#like blood from a stone

[nuagederose]

part two of my something of an advent calendar ❄️

Nelly, Christine, and Alex in front of Chris’ grave

John and Tina on the bus to West Virginia

l’chaim!

“dying of a broken heart”

the return of “Billy Crystal”

[feverinfeveroutfic]

like blood from a stone | chapter forty-seven

(ao3 title: fortune favors the brave)

I stood outside with the letter tucked on the inside of my jacket. The breeze caressed my face and my shoulders, but I needed to be outside of that hospital. I kept the pencil tucked behind my ear as I thought about all the interactions I had ever had with Chuck from Florida.

I thought about everything that I wrote in that letter, and yet when I let the proverbial dust settle, I had no idea as to how to even transport it to him. He never even told me where in Florida he lived, either. But I had written out my feelings on paper, and I bled out to him. All I needed at that point was an envelope that color of red, and I needed something with the aroma of spices: something for passion, for power, and for what I held in my heart, even in all its ridiculousness and its stupidity.

I walked on over to the low wall before me, and I folded my arms over the stony top. I propped up my chin in my hand. The breeze swept through the roots of my hair; I could feel the wedding band on the side of my face, and the cold metal made me shiver. It made me shiver more than the sweeping feeling from the traffic and from the ocean right down below me. I closed my jacket over my chest, and I shivered again.

I folded my arms back down over the top of the wall, and I sighed through my nose once more. There was a big part of me that wanted to cry, but I couldn’t do it. I lacked the strength of doing so for myself and for my future. I needed a way out of the marriage without hurting Chuck, or myself for that matter.

There had to be a way to get myself to Florida without tipping anyone off, for that matter. I had to go, and yet I was the boy with the plume of silver in his hair: they could see me from miles away. I could dye my hair and put on a hat, but my face was still recognizable from a distance. I had to find my old sunglasses.

I had to tell my parents where I was going, but then again, I wondered if they could use a break from me.

The door behind me swung open, and I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I could feel the letter pressed up against my body, and I hoped that I wouldn’t drop it at any given point whatsoever, and especially with the slight morning breeze blowing all around me.

“Alex! There you are.” The fact that someone recognized me with my head bowed left a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes and pursed my lips. I didn’t want to see him or hear him, but I had to face him lest I be seen as a complete fool.

I then turned around, and I found Larry back around the corner of the building with his long hair spread back over his shoulders, and I shook my head at him.

I shuddered and sighed through my nose. He nudged a lock of hair behind his ear, and I could see it on his face that he had disturbed me, and when I said that I had wanted to be alone, away from that room. In fact, he hesitated a bit there at the corner. He backed up, but when he and I locked eyes, he moved in closer to me.

“Lar, I told you I wanted to be alone,” I curtly insisted.

“But… I want you to know that I needed some time alone, too,” Larry said in a small voice, and he moved in closer to me. “It’s just hard to see him in there like that.” I pursed my lips together again, and then I turned my attention back out to the view before me. Larry joined me there at the wall, and I could smell the industrial cleaner on his leather jacket.

“Jeff’s my older brother,” he confessed to me.

“Yeah, me, too,” I said, and hearing his voice and feeling his presence next to me somewhat calmed me down a bit. “We’re classmates, after all. And we knew each other since that first night at Ruthie’s Inn.”

“I’m gonna tell you this right now,” he assured me, “this is probably… more than likely going to be the end of Possessed. There is no way Jeff and I can continue this whole thing, and especially not when he’s been all bloodied like this, too.”

“Bloodied and probably beyond repair, too,” I followed along. “You don’t get shot in the chest and not walk away from that. At least not in one piece.” I then turned my attention to him, and a stray lock of my dark hair waved in front of my face with the wave of the wind all around us. “Which reminds me, how do you think you’re going to break it to him when he wakes up again? That is, if he wakes up again?”

“I really don’t know, Alex,” he admitted with a shake of his head, and his face fell. We both fell into momentary silence and peered out to the landscape before us. It was a dumb idea, and one that made me wonder how I was going to tell the Chuck whom I was married to, as well as Chuck from Florida about my intentions to leave the Bay Area and go on a long road trip. If nothing else, I had to say it all out loud.

“I have to get out of here,” I confessed to him in a low voice. I turned to him, and the same lock of hair spread before my face again. I locked eyes with him, and he pursed his lips at that. It felt good to say that, but at the same time, I wondered as to how he was going to react to that. “Really, I have to get away from here. This is too much.”

“I’ll get you out,” Larry suggested. “I have the keys, after all.”

“No, I mean…” I swallowed, and I bowed my head. A part of me couldn’t believe that I was saying this to someone else, and especially Larry. “I want to take a trip. Out of here. Away from the Bay Area. For a long, long time.”

Larry raised his eyebrows at me.

“Like… a road trip of sorts?”

“Yeah. More than a road trip. Find a fifth wheel and take Eric and Lou and just go up the coast. Go up to Oregon and Washington and then into Canada and Alaska. Not sure if we’ll double back down into California and eventually Mexico, but it’d be something if we did, though. We could follow the road where it takes us and then post up for a while in a certain place. Don’t think about anything or anyone for a while.”

“Could I come along?” Larry offered me.

“If you want,” I said with a shrug. I was slight taken aback by that, especially since I had no clue as to how he would react to such a suggestion, and because of his reaction, I ran my fingers through my hair, and I swept it off my head and shoulders: the breeze felt so good on the side of my neck. “It could just be the four of us guys going up towards Juneau and then Anchorage.”

“We could take the Pan-America Highway,” he suggested. “That goes from the very northern part of Alaska all the way down to Tierra Del Fuego in South America.”

“That’d be hell of a ride,” I muttered under my breath. “Thousands of miles… nothing but open road, seeing life in all manner of different places and more than what we would get on a tour, too.” I gazed off into the distance, to the rich blue tapestry over the hills and the ocean off before us.

“Why do you want to come along, anyway?” I asked him with a glance over at him. Larry shifted his weight next to me, and he sighed through his nose.

“I’m… really looking for a way out of here, too, when I say this out loud,” he confessed with a clearing of his throat. “Jeff and I, we’re best friends and we’re engaged, but… I don’t know if I can do this, though. He got shot and he’s comatose now. That’s why I feel the band is no more.”

I didn’t want to do it, but something told me that that was the only way out. If nothing, I could probably fake things and build up something so all eyes would be off me for a while. Eric and Lou could declare their escape from the Bay Area, and I could be tucked back somewhere in the fifth wheel, out of sight. The more I thought about it, the more it felt like the perfect crime.

But then I wondered if the Chuck whom I was married to would ask questions or even want to come along. He was about as adventurous as the three of us, if not more. He had that large house, and he had a great deal of money to throw around: the only reason why I felt he could come along with us was to spoil the three of us.

“I heard that Metallica’s label is about ready to go under,” he informed me, and I turned to him again, shocked by that.

“Really? Where’d you hear that?”

“Through Zetro and Gary,” he replied. “From Exodus. Well, not technically. I was sitting in the other room and they were talking about it and how they had no idea what to do about it, either. They said that their label isn’t doing too well and they could readily go under… tomorrow if things are really that bad and we just don’t really know about it.”

“I thought Metallica were doing great,” I recalled, and I could hardly believe what I was hearing right then. “Wow. What the hell happened?”

“No idea, but I’m guessing they’re hemorrhaging money right now, like worse than most other labels,” he continued. I remembered that we were on an imprint of the label, and I heard absolutely nothing about that: then again, I had been up to my eyeballs in wedding planning and trying to find my way out of there. It all had happened right behind my back, and no one said anything to us or to me about it. It was right then I began to relish in being crowned a royal.

“Do you think the royalty’s got something to do with it?” I asked him. “I do know that Lars and Kirk have a thing going. James and Cliff… no clue what’s going on there with the two of them.”

“I can’t really say,” Larry replied with a gloomy shrug of his shoulders. “My guess is yes, but I’m just spitballing, though.” He shook his head, and I let out a low whistle. I was facing the mother of all losses, more than any losses that my parents ever took if the schools were short or their books took hits upon publication.

“They’re gonna lose a fortune, if they haven’t done so already,” he told me in a small voice, and I wondered if there was going to be any money left over for the five of us in that instance.

“We’re gonna lose a fortune, too,” I corrected him, “that is, if we change labels between now and—” I then turned to him, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest out of fear and worry. “Wait. Does Eric know? Does Chuck know?”

“I can’t say,” he confessed. “Again, I was only eavesdropping on Zetro and Gary. I can assume that they do, but that’s just my assumption.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip, and I ducked past him back to the door of the hospital. I needed answers. Before I did anything with a fifth wheel, I had to sift through the sand. No sooner had I reached the door when Larry called out to me again.

“Alex! Alex, you dropped this!” But at that point, I was already back inside the hospital in search of Chuck.

[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.

[loremaster-lavellan]

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

I love writing.

[riddlemearose]

Phoning a Friend

Warriors watches the two Champions blearily, forcing his eyes to stay focused on them. He knows one is the Shadow but he can’t let himself entertain the possibilities of who the other one is. For now, he has to think of it nothing more than another potential enemy.

The one with the odd spear that gleams gold, its green gem ornaments clinking softly against the shaft as he twirls it, keeps himself between Warriors and the twisted Champion. The golden spear spins and spins, batting away a sickening dark blade every time the bloodstained, withered Champion tries to break through his guard.

Watching the spinning spear is actually making Warriors feel nauseous. Well, he mentally amends that to ‘more nauseous’, glancing down at the blood spreading across his tunic.

And this weird noise, whatever it is, isn’t helping! There’s something heavy weighing the clearing down, pressing into Warriors’ skin.

All he can hear is this pulsing loud tick tick tick in his ears, accompanied by an odd warping sensation in his limbs.

It’s magic, he knows that much, but he’s never felt it before and has no idea which Champion it may be coming from, if it even is either of them casting the spell.

He turns his head to spit out a mouthful of blood and it feels like the movement takes an eternity to complete.

So either his blood loss is more severe than he thought, or there’s something else going on.

The spear-wielding Champion darts backwards, his grip along the spear finally shifting into a proper stance, grinning wildly.

Ha, Warriors is hilarious.

A large shining gem sitting at the dip of the first Champion's throat lights his face up from below, all deep shadows and softened edges. He’s breathing heavily, a slight tremble visible in his fingers as he readjusts his grip.

The other Champion across from them makes a sweeping gesture with its withered arm and something red and alive spurs into life, lunging forward. The shape twists, absorbing what remains of the rotted flesh, and large, monstrous fingers stretch into existence. They reach through the darkness for the first Champion, wicked under the moonlight.

The first Champion raises the spear slightly in response, his grin vanishing as it's smothered under a blank, smooth expression that Warriors refuses to recognise. The fingers, the vile magic, get closer to his face, closing the distance rapidly—

And Time shoots out of the bushes, the Biggoron sword catching the moonlight as it arcs through the air and severs the arm from withered Champion's body. The arm hits the ground and melts into a writhing pool of furious magic, thrashing around that Champion’s feet.

The ticking in Warriors’ ears stops so abruptly he's thrown off-kilter, reeling at the sudden silence left in its wake.

Time glances at him, a quick look filled with concern and worry, then shifts his gaze to the spear-wielding Champion — Wild, Warriors lets himself finally acknowledge.

Dozens of micro-expressions fly rapidly across Time's face before he finally decides on grim determination.

“That,” he says in an almost wobbly tone of voice, taking up stance next to Wild, “is loud.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Sorry about that.” Wild agrees, still focused on the withered copy of himself standing in front of them. He shoots Time a small grin, barely there but blindingly obvious if you know what to look for. “Worked though.”

Time lets out a quiet huff of laughter, his own small smile twitching across his face. He shifts, sword held tightly in both hands. "You're definitely not wrong about that, Wild. When we get back to camp, you'll have to tell me how you managed to make your magic even louder than it already was."

[tumbly-s]

Trigun body horror week day 5 — LIMBS

[jasvi-art]

things got heated -- with a boy.

[ratbastarddotfuck]

trans radfems will try to tell you that man hating is important allyship to trans women/fems and yet when there are no/few trans women in the room it's the man hating queers (of all sorts) who delve into casual transmisogyny extremely quickly without questioning it, all while patting themselves on the back for being wonderful allies because they say trans women are women.

[plantwriting]

“average jrwi fan writes 5.869 words of kian stone fanfic” factoid actualy just statistical error. average jrwi fan writes 0 words of kian stone fanfic. Words Georg, who goes by plant & writes over 1000 words of kian fanfic each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

[smolldust]

what if I said I was writing some oneshots for my sonadow au what then?

[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.

[stiffyck]

people hating a character because they very clearly misunderstand them is forever going to make me so mad

[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

[bumblingbabooshka]

Neelix/T'Pel! An alternate idea is that T'Pel is a person who's difficult to like and one by one every member of the crew encounters her and has a poor experience but Neelix can't help but like her and even feel he understands her intimately because of his experience seeing her through Tuvok's eyes as 'Tuvix'. He finds her in the mess hall alone one night and hears her complain about how the replicated tea tastes and how Kathryn is as usual hopeless at such domestic tasks and Tuvok is off somewhere. [Oh, he's probably doing something very important Mrs. Vulcan!] Yes, no doubt. There's a long pause then Neelix gets up and tells her to stay right there! And he makes her a cup of tea and she takes a sip after careful inspection and finds that it's just how she likes it - exactly how she likes it, and it's the first compliment she gives anyone on the crew in the time we've seen her - including Janeway. Neelix smiles, watching her drink it, as if remembering something. "My pleasure!" he says. Zoom out as soft music plays.