#fulgurite

[itsmissing]

design comm for a fulgurite lich

[plasmometer]

i am tired take a fulgurite electro-priestess

[slaughtergutz]

It was only a matter of time before I inflicted Steven Universe AU on my current hyperfocus

This is Fulgurite!

They are a natural amalgamation of gem shards that were (mostly) quartz that fused together when struck by lightning.

They don't understand why the Crystal Gems are trying to hurt them when they're supposed to be heroes. ):

Bg is from the show!

[reddpenn]

Can we see more pics of your fulgurite? I've collected a couple before and it's so cool to see how the strength of the strike and the type of sand they hit affects the final shape!

Fulgurite photoshoot!

Everyone please appreciate my fossilized lightning, she is very beautiful.

[kyanite-shards]

*falls through the ceiling* Kyanite for 14 and Fulgurite for 2 if you like!

14. Kyanite in winter clothes

Answer for 2. Below ⬇️ ::3

2. Fulgurite with their best friend

[uwlmvac]

MVAC Senior Research Associate Dr. Connie Arzigian explains how a fulgurite (petrified lightning) is formed.

[usedtobeguest123]

Heeeey yes fandom's hubernating but still around!

A prompt: "fugurite". Can obviously be Pepa-related but feel free to go nuts <3

Fulgurite was a fun one! This ended up being a little more abstract than I usually go, hope you enjoy it.

***

Pepa had a collection. 

At one time, she had kept them on a shelf in her room, one that magically widened over time as more space was needed (gracias, Casita). She’d always liked it. The twisted, grainy glass caught the warm light that always shone from some unidentifiable corner of her room. They were a reminder of her forgiveness, and a warning against her frequently lost tempers, and treasured evidence of a forever-friendship that somehow stood the test of time despite countless quarrels and spats and all-out-wars. Bruno would always dig them out and leave them by her door. An offering, an apology, a promise—certain to be broken but meaningful nonetheless. For Pepa, their meaning was as nuanced and multifaceted as the branching roots on each shape, and worth far more than the melted sand they were made of. 

For a time, they were relocated. For a time, she couldn’t look at them without inciting a deluge, and so a special, magical cabinet appeared that held far more complexity within than its tamed, varnished exterior let on (gracias, como siempra, Casita). [thank you, as always] It held them for a year, then two, then a decade, gathering dust, as untouched as his name. After their home fell to rubble around them, she assumed they were lost. They found the cabinet—but inside it had been empty. She supposed it was because the magic was lost, and with it everything held in all that impossibly large space within. Oh well, she’d thought, and no rain had fallen, though she imagined that perhaps it would have if things had been different. 

No importa. They were just things, sí? It was fine.  [It doesn't matter.]

She had her brother now anyway, worth far more to her than his stupid, sand-addled brain would ever realize, and maybe a fresh start was what they all needed. 

The night the magic returned, after they’d all settled into their rooms, she’d snuck a quick peek inside that cabinet, which had returned to the same space in her restored room. 

Empty. Que extrano. [How strange.]

No rain had fallen, but this time she supposed it made sense. 

Pepa was starting a new collection, anyway. A collection of memories, dusted off and polished between her siblings’ shared hands as they carefully passed them back and forth. New memories, too, fused before her very eyes as she watched her children grow closer with their strange, timid tío. A friendship of their own, long absent and worth so very much.

So Pepa had long since let go of her old collection by the time the first new fulgurite was formed. It took almost a year after the return of Casita, and it was the biggest one yet. She channeled so much into that single bolt—years of aching loss, unspoken anger, and deep, deep sadness that hadn’t been soothed by time. He’d left. He’d left. He’d promised—a silent return after every fight, a collection of unspoken forgiveness, all precious glass shattered when one day he just didn’t come back. BOOM. It struck with all the static power of years of stagnant pain.

They’d made up of course, in time. They were doing that, these days, and it had felt good to finally let it all out anyway. But imagine her surprise when he’d shown up at her door, tentative, twitching, grimacing at her in that stupid, wonderful way he did when he was asking permission and forgiveness at the same time. 

They dug it up together, his vision cave transformed into an excavation site as first the two of them, then the children, then the whole family somehow became involved in the process. It went impossibly deep—branching out like glass tree roots deep into the ground, as tall as she was when it was finally unearthed completely. She had no idea what they were going to do with it. 

The next day, it magically appeared on her wall in her room, a strange and twisted art piece that Félix just smiled at appreciatively before heading downstairs to get his morning coffee. She’d stayed a little longer, her eyes following the twists and turns of each glass root, fragile and firm, worth so much. 

“Gracias,” she whispered before following Félix down to breakfast. “Como siempre, por siempre, Casita.” [Thank you, as always, forever]

Here is the fulgurite from Joshua Tree that inspired the one in the story.

[beatsforbrothels]

Visit Original Link

Armand Hammer - Fulgurite