#like blood from a stone

[feverinfeveroutfic]

”have a cigar”

(drawing by me)

I had found it in the back of the closet of my new bedroom. Sure, Alex brought out the pizza peel and the roasting buds for a good time and a half, but I knew when to snoop and take my time out with the back of the closet. I knew that he and I could get down with it, but I had an ace up my sleeve that he never saw coming before, even if he never really had the chance to see it for himself.

On that particular morning, I found myself alone in the house as the two of them had headed out for another neighborhood wedding. At that point, I could let myself into any part of their house as I liked: I saved their asses and thus, I could let myself into any part of the house, barring that I cleaned up after myself. They had plenty to worry about as is, and they needn’t worry about someone like me leaving something behind in my wake.

I could go into their bedroom and take my spot on the edge of Chuck’s bed, all just to feel the shape of him there on the side of the mattress. It was moments like that in which I wished for some way to break through the royalty because I knew none of them and none of us wanted to be hitched up like this.

There was a point in which I lay down flat on my back, right in the spot on the mattress, the one I knew Chuck lay in for the night, and I closed my eyes. I yearned to feel him, to feel my soulmate, even more than I had known from before, and more so when I folded my hands over my chest. It was as if I could feel his heart just by laying there in his spot.

I could sense a brief moment coming up for the both of us: when they walked in through that door downstairs, Chuck would find his way back up to the bedroom for a moment alone, and Alex would go off into a room of his own as well. The two of them lived one another, but they both relished their alone time.

And yet, I knew that if I lay there in the bed, there was no way that I could naturally lead myself into a moment with Chuck. At least not with Alex there with him.

I opened my eyes and gazed up at the ceiling over me.

Something to surprise him.

There had to be something in order to surprise him when they returned home. There had to be something in order to bring him closer to me. I was a simple boy but I was alone, and I had the markings on me to prove it to him as well.

I climbed off the bed and padded back into the hallway: the house still remained silent even as I wandered on back over to my room. To reach down within me to find the right answer for it all.

I ran my hands down the seat of my pants: I wore nothing but blue jeans for the day, blue jeans and bare feet. I had to do more than mere blue jeans and bare feet.

I kept the door open as I delved through the closet for something, anything, anything that caught my eye. I looked on at my raincoat, a long black coat that extended down to my knees, even though it wasn’t as cold that day. Something bright shimmered behind one of the long-sleeved shirts that Chuck had gotten for me.

It was consisted of black and red stretchy nylon, complete with a stripe of fishnet mesh down the sides of the hips.

It was such a dumb idea, but I chuckled to myself when I thought about it.

I changed out of my clothes and put it on. It fit me so well, like such a glove.

I wanted to parade around the house with it on, but not with Alex around. And I heard the door open and close right then so I had to think in a haste.

Careful not to let it bunch up around my crotch and my ass, I put my pants on followed by my shirt. By my surprise, it stayed fitted to my body even with my clothes on over it.

I made my way down the stairs right as Alex breezed into the kitchen for something. Chuck turned his attention to me, and all the while, he showed me a little smile: those eyes as bright and luminous as the twilight sky, and his skin as rich and brown as the darkest chocolate I could ever possibly dream of.

“What’s all this?” he asked me.

“What’s all what?” I shook my head and tucked my hands into my pockets.

“Coming up to me like you have something to tell me,” he answered as he ran his fingers through his rich dark molasses-colored waves.

“I just wanna be with you for a second,” I confessed to him. He hooded his eyes at me. My heart pounded in my chest.

“You wanna go and chill in the next room?”

“What about Alex?” I asked him in a hushed whisper.

“Don’t worry about him—he’s got plans of his own.” He flashed me a wink, and he set a hand on my shoulder to guide me away from the front door and the entrance to the kitchen. We strode on over to the hallway under the stairs, but before we could head on to the back of the house, he showed me the cupboard door under the steps. He reached past me for the rim of the door, and I was shown a small cupboard about the size of a broom closet under the steps. Chuck then reached into his back pocket for something, and he showed me his black ball cap with a silken red interior.

Before he could come inside himself, I reached up and tugged on the chain that dangled down from the ceiling. Pale yellow light washed over us, and I pressed myself against the wall opposite from the door. He sealed us in there, complete with another run of his fingers through his hair. Nothing in there but a trio of shelves and a table with a pair of accompanying stools.

“Have a seat,” he coaxed me, and I was quick to sink onto the stool closest to me. The stocking rode up in my crotch and up my ass, but no way could I let him see me like that, however.

“Care for a glass of wine?” he offered me.

“Chuck, please. You know I don’t drink.”

“Oh, come on. You know you want some wine, Joey.”

I pursed my lips at that. The stocking had lodged itself between my crotch and my thigh, and it was stuck in my ass as well. He cocked his head to the side at the sight of me.

“You okay?” he asked me, slightly puzzled.

“Never better,” I promised him.

“You look like you have ants in your pants, though. You’re sitting like it.”

I let my eyes wander to the door itself: he had closed it all the way, meaning Alex was oblivious to us.

“Okay, fine.” I stood to my feet and unzipped my jeans. I was commando underneath, all for him. Chuck nudged the bill of his cap up for a better look at me: those luminous eyes lit up as if we were entrenched in total darkness and he bestowed me with the only way out of there.

“Goddamn, where’d you find that?” he asked me in a hushed voice.

“I found it in your closet,” I confessed to him as I took off my shirt and slung it over my shoulder as if I was stripping for him. Somewhere in the house was that stripper pole. But I had my own ass and my long hair. I turned around for him to see the shape of my body from behind.

“You really trying to get yourself killed, aren’t you?” he teased me, and he reached out and squeezed my ass with both hands. I pressed myself against the wall, to which he followed suit right behind me. I could feel him right inside of my ass, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. He raked his fingers through my hair, and he dropped his hands down to my hips as if he was feeling the stocking as well as the shape of my body. It sent a chill up my spine, and I gasped as a result.

He kissed my neck, and I showed him my tongue as if to further tease him. He brought his hand down in front of my belly to my belt and then over to my left hip as if to hold me close to him.

I held onto his wrist to steady him, to which he gasped in my ear.

We held still there before the wall.

I guided his hand down to my crotch. His fingers spread over the fabric, and I could feel him on me. I wanted him to touch me through the fabric, through the stocking.

Chuck treated me to a gentle whimper right into my ear, and more so when I guided the palm of his hand right down onto my tip. I could already feel myself firming up by the mere thought alone. I closed my eyes when he curled his fingers over me.

“There’s a hell, I have seen it,” he whispered right into my ear.

“There is a heaven, let’s keep it a secret,” I whispered back to him, and he tightened his grip on me. I never wanted to lose this feeling, and I never wanted to leave that cupboard, either.

[josiebelladonna]

kinktober 2023

my second time and i’m about… 10000000x more insecure in my sexuality 😪. this event and its interactions are for 18+ readers only. please please please please pay attention to the content and trigger warnings; these fics will be based on my current flagship fics, as the seasons grey, like blood from a stone, eerie inhabitants, and love is not enough:

seasons grey is a university au with a teacher-student dynamic at its core that’s as plump and ripe as an apple off the branch;

blood from a stone is a royalty/soulmate au that’s just based out of my own female gaze;

eerie inhabitants is a REALLY VIOLENT vampire au that i’m bringing back from the dead just for spooky season;

and love is not enough is a prostitute/street walker au that carries a bottle of hooch and lays on the ground with no bra on.

all four stories are sweet and emotional but also erotic because they pertain to my own personal sexuality (hence why i’m very nervous and even awkward saying this). nevertheless, please be advised!

A/N: *sigh* okay. i’m going to be honest with all of you, sexuality is a very delicate subject for me and it’s a daily battle for me, grappling with it in the goal to see it as this natural thing. just thinking about it makes me so… dirty and anxious and uncomfortable and deeply ashamed and misty-eyed and frustrated and kind of angry. i participated in kinktober last year and had some fun, and yet i struggled with feeling comfortable: now i feel like i’m sitting on gravel that’s been out in the sun. i’m not this confident, voluptuous vixen who is eager to share her fantasies with all of you: i’m a raw stinky-ass, dirty-ass troll under the bridge who feels the words “confident”, “voluptuous”, and “vixen” should come nowhere near me. i’m going to tell you this now, i am quite wordy, because that’s just how i roll with erotic writing, and i always feel that i have no right to feel sexy.

really, please be patient with me and try to enjoy. i won’t blame you if you cringe at my stories and laugh at it rather than with it.

these prompts are from @flightlessangelwings and @the-purity-pen, the latter of whom i remember from last year (i’ll try to remember the #fawktober tag 😅🔥)

i’m just going to give away the titles and the ships: i’ll leave the prompts themselves as a surprise for you.

“Conundrum” — Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Ashes to Ashes” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“A Cup of Tea” — Joey/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks” — Eric/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Rain” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Rocky Mountains” — Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Shadows of the Night” — Joey/Chuck + Alex/Chuck + Chuck/Cliff (lol) (Like Blood from a Stone)

“3rd Floor” — Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Master of the House” — Alex/Q (Love Is Not Enough)

“Vampires Will Never Hurt You” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Different Colors Made of Tears” — Joey/Chuck + Eric/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Death by Chocolate” — Alex/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Devil’s Haircut” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“I Could Have Lied” — Eric/Lilian + Mark/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Dirty Window” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Coriander” — Alex/Chuck/Joey (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Lip Gloss” — Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Golden Ratio” — Alex/Lilian + Mark/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Neon Moon” — Alex/Q/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Django Tango” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Salt the Wound” — Chuck/Cliff (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Doce Com Doce” — Alex/Jay (Love Is Not Enough)

“Icicle” — Mark/Abby + Rob/Abby (Eerie Inhabitants)

“One of These Nights” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Spirits in the Mist” — Eric/Louie (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Trial By Fire” — Alex/Q (Love Is Not Enough)

“7” — Alex/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

“Delta of Venus” — Joey/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Only These Words” — Eric/Abby + Alex/Lilian (Eerie Inhabitants)

“Call Me By Your Name” — Alex/Chuck/Chuck (Like Blood from a Stone)

“Fairies Wear Boots” — Alex/Christine + Eric/Christine (As the Seasons Grey)

[bunglehead]

and there's a man, maybe ten years older than you,  with eyes like rough-cut pine and sunset

he notices you don't smoke, so he tries to stay downwind from you so he doesn’t exhale in your face. he tells you “it's okay, bud,” “we'll get through this and be better when we leave this place than it was when we got here." and he's telling you the truth and you believe him.

[nuagederose]

r.i.p. one of my angels, chuck schuldiner

like a flash of light in an endless night 🖤

ig: badmotorartist 

[loremaster-lavellan]

I have achieved approximately 8 false starts on part 2 of The Snow Prince.

I love writing.

[tumbly-s]

Trigun body horror week day 5 — LIMBS

[raccoonscity]

Make Me Choose: Most Underrated Character → Josh Stone (asked by @sangdenuit)

[jasvi-art]

things got heated -- with a boy.

[kellterntempest]

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face

Stone showing up in business casual one day and Robotnik has a literal heart attack

alternate:

happy bisexual visibility day!

[feverinfeveroutfic]

”django tango”

wrote this back on thursday when i had a break and i was thinking about like blood from a stone ❤️‍🔥🩸💋

The sun hit his head and shoulders as he stood in between the two columns of the entryway to the warehouse. I had always been captivated by the shape and tightness of those lush curls, especially when they began to grow so long down past his shoulders. I watched him from clear across the pavement, the way that he acted over there with his band and their fitted black leather around their lanky little bodies.

I had my eye on them like a rich bastard wringing his hands at a bunch of golden bars, but on him in particular. He was like the Hope Diamond, as those eyes gazed out as if he was staring straight into my soul and preparing to take me under. At some point, he had apparently dyed his gray sliver in favor of rich black, but I knew those eyes and that olive skin anywhere. It was like meeting a part of my soul again.

The interesting thing about was I had only met him once before, and that was about three weeks ago: they were playing in some club not too far from where I lived in Orlando, and I happened to catch them after they had taken the stage following Metallica. I had only attended that show to witness them, but to watch those five men up there was something that I could resist for myself.

I had my eye on him in particular, the way that his long black hair spread behind him as if he stood in the sweetest winds from an incoming band of a hurricane, the lanky shape of his body and the way that his hips seemed a bit more prominent than the rest of him. His fingers wandered about the fretboard of his guitar as if it had grown out of his body and became just another appendage for him: those hands, in all their lanky might, complete with that spiderweb of veins near his wrists as they wandered all the way down to his elbows, made me fantasize about anything and everything he could possibly do for me.

I had spent the last few months fighting with my girlfriend and yet there seemed to be no end in sight for us at all, and thus, I welcomed the sight of him with open arms. I had never seen a boy so gorgeous before, even in all my years down there in Florida away from Long Island.

He was one of those boys who looked a lot older than he was, mainly because of the streak on his head but also from the maturity he had up there. It was something that I wanted to see more of in my own band, with the proverbial revolving door behind me.

I had made my way up to the stage at one point, and right as he was ripping out a solo no less: I watched him bow his head and let the guitar body rest against his thigh and his hip. His hair cascaded down his arm and his chest like water; I was close enough so he could look down and see me even through the darkness of the pit around me. Behind me, a mosh pit was beginning to form, but I had my attention fixed onto him. He gave his hair a toss back with the flick of his head, and it was at that moment that I could see his whole raw face, not obscured by his hair.

Even with the slight milkiness to his complexion, I could tell he wasn't a white boy. Those thick eyebrows, that bulbous tip of the nose... all he lacked was a Magen David wrapped around his neck. I licked my lips at the sight of him even as it seemed as though he had his attention fully fixated on his pick and the music all around him: at one point, he raised his gaze and locked eyes with me for a good long moment. He flicked an eyebrow at me, followed by a puckering of his lips.

If I could only figure him out right then. There had to be a way back to him, a way to crack into his mind without any questions asked.

I spotted the entrance over to the backstage area on the other side of the stage itself, and I hoped that I would be able to meet him back there. I lingered off to the side with a small stack of amps: I couldn’t believe how easy it was for me to hunker down back there, especially when I knew how difficult it was for fans to even catch up with me following a gig. His band filed off the stage, one after the other, whereby he returned at the rear and with his hair sprawled all around his neck and shoulders.

“Well, hi,” he greeted me, slightly out of breath; and yet his skin had not a single bead of sweat to be found anywhere. He looked as though he’d been sitting in a warm room this whole entire time.

“Hi there,” I returned the favor to him, and I ran my fingers through the curls on the side of my head. He showed me a little smile as he breezed past me to the shelf right behind me; I followed him there only to find that they had a coffee maker as well as a jug of what appeared to be mulled wine and a pair of accompanying ceramic cups.

“Care for a cup of coffee or something?” he offered to me with a slight squint to his eyes.

“A bit of coffee would be nice,” I said to him. I watched his every move, from the way that he cradled the mug inside of his hand to the way he poured the coffee out from the carafe: it was like watching water flow out from under dark vines, as his hair flowed all around his back and shoulders.

“Care for some cream?” he offered me, and he never changed his expression for a second, as if he was in fact seducing me.

“Just a little kiss of cream,” I replied in a small voice. A little caress of the cream deep inside my coffee. He stirred it for me and handed it over to me so he could serve himself a cup.

I lingered right across from him as he turned around and faced me with his eyelids hooded.

“You’re from… Death, right?” he asked me, slightly reluctant.

“Yeah.” I paused for a second with my mug nestled in between my hands as if I was offering him a chalice. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen you in San Francisco,” he replied. “You hung out with Jeff and the guys from Possessed in Ruthie’s. I was on the other side of the room. I recognize your curly hair.”

“What, and you didn’t say ‘hi’?” I teased him, to which he chuckled.

“I had to go,” he explained. “I had to get my ass back home or my parents would have a heart attack at the same time. But I do recognize you, though.” He leaned against the edge of the table with his legs crossed and his hips cocked out a bit: he held the mug up to his cherry lips as if he was about to take a sip, but he never did, however. He instead locked eyes with me, those bright luminous eyes that shone through the dark as if to light my way through the throes of infinity.

I could feel something in there, something that I never thought I would ever feel before with anyone, especially with him. He licked his lips and took a small sip of his coffee. Just the way he drank it down was enough to send a chill down my spine, and such that I nearly dropped my mug without even thinking about it.

He then closed his eyes and shook his head about at the taste of the coffee.

“Delicious?” I asked him.

“Very much so,” he said. “Warm and earthy.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip and took a deep drink of my coffee. It was nice and warm, and I couldn’t help but feel something when I looked long and hard at him. I wasn’t going to forget him, that was for certain,

And there I was, not too far from him and the band stood before him as if they stood for a modeling show all together. Meanwhile, we had a photoshoot about a block away from there, an all important one because we had yet another lineup change and I wasn't too keen on the label being what they were. Another photoshoot for another few bucks, I supposed.

But it was a surprise to see him over there by the warehouse, where we were supposed to record the album as well. The wind made his hair twirl and billow about behind his head as if he was posing for a modeling job at some sexy magazine. He tucked his hands into his jean pockets and tugged his jeans down a bit to show off a small sliver of skin from under the hem.

Something so cute about him, even when I thought about all of the seductive glances he flicked over to me.

He set one foot up onto the concrete beam before them, and he squinted in the light of the sun as it washed clean over his face. The four men next to him all let their hair fly all around them, as if they all modeled for some erotic magazine.

I had to go over there to talk to them, but especially to him. I felt something with him, something that I wanted to investigate and explore with him right there right next to me.

The five of them stood there like a row of marble statues, all of them right before the photographer who waved at them, and they all relaxed as a result. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and let it cascade all around his upper back and shoulders like water. His lips were full and sensual, perfect for kisses and as ripe and smooth as cherries. Even from a distance, I could see him in all of his full, voluptuous glory.

They took another few photographs before they relaxed and lingered back away from the arches.

I had to find my way over to him. I had to come close to him again, and that time, I had to strip away all of my prejudices and all of his prejudices as well. There was something between us, something that needed to give way. It was going to drive me crazy otherwise.

I spotted a trail over to the door to the building, and I knew I was going to have to make this quick.

My band was about to head in for a photoshoot, but I knew for a fact that it was going to take us a couple of hours. A couple of hours was more than enough for me: I peered over my shoulder to make sure I could buy myself some time. I returned to them and made a run for it.

I scurried over to that doorway and leaned my back to the wall behind me so no one would have to see me back there. I held still lest the breeze flutter my hair about, and then I made my way over to the doorway itself. I stood there with my hands on the actual door frame as if I awaited taking my prince home with me.

My prince awaited me upstairs. My prince awaited me as if he needed to be saved from his own comeuppance.

I ran my fingers through my curls and let them flutter about the crown of my head, and then I hurried up the stairs as if I was leading a march of sorts.

The five of them looked to be preparing to leave the building, but I had to make my move on him, though. He turned in my direction, right as a breeze welled up and let tendrils of his inky black hair fly up around his head. He showed me an unsure smile, accentuated by the sunlight that cast in through the arches next to them. He was undoubtedly the odd man out, just by the mere presence of the gray streak upon his head alone.

I always had a thing for the oddballs, the proverbial aliens, the ones who never fully walked congealed with their chosen crowd. Three of them laughed about something as if they were all brothers, but he lingered off to the side, this little wallflower with the minute plume of gray in his hair. I scurried over to him, right as he showed me a little smile, which in turn brought a twinkle to his eye and a slight roundness to his cheekbones.

“Hey,” he greeted me; his voice was low and round, and yet I could hear him talk dirty to me whenever he felt like it. He was sensual, and more so when he unzipped his jacket and showed off his Gary Moore shirt to me. The bottom hem of his shirt had raised off the top of his pants to show off a strip of creamy smooth skin on his waist. I nibbled on my bottom lip: I could not take my eyes off of him, right there in front of me.

“You’ve got a good scene here, big fella,” I told him.

“I try my best,” he assured me as he nudged a lock of hair back from the side of his face. “It was suggested that we come here for the photoshoot, so… here we are.” Another gust of wind came up next to us and billowed our hair about some more; a cloud of fine cement dust kicked up off to the left of us, such that he inched away from there with a wave of his hand before his face.

“It’s awfully dusty,” I told him with a quick glimpse around the big spacious room around us. “You should be where my band is going to be for the next few hours right across the street.”

“Yeah, let’s go where it’s not so windy,” he suggested to me, and as we were walking out of there, he said the same thing to those three guys there; one of them flashed us both a thumbs up. We headed back downstairs to the doorway below, but before I could lead him out of there, I stopped him right in his tracks so I could take a single look out to the street.

“I'm actually not supposed to be over here,” I told him in a low voice.

“Bad boy, wandering off from the group,” he teased me, to which I cracked him a mischievous grin.

“Hey, you're the bad boy,” I retorted. “Pulling me from the crowd.”

“You wandered up to me like flies on shit,” he said, and I took a peek around the corner to make sure no one was across the street. The coast was clear, and I gestured for him to follow me. It was amazing how his band just let us go and hang out for a while, unless they were done for the day: I doubted it, but I had my guess, though.

He tucked his hands into his snug jean pockets, and he let his long dark hair stream behind him with the wind: his bangs fluttered into his eyes; with the hem of shirt as short as it was, he really looked like a young boy.

“You and I should do something together,” he suggested.

“Like what?” I asked him as I nudged a lock of hair back from the side of my face to right behind my ear.

“Oh, you know, we should have a little bit of fun,” he replied, to which he showed me his tongue. “You know, something more than this and what we had the first time we met each other.”

“Like what?” I repeated. “A round of ice cream and then lay out under the stars with our bellies hanging out?”

He chuckled at that, and his laughter sounded so joyous and hearty, as if it really did come straight from his smooth svelte little belly.

“Well, I figure that you and I have plenty of time...” And his voice trailed off; he turned his attention over to the stretch of trees on the far side of the grass before us.

“We should go over there and jack off together,” he suggested to me.

“Jack off after we've had a couple of guzzles from the bottle?” I offered him a little gesture to my mouth, and he showed me that little grin.

“We don't have anything to drink, though,” he pointed out.

“You wanna play around and have a few brewskies?” I suggested. “You know, I can get us a couple of beers if you'd like. I'm old enough to buy us some juice.”

“Are you, now?” he asked me.

“Indeed I am. Although if I'm honest, I have a hard time seeing you faking an ID.”

“With this thing, you have no idea the degree of the shit I can get away with,” he quipped with a gesture to the plume of gray upon his head. “People always think I'm way older just on my appearance alone.”

“Something really dangerous about that.”

“Again, you have no idea. And while it makes me old, it makes me feel old, too. You know, a nineteen-year-old boy should look and feel nineteen, not thirty two.”

He then sighed through his nose and gave his hair a little toss back before he returned to me.

“Do you ever feel ugly?” he continued. “Like you aren't worth the time and effort from another person?”

“All the time,” I said with a shake of my head. “All the time. I often feel like no one could ever love my body or at the very least appreciate it from afar. Helps that I had a bad breakup earlier this year, too.”

“It's funny because... I did, too,” he replied. “Broke up with my girlfriend of nearly seven months. It was particularly devastating to me because I had never really had a relationship before.”

“Wow,” I remarked.

“I'm an errant fleeting contradiction,” he confessed with a shake of his head.

“If it makes you feel any better, I feel that way, too,” I pointed out as we crossed the grass over to the trees. From there, I could tell that they looked out to the cold bay waters, and there was a spot in between the trees for us to hang out in and have a moment to ourselves. I nibbled on my bottom lip as I thought of doing something there with him. He was silent as we reached the trees and the sweet caress of the shade.

“Okay, so how do you wanna do this?” I asked him. “You wanna just... do it yourself or would you like me to join you?”

“Join me?” He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. Have you ever done that before?”

“Actually, yes, believe it or not.”

“Care to share?” I offered him, and I gestured for him to have a seat down on the grass. He took his spot there under the tree with his legs spread out and the bottom hem of his shirt only just kissing the top of his jeans: a slender boy but he had just the tiniest bit extra flesh on his body, which I liked quite a bit. I took my seat next to him there on the grass, and I spread my legs out before me as if I was about to have a moment myself.

“The first time I did it with Eric and Lou, the three of us sat back to back,” he told me, and I looked over at him, baffled.

“Back to back?” I demanded. “What's so hot about that?”

“It actually was hot!” he declared. “The three of us kinda... leaned back like you're doing right now. Like when you get all hot and bothered and you feel like your pants are getting a little too tight.” I leaned back towards the trunk of the tree behind us and spread my legs; he leaned in closer to me so we touched shoulders with each other.

“So, you were leaning up against each other and tugging on the hoses and—”

“It was just the thought of being there,” he explained. “The thought of having my back to them both, and the soft little whimpers they gave to me, like I remember Eric breathing harder but there was something so titillating about it all.”

“What was the other guy doing?”

“Who, Lou?”

“Yeah.”

“He was sticking his tongue out like a dog,” he replied. “I thought of asking him to wrap around my dick but the thought escaped me almost immediately.”

“So, we get going and maybe—you wanna—?” I offered him.

“If you'd like,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a lopsided little grin on his face. I brought my gaze up to the crown of his head.

“By the way... let me just say that I absolutely love how curly and kinky your hair is,” I confessed.

“It's what I get for being Ashkenazi,” he replied.

“Hey, me, too! L'chaim!” And I raised my fist to him so he could bump the backs of my knuckles.

“To life,” he said, and then he unzipped his pants.

“Oh, you wanna get down to it?” I asked him, and I inched my legs away from him so we could somewhat have our backs to each other. There was something interesting about it, the fact that we were outside in broad daylight with nothing more than trees and bushes to act as our protection from any wandering eyes and the fact that we both had a great deal of time to have together. There was also the fact that it was just the two of us there out in nature.

“It's either now or never, my brother,” he whispered to me.

“It's like the pressure just builds,” I said with a chuckle; I unzipped my jeans. Part of me wanted to take them off all the way, but I had no idea if someone could stumble upon us and see us fucking in the bushes.

“The smoker you drink, the drunker you smoke,” he chided. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him use both hands on himself. I leaned up against his shoulder blade and the side of his back to steady myself; for me, all I needed was the flick of my wrist and the work of one hand and two fingers to get myself going. And yet, even though it was so easy for me, I still felt like there was something else that needed to be done. The top of my pants hugged my hips, and thus, not a lot of room for me to grow.

We were outside, out in broad daylight with the breeze blowing over our skin, but I had the itch I couldn't scratch for myself.

I sighed through my nose and I lifted my hips off the grass a bit. I nudged my pants down my hips.

That felt better. Now I could do it a great deal right then.

“Yeah, there we go,” he grunted out, and then he gasped. Another lap of the breeze swept over us, which in turn sent a chill up my spine, which in turn sent more feeling down below my belt. I stuck the tip of my pink finger into the hole, and the rough feeling of the callus on my skin tickled me so much.

He gasped again, and that time he leaned his head onto my shoulder. I closed my eyes and let the feeling wash over me.

We both surrendered. He was doing it to himself, and I was doing it to myself.

I was cold, but I was warm at the same time. He breathed into my ear; I looked over at him to see that he had grown so big and full. I licked my lips and brought my head down onto his lap.

His skin was warm and smooth, even sweet like the taste of rugelach straight out of the oven. I wrapped my tongue around his shaft like that of a snake; he gasped again, and that time he followed it up with a low moan. We were outside, and thus the noise of the outside acted as our safeguard against any passersby that could possibly hear us there.

I licked on him, all the way up the side of his shaft to his head. He tasted so good, and I knew he was loving every second of it: at one point, I opened my eyes to see his eyes closed and his lips parted in utmost euphoria.

I was going to make him come. We had gotten each other started, and now I was going to finish it.

I put my lips around him and I sucked on him as if we were going out of style. I moved in as deep as I could on him, to the point the tip nearly hit the back of my throat.

I did it a second time, that time with a bit of teeth, and that made him open his mouth all the way as if to yelp out, but he never did. Instead, I tasted something else on the back of my tongue, and I swallowed it down. I let go of him and ran my tongue all around the rim of my mouth to rid of anything extraneous, and then I leaned into his face for a kiss on those full lips of his.

“Mmm, you’re very sexy,” I told him as I stroked my fingers through his hair.

“You know, I try my best,” he replied with a smirk on his face and a slight hooding to his eyes. “I think I hear people coming.”

“Let 'em look, big boy,” I teased him with another kiss.

And I was being serious about that.

[josiebelladonna]

i feel like i just discovered plutonium (blood from a stone has been up since last august but it’s really starting to pick up steam now 🔥 same with blood & chocolate, which i actually started last march and breathed new life into it back around halloween). interesting how there’s five, too, given testament and anthrax are both quintets.

like… sunburn: louie/danny love is not enough: alex/joey seasons grey: chuck/scott blood from a stone: greg/charlie blood & chocolate: eric/frankie

i also wonder just how much of this is intentional, too, given ao3 doesn’t have an algorithm and everything.

[outletcrash]

My poison ivy! I'm extremely proud of this. backstory under the cut :)

its been in the back of my head that ivy is indian since forever. i literally have no clue why its just There. she's tamil specifically, because i have favoritism regarding the script its written with.. it tickles my brain...

anyways heres my Poison Ivy: Origins comic i made last night in like 3 hours.

(theres a section here on her early life and the backstory of her parents that im still workshopping. basically she was a bastard child that only her mom supported and they left for gotham)

Bhavani got a job as an accountant for a law firm on recommendation from an uncle who had a company that worked in Gotham (he was kinder to the pair). She was always gifted in math. Bhavani raised her daughter the best way she knew how, even without the support of her family. 

Pamela (now nicknamed Ivy due to multiple kids misreading her last name as Ivy. And she was very nature-focused even as a kid, digging in the dirt and identifying different kinds of trees using books she got at the Gotham Library with her mother) excelled in school, surpassing most of her peers. The pursuit of knowledge was the one thing she enjoyed. Her classmates were sticky and loud and irritating, and when she wasn’t ignoring them she was tying their shoelaces together as revenge for talking too loud during quiet time. She managed to make just enough casual friends to not worry her mother too deeply, but this was the start of a downward spiral.

She lost friends, and not many could take on the effort of befriending her. She lost herself in biology, the study of life. Especially plants and conservation. Plants were just so… simple, compared to human society. But their structures and functions and genetics were fascinating. She skipped grades to take higher-level classes on genetics. Her grades were phenomenal but her social skills were extremely underdeveloped. Not like Ivy cared. Humans were a plague on this earth, pumping the atmosphere with CO2 and poisoning rivers and cutting down forests. In her mind, they did nothing but harm the serenity of nature she so cherished. 

After graduating with a PHD and doctorate, she got a job as a genetic engineer. She studied alternative ways to help regrow ecosystems after deforestation. Her Gotham University coworkers were wary around Ivy. She was a woman none of them knew anything about, who would say ecoterrorist-aligned comments offhandedly the few times she ever spoke. 

Ivy was working on a genetically engineered plant on the day of the accident. It was designed to nurture plant species by sending chemical signals, and it took in energy through waste products left by deforestation and manufacturing. At least, in theory. 

Ivy was working all alone in the lab at 2am. She hadn’t slept for hours, she was so close to her breakthrough. She was so close to making those billionaire bastards pay for what they did to the earth. She wasn’t wearing proper safety equipment nor using proper containment procedures during the incident. And as such, she was infected. The plant didn’t just take in waste material, it took in living flesh. Ivy’s cells were transformed in a gruesome fashion, her entire genetic code was re-written as it spread through her body. Her skin was green and her lab coat was bloody. Her newly-red hair flowed behind her as she escaped the lab, running through university grounds. Each footstep brought grass and dandelions cracking through the concrete in full bloom. Trees and grass grew to get closer to her, reaching for her. 

Ivys powers were completely out of control. She was crying and hyperventilating as her mind was warped. It had given her a need for flesh. When she made it to Robinson park, she couldn’t overcome the primal instinct. Plants still crawling at her ankles, and she killed a squirrel with her bare hands and ate it raw. This only fueled her fractured mind to want more. Ivy's first ever murder was a pedestrian, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He tried to flee when he saw a bloody green woman with a squirrel carcass in her mouth, but it was to no avail. He was strangled to death with poison ivy vines, and eaten. 

Finally, the primal instinct was satiated. Ivy escaped to a warehouse in the industrial district of Old Gotham. She tended to her injuries as best she could, soon discovering she had healing abilities. The injuries from her being torn apart had already mostly healed. She slept on an old couch, dreaming about what she could use these powers for. 

When the news broke on the mysterious and grisly death of a random pedestrian, the media was all over it. Since he was killed by poison ivy, and from security footage the culprit was seemingly a woman, the media dubbed her Poison Ivy. Many believed it wasn’t possible, and that the footage was faked, but the GCPD was stumped. 

Batman looked through the footage and, by process of elimination (matching the appearances of the scientists who had access to the laboratory, keycard scanners throughout that day and evening, as well as their known affiliations and potential criminal history. Two of them did deal weed but it was nonviolent and they didn’t match the woman in the tapes.) 

Dr. Pamela Iyer was the clear suspect. She matched the woman's appearance (besides the green skin and hair, she was a tall woman with long straight hair and a flat nose.) Batman interviewed her coworkers and found she had a history of being antisocial with eco terrorist beliefs. None of them knew where she lived, however. And when the bat interviewed her mother (the only person her coworkers had ever heard her speak to in a positive light) she was very concerned. Suspicious of Batman, clearly, but worried for her precious daughter's well being. She said that Pamela had always loved being near nature, and that she didn’t care for the quality of structure she had to stay in. But other than that, her mother couldn't help. She does bring out the intimidating motherly stare at Batman, making him promise to bring her daughter home safely. 

From here, Batman goes on a search. He prowls rooftops and streets and uses the grappling hook for fast travel. All while monitoring city-wide security cameras (thanks Alfred!) and paying attention to police radio. He stops muggings and thefts and helps get a cat out of a tree as he scans Old Gotham. 

He came to the conclusion Poison Ivy must be in Old Gotham due to damage on the Robinson Park Bridge, connecting Somerset with the southern island. The damage matched with what had been seen on the sidewalks and streets near the University and the scene of the crime. Dandelions and crabgrass taking the shape of human footprints, cracking through concrete. Batman notices some trees down a certain alleyway in the east streets are warped inwards. Very similar to the trees in the park and university. He follows the unusual growth pattern of the trees, like they were hands outstretching to reach a light source. 

There, he finds an old warehouse. He scales the building with a grappling hook, not wanting to be ambushed on the lower levels if he enters on the boarded up front door.  Entering through an old broken skylight, he finds what must've been a long abandoned drug dealer hideout covered in fresh blood. Very, very carefully, he examines the scene. But there's nobody there. She just got away, her blood on the rotting old sofa is still warm. He also notes three strands of long red hair, which he places in crime scene baggies for DNA analysis. 

His current theory is that the doctor was mutated by her own research. He read her notes and the plant she was experimenting with was extremely dangerous. And the security footage (before it cut out during what he believes was the time of the accident) showed her using improper safety equipment. 

He’s on patrol for hours, but can’t find any sign of her. 

That night, Bruce synthesizes a pesticide-like chemical that could prevent Ivy's powers. However, he talks to Alfred about how the plant would adapt to it almost like a bacteria, and that it might not be effective more than once. 

The next morning Bruce Wayne is scheduled for a charity event. Many rich people are there tied to a business venture Wayne was not aware of. The event was for funding for healthcare systems in Gotham. Little does he know, this is the exact place Ivy plans to attack. She’s hated the rich for years and many politicians and businessmen that support an amazon rainforest deforestation project are there. 

She interrupts their little charity event at a historical building in the financial district of old gotham with a surprise. Ivy broke into one of her old greenhouses at the university, taking small samples of extremely poisonous amazon rainforest plants with her. This happened quickly and silently while Bruce was still at the function. 

Ivy crashed through the large art-nouveau stained glass windows, supported by giant vines. She is lifted down the staircase like she was floating, more vines and deadly plants crawling in from the giant hole in the glass, moonlight from the full moon peeking through the clouds and illuminating her entrance. London Planetrees from around the building grow in front of doors, sealing all the possible exits. 

All of the rich and fancy people in dresses and suits meandering around the building are screaming and trying to run, which is when a mad-with-power Ivy releases her plants. 

They grow to gargantuan sizes in moments, releasing toxic spores and fumes and burning people's skin. Ivy finds the most heinous offenders of the rainforest bill and feeds them deadly plants by hand, graphic symptoms ensue. 

In the pandemonium, Bruce pulls out some tree facts about the flammability of a certain species, managing to throw a fire source directly at it as a diversion before escaping through a vent in the opposite wing of the hall. Alfred is already outside with the Batsuit, he brought it as soon as he learned of the attack. 

Bruce suits up and re-enters. It's a grueling and difficult battle, the most difficult he has fought so far. He manages to spray Ivy with the chemical, and she goes down, all the plants in the hall going still. The excessive toxic fumes suddenly go back to normal levels. Bruce uses an extremely strong tranquilizer on her, she’s still fighting to get up. Finally, Ivy is defeated.

Almost the whole charity gathering was injured in the attack with seven people dead and immense damage done to the structure of the historical hall. 

Ivy’s powers are sedated and she’s taken into police custody, where she is deemed insane. Half of the insanity conviction was her actual insanity and the other half was that Arkham is the only facility capable of holding her, especially since it’s located on an island. Batman agrees with Jim Gordon on this comment. 

Ivy didn’t say anything during her trial, silently glaring with little remorse. The physician diagnosed her with ASPD (which wasn’t right but it's on her legal documents.)

The comic ends with Ivy in Arkham, talking about the rich swine tearing apart the world, and how she finally has the power to stop them. How she can feel the mutation inside of her slowly winning against the sedative drugs, adapting and consuming the chemical to turn it into energy as it was designed to do. How she will return the world to ecologic harmony, with her own hands. It ends with her in the Arkham cafeteria, staring at a mysterious blonde prisoner a few tables across…

the writing isn't like, a fanfiction. its a guideline for a comic in a series of origins comics im planning. do not get your hopes up these'll be done in like, 10-20 years at my current speed. i have a scarecrow and riddler outline in the works, and plans for a batman, joker, harley quinn and probably a penguin comic eventually. and more villians. once i'm done with all the origins comics i'll be doing like, a regular batman series. just for fun yknow.

[nuagederose]

a tale of two joeys 🌙🩸

(now it’s dark/sci-fi joey + like blood from a stone/rags to riches joey)

[imelht]

Day three: Gifts.

“A secret rendezvous between a king and his knight to exchange gifts under the sole surveillance of the moon. The king looks longingly at the warrior, to which the warrior looks abashedly away. The knight offers up his tears, and the king, pebbles and a box of chocolate.”

Context is in the tags.

[hellisntreal]

a power of peace and healing//your bones run strong

I spent a very long time trying to work out a Stone design and I'm still not settled! I'm sure like my other humanizations of Fallen London entities, I'll come up with a few <3

[dogbunni]

-> writing nensai one shot pt 2

-> it's saiki pov this time

-> 1 paragraph in

-> already compared saikis brain to the dvd screensaver

-> Yare yare bouncing around in there