#honey and wildfires

[creataav]

writing a shadowbeans oneshot set in honey and wildfire and i just want to say that joel is a sweetheart hopeless romantic in a leather vest and i stand by that

[sunhazeheart]

Cue older 'honey and wildfire' Alicent feeling a deep, wholly irrational but still seething jealously when watching Rhaenyra and laena interact and bonding one time Laena, Daemon and the twins finally come come out of Daemon's exile (self-imposed this time) in Pentos.

Like, she and Rhae have basically been wives in everything but name with seven kids and one gay beard husband between them for nearly ten years, but she watches Laena and rhaenyra walking arm in arm in the gardens (a la Rhae watching Laena and Vizzy years ago), laughing and close.

She knows it's foolish of her, but it comes from a place of insecurity, an emotion she can't control. Because Laena is a beautiful valyrian women, almost as pretty as she is kind and gracious, and she can bond over dragons and other things Alicent can't share with Rhaenyra.

She's staring into her mirror before readying for bed, comparing silver braids to her over "plain" hair or scrutinizing the signs of lines beneath her eyes that the younger girl doesn't have. Just reverting back into feelings of inadequacy she hasn't felt in a while despite being surrounded by the otherworldliness of her family around her.

Then Rhaenyra slips into 'their' rooms as has long been their routine for years, and prods at the mood the queen has been in the past two days since her uncle had returned. enter stage, teasing resulting in something snappy, then comforting, and Rhaenyra reminding Alicent just how much she loves her and how beautiful she is then tied with a neat bow on top with scissoring to really hammer it in.

[cauterisen]

her!

[sacredpyre]

[ohwynne]

TIMING: A few days after Rhett attacked Cass PARTIES: Cass @magmahearts & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Alex & Andy's place SUMMARY: Wynne shows up to comfort Cass. They also have an overdue conversation about what Wynne went through and what they recently did. It's soft. CONTENT WARNINGS: Sibling death

She was trying to be better. It was a desperate thing, the way she carefully schooled her features in front of Alex, the way she tried to pretend that nothing ached. It was stupid, too, because she knew Alex saw through it. She knew her girlfriend could hear the way her heart pounded in her chest, the way her pulse raced and her breaths came a little too quick. Alex knew she was scared, and Alex was fine with it. Alex wanted to help. But accepting help felt like a confession that Cass didn’t want to make. She wasn’t supposed to need it. She was supposed to be a superhero. She wasn’t supposed to be afraid.

But she was anyway.

So she clung to distractions. She asked her friends to come over so she could practice her performance, pretended to be fine in front of all of them so she could start to believe the act. She laughed with them, and she pretended it didn’t hurt. She focused so hard on keeping her glamour up that she was exhausted when company left. She invited more people over the next day. It was an easy enough pattern. She was getting good at it.

Wynne was here today. They were one of the ones she’d felt the worst about leaving hanging when she’d gone through her messages after waking up. They’d clearly been worried, and the fact that Cass’s experience had prevented Wynne from being able to share whatever news they’d had to share made her feel guilty, because Wynne deserved to share that news no matter what it might be. Cass looked at them now, smiling softly. She reached out, taking their hands in hers. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Did you want to talk? About the news. It’s okay if you don’t, but if you do, I’d really like to hear it!”

—

The fatigue that had overtaken their body after they’d finished the ritual had never really left their body. Wynne felt the tiredness in their very bones, weighing them down like lead. They wanted to be happy and relieved, and though some part of them was, it all seemed numbed by that exhaustion. What broke through that numbness, though, was the news of what had happened to Cass. Suddenly there was something to do again, something clear to feel again. Anger on behalf of another. Concern. There was something like purpose, even.

It felt crude to think of it in such a way, so they tried not to. They just wanted to be there for their friend, to seem like something solid to lean on. Like someone who did and had faced their problems head-on, and had done so without feeling like they’d destroyed part of themself in the process. 

Looking at Cass was a little hard, with the way she didn’t look her bright self. She was smiling and warm, as always, but there was something about her that seemed paler. Wynne fought their fatigue at the reality they were in where they felt that more hurt was inevitable. And though they knew pain was a part of life, some of this just seemed pointless. Rhett’s violence was pointless in how cruel it was and how it left nothing but despair. They didn’t get it. What they did get was how mad they were at it all.

“I’m glad you’re here,” they said, giving a sad little smile before tucking their legs closer. They had felt so certain when they had announced to Cass that they wanted to talk, but that was gone now. But their friend was eager, and Wynne wanted nothing but to appease her and they should tell her. They owed some kind of truth, didn’t they? “Well, I don’t really know if it’s news, if that’s the right term you know? But I guess I wanted to tell you about something that happened, that I did or went through, I don’t know.” They rubbed their knee. “It’s about where I’m from and all. It’s a bit heavy, though, I guess? So if you would rather talk of light things, that’s okay.”

—

Wynne looked tired, and Cass wondered if it was egotistical of her to think that some of that exhaustion might have something to do with her. She wasn’t the center of anyone’s universe, she knew, but Wynne was her friend. They’d been worried about her, she’d seen it. In the messages they’d sent, the way they’d kept poking her for contact even when those messages went unanswered. Some people gave up the first time a message went with no reply, and Cass got that. It was easy to convince yourself that someone was just busy, that they didn’t feel like talking. But Wynne hadn’t. And didn’t that mean something? Wasn’t there a message being sent there, a good one?

So maybe Wynne was tired because of her. Maybe they looked so withdrawn because the same man who’d hurt Ariadne had hurt Cass, too. Maybe there was some righteous anger there, the kind no one had ever felt for Cass before she’d come to this town and met all these people. She decided not to ask about it. If she asked, the answer might be no. And she wanted it to be yes. She really, really did.

She smiled a little as Wynne spoke, trying not to feel the heaviness under the words. They were glad she was here because she almost wasn’t. Because if that knife had found purchase in her head, the way Rhett had meant for it to, she’d be gone now. It was a scary thing to think about, a heavy weight hanging over her head. She’d almost died. She wasn’t sure how to conceptualize it. 

She couldn’t think of what to say in response, so she said nothing. She’d rather have the distraction, rather hear the news Wynne would have delivered to her if she hadn’t been writhing on an autopsy table with an impossibly pounding heart. “I don’t mind,” she said quickly. “I don’t mind heavy. I — I want to hear it. You’re my friend. I want to know more about you, if you want to tell me.”

—

It was getting a little easier to tell this tale now. Wynne would prefer not to, on one hand. To just let the past rot and fester where it belonged. But how could they, when there was so much that went unsaid? When their own friends opened up and told them about their pasts because they trusted them? It felt unfair to keep it quiet and besides, it was hard to explain the things that were happening and had happened. 

It wasn’t like they didn’t trust Cass. They trusted her, as they had trusted Emilio, Zack and Arden, Ariadne and Nora. They just didn’t want to say those words aloud, to see the response to revealing that they used to partake in human sacrifice, to feel that fear of condemnation. Because what if Cass did think that they should have died? So far no one outside the commune had, but there was a first time for everything, was there not? Besides, sometimes they still thought they should have died, if only to save Iwan. Even now, after all that had been done, all they had dragged people into — they wondered if it might have been better.

Where was that supposed relief? Sometimes it came and sometimes it went, and right now as they sat in anticipation for Cass’ response, it was nowhere to be found. Wynne crossed their legs, grasping their ankles. “Okay, it’s about … well, why I ran away from home.” There was a deep inhale. “My commune used to worship this demon. And it required gifts and sacrifices and stuff, so it could give us good things. Mostly just food or small animals but also sometimes humans. Me.” They stared at their ankles, jaw growing tight.

“I didn’t want to die, so I ran.” The words hung in the air. They wanted to continue, to rattle on about what had happened since and what they had done to the demon, about Padrig and all the grief and anger in their chest. But Wynne was quiet. “And bad things happened because of it afterwards. I was —” They pushed their finger into the flesh of their foot. “Selfish, just like they all were, but bad things happened.”

—

When you lived most of your life on the defense, you got good at reading people. It was a necessary thing. If you were sharing an abandoned warehouse with someone you’d only met a few hours before, it was important to be able to know if they were planning on stabbing you and making off with your stuff the moment you turned your back. If you were working with another thief on a big score, you had to be able to determine whether or not they’d leave you hanging at the first sign of trouble. If your greatest nightmare was to be left behind, you learned to pinpoint the exact moment someone decided to walk away. 

So it was easy to see Wynne’s discomfort as they festered in the silence for a moment, preparing to say whatever it was they wanted to say. Cass took a moment to think about the unfairness of it all, of the way everyone she loved had some terrible shadow lurking in their past. Alex’s experience with her parents, Ariadne’s death and the fear surrounding it, Metzli’s issues with their clan… There wasn’t a single person in Cass’s life who didn’t have some tragic tale to speak of. And it wasn’t right. They were good people, all of them. None of them deserved anything heavy enough to make Wynne look the way they looked now.

Cass offered her friend an encouraging smile as they began their tale. But whatever she’d expected to hear, it wasn’t… this. Demons and human sacrifices and Wynne almost being one of them. She ached, deep in her chest, for what that must have felt like. For the burden it must have carried with it. She thought she would have run, too, if it had been her. She thought anyone would have.

But Wynne didn’t seem so sure. Cass reached a hand forward, hiding a wince at the way even that smallest motion pulled at her injuries. She placed her palm on top of Wynne’s hand, shaking her head just a little. “No,” she said quietly. “No. It’s not — It isn’t selfish to want to live, Wynne. It’s not. They were the selfish ones for… expecting that of you. For wanting you to die for them. That’s selfish. What you did — You had to do it. You had to run. I would have, too, okay?”

—

Part of them wanted to look away as they told the story and waited for Cass to response, to simply not have to face whatever reaction was waiting for them. They expected judgment, even if that was not fair, even if that did not fit with who Cass was and who she had proven to be. But they expected it all the same, as if lifting this part of the veil would suddenly turn the tide and make Cass see them for what they were — selfish, a failed martyr, a blight upon their community. Wynne almost held their breath, unsure of how to continue.

And then there was Cass’ hand, reaching for their tensing knuckles around their ankles. Soft and warm and reassuring, followed by the same sentiments they’d heard before. Sentiments they tried so hard to believe but they still couldn’t — because Iwan was still dead, and that was a direct consequence of their actions or lack thereof. It was so easy to say it was the elders and their parents and the demon who were to blame, but even so it didn’t change the cold hard facts. If Wynne had died, their brother would still be alive.

They looked at that hand on theirs and wanted to burst out in tears. “I — I guess. I don’t … I know it’s wrong, that they want that of people. That a demon would expect that and that they’d all follow along. But …” They shook their head. There was no avoiding it, that one thing it always came back to: their dead brother, the tragedy they could have avoided. Never mind how they had sentenced Padrig to death and had felt justified in it. Never mind how much they all had seemed to hate them.

“But they killed my brother in stead. I could have — I could have saved him. I should have just –” Wynne shrugged, shook their head. It all didn’t make sense. It hadn’t been wrong to run, they understood that. But it had led to something horrible. “I wish no one had to die like that and that no one had to be hurt like you were hurt and I thought … I thought that me running would be good, but it was also bad and it’s just …” They looked up now, finally. “There has to be a right answer, right? A way to stop it without causing more carnage?” But they knew better, didn’t they? The world was cyclical. Everything acted in correspondence with one another. “We went there. That’s – that’s why I was ready to talk. We went there and we killed the demon, but someone else had to die too. And it’s just … endless. I just want it all to stop hurting.”

—

It must have been lonely, what Wynne was going through. Cass couldn’t begin to understand the weight of it, the things they must have felt growing up the way they had. She’d been rejected from her own community, and maybe that was kinder. Maybe it was better to have no one care about you at all than it was to have them want you for the wrong reasons, though Cass had a difficult time believing it. She’d rather be loved for something she wasn’t than hated for something she was. She wondered what she might have done if it were her in Wynne’s place, if her aos si had wanted her to die for them instead of simply leave them alone. She liked to think she’d have been brave the way Wynne was brave. She knew the truth was probably something far less admirable. 

She might not have been able to comprehend the weight, but she did think she understood the loneliness. After all, wasn’t loneliness the only thing she was, most days? Hadn’t it been the thing to shape her, to raise her? Loneliness had stepped in to make her who she was when everyone else had stepped away, a pseudo parent in its consistency. She was alone, and she was nothing. And Wynne was alone, too, at least for a while. It was better, Cass thought, to be alone together. She liked it more.

She swallowed as Wynne went on, as they detailed the consequences of their actions. Was there a right answer, in situations like that one? Was there a perfect response? If Wynne had taken their brother with them when they’d left, Cass was pretty sure someone else would have died instead. If they’d replaced Wynne as a sacrifice, they would have replaced their brother in a similar manner, wouldn’t they? It was endless, this cycle of what if. You could make up a thousand different scenarios and still have more left unexplored. 

“I think…” She trailed off, a little uncertain. “I think nothing is all good or all bad. Everything’s a little bit of both. And — And it sucks sometimes. It sucks most of the time. I don’t think there’s a right answer. I don’t think there’s such a thing.” There was no perfect solution to any problem. It had taken Cass a long time to learn that. You did what you could, but it was never going to be flawless. “I — I’m glad you ran. I’m glad you came here so I could meet you. I think I’m better because I know you. And you make Aria happy, too. She wouldn’t be as happy as she is if she’d never met you.” She wondered what it had felt like, going back. Choosing someone else to die the way they had chosen Wynne to die. Privately, she thought… it might have felt good. And the thought scared her a little, the idea that hurting people who’d wronged you could be an exhilarating thing, the concept that she’d do it herself if given a chance. She didn’t want to be like that. She wanted to be a hero, brave and true and flawless. But no one really was, were they? “You saved people,” she said quietly. “By going back, by — by ending it. You saved a lot of people, you know.” Shouldn’t that count more?

—

They wanted the verbalisation of what had happened to feel more powerful, to feel more like they were lifting a weight from their chest as they put it all to words. But it wasn’t working. It was good to reveal the things they had been keeping unspoken the past months, but it didn’t really alleviate the crux of the issue. That this was constant. The pain Wynne was feeling, the pain Cass must be feeling, the pain Alex and Ariadne and everyone else had and would feel. And that pain wasn’t just caused by stubbing a toe or hitting a head — it was caused by others. By people so cruel that they’d make others suffer for their own gain.

It was an overwhelming truth and one they were only now really starting to understand. They had never really thought the people at home cruel, after all: they all did what was to be done. They were dutiful and dedicated, just as they were. Sometimes that duty and dedication hurt them or others — but they didn’t hurt people because they wanted to. And yet, somehow, it had been wrong, hadn’t it? Everyone kept saying it was, so it had to be. It was wrong that they expected them to die and that they hadn’t been allowed to speak of any doubt that lived within them. It was wrong that they had strict measures for people who broke the rules. It was wrong that they had killed their brother in order to appease a cruel demon.

Everyone at home had failed what Wynne had done in the end: say no and fight. In a way, it had made them feel empowered. In a way, it made them hopeful — because maybe they could say no and fight the other cruel people out there. The people like Rhett or those now-dead vampires. And yet, here they sat. With their good intentions, staring at a hurt Cass and feeling their own chest cave in. They would fight, if given the opportunity — but when would they? How could they muster up the energy to always be ready or it? How could they know that they were capable? Because they hadn’t been able to defeat that demon by themself. By themself they were just this pitiful thing, weeping and shaking and angry with no resolution.

Cass spoke with a kind of insight that made them wonder where she had found it. Wynne tried to take her words at face value and not add any but’s. “That makes sense, I guess. Like … it’s not as black and white as sometimes I might think. And maybe there was no good thing to do in my situation, because if I had died then it would have just kept happening. But then my brother would have been alive. And if I had taken him with me maybe we would have been caught and … I don’t know.” They traced their nail with an absentminded thumb. “I’m glad I met you too. That I got to come here. For that I am glad. That I found friends and Ariadne and everything.” That was what they clung to, when it all felt like it shouldn’t have happened. They had people they loved here. 

And sometimes it was hard, because they had spent their formative years convinced that they were going to die before properly reaching adulthood. Sometimes they still thought they were going to die, before metaphorically pinching themself to remember that they had a future now. Wynne looked up at Cass. “I hope I did. I spared someone from the fate that took my brother, at least. I’m glad I could end that. At least.” 

—

In comic books, things were simple. That was part of what had drawn Cass to the medium all those years ago, part of what made her dedicate such a large part of her life to it. The battles were hard fought, sometimes, but good always came out on top. The villains were cartoonish more often than not, two dimensional and foolish. They did inexcusable things and they twirled mustaches and no one could ever look at them and think, even for a moment, that they were anything but bad. And the heroes, by comparison, were all light and brave and powerful. They had strong morals and strong powers, and they were difficult to hurt. They fell sometimes, died sometimes, but it was always only a temporary thing. The reader knew that, within a matter of months, the dead would rise and the status quo would return. The Fantastic Four would defeat Doctor Doom. The Joker would be placed back in Arkham. The world would not end, the city would not burn. It was a given, a forgone conclusion.

But real life wasn’t like that.

In real life, things were messy. Things were complicated. Good people did bad things, and it didn’t make them villains. Bad people did good things, but they still weren’t heroes. People who were supposed to love you abandoned you or marked you for death or mistreated you or loved you in all the wrong ways, and there was no narrative reason to ease the pain of it. There was no overarching story to make the things you suffered worth it. Heroes fell and heroes died, and they didn’t come back a few issues later to kick the status quo back into place. Cass was supposed to be a hero, but she didn’t feel like one. Rhett must have been a villain, but he’d been so easy to trust. Superman didn’t have problems like this, she thought. How enviable it was to be so unbreakable that your enemies needed kryptonite just to try it.

“I wish it were easier,” she admitted quietly. She wished there was some ‘right’ answer that Wynne could have gone with, some way that would have saved them and their brother without damning the future children of the community they’d left to repeat the same fate every few years like clockwork. She wished this were a comic book, wished she had a cape that fit her right. She wished everything was different. For her, for Alex, for Aria, for Wynne. For all of them. 

But they had each other, at least. Wynne was here, had been worried enough to want to check up on her, and hadn’t that been something Cass had wanted all her life? Hadn’t she spent two decades yearning for it? Things were what they were. There were still villains, even if it didn’t feel much like there were heroes to combat them. But, in the midst of it all, there was this. Quiet moments with a friend who loved her, a friend she loved back. She offered Wynne a small smile as they spoke, nodding her head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” she admitted. Without Alex, she would be dead in the woods now, Rhett’s knife having found its home in her head. Without Wynne, she’d be lost in this cabin, alone and afraid. Her friends made her better. She liked that.

And maybe that was true of the rest of them, too. Maybe they all made each other better. She nodded again, thinking about how Wynne had certainly made their community better by ending the cycle that had been repeating for ages within it, of saving the next kid even if they hadn’t been able to save their brother. That had to count for something, didn’t it? “It was good,” she said firmly. “You are good. You’re kind of like a superhero, you know?”

—

There had never been much fiction for Wynne to use as escapism. There had been bedtime stories and tales told around a fireplace, but it had all been supplied by the same people who supplied everything. But even there, things were simple. The Protherians painted a simple picture of the world, one where their close bonds and the boons they received from their pact made everything go around. Everything was a balance, a giving and taking, a simple combination of good and bad, of winter and summer, of reaping and sowing. But it was not that simple, was it? The world was all out of balance. There were good people and there were bad, but it seemed it was the latter that kept winning out. The latter that had more impressive means, more ruthlessness, more chance.

They didn’t want balance any more, anyway. Not when it came to these things, at least. They wanted these people that hurt others out of this world, or changed and redeemed in some kind of way. They didn’t want to worry about it any more, there being people out there that had cruel intentions and nothing holding them back. Why did it always have to be balanced? Why couldn’t they have saved themself and Iwan, why couldn’t Alex and Aria and Cass not have gotten hurt? There was good in the world too, yes — Cass was proving that once more, but what if it wasn’t enough?

“Me too,” they said. “I wish all of it was easier and kinder.” They wanted the world to be bright again, to not feel so weighed down by their conscience and their past, to not feel afraid of all that was out there. They wanted to be overtaken by wonder at all these things that existed in the world, like Cass being a fae. But in stead they were afraid for her. 

They reached forward, placing a hand on Cass’ knee. “Me neither. I’m really glad and grateful to have you. And I wouldn’t know what I’d have done if —” Wynne swallowed and blinked, as if trying to push away something. “Well, you know. But you’re here.” And she would be okay. She had to be. They inhaled sharply, thinking for a moment about Rhett again, about how afraid Ariadne had been after she’d been taken by him and how small Cass looked now. They wanted him to feel like that too. They wanted what had been done to Padrig to happen to him. For the tables to be turned on him. It wasn’t a pretty thought, but it swirled through them all the same.

They blinked and swallowed some more, but their eyes burned sharply. “Okay.” They nodded. They believed their friends, even if the things they said were hard to believe. Wynne wiped at their eyes. “You’re also — you’re also good. Don’t ever let them tell you any different.” They moved forward, pulling Cass into a gentle hug. “You got that?”

—

Even before this, Cass had known that the world wasn’t kind. She’d figured it out as a child, shoved into a boat and forced far away from the island she’d been born on. She’d had it proven to her time and time again living on the streets, experienced all the cruelness the world had to offer. This had been a harsh wakeup call, but it hadn’t entirely been a surprise. She’d known what hunters were since the first time Alex told her about them, known how dangerous they could be since the day one tried to kill her girlfriend. In a lot of ways, this had been a matter of time. A rite of passage she’d managed to avoid through luck that was always going to run out sooner or later. The world wasn’t easy or kind. Not for her, and not for Wynne, either. She knew that.

But she still wanted it to be.

She offered Wynne a small smile, starting to shrug before the motion sent a wave of pain through her shoulder and aborting it hastily. “Maybe… All we can do is try to make it easier and kinder for each other. All of us.” The world had been cruel to them both. To Alex and Aria, too. To Nora, to Milo, to everyone in their circle of friends. But that didn’t mean they had to be cruel. Maybe, if they were kind enough for long enough, they could change something.

She still felt small. And scared, and powerless, and weak. But with Wynne beside her, and the knowledge that the rest of her friends were in her corner as well… It wasn’t as bad as it would have been if this had happened when she was still on her own. It wasn’t as suffocating, wasn’t as unsurvivable. She’d be okay; she knew that now.

Reaching down, she placed her hand on top of Wynne’s where it rested on her knee, nodding carefully. “You, either,” she said. “You’re the best. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

[jewishzevran]

what's this? A wip wednesday actually posted on wednesday?*

*somewhere on the globe it is still wednesday

Anyway I'm finally, FINALLY getting back to honey and wildfire. So here's the start of chapter 2. thank you so much for the tag @isayashai !! I'm gonna tag @zevrn @vlwv @glamfellens and @buchimgay :)

Compared to Lothering, Gwaren was gargantuan. Long, winding streets snaked outwards from the dock, like living estuaries carved into the coast. Refugees huddled in taverns, and in boarding houses, every building spilling bodies out onto the streets. Gaunt, bloodied faces filled the streets, terrified eyes looked resolutely at the ground, orphaned children with blank, dissociative stares tried to find someone to shepherd them to safety. It was a purgatory at the very mouth of Hell.

The Hawkes had already been in the settlement for two days, and tensions were running high. Bethany's quick action after the ogre attack had not so much saved Carver's life as they had staved off his death, and their first several hours in the city had been spent wondering if they were still going to lose him.

Pippa had traded her necklace for enough coin to get them a single room in one of the inns. All of them crowded inside, taking turns to dab Carver's forehead with a cold towel in a futile effort to calm his fever.

Leandra had shouted a lot. She had raged and cried and blamed everyone from her other three children to the King of Ferelden himself. Pippa had had to tell Garrett to go for a walk at one point, before he accidentally set something on fire.

[beeapocalypse]

list of the (current) different forms of pyromancy in honey sweet-

- bloodletting / pyromancer using their own blood as the casting catalyst- the safest (no risk of dry drowning on magicka) yet the least potent of the methods (still powerful compared to other forms of magic). pyromancer can utilize blood from wounds either self inflicted or dealt by others, allows a bit of versatility the others dont have bc they arent Breathing fire

- breath centric / The thulite approach to the art- precise breath control that draws magicka (existence dragon blood) into the lungs to then be expelled+used as a casting catalyst. VERY powerful due to using raw magicka (rather than the casters own blood / a casting medium filtering their intent To the magicka and muddling it up a bit), does run the risk of magicka condensing from gas to liquid in their lungs and dry drowning them. real skilled pyromancers can exercise precise control over this form, the more volatile nature of it usually necessitating protective masks / burn balms for them though

- magicka expulsion / death wish type casting- purposefully pushing breath centric casting to the point of magicka condensation and then coughing that liquid up to use as a catalyst. even more potent than the latter due to the more dense+'true' nature of the magicka (liquid rather than gas), any pay off RARELY worth the risk to the pyromancer though. fatal if not protected properly (more in the territory of Explosions rather than fire at that point), a practice chased after by only the most skilled / faithful thulite pyromancers and the completely unfettered independent pyromancers

[seeingvivianne]

Based on a 9/25/23 submission.

Vivianne awoke, cold sweat running down her forehead as the screaming echoed in her head, in her ears. But no one was screaming anymore. The only sound in the room was the quick, panicked breathing of the air rushing in and out of her lungs. The Oracle's body trembled slightly as she pulled the covers away from herself and looked towards her windows. They no longer rattled, but these weren't the windows of the dream. "Tuttelus," she murmured, the spell turning on all the lights in her room as the witch looked about to find none of the family photos she'd seen nor the jackets and textiles. She quickly looked towards her own door. She stared at the door for a long moment, breathing finally calming as no sound came from it. The fear subsided slowly. And as it did, Vivianne finally startled herself again and reached for the notebook on her nightstand, then her pen. Her hands worked on the parchment, relentlessly scribbling and sketching every detail that she could remember... So much. She could remember so much of the vivid dream, down to little cracks in the furniture and the faces on those photos. It was odd. She saw the windows again, the walls, the belongings of several people that she did not know. 15 minutes later, she turned the page and her hand flew as she drew the hallway. A murmured spell turned her pen red and she highlighted the eerie light that had surrounded her. Her hand stilled for a moment before she slowly turned back to the former page. Vivianne took a deep breath and used the red ink. She added the blood where the light should have been. "Enough," she whispered, as though reciting the word. The memory of the desperate scream echoed in her head. Then so many other screams, so much screaming. The Oracle looked back towards her door, standing up and letting her feet slowly carry her there. Then she opened the door, but when she opened the door there was no one on the other side. Vivianne let out a trembling sigh of relief.

[madaeson]

there is no great genius without some touch of madness (c)

[spacebugarts]

I saw you play D&D, what is your favorite class to play?

Oh God, I hope you're the one who posted the goblin who's looking for snail books lol. My adhd brain is like oh no, what if its the wrong person!

I am the one that posted Leaf lol, I haven't played a lot of classes yet but I'm definitely a fan of half-casters! My little half-goblin Leaf is a ranger I recently multiclassed into a wildfire druid, and my first character was a bard. I like having the option to alternate between spells and weapons while still doing decent damage, and having access to different kinds of magic makes for some fun character options!

So far I'm really enjoying being a ranger though. Leaf has an adorable giant badger companion named Honey! She isn't very good at fighting, but Leaf would rather keep her out of harm's way anyways. She mostly acts as emotional support :)

[lattecodes]

the air quality is shitty where i live rn bc of the wildfires. be safe everyone!

[creataav]

fic preview!

under the cut is the first (unedited) 600 words of a fic that was supposed a bad boys fic but the beginning of it got away from me for a bit. enjoy!

Joel did his best to shake off the layers of sleep as he got in the car to drive over to his brother, Grian’s, apartment. He was throwing some kind of party, Joel thought. Honestly, he wasn’t sure, and he’d woken up from a nap that had gone a little too long less than fifteen minutes ago, so he wasn’t all there, mentally speaking. Or physically, what are you doing? He thought, as he repeatedly tried to open the locked passengers-side door of his car, despite not having a bag to throw there or a passenger. “Get it together,” he muttered aloud, before unlocking the car and slipping into the driver’s side and putting his phone on the little magnetic stand he’d stuck on the vent. He pulled up a playlist and Lizzie’s address (they’d be moving in together soon, for next semester, but for now she was still living by herself in a tiny apartment a little over five minutes away), pressed play on the music and rolled gently out of the driveway. He might project a bad boy persona, with the leather and the too-big glasses, but even bad boys cared about safe driving practices. Car crashes are sad, boys. He’d asked Grian and Jimmy to match, even though Jimmy wasn’t technically related to either of them but he was close enough to a brother, with how they loved and teased him equally that Joel and Grian had agreed that he’d been effectively adopted. Plus, Joel really thought everything with Lizzie was going to work out, knock on wood, so eventually they were actually going to be brothers. He could admit that having that tie with Jimmy was probably the third-best part of what he imagined getting married to Lizzie would be like. (The first two being getting married to Lizzie, obviously, and the cake.)

He bopped and sang along to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter as he parallel parked on the street below Lizzie’s apartment. He got out and checked his parking job carefully – pretty good, a little too close to the curb but still solid – before grabbing his phone off the vent and shooting her a text to let her know he’d gotten there. Before long he heard the little jingle of her giving the text a thumbs up, and he stood to wait for her semi-patiently, drumming out a new beat on his pant legs with his fingertips. He and Oli needed to jam again. Maybe they could get Lizzie to sing for them again. 

Speaking of Lizzie, she came tumbling out of her apartment door a little too fast, before giving Joel a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. She’d left her hair down, and it was long now, hitting around the bottom of her rib cage. Her dark roots were starting to creep in, and the bright pink dye had faded to more of a salmon color, but Joel loved it anyway. She had on a cropped T-shirt that had Empires the Musical written on it in lettering that was excessively fancy, with all kinds of loops and swirls curling around the letters. Lizzie had cropped it herself, the bright blue hem looking a little ragged under close inspection. She’d paired it with gray jeans and Converse.

Joel followed her to the passenger side, cutting in front of her to open the door. Lizzie glanced up at him with an eye roll and a fond smile, and he felt his heart melt a little bit. He was so far gone for this woman.

[sunhazeheart]

And what now….

[cauterisen]

part 2 with late 20s something kimiko

[sacredpyre]

[sungracd]