#that every life should be treasured even if its fleeting

[minsarasarahair]

Souta's Grandfather: "Souta will spend decades now as a Keystone housing the Gods. He is no longer in our realm. Are you trying to waste my grandson's sacrifice? Who is the one who pierced it? Its you with Souta as Keystone, right? If you didn't, millions would have died! Take pride in your deed and keep your mouth shut! Return to where you came from! Forget everything that happened." Suzume: "How could I forget? Whether one lives or die is a matter of luck. I've always felt that way. But, I'm afraid of the world without Souta!"

[st4rgzer]

now playing…FORTNIGHT (spencer reid)

-“ˈfɔːtnaɪt: a period of two weeks”-

summary: in which your unlawful affair with fbi agent spencer reid must come to an end

genre: angst, flashback of fluff

cw!: allusions to cheating, kissing, inappropriate innuendos

a/n: this is acc so long but i promise its worth the read, first of many to come!

you watched as spencer methodically fiddled with his tie, a sign that no matter how loose he’d get it to be, it felt like he was choking. you grinned reminiscent, this had brought back to your mind the memory of your first date with him. except he had shorter, neater hair and a less bitter smile.

“how’s your wife” you said, pettiness laced in your words. your arms crossed over your chest, putting up invisible walls, distancing yourself mentally from him. pretending you weren’t thinking about how pretty he’d look under you.

“she’s…well.” he had given you a short, wary response. his eyes studied your face, landing on your lips, he licks his. most likely, he was trying to memorize everything, as if you were a fleeting moment. but you were. you were uncertain about his intents when his eyes wandered for a few seconds.

“how’s dan?” the word ‘dan’ came out with a petulant smile, and sour tone. flourishing the little likeness he had toward him.

the conversation bored you out of your mind. he was holding back. he could’ve said about a million things by now but he chose to keep silent, neglecting your tortured heart even more.

“i think he’s cheating on me, though im still not sure. but i have strong points on the subject, good reasoning” you say dismissively, looking down at your nails. the issue didn’t seem to faze you. after all, some could say you had committed certain behaviors that could allude as cheating.

spencer tried to bite back the grin that was forming on his face, he looked down to try and conceal it.

“i’m sorry about that…” his tone seemed untruthful. he wasn’t sorry about it, because he knew the things he’d done with you while both of you had a ring on your fingers.

you gnawed on your bottom lip. thinking of an ingenious comment that would make him laugh. a quip to start some friendly fire. something that could break through the crushing tension that lingered between the both of you, like thick vines wrapped around your neck, making you unable to speak.

‘i love you, it’s ruining my life’ was all that your brain could come up with, but of course, this wasn’t exactly the best thing to say given the setting and circumstances. but it was how you felt. you treasured every touch and every word, hanging onto every detail desperately. every fortnight that his wife would be out of town. it was unlawful, but, who were you to neglect an invitation with spencer reid? until then, your mornings are all mondays. stuck in an endless february. unable to move on from what should be yours.

you meet his gaze, regretting it almost immediately. knowing the lethal effects he had on you, like some sort of drunkenness that had turned you into a barely functioning alcoholic. his eyes change, his smile differs. he swallows, clearing his throat.

“we can’t do this anymore.” he speaks, his voice sounds brittle and unsure. you don’t break eye contact. you listen intently to his words.

“my wife…my wife knows that i don’t stay late at the BAU as much as i say i do.”

“im a profiler, i can lie but- it doesn’t take away from the fact that this can’t happen anymore.”

“i mean you know how i feel about you, i just- i just can’t keep up with the ruse. i love you and it’s ruining my life.”

your eyes widen at the last sentence, appalled. you tried to decipher spencer’s words. reading between the lines, seeking for some sort of clue that hinted towards the truth. if he loves you, why can’t he stay?

“okay…can we at least stay friends?” you ask him cautiously. even if it meant no more sneaking around, his eyes would at least stay in your life.

spencer swallowed harshly, your eyes lingering over his adam’s apple as he does so. he looks uncertain. you figure maybe his wife was the one with the real issue, not him. you wanted to kill her.

“sure” his voice was slightly above a whisper. he looked away. almost as if, if he continued to hold your gaze he’d had no choice but to give in. that’s what you wanted him to do, to cave in, like always. you wondered if this would be the last fortnight spent with him, and suddenly, realization hit you like a 10 ton truck. you looked down as well, confidence derailing.

“but you’re still my best friend, spence” your voice was nearly a whimper, sounding like a wounded dog. you look up at him with glassy eyes. tilting you head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you try to control your emotions. you look down, hands fidgeting nervously.

“yes, of course…we just can’t have those benefits anymore” he wants to do nothing more than to grab you and hold you in his arms. to say sorry for everything he had put your through. instead he looks to the waiter.

“check, please” he clears his throat and hopes the sound of his tearing heart isn’t too loud as you look up to look at him with tear rimmed eyes. you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. spencer pays the tab, leaving a generous tip. you get up from your seat, incapable to look at spencer in the eye.

you don’t notice him stepping towards you. your breath hitches as you stare up at him, the closest you’ve been to him all night. his calloused hand cups your cheek, fingers tracing your face, to your under eye. you blink, cursing yourself internally as a tear slips. you look away. he sighs, wiping the tears carefully with his thumb.

“im sorry, you know what i’d do if i could…if things were different” his words are just more salt to fresh cuts. even if he sounded regretful, even if he was sorry, you still had the right to be sad.

“it’s fine, you aren’t mine, i shouldn’t be this sad” you harshly take a step back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. his mouth stays slightly agape at your sudden movement. he bites down at his lip, sighing, admitting defeat. you were right, he was never yours and you were never his. two parallel lines who never got the chance to see what could’ve been if the circumstances were different.

he had corrupted you, nights that belonged to only you would fade into a memory. the touches that lasted a fortnight. the feeling of his hands in your hair, your clothes on his bedroom floor.

you loved him, and it was ruining your life.

“goodbye, reid” you tone was purposefully cruel, and the choice of using his last name. you looked at him for a second, fighting the instinct of kissing him as a goodbye. he stared with pitiful eyes as you walked away, bell chiming as you opened and closed the door. for a moment he regretted everything said, wishing to just run away and live in the mountains, to follow through on that quiet life you had both talked about when the night passed 3am. tangled in bedsheets. he curses his eidetic memory for remembering your tearful expression, comparing it to the soft, sweet smile you had on every time you left him. can he erase every curve, every dimple he knew you had, every tiny change in your expression he could read like a book, over and over? no, he will be cursed with the gift of knowing, just like you’ll be cursed with the sound of his voice. soft and tender, the sound of his whispers of foreign words against your ear.

“Я тебя обожаю.” his voice is quiet, nose brushing against your neck as he places soft kisses against it. you giggle at the ticklish feeling, grabbing his face delicately to stop him.

“what does that mean?” you ask with a smile, pressing gentle kisses to the bridge of his nose, his face heating up in your hands.

“i adore you” he grins, leaning against your hand and kissing it.

“i know that but what does the sentence mean?” he rolls his eyes as you break out laughing, throwing your head over his shoulder, giggling as if it was the funniest joke you had ever told. you look up at him, both of you grinning widely as he places a proper kiss against your lips.

he loved you, it was ruining his life.

[mourningliliesmorningglories]

“And when broken bodies are washed ashore, who am I to ask for more, more, more?”

Regulus welcomed September. A new year is borne from another reckoning. Another storm is weathered, another tempest yet to come. He’s happy to leave home behind. His forearm will sting for eternity but it’s a small price to pay. He knows no one can find out about this or his greater intention. His plan is set - leave nothing behind. His mother never cared for the spare. He has no friends, no allegiances. He has one thing though, undefined and unfinished, a weakness. Regulus is too selfish to leave it behind just yet.

“But you're breathing in my open mouth, you're the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

Regulus can only watch. He watches James at breakfast, at Quidditch. Their friendship is tentative at best and forbidden at worst. He waits for only one thing - their Wednesday night rendezvous in the astronomy tower. He never asks for more than he is given. Regulus knows that he can’t show just how much this means to him - anything he treasures will inevitably be taken away. He can do this. He can long from afar. He survives his mother. He survives the misunderstanding of his brother. So he can do this. Loving James is never something that needs to be survived, it’s a lifeline, a tether.

“I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, "Maybe you should come over"”

“You could just leave?” James’ voice is quiet, hesitant even. Again, it’s Wednesday so they’re perched in the astronomy tower like owls. It makes Regulus laugh that this is the only time he feels free - when he’s trapped on a ledge, with the boy who risks his best friend just to be here. It makes Regulus almost happy to harbour the fleeting thought that he is important to James. “I’m not Sirius.” Regulus’ voice is firm, resolute. He knows his brother’s intention - always took the fall, always shouldered the blame, always sought to mark the path for Regulus behind him. What Sirius didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. This conversation always makes its way back around. “It’s not a crime to leave something so terrible behind.” Regulus wishes he could believe James - if only he knew that the terrible things still await.

“Wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents' teenage daughter.”

Another Wednesday. A repeat ritual except it is different. “She’s amazing.” His voice is rich and passionate. “She’s kind and smart and intelligent and just so, so pretty…” James’ voice trails off as Regulus pats his back sympathetically. This is all Regulus will allow himself. He doesn’t have much to say. Regulus will not beg for a love he doesn’t deserve. In fact he wouldn’t ever ask for much more than just company. He knows James deserves to be loved - a love that is pure and untainted. Regulus knows that he is ruined, that something so distorted and ugly could never exist in the bubble of James’ life. He looks at the blush on James’ cheeks and thinks of the girl who causes it. Regulus knows if he begs like a dog, surely he deserves to be put down like one too.

“She'll be the best you ever had if you let her.”

Lily watches James, the vacant stare present in his eyes. Every Wednesday night he’d go missing until Remus finally relented. Every Wednesday he’d go to the tower, just like he did before Regulus had left. Every Wednesday he’d sit on the ledge and wait to hear footsteps behind him. He’d wait for Regulus to sit down next to him and smile - like really smile, not just his usual smirk. Lily would gently rub her hands over James’ shoulders before resting next to him. She was used to the sharp inhale and soft exhale of disappointment. In this moment, and only this moment, she couldn’t be what James wanted. She wonders just how much love James has to give, if he can love someone and grieve another at the same time.

[tawakkull]

SPIRITUALITY IN ISLAM: PART 17: WARA’ (ABSTINENCE)

Wara’ is defined as holding oneself back from unbecoming, unnecessary things; as strictly refraining from what is unlawful and forbidden; or abstaining from all doubtful things lest one should commit a forbidden act. The Islamic principle: Abandon what you doubt and prefer what you have no doubt about, and the Prophetic saying: What is lawful is evident and what is forbidden is also evident, explain the basis of wara’.

Some Sufis define wara’ as the conviction of the truth of Islamic tenets, being straightforward in one’s beliefs and acts, being steadfast in observing Islamic commandments, and being very careful in one’s relations with God Almighty. Others define it as not being heedless of God even for the period of the twinkling of an eye, and others as permanently closing them-selves to all that is not Him, as not lowering oneself before anyone except Him (for the fulfillment of one’s needs or other reasons), and as advancing until reaching God without getting stuck with one’s ego, carnal self and desires, and the world.

Always refrain from begging from people,

Beg only from your Lord Who is the All-Munificent.

Renounce the pomp and luxuries of the world

Which will certainly go as they have come.

We can also interpret wara’ as basing one’s life on engaging in what is necessary and useful, as acting in consciousness of the real nature of useless, fleeting, and transient things. This is stated in the Tradition: It is the beauty of a man’s being a good Muslim that he abandons what is of no use to him.

The writer of the Pandname, Farid al-Din al-Attar, explains this principle in a very beautiful way:

Wara’ gives rise to fear of God,

One without wara’ is subject to humiliation.

Whoever uprightly follows the way of wara’,

Whatever he does is for the sake of God.

One who desires love and friendship of God,

Without wara’, he is false in his claim of love.

Wara’ relates to both the inner and outer aspects of a believer’s life and conduct. A traveler on the path of wara’ must have reached the peaks of taqwa; his or her life must reflect a strict observance of the Shari'a’s commands and prohibitions; his or her actions must be for the sake of God; his or her heart and feelings must be purged of whatever is other than God; and he or she always must feel the company of the “Hidden Treasure.”

In other words, the traveler abandons those thoughts and conceptions that do not lead to Him, keeps aloof from those scenes that do not remind one of Him, does not listen to speeches that are not about Him, and is not occupied with that which does not please Him. Such degree of wara’ leads one directly and quickly to God Almighty, Who declared to Prophet Moses: Those who desire to get near to Me have not been able to find a way better than wara’ and zuhd (asceticism).

The abstinence known by humanity during the Age of Happiness was perfectly observed by the blessed generations following the Companions, and became an objective to reach for almost every believer. It was during this period that Bishr al-Khafi’s sister asked Ahmad ibn Hanbal:

O Imam, I usually spin (wool) on the roof of my house at night. At that time, some officials pass by with torches in their hands, and I happen to benefit, even unwillingly, from the light of their torches. Does this mean that I mix into my earnings something gained through a religiously unlawful way? The great Imam wept bitterly at this question and replied: Something doubtful even to such a minute degree must not find a way into the house of Bishr al-Khafi.

It was also during this period that people shed tears for the rest of their lives because they had cast a single glance at something forbidden, and people who vomited a piece of unlawful food that they had swallowed in ignorance wept for days. As related by ‘Abd Allah ibn Mubarak, a great traditionist and ascetic, a man traveled from Merv (Afghanistan) to Makka in order to return to its owner an item that he had put in his pocket by mistake. There were many who gave life-long service to those to whom they thought they owed something, such as Fudayl ibn ‘Iyad. Biographies of saints, such as Hilyat al-Awliya’ (The Necklace of Saints) by Abu Nu'aym al-Isfahani, and al-Tabaqat al-Kubra (The Greatest Compendium) by Imam al-Sharani, are full of the accounts of such heroes of abstinence.

[xivu-arath]

Savathûn recalls a moment when she looked to the sky.

“Look,” says their father, the king. “The storm lifts.”

He has brought them into the orrery, its brass and platinum moons spinning around Fundament on many interlocking axes. Up the stairs to the swell of the dome where the telescopes, lenses, and listening instruments rest. They are old, older than seven generations of the Osmium Court, salvaged from another continent that had drifted close in the first year of the king’s reign.

Xi Ro, eager as always, runs to the winch, helping him open the dome’s eye for them all to look through. She does this even though the telescopes bore her, because moments when the king remembers his surviving children are rare. Rarer still for him to allow them close to his most prized treasures.

The dead worm has its own place here, set on a pedestal from where it seems to be watching.

Sathona is not bored, but neither is she sated (not like Aurash, who is already pressing forward to count how many moons can be seen). The Court is full of whispers these days, and Sathona does her best to hear most of them. Whispers of war with the Helium Drinkers, of the king’s negligence, of untrustworthy waters and worsening weather. Direr still are her dreams of brave, foolish Xi Ro crushed under rubble, Aurash swept away by a burning wave. What may come looms ahead, dark and not quite unknown, and the stars and moons are much too distant to matter when weighed against it. Whatever use to her is something that cannot be touched or swayed?

The orrery frustrates her as every discovery of her limits does. Beneath the mystery of it – just how old is it? Who thought to build it, and why? – lies the same taste of bitter air, a reminder that she is small and frail and meant to live a life she can barely count on both hands.

But when Aurash waves at her to take her turn, she still closes two eyes and peers up into dissipating clouds and an uncaring, glittering sky. Useless as these are to her, they are pretty enough. For that, and because they are all still together, remembered and alive, Sathona thinks to cherish this moment.

Savathûn does not cherish it. She forgets nothing. Every moment of her past is as it should be, a single gleaming instant that she can pin between her claws. But still, something (the warm surprise of trust from an uncertain parent, pushing Aurash’s shoulder for more space, flickering awe at a new curiosity well out of her reach) is lost.

It is a moment of synchronicity that reminds her. They are pruning away yet another civilization, and through secret and subtle means Savathûn knocks their binary stars from their seat, spilling the accretion disk out to envelop the nearest planets and moons. The swell of satisfaction that accompanies this is unexpected, and so she stops to find the cause.

Look how far she has come from that moment. Her father’s efforts seem small and futile now, while she can pluck every star from the sky. There might be some few, paltry things still beyond her grasp, but they will not remain so. She has lived longer than young Sathona could have envisioned. Of her siblings she is the wisest, the most prepared, and by far the most clear-sighted. Is this not everything she has wanted?

But –

Xivu has swooped down to drain the lesser star, and Oryx infests the heart of the greater with his blights. He is singing some awful dirge he picked up several systems ago and not yet tired of, and Xivu joins him with far greater enthusiasm than skill, until the pressure of their combined voices forces even their fleets to scatter from them. They don’t care, drunk and giddy on triumph and certainty.

Savathûn is quite sure she does not envy them their stupid, simple joy. This is not the first battle, nor even the thousandth, where she has watched them make fools of themselves amidst their slaughter.

But. She is not sated, and it gnaws at her more sharply than her worm ever has. Nothing that she would strain to reach for is here.

The lesser star gutters down to a dully flickering core, and the greater has been rendered a cyst through which the Deep can be heard. Savathûn finds this a tedious, predictable ending and turns away. Behind her, her siblings continue to laugh and kill and sing (terribly still).

If there is nothing here that she would reach for, then it is past time she look elsewhere. She remembers that glimpse of the sky once more.

Among those stars and shadows was one lying moon.

[sasorikigai]

Worsening Havoc Amidst Tumultuous Deep Dark Abyss (Crime AU aesthetics & verse headcanon)

💥 || His intoxicated mind keeps circling around the carcasses of the past, because acceptance has been a fucking difficult pill to swallow. As Hanzo futilely swigs the poison his heart and mind pours for him, he wanders why he feels so damn sick. If unfathomable grief was his melancholic silence and brooding depression, his high delight was to be pulverized in brawls until his prominent and imposing frame became a mere limp wavering candleflame.

He used to never fear the darkness, for he fucking knows what lies in it. But now, something unsayable rests at the back of his tongue and the cavern of his brain, so he lets his reality become a dark, violent roam, breaching through the night sky which remains saturated by an unfathomable darkness that used to be never there before. It may soak with all the blood, sweat, grime, and dirt of the hard brawl, or the sweeping conflagration of his body heat, as he would sprint away from his pursuers and towards the lone goal; revenge.

Knowing his longing will never be satisfied - how Hanzo can still feel Harumi's soft sweet lips, the sensation of them against his own, as their lips would never have to stop their sweet embrace, as his wanton desire would grow evermore ravenous - and he finds himself in an impermanent heaven, where he simply freezes time and the sweet film reel of memories repeat like a broken record.

How such precious, treasured memories become a flesh-tearing hook; so heavy, something soft inside begins tear him asunder. Maybe Hanzo is too lifeless - looking too uncaring, but his heart should tell everyone otherwise - now to even bleed. In numb repose, now all the more aware as the depressant somehow heightens his awareness. How one tear would become a thousand cuts, and he's all too consumed within the taste of something sweet, turning something vile and wicked.

He's tired of pretending, so people might not find him weak or broken. Some might even say he's negative and pessimistic, but FUCK EVERY ONE OF YOU; for everyone watches, but no one gives a flying shit. Hanzo Hasashi doesn't have to go on satisfying everyone, playing his fitted role in this life (whatever the fuck it may be). If he cradled literal death in his arms (not of one, but two), and if anyone dares to ask if it hasn't consumed him, he'd spat that the evergrowing wildfire in his heart has carried him to a distant place, where he would raise hell, attempting to drown every fucking crashing wave as it whispers chaos.

For chaos' influence will become his drug, filling his marrow, its unyielding clutch on his limbs moving him in motion. However temporary and fleeting it may be, if Hanzo Hasashi were to live and function like a living thing, he has to survive and thrive through the ongoing onslaught of violence; whether he be the assailant, or as the life goes, it directs him in quid pro quo. 💥 ||

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xlvii. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || AO3 || Next>>

Parallel scene: A Traveler from Obiyuki Winter Challenge 2018.

Amber liquid splashed in the glass.

As he poured, the tavern keeper’s eyes flickered between his customer and the crowd gathering behind him.

Obi drained the glass and slammed it on the counter. “Another.”

…

Coming to Tanbarun had been a mistake. He hadn’t meant to – hadn’t planned it this way – just set his feet to the road and his face to the wind.

He had no mission, no destination, no purpose – only the necessity of removing himself.

He should have resurfaced somewhere new, somewhere unknown and unknowable, ready to begin again the endless wrestling match of taking enough from life to stay in the game.

…

Instead he found himself here, in her homeland, and everything reminded him of her.

For the first time, his wandering had led him astray, backtracking until he double-crossed himself.

He had shed his old lives as easily as he changed names, as easily as a snake shed its skin. He could remake himself, forget who he had been, leave everything behind — everything but her.

He heard her in their voices. He saw her in their faces. He felt her in the air.

He could forget himself, but he could not escape her.

…

The tavern keeper opened a new bottle. He glanced past Obi again. The night was cold, the bar room drafty, but the man was sweating. 

Every head had turned when Obi walked in, and now every eye was fastened on his back, tracking the stranger’s progress through drink after drink, bottle after bottle. The regulars had banded into knots, muttering to each other behind the rims of their glasses.

Obi showed the owner a coin to soothe him. “Another.”

If he had stopped to think of it, Obi might have noticed the imposing figure he presented: a tall and dark stranger, too bold for his own good, marked with old wounds and that ineffable sense of danger — or rather, dangerous because he knew no danger to fear.

Obi did not notice. 

He thought of only two things now: the pain, and how to end it.

…

He had wondered once if he could ever leave her. Now he had - but she had not left him.

It hadn't been so bad at first because he'd been busy.

Their uninvited guest had had the sense to take himself off during the night, but Obi hadn't left anything to chance. 

He planted false trails leading away from the cottage, taking care to let himself be seen moving north, deeper into Clarines.

…

Then Obi had melted back into the shadows where he belonged, confusing the tracks he left behind to shake any interested parties off his scent.

If anyone was still interested in what had drawn him to that cottage again and again, if they had been hoping to uncover a stockpile or even a treasure trove hidden away among the woods, they would have every reason to believe it had found a new home.

As for the red-haired woman, she and Obi had parted ways. Observers might, if they cared, conclude that he had abandoned her.

…

His hand tightened on the glass.

They wouldn’t be wrong, whoever thought that. What they would not understand was that he had done it for her.

She was better off this way.

…

He had spared a fleeting thought for the old man as he left, pictured briefly his seething rage at the discovery that Obi had confirmed all his worst predictions yet again. 

Then again, perhaps he might instead feel relief, a release from the one responsibility he had ever begrudged. 

The instructions, the threats, the promises had all amounted to words on a page, lines of ink smudged into meaninglessness with a drop of rain — much like every other binding contract Obi had experienced.

That was why his world sealed their contracts in blood. 

…

He couldn’t help but think of that, as he raised the glass once more and a thin scar showed white on his palm.

For the first time since his master’s death, Obi was glad. He had endured a lifetime of disappointing the man responsible for his birth, but the prince was another matter.

No matter what became of him now, it was some small consolation that Zen would never know.

…

He could drink and drink, and the ghosts might watch, but they couldn’t speak.

Another hour of this, and Obi thought he might not be able to, either.

He no longer knew what the bartender poured him, whether it was alcohol or swill–his mouth was too numb to tell the difference. The edges of his vision blurred; his ears were buzzing.

Still, when he closed his eyes, he could see her face.

She smiled, she laughed, she cried – a thousand faces, a thousand moments he had stolen and hoarded until the inevitable good-bye. Now they played in an endless loop behind his eyelids, taunting him with the evidence of his crime.

Obi gripped the bridge of his nose, slumping forward. He couldn’t forget. He’d been drinking for hours, but he couldn’t forget.

…

You’re right, Obi, her voice whispered in his ear. I shouldn’t keep you here.

He had been a fool to think he could make her happy. Week after week, her bloom had faded, the color leaving her cheeks, her laugh losing its luster, until he had returned that night to find her blighted, like a flower transplanted to an unfriendly soil. She didn’t belong with him.

She never had.

…

His fingers dug into the rough wood of the counter, but the sting didn’t balance out what he felt inside. Obi raised his head, staring around wildly for a distraction.

The tavern keeper held out a drink, but he was looking past Obi. His fingers were trembling.

A hand like a bear paw engulfed the cup. It belonged to one of the regulars. He was taller and broader than Mitsuhide, his face battered with old scars. 

He looked like a brawler to Obi — more bulk than speed, flailing fists rather than precision, not likely to kill…unless you stayed still long enough for him to beat you bloody. 

…

The man sat down too close, his elbow jostling Obi’s.

It was the first rule of the underworld to never draw attention. If you wanted to stay free, never give people a reason to remember you. 

If you wanted to stay alive, never make unnecessary enemies.

…

A fight with a bruiser like him wouldn’t end quickly. It would be a messy, noisy affair with broken glass and smashed chairs. 

Everyone in the room would get involved — the angry ones who caught a stray blow by chance, the riled ones who enjoyed the smell of blood in the air, the greedy ones who cut purses in the chaos, even the fearful ones who ran into the streets calling for help. 

Start a fight like that, and you could never show your face in that town again.

…

Perfect, Obi thought.

The stranger tipped back his head and raised the drink.

Quick as a cat, Obi slapped it out of his hand.

The glass struck the counter and shattered, spraying alcohol and fumes over both of them. The man whirled on him, nostrils flaring. The tavern keeper backed away.

Obi grinned.

[amanktreks]

Solang Paragliding: Who Cares About Limits?

Solang Valley – a paradise where the mountains meet the sky, where snowflakes dance with the wind, and where thrill-seekers find their ultimate adventure. Solang Valley altitude of 2,560 meters, is a magical gateway to some of the most exhilarating activities one can experience in the Himalayas.

The Magic of Solang Valley

Nestled between the Solang village and Beas Kund, this snow-clad nirvana is often referred to as the ‘snow point’ of Himachal Pradesh. Whether you are a lover of snow or a thrill-seeker at heart, Solang Valley promises to leave you mesmerized. The valley is not just about breathtaking views of glaciers and snow-capped peaks; it’s a hub of adventure sports that will make your heart race.

Taking Flight: Paragliding in Solang

Imagine soaring like a bird, the world below shrinking as you rise above the peaks. Paragliding in Solang Valley offers an experience like no other. The adrenaline rush as you take off, the wind whistling past, and the panoramic views of the majestic Himalayas are simply unparalleled. As you glide through the air, you’ll feel a sense of liberation that can only be described as magical.

The Solang paragliding cost is around ₹4,499 per person, which includes safety gear, a certified pilot, and breathtaking views. The flight lasts between 2 to 5 minutes, but those fleeting moments will stay etched in your memory forever.

More Than Just Paragliding

Solang Valley is a treasure trove of adventure. From skiing on the snow-covered slopes to zorbing and ATV rides, there’s something for everyone. The Solang Valley activities are perfect for families, friends, and even solo adventurers looking for some fun. Each activity comes with its own thrill, and exploring them all is like unwrapping gifts one by one.

When considering the Solang Valley activities cost, it’s a small price to pay for the memories and experiences that await. Whether it's riding the snow on a snowboard or zipping through the valley on a snow scooter, the valley promises an adventure worth every penny.

The Unforgettable Solang Experience

The charm of Solang lies not just in its activities but in the serene ambience it offers. The crisp mountain air, the sun casting golden hues on the snow, and the distant sound of laughter and joy create an atmosphere that is both tranquil and invigorating.

With a plethora of Solang Valley activities to choose from, boredom is not an option. As you indulge in these adventures, every moment in Solang Valley will feel like a celebration of life itself.

Practical Tips for Your Solang Adventure

To make the most of your time in Solang, here are a few things to keep in mind:

Wear Comfortable Clothing: Long trousers and sports shoes are a must.

Carry Essentials: Sunscreen, sunglasses, and a camera to capture those stunning moments.

Health Precautions: The activity is not recommended for those with serious medical conditions or pregnant women. Also, avoid heavy food or alcohol before the activity.

Safety First: The weather can be unpredictable, so activities may be cancelled if conditions are not suitable.

Conclusion: Answering the Call of the Mountains

So, who cares about limits when you’re in Solang Valley? Whether it’s soaring high during Solang paragliding or carving your way through the snow, the valley beckons you to push boundaries and embrace the thrill. Solang is not just a place; it’s a feeling, a call to adventure that every heart should answer at least once. Pack your bags, let your spirit take flight, and get ready to be spellbound by the magic of Solang!

[1-800-dialing-angels]

Ya know everyone portrays depression and other related mental health as all doom and gloom and sitting in the dark in a huddle exhausted and wanting to end it. Normally it is. For me it often is. Something went wrong and im crying or too exhausted to cry curled up in a corner or in bed. I think about how the world sucks and people shck and no matter what you do life is nothing but struggle and suffering and pain. You get happy moments and theyre always taken by something. Theres always something. It never ends.

Meanwhile these last few days have been nothing but

Sitting on the porch swing. Its chilly out. The birds are singing so beautifully. The stars look so pretty. The way the tree swings in the gentle breeze. I smile and watch the sky soaking it in. This would be a perfect night to get the gun and shoot myself

Im in the car. One of my favorite songs is playing. Just watched an amazing movie in the theater. Watching cars go by, trees go by, i love seeing it all even though ive seen it a million times. I smile and think to myself how the world is so beautiful and fleeting, I should get the gun while I can before something bad happens again and let my last seconds be in pure joy

Im in bed. Its so cozy. My cats and dog are cuddled up to me. I spent the day with my friends and it was so much fun. I wonder if theyd miss me. I wonder if i should tell them. Should i leave a note. A note about how perfectly imperfect everything is, how beautiful. How i wasnt sad and i wasnt angry. Everything was perfect. I wanted these perfect last few days to stay with me forever.

I wish i could do what so many people do. Look at how beautiful the world is and think it's something to live for. Every happy moment makes me think i should let it be my last memory so i can treasure it in eternity. Or in the case oc nothingness, those i leave can remember those happy days and my smile and how much i was enjoying life

[vivekbsworld]

Making a Grand Entrance: Premium Wedding Car Rentals in Kerala

Your wedding day is one of the most special occasions of your life, and every detail, no matter how small, contributes to making it memorable. From choosing the perfect venue to selecting the finest decor, every element plays a role in creating a dream wedding. One aspect that often gets overlooked is the wedding transportation. Yet, arriving in style is an essential part of making a lasting impression. This is where premium wedding car rentals in Kerala come into play, offering a touch of luxury and elegance to your special day.

Kerala, known for its breathtaking landscapes, rich culture, and warm hospitality, provides the perfect backdrop for a fairytale wedding. Whether you’re planning an intimate ceremony by the backwaters or a grand celebration at a heritage mansion, the right wedding car can elevate your entrance and leave a lasting impression on your guests.

Here’s why premium wedding car rentals in Kerala are an excellent choice for your big day:

1. Sophisticated Elegance: Kerala is a land of timeless elegance, and your wedding car should reflect that. Premium wedding car rentals in Kerala offer a fleet of meticulously maintained luxury vehicles, ranging from classic vintage cars to sleek modern sedans. Whatever your style, you can find a vehicle that embodies sophistication and charm, setting the tone for your special day.

2. Comfort and Convenience: On your wedding day, you deserve to feel like royalty, and premium wedding car rentals in Kerala ensure a comfortable and stress-free journey. From the moment you step into the plush interior of your chosen vehicle to the time you arrive at your venue, you’ll enjoy a smooth and serene ride. With experienced chauffeurs at the helm, you can sit back, relax, and focus on soaking in the joy of the moment.

3. Memorable Experience: Your wedding day is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and every detail matters. Arriving in a premium wedding car not only adds to the elegance of your entrance but also creates lasting memories for you and your guests. Imagine stepping out of a sleek luxury car with your loved one, surrounded by the natural beauty of Kerala, and being greeted by cheering friends and family. It’s a moment you’ll treasure forever.

4. Customization Options: Premium wedding car rentals in Kerala offer customization options to suit your unique preferences and theme. Whether you want to decorate the car with flowers, ribbons, or other embellishments, or if you have specific music preferences for your journey, professional rental services can accommodate your requests to ensure your wedding car is perfect down to the last detail.

5. Flexible Packages: When you choose a premium wedding car rental in Kerala, you can benefit from flexible packages that cater to your needs. Whether you need transportation for the bride and groom, the entire bridal party, or even special guests, rental services can tailor a package that meets your requirements and budget.

In conclusion, when planning your dream wedding in Kerala, don’t overlook the importance of premium wedding car rentals. From adding an element of luxury and sophistication to ensuring a comfortable and memorable experience, these services are a valuable addition to your special day. With a premium wedding car at your disposal, you can make a grand entrance that sets the tone for a celebration filled with love, joy, and cherished memories.

[aneetasingh]

Take a Majestic Tour of India with The Taj Mahal Tour by Car, Departing from Delhi

Located in Agra on the Yamuna River's banks, the Taj Mahal is a timeless representation of Mughal architectural genius and love. Built by Emperor Shah Jahan in honor of his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal, this UNESCO World Heritage site has captured the hearts of millions of people worldwide with its majestic beauty. A short vehicle ride will get anyone who lives in or visits Delhi, the country's busy capital, the chance to see this masterpiece for themselves. The Taj In India organization promises not just a travel but an experience that will never be forgotten with their unmatched vehicle tour of the Taj Mahal departing from Delhi.

The Adventure Starts Delhi is the ideal place to begin this journey because of its diverse history, culture, and modern architecture. The Taj In India organization ensures comfort, convenience, and a hint of luxury with their attentive planning of your journey from Delhi to Agra. Traveling by automobile means that you should not only get where you're going, but also take the time to enjoy the ride. The scenery progressively changes as you leave the bustle of Delhi behind, revealing snippets of India's colorful rural core.

The Opulent Fleet The Taj In India firm is aware of the value of a comfortable travel, which is why they have a fleet of air-conditioned, well-maintained cars. They have a range of alternatives to accommodate various group sizes and tastes, from roomy SUVs to elegant cars. Modern conveniences are included in every automobile to make sure you have the most comfortable travel possible. In addition, their kind and skilled drivers ensure a safe, easy, and joyful journey to Agra.

Individualized Experiences The Taj In India company's dedication to providing individualized experiences is what makes them unique. They may customize your Taj Mahal tour by vehicle from Delhi to meet your specific needs and interests, whether you're a family on vacation, a couple going on a romantic retreat, or a single traveler. They go above and beyond to make sure you're satisfied, from setting up easy pickup and drop-off hours to meeting unique demands.

Investigating the Taj Mahal You are not simply brought to the Taj Mahal when you arrive in Agra; rather, you are introduced to it in a way that enhances your visit. The business Taj In India offers skilled local guides who breathe life into the architecture and history of this famous structure. You will be mesmerized by the sight of the white marble mausoleum with its exquisite carvings and inlay work as you enter the huge entryway. It seems to sparkle beneath the sun. In addition to sharing the amazing tales of how it was built, your guide will assist you in finding secret locations for the ideal shots, making sure you take lifelong memories.

Past the Taj Mahal The Taj In India firm promotes exploring beyond the Taj Mahal, even though it is unquestionably the highlight. The tour includes visits to other amazing landmarks in Agra, such as the Agra Fort and Itmad-ud-Daulah, often known as the Baby Taj, which provide a deeper look into India's rich history and architectural magnificence.

Providing a Simple Return Following a day full of wonder and appreciation, your return trip to Delhi is similarly easy and enjoyable. The Taj In India company makes sure you come back to your Delhi lodging feeling rejuvenated and content, with memories to treasure and tales to share.

In summary A car tour of the Taj Mahal from Delhi with The Taj In India company is an experience infused with luxury, customization, and a profound regard for India's cultural legacy. It's more than just a vacation. It promises an immersive experience that encapsulates the essence of Agra's historical and architectural beauty in addition to the sight of the breathtaking Taj Mahal. For anyone seeking to see the splendor of the Taj Mahal and learn about the intricate fabric of Mughal history, The Taj In India company provides a flawless and remarkable journey.

Taj Mahal Tour by car from Delhi

Skip The Line

Duration : 1 Days

Free cancellation

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Private Tour

Overview - Tajmahal Tour by car from Delhi

An Impromptu Agra Visit from Delhi:- is a well known and helpful way for voyagers to visit the notorious Taj Mahal and other verifiable attractions in Agra, India, all in a solitary day. Agra is found around 200 kilometers (125 miles) from Delhi, and it’s known for its rich history and engineering ponders. Here is a general framework of what you can anticipate from an Impromptu Agra Visit from Delhi.

Tour Highlights

 The visit normally starts promptly in the first part of the day to capitalize on the day. we generally offer get administrations from your inn.

 The excursion from Delhi to Agra requires around 3-4 hours by street, contingent upon traffic conditions. You’ll go in an agreeable vehicle with a driver and, frequently, a learned aide.

 The Taj Mahal, one of the Seven Marvels of the World, is typically the primary stop. You’ll investigate this wonderful white marble sepulcher, which was worked by Sovereign Shah Jahan in memory of his adored spouse Mumtaz Mahal. You’ll have more than adequate opportunity to appreciate its excellence and find out about its set of experiences.

 In the wake of visiting the Taj Mahal, you’ll make a beeline for Agra Post, an UNESCO World Legacy Site. It’s a huge red sandstone stronghold that filled in as the fundamental home of the Mughal sovereigns. Your aide will give experiences into the set of experiences and design of the stronghold.

 You’ll partake in a delectable lunch at a neighborhood café, where you can enjoy a portion of Agra’s real cooking.

 Agra is known for its painstaking work and marble items. A few visits incorporate a visit to neighborhood markets where you can search for keepsakes.

Tour Itinerary

Pick-up at 6:30 AM - 7 AM from Delhi / Gurgaon / Noida

Inclusion / Exclusion

 Private tour

 Transport by private, air-conditioned car

 All sightseeing with private local guides

 All taxes and service charges

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 17

Wara’ (Abstinence)

Wara’ is defined as holding oneself back from unbecoming, unnecessary things; as strictly refraining from what is unlawful and forbidden; or abstaining from all doubtful things lest one should commit a forbidden act. The Islamic principle: Abandon what you doubt and prefer what you have no doubt about, and the Prophetic saying: What is lawful is evident and what is forbidden is also evident, explain the basis of wara’. [1] Some Sufis define wara’ as the conviction of the truth of Islamic tenets, being straightforward in one’s beliefs and acts, being steadfast in observing Islamic commandments, and being very careful in one’s relations with God Almighty. Others define it as not being heedless of God even for the period of the twinkling of an eye, and others as permanently closing them-selves to all that is not Him, as not lowering oneself before anyone except Him (for the fulfillment of one’s needs or other reasons), and as advancing until reaching God without getting stuck with one’s ego, carnal self and desires, and the world.

Always refrain from begging from people, Beg only from your Lord Who is the All-Munificent. Renounce the pomp and luxuries of the world Which will certainly go as they have come.

We can also interpret wara’ as basing one’s life on engaging in what is necessary and useful, as acting in consciousness of the real nature of useless, fleeting, and transient things. This is stated in the Tradition: It is the beauty of a man’s being a good Muslim that he abandons what is of no use to him.

The writer of the Pandname, Farid al-Din al-Attar, explains this principle in a very beautiful way:

Wara’ gives rise to fear of God, One without wara’ is subject to humiliation. Whoever uprightly follows the way of wara’, Whatever he does is for the sake of God. One who desires love and friendship of God, Without wara’, he is false in his claim of love.

Wara’ relates to both the inner and outer aspects of a believer’s life and conduct. A traveler on the path of wara’ must have reached the peaks of taqwa; his or her life must reflect a strict observance of the Shari'a’s commands and prohibitions; his or her actions must be for the sake of God; his or her heart and feelings must be purged of whatever is other than God; and he or she always must feel the company of the “Hidden Treasure.”

In other words, the traveler abandons those thoughts and conceptions that do not lead to Him, keeps aloof from those scenes that do not remind one of Him, does not listen to speeches that are not about Him, and is not occupied with that which does not please Him. Such degree of wara’ leads one directly and quickly to God Almighty, Who declared to Prophet Moses: Those who desire to get near to Me have not been able to find a way better than wara’ and zuhd (asceticism).

The abstinence known by humanity during the Age of Happiness was perfectly observed by the blessed generations following the Companions, and became an objective to reach for almost every believer. It was during this period that Bishr al-Khafi’s sister asked Ahmad ibn Hanbal:

O Imam, I usually spin (wool) on the roof of my house at night. At that time, some officials pass by with torches in their hands, and I happen to benefit, even unwillingly, from the light of their torches. Does this mean that I mix into my earnings something gained through a religiously unlawful way? The great Imam wept bitterly at this question and replied: Something doubtful even to such a minute degree must not find a way into the house of Bishr al-Khafi. [2]

It was also during this period that people shed tears for the rest of their lives because they had cast a single glance at something forbidden, and people who vomited a piece of unlawful food that they had swallowed in ignorance wept for days. As related by ‘Abd Allah ibn Mubarak, a great traditionist and ascetic, a man traveled from Merv (Afghanistan) to Makka in order to return to its owner an item that he had put in his pocket by mistake. There were many who gave life-long service to those to whom they thought they owed something, such as Fudayl ibn ‘Iyad. Biographies of saints, such as Hilyat al-Awliya’ (The Necklace of Saints) by Abu Nu'aym al-Isfahani, and al-Tabaqat al-Kubra (The Greatest Compendium) by Imam al-Sharani, are full of the accounts of such heroes of abstinence.

[1] Bukhari, Buyu’, 3; Tirmidhi, Qiyama, 60. [2] Qushayri, al-Risala, 111.

[bigphotoclicker]

Wedding Photography as an Art Form: Masterpieces in Every Shot

Introduction

Wedding photography is more than just capturing moments; it's a profound art form that weaves emotions, stories, and creativity into every shot. In this blog, we explore the realm of wedding photography as an art form, where photographers skillfully transform simple moments into timeless masterpieces. Let's delve into the beauty and artistry behind wedding photography.

The Art of Composition

One of the fundamental aspects that elevate wedding photography to the status of an art form is composition. Wedding photographers are not just taking pictures; they are carefully composing each frame to tell a story, convey emotion, and capture the essence of the moment. From the rule of thirds to leading lines, composition principles are artfully applied to create striking visual narratives.

Emotion and Storytelling

At the heart of wedding photography is the art of storytelling. Photographers are entrusted with the responsibility of preserving the most profound and intimate moments of a couple's life. The artistry lies in capturing the raw, unscripted emotions – the tears of joy, the laughter, the stolen glances, and the tender embraces. Each photograph should transport viewers into the world of the wedding, where the story unfolds through the lens.

Playing with Light and Shadows

Light is the paintbrush of a wedding photographer. The manipulation of light and shadows adds depth, drama, and a touch of magic to the photographs. Whether it's the soft glow of candlelight during the ceremony or the dramatic play of shadows during the reception, light is a powerful tool for creating art in wedding photography.

Capturing Details

A true wedding photography artist pays attention to the minutiae. The intricate lace on the bride's dress, the delicate jewelry, the fragrant bouquet, and the ornate decor – these are the details that set the stage for a captivating visual experience. Every little element is meticulously captured to complete the narrative and add depth to the story.

Editing and Post-Processing

The artistic process doesn't end with the click of the shutter. Skilled wedding photographers engage in post-processing to fine-tune their shots, enhancing the mood and emotion. The choice of color grading, cropping, and retouching are all elements of the artistic journey. Each photograph is carefully curated, ensuring that it evokes the desired emotional response.

Creative Techniques and Styles

Wedding photographers often explore creative techniques and styles to add an artistic flair to their work. From candid, documentary-style photography that captures genuine moments to classic and timeless portraiture, each approach brings its own artistic dimension to the wedding album. The choice of style is a reflection of the photographer's artistic vision.

The Art of Anticipation

Great wedding photographers are not just observers; they are anticipators. They predict and capture moments even before they unfold. Their keen eye for emotions and their understanding of the dynamics of the event allow them to seize those fleeting moments of authentic emotion that make for the most powerful images.

Conclusion

Wedding photography is a unique art form where photographers are entrusted with capturing one of the most significant days in a couple's life. It goes beyond the technicalities of photography; it delves into the realm of emotions, storytelling, and artistic expression. Every shot is a masterpiece waiting to be unveiled, a treasure chest of memories that couples will cherish for a lifetime. The next time you witness the beauty of wedding photography, remember that it's not just photography; it's an art form, a timeless expression of love and connection that transcends the simple click of a camera. In the hands of a skilled wedding photographer, every shot is a masterpiece in the making.

[art-angled]

when it’s forlorn in the marsh,

there’s concord through

embed in the shell,

i wait for the emmisary.

these requisitions are habitually

behest only after the moon parades

the murk

unabashed for its deed,

elucidates the spite intentions

and glisters through this dereliction.

its no flesh and blood after all,

pallid yet fetching,

doesn’t fail to slake her own malice.

i’m no saint either,

how’d one vanquish their miseries if it wasn’t for me.

it’s like a door unabridged with your strangest fears,

those apprehensions strike through as if there’s no destination as expedient,

as enthralling.

would be credulous to call it a drug,

with each strike,

the ardour to dispel the fear intensifies,

not knowing this isn’t a chase to diminish the resilient dread,

but a living macabre across the door waiting for you to fall prey to his might.

let the tears droop,

a few shrieks go unanswered,

bloated sight be mistaken,

nose veiled as if its never seen a scarlet,

unattended knocks obscure the morose,

silence in the day, that makes me brawl for singularity,

silence in the night that plays cords to my tunes,

unceasing habits,

that make a Judas to the sunlight,

twas once the purpose of my paean.

why then should there be a shield

when its the time of the Luna.

if its a nip in my bud,

i’ll willingly feed the kernel of what has and will bear the weight of adversity.

for this solitude,

a million times bigger than me,

sneaks into my bones and wails and wails until i can’t be conclusive anymore.

the fire has sunk miles beneath

this ocean of iniquity,

there’s no match,

there’s no urge to dream anymore,

for what had to come,

hath shown its dexterity,

but there’s no depth,

that i came on the search for,

where are those heralds of reflection of affluence and amity and accord.

how do i swallow this fad reality that was once supposed to stump all possible setbacks?

i have no place to go,

my naps render me a home,

like a lingering phantasm of fevered dreams.

how worthless are these decades of coerced ambiguity when all it took was two hauls,

to shatter a life worth of devotion.

what’s my hideway tomorrow,

i’m wearied foraging for escapes

this sombre doesn’t cloak behind the facade,

we obviously didn’t live, love and laugh enough to not douse fiery endeavours.

restlessness in my blood,

now your world is too fast

nothing is real and

nothing lasts.

this monotone is on the hunt,

to fordo the last of life,

but i’m blind to this deception,

cause all i see through the squall is

a reel of the quandom that saved every penny to make this treasure,

all grey, no white;

these scars aren’t red,

it can’t always be love,

there’s no ardent will to depart,

slow tones collapsing dynasties,

its all black.

for betrayal is always black,

fate left no forever for you to think that there will be more,

now you’ve been entangled in this falsity,

no half-truths to hide behind,

a joy to be hidden,

disaster not to be found,

your voice is restrained,

who are you even?

these ethereal impressions,

but nobody heroic enough to withstand the imperfections?

are you the sin or the sinner?

i’m stuck in this matrix,

it’s exhausted me completely

i don’t remember rehearsing this epoch,

is there an escape?

an unending conspiracy,

that doesn’t shun while consuming these bits of me,

i fail to recognise these as the same pictures at all,

and quitely absolve time as the culprit.

disoriented from this debacle,

i’m resting my grief,

this fire will set me ablaze,

an impeding freedom,

a somersault over the pane,

the sun illuminating the last show,

and a pirouette through the air,

good lord i know not of another person fleeting this gracefully,

to seize that white sheet,

and lurche over with mirth,

and set abode for the

most ethereal haven,

validectory worries,

be the least of my worries,

only so to have ended me and my worries,

which don’t reside with me anymore,

nothing does.

for it was never a forage for ecstasy or avarice or desire,

if it was anything at all,

it died in the pride of forfeiture

of a life worth of ardour,

and hope of

euphonious eminence and perfection ,

but in the end it wasn’t about being perfect,

it was about being alive.

[pinkargyles]

The Perfect Expression Of Love: Celebrating Milestones With Diamond Rings

Love, a universal emotion that transcends time and culture, has always been celebrated through meaningful gestures. And what better way to express love and mark cherished milestones than with diamond rings? These exquisite pieces of jewellery have become a symbol of eternal love and commitment, capturing the essence of special moments in our lives. In this captivating journey into the realm of diamonds, we will explore how diamond rings Melbourne have become an integral part of celebrating milestones

. From engagements to anniversaries and other significant occasions, we will delve into the timeless beauty and profound symbolism associated with these precious gemstones. So prepare to be enchanted as we unravel the secrets behind the perfect expression of love through diamond rings

The Significance of Celebrating Milestones

Life is a journey filled with precious moments and milestones that shape our paths. These milestones mark significant achievements, relationships, and personal growth. They serve as reminders of the joy and perseverance it took to reach these pivotal moments in our lives. Celebrating milestones allows us to honour our accomplishments and reflect on the lessons learned along the way.

These celebrations hold immense significance as they bring us closer to our loved ones, reinforcing bonds and creating lasting memories. It is during these milestone celebrations that we come together to acknowledge the triumphs, joyfully reminiscing about the challenges overcome and the dreams realised. Whether it's an anniversary, a graduation, or a promotion, each milestone deserves recognition as it represents a stepping stone towards personal fulfilment.

In a world where time seems fleeting, celebrating milestones brings a sense of stability and gratitude into our lives. It allows us to pause amidst our busy schedules and appreciate how far we've come. These celebrations act as touchstones that keep us grounded in our values while inspiring us to strive for even greater heights in the future.

The Timeless Beauty of Diamond Rings

Diamonds, the epitome of elegance and everlasting allure, have captivated humanity for centuries. Their enduring beauty has stood the test of time, making them an impeccable choice for celebrating milestones filled with love and devotion. Admired for their brilliant sparkle and exquisite clarity, diamonds possess a unique ability to capture the essence of every special moment.

When light dances upon a diamond's facets, it ignites a mesmerising display that enchants both the beholder and wearer alike. The sheer brilliance and radiance of a diamond ring symbolise an eternal commitment to love – a reflection of one's unwavering dedication to another soul. It is as if these precious gemstones hold within them the power to freeze time, preserving cherished memories in their resplendent embrace.

Beyond their physical beauty lies a deeper significance: diamonds are formed under immense pressure over millions of years, emerging as rare treasures from within the earth's core. In this sense, they embody strength and resilience - qualities necessary in any lasting relationship. 

The allure of diamond rings Melbourne lies not only in their outward appearance but also in the profound emotional connection they evoke – reminding us that even amidst life's challenges, love can endure and flourish.

Choosing the Right Diamond Ring for Milestone Celebrations

Choosing the perfect diamond ring for milestone celebrations is an art in itself, requiring careful consideration and thoughtful selection. The first step is to determine the style that best reflects the individual's personality, as this will ensure a ring that truly resonates with their essence. 

Whether it be a classic solitaire, an intricately designed halo setting, or a contemporary three-stone design, each option holds its own unique charm. Next, attention should be given to the cut and carat weight of the diamond.

 The cut determines how well the stone reflects light, while the carat weight affects its size and overall presence. Opting for a higher quality cut ensures maximum brilliance and sparkle, creating a dazzling display of love.

The Symbolism of Diamond Rings in Relation to Love

The Symbolism of Diamond Rings in Relation to Love Diamond rings have long been cherished as a symbol of eternal love and commitment. From ancient civilizations to modern times, the allure of these precious gemstones has captivated hearts and minds. The symbolism behind diamond rings is deeply rooted in their enduring qualities, reflecting the everlasting nature of true love.

The brilliance and sparkle of diamonds represent the radiant beauty that love brings into our lives. Just as diamonds shine brightly even in dim light, love has the power to illuminate our darkest moments, filling them with hope and joy.

 Moreover, diamonds are known for their strength and durability, symbolising the unwavering bond between two individuals who stand by each other through thick and thin.

Conclusion

As we conclude our exploration of celebrating milestones with diamond rings Melbourne, we are reminded of the timeless beauty and enduring symbolism that these precious gems hold. The journey of love is filled with joyous occasions and significant milestones, and diamond rings serve as perfect expressions of love in these moments.

 The sparkle of a diamond captures the essence and radiance of a flourishing relationship, reflecting the commitment and devotion shared between two individuals. With each milestone celebrated through the exchange of a diamond ring, love is immortalised in its most exquisite form, creating memories that will be cherished forever. 

Source url : https://australian-diamond.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-perfect-expression-of-love.html

[voidcat]

— electro users & how their touch feels

cryo — hydro — pyro

-> Beidou touches your arm with a fierce grip, as lively as the drink she has been having for celebratory means. Her eyes warm like wine, her voice silky smooth like the liquor she loves to drink. Beidou, you come to realize, is a lot of things at once. A mother, a lover, a captain, a confidant, a trusty business partner– all depending on the scene, depending on the people, the color of many people’s lives, and yours, you come to realize that she waits for you to label that warm touch she offers you. She begins another shanty then, as you can only stare with adoration in your eyes, neither of you noticing your glasses refilled or what everyone else is doing.

-> Ei is reluctant when it comes to touching. As if a single contact of skin is all it’ll take for her to see your ashes spread in the wind. Too stuck in the past, in the pain, the losses and regrets; she forgets to grab a hold of the now, the moment at her hands that’ll soon be gone. She doesn’t understand why you find quite amusing, say, as the god of eternity, she should be more focused on the fleeting moments, engrave them into her memory. With a gulp, her hand reaches out, it’s not shaky but hesitancy clear in her eyes, her touch feels electric, a pleasant sensation of goosebumps.

-> With a busy schedule as hers, Keqing is known for her management skills, something that applies to every aspect of her life. With the clock always ticking, she treasures her time spent with you dearly, and thus shows her thoughts and feelings through gestures. Each touch calculated, be it her hand over yours as you wait for tea, or her guiding hands on you, showing you steps of a move you’ve been meaning to grasp lately. As natural as a butterfly flapping its wings, Keqing’s touches are just right, always at the appropriate moment, never too little nor too much– yet still enough to leave you flushed once in a while, every butterfly has a daring side to themselves after all.

-> Kunikuzushi is like a lightning strike on a winter night. The glorious bolt lightning up the pale lilac sky, gracing the world with its presence; leaving a sense of dread, adoration, fear and fascination in its wake. When he touches, it is as if his first time– perhaps it is, when you come to think about it. It feels electric, hairs on your neck standing up, mouth dry, hands tightened, desperately searching for something to hold on to. He finds it odd, he plays it off; he tries to pretend it doesn’t make him feel a certain way he has not felt before. Yet soon after, he finds himself lost in the gestures, the touches, the warmth that comes along. How giddy, he didn’t know there were other things besides electro to ignite such feelings… Just as he is pulled, you soon find yourself pulled towards him, just to see stars in your vision once more, that purple spark waltzing in your chest.

-> Lisa Minci’s touch is simply electric. Breathtaking, unashamed, passionate, it is filled with everything that makes something alive. Her gestures aren’t even naught, if she were to be confronted about it. A slight touch here, a stroke on your shoulder there, forearms brushing, her leg seems to be teasing yours under the table; there is an innocent charm to every movement she puts into action, though you should know better, with every move Lisa makes, there is always a secret lying to be decoded. It is addicting, to say the least. Soon you find yourself concluding that if anyone were to give life to something inanimate, one touch from her would be all it takes.

-> Miko Yae's touch is teasing and playful, just like herself. As if each touch is engraved with a burst of eletro, it sparkles on your skin and in your view, always keeping you on your toes, always making you yearn for more. Intriguing like a well tailored novel, she pulls you in further and further. That sly smile of hers looks as if she knows you better than you, and with how she manages to draw the exact reaction she wants out of you, perhaps it holds a sense of truth. Her presence dizzying, a light tap is enough to seal the deal– leaning against you, whispering to your ear with a low hum, what can anyone do but not drop to their knees? If death comes in the form of her touches, who would have it in them to resist?

-> Sara Kujou’s touch lacks the confidence she usually carries with her, when she aims, when she shots, when she commands. All it takes is a little practice, a little nudge, just as it is with many skills she has perfected along the years she has served and lived. Similar to how a bird seems as if made out of cashmere or silk, her touch is as soft as a feather’s, and as light too. Keeping to herself in public, as expected of her position; Sara finds it hard to refrain when away from prying eyes. Eyes always on you, a hand on your shoulder, she is always here, always present. Beneath that cold deceiving shell, one touch is all it takes to reveal her soul as warm as her honey eyes, gentle on the person like a summer rain.