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beautifulbows924 · 2 years

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Endlessly Devoted

Morpheus, Dream of The Endless x Devotee!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I was possessed with an idea by @rokuhoku, from this post. So for those of you who are looking to worship Morpheus, this is the fic for you. A huge thanks goes out to my Beta Reader, @darkened-writer, make sure to go check out their work! And as always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.3K+

Warnings: SMUT, P with Plot, No Spoilers, Horror, Religious overtones and imagery, Worship, Possessive!Morpheus, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, tears, reader is heavily implied to be female but no pronouns are used.

The bell chimes, signaling your entrance. The shopkeeper looks up at the sound, a small, frail looking woman with spectacles perched at the end of her nose.

She greets you with a slight smile and goes back to dusting the shelves, each crammed with books of all shapes and sizes.

You notice the stack set next to her seems like it could topple over at any moment.

The shop itself has a musty smell, like something died and was never found.

You browse the religious section, running your fingers over the spines of the books, occasionally pulling one down to leaf through it.

When one sticks out.

Intricate golden edges, hardbound leather. It looks like it hasn’t been touched in years.

You take it down and dust it off.

The book is old and worn, the pages yellowed with age. The author is unknown, and the date it was published is long forgotten, but there’s something about it that feels… familiar, like you were destined to find it.

It’s written in a language you don't recognize, but the illustrations are beautiful. You flip through the pages, admiring the artwork, when you come across a passage that catches your eye. “The Endless”, it’s titled.

You stiffen. You’ve seen that before.

Skimming through the walls of text you find it, his name.

Morpheus.

“Are you alright dear? You’ve been staring at that same page for almost 20 minutes”, the woman asks, pulling you from your trance.

“Oh- has it really been that long? I’m so sorry”, you apologize, shutting the book and slinging your bag higher on your shoulder.

“No apology necessary”, she says, adjusting her glasses and tapping the cover, “That’s a good one you have there”.

“Do you happen to know anything about it?”

She takes it from you, turning it over in her hands, “Most of it is in an ancient Greek dialect, used mainly by the more unorthodox of worshippers, zealots. I haven’t had the chance to look through it yet, but the collector I bought it from certainly cherished it”.

You smile as she hands it back to you, “Thank you for the help, I’ll take it”.

“Are you sure? It’s quite expensive.”

“Actually, I‘ve been searching for something similar for quite some time.”

“In that case”, she says, heading to the counter, “I hope you find what you’re looking for”.

Your eyes are blurry and your head is spinning. You’ve read and reread the passage multiple times, but it’s like the words are dancing on the page, refusing to be understood.

Frustrated, you slam the book shut, only to have it fall open to the page you were just looking at.

Morpheus.

The name stares back at you, taunting you.

You’ve seen it before, you’re sure of it. But where?

Sighing, you rub your temples, trying to massage away the headache that’s forming. Maybe you should just take a break, and come back to it later.

Standing up, you stretch your stiff muscles, grabbing your coat off the back of the chair.

But with one foot out the door, something catches your eye.

It’s the book, open on the table.

And the passage is different this time.

“Morpheus, the God of Dreams”.

You stare at it, a bitter chill running up your spine as you try to reconcile what you’re seeing.

That’s it. That’s where you’ve seen it before.

In your dreams.

“What the fuck”, you breathe, picking up the book and flipping through the pages. They’re all different now, all leading to the same name. Morpheus, the God of Dreams.

There’s a sudden noise, a soft rustling, like someone is quietly turning the pages of a book. You tense up, heart in your throat, and slowly turn around.

There’s no one there.

But in your hands, the book is open, and the passage is different again.

“Morpheus, the God of Dreams and Nightmares”.

In all honesty, the prayers began out of fear, the book found open on yet another page.

But in time you came to look forward to it, look forward to dreams, for the unlikely chance that he might show up in them.

You kneel in front of your bed, hands clasped behind your back.

Head hung, eyes shut, brimmed with tears.

“Hail Morpheus,

The God of Dreams and Nightmares,

King of The Dreaming,

Dream of The Endless,

Bring hope to those who need it,

And despair to those who deserve it,

For we all rest underneath your watchful eye,

Wrapped in the peaceful curtain of sleep,

Praise be”, you call out, your voice laced with saccharine honey, as if saying, “Please, allow me to show you the extent of my devotion”.

There’s nothing. No response. No flickering of the lights, no voice inside your head.

You run a hand down your face, maybe he just doesn’t want to connect with you, or perhaps you dreamt the signs into existence.

Out of loneliness, the search for something more.

The candles seem to dance in confirmation as you put each of them out. One by one.

Cursing your imaginative mind, you stand, flopping back on your bed. The sheets envelope you in a comforting embrace, soothing the tense muscles created by the slog of the day. You allow yourself to sink further into them, closing your eyes with a heavy sigh.

A rustle. A creak in the floorboard.

Faint, beckoning.

Your stomach is filled to the brim with nervousness, your heart pounding against your chest.

You can feel his presence before you see it. Screaming power and reservation.

Holding your breath, you force your body to sit upright, limbs trembling.

It’s dizzying, electrifying.

You should be frightened, hiding yourself beneath the covers.

Instead, your body flushes with embarrassment and arousal.

“I’ve heard your prayers”, he says, his airy voice filling the space, “Your devotion is unlike any other of this century”. Cold skin meets yours as he trails his fingers down your arm.

You jolt, not expecting the sudden contact.

He doesn’t mention it, continuing his path down your body, “Look at me, open your eyes”.

It’s a command, not a suggestion.

His eyes, like constellations, access your every movement, waiting.

Your sight is fuzzy for a few seconds, plunged into darkness.

The candles have been lit, casting eerie shadows along the walls, but you can’t bring yourself to be concerned. Not with his imposing presence directly beside you, his hands still on your skin, igniting sparks with every touch.

You shift uncomfortably underneath his heavy gaze, worried you won’t measure up in the eyes of a God, an Endless being. You pry your eyes away from his, prickling with tears, too timid to continue to meet his heady stare with your own.

He makes a sound of disappointment, gripping your chin hard enough to convey his displeasure, “You can’t pretend with me. I’ve heard all your prayers, each moan of my name, seen each and every one of your dreams”.

“Tell me”, he says, dipping his free hand dangerously close to the space between your thighs, “When you dreamt of me, did it feel like this?”.

Your mind is blank, your body desperate to feel his fingers inside you, so you nod absentmindedly.

“You are either very eager or extremely disrespectful”, he chastises, tightening his hold on your face, “Speak”. Tears well in your eyes at the added pressure, “No-”, you stutter, heart swelling with adoration, “Nothing could compare to you, my lord”.

His grip only tightens, “You will call me by my name and nothing more, do you understand?”.

You nod, your eyes twinkling with hopeless devotion, “Of course m- Morpheus”.

His face remains carefully composed as he begins to peel off your clothing.

Your skin, painfully soft beneath his touch.

Piece by piece, articles of clothes lay strewn about the bed and floor. He could have simply made them disappear, but he enjoys the way you shift and gasp at his every touch, patiently devoted to him.

Taking your hands in his, he helps you stand on shaky legs, guiding your fingers to grasp the edges of his coat.

You lower your gaze in submission, respect.

The obedience of it all makes him want to swallow you whole, devour your piety until nothing remains, hear the most unholy of sins spill from your mouth as you cum to the mere thought of him.

At his allowance, your hands wander over his chest, taking in the feel of him through the fabric, using trembling fingers to pop open the buttons of his shirt, satisfaction burning inside you as each reveals more and more of him.

Lip pulled between your teeth, you stifle the whimper that threatens to leave your tongue as he runs his fingers along your entrance, collecting the wetness that resides there. “So soft”, he mutters, his next words louder, a demand, “All mine”, he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes as you say it.

“All yours”, comes your immediate response as you finally allow yourself to appreciate him fully. His eyes twinkle, a thousand stars behind them, his skin is pale, almost grey, his jaw perpetually tense as if he’s always clenching it shut. Hesitantly, you place a soft kiss to the hand that continues to caress your cheek.

He allows the action.

Enjoying the sickly sweet contrast of your lips on his skin, he guides your face to him. An inch away, a breath away, until your mouth brushes gently against his.

His lips are soft as he parts your mouth, using his hold on your neck to taste as much of you as possible. You moan, practically a whimper, molding your body into his.

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it experimentally. You whine at the feeling, tugging on the rest of the clothes that separate you.

This time he doesn’t hesitate to make them disappear, sending them away in as little as a thought as he pushes you down onto the bed, stealing all the air from your lungs as you gaze at him in all his naked glory.

The pure adoration in your eyes makes him pause, when was the last time someone looked at him like that? It’s been so long since he was truly worshipped, since he’s had someone’s entire being devoted to him and him only. It makes him feel something, intrigue, desire. And for more than just your body, but your mind as well.

“Morpheus”, you call his name, practically beg.

He immediately longs to hear it again, hear it for all eternity, until the last spark is snuffed from existence.

“Say it again”, he all but growls, body laid directly upon yours.

“Morpheus”, you whimper, throwing your head back as you feel his cock rub along your folds, “Please”.

His restraint snaps, his hips meeting yours with one forceful thrust.

An animalistic sound rips through him, a reminder that he is no mere mortal man.

Continuing to thrust deeper still, he grabs a hold of your wrists and pins them above your head.

You writhe beneath him, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you, unsure where you begin and he ends. Sobbing, you chant his name in garbled words of praise and desperation as he forces your hips to meet his, a powerful reminder of who you’re devoted to.

He’s buried to the hilt, star filled eyes locked on your expression and the tears that stain your cheeks. Your mouth is clamped shut, painfully so, trying to stifle the sounds that threaten to escape your throat.

“I want to hear you”, he demands, letting out his own groan of pleasure at the way you take him in, “You have no need to hide from me, not ever”. Spurred on by his words, you allow your mouth to fall open in a breathy cry, stars shining at the edges of your vision as he brings his thumb down to circle your clit.

He follows your sound with more of his own, his eyes even darker than before, entirely eclipsed by lust. His messy hair begging to be carded through your fingers. You press your lips against his in a passionate kiss, a show of your devotion.

His hips begin to lose their rhythm, pace faltering as his thrusts and fingers speed up. You can feel his cock pulse, the drag of his fingers against your clit, the match that ignites your orgasm.

Your toes curl, every nerve ending on fire, the sheets soaked with your fluids.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you simply let bliss consume you. His name, the only word your mouth can remember, “Morpheus, Morpheus, Morpheus”.

Hissing at how you clench around him, he continues his brutal pace, chasing his own end. You lay limp beneath him, whimpering, sensitive, fire still running through your veins.

His thrusts still, his grip on your wrists tightening.

He groans lowly, his seed spurting deep inside you, the thick liquid filling you to the brim as you spasm again, sending shockwaves of pure pleasure through your entire body and his.

Placing a kiss to the top of your head, his hand releases your wrists, slowly pulling his body away from yours.

You sigh in content, eyes closing to hide the tears that threaten to fall, understanding he must take his leave of you.

“Lover”, he sighs in that beautiful voice of his, index finger tracing your jaw, “What pains you so?”.

You shake your head, embarrassed by the strength of your feelings, your mind overflowing with doubt and unanswered questions.

“Open your eyes”, his words are gentle, but still a command, “Still your tears”.

Despite his best efforts to remain neutral, his face displays an expression akin to fondness, “Simply say my name, and wherever you need me, or want me, I shall be there”.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or un-tagged down below <3

The Sandman Taglist:

@alice-the-nerd @leg0city123 @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @dark-night-sky-99 @mm2305 @luciamajer @lizajane2 @thegreatestsandwich @hyper-half-blood @layla2-49 @raylan-carver @shit-post-things @nerdy-wierdo @mikariell95 @musicconversedance @beakami

#The Sandman #Morpheus x Reader #Dream of The Endless x Reader #The Sandman x Reader #Morpheus Smut #Dream x Reader #Fluff #Angst #Hurt/Comfort #Morpheus x Fem!Reader #The Sandman Fanfiction #Spotify

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blue-and-gilt · 1 year

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Grenadier Officer’s sabre in the 1803 Pattern ‘Flank Officers’ sabre style.

This is another one of those wonderful swords from the Georgian era that are so hard to neatly slot into a category as modern collectors are wont to do.

The sword has a slotted guard and lions head pommel that is identical to the 1803 Pattern. However, instead of having the GR Cypher of King George III - the reigning monarch at the time. It has the flaming bomb emblem of the grenadiers surrounded by a wreath of Acanthus leaf or possibly grape leaves.

The Acanthus leaf featured strongly in classical Greek and Roman art and was picked up in the Neo-classical style of the Georgian / Napoleonic era.

Because the blade is plain is is difficult to date the sword, but we know that by 1800 Flank officers (Grenadier and Light Company) had been granted leave to carry sabres in place of the 1796 Pattern infantry officers sword. In 1803 this became regulation with the introduction of the 1803 Pattern Officers sword.

The 1803 was an accumulation of features, such as the slotted guard and lions head pommel, that were already popular at the time. So it is possible that this sabre pre-dated the 1803 Pattern. But in the balance of it’s condition and features I suspect this is not the case.

The sabre has a long, heavy blade with a grossly exaggerated curve. Truth be told, it is highly inappropriate for the fighting style taught in this time. It was however very fashionable, and many officers of the British and French armies were more than happy to forego practically in favour of fashion.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what the pattern is. It’s a great looking sword that nicely illustrates one of the unique style of swords from the era.

Different 1803 Pattern Officer’s sabres showing the variation in length and curve:

Stats: Overall Length - 956 mm Blade Length - 822 mm Grip Length - 138 mm Inside Grip Length - 96 mm Weight - 890 grams Total Weight - 1,450 grams Point of Balance - 170 mm

#Swords #Sabre #Napoleonic era #Georgian Era #Antique #Antique Weapons #1803 Pattern Officers Sabre #19th Century #British Army #Military Antiques #Infantry Officer #Grenadiers #Grenadier Officer #Flank Officer

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chloeseyeliner · 4 months

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oh, i forgot to share a very significant moment of my life!

(how did that happen? i am *this* close to becoming a chronically oversharer online, lol, anyway)

some days ago, my friend and i were browsing this bookstore, which is a monthly-bimonthly thing of ours, and after an hour and some fangirling over this very fancy copy of dracula we could not afford lol, we were in the foreign romance section, and, in a corner in the bottom shelf, standing all alone without its siblings, there it was.

the red, white and royal blue (collector's edition).

i have read the bonus chapter here, and seen the wonderful illustrations via posts on social media, but...

it was so beautiful up close. i cannot find the words to describe it. something that may sound silly to some, but this particular book, however unrealistic or idealistic or "silly" as it may be for some... it kind of changed my life during a very weird period two and a half years ago, which i will not elaborate on.

also, when you live in my country, where priests and politicians with great power go around and talk about how same-sex couples should not get married or have kids ever, where people got mad over a wonderful piece of art-symbol against femicides and patriarchy, where many... interesting (not at all) things happen every day, it's... rather cathartic, dare i say, to see books about queer people and poc and people with disabilities/disabled people, even if they stand in the bottom corner sometimes, since their presence is loud for those willing to hear nonetheless.

i did not buy it, but i stayed there for a few minutes, leafing through it, staring at the illustration of alex and henry in the v&a for so long i though the cover was going to burst into flames from all this fangirling.

to quote alex, i was so in love i could die.

so, yeah, 9/10 experience. would be a 10 if we weren't in a public space and i had to conceal my true feelings on this encounter, haha.

#spent a minute of saying 'look look it's them!' to my friend #she was just smiling softly i think she was a biiiit annoyed lmao #but it can all be in my head as usual #anyway #truly a christmas miracle even if i am an atheist lol #also speaking of christmas and rwrb #cannot wait to recreate the christmas dinner scene with my family tomorrow-#*humour based on pain*#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb book #casey mcquiston

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rogue-taxidermy-of-sarina-brewer · 9 months

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May I present my most recent taxidermy sculpture ~ Aquinairia. Dove, duck, rooster and sea bass components over a sculpted clay armature on a vintage metal stand with 24K gold leaf and Austrian crystals.

I would like to dedicate this piece to my mother in gratitude and acknowledgment of the influence she has had on my artistic journey. In addition to being an avid taxidermy collector she was an accomplished and prolific artist in her day. She supported our family as a graphic designer and book illustrator but somehow still carved out time for her passion; making sculpture. Her favorite theme was fanciful beasts. Among her many works were several ceramic renditions of a hippocampus (a creature from Greek mythology with the upper body of a horse and the tail of a fish) The last photo in this post is my favorite one that she made. Its graceful presence is etched into my brain, so much so that I used its pose as my starting point when I began work on Aquinairia. The other main element of Aquinairia is a nod to Mom as well ~ I wanted this piece to evoke the feeling of something else she has a penchant for – carousel horses. I love all of the old carousel animals. I’m drawn to them for the fluid lines that make them look like they’re floating effortlessly through the air. Some of you might be old enough to remember that hippocampi were often included alongside regular horses on the carousels of yesteryear. If you do, then you will also remember thinking they were clearly the superior steed when given the choice of which equine to ride ;) Aquinairia is available exclusively through Lovetts Gallery in Tulsa. Interested parties can contact the gallery directly. Alternately, all works I currently have available can be viewed by visiting my website WWW.SARINA-BREWER.COM

#FantasyArt #FantasyArtwork #FantasySculpture #TaxidermyArt #RogueTaxidermy #ArtForSale #BuyArt #CollectArt

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ohifonlyx33 · 2 years

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I can't do it, i know I shouldn't, and i won't... but I am currently begging myself to buy a $1000 illustrated, leather-bound, and antiqued with hand-made marble-edging and gold lettering collector's book set of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings... it literally looks 200 years old and filled with magic.

or the unillustrated 5 book set with gold leaf and marbling of $600 is nice.... or the less beautiful but illustrated and hardcover set that includes The Simarillion for only $550....

Etsy why do you tempt me thus with things I know I cannot have?

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usagirotten · 3 months

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Raise a Glass to the End: Exclusive Reaper Wine Marks the Release of Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker

In celebrations of Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker’s expansion release, Square Enix collaborated with a few companies to bring truly unique items to the Isetan pop-up shop. Appearing in Shinjuku, Japan from December 8-14, merchandise included clothing, accessories, candy and wine. In partnership with The Prisoner Wine Company, the Final Fantasy XIV Reaper-inspired wine was limited in the pop-up shop. Sadly, that means if you dream of sipping a glass while traveling around Hydaelyn, you’ll have to wait until they show up in Square Enix e-stores later. Currently, there is no guarantee that it will ship overseas, but we have our fingers crossed. The wine bottle special box is as beautiful as Final Fantasy XIV’s landscapes, featuring an illustration of the new Reaper Job Class, exclusively launched as part of Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker. Standing before the moon in glorious splashes of red and black, the Reaper looks dangerous and deadly. The bottle label also has a smaller Reaper illustration adorning the dark glass.

The Collector’s Box doesn’t just hold the wine, it’s art in and of itself. A chain design graces the exterior which links the logos of the two brands involved in this collaboration. Inside is a brand new illustration of the Warrior of Light which represents the hero and protector role. Fans can take heart at the words written inside which quotes Venat, one of the Final Fantasy XIV characters saying: “Break your chains, shed your burdens — and show me your strength of will!” While the bottle itself bears The Prisoner label, peeling it off reveals the artwork representing the Warrior of Light. The Prisoner Red Blend and has a 2021 vintage and a California appellation. A selection of grapes are used, including Zinfandel, Cabernet Sauvignon, Petit Syrah, Syrah, Merlot and Malbec. On the nose, wine imbibers should detect hints of dried blackberry, cedar and tobacco leaf, plus the sweet spices of clove, cinnamon and nutmeg. Flavors range from ripe dark cherry to blackberry coulis with a hint of anise for a soft and vibrant finish.

Read the full article

#FFXIV #finalfantasy #FinalFantasyXIV #gamer #squareenix #wine

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authorksc · 6 months

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Favorite Book As A Child?

November 13, 2023|Blogging

There is one story that will stay with me forever, and that story is "FERDINAND". It is a story by Munro Leaf, illustrated by Robert Lawson. My mother used to tell me this story if I would wake up from a bad dream. It calmed me and made it easier to go back to sleep. I wish I had the book still, as well as my mother, but unfortunately, I don't. But as with her, this story will forever be in my heart and mind. If you have never read it, do yourself a favor, or better yet, read it to your children. It is a collector's item now and originals can be pricey. KSCarson

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lisacatara-actress · 1 year

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Almost Lisa: Pt 12, “Almost bit the Apple”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

“If I can make it There, I’ll make it Anywhere!”

It was suggested to me online that I revisit my journey in New York City leading up to my early career in music. NY has always been such a vibrant, exciting city, full of energy and so much culture. Understandably, it's enticing to hear about. I've been giving that a lot of thought because it's unhealthy to dwell in some of the events surrounding 9/11 and what ultimately ended my singing and Broadway aspirations. But I've also remembered countless individual experiences and conversations leading up to and during that time in my life which have been interesting to revisit.

To get to New York State initially was quite the undertaking and began my senior year of high school. Dr. Jim Bane, director of Band at Cleveland Heights High School, was a strong positive influence in my pursuing my music ambitions. Jim was incredibly supportive and encouraging of my musical pursuits. When I was accepted into Eastman, Jim allowed me to spend my lunch time, every day, in his office, dialing for scholarship applications and grants so that I could attend. Without his help, I surely would have gone to Baldwin Wallace in Ohio, which offered me a full ride (boy, was that a conversation with my parents, lol). It was also Jim Bane who introduced me to the Cleveland Youth Wind Symphony where I served as principal flutist for the three years. The CYWS was the symphony I later sang with, post 9-11, in Severance Hall. The last performance of my career before ultimately losing my voice.

In 1997 (whoa...!) I graduated from the distinguished Eastman School Of Music with a BM in Voice and began driving every week from Rochester to Manhattan for one hour lessons with the incredibly revered and talented John Mace and Richard Dorr. How I survived this year-plus, exhausting pilgrimage is beyond me. I suppose youthful determination was the key. But what wasn’t happening was my ability to find a permanent place to live in NYC. Here I was, with opportunity in front of me, but no where to live in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I was marching all over Manhattan- on foot- looking for work with my self-manifested modeling portfolio and fashion designs (the ones I was penning during rehearsals) in hand. At some point, I briefly befriended a restaurant owner who was good friends with the then uber-popular fashion designer Elie Tahari. He got me a meeting with the designer. Wow!

I’ll never forget, after waiting nearly an hour for our meeting, the sight while sitting in Elie Tahari’s offices, when the elevator doors finally opened to Ellie with three of his staff flanking him, all on phones and scribbling things down, sweeping through the foyer and into a nearby room, filled with fabric bolts. I was called to go in and meet him, ready to show my fashion designs. Elie motioned for me to sit next to him as a fit model in a nice pair of denim jeans paced back and forth in front of us. I knew he was squeezing me in and I was happy for it. Then he asked for my book and leafed through my designs, still conducting business with his team. A few “mm hmms” later, he handed me back my book and stated “you’re an illustrator”. Now, granted my designs were more intricate than the modern, streamlined brand he was famous for, but I did fancy myself capable of designing what I penned. Elie asked me to stand and turn around for him. Said maybe he could use me as a fit model. But- fit as I was- I was only 5′5″. Oh well. A few years later, I’d begun framing and selling my fashion illustrations to private collectors and fashion enthusiasts. Thank you Elie! But I’d still love to do something with the thousands of original designs I’ve created which- currently- live in volumes, in boxes.

Through the restaurateur, I was also introduced to a statuesque and shapely transwoman named Octavia. She was sassy, very New York, and a hoot to behold. She invited me to what would have been my first drag show (don’t worry, I enjoyed many once I got to Hollywood), but I stopped spending time with them after the owner did a line of coke behind my back with his buddy. Not my scene.

Also in New York, I was interviewed at FHM Magazine as an emerging talent. I did my face and hair nice, put on a cute outfit and marched up to the building just as the door opened and an entourage of 13 or so poured out, surrounding another up and comer, Jennifer Lopez. When I got into the room, the interviewer was already making decisions to print her interview. He sat in front of me, half paying attention. The wall behind him displayed photos of The Spice Girls, tacked on it in a row. They would be printed in the next months publication. I was clearly “no one”. This is one of those memories which make me angry over missed time. I got a late start on my dreams. Had I broken free of that despicable, controlling boss years earlier, who knows if I would have been walking out of a major magazine interview, with an entourage, launching my own singing career/ empire.

I just found a note to myself entitled “the German” and giggled remembering this next part of my New York experience. While subletting a room in a railway apartment on the upper West Side, my “roommate”- a fun, quirky voice over talent also named Lisa- and I shared a few interesting moments together wherever the third roommate subletted her room out to subsidize her portion of rent. On one occasion, the subleasee was a German man (maybe early 30′s) who was in the States on a grant to research Death. Some institution had bestowed financial resources upon this already odd and terse man so that he could sit bedside and watch people pass away, and involve himself in things which brought him closer to understanding Death and the Human condition as it deals with it’s own demise. Needless to say, I avoided conversations with the guy (as did Lisa 2.0). Sometimes, they were unavoidable, and there we're no witnesses.

One night, German dude caught me solo in the apartment and began to discuss his research. He told me of an art exhibit he’d attended where the entrance way was flanked by two naked people (a man and a woman). You couldn't enter without turning your body to the side. He enjoyed (too much) speculating about which way I might turn to enter, sizing me up and down to see how I might react to his inquiry. Then he mentioned another, earlier, exhibit by a controversial performance artist who publicized a disclaimer that whatever happened to her during the performance was her will. Upon a long table in the room were various items attendees could “use” to interact with her: scissors, rope, paint, a boa, various knives, tape, a loaded gun... The German declared he would enjoy using the knife on this artist, and explained his fascination with her Work, while moving uncomfortably closer to me and making slashing gestures at my torso with an imaginary knife. I did not move a single muscle. It was at this moment that Lisa 2.0 came home and walked into our living room- eyes wide- and asked “how’s it going?”. Both Lisa’s were thrilled the next night when The German called to say he wouldn’t be coming home because he was arrested for jumping a subway turnstile. Guess that’s legal in Europe.

(For the record, that Artist he adored was the infamous Marina Abramović. The work was “Rhythm 0″ which - I recall- ended with a loaded gun pointed at the artists head.)

Ahhhhhhh... I Love New York.

(To be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

#Hollywood #actress #Lisa Catara #entertainment #writing #blog #memoirs #filmmaking #celebrities #tea #artits #arts #movies

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virginiamori · 2 years

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Last leaf

Virginia Mori

#virginia mori #illustration #art #drawing #illustrazione #design #artwork #art prints #collectors #artcollector #autumn #leaf #tree #nature #natura

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yoannlossel · 6 years

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"Wealhtheow" - Illustration for "Beowulf", published by Easton Press : https://www.yoannlossel.com/home

Model : Psyché Ophiuchus

#beowulf #saga #Anglo-Saxon #yoannlossel #Yoann Lossel #graphite #gold leaf #Goldleaf #Illustration #eastonpress #book #deluxe #Edition #LimitedEdition #collector #painting #drawing #vikings

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igottatho · 5 months

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This might be my favorite thing I’ve ever drawn. I’m excited to start painting it tomorrow.

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nynph-desiree · 3 years

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𝗩𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻

A collection of 15 species and plant varieties of the genus Philodendron with the popular color gamut among ornamental collectors, Tobancay has compiled through illustrations and articles to help readers have an overview of the characteristics. identification as well as origin and rarity, including:

1 . 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘂𝗺 𝗮𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘂𝗺 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗺

Also known by the more common trade name 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯 '𝘎𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯', bản itself. 𝘣𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘶𝘮 is often called 𝘗. '𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯' or "Horsehead Philodendron" because the leaf shape resembles a violin, a horse's head or a bipennis. Color blotches often appear as large patches or pale yellow and pale green marble streaks, an uncommon phenotype that often appears as larger and more neat patches. 𝘗. '𝘎𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯' has climbing properties, needs support, leaves keep an average size of 30-40 cm at maturity. In addition to the other philodendron violins there is a "white variegated form" in which colored spots and patches are usually white, and another variant named 𝘗. '𝘠𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯' with a set of lighter green leaves and young leaves that are bright yellow and become green when old enough.

𝟮. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 ‘𝗚𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻’ 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗮

A rather rare type of Philodendron from Thailand is said to be a hybrid of 𝘗. . 𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘮, its variegated variant is usually large neat patches of ivory-white and light green, a large proportion of patches, usually half to completely white. 𝘗. '𝘎𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯' 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘢 is a good creeper, leaves are lobed spines, leaf surface is slightly glossy, above average size at maturity. Another well-known variation with a speckled smudging between light green and dark green is sold under the name 𝘗. '𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯' or 𝘗. '𝘓𝘪𝘮𝘦 '.

3 . 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗺 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗺

Also commonly known as "spade-leaf Philodendron" or "burgundy Philodendron" because of its elongated, spade-like heart-shaped leaf blade and wine-red stem, its smudging variant is bright yellow to pale yellow. , often occurring at the same time as large blotches and marble streaks. The plant is climbing and leaves are medium-sized at maturity. There is debate about the origin of this species as to whether it is really a variegated variant of P. domesticum or P. hastatum but nonetheless the cultivar is highly sought after and has a high price tag.

𝟰. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 ‘𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘄𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗸𝗲 '

This is a variegated variation from 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘴 ‘𝘙𝘦𝘥 𝘌𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘥’ and is one of the most colorful philodendrons. Its blotches range in color from creamy yellow, orange, peach to red, and the petioles are also reddish brown. The tree has a tendency to creep, the leaf blade is long, heart-shaped, the two base lobes only develop when the plant is mature and turn away from each other to form a wide V-shaped depression.The price of 𝘗. '𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦' is still quite high at present because of the small number of varieties and the high demand for ownership by ornamental collectors.

𝟱. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 ‘𝗥𝗲𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗼’ 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗮

A luscious philodendron with colors ranging from sepia, magenta, peach to yellow, it is a variation of 𝘗. '𝘙𝘦𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘰' (more commonly known as P. 'Rojo Congo' or 𝘗. '𝘙𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘙𝘰𝘫𝘰' because the stem and young leaves are red-brown when unopened, "rojo"), whose parents are 𝘗. '𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘥' . 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘪. The plant usually grows in a round, non-climbing bush, the leaves are sturdy, oval, leaf apex pointed, leaf surface matte, not glossy, can reach very large size when mature; Patches and streaks of color often run along the vein. Together with . ‘𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘰’ 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘢, the duo became two of the most highly valued Philodendrons on the market. Other varieties similar to 𝘗. '𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭' and 𝘗. '𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘥' 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘢 has a magical, magical beauty and is very rare to own.

𝟲. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 ‘𝗕𝘂𝗿𝗹𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘅’ 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗮

Quite popular and familiar to most tree collectors because of its affordable price, good growth and branching ability to propagate. Patches and blotches of 𝘗's color. '𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘹' 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘢 appears in white, light yellow and light green at the same time, the leaf blade has a long heart shape, the maximum size at maturity is usually about 20cm, the plant tends to grow into a luxuriant low bush. It should be noted that its patches appear very randomly, sometimes half green and half white, or completely creamy yellow, but often unstable; sometimes a part of its new shoot can grow back into a tree (reverse phenomenon).

𝟳. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 ‘𝗙𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗮 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝘆’

Or has another trade name is 𝘗. ‘𝘔𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘬’ to call the slick variant of 𝘗. '𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢' - is said to be the hybrid result of 𝘗. . 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘮. The common smudging phenotype is cream-colored patches and streaks, alternating with dark green leaves; sometimes the stain will be large patches, without streaks, spots; another type has ivory white patches and streaks. The leaf blade is divided into many lobes, the abdomen is constricted, easily associated with the image of a swallow's wing, the leaf surface is slightly glossy; petiole and the point of intersection between the petiole and the leaf blade are reddish brown, the petiole has nodules with nodules. The creep characteristic of 𝘗. '𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺' is more pronounced when mature and needs support, the leaf size is in the medium group, ranging from 30-40cm. It is important to distinguish the blue version with the name 𝘗. '𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢' and the variant biến. '𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵' has young leaves that are completely white or creamy yellow and then turn green when old enough.

𝟴. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗺 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗺

A variegated variant of 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘮 Schott with bright yellow or creamy yellow patches. The leaf blade is divided into many lobes, deeply split, spreading round from the intersection between the leaf and the stem (radia shape), at a small stage it is easy to confuse with 𝘗. 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘪, in the middle stage, is easy to confuse with 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘮 but 𝘗. 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘮 does not develop into a tall stem and leaves are less wrinkled. Plants tend to grow in shrubs and mature leaves often reach massive sizes to more than 1m in length. 𝘗. 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘮 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘮 brings a unique beauty from leaf shape to size, supply is also limited, so this variety is classified as rare and expensive.

𝟵. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 ‘𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗹 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗹𝗲’

The name comes from the yellow-brown (caramel) or orange-brown patches when young, then turn to light yellow when old enough and retain the coral orange color at the edges of the leaves, so 𝘗. '𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦' is considered one of the most colorful philodendrons. The leaf blade is thick, sturdy, long and tapered to the tip, divided into many lobes to form a saw blade shape but larger in width, the tree often grows into a round bush without support. 𝘗. '𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦' is said to be the stained variant of 𝘗. '𝘗𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘰', created by eminent breeder Keith Henderson, is (𝘗. 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘪 𝘹 𝘗. '𝘙𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴') 𝘹 𝘗. 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘮. Its price has also recently become sky-high and hard to get in the collection.

𝟭𝟬. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 '𝗥𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗙𝗶𝗿𝗲'

As one of the types of Philodendron with a reddish-orange color, the young leaves are usually coral orange or peach orange alternating with apricot yellow and then gradually turn into a creamy yellow old enough, the leaf blade is thick and hard. oblong, divided into many lobes with a saw-tooth shape (serrate shape), the tree tends to climb but the leaves are quite close together. 𝘗. '𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘦' is said to be a variegated variant of 𝘗. '𝘏𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦' (synonyms 𝘗. 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘮, 𝘗. '𝘚𝘢𝘸𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩', 𝘗. '𝘕𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸', 𝘗. '𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦') was originally created by Keith Henderson from two species of 𝘗. . 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘮. Another less common smudging phenotype of 𝘗. '𝘏𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦' with creamy or pale yellow patches and streaks, lacking the orange and red hues, is sold under the trade name 𝘗. '𝘏𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘪', named after an active volcano in Hawaii.

𝟭𝟭. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗲 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗮

𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘦 was first found in 1981 in the jungles of French Guiana and was named after his friend and discoverer by Professor Tom Croat, Frieda Billiet. The variegated variant P. billietiae variegata is considered to be the best variegated Philodendron, with large patches of bright yellow interspersed with streaks that contrast sharply against the dark green leaf base, its stalks also brown. orange, adult leaf size can reach 90cm. 𝘗. 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘦 has become a craze and is sought after by many tree collectors in the world, so it belongs to the group of high-end ornamental plants with high prices near the top of the list of Philodendrons.

𝟭𝟮. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 '𝗝𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗕𝘂𝗼𝗻𝗼'

A climbing philodendron with a very large leaf size when mature, the flecks are whitish to pale green and very variable, may be marbled streaks or spots, sometimes appearing as streaks. Large array of colors. The leaf blade is elongated, the leaf tip is pointed, the base of the leaves is round and pointed at each other. The origin of . '𝘑𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘉𝘶𝘰𝘯𝘰' remains unidentified, many believe it to be a variegated variant of 𝘗. 𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘦, however this species is nearly extinct in the wild, so it may be a cultivated hybrid of this species or a separate species. If its inflorescence is compared with the inflorescence image of 𝘗. 𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘦 as described from Aroideae Maximiliana (1879) will show many similarities, further reinforcing the hypothesis of its relationship.

𝟭𝟯. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗴𝗶𝗴𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝘂𝗺 𝗮𝗹𝗯𝗼 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗺

Or also sold under the trade name 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯 '𝘉𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘥', which is a variation of 𝘗. 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘮 with white streaks running along the side veins alternating on a blue background creating the effect of a snowstorm (blizzard). When newly sprouted, the scum is usually green in color and then turns white as it matures. The species name "giganteum" is derived from the Greek word "gigantes" which means "large, gigantic", 𝘗. '𝘉𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘥' can also reach very large sizes, often reaching more than 60cm in length as an adult. Plants often grow in bushes and do not need support.

𝟭𝟰. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 ‘𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗼 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗲’

This is an emerging but highly sought-after Philodendron, the leaf blade is long and bilobed at the base of the leaves with prominent dark green round spots on a light green background, the margins are reddish brown, the plant has Strong climbing tendency with leaf nodes often spaced apart, adults can reach more than 50cm. It was originally collected in the wild by Mr. Natalino, a nursery owner in Belem, Brazil, from the jungle in French Guiana. In 2016, Chandra G. Hendarto, a plant collector, during a visit to his nursery, brought a cutting and shared it with a friend, then it was sold to an Indonesian and imported to Thailand. Lan and exchanged under the name 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘯 '𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘙𝘶𝘺 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘢' after a Brazilian actress. It was later suggested that it be named '𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘰 ' after Mr. Natalino's nursery in Belem in honor of the first peacock to find, in Spanish, the name meaning 'Green Paradise'.

𝟭𝟱. 𝟭𝟱. 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗹𝘀𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁.

A rather rare and expensive philodendron, the beauty is striking with contrasting green dots on white patches, sometimes blushing pink when the leaves are young. Its appearance is easily distinguished from other types by two pointed and elongated base lobes, accounting for about 1/3 of the total length of the leaf, the middle part of the leaf blade is slightly enlarged to create a diamond shape, the plant has a tendency to climb. , grow quite slowly. 𝘗. 𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘪 was previously often confused with . '𝘑𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘉𝘶𝘰𝘯𝘰', it is also not a variegated variant of 𝘗. or . or 𝘗. 𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘶𝘮 Liebm. It is itself a separate species of unknown origin, it has also been suggested to be a hybrid or a variegated variant of 𝘗. 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 Kunth, neither of these hypotheses has been proven.

P/s: The article is a personal perspective and the knowledge collected from previous players, not a scientific article and is for reference only. All reposts require consent from Tobancay, constructive comments are very welcome and receptive.

References:

Philodendron Enthusiasts group (especially articles by Siddharth Nc)

Planet Philodendron – Monstera group

International Aroid Society group

Aroid.org

Plantsoftheworldonline.org

Foliage-factory.com

And thank you Viet Dam for helping to find the necessary information.

#aestheitcs #aestetictumblr #aesthetic #plant mom #plantlady #plantlove #plant lady #plant life #plantes #plant #plants #plantcollection #plantita #plantlover #planters

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fineartminerals · 2 years

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❇️Minerals: Tourmaline on Lepidolite ❇️Cabinet small Size : (LWD) 8 x 8 x 8 cm tourmaline xl : 8.3cm weight : 105 grams ❇️Locality: Paprok , Nuristan, Afghanistan 🇦🇫 ❇️Description: This is a breathtaking example of tourmaline that beautifully illustrates the species’ propensity for colour and gem-caliber aesthetics and clarity sits on one of the finest pink Matrix of lepidolite .It exhibits a spectacular display of saturated coloring—a deep open leaf 🍃 green colour , so vibrant with incredible clarity and absolutely perfect complex termination . This transparent and colorful, specimen takes light beautifully, making it instantly attractive to the eye. Upon closer inspection, one will be further impressed by its sharp crystallization, slightly peaked termination, subtle vertical faces, and overall gem-quality. With its spectacular expression of colour, this specimen is a lovely example of why tourmaline has risen to among one of the most desired species in the collecting world. The specimen is absolutely astonishing with great quality and aesthetics just the tourmaline Crystal have one repaired but with great termination and colour. ❇️Return Accepted #fineartminerals #minerals #natural #naturalart #museum #geology #mineralogy #nature #jewerly #art #healing #collector #gems #crystal #decore #newyourkcity #nyc #follower #love #magic #fromminetoyours #beautiful #collectibleminerals #tourmaline #minerals #mineralspecimens #gems #mineralscollecting. (at Peshawar, Pakistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CV8Xa5nBxmh/?utm_medium=tumblr

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stay-outta-my-blood-circle · 3 years

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Act 1 | No. 1 - Overture

Overture (noun)

1. A piece of music that serves as an introduction to a larger work.

2. An approach made to someone in order to offer something.

🔊 "Sweet Sacrifice" by Evanescence

Rhiannon traces the outer edge of the butterfly wing with one painted fingernail, admiring the contrast between the purple and gold. Normally she wouldn't snoop, but he has so many lovely things in his office - surely the point was to display them to visitors? And, even if not - what was he going to do about it?

He'd asked to see her, even scheduled a specific time, but he was pulled away just after she'd arrived. He'd said to wait here, that he wouldn't be long. She had no problem with that (classes didn't start for a few more weeks, so she had time), especially when it gave her free reign to peruse his collection.

There were several pinned insects and arachnids, which was unsurprising, but pleasant to look at. There was one particularly large tarantula that she took her time examining before moving on to the bookshelves. These contained mostly entomology texts and the like - again, not shocking - but a few of them looked old, more like collector's items than anything. She leafed gently through a few of those, noting some lovely illustrations.

She did find a few outliers; the book on medieval torture devices was a bit of a surprise. So were the medical and architecture books, though not quite as much - those seemed in line with the kind of side-interests he'd have. She pulled out the torture book and read through some of it, ending up so engrossed in the volume that she doesn't hear him return until he closes the door behind him with a click.

Unhurried, she shuts the book with a quiet snap, places it back in its spot on the shelf, and turns to face him.

"Find something interesting?" He asks, and she picks up the stern foundation in his tone, the way one brow rises slightly - it's subtle, but she picks it up - and she fights not to roll her eyes. If he thinks she's that easy to intimidate, he hasn't been paying attention.

"Maybe," Rhiannon shrugs lightly, then the shadow of a smirk crosses her face. "Why? Got something in here I'm not supposed to see?"

He's silent, but if his gaze were a knife she'd be bleeding.

Finally, quietly, he releases the breath he'd been holding, and some of the tension in the line of his shoulders dissipates. He gestures toward the chair on the other side of his desk - Rhiannon takes it as he moves to sit behind the desk.

"I requested to see you today because I have a job offer for you," he began, and she wasn't surprised he was getting right to the point; she'd never known him to meander through a conversation. "I need a TA this year, and you've traditionally been my best student. Even now that you're in graduate classes."

Well, that was surprising, and Rhiannon didn't bother to hide it in her expression - as far as she knew, he'd never chosen to use a TA before. Not to mention - despite the fact that she did well in his classes - she would never have expected him to approach her with the offer.

"Hmm. And here I was under the impression you didn't think much of me," she says, and she's successful at keeping the smirk off her face, but between her tone and the look in her eyes she needn't have bothered.

Honestly, she expects him to ignore the remark; he's not the type to deny it because it's the "polite" thing to do, and he's too stoic to rise to her bait. So, the deceitfully warm smile that graces his features in response unnerves her immediately.

"On the contrary; in fact, I don't think anything of you."

It's a sharp bite that leaves its fangs behind as it retreats, pumping venom even after the sting subsides. She fights the urge to wince.

Ooh, he's extra grumpy today, she thinks, and she wants to scowl but she makes herself mirror his smile instead.

"Ouch," she says, chuckling, shrugging off the puncture wounds, "so why ask me, then, is my question? And don't repeat the same BS about me being the top student - I'm sure there's someone almost as smart as me who would -" get along with you better, be easier to manage - "be a better fit for the position."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he answers quickly - she bristles again - "but I'm looking for competence, not... compatibility. The workload is quite intense, due to some upcoming changes in the university's structure. I don't believe any of my other students would be able to handle it while keeping up the rest of their grades. So, unfortunately, we're back to you."

"Well, that is a shame," Rhiannon clicks her tongue, feigning sympathy, "but what makes you think I'd want anything to do with this... opportunity?"

She revels; time to make him sweat. He needs her, he practically said as much - the power balance slides back in her direction and she starts to smirk - but then he shifts his eyes away from her, as if in consideration. For some reason, it sets an ominous feeling in her stomach; something significantly uglier and more dangerous than butterflies beating their wings against the lining of her gut.

"I'm surprised you have to ask. As a graduate student, certain things are expected of you, which include responsibilities such as this, and, more importantly, your thesis... of which I happen to know the subject."

At this, his gaze flickers back to hers, scorching in its intensity, and there it is - the jaws clamp shut around her throat, leaving an echo of the snap of teeth ringing in her ears.

The illusion of control is ripped away, leaving her stumbling to keep her feet under her, as she's brutally reminded of all the reasons she hates the man in front of her.

In truth, she'd had him pegged almost the second she walked into her first class. His stoic, businesslike manner might fool most people he encounters, but she saw straight through him. Controlling, uncompromising, egoistic - she'd seen his kind enough to recognize it. Her dislike of him had only grown since then, and he'd seemed to return the sentiment; by this point, they were arch-nemeses masquerading as casual academic acquaintances. She'd considered changing her major more than once, just so she wouldn't have to see him anymore.

And now, it seems - she swallows hard, nearly shaking with fury, gripping the arms of her chair hard enough to make the wood creak - she'd be seeing enough of him to wonder if they'd both make it out alive.

-----

He hadn't noticed her at first - why would he? She was another student in an exhausting sea of them - but then she excelled, and continued to do so, and all without needing him to manage her or hold her hand. Her work was some of the best he'd seen at her level. He hadn't been shocked when she'd changed her major from whatever it had been previously - she'd shown affinity, talent... potential. Then she'd graduated, returned, and continued to excel.

He might have liked her, if only he hadn't despised her almost immediately.

It wasn't that she caused him any trouble; her attitude just grated on his nerves in the worst possible way. She was arrogant, self-centered, and belligerently apathetic - and it didn't help any that she seemed immune to manipulation. He knew she didn't feel any fondness for him, either, and they just seemed to be losing more and more patience with each other over time.

He'd thought about collecting her. He already knew exactly what he'd do with her; the image burned brilliantly in the back of his mind. Every time he started to seriously consider it, though, he decided he'd rather just kill her and dispose of the body - that seeing her in a glass case every day, in his sanctuary, would only get under his skin. Then, after a while, he'd grow tired of the idea altogether and just settle on giving her a wide berth.

Right at this moment, he was glad she was still alive - if only so he could watch her smug expression cave in, giving way to shock, alarm, distaste, fury. She was flushed and snarling, her eyes burning with naked animosity. This is easily the most unsettled he'd ever seen her, and it granted him a level of satisfaction he rarely got to experience.

He feels a smile - was it a smile? - stretch its way across his face. Would she scream at him? Lunge at him? She might even try to hit him, and he'd have to subdue her -

She jumps suddenly to her feet, and for a wild, exhilarating moment he thinks he will get to use force against her - but she turns around, shoves the chair out of the way - it goes screeching across the room, slams into a bookshelf - and stalks toward the door.

He stands, though he's not sure why - it's not as if he'd go after her if she stormed out, but she stops with her hand on the doorknob. She whirls back to face him (he hopes, fleetingly, to see tears, but he knows this isn't enough to make her cry - that's a goal for another day) and crosses her arms petulantly.

"My thesis subject doesn't matter, you're not involved with - "

He cuts her off as she spits the words at him, his voice growing colder and colder in opposition to her rising heat -

"But I should be. Who else are you supposed to work with? It's my field - "

"It doesn't have to be you, I checked," she bites out, nearly shouting now, "Professor Granville can oversee - "

He actually laughs at that, abrupt and mean-spirited. Rhiannon unfolds her arms, letting them dangle at her sides as she clenches her fists.

"Granville is a moron and you know it," he says caustically, "but, by all means - try to get some intelligent input from him while he's busy putting his hands up your skirt - "

"That's still preferable to you!" She barks, eyes wild, quickly advancing on him until her face is about a foot from his. "Anything is preferable to you."

They stand, still and silent except for the heavy breathing that often punctuates heated arguments. He notices that a lock of hair has come loose from the twist at her crown; it falls over her face, adding to her manic look. Her eyes were locked, unwavering, on his; it's another thing that gets under his skin - people usually could not hold his gaze, and watching their eyes slide away from his was empowering, gratifying. Whenever their vision collided, they got stuck - almost like she expected him to crumble under her stare.

He was beginning to acquire an aversion to green - one shade, in particular.

He suddenly wants her out of his office.

"I have the resources, knowledge, and experience necessary for the kind of research you need to do. My clout is significantly higher than Granville's. You know your chances of success are greater with me, and I'm extending an offer that I will not make again. Take it or leave it."

"I can succeed perfectly well without you, thanks," she snarls, "I only need a supervisor as a formality, I can handle the work myself."

"Yes," he breathes, searching deep inside himself for patience, "you likely can, but are you prepared to spend that much extra time? Exponentially more time?" She starts to answer but he presses on. "You've just taken on more responsibilities in the school's ballet program, if I'm not mistaken? Surely you don't want to step down already? Or quit entirely, as the case may be."

Her mouth, which had been opening and closing in attempts to retort while he spoke, snaps shut. She clenches her jaw, glowers at him, bares her teeth - but apparently finds nothing to say.

He remains silent as he watches the mental struggle play out across her face; finally resignation settles in her eyes, and she pales visibly. His satisfaction at the sight is dulled by his desire to wrap his hands around her throat.

"Fine," she says quietly, voice hollow, "I accept."

"Good. Now get out."

She takes her leave like it's all she's ever wanted, pausing only to flip him off at the door.

As it slams shut, he stares at it, fingers flexing in agitation.

If she was still alive at the end of the semester, he'd be shocked.

#Rune writes slashers #Diabolica series #oc rhiannon #asa emory #the collector #slashers #slasher fandom #the collector 2009

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