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robin-evry · 7 months ago

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Oooooohhhhh saw the robin yuu post, now how about a traveler yuu more specifically a lumine yuu that gets isekaied to twst?

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐑!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓☀️🌙

A traveler from another world who had their only kin taken away, forcing them to embark on a journey to find The Seven.

NRC unofficial errand runner, traveler!yuu will accept any task or any errand as long as it comes with a price or it comes from the good of their hearts.

Academically traveler!yuu would be pretty much an average student, their grades are not bad as well not the top of the class, just basically in the middle.

Don't underestimate or try to downgrade them, by far one of the most powerful or not the most powerful and skilled warriors in NRC, Lilia admits himself saying that traveler!Yuu is not someone you should underestimate, he could tell they are a warrior even more skilled than him, sebek of course rejects this idea and challenges them and loses badly after a few seconds.

It's unclear whether or not traveler!Yuu is a human or not because they're not originally from this world. Many students have debates whether they are or not and when asking them what they are, they always shrug it off and continue on their business. Their age is also a mystery do they carry the appearance of a young adult their age has suppressed a human And there's a popular rumor that they are older than Lilia himself like a thousand years older than him.

During the dwarf mine cave moment with the ink monster chasing behind them and their friends to get the stone, traveler!Yuu summons their sword and strikes it down with ease.

Traveler!Yuu have the unique ability to use as well to copy peoples magic by just touching the person as well observing small amounts of mana from people but it usually causes no harms to anybody, they use Carter's unique magic by accidentally bumping into him during lunch, as well the ability to purify things from blot.

They are on a journey of looking for their sibling who they got separated from in this world. Lilia seems to know about them since during his youth he mentioned a person similar to traveler!yuu as well in the text book mention about a strong warrior and by far having abilities suppressing anyone in this world dating back a few hundred years ago.

Works at mostro lounge as a part time job, but Azul has been trying to convince them to work full time, bro is so desperate to hire them. During work hours Traveler!yuu will help Floyd clean the place or as well run some errands with jade.

Very popular in NRC, other than their title of being errands runner. They are very popular in school for being one NRC most trustworthy student and friends. They go gargoyle exploring with malleus, sword training with sebek and silver, help paint the roses with Carter, etc. traveler!Yuu is a trustworthy companion in NRC.

Tales are told across the world many adventures and accomplishments of a powerful and courageous hero that once passed in this world, that looks identical to them but suddenly disappears and their whereabouts is unknown ( their sibling )

The first years are usually people they talk about their adventures, traveler!Yuu is also pretty smug after listing all their accomplishments like aiding in the defeat of an ancient sea god during one of their adventures and the first years jaw drop the floor meanwhile their 😏

Trey, Jamil and them would cook together occasionally once a week, traveler!yuu would start to learn exotic delicacy from Jamil and learn how to bake sweets with trey. Even tho they do have some ups and downs in their skill but they are learning.

Jamil and traveler!yuu originally get along with each other, whether or not Jamil is too busy dealing with kalim he will ask traveler!yuu to do the errands for him, he started to abuse this ability more often asking them to run errands because he doesn't feel like it, but was asked to stop by grim because traveler!yuu has become more exhausted.

Grim asks Crowley to tell the entire school to stop relying on traveler!yuu so much it has become a burden towards. Grim cannot stand his favourite henchman coming back home exhausted and drained it's now officially forbidden to ask for traveler!yuu to run your errands. Vil also personally asks travelers!yuu to stop students doing other people's work since it's their own responsibility not them. Pomifiore has already established this rule because vil realized his dorm started to slack off and have more free time. And if there was anyone that is persistent on having traveler!yuu to help them, they will stop by rook and him.

Crowley was also devastated by this decree because he was also using them but look his precious student is tired of Always helping other people he has no choice so he put up the decree, how gracious and kind hearted man he is meanwhile grim looking at him with a 😒

Everybody in the school knows that traveler!Yuu is by far from being weak, they possessed stamina that suppress most of the students as well skilled in hand to hand combat. Not to mention their unique ability to copy and absorb magic. Not to mention their physical abilities also suppress some non-human abilities. During flight classes instead of using brooms traveler!yuu occasionally use their wings to fly around ( their wings during the game's first cutscenes ) it's pretty for them to pop up their wings tho only a few students have only seen them. During free times epel is approved to be trained by them in hand to hand combat by traveler!yuu.

Some troublemakers once challenge traveler!yuu on a spar but lose to them in a blink of an eye, very respected by the savanaclaw dorm every time when traveler!yuu walk by them, they will greet them with respect like a leader. Occasionally also have spars with the savanaclaw students including jack meanwhile Leona and ruggie watch from the side, ruggie has been teasing about Leona getting on a spar with them but he will shrug it off excusing himself saying he doesn't have the time, deep down Leona knows he will be out best by traveler!yuu but He also started to suspect them to have the potential of taking down malleus which he hopes one day will happen.

Some students started to suspect that they might be aliens that are similar to arch angels but it's unclear, many students Described traveler!yuu is very symbolic to a star, they will shine light upon those who need their guidance and they shine eternally bright in the night sky similar to how traveler!yuu shine bright in NRC.

It's unclear why they are still at twst, but it's related to finding their sibling who they lost during one of their explorations together. And by far their search has been non stop and after their graduation from NRC whenever or not their planning on graduating or dropping out Traveler!Yuu is planning on traveling the world of twst to find traces of their missing siblings.

#not canon #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst scenario #disney twst #twisted wonderland yuu au #twst mc #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst yuu au #twst x genshin #traveler!yuu #traveler genshin impact

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joshsilverseyebrow · 3 months ago

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a closer look/translation of this josh silver magazine snippet!

translation (or if you just don’t wanna zoom in lol):

As California crumbles after another massive quake, a mother learns her son lives dead among the rubble of an apartment building, and the camera never stops rolling.

Tears and anguish captured. like a zoo animal, to be watched and witnessed repeatedly-just one scene in a videotape chronicle of human suffering.

Three thousand miles away,

Andrea Elston finishes a full back plece of Satan flanked by pillars of masterbating demons. Her canvas is Type O Negative keyboardist Josh Silver, a man whose body is as much a record of death as a five o'clock newsreel.

"People are obsessed with what they have to come to terms with," says Silver.

Dying doesn't frighten him, but it absorbs him. And just as death is at once beautiful and horrific, compelling and repellent, mysterious and yet familiar, so is the art adorning his upper body—a testimony to his great obsession.

A circa 1940s grim reaper design inked 16 years ago by Brooklyn Bill keeps company with a Japanese death character (Mike Perfetto, Brooklyn) and tribal death rows inked by Huggy Bear as a memorial to an older brother who died when Silver was ten. Two giant roses on the back of his left arm are also dedicated to his bro.

The "eclectic nightmare" of his right sleeve is composed of a skull of wings, a skull with horns and a grim reaper cover piece among other non-death-related works, including the requisite Type 0 Negative symbol.

Ah, yes, the band. Art imitates art as T.O.N., straying from the full metal anger shrouding first release Slow, Deep, and Hard, seems to have dipped into the psychedelic "color thing with eyeball" creeping up Sliver's shoulder for the second full-length album, Bloody Kisses.

Type O Negative delivers their original metaledge with a Sixties pop sensibility, as they address accusations of misogyny, racism and fascism with songs entitied "Kill All the White People, -We Hate Everyone" and

"Machine Screw.”

As co-producer, Silver was able to soak this third release (EP Origin of the Feces was released in 1992) with the sweat of his own demons-

not all of which are

death-centered. The cloaked, cloven-hoofed skeleton figure (George Belew, Leguna Beach) representing Silver's fear of prison is like the

"bad acid trip" interludes connecting the songs on Bloody Kisses: seemingly unrelated but essential to the overall concept.

For Silver, the concept is bitter, brutal and a constant reminder that the purpose of recording history in any medium-be it video, CD, or the human body, is to remember… and not to regret.

#josh silver #peter steele #type o negative #i love josh silver #i love type o negative #goth aesthetic #gothic metal #gothic #goth #origin of feces #bloody kisses #johnny kelly #kenny hickey

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hagajosuuahva · 3 months ago

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The Glow Beneath The Dough

Posting the alternative (technically original) version of this fic of mine because I have it saved in my notes anyways so...

The normal story can be read on ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63036478

The plot goes the same way mostly, it's just a major change in the characters I guess in this 'alternative' version of the story

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

✦

The sky stretched vast and endless, painted in soft hues of pale gold and silver-blue. Wisps of clouds meandered lazily across the heavens, their delicate forms shifting with the wind’s quiet sigh. Below, the world hummed with life. Rolling fields of sugargrass swayed in gentle waves, kissed by the morning breeze. Milky rivers flowed smooth and steady, carving their ancient paths through valleys of caramel stone and honeyed earth.

Somewhere, deep in the lands of Ɇ̷̼͔͝ⱥ̵̹̗̌̅̕ɍ̵̛͎͕̚ⱦ̸̹̞͔̀̽ħ̶̣͈̭̽͘ƀ̸̻̠̔̆̾ɍ̸̣̂͌͝ē̶̱̫͆̾̉ⱥ̷̘̩̋̊̓đ̸̛̱̂?̷̢̧̄ 's beating heart, stood a city unlike any other—a sanctuary of knowledge, where wisdom itself had taken root and flourished.

Deep within the heart of the grand city of wisdom, where spires of ivory and sapphire pierced the heavens and golden scroll-laden streets whispered with the murmurs of scholars, there stood an academy unlike any other. The Blueberry Yogurt Academy, a beacon of enlightenment, housed countless tomes of forgotten history, forbidden magic, and the secrets of the world itself.

It was here, among the echoing halls of boundless knowledge, that he, Ꞩ̷͉̆̂͛͝ħ̴̡͉̩̘̅̆̌͂ⱥ̷͚͋̕͝đ̶̛͖̪̀ꝋ̸̢̙̐̀͐̃ⱳ̷̠͔̽ ̵̼̭͔̱́M̷̛͖͚̒̓̉ī̴̞̤͎̼͖̐̈́͐̌̈́ł̶̨̓̓̿̒͝ҟ̵̱̿?̵͍̒̽̃͠͝ —No— Blueberry Yogurt cookie resided.

To many, he was but a name—an elusive figure spoken of in hushed awe. The Virtue of Knowledge. The one who had unraveled the unseen threads of the universe and woven them into teachings for those willing to listen. An all-knowing being, they said, who could peer into the depths of any mystery and emerge with the answer.

However despite his vast understanding of the universe and all its intricacies, Blueberry Yogurt carried himself with a serenity that was neither cold nor distant.

He chose humility over arrogance, never imposing his wisdom on others or seeking applause for it. Instead, he wove through the academy’s corridors with quiet grace, his presence as natural as the turning of pages, as soothing as ink gliding across parchment.

To teach, to guide, to uncover the truths that slumbered beneath layers of time—this was his purpose. The pursuit of knowledge was an unending path, and he walked it with unwavering devotion. And yet… even one as knowing as he was not immune to the weight of his own curiosity.

Knowledge, after all, was a hunger that never faded.

Sunlight bled through the academy’s stained-glass windows, scattering fragments of color across polished floors and aged tomes. Within the heart of his study, Blueberry Yogurt observed his students with quiet amusement.

"Master! Master! watch this!" A Juvenile voice chirped, balancing on the arm of a chair, twirling a treat between her fingers. A honeyed smile graced her lips—sweet yet mischievious. Sparks of unstable magic crackled at the candy's tip, the glow reflecting in her scarlet eyes.

Nearby, another student—lounging with arms crossed—watched with an all-too-knowing smirk. "It’s going to explode in her face again, isn’t it?"

The girl huffed. "Hmph! I'll make you eat those words!" With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed the spell.

The implosion resulting from it was almost comical.

A burst of red candy shards exploded outward, scattering scrolls and pages in all directions and sending ink bottles rattling across the desk. Some students in the classroom gasped in shock at the small explosion, their eyes wide as pieces of sugary candy peppered the air, landing with soft plops—one of them even sticking to the girl’s own face and tangling in her hair.

Blueberry Yogurt sighed, his gaze steady as he reached out with a soft blue hand to pluck a stray parchment from the air. He held it up, studying it for a moment before allowing his eyes to drift across the room.

His voice, smooth and knowing, filled the space. "A rather...dramatic display…"

His gaze flickered toward his red-eyed pupil, who had been too distracted to avoid the explosion’s aftermath. "—Yet still lacking in restraint."

For a moment, silence settled over the room, thick with the weight of his words despite the lightheartedness.

A snicker broke the quiet. The dark-haired student, lounging with arms crossed, smirked. "Told you." he teased in a singsong voice, earning an immediate glare from his classmate.

The first student pouted but didn’t argue—though she shot a pleading, puppy-eyed stare in Blueberry Yogurt’s direction, silently begging for even the smallest bit of praise. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it.

As if on cue, the academy bell rang, a gentle chime that signaled the start of recess. Setting the parchment aside, he rose from his chair with deliberate slowness. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of expectation settling upon his students as they watched him, curiosity lingering in their eyes.

A small, almost imperceptible smile ghosted his lips.

"Try not to dismantle the academy in my absence." he said, his voice warm yet laced with quiet humor. And with that, he turned and left the classroom, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly behind him as he walked toward the gates of the academy.

He wandered the streets of the City of Knowledge with quiet grace. His Souljam gleamed in the daylight, catching the eyes of passersby, and more than one scholar stopped to stare.

Every so often, he was approached by those brave enough to ask questions, and with his usual calm, he answered them, his responses as thoughtful and knowledgeable as ever.

It had been a long day of lessons, and now it was time to retrieve the book he had lent to the keeper. The public archives were not as vast or as restricted as the Archives of his Institution's archives, but they were still an important resource for the academy.

There, scholars, students, and even the occasional traveler could access texts and knowledge. It was where the common knowledge of the academy was kept—well-organized, accessible, and filled with the collective wisdom of generations.

The keeper—a cookie he had come to regard as a good acquaintance due to their shared interests—had borrowed one of his personal written scrolls on White Moon Magic. He had been happy to oblige, but now it was time to reclaim it. Afterall, to refine the craft it was always best to keep track of his process

As he neared the cozy-looking entrance of the archives, lingering questions about his own craft filled his mind. White Moon Magic was his creation, yes, but its mysteries seemed endless, always unfolding in ways beyond his understanding.

Every time he believed he had grasped its final form, another layer would reveal itself, always slipping just beyond his reach. It was both thrilling and intriguing—an endless expanse of knowledge that beckoned him to explore further, as if there was always more to uncover.

Today, perhaps, he would find something new.

As he stepped inside, the soft chime of the bell echoed through the archives, its delicate ring filling the air with a sense of calm. The keeper looked up from her desk, greeting him with a kind smile, and he returned the gesture with a polite nod as he wandered over. They exchanged a few words while she retrieved his book, her curiosity ever-present. She asked him about his magic as she carefully placed the manuscript into his waiting hands.

Blueberry Yogurt might have indulged her further under different circumstances—after all, what was knowledge if not meant to be shared?—but time was pressing. The academy’s extended break would soon end, and he couldn’t risk letting his students think that his absence gave them free rein for mischief.

With a brief smile, he shifted the book under his arm and offered the keeper a quick farewell as he turned to leave.

But then, with no warning, he collided—full force—into someone standing just behind him.

The impact sent both of them stumbling, their books scattering in every direction. Before Blueberry Yogurt could react, the sound of the books clattering against the polished floor rang through the air. The keeper’s startled gasp echoed in his ears, but it was drowned out by a softer voice—gentle yet filled with concern.

"Ah—goodness me, are you alright?"

Blueberry Yogurt's mind scrambled to catch up with the moment. He blinked, his eyes refocusing as he looked up—and then he felt himself halt—not because of the collision, but because of the figure before him.

A stranger, dressed in a thick, earth-toned robe that pooled awkwardly at his feet, far too informal for the pristine aura of the City of Knowledge. Golden-blonde hair cascaded down in soft waves, catching the dim light of the archive. The stranger’s eyes were closed, long white lashes brushing his cheeks, but Blueberry Yogurt noticed the staff in his hand, likely used for guidance. It made sense, considering how clumsy his presence felt in the space, almost like he was navigating without fully knowing his surroundings.

Blueberry Yogurt paused, staring at the stranger. There was something about him—something off, yet achingly familiar.

As his gaze lingered on the kind, yet troubled face before him, an unspoken feeling stirred within him—a flicker of recognition that hovered just out of reach, like a memory fading into the distance, too elusive to grasp.

The stranger, for all his softness, had reached out instinctively when they collided. His hand hovered, open and unassuming—a silent offer, one that seemed to come from a place of quiet understanding. It was not the first time Blueberry Yogurt had seen this gesture, yet now, in this moment, it was unfamiliar, yet achingly so.

For reasons Blueberry Yogurt could not yet name, he hesitated. A strange, creeping sensation unfurled in his chest, an almost desperate pull, as if the very air around him had thickened with something he was supposed to understand. The warmth of the stranger's hand, still lingering in the space between them, beckoned, stirring an unplaceable ache within him. It gnawed at him, elusive and persistent, like something he should know but couldn’t quite place.

And yet, despite the swirling tide of questions within him, he brushed it aside.

Slowly, his fingers brushed against the stranger’s hand, meeting warmth.

With a soft breath, he reached out—and took it.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

#shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pureshadow

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sonnystarniolo · 14 days ago

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introducing... spellcaster!matt

undressed ^ sombr!

22 . amethyst . collects multiple decks of cards . plants everywhere . a lot of notebooks . silver jewelry . books full of spells . crystals everywhere . deep cleans . mysterious . smudged ink on his walls . loves night . musky scents . protective .

best paired with... bookworm!cherry

taglist : @sturns-mermaid

©httpsturns . do not repost, copy or rewrite my original work. ask credits to use characters of this AU.

#𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 🍊#sturniolo triplets #httpsturns #spellcaster!matt

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pxnsneverland · 1 month ago

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Dark Temptation | Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger (part 3)

(gif source: talesfromthecrypts)

plot summary: Despite being on opposite sides of an impending war in the wizarding world, Draco Malfoy, a young Death Eater, and Hermione Granger, fiercely loyal to the Order, cross paths when they are assigned as partners in a academic project. Forced to spend time together, their mutual animosity slowly gives way to an undeniable attraction, leaving both confused and vulnerable.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

pairings: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger

word count: 3,728

warnings/notes: N/A

Chapter 3: Glimpses in Shadow

The clock in Gryffindor Tower had just struck midnight when Hermione finally closed her Arithmancy textbook. The common room was deserted, the fire reduced to glowing embers that cast long shadows across the worn carpet. Perfect. She glanced around once more before reaching into her bag and pulling out Malfoy's mysterious book. She ran her fingers over the ornate cover again, feeling that same strange warmth emanating from the leather. It was almost as if the book itself were alive, breathing with ancient magic. The silver embellishments caught the firelight, throwing eerie patterns on the table.

"I really shouldn't be doing this," she thought to herself, even as she opened to the bookmarked page on Vanishing Cabinets.

Hermione settled deeper into the armchair and began to read properly, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the dense text. The more she read, the more disturbed she became. The book didn't just explain how Vanishing Cabinets worked—it provided detailed instructions on how to repair them if damaged.

"When the magical pathways between paired cabinets are disrupted," she read under her breath, "the traveler may become trapped between spaces or arrive in pieces. Restoration requires precise recalibration of the runic arrays..."

A passage about testing the connection made her blood run cold: "Living creatures provide the most accurate assessment of cabinet functionality. Begin with insects, progressing to birds once basic transit is established."

Hermione remembered the rumors about Montague claiming he'd been trapped between places, hearing voices from both Hogwarts and somewhere else. At the time, she'd dismissed it as the confused ramblings of someone who'd suffered magical trauma. Now she wondered if he'd been telling the exact truth. She flipped through more pages, finding annotations in the margins—notes that weren't part of the original text. Some were in faded ink, likely decades or centuries old. But others were fresh, written in a sharp, angular hand she recognized immediately as Draco's.

Near a diagram showing the critical rune patterns, he'd written: "Counter-resonance in the tertiary circuit? Test with stronger containment spell."

And beside a warning about the dangers of improper calibration: "Birds still arriving dead. Need more time."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Dead birds? What was Draco doing? She turned to another section, this one describing how Vanishing Cabinets had been used during the First Wizarding War as escape routes for Death Eaters when Ministry raids occurred. Next to this passage, in the same fresh ink: "Two-way passage confirmed. Location secure."

"Oh god," she breathed, the implications hitting her like a physical blow. If Draco was repairing a Vanishing Cabinet at Hogwarts, and its pair was somewhere "secure"...

The portrait hole swung open, making Hermione jump. She slammed the book shut and shoved it back into her bag.

—

Hermione arrived early to her and Malfoy’s designed work room for the Unity Project, her stomach knotted with anxiety. She'd barely slept after her discovery, dark circles shadowing her eyes. The weight of Malfoy's book pressed against her side, hidden in her bag like a ticking bomb.

"You look terrible, Granger," came Draco's drawling voice as he opened the door and approached their workstation. His own appearance wasn't much better—his skin had a sickly pallor, and his usually immaculate hair looked disheveled, as though he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly.

"Late night," she replied stiffly, watching him carefully.

Draco pulled out his notes without meeting Hermione's eyes. "I was thinking we could modify a Protean Charm to—"

"I know what you're doing," Hermione interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper.

His quill stilled. "What are you talking about?"

She reached into her bag and partially revealed the corner of his book before quickly covering it again.

Draco's face drained of what little color it had. "You went through my things?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"You left it behind," she countered. "Vanishing Cabinets, Malfoy? Dead birds? What are you planning?"

His eyes darted around the room frantically as if it wasn’t just them in the room. "Keep your voice down," he hissed, leaning closer. "You have no idea what you're meddling with."

"Then explain it to me," she challenged. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're creating a way for Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Give me my book back."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"This isn't a game, Granger!" His fingers curled into fists on the table. "You think you understand everything, but you don't know anything about what's happening."

"Then enlighten me," she pressed, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Because I'm this close to taking this straight to Dumbledore."

Something flashed in Draco's eyes—was it fear? "You can't," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "He'll kill them."

"Who will kill who?" Hermione asked, confusion momentarily replacing her anger.

"He'll kill my parents," Draco whispered, so quietly she almost missed it

Hermione stared at him, the accusation she'd been ready to hurl dying on her lips. For a moment, Draco's mask slipped completely, revealing something she'd never seen before—raw terror. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, leaving it standing up in uneven tufts. The confident, sneering boy she'd known for six years seemed to crumple before her eyes.

"You don't understand what he's like," Draco continued, his voice barely audible. "What he does to people who fail him."

The dim light from the room windows cast half his face in shadow, but Hermione could see moisture gathering in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to maintain what little composure he had left.

"Voldemort," she whispered, and Draco flinched violently at the name.

"Don't—" he hissed, glancing around as though the name itself might summon him.

A chill ran down Hermione's spine. The reality of Draco's situation began to crystallize—not a willing participant, but a hostage.

"He gave me a task," Draco said, his voice hollow. "Said it was an honor for my family. But it's not an honor—it's punishment for my father's failure at the Ministry last year." He laughed, a broken sound with no humor in it.

The classroom felt suddenly colder. Outside, rain began to patter against the windows, distorting the gray daylight.

"What's the task?" Hermione asked, though part of her already knew.

Draco shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I can't. I've already said too much. He has ways of knowing things—people who report to him."

"Snape?" she asked quietly.

Draco's head snapped up, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. He reached across the table suddenly, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. "You need to forget this conversation happened. Forget what you saw in that book."

His fingers were ice-cold against her skin, and she could feel them trembling.

"I can help you," Hermione said, the words escaping before she could think better of them. "We can go to Dumbledore together—"

"Dumbledore can't protect anyone!" Draco snarled, desperation making his voice crack. "Look what happened to your precious Diggory, to Potter's godfather. The Order is losing, Granger. Everyone around Potter ends up dead."

A tear escaped, tracking down his face. Hermione watched, stunned, as he quickly wiped it away, looking mortified at his own vulnerability.

"You don't have to do this alone," she said softly, turning her wrist in his grip until she was holding his hand. The gesture surprised them both.

Draco looked down at their joined hands as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening. "Why am I even telling you this? You hate me."

"I don't hate you," Hermione said, realizing as she spoke that it was true. "I hate what you've done, the choices you've made…”

The rain intensified outside, drumming against the windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance. "There's no way out," Draco whispered, staring at the raindrops racing down the glass. "If I fail..."

"There's always a way out," Hermione insisted. She reached into her bag and pulled out his book, placing it on the table between them.

"Stop," Draco cut her off, suddenly straightening and letting go of her hand. The brief window into his fear was closing, his face hardening back into familiar lines of contempt. "This conversation never happened.”

“Draco…” She couldn’t remember if she had ever called him by his first name before, and the name felt strange on her tongue.

He looked up, startled by her use of his first name. For a moment, his gray eyes locked with hers, a silent communication passing between them that neither fully understood.

"Don't," he said finally, his voice low and rough. He stood abruptly, shoving his notes into his bag. "Keep the book if you want. It won't change anything."

"Where are you going?" she asked, rising to her feet as well.

"I need to think," he muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Alone."

Before she could respond, he was striding toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, his back to her. "If you tell anyone about this conversation," he said without turning, "I'll deny everything. And they'll believe me over you."

"No, they won't," Hermione replied quietly.

Draco's shoulders tensed. For a moment, she thought he might say something else, but then he yanked open the door and disappeared into the corridor.

—

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual dinner chatter three evenings later. Golden platters laden with roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and steaming vegetables gleamed under the enchanted ceiling, which reflected a clear night sky scattered with stars. The floating candles cast a warm glow over the four long house tables where students huddled over their meals, gossiping and laughing.

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, her food barely touched. Her eyes kept drifting toward the Slytherin table where Draco sat isolated from his housemates, pushing food around his plate. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes, and his cheekbones seemed more pronounced than ever. He hadn't spoken to her since their confrontation, avoiding their project meetings with flimsy excuses delivered by owl.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice broke through her thoughts. "Are you even listening to us?"

She blinked, turning back to her friends. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a concerned look across the table.

"We were talking about Quidditch practice," Ron said, his mouth half-full of potatoes. "But you wouldn't know since you've barely heard a word we've said all week."

"I've just been busy with schoolwork," she replied automatically, her eyes involuntarily flicking back toward the Slytherin table.

Harry followed her gaze. "It's not schoolwork you're obsessing over," he said quietly. "It's Malfoy."

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "I'm not obsessing."

"Really?" Ron snorted, swallowing his food. "Because you've mentioned his name about twenty times a day this week. 'Malfoy's up to something,' 'Malfoy missed our project meeting,' 'Malfoy looks ill.'" His imitation of her voice was irritatingly high-pitched.

"I don't sound like that," she snapped, stabbing at a piece of carrot with unnecessary force.

"You kind of do," Harry said with a half-smile that quickly faded. "But seriously, Hermione, we're worried about you. This fixation isn't healthy."

"It's not a fixation," she insisted, lowering her voice. "I just... I think he's in trouble."

Ron almost choked on his pumpkin juice. "In trouble? Malfoy is trouble. There's a difference."

"You don't understand," Hermione said, frustrated. "He's scared."

"Good," Ron replied flatly. "After all the years he's made our lives miserable, maybe it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but stopped when she noticed Draco abruptly standing up from the Slytherin table. He looked pale and unsteady, clutching the edge of the table for support before straightening his shoulders and walking swiftly toward the exit. He moved like someone trying very hard not to run. Before he disappeared through the doors, Hermione caught a glimpse of his face—it was contorted with pain or fear, she couldn't tell which.

"I need to go," she said, getting to her feet.

"Hermione, wait—" Harry began, but she was already moving.

"I'll explain later," she called over her shoulder, ignoring the curious stares from other Gryffindors as she hurried out of the Great Hall.

The entrance hall was empty. Hermione hesitated, looking around frantically. Which way would he have gone? She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. The dungeons were the obvious choice—the Slytherin common room—but something told her Draco wouldn't have gone there. Not if he was trying to hide whatever was happening to him. A faint sound from above made her look up. Footsteps, moving quickly. She raced up the marble staircase, her heart pounding. At the top, she paused again, listening. Another sound—was that crying?—echoed down from the second floor.

Hermione followed the noise, moving as quietly as she could. The corridor was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners. She slowed as she approached the boys' bathroom, where the sounds were coming from. The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear running water and ragged breathing.

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the door. This was madness. What was she doing, chasing after Malfoy? He'd made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. And yet...the fear in his eyes when he'd spoken about his parents, about Voldemort—it had been real.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

Draco stood hunched over one of the sinks, his white-knuckled hands gripping the porcelain edges. His school robes were discarded on the floor, and his white shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his pale chest. Water splashed from the faucet, some of it dripping down his face, which was twisted in anguish. He hadn't heard her come in.

"Draco?" she said quietly.

He whirled around, his wand appearing in his hand so quickly she barely saw him draw it. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks wet with what might have been water or tears.

"Get out," he snarled, but his voice broke on the last word.

"You're not well," Hermione said, taking a step toward him. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help!" He backed away until he hit the wall, his wand still pointed at her. "I don't need anyone's help.”

His hand was shaking so badly that the wand trembled in his grip. Hermione took another cautious step forward, palms raised to show she wasn't reaching for her own wand.

"Your hand is trembling," she said softly. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

"Don't pretend you care," Draco said, but the venom in his voice was diluted by exhaustion. "This isn't some house-elf you can save, Granger."

The bathroom was cold and damp, the sound of dripping water echoing against the stone walls. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting elongated shadows across the floor.

"I do care," Hermione said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. "Whatever you're doing, whatever he's making you do—it's killing you."

He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. “So what?”

Hermione crossed the distance between them and knelt in front of him. His wand was still pointed at her, but it had lowered considerably.

"Let me see your arm," she said quietly.

Draco's eyes widened. "What?"

"Your left arm. Let me see it."

He clutched his forearm protectively. "No."

"Please," she whispered.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Finally, with trembling fingers, Draco began to unbutton his left sleeve. He rolled it up slowly, revealing inch by inch the Dark Mark branded into his pale skin—black and ugly against the blue veins of his wrist.

Hermione couldn't suppress her gasp. She'd suspected, but seeing it was different. It seemed to writhe on his skin. Without thinking, she trailed her fingers over it and she felt him shudder under her touch.

Draco jerked his arm away, his face flushing with shame. "Happy now? Seen what you wanted to see?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, ignoring his defensive tone.

He laughed hollowly. "All the time." He pulled his sleeve back down, covering the mark. "Sometimes it burns like it's on fire.”

Hermione's eyes softened. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand gently over his covered forearm. "When did it happen?"

"Summer," he whispered, not pulling away this time. "After Father was sent to Azkaban. He came to the Manor." Draco swallowed hard. "Made me watch while he tortured Mother first.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and Hermione fought the urge to wipe it away. The moonlight streaming through the high windows cast his face in silvery light, highlighting the sharp angles of his features and the dark hollows beneath his eyes. The bathroom fell silent except for the rhythmic dripping of the leaky faucet. Draco's breathing had steadied somewhat, though Hermione could still feel tension radiating from him.

"Do you remember in third year," she said suddenly, "when I punched you in the face?"

A startled laugh escaped him, so unexpected that it seemed to surprise even Draco himself. "Hard to forget. You have a mean right hook, Granger."

She smiled. "I was so angry with you. I'd never hit anyone before.”

"I probably deserved worse," he admitted quietly.

Their eyes met, and something shifted in the air between them. The hostility that had defined their relationship for six years seemed to recede, replaced by something undefined but unmistakably different.

"Why are you here, Granger?" Draco asked, his voice soft but steadier now. "Why follow me? You should be with Potter and Weasley, plotting how to save the world."

Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, buying herself time to consider her answer. "I don't know," she admitted finally. "I just... I saw your face when you left the Great Hall, and I couldn't just sit there."

A ghost of his old smirk appeared. "Gryffindor heroics?"

"Human decency," she corrected gently.

Draco's head fell back against the wall, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, they seemed clearer, more focused. "There's no way out of this for me," he said. "You understand that, don't you?"

"There's always a way," Hermione insisted. "Dumbledore—"

"Can't protect everyone," Draco finished for her. "We've been through this."

The moonlight shifted as clouds passed overhead, momentarily darkening the bathroom before illuminating it again. In that brief play of light and shadow, Hermione saw something change in Draco's expression—a decision being made.

"I should go," he said, moving to stand. "If I'm missed for too long..."

Hermione rose with him, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. "Promise me something," she said, impulsively reaching for his hand. His skin was cold against hers, but he didn't pull away. "Promise you won't do anything... final... without talking to me first."

His gray eyes searched her face. "Why do you care so much?"

"I don't know," she whispered honestly. "I just do."

For a moment, they stood there in silence, hands linked, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them. Then Draco gently extracted his fingers from hers.

"I need to go," he repeated, but made no move to leave.

Hermione nodded, stepping back to give him space. "So do I. Harry and Ron will wonder where I went."

At the mention of her friends, Draco's face closed off slightly. He bent to retrieve his robes from the floor, wincing as he straightened.

"Your ribs?" Hermione asked, noticing the pain that flashed across his features.

"It's nothing," he dismissed, but the careful way he moved told a different story.

"Let me see," she said, stepping forward again.

"Granger, really—"

"Let me see," she repeated more firmly.

With a resigned sigh, Draco unbuttoned his shirt further, revealing a large, purpling bruise along his left side. Hermione's breath caught.

"Who did this?" she asked, anger flaring unexpectedly.

"Crabbe," Draco said, looking away. "He doesn't approve of my... recent distance."

Hermione carefully reached out, her fingers hovering just above the bruised skin. "May I?"

Draco nodded almost imperceptibly. She gently pressed her fingertips to the edge of the bruise, feeling him tense at her touch.

"It might be cracked," she murmured. "I know a healing spell that could help."

"Of course you do," he said, but there was no malice in his voice. Just weary acceptance.

Hermione drew her wand. Draco flinched slightly but held still as she murmured the incantation, her wand moving in a gentle figure-eight pattern over his ribs. A soft blue light emanated from the tip, sinking into his skin. The bruise didn't disappear completely, but the angry purple faded to a milder yellowish hue.

"Better?" she asked, stepping back.

Draco took an experimental breath, deeper than before. "Yes," he admitted, buttoning his shirt back up. "Thank you."

The words sounded foreign coming from his lips, as if he'd rarely said them before. Perhaps he hadn't.

"You should go first," he said, gesturing to the door. "If anyone saw us leaving together..."

"Right," Hermione nodded, understanding the implications. She moved toward the door but paused with her hand on the handle. "Draco?"

He looked up, his face half in shadow, half illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. In that moment, he looked both younger than his years and impossibly old.

"Remember what I said," she told him.

Something flickered in his eyes—doubt, hope, she couldn't tell which. Then he nodded once, a barely perceptible movement.

Hermione slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. The corridor was empty, the castle quiet except for the distant hooting of owls and the eternal whispers of the ancient stones. She leaned against the wall for a moment, her heart racing as the reality of what had just happened settled over her.

She had seen Draco Malfoy—really seen him—perhaps for the first time. Not as the cruel bully who had tormented her for years, but as someone trapped and terrified, marked by darkness but not yet consumed by it. And something in her chest ached at the thought of him facing his impossible choice alone.

With a deep breath, Hermione straightened her robes and began the walk back to Gryffindor Tower, knowing that nothing between them would ever be the same again.

Stay tuned for part 4!! Click HERE to view!

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paradise-and-cola · 2 years ago

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[Image description: three character profile cards for the Monster of the Week tabletop game system. Each card has a drawing of the character, their first name, their class name, their stats, and some descriptions. The last names are redacted with black ink strikes.

Card 1 shows Pause, of the Mundane class. Pause wears a short sleeved red shirt with blue highlights, beige shorts, as well as a red, white and blue bracelet. He has square glasses, and two small feathers are tucked behind his ear.

Pause’s stats are: Charm +2, Cool +1, Sharp +1, Tough 0 and Weird -1. His description reads:

- works a regular 9 to 5

- had a completely supernatural-free life until a woodland cryptid collided with his car

- now travels with Beef and Etho, solving paranormal mysteries all around Canada

- the designated driver

- is the only one in the group who can pass as a "normal" person. don't let appearances fool you, though, he's just as unhinged as the other two

End of card 1.

Card 2 shows ?????? (six question marks) also known as Etho, of the Monstrous class. Etho wears a green jacket over a grey shirt, grey jeans, black boots, as well as a headband and a scarf over the lower part of his face. The jacket has patches of the Canadian flag, the meme rabies pride flag, and a simplified cryptic creature. There is purple skin discoloration on the left side of his face and his left hand. In his right hand, Etho is holding a wrench.

Etho’s stats are: Charm 0, Cool -1, Sharp +2, Tough -1 and Weird +3. His description reads:

- a literal cryptid from the Canadian wilderness. normally a shapeshifter, Etho's been stuck with this half-human, half-monster appearance ever since Pause hit him with his car

- is weirdly good at car maintenance and engineering in general

- needs to feed on blood to survive. Beef, being a butcher, provides him with enough animal blood to sustain him for now... but ultimately, human blood is a much tastier snack

- immune to garlic, silver bullets etc, but is badly allergic to carbonated drinks

End of card 2.

Card 3 shows Beef, of the Flake class. Beef wears a blue baseball cap, a light brown coat, a black shirt, grey pants and black boots.

Beef’s stats are: Charm 0, Cool +1, Sharp +2, Tough 0 and Weird +1. His description reads:

- a butcher by day, a wannabe paranormal investigator by night

- (he's not very good at either)

- knows a lot about the supernatural in theory, but had little field experience - until an old friend called him about hitting something not quite human

- the others live with him for now, since Pause is from out of town and Etho never had a home to begin with

End of card 3. End description]

Here they are, the three heroes of the Monster of the Week Team Canada AU! I’ve never played the game myself, but I think these three would make a pretty fun monster-hunting, mystery-solving team. I briefly considered making Beef an Expert class, but if you’ve consumed any Team Canada content, it makes it very hard to call them experts on anything...

This is technically for @shepscapades’ hermit redesign challenge, but I’ve deviated from the original prompt quite a bit (the prompt was DND characters and I’ve boldly chosen a different TTRPG system) so I don’t know if I even qualify for this week. Regardless, I’m very happy with this AU. Check out this little introductory comic I’ve made for it, if you haven’t yet.

#shepshermitdesign23 #ethoslab #etho #ethoslab fanart #team canada #vintagebeef #vintagebeef fanart #pauseunpause #pauseunpause fanart #team canada fanart #mcyt #mcyt fanart #hermitcraft #paradise and block men #motwtc au #my art

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cutmyheadoffplease · 10 months ago

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<.+*In my pretty little novel world*+.>

•Hi-Hi!! This is my first time writing anything so I really hope you will like it... Please tell me what I can improve!!

Warnings!: long(?), slightly cliche at the beginning of the action, fluff, death (if you squint)

Feat.! : gn reader who likes to write mysteries x protagonist, detective Rui Kamishiro

Heavy droplets of cold water began to knock on the foggy bedroom window in such a melodic manner, that almost resembled a lullaby. The sky's original azure colour faded into Prussian blue as it fell asleep, covered by a blanket of grey clouds laced with lilly-white silver thread. The soft sound of a pen moving with a sleepy grace on a notebook. Smoky ink slowly sinks into the lined paper with ease, words appearing, the story's new chapter forming before your very eyes. The silence broke abruptly by a short yawn that escaped your lips. Weights began to attach to your eyelashes slowly forcing your eyes to close... No... You couldn't stop.. the idea filled your mind .. you must put it on paper... You must... The words began to grow foggy. Finally after struggling for a good minute.. maybe two... or.. you couldn't remember.. all that mattered was that you were now in a sound slumber, head resting on the half written pages.

Your eyes opened at an unhurried pace, a familiar sight greeting you. It wasn't a place you ever saw.. yet it felt so well known. It was the world of your novel after all— PARDON?! How did you get there?! Interesting... Maybe ask someone from your novel for information..? Ah yes there seemed to be a young man somewhere in front of you.. he looks polite enough so it shouldn't be a problem.. right? You raised yourself, wabbling slightly as your legs straightened and began to make your way to the person you saw. Hearing the sound of your footsteps, the guy turned towards you. His face made you stumble back, he wasn't ugly, goodness no. He was the protagonist.. Kamishiro Rui.. a young detective who has the ability to talk to ghosts. Rui tills his head as he looks at you, before questioning in a velvety voice that dripped with curiosity.

"Forgive me, but may I ask your name?"

"Y/N. My name is Y/N." You answered almost automatically, as you dusted your shoulders, a look of confusion painted on your face

"Y/N, huh? Interesting.. I'm Rui, Rui Kamishiro. It's a pleasure making your acquaintance, Y/N~" Rui smiled politely, putting a hand on his chin his hand tilting his head a little too the left. Before you get a chance to reply, your mouth opens, but the detective's voice spoke yet again, the undertone of curiosity still present deep down, but he was now more serious.

"I have a case to solve... So you're either gonna help me or not get in my way."

You nod slowly, before murmuring a quiet "I'll help..". You glanced around, looking at the scenery you came up with... The jewels of emerald sewed to the tree branches, dancing under the calm, whispered song of the wind. In-between the leaves, small wildlife played with sinless glee. Petite birds joining the gentle breeze's orchestra. Your eyes trailed to the grass, that rustled under your steps. You tried to take another step, but a set of hands grabbing your shoulders stopping you from moving.

"Stop right there. You were going to step on my dear crime scene, fufu~"

Rui said chuckling innocently, forcing you to turn around to face him, a cute little feline-like grin written all over his face

"Now, now, I'm going to do my job, hmmm... Let's see what we have here—"

"The culprit is that guy..."

you said pointing at a random bystander, who in all honesty seemed slightly nervous, fidgeting with a leaf. Rui looked at you confused by how you already knew the criminal. He stares at you with pure confusion, the detective blinks a few times and turns to some air.. the place where the victim's ghost was, most probably, staring back at Rui with the same confusion. Rui spoke again with a serious voice.

"Who are you, y/n...?"

•Can you tell this is slightly inspired by "The mentalist" & Poe's ability from bsd?

•Thank you so so so much for reading this whole fic!!! I know I already said it, but please tell me what you think can be improved and if you found the concept interesting so I know if I should make a part two or not. Thank you so much, again, for reading it and I hope you enjoyed it!! Buh-bye!♡

#foxglove's works #project sekai #rui kamishiro #proseka #rui kamishiro x reader #fanfic #colorful stage #first post

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duxiaomin-blog · 12 days ago

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Between Form and Meaning: The Cultural Collage and Aesthetic Heterotopia of Chinoiserie

In 18th-century Europe, a wave of fascination with the “Orient” swept through cultural and artistic circles. French courts, British aristocrats, and master artisans from Germany and Austria employed painting, porcelain, textiles, gold and silverware, and even timepieces as mediums to reimagine a distant and mysterious China into a visual landscape imbued with exotic poetry. This style was later given a name of its own — Chinoiserie, literally meaning “Chinese style.”

It was a process of cultural re-creation: pavilions, court ladies, cranes, bamboo shadows, and clustered blossoms — these images, through the Western lens, became a visual language of fantasy and elegance, embedded within gentle curves and gilded motifs, infused with Europe’s passion for refined living. Chinoiserie not only reshaped the appearance of 18th-century luxury goods but subtly influenced aesthetic preferences for centuries to come.

Silver Mustard Pot by Edward Farrell, 1817, London. Image courtesy of Sotheby’s

Take, for instance, a silver mustard pot made in 1817 in London by British silversmith Edward Farrell. This piece exemplifies the Chinoiserie aesthetic in Regency Era metalwork. It retains the intricate engraving and stately structure characteristic of late-18th-century Western silverware, while its decorative lexicon incorporates reconstructed “Oriental motifs,” making it both visually striking and culturally evocative.

The pot features a typical pear-shaped form, commonly found in British luxury vessels such as teapots and sugar bowls. Its full-bodied silhouette offers ample space for decoration. The surface is adorned with densely layered floral and scroll patterns rendered in high relief chasing, a technique rooted in the Baroque ornamental tradition. Within the Chinoiserie context, such motifs serve as visual frames and compositional guides.

The most distinctive Chinoiserie element lies in the Oriental female portrait reliefs embedded on both sides of the pot. These ladies, draped in stylized long robes, emerge between the scrolls and blossoms as if surfacing from the decorative fabric. These depictions of Asian women, shaped through the Western gaze, are highly theatrical, meant to evoke the viewer’s imagined distance from the East.

The lid is topped with a dolphin finial in a curved posture, and the feet combine grotesque masks and lion claws — a hybridization of classical mythology and exotic imagery that defines the Chinoiserie decorative system. The interior is gilded. Originally accompanied by a spiral shell-shaped ladle and a conical figure finial, the set was designed not only for flavoring but also for tabletop conversation — a functional yet ornamental object that signified aristocratic taste and collecting habits through its layered cultural collage.

Crane in Clouds Necklace, CHUCUI PALACE

Another example lies in the jewelry of CHUCUI PALACE, a brand renowned for its Chinoiserie aesthetic. Its iconic necklace “Crane in Clouds” clearly draws inspiration from traditional Chinese ink painting. The crane’s elongated neck and elegant curves flow like brushstrokes, evoking the grace of calligraphic movement. The wings and tail feathers, composed in layers of black and white, resemble expressive ink washes — dynamic yet reminiscent of misty landscapes. The interplay between solidity and void, the abstraction and restraint of the neck line, encapsulates the core of Eastern aesthetic philosophy: conveying spirit through “semblance and unsemblance,” and using limited form to suggest boundless atmosphere.

From a Western aesthetic perspective, the piece borrows the decorative sensibility of line and motion. The necklace’s contour is precise and fluid, reflecting the Western pursuit of proportion, balance, and structural elegance. The dense feather arrangement and textured layering echo the Maximalist tradition in Western decorative arts — creating a dazzling sensory experience through material accumulation and heightened visual density. This maximalism is not chaos, but orchestrated tension between symmetry and rhythm, providing a vivid contrast to Eastern minimalism and underscoring Chinoiserie’s essence as an East-West hybrid.

In “Crane in Clouds,” the bird embodies abstract transformation and cultural re-signification. Its aesthetic value lies not in superficial appropriation but in a deeper symbolic reconstruction. The crane becomes a floating signifier, a convergence of Eastern and Western visual traditions. Though rooted in Eastern totemic meaning, it is situated within a highly rational structure, governed by proportion, dynamism, and light — traits prized in Western decorative art. This juxtaposition of Eastern xieyi (expressive abstraction) and Western formality produces not a mimicry of the East nor a reproduction of the West, but a third image suspended between reality and illusion, nature and craft.

Pair of George III Style Chinoiserie Giltwood Twin-Branch Girandoles. Image courtesy of Sotheby’s

This pair of George III style Chinoiserie giltwood twin-branch girandoles is a quintessential model of 18th-century English domestic art that fuses East and West. Through its painted mirror surface and structural ornamentation, the piece embodies a highly orchestrated fusion of exotic fantasy and Rococo spirit.

Structurally, the frame adopts the Rococo contour: serpentine curves, elaborate foliate scrolls, and a shell crest at the top — ornate and asymmetrical. This sensitivity to flowing lines is a hallmark of 18th-century European decorative art, especially the French Rococo style, meant to imbue objects with visual rhythm and lightness. The side columns subtly evoke classical orders, maintaining a Western architectural logic even within an imagined Oriental context.

The true Chinoiserie flavor resides in the painted scenes on the mirrors: ladies with fans, children with trinkets, arching flowers, and birds in flight — all classic “exotic vignettes.” The costumes, with long robes and coiffed hair, serve as visual codes for “Chineseness.” The layout borrows from Chinese landscape painting, using dispersed perspective and negative space to form a layered, airy visual scroll.

Below the mirrors are twin candle branches (girandoles) — not merely for illumination, but echoing the 18th-century aristocratic fascination with light and shadow. This design enhances the drama of the mirror scenes, making the exotic world of Chinoiserie flicker and shimmer like a dreamscape stage performance.

Viewed together — metal objects, jewelry, and furnishings — Chinoiserie is more than a decorative style. It is a visual mechanism for imagining the Orient. Through a highly stylized and refined language, it reconstructs an “exotic world” for Western contemplation, manipulation, and consumption. What deserves greater attention is how these Eastern motifs are entangled with Western aesthetic ideals — dynamic linework, ornate structure, ceremonial symmetry — to create a hybrid visual genealogy. It is in this interweaving that Chinoiserie achieves its enduring allure: not as a fixed stylistic label, but as a decorative narrative constantly evolving across cultures, aesthetics, and craftsmanship. In the luxury goods of the 18th century, it was dream, spectacle, enigma — a crystallization of technical skill and imaginative vision.

#art #jewelry

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yabutsuba · 11 months ago

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#len'en #len'en project #yabusame houlen #tsubakura enraku #yabutsuba #mysterious origin “ink and silver”

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hplovecraftmuseum · 5 months ago

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To continue with our exploration of Lovecraft and the Captain Nemo character from Verne's 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea' and his later 'Mysterious Island' novels, Nemo is also identified as an Indian nobleman named, Prince Dakkar. Shown below is an actor dressed as Dakkar/Nemo. Curiously Lovecraft's fictional alter-ego (Randolph Carter) appeared in the Lovecraft, E. Hoffmann Price collaboration, THROUGH THE GATES OF THE SILVER KEY as a turban wearing high-caste person of Indian origin too. This individual identifies as 'Swami Chandraputra'. In actuality this is only a disguise to hide the insect-alien body that Randolph Carter is now sharing an existence with. Yeah, it's complicated! With the photo of the Nemo character below is an ink illustration of the insect revealed beneath the Indian gent's mask and turban in the Lovecraft/Price tale. The drawing was done by Richard Gilman Huber many decades ago. (Exhibit 577)

#lovecraft #captain nemo #through the gates of the silver key #randolph carter

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morganaseren · 1 year ago

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((I'm finally back with part 2 of this post for @illusivesoul! Sorry that this took so long again, friend! 😅))

Pairing: Morrigan/Niamh Cousland/Bethany Hawke

AU: The Poets Must Be Out for Blood

---

Kieran was a blessed boy.

Curiosity had originally surrounded him during his initial appearance in court. He'd been a mere babe then, balanced on his mother's hip as he idly gummed on the wing of a stuffed griffon toy while he stared with wide-eyed wonder at Orlais' marble and gilded halls.

Morrigan drew no end of suspicion and fear with her presence. She was an extension of the Empress' power and so was capable of sowing fear into enemies and the occasional unruly ally alike. Her son, however, was quite the opposite in demeanor. Even with his youth, he had somehow drawn several prominent members within and without the empire into his orbit.

Knight-Enchanter Bethany had been a fixture within the Imperial Court for the better part of a decade, serving less an advisory position to Celene as her mentor Madame de Fer did but was no less a protector. She also seemed to have some familiarity with Morrigan--one that hadn't been denied but neither woman seemed willing to elaborate further upon. Her protection had also extended to Kieran, for she often watched the boy when business required the Arcane Advisor's--admittedly exceptional--expertise elsewhere on the Empress' behalf.

It wasn't odd to find the two wandering about the Royal Gardens in the early afternoon, either strolling through the sprawling landscape, his small hand clasped excitedly in hers, or gathering herbs within it as he focused on the task with child-like determination.

At the end of the day, Kieran was always delivered safely back to his mother's side by the ever gentle and watchful Knight-Enchanter. The process was repeated on enough of a regular basis that those within the Imperial Court began speculating upon the relationship between the two women, especially when the boy had grown old enough to form words. It was perhaps no surprise at all when he had eventually taken to calling the Knight-Enchanter Maman--the Orlesian name for one's mother.

That, of course, had set a number of tongues wagging among the nobility. Speculation began anew with fervent intensity, especially as they turned their attention to Kieran's physical features. His eyes were the perfect mirror to his mother's--a distinct and piercing gold--but while his hair was the same dark shade, it was... different in texture. While it wasn't quite a match to Bethany's tighter curls either, it was at least closer to hers in appearance than Morrigan's own.

As both women were powerful mages, it didn't seem so farfetched an idea they might have conceived him together using magic. Thus, the mystery of Kieran's absent "father" seemed to have been solved.

...at least until another two seasons had passed.

---

"Sire!"

The word rang across the promenade with barely-contained enthusiasm as the toddler took off from his mother's side and that of his Knight-Enchanter guardian to run toward the figure standing in the midst of the curious crowd.

The woman in question wore the familiar blue and silvers of the Grey Wardens. The intricately-crafted steel pauldron that sat atop her right shoulder--depicting a griffon with its wings extending upward--indicated her prestigious rank among the Order while the fur mantle of the cloak upon her opposite shoulder designated her Fereldan heritage. Even beneath the light of the mid-autumn day, however, there was a specter-like quality to her eyes with how pale they were--a paleness that was further enhanced by... familiar feathery tresses framing her face. Granted, one eye was half-obscured by an ink-black fringe.

...Not unlike Kieran's own forelock in appearance, some realized, utterly mystified.

"Hello, my Little Lord," she said, scooping the boy up into her arms when he was within reach, their kinship all too apparent now beneath the many watching eyes. "Have you been behaving for your mother and Bethany while I've been away?"

A tittering giggle met her inquiry as he wrapped his arms around her neck, tucking his face against it as if to hide the sound of his mirth. A dark brow arched at the gesture, but there was little denying her indulgent smile as she languidly strolled toward the women in question.

"Your laughter tells me 'no,' which means I'll hear no end of your activities from them both soon enough..."

Although seldom a seen presence in Orlais, those who knew anything of the Fifth Blight were familiar with Niamh Cousland--younger sister to the Hero of Ferelden and was also the country's own Constable of the Grey.

Like both Bethany and Morrigan, she was another powerful mage--one who was very capable of tearing the heavens asunder if rumors were to be believed. The watching nobility couldn't help but think them to be true as they felt the aura radiating from her--less the respective spring breeze and burning heat of summer of the Knight-Enchanter and Arcane Advisor and more akin to rolling thunder enrobed in a winter's kiss.

The theory they'd had regarding Kieran's parentage was then further turned on its head as they regarded the three women--clearly comfortable and content in one another's presence.

Had his actual conception been borne of the Arcane Advisor and the Warden-Constable, or was he perhaps an... intriguing combination of the three?

Either theory filled them with discomfort, for there had admittedly been discrete talk within the upper echelons of Orlais to use the boy against the Arcane Advisor, especially when the woman so easily foiled any subtle plots against Empress Celene. However, with the new evidence presented before them, it now seemed... an ill-advised idea at best. For the Warden-Constable whom had struck the killing blow against the Archdemon and the two women who held back the tides of darkspawn threatening to overwhelm them all... Well, what threat could a mere mortal soul hold in comparison?

So, yes, perhaps it was better that the boy was left alone when it came to any matters concerning The Game.

#dragon age #bethany hawke #morrigan #female cousland/bethany hawke #female cousland/morrigan #OT3: Paper Boats Floating on a Stream #AU: The Poets Must Be Out for Blood

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penhero · 2 years ago

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Caran d'Ache Leman V2 Bicolor Black Fountain Pen Fine Open Stock $528 on eBay

This is a new, open stock item that has been opened for photos. It is brand new and in the original box. Sold AS-IS.

Mysterious and mystical, black is the ultimate symbol of elegance. The Léman Bicolor Black evokes the lake and its dark attire, the night descending. The silky lacquer gets all its intensity from the rhodium-coated silver. Rhodium-coated 18 karat gold, rhodium coated nib. Piston ink pump or Caran d'Ache ink cartridge. The Léman Bicolor Black fountain pen is an elegant companion and offers you exceptional writing comfort.

Includes original box, papers, cartridges and converter.

Available in our eBay store:

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gabrielgek · 4 months ago

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The Alchemist's lens: iFoto's Magic in the Art of Cinematic Sorcery

In the ancient land of Pixeloria, where frames of lore are woven into the fabric of time, there lies a secret as old as the rolling hills and as mysterious as the deepest forests. This secret, whispered among the sages and the sorcerers, is the alchemy of iFoto's AI Video Enhancement—a conjurer's tool that breathes life into the essence of yesteryear's visions.

The tale begins in the age of flickering shadows cast upon the silver screen, a time where the magic of motion was nascent but captivating. Many were the films that told grand sagas, yet the fidelity of their images was oft tarnished by the ravages of time. The sorcerers of Pixeloria, with their degradation and grainy artifacts, sought a way to restore the luster of these ancient tales.

Enter iFoto, a tome of enchantments bound by the hands of modern. Its AI Video Enhancement was a spell so potent it could change the humblest of pixels into a spectacle of vivid clarity. One might wonder, how does such sorcery work? The answer, though not as mystical as the legends, is no less wondrous. Through the careful parsing of light and color, this AI enhances the visual integrity, turning the 480p echoes of the past into the resplendent 4K tapestries of the present.

Consider the lowly scribe, toiling over a cracked and faded scroll, desperate to preserve its wisdom. With iFoto's AI Video Enhancement, the scroll's ink, once faded and indecipherable, becomes as clear as the morning sun. Such was the case for the oldcinematic producers who found their treasures—treasures captured in the infancy of their craft—resurrected with a quality so high that the past seemed to speak in the vernacular of the present.

The impact on the industry was nothing short of a renaissance. As studios delved into their archives, they unearthed masterpieces that had been lost to the ether of time. These classics, once destined to exist in whispers, were now ready to dance upon the screens of the new age. How many a heart has swelled with pride at the sight of a cherished classic, now rendered in such splendor?

Moreover, the versatility of iFoto's AI Video Enhancement is as boundless as the imagination. For not only does it restore, but it also lifts. A video, once constrained by its humble size, can now in scale without losing its essence. The alchemy does not falter under pressure; instead, it flourishes, offering an upscale trip from small potatoes to grand spectacle without any loss of quality. It is akin to the alchemist's stone, turning base metals into gold, save this transmutation applies to the art of sight and sound.

Yet, one might consider, what of the artistry of the original creators? Does this enhancement not tread upon their legacy? To this, the sages of Pixeloria would offer wisdom: the intent of the AI Video Enhancement is not to overshadow, but to honor. It serves as a bridge between epochs, allowing the masterpieces to travel through time with the dignity they deserve.

And so, in the great tapestry of Pixeloria's history, the story of iFoto's AI Video Enhancement weaves a rich thread. It speaks of a future where the past is not forgotten but cherished, where the old can walk hand in hand with the new, and where the magic of storytelling, once captured, endures for generations to come.

#iFoto #VideoEnhancer #AIVideoEnhancer #VideoEnhanceAI #VideoUpscaler #8K

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inkintheinternet · 9 months ago

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The Modern Alchemist

By Arjuwan Lakkdawala

Ink in the Internet

It is said that the arrow of time always travels in one direction, time and the events that unfold in it are linear. The First Law of Thermodynamics states that the energy in the whole observable universe is the same, except it changes its state, like when you burn firewood and it turns to smoke. The Second Law of Thermodynamics states that Entropy increases and is irreversible, like when you break an egg, and that systems always go from orderly to disorderly.

And then there is the matter of reaching equilibrium, like when you pour milk into a cup of tea, the milk will flow through it till it is evenly spread.

When scientists study any phenomena, the wisest know that the main objective should be to find principles and laws about how a certain entity, or system functions, this is very difficult, and could be considered the greatest secrets of the world as we know it.

Why the fundamental laws are so elusive and mysterious we don't know, but it is clear that whenever scientists were able to establish (even if to a certain percentage) a law or principle, it was a catalyst for inventions, technology, and scientific developments.

The history of scientific studies dates way back to a branch of the science of the time called 'Alchemy" originating from the Arabic 'Al Kimia." In present day Arabic the word means 'Chemistry.'

Historical records state that Alchemy very likely started in Egypt and Arabia, and then the knowledge was passed down to Rome and ancient Greece, and then to the west. However, whatever were the scientific endeavours of the original Alchemists, it became generally indistinguishable from the other non-scientific ideas and theories that are part of Alchemy.

Western medieval Alchemists had three priorities; Find the Philosopher's Stone - which they believed has supernatural powers, find the Elixir of life and youth - possibly using the stone, transform common metals into silver and gold.

While these are fantastical aspirations, somehow the experiments that the ancient Alchemists did with the elements, was the start of sciences like pharmacology, metallurgy, and chemistry.

I do think there is a linear learning connection throughout the past centuries, and into the future, perhaps a pattern of the methods of discoveries, or fragments of information that will fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

In this century scientists and thinkers are the Modern Alchemists, and chemistry is the real scientific Alchemy.

But do we still try to attain things that seem on the boundaries of the supernatural - while I was going through the collection of H.G. Wells books, I read The Invisible Man, a masterpiece like his previous books that I have read.

(Spoiler Alert)

In the science fiction story he explains invisibility through chemistry, and I have seen various movies with similar ideas, the most memorable to me is the beloved Walt Disney classic: 'Now You See Him, Now You Don't,' and the Hindi classic: Mr. India.

In the first it is invisibility through chemistry, and in the second it's invisibility through the bending of light.

The two movies sum up the whole business of hypothetical invisibility by light and chemistry.

My interest sparked by Wells and the movies, I found invisibility really interesting to explore scientifically and I did a web search.

A 2022 Big Think article came up in the search, titled: 'Invisibility Cloaks Are Not Just Possible, But Are Becoming Reality'

Feels like the quest for the Philosopher's Stone, or the Elixir of Life (Modern Alchemists at work)

Perhaps this is a pattern of human curiosity that won't stop even at what appears (or literally doesn't appear) impossible.

The writer mentions science fiction invisibility in Star Trek, and goes on to explain a scientific project involving cutting edge technology, materials, and lenses.

The aim of the project is to combine "Metalenses with Metamaterials"

Metamaterial will be engineered using nanotechnology to bend light, while the Metalense will pace the wavelenght speed of each colour of light (invisible in white light) to appear again as white light after passing over the Metamaterial.

To give a more precise description:

The reason is that each colour of light has its own speed, and this is why a prism is shaped to split white invisible light into a rainbow because they don't travel through the prism at the same speed. The Metalense will balance the speed to equilibrium and so it will appear as white light again.

When travelling in a vacuum the different wavelengths of light can travel at the same speed but not when going through a medium.

We are in 2024 so I'm guessing the "invisibility cloak" which I think will be like the one in Harry Potter, is still in the making, pretty much like Alchemists trying to turn common metals into gold.

When it comes to nature camouflage is the closest thing to invisibility so far discovered.

The relation of colours, wavelengths of light, and nano structures will require volumes of books, but I have a few fascinating brief examples. The colour blue that we see is an illusion caused by nano structures, and most of the time in nature when you see blue it is iridescence, and not a pigment, it generally doesn't exist as a pigment like the other colours.

Bats hunt moths with radar like sound waves that detect them, so to counter this there are moths with hairy coating which deflect the sound waves - making it invisible to the bat.

In technology stealth planes are designed to deflect radar detection like moths, so they are invisible to radars.

However, I found more astonishing than all this was the creation of light by chemistry; such as bioluminescence and chemiluminescence. The first happens in living things, and the latter in non-living.

Light of this type is 'cold light' (very low heat.)

But how is it used for camouflage - well here comes the Hatchet Fish, it has organs that create light and point downwards, so that its silhouette against the surface of the ocean is camouflaged (in this case called counterillumination) as sunlight, and predators swimming below cannot distinguish it. Organs like these are called 'photopores.'

Another sea creature the Brittle Star uses the bioluminescence it can make in a rather ingenious type of camouflage or a decoy, that is when it is threatened by a predator it detatches a glowing arm (which it can regrow) and leaves the predator following the arm while it sneaks away.

The sea cucumber detaches its luminescencent parts on other fish, so the predator follows the glowing fish instead of it.

Bioluminescence is produced by the compound luciferin; with a chemical reaction either with the enzyme luciferase or the chemical photoprotien.

An example of chemiluminescence is the element phosphorous, officially discovered by the German alchemist Hennig Brand in 1669, when he was trying to create the Philosopher's Stone, he named the element from the Greek meaning "bearer of light" because it glowed. White phosphorous is highly flammable and toxic.

Glow-in-the-dark toys and products have phosphor. How it glows is like this: when light is shone on phosphor, its electrons get excited and are dislodged from their 'ground state' to 'intermediate state' and when they return to the ground state the energy of this is emitted in the form of the glow, it is more precisely termed 'electroluminescence.'

Arjuwan Lakkdawala is an author and independent science researcher.

X/Instagram: Spellrainia

Email: [email protected]

Sources:

Flights of Fancy by Richard Dawkins

Big think - invisibility cloaks are not just possible, but are becoming reality, ethan siegel

Royal society of chemistry - what is alchemy

NIH - National institute of general medical sciences, biomedical beat blog, phosphorous: glowing, flammable, and essential to our cells, abbey bigler-coyne

Britannica - philosopher's stone, written and fact-checked by the editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica

Britannica - alchemy, pseudoscience, robert p. multhauf, robert andrew gilbert,

Fact-checked by the editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica

Ocean conservancy - here comes the hatchet fish, billy unotti, former communications assistant

National geographic, bioluminescence

Science direct - chemiluminescence, and overview,

Science world, chemical light reactions

Secondary article, the science behind glow-in-the-dark toys

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