#sure his magic is green but those flags ARE RED.

[todayis-snowy]

“I can keep you safe as long as you trust me.”

[hwnglx]

Jungkook’s likes and dislikes of his future partner ?

i don't really feel comfortable looking into his dislikes about them, but thought i'd look into some potential green and red flags in their relationship. haven't read for them in months.

jungkook's future relationship - green + red flags

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

queofw, kingofw&queofsw, knofc, fool&moon

+ an incredibly well balanced relationship. they will complete and compliment each other beautifully, also bond over their similarities. especially when it comes to their ambitions, their fiery and creative sides. jungkook will gain a lot of confidence from his fs' existence and vice versa. i can see him feeling very inspired by his fs' existence creatively. maybe expect some love songs in the future.. he'll be good at writing about his love for them, i think. also his fs in particular, will benefit a lot from jungkook's warmth and vibrance. they might've been through a fair share of disappointment already, which turned them a little closed off at first. jk will be very good at breaking down those walls and opening up their heart, gaining their trust.

they will also just be very lovey dovey and cute with each other, a lot of romance. kinda like this long-lasting couple that everyone is jealous of, since everyday they seem to be just as in love with each other as when they first met. the romantic air will not die down for years it seems.. jungkook is a libra venus, so he'll probably find a lot of fulfilment in sweeping his fs off their feet. i can see him putting a lot of effort into planning the most beautiful dates.

there will also once again, be a great balance between lighthearted and carefree times, but also moments where they'll engage in deeper conversations. they'll truly enjoy each others company and have a lot of fun together, but connect to each other beyond the surface, on an emotional level as well. take away each others fears, light the way in times of darkness. the fact i only got court cards and major arcana really gives me this impression that their relationship will be extremely important for the both of them, it will definitely play a big role in their lives. they'll have a meaningful and longlasting impact on each other.

aceofsw, 7ofc, 9ofw&6ofc, 8ofw&magic

- the main problem i see here, is jungkook's fs struggling to deal with his incredible amount of fame. their partner being in the public eye and having so much going on, will overwhelm them for sure. as i stated before, his fs seems to have dealt with some past bad experiences already, which might've caused them some trust issues. a lot of overthinking. "i trust you, but i'm worried i'll get hurt again." is what i keep hearing. tbh, i do not see jungkook engaging in any infidelity. i actually see him remaining pretty loyal, his fs will just be in their head a lot. they're aware he's a very charismatic guy many people swoon over, so there's this sense of insecurity und worry when he's away. they basically don't like the thought of people looking at him a little too much, if that makes sense lol? maybe some of you know that feeling, i definitely do. "that girl smiled at you for a little too long, don't ya think?" kinda vibes lmao, or they'll feel all weird over jungkook just being his usual charming self with others, maybe confront him over it. they probably have some possessive tendencies and need to work on their ability to fully trust.

btw, i see this pattern for a lot of bangtan's future spouses, which is interesting. it seems they're aware of the set of unique difficulties dating a member comes with. many of them are worried over the members getting seduced by the fame and popularity, which is kinda inevitable with a bg as big as bts, i guess. however so far, most of them seem keen on staying faithful once they settle down 👏🏻

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 2 - DBDA Week

Day 2 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Alternate Universe

Relationships: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Tags: Alternative Universe - Magic, Star-crossed lovers

TW: None

--

Charles would always remember the day Edwin had to leave for the Academy. They had always known it would come, he wasn’t sure if they had been pretending not to, or if they just never realised completely what it meant. Edwin had kissed him with lips wet and salty from his tears, and Charles had watched until the car disappeared completely beyond his sight.

He felt empty, purposeless. His mind kept going back to all those happy moments they had shared growing up, first playing together in the woods, then the first time they held hands, the first shy kisses. The memories seemed more real than his present life.

He couldn’t deny that he had thought about following him to the city, but Wizards were rare, and precious to the society, and they weren’t allowed to mix with ordinary people like himself.

He moved his fingers to his wrist, to trace the shape of the bracelet Edwin had given him before he left. The feeling grounded him. He said the rune on the pendant would change colour when Edwin thought of him, it was pulsing a warm green now.

-

Six years after the dreadful day when he said goodbye to Charles, the memories of him still haunted Edwin every moment of every day. He wondered what the other boy looked like, if he had grown taller than him, if he still had that blinding smile that made the sun look pale in comparison. It had been torture to be separated for so long. Even now that he was finally about to graduate, he still wasn’t free. His path had been written for him long before he was even born, like every other child of one of the wizarding families, he was supposed to take its place among the Wizard’s High Council who protected the country.

He knew he should just give up hope to ever see Charles again since they were destined for different places. Surely, Charles would have become a Fighter by now, and an amazing one at that. But he held onto hope that one day, they could find a way back to each other.

He concentrated all his powers on the bracelet he had given him that day, hoping that the incantation was strong enough to still be working. 

-

The city buzzed with excitement, the annual parade celebrating the country’s independence had brought everyone out in the streets. There were flags waving, music, food stalls and happiness all around him, but Charles didn’t spare a second look at any of those. He had only one goal. He pursed his lips, his gaze determined, focused on the tall building of the Academy, standing majestically at the other side of the square.

He knew he would find Edwin there, ever since he arrived, his bracelet had been pulsing a deep red, the strongest colour he had seen in it yet. It was the thing that made him certain that his feelings were still reciprocated, that Edwin expected him.

Hiding among the crowd, he made his way closer to the entrance. He just had to wait for the fireworks to start, so that the guards would be distracted.

The moment he saw the first burst of lights and colours from the corner of his eye, he slipped inside, trying to remain in the shadows. He ran through the corridors, in the direction of the rooftop, where he knew all the students gathered every year to watch the show.

When he peered inside, he found his favourite emerald eyes already fixed on the door. So many years, and their minds still worked in perfect harmony, understanding each other without the need for words.

He saw Edwin excuse himself and move towards the door, Charles felt like his heart was about to explode in his chest.

“I was hoping you would come,” Edwin whispered in his ear. It made a shiver run down his spine.

He thought about replying, there were at least a thousand things he wanted to say, to ask, but there were more pressing matters. He all but launched himself at him, hugging him close, his lips rushing to Edwin’s like a drowning man resurfacing and finding the first breath of air. The kiss didn’t taste like salt this time, it tasted like desperation, and need, and in one moment it managed to make six years look like a snap of fingers.

Edwin guided him by the hand along the corridor to a room, and locked the door behind him. Finally safe from prying eyes, they dared to look at each other more thoroughly. Edwin was even more beautiful than he remembered him, his shoulders had broadened, his eyes were shining with happiness and he wanted nothing more than to kiss his smile again.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” Edwin said, breathless. “I kept looking at the door but I thought that maybe you had moved on, or you forgot about me.”

Charles shook his head in disbelief. “I thought about nothing else since the day you left.”

He entwined their fingers together, leaning his head on Edwin’s shoulder. They would have to separate again soon, or people would start looking for them, but at least they had this one day they could steal for themselves. And Charles would never give up hope.

[ocprompts]

pardon my language but FUCK i wish i found this blog earlier. these are the minor details that i NEED for my ocs. i see your inbox is open to ranting so I'm going to take the chance to talk if that's okay.

now this alone may out myself to my friends on the off chance that they find this blog and that this is posted but i have over 500 ocs and counting because my brain wont stop generating new characters. id love to make a piece that includes ALL of them somehow but i really don't think my tablet or my sanity can handle doing that but its a nice thought

anyway out of those 500 only a good handful have some kind of storyline to them and somehow the one with the most normal life managed to become a fan (friends) favorite. he's a "short" white British guy who didn't realize he was bi until he hit college and it only happened bc he started to like his dormmate. he used to be ginger and my friends called him a leprechaun. the worst that happened to him is that he's had a shitty love life. even so i love him and my friend's oc aka his former dormmate aka his current bf. i draw them together all the time bc i think their dynamic is great and ngl my friend's oc is very pretty. like. very. but that's a box to unpack later

another oc i cherish is my first dnd oc which I'm not too worried about sharing bc I'm 95% sure the people I'm worried about finding this oc in particular don't use tumblr or at least arent on this side of tumblr. anyway she's a high elf wizard and shes so COOL even if her appearance is so different compared to the standard high elf. i gave her bright blue hair and bright green eyes when i was like 8 and I've kept them like that (but made the colors much duller). she has a large scar that branches out from the middle of her back to look like lightning bc she did a witch bolt on like 3 health and killed the boss and I'm still not over that and i dont care that that scar doesn't make much sense. her best friends are a halfling who thinks nearly getting killed every adventure is fun and a goblin the halfling and her met on their first adventure together. the halfling makes fun of the goblin 70% of the time but its okay bc they're all friends who work under a magic school and its great

like i said i have 500+ more but i think these are some highlights. honorable mentions include a girl who was arrested by her own gf and then broke out with her friends' help, a superhero oc i made when i was like 6 or 7 that has fire wings and her dad was originally manray from Spongebob somehow, a werewolf lady who is a walking red flag, a guy (gender neutral) who got high once and began being followed around by a demon right after it kicked in, and all of the ocs i made on roblox.

thank you sm if you read this I'm sorry this went on for so long i just cant be quiet about my own characters

no need to apologize EVER, if i didn't want people to ramble in my inbox, i'd close it!

[steelthroat]

For the astrology thing if you fancy it (and as I'm not much into astrology apologies if I've missed some deep significance in the labelling...)

2H ⇢ do you have any object that you like a little too much? what is it and why? (or just one that you like a lot; I'm not really sure what "a little too much" would mean in this context...)

7H ⇢ what do you consider green flags in a relationship?

Hello there!

No, don't worry, I have no clue about anything regarding astrology... my friends have tried to explain charts and other stuff to me at least 3 times, and I still don't know what an ascendant is, so...

Onto the answerssss

2h- I get so attached to many random objects and for the silliest reasons... like idk it's just like "this objects is mine, there are thousands or millions of these in the world but THIS is mine and is special" for example:

My mum's paper knife. It has a heart-shaped handle and since I was 3 I've been obsessed by it. Like idk when I was little I would imagine I was some kind of magical warrior and that was my special weapon or something. Btw it's mine now, my mum can't have it back, that's my special magical weapon.

My red gel pen, beautiful red and it's very good and CHEAP. Idk why but it's my favorite. I already made a post about it here rambling about a teacher who took it and then I took it back lol

My two stuffed animals (a polar bear and a weird looking husky) since I was little I decided they were boyfriends and they were my favorite plushies. Still have them, still good and cuddly

A plastic horse named Alessia (I broke both of her ears) she was my favorite toy since I was 2 and the main reason I had a horse phase

My mechanical pencil. It IS special even my classmates agreed. Like idk perfect shape, grip, weight, just perfect all around. My dad gifted it to me after someone gave it to him, his words "you will need it more than me". I once lost it (I then discovered a classmate stole it so not really my fault here) and I found a picture of the pencil online and put it on the students' board and even offered to buy the breakfast to whoever would find it and give it back to me. I am deeply attached to that pencil I swear I felt so bad thinking I lost it (also because I looked at the prices online and I felt even worse). But then I found it again so yayyyyyy!

I feel very childish after this answer... onto the next one we go

7h- hm...

Hmmm relationship as in friendship I'd say when you can catch up after long periods of time after not being able to and still not feeling it. Like "omg when was the last time we talked???" "Uh... oh gee a month???" "Waaaaaah crazy! So by the way...." and then it's like you never stopped talking.

In a relationship as in a romantic sense, I'd say: When they don't force you to tell your secrets if you're not ready, but they let you know they're there for you whenever you are.

You can be stupid together

If you feel like you can communicate freely about anything without feeling judged or out of place. And when the other(s) in the relationship do the same. Like idk I've been in a relationship and a "situationship" and I'm still friends with those guys because we communicated for the entirety of those experiences. I would not get back with them, ever, but we parted on very good terms... so I guess it worked out even if in the end nothing came out of it. Moral of the story "STRAIGHTFORWARD AND HONEST COMMUNICATION IS THE KEY" (if not for a successful relationship, for a guilt and stress-free breakup) :D

[dreamtydraw]

Back to ask for a character ramble! Character of your choice~! (And feel free to let this message sit until you feel like it :) )

-💚

OK HI HELLO YOU ARE AWESOME !! I’m taking this card to talk about my oc for the game Touchestarved, Eleanore

First off I gonna start by saying that a lot of things about her as a character in terms of story or design will depend on the canon of the story. I am taking a lot of liberty and her character will for sure be changed once the game is fully out and we get to learn more about the world-building and the backstories.

Starting with her symbolism: Eleanore is a metaphor for reincarnation and rebirth. One of her associations with reincarnation is her design linked to spring.

Her name Eleanore originates from Ray of light / shining light but her surname Eostre is a direct reference to the deity of reincarnation but also the deity of spring and light.

Her original design was inspired by paintings of medieval maidens mainly those:

You can sort of see it in her hairstyle when I take the time to draw her well.

Eleanore being associated with spring can also be noticed in the color palette of her design: Green and orange. Green is both a color associated with life and death nevertheless it’s a spring color, the color of a new nature, of grass and trees. However, green is also associated with the concept of jealousy, toxicity, and envy.

Orange is a warm color associated with energy and positivity, it’s also a color you’ll see associated with fruits or flowers. However orange is also a warning color, it grab your attention and can lead you to signs to be alert, it’s a warning. A red flag is here to stop you, an orange flag will warn you of a danger approaching.

She is also inspired by a parasite, the Cuscuta, an orange parasite flower that grow over other plants and drain them. This parasite is referenced with the shape of her marks taking over her body but also the dual color green and orange of the parasite on the host. This is the same reference as another parasite the Aphidoidea.

I think you can already start seing it from here, but her design is based on a lot of contradiction : in danger but safe / toxique nature.

Her backstory :

This part can be skipped but is really important to understand her as a character and some of her design choices

This part contain trigger such as child abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, ptsd

Eleanore never got to see what genuine affection is. As far as she can remember her life started when she was already a child, living with her teacher. She knew she was to be studied and so she was, her teacher knew what was best.

She wanted to impress her, make her proud by reading all the books she had in the basement, by being grateful for every minute she was allowed in the garden, not crying when she was stabbed with needles, not being too noisy, not complaining, not refusing. All was for the best, even if she cried and begged to be let out, it was childish tantrums, the days she spent in the cage were simply deserved for all the mess she could cause. Her body was for science, her mind was for knowledge and her feelings were worthless.

Her teacher could be as cruel as she was kind, warmly smiling, dressing her up, taking good care of her. She was so good she even found a way to lift the curse of the young child, or so she was told. It was partially lifted, she was still ill, she still needed to be fixed.

“Tomorrow you’ll be free” “Soon i’ll let you out”, she counted the days with excitement. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and months faded into years, so many years that her hope died with what used to be her childhood.

She had let it happen for so long, passive to her feelings, to the pain in her wrists and the rotting of her body. Her beautiful green hair slowly growing with a golden light of orange, everything was changing and looking at what she left herself became hurted. All the magic she had supported changed her, influenced her curse and slowly grew alongside her body.

Marks started to appear on her body and her eyes hurt for so long she thought she was turning blind until it all calmed and she could observe a reflective glow of orange settling on her pupil.

All of this changement scared her, but it couldn’t compare to the fright she felt toward her pleased teacher. When she begged for reassurance all she got was lies she heard thousands of times before. Eleanore realized that she would die in that basement. If she stayed here her curse would never be lifted, worse it would be increased. So for the first time she listened to herself and tried to save her life, Eleanore escaped.

Outside she was like a newborn taking her first steps, failing to grasp the reality she was in, incapable of doing anything by herself. She met people there and there, some kinder than others, toying with the naive girl.

One night she was asked to spend her night with a nice man charmed by her looks. She felt special, never in her life did she experience so much pleasure, so much love and adoration. It was all new and to her standart it was all she could ever ask, be special to someone. She tried to run after the feeling, obsessing with how she could silence the void of her worries when someone was next to her. Why look after yourself when someone else can do much more, when they can make you forget and give you the pleasing affection you cried so much for. Sadly her intensity was not met, it was scary, unhinged, it made love slip like sand between her fingers. She tried, she desperately tried, she felt like death was less painful than being abandoned again. So she continued, running after people to earn crumbs of affection, kneeling, begging for even an instance of love, she took everything she was given, she didn’t deserve it after all.

Love was painful and she would stab herself if it meant she could be loved.

Still with me ? Yay good !

Deep dive into her design then !

As stated before her marks are inspired by the thing orange plant parasite that is the Cusuta but some of the shapes are insect-inspired. The lower back shape is inspired by stag beetle horns, where the shape on her shoulder is a visual reference to a beetle opening its wings.

Her eyes are of two separate colors to show she has tapetum lucidum, the layer of the eye that some animal specie which helps them see in the dark but also have a phosphorescent effect that makes the eyes shine in the dark when facing light.

About her hair :

Eleanore’s natural color is green, she realized very late that her green hair will never grow back and this terrifies her. She is scared of letting it go and dosen’t cut her hair anymore wich resulted to the absurd length of her hair. Cutting it would mean letting the past go and she’s too afraid to do it, so she avoid it by improvising. She has a layer of braid under behind her neck to make the volume of hair lighter and more manageable. The green hair that never turned orange are worn in a half crown braid with multiple knots inspired by European medieval folklore hairstyles.

About her clothes :

The belt is here to make the silhouette of her top looks like the torso of a beetle with a clear separation of the two side, the up and the down. It has a butterfly design at it’s center and beetle design on the top. She wears a blouse inspired by old medical blouse that covered from the tip of the arms to the up of the neck. Her little cape is shaped as to fall like two butterfly wings. She has a perfectly symmetrical design again referencing a beetle top. She wears earthy tones and as much closes possible to hide her marks and limit contact due to her curse.

In conclusion :

Eleanore’s design is entierly based on being a symbole of reincarnation while also being stuck. Just like a butterfly she went trough a long process of physical change that hurted ( caterpillars body melt inside the cocon so they can reconstruct their body as butterfly ), sadly she’s still in her shell.

Incapable of moving on, on accepting the process of moving forward and starting new, she dosen’t let go of the past and still hold into it without confronting it ( keeping her green hair, chasing people’s affection, fall in abusive relationships ).

She has the potential of being the stray of light that will open the new season of spring, but her light is kept hiden under all the suffering she refuse to admit, creating a word of désillusion where she believes her way of acting is normal.

FeW that was long-

Thanks you for taking the time to read all of character explanation about Eleanore. I tried my best to explain the complexity i aimed when working on her, she was based of the concept of life draining parasite and this is how the idea got developed. I am very exited for the game to come out so i can apply all of this into the word building and or adapt my lore, and until then i will play with my little blorbo.

Lot of love ! Hope you’ll have a good day ✨

[bbygirl-aemond]

Hi Bella's bf!

You've written a lot of different perspectives in SB, so I was wondering if you've had a favourite character to write, or a character that you've found more difficult to get their voice how you wanted.

Personally, Daemon seems like he wouldn't be the easiest to write, but I think you've portrayed him in a really authentic way.

(he says hello haha)

i'm so happy that you've enjoyed my daemon characterization! he's definitely complex to write, particularly when observed through other characters' perspectives. he's a highly reaction person and keeps his emotions so close to his chest it's often hard to figure out what's actually motivating him. he's also very good at projecting his own issues onto what goes on around him, so often his behavior seems out of place or extreme until you get the context of what's going on internally. think of the contrast in readers' reactions to him in chapter 8 vs chapter 9, for example. that being said, his actions are very directly tied to his emotions, so writing his povs isn't super tricky.

my favorite povs to write are usually the ones where i can delve more into the eerie/uncanny aspect of religion, mysticism, and magic. it adds another layer of complexity and intrigue to the writing and lets me play around more with dramatic language and metaphors. helaena's povs are always just steeped in that kind of stuff since she perceives space-time very differently, so she's always a joy to write. aemond also has his moments here, in scenes like those in chapters 10, 19, or the upcoming chapter 24.

the character that i have to be the most careful with, by far, is rhaenyra. part of this is just due to her position within the power dynamics, as she is ultimately the one in charge and so is the default "bad guy" when something happens that aemond doesn't like. she's also the one who's forced to make all of the tough decisions where there's no answer that will make everyone happy- the decisions that no one else wants to make, but which do have to be made. another part of this is the trick i pulled on y'all at the beginning, where i made her seem super unsympathetic through aemond's pov so you would empathize with his suspicion and hostility even though objectively she was consistently choosing the lesser of two evils.

but even after that i've found that her character's decisions (in stormbreak) get a somewhat disproportionate amount of criticism compared to characters on team green, but also compared to other male characters on team black. i really expected daemon to be much less popular than rhaenyra in this fic, because he stands by all of her unpopular decisions and was equally awful at dealing with the problematic power dynamics with aemond. and he has so many additional red flags that rhaenyra doesn't: his violent outbursts, his bloodthirstiness and ambivalence towards the other greens, his very transparent valyrian supremacy, etc. but people have been very sympathetic to his character, so i actually don't have to be nearly as careful with him as i'd anticipated given reactions to rhaenyra. i have to be a lot more explicit in making rhaenyra sympathetic than the other members of the main trio in order to have the same effect on readers overall, so writing her character (both within her own pov and in other characters' povs) takes a loooong time! it's an interesting challenge for sure.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 5

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (However they are very few so those under the age of 18 can still read a majority of this book. However please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

💙💙💙💙

𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 around dusk, Ginny shaking me. "Come on!" She said.

I got up and brushed out my hair and came back to where the others were standing and stretching outside. There were thousands of waiting wizards and all pretenses of being Muggles were gone.

It seemed as though the Ministry had given up trying to hide the magical components. Salesmen were apparating every couple of feet with trays, bags, and carts of magical items and merchandise. There were items with the green colors of Ireland and the red colors of Bulgaria. There were scarves and dancing shamrocks and washable tattoos and face paint and rosettes and collectible figures that would walk across your palm.

Trang was in love. I'd given her about 200 Galleons which was leftover from the shopping trip where I'd bought her broom. Pretty soon, she had all Ireland things. All seven Quidditch player figurines, a rosette, a scarf, and multiple other things.

I got both seeker's figurines from both teams. I had an Ireland scarf and Trang helped put an Irish flag tattoo on my left cheek.

I bought her and I Omnioculars and two programs before we met up with the others, completely decked out. Trang quickly put her figures back in her bag in the tent, zipping it closed as though she thought they were going to escape. (Maybe they would). I set my figurines up on the bedside table.

Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were wearing Green Rosettes and Mr. Weasley had an Irish flag. Since Fred and George had no souvenirs because they'd given Bagman all their gold, I got each of them a Rosette too, helping Fred pin his rosette onto his shirt, while Bill and Charlie shot us glances.

There was a deep, booming gong from somewhere beyond the woods and green and red lanterns blazed to life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. Trang was so excited, she was bouncing up and down on her toes and couldn't stand still.

"It's time!" Mr. Weasley said and he looked nearly as excited as the rest of us, though he kept it in better check than we did. "Come on, let's go!"

We walked briskly along the path, clutching our souvenirs tightly. My Omnioculars were around my neck and my program and wand were in my pocket. My scarf was also around my neck, both ends hanging loosely down my chest.

I couldn't stop grinning, and neither could anyone else. That's what an exciting atmosphere does to you. We walked for twenty minutes. There were snatches of singing and shouting in vast languages.

Finally, we came to a gigantic stadium made of gold walls. Or perhaps it was just bronze painted and shining to look like gold. Trang's mouth dropped and she said, "I wish I had a camera."

"Don't worry." I said, grinning and clapping her on the shoulder, "I don't think you are ever going to forget tonight."

"Seats a hundred thousand." Mr. Weasley called back to us. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again. . . bless them."

"I'll be able to get in, won't I?" Trang asked in alarm.

"Oh yeah." I said, though I wasn't sure if it was true or not. "You know about the magical world and have already been exposed to it." But I held my breath until we entered the stadium and Trang came through with no problems.

"I will admit," She started, "I've never seen a football stadium- American football- that is this big."

"Told you we have the best sport." I said smugly.

We were in the top box which meant we were to go as high as possible. The stairs were carpeted in royal purple and Trang practically squealed with delight. We kept climbing and climbing. I wondered mildly how many floors the stadium had- 10? 50? 100?

Either way, we finally found ourselves on the very top floor and when I looked down, I quickly backed up from the edge. We were higher than the Quidditch hoops which were fifty feet in the air. Perhaps were were seventy-five feet in the air then.

The giant blackboard was level with us and gold writing kept dashing across it and wiping off again. Trang watched in fascination at all the ads that popped up. Bluebottle brooms, Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess, Gladrags Wizardwear, and more.

Trang leaned over to me and said, "When I grow up, I'm going to become a full fledge witch, clothes and all."

I smiled but didn't say anything. She'd never be able to be a witch. She could brew potions, sure, but she could never drink them. She'd also never cast a spell with a wand. Or could she? If she used enough willpower, could she do a simple spell? I pondered over this for a moment. If that was the case though, we wouldn't have squibs, but still. . .

I shook my head to clear my unhappy thoughts. She could be a Professor teaching Muggle studies. She could even work in the ministry as a Muggle representative. But that was about it. And she didn't want to be a Muggle, she wanted to be a witch.

"Dobby?" I heard Harry say incredulously. Hermione, Ron, and I all turned to look and see who Harry was talking too.

It was a tiny creature that I recognized as a House-Elf. I had met Dobby before and knew that this house-elf wasn't Dobby. It had enormous brown eyes instead of green ones and had a nose like a tomato.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" The house-elf squeaked, her face hidden behind her hands. I realized she was scared of heights. Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Sorry." Harry said quickly. "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir! My name is Winky , sir- and you, sir- You is surely Harry Potter!" She said, her large tennis ball like eyes even larger. Except, unlike Dobby, her eyes were brown.

"Yeah, I am." Harry said, turning a bit pink. Trang was looking now too, coming face to face with her first magical creature that could talk (unless you counted gnomes vulgar language).

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" She said and lowered her hands, looking a bit awestruck to meet him.

"How is he? How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir, ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free." She said sadly, shaking her large head.

"Free?" Trang whispered at me.

I raised my hand to shush her.

"Why?" Harry asked, a bit alarm, "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?"

She lowered her voice so low, Trang, Hermione, and I all leaned forward to hear her say, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

"Paying?" Harry asked with a blank look. "Well- why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked horrified and closed her fingers so that her face was hidden. "House-elves is not paid sir! No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin." She squeaked.

"Well it's about time he had a bit of fun." Harry said with a smile. I looked on with a serious expression. There was an empty chair next to Winky and I observed it carefully, titling my head just slightly. It looked as though someone was sitting there, yes a bit of a black shoe moving back under the cloak! I looked up, an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter. House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter, but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir." Winky said, gulping as she looked down.

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Master- master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy. Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

"But Mr. Crouch won't be coming up at all." I said, in confusion, frowning, trying to pick out the lie.

Winky gave me a frightened look and I gave the empty seat another look, so sure that someone was in the seat.

I turned away.

Trang nudged me and asked about what Winky was talking about.

"House-elves are servants of wizarding families." I said. "It's in their generation and blood to serve until the last member dies or until a member sets them free. The way they are set free is by giving them clothes. Most house-elves actually love their work and they love their families and their families almost nearly love them as well. Kind've like a pet, you see. Of course, sometimes there are horrible families and house-elves that want to escape like Dobby."

Trang frowned, looking uncomfortable. "So even though they're slaves. . . they like it?"

"Yes." I said. "It does sound weird, I know, and as a Muggle, the concept is hard." I paused and tried to figure out the framing of my next words, "Most house-elves actually think it a punishment if they're set free."

"Really?" Trang seemed amazed at this concept.

I nodded, "There's been cases where the family frees an elf, whether they don't want the elf anymore or because the elf failed them in some way etc. where house-elves will actually die of shock."

Trang looked even more amazed.

Hermione meanwhile, was reading from her pamphlet saying, "A display from the team mascots will precede the match."

"Oh that's always worth watching." Mr. Weasley said. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

We had been the first in our box and over the next half hour or so, the box started to slowly fill up.

There were many important wizards filling the thirty or so seats up here. Mr. Weasley was shaking hands left and right and Percy kept sitting down and jumping up he looked like an old cartoon animation.

The Minister of Magic came up and Percy actually bowed, which made his glasses fall off and shatter. He fixed them himself and sat down, embarrassed and threw jealous looks at Harry who Fudge greeted like a grandson. He asked him how his summer had been and introduced him to the many wizards around him.

"Harry Potter, you know. Harry Potter. . . oh come on now, you know who he is. . . the boy who survived you-know-who. . . you do know who he is-" Fudge seemed to be trying to explain English to the Bulgarian minister. He was wearing splendid robes of black velvet with gold trimming.

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly started pointing at Harry's forehead and gibbering loudly in another language.

"Knew we'd get there in the end." Fudge said wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat. . . Good job too, these Bulgarian bludgers have been trying to cadge all the best places. . . ah, Miss Kane, good to see you too." The minister said, coming over and shaking my hand as well. "And how was your summer."

"It was good, how was yours? Busy I expect?" I asked politely. Minister Fudge wasn't my favorite person but being recognized by the Minister of Magic was a big deal nevertheless. But I still held a grudge against him for trying to separate my father and I last year.

"Extremely busy. I suppose you already know what's happening at Hogwarts this year?" He asked with a weary sigh.

I smiled. "Foresaw it about a week and a half ago. I also know who's going to win tonight but I won't spoil that."

"Surely you made a bet then?" Fudge asked, smiling.

I shook my head. "I don't gamble."

"Well you should." Fudge said, almost incredulously, and then said, "This is the Bulgarian Minister. Minister, this is Elizabeth Kane, she's a seer."

I blushed and shook hands with the Bulgarian minister and said in rough Bulgarian, "Znam, che znaesh angliĭski." (Знам, че знаеш английски) [I know you speak English]

The Bulgarian Minister gave me a look of surprise and I winked at him. He smiled and I put a finger to my lips.

Fudge wasn't paying attention to our interaction as he had his back to us and then said, "Ah, and here's Lucius."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I spun around to see Lucius Malfoy, his son Draco, and a woman who must've been his mother coming up the stairs.

Draco was Harry's enemy and my arch-nemesis (yes, there is a difference. An enemy is someone you hate. An arch-nemesis is someone you fight all the time and tried to destroy). I grabbed Trang's arm, drawing her partially behind me. Draco, a pale boy with no color complexion and white-blond hair was walking up behind his father. Some of the girls at Hogwarts thought he was hot. I could see there point. He was thin and tall and and not exactly ugly.

His father's blond hair was about shoulder length, perhaps a few inches longer. It was parted neatly and his robes were black and neat. His mother, I thought, was a very pretty woman with half black, half blond hair- obviously dyed- with a nice face and thin eyebrows, but she looked as though she was smelling something bad. Maybe it was her husband's cologne.

"Ah, Fudge." Mr. Malfoy said, holding out his hand. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" Fudge said, smiling and bowing slightly to Mrs. Malfoy. "and allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk- Obalonsk- Mr.- well he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else- you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

The two men stared at each other for a moment and my grip on Trang's hand tightened. I suppose I expected them to break out in a brawl at that moment.

"Good lord, Arthur." He whispered softly, glancing down at all of us. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much."

I let go of Trang's hand, my hands balling up into fists.

"Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest." Fudge said, not listening.

Mr. Weasley said, "How- how nice," while Trang whispered in my ear, "This is the man who's supposed to be in jail, right? Azkaban? The one who got away with the money?" I nodded a rough nod but didn't turn to look at her.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes landed on Hermione who went pink. His lips curled but she stared determinedly at him. His eyes moved over to me and they narrowed. I clenched my jaw and smirked back. I was sure he was remembering the time when I tripped him in the bookstore after his fight with Mr. Weasley.

Then his eyes flicked to Trang who was half-hidden behind me and she came out, looking at him with disgust. His expression was even more horrible for her, perhaps because she was disgusted with him. Despite the fact that I had broken one of the biggest wizarding laws letting Trang know about the magical world, Trang was a near avid rule follower. The fact that Lucius Malfoy was out of Azkaban even though he was a follower of the killer of her best friend's parents disgusted her. And since Malfoy was disgusted that she was a muggle like Hermione (or assumed she was), she was disgusted with him, a pureblood, and that annoyed him.

"Ah yes! Lucius, this is Elizabeth Kane. She's a seer." Fudge said, trying to introduce Lucius to me.

I smirked, holding out my hand, cocking an eyebrow at the man, ". . . Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy." 

Lucius slipped his large, rough hand and shook it firmly. "Yes. . . a pleasure Miss Kane." I caught a whiff of his cologne and was taken aback. He smelled. . . delicious.

Malfoy raised his cane higher up into his hands and walked past us. Draco shot Ron, Hermione, and Harry a contemptuous look and shot me a glare. I smiled, raising my eyebrows.

"Ooooh." Trang said, fists clenched, fire in her eyes. "I hate him."

"All right tiger, sit down before you get in a fight." I said. I sat back down between Hermione and Trang.

Ludo Bagman charged up the stairs and skidded to a stop and said, "Everyone ready? Minister- ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo." The Minister said, seated between the Bulgarian Minister and the Irish Minister.

Ludo pointed his wand to his throat and said "Sonorus!"

His voice echoed all over the stadium as he said, "Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

There were cheers from the crowd and waving of their flags which played the national anthem of the country while being waved. The two anthems clashed but it was all part of the excitement. Trang had already forgotten her anger and was sitting on the edge of her seat in excitement. She was squinting down at the field. I reached over and tapped her Omnioculars. The blackboard now read BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce. . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" Ludo announced enthusiastically.

The right-hand side of the stadiums, completely red, roared.

"I wonder what they've brought." I heard Mr. Weasley ask and then suddenly he whipped his glasses off and polished them in a hurried way and said, "Aahh! Veela!"

"What are Veela?" Trang whispered.

I giggled and said, "Enchanters of men, look!" I pointed at Mr. Weasley who was polishing his glasses and putting them on. Trang giggled too and then leaned forward to get a good look at the Veela.

I could see the beautiful aspects of them through the Omnioculars. They had smooth skin, I couldn't see a single blemish and they were very pale. Their hair was white-gold and flowed out behind them. I supposed it was probably as long as their knees maybe.

"Are they human?" Trang asked me, puzzled, her Omnioculars pressed so tightly her glasses were cutting into the bridge of her nose.

"No." I answered simply as the music started. I stared through my own Omnioculars and watched the Veela dance. The men in the stadium were starting to do really stupid things. Women were holding them back from jumping off the stadium walls. I dropped my glasses to look left and right. Charlie and Percy were both leaning over the edge, but weren't jumping yet. Mr. Weasley had an odd look on his face but he was still seated. Fred and George had fingers in their ears and Bill looked interested, but not affected.

Ron meanwhile, looked as though he might jump off his chair like a springboard at a pool. Harry on the other hand was standing up with one of his legs was on the wall. I jumped to my feet as Hermione whispered, "Harry what are you doing?"

"He thinks jumping from this box is going to impress the Veela." I said in an amused voice, pulling Harry back into his seat and slapping him across the face. He jerked as though waking from a dream.

"What was that for?" He asked. I noticed Harry's wand was poking out from his pocket. He really ought to shove it in deeper so it didn't fall out. Boys were so careless.

"You were going to do something extremely stupid." I said, going and sitting back down.

I glanced over at the other side. Bill was grinning at me and then got up and everyone scooted down so he could sit between Hermione and me. Fred shot us a glance. Charlie was still recovering from the Veela.

"Way to take control." Bill's voice was amused.

"He's like a brother to me." I said as Mr. Weasley took Ron's hat from him. "Wasn't going to let him make a fool of himself jumping off the stadium- not to mention saving him from impending death."

Bill didn't say anything else as a green and gold comet shot down towards the stadium and did one circuit around the stadium before splitting into two comets and shooting in opposite directions toward Ireland's goal post. A rainbow connected both the comets and then they exploded and rose up to make a shamrock.

Gold things started to fall from the sky. Trang pried her eyes away from the sky to turn to me and say, "Elizabeth, they're Leprechauns."

I giggled, "I can't wait until you meet a unicorn."

Trang turned back to looking at the sky. I grabbed a piece of gold out of the air. Leprechaun gold disappeared, but it was still cool.

"Charlie doesn't seem to be happy." Bill muttered suddenly.

I looked down at Charlie who quickly looked away. I frowned, "I don't know why." '

I looked at Bill and quickly away. I fancied Fred of course, but Bill was very good-looking too. I wondered if good-looking just ran in the family. I had fancied Percy for a long time as well. Not Ron though. And even though everyone got mixed up between George and Fred, there really were some differences between the two of them, making Fred more desirable than George. But really, they were both quite good looking. Yes, Ron was the only one I didn't like- romantically. I got along with Ron in a friendship. . . when he got along with Hermione.

And Bill was much different from the others. Bill had shoulder length hair like Malfoy or Snape, but it was red and lovely. His face was thin and and handsome. His earring was cool as well, and none of the other brothers had an ear piercing.

I wondered what Dad would think of Bill. I quickly pushed the thought away. Bill didn't like me and even if he did, I wouldn't hurt Fred like that.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome- the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you- Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaand- Krum!" Bagman was saying.

"That's him, that's him!" Ron was saying. I looked through the Omnioculars to see the thin, dark, sallow-skinned boy. Because at seventeen he had only just become a man and the difference was amazing. He had thick eyebrows and a hooked nose and he looked a bit like a hawk or an eagle maybe. I supposed if someone asked me if he was good-looking I could say yes, but he wasn't my type and he wasn't the cutest boy I had ever met.

Yeesh, what was with me and eyeing every boy as a potential mate?

"And now," Ludo continued over the roaring approval of the Bulgarians and those supporting Bulgaria, "please greet- the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting- Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaand- Lynch!"

I cheered at Lynch's name. He was my favorite player on the Irish team and I had a poster of him in my bedroom. Blond, tall, thin, extremely hot. Deep forest green eyes. Bloody hell.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

Hassan Mostafa was a short skinny wizard with a bald head. However, to make up for having no hair on his head was a very large, very busy mustache. Trang giggled quietly in her seat.

"Theeeeeeey're OFF!" Bagman yelled so loudly I nearly jumped. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

The Chasers threw the Quaffle so fast that Bagman had only time to say their names before it was in the hands of another player. I wondered suddenly how Lee Jordan would've had time to make any jokes if he'd been commentating. Knowing Jordan, he would've managed.

"TROY SCORES!" Bagman declared as Troy threw the Quaffle into the hoop, the Bulgarian Keeper missed. "Ten zero to Ireland."

"What?" Harry yelled stupidly. "But Levski's got the Quaffle."

I laughed and Hermione scolded him for watching the game in slow motion.

The Irish Seekers worked as a seamless team. I wondered if any of this stuff could be implemented for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team this year. Cedric would be watching and he was our captain so. . . there wouldn't be Quidditch this year because of the tournament. . . so never mind.

The two beaters on the Bulgarian side- Volkov and Vulchanov- were whacking bludgers left and right at the Irish Chasers as they had scored twice more. Finally, Ivanova scored the first Bulgarian goal.

Harry screwed his eyes up and stuck his fingers in his ears as the Veela began to dance again. I watched him amused.

"They don't affect you?" I asked Bill.

"Oh?" Bill said, "They could if I let them, but I'm used to women trying to charm me."

I would've laughed, but instead, I rolled my eyes, tugged on a lock of his hair, and turned my head away, shaking it in amazement.

I watched the Irish Chasers again and then the whole crowd gasped as both Krum and Lynch were zooming down towards the ground. I looked through my Omnioculars, but I didn't see any snitch.

"They're going to crash!" Hermione screamed.

Krum pulled up out of the dive at the last second, making my jaw drop. I hadn't thought it possible. Lynch, to my disappointment, crashed instead. There was a huge groan from the Irish side.

"Fool! Krum was feinting!" Mr. Weasley groaned.

I sighed with disappointment. Ginny meanwhile, was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror struck. "He'll be okay, he only got ploughed, which was what Krum was after, of course." Charlie said, reassuring her. He looked up and met my eyes. I gave him a thumbs up and looked away.

How horrible! I couldn't stand it if Charlie liked me too! It'd be hard enough if it was between Bill and Fred. I didn't need Charlie involved either. Or maybe I was just being. . . was that word? Self-absorbed? Full of myself? The word was on the tip of my tongue and I couldn't grasp it! Basically thinking that every guy was into me just because they looked at me. . .vain? No, that wasn't it either. Stupid English words!

"That move was called the Wronkski Defensive Feint." I told Trang who looked horrified. She had red eyes from keeping them open to much. "Maybe you should close your eyes for a moment." I suggested.

She took of her glasses and rubbed her eyes and kept them closed until Bagman started back up the commentary. Lynch's recovery seemed to give Ireland more heart. When they began to play again, the Irish Chasers played with such skill I didn't believe it could be rivaled.

Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again and the Bulgarian keeper rushed out to meet her. I watched in slow motion for this part as he used his elbows against her chest and head and she dropped the Quaffle. Most other people didn't see the entire thing but the Irish shouted out, enraged.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing- excessive use of elbows! And- yes it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns rose in the air spelling out the words HA HA HA! The Veela became angry and started to dance in a ferocious manner. The Weasley boys and Harry had all stuck their fingers in their ears, even Bill.

I pulled his fingers out his ears, giggling, and said, "Look at the referee!"

Hassan Mostafa had landed in front of the dancing Veela and was flexing his muscles and his mustache in an excited manner. Trang and I collapsed into giggles and I banged my head on Bill's shoulder and winced. Bill laughed too, though I was more certain he was laughing at me as I grabbed my head.

"Now, we can't have that!" Ludo Bagman said though he sounded on the verge of laughing himself. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came running across the field, fingers in his own ears and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to become extremely embarrassed and pointed off the field for the Veela. They stopped dancing, looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots! Now there's something we haven't seen before. . . Oh this could turn nasty."

The two Bulgarian beaters landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing with him furiously. However, Mostafa was no longer in a good mood and kept jabbing his finger in the air. When neither beater got in the air he gave two short blasts with his whistle and the Bulgarians roared in anger.

"Two penalties for Ireland! And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms. . . yes. . . there they go. . . and Troy takes the Quaffle. . ." Bagman was saying.

Play now reached the ferocity point. Volkov and Vulchanov were at the point where they didn't care if they hit a bludger or person and were swing their bats fast and hard.

Dimitrov shot straight up at Moran who had the Quaffle and nearly knocked her off her broom though she managed to keep her hold on the broom.

"Foul!" The Irish supporters roared as one, I had roared so along with them.

"Foul!" Bagman agreed, "Dimitrov skins Moran- deliberately flying to collide there- and it's got to be another penalty- yes, there' the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen in anger, forming a hand with the middle finger pointed upwards at the Veela. The Veela lost control of them. They launched themselves across the field, throwing fire at the leprechauns. Their faces had transformed into bird-like faces and scaly wings were bursting out of their backs.

Trang lowered her Omnioculars and stared at me in amazement and said, "I take everything I said back. I don't care how many sports Muggles have, this is the best sport there is."

I laughed. "Told you."

"And that boys." Mr. Weasley shouted so that even Harry on the far end could hear him. "Is why you should never go for looks alone!"

Trang, Hermione, Ginny, and I laughed as one. Then I muttered, "But all guys do that anyways."

Beside me, Bill laughed.

"Levski- Dimitrov- Moran- Troy- Mullet- Ivanova- Moran again- Moran- MORAN SCORES!" Bagman announced.

The Irish cheers were drowned out by the shrieks of the Veela and the Ministry wizards trying to get them under control. There were also furious roars from the Bulgarian supporters. I was bouncing up and down in my seat, the end was coming, I knew.

Quigley, the Irish Beater, swung his bat at a bludger which went zooming toward Krum. "Duck!" I shrieked, but Krum did not get out of the way in time. I gripped Bill's arm hard as the bludger hit him full in the face. I was sure that his nose was broken. I quickly let go of Bill's arm so that I could hold the Omnioculars in both hands. Despite the four-second hold on his arm, he still had nail marks imprinted there and I blushed and muttered a sorry.

However, Mostafa didn't blow the whistle for Krum to get medical attention because his broom had been lit on fire by the Veela.

I moved the glasses back up to Krum. Blood was spraying out of his nose in every direction. Bloody hell.

"Look at Lynch!" I heard Harry shout from my right.

Lynch had gone into a dive. This was the real thing. I jumped from my seat. "He's seen the snitch!" I shouted excitedly.

I could see the snitch too, a gold blur down near the bottom of the field. Krum had dove now too. I wasn't sure how he could see as blood was flying up past his face but he had managed it somehow.

"They're going to crash!" Hermione shrieked.

"No they're not!" Ron yelled.

"Lynch is!" Harry and I said together.

I watched as Lynch crashed into the ground for the second time and winced. Charlie was out of his seat too and was saying, "The Snitch, where's the snitch!" He bellowed.

"He's got it!" I screamed with delight, jumping up and down, "Krum's got the snitch."

The scoreboard now read BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170

"You guys won!" I said, turning to Fred and George, "You guys won your bet!"

Fred and George looked at each other and roared with delight, bumping fists and Fred pulled me into a tight hug.

There had been a silence in the crowd for a split second and then the Irish roared with happiness.

"IRELAND WINS!" Ludo Bagman cried a few seconds later, just as surprised as the Irish it seemed by this turn of events. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH- BUT IRELAND WINS- good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the snitch for?" Ron bellowed though he was jumping up and down like everyone else that Ireland had won. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back. "The Irish Chasers were too good. . . He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all. . ."

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione asked, leaning forward. Trang and her were watching the Ministry wizards blast a path through the battling leprechauns and Veela so that the mediwizards could get to Krum. Charlie and I were hugging now, completely ecstatic with Ireland's win.

"This is amazing!" Trang said, looking more at the battling creatures than the Quidditch players. The Veela were reverting back to their beautiful selves but looked dispirited and sad.

Bill picked me up now, swinging me around in a semi circle before kissing my cheek and setting me down. I stumbled for a second, putting a hand to my cheek, feeling quite red.

"Vell, ve fought bravely." A gloomy voice said behind us and we turned to see who was talking. It was the Bulgarian Minister.

"You can speak English!" Fudge said angrily. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny." The Bulgarian minister, said shrugging and looked over at me and smiled, "You speak very good Bulgarian."

I blushed with pride as the Bulgarian minister stepped back with his fellow Bulgarians.(It was actually the only sentence I knew in Bulgarian. I'd practiced it when I saw that the Bulgarian Minister would be coming up to the box). I supposed both teams would be coming up into the Top Box.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" Bagman was saying.

My eyes were suddenly blinded by a dazzling white light. The Top Box was being magically illuminated so that everyone could see and we all quickly sat down so that we didn't get in the way.

"Let's have a round of applause for the gallant losers- Bulgaria!" Ludo said. The Bulgarian team came up the stairs and into the box. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively.

Krum came up last, looking like a real mess. He had two black eyes forming and his entire face was bloody. He was still holding the Snitch. He was slightly duck-footed on the ground and his shoulders were rounded. His eyes roved over us and then at Bagman. When his name was announced, the entire stadium- Irish and Bulgarian- roared with approval.

Then the Irish team came up the stairs. Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly. His eyes were a bit unfocused. I wished I could've asked for an autograph, but the Irish team left to do another lap around the stadium. Lynch rode on the back of Connolly's broom and I laughed. I too, wished I had a camera.

"Quietus." Bagman said, pointing his wand at his throat and climbing down from the pedestal. "They'll be talking about this one for years, a really unexpected twist, that. . . shame it couldn't have lasted longer. . . Ah yes, yes, I owe you. . . how much?" He asked as Fred and Weasley climbed over their seats to collect their money.

I walked over to where Harry was standing. I noticed his wand wasn't sticking out of his pocket anymore. I frowned. Well, perhaps he'd shoved it deeper into his pocket? I looked at where Winky was sitting, her eyes still covered and then the empty chair and pondered the invisible person. Perhaps they were sick? I bit my lip. Mr. Crouch had no wife, she'd died and I didn't think he had children. I supposed I could ask Mr. Weasley later.

I gripped the wand in my pocket as though someone might try to take it. I supposed that was a sign for something. . .

"Elizabeth, are you coming?" Trang called from down the aisle.

I jerked my head away from the empty, but not empty chair, and said, "Oh, yeah, coming." and I hurried after them, leaving the mystery behind.

⬅️➡️

[johnnyrobish]

Trump’s Financially Troubled ‘Truth Social’ Facing Key Funding Deadline

A complex deal to take Donald Trump’s social-media platform Truth Social public faces a crucial test next week that could determine whether it becomes a multibillion-dollar company that the former US president once vowed would stand up to “big tech,” or just languish in financial limbo.  Trump’s Truth Social network’s “blank check” ally Digital World Acquisition, once considered a stock-market star, is now just days away from potential total liquidation.  

Ah, what shame!  It seems Humpty Trumpty is falling down.  Now, a lot of people will claim Donald Trump is totally useless, but I disagree.  They all seem to forget there are two things Trump does extremely well - spending other people's money and conning morons.  They say suckers are “born” every minute - and Trump is right there in the nursery to reel them in.  That said, you didn’t exactly have to be Nostradamus to figure out how this grift would end. 

You’d think six previous bankruptcies would’ve raised a red flag or two for these “investors.”  Hell, if these folks over at “Truth Social” were being completely “truthful,” they’d have named the platform “Lying Through My Teeth Social,” or perhaps “Spoof Social.” The only real “truth” about Truth Social” is that they're headed for bankruptcy.  And to think poor MAGA sycophant Marjorie Trailor Greene had $50K invested.  Damm shame, if you ask me, although I don’t think she will.

Gee, this Donald Trump fellow sure has the magic touch, doesn't he?  Now, I wouldn’t call it a “Midas Touch,” but its a “touch,” just the same.  Wonder what’s next, “Trump Tacos?”  Those might help coat your stomach if you’re hammering down Trump Vodka to drown your sorrows over all the money you’ve lost. Now, the big question is, how long before Trump and his pals start blaming some nefarious, secret "Deep State" agency for the collapse of his shining bastion of "free speech?”  After all, Trump is usually all winning, winning, winning. 

The way I see it, about the only positive thing about this whole Trump MAGA phenomenon - is that we now know who the monsters are who’ve been living among us all along.  Oh sure, its true they love him, but the fact is, they love him most when he’s busy breaking china and glassware.  I mean, they have to know he’s a fraud, but hey - he hates all the same people they hate, which makes it all OK.  So they keep sending him money.  Apparently, you really can fool some of the people - “all of the time.”

If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve just read, please consider joining me at:

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 11

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point in the story, are platonic, but there is romance in the cards for Kari and Bucky.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open! Please send an ask, and I will gladly add you to the list. If I have added you and you do not wish to be on the list, please let me know, and I’ll take you off the list.

Word count: 3.1k, give or take a word. Not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Masterlist

That last Flag Smasher lived up to her to name as she sent you flying through the air and crashing into a pizzeria’s brick wall near that bus. You’d been to this Ray’s location, and you felt bad because the guy had just gotten his windows replaced after some idiot tried to rob a nearby bank and used a sonic weapon to make his point. Now that Tony was gone, these tech geniuses started crawling out of the woodwork because they suspected no one could stop them. It was a good thing Wong liked that Ray’s too, and, how did Sam put it? Oh yeah. Wong whammied the jackass to Riker’s Island?

You looked over toward where the kids had been teleported, and you thanked the pantheon those students and their teacher had been safely removed from danger. They’d have quite the tale to tell their pals at Dr. Daniel Bright Elementary School, the Home of the Bears! At least that’s what their shirts said.

You would never have expected John Walker to be the one to come give you an assist, but there he was, remnants of his homemade shield in hand, fighting off another jacked-up assailant who was trying to keep this horror show going.

Before you could feel the back of your head, everything went white, and you suddenly were not trying to get back to your feet on that New York street. You were Goddess knows where, and your sister Dana was trying to get you moving.

“Kari, please. Pete needs healing, and I am not up to it,” your sister said as her hands shook. They were covered in the blood of one Pete Wisdom, cranky Brit spy and current MI 13 agent. A mutant with the power of hot knives coming from his fingertips. But how did you suddenly know all that?

Back home, Dana was never one to rely on the use of magic for very much. Tall and thin with short dark hair and piercing blue-green eyes, Dana would have reminded many of the actress Keira Knightley. She was a lawyer by trade and a badass by nature.

And to top that all off, Dana was long dead. At least back home she was. She’d been killed during a standoff at a court house. Her client was a mystic, and some maniac hit Dana with a poisoned dart that was meant for said client.

She was, in this place anyway, terrified about losing her true love. You could feel the pain radiating off her in waves.

“I’ve got him,” you said as you placed your hands over Wisdom as you noticed many other members of the X-Men in the middle of some bloody brawl against an as yet unseen foe. But if you were seeing this, was their Kari suddenly at the mercy of the Flag Smashers now?

As you concentrated, you felt the pull of your own world and the tug of at least a dozen more. This was all going to pot fast, and you had no idea why all these pieces of you were making you into the human equivalent of taffy.

{{What the hell is Bucky going to think?}} you mused, keeping your thoughts to yourself as much as you could in case a family psionic link was being used. These people might have never met a Bucky Barnes, and you did not need to sit here explaining everything.

He would have gotten quite the laugh out of the spandex uniform you were wearing. Blue and yellow with a red X in a circle on each shoulder. What had possessed you to wear this outfit in this world was beyond you, but you hoped you’d find a more suitable one soon. It drew too much attention for your liking.

“I think most of these wounds are clean and healing,” you said as you looked up at Dana, the small smile of relief on her face worth every bit of energy you put into healing her lover. “But have him checked out when this is over. Pete can be too damned stubborn, so wheel him into med bay if you need to.”

You started to get up, but you turned your head to see if you could figure out which world this was before you got to your feet. Was this the one with Nathan Summers? Or maybe this was the world with Logan Howlett? Steve Rogers? Thor? It always got too confusing when those little shards Merlin sent into the multiverse actually started to make themselves a bit too vocal. It gave you headaches, and sometimes you wondered if it was making you crazy. You would have spoken to Bruce about it, but he likely wouldn’t have had many answers about it. And telling Sam or Bucky anything was out of the question, at least for now.

The ground around you started to shake as a Sentinel, a large robotic killing machine, made its way onto the battlefield, and the world went white again.

“Barnes! Wilson! I think your girl needs a medic!” Walker shouted as he stood over you. It didn’t take long for Bucky and Sam to make it to your side. You knew that much, even if you appeared to be dead to rights to everyone else. The screwy link to Bucky, courtesy of Wanda, still seemed to be quite active in your head. But you were not too certain it was in Bucky’s anymore. Pity that.

“Kari! Kari! Wake up!” he shouted as he knelt at your side while Sam checked for a pulse. You felt his hand on your wrist, and you tried to open your eyes. You just couldn’t at the moment.

When the white haze vanished this time, you realized you were still no closer to home than you were a few moments ago. You hissed under your breath as you looked up at the night sky, the battle dress of your last location now replaced by some Celtic-inspired gown of green velvet. You smiled as you looked over to see both Steve and Bucky, but they didn’t seem to be as pleased by whatever was going on. They were dressed in some sort of modified armor and looked more like men from your early life at the Tara Mount or Camelot than two men from 1940s Brooklyn. Only thing missing at the moment were their horses.

“Are you back?” were the only words Steve uttered before a volley of flaming arrows came over the parapet of the castle where the three of you apparently lived in this world. “Your Majesty?”

Oh, this world you did not like thinking about at all, and that was because you were queen of this place, and you were always more happy being a field general than you were as a member of the ruling class. Living in a tower, be it ivory or stone, sucked.

“No, I am not your queen, but I take it she has explained it all to you?” you asked just as both men pushed you back to the ground as more arrows came toward you. You tried to put up a shield but could not. No powers. This was new and most unwelcome.

“I will try to get her back to you as fast as I can,” you said to Steve and Bucky before the castle shook as a flaming boulder slammed the wall just behind you. “I am so sorry you had to go through this.”

“Ssh, we understand,” Bucky whispered in your ear just as he grabbed your left hand and Steve your right. They both looked concerned as hell, and not just because you were their queen. This one felt different. Polyamory? That was your closest guess as you smiled and squeezed both men’s hands.

{{Why is this happening?}} you thought as you felt both men move off you, and as they did, your reality was flipped once more, the white haze returning again.

“Should we call Strange? He might be better than a regular hospital run,” Sam suggested as Walker sent the last of the combatants to dream land with a couple of upper cuts now that his shield was kaput. “Are you still connected to her? That stuff Wanda did?”

“Sam, I wish I were, but I can’t feel a thing,” Bucky replied as he continued to kneel next to you. “I am not crazy about that damned link thing, but right now I’d take it.”

As your eyes blinked this time, your last location gave way to a crazed looking steampunk version of London with banners bearing your father Ronan’s face flying from every building in sight. You usually did not hate seeing the man who many said resembled Liam Neeson, but this was insane.

In this world your father was the worst despot known in history, and you had fled his court to marry Ryu, a demon warlord of the House Harada. Your sister Hayley, known as Camellia in this realty, had done much the same, but her life was tied to the son of Vlad Tepes. You really could not stay here long. Death was not something you wanted to face, and in this dimension, it was more likely than not to happen. Ronan did not like the “gutter trash” of the world mixing with the pure mystic blood of his family, even if he had fathered a bastard or two along the way himself. If your father had ever met his doppelganger, well, it would not have been pretty. Your father was fair, loving and tolerant beyond measure. This version was a sadistic imitation at best.

{{Need to get back to Bucky and Sam now, before I end up dead}}

Two sets of hands grabbed your upper arms and pulled you backward, and thank heaven that action seemed to send you home to your own world where Bucky was hovering over you. The lights of an ambulance were visible just down the block, and you could smell the aroma of garlic someone had burned wafting out of the pizzeria window. But you could also hear the whispers from that last world as you regained your senses. Two men seemed to be very happy you were not dead, but they were also shocked that you weren’t.

“Hey, you back with us?” Bucky asked as he, Sam and Walker all stood looking at you. You wanted to throw up, but you would not do it in front of these gentlemen.

“Sorry. That eejit packed quite a wallop,” you said as you grabbed Bucky’s arm to get back to your feet. “I’ll be fine. But I do feel sorry for the guy who owns this place.”

“Her version of fine and mine are very different,” Walker said as he looked down at his now broken shield. “You may want to have those medics check her out to be on the safe side. I thought I heard her speaking Japanese a few minutes ago, and I have no idea who she was talking to, Barnes.”

“I am here, Walker, and I can speak for myself. Tourists. I interacted with them earlier,” you said, lying through your blood-covered teeth as you tried to keep the trio off the scent of what was really happening. “The bump on the wall made me get hazy for a few minutes, so the most recent language set started playing in my head. Telepathy can be a bitch. I’ll be fine. I’m pretty damned hard to kill.”

“I don’t care what you say, we are having someone check you out,” Bucky said as Sam nodded in agreement. “You missed Sam’s speech. It was pretty amazing.”

“I heard some of it,” you said as you tapped your temple. “I’d have helped with the truck, but those kids needed me here.”

As you looked toward the ambulance and dreaded having to go see the medics at all, you heard what could only be called a “squee” from a group of teens near one of the police barricades. You recognized the girl with the high pitched joyful tone from a local vlog about The Avengers. She lived in Jersey City and had a thing for sloths. She also shared a name with a famous politician, albeit it was pronounced differently.

“Guys, hold up a minute. You too, Walker,” you said as you waved to the girl and her male companion. “Nice Captain Marvel shirt, my dear. She’d get a kick out of seeing it.”

“Oh my Gawd! Bruno!” the girl shouted before the police tried to keep them behind the barricade. “They saw it!”

You hobbled over to them, much to Sam and Bucky’s chagrin. “You two should be headed home before you’re missed. I know what a pain curfews can be. Many a time I’ve avoided them myself. But that was in the Sixth Century, so maybe that doesn’t count too much?”

“The subways are all shut down, and we can’t get a bus right now,” Bruno said as his friend pulled out her phone. “Kamala, that may not be a good idea…”

“Kamala Khan. Sloth Baby, right?” you asked before another “squee” escaped the girl’s lips. “Trust me, guys. Cap, you may want to talk to these two over here,” you said as you motioned for Sam to walk over. “I mean, this is Captain America after all, and he just gave the speech of his life. I need to go get my head examined, and I mean that quite literally,” you said as you pointed to the back of your head. “Good luck, Kamala and Bruno. Oh, and if you are ever in Manhattan at a more reasonable hour, come pay me a visit,” you said as you made two business cards appear out of thin air. “Lunch is on me. Sam, be nice to these two,” you said as you waved to Walker to join you and Bucky. “These two can keep me in line with the medics.”

“And why do I not believe that for one second?” Walker asked as you laughed.

“John. May I call you that?” you asked as you leaned more into Bucky’s arm as you kept walking. “None of this, from Baltimore to Madripoor and now Manhattan, has worked out as any of us had hoped. Especially for you. I can see things that are coming in small ways, and I know our paths will all cross again. People enter our lives for a lot of reasons. All I can hope is that, when we do meet again, we are all on the same side and without as much angst. Buck, I can go to the medics myself. Maybe you and John should finish that talk you started before,” you said as you pointed at your head. “Before I made the dent in the wall of Ray’s.”

“You really going to do it?” Bucky asked as you pointed toward the ambulance and walked slowly toward it. As you sat down on the step near the rear door, you looked first at Bucky and John, and then back toward where Sam was actually talking to Kamala and Bruno.

“You didn’t tell them, did you?” a tall woman said as she came up to check your wounds. “That you knew I’d be here?”

“Enya, I haven’t told them about you or Dev or Mina yet, and I am certainly not about to tell them I alerted you before this all started tonight,” you said as your sister-in-law Enya Sun slowly healed you of your wounds. A daughter of Avalon and one of their best warrior priestesses of the Holy Isle, Enya made short work of your issues, but she made it seem a lot longer so that those who needed to talk could do so. It was a long practiced ritual you had both done on battlefields for centuries. Your tiny bit for peace. That’s what Dev always called it.

“What did you see? You went walking again, didn’t you?” Enya asked as she tried to “balance” your body, mind and spirit after that attack. “Walking” was what Enya called your contact with the parts of you in other worlds.

“I saw enough to know trouble is coming, but I can’t tell what the hell it is yet,” you replied as you flexed your shoulders before smiling up at Enya. “Three places this time. One was Londinium. You know how much I hate that place. But two men were able to touch me. I have no idea who they are, but they seemed surprised to see me. One reminded me of my father. My actual father. Not that crazy copy.”

“That stupid spell you did made it worse. You know that, right?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your gaze back to Bucky. “He does not need me making a mess of his life again. I’m hoping he hits it off with Sam’s sister. She’s…”

“Normal? Not a mystic? What?”

“Not me. I’ll leave it at that. He deserves so much more than…”

“More than someone who loves him like you do? Than someone who nearly burned Hydra to the ground in his name?”

“He deserves peace,” you said quietly as you got back to your feet. “They all do. And you and I know it will never happen.”

“Too damned cynical for our own good,” Enya added with a laughed. “I’m going to get you home now. You need sleep. And tomorrow we can talk about Silver Hand over there.”

“Don’t call him that. He’s the White Wolf. Winter Soldier if you must. But he is not some Celtic hero reborn.”

“Call him tomorrow, OK?” Enya asked as she slung your gear over her back and opened a portal to Brooklyn. She whistled at Bucky so he could see you exit the area with her. The last thing you heard was Bucky groaning and throwing his hands in the air.

Next: Part 12, or Is this the moment of truth?

Taglist: @arrthurpendragon, @historygeekfics, @starryeyes2000, @chickensarentcheap

[kashlyn]

"Cute🐈‍⬛"

Winter. What better season to cuddle with your green eyed, cat-like boyfriend that is still getting used to the magic affecting his very being?

As everyone surrounded their favorite dark blue haired parisian who's beauty can rival those of a fairy, the green eyed youngest member of the family nuzzled his head into her neck.

After the incident that happened last week, the family that stayed in the large mansion called The Wayne Manor, consisting of Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown, Bruce Wayne, and Damian Wayne, grew a dislike for the cold. For it made their resident magic user go into a deep sleep that they feared was death.

And so, the butler of the family, Alfred Pennyworth, suggested the idea for everyone to move to the head of the house's study, which had a fireplace that could warm them up.

Dick took a particular liking to the idea, as he dashed to his room, grabbed a bunch of soft pillows, blankets, and snacks and ordered his younger siblings to start making a pillow fort that is not too close to the fire to burn, yet not too far so Damian's beloved can still feel warm and cozy.

Currently, everyone is lounging around the fire inside the fort, making sure the girl with pink pajamas named Marinette is kept warm at all costs So she would not fall into hibernation.

No one knows when it happened, but the pets also joined in with the family as they enjoyed each other's company in silence.

No yelling.

No screaming.

No fighting.

No knives.

Just comfortable silence around the fire as it snowed outside.

As the boys heard the purring of a cat, they just assumed that it was the cat named Alfred that did so, especially because the said cat was seated in his master's lap.

… But Marinette knew better.

After all, she was right beside him as he did so.

"Dami, did you just… Did you just purr?"

And like that, the comfortable silence became awkward, neither knowing how to react.

"I do believe he did, Miss. Marinette. Quite adorably too, may I add." Alfred the human confirmed as a fond smile graced his aging face.

The girl practically jumped from her seat into her lover's arms. "Omg Dami, that really was cute!! Ah! I'm sorry I moved! Are you still comfortable? You were just so cute I couldn't help myself" Marinette, unaffected by the bafflement of everyone else from the family, said while fussing over her boyfriend.

Damian on the other hand, was red faced with embarrassment, affection at his angel's fussing, and anger as he saw the look on his brother, Jason's, face.

Knowing he can't disagree with both Alfred and Marinette without disrespecting the former and hurting the feelings of the latter, he simply glared at his brothers, daring them to say anything.

"Very Cute"

Unfortunately for him, he was not expecting his elder sister, Cass, whom he respected more than most, to chime in.

This caused the rest of the family to break their silence and began teasing their youngest. Or in Dick and his father's case, gushing and documenting the adorable display by accessing the room's CCTV so thy can both have a copy of the moment. (unknown to them, Tim was doing the same but with completely different motivations)

Weeks passed, the incident almost forgotten by the family and only being reminded when Mari starts calling her boyfriend "My Dark Kitten".

Until Red Hood, in all his glory, just had to make his brother's life worse.

At first he started telling people how much he admired Dick, next he praised Tim's brain in front of the whole Justice League (really, that should have raised the flags for Damian), and finally he discussed how he was glad to have been taken in by the Batman, himself. (With this, even more so!)

It started off as a normal meeting at first, with the elder members talking about updates and how they can help the situation in paris to help the people heal from the emotional terrorist that they suffered from.

But then the current robin started urging people to get a certain class out of the city and have a vacation that he was convinced they needed.

Of course, none of the members of the JL (other than Wonder Woman and the Bat clan) knew that that class consists of most members of the Miracle Team but most of them already knew the identity of Robin and the Batfam and so Jason began his master plan.

"Aww that's cute, Demon spawn. Just admit you just want to see your angel"

The whole league froze (including Jon, who was also there), wondering if Red Hood had another death wish because he called Robin cute of all things.

"Tsk. What are you implying, incompetent bafoon?" Unsheathing his Katana, Robin glared at Red Hood. "I am nothing of the sort, you imbe-"

"So are you saying A was WRONG?" The ex street kid, mocked. "That your angel was LYING…"

And finally, with a smirk, unseen by the people without x-ray vision because of his red helmet, he finished with the nickname that would create chaos for years to come.

"Dark Kitten~"

By now Robin was seething with anger. But he couldn't enact on his feelings because doing so would mean agreeing on the questions his adoptive brother pushed forward.

Around them, the entirety of the League was preparing themselves for a fight. Expecting the bat's youngest to attack the ex crime lord.

When nothing came, Jon was practically shaking in fear while the meme "no one plans a murder outloud" was playing in his brain.

"Don't worry, Demon Spawn! Your anger is just making you more adorable! Aww~" Hood kept taunting.

By now, Batman continued with the meeting, ignoring his two green eyed children… and the rest of his children that started joining in.

Sigh why did he get the feeling that this was a petty revenge from three people that were constantly cleaning up their messes?

More time passed as the rest of the Bat family kept calling Robin Cute or Dark Kitten.

There was even one incident that Spoiler accidentally called him Dark Kitten while she joined Robin for patrol, which got confused looks from the rogues at first but then they started calling him that too (even if he wasn't currently dressed up as a cat).

Rogues calling him that got so frequent that he just snapped and yelled, "DO NOT CALL ME DARK KITTEN! I AM HER DARK KITTEN! ONLY MY BELOVED ANGEL CAN CALL ME THAT!!" Which became viral after a random civilian was able to take a video of it and posted it on multiple platforms.

And thus, when Damian finally dropped the mantle of Robin, and started wearing an assassin themed leather suit with a cat-eared hood, everyone already knew what his new name was.

Dark Kitten, along with Ladybug, became a power duo that was known to roam the land in search of different accessories while beating thugs and creating peace along the way.

Even so, people never really stopped calling him cute throughout the years.

And maybe… Just maybe… He has really gotten attached used to the compliment.

But don't tell his brothers that or you may end up in your grave a little early.

[fenrislorsrai]

Covenant (a 5+1)

Mesopotamia, 3004 BC

The red silt hid corpses. Soon this would be the most fertile farmland in the world.

The rainbow persisted longer than weather should allow. A promise and a threat in one. Aziraphale knew the power of words. No more drowning. Semantics.

Rome, 189 AD

The Emperor had blamed the new religion for bringing plague to the Empire. He’d died in the first outbreak. His Legion had been the one that desecrated distant temples and graveyards. Now there was no space to bury all their dead.

Heaven had forbidden him to heal anyone via miracle, but he knew how to hold a sword, even if it no longer flamed. Those who turned on their neighbors found a gladius at their throat. They had free will, they could choose the sword or the offered hand.

537 AD Wessex

Aziraphale was tired of tromping through cold, damp places. The sun never seemed to rise in this empire. The fog felt like it had crept into his bones and head. He shouldn’t even consider such a ludicrous proposition! But those yellow eyes had been the brightest thing he’d seen for months…

Lancashire, 1605 AD

Lurking should be simple. But standing in a churchyard, he was the one spooked. How had it grown so quiet at night? In the smoke and clamor of London he rarely saw wild animals or even greenery, but out here, surely he should hear something?

He was a good mimic and called out. Despite tales of fearsome beasts, it seemed there were none left to answer.

The only wolves left were the kind that were hairy on the inside. He’d made a deal with the devil and he could be spooky, damnit!

Aziraphale howled ‘til every hound bayed back.

London, 2014 AD

Dealing with the young Antichrist made him feel as every day blurred into the next. The End was coming, where there would be no more chaos, no more choices, no more children climbing trees their father told them not to and tossing apples down to their gardener as he watched the sky suspiciously. There would be peace. Horrible, endless peace.

London, A New Day

They’d swapped back and yet some piece of Crowley lingered. He rather liked it.

Still, that wasn’t his to keep.

“I think you left this.” He offered the bit of spirit back to Crowley. Light shone between his fingers as if he’d picked up one of Crowley’s plant grow lights

“Do you not want it?” Crowley’s voice was full of hurt.

“Oh. Oh. I do!” He rolled his hand in the way he did to make a coin disappear. Sometimes. “There, safely where it belongs.”

“Stuck it in your pocket?” Crowley rolled his eyes, having seen this trick fail many times.

“No, stuck something in yours.”

Crowley’s face went blank as he turned his senses inward. And then his face softened. “Sneaky bastard. Are you sure?”

“More than words can convey. But I’d like to learn how to say it, too.”

(author note below cut)

was done for the prompt: Rainbow

The original Gilbert Baker Pride Flag had eight stripes and each color had a meaning.

This uses only six of them. Red= life, Orange= healing, Yellow= Sunshine, green= Nature, Blue= Serenity, Purple=spirit

The two missing colors are pink=sex and Turquoise=magic

[its-me-renmimi]

Quintlovestorian

[Image 1: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The top and bottom stripes are scalloped instead of straight across. The first and last 2 stripes are twice as thin as the others. From top to bottom the colours are off-white, faded pink, faded red-brown, faded cool-brown, faded green, faded red-orange, darker faded cool brown, faded pink, off-white. Image 2: The same flag as image 1 but the top and bottom scalloped stripes are now straight across. /End ID] Quintlovestorian - A gender related to the love-story between the characters below. The ways in which despite all the hardships of their universe, 5 lost souls can be drawn together and fall in love.

The bard mercenary captain, trained in the magic of sirens. Considered, upon first glance, to be soft and sweet. Not many take her seriously; they don't believe that she could be the leader of the mercenary team they've all heard of. Unbeknownst to the many, there is a strength in softness. Hardened as it might be, her heart still has so much room for love.  She is the one who built this team from the ground up; she is the the who who has scrabbled against all that life has thrown her way to find herself a family. Growing up and taking her childhood friends, her first loves, under her wings she started her team. A team built from the misfits and the outcasts; she finds those with a certain softness in their hearts and brings them into the fold. Forging bonds stronger and deeper than most other teams in a similar field to their own. Her team is her heart and her soul, she would give it all just to keep them safe. 

The supposedly evil skeletal necromancer. Outcast since his first moments, evil was always seen as his only outcome. In some way he never had a choice, in other ways the path that life carved out for him was the one who lead him down the path perfect for him. He decided to cloak himself in it, put forth the mask that he would be dangerous to cross. He learned magic in the old ways, leaning into his heritage and what came most naturally to him. He kept to himself, he refused to let the world see him in any way that would let it hurt him.  He knew rationally that he wouldn't be the only one out there but he'd never expected it to turn up right on his doorstep. He could never have turned her away, he needed to protect her. The child he considers to be his daughter; he knew he'd do anything to protect her. For a long time, the only one who he considered to be his heart. He has never expected that there would be another, let alone multiple. The day he met them he had been so scared, for him, for his daughter. In all the wildest fantasies he rarely let himself have, he never could have guessed what the outcome would have been. 

The half-dragon rogue, happy go lucky and with a love of gems. Unsure of her place in this world, seen both as pathetic and also dangerous. Despite her love of colours and brightness she learned to cloak herself in the shadows. Doing her best to go unnoticed in a world alert for the unusual. She finds herself drawn to things that shine as brightly as she does, the only indulgence she still allows herself. She had though before that she found safety and solace only to be burned, despite her ever so thick skin. Hardened as her heart may be, she’s not entirely closed off to the possibility. Those such as herself simply aren’t designed to be alone forever. The moment her captain walked into her life? She knew. Her heart ached, so sure that she would be her salvation but also so scared. Scared that things would go awry, that she would be burned again or worse. Despite it all, her strength of spirit allowed her to open her arms to possibility and she has never looked back since. Finally free to soar as her truest self. 

The eternally loyal minotaur warlock. Seen and assumed to be a brute, a physical fighter. It couldn't be further from the truth. Despite his heritage and appearance the only physicality he was ever interested in was contact with his friends. He saw what his future captain was up to and felt like he had to be of use to her. Even if not physically he needed to pull his weight. He pledge his soul for magics beyond his comprehension; magics that would allow him to keep his friends, his loves, safe as could be. Not only did he train his new skills he honed his intellect; going where they were someone with a razor sharp mind would be needed. He stands as co-second in command, vital to the areas of strategy and negotiations. It may take some time for him to warm up to new members but once he has, he will do his best to act as their rock and their anchor. 

The warrior elf with an unknown hybrid history, the one who always stands out no matter where he goes. He had to develop thick skin early on, with this almost came a heart with walls impossibly high. If it hadn't been for his captain and co-second, he would have ended up exactly like the kinds of targets they take on. Seeing no point in trying he does his best not to conform, to stand out and to turn heads. If they're going to stare anyway, might as well have it be for things of his choice and not things beyond.  He always knew that she would end up collecting lost souls, considering how young she started. He trained himself, honing his natural strengths into the strength of a warrior. There is no point in power if you don't know how to wield it. He watched, he waited, he saw. There for his co-second once he had made his deal, even though he tried so hard to hide it. He supported his captain when she talked about her dreams. He pulled strong the bonds of beginning and waited patiently for more to form. 

Day 3 of the Blorbo Coining Event - A gender that your blorbo wouldn't identify with but you think they should | @mousesquared

I don't know if this needs to be said or not but these characters are all my OCs, so please don't copy them or anything?

ID moved to alt text

[starryelem]

I feel like I should introduce someone. . . Oh yeah! Meet;

West "Cyphertext" Bradford

West is the ship child between Hacker and Blue.

He was created like- 4 weeks ago by me and my best friend @unagidevi !

As any ship child between a main character and a side character,you gotta give him some trauma but the bad thing is that his parents are nice and he has a pet cat. So that’s no place to put trauma,so . . . We chose to make the others give him trauma. And by others I mean other ship children.

Now to some fun facts or stuff you should know to be able to use West with ease

•When too emotional he will have blocks fall out of his eyes like they are tears but it is quite painful so unless he actually cries he will be in complete pain.

•When very happy,West will jump up and down clapping his hands in joy and delight.

•West likes to keep things that used to belong to his parents as a way to always feel safe when he isn’t around them or is alone. Examples; Googles that used to belong to Hacker, Hacker’s jacket, earrings Blue always used to wear (Hacker doesn’t mind giving his stuff to West but Blue doesn’t have much to give)

•West almost always is smiling,even when crying.

•West is pansexual,but he prefers men a lot more then woman and other (I’m talking 97% men and like 1.5 woman, 1.5 other).

•Unlike Hacker and Blue,he isn’t straight up with his flirting and instead tries to do thoughtful things to make the person like him. But he is still HELLA dirty minded in many ways and will sometimes express it and make jokes.

•West drives a motorbike but no one (except his parents) knew about it until he started dating Icterid and felt more confident.

•West isn’t manipulative and instead he’s quite kind and willing to help,he does get tired when you keep annoying him to help you so he might hurt you without you noticing (as in plan for you to do a mistake and so on)

•West is a simp,probably the biggest one to exist since he would sacrifice himself just for his lover no matter what the cost is. He also doesn’t see red flags and no matter how much he gets hurt by his lover,he will still love his lover

•When stressed,West gets these light blue and light green lines running down his back,they burn and basically feel like he’s getting cut over and over. Not only that but little blue and green blocks appear as well,on his hands,arms, face and basically everywhere else,these blocks itch and when you touch the little area of skin they are on,they will start to bleed.

•West has scars from past bullying by Nelson (Nightmare x Error ship child) and Ictred (Finch x Ink ship child)

•West LOVES Ictred and no matter how many times he gets rejected by him,he always runs back to him and forgives him.

•West loves his parents,he would rather blame himself for their mistakes then blame them.

•West cares for his looks,staying fit,making sure his heath is stable and not pushing his body too much are standard practices.

•West apologizes a LOT,even when it isn’t his mistake let alone a mistake.

•When West uses too much magic(to open portals and so on) his eye starts glitching and his memory becomes blurry and he can’t remember anything. That’s why he has a whiteboard in his room and a 24/7 working reminder app.

•West can’t lie under pressure,his backs will get those strings and if he’s really stressing he will starts glitching.

•West doesn’t hate or like blood,if it doesn’t touch him,it’s alr.

•West loves spicy food,just feed him jalapeños if he’s upset with you.

•West loves physical affection,it’s a must on a daily basis.

All and all,West is polite,you just gotta think 'what would someone who believes people change after one mistake do?' And you got West.

His relationship with Icterid (who he is a duo with) has a lot of development. Icterid used to date Nelson who is an asshole and saw joy in hurting West,after Ictreid finally noticed how toxic Nelson is and gathering some courage, he left him and that’s when the two started to get along.

West in flat colors

(Made by my good friend @unagidevi )

[mckinlily]

Idea where the Voltron Paladins start to develop elemental powers from their Lions. Except...not the most obvious ones. 

Shiro can teleport. Well. That’s the most visible aspect of his power. What he actually does is warp the fabric of space-time because of course he does that. You know how Shiro basically fights like gravity is optional? Yeah, that just got 100x worse. Shiro essentially floats and drops and moves however he needs, and now he affects space-time for everyone else, too. You can tell when Shiro’s gotten really pissed because there’s this immense pressure and everything is suddenly heavy. Or in a combat, his enemies who were grounded are now bouncing and floating. And if you think “space”= “no gravity”, you’re forgetting this is the star pilot of the Garrison who certainly knows about orbitals and gravitational assists. He doesn’t need any alien robot-lion bond to calculate multi-body trajectories instantaneously in his head even with changing gravitational fields. Teleportation might be flashy and all, but every member of team Voltron knows that’s the least dangerous thing he can do.

Lance is an empath. At first, he’s disappointed he didn’t get anything cool and flashy like Shiro. Actually, at first, Lance didn’t think he got a power at all. This is just a normal part of forming Voltron, right? Right?? Why is no one else so exhausted from all the feelings? Guess I’m just weak... Lance actually has a near breakdown before the rest of the team clocks it and realizes he’s constantly swimming in everyone’s feelings and yeah, no. No one can handle all that. Allura steps him to teach him how to build boundaries, and still, he has to spend a few days avoiding Keith and Shiro (”What the hell, you two?! Do you guys feel ANYTHING that’s not twenty shades of repressed trauma???”). But with time, Lance learns to control and use his power to help the team. His connection is strongest with the other paladins, and he mostly uses his power to look after them and help them out during the down times. Lance has learned the importance of being a support and takes pride in healing his team when they’re down so they’re ready to kick ass in battle. But he also shines on diplomatic missions. His ability to ping what other people are feeling not only helps him smooth over offenses or fears, but he can pick up on inconsistencies and unseen red flags. Not to mention, Lance can nudge other’s emotions. Normally just slightly, but it’s enough to swing things in their favor. Lance might not be flashy, but that doesn’t make him less powerful. And anyone on the other side of the negotiating table quickly learns that.

Keith has precognition. Think Jedi see-things-just-before-they-happen Force shenanigans. His instincts aren’t just on point--he’s often reacting to things just before they happen. Naturally, this makes him almost impossible to face in combat. Incidentally, this is also part of why Keith is so bad at communicating: he’s often thinking in multiple points of time at once and condensing that down to one point to talk about is just...it doesn’t work like that. But slowly, as Keith learns how to work in a team and, if he can’t quite communicate with words, to let the others in so they sense what he’s sensing, Keith’s precognition stops throwing him out of sync with everyone else and pretty soon Voltron has the same too-fast reflexes as Keith. The others have gotten used to the flashes of Keith-thoughts zipping through the Lion bonds and letting him move them when they do. Now not only are the Lions practically indestructible, but Voltron is nearly impossible to land a hit on in the first place. 

At first Pidge is annoyed about the paladins powers because--Green Lion? Of course she’s going to get plants. And Olkarion might have helped her appreciate the natural world more, but she still thinks plant powers are lame. She’s not Poison Ivy. Give her computers and climate control any day. But then she starts talking to Green as she’s coding, and at first she just figures she’s a genius (which she is, thank you very much) but her programs are like nothing she or anyone else has seen before. Especially the viruses she writes for Galra tech. They grow. She can plant a “seed” on one part of system and later she’ll find that code sinking its roots into an entirely different part of the enemy ship. It creeps like vines, breaking through any firewall, tangling up any kind of security, alive in a way even the best AI isn’t. Pidge doesn’t even really need an access point anymore, just let her loose near some tech and like an invasive species, soon she’s overrun it all. Pidge’s code is like vines, like ivy or tangle weed, and once it’s in there, you can try to root it out. But you won’t succeed. Pidge likes this kind of plant.

And finally Hunk can kind of just...bend reality. Normally it’s little things, like cables that shouldn’t work suddenly don’t need an adaptor, the rust jamming certain gears is magically clean, that fuel cell that’s been on empty for the last three varga is still going strong. Of all the paladins, Hunk appreciates that difference little things can make (for good or for really, really bad. You won’t think changing the rotation rate of that star by half a second would make a difference, but turns out that changes the magnetic fields which create solar flares which...). Hunk’s happy making small, manageable adjustments to reality that he can predict the full consequences of. Mostly. But there’s still definitely been a time that someone’s held a gun to one of his teammate only to find--the gun isn’t there anymore? It never was? There wasn’t even a gun in existence in the first place? And occasionally someone will realize that aren’t really limits to what Hunk can change besides those Hunk sets himself. Those people start to back away very slowly as Hunk talks to himself about whether or not he should turn this rock into space chocolate That’s a pretty big molecular change, not telling what side effects with come with that. But if he took something that was already food, now there’s an idea... Hunk doesn’t use his power in combat that much. Or, at least, not in ways people notice (but isn’t it convenient that with Hunk around, armor lasts longer, equipment runs better, no one’s amo ever runs out...)

All these abilities would be chaos to work with, except that the paladins have grown to develop a low-level mind-meld like they have in the Lions. Normally it’s white noise far in the background, but it can flare up when needed and nothing is quite as disconcerting as when Keith pings something and all of them turn as one to look a second before something happens. Sometimes people swear that even when the paladins are outside of their Lions, doing separate things, they still move unnervingly like part of one unit. And in the Lions--

Gone are the days of inexperienced pilots attempting to survive. Pidge is turning your tech against you. Keith is predicting your every move. Shiro and Hunk are wrecking havoc on reality and all known laws of physics. This in addition to all the bells and whistles and impossible weapons they’ve unlocked in Voltron. And while you’re panicking, trying to figure out how the hell you’re supposed to fight this thing, Lance is there cranking your dread to eleven. Suddenly, it’s no longer surprising that Voltron is the most powerful weapon in the universe.

“Don’t they ever scare you?” ask some planetary leaders after witnessing the might of Voltron. Sure, the paladins are supposed to be the good guys, but... “What if they stop listening to you?”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” says Allura, the woman who has the power to heal and destroy planets in her fingertips. She smiles like her teeth haven’t turned sharp and blinding white in the last minute. 

“I am their Princess.” 

[autumnslance]

"In the five years following your sudden disappearance from the Carteneau Flats, your ever-faithful chocobo spent each waking moment galloping across the realm in search of [his] lost master. [His] myriad adventures are nothing less than fantastical and heartbreaking...but that is a story for another day." - Legacy Chocobo mount description.

((Animal love, loyalty, and those bonds woven by fate. So there’s some animal angst and injury, but also a happy ending. Crossposted below for those who prefer Tumblr:))

“I need you to stay here,” her person said, rubbing her beak and scratching the white feathers of her neck.

She kweh’d softly, not liking the request but because he had asked it, she would obey and listen for the whistle binding them together, when he needed her to come to his aid.

The not-a-moon hung low and burning in the sky. The land’s aether tasted funny, the smells of nature were all wrong. Any creature with sense hid as fiends roamed.

People had little sense, she’d found. Especially her person; in his armor, his axe pulled from his back, he would throw himself into the fray with a shout to fight anything that harmed others. Normally, she would be right there with him, beak and talon and wings alongside his weapon, helping him.

“That’s my Snowlight, my good girl,” he crooned, leaving a kiss on the end of her beak before turning to join his comrades.

She had been injured in their last fight, trying to keep him safe, and so she couldn’t join him in this one but he still said she was good and that was what mattered.

She kweh’d encouragement after him, satisfied he turned back to wave one more time, before joining all the other people leaving to fight.

—-

The not-a-moon broke apart and released Horror. There were flames and pain and ear-splitting roars.

The stables were on fire.

Snowlight was too injured to fight, but not too injured to herd the frightened silly-headed carriage chocobos out of the flames. Not too injured to find the coughing stablemaster, knock a fallen beam aside, and herd him out, too. She even found one of the barn kittens, confused and afraid, carefully picking it up in her beak like a chick.

Snowlight was a good girl. Her person helped others, and so would she.

The Horror was over the field where she knew her person was. It was malms away and he hadn’t called but her heart fluttered wildly and she ignored the grooms and handlers to dash through the burning woods.

He needed her, she couldn’t let him—

The world went white, then red, then white again, and finally black.

—-

The world’s aether tasted thin and strange, like weak juice left out too long.

She pulled herself out of the little hollow of debris and ash, casting a cure on instinct at the twinges in her wings and legs and neck, the injury on her side--the one that had kept her in the stable to begin with--throbbing again. The cure helped.

Snowlight blinked, trying to get a sense of where her person was, the location of the whistle attuning them to one another.

She couldn’t find it.

She shook out her feathers and limped on to where she thought maybe she had last felt it, in the direction he had left with his friends and all the other people, toward the setting sun--though it was currently obscured by angry clouds and more ashes.

Familiar places looked strange, though Snowlight couldn’t really put a talon on why or how. The forest was oddly silent, slow to wake from the disaster. The Elementals seemed especially distant.

She foraged for berries and greens, then slept. She was cautious of water she found but had to drink; the rain that fell later helped a great deal, though it was also heavy with dust and grief. She foraged more, and then slept more under a rocky outcropping.

The pass to the north felt wrong, cold winds blowing from the hills. So she kept heading west, through the less familiar hills, to get to the gloomy place.

Snowlight could always find the gloomy place, especially when the wind blew right. It felt like a scab on the world, the magic—and Something Else—waiting under the lake’s surface. It was an easy place to find, if weird.

It took a couple days for Snowlight to reach the gloomy place; slower than usual, but she was still recovering from her injuries and the paths through the woods were not easy to navigate. There weren’t as many fiends roaming around, at least, and the ones that were could be easily avoided.

The other creatures were waking and coming out of hiding again, too. She was a little less lonely, with the small birds singing.

The gloomy place was more of a mess than usual, a crystal spire piercing the air and giving off waves of suppressed magic. The corpse in the center of the lake continued to sleep but she gave the shore wide berth, both for its slumbering guardian and for the poison filming the water.

Snowlight continued west and a bit south, still not sensing her person, nor had he called for her on the whistle. She couldn’t teleport without the pull of the whistle. Her feet hurt but she kept picking her way through the ruins of machina parts.

She went to the camp for food, but it was empty, the aetheryte exploded in size and twisted in shape, the tents and supplies torn and burned. There were no people anymore.

Snowlight kweh’d sadly, rummaging through the wreckage for anything edible. She was rewarded with burnt gysahl greens, tasting faintly of staticky aether, but it was enough to raise her flagging spirits. After considering the twisty former aetheryte for a long moment, she decided one of the half-fallen tents at the edge of the old camp would be all right for sleeping in. There was still enough man-smell to keep wild creatures away.

—-

“Well ain’t you a beauty,” the big man with the rough voice said. “Fetch a good price at market.”

“To hell with the market,” the skinny man whined. “I’m starved and it’ll feed the whole bloody camp.”

“C’mere—” the scarred lady reached for Snowlight.

She beat her wings and shrieked. The trio swore and threw up their hands to protect their faces.

Snowlight was almost to the terrible place, full of twisted aether and death. The last place she knew her person had been. This trio had come upon her as the noon sun struggled to break through the thick clouds. They smelled of blood and offal and desperation, and she did not trust them.

The whiny man ducked close, so Snowlight leapt and kicked him, throwing him into the lady with a shout.

The big man managed to snag her neck, his arms squeezing. “C’mere you overgrown chicken I’ll—”

Snowlight shoved back and up; she couldn’t fly far with the aether currents so warped, but it was enough to startle him, and now he clung to not fall even the few fulms she had lifted him. She bucked until he slipped off and then she flew away as fast and as far as she could.

There was a whistling noise and a sharp pain in her flank but she swerved and pushed faster, hearing the hissing whistle of more arrows. She fought against the weird currents and her own weary wings, risking crossing a high bank that abruptly dropped into a narrow ravine, almost like a frozen wave of earth instead of water.

On the other side she landed heavily and ran, feeling warm liquid trickle down her leg, the arrow still lodged but loose enough to shift and pinch with every motion. Even so, she pressed on.

She was close.

Spots crossed her vision. She no longer heard the mean people; only the wind. Panting, she stopped finally, swaying on her trembling legs.

Where was he?

She spent a bit of strength to cast a cure, the arrow forced out as the flesh healed. She had to rest, but the mean people might still chase her. And she had to be close to where he was. Surely it was simply the damage caused by the Horror that was obscuring the connection, his call.

He had to have tried to call her. He couldn’t go this long on his own.

There were more people dotting the ruined plain, but they were easy to avoid now that she knew she had to be sneaky. She picked her way through smoldering magitek and torn earth and twisted structures that felt Wrong and smelled Strange. There were bodies, but none of them the one she looked for, thankfully.

A whiff of his scent caught in her beak and she kweh’d happily, seeking more. Still he did not respond, it was merely the scent of his previous presence. Perhaps he was among the people.

She drew as close as she dared to the tents. To the warm, gentle pulse of the Seedseer.

His scent was not among the camp.

Snowlight pondered this as she tried to retrace her steps to where she had caught that whiff. The field was scorched, the ground rippled from the blasts of competing magic. The aftertaste of the old mage lingered on her tongue, though it had a more bitter endnote than she recalled. Snowlight kweh’d again, digging for the scents of her person and his companions, catching hints and traces, but not finding them. Not finding him.

A voice called. She looked up and saw a yellow-clad man pointing in her direction. She turned and jogged away before the Adders could come close. While they would likely be more friendly than the bandits earlier, she had not the time for them.

She still had to find her person.

—-

Snowlight found hiding spots, keeping away from the Adders and adventurers still lingering. The taste of healing magic hung over the camp, competing with the blood and pain.

The camp was the best place to find food, though; this terrible place had none naturally anymore, blasted away or warped beyond recognition.

Snowlight was a good sneak; her person had often said so, when she played the hide and seek game with him. She would hide something he used and he had to find it. It was always great fun. She had also used it to swipe food before, risking a scolding but it was her person’s own fault for trying to deny her treats when she needed them.

Her sneakiness came in handy as she maneuvered herself into the Adders’ flock and helped herself to some of the feed provided. The destriers were too tired themselves to snap or fuss and besides, she could easily fight any of them into submission and they knew it; she was an adventuring bird, after all.

She was careful to keep the others between her and the soldiers, to not let them notice or catch her. It was tricky, given her bright white plumage compared to most army chocobos. But Snowlight was a good sneak, and managed to avoid getting caught. She had things to do, after all, and had to be ready if her person called.

She still couldn’t sense him. She still had not heard his whistle.

Snowlight slipped out of the flock, leaping the makeshift fencing while the handlers were busy. Then she returned to searching the broken plain.

The Adders were getting ready to break camp; there were few bodies left amid the wreckage of the battlefield, few new wounded found. They had worked tirelessly for over a sennight, the Seedseer and the conjurers sparks of the natural world amidst the carnage.

Snowlight returned again to the place where she had scented her person and his friends. She circled around it once more, a periphery she had scratched into the ashes as she tried to figure out where they had gone. How they had gone.

“They aren’t here,” a gentle voice said.

Snowlight warked and jumped, whirling to face the weary Seedseer as she leaned on her staff. Even exhausted, power thrummed through the padjal’s frame, a barely held summer storm. She smiled at Snowlight.

“I think I recognize you,” the Seedseer said. “Yes...I can’t quite recall…” She frowned. “I don’t remember their faces. Their names. But I know you were with them, once.”

Snowlight listened, keeping still. It was only polite in the padjal’s presence. As the Seedseer paused, though, Snowlight asked a tentative “Kweh?”

The Seedseer shook her head. “I don’t know where they have gone. One moment, they were there. I know I must have seen them. But all I remember are their silhouettes in the light. And then…” she trailed off, a perplexed look on her face. “I only know they’re gone. I’m sorry.”

Snowlight chirred in frustration, ruffling her wings. She didn’t understand, and usually the padjali were easier to comprehend than other people. What the Seedseer said made no sense.

“I know, it’s difficult,” the Seedseer said, voice cracking in grief and weariness as she reached out a hand. “But come; we can take care of you, and—’’

Snowlight was a good girl. Usually. The Seedseer was to be respected. Usually.

Snowlight shrieked and reared, flapping her wings as she backpedaled from the startled padjal.

“Wait—” the Seedseer called as Snowlight whirled and dashed, avoiding the soldiers who followed the padjal, who tried to catch Snowlight on their mistress’ command.

A soldier stood in her way. Snowlight warked a single warning before barrelling over and past him, ignoring the shouts.

They were hard to hear through the rushing, pounding feeling in her head, the ache in her heart that already felt like it had run for malms.

She ran up a tilted piece of machinery, a giant wall that had fallen from the not-a-moon and flapping her wings took off, flying toward the boggy saltmarsh to the north.

Her person wasn’t there, but neither were the soldiers, or the Seedseer and her painful words.

Snowlight would rest. She would eat. She would recover. Then she would keep looking for wherever her person had gotten to.

She had to. Snowlight was a good girl.

—-

Snowlight was so tired.

Her plumage was not as bright as it had once been; she had not had a proper grooming in a long time, and injuries and life in the wild had left her more ragged than she had ever been. Her person had often called her the prettiest chocobo in Eorzea, though she looked nothing like that now.

He still had not called. She still could not sense him. She still searched, though; the Seedseer was wrong, and he was just lost. He had lost the whistle in that Horror. He was waiting for Snowlight to find him.

Sometimes, curled up under a tree or in an abandoned building or an old cave, she would sleep and dream of the days they had rode together. Of their adventures, their games, his laughter, his scritches. His warmth as he leaned back against her side while the campfire crackled, his voice as he talked about so many things. She almost never understood, but he had such a nice voice. She missed hearing it.

The dreams were happy, but waking from them was sad. Snowlight stood, ruffled her feathers, and kept looking.

She had sought him out in the ruined reaches of the western marsh and the terrible place, through the gloomy place and its unsettling waiting feeling. Through the Wood, the Elementals barely whispering anymore, rarely waking from their slumber. She crossed the scrublands and burning sands, even risking the golden plains and the lizardmen who rode across them. She picked her way among the rocky mountains, and into the frozen land in the north, the wind and ice aether unrelenting even in the height of summer.

Snowlight was not yet certain how she could cross the strait to the island; it was just about the only place in the realm she had not looked over the last five summers and winters. The Seedseer’s words echoed in her memory again but Snowlight shook them away.

Her person was somewhere. She just had to find him.

She was back in the Wood. She would have to head west past the gloomy place and the salt marsh. If she didn’t want to be caught, anyway; she would have to find a way across the sea that did not involve people.

Sometimes she found people in trouble; beset by fiends or bandits, lost children crying alone, hurt people needing a cure. Snowlight had once been a good girl, and her person had helped people. So she scared off the fiends, fought the bandits, cast a cure on hurts, and guided the lost to safety. She sometimes, warily, took food and rest from those she helped. But then they would try to keep her—or worse, turn out to be mean themselves, and so she left as quickly as possible. Some wanted her for her plumage, some for riding or working, some for food. She wanted nothing to do with them as they were not her person.

So simply best to avoid people now.

Snowlight was tired, and so missed the snare that entangled her feet, triggering a second that caught her wings.

She flailed and shrieked. There was a prickle on her neck and she felt very woozy. It was getting dark again, but that couldn’t be right as the sun had just come up.

“Finally got ‘er,” a man’s voice said from...above her? When had she fallen to the ground? She warked and tried to struggle as careful hands gripped her. “She’s a tough ol’ bird for sure, but once she’s broken in…”

The world went black, and Snowlight dreamed of running across an open windy plain, her person laughing and whooping on her back.

—-

“Gods take you, you miserable bitch!” the stablehand yelled, clutching his bitten hand.

Snowlight just chirred a warning low in her chest, her feathers ruffled up as she glowered at him, beak clacking another warning.

No one here called her a good girl. Snowlight did not feel like being good, when they kept her hobbled and more often than not in the stable. The most experienced hands would put a lead on her halter and let her run alongside them for too brief a time in too small a pen each day. Most of them were kind, and she usually felt bad after snapping at them with her beak, or scratching them with her talons.

But none of them would let her go to find her person, and her person had not come for her here, so she didn’t want to stay.

A quiet presence stepped up behind the stablehand. He turned to the slim young woman. “Nevermind this one; she mighta been some adventurer’s bird once, but she’s gone wild. Don’t like anybody, this ‘bo.”

The woman simply took the lead and approached the stall.

Snowlight turned her eyes to the woman, and her rumbling ceased. There was something oddly familiar here, but Snowlight wasn’t sure what. Tall for the kind of person she was, midnight hair, and…

Snowlight tossed her head and kweh’d, confused but excited. She had caught a scent, a scent she had only ever smelled on her person before! This woman had the same underlying tone; a warm spice that left Snowlight trembling. She barely noticed when the woman snapped the lead onto her halter.

“Good girl,” the woman said quietly, pitched in a way only Snowlight could hear—just like her person used to do, and though this woman’s voice was higher and gentler, there was something in the way the words were shaped, something in the timbre of her voice, that felt right and familiar.

It had been so long since someone had called Snowlight a good girl.

The stablehand was boggled as the woman opened the stall and led a quiet, nearly docile Snowlight out and to the exercise pen. Snowlight paid him no mind; she was trying to figure this out.

The woman led Snowlight to the pen and let her jog on the long lead. She didn’t get fussy or scared when Snowlight stretched and beat her wings. It would be easy to escape any other handler who allowed that.

But Snowlight knew the woman was an adventurer, and adventurers were strong and tricksy. And there was a quiet strength and unrealized power in this woman.

She felt like Snowlight’s person did.

The woman offered her some gysahl greens and scratched her neck just the way her person used to, finding exactly the Right Spot. Snowlight sighed.

She was so tired.

“Been awhile since you trusted someone,” the woman said. Her accent was definitely the same as Snowlight’s person, and the same tone if higher. Her scent was the same too; not just soaps and the smells people put on themselves, but deeper, in blood and bone. When Snowlight peered at the woman, here in the daylight, there were ways she moved, the way she smiled, the color of her eyes, that were the same as his.

The woman let Snowlight run a little longer, putting her through paces using the same foreign words her person used to, the ones meaning “slow down” or “speed up” or “stop” and “go.” She gave Snowlight more greens and pets and then led her back to the stable.

The other handlers were confused, whispering, uncertain. One came close and Snowlight snapped at him out of habit. “Shh,” the woman said. She didn’t scold or jerk the halter, just laid her hand on Snowlight’s neck. “We need to brush you down.”

Snowlight did feel itchy after exercise. Still, she didn’t want the others muddling things up, not when she was trying to figure out this woman and why she felt as right and familiar as Snowlight’s person had.

The woman took her time, giving Snowlight a thorough bath and brushing. She did not let the woman trim her talons though, or check in her beak; not yet. There were limits.

Snowlight’s stall was clean and there was fresh feed and cool water. The handler she had bitten earlier shook his head, hand now bandaged. “Dunno what you did, but thank you. Poor old girl was running wild for years, near as we can tell. One of many who lost their riders in the Calamity, is my guess. She’s had it rough and won’t let folks near—until you.”

The woman shrugged and smiled.

“Well thank you. You’re welcome to return and help anytime.” He was only partly joking.

The woman simply nodded, retrieving her bow and quiver from the hooks where she had left them, before she turned to go.

Snowlight lifted her head from the feed bin to kweh a goodbye to the woman. The woman turned and smiled, waving to Snowlight.

When Snowlight fell asleep that night, she dreamed of her person, as usual. But the woman was also there, her laugh joining his.

A couple days later, Snowlight was kicking a ball toy in her stall, bored until it was time for the handlers to come take her to exercises again. She stopped kicking the ball and perked up at hearing a certain step, catching a certain scent. She kweh’d toward the quiet presence entering the stable.

“Hello,” the woman said to Snowlight. “Did you want to train again?”

Snowlight kweh’d and ruffled her feathers happily. She liked this quiet woman who reminded her of her person. She thought perhaps they were from the same clutch. After all, Showlight could tell when two chocobos were related, and while people were different they had their own families too.

The woman hung up her weapons and picked up the lead rope. Snowlight allowed the woman to guide her out into the exercise pens and they played for well over a bell. Then the woman bathed and brushed Snowlight again, before bringing her back to the stall, freshly cleaned by the other handlers.

The woman stroked Snowlight’s beak. “Good girl,” she said.

Snowlight preened.

The stablemaster was nearby and shook his head. “No one’s been able to get near that bird for moons. You come along and she’s docile as anything.”

The woman shrugged. “I didn’t do anything special; just treated her nice.”

“All any of us tried,” the stable master sighed. He peered at Snowlight. “She ain’t changed her attitude to the rest of us, neither.”

“I should be back in a few days,” the woman said. “I can help again then.”

“We appreciate it,” he said. “Maybe she’ll calm down with repeat visits from someone she trusts.”

The woman nodded, and gave Snowlight one last scritch before heading out once more. She turned and waved again when Snowlight called to her. That was nice.

—-

It had been nearly a moon since the woman’s last visit.

Snowlight had gotten used to the woman coming by every few days, looking and smelling and sounding so much like her person had; it was like having a part of him back as they trained and played and cleaned up together.

But now, after those handful of visits, the woman had not returned, just like her person had not, and Snowlight was so tired.

She no longer snapped and scratched at the handlers, but now they could not coax her to eat more than the bare minimum, or play, or train.

They were good people, really; they just weren’t hers, and she wasn’t theirs. The people Snowlight wanted simply hadn’t come back.

Snowlight dozed in her stall, ignoring the sunny day and the other chocobos and handlers. Then a certain sound caught her attention, a familiar step. She blinked awake, catching a familiar scent, and kweh’d.

The woman rounded the corner and smiled as Snowlight bounced and trilled excitedly. The stable master followed, smiling too.

“Can’t say you don’t deserve it, though you sure this is the bird you want?”

The woman nodded, a giddiness to her usual calm presence that made Snowlight even more excited, too, though she did not know why. “I think she and I get along just fine,” the woman said to the stable master, turning finally to Snowlight. She scritched Snowlight’s neck. “I even have a name picked out. My brother and I used to come up with them as children, when dreaming of having our own chocobos.”

“Well much luck to you both,” he said, holding out his hand.

Snowlight trembled with excitement when she saw what he held; a whistle, just like the one her person used to have. The whistle that had tied them together, made her always able to find him--until she couldn’t.

The woman took the whistle, then looked back up at Snowlight. “Do you want to be my chocobo?” She asked, almost sounding nervous.

Snowlight thought about it. She had a person--once upon a time. He was gone now, but this woman was so much like him, possibly from the same clutch...So maybe it was all right. Maybe this person wouldn’t leave Snowlight behind--and if she did, Snowlight would do her best to find her.

After all, Snowlight was a good girl.

“Kweh-Kweh!” Snowlight agreed, bouncing excitedly. She would be an adventuring bird with a person of her own again!

The woman grinned, and after a few moments, the spell was complete and the aetheric bond formed.

Snowlight’s new person led her out of the stable, accepting the fine reins and saddle the stable master offered. “After all you’ve done for Gridania, not to mention taking on Ifrit himself, it’s the very least we can do,” he insisted. “And I’m just happy to see this girl get a fresh start and a good home.” He patted Snowlight’s shoulder. “What are you gonna name her? For our own records.”

Her person smiled. “For a white bird my brother and I could never decide between our favorites, so we combined them,” she answered. “I’m going to call her Snowlight.”

“A fine name,” the stable master said.

“Kweh-Kweh-Kweh!” Snowlight cheered, the last shadow of doubt faded; her new person even knew her name! This was the best day since…

Well, since her first person had chosen and named her.

Her person swung onto the saddle, thanking the stable master again. Then she leaned forward. “All right, girl; let’s go!”

Snowlight dashed out of Bentbranch, her person laughing on her back, to begin their adventures together.