#Crystal synthetic

[lionfloss]

Synthetic Quartz

[rubiatinctorum]

Where in the context of this poll, the words opalite and Pluto refer specifically to the following concepts:

[secretpowermittens]

dream shrine

[caramelldraws]

I want to preface this with saying that I find Saruman to be a deeply interesting and compelling character and Christopher Lee brought him to life in the best and very dignified way possible.

Sadly the entity controlling my brain is driven by the need to meme :3

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Pleochroism in gem quality zoisite var. tanzanite

Apparently we're doing this...

*my photos, not my crystal

Ever wondered why the colour of some gemstones seems to shift as you view them from different angles? Perhaps are you were looking at a pleochroic gemstone!

Pleochroism is a body colour effect seen in transparent to translucent, optically anisotropic* crystalline material caused by differential absorption of the polarised light rays following different paths through the gemstone, and causing a change to perceived body colour when the stone is viewed from different directions.

...Okay, but what does that mean?

Pleochroism means 'many coloured'. When light passes through a crystal, it is sometimes split into two rays - each ray takes a slightly different path, and because it encounters different atoms within the crystal structure, it is modified to a different colour.

When both different coloured rays of light exit the crystal, your eye resolves them as a single colour. Clever, right? :D

The four photos above are of the same crystal. The top photos show the crystal from two different angles - one looks distinctly more purplish than the other, right? That is eye-visible pleochroism!

Even gems that show pleochroism don't always show it strongly enough to see with the naked eye. But this tanzanite crystal does.

The bottom photos show the same crystals viewed through a type of polarising filter called a dichroscope. The dichroscope is made of polarising film where each half lets through only one of the rays of coloured light - meaning you can see each of the two colours at the same time, one in each half of the filter!

But wait!- I hear you cry. Why are there THREE different colours??

Hmm well this is getting into a deeper discussion of crystal habits and their optical behaviours, so for now let's say that depending on the symmetry of the crystal, an optically anisotropic* stone can show two or three colours - but only ever two in one direction! You have to turn the crystal to see the third colour.

If a stone shows two colours we say it is dichroic, if it shows three it is trichroic. This is the maximum number of colours you will see.

When you view the tanzanite crystal in the position in the left photo, the light rays being transmitted are blue and reddish-purple. Your eyes resolve this to show a purpley-blue colour. Neat!

But in the position from the right photo, it's transmitting blue and yellow. Wild! The yellow ray dilutes some of the intensity of the blue, so the colour you see is a weaker blue tone.

The photo I'm missing from my set is the crystal viewed from top-down, which would then show a purple and yellow split through the dichroscope!

So turning the stone, or moving your head position relative to the position of the stone, really does change its colour, because you are perceiving a different set of coloured light rays being transmitted through the stone!

When fashioning a rough crystal, a lapidary (that's a stone cutter) would to orient the crystal so the best colour is face-up - ie. when you look at the finished polished stone, you will see the most attractive balance of colour. What is considered ideal varies with the stone - you might cut a very dark crystal to show its lighter colour, or a pale one to show the most intense colour it is able to!

Fun additional fact - tanzanite can be heated to improve its colour. It does this by removing the yellow element entirely, meaning you will see intense bluey-purple tones from all angles! The wonders of stone treatments!

*Edit I am misleading you by saying you will see bluey-purple in all directions... in two directions (as tanzanite is a biaxial gemstone) you will find an optic axis, which is a direction of optical isotropy in an otherwise optically anisotropic* gemstone. So in this direction, you will only have a single transmitted ray of light, not two!

*I use the phrase optically anisotropic a couple of times and it's hard to explain without a whole separate citizen lecture on crystallography, but the quick summary is that it means a crystal in which light behaves differently as it travels in different directions - such as the differential absorption resulting in different colours in pleochroism! This is as opposed to an optically isotropic crystal, where light behaves the same way in all directions of travel.

And that is a recited-from-memory summary of pleochroism! :D (please don't tell me off if I got any of it wrong I didn't go upstairs to check my notes ;_;) (I mean I didn't get any of it wrong but my quoted definition probably wasn't word perfect ^^;)

@royallykt thank you so much for your interest i hope you enjoyed learning about all this :)

[quinntyfresh]

now I really wanna do some writing for my Star Wars 5e campaign. It’s set about a century into the New Sith Wars, so about 1900 BBY. Full-scale war between the Jedi-led Republic and the (once again resurgent) Sith Empire. I’m blending some elements of Legends and new canon as I see fit

[amy147258]

Europe safe arrive Strong old Eutylone crystal supplier Whatsapp/telegram: +44 7759657534

[ithisatanytime]

(SEWA)

[siegetheartist]

Transitional Landscape in San Francisco

Design ideas for a mid-sized transitional full sun backyard vegetable garden landscape in summer.

[yudori]

Patio Outdoor Kitchen picture of a medium-sized transitional backyard concrete paver patio and kitchen without a cover

[qcontinuumumum]

I love looking at the concept art for star trek especially for the movies.

There's a few different for the borg queen such as:

Ball

Spike

Glados

Like looking at the art indicates to me that the borg queens were initially more like the original borg species, in regards to the utilisation of language and a spiritual/cultural element of using crystal and bone, less synthetic materials.

Oh and also

The monolith.

[cryptotheism]

She awoke to a boxcar full of corpses,

which was damn lucky, because it meant she now had a one-way train ticket to exactly where she wanted to go. All that was left to do was pass the time.

The student took inventory of her body. It was the first thing she knew to do in case of catastrophic injury, but the ritual of it was almost meditative now. Start at the bottom, work your way up.

Feet: Sore from walking. The leathery sheathe of mutagenic skin that ran up to her shins was largely unfeeling scar tissue at this point. They looked and functioned like a pair of high-topped hiking boots, except permanent and a part of her body. They were a rough custom job, designed for traversing the pools of acid that dotted the necrotic swamps common to her homeland. Home. Not much left of home now. She was getting sidetracked.

Legs: Also sore from walking, but less so. The musculature was hers, but the skeleton was reinforced with carbon-steel after a fall when she was little. Shock absorbing hydraulic femurs were nice for someone who did as much walking as she did. Skin was necrotizing again. Gotta get that replaced. Maybe one of the corpses is fresh enough to provide a graft.

Pelvis: Mercifully unfeeling. The surveyor had grabbed her by the hips. Skeleton was completely replaced a long time ago, but she could feel a hitch in the joint of her left leg whenever she moved it just so. An easy fix but time consuming, and not the sort of work to be done on a moving train. No necrotization here, at this point it was all synthetic. Uterus was completely original, not that it meant much. The little bundle of braided tubes that assisted her endocrine system remained stapled to her skin. The jangling was annoying, kept getting stuck on her hatchet, thus, staples. Fluids were looking a little dark, she must be dehydrated.

Torso: Felt fine, aside from the strain on her spine from carrying her things. Even with the augments, spines in general were just poorly constructed. Flesh was scarred, lots of burns, but mostly original. Both clavicles were removed and replaced with cargo sockets. She rolled her shoulders, it seemed like everything was working well. Breasts and sternum had been removed too, replaced with subdermal bulletproofing. She had spent extra for the good stuff there. One solid hand-ground piece of sloped armor. Getting shot in the lung was a lesson you only needed to learn once. Heart was completely mechanical. She even had a backup in her bag just in case. She traded the old lung and the breast tissue for that.

Right Arm: She rolled back the sleeve of her heavy coat and stretched her arm, watching the little electric motors dance. It was strong and dexterous, with half a dozen small tools built into the length of her forearm. No need for skin. In a pinch she could perform everything from network intrusion to basic surgery. Most of it was covered by the sleeve of her heavy coat. The amputation was above the elbow. She had leased her original arm for the current mechanical one when she was working on the pit crew for for an order of knights. She ended up keeping the arm.

Left Arm: She liked her left arm. She was proud of it. The trademark of a sythetimancer. It was pretty. Biological and mechanical features blending seamlessly together. Coils of veins and circuitry making intricate braids up her arm terminating in perfect Fibonacci spirals. Softly bioluminescent blood, filaments formed from calcified nerve tissue, synapse clusters under crystal clear de-pigmented bulbs of alpha-keratin. She concentrated for a moment, allowing the whirls on her palm to twist and readjust themselves with a tingling sensation. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, all recombining into butane. She snapped her fingers, igniting a tiny flame, letting it dance along her fingers for a few moments burning and repairing the flesh as she went, spirals parting and coalescing like leaves navigating the twain of a gentle river. They looked like the little shell fossils she found at the white desert when she was little. Memories. Loss.

The spirals in her hand began to twist and pulse, little corkscrews of bone began to form, growing outwards against the thin layer of biosynthetic skin. It hurt. She winced, and regained control a moment later. Careless. She shook her arm, and the flame on her finger went out.

Head: Still a bit hazy from the pain. Where to start with the head? Neck. Parched. Currently being warmed by a scarf with a length of handmade maille hidden in the folds. Rebreather was working well because it was made well. It was made well because she made it. She made it because it used to be her job. Like everyone of her strain, she had no teeth, only two solid ridges of tough bone, largely blunt and made for gnashing but gradually coalescing into a single triangular point, evolved for ripping flesh. She clacked her jaws together experimentally. Clack. Clack.

Eyes were tired and dry. There was a short mechanical hiss and a snap as she the shields over her eyes retracted back into their sockets in her cheekbones. The only light was from a pair of grates in the ceiling, but the glare nearly blinded her. She snapped the shields back into place, and the heads up display came slowly back into focus.

Originally her skin was the sort of rust color common to her strain. By now it was a deep weather-worn red, except for the parts that were charred black and rotting. Gotta replace that. If she could grow hair, she had done a damn good job of making sure it was thoroughly singed off. It occurred to her that it might be fun to have hair one day. Maybe she could make it herself. Would it grow in spirals? She looked down to open the bag of genebending tools at her waist, and her heart jumped into her goddamn throat.

Staring up at her from the pile of corpses was a pair of bright red eyes on an unnaturally pale face with no nose or lips. Which would not be terribly upsetting or surprising, had it not just said “well met” in an oddly pleasant female voice, attempt to sit up, fail, and then ask politely if its new acquaintance would stop sitting on it.

This is the first chapter of Amber Skies. The complete story can be read here, along with its currently-in-progress sequel, Emerald Seas.

[saipowercontrolnet]

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Synthetic Gems has been in business since 1975 and have Gem Cutting factories in China and Thailand. We supply all types of Synthetic gems, CZ cubic zirconia loose gems, Lab created gems, Lab grown Diamond HPHT/CVD, Mossainite Diamond, Opal gems, Hydrothermal Biron Emerald, Pulled colour change Alexandrite, Nano crystal Emerald, Natural Marcasite, CZ and Synthetic Rough gemstone and all kinds of Natural cut and polished Gemstones in all colours shapes and sizes. Buy directly from China/Thailand Gem cutting factories at wholesale factory price for all gemstones.

[eilidh-eternal]

Hmmm, how about some Little Red Riding Hood reader and Big Bad wolf-shifter Price???

18+ MDNI | This is a DARK FIC | cw: blood, drowning, predator and prey dynamics

You heard drowning is quick. Painless.

Whoever said that has never drowned before.

In the bleak midwinter, when water turns to stone, the blades beneath your feet find fissures and fractures and carve a place for you in the dark depths beneath the ice.

Falling through ice feels a lot like stepping beyond the warmth of one’s home into the howling, biting wind of a winter storm. It hurts, for a moment, before it numbs you. Right down to the bones. But this is an all encompassing numbness, the kind that seeps through fabric and flesh and bone—that kind that floods burning lungs and creeps into your mind.

Layers of winter garb, thermals, sweater, down coat and jeans, all soak up the frigid water and turn to a leaden weight on your body. You kick, claw at the fading sliver of caustic light, but it slips through your fingers like the rest of the water does—flickers and wavers at the disturbance. A sick parting wave as you sink further and further beyond reach. Beyond saving.

The burning in your lungs from the cold is a thousand times worse when you suck in nothing but water, unable to fight the instinct to draw breath 10 feet below the surface. Thrashing against the frigid clutches of the frozen lake is meaningless. A foolish final attempt to fight for life above the surface, to save yourself from a watery grave.

Another burning breath.

More gelid water to fill your lungs.

Another.

The world grows darker. Maybe it’s because the light at the surface is so, so far away now. Maybe it’s your body succumbing to its fate.

One.

Final.

Breath.

Everything hurts. Glacial waters are good at numbing one’s pain in their final moments, but millions of crystallized frozen droplets feel like they’re slicing into your skin as you cough and splutter, heaving up lungfuls of water and bile. Trying to roll, to wretch onto the frozen ground packed with snow to spare your clothes, is a moot point. You’re already soaked.

The whipping wind off the frozen lake is likely to fuse the fabric to your skin too, and the longer you lay here the quicker frostbite, and hypothermia, will set in. You need to get up. Get up and get moving, or whatever miracle that dragged you from the water will be squandered.

Lifting your head is a monumental effort. It throbs, feels like a ton of bricks, and the cold stiffness that’s settled in your bones creaks and pops as you go, until you can see your bare toes, already turning a dangerous hue in the cold. You linger on that.

Bare feet.

No skates.

No thick wool socks.

An unfamiliar jacket draped over your shivering body like a blanket.

Pushing through the ache in your muscles and the cramping from the cold, you manage to get yourself upright and you quickly pull the collar of the jacket closer to you as a gale of wind barrels into you, plastering wet strands of hair to your face. A shuddering intake of breath fills your nose with the scent of pine and musk. Not the synthetic kind you find concentrated in pretty bottles on a perfumers shelf at the department store. Something wild and incapable of being replicated.

There’s a pile of discarded clothing, a man’s by the look of the enormous boots, flannel shirt and canvas work pants, and tracks in the snow leading away from you into the forest. Wherever they came from, and wherever they’ve gone to, is your best chance at finding warmth.

But wait… Someone had saved you, given you their jacket, stripped, and then left? Maybe they’d stripped down before they’d jumped in, no heavy clothes to weigh them down in the water. They look dry, and that’s motivation enough for you to maneuver stiff, frozen limbs through the snow to get to them.

When you twist to drag yourself closer pain slices from your hip up to your ribs and you suck in a sharp breath that comes out in a strangled moan and a cloud of air in front of your face. Peeling away the jacket reveals the tattered thermal that clings to your skin, grey fabric stained a deep crimson where blood seeps from a gash in your side, dripping onto the snow beneath you.

Fuck. Must have clipped the ice on the way down…

Gritting your teeth against the searing pain that radiates from the wound you manage to reach the clothes, dry by some miracle, and strip down as quickly and carefully as you can. Waterlogged jeans are traded for canvas that still feels warm despite laying in the snow for god knows how long, bloodstained and torn thermal for thick flannel, and you waste little time slipping on the socks and boots, lacing them extra tight. It’s all big, you practically swim in it, but you won’t complain about a little extra fabric to bundle up with inside the similarly large jacket.

Getting to your feet feels like twisting a knife in your side, and you take gasping breaths as you push off your knees, bite down on a whimper when you finally get your feet under you and a fresh wave of pain lances through torn muscle. But you’re up. You have dry clothes.

Someone pulled you out of the water. You’re still here.

Bleeding.

Breathing.

Alive.

Trudging through the snow in boots nearly twice the size of your feet slows you down even more than the shin deep drifts, and you have to stop frequently to take a break, to let the pain subside. Blood has begun to seep into the flannel, fabric clinging to your skin beneath the coat, and it drips, stains the beige fabric at your hips, and splatters onto the snow. A trail of blood left like breadcrumbs as you follow the tracks between towering pines.

It would seem your streak of luck has run its course though. The tracks have vanished, come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the forest.

Panic creeps up on you like a prowling wolf, slinking up your spine and lunging, sinking claws and teeth into your terror-stricken mind.

No, no, no! This was supposed to be your way out, dammit!

You twist around, looking for more tracks in the snow, wincing against the stinging pain in your side, and a scream bubbles up in your throat when you find none.

How the fuck do tracks just disappear?!

Gripped tight by the claws of panic your mind reels with worst case scenarios. Blizzards. Hypothermia. Frostbite. Too busy spiraling to notice the very real threat that stands at your back.

A snarl carries on the wind like a knife, slices through the air and buries itself in your back where the hairs stand on end, every single one from your nape to the tips of your fingers.

A low growl, closer this time, sends a shudder down your spine. But you haven’t come all this way, survived this long, just to tuck tail, curl up and accept defeat. So you steel your spine, ball your hands into fists, and turn to face whatever predator has no doubt followed your crimson trail advertising your weakened state.

A wounded little fawn, separated from its herd. Easy prey.

You may be brave enough to face the thing that’s hunted you down, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from widening, doesn’t stop the fresh wave of panic that courses through your chilled veins and drains the blood from your face, when you’re face to face with the massive fucking wolf ten meters away, golden eyes narrowed with a single-minded focus.

His hunt is over. All that’s left is the killing blow.

Part 2>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[enchantedwitchling]

Respecting Nature: How to Be an Eco-Friendly Witch.

🌿🌎✨

Witchcraft and nature have an unbreakable bond—one that invites us to celebrate and protect the very world that inspires our craft. As stewards of the Earth, it's essential to practice our craft with the utmost respect for nature. Embracing eco-friendly witchcraft not only honors the environment but also deepens our connection to the magic that surrounds us.

In this blog post, we'll explore the art of "Respecting Nature: How to Be an Eco-Friendly Witch," discovering the importance of eco-conscious practices and offering alternative, sustainable tools to traditional witchcraft practices.

🌟✨

1. Sustainable Altar Decor 🌿

Consider incorporating natural and biodegradable altar decorations like leaves, flowers, and twigs instead of synthetic materials. These elements not only infuse your space with a touch of the Earth but also return to it without harming the environment.

2. Eco-Friendly Candles 🕯️

Opt for candles made from sustainable materials like soy or beeswax. These alternatives burn cleanly, emit fewer toxins, and support eco-conscious practices. You can also repurpose candle stubs into new candles, reducing waste.

3. Ethical Crystal Sourcing 💎

When collecting crystals for your practice, research ethical sources and suppliers. Be mindful of the environmental impact of crystal mining and choose to support companies that prioritize sustainability and fair labor practices.

4. DIY Herbal Magic 🌿

Grow your own herbs and harvest them responsibly for spells and rituals. This not only ensures their freshness but also reduces the carbon footprint associated with store-bought herbs. Consider creating your own herbal oils and teas, infusing your magic with the essence of your garden.

5. Natural Incense and Alternatives 🌬️

Explore natural incense options made from herbs, resins, or dried flowers. You can also choose sustainable alternatives like dried sage or palo santo sticks from ethically sourced providers. Remember to set your intentions and respect for the environment.

6. Biodegradable Offerings 🍃

If you offer food or other offerings to deities or spirits, choose biodegradable options. Fruit, bread, or grains return to the Earth without harm, symbolizing your gratitude for nature's gifts.

7. Sustainable Journaling 📓

For your magical journal, opt for notebooks made from recycled paper or even explore digital journaling to reduce paper usage. This mindful practice also preserves trees and forests.

🌟✨

Being an eco-friendly witch aligns our practice with the very essence of witchcraft—an appreciation for the natural world and a commitment to living in harmony with it. As we tread lightly upon the Earth, our magic deepens, and our connection to the elements flourishes.

So, let us continue to embrace the magic of nature while protecting it, weaving eco-conscious practices into our craft's tapestry. By honoring the Earth, we honor ourselves and the beautiful world we call home.

🌿🌎✨

[ithisatanytime]

(fridvy <3)