#how do i tag for warnings

[violent138]

Damian: "Red Hood has a pretty severe concussion. What do I do?"

Tim: "Extraction's still ten minutes out, just keep him talking."

Damian, urgently pressing the comm: "I don't want to talk to him, he's even more insufferable than usual."

Jason, lying on the ground, eyes closed: "That's funny Junior, because head trauma's the only thing that makes you bearable."

Damian, to Tim: "I'm leaving. It won't be the first time we've had a closed casket."

Tim, groaning disgustedly: "Robin--ugh, seriously, just stay there and keep him awake."

Damian, seething even more when he sees Jason's smirk: "Fine."

Jason, cracking open one eye: "Aww, are you concerned about me?"

Damian: "Shut up. The only thing I'm concerned about is our family's reputation after your public wipeout on that stupid motorcycle."

Jason:

Damian: "Are you still awake?" *kicks him* "Todd?"

Jason, grinning: "You said our family."

Damian, furious: "I didn't. You've lost more brain cells than you could afford."

Jason: "Wait 'till Tim hears, I think he'll want a group hug. Bruce is probably going to get emotionally constipated. Dickie would probably cry--"

Damian, panicking as he hears the Batmobile get closer: "Stop. Do not tell him--"

Jason: "You better erase every single fucking video of me crashing then."

Damian: "You have a deal."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Look what we've become.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[levia-san]

I randomly remembered HSY help reassemble LSK in the surgery room and pondered over their relationship before this crack idea happened. A chat with a friend then sealed the deal

Bonus:

Joongdok bonus ending:

This venue has been booked all day anyway and KDJ was too shellshocked to reject.

Congratulations!

EDIT: MY FRIEND MADE A GREAT ADDITION CHECK IT OUT (x)

[iknowicanbutwhy]

Hello, do-not-make-Mirabelle-angry gang, I present to you @ksenya-and-the-artistic-cucumber being really funny with scattered context

[secriden]

This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Saying that the gpda should go care about something important, as if they aren't - for the first time in DECADES - taking a definite stand against the sports governing body publicly for all to see, is something.

This goes beyond the jewellery, the underwear, or even the swearing. And their issue about being told not to wear jewellery and bring told what underwear is more about the fact that they were told by the media, rather than by the governing bodies themselves directly in a meeting where the drivers could share their perspectives.

They publicly called out the FIA President for his hypocrisy and for how he has spoken about the drivers both to their face and behind their backs.

Most importantly, they have publicly expressed their feelings about monetary fines, publicly stated that they have no idea what the FIA does with the money they receive from fining drivers, and called them out for it. There is zero transparency from the FIA in an issue we now know has been raised since at least 2021. What is the FIA hiding? Because there is no reason why the drivers should not be allowed to see where that money goes, or at least no legitimate reason.

[dendroaspis-viridis]

I'm begging you, BioWare... Learn from the mistakes of Baldur's Gates past...

[umblrspectrum]

like half of a frame redraw

[sysig]

Blood sugar levels (Patreon)

[wildflowercryptid]

it's all fun and games until your goofy ass kinnie jokes actually start to bring some interesting similarities to light.

[shady-tavern]

Heart Song

The world was full of music and to you, that was beautiful. Everyone you met was surrounded by a melody, some louder and some quieter, some sad and some joyful, some struggling and changing tunes as they tried to find themselves and others marching forward, no matter the mismatched tones and half-broken sounding lyrics.

It had been difficult, growing up, to not get lost in the music constantly. Your parents hadn't understood what was going on, dragging you to doctors and trying out different medication, until you had been old enough to find the words, the proper explanation, to tell them how you saw the world. 

A gifted child, your lot were called. People born with abilities that showed as early as when they were infants or sometime late in their adulthood. But the powers always revealed themselves and very, very rarely were not put to use.

You had found yourself responding to melodies that had wanted to be heard and seen and recognized even before you understood what they were, singing back at them clumsily until they had lost a hurt edge, until they had found meaning, until the song surrounding a person's heart rang like clear bells with the sound of hope-relief-healing.

Becoming a hero had, in a way, been the only sensible conclusion. You wanted to help and you could help, so why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you help sand down rough edges, help people over a bump in their road, help someone hurting find the strength to reach out?

Your parents had thankfully been the sensible and sceptical ones and had cautioned you against accepting just any hero gig, any contract that was extended to you. You had been so excited you had nearly accepted the first offer without question.

They taught you to read between the lines and always question things, especially if people in power reached out to you.

Hero contracts, as you had quickly learned, were rather intense. There was so much red tape surrounding everything and your parents really hadn't liked some of the wording of some of the passages and with great reluctance and perhaps a couple of tears, you had tossed those offers into the trash.

Right up until Redemption & Recovery had reached out to you. They had been a comparatively tiny organization back then, doing their best to help others with what funding they got. Almost all members were volunteers and the contract they had extended had, admittedly, looked pitiful compared to the promised salary of the big hero offices.

But their offer had been just what you had been looking for. Next to no red tape and your values and theirs aligned. The moment your parents gave their tentative green light you had called them straight away, telling them you wanted to work with them.

In the years that had followed you had made quite the name for yourself and the organization, which had grown in members and funding until it was one of the biggest. You were so proud of everyone and their hard work. 

While you had become the face of R&R, fighting and going to interviews and fan meetings and doing your best to be present online, everyone else had been hard at work behind the scenes. Networking and outlining and signing contracts, choosing sponsors carefully and keeping the unyielding desire to make the world better alive, no matter how big the organization got.

Redemption & Recovery focused heavily on not only offering recovering villains all the tools to keep healing and improving, but they also offered services to the public to help people stay away from the villain business in the first place.

You still didn't have much of a salary compared to other famous heroes, but that worked just fine for you. You rather donated as much as you could feasibly give to R&R, to help finance the services they offered. The therapists and doctors they had on their payroll, as well as housing aid and financial advisors and lawyers to help people get back on their feet.

You still received offers from the big offices, who hoped to poach you from R&R and the latest offer had you choking on your breakfast when you had seen the salary and other perks they had offered. It had still gone into the trash, because the red-tape situation had been as bad as ever.

Besides, you were perhaps a bit...unique, among the heroes. The big offices would probably find working with you rather headache inducing.

You raced around a corner, heart in your throat at the sound of hurt-terror-helplessness that filled the air ahead of you as thickly as the dust and smoke from the collapsed building that had yet to settle. You leapt over rubble and debris, your breath catching when you heard another bit of building crumble somewhere to the left.

And among the injured civilians, the panicked people, one melody rang louder than the others. Loud enough to drench everything in agony-hatred-despair like a wailing siren.

You had heard bits and pieces of this particular melody in the past and you knew exactly who it belonged to. Eclipse, a high-level villain known for laying waste to entire city blocks whenever he appeared. 

He was one of the villains who broke heroes left and right if they weren't strong enough to stand up to him and who had endangered many a civilian carelessly. No death count yet, but he was getting closer and closer to it every time he appeared. 

Even now he had been lucky that people had gotten out of the building in time before it had started to collapse.

Official sources weren't sure if he even had full control of his powers, considering the often haphazard destruction and his at times openly visible frustration. Whatever was going on, however, everyone agreed that he needed to be stopped before he ended up killing, no matter if it was intentional or not.

Eclipse's focused face turned into a mask of fear the moment he noticed you from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to stare at you.

His heart song drew you unerringly to where he was in a showdown with two other heroes, newbies if you remembered correctly. The heroes were bleeding and limping but determined-angry-hurt and they would not stop until they could no longer get up.

You saw Eclipse raise a hand in your direction and you felt his power in the air, heavy like a yoke dropping onto your shoulders, with a sharp underlining that told you it was barely-controlled. The ground beneath you starting to crack, glass shattering further, steel beams yanking out of the rubble to hurl at you.

But you were close enough. You closed your eyes for a moment, senses honing in on his heart song and you took a deep breath and began to sing. You answered the anguished melody of his heart, desperate and with a hurt so deep it had stained every part of his life for far, far too long.

You were only peripherally aware of all the ammunition clattering to the ground, steel beams scraping to a stop, glass grinding into shards so fine they briefly resembled glittering snow.

The two heroes backed up, relief making their songs brighter as they turned to rush to the aid of the injured civilians, two who had gotten pinned by fallen concrete.

Eclipse collapsed to his knees, a keening noise escaping him, wounded and terrified and he burst into tears. His heart song was nothing but pain and hurt that was finally set free, like a wound that had needed to be drained of infection. Painful but necessary.

You hurried towards Eclipse as he helplessly sobbed in a way that reminded you of a child that had been abandoned by everyone, confused and terrified and so terribly alone.

Before you could reach him however, still singing, for you hadn't completed the melody yet, a different song sliced through the air like a serrated blade, sharp and cutting and jarring enough that it made you jolt to a stop. 

You had just one moment to drag your focus away from Eclipse and back to the world around you, when Vision leapt out of the settling dust and rubble, his heart song a deep, echoing drum of vicious anger-determination-worry.

The sleek black metal helmet covering his head was faintly reflecting some sunlight and you dodged back just in time to avoid a kick to the middle. Two quickly and precisely aimed blows forced you to focus on the fight entirely and you had to cut off your song even as it felt like you were suddenly walking on spiky stones in your shoes. 

Cutting songs short hurt and the rest of the melody still stuck within you started to claw at your lungs, demanding to be released. To be completed.

You managed to dodge around Vision, realizing that his heart song filled with righteous fury and blade-sharp worry gave you...nothing. It was rare, granted, but sometimes there were people who didn't want to be saved. Who didn't want or perhaps need your songs.

They wanted to be their own saviors.

You hadn't clashed with Vision before, but then again, heroes rarely did. He was a villain capable of seeing into the future and his ability to predict the outcomes of battles ahead of time, knowing the moves and abilities of heroes ensured that no one had ever won against him. 

No trap had ever worked and he was one of ten villains who managed to keep everything about themselves private. He was also pretty much all over the place when it came to his MO, he seemed to enjoy dipping his fingers at least once into every pie.

That he was here, now, getting involved with you when you had never so much as seen his shadow fleeing his crime scenes made you think of the rumors you had heard recently. Of unexpected villain alliances and joint attacks.

You ducked out of the way of his next attack, sliding around his guard to trip him up. Vision was skilled, however, easily as skilled as you were in hand-to-hand combat and smoothly turned his fall into a drop and roll, avoiding your sweeping kick by a hair. 

One thing however, became clear within even that short exchange of blows: He was willing to hit a lot harder than you.

You hated fighting. You loathed being the reason heart songs changed for the worse.

Fighting caused hurt and deepened the songs of pain-anguish-hate-loneliness. It filled the world around you with the sound of strings snapping and keys being smashed, as though an orchester had decided to get shitfaced drunk and now they were playing their instruments so hard they ended up breaking.

Hurting others was the ugliest song you knew and it made something in your very teeth ache like biting onto a bar of icy metal after drinking hot tea.

You managed to hold your ground, always peripherally aware of Eclipse, who was gasping sobs into his hands and the unfinished song scraping your ribs raw, right up until another villain joined the fray. She appeared so quickly you had no chance to react in time, not with Vision viciously on the attack. 

Silver was a tough woman with the fiercest heart song you had ever heard, strong enough to crumble mountains like cookies and with such a drive forward that her melody could sweep anyone up in her rhythm, driving them to reach for the stars relentlessly.

Silver flicked out a dagger and the knowledge that she didn't kill didn't help one bit when she was well known for leaving heroes with career-ending injuries. She was so damn precise it usually only took her one hit to take heroes down. Even the powerful ones couldn't afford to slip up around her and they only ever took her on one-on-one, because even an inexperienced, second villain spelled their doom. 

Vision already had you fully occupied and you had no chance to dodge, never mind counterattack.

You saw the flash of the blade, braced yourself for the pain, the songs around you suddenly too much, too loud, too – a sharp pop filled the air, followed by one of your favorite melodies in the world. 

From the corner of your eye you saw the sweep of a night-black cape and a night-black gauntlet came up to parry Silver's blow, as Areth appeared at your back out of nowhere.

"Yo," Areth said with a sharp grin, a mask covering the upper half of her face.

"Lo," her twin Sorrel answered as he leapt out of her shadow and at Silver, tumbling her to the ground with a snarl.

"Is someone bullying our Cloud?" Areth asked as she whirled past you, striking out at Vision, disappearing and reappearing behind him before the hit landed, but it had the desired effect – he had reacted to her feint.

It left his flank wide open and her kick landed solidly, throwing him off his feet and he tumbled into the dirt and rubble as Areth took up position at your side. "You good, little Cloud?"

The twins had nicknamed you Cloud since they thought you lived with your head in the clouds, always listening to things no one else could hear, humming and smiling or frowning at nothing.

"Give me cover?" you asked, already running for Eclipse and picking his song back up, relief flooding your lungs and Areth's melody resonated protective-care-determination, turning her usually pleasant heart song into something beautifully fierce. 

Her twin's song echoed hers as he dipped in and out of shadows, disarming Silver at last – not that that stopped her from being dangerous – while Areth moved to keep Vision occupied. Her teleportation skills were honestly some of the few abilities that could stand up to Vision's future-predicting powers.

She seemed to move too fast for him to reliably predict where she was going to end up next in the heat of battle. Which didn't mean that she had an easy time against him, but she at least was capable of landing a hit on him.

Eclipse's desperate melody took a metaphorical breath as your song rose over the sound of battle and you did your best to soothe him back out of the storm, to guide the hurt and bitterness and abandonment that drenched every single part of him towards release.

You had just barely finished the song, Eclipse's sobs slowly petering out as he sat sagged, utterly exhausted, when Areth appeared at your side, grabbing you. Sorrel slipped into her shadow and then you were gone. For just a split second, your world was...quiet. Quiet in a way it never was.

And then you stood a street over, sound and color and smell and taste filtering back and you needed a moment to reorient yourself before you turned around to where the battle had been, only for your breath to catch. A strange shimmer filled the air a few houses behind you, moving up and up at a rapid pace to create a massive dome.

"White Rabbit showed up," Areth said and her and Sorrel's melodies overlapped now, like two people singing the same song in perfect sync. They always sounded like this when he hid in her shadow and you were about the only person who had known from the beginning that Areth wasn't walking alone whenever she had shown up in costume.

You were about to hurry forward, when her hand found your shoulder. "Don't go, Cloud, you know that time's not on your side in there. Besides, the big league heroes are already on the way, though I doubt that by the time they break the dome they're going to find anyone but confused civilians."

You grimaced and reluctantly backed down. Your powers were absolutely and completely useless when it came to Timeless, who only needed to catch you up in either a time-freezing dome or had to rewind the last couple of seconds once you appeared to ensure you could be avoided. You had to get close enough to people after all for your powers to have the desired effect.

"Thanks," you said. "For helping me."

"Always, little Cloud." Areth gave your shoulder a gentle nudge, her and Sorrel's combined heart songs mellowing out into affection-kindness-protective. "You're one of the few actually, genuinely good eggs that we know." She paused looking up. "Aw, shit, bye!"

They teleported away and not a moment too late. Rescue heavily impacted where Areth had stood, having leapt from who-knew-where, straightening on powerful legs.

Rescue was a grizzled, old hero, one of the oldest and she rarely left her office these days, preferring to guide and teach the younger generation.

That she was here meant that Timeless' dome needed to go down stat.

Rescue tipped her head politely at you. "Anything you can tell me?" she asked, voice rumbling. "I saw the mess from my window and I'm sick and tired of meetings."

Or she had gotten bored. Rescue was more than established enough that she could get away with pretty much anything. You got her caught up to speed and she nodded before tensing and leaping away, asphalt cracking in her wake.

You hurried forward too, lingering near the shimmering glass-like dome until it shattered apart and then you were dashing forward. You could sing if there was no specific heart song to focus on, but those songs tended to have more of a general effect and they were softer and gentler. They were, however, more than enough to soothe and calm the civilians and ease the tension of the newbies.

"No one's left," Rescue muttered. "Fucking villains, they've been getting really damn bold lately."

"Do you know why?" you asked her. Rescue was pretty knowledgeable, there had been a few instances over the years where she had given you pretty damn useful advice.

She frowned. "Not a damn clue." Her phone started to ring and she pulled it out to glance at the screen. With an eye roll she added, "Gotta bail, these adult children need me to hold their hands. Becaus god forbid they just do what I say."

With a quick salute she was gone and you frowned at your surroundings. The villain activity was bothering you quite a bit if you were being honest.

Things always shifted, people grew in power or lost power, but it was an ebbing and swelling that was visible on both sides. There was a strange symbiosis between villains and heroes, a flow of power and control. 

Usually, a new arrival made waves on both sides for a bit, a new villain or new hero upsetting the previous balance. It was like integrating a new instrument to an orchestra that hadn't expected any arrivals in the middle of a play and now they had to improvise and adapt quickly on the spot.

But this, this was different. Whatever was going that had villains uniting who usually didn't work with each other, it had them antsy and downright worried.

Only villains were antsy and worried. This upset among the villains was not reflected among the heroes, which meant...

You finished helping with the rescue efforts and went back to R&R, allowing the resident medic to check you over like they always did after a fight. All the while you kept turning things over in your mind.

Vision was a loner, as was Eclipse. Silver occasionally worked with other people, but that was only temporarily and Timeless was an enigma on the best of days. Two of those villains teaming up you could have explained away, but all four of them? And they weren't the only ones.

You went home and booted up your computer to start noting everything down. Aside from today, you had other villains working together who should not have anything to do with each other. Tide and Meteorite had been seen aiding each other and Skull Crusher and Bard had teamed up with Ultimatum, who they had a notorious rivalry with.

Before you knew it, you had nearly twenty villains who had recently been seen either on downright friendly terms or actively helping each other. Picking up your phone you started to make calls, hoping to get a foot in the door before whatever was going on would come crashing down.

There were plenty of villains who actively liked you after you had helped them with your singing. While most people feared your powers deeply – even heroes and plenty of civilians to your great sadness – the ones you had sung to tended to seek you out again.

Healing hurt, but afterwards...well, they were doing better afterwards, taking better care of themselves, seeking out therapists or other aid. You were probably the only hero around who could ask villains to poke into the business of their brethren and report back to you.

Only...for the first time, you got no answers.

You sat awake for hours, searching through the internet and online newspapers. You scrounged through the cesspit of social media, trying to find the red string that eluded you.

*.*.*

"Uh, Cloud? You good?" you heard Sorrel's hesitant voice and you whirled around, energy drink almost sloshing over your fingers. You probably looked half manic, had probably sounded half manic when you had called the twins earlier.

Both his and Areth's heart songs were worried-concerned-confused and you smacked the whiteboard behind you. Oh, your hands were kind of shaky. That was bad. But, no matter, you had finally gotten a lead in this mess!

You made a sort of incoherent but meaningful noise as you gestured at what you had pinned up. The twins liked old-school detective stuff and you had actually found it easier to keep track of things by spreading them out physically, rather than the messy note doc you had opened on your computer.

Areth picked up one of the energy drink cans littered around.

"How many did you have?" she asked and you didn't deign to answer her. It would only worry her. Considering her heart song became exasperated-fond-concerned anyway, that was a moot point, but you didn't have to make it worse. You'd also have to toss out all the cans before she saw the mess that was your kitchen.

You took a sip of your current energy drink and declared, "We are getting royally fucked."

The twins peered at the whiteboard which, alright, it might look kind of nonsensical at first, but you had put up colorful strings to help point things out! And pretty, glittery sticky notes a fan had gifted you!

You vaguely remembered posting a grateful little tweet about those sticky notes a few hours ago, because you appreciated your fans and you wanted them to know that.

Your fans had nearly exploded with the desire to give you more of those. You also vaguely remembered telling them that glittery stuff in general was great.

Your PO box was going to look like a five year old's birthday and you already looked forward to it.

You smacked different parts of the whiteboard, pointing out politicians and company CEOs, newspaper clippings and lastly, the documented unrest among the villains. You were talking fast enough to almost trip over your words as you told them everything you had gathered.

"And that leads me to one conclusion!" you said, the twins staring at you, standing tall and strong before you in all their anti-hero glory. They had always been a lot bigger than you, you only came up to their shoulders and they were quite dangerous and powerful fighters. Though, not dangerous for you.

"Heroes are in on this," you declared with your entire chest. "And the ones that aren't are kept in the dark." You gestured at yourself, the energy drink sloshing noisily in its can. "Like me. Because I'd kick their asses."

"You never kick anyone, little Cloud," Sorrel murmured, exchanging a heavy look with his sister. There was a plethora of micro-expressions as they communicated silently, before they faced you again. "Alright, I think it's time you meet some people."

*.*.*

You had no idea where you were, since Areth had teleported you through three different locations, but you trusted the twins. And maybe, you were still a little too hopped up on sleep deprivation and a number of energy drinks that probably shouldn't go together.

"Did you give them a heads-up?" Sorrel asked quietly and Areth sent him an unimpressed look.

"Oh no, absolutely not," she said dryly. "I was just going to drag our precious Cloud into the lion's den and watch shit hit the fan."

Sorrel rolled his eyes and they shoved each other for a little bit as they led you down a dark and dreary hallway. Couldn't villains have their lair somewhere nicer? More colorful? At least, you assumed you'd be led to a villain lair.

You reached a door made of heavy, thick metal and the twins glanced at each other, then you, offered you a reassuring look and then they pushed the door open. Oh, this was so a lair! How cool, you had never been invited to one despite having villain acquaintances.

"We're here," Areth called out, while she and Sorrel strolled forward and you trailed after them, craning your head to look at everything.

Where the hallway had been nothing but gray concrete, dreary and almost unsettling, the lair itself was bright with light and filled with different work spaces. There were inventions off to one side, minions scurrying about who all froze in their tracks and then you saw them.

The around twenty villains who had been seen working together, each and every one of them in costume and their overlapping heart songs anything but pleasant.

"Do not sing," Meteorite snarled as you opened your mouth to call out a greeting. "In fact, stay right the fuck over there."

You didn't tell him that you were already too close, that this distance was more than enough to work your magic, but you smiled disarmingly and mimed your mouth being zipped shut with jittery hands. Everything about you was still jittery and you felt a little like your bones were vibrating. Or was that your muscles?

"We are only allowing this because we trust the twins," Bard said, sitting on Skull Crusher's massive shoulders, expression intense and grim. "Having a hero here is really damn risky."

"Cloud already figured pretty much everything out," Areth said and you perked up hopefully, while the villains all stilled. The air was heavy with threatening and worried and tense heart songs, a cacophony of alarmed-mistrustful-angry-guarded-wary. 

Any other day and this would have given you a migraine. There was a reason why you didn't like crowds much and had to take days off after fan meetings.

"How?" Vision asked, voice incredulous and his heart song intense and battle-ready.

"The internet," Sorrel answered and now everyone stared at you like you were the weirdest, most baffling thing they had ever seen. You smiled disarmingly, still jittery. You probably looked, uh, slightly unhinged.

"What," Timeless said, voice flat and disbelieving and those assessing, sharp eyes fell to you. "Explain."

You barely got to inhale before the entire speech rushed out of you again, complete with big hand motions and you were sure you were giving speed-talking champions a run for their money.

A beat of heavy silence reigned after you finished, the twins still sticking close to you. You had no doubt that they would keep you safe if this somehow turned sour, but it wasn't like you were entirely defenseless either. 

With the villains requesting that you keep your distance, you'd get a song started before they could reach you. If you really put your all into it, you could get away unharmed easy-peasy.

You wouldn't like it, using your voice for anything but healing always felt like you were going to throw up at any moment, but you'd do what you had to to stay alive.

Not that anyone knew, you hadn't been forced to use those songs yet, thankfully. 

"How could you know that something was off?" Vision asked, his heart song wary-curious-impressed. Oh, the latter was new and...it was quite the nice tone. You focused on it to try and push the other songs into the background.

You wouldn't tell Vision that you could hear his and everyone's emotions around you, to the point where you could tell their intent.

People had never reacted favorably to that, they had always thought that it was creepy and invasive. You couldn't not hear their songs, however, so you just kept your mouth shut.

"When something happens, villains and heroes are always affected," you explained. "But you guys are the only ones who are getting upset." You spread your arms out. "So I looked until I found answers."

"Just like that?" Vision asked, disbelief openly audible in his voice, but his heart song grew a little bright and nicer, even as his guarded wariness remained. It had even gained a quiet, almost hidden note of curious-interested-fascinated.

You nodded and added, "It wasn't too hard in the end."

Considering the way everyone pinned you in place with hard, disbelieving stares, even the masked folk, you got the faint impression that it had, in fact, been quite hard.

"It's only possible to start noticing things if you don't consider heroes infallible," Skull Crusher mused, her voice deep and rumbling. "Did you figure out which ones are in on it?"

"I have speculations," you said and rattled off a list of names. Now all the villains' heart songs sounded impressed-incredulous-thoughtful.

Vision's heart song on the other hand sounded really damn nice now, almost no wariness left, though there was still no trust either.

"You know, it's a good thing you always live with your head in the clouds," Silver mused. "Or you would be a real problem for all of us."

"You already are, to be fair," Tide grouched, speaking up for the first time. "For someone who doesn't fight you are too good at taking us out."

There was a little tickle at the back of your throat, like a song wanted to break out as you honed in on his heart song and you swallowed it down with difficulty. They had asked you not to sing after all. Even if it was hard to keep silent, you had no desire to make anyone feel unsafe around you.

There was a moment of tension, before it seemed like the villains collectively exhaled. "Alright, get over here," Silver said, rubbing a hand over her face. "Let's talk."

The twins clapped you on the shoulders and flanked you as you walked up, Sorrel and Silver briefly nodding curtly at each other, a calm sort of wariness between them. There was no love lost.

"I hope we won't have another fight at our hands," Silver said. "I was not happy with your interference earlier today."

"And we told you our Cloud is off limits," Areth answered, hard and unyielding. "Let bygones be bygones, alright? He bruised you, you cut him, we have bigger fish to fry."

"Indeed," Bard said, accepting Skull Crusher's hand to hop down from their superior perch. "Alright, this is what we know."

*.*.*

It had been just as bad as you had feared. There were preparations put in place across the entire city for something big, skillfully kept from the public and fellow heroes who would have investigated. 

The villains around you had only noticed it themselves because they had their fingers in plenty of illegal pies and because they knew quite well who in this city was corrupt and who wasn't.

"We still don't know exactly why all these things are being put in motion," Vision mused as you looked at the evidence they revealed to you. "Money has been shifted around to people who should not get more power and they are very eager to comply."

It had taken you hours and some pulled strings to find those things out as well and only your inherent mistrust of those in power had ensured you looked where most did not think to look.

At first glance, things hadn't looked so bad, there were countless of business deals after all, but your punk parents had raised you well, had made you wary of anyone too rich, so you had kept digging deeper.

"And then there is this." Timeless tossed down pictures of the heroes you had identified as corrupt. "They are in the know, we are sure of that."

"Usually us villains are at least somewhat involved if something big is being planned," Bard added. "We don't like it if we're not getting invited to parties, after all. But this is...it's almost impossible to get any information out of the people we know have been paid to look the other way."

"Took us forever to gather this much," Silver muttered with a little frown-glare at you. She did not like that you had gotten done what they had struggled with so much.

You wisely kept your mouth shut about what your powers could do. Or how many connections you had, how many people felt grateful and indebted to you because you had helped them heal.

"But you might be just what we need," Vision spoke up, surprising you as he tipped his blank mask in your direction. "There is something these heroes know and we're running out of time. There is a big election coming up in a couple of weeks and if we don't stop whatever is going to happen before that, it will be too late."

"I do have an in with heroes," you muttered, studying the pictures on the table. "I can get into the big hero offices without trouble."

Many of the corrupt heroes were very publicly active heroes, very loved heroes – with ugly heart songs. You had met most of them and they carried melodies like starving dogs. Always hungry for more, never satisfied with what they had.

What was worse, they had no pure kind of ambition. The sort that spurred them to work harder and strive for the stars.

No, their ambition was ruthless and careless, they would step on as many necks as possible to get where they wanted to be.

You looked up, noticing that there was a sudden hush around the big table. "What?"

"You trust us and our word? Just like that? You don't think we want to use this to gain more power?" Vision asked, voice hard, but his heart song had suddenly soared a bit, it was curious-interested-hopeful. He sounded like he wanted to get to know you better, a quiet...yearning, of a sort.

You knew better than to tell him and the others that you could hear their hearts, their emotions. That it was impossible to lie to you.

"From what I understand, someone is pulling the strings and they are planning something terrible," you answered, serious and solemn and truthful. 

You just needed to meet that person. You'd only have to cross paths with them and then you'd know. Hearts couldn't hide or lie. Hearts were always honest.

It must be someone already powerful, a politician, a company CEO or perhaps even a hero. A maskless villain who had learned to hide in plain sight, planning patiently. 

This was...this was big, all these quiet and secret changes that had taken place would culminate in something that shouldn't happen.

"The mayor's election is up in a couple of weeks, we already suspect whatever is goign to happen will happen then," you murmured. "I looked at what events the city has been planning and what the hero offices are planning. Do you have a map?"

A map was quickly acquired and you noted down all the events taking place during the day of the mayor's election. There was the big gathering in the main plaza in front of the city hall, there were fan greetings with almost all the corrupt heroes in surrounding buildings and a big, long anticipated restaurant was going to open that exact day around the corner. 

Parades were planned and a big firework display was promised later, along with free drinks and food. No election had ever been this nice to its citizens and no election had ever been accompanied with so many events.

You drew the routes of the parades and each and every one of them led people past the plaza.

"They're gathering the citizens for something," Silver said grimly. "How many do you think will be there?"

"Most people," Vision murmured. "And, here." He set down his phone, scrolling to reveal how many big sales the surrounding shops offered on election day. Ridiculously low prices for expensive things.

"This reeks of someone planning to use their powers," Bard said, their lips pressed together unhappily. "What do you think, mind control?"

"The only super capable of affecting so many people lives on an island because she's sick and tired of society," Skull Crusher answered with a shake of her head. "And the power to control or affect that many people? That's rare."

"Unless there are artificial ways to enhance powers," Areth said. "We know a couple of mechanics and inventors, we'll chat them up and ask them if they heard any rumors."

"As will we," Tide agreed, glancing at you. "And you, uh..."

"Just call me Cloud," you said with a smile. "You leave the heroes to me."

"Can't believe us villains have to save the day," Timeless sighed. "That's what heroes are for, usually."

"Well, at least we have one hero to help us out," Vision mused, that blank metal mask tipping in your direction as he addressed you. "I know someone who can help you, a reporter who's been aiding us a lot and he's pretty good at hacking, would you mind taking him along?"

His heart song was a quiet calm melody of lying-hiding-hopeful. It wasn't hard to figure out what exactly he was lying about, his song gently rising above the others.

"Of course," you said with a smile. "Can he meet me later today?"

"I'll give him a call," Vision said with a nod, then pointed at you. "Just answer me this, have you slept at all?"

You smiled brightly. "I am full of energy, don't you worry."

Twin hands gripped your shoulders and you heard Sorrel say, "She'll sleep, don't worry. Come on, you manic genius."

With those words Areth teleported you away and the moment they had shoved you into bed, you were out like a light.

*.*.*

The journalist was indeed Vision out of costume. His heart song was anticipatory-determined-interested as he spotted you when you met him towards the evening.

You felt like death warmed over, the power nap the twins had wrestled you down for leaving you feeling like you had tried to chew cotton and your face felt kind of swollen and your limbs heavy. 

You probably made quite the miserable picture and still you were surprised to hear the shift in his song as it became concerned-determined-anticipatory.

"Vision told me about you, I'm Silas," he said and you couldn't help but think that he was quite the pretty man. With an intense gaze and earrings that framed his face perfectly. He even moved like Vision did, with quiet steps and an unshakable certainty of his path forward.

You wondered how many versions of this meeting he had gone through with his powers or what exactly he was capable of. Like your powers, like Sorrel's, he had made sure that no one quite knew how far he could stretch his visions into the future. What he could do with time itself if push came to shove.

"It's nice to meet you," you said with a genuine smile. If he wasn't telling you who he was, that was just fine with you, he could keep his secrets just like you kept yours. "Shall we?"

"What's the plan?" Silas asked as he fell in step beside you, his heart song thrumming with anticipation-curiosity-focus. Now that you were right beside him and outside of battle, you realized that his heart song was just as nice to listen to as the twins'.

"We'll start with Angel and their agency," you said. "They extended an invitation to me just last week to drop by for coffee and a chat. They most likely want to see if they can poach me." 

You knew the grin you offered him wasn't a hero's smile, not one of the sweet, reassuring ones you pasted onto your face when you were in costume. It was a real and genuine grin with all the dagger-sharp danger of someone who was a protector. 

Someone who had been raised by parents who believed in challenging every system, who had raised you to think for yourself. You loved people for all their faults. You especially loved them when their heart songs were guiding them towards happier and more content lives. 

You had pledged yourself to be a protector and if you had learned one thing during your career as a hero, it was that in every protector lurked a predator. A threat that rose the moment someone under their care got hurt.

You were soft and gentle because that was who you wanted to be, because hurting others was the worst song in the world, but you knew the danger that lurked within yourself.

The songs that lurked within you, and while you wouldn't use them unless you absolutely had to, you knew that you would. It might destroy the part of you that still felt innocent even after all these years, but you would do it.

So your smile was a little sharp, a little wicked and a little challenging as you asked, "Think you can play my agent, Mister Silas?"

Silas' heart song became a sweet and excited fascinated-interested-curious and he smiled back, a bit of villain shining through as his lips revealed a hint of teeth, his gaze sharp and cunning. "Most certainly. Is there anything I should know beforehand?"

You briefed him on everything he needed to know about Angel and their agency and by the time you were done, you had reached the big building painted with rising angels and the glory of a rising sun. There was a shitton of religious imaginary that you were not going to unpack, especially considering the corruption within.

"I will be humming," you told Silas quietly and he glanced at you. "Don't tell anyone, but humming has a weak effect on those around me. It will make Angel and others more talkative, are you comfortable with watching yourself and what you say more than you usually have to?"

He snorted. "I am not so weak as all that." He really wasn't, his heart song was strong and fierce and certain. Unshakable but not rigid and unyielding. It was fascinating. "Sing all you want, I will not fall under your spell."

And just like that, Silas had quickly and unexpectedly become one of your favorite people. Someone who, from the sound of his heart song, actually and genuinely didn't worry about your songs. He had been wary, yes, but never afraid.

He knew himself, you realized. He knew his emotions and his own mind and he was working on taking care of himself. You weren't needed, but...it sounded like he still wanted to get to know you anyway.

What a novel thing it would be, to not be needed but wanted.

You pasted on your sweetest, most unassuming smile, your fakest smile, the one you showed to everyone whose heart songs were rotten.

You pulled the front door open, starting a low, gentle hum that would set people at ease, would make them feel safe and comfortable and trusting around you.

*.*.*

It felt like you were dancing on wires, using your hummed songs so very gently and carefully, your questions peppered just as cautiously while you spoke with Angel. Angel whose heart song was a growling, dark melody of greed-envy-manipulation.

It was almost as bad as the sounds peoples hearts made when you hurt them. But only almost.

By the time Silas and you left, you wanted to curl up somewhere nice and quiet and fall asleep again, this time for longer.

"That was...a thing," Silas mused, sounding dry and sarcastic, his heart song a slow, unenthusiastic melody of unimpressed-underwhelmed-tired. "At least we got what we came for."

It had been a tiny slip-up from Angel, but it had been enough with the information Silas and you had. Angel had immediately looked annoyed when, after an hour of your coaxing and gentle, careful humming, they had revealed something they very much hadn't meant to.

They had expressed an annoyance of holding a fan event at the very edge of the plaza, but Iridescent had decided where everyone's meet and greet would take place.

Iridescent was a hero you had met only in passing and she was an unpleasant woman. Not because of how she behaved, she was always polite, always friendly, but those manners were nothing but fake.

You yawned and shook out your limbs. "I'll have to look into getting us an in with Iridescent, but I'm sure R&R can help me with that."

Silas made an agreeing noise. "You'll keep me involved, Singer?"

"Of course," you said. "And please, call me Cloud, that's what my friends do. I only chose that hero name because it was one of the few still available that fit my powers and weren't already snatched up by other heroes."

The copyright market was a veritable nightmare when it came to heroes who wanted to establish themselves.

"Are we friends now?" Silas asked with a raised brow, looking cool and collected, but his heart song had immediately changed to curious-interested-hopeful upon hearing your words.

You hadn't made villain friends before, at least, not in the same way that Sorrel and Areth were your friends. But...you liked him. You liked his heart song and you found yourself increasingly more curious about and interested in him.

"Why don't we give it a try?" you answered with a little grin and he smiled back, genuine and amused. You fished your phone out of your pocket. "Let's exchange numbers and arrange playdates, shall we?"

He laughed at that, mirth-fond-warmth, turning his heart song into a bright and light melody that you wanted to surround yourself with at all times. "Why did I ever think you were just a two-goody-shoes airhead?"

Now you had to laugh. "Oh, I am an airhead, believe me. There is a reason why my friends call me Cloud, but R&R firmly told me to not ever tell jokes on live television or to someone with a camera."

"They're that bad, huh?" he asked, still smiling as he saved your number and you felt ridiculously delighted at the little cloud emoji he used instead of a name.

"Worse," you agreed happily. "I'll call you later, alright?"

"Later, Cloud," he answered and you focused on his heart song, on the sweet, spring-light melody of fondness-mirth-interest for as long as you could as you walked away.

*.*.*

You met up with Silas numerous times more as the two of you hunted for clues among the heroes, the rest of the villains gathering information among the corrupt politicians and companies. 

What had started out as a curious partnership quickly grew to become an ever evolving friendship. You genuinely enjoyed Silas' company and considering his often delighted heart song, so did he.

You managed to make him laugh and he looked utterly horrified the first time you told him a joke of yours, immediately agreeing that you were never allowed to repeat it in front of a camera, ever.

"You'll be the joke of the internet, a meme in the making!" he had groaned. "Come on, let me tell you an actually good joke."

You liked him and with every day that the two of you met up, discussing things, approaching heroes with Silas as your agent and R&R playing along after you asked them to, you liked him more.

There was warmth and fondness and joy when you saw him. This curious villain who served himself but also, to your pleasant surprise, other people. He brought ruin whenever he put on the mask, but as you looked at things, you realized that he was like a wildfire.

He burnt things to the ground so other things could grow instead. And, well, some seeds needed fire and heat to come alive.

You'd never agree with him on everything, some days not even most things, but even then there was respect whenever he talked to you. It was fun to discuss your different moral viewpoints while knowing that you agreed on all the important things.

It was...good, to have him at your side. To have someone who was willing to do what it took to get answers, someone who didn't fear your songs.

Someone who trusted you.

Today he sat in your apartment, pinning up a new piece of evidence on your messy whiteboard. His heart song was content-caring-trusting and yet there was also something sweet tingeing it all. Something growing and developing and you wondered what he'd sound like as soon as those feelings finished growing.

"What is that look for?" Silas asked when he glanced at you.

"I've been lonely a lot," you found yourself saying and he blinked, briefly surprised, before he grew more serious, his heart song gentle and encouraging. "People didn't really...get me, you know? The twins like me and I love them, but..."

You offered a slightly abashed smile. "You feel like you get me, you know?"

Like he, too, knew what it meant to have powers that gave him a perspective of the world no one else had. Like he, too, had struggled with fitting in and had ultimately trashed the very idea of sanding down his edges and bending his spine to fit into the box other people wanted him to fit into.

He was unapologetic about himself, just like you were about yourself. You didn't care when other heroes or even civilians complained that you were too soft on villains. That they wished you'd give them what they deserved.

There was enough hurt in the world, you heard it after all. You just wanted to try and make the world better, which was why you would stick with R&R until your dying day.

Silas' gaze told you that he understood, a gentle, almost melancholic tinge to his song.

"I know what you mean," he murmured, looking away though you still caught a glimpse of a truly heart-wrenchingly sweet smile. "You feel like...home, as weird as it sounds."

"No, no, that doesn't sound weird at all. It sounds right." It sounded so fitting.

He smiled at you, his heart song nothing but delighted-loving-warm. "Come on, help me solve this riddle before we're out of time."

You got to your feet to join him by the board, your shoulders brushing against his. "Can't figure it out on your own, huh?"

"Dream on, Cloudy," he said with a grin.

It was a fun evening, despite the serious topic. Everything these past weeks had been fun despite the looming deadline. Maybe it was because you were a hero and you thrived in tense, high-stress situations, but every moment you spent with him you felt parts of you come alive that had grown quiet and small over the years.

It was indeed like finding home in someone else. He saw you and he had decided that he liked what he saw. 

It was only after you sent him home and cleaned up the dinner you had shared with him, humming and singing a song you had never sung before, that you realized it.

That you had fallen in love. That Silas, that Vision, had done what no one else had ever managed to do. He had found your heart and instead of holding it tightly in his hands, it felt like he was ever raising it up to the sun.

Telling it, telling you, to take flight. To demand more of the world. To demand better. To take a bit of a villain's hunger, a villain' ruthlessness, a villain's loud disruptiveness to demand the change you wanted to see.

You had no idea what to do, but you couldn't help but grin and dance and sing. Sing for yourself instead of other people. Sing because you were genuinely, truly happy.

*.*.*

"The election is tomorrow," Silas muttered, pacing up and down. "And we still haven't found out what exactly they intend to do. We're running out of time, Cloud. What are we missing?"

You stared at the whiteboard with intense focus. What, indeed, were you missing? Everyone was getting ever more tense and nervous and the villains had already discussed busting the gathering tomorrow if nothing else could be discovered.

Forcing the city to push their plans back was preferable to just letting things happen.

You wanted to avoid that, however, because you knew the heroes that would be present to both hold meet and greets and guard the event. They were all known for being harsh with villains, ruthless and brutal. It would be a bloodbath -

Wait.

You made a noise, hand patting a rhythm against Silas' arm, which he somehow understood as you raced for your phone. He was just...amazing like that. He got you. Weird noises and absent moments and strangeness and all.

You rang up R&R while Silas followed you, eyes bright and intense, heart song thrumming with anticipation-restlessness-relief. It was the relief in his melody that almost made you trip up. Because he trusted you to find the answer even before you had managed to do so.

He believed in you, fully and whole-heartedly.

It took an hour until you had gathered the information you needed.

"These hero offices were cut out of the event tomorrow. In fact, the reveal of the election is planned for when the patrol routes take as many of those heroes as far as possible from the plaza," you said, flipping the board around to scrawl across it. "And those heroes won't think twice about that, considering how many other heroes will already be there."

Silas took the pen with a wry little smile, only for you to snatch it back when you realized his handwriting was even worse than yours.

"What does that tell us?" Silas asked. "They're not part of the plan?"

"Yes, and!" You scrawled one more hero agency at the very bottom, circling it. "It tells us which hero got ignored entirely. He isn't hosting meet and greets, he isn't guarding and he isn't patrolling."

Silas caught on immediately, eyes widening and a grin spread over his face, wild and excited. "Because this is the hero behind everything. He can't guard the plaza if he's the one who's going to execute the plan."

You whirled to face Silas fully, finding him only inches away from you and you grinned. "We found him."

Silas laughed and a moment later you were pulled into a fierce hug, his heart song an exhilarating rush of awed-adoring-ecstatic. You were pulled off your feet to be twirled around and you laughed, clutching him back just as tightly, a song spilling past your lips and he suddenly thrummed with energy.

"Oh, wow, I had no idea you can do that," he said as he still held onto you. You just grinned and finished the song, every fiber of your and his being feeling fully and completely alive.

"What do we do now?" he asked, gently setting you down on your feet again. "Should we attack the office?"

You tapped your fingers on his arms, only half aware of the fact that his hands were resting on your waist as you thought. Hero offices were well guarded and they had multiple ways to call for help in case of an attack.

Besides, there was a reason this particular hero was the number one of the city and the number three worldwide. You still needed to find out what the plan was here.

You focused on Silas as an idea took shape. "Let's call the others and get everything we need. We ride at dawn."

He laughed, heart song a bright, bright adoration-loving-awed and you realized, startled and breathless and elated, that he, too had fallen in love with you.

You wished you could kiss him, you wished there wasn't something more important to take care of beforehand first.

But later, later you'd tell him, you decided as you committed his joy to memory, as the sound of his love took your breath away and made you feel like your entire being could barely contain the joy you felt.

You'd save the city tomorrow and then, for once, both villains and heroes would have a happy ending.

*.*.*

Your heart was beating fast and strong as Sorrel and Areth stretched, Vision standing beside you in all his villainous glory. You wanted to reach out and hold his hand.

"Ready, Cloud?" Areth asked, holding out her hand, Sorrel slipping into her shadow.

You could already hear the noise of the plaza a block over. The streets were downright stuffed with people, it really looked like almost the entire city had gathered, drawn in for different reasons.

Free food, their favorite heroes, a massive sale of multiple companies, a long anticipated restaurant opening, parades and the mayor's election. It was almost ridiculous how well it all worked.

You wished you could have informed some of the other heroes, but you hadn't dared to risk it in the end. Still, in case shit really hit the fan, the twins had Rescue's number and the woman was formidable and well respected for a reason. She could rally everyone else so long as someone told her what was going on.

You gripped Areth's hand and Vision did the same when she extended the other to him and there was a brief moment of complete and utter silence, before you popped out on the other side. The utility closet was a cramped little space and Sorrel unlocked the door from the outside, having slipped through the shadows.

You knew the route well from here after Silver had broken into the city library to steal archived blueprints of old buildings. Namely, the city hall. You knew where you had to go to find your way to the backrooms where everything was getting prepared for the big reveal of the election.

This was the riskiest part of the plan, since you had no idea what dangers lurked along the way and it was exactly why you needed the twins and Vision. Their powers could get you close enough to the one hero who had avoided you like the plague all these years: Starlight.

A shining beacon of a hero, beloved by the masses, always gentle and kind to civilians, righteously defending the downtrodden and he was lauded for his gracious manners even when he dealt with villains.

And if you were right, he had something horrible planned.

Like you had feared, the city hall was filled with patrolling sidekicks from Starlight's agency. After sending a last, confirming message, the rest of the villains already in place, you nodded and Vision fell silent, his heart song flickering through many quickly changing tunes.

He guided the twins, who popped away, silently taking down the first two sidekicks. One by one, your group worked its way towards your destination, moving quickly in a way that was only possible with two different kinds of teleportation powers and a man who could see the future.

"Starlight can counter me," Vision had warned you when you met him after sending Silas home, knowing very well that you'd see him at the lair.

He still hadn't told you about his identity and you had caught enough glimpses of worry-shame-fear to know that he thought you wouldn't take those news well. That you'd feel betrayed.

You'd tell him your secrets too, you had decided. When he revealed the truth about himself, you would do the same about your powers.

It was only fair, if he was brave to do the thing he feared, then you'd do the same.

"I thought someone was going to cause trouble." The ethereal voice made everyone stop in their tracks, Sorrel disappearing into the shadows with a snap and Areth and Vision taking up position beside you. They knew you didn't want to fight, after all.

They knew you needed to be uninterrupted if you wanted to sing.

"But color me surprised," Starlight continued and then you saw the shimmer of his existence, something incorporeal, like he was a distant, silver-golden starscape taking shape. Slowly becoming flesh. "I hadn't thought the softest hero in the world would ever team up with villains."

"You can't stop us," Areth said, but Starlight was ignoring her, which immediately made all your internal alarms blare. No one ignored Areth. She was too dangerous for that and even Starlight couldn't afford to take enemies lightly. For all his power he wasn't invincible.

You managed to grab her arm just in time and you realized that Vision stood very still at your side, his heart song snapping to a sudden panic-horrified-terrified. It was a jarring noise, like string instruments playing a discordant, high-pitched noise that grated on your very existence.

Your heart immediately leapt into your throat – whatever version of the future he had seen, it immediately had left him desolate. Scared. His hand reaching out to grip the back of your outfit.

"You're too late," Starlight said with a smile as he shook off the rest of his powers, stardust raining down like glitter to vanish into nothing before it could touch the floor. "I've put too much into this to fail at the last second."

Now that he was here, fully corporeal, you heard his heart song. It was overwhelming, a loud and fierce and bellowing hunger-victorious-domination.

For just a brief second, you felt like a farmer staring up at an armored and armed knight riding towards you on his massive war horse, blade glinting in the sun.

You felt like you stared up at death.

"I have become the end and beginning of all," Starlight said, his heart song clamping around you like a great beast's teeth, stealing your breath away. "And you will bow."

He raised a hand when a massive explosion rocked the building. Screams rose from outside as more and more detonations took place. His head jerked up, surprise visible on his face and that was all you needed to cling to a shred of hope, that there was still something that could be done.

There had to be, no matter what Vision had seen. His powers weren't perfect and if Starlight could be surprised, there must be something you could still do.

"Areth!" you shouted and your friend popped away with you and Vision just as Starlight lunged, the power of the universe at his fingertips – too much power. Far too much.

You knew what he was capable of in theory, you knew that all powers had limits and prices, that there were abilities that only revealed themselves in the face of death and could rarely be used outside of such dire circumstances again.

His powers had felt unchained. Like something had been broken and cracked wide open.

"What do we do?" Areth shouted as soon as she popped everyone into existence again down the hall, the three of you bolting. "Sorrel?"

Her brother didn't answer and she hissed a curse, following you as you led them down the stairs, your mind racing.

Starlight didn't actually want a fight, that defeated the purpose of bowing. That defeated the purpose of him becoming the god of everything.

For that was what he wanted, what his heart song had tried to carve into your very flesh, forcing you to listen, forcing you to bend and kneel. To accept his reality as your own -

Reality.

You jerked to a stop, eyes wide as you turned to Vision, his heart song terrified-horrified-hopeless.

"Go," you told Areth. "Help distract the other heroes, we need all the time we can get."

"Don't die, either of you," Areth hissed viciously, Sorrel finally appearing out of a shadowed corner, only to get snatched up by her as they vanished the next second.

"There has to be something we can do." Your voice came out as a whisper and you reached out to grip Vision, who clung to you like you were an anchor in a storm. "Vision, focus – Silas!"

He jerked, his heart song changing to shocked-surprised-startled. But he was focusing now, no longer lost in the throes of whatever he had seen.

"I know, I always knew." You reached out to grip the sides of his face, palms clasping cold metal and the walls around you started to shimmer silver-golden. "Silas, tell me what you saw."

"The end of everything," he whispered, voice trembling in a way you had never heard. "He's going to destroy the world. His powers aren't supposed to touch reality, but he will try anyway and the world, the universe will fight back. That's why he gathered all these people. The more minds accept his reality over fucking reality itself, the more it will give in to him."

Because the universe represented what was true and real and if he became the new truth...then that was what would happen. And no one could fight back.

"He's going to do it now," Vision whispered. "I saw it. Nothing we do can change that. We're already too late."

"How did he get that strong, can you look?" you asked and you felt him focus, felt his emotions flicker, only for something grim and resigned to settle over him.

"Nothing we can undo. He –" Vision's grip on your arms tightened. "He ruined himself for this. Cracked himself with his own powers until he could destroy all of his limits. He can only use his powers like this once, he needs to realign reality or it will kill him."

You knew that people could lose their physical limits with the help of adrenaline, breaking bones and tearing tendons and muscle in an exchange for unreal feats of strength.

You had never thought about what someone with superpowers could do if they removed any and all limitations of their powers.

"He's starting," Vision whispered. "It doesn't matter that we got away. We're too late. There are too many people here."

The ground beneath you started to shimmer and you could taste Starlight's powers in the air. You could sense him now, could sense as he walked to the front of the building, as he jumped outside to call out to the masses.

You could sense as everyone stopped running and panicking, all eyes focusing on him. His power grew thicker and more cloying in the air and you had precious seconds left, the building around you threatening to get swallowed whole and you with it.

You were not going to survive this attempt to change reality.

Until Vision gasped, gripping you tightly and suddenly you felt yourself get dragged with him, like you got jerked forward then back again and time stilled and stopped around you.

He was breathing hard, terror and panic bright in his heart song until he realized how still everything had gotten.

"Your powers," you murmured, eyes wide. "They're trying to save you."

"Us," Vision whispered back, fingers tightening on yours further. "Don't let go, Cloud." He lifted his head, looking around and you wished you could see his eyes at least one last time. "Can you hear that?"

You couldn't, but when he pulled you onward you followed. It felt a little like you weighed nothing, like the air had turned to water and you were drifting along with every step. Was this how he experienced visions?

Were your bodies going to stay behind or did you move through this version of time?

Vision lead you out of the city hall to where Starlight stood in all his glory, skin glowing and filled with stars and people staring up at him in awe.

You could see the cracks all over him, as though he was going to shatter like porcelain and if he did, he'd destroy so much. He'd kill so many. He had to stop, but you knew he wouldn't. His heart was too dark.

And then you heard it and now you were the one dragging Vision forward until you stood right by Starlight, eyes wide as you saw the song that slowly started to circle around him.

Your own powers had gone haywire you realized. Your own powers had, for this moment, torn down barriers that normally would have been there.

You had no idea if Vision's and your powers had somehow clicked together to make this happen, or if they still worked independent. Merging powers wasn't impossible, especially elemental powers could easily work together, but this...this felt like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.

You listened to the song and tears started to gather in your eyes.

"Cloud?" Vision asked and when you tore your gaze away to look at him, you saw that he had yanked off his helmet. "Can you fix it?"

Your smile was wobbly and your heart broke, cracking open like a raw egg and oozing all over your insides. There was nothing but resigned pain. "I can."

His grip tightened. "What's the price?"

Because everything had a price. Starlight's unhinged powers demanded his life – unless he changed the universe itself and demanded it to keep him whole.

You had no idea what price Vision was currently paying, but looking at how he was slowly starting to tremble all over, you could guess that it was going to drain him to death if he didn't let go soon.

"Memories," you answered, a sudden grief gripping you. "Starlight will have to forget everything, it's the only way to stop him." Or he'd try the same thing over and over and over until he was dead.

Vision's no, this was Silas before you now. Silas' gaze searched yours. "And we?"

You knew the nature of songs. You knew what every melody meant, where it came from, what motivated it and how intensely it was felt. You closed your eyes for a moment, willing the tears to not fall.

"We cannot remember the song, we cannot remember this moment. We're cannot remember what Starlight is capable of and what he's doing." You took a ragged breath. "We'll forget each other."

You had to. Vision had to forget how he came to this place, what his powers were capable of and you had to forget a song like the one before you existed. Everything had to be erased, from the very beginning of his plans, to ensure Starlight would never do this again.

"What if I run?" he asked. "If I don't hear it -" He stared at Starlight, at the powers on the cusp of being unleashed in all their terrible, world shattering glory.

There was no running. He'd hear the song and it would erase everything. Everything that had led to this moment in time, everything about Starlight and his plans had to disappear so what he intended to do could never be reenacted again. By no one.

Had you known each other before this mess, enough memories would have remained, but...you hadn't. Starlight had brought you together, as little as you had known it at the time.

And everything needed to be erased so everything could be saved. Not even an inkling of Starlight's machinations could remain. This song was going to erase everything.

"No, I won't forget you. I refuse to." Silas' grip on your hand was almost painfully tight as he tossed his helmet aside and it disappeared, vanishing as it left the timeless space you were stuck in. For now. He was quickly losing strength. "There is so much I have to tell you, I wanted to tell you -"

"I love you." The words escaped you unbidden and he closed his eyes, his heart song nearly making you cry. Your own tears made your voice wobble, "You have the best heart song I ever heard, did you know that?"

"I never believed in soulmates until I met you," he answered. "I never thought there could possibly ever be someone who would become this important to me. Who felt like I was destined to meet them."

Maybe you had been. Maybe there had been a grand design in the universe itself so the two of you met, so you both could be right here at this exact moment, stopping the destruction of everything. Some things should remain untouched no matter what.

You heard soft little cracks all around you as the timeless bubble started to weaken, chunks breaking away.

"I love you," Silas whispered, pulling you close to press his forehead to yours. "I promise I will find you again, no matter what. I'll find you and I will always love you."

You smiled and kissed his cheek before your lips found each other. The kiss tasted of salt. "And I will find you," you whispered just as time shattered and you inhaled.

The song flowed like none other had from your lungs, your eyes squeezed shut. You vaguely heard Vision curse and throw himself forward, intercepting Starlight as he tried to lunge for you, a deeply wounded noise coming from the hero, an almost animalistic screech.

You sang and slowly, everything grew quiet and still. The last thing you were aware of was someone getting thrown across the plaza by a tall, powerful man and your memories disappearing like dust in the wind.

When the last sound vanished, you stood still, the world around you silent in a way it shouldn't be.

Slowly, noise filtered back, people shifting, confusion-bafflement-calm filling the air around you. You blinked your eyes open, blinking in surprise when you noticed that you stood on the front steps of the city hall.

What were you doing here? And why was Starlight on his knees beside you, looking like he had lost everything and didn't know why he felt that way?

His heart song was unpleasant but muddled. A helmet laid near you, blank and black and metallic, reminding you of something the villain Vision might have worn.

Something tickled your jaw and you reached up to wipe at it, pulling back your fingers to look at clear liquid.

Why were you crying?

*.*.*

Tag List:

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[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[witchspeka]

I love my girl Miwa but as soon as I read that this image immediately popped up in my head:

[maudiemoods]

Homies chill on each other's lap and flirt at sleepovers right

Exploding your brain with my sun x moon art

‼️‼️FLASHING LIGHTS BELOW!!!!‼️‼️

Speed draw below omg

I absolutely hate my art process but this is fun to watch so im sharing it wooo

[lovesickeros]

☆ love; heretical and divine

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 0.8k

To love a God is heretical. It is an act of blasphemy– it is to drag them down from their throne of hollow gold, to topple the pedestal the worshipers uphold on their shoulders like lambs at the herders heel. It is the act of forcing them to their knees and ripping that beating heart of glorious gold and beautiful, cruel divinity from their chest, so pure it burns.

To love a God is to make them sin. To make them painfully, horribly human.

To love a God is to sin.

The love of a worshiper is no love at all, brilliant in its raw purity, untainted by sin. It is fear and obedience masked by adoration so overpowering it corrupts. It makes the lamb so unquestioning in it's faith it will never question the knife that cuts, the teeth that rip, the claws that tear. If the Creator deemed them unworthy of the very life crafted by their hands, then they must have committed a sin so grave there lay no salvation for their horrid soul.

But she is no worshiper– her lips speak of heresy as easily as she breathes, her words nothing but lies, cold and cruel like the ice that crawls along her skin like webs.

She loves a God like a lover should.

A damned sinner reaching longingly for the heavens.

She loves a God in the subtle brush of their lips, their muffled voices behind closed doors as they indulge in curiosity untamed. She is a sinner through and through, but she feels herself fall further with every brush of her hand across their cheeks, every touch she bestows upon them like a lover. She memorizes the imperfections of their body like memorizing a map– every scar, every mark, every line drawn on their body like a canvas, her touch the brush that stains the pristine white.

No devoted lamb shall ever see the painting they create in these stolen moments– it is for the eyes of a heretic so vile it makes them shudder, their body dirtied by the love of a woman so vile even their divinity is obscured by the ice.

The lambs may be satisfied with fleeting glimpses of gold and empty words from lips that guide them to the jaws of the wolves, but she is not. Her hands crave them like a starving hound, aching to touch that imperfect skin hidden by the veil of gold that obscures the painfully human body beneath. She longs to free them from the golden cage that binds them– to see their wings blot out the sky, their divinity tainted by sin and making them all the more beautiful for it.

It is a longing that leaves a festering wound that cannot heal, will not heal. Even if it could, she would not let it.

For as much as she tries, deny it as she may, she is no better then the blind lambs following the herder who holds a blade in their hand, glittering like gold in the sun, stained by dull red.

She is a fool, and what a fool they make of her with the touch of their hands against her skin– so cold it leaves frost on their fingertips. Yet they do not fear the cold, mapping out every inch of her imperfections, carved into her body by her own hands.

She has always been a heretic, cursing the divine until she could speak no more, but if divinity can be found in them – in this love that consumes, that burns her hands and her lips – then she is a Saint, praying at the altar until her throat bled.

But in the end, she has and will always be a cold woman with hands stained with blood. Until it is all she can taste, until it is all she can smell, until it is all she can feel. These hands of hers, heretical and divine, will bleed the God from their veins– she will become the wolf to their lamb until the rivers of Teyvat run gold with their ichor, until the gold bleeds into red, the taste of their divinity on her tongue.

Until she drags a God from their lofty throne and makes of them a monster.

There is no greater triumph to the heretic then to love a God into sin. To make a God sin to love.

To love is to be human, and they are no God.

Even if she must tear the gold from their very being until all that's left is something human. Even if Teyvat crumbles and decays, even if it begins over and over again..

She will do it again and again, until the gold can bleed no longer. Until her sins grow too great for Teyvat to contain.

To love a God is to devour, and be devoured. An endless cycle of sin that dulls the glow of gold into something new– something horrifying and divine, in it's own right. Something just as horrid as her, just as divinely corrupted by the sins she carries on her shoulders like a trophy, as gold as the sun and as cold as ice.

Divinity, carved into something human by love all consuming, until it all bleeds away and they begin their dance anew, for as many cycles as it takes.

An eternity, if she must, of dooming this world of theirs to fire and decay for a glimpse of the being snared by their golden shackles.

[moeblob]

When you're cursed to just kinda live and die and live and die but so is the rest of your family and your sister is currently dead but it's okay she'll be fine after a while...

Girl (Lo'en) and guy (Hold) just living their normal(ish) lives until Hold's sister revives early and he starts to panic because that's wrong - she's like a zombie. That's very wrong. That's not supposed to happen.

Names are basically "lo and behold" but smooshed. Only other thing worth noting I guess? Most people in the world have uniquely colored pupils - the fact Hold and his sister have dark pupils is because they've died multiple times and it's become dark over their revivals.