WHITE-HOT

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If there was one thing he needed after the battle, it was a well-deserved rest. It was almost as if the universe was forcing him to, conveniently breaking not only one of his legs, but also one of his arms. The arm with which he could write, of course.Even with healing magic, bones did not mend overnight either. There was absolutely no way for him to keep working on the research the Wizard had given him. So there he was, suffering, bored, trying to read up on elemental magic, laying on his bed that was covered in books and notes. Tristan was about forty-five minutes into his 8-hour-rain-sounds-ASMR video when there was a knock at his door, and it was the sound of her heels against the wooden floor, then the sight of those familiar blonde locks that had him almost instinctively pulling his mental shield up, even before he looked up properly to meet her gaze. “Oh, it’s you.” Alright, so he was enjoying the fact that she was taken aback by the state of him, but only until he noticed the ingenuine smirk on her face. If he didn’t know her better, he would think that she was worried about him. “I’m doing perfectly fine, thank you for asking.” He pushed himself to sit up straighter, the cast on his right arm resting on his chest. “No coffee this time?” 

just her he says; she shakes her head at his shamelessness. as if she wasn’t a feature, but she stops to kick off her heels before approaching the subject, or the man himself. “don’t make me fight a man in a cast.” she teases and comes in closer. her eyebrows raise and drop, “no coffee. just little ol me for a shot of energy this time.” she takes a look at his poor state and shakes her head in an exaggerated way, “next time you’re trying to carry too many books up the stairwell just ask me to come over and help.” crossing her arms over her chest she wonders what she would do if this were anyone but tristan. imply they should tell her what happened. the kind of implication they couldn’t refuse. if it were her brother, she would hit him over the head for carelessness, knowing he would be alright in the end. nothing can crush the spiderlings after all, too strong and durable. but she can do neither. so she sighs, “are you in pain?” she doubts she’d know even if he lied about it, an infuriating thought. “you’re like a princess all locked up in this tower and in need of care.” she tries to dampen her worry with irreverent jokes as always.

@axdently​, sif & haeun, the night to change them all.

they were no surprise to midnight meetings. haeun clutched her empty hand to her chest, resting on the base of her throat. not the only sign of her discomfort but one she couldn’t help. she had proudly watched sif while bumping elbows with strangers and members of each house, everyone vying for a sight at the heroes. haeun’s own head of house was there next to her and she watched him for a long moment as well. a man who she knew next to nothing about, who she never felt loyalty to, who by his very existence, her association as a child lead to so many uncomfortable situations. it made her glad she had met sif, that they went through the things they had together, that she had someone to share her secrets with who wouldn’t tarnish her reputation. if only she had been born legitimate to their house.

if only.

she sat in front of sif now, another late night, intimate because everyone had been dismissed for their secret meeting. “and i used to think i was sick of nightmares before all this,” she sips her tea, much less shaken and fearful than the last time they met. “at this rate, i’ll be immune.” her sarcasm is as usual, undercut with morbidity, dark humor and self pity. her hands shake around the fine china in her hand, a symptom from overuse of her powers during the disastrous attacks that had refused to let up. “you know, i promised you i would stay by your side.” she had shed blood to prove it, carved sif into her heart for their shared hardships and broken hearts together, “before you, i was so lost. i’m not sentimental enough to talk about it often, but that night i met you by the lakeside, could have been the end of me.” she rests her cup on the table and takes a look at her scars, “and because of that night, i’ve gained so much. so that even these terrible nights of unrest and uncertain futures don’t seem as frightening.” 

she gives sif her eye contact and steadies her tone. “i’m certain now- the dreams we had were real. the things we said and promises we made will most certainly be exacted. the world is folding in on itself, and our time will come. so that’s why i have something to ask of you.” 

Wisteria was not the type of woman who enjoyed going to parties, but this was the stipulation to see her parents - at least make the effort. So here she was, dressed in a white dress better suited for summer and carried a basket of flowers. She was a flower-seller - it had been the easiest costume for her to put together, and she wasn’t about to put in the kind of effort required to shine at the party.

In fact, after she greeted her parents and they got their fill of her - she sat down next to a young woman who seemed … comfortable with sitting off to the side. Wisteria reached into her basket and removed a small pink lisianthus to hand to her. “Here, every pretty woman deserves a pretty flower,” she said as a greeting.  She looked over the crowd and shrugged. “I’m not often invited to parties, but my parents wanted me here, so here I am,” she said with a slight, bitter smile. There had been a time when she would have loved to be at the party, but now she knew it was all for show. “Now you – don’t look happy in the least,” she said, curious but careful to not allow her bare hands to come in contact with any part of the other person - no object was safe for her to handle unless it was new. “And until you are happy and enjoying yourself, I’ll stay at your side, fetch your drinks, bring you food, shower you with attention, and when everyone else sees what they’re missing out on - you’ll be in a better spot to be Cinderella.” 

the flower is a surprise and it brings a softness to her smile, stopping her tune mid key strike so she can pick it up and place smell it before putting it back. “oh thank you. that must be why you have so many.” she rebuttals as she returns her fingers to their music, her smile and mood feel more natural.

“i see: obligations. hardly a reason to celebrate.” she nods like she understands, but her parents weren’t in her life for more than 13 years. a parents wishes were the farthest from her understanding. “it must be obvious. since i’m hiding in the corner.” she says sheepishly about her pity party being too obvious. “i’m just not a people person,” is the simple defense she offers, “i’m more of a listener.”

the offer is a tantalizing look in the life of someone who could never be haeun. the thought is frightful almost. the thought of people vying for her. usually when people seek to get a closer look at her, she panics. she tries to keep her smile up as she laughs an awkward, timid and disbelieving laugh. “it’s enough for you to stay. i don’t need much to be content.” she slides over on the bench to make more room. “do you always end up at the whims of your parents?” questions that get to the heart of a person were her specialty, no matter how inappropriate they might be. she finishes with a look that says no need to answer.

she’s become quite the stray dog. wandering into the tower whenever she needs a pick me up. sylvie realizes it’s inappropriate, but then again when is she ever appropriate in the first place? so she winds the stairs to where she’s come to know he is and lets herself in after a knock. it smelled like him. like tristan, ingredients, books and magic. “before you go nagging, i don’t have any secr-” her words stopped when she got a good look at him, posted up in the corner of the room. “what’s all this then?” she drops her coat onto the nearest stack of books that looked like it might not topple over and went to him, taking in the sight of him in all his glory, casts and all. “did you fall down the tower stairwell?” she attempts to give him a snarky smirk but it’s hampered by her sudden stomach ache. bruises, broken bones, a reminder of just how tangible life is, that the man who had found a way to change her life could be taken from the world at any turn. the fragility of human beings, a fact which she often warned her sister about. 

sylvie had been dreaming so deeply that sometimes it still felt as though she were stuck in a waking sleep. for so long she had seen horrible things in her sleep that she didn’t even know she was capable of calling it a nightmare. nothing scared her anymore. it felt days on end that she slept. there was one thing that took her off guard ⸻shayne’s face. she thought of shayne from time to time. afraid to let herself think too long on the last person she swore would be allowed to betray her. her heart if nothing else. humanity is such a fragile thing, but not without power.

when she did wake, it struck her with an urge so fucking powerful that it couldn’t be ignored. find shayne. a not so simple task, but one she was up to. luckily, her career wasn’t without many benefits, contacts everywhere being a helpful one.

with her knuckles finally tapping on the door, she couldn’t help the trembles of her fingers. animal instincts, the thrill of knowing shayne was near once again. after their last explosive goodbye, it felt like a precarious place to be. but sylvie couldn’t back away from the challenge, not when she was so close. when the door swung wide and put on her tamest smile, barely flickering with a hunger she couldn’t hide, “there you are,” she raises her eyebrows to express mirth, “did you miss me?” and she steps closer, propping herself into the doorway as an obstacle, rather than being shut right back out, “can i come in?”

(charlie hunnam, he/him, human) to BARRETT GOODMAN, the whole world looks like an open page. with a leap of faith, their skills in SHAPE SHIFTING grows a little stronger. for THIRTY-THREE years, they have survived a world of magic with both their CAPABLE and RECKLESS. they work as a MECHANIC, but if they could change their fate, they’d want to CREATE A SAFER WORLD FOR HIS FAMILY !

⸻ @cagliostrostart​, one year ago, around this time, upscale costume party.

   she wears a sparkling angel dress, complete with glittery wings lined with feathers, her face made up to match. luckily, there’s long gloves up to her elbows to hide the mark of her abilities, her house, her shame. her silk encased fingers pang over pearl white, worn keys on an upright piano. a sad note mingles with the upbeat music that plays from speakers overhead. a party venue, a costume party to send the month away. she’s the wallflower tonight, filling up half a piano bench all alone in the corner. most of the others at the party are in the main venue space, dancing or at the bar, the nearby tables are empty as the guest's dance. only one person sits near her.

she manages an awkward smile as they make eye contact. her fingers shift the melancholy tune to the beginning of a medley of halloween music, her grin becoming softer. “nice costume,” she tells them over the dual music, her voice nearly getting lost, “we make quite a pair.” she tries to seem less miserable than she feels.

A husband, a daughter, and four reckless younger siblings, broken bones and gashes and bruises no longer phased Ada. She’s certain she’s seen it all, from dangerously high fevers to neighbors bringing their loved ones to her kitchen table because of broken bones and bleeding that wouldn’t stop.

The door for that half of her life has seemingly closed when blood poisoning and torn tendons replaced her healing abilities.

But ignoring the dirt and bruises and the blood that came from Leo was impossible. “Do you want to bleed out in the kitchen?” Her voice snaps. The first aid kit has already been procured from its spot under the cabinet and sits open between them. There’s just enough distance that their limbs don’t touch.

“It’s just a scratch my ass,” Her words mumble. Eyes avoid his gaze and, instead, focus on assessing the damage that’s been done. There’s no teasing, no calling him an idiot behind a playful smile. She doesn’t reach for the hem of his shirt to undress him. “Take off your shirt so I can at least clean it up so you don’t get an infection and a hospital visit we can’t afford,” Now she does drop her hands in front of her to meet his dark eyes - can he see exactly how worried she was? This was once an easy fix. Every injury seems like it could be life-or-death now. “What the hell were you thinking?”

it feels like a punchline, hearing her snap, avoiding her eyes and wondering why it always has to get like this. this exhaustive back and forth. this woman had stripped his shirt off a billion ways, in a million places, sometimes even in questionable places, at the worst of times. yet here he is in his own damn kitchen, being asked to do it himself. sometimes it’s like a foghorn realizing how fucked up things have gotten between them. he runs his tongue over his teeth behind his lips, nodding his head and staring until his eyes meet hers when she finally looks up. he reaches down to the hem of his shirt and unceremoniously pulls it off, grunting in pain and a hint of frustration along the way. “you don’t have to bitch about it. i’m in pain enough without that.” he sighs, throwing the shirt to the side before gazing at her again. “what was i thinking? i wasn’t thinking anything. it was an accident ada.”

he takes a quick glance down at the tear in his side, an ugly pattern of torn flesh, some fresh and some dried blood, and bruises rippling up from the center along the right side of his torso. being flung aside and catching a graze like a cannonball from a tree branch debris will do that. “i was just out looking for more ingredients for the shop. you should know i wouldn’t do anything to put our family in danger.” and that’s all his life amounts to, the sum of his whole, being the man she needs, keeping his daughter’s hopes alive. he looks back down one last time to his wound, flickering his eyes to her with a gleam, “maybe it’s more than a scratch.” he tries to lighten the mood but he’s not the jokester he used to be.

back when they were young, stupid kids, eager to get into trouble together. he had been able to brush aside any blows, with snark and ease. when she was able to heal him within minutes, it was easy. when they were cut out for all of this shit. the most it would have left them with was making love in the kitchen on the counter some years ago. quips and banter, recklessness, passion, even to a degree, toughness, were all things he no longer had in him. “i’ll pay you for your treatment, nurse.” his eyes are the only thing capable of holding the joke now. his face remains largely dragged down by the years, by stress, by everything.

⸻ @disastercg​​, wish fulfillment, closing in on midnight.

her hands felt as tingly as they were transparent. like she looked and both felt like static, brown noise. just because she was given this great new ability along with her second chance at life, doesn’t mean it was something she understood or felt relieved by. she has little to no control over her astral projections, a resulting bullshit that only came to her after her new lease on life, leaving it feeling more like a rental agreement or terms and conditions. it leaves her standing in the center of wish fulfillment, a ghost of herself, not dead, not the same phantom she had been before the witch brought her back to life, but like a hologram. she knew for a fact her body was left sat at her desk in her room while she had projected her consciousness to where her thoughts were building up. 

it’s brave of her to be here at all. staring straight into jack’s eyes in front of the counter, wringing her hands in front of her. transparent skin, body, glowing in the light of her spirit. “i need to see the witch.” she tells him, choosing to ignore the consequences of such a thing after walking out of his life. “i don’t have time to stand around all day jack.” she sighs and glances at her hands, straight through to the floor and her feet below them. “i don’t know how long i can maintain this form.” because at the end of the day, she needed to find a way to control her projections and figure out what yuuko needed from her. if not, she might go mad. “please, jack.” 

     She drops her crust onto the napkin, a habit she’d not been able to drop from her childhood- it just never tasted right to her, so she always left it. “It isn’t moping” she mimicked, her voice high and childish as she used another napkin to wipe the grease from her fingers, “okay sure, lie harder Hae.” A playful sticking out of her tongue shows she’s not serious and she shakes her hair out behind her, flipping it behind her shoulders. “If you lightened up, you could play the game too” she winked before reaching for her phone and swiping through her notifications with a sigh.      A mischievous glint in her eye as she looks over the device at the other woman “you want the Gabriella Ryu masterclass? I’ll happily teach you how to be cool and sexy like me” a cheeky wink and an air kiss is blown Haeuns way, although she’s almost serious in her teasing. She perked up at the suggestion, a grin spreading across her face and her phone being dropped back onto the table “you had me at lukewarm beer.” she giggled “I was planning on ditching early today anyway, I already did the lunch shift- it’s about time my brothers pulled their weight around here.” A swift motion and the branded Giovanni’s polo shirt is stripped from her slender frame, a colourful crop in place underneath. She stands and tosses the shirt underneath the counter, grabbing her purse from the little nook she kept it in whilst working and slinging it over her shoulder. “I need some new shoes- so I’m all in baby” bright smile on her face as she pulled a couple of bottles from the fridge behind the counter, cracking the lids off with the fading glow of the butterfly on her forehead, the caps drifting into the trashcan by themselves as she walked back to the table they were occupying, placing one in front of her friend and taking a swig from her own before dropping back into the chair.

being mocked isn’t exactly something haeun takes well to, but in this case she allows it with a sardonic smirk. “it’s not lying, it’s knowing me better than you do.” defending weakly, she tosses her pizza down, leaning back and crossing her legs. “the fact that i’m here at all is me lightening up, that’s what you don’t understand.” not that she can blame her friend- not friend, gabs is in a category all to herself. 

she’s busy grabbing her bag, fixing her long coat in place and settling her hair, so when she turns around and spots gab looking more herself it’s a surprise. without the bland work clothes, she looks like she could be ready to snap a picture any moment. haeun envies that. she hardly ever looks or feels the part of effortlessly beautiful. she shifts in her seat uncomfortably, insecurities attempting to invade but she shuts them down. “new shoes. i can’t remember the last time i bought some new shoes.” she picks at a pepperoni as gab returns with the drinks, and she knows she shouldn’t drink more lest she be a drunken fool. but she wants to escape, and why else be with gabs at all if not to do just that. “how often do you have off anyway?” gabs words regarding her brother bring to mind that she nearly every time she shows up here, surely enough, gabriella is here as well. it’s odd to worry whether the woman was overworked, but suddenly, haeun does. “ditching work to willingly spend time with me of all people,” she can’t help but be amused, “now that’s a sign you’re overworked, if nothing else.”

⸻ @cagliostrostart​, in the nightmare realm the night before the boundary invaded the dreams of the world. while your muse slumbers, as things in their dreams turn dark.

the sky above seems confused. purple into red into sickly yellow, with stormy clouds that looked like they would burst and rain down upon her. she didn’t recognize where she was. she didn’t recognize any of it. she was barely able to keep up with her own dreams. once realizing she was in someone else’s dream, it became easier to set it aside. she looks down at her hands, almost sheer in nature, a clear indicator of her projection here, and sighs. she doesn’t have the greatest of control over it yet, having only recently learned she can do it at all. but she trudges on because she has no idea how to get back to her own consciousness yet. the wildflowers of whale island here creeping near buildings she’d seen just outside of selphia and some fixtures she’d never seen in either. the consciousness of whoever owned this world, the mind and memories of someone else manifesting into a confusing mess. 

she had to find them. she had to wake them up so she could eject herself out. so sprinting through the maze of mismatched things, medina attempts to find her way home. and she can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a dream. it was a nightmare. something heavy in the air. something that feels stronger as she runs into the source of all here, almost face first into someone standing in the middle of a room that they had manifested right before her. it seemed like somewhere that must be unique to them. scattered with things she’d never seen. she eases in closer to them, holding her hand out in front of her as a sign of peace. “hey there.” she says slowly, “it’s alright, just take a breather. whatever you’re thinking about, just focus on me instead.” she points a finger around the room, “this place is going to start looking a little scary if you don’t.” she tries to smile reassuringly, even as the walls around them crack and bleed black in places.