#pyroclown

what would happen if their whitepine versions were reicarnation of their ksmp versions... listen, im cooking . trust trust...

The nights in Whitepine had been suffocating ever since blood had painted the marble walls, and Pyro woke up feeling as though his throat had been scorched. His hands flew to cover his mouth immediately, as if trying to stifle that horrible sensation.

“Cl—” he almost utters what sounds like a name, but the memory dies immediately before he can even finish forming it; his teeth snap shut, crushing the letters in vain.

His chest heaved in the darkness, adrenaline pumping through his veins. The hands that had smothered the scream now raked through his brown hair, the light filtering through the large window gilding his knuckles. He swung his legs over the edge so his feet could touch the room's cold floor while his mind tried to carefully weave together the remnants of his dream before they inevitably faded into the recesses of the dream world.

Laughter, porcelain, a weapon, and so, so much heat that it was unbearable.

A myriad of emotions twisted his gut all at once. First came instinctive anger, then a sorrow that coiled like a snake, suffocating a longing so silent it went unnoticed.

Just like the scar young Hemlocke bore over his eye. something that would never heal but no longer hurt (except during sudden changes in the weather).

Posting my incomprehensible wp!Pyroclown art in preparation for episode 9. Wish me luck

magma doodles

Pyro was taught but is naturally pretty bad at it and Pierce was never taught how to play to so they’re playing this absolutely abysmal game of pool where no one is clearly winning and Pierce is trying to stay professional but they end up laughing and insulting each other’s skills and there’s just a moment of pure genuine warmth that couldn’t be recreated with another person