#paint alchemy symbol on my coat

[dont-open-dead-inside-net]

Ed's boots are done! Everything went great except I did put the belt buckle on backwards so it's not as sturdy as it could be. Ah well. Life continues

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 89

Team Scar shows up and the Chimera guys all catch up with each other.

When I first read this series, I didn't pay the Chimeras much concern until this moment. If FMA were an RPG; Jelso, Zanpano, Darius, and Heinkel would be those characters who are given to you so you have a full party before going into a difficult dungeon. They'd have maybe one ability and they'd only be good at one specific thing. Then they either leave or you bench them forever when your ACTUAL party members show up.

I honestly expected they would probably get killed at some point cause why introduce and keep new characters around this late in the series.

And then they sat down and chatted about their situation. They're all fugitives. They're fighting for a just cause. And they have a community that accepts them.

At that point I was rooting for them to make it through to the end.

And I want to talk about Ed's jacket for a moment. It's iconic. If you think of Ed's attire, you think of that jacket. But he actually doesn't wear it much throughout the series.

Of the previous 88 chapters, Ed has had 74 non-flashback appearances and 5 flashback appearances. Of the 74 non-flashback chapters, Ed is wearing his jacket at least once in 28 of them (29 if we include flashbacks). Also, 12 of those chapters are actually the coat he wears while at Briggs.

And I want to mention I'm including chapters where we spot him wearing his jacket in a SINGLE panel. Chapter 15, for example, is counted because Ed was wearing his jacket during the single shot of him on the train even though he spent the rest of the chapter in a hospital garb.

The longest continuous section of the story where Ed never wore his jacket was chapters 48 - 64. In chapter 47, Ed handed Winry his jacket and she's still carrying it later, but then it disappears when she goes back to Rush Valley. In chapter 64, Ed is wearing the red coat instead.

I'd bet if you counted each individual panel Ed appears in up to this point, there are more panels of him wearing the coat than there are of him wearing his jacket.

We got so much little details about Denny's personal life this chapter. He has at least 4 younger siblings, he rides a bike, he has a cat, and his legs are hairy.

A Solar Eclipse is also about to happen.

The one soldier mentions how Roy uses dust to act as the fuse for his Flame Alchemy. That would explain why the Earth symbol is part of Roy's transmutation circle.

So here's the general idea I see about Mustang's coup: He and Major General Armstrong are attempting to paint themselves as the noble heroes who uncovered Central High Command's evil plot to overthrow the President.

Major General Armstrong will fight within HQ and attempt to take control of the situation from there, meanwhile Roy and his platoon "rescue" Mrs. Bradley so they garner public support.

Then Miles and Graman are to march on Central to help reinforce and solidify control.

And once Central is under control, Mustang and Major General Armstrong are going to join with the Elrics to stop Father's plot.

But someone went and assassinated the President. It's beneficial to their plans, but it also means Miles and Graman are going to be delayed in their arrival.

It’s the final arc so everyone is returning.

Maria Ross and Rebecca arriving in an armored truck with munitions was unexpected by Roy. Finding out Havoc was the supplier was an even greater surprise.

So here's my guess on things. Havoc was part of the information chain used to pass the planned attack on Central so he knew when it would happen. He also knew Maria Ross had been smuggled to Xing. So over the last 5 months, Havoc had gotten in contact with Maria Ross and she gathered Xingese supplies while Havoc gathered munitions through his family's general goods store. The only other person he involved was Rebecca.

So once the day came, Maria returned from Xing with supplies in tow, Havoc had everything packed up, and Maria and Rebecca headed to Central.

back

Spoiler Discussion

I just want to add a bit more to the jacket thing.

Of this and the remaining 19 chapters, Ed appears in 16 of them. Of them, he's wearing his jacket for 13 of them.

So in total, Ed appears in 95/108 chapters in the series (90 non-flashback appearances). And he is wearing his jacket in 42/95 of them (41/90 without flashbacks).

[aminiatureworld]

In My Dreams

Characters: Albedo, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,082

Warnings: Waking dreams, amnesia, visions/hallucinations

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. Tried to be detailed with warnings, tell me if you want me to tag anything else.

Albedo

When you’d first met Albedo you were in awe of his intellect, his passion for alchemy which he honed to a fine point. He had a way of talking about the world around him and himself in a way that was utterly self-assured. This captivated you, made you wish to develop the same thing in turn; the ability to know oneself was an enviable one.

The old Mondstadt ruins were a perfect sketching place. Filled with an old sense of magic, even centuries after its fall, there was an atmosphere to it absolutely perfect for painting. Or so Albedo said – though you found some joy in intermittent sketching you were no master of the art.

While Albedo set up his easel you went around the edge of your little spot, making sure that the monsters that usually dominated the place were at least far away enough as to not cause any interference. The world around you was one of almost perfect peace, the lazy breeze acting as a buffer for the slight heat, the puffy clouds in the sky shading you from the worst of the sunlight.

“It’s such a beautiful day!” You called out. “It almost makes you forget all your worries.”

“That’s certainly true.” Albedo voice called out in reply. “Truly a wonderful time to paint.”

Turning around to join your partner you suddenly felt heard a familiar cackle. Whirling around you found yourself face to face with a hydro Abyss Mage. Annoyance flashed through your mind as your summoned your catalyst. Though the Abyss was certainly a syndicate to be worried about, you couldn’t help but think of the Mage in front of you as little more than a pest, for surely there couldn’t be anything more annoying than the sudden interruption of your outing.

Calling out Albedo’s name you held out your arms, cursing the fact that your bursts of electro weren’t as effective against the Mage’s shield as you’d like it to be. Thankfully a familiar cry of “be careful!” could be heard, as your partner quickly approached, sword in hand, eyes full of the cold determination which was so familiar to you in battle. The combination of your this with his swings soon had the shield dripping, before it burst apart, falling onto the ground in a puddle of water. Standing over the mage Albedo narrowed his eyes.

“Now this is new.”

Following his gaze you could see what he meant. Emblazoned on the side of the Abyss Mage’s robe was a star, made up of a myriad of silver threads jutting out from a red circle in which sat a crown ringed by indecipherable writing. The symbol made you pause, made you take a shaky step back as your throat began to constrict painfully. That symbol, you knew that symbol, you knew that crown. What was it? What was this Abyss Mage wearing?

Albedo appeared somewhat oblivious of your violent reaction, slashing through the Abyss Mage until they disappeared in a puff of ash. Turning around you could see the same mild mannered smile on his face as always, his expression almost one of soft embarrassment. Taking a deep breath you attempted to relax your features, hoping your partner wouldn’t see the panic that laced through you.

“That was an unpleasant surprise. Let’s go back to the clearing, we deserve a little bit of rest.”

“You’re right; that really was a nasty surprise.” You let out a soft laugh, not looking behind at the spot where the Mage had fallen as you allowed Albedo to guide you back towards his easel and away from that too familiar star.

 -----

The symbol wouldn’t leave you alone however. Though the rest of the day was perfectly pleasant, the art Albedo had managed to begin showing the immense promise it always did, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Over and over the star danced behind your eyelids, taunting you with hidden information. You knew that the writing was nothing familiar to Teyvat, Albedo himself admitting he’d never seen such a script before. And yet you had; though the memory eluded you the knowledge remained.

You didn’t like to be reminded of your past, of the world that had disappeared before your fingers. It was a world you could barely remember, though surely that was a blessing. Your family had been murdered after all, though you didn’t know why you were sure that they were long dead. Who wants to be the last of anything? Certainly you didn’t want to be. Life was a lonely enough road already; better to focus on the bright future ahead of you than always turning to look back.

And yet the star remained.

You told Albedo that you were simply going out to look for supplies, having noticed no few veins of crystal ore near where the two of you had spent an afternoon. Batting away his questions and his worries you set out with purpose. It wouldn’t take that long, waypointing did most of the job. And you could hardly say that you feared a Ruin Guard or some such thing. You could take care of yourself, and you’d done worse things than take a midnight expedition to an abandoned ruin.

Old Mondstadt looked different in the dark, though perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised you. Old secrets always came out in the night, and the now crumbling city was certainly filled with old secrets. Now they beckoned at you, calling out their siren song, promising an answer to all your questions.

Standing in the middle of one of the stone circles you closed your eyes. Something seemed to be buzzing around you, an energy, a promise. Letting your mind drift you saw the star once more. Reaching out your arm you could almost touch its surface, studded with precious gems, smooth and fragile and a symbol of an old power.

You barely noticed the music at first, so soft was it. And yet somehow you began to move, to dance, following a long forgotten rhythm. Opening your eyes you saw a scene begin to unfold around you, shaping itself out of the dark. You were in a large room now, smooth marble under your feet. Looking up you saw an amber ceiling, You marveled at the intricate design, the flowers which bloomed beneath your feet while golden clouds floated above your head. For a moment you were so entranced by this familiar scene that you took no notice of the people around you, however the moment they entered your vision you could think of nothing else.

They were so familiar, these ghosts of the past. Though you couldn’t make out any of their features, which seemed misty and constantly changing, you felt an immediate sense of recognition. Wandering among these ghosts, you found yourself copying their steps, waltzing with no one but yourself, surrounded by a sea of memory. You felt like you were floated, wrapped in the fabric of the past, so real you could practically feel the fabric of your uniform changing beneath your fingertips, morphing into silk.

Still feeling as if there was more to be seen you looked around, finally finding the answer to your unspoken question at the top of a small group of stairs. Though the specters around you had no discernable features the same could not be said of the people who now gazed down at you, peaceful smiles upon their faces. One of them, a young man who looked to be a little older than you, stepped off the small landing, practically floating as he made his way towards you. There was a familiar star on his uniform, and a comforting smile in his eyes. Bowing softly he took your hand. No words were necessary, you both knew this dance.

The music swelled around you, almost saccharine in tone, coated by the sweetness of a long forgotten nostalgia. You made no attempt to talk to the boy, feeling that words were altogether unnecessary. After all, what could one say to a shadow of the past? There was nothing to muse on, no moments of happiness which you could conjure. There was nothing except familiar company and soothing music; right now that was enough.

Slowly you could feel the world slow down, almost as if the air had grown thicker. A drowsiness washed over you, but you pushed it down. This was a memory of the past after all, something precious to be savored, not something one could simply wake up from. And yet the dance slowed to its end and eventually you were left standing in the middle of the room, looking at the boy who you knew had once been your family.

A look of mischief crossed over his peaceful face, and he leaned in to whisper something to you. “Ferme les yeux sit u veux voir” the words passed over you in blissful familiarity, and you smiled up at this unknown family member, the heaviness around you feeling like a thick blanket. You wanted to know more. You wanted to know your family.

“Hey.”

A familiar voice broke through your reverie, the scene around you tearing apart like tissue paper as Albedo grasped on to your wrist. Whirling around to face him you found your eyes scanning your now gloomy surroundings, as if looking for an opening that might return you to that peaceful room.

“What happened?”

Albedo’s voice was full of gentle concern, and you leaned into his touch as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. And yet you still felt an overwhelming sense of loss, a sadness that pierced through your soul like a dagger.

“I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong. I only wish to know why you were dancing with yourself at midnight.”

“I… I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” Albedo raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you gazed out upon the ruins, “I was dreaming. And yet it was so real, I hardly realized I’d fallen into it.”

“How odd.”

“Yes, I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps.”

And yet you knew that wasn’t the end of it. Lying on the bed you shared with Albedo, listening to the familiar sound of soft breathing, you gazed up at the ceiling, conjuring faces on the white stone, you mind ceaselessly dancing to a somehow familiar tune.

 After that you seemed to fall into dreams more and more, stepping into them as easily as one might walk into the sea. It was small at first. Figures at the corner of your eyes, a sign that turned into that now all too familiar symbol, the sense of one more walking on marble. It was easy enough to ignore, after all you were probably just a little burnt out. However within a few weeks these dreams were becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

The first time it happened was when you were gathering berries. Suddenly the ground shifted beneath you and you were once more in that room, once more surrounded by familiar strangers, once more reaching out to your family. You began to recognize them more and more: the lines of worry that painted your mother’s otherwise smiling face, the way your father stroked his beard quickly, putting his arm back down quickly as to keep his ramrod stance; the way your brother stood a little ways away from the rest, and always approached you even when the others held back. You had no way of verifying the truth of any of these dreams, no way of knowing whether or not these were memories of merely fantasies. Yet how real they were, how real and how terribly disorienting.

A blanket of paranoia settled over you as you continued to fall into these dreams again and again. Every waking moment was a moment of chance, when you might suddenly once more disappear into the realm of dreams. Commissions became almost impossible, you teetered your way from one destination to another, sometimes barely able to dodge the attacks of treasure hoarders and Fatui members. It seemed as if these dreams were no longer revealing information to you, but instead holding you hostage. You always managed to fall when dealing with the Abyss.

Eventually you handed in a letter of leave to Katherine, trying to bat off her questions as you explained that you were finding the work overwhelming. It wasn’t like you were lying anyways; the work was overwhelming. How could it not be, when you could never trust yourself? Trudging back to your apartment that afternoon you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. It was so frustrating, it was so frustrating to lose oneself.

You no longer felt sure, no longer felt the self-assurance that you’d once known. Who were you? What in Teyvat, what in the vast universe had happened to you? You’d accepted your lack of memories, accepted the fact that whatever you escaped was something lost to the sands of time. You never wanted the past to be dragged in front of you, thrown at your feet as you stared at it in horrified fascination. And yet you hadn’t learned anything, not really. All you’d managed to do was shatter what little confidence you’d had in who you were.

“You shouldn’t run away from this.”

The voice was that of a stranger, yet filled with a strange familiarity. Raising your head up you saw your brother appear in front of you, a sole figure against a sea of black.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to run away, you’re trying to forget your destiny.”

“And what destiny is that, what could the past of a destroyed land tell me about my future now?”

“Many things, if you’d let it talk.”

“I already know that I have to be careful, that I cannot take things for granted. These visions, they do nothing but harm me.”

“Your frustration should have nothing to do with us and everything to do with them.”

“Them?”

“The people who slaughtered our family. The gods who stood by and said nothing. Did you not wonder why the Abyss Mage should be sporting such a crest? They’re the only answer. If you weren’t so blind you’d be able to see that.”

“The Abyss is full of monsters, they only bring destruction.”

“Destruction?” Your brother snorted, a cruel expression marring his face, its intensity and hatred something you were sure hadn’t existed before. “No more destruction than the gods have caused. At least the Abyss wishes to right a wrong. Should a crime not be avenged?”

“… This isn’t what you were like.” You shook your head violently, something welling up inside you, something threatening to snap. “I no longer recognize you.”

“You don’t remember me. How can you say what I was once like?”

“I can, I simply can. How do we recognize the people destined to be our family? We simply can.”

“You always were such a simpleton; even now you refuse to understand the evils of the world.”

“I refuse to contribute to them.”

“You know nothing of the world.”

“She knows a great deal more than you.” Albedo’s voice rippled through the nothingness of your dream. Appearing besides you the world shimmered around him, your vision tearing at the seams as you returned to the real world.

“And who are you to say that?” Your brother sneered. “You carry enough rage in your heart, if you even have one alchemist.”

“Perhaps I don’t have one.” Albedo’s voice was calm, grounding you as you stepped towards him. “And yet it would be better to have no heart than a rotten one.”

“We’ll see if you hold that same opinion when the Abyss once rises up.” Your brother smiled, gaze once more fixing on you, eyes pinpricks of rage. “I hope you’ll join me someday sister. If you do then you might finally see us all again. And if not, I’ll see you one day on the battlefield.”

You shook slightly, watching mutely as his figured faded into the wall of your apartment. Sinking down on the nearest couch you let out a few shaky breaths, trying to process what had just happened.

“I trust he’ll no longer come to haunt you.” Albedo sat next to you, a glass of water somehow in his hand.

“I hope not.”

“This is what you meant when you said you were dreaming, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It was different this time however. Usually, usually no one else can see them.”

“Perhaps he wanted it to be that way.”

“Perhaps.” You shook your head, staring down at the palms of your hands. “I don’t know.”

“What do you not know?”

“Everything! I… I no longer know who I am. I’d always thought that I knew myself, that you had helped me realize the need to do so. Now however, now I have no clue. My family, if they’re dead so be it. I’d rather it be that way then, well I’m not sure what this is.”

“I think you know who you are.” Albedo’s eyes were earnest as her stared at you. “You have created your own life, your own sense of self. I don’t know what your brother was hoping to do – or what he thinks you should be – but he cannot change who you are. You’re your own being after all.”

You pondered Albedo’s response, the familiar confidence of his tone, the way he seemed to be stating fact rather than opinion. And perhaps he was right, he often was.

“What if the dreams come back?” You whispered.

“Then I’ll find a way to fight them off.” Albedo took your hand. “You shouldn’t have to suffer for the dreams of your brother, of a past you cannot remember. You shouldn’t be made to feel an artificial vengeance.”

It was all the encouragement that needed to be said. Throwing your arms around Albedo you closed your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder.

The past was something still alive, threads and hooks that dug into your skin and pulled you backwards, away from the place you’d made your own. It was a beautiful façade yes, but that didn’t hide its superficiality. A constructed past, one imagined by an unreliable narrator, could never be trusted, could never be learned from. What could be known was what you’d already built, the relationships that defined yourself now.

Perhaps you would never truly know the past. But as long as you knew yourself, that was all that mattered.

-------

The symbol that the reader sees is essentially the badge of the Order of Sainll Catherine. This was a Russian order bestowed upon Grand Duchesses at birth and given to others such as Princesses of the Blood upon special dates or conditions. The only order higher than it was the Order of Saint Andrew, which was reserved for men excepting the Empress. I will link a picture in the reblog. 

The song I used is La berceuse d’Ahtohallan. The lyrics translate roughly to: “Close your eyes if you wish to see.”

The room that I used as reference is a combination of various Winter Palace rooms and the Amber Room, which has actually been lost to time due mainly to destruction during WWII. We don’t actually know exactly where it is/was.

[aquamotto]

Polish School of Magic or what Rowling gets wrong about Poland

In short: many things. 

The only mentions of polish wizards come from two instances - some Quidditch team  (Grodzisk Goblins) and Hagrid’s visit to Europe (with some goblin mention, again). 

Why goblins, anyway? There is no such creature in real polish mythology. Instead, there are much more Harry Potter-esque things such as: Beast of Krakow, Dragon of the Wawel Hill who is the most famous and ferocious creature in all Eastern Europe. The majestic power of this beast can only be matched with majestic power of its city of dwelling - Krakow, to put it simply, is the city of Polish kings.

Below: Krakow, the city of “goblins”, according to JKR:

But let me guess - goblin invokes this image of rudeness and primitivity that probably comes from british understanding of poles as construction workers and such. It is curious that nuanced portrayal of poor people that is reserved for characters like Snape is not allowed to poles. They are “goblins” but Snape is a “working class hero”.  

 What I will describe below, is my headcanon based on what I imagine Wizarding Poland to really be like, sans goblins and other imperialist fantasies but based on my own observation of Poland as both pole and outsider (because, unfortunately, I am both).

Personality,  culture

Quidditch champion image as rude and loud lads couldn’t be farther from the truth. Polish wizards, much like their friends in neighboring Czech Republic, are wise, eccentric, philosophical and brave people. They have been blessed and cursed with difficult history (Such as Partition of Poland and German and Soviet Invasion) and know very well how to operate in secrecy. In fact, they are the most secretive of all european wizards and if muggle were to accuse them of witchcraft, they would deny the fact to their last breath. In the same time, polish wizards love magic and often risk everything to pursue their next magical experiment. They are prone to be idealistic and live with their head in the clouds, sometimes literally, which can lead to both troubles and brilliant inventions.

Some believe that Nicolaus Copernicus, the genius astronomer who placed the Sun at the center of the Universe, was a polish wizard (painting by polish artist Jan Matejko):

This image of genius, sudden discoveries and epiphanies is valued in Poland to the point that students of Polish School of Magic wear stars indicating their year on their uniforms - to honor Copernicus. 

However, poles aren’t Ravenclaws in disguise - they are traditional, obedient and lawful people at the core and no polish wizard, even the smallest first year, would dare to cheek their headmaster or teacher the way Harry and co. do. 

Teacher - student relationship is sacred in Poland and it’s almost like your second parent -  someone to be treated with utmost respect. This can lead to quite harsh hierarchies in Wizarding Poland. 

Looks

Polish wizards dress modestly, colorful suits Weasley Twins style are not for them. They can sometimes even look monk-like (or medieval knight-like) in appearance. Since Poland is filled with minor aristocracy called szlachta (and I am proud to belong to it, too*) many polish wizards openly wear their coat of arms on their clothes. (*If you are wondering whether I have a coat of arms - yes, I do).

Polish School of Magic uses dark red monk-like hoods with more normal suit under as an unifroms.  Since they want to be the guardians of well respected traditions, it fits them. 

This doesn’t mean that poles are somber, though. They can be playful but in their distinct, “I challenge you” way. They can be competitive and fiery to the highest degree, especially when their honor or honor of their school is involved. They are indeed the most patriotic of all wizards, thinking of themselves as separated not only from muggles but from foreigners too.

Relationship with muggles

Polish wizards do not like muggles very much but unlike Britain, it rarely comes in a form of hostility but rather patronizing and light mockery. Rather than valuing pure blood,poles just think of themselves as superior to muggles in intelligence.They are especially suspicious of muggle disrespect of culture and the past which leads to wizards thinking that muggles are morally and spiritually, rather than genetically, impure. However, there was never an attempt to deny muggleborns education - in fact, they are welcomed with open arms and often even relief - “Finally, another one of us!”. This makes them a bit closer to Grindelwald’s idea of superiority than Voldemort’s one.

Music

Anyone knows Chopin, the great french-polish composer and indeed, poles adore music. To the point that Polish School of Magic considers participation in a school choir mandatory. But highest praise is reserved for those who dare and pick up an instrument (be it violin, cello, horn, piano or something else) to join the School Orchestra. If Triwizard Tournament accepted Poland, they would arrive in most curious way possible - operating the giant musical machine which would look like a church organ mixed with piano and other instruments. The headmaster would play it and the students (dressed in cloaks) would accompany him with some strange melody to make the grandest entrance ever. 

Polish School of Magic

Pictured below: Frombork

Thanks to Copernicus, magical astronomy and astrology are best subjects to learn in Polish School of Magic. Unlike their colleagues in Prague who are obsessed with alchemy, potions and dark arts, poles are more interested in the spiritual so they also value divination in any forms and defense against the dark arts. Since living in a country as difficult as Poland forces you to  always be on your toes, teachers consider it important to teach their students nonverbal magic as soon as possible. They also encourage wandless magic and actually had a lot of luck with it (unlike other european schools). Thanks to a certain WW2 incident, they also offer a superior course of arithmancy (If you know what I am hinting at, well done!) 

Pictured: Frombork Cathedral Bell Tower

Since poles are not very practical people, they don’t teach their students about Magical Creatures at all (aside from a side course on dangerous creatures such as dragons in DADA). This just doesn’t fit their heady aesthetics. Being honest and reliable people, they also dislike transfiguration - something about turning things into animals and other things strikes them as unnecessary cruel and even devilish. Being pious at the core, poles want magic to always come from the source of respect and light. That’s why almost all students leave the school with full patronuses - most common of which is a white eagle, of course - the symbol of Poland. Poles are often so patriotic that even their best memories are linked to their national identity!

Poles are also good at charms and make superb magical duellists. In fact, not many nations can best them in this regard, if any. It is thanks to their wandless magic, wordless spells,  quickness of reaction and harsh discipline (almost military-like) instilled in them in their school. 

Talking about discipline... Polish School of Magic’s discipline is indeed very strict. The school grounds are usually quiet, students know best not to laugh too loud, not to pull pranks or fool around needlessly. Spontanous duels are forbidden. Teachers love their work and always keep an eye on misbehaving individuals. Lazy, incompetent or misanthopic teachers don’t exist in Polish School of Magic. Instead they can be overly strict, demanding, mocking, conservative and overly eccentric. (This one is based on real life experience, everyone.)

Below: Ksiaz castle

 Teachers in Polish School of Magic lean old and getting a place there is very difficult and demands tons of connections. They also lean male but not just because of prejudice (although, unfortunately, such prejudice exists - Poland is a country of soldiers in many ways), because DADA course there is especially harsh and physically exhausting. (Some say it’s because they want to best Durmstrang and it comes with knowing your enemy).

Despite the notes of traditionalist gender roles, female teachers are usually well-respected, even more than male ones. And that’s why many female teachers are quite haughty and have queen-like demeanor.

Below: Ksiaz castle room

But when do poles rest from all their strict training? The answer: when holidays come. Holidays are sacred for poles and many missteps are forgiven during them, rules become slightly more relaxed. 

One of the curiously LESS regulated things in Polish School of Magic is love. While british and american wizards such as Snape may get into a puritanical rage seeing two students kissing passionately, polish teachers would just smile sweetly at them and leave them alone. Girls sending boys postcards is not considered cringeworthy as it is in Hogwarts (I am looking at you, Harry) but natural and enviable. In fact, teachers encourage students to dance together and on holidays such as Christmas, they even overlook duels related to love triangles (a rare case of them approving non-DADA duels). Poles can dance well and you can often find them waltzing in the school balroom in their festive robes. They also flirt well and all this combined with the fact how good they are at duelling, makes them formidable rivals in love for students from any other school, including Beauxbatons, especially considering that Beauxbatons boys lean narcissistic rather than chivalrous.

In the end, if Poland did participate in Triwizard Tournament, I think it would charm everyone with their quick wit, intelligence, modesty, good manners and passionate spirit. 

Quite far from the “Goblin” stuff, isn’t it?

Below: various beautiful views from Poland

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Magic Vs. Science

Chapters: 6/25 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Series: Part 1 of 9. Summary: Magic and Science, are they the same or are they completely different? It just takes one person to point out all up and downs. Along with breaking the stereotypes that come up with being a wizard, alchemist and most of all being human. Thank you, @amynchan! D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

“English and Edward’s accented voice.” “Amestrian or another foreign language.” “Written notes.” ‘Thoughts.’ First Name: Informal Last Name: Formal (Or used to annoy others)

Edward stood in front of a tall wooden door that leads into his classroom on the first floor, from what Severus had told him, a shortcut to his own room that was on the same floor. Severus had pointed out this was the Alchemist classroom before the Potion's Master walked off with his students towards the dungeons with a promise of coming by later.

'This is actually happening.' Edward thought as he opened the door, said door creaked eerily as it slid open. The blonde grimaced at that, he made a mental note to fix that later. The classroom was pretty standard for a...magical...classroom. There were twenty-four student desks and chairs, one teacher's desk with a single chalkboard hung behind it. From where Edward stood, he was still standing by the entrance of the classroom, there was a single large clear window on the opposite wall. It allowed the moonlight to aluminate the classroom and gave it an eerie feeling. The candlelit lamps were not exactly helping either...

Leaving his suitcase and Xerxes's cage by the door, Edward wondered around the classroom deep in thought. He wondered if this was the type of classroom he would be in if he had continued on with his schooling. Continuing on going to a school instead of joining the Military, making friends, and mostly doing things kids his age. Instead of apprenticing under Teacher, doing the biggest mistake of his life, joining the military to fix said mistake and now...Edward is now teaching the very thing that changed his life for better and for worse.

Edward shrugged off his coat and tossed it on his desk, with a grin he began to rearrange the room. This went on for an hour or so before Severus and Filius walked into the classroom. The Blonde professor had rearranged the desks to circle around the classroom. Ensuring that they were not to close or far from the next desk and facing the chalkboard up front. Mentioning that, they saw Edward snoozing away in on the giant cushioned chair behind the teacher's desk.

"Do you actually believe that he will be able to access his room without a wand?" Severus whispered to Filius, the latter of which walked past Edward's desk and towards the left side of the chalkboard. Filius stood in front of the blank brick wall arm raised.

"I had it enchanted to recognize his signature," Filius said running his hand over the wall. "The other entrance is on the second floor, by his request, set to fit a puzzle."

Filius chuckled at the thought of it. "His mind is true of a Ravenclaw."

"He is more like a Slytherin," Severus remarked challengingly.

The respective Heads stared at each other challengingly, mentally debating what House Edward would have been in. If the blonde grew up as a wizard, he already showed characteristics of being a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw.

"You could feel the tenzion..."

Filius and Severus's heads snapped over to see Edward staring at them tiredly. "Vat?"

"How long were you awake?" Severus asked him with an eyebrow raised.

Edward sat up stretching his shoulders to work out the kinks. "Long enough. Is my room ready, I rather not sleep in dis chair all night?"

"If you would, Edward." Filius motioned for Edward to stand by him.

Edward brows furrowed in wonder, trying to figure out what was in store for him. He stood up and stood next to the Charms Master. He stared at the brick wall wondering if this would be similar to how he and Severus entered that magical alleyway. "Vat now?"

"I need you to knock on the wall..."

With a skeptical look, Edward raised his right hand and knocked on the brick wall. The moment his hand touched the wall he felt an impulse making his eyes widen in shock. The energy felt so similar to when he used to be able to transmute things but know...all it resulted is the bricks moving away. Once the bricks moved away it revealed a stone spiraled staircase. "Voa..."

"This is one of two ways of entering your room," Filius explained, motioning towards the spiral staircase. "For you to enter or leave through this way only requires your touch. We will deal with the other entries in the morning. Is that acceptable?"

Edward nodded in agreement at the notion. Morning sounds so much better and his mind will be able to process everything that had occurred to him since walking into the platform 9¾. Walking through brick walls...floating candles...a weird horse-like creature...creepy castle that wants him out...

"Vich floor does my room rezide in?" Edward asked taking a step toward the staircase.

"The third floor," Severus responded as he and Filius watched Edward ascend the staircase. "We will see you in the morning...to ensure you do not get lost..."

Edward stuck out his tongue out at Severus in the same moment the brick wall sprang back into place. It left the blonde in the dark. "Stupid magic..."

Like a switch, torches lit up to shine Edwards path towards his path. Edward glanced back at the brick wall and then up toward the illuminated staircase. With a shrug, the Alchemy Professor wandered up the staircase as the feeling of sleep overtook everything else.

Edward didn't even pay attention to his surroundings and layout to everything around him. The moment he saw a queen sized four poster bed covered with red and black blankets, he ignored everything else and allowed himself to momentarily drop his guard to sleep.

-.-

"Heavy sleeper isn't he?"

"...Help. Me. Wake. Him. Up..."

"Really heavy sleeper."

Edward groaned as someone attempted to wake him for what seemed like forever. He groaned swatted at whatever or whoever attempted to wake him up. That only caused the annoyance to continue on with such persistence. Then...he felt his left leg being tugged, and that was a huge no-no. Years of training and wanting to ensure that part of him is kept secret, Edward eyes flew open and leaped off the bed to grab hold of the person that was pulling his leg. It took Edward several seconds to realize he grabbed hold of Severus and was about to punch him with his right arm. Severus' eyes were wide and he was finding it hard to breathe as Edward was applying all his weight onto his neck. Once the blonde realized what he was doing he quickly jumped away with a gruffly stated sorry.

Severus rubbed his neck as he stood up, glaring at Edward wondering if he should curse him or not. "We have been trying to wake you up for the past hour, Mr. Elric."

"I told you we should have just allowed him to sleep it out." Filius chuckled weakly, the tension in the air grew unpleasantly for everyone around.

"Vat time is it?" Edward yawned, he got off the bed and headed toward his suitcase. "Vere's the damn pathroom...?"

"It's over there." Filius pointed over towards one of the many doors in the room.

"Makes yourzelffes at home vile I get ready." Edward said a simple thanks as he headed towards the bathroom with his suitcase. He opened the door and entered it, leaving the door partially open just a crack. "Vhy are you here again?"

"It's morning, breakfast is going to start in an hour." Severus said after he righted himself up again and kept rubbing his neck thinking about what just happened to him.

"We need to coordinate the second entrance of this room on the third floor." Filius piped up, he saw steam escape from the bathroom.

"Ah..." Edward responded back, his voice was muffled from the running water.

Severus glanced around the room and spotted an armchair. He spared no time in taking a seat on the chair as he continued to rub his neck. "You might of as well take a seat, this is going to take a while."

Filius hesitantly glanced around and took a seat on a wooden chair. He sat rather uncomfortably as time went by. He glanced over at Severus to see the Potion Master actually seemed to relax, something the tiny professor had never seen before. Just how much has the Alchemy Professor changed Potion Professor?

-.-

Edward stared at the primary entrance to his room on the third floor, dressed in a matching black vest, trousers and leather shoes. A white button shirt with the top two buttons left unbuttoned and the sleeves cuffed at his wrist. He, Severus and Filius all are staring at a brick wall hidden away in a dimly lit corridor decorated with embroidered curtains covering all the windows. "Vat now?"

"Tell us how you prefer to access your room and we will attempt to make it happen. Since you are against the talking painting." Severus stated staring at the wall wondering just what Edward has in mind.

"Hm..." Edward continued to stare at the wondering just how he could go about it. Talking paintings, remembering a password that could easily be heard and anyone could allow inside without his knowing. He has to do something he could easily comprehend but no one else in this school. The golden blonde lips slowly twitched into a grin the more he thought about it. "How about dis..."

Filius and Severus watch as Edward pull out a piece of chalk from his breast pocket and began to write on the brick wall. It first started with a well-drawn circle, then within the circle are carefully drawn geometric shapes, words written in Latin and symbols that seemed family. Severus had seen this array from the books and notes that Edward had shown him. However, what is being written on the wall right now has him puzzled. It looked like that the words are placed in the wrong places.

"What is this?" Filius asked, looking up at Severus for some answers.

"In order for alchemy to be done, a Transmutation Circle is needed?" Severus glanced over at Edward for some sort of confirmation. Edward only looked at him from the corner of his eye and gave the Potion's Professor a nod of confirmation. "Inside the circle is specifics alchemical runes, each rune corresponds to a different form of energy. This will allow energy that is focused in the circle to be released to the alchemist desire."

"Dere..." Edward said finishing the Transmutation Circle. He took a step back to admire his work, he looked back toward the professors and pointed at the circle. "I need you to.... vateffer you do...by rearranging everything vithin the circle."

"Ah...No wonder it seemed off." Severus said fully taking in the full array of the Transmutation Circle. "Hm...How does it suppose to look like?"

"It supposed to look like this."

-.-

Edward, Filius, and Severus walked through the giant doors that lead into the Great Hall. The Golden Blonde told the other two of his adventures back his home country. Severus had heard some of the stories but his eyes would widen or raise an eyebrow at Edward's stories. Filius took in everyone that Edward is telling him. What was being told to him made him truly wonder how this country could go under the radar for so long.

"Hawkeye has the bastard right under her thumb..." Edward laughed, remembering every time Riza would discipline Roy...with her guns. "Ah...Good ti-"

"Mr. Elric!"

Edward stopped mid sentence to look over to see the Weasley Twins running towards him. Both of them carrying their alchemy books and said books had multiple bookmarks stuffed into them.

"Fred? George? Everything okay?" Edward asked the moment both boys stood in front of him with questioning looks.

"We need your help." Fred started to say.

"What are the laws Equivalent Exchange..." George continued to say.

"When it comes to alchemy?"

"The books have multiple definitions..."

"Similar wording, though..."

"Yeah but different views."

Then both boys said in unison. "What is it to you?"

Edward took in the question; he mentally went through just how to answer it. He scratched his chin deep in thought. He did not take note how whispers filled the entire hall. All eyes were on them as they waited for his response.

"Equifflant Exchange is zebarated into two parts The Law of Natural Proffitence and The Law of Conzerffazion of Mass. Figure out vat doze laws is den we will talk again. Good?" Edward said, his voice strained as he attempted to not speak with too much of an accent. He wanted to be as clear as he could for this explanation. "Vat are your thoughts on Equifflant Exchange."

Fred and George looked at each other, wondering just how to go about that.

"I think that's in chapter Five in book..."

"I saw it in chapter Eight in that other book..."

The twins ran back towards the Gryffindor Table in search of their answers for the questions they were asked.

Edward looked back at Filius and Severus to see them giving him looks of amusement.

"What were you saying about being a horrible teacher?" Severus asked.

"Shut up!"

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[kakuzuisabigidiotwholoveshidan]

My first piece for the @naruto-magic-week! Keep an eye out for more to come 👀 ✨🔮

Summary: After all his other alchemic endeavours have failed, Kakuzu decides to seal a contract with Hidan, a creature of darkness and destruction. Both of them get more than they bargained for.

Rating: Teens and Up

Pairing: Kakuzu/Hidan

Flickering candlelight illuminated the stains on the wooden floor of the room, caused by questionable liquids spilled onto and soaked into the dark planks. The wooden beams of the roof had been eaten away by Sulphur fumes, the hinges corroded by acid etching its way through the metal. They spoke of decades of alchemy practiced in this laboratory.

The walls were lined with bookshelf upon bookshelf, each filled to the brim with the most exotic ingredients. Bowls holding toad skin, wolf claws and fox teeth stood beside adorned glass vials and embellished flacons that glowed softly in the dimly lit room. Emerald tinctures in jars and phials were carefully placed next to an array of ashes in various colors and textures; peacock livers, salamander hearts and snake eyes swam in pots partially obscured by bundles of dried herbs.

Among bottles filled with fluids in ruby, lavender and honey were cups overflowing with lion hair and raven bones. Amethysts and sapphires piled up beside a carafe holding an elixir so dark it swallowed the light around it and flakes of gold in a shallow bowl were glinting tantalizingly in the flickering shine of candles scattered among the room.

A cauldron was quietly simmering next to a stack of indigo stones and scarlet crystals although no source of heat was in its reach. Twitching periodically, but only out of the corner of one’s eye, lay vessels stuffed with questionable powders and dubious solutions in burgundy flasks seemed to shift every so often.

Amidst all these objects, hunched over a table, Kakuzu poured a purple liquid that glinted in the candlelight like it contained all the stars of the universe into a mortar. Upon contact with the powder inside of it, the liquid exploded into a blast of smoke and force, knocking Kakuzu to the ground.

With laborious breath and movements, he rose back to his feet and consulted the book lying beside the mortar.

A frustrated shout echoed in the laboratory as Kakuzu snapped it shut and threw it against a bookshelf across the room. A cascade of books and caskets came crashing down, pooling on the floor like spilled ink. One fell on a crate beside the shelf and it rattled slightly as a faint growl emerged, but Kakuzu paid it no mind.

Instead, his gaze was fixed on a heavy, leather-bound book that had clattered to the ground, pages spilling open. The letters scribbled on the parchment were brown, not black, and reeked of death.

Was he really that desperate?

Kakuzu took three slow, but deliberate steps towards the book and picked it up, eyes scanning the instruction written on the page. It seemed easy enough.

The ornamented dagger lay heavy in his hand as he cut his palm open. Immediately, blood coated his fingers and he used it to paint a circle on the wooden floor. Only three more strokes remained, yet Kakuzu hesitated.

He glanced to the various hearts swimming in an embalming fluid in their jars, each looking eerily well-preserved. Alive, even. It was worth the risk, the alchemist decided, and finished the symbol by painting a triangle inside the circle.

A gust of wind rushed through his laboratory, blowing out candles and cloaking the room in darkness.

✨ ✨ ✨

You can read the rest here on AO3!

[thegreenwolf]

Bella Morte

Note: This was first published on No Unsacred Place around 2011-ish, which went defunct a few years ago (RIP–it was a good site). Then it was on Paths Through the Forests, but I split from Patheos a couple of years ago due to philosophical differences with their new ownership. As they have not honored my request to have my writing taken down, and I don’t want to direct more traffic to them, I am slowly reproducing my work from there here. That way if I want to share this post with someone it will come from my site and not theirs. Please help me by sharing this link around–thank you!

************************************

The beauty of the wild is the long gesture of life in time. The beauty of skin and fur and feathers, the beauty of blood, the beauty of bones sinking into grass.

–John Daniel, from The Soul Unearthed

That is the quote I painted on a recent creation of mine, shown in the picture above. My canvas was a piece of rawhide left over from a drum kit. The visual punctuation of the entire piece included an eclectic mix: a rooster feather; a coyote toe bone; a sea urchin spine; and two pieces of deer hide, fur and leather.

I chose the quote deliberately for that piece. There is a certain ambiguity to the words, flowing from one end of the life-death cycle to the other. “Life in time” breathes and pounds its heart, while the “bones sinking into grass” create a vivid image of the core structure of the animal, all the rest borne away, disintegrating into nourishment for the flora. In between, the hides and the blood are left open; they may be alive and running yet, but the blood may also be sluiced upon the ground, and the skin stripped from muscle and tendon and prepared for preservation.

In much of the United States, people have a poor relationship with death, to include that of nonhuman animals. The idea of the “poor, dead animals” (particularly those that aren’t carved up on a dinner plate) is often enough of a shock that no one wants to think, let alone talk, about it. We eat beef and pork, not cow and pig, and very few of us ever eat anything that’s looking back at us; even the shrimp are conveniently decapitated for our culinary comfort. The most common discourse about dead animals seems to come from some animal rights activists who quite often use guilt, shame, and shock to try to convince unsuspecting leather-clad omnivores into changing their ways. When the choices are either silence or stigma, there doesn’t seem to be much room in between for more moderate discussions.

I choose what I perceive as one potential moderate path, tempered with much awareness. For over a decade I have been an artist of animal remains, part aesthetics and part spiritual work. On the one hand, I very much appreciate the lovely curve of bone and the lush texture of deerskin, the intricately veined colors of feathers, and the varied structures of the hairs of all sorts of furs. Beyond animal parts as an artistic medium, though, the core of my work is funereal. From the beginning my art has been about reclaiming these remains from being trophies or status symbols, and a significant portion of my “supplies” is made of old fur and leather coats, reclaimed taxidermy, and the like.(1) I guide these remains to a better “afterlife” with others, as has always been my role with them, and everything I make with animal parts gets a full ritual purification as part of my pagan practice.

Over the years I’ve gotten a wide variety of reactions to my work, from awe to indifference to outright hostility. Thankfully the responses have canted toward the more receptive, whether in person or online. I get the distinct feeling, though, that most people, regardless of their views, are highlighting certain individual facets of the work that, together, I tend to take as a whole.Most of the people who favor my work seem to primarily connect with it on an aesthetic level. They like having something pretty, whether as something to wear, or as a “powerful” ritual tool. They appreciate it as art, which is perfectly fine. At the other end of the spectrum are the occasional activists who come in swinging; they see the death and the remains, to the exclusion of anything else.

On some occasions, though, I will meet people who bring my art home both as art, and as sacred remains. They haven’t glossed over the fact that what they hold was once living, often combining the parts of animals that never would have met in life (such as the cow and the sea urchin in my wall hanging above). But they still see the beauty in those remains, and in the fact of their death. They can appreciate the loveliness of a long-dead deer’s ribcage seated in a field, and the arrangement of those same ribs into a totemic shrine. They know they carry lives in their hands.

I have not lost sight of the living end of the cycle, either. I have always donated a portion of the funds I make from selling my art to nonprofit groups that work to preserve both animals and their habitat, as well as informal donations to friends and acquaintances in need of help with emergency vet bills and the like. I think my partner, S., put it best when he told me that my most powerful alchemy was taking the remains of animals that had often died cruel and inhumane deaths, and turning them into funds to help those creatures still living and the environs that support them.

And I do my best to educate people about the sources of the remains; I maintain a database of international, federal and state laws on possessing and selling animals parts in the US to help them make educated decisions. Nor do I lie about those of my “materials” that are byproducts of the fur industry; I do not claim they’re roadkilled or “natural deaths”, or wild instead of farmed, to try to assuage people’s guilt or to make me look more ethical in their eyes. To do so would be an insult both to the people I speak with, and the animals themselves, never mind my artistic and spiritual work.

This work with the remains is another foundational part of my nature-based path, and as I write in this place over time, you may see me refer to the “skin spirits” as a collective term for the spirits of all the animals whose remains I work with, skin, bone and otherwise. My nature-based paganism is rooted in all of the life-death cycle, and this is how I seek the beauty in that which is all too often ignored, or so symbolized as to be almost entirely removed from the gritty reality.

(1) I have become so known for collecting dead critters in certain circles, in fact, that I have been over time gifted with a number of antiques that were inherited by people who had no idea what to do with them, and so decided I was a good next stop for Grandma’s fur coat, or Uncle Doug’s deer heads.

Did you enjoy this blog post? Consider picking up a copy of my book Skin Spirits: The Spiritual and Magical Use of Animal Parts, or The Tarot of Bones, or my other books (some of which also have dead things in them!) Or you can check out my artwork made with hides, bones and other natural and found items. And I have a forthcoming book about Vulture Culture, the subculture that has formed in recent years around the appreciation of taxidermy and other dead things.

[camelspit]

GRADE ME PLS PLS HARDLY I WANT THE GRADES

Well, Foxfire is a very large building, and it's made out of different types of stone (limestone, sandstone, marble, and granite). Foxfire has four floors, and two basements. The basements are the basement and the dungeon. The dungeon is where people are sent if they break the school's rules. The basement is used for storage.

It is a massive school, surrounded by very high stone walls. The buildings themselves are quite large, tall, and covered with all sorts of symbols. It feels very much like a castle. There is even a moat! The inside of the school also uses magical protections to ensure no one would ever be able to leave. (It's not like anyone would really want to leave, haha!)

The library is my favorite part. It has bookshelves going all the way up to the ceiling, some of them even holding very old scrolls!

The first grade level is called newblood. The second grade level is newblood plus (you can move up to the plus if you did well in newblood). The third grade level is elite. The fourth grade level is elite plus. The fifth grade level is advanced, then after that it's the advanced plus. No one has moved past the advanced plus grade level besides Keefe Sencen. Keefe is also the only person to not flunk out of Foxfire.

Well, mentors have their own room for them to do lessons with their assigned student. Mentors always try their best to mentor their student the best they can. Mentoring is a very important thing for any student, so the mentor-student bond is very strong. Mentors are just like parents to their students, so students never try to anger their mentors. Mentoring is an essential part of a student's Foxfire education and life.

Both the mentors and the students spend a lot of time together. The students always stay with the mentors (they live in the same room) until they graduate. The mentors make sure to keep the students safe and help them with their work. The mentors also assign the students a lot of homework and projects to do.

Well, my old school has very little in common with Foxfire. My old school was very tiny, and was made out of painted plywood and cardboard. Foxfire is huge, and is made from stone, marble, and many other materials. My old school had only a few things to do, while Foxfire has a very large courtyard, an amazing library, a huge cafeteria, and a massive gym with a really high ceiling. Both schools have a bathroom, and both schools have a front desk. My old school had a principal, and Foxfire has headmistress Alina. Both schools also have lots of hallways with classrooms going all the way down.

Sophie takes alchemy class, universe class, telepath class, and PE, she takes lots of others, but these are the most relevant to the story.

Stina is a good character because she is very kind hearted, caring, intelligent, and is very loyal to her friends. She always tells Sophie what she needs to hear, not what she wants to hear. She never sugar coats anything to Sophie, and is very honest. Stina is also very powerful, and can do incredible things with her empath abilities at a young age.

Are you sure you know what Foxfire is? 15% and only because you mentioned Stina.

[darkfiresdesires]

Monster Loves You! Inspired Potion Bottle Necklace and Matching 3D Heart Charm Earrings - Alchemy Bottle Witches Bottle Apothecary - Magic

Inspired by the incredibly cool concepts in the video game Monster Loves You! by Dejobaan Games I made a slimetastic jewelry set paying homage to the cutest monster game of all time. Well in my opinion at least. If you have not played the game and do not want spoilers then move along nothing to see here. If not read on. Or if you don't care about games and just like potion bottles keep on reading! The game has these adorable monsters and their life cycle is based on reincarnation. There is a brood cave with a spawning pit that I imagine is like a huge cauldron. I made this jewelry set symbolizing their life cycle and cool reincarnation concepts shown in the game. First, I took a glass bottle and filled with with all sorts of goo and glitter and bits and baubles. I sealed it shut and let it sit for months. Then I added a black ribbon and a deep blue bow around the neck of the bottle for added cute factor. Next I added the rings and then started painting the bottle. I used a coat of Alcohol Inks then a coat of Enamel. I let that sit for another month before adding this gooey slightly green texture paint to the whole thing bow included. After everything cured I sealed it with clear texturing enamel. So when you touch this it is full of neat textures. This is a unique one of a kind bottle of monster goop. This bottle has been aged and distressed for months. Inside is this primordial goop that is slightly glittery and gooey with bits and baubles to signify the spawn pool from the game. Of course the bottle has a monster eye on the front and a little bow because it is all cutesy. There is also a heart and a 3D cauldron. On the back of the necklace is another 3D heart charm to rest against the back of your neck for added cute factor if you wear your hair up. There is a matching set of 3D heart earrings that are included in this set. They can also be purchased separately if you do not wish to have a crazy monster potion bottle hanging from your neck. The earrings have a 1.5 inch drop and the necklace is 18 inches long with a 2 inch extender chain. The charms are made from nickel and lead free Tibetan silver which is a zinc alloy metal. If you have requests please send me a message and I will do my best to help you.

[europetravelmag]

You have probably heard of the 4 great C’s of Loire: Cheverny, immortalised in Tintin’s Château de Moulinsart. Chenonceau, the elegant castle of the ladies. Chaumont, with its medieval suspension bridge and Chambord, with its 400 rooms and almost just as many chimneys.

You may even have read something about Villandry, with its beautiful garden, Angers and the famous Apocalypse Tapestries or Clos-Lucé, that was home to Leonardo da Vinci.

This story is not about them. Instead, it’s the story about 5 other castles, that all have a unique story to tell. One castle is filled with alchemist signs, another has its own theatre and a third has a Marble Lounge, that’s worth of Versailles.

Let’s discover these five fabulous  – or rather underrated – castles of the Loire Valley

Loire Valley = Castle Country

If Czechoslovakia is the country with the highest density of castles per square kilometre, the Loire valley must come in a close second. No less than 42 castles make up this Unesco World Heritage classified landscape and Chambord, the biggest castle in the world, is part of the list.

The area is perfect for a romantic getaway. Cruising with the car along the lazy Loire river, discovering castle after castle, dining al fresco in medieval towns, where illuminated cathedrals and shrieks of swallows serve as backdrop. You can enjoy the terroir of the wines: sparkling wines from the cool cellars of Saumur, crisp whites from Savennieres or dark reds from Anjou together with excellent food and turn your castle roadtrip into a gastronomic one as well.

Welcome to France!

Alchemist signs and a style in transition

Château Plessis-Bourré was built in less than 5 years from 1468 to 1472 by Finance Minister Jean Bourré, the principal advisor to King Louis XI. This was a curious time for building castles. The architects had one foot in the Medieval past and the other in the Renaissance future, and thus Château Plessis-Bourré is a perfect example of the so-called transition style.

Double drawbridges, large moats, a parapet walk and dungeons classified it as a medieval fortresses, yet the arcaded gallery, stately courtyard, rich decorations and the comfort of the interiors classifies it as a Renaissance palace.

Jean Bourré was an alchemist and that was considered a dark art in medieval times, where science was in embryo. So he had to hide the signs, that would be recognized by fellow alchemists. And he hid them in plain sight, in the decorations and ornamentations of the rooms.

Especially the guardroom, which follows the taste of the medieval society for symbolism in images, seems to declare Jean Bourré’s interest in alchemy. The ceiling is composed of 24 sections and 16 of them symbolize the search of the Philosopher’s Stone, the alchemistic symbol of richness and eternal life, while the other 8 represent the laws, that the alchemist had to follow during his quest. This iconography is completed by other decorations everywhere in the castle, especially on the doors, façades and the main stairway.

Double drawbridges, one of which can be operated by only one man

Original layout of the castle

Elements of a Renaissance castle..

The courtyard is stately and owes to the Renaissance influence

Now a library, this arcaded gallery was used as an infirmary during WWI. And the weapon of arms on the fireplaces were removed during the French revolution. Photo courtesy of Chateau Plessis-Bourré

The ceiling of the guardroom was later painted over, because it was considered too bawdy – that’s why the colours are still so vivid! Photo courtesy of Chateau Plessis-Bourré

Elements of a Medieval fortress..

Visit Château Plessis-Bourré yourself and go on your own alchemist symbol treasure-hunt!

Château Plessis-Bourré website

Study in Light and Marble

Château de la Lorie was built as a Renaissance castle in 1650 and was so luxuriously decorated, that the developer, René le Pelletier, ran out of money and was forced to sell his castle to his son-in-law, Gabriel Constantin. Stables were added and the castle was modernized through the next hundred years.

The large marble lounge from 1780 is the pièce de résistance of the castle and is exceptional, since the techniques used were usually dedicated to royal palaces. Built in the Age of Enlightenment, where the style of Neoclassicism drew inspiration from the classical art and culture of Ancient Greece or Ancient Rome, it’s no surprise that the masterpiece looks like a hall from a Greek palace.

The room is similar to the opulent Salon de la Guerre et de la Paix in Versailles, but more pure in its Greek expression, whereas Versailles is just ridiculously lavish. The pieces of furniture, by Parisian cabinetmaker Pluvinet from 1779, are still used in the marble room and the collection is so complete and well preserved, that it has been lent out to several museums over the years.

Château de la Lorie was built as a Renaissance castle in 1650 and was so luxuriously decorated, that the developer, René le Pelletier had to sell his castle to his son-in-law, Gabriel Constantin

The library is pleasant, light and decorested with Louis XV and XVI furniture

The large marble lounge from 1780 is the pièce de résistance of the castle and is exceptional, since the techniques used were usually dedicated to royal palaces

The pieces of furniture by Parisian cabinetmaker Pluvinet from 1779, are still used in the marble room

The dining room was built with 1730’ Parisian style sculpted woodwork bought at the demolition of the castle of Vitry

The dining room from 1904 is a remarkable round dining room, signed by the Parisian architect Camut

Outside, a wonderfully wrought old Catalpa tree still watches over the castle

Outside, a wonderfully wrought old Catalpa tree – probably one of the first trees of its kind in Anjoy back when it was planted around 1790 – beside the terrasse, still watches over this study in light and marble.

Château de la Lorie website

Medieval mansion turned Renaissance residence

Almost every medieval castle underwent renovations and rejuvenations in the Renaissance. With peace and prosperity diminishing the need for fortifications, the nobility instead was looking for a way to show of their wealth and enjoy life in a comfortable castle. As is the story of Château de Montreuil-Bellay.

The first castle was built by Foulque Nerra, The Black Falcon, in the 11th century. He was count of Anjou, a warrior, a builder, a pilgrim and benefactor for monasteries and schools. Through this noble warrior, the House of Plantagenet descended and held the English throne for more than 300 years.

The castle was given to Foulque’s vassal, Giraud Berlay, also known as Bellay. Montreuil-Bellay could now begin its history. The Château of today was constructed between the 13th and 15th centuries. The end of the Hundred Years War in 1475 put an end to the English influence and ushered in a period of peace. This means, that the castle became a residence of leisure, not just a fortress for survival. Elegant additions replaced the defensive characteristics and turned the castle into a Renaissance residence.

As a part of a castle’s Renaissance evolution is also the addition of toilets and bathrooms. A rare example of this, is the Steam Bath system, that was installed in the former Canon’s quarters in the 15th century. A waiter would boil a large basin of water in the room at the bottom of the building and the steam then rose up through a pipe to a small room, where the bather would enjoy a hot steam bath.

Ancient Coat of Arms

Inside the defensive fortress, a quiet garden offer great views of the area

The kitchen is a prototype of a medieval kitchen with its huge central fireplace

Renaissance details

The Canon’s quarters housed servants and later, Canons of the Church

Montreuil-Bellay also make their own wine

The guided tour will take you to the cellar, where the wine was made and the Wine Brotherhood in the beginning of the 20th century should swear to a portrait of Rabelais: “When my glass is full, I empty it. When it is empty, I complain.”

Montreuil-Bellay also make their own wine and the guided tour will take you to the cellar, where the wine was made and the Wine Brotherhood in the beginning of the 20th century should swear to a portrait of Rabelais: “When my glass is full, I empty it. When it is empty, I complain.”

Château de Montreuil-Bellay website

Giant of the Loire Valley

While Château de Brissac, like most other castles, has a medieval history, the castle we see today is a Baroque behemoth built in the 17th century and the tallest in France. It has been in the possession of the same family since 1502 and now, in 2016,  514 years later, the descendants, the Marquess and the Marchioness still live in this grand Château with their four children.

This so-called “Giant of the Loire Valley” boasts 7 floors and more than 200 rooms. Not all are open to the public, but those who are, are lavishly decorated and furnitured. The Dining Hall with its walls covered with antlers and the Hunting Room with its massive 4-poster bed and 5 giant tapestries depicting hunting scenes. The dark red bedchamber of King Louis XIII and The Golden Lounge with its amazing coffered ceiling are just some of the highlight of tour through the castle.

The beautiful Art Nouveau theatre is an intimate yet large hall with 200 seats, born of the ambitious dream of Jeanne Say, Marchioness of Brissac and music lover at the end of the 19th century. The decadent addition is a testament to the tremendous transition the castle has undergone, from it’s construction by the tireless builder Foulque Nerra to the castle of today.

Medieval fortress meets Baroque splendor

The Golden Lounge with its amazing coffered ceiling

The Dining Hall with its walls covered with antlers

The dark red bedchamber of King Louis XIII

The Hunting Room with its massive 4-poster bed and 5 giant tapestries depicting hunting scenes

The beautiful Art Nouveau theatre is an intimate yet large hall with 200 seats

The kitchen is a testament to its medieval past

The tour of the castle ends in the cellar, where you can taste and purchase wines from the property

The tour of the castle ends in the cellar, where you can taste and purchase wines from the property. Here, the red Anjou Villages Brissac and pink Rose d’Anjou are aging in silence of stone vaults.

Château de Brissac website

Home of princes

Château de Serrant is a Renaissance castle, built on the foundations of a medieval fortress and the private residence of the Prince of Merode. The Château distinguishes itself by the richly furnished rooms with unique characters and especially its precious library with 12.000 old books.

The austere and desolate exterior of the chateau shouldn’t put you off. This study in schist and tuffeau stone emerged from its medieval foundations to a Renaissance palace in the 16th century. The huge kitchen still rests under the medieval aches of the old fortress, while the rest of the castle has been rebuilt.

A guided tour will take you through wonderful rooms, original furniture and display wonderful craftsmanship, like the Ebony Cabinet, a cabinet-making masterpiece conserved for more than 300 years inside the castle. It’s elaborately carved, reveals mirrors, rocaille, precious marquetry works and numerous secret drawers.

The highlight of the tour and castle is the extraordinary library with 12.000 old books. Treasures like the Encyclopedia of Diderot, Napoleon’s Egyptian Descriptions with illustrations made by Piranesi and La Fontaine’s Fables with drawings of J.B Oudry are all jewels, that crown this welcoming and unique room.

Château de Serrant is a light study in schist and tuffeau stone

The coat of Arms with it’s Fleur-de-lis, that is associated with the French monarchy

The Ebony cabinet conserved for more than 300 years. Photo courtesy of Château de Serrant

Photo courtesy of Château de Serrant

Established in the remains of the Medieval castle, the kitchen displays equipment from the beginning of the 20th century. Photo courtesy of Château de Serrant

Napoleon’s bedroom was actually never used by the Emperor as he stayed for only two hours. Photo courtesy of Château de Serrant

12 000 old books are carefully ordered in the shelves of the library. Photo courtesy of Château de Serrant

Château de Serrant is still a private estate and the current owners, the Prince and Princess de Merode, are descendant of the Dukes of La Trémoïlle.

Château Serrant website

This story is about 5 castles, that all have a unique story to tell. One #castle is filled with #alchemist signs, another has its own theatre and a third has a Marble Lounge, that's worth of #Versailles! You have probably heard of the 4 great C's of Loire: Cheverny, immortalised in Tintin's Château de Moulinsart.