#hidden ruber

[2dadsfromaz]

A colored version of the last panel in this comic, because I wanted to use it as my header!

[cryptixcreations]

Been brainstorming more Lost Room stuff, and I have in mind three potential ways the plot could regain access to the Room, with Joe being the key (no pun intended). I couldn't settle on one and I had clear scenes in mind for each so I just wrote all three.

Read on Ao3

----

1. Interaction

It always comes back to this god-forsaken place. The broken husk of a no-name motel in the middle of the New Mexico desert. Even blindfolded in the back of a van, he'd known exactly where they were going, from the way every last nerve crackled like a match laid to a line of gunpowder.

Rough hands shove him to his knees. Gravel digs into his flesh through his jeans, a dull counterpoint to the screeching in his spine. Light replaces the blindfold, bright afternoon sun that erases everything in vicious white-gold. Joe squints his smarting eyes against the glare.

A shape coalesces out of the light, red and then black before fading into human features, recognizable features. Martin Ruber smiles down at him. "Hello, Joe."

The rest of Martin's congregation, his own personal splinter of the new religion, are arranged around them in a rough circle. Maybe two dozen. Men in suits and women in sundresses and blouses and hats, like they're ready for Sunday mass. More than a few are visibly armed. Two of the guns are trained on the backs of Jennifer and Anna's heads. They're both on their knees, too, hands bound and eyes blindfolded, too far for him to reach even if he wasn't tied up, too far for him to protect. The sight makes his blood boil and that cuts through the pain of being Here.

Ruber waits patiently for Joe's gaze to return to him. He's managed to position himself so that the Sunshine Motel logo is directly behind him, its chipped yellow rays framing him in a blasphemous mockery of a halo.

"We need the Key, Joe."

A murmur of agreement goes around the circle. Joe says nothing. He's already been over this with Ruber, but the man is too far gone to listen.

Ruber spreads his arms to either side, raises his thready voice to address the assembly.

"This man has attempted to thwart our divine purpose! He has hidden the Key where he thinks no one can ever reach it!" Another murmur in the crowd, this one angry. "But do not fear, my brothers and sisters. Do not fret. The Objects have spoken to me! They have told me that he who hid it, can also reclaim it! All that he needs--" Ruber crouches down to Joe's level, drawing something from his back pocket as he does. "--is this."

The Polaroid thrums at him from between Ruber's thumb and forefinger. Looking into its undeveloped blackness makes Joe's pupils itch. That's a fun new sensation to add to the rest of the cacophony.

He looks into Ruber's eyes instead. Once, not so long ago at all, he'd considered this man a friend.

"If I get you the Key, you let them go, unharmed."

Joe doesn't waste time negotiating for himself. He knows Ruber's little cult is far from done with him. From Ruber's admiring smile, he knows exactly what's on Joe's mind.

"Always so noble, Detective," he says, sincerely. "I give you my word. Do as I ask and no harm will come to Anna or your lady friend."

Joe swallows and jerks his chin toward the Polaroid. "I'll need my hands free."

Ruber's smile becomes a grin. "Margaret, untie him." While the woman steps forward, Ruber turns to his other followers. "Take off their blindfolds. Let them see."

Joe rises to his feet, rubbing the feeling back into his hands. It doesn't help. Every inch of his skin prickles and hums. He turns and looks at Anna and Jennifer again. They both look terrified. Jennifer is enraged by her helplessness. She meets his eyes and gives the slightest shake of her head, but they both know he doesn't have a choice.

"It's gonna be okay," he says, because he has to say something. He turns away again.

Ruber offers him the Polaroid with all the significance of a priest offering communion. Joe takes it without flourish. The nerves in his fingertips go quiet, the Object settling in his grip like a tame animal.

Stepping into the space that would be Room 10 takes an effort of will. Reality vibrates where the place that shouldn't be and never was sits just below or above or outside the place that is. Crossing the threshold gives the unpleasant sensation of stepping onto a moving platform without warning, and Joe has to stop for a second just to regain his equilibrium.

He can feel Ruber at his elbow, feel the Glasses hooked on Ruber's collar, both of them quivering with eagerness. Joe raises the Polaroid. He hears gasps from the congregation as the image forms within its white frame. He's pretty sure he hears someone fall to the ground and begin to loudly weep. It's hard to tell for sure, with the blood rushing so loudly in his ears that he can taste it.

Joe turns, slowly, focused entirely on the golden-cast Room beyond the Polaroid's frame. It's not the same image as before. It's empty, now, the bed stripped, the table clear, most of the furniture gone. The way it Is instead of the way it Was.

There was a desk by the window, once, and that's where the Key belongs. Without the Desk, the Key and the other Objects that it should hold rest instead on the carpet, shining in the perpetual golden sunlight.

Joe kneels, slowly, bringing the frame closer to the Key. Ruber's breath catches.

More gasps erupt as Joe reaches into the Polaroid. His hand contorts through the too-small frame in a way that makes his mind ache when he looks at it. He closes his eyes.

It's... nice. Like plunging his hand into a warm bath. Or just... out of the sensory hell that is his daily reality. Joe feels along the carpet until he finds cool, smooth metal. Closing his fingertips around it, he draws his hand back through the frame.

Ruber stares expectantly as Joe stands, small dark eyes gleaming, a manic smile slowly tugging back his lips.

Joe looks him in the eye, puts the Object in his mouth, and swallows.

Edges catch and scrape in his throat. The taste of metal fills his mouth. He barely manages to suppress a gag, swallows again and forces it the rest of the way down.

It's almost worth it for Ruber's expression of furious disbelief alone. Ruber's mouth works silently around several words before he finally manages a sound. "That," his voice shakes with rage, "was a mistake." He turns to issue an order.

The crack of a gunshot cuts him off, then a second. The weapons pointed at Anna and Jennifer fall from nerveless hands. Joe is already running to them, trusting that the memory-construct the Quarter has raised will cover him.

Lou Destefano always was a crack shot.

----

2. Doorway

The Room is as it always is, stuck in an endless moment, an oasis out of time. Golden light streams in through the windows and softens every edge.

It's quiet in here. Outside, the Objects clamor, their signals a constant chaos that his brain struggles to interpret into sensations. Phantom tastes, sounds, scents, feelings intrude on every moment of his waking life.

But in here -- in here, he can hear himself think. In here, he feels like himself again.

The window slides open under the slightest pressure from his fingertips. A desert breeze catches the light inner curtains and sends them dancing to either side of him. He leans on the sill and closes his eyes. The warm air caresses his face, brings with it the familiar scents of dry grass and asphalt and oil.

The breeze dies down, and a different scent comes to his attention. A whiff of something earthy, musty -- something wrong. Dry rot.

The walls are already starting to decay by the time he turns around. Paint flakes and peels as the boards start to vibrate. The ceiling bows and cracks. A keening sound vibrates up from his feet through his spine and into his ears and he can't tell if it's the sound making the Room shake or if the Room itself is screaming. Wall slats break away, rays of sunlight pouring through with an eager roar, no longer soft and golden but hard and bright, prickling against his skin like they might tear through it and pour into him, too. It's the Objects. The Objects, clamoring, reaching, ripping the world apart to try and get to him--

Hands grab his collar and whip him around. Squinting against the overbearing light, Joe can barely make out Karl Kreutzfeld, frantic and scared, an empty red socket where his right eye should be.

"Make it stop!" Karl screams, he has to scream and Joe can still barely hear him over the cacophony.

"I can't!" Joe can't even hear himself, the vibrations in his head are too loud. "I don't have the Key!"

Maybe he only thinks he says it, maybe Karl can't hear him, or maybe Karl Kreutzfeld is just used to the world changing when he demands it, because Karl just shakes Joe and screams again: "Make it stop!"

Joe opens his mouth to try and yell again but the sunlight reaches sharp, hot fingers into his throat and plunges into his eyes and the world goes white.

Joe wakes up with a gasp.

The room is dark. It's the middle of the night. Joe blinks floating sparks out of his vision and tunes out the whine of the Nail File. Jennifer is beside him, her chest rising and falling in the slow, even rhythm of a sound sleep. Anna's in the other bed. He has to strain but can just barely hear her breathing, too.

He gets up, careful not to disturb either of them, and goes to the bathroom. He only turns the light on once the door is closed.

The nightmares keep getting worse. If he didn't know better, he would say that the Key was angry at being trapped in the Room -- but he does know better. The Objects aren't angry, any more than nitroglycerin is angry. They don't want, any more than a magnet wants. They don't get restless, any more than water flowing through a cracked roof tile is restless.

Aside from him, the Objects are just objects. And yet, in their own undirected non-sentient way, they want, they grow restless, and they are angry. They beat at the edges of his consciousness, and the reality is only marginally more bearable than his nightmares make it out to be.

Joe splashes a handful of lukewarm water over his face. His skin is burning. His reflection looks back at him, pale and gray-tinged and haggard. He realizes, belatedly, that he feels nauseated. That doesn't make sense. An Object shouldn't be able to get sick, should it? His throat feels dry and scratchy, bringing back the image of bright fingers of sunlight tearing their way into him. Drinking a handful of the barely-cool water helps a little but he drinks too fast and starts to cough.

The coughing doesn't stop.

Joe leans over the sink, his arms shaking, as the coughing gets worse. Raspy hacking wracks his body and turns to heaving spasms. He tastes metal and feels a hot scratching in his throat, his stomach lurches as he gags around something hard and sharp and vibrating its way up his esophagus. A pealing note in his ears seems to overtake every other sound.

Finally, with a last retch, the thing inside of him clatters into the sink. He barely hears it over the ringing in his skull.

The spell passes slowly. Joe stays half-bent over the sink, the cool porcelain the only sensation keeping him grounded. The tinnitus recedes first, and he can hear his own breathing again, harsh gulps of air like he's just run a marathon. A soft humming sound makes itself known underneath his gasps.

He opens his eyes, somehow already knowing what he'll see.

The Key gleams up at him from the sink basin and thrums contentedly.

----

3. Conduit

There's five of them, now. Joe and Jennifer, and Howard, and Wally (however reluctantly), and now Lee Bridgewater. She's still not okay, but she's coming to terms with 'not okay' being her new baseline, as long as she can channel her nervous energy into hunting Ruber. That, at least, she and Joe can agree on.

When they need Joe, someone has to stay with Anna. Howard might not seem like the logical choice, but Joe knows that he would die before he let anything happen to her. So when Joe has to deal with something personally, Howard watches Anna.

As they return to their temporary base of operations, Joe almost doesn't notice the first warning sign. He doesn't miss the second: the door is ajar.

The first sign is that Joe can't feel the Pen.

Joe rushes in, gun already in hand. The place is trashed. The scents of blood and gunpowder and burnt flesh mingle in the air. Blood streaks the floor. Howard is splayed out in a pool of red, far, far too much red.

Joe drops to his knees at Howard's side, doing his best to ignore the cool liquid immediately seeping into his jeans. Howard's shirt is saturated and shiny around ragged red-black bullet holes. Joe takes his hand to check for a pulse and Howard coughs wetly, words struggling out on a trickle of blood.

"Joe-- the Order, they-- Anna-- I couldn't stop them-- I'm sorry--"

"Sh-sh-sh, it's okay," Joe says, squeezing with one hand while he checks the wounds with the other. At least three gunshots to the chest. One of them bubbles every time Howard breathes, fast and harsh and shallow. Jennifer tries to apply pressure and Howard gasps and a fresh gout gurgles under her hands.

"Joe, he's lost too much blood," Lee says urgently. "We have to get him to a hospital."

"N-No--" It seems to take every ounce of Howard's energy to shake his head. "Go. Go get Anna. Don't--" He flags, his eyes slipping closed.

"Howard," Joe snaps. Howard's eyes flicker open and fail to focus. "Stay with me. Everyone, get back. Give me some space." Jennifer stares at him. She's the only one who knows what he suspects, what he hasn't had the courage to test, because he doesn't know what it will mean if he's right. Right now, it doesn't matter what it means. "I need space," he repeats softly.

She nods and backs off, joining Lee and Wally behind him. Where he can't accidentally look their way.

Joe closes his eyes and breathes in and lets his mind open. The Objects resonate at him, through him, each of them finding a nerve and plucking it like a harp string. He reaches past those ones. Those are the loose ones, the wild ones, the ones that cry out to be brought home. He shoves those sensations aside and reaches for the ones that are already contentedly humming away within him.

He's been able to hear them since he ditched the Key, but it's taken him a long time to understand what he could do with that, and even longer to work up to trying it.

The contented hum slowly rises, slowly drowning out the sounds of the world as it fills his ears with white noise. Sparks shimmer behind the eyelid of his right eye and send slivers of electricity back into his skull. 

When he opens his eyes, the right iris is blue. The edges of his vision disappear into white static until all he can see is the bulletholes in Howard's flesh. The Eye glows a pale blue as he coaxes out its power. Heal, he pleads, a silent litany, heal, heal, heal. The Eye can do so much harm in an instant if he slips.

It only takes a few moments. The holes knit themselves closed. Howard's breathing eases. A healthy flush creeps back into his skin. He blinks dazedly at the ceiling, sits up, runs a hand over his chest. Rips open his already ruined shirt to find bloody but unblemished flesh.

Joe sits back and buries his face in his shaking hands. Slowly, the static fades, leaving the space behind his eyelids dark and letting him hear again. The room is hushed.

"Did he just--?" Lee whispers.

"Holy shit," Wally whispers back.

Jennifer says nothing, but he can feel her hand hovering over his shoulder, wanting to offer comfort but not wanting to distract his focus.

Only when he's absolutely sure he's not going to accidentally atomize any of the people he cares about, does Joe finally open his eyes.

Howard is still on the floor in front of him, staring at him in open wonder. Relief rushes in to replace the static. Joe grabs his face in bloodied hands and kisses his bloody lips and then leans their foreheads together and just laughs.

Jennifer kneels beside them, one hand squeezing his shoulder, and ruffles Howard's hair. "Glad you're not dead, Weasel."

"Yeah, me too," Howard laughs, still breathless.

Joe feels exhausted, like he could sleep for a week-- but that's going to have to wait. He forces himself shakily to his feet, leaning more on Jennifer than he likes. "Let's go get Anna back."

Howard grins fiercely and takes his hand.

---

Brainstorming Notes:

All three of these theories assume that every Object Karl was carrying ended up back in the Room.

1. The mechanics of this one are pretty straightforward but also not. Since Joe is an Object, he interacts differently with certain other Objects. I figure, why not have his interaction with the Polaroid turn it into a backdoor into the Room? (Yes, the Quarter operating the same way for him was a gamble, but so was the door still being in Karl's office. Joe gambles sometimes.)

This was the first idea I had, and like most first thoughts I feel it's not as strong as it could be. Plus, trying to visualize a grown man's hand fitting through a polaroid frame hurts my brain a little. Plot-wise, though, it's probably the least disruptive way to regain access to the Room.

2. Joe has a connection to the Room more or less literally inside of him which the Objects can pass through, and which he may not be able to consciously control. Based on the vague idea that although the Objects want to come together, they also don't like to stay in one place, and the Key is gonna find a way out one way or another.

This one's the most upsettingly visceral imo which kind of appeals to the horror fan in me. If nothing else, the nightmare in this section is definitely getting worked into any other Joe writing I do.

3. Joe embodies the Room and all of the Objects within it, and can (with difficulty) channel their effects through his own body.

Easily the most overpowered option, especially with the Eye in there, so would require a lot of drawbacks and a lot of careful writing to keep it from bulldozing the plot. On the other hand, I just wanted to write Joe busting out some healing.

[bace-jeleren]

One day, you are approached by three people: Ruber, kaito, and nissa. They all want to get coffee with you, but you can only go with one of them. Who do you grab coffee with?

I DO NOT GRAB COFFEE WITH RUBER!!! RUBER DOESN'T DO COFFEE, IT'S NOT GOING TO BE COFFEE!!! IT'S GOING TO BE MURDER AND I MIGHT CUM SEVERAL TIMES BUT I WILL DIE!!! RUBER IS OUT, WE ARE NOT GETTING COFFEE WITH RUBER ❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️❌️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

Kaito's hot, Kaito's so so so hot, but I'd rather he go out for coffee with The Wanderer, who is also so so so hot, and watch them go on their coffee date from a hidden location. I want to be a fly on the wall in that situation, not in the situation itself. 🤤

I'm an awkward, quiet little fuck in person. Nissa is also an awkward, quiet little fuck. We can enjoy each other's company, quietly and autistically, over coffee. Nissa is the ideal person to enjoy a coffee with, I would love to go out for a coffee with Nissa. 💚

[argentvive]

Stages of Alchemy

In an earlier post I outlined the main way alchemists organized the Opus Alchymicum, in 4, 7, 12, or 14 stages.  

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/argentvive/643426690373173248

As I noted, for writers of poems, drama, and novels, the principal guides are the black/white/red color stages and/or the twelve process stages (”gates”) of George Ripley.  

But of course nothing is so simple.  

To give you an idea of the diversity and complexity of alchemy and its stages. consider this example  from the manuscript Speculum veritatis [The Mirror of Truth], 17th century, Vatican library.  Stanislaus Klossowski di Rola (the son of the artist Balthus) is a massive alchemy enthusiast and like his inspiration, Carl Jung, started rummaging around the monastic and church archives of Europe looking for unknown and unpublished alchemy manuscripts.  He found this one in the Vatican library and published it in 1973 (Alchemy: The Secret Art). 

This illustration shows the alchemical process as a wheel, the opus circulatorium, the “circular work of the elements,” in Lyndy Abraham’s definition in her dictionary.  I wrote about this a little with respect to Daenerys Targaryen’s promise to “break the wheel” in GOT.  I speculated that when Daenerys completed the Great Work, completed all the stages of the wheel, she would achieve the Philosopher’s Stone and break the cycle of oppression and slavery.  That certainly didn’t happen on the show; we’ll see (hopefully!) if it happens in the books.   

On the right is a representation of Sulphur (he holds the symbol for Sulphur in his left hand).  In a post from a couple of years ago I explain why I believe that Daenerys is Sulphur (and thus by definition Sun, fire and air, Red).  In this image, Sulphur is stopping (“fixing”) the wheel with a nail in the stage labeled “Ciner.”, the abbreviation for cineres (ashes), and thus gray.  All the labels are in Latin and abbreviated, but most are easy to figure out.  

To make it even easier, Adam McLean prepared a colored version of the entire image, including the seated guy on the right.  Here’s what I think the 8 stages are. 

1.  Ciner. = Cineres, Ashes, gray

2. Nig. - Niger, black

3. Colores Vary. - Mixed colors (note also the symbol for Mercury)

4. Unlabeled - McLean has colored it orange, not sure why

5. Citrin. / Purpu Obscuri - Citrinus, yellow / purpureus obscurus, “hidden purple”

6. Flau. Obscu / Cauda Pavon. -  Flavus Obscurus, “hidden yellow”  /   cauda pavonis, peacock’s tail

7. Vir. Cerul. /Rub. Palid -  viridis ceruleus, green-blue / ruber pallidus, pale red,  McLean just ignores the “pale red” label and makes the whole section green.  

8. Album - White. Note the crescent moon. 

You can see how the words for the color stages derived from the color words: niger becomes nigredo, the black stage; album becomes albedo, the white stage; citrinus becomes citrinitas, the yellow stage, and ruber becomes rubedo, the red stage.

I would love to find a novel that has all these stages.  Presumably it would be a book published after 1973.  

Green does show up quite a bit in literature, Jaime Lannister as the “green lion,” for example.  And we get living, breathing peacocks from time to time--Norman and Barry in HDM, or the albino peacocks at Malfoy Manor in HP.  A rainbow is a common symbol for peacock; GRRM throws in a rainbow at particularly transformative moments in ASOIAF, as when Jon takes his vows to the Night Watch, for example.  

[rxdhairxdsirxns]

✒ + either Ruber or whichever else of my muses you want tbh, i'm curious,, 👉👈

[ OH BOY HERE WE GO ]

DETAILED HEADCANONS || ACCEPTING

RUBER

----- NO one is quite sure of what happened to Ruber’s magnificent griffon companion, but the ex-knight knows full well. The griffon is still very much alive and well, having survived its quarrel with the two-headed dragon and finished healed from all the burns.

Ruber and his griffon are quite close, despite his noticeably harsh treatment of the creature, at times, and they do have a certain care for one another. The griffon spends most of its time out and about on its own, nowadays, but something tells me that once Ruber learns of a certain maiden’s liking for such beasts, he’ll have to show off his beloved pet. Perhaps he should refresh himself on how to properly ride the beast before that time comes, just in case.

BALTHAZAR BRATT

----- YOU’D have to sneak into this villain’s lair at a very specific time to catch this secret. Most everyone is used to seeing the 80s star with his signature mullet, but that’s after spending a good amount of time in the morning with an absurd amount of hair product. Fresh from a shower, however, his dark locks hang down in a quite attractive, wavy mane.

His hair is quite thick, and when not completely packed with product, is perfect to run your fingers through. Also, don’t tell anyone, but he really enjoys being pampered like that. If you play with his hair in private you’re almost guaranteed to get a little satisfied groan out of him.

DRACULA

----- FOR all this icon does for both human and monsterkind, Drac hardly ever has any time for himself. While he deeply adores his job and working the hotel, he secretly wishes he could have some luxury to himself once in a while. And no, while the cruise was a delight, he’s not referring to that kind of luxury.

Dracula wants to be completely and totally pampered. He wants to be fretted over and massaged and cooed at by someone he adores. He wants to spend a whole day in bed without having to answer phone calls or worry about how the hotel’s being run. Most of all, he just wants that idyllic time with just himself and his beloved, where nothing exists but them and their peace for a while.

MOK SWAGGER

----- WITH his wide array of looks, Mok has never been one to drastically modify his natural appearance. However, he isn’t totally opposed to it, as revealed by the few, small tattoos that decorate his body. They are placed carefully so as to be hidden under most of his outfits, while others are in plain sight but appear invisible to the naked eye.

One of his favorites is one he has on his wrist. Invisible to the naked eye, it glows a rainbow of neon colors beneath of blacklight and forms some kind of symbol that only he knows the meaning of.

[spxcemuses]

RUBER/REISTR RP (continued from @/nefariousknight)

vampiric-bite

It certainly didn’t help Reistr when he had mostly dark clothing on. Yes, he was used to the sun, though where he was from, the sun was often being hidden behind fog, storms, the mountains or snow. Not that he minded. At the push the vampire tensed up for a few heartbeats.

“I find lighter clothing much better than heavier armor, but to each their own.”

He tilted his head to the side, becoming curious. There were others here too? Just how big is this forest? he thought to himself.

“Oh, may I come too? If that’s alright..? I’m not exactly sure where I am.”

A low scoff was given as Reistr had said “to each their own” when it came to each person’s clothing choice. He didn’t really care about it; he wore armor in case enemies were to ambush him or his henchmen. Ruber turned to leave, taking a few steps away before stopping once more. They wanted to come with him? The audacity of this peasant. He should just leave them in the forest on their own devices, but Ruber decided not to. He would only allow the other to come with him on a few conditions.

“ Mnh. I suppose I could take you with me. I need the company and you need the protection. ” “ I’m going to give you a couple of rules. Follow them or I leave you behind. ” “ One. Don’t interfere with my plans. That is my business only. Two. Keep quiet unless you have something useful to say to me. No more smug nonsense. ”

Even if Reistr was or wasn’t being a smart-ass, Ruber wasn’t going to tolerate any of it. He looked up at a patch in the canopy, seeing that the sun was close to noon. Shaking his head, he gestured the other to come with him.  “ Let’s get going now, I don’t have much time. ”

@vampiric-bite

[gwens-fiction]

Re-watched Quest for Camelot tonight. Oh man did Ruber give me ideas and musing for Machioneel for Hidden Earth. I'd also contemplated letting him have a pet griffin too.

[aesthesiamag]

The plumed basilisk (Basiliscus-plumifrons)

The Guiana shield leaf toad (Rhinella lescurei)

Ranitomeya veriablis, Spotted dart frog,Peru

Trioceros jacksonii, Jackson’s horned chameleon

Phyllomedusa bicolor

Cornufer guentheri also known as Triangle Frog

Chalcides sexlineatus, Gran Canaria blue-tailed skink, Gran Canaria island, Canary islands, Spain

Yellow-banded poison dart frog (Dendrobates leucomelas)

Blue rock iguana (Cyclura lewisi)

Red salamander (Pseudotriton ruber)

Serrated casquehead iguana (Laemanctus serratus)

White-lipped island pit viper (Trimeresurus albolabris insularis)

Gekko smithii

Siamese peninsula pit viper (Popeia fucata)

Alligator mississippiensis, Albino alligator, USA

Cameroon dwarf gecko (Lygodactylus conraui)

Two-headed snake (Pantherophis guttata)

Doi Suthep Bent-toed gecko, (Cyrtodactylus doisuthep)

Ahaetulla mysterizand, Malayan vine snake, Malaysia

Leptodactylus laticeps, Coralline frog, Paraguay

Baja blue rock lizard (Petrosaurus thalassinus)

Ahaetulla mysterizand, Malayan vine snake, Malaysia

Mossy frog (Theloderma corticale)

Atheris Hispida

Epipedobates Anthonyi, also known as Anthony’s poison arrow frog

Cold-blooded Creatures: Matthijs Kuijpers Photography

  Matthijs Kuijpers is a Dutch adventurer and photographer. He spent the last 27 years traveling and taking pictures of the most dangerous, surprising and endangered cold blooded animals out there.

Matthijs collected his best shots in his first book: Cold Instinct. In order to make this a reality, he just launched a crowdfunding campaign.

This book is an unparalleled collection of some of the most peculiar species that has ever crawled or slithered on Earth; and some of which are carefully dwelling in the most hidden crevices of the Planet!

H/T: theguardian.com

      Cold-blooded Creatures by Matthijs Kuijpers Photography Cold-blooded Creatures: Matthijs Kuijpers Photography Matthijs Kuijpers is a Dutch adventurer and photographer. He spent the last 27 years traveling and taking pictures of the most dangerous, surprising and endangered cold blooded animals out there.

[2dadsfromaz]

CyberPulse, now in color!

[science-kitty]

Flamingo

The Phoenicopterus ruber is found in the Caribbeans, the Galapagos, and Belize. They lay one egg at a time and the parents keep the egg warm for 30 days. The nest look like mud mounds with a hole at the top.when they are born they aren’t pink. They are small, fluffy, and white.They turn pink by ingesting canthaxanthin through eating blue-green algae and brine shrimp.The knee of the flamingo is hidden by feathers, the joint you see is the ankle joint. Weird right?!

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Chordata

Class: Aves

Order: Phoenicopteriformes

https://archives.sfweekly.com/thesnitch/2014/09/25/awwww-baby-flamingos-born-at-sf-zoo

https://audubonnatureinstitute.org/meet-the-animals/329-caribbean-flamingo

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flamingo

http://www.sciencefocus.com/qa/why-are-flamingos-pink

https://kids.nationalgeographic.com/animals/flamingo/#flamingo-flying.jpg

http://www.softschools.com/facts/animals/flamingo_facts/5/

https://archives.sfweekly.com/thesnitch/2014/09/25/awwww-baby-flamingos-born-at-sf-zoo

https://audubonnatureinstitute.org/meet-the-animals/329-caribbean-flamingo

[bace-jeleren]

You're one of the few reasons I come back to this hellsite. Your content is like finding an oasis in the desert that nobody marked on a map, falling into a hidden pit, then waking up from the impact and finding yourself in a rave with Dionysus himself.

I could very well make a joke about a lot of my content now is just memes and me sexualising Ruber Quest for Camelot as a threat, but honestly I'm tickled you enjoy what I post, regardless of how weird and cringe it can be sometimes.