaced the die inside with things you would say, so it was like you were there in spirit when you couldn't be there in person.

Not when you're getting scouted for some big secret project led by a guy whose name you forget but a number that reminded you of hers.

096?

First, I got chills reading this! Second, I gasped so loudly my dog came to check on me to make sure I was okay. Third, I was like ‘fuckin Musa! Naomi’s gonna murder you.’ Like I didn’t know how the Spartan IV program started. I lowkey went feral for this ask, you’re spoiling me and I adore it.

I love this so very much and this is canon in my head now. How cute is this!!! Spartans don’t have personal things but the item their partner gives them becomes their prized possession and they would break bones if someone tries to take it.

Like for Linda, she has pressed flowers that you gave her and kept on her dog tags at all times, when she’s thinking about her partner or missing you, she grasps the chain and feels a little closer to you. Or a small charm on Nornfang that you made for her that Linda never takes off. Whenever she takes down targets and sees the charm, she thinks to herself that she can’t wait to hear about the mission you’ve been sent on or just to see you in general.

There is a ring that your grandmother passed down that you always wear on your pointer finger and end up giving to Kelly because it fits on her pinkie/places it on her chain because you wouldn’t see her for a few months. When Kelly’s thinking about her partner/missing you, she subconsciously spins the ring, and later, ends up seeing her name/spartan tag engraved inside the band. Or give her one of your earrings that your father gave you, so she had half of something that was super important to you and feels very protective of the jewelry because she knows you adored your father.

For John, it’s the exchanged dog tags, one is his and the other is yours. Sometimes he takes it off and runs his finger across your name and service number, he doesn’t realize that his expression softens just a bit but Cortana and Blue team know he’s thinking about you.

Everyone on Blue team knows that Fred has a favorite combat knife that you gave him and if something happens to it, he is going to kill someone, and no, it’s not an exaggeration. Kelly witnessed him panic about losing it once and horde of brutes didn’t even have a chance to blink before they were dead. There are personalized words written on the inside of the knife from you and it will be over his dead body before someone tries to take it or use it.

But also! Luck is important to Naomi because it reminds her of John too and we see how worried she is for Chief in the books, this is very important to her! So you give her the card and tell her about it, she’s putting that on her armor in the same spot that you have it in. It makes her feel closer to her partner and her eyes soften anytime she glimpses it from the corner of her vision. Especially once she gets recruited for Kilo-Five and you get sent on a secret ‘mission’ that she can’t know about. Naomi knows there is something you’re not telling her but she won’t push because it’s classified, which kind of worries her.

When Serin tells her about the whole Halsey thing or finds out about her dad, she shakes the eight ball wishing you were there to talk with but quietly laughs to herself when she reads the message because it’s 100% something you would say. Naomi constantly starts asking BB if there were any messages sent to her, getting antsy when he tells her no every time to the point BB shares this with the captain.

Eventually, Naomi asks Serin if she could find any information about you, giving her your full name, service name, rank, and all the important things to find your file. If anyone could get into classified mission files, it would be BB and Serin.

It's BB saying, "Oh that's rather somber to find out." that has Naomi wanting to panic. Did something happen? Was her partner hurt? Were you hospitalized? Did you get killed? She knew she should've upgraded your armor with those last bits of data, what was she thinking?! Naomi's thoughts are spirling but nothing prepared her for what your file read,

'SPARTAN-IV Lieutenant - pending transfer to REDACTED'

'Augmentation Procedure - Successful'

'AI Partner - Pending Compatibility with REDACTED'

'Stationed - UNSC REDACTED'

'Notes - Expand'

"What does it mean by Spartan-IV?" Naomi had to ask, she had to know because all she recalled was her own augmentation, the pain, the recovery, the loss of her sisters and brothers in arms, something that she might've just lost her partner to.