#silvermark

[silvermarkin]

The round-cut solitaire pendant is one of our best collections. It's charm, it's glow, it's magic & its attractiveness; all for you. AAA+ Quality Zircons Stamped with 925 Sterling silver Hypoallergenic - Perfect for sensitive skin Comes with the Silvermark Jewellery kit and authenticity certificate

Choose your own design-your own way OR Visit www.silvermark.in

[iamshipwrecked]

Círculos.

Collage and silver marker on paper, 2022.

[scribblesartcollective]

🐈 🌱 Happy Thursday High Desert! . . . #mementomori #poscamarkers #markerillustration #smallbusiness #smallartist #vultureculture #vulturecultureart #catnip #catskull #smallart #blackandsilverandgold #goldmarker #silverandgold #silvermarker #quotes #circleoflife #catmint (at Scribbles Art Collective) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cnm7gXEg88e/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[georgiapeach30513]

I noticed the silver looked a nut faded on the collars. I go to broadway all the time and when silvermarkers are used on dabric like hats they look faded like that after a short time. Id bet it was from the fall campaign. And the dog they have in that video looks similar to dodger but coincidences do happen....

That dog has been in a few times with Jinx. His name is Koa. At this point, we can’t call it a fall campaign. It will be very very soon, but…it’s definitely not fall anymore. Wonder what the holdup was 🤔

[margoyagudaart]

I just love drawing lines, don’t you? … . #bandw #kunst #чернобелое #silvermarker #interior #openforcommissions #blacksketchbook #artcollector #abstractart #дизайн #アート #예술 #アブストラクトアート #originalartwork #independentartist #pattern #MYGallery #wallart #blackandwhite #margoyaguda #маргоягудаарт #линии #чб #abstractartist #margoyaguda_art #drawing #handdrawn #femaleartist #linesart #паттерн (at Blackness) https://www.instagram.com/p/CeCKI0yL3Jx/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mrscratch0753]

Amarinthine. (Watercolour/mixed, 2018) #painting #art #artlife #watercolor #purple #watercolour #pencilcrayon #colouredpencils #marker #silvermarker #shiny #paint #watercolorpainting #light #watercolourpainting #igart #artistsoninstagram #artoftheday #instagood #instagramart #lilac #latenightpainting #mauve #instagramartists #figure #figurepainting #glasses @graveyardweeds

[electriccatstuff]

Rzutem na taśmę wskakuje #alchemik z wyzwania #drawfantasy od @christen_lydia And here goes the #alchemist from the #drawingchallenge. #silvermarker #mangastyle #art #pictureoftheday #picture #mondaypic #drawing #instadraw #drawinstagram #canson #paper (w: Wola)

[letissierdesigns]

Some of my favourite tools. I consider markers indispensable tools when I knit. These are made by a friend of mine, Joan Hoye, another lace knitter and silversmith. #silversmith #silvermarkers #letissierdesigns #silverandstone #joanhoye #toolsofthetrade #tools #collection #knittingtools (at Nanaimo, British Columbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_6LwM6Ju8K/?igshid=17ug20grcrfvj

[idle-cat-ammie]

Yep. This is not what I wanted to draw originally, BUT I do enjoy srawing hands lolz. - - - #drawing #art #illustration #semirealistic #traditonalart #traditional #traditionalillustration #traditionaldrawing #traditional_art #artistoninsta #artwork #silvermarker #mood #semirealisticart #semirealisticdrawing #flowers #semirealisticillustration https://www.instagram.com/p/B-6j7fql6eV/?igshid=1utvdpnw2w1r7

[eskularte-blog]

NEVER GIVE UP! . . Hobby ideas coloring quotes Deco color liquid silver Faber Castell brush pen . . #eskularte #hobbyideas #coloringquotes #quotes #quoteoftheday #bestoftheday #photooftheday #artistsoninstagram #artsy #artist #arts_help #arts_secret #arts_spotlight #artwork #artandcraft #artlover #watercolor #fabercastell #decocolor #fineliner #silvermarker #colorful #flowerstagram #halloween #art #adultcoloringbook #coloringbook #sketchbook #sketchcolors #prismacolor #keepcreating @hobbyideasindia @artship_like_friendship @feature_gallery @art_feature._ @artist_help_feat

[silvermarkin]

These Hoops are so beautiful, they will definitely make a statement. The silver color catches the light and makes these hoops look so unique with their minimalist design. They're great for every day wear, or grabbing as an accessory to any outfit.

[photon-nmo]

Closing out the November colors of the month 🎨🎨🎨 #TheArchangelo #ArchangeloCrelencia #drawingchallenge #copic #copicmarker #tombow #copics #copiccolors #colorsofthemonth #universeofmarkers #markeruniverse #novembercopics #novembercopiccolors #silvermarker #cosplayer #ironman #unicorn #nightwing #bluedevil (at Dragon Lady Lounge) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5Q8CfqFV_O/?igshid=1bc9gr3dc8zyb

[dozostudios]

#inktober2019 day 19, Space Thief. Only the second time I've drawn her. 1st was for #Inktober 2017. A work in progress for sure. #draw #sketch #prismacolormarkers #silvermarker #creatorowned #originalart #creatorownedcomics #space #shiny #artist #gellyrollpens #sakurajellyrollwhite https://www.instagram.com/p/B30vSIfBm0-/?igshid=1ir8kq6lpiqkm

[stephen-bliss-blog]

#sold #painting #paint #spraypaint #silvermarker #sharpie #tornpaper #rippedpaper #logo #newyorkpost #pinup #opium #addiction #seduction #vintage #ink #art #artist #flowers #bikini #snowwhite #disney https://www.instagram.com/p/B2oir0oF8xJ/?igshid=htu9m64aagt3

[vidalinav]

Dance Like Your Falling In Love

Summary: One shot; Cassian doesn’t know how to dance, everyone tries to teach him but he’s hopeless.

I implore you to listen to The Dance from Martin Phipps, one of the best scores I’ve ever heard from BBC’s War and Peace. Please Please listen as you read. Youtube, Spotify. Whatever, This whole fic is based off of that score.

Masterlist

~

“You have faced beings larger than you, more powerful, more dangerous, and yet you’re telling me that you’re afraid to dance,” Rhys offered skeptically.

“I am not afraid…” Cassian grumbled. “I just don’t see why I have to do it.”

It, being the dreaded waltz that they were now discussing as being “necessary” for future political endeavors. Bull. Shit.

Feyre leaned her head back against the settee where Rhys was shuffling through papers. “The next meeting we have with the high lords will be at a ball.”

“And not just the high lords will be there,” Azriel chimed in, “the leaders from the continent as well.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “So what? We have to show off our table manners to get them to sign a treaty?”

“Whatever it takes Cassian,” Mor sang from where she lounged on the couch.

“I’ve hired Anna Pavlova to come tomorrow to…” Rhys gave him a pointed glance, “brush up on our skills so to speak.”

Cassian’s look of disgust must have said enough, because Amren snickered at her position at the coffee table where she was completing a puzzle in the middle of their strategy meeting.

“That old hag,” Cassian complained.

Amren huffed a laugh, “Our skills,” she said mockingly, looking to Cassian. He tried not to take offense to that.

Cassian crossed his arms, sitting back as if he were a child who’d just learned he was getting extra lessons as opposed to dinner time and an hour of play. This was unfair.

“Remember to dress nice,” Azriel grinned.

Rhys looked to him with a teasing glint in his eyes, “You know how Madam Pavlova can get.”

~

Cassian did know how the Madam could get, so he chose to wear pressed slacks, in which he only owned one pair and a nice dress shirt that Cassian hoped was clean. He had found it in the back of his closet, and after asking Nuala for an iron he’d almost burned off the sleeve.

He wished he’d burned off the sleeve. Maybe then he could get out of this ridiculous lesson like he was twelve again. But no, knowing Rhys, he’d probably have a whole suit for him. Cauldron forbid, it would have probably been sky blue with frills.

That bastard.

He twisted the tie around his neck, and after several minutes of twisting and knotting and twisting some more, Cassian yanked it off and threw it on the ground, stomping on it as he let out his frustrations.

When he was younger, Madam Pavlova would pick and prod at his tie, saying, in that thick accent of hers, that it needed to be tied tighter so the neck will have no room but to remain straight and tall. He’d nearly tore it to pieces every night after their classes had finished.

It was their mother’s idea to put them in lessons and Rhys hadn’t minded so much, the bastard he was, and the Madam had praised Azriel as almost every tutor and trainer did. Cassian though, she’d complain about. He wasn’t doing enough, he was goofing off, he glued her bag to the stage… the last one still made him laugh on occasion. Point being, Madam Pavlova hated him, but mostly because try as he might, Cassian could not dance.

So, Cassian walked with a certain amount of apprehension through the gardens where this “brush up” would take place. An impressive array of flowers were around the square, most noticeably the incredible rose bushes that were tall and in full bloom surrounding the paved open space.

True to his High Lord’s excessiveness, there was practically an orchestra by the square, tuning their instruments and strumming lightly. Practicing for the event of the season, Cassian thought sardonically.  

As soon as he noticed the female, her gait tall and thin, Cassian shirked back, wanting to turn away. Madam Pavlova had not changed… and Cassian didn’t know what to do with that information. She was no closer to death and something about that made him snap at his luck.

She raised a brow at him as he entered, calling him forward in attention.

“Let me look at you.”

The others were already gathered, including Varian who’d stayed with Amren in the past week, and Nesta and Elain. The former he tried not to glance at, not even a little.

“Yeah Cassian, spin for us,” Rhys teased.  

Cassian flipped him off. At the displeased look from the Madam, Cassian lowered his hand slowly, grumbling to himself.

“You have grown since last I’ve seen you. Though I see, your clothes are still wrinkled and you can’t keep a tie.”

“You haven’t changed either, Madam. I see your still a bi—”

“Best we get started soon, I think,” Azriel interrupted.

The Madam smiled sweetly at Azriel. “Yes. Yes, my dear. The sooner we start, the better the dancers you become.”

She looked at them all, pursing her lips, her fingers pointing at each one of them. At last, she snapped.

“There is not enough partners!” the Madam raised, her voice going deep with displeasure.

The others looked at each other, perhaps deciding silently who would sit this one out, but it was Nesta who claimed the decision. She didn’t even acknowledge the Madam as she left the line of them, going to sit on a bench. He watched as she opened a book that she pulled out of her skirt and began reading as if that what she was planning to do all along.

Nesta promptly ignored them and she looked every bit the part of a painting. Picturesque boredom, Cassian would call it. Madam Pavlova looked to her and sniffed at the lack of manners, but Cassian snickered. It was perhaps the only entertainment he’d get today.

Leave it to Nesta to get under the old bat’s nerves. He almost felt proud.

The Madam knocked her cane next to his feet in attention, and when he looked away from Nesta, the Madam was standing in front of him a look of disdain on her face. Cassian tried not to feel twelve again, shrinking where he stood.

But she dismissed him, raising her nose and walking back through the line of them.

“To waltz is to dance as one. You and the other must constantly move with each other, anticipating the other’s move,” She stood taller, gesturing with her hands in length. Cassian wanted to laugh at the innuendo of size, but he was not a child. Besides, he doubted she’d appreciate the joke. “This is the space that should be between you and your partner, like magnets attract, you must remain within this space. Pushing, pulling, but always close.”

He could hear the wicked tap of her heels on the concrete. “Now when we begin, gentlemales, I want you to bow, and ladies, I want you to curtsy before and after the dance as properly instructed.”

Cassian watched as Rhys grabbed Feyre’s waist, pulling her forward as she rolled her eyes.

“You do know I don’t know how to waltz, don’t you?” She drawled.

“If I’m leading, Feyre darling, you know how to waltz.”

Feyre scoffed, laughing as she said, “You know, your ego might make us both fall over.”

When Cassian looked in front of him, Mor was grinning at him, taking his hand with confidence. Oh right, he thought to himself, she hadn’t arrived yet when they were first taught this. Well, she was in for a surprise.

He gripped her hand tightly, his back rigid as the music began to play. A cacophony of noise in the background. A melody of strings and woodwinds.

Cassian stepped forward as Mor stepped forward, and in a fit of perfect chaos that only he could cause, they smacked their foreheads together.

“Ouch,” Mor gasped, holding her head in her palms.

“Sorry,” Cassian mumbled, pretending his own head didn’t hurt.

Asking if she needed ice or a bandage, Mor simply rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand once more. Cassian looked to Madam Pavlova and he could see the glare in her eyes. She lifted her chin and Cassian knew it was her way of telling him to get to it.

And he tried…

“By the Mother, Cassian. It’s forward then right.”

Cassian threw up his hands, “It’s not my fault you’re leading. The male is supposed to lead!”

“I wouldn’t have to lead if you were good at dancing!”

“Enough,” the Madam called out, stomping her cane as she eyed them all. “Switch partners.”

Elain went to Rhys, Mor to Azriel, and Feyre, at last, to him. Amren refused to let go of Varian, and he thought she might have latched on to him like a spider monkey if they tried to pull her away.

Feyre smiled up at him, and laughingly curtsied as he remembered to bow. Grabbing his outstretched hand, she titled her head with concern, probably feeling how clammy his hands had gotten.

“Relax Cassian,” Feyre spoke, her brows furrowing. “It’s just like being on the battlefield.”

“How do you mean?” He asked a little too eagerly.

“Well, I’d think you’d agree that there’s a certain level of movement in battle that resembles dancing. A step here, a step there, parry, cross…”

Cassian nodded slowly, his voice sounding out of breath. “Okay. Parry. Cross.”

But when Cassian tried this technique, he only ended up stepping on her toes. He could hear Rhys and Az snickering in the background as he profusely apologized to Feyre.

“Ten silvermarks says he trips her next.”

“Twenty says they both land on the floor.”

Cassian chose to ignore his friends, making a mental reminder to beat them when they trained later in the evening.  

“Okay,” Feyre exhaled, “One step, two step—Ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry!”

He heard the hard tick of the cane abruptly hit the concrete and the deep sigh of disappointment as Madam Pavlova stopped the music. He watched as she covered her eyes with her hands, as if she couldn’t stand to see the shame.

“We will start again,” She announced with that thick accent of hers, “Switch again.”

They began to shift, but Cassian caught Nesta’s gaze. Her book abandoned, sitting at her side and he mentally grumbled that his pain must have been entertaining to her.

Technically Amren was next, but she pushed Elain towards him.

“No chance I’m dancing with him.”

Cassian made a face.

Elain giggled. Flowers were tucked in her hair, and as she curtsied the petals glided in the soft wind. Cassian bowed sheepishly, already regretting being paired with someone as sweet as her. He knew she wouldn’t tell him when he hurt her, and he already felt guilty as the music started.  

“I apologize in advance for stepping on your feet.”

He was right of course, because when the monotonous tune once again stopped abruptly, Elain smiled through the pained expression.

And it was that look that made deep frustration fill his chest. After all this time, after all this practice, he could still not waltz. He had not learned at twelve, he’d not learned at five like Rhys or Mor. No tutors or governesses had taught him how to be adequate. All Cassian had learned as a child was to hit where it hurt and to take anything he could get his hands on.

His mother would’ve been ashamed.

Rhys’s mother—the only mother he knew—would have sat back and sighed. As disappointed as Madam Pavlova. He could almost see it, the look as the Madam had told her that he wasn’t progressing like Rhys and Azriel were. That he wasn’t fit for the life of a socialite or high-class citizen. He was rubbish, bastard trash.  

It will bring you skill in battle and luck in love, she’d said as he did behind the desk, waiting for the classes to be over.

Cassian didn’t feel skilled or lucky, and he clenched his fists, his impatience sounding as loud as that orchestra that played the same tune over and over. He wanted to go over there and shove that flute up the musician’s—

Cassian felt a hand on his shoulder and his gaze landed on hers as he settled his hand on her waist.

Her hair was in that ever-present coronet, but today, it had been tied with a white bow on the back. Cassian could see the ends of the ribbon touch her neck, flapping lightly. His eyes drifted the whole of her. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, the short straps bordered by delicate lace at the shoulders and neckline and all of her looked like the picture of elegance. A beautiful, proper lady.

He was not fit to hold her, not really. Not even if he wanted to, even if he imagined it sometimes—when he allowed himself to dream. Cassian was certain of it as she grasped his hand. It was so much smaller than his, her skin so much softer than the callouses that lined his palms.

Nesta blinked up at him, her long lashes casting shadows along her face. The teal color of her gown brought out the blue in her eyes.

A perfect female indeed.

As the music started, he felt the strongest urge to pull away so she could not see how inadequate he was. Never mind that she’d never see him that way. Cassian did not want her to see him in any way that pointed out his flaws. He’d already shown her too many.

But she took in a breath, her chest rising and falling, and he unconsciously did the same. A calm setting over them like the soft notes of a piano playing.  

“It’s just you…” She said softly, lower than the whisper of notes. He focused on her mouth as she spoke, eager for the words to reach his ears. She moved a step. Cassian lured by her movement, followed. “And me…” She mouthed as she moved another, her grip warm in his palm.

“And the music.”

Cassian didn’t realize they’d been moving as he stared, staying closer to her. As she moved, he moved, as she dipped he followed. If she spun he was there, holding her hand to bring her back to him as if they were in orbit. The earth and the moon in constant rotation, holding each other together as they traveled around the sun.

The music slowed around them, and it was not the same sound as when they began. Perhaps, Cassian had tuned it out altogether in favor of staring into Nesta’s eyes as if she could see all the way to his soul.

She had come to him, come to his rescue when he was panicked and alone, and Cassian once again felt it in his chest—that deep feeling that… Nesta had known him for all his life. Had understood his darkest places, his bitterest fears.

They slowed to a stop, but Cassian didn’t let go until the clapping started. Nesta cringed as she pulled away, clapping slowly as she chose to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t look at the others, but he thought perhaps they’d been watching them for their applause was… teasing and careful.

“Oh!” Cassian gasped. Nesta’s gaze flew to his, but he merely bowed lowly, his hair hanging from his face.

Nesta smiled lightly, a soft, cautious tilt of her lips. Her neck and back were straight as she curtsied, grace in every moment.

She backed away from him, and Cassian tried not to reach for her, tried not to be noticeably discomforted from that lack of closeness. He watched as she picked up her book, and settled back on the bench, her teal gown bright against the red rose bushes.

He refused to look at the others as he turned away, but Cassian looked to Madam Pavlova.

She was nodding slowly in approval.  

~

@allilal @ekaterinakostrova @soitsgorgeous (I forget who to tag. So I just tagged people I know??)

I honestly don’t know where this came from because I wrote it in a hour, which clearly says I’m a liar when I say I cannot write in a timely fashion. 

Umm, I hoped you liked it. It was technically I guess suppose to go in my longer fic, but since ACOSF is coming out soon, I feel like I won’t finish that, so I’m thinking of just posting one shots of things that happen. But Idk. This might have just been a shot in the dark. 

Anyways Happy New Year!!! Nessian makes everything better!

Comment, Reblog, Like for more and happy reading!

[damn-anotherangel]

Woodsreign Academy for the Magical Arts

This is a fan-made North American (includes Mexico and Canada) school for witches and wizards in the Harry Potter Universe. The school is situated on the western edge of the Rocky Mountains somewhere near the California/Oregon border, but it's exact location is shrouded in mystery. Desiring a more accessible school than Hogwarts for the Americas, yet understandably built on similar tenants, and using the school's tried-and-true framework as a foundation, master magicians with the help of the country's medicine men and women, along with the latent wild magic that abounds in the deepest spaces of the forest, created Woodsreign Academy for the Magical Arts. The four founding Classes were introduced thusly:

The Den of Heathersedge, to whom wit and intelligence knows no equal in importance. Intelligence in practice, an ability to respond quickly, and ambition are all words to live by for any sly fox that finds home in this den. Those in this esteemed class are accomplished duelists, inventors and out-of-the-box thinkers. Nobody outfoxes a witch or wizard with a Heathersedge glint in their eye.

The Grove of Willowshade, the most insatiably curious of the classes, housed those who were not one to simply sit and read themself into wisdom, they'd always endeavored to gain wisdom through experience. Those with a burning curiosity would always find a way to gain the knowledge they seek, with little regard to their own safety in the seeking will have many stories to tell around his fire. For though curiosity killed the cat, as they say, he has eight more lives to spare.

The Pack of Silvermark, to whom the Old Ways clung fiercely. Silvermark believed in familial loyalty, willingness to fight for noble causes, and magical heritage. Whether by historical connection or blood connection, a connection with the past was one the student believed to be paramount. Though, they would be willing to add, many of the strongest familial bonds are those that one forged themselves. Any young witch or wizard willing to fight for the family they were born into or the wolfpack they found will always have a place.

And finally, the Pool of Rapidshore, fierce mountains of personality who live by the belief that anybody is worth protecting regardless of usefulness or (lack of) motivation would shine in this Class. Those who are selfless and whose power backs their convictions be they healing or defending will find a home, for no matter their stature, anyone may have the steadfast heart of a bear.

When they  finished building the school, surrounded by the massive forests of the Great West, the Founders: the wizards, the druids, the Medicine Men, and indigenous Seeresses called to the spirits of the wilds, an offer for shelter and an opportunity to teach young minds by example. Their spirits, upon agreement, would hold the school together and protect the beings within and in the immediate surroundings from any harm.

They called spirits venerated from every continental civilization. Rabbits coyotes, bears, buffalo, snakes, owls, cats wolves and dogs were just some of many animal spirits that answered the call to become guardian totems to the school.  The coyotes and foxes played pranks on each other, spiders wove potential futures in their webs,  the snakes occupied the potions and alchemy classrooms, and horses and wolves roamed the surrounding forests and fields. The Class system was designed to evolve over time, adding more classes for the endless unique students looking for camaraderie or individuality as needs demanded, and so other sub-classes like the rabbit-spirit's Cloverdale for those simple, tight-knit friendships, or the gator-spirit's Cypressglade for those who sought a more intense mystery.

The agreement was that as long as these totem spirits agreed with and wished to help the school continue to exist, they would do so. if one no longer wanted to remain at the school, it may leave, and another spirit could answer the call to replace it. If the totems at large felt the school no longer merited defending or support, they could abandon it and the school would fall to the wilds.  Throwback Thursday to when I made an American school before JKR made Ilvermorny. I like mine better, anyway. https://www.facebook.com/notes/3156053261170276/