#RingBand

[deepaarumugam]

Emerald Elegance: Timeless Beauty in Every Band

Discover the timeless allure of emerald ring bands, where elegance meets sophistication. These exquisite pieces effortlessly blend tradition with contemporary style, showcasing the mesmerizing green hues of emeralds. Adorn your finger with nature's vibrant gemstone, symbolizing rebirth and love. The emerald's rich history, associated with goddess Venus and Cleopatra, adds a touch of mystique to these bands.

Crafted with precision, emerald ring bands are a symbol of opulence and grace, making them perfect for engagements or special occasions. Their vivid coloration, coupled with the durability of emeralds, creates a lasting impression. Whether set in classic gold or modern platinum, these rings promise an enduring, eye-catching accessory. Embrace the allure of emerald ring bands – an embodiment of nature's beauty and an everlasting expression of love.

[internationaljmart]

Natural Rhodolite sterling silver over gold vermeil ring

[uncommonjewelsin]

Etsy share and save

[leviticusjewelry]

Leviticus Posy Rings in sterling sterling silver. 🍂FALL SALE🍂 20% OFF-Sitewide Use Code: FALL #posyring #ringband #flowerring #floralring https://www.instagram.com/p/CjnGLAoLATB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bittersweet-felonwood]

Literally living the cottagecore dream, I got engaged at a beautiful waterfall in the Welsh countryside. My fiance has been picking little flowers for me to press in a notebook or in my clear phone case, I've been eating such tasty homemade/locally grown/sourced foods every day, the inns he has been taking me to have breathtaking views... He treats me like such a princess I literally cannot have asked for anyone better.

[ukuntt]

Seventeen having multiple albums with bag/envelope packaging and now red velvet doing ringband...My favorite groups really love to have the worst type of packaging

[bleubrri]

ushijima doesn’t propose to you with a ring.

granted, he has no idea why, considering that the box is sitting in the pocket of his shorts at any and all times. he’d spent months trying to get every detail right; unfaltering in his desire to marry you, but every other decision had been made and remade a hundred times over. he’d stopped counting after the fourth ringband and thinks that the jeweller started to hate him around the seventh ‘final’ decision for the cut of the stone.

he’s never been particularly indecisive, in fact he thinks he’s quite the opposite, and yet he can’t seem to stick to his guns on anything.

he almost proposes before the flight, though as he watches you toss sunscreen and string bikinis into a suitcase he thinks it might add an extra weight to the holiday, like some strange pre-honeymoon. if he asked you in a restaurant ushijima isn’t entirely sure you’d say yes, and every night at dinner he has to choke the question down.

in the garden?

in the city?

it needs to be special, not too public. maybe not in public at all—

“toshi?”

“hm?” he lifts his gaze to find you staring at him from your place next to the bed.

“i said can you throw me my water bottle?” you repeat.

he nods, resigning himself to thinking of a plan later and crossing the room to hand you the bottle. you tuck it into the beach bag that you’re packing and—maybe the beach? perhaps at night, when it’s more secluded and he can recite everything he loves about you without the added pressure of an audience. ushijima gets the sudden irrational fear of dropping the ring in the sand and is reconstructing his whole plan when you take his hand in yours.

“are you okay, love?”

he blinks, squeezing your hand and flashing you a small smile. “of course, why?”

“you’ve just seemed a little.. distracted? distant? i don’t know, i figured you were just stressed.” you tuck your phone into the pocket of your bag and turn to give him your full attention, taking both his hands in yours. “are you sure nothings wrong, toshi? i can try and help if you tell me. i want you to enjoy this holiday too so if there’s anything i can do to—”

“marry me.” he blurts, without a plan and without a ring and with his heart coming up out his throat. the grip of your fingers goes slack for a second, your voice dying and eyes going wide.

“what?” it’s barely a whisper.

ushijima sighs, taking your face in his hands and thumbing over your undereyes while you look up at him through wet lashes.

“i’ve been trying—” he says, a fond smile curling his lips, “—to ask you to marry me.”

you find yourself blinking away tears, nodding frantically as you try and unclog your throat long enough to fucking speak.

“yes.” you breath, “yes of course, of course i’ll—yes.” you’re laughing, tears bubbling at your lashline that he swipes at before they get a chance to fall and tipping your mouth to his—needy, desperate little thing.

somewhere in the flurry of tongue and teeth, you end up being pulled onto the freshly made sheets and straddling his lap. toshi breaks the string of saliva that’s connecting your mouths to stare at you with stars in his half lidded eyes.

you find your palms smoothing down the broad plains of his chest that’s covered by the thin fabric of his t-shirt, resting them over his heart that seems to be thrashing against his ribs.

lips ghosting over his and noses barely brushing, you whisper, “you shouldn’t have asked me now.” and for a brief moment his stomach drops. “now i’m never gonna let you leave this room.” you smile, pecking his lips and slowly grinding into his lap.

large hands are secured on your hips and ushijima decides that he’ll worry about the details later. “maybe,” he chuckles, “that was the plan all along.”

[autumnslance]

Gleam & Glow

I refuse to be practical about gearing up Dark's alt jobs. Not when there are pretty dresses on the line and magic classes are OOC for her so I can be indulgent.

Using Legacy Warrior Coronet in Ice Blue, Ringbands and Demonic Boots in Peacock Blue. Manderville Weapons

[thevikingwoman]

I had some post 3.4 thoughts and wanted to put them out there

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 691 | Read on Ao3

Meryta Khatin & Urianger Augurelt | post 3.4 Rating: G. Friendship, worrying for friends, dealing with everything

Wrong

Meryta sits on a box in the Rising Stones, her hands and her tail curled around her legs. It’s late, but she’s not quite ready to turn in. The last few days have been a whirlwind, too many things happening, too many questions and too few answers. She doesn’t want to be alone, but she’s not sure what to talk about either or with whom, so she’s stuck sitting with her thoughts in silence.

Urianger sits at the table next to the boxes, deep in his own thoughts. He said he’d return to the Waking Sands, but perhaps he’s not ready to be alone either. Her eyes wanders across the room. Most people have left, getting ready for their travels tomorrow. Papalymo is talking with – or at – Yda, though they both seem to be leaving. Meryta bites her lips.

“Meryta,” Urianger says, interrupting her thoughts, “prithee, art thou bothered?”

“I’m worried about Yda.”

Her happiness at seeing her friend again has faded, her gut telling her something is wrong. Yda almost sounded like her usual upbeat self, but only almost. She didn’t know the resistance meant that much to her, and she wonders what it means.

“Mayhaps thou should take thy inquiry to Yda herself.”

She shakes her head.

“I tried, but she didn’t say much.” Something changed in Yda, or maybe she herself changed and can no longer tell. Perhaps it’s just her own worries running ahead of her – after not knowing for so long that Yda – and Papalymo — was alive. Everyone has changed, she supposes.

“We can but wait and see what the fates bring us thenceforth.”

“Even if you did know, would you tell?”

Urianger tenses, his mouth drawn briefly, and then it’s gone.

“Sorry, that was unjust of me. I’m just very worried about my friend. I spend a long time worried about where she was and if she even was alive and now – now I worry more.”

“I see.” Urianger pauses, and looks down, fiddling with his ringbands. “Worrying about friends speaketh well of thy.”

Despite Alphinaud’s and everyone’s optimism at the meeting prior, she feels unsettled and she regrets her words. Thancred is nowhere to be found, even after his supportive words. Something has changed in him too. She can’t help him, not now but perhaps –

“Urianger. I spoke too rashly and – are you okay?”

“Your words were not without their reason. ‘Tis I who should inquire you the same, Meryta.”

She shrugs, then shakes her head. She doesn’t blame him for what he did. It seems to her he sees paths and possibilities others might not. She’d have asked someone if she’d had such a conundrum, but she’d have asked him. Or Alphinaud, perhaps, but she’s not sure he would have picked something sensible to do.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been sent to fight something, or someone.” She knows it’s not exactly what bothers him, or the scope of his unsanctioned bargain, but it’s part of it, and it’s the part she alone can forgive.

Urianger looks up, his gaze hidden behind those goggles of his.

“We oft have besieged thee to take arms against Primals and all manner of threat, but ne’er under deceptions shadow.”

“It would not have worked another way.” She curls her legs up under her. “Your expertise is welcome, Urianger. Don’t hide away completely in the Waking Sands, my friend.”

She doesn’t quite know if they’re friends, but it feels right to say it. They’re not not friends, and too many people, friends and almost friends, have died already. Urianger looked ready to bolt and never look back, and she knows that’s all wrong.

“I thank thee. My work taketh me thither, but I will not hide.”

She smiles, and she wishes she could see his eyes – she does not understand why he hides them beneath those goggles, his face inscrutable. Perhaps that’s the point. She’ll not soon forget those golden eyes of his, and some part of her wants to see them again, close and not across the battlefield.

“I will come visit, then.” She reaches out and pats his arm gently.

“That would please me.”

[valkariel]

Smolder v.2

» New Shots of Smolder «

Updated with wine red dye.

Head: Replica High Allagan Mask of Casting - soot black Body: Palaka Vest of Casting - wine red Hands: Boarskin Ringbands of Flames - soot black Legs: Arhat Hakama of Casting - default Feet: Demon Sandals of Casting - default

Ears: The Emperor's New Earrings Neck: The Emperor's New Necklace Wrists: Neo-Ishgardian Wristbands of Casting Right Ring: Ronkan Ring of Casting Left Ring: Palaka Ring of Casting

Main Hand: Shantotts's Staff Off Hand: --

Fashion Accessory: -- Minion: -- Location: Kugane - Rakuza District

Shader: Faeberry Glow

[annikavelde]

{.904.}

.:ANATOMY:. Head: LeLutka - Ceylon Body: Ebody - Reborn w/ Waifu Chest Hair: Yomi - Trash Panda Eyes: Quills & Curiosities - Jeepers Peepers *NEW* @ The Warehouse Sale

.:CLOTHING:. Top: Cruel - Nami Top *NEW* @ The Warehouse Sale Dress: SULFUR - Service Dress Rings: Static - Alloy Ringbands *NEW* @ The Warehouse Sale

.:SCENE:. Background: Anxiety - Local Pose: Mirinae - Mavis

[miqo-tales]

Calm Travels

Makai Markswoman's Ribbon

Cape of Happiness (Seafog Blue)

Bard's Ringbands

Peacelover's Pantaloons (Slate Grey)

Makai Markswoman's Longboots

[myreia]

Sand & Stone

Rating: G Pairing: Aureia Malathar / Thancred Waters Words: 1915 Notes: Takes place early in the post-ARR patches. Major spoilers ARR ending spoilers (for sprout friends). Headcanons running wild. Read on Ao3

Aureia finds him on the roof.

He sits with a knee pulled into his chest, his hands clasped firmly around it. The breeze rustles his hair as it sweeps through the air, carrying the scent of salt and brine. Sheathed daggers and an aetherometer lie beside him, the burnished goggles glinting in the sun. He straightens, tensing as she approaches—no doubt he heard her arrive. Stealth has never been her forte.

“Is this my call to action?” he asks, not looking at her. Though he speaks with his usual easygoing charm, she hears the hollowness beneath it. He puts up a good fight to pretend it isn’t there, acting as if nothing has changed. But a façade is still a façade, no matter how good it is. “Has Minfilia seen fit to request my aid once again?”

She exhales a slow breath and walks briskly across the rooftop. “Not quite,” she says, settling down behind him. Sweeping a lock of black hair behind her ear, she sits back-to-back with him and curls her legs beneath her. “I’m sure she will in due course.”

He makes a strangled sound, so quiet she almost misses it.

Shielding her face with a hand, Aureia casts an eye across the square below. Busy on a good day, Vesper Bay is now positively bustling with traffic. The Scions’ exodus from the Waking Sands is upon them and their final day has attracted a crowd. Porters scurry to and fro, weaving through the milling bystanders as they load the carriages. Y’shtola flits in and out of the chaos directing what she can. Papalymo and Yda, too—even Urianger has set aside his studies to assist. They are easily picked out in the crowd, their white clothes shining like beacons in the noonday sun.

“Besides,” Aureia continues. “I think our friends can manage it.”

She feels him nod and they fall silent. She hesitates, picking absently at her ringbands, the worn leather coarse beneath her fingertips. How long has she had them? It must have been during those early months in Ul’dah, not long before she met…

“Surely you didn’t come all the way up here just for me,” Thancred says. “The famed Warrior of Light has greater things to attend to than little old me.”

Aureia stiffens, her fingers threaded through the ringband. It’s been like this ever since the Praetorium. He’s done his best to avoid her, finding one reason or another to quietly excuse himself should they happen to be in the same room. Gods, she can’t remember the last time they looked each other in the face. Whenever she thinks of it, all she can see is Lahabrea. The way the Ascian stared at her through those familiar eyes, twisting the expression of her closest friend into one of malice and contempt before blasting her with enough magic to toss her like a ragdoll.

If not for Hydaelyn’s protection, she would have died. Even now, she bears the marks of the fight, her body bruised and burnt and aching. Despite all her training, she never felt more powerless. Magic is her domain, her area of expertise. But no matter how quickly or cleverly she wove her spells, the Ascian was always one step ahead. She barely survived and the incident has left her raw and broken, incapable of casting even the simplest spells. The moment she tries, she is thrown back into the arena, Lahabrea’s cruel laughter ringing in her ears.

Some black mage I am…

Aureia swallows the lump in her throat. She can’t bring herself to blame Thancred for her own faults. He is as scarred by those events as she is—if not more. She can’t imagine what it must have been like for him, to have his body overrun by another, to be complicit in nearly killing her even though he had no control over his own actions…

Seven hells, no wonder he can’t look her in the face.

“…Aur?” Thancred asks quietly, startling her out of her thoughts.

She scuffs a heel against the stone. “I came because I was worried about you. Historically, things haven’t gone well when you disappear for long stretches at a time.”

He chuckles and shifts his weight, pressing his back into hers. “I needed a moment,” he murmurs. “Leaving Thanalan is…”  

“A lot?” she offers.

“I was going to say momentous. This is our home. Of course Urianger has chosen to remain, but even so…”

“I know.” She releases her ringband and places her hand on the ground beside her. The stone is uncomfortably warm to the touch. The heat flares across her palm in a way all too reminiscent of handling magical fire. “I feel it, too.”

Thanalan is her home now. It surprises her how quickly she came to love the rugged sands and desert heat. When she first arrived in Ul’dah, she swore she would never step foot in it again. The city assaulted her senses with sound and smells, confounding her until she lost her way in the labyrinthine streets. Even making her way from the Quicksand to the western gate without losing her way was a challenge in and of itself.

She had never felt more alone in her life. Branded as refugee, ridiculed as a newcomer, and terrified every day that someone might trace her identity back to her Garlean sympathizer parents, she closed herself off. One month, she promised herself. Enough time to accumulate what gil she could by working odd jobs and purchase passage out of the city. It was clear that if Thanalan didn’t want her, she didn’t need Thanalan.

How that has changed. And the person responsible for that is sitting beside you.  

Aureia tilts her head and closes her eyes, half-leaning against Thancred. There’s something comforting and familiar about sitting here with him beneath a vibrant blue sky, basking in the sun as it beats down upon them. “This is good for us,” she says quietly. “The Scions, I mean. We’re exposed here. Ascians, Garleans… it’s only a matter of time before they try again. Mor Dhona will afford us some means of protection we’ve lost.”

“We’re not vacating completely, you know,” he replies. “Are you telling me that when they do return, you’re content to let Urianger take the blow?”

“Let them contend with Urianger, be my guest. I know who’s coming out of that alive.”

He laughs, a deep, shoulder-shaking laugh she feels reverberated through his back. A smile tugs at her lips, but as much as she wants to, she can’t give into it. Once again, they’re dancing around the topic neither them are brave enough to broach. She can’t let it go on like this. Though she has filled her days with work and missions, his absence is an ache in her heart. She needs to talk to him. Properly.

Aureia opens her eyes. “Than—”

“Aur—”

They stop, each biting back as they speak over each other. He sighs and shifts his weight, changing positions. His hand drops to his side and he reaches behind him, his fingers ghosting across hers.

“I never apologized for…” He trails off, fighting with himself as he searches desperately for the right words. “Aur, what I mean to say is that… I’m sorry for dragging you into this. This is my fault. Ifrit, Castrum Centri, the Praetorium. All of it. I never wanted to see you hurt.”

“I know. But it wasn’t your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself—”

He stiffens. “But—”

She seizes his hand. “Listen to me for once, all right?” she interrupts fiercely. “Every time you tell Minfilia that you’ve recovered and want to return to your duties, you’re lying to yourself. You can’t bear the guilt for something over which you had no control. If you’re going to move forwards, you have to acknowledge that. This is no easy life we’ve chosen for ourselves. What happens the next time something like this occurs? Or the next? You have to let it go.”

He makes a garbled sound, too taken aback by her ferocity to argue. “When did you become so loquacious?” he says with a shaky little laugh. “I swear, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say. Maybe I should make you angry more often.”

She makes a face and twists around, craning her neck over her shoulder. “You have impossible standards for yourself, Thancred Waters,” she says. “Keep this up and you’re going to bleed yourself dry. Take it from someone who knows that all too well.”

A sober silence settles between them. “Your magic hasn’t improved, I take it?” Thancred asks.

Aureia pauses, her teeth scraping her lower lip. Magic has always been so personal to her, as natural to her as drawing breath. To lose her focus, her connection, her innate talent… It’s humiliating. So much so she has barely mentioned it. As far as Minfilia and the rest of the Scions are concerned, there’s nothing wrong with her. She is their Warrior of Light—unbreakable, infallible, and flawlessly reliable.

How wrong they are.

“Maybe I was wrong to think it was my calling,” she says, twining her fingers with his. “Did I ever tell you that when I was training at the Thaumaturge Guild, Cocobuki asked me what I would do if an opponent closed the distance?”

“No. This is the first I’m hearing of it. What did you say?”

“I told him I would hit them with my staff.”

He snorts with laughter. “The wrong response, I imagine?”

She can’t help but smile. “Quite. He berated me, called me a fool, and told me the correct response was to run away. It wasn’t a lesson easily learned. But considering my current situation, perhaps I should look into it. Until I find a solution for my predicament, I’m useless in the field—”

He turns sharply, the profile of his face cast in shadow. “Not useless. Never useless.”

Aureia’s breath catches in her throat. Slowly, she uncurls her legs and shifts her weight, drawing up beside him. With her hand still entwined with his, she rests her head on his shoulder.

He pauses, tensing with momentary panic. This is the closest they have been in weeks. “Speaking of solutions, I may have one,” he continues. “Or several. As Minfilia still refuses to give me work, I find myself with too much time on my hands. I could train you. If you wanted.”

Her heart clenches, warmth blossoming through her chest. “Thank you, Than,” she replies. “But this is something I need to do for myself.”

She glances up and her eyes meet his. The sun beats down, as brilliant as it is harsh, and she looks at him fully for the first time since the Praetorium. Though there is a part of her that flinches when she sees him and conjures a memory of Lahabrea, it’s easier now to deny it. She won’t let it control her. Lahabrea has taken enough from her. She won’t let him take this, too.

Thancred nods and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I know you will,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. “Don’t lose hope. You’re the most brilliant black mage I know. You conquered it once, you can conquer it again. It will come back, I promise.”

Aureia leans into him, fingers still threaded with his, and together they watch the shimmering waters of Vesper Bay.

[vexxwraith]

† 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕚 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 †

⛧ genetics, hair, mods ⛧

⤿Ebody - Reborn - available at mainstore

⤿Lelutka - Raven head 3.1 - available at mainstore

⤿Velour - Picasso babe skin - available at Mainstore

⤿Poppet - Blasphemy skin - available at Disturbed

⤿Conviction - Arcane eyes - available at Anthem

⤿Yomi - Giza hair - available at TWS

⛧ cosmetics ⛧

⤿polarbunny - andromeda eye makeup - available at mainstore

⤿rotten - chulita brows - available at TWS

⤿Macabra - chaos tattoo - available at Wasteland

⤿Maena - Henna lipgloss - available at Disturbed

⛧ outfit ⛧

⤿Domus - wet dress - available at Level

⤿The Macabre - Sullied Heels - available at Disturbed

⛧ accessories ⛧

⤿Nova Maia - cross belly chain - available at Level

⤿Static - alloy ringbands - available at TWS

⤿Malignant - face dermals - available at Wasteland

⤿Fluid - Mua stockings - available at Mainstore

⤿1990 - essential claws - available at Mainstore

[creafino]

18,8 mm Designer Ring Silber 925 breit stylische Vintage Eleganz SR1227

*WERBUNG* https://www.creafino.de/produkt/188-mm-designer-ring-silber-925-breit-stylische-vintage-eleganz-sr1227/ Toller stylischer Vintage-Ring mit der Aufschrift “JOOP !” auf dem Ringband. Die Schriftzeichen sind mit kleinen klaren Kristallsteinchen geschmückt. Größe/Maße/Gewicht – Innendurchmesser ca.: 18,8 mm – Breite ca.: 9,6 mm Verwendete Materialien – 925 Silber, gepunzt + Zusatzpunze ESP – Kristallsteinchen klar

[derandi]

finally my paladin glam feels complete! lookit me boi ( i was missing a good looking sword to fit with my stuff for the fortemps kite shield)

Deepgold Anelace (ochu green)

House Fortemps Kite Shield

Silver Magnifiers (kobold brown)

Gazelleskincoat of Fending (ochu green)

Goatskin Ringbands (soot black)

Kudzu Longkilt of Fending (dalamud red)

Tantalus Boots (soot black)

Ishgardian´s Monastics Ring (both hands)

Cactuar Earring